Chapter Ten

Summer stretched on through the hot and humid days of August, but as the month progressed, the amount of daylight grew noticeably shorter, and the nights began to cool. By the time the end of the month arrived, there were a few days here and there with more autumn-like weather, signaling the beginning of the next season and the commencement of a new school year.

Harry hadn't returned to Grimmauld Place during that time, choosing instead to remain with the Weasleys and Hermione at the Burrow. This was his family, after all, and the Burrow was homey and welcoming, very opposite of the dark and depressing halls and rooms in Sirius's old abode.

It was odd to think about returning to Hogwarts after being away for an entire year. They were older and wiser in many ways, knowing that their experience from the war had shaped them into the people they were today. There would be no going back to the younger, more innocent days of their youth, but for Harry, he supposed he really hadn't ever had a normal childhood. His years spent with the Dursleys had been miserable enough, but ever since finding out he was a famous wizard who had a price on his head, Harry had never been like any other teenage boy around him.

He now found himself wondering if he could ever feel… normal.

The night before they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts, Harry lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling of Ron's darkened room. The other boy was snoring peacefully across from him, completely oblivious to Harry's wakefulness. In comparison, Ron had had a pretty average teenage existence, despite his association with Harry. What did he have on his mind but food and Hermione?

Harry thought about Dumbledore and his plans and schemes, about how he had always identified Hogwarts with the late headmaster. He didn't feel resentment toward the old wizard so much anymore on his behalf, but talking with Snape earlier that summer had made Harry feel that Dumbledore should have treated Snape better. If only Dumbledore had explained himself more… told Snape about the Elder Wand and the Horcruxes… then maybe Snape wouldn't have almost lost his life.

Worst of all, Dumbledore had used Lily and her memory against Snape to keep him in place all those years. Didn't Dumbledore think Snape had enough honor and dignity in his own right to obey and serve without being guilted into it? From what Harry saw of Snape now, he knew that the man had an amazing ability for loyalty and a deep capacity for love, and had he not made some foolish choices in his youth, he would have never gone down the path he had.

Harry hadn't been in contact at all with Snape since leaving Hogwarts a few weeks prior. He wondered how he was faring and hoped that maybe they might continue their – what should he call it? – friendship? Somehow, Harry doubted Snape would be so open with him once the term was underway, at least in the classroom, but that would be okay with him. He felt they had come a long way in a short period of time, and he didn't want their efforts to have been wasted.

Eventually, Harry's eyelids grew heavy as these thoughts became fuzzy in his mind. The next thing he knew, Mrs. Weasley's voice was calling them from downstairs, demanding they get out of bed quickly and come down to breakfast.

x x x x x

August had been the reprieve Snape had needed. It was now September 1, and he joined the other teachers at the Head Table, in preparation for the Welcoming Feast. Before long, the students filed into the Great Hall and took seats according to their houses. He spotted Harry Potter sitting with his usual crowd, and the young man briefly gazed back at him, exchanging a look with those green eyes. Harry's mouth flickered into a smile, but Snape simply stared back at him. He didn't need any questioning glances from the rest of the staff, let alone any students.

If Harry were at all disappointed by Snape's lack of warmth in greeting, he didn't make it known. The rest of the feast progressed as usual after the Sorting. McGonagall took her place as the headmistress and welcomed everyone and announced the rules. Before long, the students were asked to go to their dormitories.

Snape saw Harry hanging back with his friends, and a slight sneer crossed his face. What was the boy hoping to achieve? They may have "bonded" (here, Snape's lip curled in distaste as the infernal word went through his mind) over the summer some, but if Harry had intentions of so openly seeking the same treatment now that the school term had started, he was gravely mistaken.

The following morning, Snape found himself once again in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. His first class was to be the seventh years. He sat at his desk, watching impassively as the students filtered into the room, taking their seats, some of the Slytherins greeting him, but the others either ignoring him or giving him strange glances, which he knew had to do with his role in the war. Many still didn't trust him, yet several thought him a hero. Whatever they thought, Snape was here to teach, not to indulge in any misconceptions or fantasies any students may possess.

Harry took a seat near the front, which would have surprised Snape in the past, but he certainly hoped the boy wasn't planning on sucking up to get in his good graces. He had enough brown-nosing where Miss Granger was concerned.

"Good morning, sir," Harry managed to greet him, offering a smile.

"Potter," Snape replied shortly. Just then, the bell rang, so Snape summoned the door shut and stood, in hopes of beginning his first lesson.

Before he could even talk, though, Susan Bones raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Bones?" Snape asked.

"Sir, is it true… that you were attacked by You-Know-Who's snake in the war?" she posed quietly.

Snape unconsciously tugged at his collar, pulling it higher around his neck. "Yes," he snapped, "but that is of no significance or importance to this lesson. Now, if you please-"

"How did you survive?" Terry Boot questioned skeptically, thinking Snape had probably employed some sort of Dark Magic.

"Probably used some Dark spell or potion," another Ravenclaw muttered to Terry.

Harry was frowning.

"That's not true," he interjected. "Get your facts straight before you go making assumptions."

"What would you have us believe, Harry?" Dean Thomas asked rationally enough. "You know how things were last year."

Snape knew exactly what Dean was referring to: no Muggle-borns allowed at Hogwarts and the school being run by Death Eaters.

"We are not here to discuss-" Snape began to say, his patience wearing thin.

"What? That you weren't loyal to the Dark Lord, after all?" Pansy Parkinson asked nastily. Beside her, Draco remained quiet, staring at the surface of the desk.

"Shut up, Parkinson!" Ginny yelled. "It's amazing you're still even allowed at Hogwarts."

"Maybe talking about the war would be a good idea," Neville suggested, trying to ignore the banter. "It might help."

"This is not a therapy session, Longbottom," Snape stated harshly. "If you need to share your feelings and deepest woes, go to your Head of House on your own time."

"I wasn't suggesting-" Neville started to say, but Harry finished for him with, "Sir, Neville has a good point. Maybe it'd help with the, er, arguing going on here. People need to have their facts straight, I think, and the Daily Prophet certainly hasn't been providing them."

Harry was gazing at Snape imploringly.

"Enough!" Snape bellowed, truly incensed now. "This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, not a discussion forum, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Harry was stunned. His mouth was hanging open at the unreasonableness of his professor, but he quickly recovered himself and clamped his mouth shut. Glaring at Snape, Harry said, "Whatever you say, sir."

The rest of the class was cowed. No one liked being on the receiving end of Snape's temper, so they quieted and allowed their teacher to proceed with the lesson. Snape's concentration was awful during the whole class, however, and by the end of the period, his irritation had become very evident when he assigned them three feet of parchment on the uses and history of wandless blocking spells. Only Hermione seemed pleased with the extra homework.

Harry was standing there, displeased with this turn of events. He had thought things would be different, even if Snape wasn't willing to be the almost friendly version of himself openly. Couldn't the man simply have been a little more reasonable, a little more patient and understanding?

"Go on ahead," Harry uttered to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Are you mental?" Ron asked softly. "What good will it do?"

"I've got to try," Harry insisted. "Now, go… please."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a withering look and nodded, going to the door, followed by Ron, who glanced back at Harry one last time as if he were truly crazy.

Snape knew Harry was standing there, but he kept his head bent over the next class's lesson plans. Harry approached the desk.

"Sir," he stated levelly.

Snape had tried the ignoring tactic in the past and knew it wouldn't work. He sighed and glared at Potter.

"Don't you have a class to get to, Potter?"

"Free period," Harry supplied. "Your next class isn't for another fifteen minutes. I should think that's enough time to… talk."

"Ah, so you just want to have a little chat, is that it, Potter?" Snape asked sardonically. "I have work to do. The summer is over. I will not indulge in your company."

"Did you enjoy the rest of your summer, then… without me around to get in the way?" Harry challenged.

"Yes, believe it or not, I found it quite enjoyable," Snape almost snarled.

"Yes, you sound very happy," Harry shot back just as sarcastically.

"So it all comes back to this ridiculous notion of happiness for you, does it?" Snape asked, irate. "Potter, you've tried to 'fix' me enough already. I do not need you- your protection."

All Harry heard was "I do not need you." Even though Snape had corrected himself quickly, Harry knew the deeper lying implications. He tried not to visibly appear upset, but the slight slump in his shoulders and the downcast eyes were inevitable as he stepped away from the desk.

"I get it," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't want my mum coming to your aid all those years ago, so you pushed her away… called her a Mudblood because it was easier to be cruel and a coward," here, Harry's voice rose and changed from bitter to cruel in its own right, "than to be honest with your feelings toward others and about yourself.

"It was never about forcing you to do anything, Snape. When they started questioning your loyalties during class, something inside me burned to set the record right, because it seems you won't do it for yourself. It's like you want people to go on hating you-"

"It's nothing more than I deserve."

Harry stopped, blinking and wondering if he had heard correctly.

Then he exploded.

"Don't be ridiculous! Do you think I 'deserved' the treatment I got from my relatives growing up any more than you did from your dad as a kid? Of course not! And you know I never wanted any of this fame and all the baggage that goes along with it. You certainly didn't 'deserve' the treatment my father and his friends gave you, and you- you 'deserve' a lot better than people like Pansy Parkinson and the like suggesting you're a traitor. Like it or not, we were both used by Dumbledore and stuck in his whole mess together, and like it or not, Snape, we both survived… and I think that means something. You almost had me convinced that you were starting to embrace a new life, to find happiness after all this crap rained down on you for years. What happened today?"

Snape's eyes were large in shock at Harry's outburst. He shook his head.

"It wasn't… my intention, Potter, to have things go as they did in class today. While I wanted to keep a professional distance from you during class and treat you like any other student, truly, it would seem old habits die hard. You weren't the only one upset by the questions and accusations, but they weren't aimed at you. I am not… used to someone looking out for my best interests."

"So, where does that leave us, then? Can we still talk like we used to… I mean, not in class, of course, but in our spare time?" Harry asked hopefully.

"You know where to find my office," Snape said. "I cannot guarantee I will always be in the mood, and you do realize that I will be marking essays and whatnot, so my time will be limited, but… should you need someone to talk to, my door is open… as open as it can be… to you, Harry."

Harry blinked. Snape had never called him by his first name before, and although it sounded forced and awkward on Snape's tongue, Harry smiled. He didn't think Snape would appreciate the familiarity of "Severus", but he had tolerated Harry's loose use of just "Snape" without the title. Something about that familiarity was bred from understanding, no longer the old contempt Harry had once possessed.

"I'd like that, sir," Harry replied.

The door opened, and the next round of students began entering.

"Now is no longer the time," Snape said.

Harry took the hint and nodded. "Later, then."

He turned and walked out. Snape shook his head slightly, a bemused feeling filling him. Harry Potter was a part of his life and had been, whether he liked it or not, but now, Snape supposed he would mostly like it. The classroom afforded him a view of the outside, unlike the dungeons, and he watched as the tree branches swayed in the light breeze just beyond the glass.

The tip of the branch nearest the window had a bundle of bright red foliage, in beautiful contrast with the green. While most people would associate green with life, Snape found the red just as lovely. Autumn was here. How strange that the season that gave way to the barren death of winter could be just as beautiful in its own right.

Just as Snape's autumn life was.

The End

Author's Note: Yes, it's really over. Sorry if you wanted more, but there you have it! You can imagine the conversations Snape and Harry might continue to have throughout the year, and what happens after that? Does Snape continue to teach? I don't know, so I leave that up to your imaginations. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

The implications of the title, Autumn Life, were to refer to Snape's life after the war, since he was so close to death, yet beauty could still be found. Autumn is my favorite season, and we're on the cusp of it. I felt it appropriate to end with the beginning of September and autumn, especially with August nearly over in real time.

Now, I'm off playing the waiting game. Any day now, this baby could come! I will probably return to fanfic writing eventually when something sparks my interest, but I need a break now. Thanks again!