A Developmental Approach

A Fellow Traveller

Severus sends three owls, two days between each, before he's satisfied it's safe to return to Ottery St Catchpole. He stumps through the front door looking grim, lips pressed together, eyes beaming messages that Harry can't quite understand.

Tom, in stark contrast, is a bundle of excitement.

"We saw the pyramids!" Tom says. His skin's gone a tanned bronze, though his cheeks and nose are reddened from a little too much sun. "Can you believe some wizards think it took magic to build them? Even though Muggles have clearly-explained, highly-refined methods for such construction? And the curses that were placed within the Pyramid of Khafre are clearly 6th century spells, so why—"

Harry is already set to worship Severus for his act of selflessness, but that he made Tom think they were on a spontaneous excursion instead of a run for his life...

Harry can't help it. He hurries down the hall and throws himself at Severus.

"Thank you," he says to the cool skin on Severus's neck.

"Can you touch each other later?" Tom asks, tugging on Harry's forearm to pull him out of the hug. "Severus bought me this primer on Egyptian religion, I want to show you Osiris. Can you imagine being able to control death?"

Harry wishes for Hermione and Ron—because he misses them, as always, but especially in that moment, because he wants to exchange wordless, meaningful glances with them about the irony of that statement.

When Sirius returns from a walk on the coast with James, he listens to Tom explain the connection between Osiris and Sirius's namesake star.

"Maybe you should've gone to Brazil," Sirius says, once Tom's moved on to showing James the diagrams and illustrations in his new encyclopaedia. "He'd be fluent by now."

"I'm open to another trip," Severus says, his eyes glued to the two boys lying on the floor. "I've already lost my job taking off the way I did, so I have the time. I'm not so sure any of us are safe here anymore."

"Dumbledore already knows about James," Harry says. "That secret's out. I'm not going to run around the globe avoiding him. But yeah, leaving now...probably is the best thing for Tom."

"Yes." There's low, scratchy tones of emotion in Severus's voice when he adds, "Let me spend the day with James before we go, please."

"You never have to ask. Just stay away from the neighbours. I'm avoiding them all after Maxine."

Severus persuades James out of the house with a promise of ice cream, despite the chill weather, and Tom looks at Harry and Sirius, hovering by the bottom of the stairs.

"I heard what you all said, by the way. I was sitting right there."

"Well?" Sirius asks. "What do you think about it?"

"I'd love to go. Words in books could never do justice to the feeling I had walking down millenia-old, entombed stairways."

"Right," Harry says, hoping he sounds supportive even though he doesn't personally consider travel a means of entertainment. It was something Ginny used to complain about. Maybe it was all the years he spent moving (escaping, hiding) by necessity.

"We should go pick out some clothes," Sirius says, reaching out to ruffle Tom's hair. Tom ducks the hand adeptly. "It's autumn in Brazil, and still warmer than here. Want to come, Harry?"

"No. Now that Dumbledore's already seen me, I might as well pop into Diagon Alley and pick up some more gold."

Harry does exactly that. Pockets weighed down by as much gold as he can carry, he wanders the shops a little, still processing that he no longer has to hide to such a great extent. He does catch a few double-takes as he walks, though he's not sure whether it's the scrawl of scars across his forehead or someone thinking that Harry's dead father is somehow walking among the living, until they notice the green eyes and lighter-shaded skin.