Title: They Say Miracles Are Past…
Author: Rakina
Rating: NC17
Beta: Hel Bee, the über-beta
Author Notes: Team Romance Entry - A Test of Wills.

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.

THEY SAY MIRACLES ARE PAST…

They say miracles are past...
William Shakespeare - All's Well that Ends Well

“Nothing is difficult to those who have the will” Dutch poets’ society.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Hermione asked, for about the fifth time that morning.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Harry said, exasperated. “I’m not going to disappear in a puff of smoke as soon as you leave. I’m a big boy now, Hermione.”

Ron sniggered. “So’m I, as she knows perfectly well.”

Hermione huffed at him. “It just seems wrong leaving Harry here on his own. Someone might come…”

“It’s well warded, and there are only a few people who even know of this place, although there are many who may be looking for me. If someone turns up that I don’t like the look of, I’ll Apparate away immediately, all right?”

“So long as you do…” Hermione warned.

“Let’s get going, ‘Mione. I told McGonagall we’d be there at ten,” Ron said irritably, pulling at her sleeve.

As they Apparated away, Harry heard Hermione correcting her boyfriend again: “Professor McGonagall, Ronald.”

Harry looked around the clearing where the restored cottage stood. Godric’s Hollow – it was a fascinating name. Named for Godric Gryffindor, he assumed. Why Hollow though?

Harry stood and went back into the cottage, making sure everything was in order before his day’s practice. Much as he loved living with his friends – and he appreciated their help with the hunt for the Horcruxes more than he could say – he needed days like this. Quiet days where he could think things through without Ron’s witticisms or Hermione’s well-meaning advice distracting him.

He’d used today’s excuse for staying behind before. Harry had said he was going to practice destructive spells and hexes; firing on the trees in the wood that came up to the edge of the property’s clearing. And so far, that’s what he’d always done. But today, Harry had a different plan.

***

Severus Tobias Snape was a hunted man. His gaunt face decorated wanted posters along every magical street, in every inn, even on the advertising board in the Knight Bus, and it regularly stared belligerently out of the pages of the Daily Prophet, scowling at the readers. Apart from the Dark Lord himself, Snape was public enemy #1.

He had his house in Spinner’s End, and he went back there from time to time. But as it was summer and pleasant living out in the woods, he’d decided to try and fulfil Dumbledore’s instructions: “Get Harry to trust you, Severus. You must work together. You must put your differences behind you.”

Easier said than done. Potter hated him, more now than ever before, and that was saying something considering how much the young Gryffindor had hated him during his school career. Severus grudgingly admitted to himself that he was probably partly to blame for that, but there was no help for it now.

Snape was camping out in the thick patch of old woodland that surrounded Godric’s Hollow. He was one of the few wizards who knew exactly where the Potter home was. Using his transfiguration skills he’d conjured himself a dwelling made from wood and plaited branches, like some latter-day Robinson Crusoe. It was comfortable enough and he’d made it blend into the surrounding woodland so that no-one would see it unless they knew exactly where to look.

Each day Severus walked to the edge of the clearing. His dark apparel and years of practice as a spy ensured the chances of being seen were minimal. Usually he watched Potter and his friends Apparating away together. But sometimes – once a week or so – Potter stayed behind. Severus had watched the young man casting spells in the clearing and on the edge of the woods. Harry – Potter – was getting stronger and quicker. He would need to, of course. Severus itched to correct his errors, to show him more efficient ways to cast even common spells like Stupefy and Expelliarmus.

Harry looked different now that he’d left school. He was no taller, but he was building muscle and his skin was tanned from being outdoors a lot of the time. There was no denying his body was an attractive sight. One time, Harry had taken his t-shirt off whilst practising his spell-casting and Severus had rapidly found himself with a problem. But he’d told himself it was only because he was living a hermit-like existence that the sight of a half-naked Harry had aroused him. Harry’s messy hair had grown too. It still had the tendency to stick out at all angles, but the added length made it attractive rather than just untidy, and Severus thought he would quite like to tangle his fingers in it. He shook his head, these thoughts were not appropriate in connection with one of his students. His ex-student.

Severus watched Weasley and Granger Apparate away. Potter went back into the cottage, so Severus waited. There were few people on the face of the Earth who could wait as efficiently as Severus Snape. He really didn’t need any more practice, but he’d been getting plenty lately.

Only minutes later, Harry came out again. He strode determinedly through the clearing. Severus expected him to start casting spells, but Harry continued walking. He walked right up to the edge of the wood. Now he was about twenty feet to the right of where Severus was standing – had the young man somehow sensed his presence?

Harry took a rabbit-trail through the trees. Severus watched him pass through the outlying silver birches and enter the denser growth of oak, ash and hazel. It was blessedly cooler inside the wood – the August day was going to be hot – and the sound of birdsong was everywhere.

Severus followed at a distance. It wasn’t as if he’d lose Harry in here. The thick undergrowth told the tale of the young man’s passage as last autumn’s dry branches crackled underfoot and a startled jay scolded from an oak tree. Harry started whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world and that made the task of tracking him even easier.

Severus had no idea how he was going to follow Dumbledore’s wishes. In the evenings he’d sit in his woodland shelter or back home at Spinner’s End and consider the matter. Potter hated him. Of course he did, for Severus had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Albus’ habit had been to tell Harry only what he needed to know when he needed to know it. But in the end Albus seemed to have miscalculated on that front, and not for the first time. Harry was unaware that Dumbledore had given Severus the knowledge needed to locate the Horcruxes, and that it was only Severus who could help him.

So Severus watched Harry, and hoped an opportunity to safely approach the young man would present itself soon.

***

Harry inhaled deeply. He could smell a sharp herbal scent which reminded him of potions ingredients. That wasn’t surprising, as many were sourced from woodland areas. He frowned, determined as ever to avoid thinking about his ex-Potions professor. It was a waste of time dwelling on that traitor, and he wished his brain wouldn’t keep doing it. Harry stopped whistling, his light mood darkened a little.

Minutes later, he emerged into a small glade. It was nothing like as big as the clearing where his cottage stood; nevertheless it was an area where the light reached down to the woodland floor allowing grass and flowers to grow. It looked ideal. He was well away from his cottage, should anyone arrive there; and he could practice here unobserved.

Harry intended to become an Animagus.

Harry had practiced transfiguration on animals and objects many times and he knew he was pretty good at it when he concentrated. Now he’d left school, he wanted to put some of his free time to good use and learn something new.

He’d talked to Remus Lupin at length about his dad and Sirius, and even Peter Pettigrew, and how they’d worked to become Animagi so they could accompany their friend at his moon-times. As he’d listened, Harry had become increasingly fascinated. His dad had done it; perhaps Harry could follow his example, just like he had when he’d got on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

If Harry could master the transformation, he could run with Moony, just as his dad and Sirius had done in their time. Moony had no-one to run with now. Harry knew it would be an advantage to him in other ways too. The Death Eaters would have no idea of his skill. He would be able to approach, to spy – he cut off that line of thought abruptly. The word ‘spy’ always brought one man to mind. A man he hated and – try as he might – had repeatedly failed to get out of his mind.

Harry hadn’t mentioned his ambition to Hermione and Ron. They would have wanted to join in. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want that, but it was important to him to do this on his own, just for himself. For some reason, it felt too personal to share, even with his best friends.

Harry had talked to Professor McGonagall when they were last at Hogwarts, and mentioned that he’d like to learn the craft but was unsure if he would succeed. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Harry,” she’d said, smiling warmly. With those words playing through his mind, Harry straightened his shoulders and left the cottage, walking towards the wood. He wasn’t short of the will to do it: he’d just keep trying until he succeeded.

The first step was to meditate: to focus his mind on the task of changing reality. Animagus transfiguration was achieved wandlessly, which was part of the reason it was so difficult. Harry was powerful enough to do wandless magic, and he was improving all the time. If he could focus enough he could do this, he knew it. Focus the will…

***

Severus watched Harry settle down on the grass with his back against a tree trunk. Harry let his eyes drift shut and Severus watched as Harry’s body visibly relaxed. Meditation… interesting. Perhaps Harry was suffering from the stresses of his task and had decided to take a day off. Severus couldn’t blame him for that, and there could be few more relaxing spots than this.

Once more Severus found himself waiting, and this time he was openly admiring the view. If he had to watch Potter, there was no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy it. He firmly quashed the strict voice in the back of his mind – the one that always told him that looking at Harry in a sexual way was wrong. Instead, he chose to listen to the opposing voice – the one that said that Harry wasn’t his student any more, he was of age and no doubt experienced, even if it was with girls, for how many Hogwarts quidditch players didn’t get to take their pick? Severus’ dark eyes glinted as they dwelt on Harry’s relaxed body.

Some moments later, Severus heard a rustling noise behind him. He listened again; it was probably a small animal – a fox or small deer perhaps. It would go on its way. But the rustling came once more. Whatever had made the noise was closer now and was probably observing him. The hairs rose along the back of Severus’ neck, he could almost feel eyes boring into his back. Please Merlin, let it be just an animal, not a human who could recognise the Wizarding World’s most sought-after fugitive.

Unable to bear it any longer, he turned his head and upper body slowly, sweeping the area behind him with his gimlet gaze.

A muntjac deer was looking at him. It was the size of a medium-sized dog, but the shy creature was distinctive because as well as two prong-like antlers, it had tusks growing down from its upper jaw. Severus hoped it wouldn’t startle and rush off noisily and so disturb Potter’s meditation. He stood quite still and stared back into the small deer’s dark eyes; both of them were transfixed as if neither dared to be the first to move.

Severus didn’t know how long he stood exchanging stares with the woodland creature, but it was a fair length of time, as his aching neck informed him. Slowly, the deer moved away, walking as if taking a path over thin ice, ready to dash off if Severus should prove threatening after all. When the little creature had passed beyond the undergrowth, and Severus could neither see nor hear any evidence of it, he turned back to Potter.

Harry wasn’t there. The glade was empty.

***

As Harry cleared his mind he felt himself drifting pleasantly. The sun was warm on his skin, and the tree at his back almost felt as if it was cradling him to its woody heart. Harry followed the pleasant flow of his thoughts and drifted into an alternate state of consciousness. He became less aware of his human limbs, of his whole bodily structure. Harry’s spirit seemed to be floating without form in a warm, comfortable place that wasn’t anywhere exactly. He’d quickly achieved the first stage: to be able to leave his own body image behind.

He already knew what kind of Animagus he would be. It was obvious. His patronus had been the likeness of his dad’s Animagus form – a stag. Harry remembered the glowing silver animal with fondness. When he transformed, he’d have four legs and be able to run like the wind. He focussed on how that would feel, on how his body would be shaped…

Harry gradually turned his thought processes – which in this state seemed completely unlike their normal patterns – towards visualising himself as a stag. He concentrated on his shape and the way he would glance around himself with eyes at the side of his head giving him a wide field of vision. His body would be lean and strong, with powerful hind muscles ready to speed away from danger. His head would be heavy and carry a rack of antlers, so he would have a powerful neck to support it. Four legs: straight, long and slender. At this time of year he would have a short coat, uniformly coloured all over his body, and a tail. Harry thought about all of these things, and as he drifted and visualised himself in this different form – a new shape for Harry – he began to feel heavy once more. His new weight seemed to pull him back down to Earth and he became aware of outside stimuli – the cool grass beneath his legs, the woody tree trunk pressing into his backside – no, his hindquarters. Harry moved his legs; he moved all four of them underneath his body and pushed up. He opened his eyes.

It was odd to be standing on four legs, but not wobbly even though it was new to him, because having a leg at each corner was a remarkably stable arrangement and Harry had little fear of falling or even tripping.

The world looked different. Harry could see much more of it, though what he could see was not quite the same. His colour vision was unchanged and he was grateful for that, but the wide landscape seemed flat and distance was hard to judge. The movement of oak leaves blowing in the breeze on the other side of the glade caused him to stand and stare for a moment, until he’d identified the source as harmless – it was just the wind.

Harry shook his head: it was aching with a fierce, sharp pain at the front of his skull. In human form he would have put his hands up, but being a stag made that impossible. He trembled under the onslaught of the pain. Maybe it was something to do with his antlers. He closed his eyes and shook his head again and was pleased to notice the burning pain was easing. Maybe becoming an Animagus was painful, though he’d never heard Sirius mention that it was.

Now the pain had receded to a bearable ache Harry began to walk forward, instinctively heading for the cover of the wood. His gait was smooth and he covered the ground much faster than he had as a human, which was really enjoyable. His head did indeed feel as heavy as he’d been expecting, and he thought he must have a fine set of antlers. It would be great to find a pool where he could catch a glimpse of his reflection. Suddenly that became the most important thing – Harry had to see his Animagus form, he had to have a good look at Young Prongs.

As he trotted – that was what he had to call it, trotting – through the gaps between the trees he realised he could run if he wanted to, that his nostrils would open wide and he could grab great lungfuls of air with ease. So he bunched up his hindquarter muscles and let loose, unleashing the sort of speed that he’d only felt before when riding Buckbeak or his broomstick. The trees rushed past on either side, green blurs falling quickly behind him. His heart pounded in excitement. He could see why Sirius, Remus and his dad had loved this. It was sheer freedom.

Minutes later Harry slowed to a trot, then a walk, blowing heavily through dilated nostrils. As he travelled further into the wood a less pleasant consequence of his new form revealed itself: Harry was being bitten by flies. His coat twitched and he swished his tail, which seemed to discourage them, thank Merlin. He tossed his head to dissuade the annoying pests which were plaguing him around his eyes. He seemed to have some long hair which flicked the flies away – that was good. The hair was pale, which surprised him: his human hair was nearly black. Harry lowered his head to examine what colour his legs were, and came to a surprised halt.

Harry stared. This was unexpected. His legs were white. You couldn’t describe them as grey – they were truly white. Whiter than Malfoy’s hair had been! That was a big enough shock, but there was more. Harry’s feet – no, his cloven hoofs – were golden. He shook his head again, wondering if he was seeing things that weren’t real, perhaps he hadn’t quite recovered from his transformation. But on further examination, the hoofs still shone. Harry snorted. And that was odd too – he’d tried to frown, but what had come out was a snort. He frowned – no, snorted – again, and pawed the ground in perplexity.

Harry’s hoof was strong and apparently quite sharp, for he had left a deep gouge in the forest floor. He snorted once more and told himself to stop being so melodramatic; all this snorting must sound like a whale spouting!

White legs and golden hoofs. Hmmm, his Animagus form must be some type of albino, which he hadn’t been expecting. In a way, it was good, because his form was the same as his dad’s, yet different. He gave a little buck and started forward again, revelling in his achievement. He’d thought he had the necessary will to do this, and he’d been proved right. Harry would enjoy telling McGonagall all about it when he saw her again… though maybe he’d better not, or she’d want to register him with the Ministry and that wouldn’t be a good idea at all. His form was going to be a secret weapon for the Light, and he should keep it secret.

Harry was being drawn onwards now by the sweet scent of water in the air ahead. As a human, he hadn’t noticed that water had a smell, but the tantalising scent was drawing him forward and he happily followed what his nose was telling him. He peered down his long white nose. He thought he might have pinkish nostrils at the end of his long face, but it was hard to see. He’d have to wait until he got to the pool for a proper look, but he was definitely an albino. Harry made a small noise of pleasure, like a little bleat.

The loss of language felt a bit strange, but he’d only lost his spoken language, he could still think with words. And Harry was a private type of person anyway, comfortable with going for long periods without speaking to anyone. He’d had enough practice as a child locked inside his cupboard or bedroom, so the inability to speak while he was in Animagus form didn’t worry him much, as long as he could still think. He was aware that he was thinking differently than he did as a human, but he couldn’t analyse in what way. It didn’t seem alarming, though. It was probably a consequence of having a different body and a different outlook on the world. He was still Harry. Sirius’ behaviour when he was Padfoot was still recognisably part of his own personality, and even McGonagall’s cat behaved in a Minerva-like fashion.

The water was proving to be further away than he’d expected. His sense of smell must be acute – a definite gain. After a few more minutes the scent had become quite strong and Harry thought he must be approaching his goal, when there between the trees ahead he saw the glimmer of sunlight reflected on water. Harry approached happily; he was looking forward to seeing himself and he was thirsty too, now that he thought about it.

He stood carefully by the water’s edge. The water was calm here, undisturbed by current. There was a small stream feeding the pool, but it was running shallow in the summer heat and was diagonally opposite from where he was standing so it didn’t disturb the water over here. Harry checked that his hoofs were securely planted on firm ground and stood still for a moment, taking a final look around at his surroundings, checking for anything that might signal danger. He was conscious that deer were prey animals, and though he thought it unlikely that there was any predator large enough to threaten him here, his animal senses insisted he take care. Even the mightiest stag with his head lowered to drink was vulnerable.

The pool area felt calm and peaceful. Harry couldn’t see anything threatening, and when he thought about it, the environment felt benign – it spoke to him of rightness, of safety. Satisfied there was nothing dangerous here, Harry dipped his heavy head, still unused to the weight of his antlers, and looked into the still, dark water.

***

Severus listened. He’d heard nothing, and even now he could hear nothing that might tell him where Harry was moving. How could that have happened? He’d been distracted and concentrating on not alarming the muntjac, but surely he ought to have noticed Harry walking off somewhere. Potter tended to blunder about with little appreciation of stealth – except when he was wearing his damned invisibility cloak.

Whichever way he’d gone, Harry hadn’t come past Severus. He must have gone further into the wood. Severus swore. He’d not explored in that direction as it led away from Harry’s cottage. He knew the ancient woodland was extensive and it was several miles to the nearest Muggle farmland. The woods themselves were semi-magical, having been warded centuries ago by the Potter family to make their home inaccessible to Muggles.

Determined to rectify his mistake, Severus crossed the glade to where Harry had been leaning up against the tree, and looked for signs to show him which direction the young man had taken. Maybe today would be Severus’ chance. If Harry was well away from his house and his friends, and in a relaxed mood, Severus might have an opportunity to persuade Harry of the truth before being blasted to spell-dust.

He started off through the trees, following the line of the path along which he thought Harry had headed.

***

If Harry had still been human, his lower jaw would have dropped to his chest. Yes, he had four legs, and he was white with a pink muzzle and golden hoofs. But he didn’t have antlers… he had a horn. There was just one long, golden horn rising from the centre of his forehead, gleaming between his large, still-green eyes. And he had beautiful, long, silver-white hair, which he supposed should be described as a mane. Harry swished his tail, which was also long, silvery and beautiful. There was no other word to describe him. He was beautiful.

Harry had transformed into a magical creature. Well, he’d been a magical creature to start with – a wizard – but he’d read that an Animagus form couldn’t be that of a magical beast. But that’s what he was: a unicorn.

Unicorns were powerful creatures in their own right. They were a symbol of Light, associated with truth, purity, and virginity. Harry’s human mind blushed at the thought, though externally nothing happened to show that the unicorn might be embarrassed. This form affirmed his status as champion of the Light – the one prophesied to have the power to destroy the Dark Lord – and that was comforting.

Harry shook his magnificent head and watched his reflection’s mane dance and glimmer in the sunlight. He snorted and his soft pink nostrils quivered. He flicked his tail again, just to watch the silvery tendrils flash around his flanks. Unicorns could not stand evil and impurity. They were said to be highly dangerous to humans of ill will and killed them immediately by impaling them on their long, tightly-spiralled horn. Harry had a mental image of impaling Voldemort, and he felt a surge of excitement at the righteousness of that image: Good overcoming Evil, Light conquering Darkness.

He had wanted to be a stag, but now he’d seen his unicorn-self, he was proud and happy. He pranced on the spot, then dipped his magnificent head and drank his fill. Now he was a unicorn, he felt much safer. He was magical and strong – he wasn’t invulnerable, but he wasn’t far off it. Right now he was probably safer than Harry-The-Wizard was.

Caught up in the exuberance of his transformation, Harry turned and galloped off, farther away from Godric’s Hollow.

The tracks Severus was following were fresh, and from time to time there was the sound of something moving a little way ahead of him. The spoor was unclear, as the ground was dry and didn’t hold a decent print, but it was definitely that of a hoofed animal. Severus thought at first he was following the print of a horse or a pony. Maybe someone rode through here from time to time? But no – judging by the many freshly-broken twigs this was recent, very recent, and a Muggle-ridden horse or pony would not willingly pass the boundary wards.

Severus followed the trail, and the further he went, the more he came to the startling conclusion that Harry was an Animagus who had transformed into a deer or an equine of some sort. Severus hadn’t been aware that Harry had mastered the advanced magical skill. He knew Harry hadn’t been registered as an Animagus – but then, neither had Sirius Black in his time. Severus ground his teeth at the realisation that, once again, Harry was mimicking his elders, the Marauders who had made Severus’ life such a misery.

Severus came to a pool. He found a place with cloven hoof-marks by the water’s edge, and guessed that the transformed Harry had stopped to drink. He crouched down and took a drink himself. Although it was cooler inside the woods, it was mid-August, and Severus was hot and thirsty.

There was nobody – or no creature – here now. Harry was still moving on. Severus followed the clear prints around the edge of the pool and back into the woods, away from the cottage.

***

Harry trotted on with exuberance. It was wonderful to feel this way. He’d never felt such freedom. Well, maybe when he’d first ridden his Firebolt, but this… this was just Harry. He needed no equipment: he could just transform and go. He wondered if he could learn to transform as quickly as Sirius had been able to, and he intended to keep practising, but for today he was going to enjoy exploring. Today was a special day, a charmed day, just for him.

The trees were thinning and up ahead it was lighter. Harry slowed a little as he approached the boundary of the wood. There was a fence, though it was no barrier to him, for he could spring over it as easily as he’d thought of it. He was bunching his muscles for a burst of speed to give him the power for the leap, when he heard voices.

“Aw, come on, Nikki, we can go into the woods. No-one can watch us there.”

The cajoling voice came from a young man. He had his arm around a girl of about eighteen, who was peering uncertainly into the trees.

“We don’t need to go in there, Gil. There’s bad tales about that place, they say it’s haunted,” she protested.

“Don’t be daft! It’s the middle of the day, and you don’t want some Nosey Parker coming along while we’re snogging, do you?”

“We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong,” the girl argued. She was blonde and slim.

“No, but old Grummitt who owns this land isn’t keen on finding folk in his fields. My brother told me he chased him off once with a shotgun, scared him half to death. We don’t want none of that.”

The girl shivered at that, obviously swayed by this reasoning. “Okay… but only for snogging, right?”

“Now what makes you think I’d do anything else? You wound me…” Gil complained.

Harry stepped back behind some shrubs and watched as they climbed over the fence. The girl seemed to glow with a soft creamy light, but her companion gave off a dark, smoky aura and Harry could smell a foul stench that had nothing to do with personal hygiene. He felt his heart speed up and he pawed at the ground agitatedly.

The couple didn’t notice anything. The young man was still joking with his companion, swatting her on the arse and laughing. Nikki didn’t seem to appreciate it much.

“Over here, Nikki. This looks nice and springy,” Gil said and pulled her off into the dry leaf-litter opposite Harry’s hiding place. “Come here and show me what you think of me, then.”

Harry watched as their kiss became deeper. Nikki seemed happy enough at the moment, but Harry couldn’t get over his unease. The smoky aura around Gil had intensified; Harry could hardly see his features now, just an odd darkness.

Gil slipped his hand under the girl’s skirt and she jumped. “No, Gil. I don’t want to do anything like that…”

“Course you do, don’t play so hard to get,” Gil rasped, as his hand grabbed at her panties.

Nikki squirmed, but Gil had her pinned close to him in the tight embrace of his strong arms. He looked like he worked out, or maybe he worked in a physical job. Nikki was slight and she stood little chance. Harry’s breath speeded up as he felt his anger building to an almost unbearable level. His flanks trembled and his muscles twitched.

Gil pushed the girl against a tree and wrenched her knickers down. She squealed then, but he silenced her by covering her mouth with his own as he undid his zip.

Unable to stand it any longer, Harry stormed out from behind the shrub. Horn lowered, he drove straight for the young man’s back. There was a blood-curdling yell.

***

When he withdrew his horn from the man’s back and the body slumped to the ground, Harry raised his head and saw he was looking into the eyes of the stunned girl. Something passed between them. Even though she was a Muggle, something magical happened and she became calm instantly. Harry was banishing the evil, erasing all her bad memories of the incident. She was left only with the beautiful reality of being in the wood with a unicorn. She moved to sit down on a nearby log, all at once feeling more peaceful than she had been in her life before, or ever would be again. She was filled with the calm and beauty of the Light. The unicorn knelt before her and laid his head in her lap, and she just held him. Today would be a golden day in her memory forever, one which she would treasure and keep secret to her dying day. For who would believe her?

Harry trembled as a feeling of great contentment washed over him. The girl’s embrace felt like warmth and happiness and comfort all at once. He didn’t know how long he stayed there on his knees, his fierce spirit tamed, until reluctantly he raised himself up. He looked into her eyes once more, and whispered a soft goodbye to her in his unicorn way. She smiled and kissed his nose. “Thank you,” she said to him, tenderly stroking his strong, white neck.

Harry bowed, turned away and began to trot back towards Godric’s Hollow, towards home.

***

Severus could tell they were nearing the edge of Godric’s wood. The big old trees had given way to their smaller counterparts: slender silver birch and small hazel trees, hawthorn already heavy with berries, and brightly flowering shrubs: rhododendron and briar rose. It was lighter here too. Cautiously, Severus slowed down. He was sure that Harry would reach the boundary and turn back. Even now, Harry could be walking towards him, backtracking. Severus moved further off to the side, just in case.

Then he heard it: a dreadful shriek the like of which he’d only heard when a human being was mortally injured or being tortured. In response to years of experience, he stopped dead, even though his natural instinct was to run ahead and see if Harry had been attacked. But Harry was in Animagus form and that voice had been completely human, it certainly didn’t belong to an animal.

Crouching, Severus crept forward. Such a sight met his eyes that he briefly wondered if he was hallucinating. Was he mad?

A young woman was sitting on a fallen log. In front of her, kneeling with its head in her lap, was the most beautiful magical creature Severus had ever had the privilege to see close up. A pure-white unicorn with golden hoofs and horn was worshipping the young woman’s virginity, as they were known to do. Severus resumed breathing, memorising the wondrous sight so he could revisit it for the rest of his life. He knew it was a rare gift for a man to see such a thing. It was a gift no Death Eater could ever hope to receive. Severus felt his eyes prickle with tears.

The unicorn lifted its head and looked at the girl, then nuzzled her cheek with its soft pink muzzle, and blew gently into her face with a tender snort. She smiled and kissed his nose. “Thank you,” she said, stroking its strong, white neck.

The unicorn raised himself, bowed, then turned and walked away back along the woodland path towards Severus, who was still crouched down, as rigid as a statue. He’d just noticed the body lying some feet away from where the girl and the unicorn had been sitting. It looked like a heap of discarded clothing thrown over a pool of blood. The unicorn, now approaching Severus, even had blood on his golden horn.

Severus was petrified. He couldn’t remember feeling so afraid before. The nature of unicorns was fixed and fierce in the defence of Light and purity, and Severus was neither of those things. Would he be the beast’s next victim? If a Death Eater was ever seen by a unicorn, surely he would have to die. Severus hadn’t heard there were unicorns in these woods. Well, the knowledge would do him no good now: it was too late to take precautions. The beast would smell his fear, and all he could hope for was that it might ignore him, and that was a slender hope at best. The creature had obviously defended the girl, but Severus was no threat to her. Desperately hoping the unicorn could sense that he wasn’t entirely evil and wasn’t endangering the virgin girl, he tried to think only of his best moments: of Albus’ trust in him, of his mission to help the Light, of his intention to help Harry…

The unicorn drew level with him. Severus prayed. He prayed to Merlin, to Circe, and to the Earth herself – even to the Muggle God, he was so desperate. He knew he was trembling and he felt sweat trickle down his spine. The nearby champion of the Light was terrifying him far more than the threat of the Cruciatus curse. No wonder unicorns were so venerated: they had power, such raw power of the Light that anybody with Darkness in them could not tolerate their presence.

As the unicorn passed by, Severus breathed a sigh of such relief that he hadn’t felt since Albus had accepted him back. He looked up and saw the girl standing up to leave. She skirted the young man’s body as if she couldn’t see it. It certainly wasn’t Severus’ job to attend to a Muggle corpse, so, on shaking legs, he turned back towards Godric’s Hollow and followed the track the unicorn had taken.

Should Severus try to find Harry and warn him? But it was unheard of for a unicorn to hurt a woodland animal, so Harry should be safe. And even if he was in human form, he’d surely be fine. If anyone should be safe with unicorns, it would be The Chosen One – even though he was neither female nor, Severus doubted, a virgin. Severus had survived; Harry would be fine. If he went up to him and told him, Harry probably wouldn’t believe him anyway; he’d be more likely to attack him. Which brought Severus right back to his purpose in being in these woods in the first place, and the knowledge that he was no closer to achieving it.

The heat of the afternoon and the shock of what he’d seen were beginning to affect him and make him feel light-headed. Severus decided he’d had enough for one day. He concentrated and Apparated back to his shelter, where he grabbed a flask of water and went to lie down on his bed.

***

Harry travelled back along the path. He was feeling numb now. The taint of the young man’s evil intent had contaminated the air around him and smothered the girl’s aura. He’d had to stop it… to wipe it out. He’d done it without thought, and now he wasn’t sure that he, Harry, had done it at all. The unicorn nature had taken over. A unicorn’s magical ability was to detect the heart of a person. Gil may have used sweet, friendly words, but his intent had been purely evil. Harry could understand the words the young man had been using to deceive the girl, but a real unicorn would have heard them as mere meaningless sounds. Unicorns acted on what their magic showed them: they tested the person’s true will.

Harry – the human mind inside the unicorn body – was beginning to feel very uneasy. He felt sick: now he was no longer surrounded by tainted air he could smell the sharp coppery scent of blood. He was pretty sure there was blood on his horn. He headed back to the pool, he was becoming increasingly desperate to clean it off and so he broke into a gallop.

Once at the quiet poolside, Harry lost no time in kneeling by the water’s edge. He bent his neck and dipped his horn into the water, shaking his head from side to side. He raised his head and waited for the water to still, then looked at his reflection, pleased to see an unsullied glint from his golden horn.

Harry had killed someone… but he’d done it in defence of an innocent girl. That didn’t count as murder… surely it didn’t. Harry trembled and wished he could get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach. He didn’t feel able to stand up yet; he supposed it was the shock.

It was a matter of how you looked at things. Harry-The-Unicorn had destroyed a source of evil. Harry-The-Wizard didn’t think he’d been in control when he’d lunged forward: the reaction had been pure unicorn instinct. How far was he – Harry-The-Wizard – responsible? Was he just being cowardly to believe it wasn’t his fault? If he’d been in human form Harry would have intervened using magic. But he hadn’t been human, and nor did he know what happened to his wand while he was in unicorn form. Was it part of him? The unicorn had dealt with the danger in his own way, and it was no good dwelling on it… what was done, was done.

Gradually, Harry’s trembling subsided and the sickness receded a little. All he wanted now was to go home. He pushed himself to his feet.

Harry returned to the Transformation Glade and knelt down. He wasn’t sure how he felt about anything right now. The experience of being a unicorn was one he wouldn’t have wanted to miss, but it was complicated now, just like everything else in Harry’s life. Harry had become a killer, and even though he knew he was prophesied to do so anyway, he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen today.

Harry stayed kneeling there on the grass, his magnificent head bowed in thought, for quite a while. How he wished he had someone he was really close to, someone to whom he could tell everything – all his dreams, all his secrets, all his silly fancies. Ron had Hermione and he was happy for them, truly he was. But he wanted his own partner and he’d like it to be soon, even though he had no idea who it would be, or where he would find them. It would have been wonderful to have someone to help him carry this burden.

Harry let his mind continue to drift away from his adventure, and back to the reality of Harry-The-Wizard, the young man who lived in the cottage in front of him. He closed his eyes.

Harry stood up and walked back to his cottage, then went indoors, suddenly realising how hungry and thirsty he felt. He made straight for the kitchen and opened the pantry cupboard.

As he ate his cheese sandwiches and drank a large glass of milk, Harry wondered whether he would go back and transform again. Really, if he was going to be that dangerous, it might be best to forget his unicorn self. And yet… it was like a drug. Harry had tasted the freedom and the sheer power of becoming an Animagus. He could not pretend it had never happened: that he didn’t know how to do it. It was a unique thing to turn into a unicorn – no-one else had ever turned into a magical beast. It would be denying his gift not to use it. And he really believed that as a unicorn he could kill Voldemort, and to do that, he needed to practice. If he unwittingly destroyed some other sources of evil along the way, that wasn’t a bad thing, was it?

Even as he warned himself he was probably being irresponsible, he knew he would go back, and soon.

***

Three days later, Harry told Ron and Hermione that he needed to spend a day on his own again. They left; Ron was slightly grumpy about it, Hermione anxious as usual, but they went without too much fuss.

Harry strode into the woods making straight for the little glade and the conveniently-shaped oak tree against which he leaned to begin his transformation. Now he knew how it was done, it was quicker and easier to achieve his unicorn form. Harry soon stood up on his four legs and trotted away. He’d already decided not to leave the woods. Contact with Muggles was obviously a very bad idea and Harry would stay away from the woodland edge in future. He decided not to follow the same trail as last time – he had no wish to stumble across a decomposing body.

Harry took the path to the left, and followed a wide trail. Appreciating the ease of passage he trotted along, noticing that the earth appeared well trodden down along here. Maybe there were deer – or could there be other unicorns nearby? Harry would love to see them. This was a magical landscape; unicorns were shy creatures who kept away from human activity – which he could understand now – but there may be some in the heart of the wood. And this path definitely seemed to be in regular use by something. It must be big rabbits, Harry thought, giving a soft snort of laughter.

Harry’s sensitive nose picked up a scent: something herbal, green, and smoky. It was odd really, but he thought it smelt a bit like Hagrid’s hut. Harry missed his large friend; in fact there wasn’t much about Hogwarts that Harry didn’t miss. Well, there was Severus Snape – he didn’t miss that traitor.

Harry emerged into an even smaller glade than the one in which he transformed. The sseemed concentrated on one side where there was… what was that? It looked something like a hut, and yet it was just branches in an odd pattern, surely? The herbal smell was strong here. Harry walked towards it, and became increasingly convinced it was a hut of sorts. His delicate pink nostrils drew in the atmosphere of the place. It reminded him of potions ingredients, cooking, smoke, and some sort of … Harry sniffed again… creature. Or person. That was it: Harry could smell a person, someone who lived in the wood. He was fascinated to see who could be living deep inside such magical woods. It had to be a witch or a wizard, no Muggle would be able to put up with the discomfort the wards created for non-magical folk.

Harry whickered a greeting, wondering if someone was inside the odd little hut at the moment, but nobody emerged. Perhaps they were scared of him, or perhaps the hut was abandoned. But it couldn’t be – it smelt too fresh, too strongly of occupation. Harry reached the door and gently pushed it with his nose, curious to see what it looked like inside.

The hut reminded him of camping at the Quidditch World Cup. Everything was here that was needed to make life comfortable. There was a kettle; a cooking fire; a bed; and wooden shelves containing a few books. Harry sniffed the blankets on the bed. They smelt pleasant. He could smell that green, herbal scent he’d noticed before and traces of human sweat which he thought smelt male. Harry had smelt the same smell while he was walking through the woods, and he wondered if the person from the hut had been nearby. If so, he or she was shy, maybe scared of being found… hiding. That must be it. This hut was so well camouflaged that Harry had only detected it with his powerful unicorn sense of smell, without which he’d have walked right past without noticing it.

Harry’s head came up in amazement. A wizard – he was almost sure it was a wizard – was hiding in the woods surrounding Godric’s Hollow. This could be dangerous. Was it a Death Eater looking for Harry and his friends? Glancing around carefully, Harry reassured himself he was still alone. He bowed his head once more and inhaled. No Death Eater mask or robes were in evidence, and more importantly, there was no smoky taint of ill will, no foul stench like that which had emanated from Gil. It wasn’t a Death Eater living here, then.

Harry wanted to know who was living here, in ‘his’ woods. He went back outside and skirted around the hut, seeing the path the occupant used on his way in and out. Harry moved away to the trees on the other side of the clearing and stood behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. He could clearly see the approach to the hut and he was determined to find out who was living here. If the wizard had any evil intentions, Harry, as the unicorn, would be able to see it immediately. And he would be able to deal with it, too. But if the man was of good intent, Harry would recognise that and then maybe he could contact him.

***

Severus was pissed off. There was no other word for it. He was angry, and thoroughly tired of being called into Voldemort’s presence just to hear the self-congratulatory ramblings of a madman. So they were planning another big raid on the Ministry, so what of it? They knew he wasn’t going to get involved with the political side of things. As a fugitive he could hardly wander around Diagon Alley or even Muggle London.

Eventually Voldemort had let him go, and so he Apparated straight back to his hut. Irritably, he lit the fire under the kettle. He needed tea. Maybe he’d be in time to see the return of the Golden Trio this afternoon. Perhaps one day he’d learn something worthwhile. Severus was getting impatient – a state most unlike him – because he could do little until he managed to talk to Potter face-to-face. Without being killed.

How many years had Severus wanted to talk honestly to Harry Potter? Certainly for the last year or more he’d wanted to be open with him. The act of appearing antagonistic had become very tiresome throughout that sixth year, and Severus had regarded it as a wasted opportunity when Albus hadn’t let him involve Harry in their plans.

As he made his tea, Severus’ mind dwelt on his last delightful sight of Harry, sprawled beneath the tree as he meditated, prior to what Severus believed had been his Animagus transformation. True, he hadn’t seen the change, but he’d been hard on Harry’s heels afterwards, and the evidence all pointed to that conclusion. Severus was looking forward to Harry’s next transformation. He didn’t intend to miss it.

Was there no end to the young man’s versatility? Harry was truly an amazing wizard. He’d done extraordinary things from the first year he arrived at Hogwarts. A parseltongue and TriWizard champion, he’d met and held off Voldemort on more than one occasion. And now he’d become an Animagus. Really it was no surprise. The young man was the most powerful wizard of his age, without doubt. Whether he was more powerful than Voldemort remained to be seen, but Severus believed that he may very well be. Now the trick was to let Harry know that he was on his side, and avoid being killed before the blessed day when Harry destroyed the evil, snake-faced bastard.

Severus drank his tea and calmed down. He’d missed out today, but probably all he’d have seen was the trio Apparating away, and he could still be at the Hollow ready for their return. He’d lost nothing except his temper.

Severus straightened up and left his hut. His long, dark robes made him too hot, but at least he had no fear of sunburn. He started down the path towards the large clearing where the cottage stood.

***

Harry stiffened when he heard the hut door open and saw a dark figure emerge. There hadn’t been anyone in there earlier, just the scent of human occupation.

The man was tall and lean and Harry had been right, it was definitely a wizard. A tall, lean wizard with long, lank hair. Dark, greasy-looking hair and dark robes… and there it was again – that herbal, green scent.

All four of Harry’s legs almost gave way. How could he have been so slow? There was only one man it could be, one man he should have recognised. It was the man he’d been trying to forget, to force out of his mind whenever he thought of him. Severus Snape.

Harry felt a spike of rage. He snorted and took another deep breath. The air he breathed in was as pure and untainted as before. Harry snorted again – a unicorn frown – and pawed the ground with his sharp golden hoof, before starting forward to follow the dark-robed figure.

Snape was headed towards the cottage. As Harry followed on quiet hoofs, he wondered why the air around him remained untainted. He couldn’t see the same smoky aura that had surrounded Gil, nor was there an unpleasant smell. But surely there should have been: Snape was a murderer and a traitor – if that didn’t qualify him as a man of evil will, nothing did.

Harry wanted to see what Snape was up to. Had he been living in that hut and spying on them? It certainly looked that way. He shuddered at the thought that Snape could have murdered him – just as he’d murdered Dumbledore. Snape could have sneaked up behind him while he moved around his home or walked through the woods.

And yet, he hadn’t. He hadn’t approached or harmed any of them. And he was clean. From a unicorn viewpoint, Snape was blameless, innocent. No evil taint, no suspect will. How could that be? Harry snorted again, involuntarily, unable to work it out. He knew the unicorn’s ability couldn’t be fooled, so where did that leave him?

Had he got it all wrong? Was Snape on the side of Light all along, as Dumbledore had always insisted?

***

Severus was striding along with his long-legged gait, making quick progress towards the Hollow. Several times he thought he heard sounds behind him – the snap of a twig, the rustle of a disturbed branch. When he heard a soft snort, he knew he really was being followed, and not by a human.

Memories of the unicorn came straight to the forefront of his mind. If he had stumbled across the magical creature again, he was in serious danger. There was no virgin girl to distract the beast this time, no nearby Muggle more evil than Snape to draw its wrath. Perhaps the beast had deliberately sought him out to kill him, following his trail from the site of the earlier encounter. Slowly and carefully, still walking without changing his pace, Severus reached his right hand into his left sleeve and pulled his wand from its holster.

Severus knew what a terrible crime it was to kill a unicorn, but he also knew that he was a damned soul already. He was a murderer: he’d used the Killing Curse. It didn’t get worse than that. Abruptly, Severus stopped walking, and turned.

On the path behind him, about twenty feet away, stood the pure-white unicorn. Its golden horn shone in the light, and there was no trace of blood on it now. Not yet anyway.

The unicorn stared at him; it did not move, it just stared right into Severus’ dark eyes with its own wide-eyed gaze. It had the most striking eyes, they were altogether magical and unlike a common horse’s, for they were green. Severus had never seen a live unicorn, but he’d read enough about them. Their eyes were usually black, like Severus’ own, or sometimes they were described as blue. But he’d never seen a reference to a unicorn with green eyes before.

Still the beast stared at him and made no overtly threatening movements. Severus’ fear dropped down a level. His acquisitive nature took over: unicorn hair was a premium potions ingredient. He had none left in his stores and it was not easy to obtain more when you were wanted throughout the Wizarding world. Even the Knockturn Alley suppliers were a risk these days. Maybe the beast shed its hair as it moved through the woods. Severus found he was scanning the area where the unicorn was standing, hopeful he might yet profit from the encounter.

The human spirit was hopelessly optimistic! Severus knew that today he was going to die or be eternally tainted, for even if he lived it would be a half-life, not worth the name.

Suddenly, the unicorn moved. It turned and walked away. Severus watched, slack-jawed, as the last sparkle of light from its silver tail disappeared between the trees. He’d survived a second meeting with the beast. He let out a long breath. His mind was still spinning as he turned and walked on towards Godric’s Hollow, with quicker strides.

***

Harry walked back to his Transformation Glade. He sat down under the now-familiar tree. His mind was a whirl. He was confused and almost dizzy with the certainty that he was standing on the edge of something momentous.

Harry had been following Snape. He should have known that however hard he tried to walk quietly, it wouldn’t be possible to keep his presence secret from a man who had been a spy for so many years. Snape had suddenly turned, wand in hand, to confront him.

Harry had felt no fear, and now he wondered at that. He knew Snape was deadly – he had watched him kill Dumbledore. Snape must know that killing a unicorn was not a wise course of events, but Harry believed he would have done it if he felt his life was in danger. So Harry had stood still, trying to look as unthreatening as a unicorn could, which he had to admit, was not very unthreatening at all.

Harry had stared into the man’s dark eyes, determined to work out why it was that Snape wasn’t exuding the tainted smell of evil. Harry’s delicate pink nostrils quivered in a vain attempt to find evidence of Darkness, but nothing definite drifted towards him. He was close enough that if Snape was evil Harry would have been only too aware of it.

Snape’s aura was not smoky and thick. Even as a unicorn Harry had to look closely at Snape to detect the pale green light which surrounded him. Inside the woodland the colour of Snape’s aura was subtle and easily missed, but once he’d seen it Harry formed the impression that he was looking at a healing light. Unicorn Harry snorted a soft, confused frown.

He continued to stare into Snape’s eyes, and neither of them turned away from the mutual scrutiny. Harry saw more than the man’s gaunt features – he saw his heart. And that heart told Harry that Severus Snape was consumed by a huge desire to do right, even if it cost him everything, including his life. Harry’s breathing quickened as he recognised the truth. Hard on its heels came a wave of intense sadness and loneliness so fierce that Harry almost stopped breathing.

The desire and the loneliness were both linked to the image of Albus Dumbledore. Snape wanted to fulfil his old mentor’s will. And he missed him, even more than Harry did.

Harry couldn’t stand looking at Snape any longer – the pain was too intense. He turned and walked away.

The unicorn shook his heavy head, causing his silver mane to dance around his face. Did all unicorns feel with this intensity? Harry had been unprepared for the wave of emotion he’d picked up from Snape.

Harry’s eyes drifted shut. Magical powers had a price, and the price of being able to detect a person’s will was having to bear the feelings you discovered. Harry felt himself drift formlessly, then settle back on the Earth with the weight of his human body. He kept his eyes closed for a while, not eager to confront the radical discoveries he’d made.

When Harry opened his eyes again he was ready to accept what he’d been shown. He’d had been wrong all along. Severus Snape was worthy of the trust and respect Albus Dumbledore had shown him. Harry wasn’t sure how Snape could still appear so clean in a unicorn’s eyes after killing Albus, but it was a fact, and Harry had to acknowledge it. He knew he had to contact the man hiding in the woods. For that he would need to spend another day at home. But if he was going to explain his discoveries to Ron and Hermione, he needed to know everything for himself first.

Harry strode off towards his cottage.

***

Severus watched as Harry returned to his home and went inside; there was no sign of his friends there. Harry must have returned alone early for some reason. When Ron and Hermione returned soon after Harry came out of the cottage to greet them. Severus managed to overhear them arranging to go to The Burrow for the evening, so he gave up his observation for the day and set out for his hut.

Overall, the day had been a loss, but it could have been so much worse. Severus had managed to survive a second encounter with the unicorn. And today it had definitely known he was there – it had stood looking straight at him. Severus had the feeling the unicorn had been looking into his mind. He’d felt exposed and examined as if all his deepest secrets were laid open to its gaze. It wasn’t Legilimency – Severus could block that with his own Occlumency far more efficiently than any living Legilimens could penetrate. No, whatever this was he was as powerless to prevent it as the merest Muggle. That creature had seen into the depths of Severus’ soul.

And yet it hadn’t attacked him. After an indeterminate time, where each had stared intently at the other, the unicorn had just turned and quietly walked away. Severus was mystified.

As he brewed tea, he decided that he’d start again tomorrow, bright and early. With any luck he wouldn’t be Called – it was rare that Voldemort did so two days running – and if he was even luckier Potter would remain behind too. As on most evenings, Severus consoled himself with the thought that tomorrow he may finally learn something.

***

Sitting around the breakfast table early the next morning, the Golden Trio were riding out the waves of the latest storm to disrupt their friendship. It had started when Harry had mentioned that yet again he wouldn’t be accompanying them. Hermione was not happy.

“I know it’s two days running,” Harry said. “But I just need another day. You and Ron are doing a great job at Hogwarts searching the records. You don’t need me there.”

“No,” Hermione admitted. “We don’t need you to be there. But it would be nice to feel you were as committed to finding the Horcruxes as we are. The books don’t read themselves, you know.”

“I am committed, Hermione. How can you doubt that?” Harry was beginning to get annoyed. “I have something else to do, that’s all. And I don’t want to tell you what it is until I’m sure about it.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Ron interjected. “Leave him alone, ‘Mione. Nobody’s more serious about all this than Harry. If he needs another day, what’s the difference?”

Harry felt a rush of warmth towards Ron, grateful for his support.

Ron continued: “I don’t think we need to panic too much yet, anyway; Voldemort’s obviously not up to much.”

“And what brings you to that conclusion, Ronald?” Hermione asked, somewhat waspishly.

“Well, Harry hasn’t had any problems with his scar lately, and it’s faded a bit: it doesn’t look as red and angry as it used to.”

Harry reached up and ran his fingers over his scar. He hadn’t thought about it much lately, which just showed that Ron was right, Voldemort wasn’t trying to link to him. Or maybe the Dark Lord was just in a quiet mood lately, however unlikely that seemed. The skin felt flatter, no longer inflamed or sore. Harry automatically brushed his fringe back over it. Out of sight, out of mind, with any luck.

Hermione accepted the boys’ decision, though she was still looking mutinous. Harry felt it would be diplomatic to see his friends off and he accompanied them to the clearing for their Apparition. “I’ll see you later,” he called, as they took their leave.

As soon as they’d disappeared, Harry turned and walked into the wood following the now-familiar path to the Transformation Glade, as he called it. Harry presumed he’d be able to transform anywhere now, but he’d always become the unicorn in that glade, and he felt most comfortable doing it there. It was almost like a ritual. Today, Harry wasn’t going to waste time exploring; he was going to find the fugitive who lived in the hidden hut, and finish it.

***

Severus Snape woke up early as a rule, but it seemed that the anxieties of the last few days had caught up with him. He’d lain awake for hours the night before, only to fall asleep as the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn. Then he’d overslept. By the time he’d roused himself with the aid of several mugs of steaming tea and a quickly-made bowl of porridge, the sun was higher than it had ever been before he left his hut. He strode quickly to the clearing, fearful he might have missed something, and the silence of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow seemed to confirm his fears. He checked, of course, but there were no young wizards present. Severus cursed roundly and turned back towards the woods.

He never got back into the shelter of the trees. Standing at the woodland edge, staring fixedly at him once again, was the unicorn.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked aloud, surprising himself by addressing an animal, even a magical one.

The unicorn shook its beautiful head, its golden horn glinting in the morning sun. Surely it wasn’t answering him?

And then it started to walk towards him. Severus felt his legs shaking. His wand was still in its holster and he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t grabbed it and hexed the beast, instead of talking to it. He took a step back, and then another, but the unicorn kept advancing, giving the odd quiet little snort as it did so. Severus stepped back again and the backs of his calves came into contact with Harry’s garden bench. He sat down suddenly, startling himself as much as the unicorn, which tossed its head again and whinnied.

Severus drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he said, almost sure he meant that he hadn’t intended to startle the beast. And that was all he was telling it, wasn’t it? And why was he still talking to it?

The unicorn advanced more slowly now it was close to Severus. The gleam of its white coat was very bright; its green eyes were an intense emerald colour that Severus hadn’t been able to fully appreciate from a distance. The unicorn lowered its head and its horn jutted out in front of it. Severus waited for the sudden forward thrust and was amazed as a sense of peace swept over him. Why wasn’t he fighting his end?

The unicorn pawed the ground as if exasperated, its hoof raking the grass and leaving a dark line of wounded earth. It took the final couple of paces and closed in on Severus, and then it fell to its knees.

Now Severus was eye to eye with the magical creature. He should have been trembling, but the beast’s close proximity seemed to exert a strong calming influence. He watched as the unicorn tilted its head to one side, turning the deadly horn aside, and laid its head on Severus’ thighs.

Severus sat as still as a statue, totally incredulous about what was happening. It wasn’t possible! Such a thing might have happened when Severus was five years old or so, but unicorns never associated with older boys and men. And they never physically touched a female unless she was a virgin. What this one was doing was what unicorns did to virgin girls. It was worshipping him.

Severus stared at the head cradled in his lap. The green eye stared calmly back. It was so beautiful – it was like an emerald set into an ivory statue. The unicorn’s breathing could be seen by the gentle quivering of its pink nostrils, and Severus felt its warm breath blow over his thigh. He raised a shaking hand and touched the magnificent white neck, stroking along the line of the strong muscles. The animal’s coat was smooth, warm and velvety.

This was truly the most beautiful experience of Severus’ life. It was other-worldly and so unexpected that he was having trouble believing in it, even as his nerve-endings informed him of the solid reality of the animal beneath his fingertips.

The unicorn’s scent was horsy: warm and alive, and somehow that was comforting. Severus let his hand continue stroking tenderly, feeling more blessed than he had any right to do. What was happening? Had he died and gone to Heaven? He really couldn’t make sense of how such a thing could happen in the normal world, even in the magical world. This wonderful beast trusted him. No-one on the side of Light trusted Severus Snape. Since Albus’ death there was no-one who knew the truth. Severus’ eyes filled with tears at the bittersweet knowledge that this magical creature had tested him, and amazingly it hadn’t found him wanting. He closed his eyes, stilling his hand on the unicorn’s warm neck, feeling the welling tears spill from his eyes.

He felt the unicorn stir, but he remained still. He didn’t want the animal to leave him.

His eyes flew open in amazement. A hand – a human hand – had stroked down his face, wiping the tears from his cheek. Severus stared into emerald green eyes belonging to a very human Harry Potter. His jaw dropped in amazement, and for the second time he steeled himself for death.

Seconds passed. Harry’s eyes were constant and calm, staring into his own. Potter didn’t hex him, just as the unicorn hadn’t impaled him. But of course, somehow Harry was the unicorn.

Severus shook his head in disbelief. Humans couldn’t become magical beasts – it didn’t work like that. But faced with the evidence of his own eyes, Severus had to admit that it did for Harry Potter. And was it any surprise that the only person to survive the Killing Curse should be unique in this way as well?

“Why?” he croaked, his voice only just obeying him.

“You’re clean, Severus,” Harry said. “Your heart and soul are pure. Difficult though it was for me to accept it, I saw that you were good. I tested your will, and I cannot argue with the truth that was revealed to me.”

Severus raised his hand and touched Harry’s messy black hair, just as he’d stroked the unicorn’s coat. Harry leaned into the caress. The young man felt velvety-smooth and warm, just like the unicorn. And he still felt formidable, full of the fierce power of Light and Love. And Severus never wanted to leave his side again.

“Will you help me, Severus?”

“Whatever you want, Harry.”

“If you can get me to him, I can transform and finish him.”

Severus nodded. It made sense; it all made sense now. Power the Dark Lord knows not…

“Of course. I will always help you in any way you want, Harry.”

Harry leaned in closer as if he was drawn to Severus. Severus shivered in response as if he felt the pull just as Harry did, and the two men embraced in an affirmation of their mutual purpose.

Severus smiled: it was the first smile to cross his lips since Albus’ death. Maybe, just maybe, he could have a life after Voldemort after all.

***

Severus had achieved reluctant acceptance with Harry’s friends. Ron and Hermione had been understandably shocked and alarmed to learn that Severus Snape had been living in the woods. At first, they’d refused to accept Harry’s belief that Snape was innocent, at least of any evil intent when he had killed Dumbledore. In the end, Harry had to explain about his Animagus ability and show them his transformed self. Their shock had been compounded, this time with amazement.

Unable to argue against the power of a unicorn, they’d reluctantly – very reluctantly in Ron’s case – accepted Severus’ help. Using the knowledge Dumbledore had left with him, Severus helped them find the Horcruxes. Once found, Snape had used his extensive experience of the Dark Arts and the knowledge Albus had gained to help Harry destroy them. Albus’ dreadful experience with the ring had helped them by showing them what spells were necessary to provide a safe containment area.

The locket had been easy to find – it was just a matter of tracking down Mundungus Fletcher and relieving him of it. The Hufflepuff goblet had been discovered at Hogwarts. Rowena Ravenclaw had left a book of her research into Healing charms, and that, too, had been found at Hogwarts. Voldemort’s link with the historic school and its Founders had been strong and it went some of the way to explain both his hatred of Dumbledore who’d kept him from there for so long and his regard for Snape in his role as a Hogwarts professor.

The final two Horcruxes were going to prove far more difficult. Voldemort, of course, had a piece of his soul in his current body which would only be destroyed at his death. Severus believed the final Horcrux was locked inside Harry himself – most probably in his scar.

“So, even if I kill him, his soul will still be alive inside me?”

“The Horcrux will need to be destroyed,” Severus replied gravely.

Harry looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Then it will mean my death.”

Severus did not flinch, nor look away. “It may. Or we may be able to destroy it. A lot depends on what happens when we kill him.”

Harry sighed deeply. It was all so complicated: such a thing was unknown throughout history. Neither Harry, nor Severus had ever heard of a person being made into a Horcrux. Harry had been able to destroy the other Horcruxes, but just how could he destroy the Horcrux within his own body?

“Severus, I honestly can’t feel anything inside me any more. I haven’t felt the link to Voldemort for ages – is he being quiet at present?”

“Quite the opposite, Harry. The Dark Lord has been almost manic with delight lately. He has been celebrating each Death Eater success quite lavishly.”

Harry shivered; he had a good idea that those celebrations would be very painful for any Muggles present. He raised his hand to his scar. It was cool and flat, not raised and painful at all. He frowned. “I don’t understand,” he muttered.

Severus watched Harry’s gesture. “What don’t you understand?”

“My scar should be more active.”

Severus reached out and pushed Harry’s fringe to one side, not failing to notice how the young man shivered at his touch. “It’s hardly visible,” Severus marvelled. “It just looks like a pale, old scar. Just an ordinary scar.”

Harry felt a bit odd: trembly and uncomfortable, almost as if he wanted to explode. He couldn’t sit still any longer – something about Severus’ touch bothered him. He’d felt a jolt, a bolt of fire seemed to pass right through him whenever the older wizard touched him.

Harry shook his head. “It never looks ordinary, you know that.”

Unable to believe the evidence of his own lack of feeling from the scar, or Severus’ observation, Harry went in search of the bathroom mirror.

Severus followed, and found Harry in front of his reflection, rubbing at his forehead.

“He’s gone, Severus. Really gone.”

“I assure you, he’s very much alive,” Severus insisted. He pulled up his sleeve and Harry saw the dark tattoo on his forearm, mute proof that the Dark Lord still reigned.

“Then how do you explain what’s happened to my scar?”

“For once, it’s good news,” Severus replied. “I believe your scar was a Horcrux, but somehow it’s been destroyed.”

Harry felt odd, weak and shaky. Severus took pity on the young man and led him back to the kitchen. He sat Harry down at the table while he made them both tea. Harry was happy to lean on Severus at times like this. The older wizard had become increasingly important to him. Severus understood, far more than Ron and Hermione could, the scale of the problems they faced. Harry had spent hours talking to Severus, telling him intimate thoughts and feelings.

Harry had felt more and more drawn to Severus, at first deeply pitying the man’s life as an outcast of Wizarding society. Severus had followed Albus’ plan and it had cost him a great deal, not least the bitter pain of having to kill his oldest friend. Of course, Harry never let Severus know that he felt sorry for him; he knew how Snape would have hated that.

As time passed, Harry’s feelings had changed. He was still drawn towards Severus, but it was in a far more personal way. He realised that he found Severus uniquely attractive, and had even started to dream and fantasise about him.

“How long have you missed the sense of his presence?” Severus asked.

“Well… I can’t remember exactly. I haven’t felt him since I found you.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose expressively. “I doubt it has anything to do with my presence, Harry.”

“The unicorn…” Harry whispered.

And suddenly it was obvious. Severus threw back his head and laughed. Harry looked at him in amazement. The kitchen filled with the rich sound of Snape’s laughter, a wonderful sound which went on and on…

And Harry joined in, full of delight at the sight, and relief at the truth of what they’d found. Harry remembered the burning pain he’d felt in his skull at his first transformation – a pain he’d never felt again. It was true: there was one less Horcrux, for how could a piece of Voldemort’s dark soul live within a unicorn’s body?

***

The Dark Lord had arranged a planning meeting. He wanted to finalise the details of his takeover of the Ministry of Magic, and had demanded the attendance of his two aides: Lucius Malfoy, his political expert; and his strategy adviser, Severus Snape.

“It is a private meeting; there will only be Lucius and Voldemort present,” Severus told the young man. “I will Apparate in with you. You will be magically bound; you can cast the spell on yourself beforehand. You will be able to remove it wandlessly when necessary, I presume?”

Severus knew that anyone capable of such an amazing Animagus transformation should be capable of casting more or less any normal wandless spell.

“Of course,” Harry replied.

“So, I will Apparate in with you, telling them that I found and captured you here, at Godric’s Hollow. While they are crowing about it, you will wandlessly remove your bindings. I will deal with Lucius at the same time. How fast can you transform?”

Harry frowned. “I’ve never timed myself. I know it’s quick, but we won’t have long, will we?”

“A matter of seconds, and only that because we’ll have the element of surprise. Voldemort is unmatched as a duellist; his reactions are lightning-fast.”

“Then I will practice transforming as quickly as possible. Would you time me, Severus?”

And so they practiced, there in the clearing in front of Harry’s cottage. Harry was fast to start with, but he got quicker. Each time he went through the transformation, the feel of the processes of change became smoother and more efficient. After five transformations, Harry’s time had come down to two seconds, but he was obviously tiring.

“We should leave it there for today,” Severus said. “You will exhaust yourself, and that will not help us. I am truly amazed at your ability and strength, though.” Severus’ voice displayed his appreciation.

Harry nodded, feeling a shiver of delight pass through him. Receiving praise from his ex-teacher really meant something: Severus never did it lightly.

“Will you stay?”

Severus turned to Harry. “What do you want?”

“Just your company,” Harry answered, with his quirky smile, though he did wonder whether he was being honest and that was really all he wanted. Harry was well aware how important he was to Severus, that Severus didn’t really have anyone else. He knew he’d begun looking upon the older man as his confidant, in much the same way Ron and Hermione looked on each other. They’d been spending more and more time at The Burrow, or out together in the evenings, their relationship deepening. Harry found he could cope with that now – now that he had his own special companion.

The two men prepared lunch in the bright kitchen. Sandwiches, salad and bowls of tomato soup. Harry felt extremely comfortable in Severus’ company – there was an intense closeness and trust which he assumed was the result of testing Severus while in unicorn form.

“I am still unable to make sense of your Animagus transformation, you know?” Severus remarked as they ate their lunch. “Not only is it unknown for a wizard to become a magical creature, but of all magical beasts, you became a unicorn.”

“What is so mystifying about a unicorn as opposed to, say, a griffin?” Harry asked.

“The symbolism. It is indeed useful to be able to divine a person’s true nature, and I have to be pleased that you found mine acceptable.” Severus smiled at Harry. “But the incident with the Muggle girl… that was something else entirely.”

Harry nodded and shifted on his seat. Despite his rationalisation of the incident, and Severus’ counsel during many heart-to-heart talks, that he shouldn’t feel guilty for preventing a crime and simultaneously ridding the Earth of an evil person, it still made Harry uncomfortable to think about it. “I couldn’t help myself, it just happened. The unicorn nature…”

“Is to worship and protect virginity, I know.”

“Well, perhaps it’s because…” Harry began, then he stopped and went as red as his tomato soup.

Severus looked at his blushing companion, and finally realised what should have been obvious from the start, and would have been except for his own prejudice. “You’re a virgin.”

Harry nodded, his blush more intense than ever.

Severus shook his head wonderingly. “But you had a girlfriend, the Weasley girl. I assumed…”

“You assumed wrong, then!” Harry snapped. It was apparent the whole subject was embarrassing him.

“Obviously,” was all Severus quietly replied, and set about concentrating on his soup.

When they’d eaten, Severus helped Harry clear away, and then turned to look at the young man. Harry felt a strange awareness when Severus was close to him; his skin tingled almost as if Severus was emitting some kind of power. Harry remembered the gentle touch of Severus’ hands, stroking his neck, caressing his hair. Had Severus done that just because Harry had been the unicorn, or might he want to do that to the real Harry?

Harry’s skin tingled in reaction to their closeness. He wanted more: he’d decided he wanted to touch Severus. He wanted to feel the man’s warmth and tenderness, just as he’d felt it when he’d laid his head on Severus’ lap. He wanted to know if it would feel as good now he was in human form. Or if it would feel even better.

In the last few years, if Harry had learned nothing else, he’d learned to be decisive. So he took his courage in both hands and leaned forward and kissed Severus, deciding the only way to find the answer to his questions was to go ahead and try. Severus stood still and unresponsive, and Harry began to think he’d just made a dreadful mistake, until, with a groan of need and surrender, Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed him back.

Both men acknowledged the truth of their feelings during that kiss. Severus had known anyway, and given up trying to deny them, but hadn’t believed he would ever feel Harry kissing him. Harry was inexperienced – a virgin. Had he even kissed a man before? But Harry’s enthusiastic responses were sweeping Severus’ worries aside, and he stopped trying to analyse the situation and deepened the kiss.

Both men’s lips became insistent, their arms moved, hands began tracing bodies, urgently touching, as if they needed to assure themselves that this was really happening. Tongues met tentatively at first, then confidently, sliding and tasting, alive with need. When they parted for air, Severus forced himself to push Harry away. His chest heaved with excitement and the effort of regaining control.

“Not now… not now…” Severus panted, his voice hoarse and very unlike his usual smooth tones.

Harry frowned. “I want you, Severus,” he insisted, his green eyes darkened with need, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

Severus shook his head. “I’ve no idea why you would, Harry. But even if you do, we must wait. Afterwards…”

“Severus, there may be no afterwards,” Harry said sadly.

“It’s important, Harry,” Severus insisted, and something in his voice stilled Harry. “I just know it’s important. Afterwards.” He shook his head in perplexity, aware he was making little sense. “You’re a virgin, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, but that won’t stop you, will it? You can show me what to do.” Harry almost sounded plaintive, as if he expected rejection.

“Oh, I will show you, Harry. Everything you need to know, and much more,” Severus answered softly, his deep voice making Harry tremble. “But I think it’s important you remain a virgin until he’s gone.”

Harry looked confused. “I don’t understand…”

“Neither do I, completely. But I have an instinct, if you like, about the Dark Arts. Well, about all magic. And you need to remain a virgin.”

Harry began to look upset. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me, aren’t you? Why don’t you just tell me if you don’t want to bother? Is it because you don’t like men?”

Severus could only chuckle wryly, the sound lightening the atmosphere a little. “Oh, that’s not the problem, I assure you. I prefer men. And I have desired you for quite a while. You really have no idea how much I want you at this moment. I am a hair’s breadth away from taking you now, over this table, or on the floor…” Severus drew a rasping breath, forcing himself to calm down. “But I know it’s important to wait,” he repeated insistently.

Harry’s head drooped. He couldn’t help being disappointed. He’d mustered his courage to touch Severus, and when he’d felt Severus responding to his kisses, he’d thought everything he wanted would follow. It would have taken his mind off the prospect of what he had to do tomorrow, but it wasn’t to be.

Severus reached out and stroked the young man’s face, then pushed his hair aside to gaze again at the faded scar. Soon, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was there at all unless you knew exactly where to look. Harry had been handsome with the scar, but Severus was glad the blemish was disappearing. Harry did not deserve to carry Voldemort’s mark for the rest of his life.

“Then I’d better make sure we survive tomorrow,” Harry said.

Severus nodded. “I’d better go. If I stay… it’s just too tempting.” He leaned across and brushed his lips over Harry’s cheek. Harry turned to capture Severus’ lips, but Severus pulled back with a regretful look. “You will knock down my barriers far too easily, Harry. I must go.” With a final stroke of his long fingers down Harry’s cheek, he turned and walked away.

Harry sat back down at the table. Tomorrow would be the day he’d been leading up to all his life. Tomorrow he would try to kill Voldemort.

***

“Severus is late, My Lord.”

“He will be here, Lucius. Severus is dependable. How much more proof do you need of that?”

“My Lord,” Lucius inclined his head. Since Snape had killed Dumbledore, Lucius had lost his position as Voldemort’s second-in-command. He knew he had little chance of regaining it as things stood, yet it gave him pleasure to be able to criticise his lord’s new favourite. Not that there was anything new about Snape, who’d been a Death Eater nearly as long as Lucius himself. At least that made the situation slightly more bearable, he supposed. Lucius Malfoy would have been far more annoyed had his replacement been some young upstart.

There was the loud crack of Apparition, which made both men start a little. They’d been expecting Severus, but his arrival wasn’t usually so loud. This was explained when they saw that Severus had brought a prisoner.

“Potter!” Lucius exclaimed.

Voldemort’s eyes flashed crimson as he took in the sight of his favourite’s prisoner. Harry Potter, bound tightly in magical bonds, was standing next to Snape with a look of extreme anger and hatred on his face. Voldemort chuckled.

“Well, well, Severus, what have you done now?”

“My Lord,” Severus began, his face alight with triumph.

Lucius’ stomach churned with jealousy at the sight and he sneered, managing to deflect his twisted expression towards Harry before his master could tell he was envious of Severus.

“I have captured your enemy,” Severus continued. “He has been quiet of late, and it took me a while to find him, but I have my ways. Some of my old colleagues are less careful than they ought to be."

Lucius Malfoy was staring at Potter now, entranced. He hadn’t seen the young man since he’d been in Azkaban. Potter had grown – there was no trace of the schoolboy left. A powerful young wizard stood before him. As much as it rankled, Lucius had to hand it to Snape: it was something of an achievement to capture Harry Potter, who was right at the top of Voldemort’s ‘Wanted’ list.

Severus stood with his upraised wand pointed at his prisoner. He watched carefully. He continued to keep one eye on Lucius’ position as Voldemort approached Harry, his pale, skeletally-thin arm extended in front of him. Harry flinched as Voldemort’s long, cold fingers touched his cheek, an obscene parody of the gesture he’d welcomed from Severus.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort mused quietly. “The great weapon of the side of Light. What a shame that you will never be of use to them. Now that you are here under my control, you are neutralised, are you not?”

The Dark Lord smiled. Severus had been right, Harry thought, Voldemort was in good humour lately. Harry leaned back, not wanting that cold touch on his skin any longer than necessary. Voldemort laughed at what he saw as his enemy’s weakness, then turned and went to his throne, where he sat and relaxed, showing Potter how little he was concerned about him. Perhaps he thought he looked regal – he was deranged enough to believe it.

Severus knew exactly where Malfoy was standing, off to their left. Voldemort was sitting right in front of Harry, a matter of ten feet away. Severus took a step back, and pushed Harry slightly forward, as if presenting him to his master.

“Once more you bring me my heart’s desire, Severus. I must think of some suitable reward for you. Perhaps you’d like to keep Potter as a slave when I’ve broken him?”

Harry’s eyes flicked towards Severus as if horrified by the prospect, and Malfoy laughed appreciatively. Harry yelled: “No!”

Harry’s bindings fell, and Severus immediately whirled sideways and hit Lucius with Petrificus Totalus! before he even had time to raise his wand.

In the second it took Voldemort to accept that something was wrong, and to switch from relaxed to combat-ready, Harry transformed.

The unicorn glowed with a silver light in the midst of the dark room. His horn glimmered; his hoofs rang on the tiles as he sprang forward, impelled by the muscles of his strong hindquarters.

Even as Voldemort sprang up and raised his wand with a spell on his lips, Harry lowered his head. His horn drove clean through Voldemort’s ribcage; the forward impetus pushed the Dark Lord back onto his throne, and he was skewered to its wooden back by Harry’s long, golden horn. The scream which filled the chamber was unearthly – it sounded like a rabbit caught in a leg-trap.

Voldemort’s eyes glowed as red as the fresh blood that was gushing down the front of his grey robes. “My Horcruxes…” he gasped. His eyes rolled up, their colour darkening as they lost their inhuman character and what remained of the man he had once been started to die.

Harry braced his hoofs against the floor and pulled back. His horn slid from Voldemort’s body with an unpleasant squelching sound. Voldemort sagged down into the corner of his throne, where he slumped lifelessly, now seated as regally as a discarded rag doll. His final breath rattled even as his last heartbeat pumped his life’s blood out onto his robes, turning them Gryffindor red. With a final whistling exhalation, his shoulders slumped and did not rise again.

Harry was trembling, his flanks shook and his legs felt weak. Severus approached and stood next to him, laying his hand on Harry’s broad back.

“He’s gone,” he said, and rolled up his sleeve to show Harry the Dark Mark, which was just a ghostly grey memory of its former self and fading by the second. As they watched – the unicorn’s green eyes and Severus’ black ones – the tattoo faded from existence.

Harry slumped to his knees in relief, his horned head bowed to the floor. He transformed.

The champions of the Light turned and looked at Lucius Malfoy. The man had been spelled rigid by Severus’ curse, and just as effectively by what he’d seen.

Lord Voldemort had once prolonged his life by drinking unicorn blood; and he’d violated their purity again by using it in the potion for his rebirth. How fitting, then, that it should have been this magical creature that finally destroyed him.

‘But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ...’

***

Harry waited in Minerva McGonagall’s office. He had refused the polite invitations, the requests, the insistences, and finally the grovelling pleas, that he should go to the ministry in person in order to collect the prisoner. In his turn, he’d told them just what he thought of them calling Severus Snape a ‘prisoner’. He’d made damn sure they all knew what Snape had really done – the sacrifices he’d made and the price he’d paid. Rita Skeeter’s hand had almost dropped off, even with the help of her charmed quill, by the time he’d finished his story. Harry insisted that all write-ups were to emphasise the role of his ex-teacher, or he would not be pleased. As nobody wanted to offend the destroyer of the Dark Lord, Severus would not only be pardoned for any past misdeeds, he would be decorated as the war hero he undoubtedly was.

Harry accepted another cup of tea from the Headmistress, as well as two Ginger Newt biscuits, which she swore by as a general tonic, pick-me-up and digestive aid. Severus was to be escorted here by two Aurors, to prevent him being mobbed by the press and public as soon as they released him from their thrice-damned Interrogation Suite.

With three soft pops, the party Apparated into the office, the Hogwarts wards having been opened briefly to allow their entrance.

Severus looked thinner than before and his dark eyes looked tired. He was as pale as ever, and Harry wondered how he’d managed to live outdoors throughout the summer and still retain his dungeon-like pallor. Harry stood up and extended his hands. Severus stepped forward and took them. They smiled at each other.

“We’ll be off then,” Harry said to Severus.

Severus nodded.

“We’ll escort you to where you’re going,” the older of the two Aurors said.

“No,” was all Harry said, and Disapparated with Severus. They could hear Headmistress McGonagall’s amused chuckles echoing from the atmosphere they’d just left.

Harry and Severus reappeared in Harry’s kitchen. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you might like to spend some time with me,” Harry said quietly, and for the first time he appeared nervous. “It is afterwards.”

Severus smiled. “You thought right, Harry,” he said, pulling Harry into his arms.

When Severus’ arms relaxed, Harry led him upstairs and into the bedroom. The early September sun lit the room and its rich green décor made it look like an extension of the surrounding woods.

“Green?” Severus queried with a smirk.

“I happen to be very fond of some Slytherin things,” Harry said, raising his hand to Severus’ high-necked robe and starting to slip the buttons out of their fastenings.

Severus’ smile faded and his expression became intent. “And though I never thought I would say it,” he murmured, as he raised his hands and cupped Harry’s face, “I find I have a great desire for something typically Gryffindor.” Severus leaned down and kissed Harry reverently, as if he was worshipping him, holding the young man’s face still with his hands.

Harry’s eyes drifted closed as the kiss continued, and his hands dropped from Severus’ robe. He felt as if he was drifting again, it was almost the same feeling he had when he was seeking his unicorn form. Only when Severus raised his head and released Harry’s face, dropping his hands to Harry’s t-shirt hem, did Harry return fully to the room and open his eyes.

Severus’ coal-black eyes were looking down at his hands on Harry’s clothing. His dark lashes were surprisingly long and lush and Harry wondered why he’d never noticed them before. He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on Severus’ down-turned eyelid, flicking his tongue across the baby-soft skin he found there.

Severus could hardly believe he was being treated like this. He’d long ago accepted that he would go to his grave unloved. Yes, several times in the past he had gone to a Knockturn Alley whore for an anonymous servicing – a quick shag in the shadows. The chink of coins and no questions asked. He’d resorted to that, mocking himself even while he was desperate to ease the sexual urges that were driving him to distraction. Once sated, he’d leave. His body would be temporarily gratified, his mind just the opposite: at best empty, at worst his frustration and loneliness had been emphasised. Loving touches freely given were something he’d never had, and long since given up hoping for.

Severus opened his eyes. Harry was looking at him, just looking at his face as if he wanted to familiarise himself with every millimetre of flesh, every pore of his skin. Severus would have expected to feel uncomfortable, embarrassed by his physical shortcomings, but as he looked into Harry’s green eyes and saw the tenderness Harry was showing to him, it didn’t happen. Instead, Severus relaxed with a small smile on his lips, appreciating the sight of the young man in front of him.

“Severus… I want to say how sorry I am.”

“How can you be sorry when you’re here, doing this?” Severus asked, mystified.

“I’m sorry for all the dreadful things I’ve said to you… all the things I’ve done. I hated you, Severus. I was very wrong to do that.”

“No, Harry. I goaded you, unfairly. I even hated you… once…” Severus ran his fingertips along Harry’s cheekbone, his brow wrinkled with concern. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to feel bad now. “Let’s try and forget it… move on together.”

Harry nodded. “I want to make it up to you, Severus. I want to show you what I really think of you.” Harry leaned in for another kiss, and Severus opened to him.

They kissed slowly, languorously. Each wanted to memorise the other, and they explored each other’s mouths, tasting and stroking with tongues, nibbling gently with teeth, working jaws and lips to maximise contact with each other. Time had become meaningless, for now Voldemort was dead and they were both free they could do as they pleased. And Harry fully intended to take his time and do what he wanted for once, and he wanted to be with Severus.

The kisses began to get more urgent. Hands began to explore, to tug at their restrictive clothing. Severus wanted to see all of Harry. Harry wanted to feel flesh against his own skin – he’d never experienced that, nor had he ever wanted to so badly before. As if a signal had been passed between them, they separated and began to remove their clothes.

Harry was breathing heavily. He felt so excited, it was something like the feelings he got at the start of a quidditch match. A rush of sharp sensation, the blood flowing so hard through his veins he could feel it. His hands fumbled with his shoelaces.

Severus was more in control – just barely. He shed his shoes, socks and trousers and started on the robe buttons Harry hadn’t managed to open. He glanced down at Harry and noticed the young man was having trouble with his laces. Impatient now, Severus pulled his partly-unbuttoned robe over his head. He leaned over and pushed Harry’s hands aside.

“Let me,” he said, untying Harry’s shoelaces. Severus took off the shoes, then the socks and trousers. He put his hands on Harry’s t-shirt hem once more. Not hesitating or getting side-tracked this time, he pulled it up and off.

Both men looked at each other – naked now except for their underwear. Severus’ lean, pale, lightly-haired chest contrasted with Harry’s broader, firmly-muscled, hairless body. Severus reached out his hand and placed it on Harry’s chest, appreciating the contrast in their colouring. Harry shivered under his touch.

“Are you all right? Is this okay?” Severus asked, praying that Harry wasn’t about to change his mind.

“It’s more than okay, Severus. It’s wonderful,” Harry replied in a quiet, breathy voice, so unlike his usual confident speech.

Severus stroked the firm flesh under his hand, and lifted the other to join in, stroking Harry’s pectoral muscles. He rubbed his work-calloused thumbs over Harry’s nipples and Harry gave a surprised ‘Oh!’

Severus, who’d been watching his hands, looked up into Harry’s face. The younger man seemed surprised. Severus quirked an eyebrow.

“I… um…” Harry began, causing Severus to chuckle. “I didn’t know they felt like that.”

“My thumbs?” Severus teased.

Harry grinned as the humour released the tension, and gave Severus a playful shove. “For a professor, you’re being really thick,” he taunted.

Severus grabbed him with a growl and kissed him – thoroughly. “Impudent brat…” he grumbled.

Harry responded eagerly. The kissing was already so comfortable that he didn’t worry about it. His body was telling him what to do, and he pushed his hips towards the hard, lean form standing next to him.

Severus felt Harry was ready for more. He slipped his hands into the waistband of Harry’s briefs and waited a little to give Harry the chance to object if he wanted to. Severus prayed he wouldn’t. Harry did respond – he wriggled his hips from side to side, encouraging Severus to remove the briefs. Severus slipped them down as far as he could reach, and slid his hands back up to cup Harry’s buttocks. He moaned as he felt the delightful swell of Harry’s firm arse-cheeks in his hands. He squeezed.

Harry moaned in reply and pushed forward again. He didn’t quite know what this urgency was that he was feeling low down in his pelvis. The arousal – the need to come – was familiar, and previously he’d always taken care of it with his own hand. Although this was similar, it was more as well. He trusted Severus to know, so he forsook his lover’s lips and whispered into his ear: “Please… show me…”

Severus released him – temporarily. He quickly removed his own briefs, noticing Harry kicking his discarded pair aside.

“Come,” he encouraged, holding out his hand to lead his young lover to bed.

Harry had come to a halt, dumbstruck – awestruck. He stared at Severus’ arousal, transfixed. Severus’ dark hair thickened from his navel down. His prick was emphasised by an arc of dark curls. Harry wanted to touch them, to feel the texture of that hair, which looked so different from Severus’ head-hair. Harry would touch it, but before then, he needed to look – because Severus’ cock was a compelling and slightly scary sight. Darkly-flushed with his excitement, it was so obvious – so insistent. Sev’s cock was longer than Harry’s, but that was almost incidental; it was its thickness that Harry was fascinated with. The older man was so much more… just so much more.

“Severus…” he breathed.

Severus felt no embarrassment. He could see Harry’s desire and admiration written clearly in his eyes. Severus’ cock twitched as if to emphasise its own needs and jauntily celebrate its incredible luck.

Harry saw the movement of Severus’ cock and he became harder still. And Sev’s balls… they were heavy-looking, larger than his own, lightly furred with wonderful dark hair. Harry wanted to explore their texture, their weight, their feel, their smell… their taste. He licked his lips, amazed at the sudden rush of sensual thoughts. He didn’t quite know what he expected to happen next… but he would take whatever Severus was willing to give him.

It was all too much for Severus. He lost his grip on his patience and took hold of Harry’s hand, pulling him towards the bed. “Now,” he insisted, his voice deep and thrumming with desire.

Harry snapped out of his reverie. “Yes,” he answered, and scrambled onto the bed next to Severus, equally eager for whatever would follow.

Kissing. Once more they kissed, and it was everything they’d had before and so much more. Their hot, excited bodies pressed together. Hands slid appreciatively over each other’s flesh, squeezing, feeling, pressing. Moans of approval greeted touches and tastes.

Severus knew he was getting fiercely aroused: his cock needed urgent attention. He also knew the young man was a virgin, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Harry. “Gently, Harry,” he said, trying to slow him down a little. “Let me look after you.” He pushed Harry off him and to the side and leaned up on his elbow to look at him.

“I need to do this quite slowly. We want your first time to be good. It won’t be perfect and it might hurt a little, but I’ll prepare you well to minimise that. I want you to want me again.”

Harry nodded, stilled somewhat by Severus’ tone. “Wh…what do I have to do?” he asked.

“You do nothing. Just let me do it this time,” Severus said, with a slight smile. “Do you have lube here?”

Harry went red with embarrassment. Yes, he did. He’d bought it by owl order from Slug & Jigger’s apothecary catalogue when he’d first started fantasising about Severus. When he’d ordered it, he’d doubted he’d ever get to use it except for wanking, but now he was glad he’d got it.

“Accio!” Severus said, his hand extended. The pot obediently smacked into his palm and the lid unscrewed itself.

“You do wandless magic?” Harry asked, and then could have kicked himself for asking such an obvious question when he’d just seen it performed.

Severus smiled. “No,” he teased. Then added: “Only simple spells. I’m not brilliant at it. Not like you.”

“How do you know I’m good at it?” Harry asked.

“The Chosen One? The wondrous Unicorn Animagus? It’s a good bet you are.”

Harry grinned.

While the young man was relaxed, Severus moved to kneel between his legs, pushing his thighs further apart. Then, he coated his forefinger. He used his other hand to encourage Harry to tilt his hips upwards and then he slid his slick forefinger backwards from the base of the testicles and across the sensitive area of the perineum.

Harry’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move. He waited to see what Severus would do next.

The finger had slid back easily: the lube was ideal. Severus found Harry’s entrance and pressed his fingertip against it. He thought Harry’s gasp was one of discovery rather than fear, so he traced a teasing circle around the area. The sensitivity of the nerves there caused Harry’s arse to twitch slightly and he squirmed at the attention.

“That feels… strange,” Harry said.

“You’ve never touched yourself there?”

“No. Only at the front.” Harry was blushing again.

Severus looked at him, wondering how such an innocent could be here with him, the fearsome ex-Death Eater. Except however innocent he might be, he was still Harry Potter. The most powerful wizard alive.

“You can say the word ‘cock’, Harry,” he said, with a mocking smile.

Harry frowned. Then he gave an impudent grin. “You might put me in detention for using language like that.”

Severus shook his head in amused exasperation, and had to stop what he was doing to kiss Harry again, overcome with tenderness for the ridiculous brat he’d once loved to hate.

Severus touched Harry’s arse again while they kissed, and pushed in. The long, slender finger slid smoothly past the tight ring of muscles and Severus pushed in to the second knuckle, and then stilled. He raised his head from the kiss and looked at Harry. Harry had a gentle smile on his lips – there was no hint of fear. Severus shook his head. He’d expected fear?

Severus began to explore. He stroked the smooth walls and swirled his finger a little, beginning the process of relaxing the muscles. Harry looked into his eyes all the while. Carefully, Severus made a beckoning gesture with his finger, up towards Harry’s cock, and found Harry’s prostate.

“Oh, Merlin!” Harry squeaked. “What…?”

Severus smirked with satisfaction, and repeated the gesture.

Harry’s eyes widened and he panted in reaction to the sensitive tingles shooting through his pelvis. “If you do that again, I’ll come,” he gasped.

Severus chuckled. “And why shouldn’t you? I want you to come; I want you to enjoy this.”

“But…”

Severus kissed his protests away, then raised himself once more and resumed his attentions – by removing his finger. Harry groaned with disappointment until he noticed the mischievous look on the older man’s face. Severus reslicked his fingers and slid two back inside.

It was fuller and more noticeable, and at first Harry had clenched a little in surprise. Severus just stayed still, waiting for the relaxation as Harry’s body learned to accept him. When the young man was relaxed again, Severus repeated the stroking, adding slight scissoring movements now he had two fingers inside. Harry gasped, but soon he was squirming towards the movements, apparently enjoying the sensations.

Severus began to mimic the actions of fucking, pushing the fingers all the way in, then pulling back and plunging in again. Harry responded to the rhythm, moaning a little. Severus didn’t touch his prostate, concentrating instead on getting the tight muscles to ease, the virgin body ready to accept him.

“Harry…” he said, his voice deep and quiet, “do you want me inside you?”

“Yes… I want you to take me, Severus, no-one but you.”

The young man was opening to him all the time. Severus withdrew his fingers, slicked more, and pushed three back inside. He knew this time it would feel much fuller.

Harry gasped at the invasion, but he’d done everything Severus wanted so far, and he trusted the older man. He told himself to accept it, and felt his muscles respond and relax. He thrust his hips towards the fingers to show his approval of the process.

Severus pushed more carefully now. He could still feel Harry opening to him, but it was getting more difficult. There was a limit to what he could do with his fingers. He scissored them again, and then repeated the beckoning gesture, stroking Harry’s prostate with a wider sweep of fingertips and feeling gratified when Harry bucked upwards and moaned.

“Do you want me to take your virginity? Do you want me to open you, to impale you on my hard cock?”

Harry shivered at words he could never have imagined coming from Severus Snape’s lips. “Yes, oh yes…”

“I’m so hard and hot for you, Harry. Look at me…”

Harry dropped his eyes to where Severus was kneeling and couldn’t help gasping at the sight of the older man’s cock: darkly-flushed and dripping with pre-come.

“Feel it, Harry,” Severus encouraged. “Feel what I’m going to put inside you…”

Harry reached his hand out. After a second of hesitation, he grasped his lover’s cock. It was as hot and hard as it looked, and the jolt of pure need that passed like a bolt of lightning through Harry’s body shocked him.

Severus withdrew his fingers. He placed his hand over Harry’s where it encircled his cock. “You’re going to be mine,” he promised.

Harry could only nod, mutely.

Severus slicked his fingers once more, but this time it was to coat his cock, which he did carefully and lovingly, and Harry’s eyes never left the erotic sight of Severus’ long, elegant fingers stroking his own arousal.

Severus aligned his cock at Harry’s well-lubricated entrance, and then he slid his hands behind Harry’s thighs to encourage the young man to lift his legs and looked at Harry again.

“I’m going to take you now. I’m going to push this inside you and fuck you, do you understand me?” Severus was anxious to ensure that Harry knew what was happening and consented to it, and he admitted to himself that he also loved to see Harry’s reactions to the intimate words.

Harry nodded, his eyes wide, the pupils dilated with passion. The young man was breathing fast and shallow with excitement, nervousness, and need. Since Severus had started speaking such intimate words to him, Harry had wanted nothing more than to feel the older man enter him, breaching his body and claiming him as his lover. Harry wanted Severus – he’d never been surer of anything. Now it felt almost like Severus was hesitating. Harry knew the older man wanted to be sure, but he’d had enough teasing.

“Just do it, Severus. Take me!” he ordered.

And Severus obeyed.

If Harry had thought he was full before, he’d been wrong. This was fullness. The thick cock slid past the tight entrance and pushed inside. Slowly, bit by bit, Harry accepted his lover inside him. He tried to will his muscles to relax more, but they took their time, only gradually allowing the breach.

Tight… and hot. Severus was hot, and he was hard. Harry knew the intruding cock would give him no respite from its fullness and rigidity. He willed his body to open enough to accept Severus; and he fought against the urge to clench and push the intrusion out…

Severus stilled and waited. Sweat dribbled down his forehead; a drop gathered and fell on to Harry’s untidy hair where it was spread against the pillow. Severus wanted so badly to move. He wanted to pound, to thrust, so hard…

Harry felt the accommodation as his body suddenly seemed to ease. The urge to reject the fullness had passed and it was beginning to feel less strange. “Yes…” he whispered. “Move now, love.”

Once again, Severus obeyed. He began with small nudges, little movements to get Harry used to the feeling. But Severus couldn’t keep that up, his body was screaming at him and he capitulated with a whimper of defeat. He began to thrust: the proper, rhythmic thrusts of lovemaking. All the while he watched Harry, fascinated by the young man’s face: the darkened emerald eyes with their pupils dilated with passion, and the interplay of emotions chasing across Harry’s features. Severus wanted to remember all of it.

Harry moaned and Severus was unsure what it signified, but he couldn’t stop now. His own need was building beyond the possibility of denial, spiralling to the point where it felt unbearable. His hips thrust more powerfully and then he lost it: pounding, thrusting, fucking…

Harry loved the pounding rhythm, and he responded. He pushed his hips towards the incoming thrusts and everything became more comfortable. He tilted his pelvis a little and….

“Aaaah!”

….Sev’s thick cock stroked over that wonderful part of him that gave such pleasure, and nothing – nothing – had ever compared to it. The explosion of sensation caused tears to well up in his eyes. As Severus thrust, rhythmically and powerfully, Harry started to convulse. His arse muscles clenched as he came and he felt even more aware of Severus buried inside him. Never had an orgasm felt like this – it was as if it was something completely new, completely different.

As Harry’s muscles gripped and squeezed in the throes of his climax, Severus let go of the final tenuous threads of control. His orgasm crashed into him and he emptied himself inside Harry, struggling to remain supported on his hands as the most perfect release engulfed him. As the spasms slowed, eventually drifting into a sweet calmness, Severus could hold himself up no longer. He unlocked his elbows and collapsed with his weight pressing down on Harry, his breathing ragged and fast as if he’d just run for his life.

Harry welcomed him, embracing him. His arms held onto Severus firmly but not restrictively.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered into his lover’s ear.

Severus didn’t stop to examine whether it was beads of sweat or tears that were falling onto Harry’s hair now. He let his eyes drift shut.

“That didn’t last long,” Severus said, once he’d recovered the power and will to speak. “Neither of us could last this time. I wanted you so much.”

Harry smiled. “No more than I wanted you, Severus.”

Severus wondered at that, but he could see the sincerity in Harry’s expression, and he wasn’t about to argue.

“Stay with me…”

Severus nodded. Did Harry think he was going to leave? He’d never leave again, if that’s what Harry wanted.

***

“So, Harry. This is where it first happened.”

“Yes. I call it my Transformation Glade.”

“Who taught you the craft of the Animagus?”

“No-one, really. I mean I talked about it, with Remus and Professor McGonagall, and I read everything I could find about Animagi. But nobody taught me as such. I just decided I wanted to do it. I came here and sat down under this tree.” Harry demonstrated, sitting in his accustomed position, back cradled by the welcoming wood of the old oak tree. He wondered if it was his imagination: either his back was wearing a smooth place in the trunk, or the tree was deliberately accommodating him. He smiled at the thought.

“I saw you, that day,” Severus admitted. “I was following you, trying to find an opportunity to talk to you.”

“So you saw me change!”

“No. I was disturbed at the critical moment. By a deer.” Severus’ lips quirked with the memory of his disappointment as he’d turned back round to see only emptiness where Harry had so recently been sitting.

“Oh,” Harry said. “I thought I was going to be a deer, you know – a stag like my dad.”

“A reasonable assumption,” Severus chuckled. “Nobody would have guessed your true form.”

“I was visualising a stag: the body, the head, the legs, the antlers. Once I’d changed, I still thought I was a stag, until I saw myself in the pool.”

The two men drifted into thoughtful silence. Harry let his eyes close and Severus stood watching him quietly, standing as still as he could. The air shimmered for a fraction of a second as if a sudden wave of heat had passed by, though there was no temperature change. Harry had transformed.

Harry stood up and looked at his lover.

Severus’ eyebrows had risen to his hairline. Watching the sudden transformation had been impressive. He’d not had the opportunity to appreciate it during the battle with Voldemort: his job had been to deal with Malfoy.

Harry stood looking at his lover, as if asking what he thought of his performance.

“Wonderful,” Severus said, reaching out and stroking the animal’s smooth coat. “You do make a most impressive stag.”

Harry tossed his head in surprise. He turned and trotted off towards the pool; Severus following.

It was true: Young Prongs stared back at him. The unicorn was gone. For a unicorn was not just the essence of Light, but also of Virginity. Harry’s Animagus form was now a pure white stag. His antlers and cloven hoofs were still golden – for Harry could not be ordinary in anything he did – but the unicorn, like Harry’s virginity, had served its purpose and passed into the realms of history.

FIN

~***~

Footnote: The deer that disturbed Severus was a muntjac (muntiacus reevesi). These small Chinese deer escaped from Woburn Park, Bedfordshire, during the 20th century. Since then they have become naturalised in woodlands in the English countryside and in some areas they are quite a common sight, especially in the south of the country.

The muntjac typically weighs between 12-15 kg (26-33 lb) and stands 45-52 cm at the shoulder (18-21 in). Males have small backward-pointing antlers and a v-shaped marking on their face. Both sexes have tusks which are actually extended upper canines.

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