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Harry groaned and rested his chin on his arms, which were folded on the table. Hermione’s questions, though expected, were exhausting.

“You’re sure you’re packed?” she asked, her quill tapping a staccato on the parchment.

“It’s the Leaving Feast,” Ron said. “Leave the bloke alone to enjoy the last few minutes we’ve got here. You too, eh?” 

Hermione sighed and put the quill down. “You’re right.”

The Great Hall was as loud as ever. Small flashes of light and pieces of parchment soared across the room to friends on the other side. The end-of-term feast was the one occasion every year when their teachers didn’t scold or take points for magic outside of lessons. Professor Dumbledore seemed to encourage it. 

The announcements for the following year’s Head Boy and Girl had already happened. Malfoy and Hermione had given their speeches and advice to the newcomers. The house-elves had swathed the hall in Hufflepuff decor. Some fast-thinking students had seen and healed the Giant Squid and were being celebrated for it. 

As the evening ran on, students stood and walked around the hall to say their goodbyes to friends. 

Most avoided them. 

The past two years had made it clear that Harry, Ron and Hermione differed from them. Leaving the school for missions, missing classes with no repercussions, the professors and the Headmaster himself excused everything they did.

More wizarding families were moving closer to Hogsmeade, believing proximity to Hogwarts would keep them safer.

When Dumbledore brought Hermione’s parents to the school for protection last year, even the Slytherins hadn’t dared to say a word about it. Mrs Granger had fallen in with Hagrid and Sprout, and Mr Granger had revamped Muggle Studies, putting poor Professor Slinkhard out of a job.

Dumbledore never explained how they could see Hogwarts.

Dumbledore explained nothing.

A glance at the High Table told Harry the feast would wrap up soon. He knocked Ron’s shoulder with his own. “Stay safe, yeah?”

“Always. It’s only two months.”

Harry nodded and stood. He manoeuvred around Ron, patting his shoulder on his way out of the hall. 

The silence in the Entrance Hall was startling. 

He turned to the staircases and ascended. Harry let himself enjoy one of his final times navigating the school. He had always thought he’d be more excited to leave, but now that the time was here, he felt numb to it.

Harry sat on a stone bench near the stone gargoyle standing guard outside Dumbledore’s office and waited. He enjoyed a moment of peace before being thrust out on another mission. There had been too many of those. 

Footfall echoed through the hall, and Harry recognised them as Snape’s. Moments later, a quicker set joined, which probably belonged to Hermione. The slow gait of Dumbledore, and the slide of his overlong robes preceded Harry’s deep steadying breath. 

Harry stood and Hermione crowded in on him. 

Dumbledore whispered the password, the gargoyle jumped aside and they followed. By the time Harry and Hermione stepped onto the spiral staircase, they only had a few inches to rise before the stairs came to a halt. They walked up the remaining steps. 

Sirius and Remus were already in the office. Sirius lounged on a huge sofa he’d transfigured from one of Dumbledore’s chairs. Remus engaged Dumbledore in conversation as soon as he’d entered, and Harry looked over Hermione’s list with her. He’d packed everything, he was sure. 

The house-elves had piled their luggage next to the desk, and Harry saw that his and Hermione’s three bags were there. 

A wand in his face made him flinch. Hermione grinned, then added a Sticking Charm to his glasses. “Secure your wand,” she said.

“Yes, dear.” Harry did as she’d instructed with a broad grin. 

They heaved their bags from the pile and crossed the straps over their chests. Harry hefted the large case, then Sirius grabbed it from him.

“Remus has all my stuff. I’ll bring it,” he assured Harry. 

Harry grinned at Sirius then moved back to Hermione. She waited by their Portkey, her fingers tracing the desk near it.

Remus squeezed by and fetched his group’s Portkey, a tin can, and smiled as he moved back to Sirius, Snape and Dumbledore talking beside the fire. 

“Three minutes until. You’d think they’d be done chatting,” Harry muttered.

“They know better than we do, I’m sure,” she said, without conviction in her voice. 

Hermione held out the wristwatch; Remus and Sirius pulled away, and Harry placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on the watch. Snape reached between them and grasped the round metal face. 

“Ten seconds,” he said, eyes fixed on the watch.

“Good luck,” Dumbledore said. “I shall see you all—” The hook under Harry’s navel cut off his farewell. 

His feet left the ground, and they were speeding forwards through a kaleidoscope of colours. Then something slammed into them and Harry lost his grip on the watch. He held tight to Hermione and snagged the edge of Snape’s robes in the chaos. 

They hit the saltwater with bruising force, and Harry let go so he could swim. Once he ’d surfaced, he looked around and saw Hermione breathing heavily but doing the same. Snape, however, wasn’t there. 

Harry groped around under the waves and clutched flowing fabric. Pulling with all his strength, he manoeuvred Snape’s head above the rolling waves and followed Hermione’s shouted instructions towards land. He kicked with all his might, his bag, robes and Snape all dragging him back. The water was freezing, dark, and the last place Harry wanted to be. 

Seawater dripping down his glasses, he couldn’t tell how far he was from the shore. He dragged Snape along for what felt like an eternity. Bobbing above waves, whilst keeping Snape aloft, was a challenge. 

By the time his feet came into contact with sand and stone, he was close enough to stand and pull Snape the rest of the way. Hermione hurried to them and grabbed Snape’s left arm, dragging him towards shore. 

“Your wand, Harry!” Hermione shouted.

Harry pulled it from its hidden pocket. 

He stared in dismay at the crack down the length of holly. 

Hermione snatched the wand and looked for a second before pointing it at Snape’s throat. “ Respiros! ”

Harry doubled over, clutching a stitch in his side. 

Nothing happened.

“Respiros! ” Hermione cast more forcefully.

Harry closed his wand hand around hers and they cast again, “Respiros! ” 

Snape gagged as water flowed from his mouth and nose. It seemed to pour out in an unending stream.

“Respiros! ” They cast again, and Snape’s gags turned to coughs, and they could hear him wheeze air into his lungs. 

Harry’s knees hit the soggy sand, and he sat back on his heels in relief. He took a moment to catch his breath. His sodden hair was stuck to his face and he shoved it away and stared around at their surroundings. The early phase of the moon gave them little light.

“He’s bleeding,” she said.

Harry kneeled next to her. He squinted in the darkness at the blood pouring from Snape’s scalp. There was a small gash hidden in his hair. 

Harry flung off his bag and felt around inside it until his hand connected with dry cloth. He bundled the Harpies T-shirt to Snape’s wound.

“We need to get him out of the sea,” Hermione said. Her eyes darted around.

“Can we get some light?” Harry said. “Where’s your wand?” 

Hermione looked out to the body of water. “Gone. I’ve a spare, but it doesn’t like me much.”

“I can drag him. Can you keep the pressure on?” 

She nodded and gripped the T-shirt to Snape’s head. He sloshed through the shallow water to get behind Snape and grabbed under his armpits.

It wasn’t long until they were on dry land. Seaweed and stones covered the area, and Harry kicked a space clear so he could settle Snape’s body into the sand.

“I think the bleeding’s slowing,” Hermione said.

“Head wounds bleed a lot, but they’re not as dangerous as what can cause them.” 

“What happened?” 

“We got hit. I couldn’t tell by what.” He heaved his bag onto the ground and tore through it, pulling out anything he thought could help. His potions kit had full vials of Essence of Dittany, and he heaved a sigh.

“Here.” Harry handed the bottle to Hermione.

“Oh thank God.” She uncorked it before raising the soiled T-shirt from Snape’s head. “If you’ve no Blood Replenishing Potion in yours, check mine.”

Harry nodded, then searched her bag too. He found the vial and poured a few drops into Snape’s mouth.

Harry dug out dry clothing for them; jeans, T-shirts, socks and shoes. Snape’s bag was missing, so Harry pulled the largest of his clothes out, and found a pair of Ron’s jeans mixed in with his own. Snape was the same height as Ron, but wider around the waist.

He turned to strip off his sodden robes and laid them on a large rock to dry out, then got dressed. He took over Hermione’s watch of Snape so she could do the same. 

Together they pulled Snape’s robes from him and dressed him in dry clothing. Not his usual style, but Snape would have to make do.

He and Hermione laid out blankets on an even stretch of sand, and lifted Snape onto them. She had never gone on a mission without ample bedding hidden away, and Harry had been grateful for it more than once. 

She handed him a jar to match the one in her hand. “Sand fleas,” she explained, and started sprinkling the powder everywhere.

Once they’d finished, Harry gathered driftwood, and some sticks and leaves along the wood line and they gathered it into a cone. He piled up everything else he’d found off to the side. 

They were no strangers to going a few nights without supplies at a moment’s notice.

Harry held his wand together at the handle, and pointed it at the pile and cast, “Incendio! ”

Nothing happened. He swore.

Hermione frowned and dug into her bag. Her spare wand seemed to want to leap from her grasp. She aimed it at the sticks. “Incendio! ”

A whoosh of flame spurt from the wand, avoiding the tinder, instead spraying up into the air then disappearing.

“Have you got a lighter?” Harry asked.

“Matches,” Hermione said.

⁂

Harry woke up, what felt like moments after he fell asleep. The sunbeams streaming into his eyes allowed no argument. The crash of waves and flutter of leaves above his head clued him into the events of last evening. 

This was not a Canadian hotel.

He crawled out of their blanket nest and crept out carefully so Hermione could sleep longer. 

Snape looked as if he had a while longer until the sun reached him, so Harry inspected the area.

Paradise, it seemed, was their location. A never-ending stretch of pale sand overlooking an even more vast and dark ocean. The sandy shore abutted a jungle-like wood. The day was warm already and promised more heat. Sirius had their case of emergency supplies, tents, food, and return Portkey, so it left them with what he and Hermione had stuffed into their own packs.

Their small fire had burnt out early in the night, so Harry gathered more wood. Down the beach was an area that was more cleared beyond the wood line, and the land was flat. He piled the wood there, and by the time the sun was hot enough for him to sweat, he had a decent amount. Harry pulled his T-shirt off and draped it around his neck. He knew he would have a hell of a sunburn by evening.

The land was tropical, so they were nowhere near Canada, their intended destination. This far off-course with broken and missing wands—Harry stopped the maudlin thoughts and used a long sturdy stick to clear the sandy ground under the tree cover. 

Hermione found him a few hours later, and she stood to the side until he finished hefting another log.

“Given up on escape?” she asked.

“Preparing for the worst, hoping for the best.” Harry sagged against a tree. 

“Well, that’s pragmatic.” She looked around. “Should we see how far the beach goes?”

“Can we leave Snape?” 

“We shouldn’t. He should be okay with rest, but we can’t know how hard whatever it was hit him. Or what damage there was internally without a functioning wand,” Hermione said.

She sighed and kicked sand out of a hole she was making with her bare foot.

“Do you think the same thing happened to Sirius and Remus?” Harry asked.

“Let’s hope not. Perhaps our wands will wash up on shore in the next few days. I’m sure Dumbledore is already on his way.” 

She turned and walked onto the sunlit beach, and pushed her sleeves up, twisting them at the shoulders to stay in place.

Harry smiled wryly at her back.

“Water, food, shelter,” she said.

“Wish I’d read more books.” 

Hermione turned and grinned. “Wish I watched more TV.”

⁂

By late afternoon, Hermione had surrounded herself with wood, stones and a variety of Muggle rubbish washed up by the waves. Harry had checked on Snape, whose sleep seemed peaceful. He didn’t strike a fever, which was Hermione’s biggest concern, so Harry continued to clear and establish some sort of camp for them. 

He dug a decent sized hole for the fire and surrounded it with bigger stones. Then he checked on Snape. He filled in spaces around their camp with prickly bushes he’d found. He checked on Snape. He set up three half-way comfortable sleeping spots using sand, large leaves, anti-flea dust – he should ask Hermione what it was called – and blankets. 

Then he checked on Snape. 

By the time they’d moved Snape, their things, and settled on their mats around the fire, Harry was sore and drained of energy. 

Hermione handed him a flask of water, deeper than it looked, and he gulped down as much as he could. She spread thick aloe over his shoulders and back and wiped her hand off on his T-shirt with a smirk.

“I think I’ve figured out a way to filter water, if you can help me with a Sticking Charm,” Hermione said. She settled down on her mat and stretched her legs out in front of her. “It may not be perfect, but it should keep us from getting sick.”

“Sure. Now or in the morning?”

“Morning’s better,” Hermione closed her eyes. “The sun’s exhausting.”

Harry’s yawn agreed, and he looked over at Snape once more before he fell asleep.

⁂

He and Hermione sat on his mat, looking at pictures in some books she’d brought. They’d scoured anything they could find for references to ancient civilisations and nothing written would help them to build shelter. But the pictures might. 

They were discussing how to weave branches together, when Snape coughed and opened his eyes.

“Professor Snape!” Hermione exclaimed and shot over to help him. 

Harry grabbed a flask of water and set it next to her, then went back to the books.

“Where—” Snape hacking coughs seemed to go on forever. 

Harry tried to ignore it as Hermione fussed over Snape, convincing him to drink water. He sketched out a basic outline in one of Hermione’s notebooks. It would be basic, but enough to keep them dry in case the weather turned. 

He hoped Hermione was wrong about this place having a ‘wet season’.

“Am I to assume we’re to spend our dotage here?” Snape sneered.

Harry grit his teeth and continued the sketch, changing the angle to match one of the huts in Hermione’s book. “Haven’t you even tried to contact the Headmaster?”

Hermione huffed and stood. 

“By all means, Professor Snape. Do try,” she said before stomping out of the clearing.

Snape looked at him and Harry grinned, cutting him off as his mouth opened. “Remember, sir, she’s the patient one.”

Harry tore out his sketch and shuffled over to Snape. He bent and shook the flask, finding it empty. “I’ll get you some more water.”

He followed Hermione and found her pouring salt water into her filtering system, and she filled her own flask from the clean water dripping from the bottom. 

She drank the liquid as if taking a shot of Firewhisky. He snorted, and she glared at him.

“He’s wretched,” she said.

“I’ve been saying that for years.” Harry filled Snape’s flask, then his own. “Think you can help me with an Engorgement Charm for my knife? I’ll need something to cut the logs.” 

Hermione nodded and Harry lay the hunting knife, a gift from Sirius, on a log nearby. They grasped Harry’s wand, spoke the spell, and the knife doubled in size to that of a half-serrated machete. 

Harry grasped it, and it was on the heavy side, but it would have to do. 

“Cheers,” he said.

Harry returned to the clearing and spotted Snape struggling to stand. Harry watched for a moment before moving in and grabbing Snape’s upper arm to steady him. 

Neither spoke when Harry released him and handed over the full flask. 

Then Harry went further into the wood to look for the right logs. 

Silence was better than golden when it came to Snape.

⁂

By sunset, Harry’s shoulders were peeling, and Hermione was re-applying aloe. She had found another large plant close to their camp.

The pain was worth it. They had the beginnings of a decent shelter if wind and rain came, and he and Hermione had secured the base with multiple Sticking Charms. 

Her spare wand was a non-starter. Either over-blowing a spell to chaos, performing the opposite effect, or lying useless in her hand. 

Whilst Hermione rubbed the aloe into his back, Harry plaited thin vines for strength. 

Snape sat and watched them.

He had moved little all day, and any time he did, Harry was afraid he’d have to pick Snape up when he fell on his face. 

“Try to sleep on your stomach, so this has some time to heal,” Hermione told him before standing up to add more wood to the fire. She took a large drink of water, then settled down on her mat. “The charms should repel mosquitos for the time being.”

“Thanks.” Harry pillowed his head on his arms and closed his eyes.

The crackling of the fire soothed him to sleep.

⁂

They rose with the sun. Harry went to rinse off in the ocean, and by the time he’d returned, Snape had gone. 

He debated asking Hermione where Snape had got to, then decided against it. Snape was a grown wizard. 

“The food’s almost gone,” Hermione said. “We should make that a priority.”

Harry nodded and rubbed his face. His body was sore, but that meant nothing in the face of starvation. 

“Can you work on that,” he said, gesturing to their shelter, “and I’ll head inland to see if I can find anything.”

“If you happen across any pasties, I’ll take two,” she said.

“Yep!” Harry said.

He pulled on a clean pair of socks and his trainers, and pulled a T-shirt over his head for the first time in days. It stung his shoulders, but that didn’t matter as much as food. Harry grabbed the large knife, a flask of water, and one of the empty shoulder bags Hermione had produced, and headed out. 

A few hours in, sweat soaked his T-shirt. He’d picked a few bananas and had come close to stepping on a beautiful red and black snake, with whom he’d made fast friends. She was now curled around his neck, hissing away, and warning him when he came close to others of her kind.

She guided him through the island, explaining the different creatures that lived there. He gathered three more banana bunches, and enough nuts to make the strap dig into his singed shoulder, and the snake warned him off a berry bush she said gave her many meals after other animals ate from it. He laughed as he re-entered the camp and placed his load near the pile of coconuts Hermione must have found. 

With a promise that she wouldn’t bite his friends, he set her free on a tree stump whilst he went to clean off in the ocean. 

Once he rinsed his body, he scrubbed his T-shirt with sand, hoping to clean it with the abrasion. He hung it over a nearby boulder to dry and looked around for any sign of Hermione or Snape. 

Hermione had made a tonne of progress on the shelter in the camp, and he smiled and retrieved the snake.

“ Many rodents run around your nest ,” she hissed.

“They’re all yours,” Harry assured her, and she lay her body against the warmth of his neck and shoulder.

“Harry, that’s a coral snake,” Hermione said from behind him. 

He jumped, and the snake gave a disgruntled hiss before settling back down.

“Oh yeah? She’s lovely,” Harry said and turned around to face her.

“They’re deadly,” Hermione said. “We don’t have antivenin. One bite could take a long painful time to kill you.”

“She won’t, she promised. She is interested in the rats that have been gathering around though.”

Hermione grimaced and glanced around. “She promised?” 

“Yeah. Any wizard with a wand can kill you. If they say they won’t, it’s usually true.” 

“What’s her name?”

Harry spoke to the snake for a moment. “She likes Cora,” he said.

“Hello, Cora,” Hermione said. 

The snake raised her head and turned to Hermione, then lowered back to Harry’s shoulder.

“I think she likes you,” Harry said.

“Oh, good.”

⁂

Snape returned as they settled down for dinner. 

Hermione had found some snails along the river and they’d transfigured a wooden bowl into a usable metal pot with only a single injury between them. They made an odd banana-coconut-snail soup and served it with what remained of the bread from Hermione’s pack.

Cora slept around his neck, and Harry inhaled the odd-tasting soup. 

Snape looked at the bowl and sniffed before he dug in. The satchel Snape rested against his leg had bits of plants sticking out of it. 

Snape looked up after a few bites. “That’s a coral snake.” 

“A painted coral snake, apparently,” Harry said between bits of bread. “Her name’s Cora.”

After a few seconds Snape shook his head and opened his bag. He sorted herbs as he ate. 

Hermione glanced between them, finished eating, and lay back on her mat.

“Do you need more aloe?” she asked.

“I think I’m fine, thanks.”

Hermione snorted, and he chuckled.

Harry watched Snape sort his herbs for a while, then asked, “Can I help?” 

Snape’s head snapped up. He met Harry’s gaze and shook his head. 

“You need to sleep.”

⁂

Harry woke to a lively debate. He groaned as he sat up and ambled off to relieve himself. Cora slid down his neck and caught herself before she slipped to the ground. Harry moved her up further to lie across the back of his neck and noticed a small lump showing she’d eaten during the night.

“Then where would you say we are?” Snape asked Hermione as Harry re-entered the clearing.

“South America,” Harry said. “Portkey got knocked off course. If it sent us a similar distance, we’d be in South America. Maybe Brazil. Though it reminds me of Chile.”

“When have you been to Chile?” Snape asked.

“Last year, Christmas. Dumbledore sent me, Ron, and Charlie to the reserve there to try to recruit,” Harry said and set Cora onto his mat. “Brutus Davies followed us there with his lot. When one of their spells hit a dragon, we had the support of every keeper on the reserve. The jungle there was just like this one.”

Harry sat and pulled on his trainers. 

“We don’t know if we’re even on an island,” Snape said.

“We are. Cora says it’s three times as deep as it is long. She doesn’t know what direction the mainland is. Doesn’t understand the concept,” Harry said. He laughed. “There’s land, then there’s poison water.”

When he looked up, it was clear neither of his companions understood snake humour. He sighed when he stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “We try to survive and wait for rescue, or we try to rescue ourselves and possibly die in the process. Let me know what you decide, yeah?”

Harry walked out of camp and walked the beach as far as he could. The rubbish he’d collected seemed to help Hermione, and he was too sore to head back into the jungle. He tucked bits of plastic and rope into his bag as he went, and counted his steps, losing track a few times. 

This place was beautiful. Hot, but beautiful.

He draped his T-shirt over his shoulder and kept moving. When he reached eight hundred steps, he spotted a pool that the lowered tide had left with one large fish and a few smaller ones. After much splashing and frustration, Harry caught dinner and headed back down the beach.

⁂

Four weeks after their landing, they finished their shelter. Three beds, shelves for storage, cover from rain and protection from wind. They had a smattering of other furniture in the camp, a roof of sorts over most of it, and Hermione was especially proud of the table with three chairs. 

Snape had created basic potions and salves for most of what they would encounter, and was working on a general antivenin with Cora’s reluctant help. He spoke little to them, but since that kept the peace, Harry refused to complain. Missions with Snape in tow could get messy once their mouths started opening.

Harry had just finished sealing off an overhang for their cooking fire when he noticed the light had dimmed. A glance showed storm clouds in the distance, encroaching on the sun. They had a small stockpile of food. Snape had somehow known how to salt and store fish. He hopped down to pull on his trainers. They would need more fruit if the storm lasted more than a couple of days. He spoke to Cora about the weather, and made sure she was secure before he headed into the jungle, and tracked his way to the copse of banana palms, and gathered nuts along his route.

The rain hit like a train. Harry had added a bunch of bananas into his bag when it had begun to rain so hard it was difficult to see. He had expected to be back at camp by the time the rain hit, so he had to steady himself before he started moving.

The terrain had never been dry, but it was now like moving between oil slick and quicksand. The mud grabbed at his legs, and the slick roots tripped him. He pulled his way under a rock overhang and took a few minutes to breathe. Harry looked around and realised he did not know where he was.

⁂

The rain had picked up, and the sky darkened with the sunset. When Harry had ventured out, it had been mid day. Harry shivered. There had been chilly nights on the island, but nothing had pulled the heat from him like this. He recognised the path back, and the trudge along was slow and careful. He was on the edge of the camp when he could recognise shouting over the near-deafening rain. 

Harry dropped his bag and collapsed by the fire. The yelling from inside the makeshift hut was clearer with the overhangs protection from the rain. He pulled his T-shirt off and squeezed it out before he laid it on one of the larger stones.

“Where the hell have you been?” Hermione shouted. 

They had noticed him. Harry winced, an apology on his lips, but there was no time.

“You’re a bloody fool,” Snape growled.

“You could have been killed,” Hermione continued.

“You could have got injured and been stuck out there,” Snape went on.

Harry dropped his face into his hands, shoved his glasses into his dripping hair, and rubbed.

“I need to lie down before I say something I’ll regret. Drink some tea, get dry, and warm up. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Hermione said and Harry heard the clunk of the makeshift door close behind her. 

Harry looked up as something fell into his lap. It was a blanket.

“Dry off,” Snape told him. “I will get clothing.” 

Harry shivered as he towelled off with the blanket. He unbuttoned his trousers and shuffled them off without standing, and wrapped his legs with the dry part of the blanket. He wrung his hair out, and the droplets sizzled on the stones heated by the fire.

Snape tossed a bundle of cloth into his lap. Harry smiled up at Snape as he pulled a dry long-sleeved shirt out and pulled it on. He shook his head and drops of water flew from it, and he stood to pull the warm joggers onto his body. 

“Thank you,” Harry said. 

He rubbed his arms to get warmth back into them. Snape narrowed his eyes and tossed another blanket over Harry’s shoulders, pulling it roughly into place.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Harry said. He grasped the edges of the blanket and pulled them in. His hands and feet felt frozen, but the rest of him warmed.

“You worried Granger, you infuriated me,” Snape said. 

Harry watched him for a moment, and Snape turned his head away.

His hand moved of its own accord and reached out to grasp Snape’s sleeve.

“I’ll try not to frighten you again. I’m sorry,” Harry repeated.

Snape didn’t move an inch. “Idiot.”

Harry looked down and shuffled closer until he leaned against Snape. He was not sure what he was doing, but very sure Snape would push him away. Instead, Snape huffed and snorted, reminding Harry of the Abraxan that Hagrid had adopted, and wrapped an arm around him. Harry tipped his head down and rested his forehead on Snape’s shoulder, and another arm encircled him. 

For all the missions they’d been on together, and all the battles that saw them side-by-side, for the first time Harry felt comfortable with Snape. He closed his eyes, listened to the rain, and focused on the hands rubbing his back.

Maybe this place was paradise. 

⁂

Morning didn’t seem any different from the night. The rain pounded, the sky was dark, and it seemed in no hurry to change.

He was warm, wrapped in Snape’s arms as he snored. Harry extracted himself and tucked the blankets around Snape, then went outside. Hermione was curled up on a bamboo chair she’d dragged next to the fire, and was eating from a steaming bowl.

She gestured at a second bowl nearby, still steaming, with a spoon sticking out. It was a banana berry concoction they’d had as breakfast. Harry pulled over another chair and tested its strength before he sat down on it and propped his bare feet on the fire’s stones. 

“You could have died,” Hermione said between bites.

Harry nodded. “I know,” he said, and took a bite.

“He wanted to go find you,” she said. 

“I’m glad you stopped him,” Harry told her.

They ate for a few minutes. Hermione finished and rinsed her bowl out with the help of a nearby jug. Harry spotted Cora sleeping under the neckline of her cloak and smiled.

“I love you, Harry,” Hermione said.

He frowned. “I love you, too.”

“You’re doing it again,” she told him and sat back down.

Harry said nothing for a minute, wanting to get his words right. That was important to Hermione.

“Nothing that I’m doing, I’m doing again,” Harry said.

“Johnson, Ormskirk, Andrews,” Hermione listed.

“I did nothing to them,” Harry said. He shook his head and drew his feet onto the chair, putting his bowl down to wrap his arms around his legs.

“You slept with them,” Hermione said. “And the only problem with that is, you did so once, then left those men with no sense of closure or idea with what they did wrong.” She sighed and looked over at him. “We may be here with Snape for a hundred more years, magic and good health willing. Dumbledore changing up the teams is one thing, but this island is too small for whatever it is you do.”

Harry sighed and buried his face in his knees. 

“Andrews broke it off with me,” he said into his jogging bottoms.

“Not what he said to me,” Hermione responded. 

He listened as she walked back into the shelter, and he groaned.

⁂

Harry spent a few hours fighting his wand, trying to dry out some of the water seeping into the ground around their campsite. He and Hermione had placed well fought-for charms over the weeks, and the deluge of water was threatening their stability.

In the two weeks since the rain began, Snape had not said a single word to him, and Harry had reciprocated with the same. Yet every night, whoever was the last to bed joined the other in their cot, and every morning saw arms encircling each other and a face buried in a stubbled neck. Hermione hadn’t lectured him again, but her words ran through his head when he was idle.

Whoever woke first extracted themselves, and the day went on as usual. 

Their diets improved. They’d figured out how to catch and prepare more animals. The rain brought fish to get caught in coves. Humans adapted well, according to Hermione. Snape worked on potions, salves, and the two wayward wands. Harry continued to gather food and firewood, and Hermione saw to improving their way of life. They worked well together.

⁂

The rain lasted another month, but when the air dried and heated, everyone’s attitudes improved. Harry returned to exploring the island. Hermione thrived in bringing the modern world to their camp. Snape came up with more widespread concoctions. 

Instead of the silence that had taken over, the three talked and laughed together. Snape seemed a different man, and Harry and Hermione returned to who they were. 

Hermione talked about Ron, which had become a taboo subject. Instead of tears it would bring her a smile now. Snape would join those conversations, having worked with Ron the most in the field. He’d tell her stories of Ron’s antics outside, and within, Death Eater camps and Hermione would laugh until happy tears forced their way out. 

It was at these times that Harry wanted to kiss him. Drink that happiness and laughter in. Show Snape how grateful he was that he’d made Harry’s friend laugh again. But Hermione had been right, he buggered everything up.

He didn’t stop sharing a cot with him, he couldn’t bring himself to. But when hands travelled where they shouldn’t, Harry drew back and controlled himself. 

He wouldn’t cock this up.

⁂

Harry watched from the shore as Snape swam. Harry would be in the jungle by now doing his daily chores, but a headache kept him home. Hermione volunteered to get dinner, so it left Harry with a day of leisure. So he watched. Snape wasn’t even close to how pale he used to be, like Harry and Hermione he had burned then tanned. There was no way to avoid it here. It was too hot for robes, and cooling charms were a thing of the past. Half of Harry’s wardrobe had gone to Snape, and with a hard-won group of charms they fit him. 

They seemed to lose the wizard part of themselves. Hermione relied on her Muggle education more and more, Snape learning from her. Harry had taken on the bulk of the physical labour. They saved magic for things that would save their lives, and keep them healthy. 

He didn’t know if he missed it. 

He didn’t miss the war, the death, the threats and missions.

He’d buried more people than he’d ever imagined. 

His sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays were both spent in battle, covered in blood and bruises. His eighteenth saw him lying on a beach, and weaving vines. It’s a trade he could live with. 

Snape spotted him and stopped swimming to look back. Harry’s body decided for him and he pushed off the tree and walked down the beach. When the water reached his calves, he looked up and Snape had met him half-way. Their lips met and firm hands pulled him as close as possible, Harry decided he never wanted to leave.

When they separated for air, Harry gripped him harder, closer. “I don’t want to bugger this up,” he confessed.

“We won’t,” Snape told him, and buried his face in Harry’s neck

⁂

They stood in the afternoon sun to dry, sharing sweet kisses that clenched Harry’s heart, and spoke little. When Hermione returned she had a smirk glued to her face, and they all set to preparing dinner together.

They pulled a blanket out to the beach, and ate whilst watching the sun set behind the ocean. Even under the moon’s light, the water was glittering.

A head-splitting crack exploded in his ears, and Harry jumped to his feet, spilling fish onto Hermione. They turned down the beach, and Harry put a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward. He felt Snape grab his elbow on the other side and held him back. For a moment Harry saw nothing unusual, then shouting figures started moving towards them. 

“Death Eaters?” Hermione asked, her voice wavered.

“We’d be cursed already,” Snape said.

Four wands lit up the dark, swaying as the wizards moved closer to them.

“Rescue?” Hermione asked.

She sounded unhappy with the thought, which surprised him.

They stood still, watching the approach. Snape gripped his elbow to the point of pain. It was only when the group got close enough that Hermione moved. Walking, not running, into Ron’s arms. When he looked into Dumbledore and Sirius’s smiling faces, Harry’s heart dropped.

He couldn’t hear their words over the sound of his own heartbeat, and he couldn’t breathe. He pulled his elbow free and turned, met Snape’s gaze for a moment, then took off down the beach. Harry ran. He didn’t know why, or what he was running from, but his head was spinning and his heart raced. When he collapsed on the sandbar they would fish from, sweat poured down his skin and his eyes burned.

When Ron sat next to him and pulled him into his arms, he was barely holding on. His best mate tightened his grip around him, and for the first time since he brought Cedric’s body back home, Harry cried until he had no tears left.

⁂

The Portkey dropped them at the gates of Hogwarts. Without a word to anyone, Snape took off and slipped through the gates.

“I will need you to report about your experiences,” Dumbledore was saying. 

Cora had wrapped herself in Hermione’s hair, and bounced when she spoke.

“But not today,” Hermione told him and stepped away. “Today I need to see my parents.”

Sirius was frowning behind them, and Harry fought the urge to run again.

“I will send an owl in the morning, Albus,” Ron said, louder than usual. To Harry his voice softened. “We can use Rosmerta’s Floo.”

A sickening Floo ride later, Ron was settling Harry on a bed that was apparently his, in a flat he apparently shared with Ron. That had always been the plan, and it seemed Ron followed through regardless of his friend being missing. 

“Do you need a potion to sleep?” Ron asked as Harry lay down in the too-soft bed.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry told him.

Moments later Ron tipped the potion into his mouth and pulled the blank over him. The last thing he remembered as he fell asleep was Ron sitting on the bed and holding his hand.

⁂

When Harry shuffled out in the morning, a full spread was steaming on the breakfast table. It seemed Ron had made every food he’d ever tried in the morning. Every type of juice, Muggle and magical, was available. Tea and coffee steamed from the sides of the table. Now that Harry had a good look, he could tell the table was magically enlarged.

“Ron!” Harry called. “I have eaten in the past three months.”

“You won’t be the only one,” a voice said in his ear.

Harry turned around and stumbled. “Severus?”

Harry threw his arms around him and crowded in. When arms circled his waist, and held tight, Harry felt comfortable for the first time since the island.

“I thought—”

“I needed to sleep. In my own bed, Harry,” Severus said.

He nodded, though he didn’t understand. Severus buried his face in his neck and they stood together. Snape smelled different, he must have showered. To that point, Harry realised he hadn’t. 

The sound of the Floo whooshed from an adjoining room, and he heard Sirius’s voice call out, “Harry! You here mate?”

Severus stiffened and Harry held on, refusing to let go. Footsteps came closer, and Harry 

“Harry, what—” 

“Sirius. Glad you made it. I forgot blackberries, and they’re Hermione’s favourite. Would you mind popping out to get some?” Ron asked as he brushed by between Sirius and Harry’s back.

“There are blackberries—”

“Thanks, mate. I owe you,” Ron said. 

When the Floo took Sirius away, Harry stepped back and released his hold. “I need to take a shower.”

As Severus opened his mouth, Ron piped in behind him. “Yeah, you do mate. You smell like Charlie’s reserve mates met the Gryffindor changing room.”

Harry chuckled and moved around Severus, and navigated his way through the foreign flat.

⁂

Ron had bought him new clothes. Or maybe it was Sirius. New jeans chafed his skin, his shirt was small in the shoulders but huge around the waist. 

Three months. 

Beside his bedroom door sat new trainers and boots, and Harry didn’t want to put either on. The shower, however, he had no complaints about. For the first time in months, he at least felt clean. 

He decided against the footwear, he was in his own home, they could excuse it. When Harry left his room, the chatter from the kitchen flowed down to him. It was overwhelming already, he dreaded getting closer. The sorting hat must have got it right, because his body moved forwards without his mind’s consent. 

Hermione and Severus were talking in the back corner of the kitchen, and Harry would guess they weren’t any happier with the noise. Mrs and Mr Granger were sitting at the table, chatting to Sirius. Ron answered questions, but his concern was evident when he looked at Hermione. 

“Harry! You look wonderful, dear,” Mrs Granger exclaimed. She stood and wrapped him in a hug. Before he reacted to hug her, she pulled back. “Are you all right?”

“Err, it’s the noise. I think we all got used to the quiet,” Harry said. 

Her volume dropped when she said, “Yes, that’s quite understandable. I hadn’t thought of that. Not many people rushing up and hugging you either, I’d bet. I apologise. You do look well, though. Colour looks good on your cheeks.” 

She stepped away and smiled. 

“My apologies to you two as well,” Mrs Granger said to Severus and Hermione.

“Thanks, Mum,” Hermione said. 

“When Ronald sent an owl last night to ask about foods, I should have thought about the other aspects of it,” Mr Granger said. “Even having a witch for a daughter didn’t prepare us for that world, nor the food. It was quite the culture shock.”

“Lucky I begged Mum and Dad off for another day, eh Harry?” Ron asked, his voice was lower as well.

“It will take a bit to get used to it all,” Mrs Granger said. “If we can help you three at all, just let us know.”

Harry grinned and sat in the closest chair. He pulled some strawberries onto a plate and accepted the cup of tea Mr Granger handed to him.

“Thank you Madeline,” Severus said. 

Harry saw him subtly push Hermione, who took the hint and circled the table to sit next to Harry and Ron. Severus followed and sat between him and Mr Granger. Harry noticed Sirius hadn’t spoken since he came in and looked across the table at his godfather. Sirius had been watching him.

After a moment, and a nod, Sirius spoke up.

“It was beautiful there. Reminded me of where Buckbeak took me when we left Britain,” he said. “I hated leaving.”

“If you never came back, you never would have been acquitted,” Ron said. 

“Too right. But then, it didn’t matter when I was watching the waves,” Sirius said. He shrugged and took a drink from a mug.

Cora slithered down Hermione’s arm and onto Harry’s hand. “Hello,” he said.

She hissed a reply before making her way to her spot on his neck. He was glad Hermione remembered her. A pecking on the window in the room with the Floo drew Ron away from the table. Everyone else was quiet whilst they ate. Harry ate a few berries, then grabbed a scoop of bananas Ron had cut up and put into a bowl. 

He looked up when Ron walked back in the room, a thunderous look on his face. He stuffed the scroll into his pocket before he sat. Hermione pulled it out and unrolled it. Her eyes shot back and forth as she read. Tears came to her eyes, and she stood, dropping the scroll onto the table.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to Ollivander’s,” she said. She circled the table and left the room. Ron jumped up to follow her.

Harry grabbed the scroll and understood how she felt.

“What does it say?” Mrs Granger asked.

“We, uh, we’ve got a new directive,” Harry said. “As it happens, I also need a new wand. Excuse me.”

“I do as well,” Severus said and followed them out. 

The sickening spin of the Floo didn’t bother Harry this time.

⁂

That night he lay in bed, wrapped around Severus, dreading the return to war the following day. Their time was short for now, but Harry was determined to end this war as soon as possible. 

“I miss the island,” he said, voicing it for the first time.

“As do I,” Severus said.

Harry’s sigh was heavy. He turned his head and met Severus’s lips. Before the kiss could deepen, he pulled back.

“Do you think, when this blasted war is over, we could…” Harry looked up through the window above the bed.

“Go back?” Severus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Could we go back? Would you go with me?”

Severus sighed and adjusted onto his back. Harry propped himself on an elbow and looked down at him. When Severus smiled, he didn’t expect it.

“Yes, Harry,” Severus said. He reached out and tumbled Harry onto his chest. He kissed his head. “We can go anywhere you wish.”