After the Storm.

'POTTER!'

Harry ran up the stairs to find Snape standing in the doorway of his room. 'I suggest that you collect your cretinous cat before I am tempted to take up taxidermy.'

'Er, where is she?'

'In the wardrobe.'

Sure enough Hedwig was reclining in the bottom of the wardrobe in a jumble of clothes that she had evidently pulled from their hangers. Although large rips in a number of items still hanging (if unevenly) showed that she had not been entirely successful, she didn't seem too bothered as she yawned up at Harry.

Oh no . . . Harry picked her up and she promptly began to purr loudly. 'Hedwig you've got to stay out of Professor Snape's room.' he admonished her. He tightened his grip on his familiar as visions of 'things in jars' in Snape's office swam into his mind. 'I'm really, really sorry,' he told Snape. 'She's no trouble as an owl.' Snape said nothing. 'She's a bloody monster as a cat. I don't know what's come over her.'

For the last few weeks he had tried to make himself useful about the house and to stay out of Snape's way. Snape had responded by appearing generally to ignore him. Hedwig, however, since becoming a cat, had changed and not for the better. She stole, and what she couldn't eat she played with. A loud thumping had turned out to be Hedwig playing ball with sprouts. Worse, she had developed a perverse affection for Snape which she demonstrated by way of such thoughtful little acts such as leaving live crabs in his shoes. Harry didn't know how she had not been nipped, but then, maybe she had. Hedwig had always been stubborn.

Harry turned to flee.

'Oh, and Potter . . . '

Harry turned back. It didn't sound good. Snape was indicating something on his pillow that on closer inspection turned out to be most of a mouse, minus fur coat and looking somewhat melted.

'What happened to that?' asked Harry revolted.

'Any number of things I should think,' replied Snape folding his arms, but among the more recent - regurgitation.'

Harry was inclined to throw up himself. The horrible, hairy fiend in feline form in his arms looked smug.

'I shall be at Hogwarts most of the day, which will allow you to remake the bed and wash the bedding. And, Mr. Potter . . .' Harry braced himself, 'Happy Birthday.'

Harry gave Snape a startled look and fled.

'He was threatening to take up taxidermy,' he later told Jane, 'I really don't want to lock her in my room, but . . .'

'He'd not hurt her,' Jane assured him grinning. 'Although you might want to watch your back.'

'Right. Who else could make "Happy Birthday" sound like a threat?'

'Could well be,' said Tonks and then, 'I could bake you a cake.'

By mid afternoon Harry had decided that he had had worse birthdays. Jane had helped with the bed and Tonks had made good her threat to bake a cake. Not having changed her body shape for so long meant that she was considerably less clumsy than usual and, so far, nothing had been broken. He felt ridiculously pleased that she had gone to so much trouble for him and cheerfully cleaned up the multitude of dishes that she seemed to require.

'Do we have any birthday candles?' Tonks asked Jane, pridefully surveying her chocolate-butter-icing covered confection.

'Sorry, no. Nice cake though.' One questing finger was slapped away.

'You can have the bowl,' said Tonks sternly.

'Hey, what about me?' put in Harry.

'Share.'

Jane swiped a small amount of icing with one finger and returned to the Transfiguration textbook she was reading, leaving him with the bowl. In the warm, orange and chocolate scented kitchen, Harry was enjoying the deliciously guilty pleasure of eating butter-icing with his fingers when Snape walked in.

'What are you doing Potter?'

Rather sheepishly, Harry took his fingers out of his mouth. 'Tonks baked me a birthday cake, sir.'

'Tonks . . . baked a cake?'

'I baked a cake.' Tonks raised the item in question for inspection. 'See. And the house is still standing.'

She turned to put the cake on the table and promptly tripped over Hedwig.

Snape caught her shoulder before she could fall but, unfortunately, this had the effect of increasing the angular velocity of the cake. Abruptly friction alone proved insufficient to keep the cake on the plate and the dark mass took to the air. While cake aerodynamics are not generally spectacular; the results of the cake's impact on the table were.

'Something I said?' queried Jane, putting down her book and scraping butter-icing from an eyebrow.

Tonks had drawn her wand. After one look at the enraged Auror, Hedwig fled. 'Bloody, bloody cat,' whispered Tonks sitting down. Snape took a bottle of wine from the fridge, poured a glass and handed it to her. 'Thanks. Bloody cat.'

After Jane had managed to clean herself up a bit at the sink, she started to put the bigger fragments of cake into a bowl. 'Birthday sherry trifle, Harry?'

By the time that his birthday supper ended Harry had decided that it had been a bloody brilliant birthday. He was wearing one of the new shirts that Tonks had bought him and the new jeans from Jane. Snape was fairly obviously attempting to refrain from sniping. It was at the Potions Master's suggestion that he had had a single glass of something rather nice called 'Barolo' and the 'Birthday Trifle' had been surprisingly good. Then Snape leant across the table and handed him a small package.

Neither Jane nor Tonks were acting as thought they expected it to explode so, cautiously, Harry opened it to find a box with, inset into the lid, what looked like a small section of a chess board. Just four black and white squares with an ornate edge. 'Tap it with your wand,' said Snape.

'I don't have one.'

'Then borrow Jane's.'

Harry understood: a gift for a gift. Snape was unwilling to be obliged to McGonagall. For the wand that she had given Jane, this . . . whatever it was. Tonks handed over her wand and Harry tapped the gift. Back and white squares slid and the box expanded to become a large chess board.

'Lift the lid.'

Harry did so and found a cavity about ten times the volume of the exterior. It was empty.

'Storage. Close it and tap it again,' murmured Snape, 'and this time "ludo".'

Harry obeyed and chess pieces appeared.

They were not the usual pieces. The rooks were dragons. The knights rode thestrals and, in place of bishops, there were beautiful young women with harps who smiled enticingly. The pawns however looked utterly disreputable. They possessed a mismatched collection of weapons and expressions that ranged between lethargy and depravity via psychosis.

Harry reached to pick one up.

'I would not recommend it.'

Harry withdrew his hand.

'Oo you lookin' at?' The pawn demanded, rattling its pike 'I'll stick this up yer nose, ye tosser.'

Harry looked questioningly at Snape.

'They will go where you direct them although, after a while, they wander off, so try to remember their positions. And never leave the chess set out as they have a tendency to acquire things.' He smirked. 'And remember . . . you have to sleep sometime.'

Harry though about that. 'How do I put it away?'

'Sod off.'

'Pardon?'

'Tap the any part of the set with your wand and say "sod off", Snape elucidated.

'Right. What if I'm part-way through a game?'

Snape sat back and drank from his wineglass. 'They are open to negotiation.'

Harry stared at the chess set which to a figure stared back. 'Er, hello?' said Harry.

The pieces began to talk amongst themselves and it was at this point that Professor McGonagall appeared outside the door with a large umbrella. Jane got up and opened the door. McGonagall managed to close the umbrella and came into the kitchen.

'Good evening,' she said. 'I thought I might bring Mr. Potter's OWL results.' She pulled a heavy manila envelope from her robes and handed it to Harry. Then she noticed the chess set. Aghast, she turned to Snape. 'Severus you didn't . . .?'

'Tea, Minerva?' Snape stood up.

'When I said I didn't wish to see the thing again . . .'

'The sherry trifle's good.'

'That chess set is dangerous!'

'How so, Minerva?'

'What? The dragons breathe fire!'

'They can scarcely be more dangerous than the real thing. I'm sure our "Tri-Wizard Champion" can deal with a toy,' Snape murmured unctuously while pouring a glass of wine for McGonagall. 'Professor Dumbledore was perhaps less than wise to allow them to nest in his beard, and conceivably even less so to disturb them whilst they were asleep.'

McGonagall seized the wineglass and took a gulp. 'But Severus the language . . . they told the Headmaster to . . . '

'Away and boil his head?'

'No.' She looked distinctly uneasy. 'What they told him to do with the rough end of a pineapple.'

The Potions Master smiled mordantly. 'I trust that he was not so ill-advised as to attempt any such thing?' He pulled out a chair for McGonagall and, clearly without thinking, she sat down. 'So, no problem then? How were Mr. Potter's results?'

McGonagall took another couple of gulps of the wine. 'Rather good actually,' she said faintly.

Harry opened the envelope. 'I believe,' purred Snape, 'that you promised to help Mr. Potter to achieve his ambition of becoming an Auror?' McGonagall glanced up and then finished her wine.

'Mr. Potter,' Snape turned to address Harry, 'would you care to enlighten us all regarding your Potions results.'

Noticing that even the chess pieces appeared interested, Harry swallowed. 'Exceeds Expectations,' he muttered.

'I'm sorry I missed that, would you care to repeat it?'

'I said "Exceeds Expectations".'

'Sir.'

'Exceeds Expectations, sir.'

'Ah. Well, as you well know, I accept onto my NEWT course, only those who have achieved an "Outstanding" result. How very unfortunate.' Snape shook his head in mock regret. 'Tell me, Mr. Potter, did you manage to obtain an "Outstanding" in any of your subjects?'

'Defence against the Dark Arts . . . sir.'

'Indeed? More wine Minerva?' There was the faintest trace of a sardonic smile on the face of the Head of Slytherin House.

Professor McGonagall's own lips grew thin and she stared balefully at her junior colleague but, eventually, she sighed and held out her glass. 'You know that I can make no promises?'

'It was my understanding that you had already made one.' By now the expression on Snape's face might have given pause to a school of sharks.

'Half the children will refuse to board the train.'

'They won't find out until after they arrive.'

McGonagall sipped her wine reflectively. 'True.'

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As the clock ticked the remaining seconds of his birthday Harry considered his surroundings. The room itself was shabby, the rug threadbare, the sheets on the bed worn to smoothness. Jane's cosmographic posters remained brightening the walls, but it was his trunk that lay open at the foot of the bed. His broomstick leant into the corner. It felt like his room. Far more so than 'Dudley's second bedroom' at the Dursley's.

On the bedside table the Snarky Chess Set had finally shut up. While 'sod off' had restored the box to its original condition, a series of screams and what sounded like a small war had woken Harry up. Happy Birthday Harry, he told himself as midnight came and went. He fancied a cup of tea. And, as this was not the Dursley's house, there was no reason for him not to get up and make himself one. Quietly, so as not to awaken the quarrelsome chess pieces, Harry rolled out of bed and headed downstairs.

Padding through the darkened lounge, he could hear Snape and Tonks talking in the library. Oddly, they seemed to get on quite well.

Harry filled the kettle and then took the lid off the tea caddy. Finding it empty, he opened the larder to get another packet of teabags, and had found one in the shambollic lack of order that was Jane's store cupboard, when he recognized the Potions Master's familiar footsteps. Without thinking, Harry stepped back into the cupboard and closed the door behind him. Through the long crack at the door jamb he watched as Snape put down the cups he was carrying and switched on the kettle. As Tonks stepped into view, Snape turned to face her.

'Why not?' asked Tonks.

'I can't.'

'Clearly you can.' Tonks smiled. 'She's lovely.'

As Harry wondered what they were talking about, Tonks stepped closer until there were only inches between them. With Snape's back against the deep old-fashioned ceramic sink she held her quarry at bay. 'That was a long time ago,' he replied softly, 'before Azkaban.'

'That should not have happened.'

'It was inevitable.' His voice was bitter. 'How did it go? "Failure to make full disclosure." They would do it again."

"No!"

'I will not buy my safety with hers,'

'Torture is totally unacceptable, Severus. I'm an Auror. I can make enough of a fuss . . .'

'To get yourself confined to Saint Mungo's until such time as you are ready to agree with their version of events.' She looked stubborn. 'Tonks,' Snape spoke as if lightly, 'are you really ready to give up your career and possibly your life for me?' Sneering, he pushed past her.

'Yes.'

Snape stopped dead, and then turned slowly. 'Yes I am,' Tonks confirmed, meeting his eyes. 'Foolish perhaps but there it is. Use Legilimency if you want.' Snape drew his wand. Tonks stepped back against the sink and, putting her hands behind her, grasped it to brace herself.

'Legilimens!' A look of utter astonishment very slowly gave way to something else. Not breaking eye contact Snape put away his wand and stepped closer to Tonks. 'You're sure?' His voice was thick with something unidentifiable.

'Yes.'

Snape lifted Tonks and sat her on the edge of the sink. Using her hands and knees she steadied herself against him. He put one arm under her shoulders and brought his other hand down to raise her skirt. There was a long moment and then, as he closed the distance between them, Tonks gasped and buried her face in his shoulder.

'Look at me.' Snape simply held her until she raised her face and met his eyes. She smiled and Snape's hips began to rock slowly until her breathing and his movement synchronised. The cupboard began to feel very close around Harry. Tonks' almost drugged look and rising colour were making him extremely uncomfortable and the little noises she was making weren't helping. Her mouth opened and her breathing grew ragged and it became clear that she was struggling not to scream. Then, as she went rigid and stopped breathing altogether, Snape's intent expression became no expression at all. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder and her arms tightened around him. At this point it was the happy little chuckle from Tonks that undid Harry.

Harry leant his head against the timber of the door and tried to clear his head.

'You're beautiful,' Tonks said softly.

'You,' decided Snape, 'are warped.'

'Compared to the rest of my family?' There was laughter in her voice.

'Undoubtedly. Although anyone sufficiently daft to have anything to do with the Black family . . .' she kissed him. Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them Snape was lifting Tonks down from the sink. They kissed again, a slow and gentle exploration, until Snape pushed her away. 'Go on.' Harry would not have believed that Snape could smile like that. Tonks disappeared from view.

Snape rinsed the cups, switched on the kettle and opened the tea caddy.

Then he turned and opened the larder door.

'Potter?'

'I came down for a cup of tea. I was trying to stay out of your way,' Harry babbled, his head full of Tonk's face. He suddenly found himself staring at Snape's trousers. His chin shot up and he forced himself to meet the Potion Master's black eyes. 'Just kill me now.'

Snape wrenched the teabags out of Harry's nerveless fingers and shut the larder door in his face. Then he made two cups of tea and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Creeping quietly back upstairs, Harry pinched himself hard enough to leave bruises and still didn't believe it.

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'Still alive then Harry?' asked Tonks. She was drinking tea in the kitchen.

Did she have to sound so cheerful? thought Harry. He could feel himself blushing furiously. 'Morning, Tonks.'

'Slow poison, maybe?'

'Probably. Tonks . . . I was just trying to stay out of his way. I'm sorry.'

Jane came in and sat down. 'What's that cat of yours done now?'

'Not Hedwig. Me. You said, if I stayed out of his way, he'd probably stay out of mine? I was making a cup of tea last night, really late, and I heard him coming toward the kitchen,' Harry swallowed, 'so I hid in the larder.'

'And?'

Harry could find no way to continue.

'Last night,' said Tonks, 'I finally managed to seduce your father. In the kitchen. While Harry was hiding in the cupboard. I'm afraid that Harry got a bit of an eyeful.'

Jane regarded the sink thoughtfully. 'Tonks, wouldn't his bed have been more comfortable?'

'You don't mind.'

'I think I already said - he needs all the friends he can get. Jane's voice was quiet but clear. 'Miranda . . .' she almost managed to smile, 'won't need the bed.' She got up and left the kitchen.

'Harry, go and talk to her,' said Tonks softly.

Harry found Jane down on the beach, sitting on a rock staring out to sea.

'Are you alright?'

'Ya.' Jane took a deep breath. 'It's just I miss her. Her eyes shut. 'About once a week, late at night, I phone home: all but the last number because, of course, I don't want to disturb her. Sometimes I believe that she might actually answer.' Tears streaked from below her eyelids. 'I know she's dead, I just . . .' She wiped her face with her hand. 'You probably think that's ridiculous.' She got up clumsily and Harry put his hand on her shoulder. When she didn't pull away he put his arms around her.

'No. No not at all.' Strange how very comforting he found it to hold someone, to give comfort. Sirius, Sirius you bloody fool. Harry's sense of loss defied description but, as Jane wept, his own pain seemed to ease a little.

After a while she pushed away from him, snuffling. 'Sorry.' She slipped off her sandals and walked into the sea until she could bend down and wash her face in the water. Then she dried herself with her skirt. She turned and walked out of the water. 'Does it show?'

'No.'

'Harry, you're a horrible liar,' she said, shaking her head ruefully. 'You're no good at it at all.'

He shrugged. 'Sorry?'

A small huff of a laugh and she picked up her sandals and headed back towards the house.

'Potter.' Snape had appeared, apparently out of nowhere, like some pantomime demon king.

Harry attempted to reply normally. 'Yes, Professor?'

'Unless you are enamoured of the idea of your testicles, in a jar, on a shelf in my office, you would be well advised to keep your hands, not to mention the rest of your anatomy, away from my daughter.' Clearly taking Harry's stunned silence as some sort of agreement, Snape turned to follow Jane.

No mention of last night anyway, thought Harry relieved and rather surprised to discover that he was still breathing. Although, of course, that didn't leave out the possibility of slow poison. Tea, he thought, perhaps toast. Vaguely he wondered when terror had become normal enough to be boring.

In the kitchen he found Professor McGonagall. Snape was standing, perusing an extremely long piece of parchment. Upside down on its reverse he could read the words 'Contract of Employment.'

'Sit down, Harry. I've just made toast,' said Tonks.

'I shall afford it my consideration,' said Snape, rolling up the contract.

Harry sat down at the table with his back to the wall.

'Mr. Potter,' said McGonagall, turning away from Snape, 'we believe that we have found a way of gaining access to . . . to your Godfather's house. We will need to confirm a few more details, but you will probably be able to leave here tomorrow. Your friends are all most keen to see you. Good day, Severus,' she concluded and swept out.

Professor McGonagall's words, Harry realized, had come as something of a shock. He really wanted to see Ron and Hermione . . . and the rest of the Weasleys. And he certainly wouldn't miss Snape, but . . .

Jane set toast and butter in front of him. 'Did you want honey or jam?' she asked quietly.

Snape slammed a jar onto the table in front of him. Harry considered the ripe red strawberries on the label.

'Er, no. Butter's fine.'

End of the holidays, thought Harry rather sadly.