HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

When Severus was grading papers with a furrowed brow, he could look up and see Ian nestled in the chair next to him, studying a complex magical chart by the light, or sorting through newly arrived herb seeds.

Ian's tea always tasted a bit strange. He was keen to try all sorts of "healthy" combinations, but Severus gradually got used to reaching for the cup that was always promptly refilled during his moments of contemplation.

There were also arguments.

Usually it was for trivial matters: Severus thought Ian was taking "too meticulous, almost spoiling" care of the moonflowers in the greenhouse.

Ian protested that Severus had forgotten to eat lunch for three consecutive days, saying, "The food delivered by the house-elves doesn't count! You need to get out of the cauldron and walk around!"

The arguments often ended with Ian acting spoiled or giving a kiss, and occasionally with Severus slamming the door and leaving, only to return half an hour later with a cold face, holding the old book that Ian had mentioned wanting to find.

Lily brought Harry to Hogsmeade at the end of October.

Little Harry could already walk a few unsteady steps and was full of curiosity about everything that sparkled, especially trying to grab the silver buttons on Severus's robe.

Severus stood stiff as a board, letting the chubby little hand grip his buttons, his expression shifting constantly.

Lily laughed and picked up her son. Harry pouted, looking aggrieved, but didn't cry.

As they said goodbye, Harry waved enthusiastically, making little noises as if to say he'd come back again.

Several years passed peacefully like this. During these years, Lucius, under the various attempts of reasoning and appealing to his emotions by the Order of the Phoenix, handed over his diary, and the ring with the Resurrection Stone was also found in Gaunt's old house...

All Horcruxes were destroyed under Dumbledore's supervision, and now only Voldemort's main soul has escaped.

The members of the Order of the Phoenix searched tirelessly.

For those who perished in the process, Dumbledore erected a monument for them in Godric's Hollow, from Gareth Meadows (the champion who won the cup) to Selefina Grey (who fought against the Death Eaters).

……

August 1991, Cotswolds.

The late summer sun shone through the windows of the old stone house, casting slanted spots of light on the wooden floor.

The air was filled with the scent of dried herbs and old book pages, mixed with a hint of dampness from the freshly turned soil drifting in from the backyard.

Ian sat barefoot on the carpet, leaning against the sofa, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

The headline was about the Quidditch World Cup prelude, while in the corner was an inconspicuous text message: The Hogwarts Express will depart on September 1st.

"So, he's enrolling this year," Ian said casually, turning a page of the newspaper.

At the workbench at the other end of the room, Severus was carefully peeling the outer skin of some kind of dark purple root with a silver knife.

Upon hearing this, he paused for a moment, then precisely peeled off a thin strip of skin, as thin as a cicada's wing, with the blade.

"The Potter boy? Yes." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "The Malfoy boy too."

"Lucius finally decided to let his precious son out?" Ian chuckled, putting down his newspaper and walking behind Severus. He loosely wrapped his arm around Severus's waist, rested his chin on his shoulder, and watched the delicate work in Severus's hands. "I thought he'd hire a bunch of tutors to teach him until he was an adult."

"He tested me." Severus placed the trimmed root into a crystal mortar and began to slowly grind it with a jade pestle, "asking if I would be willing to provide 'extra instruction' outside of class. I refused."

"Smart. Getting Draco Malfoy's tutoring is just as troublesome as getting Narcissa's tears." Ian turned his head and kissed the small patch of skin below Severus's ear, feeling Severus's body relax slightly.

"How is the child?"

"Spoiled, but not stupid. Lucius taught him... very Malfoy." Severus put down his pestle, turned to face Ian, a rare hint of helplessness in his dark eyes. "Dumbledore made me the Head of Slytherin."

Ian raised an eyebrow: "When did this happen?"

"Last week," Severus said with a smirk, "he said I was 'the person who knows Slytherin's present and future best.'"

"What a rip-off," Ian said with a laugh, his fingers unconsciously twirling Severus's dark hair that fell over his shoulder. "Well, it's good that he's the headmaster. At least he can keep an eye on things and prevent the first-year students from getting too caught up in their parents' tricks. Harry Potter going to Gryffindor is almost a done deal, so it's a good match between the two..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Severus understood.

"Lucius won't let this opportunity slip by." Severus's voice was calm as he looked back into the distance. "He'll let Draco get close to Potter, in his own way—testing, courting, or...creating conflict. That's his style, and that's the path he's paving for that kid."

Do you think Harry will buy it?

"I don't know," Severus said. "The Potters raised him very well, but an eleven-year-old boy... is easily influenced by many things: vanity, curiosity, peer approval, and..."

He paused for a moment, "The scar on his head, and those rumors."

Ian was silent for a moment. Those rumors—"The Boy Who Survived," "The Night the Mysterious Man Disappeared"—had, after ten years of fermentation, become fairy tales in the magical world, a mixture of truth and fiction, tinged with legendary color.

For a child about to step into the magical world, it is both a halo and a burden.

"And Quirrell," Severus suddenly said, abruptly changing the subject.

Ian immediately looked up: "What happened to him?"

The professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the new semester was chosen at the end of last semester.

Quirinus Quirrell is a young wizard who previously taught Muggle studies at Hogwarts and has a somewhat stuttering and neurotic personality.

Dumbledore's reasoning was that Quirrell "developed a newfound passion for Defense Against the Dark Arts after a very fruitful academic trip to Albania and accumulated a wealth of firsthand information."

"He arrived at the castle this morning to borrow a few books from me... some rather obscure ones, about Eastern European folk protective magic and theories of the soul."

Severus's voice remained steady, but Ian detected a subtle tension beneath it. "He looks... a little strange."

"What's so strange about it?"

"He's more nervous than before, stutters terribly, and avoids eye contact. That's nothing new."

Severus said slowly, "What's unusual is that he has a... very faint, but definitely not one that should be on him. It's like... rotten Egyptian spices mixed with some kind of extremely dark, unstable magical residue. And the books he insisted on borrowing all leaned towards... ancient black magic contracts, and non-material parasitism and possession."