The Ties That Bind - JacksWild - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: The Beginning After the End

Chapter Text

Harry settled into his studio, a small flat on the edge of the city, where if you leaned out of the bedroom window and turned your head and squinted you could see the city skyline through the overgrown tree in the shared yard. He felt safe, the flat was small, only 500 square feet but was perfect for him… he was used to small spaces, and had always felt a bit unsteady when the rooms were large and the space felt overwhelming instead of comforting.

He hung art from every available place, the walls covered in his own pieces, and those of other artists, local and abroad, famous and relatively unknown. His kitchen always smelt of freshly baked bread and herbs, his bathroom held continuous remnants of herbal remedies and the smell of masculine tea tree and cedar.

The curtains were always open and when the wind and air were crisp, the windows as well, the flow between the front of the flat and the back, allowing for a clean breeze to blow through the mustier heaviness that set in when the hot months were afoot.

He spent his time studying, working and working out. Learning early on, that keeping his mind and body active was the only effective way of keeping the ghosts at bay, of keeping the gnawing anxiety quiet, of keeping the heavy regrets just a little off his shoulders. He was coming up on the end of his Defense Mastery and was beginning to admit that it would be time to enter back into the Wizarding World.

The Mastery required a final year of apprenticeship, and he was not willing to use his name to obtain favor. His grades though good, showed where he struggled, and his talents, though there, were also equaled out with his inability to keep calm for long enough to create anything new. A Mastery required one creation or assistance with a creation, to obtain. It was a failing he was all too aware of.

He penned a letter to the only person that he knew would be able to help him locate a suitable Master to train under, and sent Ares off in search of the Dowager. Letting the air escape his lungs with forced meditation techniques, he turned and set out his painting tools, he needed to get out of his mind for a bit.

**~~**

Severus was a hard man to contend with when he was in a good mood, and even more difficult all the rest of the time. The war had left him with scars that were both visible and hidden, but the weight of paranoia that he’d carried with him for more than 30 years was a weight he had lost when he was found innocent and his story had been released when the ashes had blown away and fires had died down. The Order of Merlin – First Class and Second Class, always prominently displayed on his mantel, not for the people that rarely visited, but for himself – it never hurt to remind himself that he was worth more than the constant conflagration that filled his mind with thoughts of pain and darkness.

His childhood home had been a place of pain during the first 20 years of his life, a place of hiding the next 20, and after the war had been a weight he’d shed with ease when the city of co*keworth offered to purchase it to build a manufacturing plant for muggles. He’d taken the nice chunk of muggle money and had purchased a home in Oxford, and hadn’t looked back on that blight in a long time.

His home, a tidy three story, narrow brown brick, was older and perfect for him. Every wall that was available was lined with sturdy thick bookshelves, which were leaden with heavy tomes, books, potions, artifacts, pictures, and the occasional odd trinket. His home was exactly what he’d always wanted and nothing he didn’t. The first floor was a small kitchen with black and white tile and a large window looking out on his small garden, and a larger open den that he’d split with magic into a dining room and office space. The fire place against the farthest wall was large and gave off an abundance of heat when his bones were cold.

The second floor was a lab, brilliantly laid out with nary a space wasted. Originally two rooms, he had taken out the wall in the middle, built a small bathroom into the side, and created a wall of shelves and long door closets that held or hid his potions ingredients in appropriate measure. The front wall was nearly all windows and the back was built with ventilation flats that could be opened either up or down depending on the time of year and the weather outside. The floor was dark oak, and charms were built, layer on layer, for cushioning (hours on ones feet often found pain in the soles of ones feet), and protection after protection spell.

The third floor was his private oasis. And an oasis, no matter how trite the word was, it had become. Plush dark grey carpet, a king size four poster bed in the middle of the far wall, a dark green accent wall complimenting the lighter grey walls remaining. He had two sturdy shelves on either side of the bedroom door, with small accoutrement littering their respective place, the furniture white cedar and the ensuite built of white marble and dark black tile. The shower on one side, and claw foot bath on the other, with a small room for the facilities built into the back. The gold gilt mirror with magic inlaid was the one small nod to his new life.

His life was one of peace and serenity. He’d built up a well-to-do business selling potions and treating special magical ailments. He didn’t see people often, unless he chose to, and he kept to himself. Occasionally, he would be asked to come up and guest lecture at the Oxford magical potions class, and also Hogwarts, and would do so willingly, if only to see the next generation and find out if there were any promising potioneers in the next batch.

Life, though quiet and alone, was good, and he didn’t forget every day, how this had never been a dream, but now was a life he lived with relish.

**~~**

Minerva retrieved Harry’s letter and penned back that she would look into a couple of Masters for him, and advise him when she’d had any promising options. She’d penned a missive to Severus and asked to move their normally scheduled tea up a week and leaned back in her tall wingback chair. After nearly a decade, it appeared her two favorite boys may finally following the ties that bind to one another. She sipped her tea and wrote to Poppy and Pomona. She had some small plans to make, as it had taken this long for the strings of fate to force a move, she wasn’t going to allow the tenuous possibilities fade if strong emotions overweighed possible optimism.

**~~**

The pub was loud and the friends were plentiful. Harry having passed his last test was only an apprenticeship away from his Mastery and everyone willing to celebrate for any reason, found this to be as good as any reason to do so. He smiled and found he meant it, and sipped his ale as his friends pursued games of question and chance. The warded zone around their area of the pub allowing them, all survivors of far more than war time crimes, having been hounded by press in each their own right off and on for years, their greedy need of privacy.

“Oy, Harry! You’re up, truth or dare!” Seamus threw up his ale in a mix of salute and attention grabbing.

Harry smiled and leaned back, avoiding the slightly concerned glare of Hermione and the nudging of Ron. Both wanting him to do something completely different, for their own reasons.

“I believe this will be the final one of the night lads, and I’ll make it truth.” He said, downing the last of his ale and tapping the glass on the table, it disappearing with a pop to the kitchens.

“Harry! You know Seamus doesn’t play by the rules!!” Hermione wailed, and sat back. He ignored her, it really wouldn’t have mattered if it had been a truth or dare, Seamus would have found a way to embarrass him regardless.

“Alright, Hare! What was the Professor you found most attractive at Hogwarts, during our tenure there, aye?” He said, splitting a gut laughing, nearly falling back on Dean while he waited for Harry’s reveal. The wizarding variation on the common pub game, put a spell over the players causing the truth to be the only thing said or risk something happening to their skin, hair, etc.

He leaned forward and thought on it, his mouth quirking on the side, as he contemplated if it was worth the risk to keep the truth a secret. As it was, Ron and Hermione knew the answer, and they were both looking at him with the same level of curiosity and humor.

He threw some galleons on the table in payment for his part of the tab, and leaned in so that they all could hear him a smirk on his lips and a charming pink to his cheeks, “I would have to say, of all the Professors at Hogwarts, the most attractive and the one I spirited a crush on for neigh on more years than I would care to admit, was… Severus Snape.” He leaned back and laughed as a mixed bag of emotions flittered across the group. He’d not been very vocal about his preferences, and though he had been with Ginny for a couple years, they’d broken up nearly as long ago as they’d been together. He’d had his share of men in his love life as he’d had women, and lately he’d also had his share of peace and solitude. “That’s it for me then, have a good one! ‘Mione, Ron – I will see you both tomorrow.” He nodded, winked at Seamus and walked himself through the ward and towards the door. A small spring in his step and a smile on his lips.

He walked home, opting to avoid the possibility of splinching himself and using the air to cleanse his heavy head. His flat welcomed him like a lover after a long day, comforting and embracing him in its own personal way. He undressed as he moved through to his bathroom, no bothering to worry about the clothing that trailed after him he would do to clean in the morning before he went about his normal Sunday errands.

A soft tapping at the window, caused him to move over to the Juliet balcony and let in a beautiful tawny owl with a letter attached to its leg. He pet it behind it’s ears and took a bit of biscuit out of his pocket and watched as it greedily took the offering and took to the darkened blue night time skies.

He fell back on his bed and opened the letter, noticing immediately that it was from Minerva.

“Mr. Potter, I have reached out to several contacts, and have obtained a promising possibility for you. One of the foremost Masters in DADA happens to live not too far from you, in Oxford and is willing to meet with you regarding your application for apprenticeship. I have not informed them of who you are, but did provide them all your grades and previous essays. I have had a couple of brief conversations with them, and they are most willing to meet with you.
Please be advised that they are a tasking Master, but you should stand to be trained under the best. They will not be easily pleased. I have provided you a portkey that will be available for Sunday morn at 0900.
Not that I feel the need to remind you of customs, but it is customary to bring something as an offering to show your honorable intent. Think well on this.

As always, make me proud my boy.

x Minerva”

He fell back against his pillows and sighed, the next step in his great adventure was happening in less than 12 hours. And he couldn’t be arsed to care about the enormity of it. He set his alarm and closed his eyes. He would have to gather a gift not only for his meeting tomorrow, but something to send to Minerva for her application in assisting him.

~~**~~

Severus spent the morning in his lab, getting it ready for the possible apprentice that was coming today. It had taken nearly three hours of bemoaning but Minerva had convinced him to give the nearly graduated student a chance. Though she wouldn’t share their name, or gender, or really any part of their identity, she swore to him that the student was worthy and had gone out of her way to obtain their credentials.

They seemed above average, if not a perfect apprentice, but if what Minerva said, was to be believed, then this pupil needed a strong hand and clear guidance to flourish. And he was blessed with the ability to be able to provide both. His potions lab was set up for a demonstration and his tables had been moved to the side. A good Defense master would be talented in all of the arts; potions, charms, arithmancy, runes, and even to a smaller degree divination. He was impressed with all of the grades for the pupil except potions, and was willing to bet that it was not the student, but the Potion professor, if all the other grades were as they were, then potions wouldn’t be as low as they were due to an inability to understand.

His wards tingled on the edge of his skin, and he accepted that his peace was going to be a little broken for the rest of the day. But clapped his hands together behind his back and made for the stairs, it was either going to end up for the best, or it was going to be a great disaster that he could hold over Minerva’s head for the rest of her life. Either way, it appeared it might be a win for him.

He was reaching the first floor landing, when a soft polite knock sounded o his door. He straightened his frame, took a deep breath, and opened the door –

To Harry Potter.

Chapter 2: A Mutual Understanding

Chapter Text

Harry had stood on the edge of the three story brick building and focused for nearly 10 minutes on his breathing. Easing it in, and out, and in, and out. He could do this. He could prove his worth, and he could earn an apprenticeship. He held in his hand a box wrapped as well as he could, and over his shoulder was a knapsack with all that he may need to meet any tests that were set out. He took one more breath, and stepped across the threshold of the small front yard, and up the concrete and brick path, and felt the glamour that he had painstakingly used that morning melt from his face. This was going to be a good master, if their wards were built to show visitors true identity.

His heart nudged up to racing and in his throat he felt a tight restriction start to creep in. He could do this! No matter what, he would ask that they allow him the chance to prove his merit, and earn his chance.

His knock was much more timid than he intended, but didn’t want to be imposing. He was 5 minutes early and he would hope this showed a desire and willingness to learn, an eagerness to earn his place.

His throat constricted painfully, when the door opened and Severus Snape, Professor of Potions, Double agent, spy, Saviour in his own right, Double Order of Merlin, and star of his most fervent fantasies opened the door.

They both stood there, for what felt like eons, sizing each other up in their own way. Harry took a moment to close his eyes, and held out his package, the gift to show his earnest. He held it there for nearly a minute, before Snape took it from his outstretched hand.

“I suppose you may come in.”

Harry followed him through the door and closed it softly behind him. Snape had gone down a few steps to what appeared to be the den; the well-lit room showcasing all of the books and artifacts that he owned. He focused on not shuffling his feet, and not fidgeting. One of the parts of defense mastery so far had been forced meditation tactics, to stay in the moment and not show the other party what you were feeling or thinking.

His walls were up and as strong as he could make them, but he knew that Snape was the strongest legilimens that there was alive now that Voldemort and Dumbledore were both dead.

He waited patiently, not putting his bag down and not making a move to impose in any way.

He watched as Snape paced over to his desk and sat down. The package that he’d brought sitting now on the desk between them. He’d never been more happy that he’d gone a bit overboard with his gift.

Snape did some diagnostic spells on the package, and looked Harry dead in the eyes as he muttered the final spell and the poorly wrapped packaging slid from the box.

The man broke eye contact was the wooden box showed itself, with gold, silver, and bronze filigree throughout the entire box, and latched with a small hook and claw. Harry watched as Snape flicked the latch open and opened the lid. In the small box was a set of metal balls, one silver, blue, green and white. The other red, gold, purple and orange. He squinted his eyes and lifted them from the silk that was underneath them.

Harry watched as one of his favorite possessions was fondled in the large hands of the man sitting at the desk. “What are these, Potter?”

He took a deep breath, focusing on not stuttering, and spoke, “They are meditation balls, Professor. They are weighted differently and can be used with several spells to bring you out of your current consciousness into another. Most commonly they are rotated in the left hand for introspection, and in the right hand for autoscopy.” He kept where he was as he watched the balls rotate in first the left and then the right hand of Snape.

“I can provide you the spells. I found those when I was in Morocco several years ago, so the spells are of Moroccan descent but they are easy once you learn them, sir.” He added the sir with a bit of hesitation, and wanted to slap himself. He was nervous, and far more nervous than he would have been with nearly any other human on the planet.

“Let us see if you are worth my time, before you waste it sharing spells that I will not use. I won’t be accused of keeping a gift, if I find you lacking and send you on your way” Snape said and moved from his seat. “Follow me.”

He brushed past Harry, and he had to close his eyes, the scent of rosemary and cedar were strong and nearly overwhelming. He hadn’t known that mixture was arousing, but found that his already hard beating heart, was beating faster and his breath caught in his throat. “Yes, Professor.” He turned and followed the man up the narrow stairs to the second floor landing.

The large open space was full of cauldrons and ingredients, light pouring in from the windows and a breeze entering off the back wall caused Harry to look harder and see the slats that were opened allowing the room to be ventilated. “Place your bag over there, and stand in the middle of the room.”

Harry did as ordered and stood in the middle of the room, moving to take a defensive stance, and kept a wary eye on the older, taller, wiser man. The spell nearly caused him to fall back, but he moved his left foot back, bracing against the sting of the hex and pushed through a silent shield, a glimmer coming up but no attack. He was taken by surprise when another hex came from behind him, he must have missed a mirror, and bit back an oath as the stinging hex hit him square in the arse. He moved to the left and crouched down as two more spells in quick succession flew towards him, his shield, taking the full brunt of one and deflecting the other back at Snape.

This went on for several moments before Harry decided that it was time to do more than defend. He summoned his wand from his ankle holster and silently jinxed the stool behind Snape, watching it move forward as he calmly waited. Snape kept pushing jinx after hex after spell at him. At the last moment when the stool had crawled just behind Snape Harry stood up and yelled “Solorus fa*gia” Snape blocked the spell but was pushed back regardless, and took a tumble back. Harry heard him mutter an oath, but didn’t break concentration. The stool legs wrapping around Snapes left foot, Harry sent a jelly jinx to the other leg. Muttering a spell under his breath and watched as the cuffs on the Masters arms came loose and attracted to the other, held the hands together as if magnetized.

Harry waited for several moments, before taking a step forward to assist the man up. As he took the first step a wall of vines fell from the ceiling and tied him up, pulling him from the floor and hang him in the air. Snape moved quickly, an aggressive “finite” falling from his lips as the stool fell inert and the jinx on his other leg was ended. He threw several hexes at Harry as he hung there, and he took most of them, with his wand on the floor and his hands tied completely up, he was drastically down on his options. Hoping that Snape would not take this in anything other than exactly what it was, he pushed out with his mind and invaded the thick erect walls he had up.

It was evident that Snape had not expected this, Harry figured it had more to do with the fact that the last time Occlumency was trained between them, he’d failed so miserably, that it may never have crossed Snapes mind that he’d learned not only to occlude but had learned to attack.

He pushed through the spells that Snape kept flinging at him, breaking down the exterior walls of the man’s mind. Not wishing to dig too deep, but enough to push him away from being able to keep the vine spell up. He felt the vines loosen a bit on his left arm and flexed until he had the ability to move his hand. Just as he was seeing a memory or a thought of him in Snapes mind, he was ejected and summoned his wand, banishing the vines himself and falling to the ground, he summoned a fire all potion from his sack and caught it, throwing it at the Master.

Snape caught it in the air, but Harry had anticipated this and muttered the spell to shatter the vial, watching as the liquid poured down Snapes arm once touching the air, lighting aflame along his clothing. Snape summoned something from one of the walls and it shattered to the left of Harry, and he ignored it, assuming Snape missed in his haste to stop the burning. Harry moved to take a step back and summoned the ice spell, as a noxious smell arose from the ground. Harry gagged and immediately was consumed with the need to throw up, nothing could stop him from pouring the contents of his breakfast on the floor.

He fell to the ground, and keep heaving even when he heard Snape put the flame out and took steps towards him. He knew he’d been beaten, and was unable to do anything about it. The roiling in his gut, continuing to be attacked by the small vial that was pouring a smell into the air around him.

“You have surprised me today, Potter.” Harry watched out of the corner of his eye, as Snape leaned forward and banished the vial and the liquid, the air immediately cleansed, allowing Harry to ability to take a full breath.

He kept his head down, “I appreciate the chance, Professor. If you’d allow me a moment to catch my breath, I will be out of your home posthaste.” His heart heavy, he would reach out to Minerva and let her know that he’d honestly tried his best.

“What are you on about, Potter?” Harry was pulled upright with a firm hand on his collar and took another moment to breathe through a wave of nausea.

“I lost, sir.” He said, confused at the question presented to him.

“Of course you did. Had you won, I would have been more than surprised. You are in search of an apprenticeship, no matter how large your ego is, you were hardly going to win against me. You’ve proven you have ingenuity and merit. I will take you on.”

Harry brushed off his sweater and took another fortifying breath. “Thank you, Professor.”

“The toilet is through that door, clean yourself up and meet me downstairs in 15 minutes. We will discuss the contract.” With that Snape left to go upstairs, to what Harry assumed was his private quarters.

Harry moved to retrieve is bag, and went to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash water on his face contemplate just what had happened. He felt like he’d done well, but the fact that Snape also thought so, was in its own way both confusing and redeeming. He hadn’t even had an opportunity to utilize all that he’d brought with him, and was rather unsettled by the turn of events the entire day had taken. He quickly changed from his sweater to a lighter cotton button up that he had packed and dragged a wet hand through his hair to try to bring some semblance of peace to it. One last look in the mirror and he headed downstairs, he’d made it this far, he wasn’t about to lose Snape to any form of tardiness.

Chapter 3: Coming to An Agreement

Chapter Text

Ch. 3
Severus looked at himself in the mirror of his own personal bath, and counted to ten. He would be sending Minerva a most aggressively worded missive when Potter left this evening. He was faced all too clearly with all the choices he had made in the first 40 years of his life that he’d spent the last several years trying to forget.

Potter looked fit, and with a face to the name of the grades that Snape had been privy to, and the essays that he’d read, he was having a hard time pushing his previous vitriol at the boy. He could see clearly that Potter had progressed in the recent decade and he’d be a fool to not take the boy under his wing. To reject such possibility would say more to a hidden cowardice than it would to anything else, and Severus was anything but foolish or a coward.

He stripped down and changed into charcoal grey slacks and a black silk button up. He tied his hair back and located his spectacles. If they were going to bicker over contracts for the next several hours, he’d at least be able to see the damn thing and look the part. It’d been years since he’d last had an opportunity to take on an apprentice, and he’d never found one that suited his needs. Potter, he hoped, wouldn’t fail him.

Taking a last deep breath and a moments reflection seeking patience, he left for the first floor. He rather thought he’d need all the patience that he would be able to muster, for the evening ahead.

~~**~~

Harry had gone downstairs but Snape wasn’t there yet. Too nervous to sit on any of the furniture, he stood by the front window and looked out into the front garden. His nerves were raw and his thoughts were a jumbled mess of anxiety, confusion, and a desperate desire to know if this was all some sort of fever dream at the end of his classes.

The footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the need to occlude and as his walls went up he turned around and looked up at Snape as he crossed the top of the stairs and made his way down. What little air was in Harry’s lungs got stuck in his throat. The man was in fitted grey slacks and what appeared to be a silk black shirt. If he wasn’t so sure that an apprenticeship with Snape would be the absolute best thing for his future, he would have left right then. He was sure to embarrass himself in the next 12 months at some point, and to sign any contract that prolonged contact with this man, was akin to signing a letter of defeat.

“Potter, there are several things that we need to discuss in order to make sure that this agreement between the both of us works to the best advantage. But I refuse to do this without tea.” With that Snape swooped through the den and into what Harry presumed was the kitchen. “Come here!”

Harry stumbled and moved forward, shame clawing in his gut. He needed to look like he could handle himself, not that he was an idiotic twit.

“First of all, stop with the nervous demeanor. You are going to win no favors with that attitude. I am a harsh and thorough Master of the Defense arts, but I will run right through you if you don’t find that spine that you had when you were a twit in school, do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, Professor.”

“Second, you will refer to me as Master Snape, or Professor. Regardless of location, who we are with, or tone of conversation. If I am to teach you, then we must maintain a level of professionalism that denotes who is in authority and who is not.”

“Understood, Professor.”

“Third, do you drink chai or black tea?”

Harry, ready for another item on the list of his training, was mildly taken back, and the chuckle left his lips before he had a moment to refrain. He watched in horror as Snape turned around and looked at him. “Did I say something humorous?”

“No, Professor, I wasn’t expecting a question on the tea that I take. I will drink just about any tea that you can provide, minus Jasmine.”

“That is fine. Is there anything that you need to add to the standard apprentice contract, that deviates from the original type?” Snape moved to the kettle that was on the burner and set it aflame with wordless and wandless magic.

“I know that the standard contract notes that I should stay with you for the entirety of the length of training, however, I do not believe that I can do that, for personal reasons. I would like to be able to stay in my flat and come here or wherever I train, daily. You can obviously set the time and place as you wish and I will never be late, but it is important to me that I have my own space, Professor.”

“And why is this? Do you have a paramour that needs to split your time from training? You understand that the entire point of living where you train, is so that you can be surrounded at all times with learning and no distractions. If I were to let you have this, how can I be assured that you will not be distracted with women and drink?”

Harry leaned back in his chair and contemplated the best way to get what he wanted. He surmised that the truth was his best option, as lying to Snape had never won him any favors in the past. “I suffer from nightmares nearly every night. I refuse to be a nuisance to you or a detriment to your livelihood, as I presumed that you would still be brewing while I am living here. Additionally, I have wards at my home that alert me when I get too far into one of the worse types of dreams. I am not currently seeing anyone, and if you wish you can put restrictions in the contract to both lovers and drink so as to keep what you imagine my transgressions to be, in line. Professor.”

He studied his hands, and hoped that his frustration wouldn’t be taken as disrespect. They were merely discussing the terms of the contract, and Snape wasn’t beholden to take him on, until the terms were written and signed by them both.

The silence stretched out for longer than Harry felt comfortable. He continued to study his hands, and think about the 9 rules of war casting. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that Snape hadn’t agreed and had yet to say anything. He found that he wasn’t nervous of being made fun of, but more that he might be found lacking – it was disturbing how much that thought angered him.

“You will stay here. I am, inarguably the foremost Potioneer in the Eastern Hemisphere, arguably the world. If you are still having nightmares more than 10 years after the war, every night as you say, then you should have come to me or a healer sooner. There are things that we can do to assist in lessening them or stopping them altogether.” Harry watched as Snape decanted the tea leaves into the cups and poured the water over them and left them on the counter to steep as he turned and leaned against it, staring intently at him.

“You will never live up to your full potential if you continue to hide away from what is causing these dreams. Additionally, you will never be able to completely recover and live a fulfilling life if you are so worried that the person you are when you are at your most defenseless will leave an unpalatable taste to those you surround yourself with. Though, I will still state that while you are living here, in payment for the potions and the work that I will be doing for you in addition to your training, we will still add the terms for no lovers or drink while under my tutelage. I refuse to waste my time training you, if you are going to be distracted by ale and women.” He took the steeped tea from the counter and brought it over to the table, setting them down and waving his hand. Parchment and quills came floating in, from what Harry assumed was the den office. “Is that agreeable to you?”

Harry thought on this, and figured it was as good as he was going to get. But it was settling a little rough in his stomach the idea that he may not be able to take a lover in the next 12 months, but Snape may bring a woman home while he was here. “The only thing I want to add, is that if I am to be trained here, and stay here, and stop seeking companionship and drink. Then, I would like for you to be as…” he searched for the right word, “undistracted as possible. I would like to add a stipulation that you as well will not seek a lover in the next 12 months, so as to make sure that I get the best of your attention other than your business, Professor.” He took a sip of the tea, and held himself proud that he didn’t make a noise at the scalding water hitting his tongue and lips.

“How dare you?” he heard the anger in Snapes voice and looked him in the eye. “You come in here, you ask me to train you, and you dare to put stipulations on what may or may not distract me from training you?”

Harry took a moment, and evened his breath. This was for the best, because he knew the moment he saw Snape with anyone else he would forever shame himself. “I want the absolute best training in the world. You are the foremost Master of both Defense and Potions. I would never presume to take your livelihood away, but I know that I can seek older Masters with longer time in the field. They may not be the best that you are, but they will make up for it by providing me their undivided attention. It will be in your mind for the rest of your life, whether I could have been better, if I could have flourished more, if you could have trained the best Master of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you decided that a warm c*nt was more important than training me and focusing on making me the best that I can be.” Harry didn’t take his eyes away from Snapes and felt that fire that used to rise within him when Snape was near in school, up in his chest. It had been so long since he’d felt that fire swell, it felt good.

Snape clenched his fists and took what appeared to be deep breaths. Harry had to refrain from laughing, if only Snape knew that he’d just been doing the very same upstairs in the bathroom before he’d come down here.

“Very well.” With that and a shocked soft gasp from Harry the contract and all their terms appeared between them. Snape took the quill and pricked his forefinger with it, and signed his name. He turned the parchment around and provided the second quill to Harry who did the same. “You training will start next Monday at 0700. You will be expected to be here Sunday night to have your things ready in time to start. I will accept no failure, Potter. Is that understood?”

Harry pricked his finger and signed his name with as little flourish as possible. His life had just changed, and he couldn’t find it within himself to feel any anxiety anymore. “Crystal, Professor.”
~~**~~

Severus slammed his silver cauldron down on the table and summoned his ingredients for his variant on dreamless sleep. One he had designed for himself when the nightmares never ended and the war had haunted his every waking moment. He was fuming. How dare that insolent whelp demand anything from him? How dare he put stipulations on his love life.

It wasn’t just because he hadn’t had a love life, or the fact that he wasn’t particularly keen on finding someone either. It had nothing to do with the fact that Potter was beautiful and masculine and would more than likely cause Severus heartburn and lost sleep in the coming year. It most assuredly had nothing to do with the fact that Potter hadn’t confirmed one way or the other if he was interested in men or women but had openly implied that Severus was. Not that it mattered, it didn’t. It would never come up, and was not a part of training. But he was infuriated because he dared to imply that Severus couldn’t train and seek companionship at the same time. That somehow he might be found lacking in either department should he do so. And it rankled.

The brew in the cauldron turned a deep red and he added the sage and ginger root. Focusing on his breathing and remaining calm while he stirred the correct number of times and the correct speed.

His focus on the potion allowed the other thoughts from the day surge forward and he found that he was at a loss for why Minerva would have done this to him. Of course he was the best in his fields, respectively. But she knew that he was a man seeking peace from a life of power hungry men. She knew that the war was behind him, and must have known that Potter sweeping into his life would bring those thoughts, those memories, those regrets to the forefront.

He settled the stirring rod on the side of the cauldron and extinguished the flame. It would have to sit under the moon for a full night before he could decant it.

Sighing he left the lab and went to his bathroom, the next year was going to be a mess and he had no one to blame but himself.

~~**~~

“Snape. You mean, greasy, dungeon bat, with swoopy robes and a piss poor attitude, Snape?” Ron said, as he sat there with his ale in hand. The breeze coming through the front of his small flat was the only saving grace to the heat in Harry’s cheeks. He’d fire called Ron and Hermione the moment he’d gotten home. He had less than two days to get his entire flat packed and moved to storage. He’d called the landlord and had informed him of his need for swift departure, which had been painful, as he’d had to cough up nearly 6 months’ rent to pay for the break in lease.

“The very same.” He said, levitating another piece of art off his wall and into a box. “’Mione, can you help me with this one?”

Hermione who was in the bathroom packing up the toiletries, came out and assisted with the artwork. “Are you excited? He is the best in his field, and you could hardly ask for a better opportunity to ask him all the questions you’ve been wanting to, for the last 10 years.” She said, flinging a stinging hex at Ron, who got up and scuttled over to the boxes in the kitchen area to start helping.

“I don’t think that ‘hey do you think you fancied my mom, and that’s why you did all the things you did?’ or ‘have you ever thought that even though you fancied my mom, you might think about giving it a go with me’ are topics that are going to come up in the next 12 months, ‘Mione. And if either of them do, you will know immediately, as I will send a flare letting you know that my death is imminent.”

They all laughed. The smile never leaving his face. They finished packing well after midnight and sat exhausted on his lumpy couch. “Come over with us, and catch a nap. We will have your things out of here and at the Burrows’ garage tomorrow, and you can get some sleep before you head over to Snapes.”

He looked at Hermione and felt a wave of love for his friends. Ron snoring on her shoulder his hair a mess of sweat and dust.

“Yeah, that sounds alright.”

The next morning found Harry awake at 11 am with a million things on his list that he needed to accomplish before he went over to Snapes. He went shopping for extra potions equipment, making sure that he would not be imposing on the Master for any extra things that he would be doing while he was under tutelage. He went to Diagon Alley and purchased several burn and acid proofed shirts and slacks (if they were form fitting and of nice quality, it had nothing to do with the fact that he refused to look like a schlep next to the man who made slacks and silk button ups look like they were a gift of merlin.)

He purchased several bags worth of groceries as well and shrunk them down. He would assist with more than just being trained, he would make sure that Snape didn’t seem him as a pest or a detriment to his daily life. He swung by Ron and Hermione’s and after one last hug and extra kisses on the cheek he portkeyed to Snapes back garden. Three deep, fortifying breaths and a stern pep talk later, and he knocked on the back door.

Chapter 4: A Tenuous Start

Chapter Text

Ch. 4
Severus had been up well into the night, making space for his new apprentice and working through several years’ worth of animosity that was layered beneath his skin. He had grown over the years to understand that his hatred of Potter had stemmed from a deep loathing of the boy’s father as well as his own self-loathing for the death of Lily. He also had grown to understand that Potter wasn’t the insolent aggressive prick that he’d always assumed he had been. Though it had been dozens of dinners shared with Minerva over the last decade that had assuaged him of this error of judgement, it had been the night, nearly seven years prior, that Minerva had lost her patience and took him to Hogwarts after several pints to show him the error of his ways. She’d shoved him forward and his face into the gleaming dish of memories, before he’d truly understood the life the boy had led.

The memories were forfeited by Potter when he was in a healers ward after the war. He’d given them to Minerva so that she could understand some lingering questions, and so that he’d not focus on them so much.

Severus had been assaulted with visuals of an incredibly young Potter starving in a small locked cupboard. He’d seen images after images of beatings and threats and bars on windows. He’d seen the tears streaked down the cheeks of a 11 year old returning from school, imagining his life would be different now that he knew magic was real, only to discover that he was being punished for the freakiness of his gift. He’d seen the scratches on the stomach, and had all but felt the hunger as it clawed through the skin. He’d watched in growing horror at the night and day after night and day of assault, that finally resulted in the most revolting memory he’d ever laid eyes on.

He’d been forced to watch the night that Vernon had molested Potter while he’d been tied to the railing of the stairs after what appeared to be the summer Black had died. He’d watched what little light there was in the eyes of, his then most hated student, fade into blankness as he’d been touched and groped and whipped for a myriad of transgressions that made little to no sense.

He’d tumbled out of the pensieve and had fallen to the floor, the tears unbidden were streaming down his face and he’d sought comfort the only way he could. With the first hug that he’d had in nearly twenty years, he cried for the boy that had grown in such nightmarish conditions.

Severus used magic to build walls up in the back garden for a small garage that would do to house Potter, while he dwelt on the fact that all the time he’d been living a life of a double agent, it appeared that Potter had been doing the same. It came as no shock that Potter was having nearly nightly nightmares, and he would stake a significant sum on the fact that a large majority of the dreams, derived from him not dealing with the pain of his childhood, and instead giving the memories to Minerva to dispose of.

With every wall, window, and part of the garage that he built, he put ward after ward to protect the boy, he sighed vocally, man, as well as provide comfort and warnings for when he was not at rest in his sleep.

Severus knew that his knowledge of Potters childhood would have to come up eventually, for him the memories were a dangling vine that was always there ready to trip him up on the path of life. His only hope, was that it would be brought up by Potter himself, and he could act shocked and appropriately appalled.

… he would never tell a soul, neither Minerva nor Potter, nor the very devil himself. That the next day after he’d borne witness to those abominable memories, he’d sought Vernon himself in a Tescos in South Croyden. He’d never tell a soul how he’d stalked the man back to his home and waited for the night to cover him as he slunk into the house. He’d never tell a soul, how he’d waited until Vernon was asleep and Petunia was laying there next to him, as he crawled into their minds and filled them with vision after vision of pain and torture and horrid, fearful, beast after beast for nearly three weeks until they would be haunted for the rest of their lives.

He would never tell a soul, but it didn’t mean he regretted it at all.

~~**~~

Severus heard the knock on the back door and swept his eyes over his home. He’d made every effort to organize so that his abode was prepared for training of an apprentice. He’d gone especially out his way to remove glass vials and rare or expensive artifacts from visible or higher shelving. Knowing their history, he figured it would do to be cautious.

He felt the peace of his previous life slipping away, and accepted that regardless of the way the previous decade had gone, the rest of his life would be different, there was no escaping that training Potter in Defense would alter his life for good.

He felt his eyes squint when he raked them across the man on his back patio. Bags upon bags were laden on the wooden decking, and Potter looked harried.

“Explain.”

He watched as his pupil took a gulp before speaking, “I had everything shrunk, but I believe that you may have a spell layered in your warding that doesn’t allow for contraband to be smuggled across your property.”

Severus reluctantly found himself impressed, he did indeed have several spells for just that. “However, that doesn’t explain the myriad of accouterment that you have brought to my home.” He felt that he had hidden well his shock.

“We didn’t really go over chores,” Potter moved and with several wandless and wordless spells the bags shrank again and accio’d to his pockets, the trunk that had been enlarged behind him following shortly after. None the less, the intrepid man continued as if the display was nary a daily ritual. “I know that you are private man, but I also figure that I am about to traipse in and run riot through your careful plans that I am sure you have. In trying to accommodate the drastic change to your life, I am attempting to mitigate as much damage to your comfort as possible.” Severus watched as Potter tried not to fidget, but he knew that being left on the back patio created a tension that he wanted to see the man work through. “I am a more than adequate cook. I enjoy keeping a clean home, and am willing to work out a schedule to assist with more of your menial chores, so as to create some time for your livelihood, that I am otherwise taking you from.”

Severus stayed silent and stepped back from the door, “You would do well to try and fidget less when you are in a tense situation. In.” He kept his hands in his pockets and kept a hawk like eye on the man that entered his home. He’d gauge that Potter had gained a stone since he’d left Hogwarts, and though it wasn’t nearly enough to fill him out it was enough to make him look fit and older. His hair was thicker but hung longer, creating a less wild look. The glasses were gone and instead he would have gauged Potter had seen a wizarding optometrist. “The veg goes in the chill box to the left of the refrigerator; fruits, drink, and meats go in the refrigerator. Spices and any other dry goods go in the pantry.” He closed the door and watched Potter levitate the bags one at a time out of his pockets and start the tedious task of putting the grocery away.

“Monday through Friday training will start at 0700 in the morning, you will take 1 break for lunch and that will be at 1300 and your official training will end every day at 1800. However, I would suggest that you remember that there will be lessons that will require you to do your own private study. I take breakfast at 0530 every morning, you will not be required to make breakfast or eat it with me, as I am particular about how my mornings go. I will be working on my potions from 0600 – 0700 and you will not disturb my lab during that time, unless it’s an emergency.” He moved forward and moved the tomato from the veg group to the fruit.

“You will be responsible for your own lunches throughout the week. I will cook Monday through Thursday and you can cook dinner the rest of the week, except Sunday. You will have one day of rest and Sunday will be that day. I presume that you were not able to talk yourself out of the Weasley Sunday Supper. As such you will be allowed to have the day off, but I expect you to be home Sunday nights no later than 2100.” He continued to talk as he moved to the tea cabinet and took out the prep for an evening tea.

“I will be working in my lab on Saturdays, during this time you will be allowed to study either in the lab or on your own. However, I will not be available to inane chatter during this time, as I have created a schedule that should allow me to not get behind with my regular sales.” His eyes swept over the small cauldrons and potions utensils that Potter placed on the dining room table, noting that the man was nodding his head and writing notes on a pad as he organized and filed away the grocery.

“Why’ve you brought potions supplies, Potter?”

“Well, Professor, I didn’t want to assume that I would be able to use your personal supplies, as you are Potioneer who makes their livelihood on sales. So I purchased my own, so that I would not take any of your stock or supplies away from you.”

Severus mulled this over in his mind, “bloody good intentioned Gryffindors…” he mumbled.

“That is acceptable.”

“Professor, may I…?”

“Continue.”

“I saw in your garden just now, that you are missing some herbs, flowers, and veg that I have a particular talent in cultivating. I can do most of the planting and herbology in planters, only some would have to be moved to the garden itself and I believe that you’d have enough room for me to do so.”

“What could you possibly need to garden for, Potter?”

“It helps with the…”

Severus kept himself quiet, letting the man speak for himself. Finding that he would have been more annoyed with the words that people use to fill the void, instead of the silence to build the correct phrasing.

“It helps with the anxiety.”

“What would you be planting?”

“Strawberries and basil to start, but later in the summer I would be able to plant pint melons and in the beginning of fall I would start on Indian sage and turmeric.”

He rolled the items around in his mind and found several common house potions that used most of the items listed, except one. “Pint melons?”

“Oh, yes!” He looked up from the tea prep and over at the man at the dining table, organizing the potions supplies and the remaining dry goods for the pantry. The blush not lost on Severus.

“Excuse my outburst, Professor. Pint melons, are a variety of melons such as watermelons, cantaloupe, etcetera that one can grow in a small container and shape them as one would, so as to not take up the normal space of any of those fruits per their normal growth cycle. Generally, I tend to grow them in potion vials, and they get no larger than several ounces at most. They are delicious for juices and are often used for soaps and cleansers for the home.”

“I will look into the melons and advise on how to best see their place in the garden. As for the rest, since I agree they can be planted and grown in containers, you can do as you wish. If you are quite done with the grocery, I would like to get on with the tour of your room and board.”

“Yes, of course, Professor.”

He moved to the backdoor again and waited as Potter pocketed all the potions supplies and small toiletries that had come out of the bags before moving out into the back garden.

“I have built you a small garage that will house in you in the coming 12 months. I was not willing to lose any of my personal space within my home.”

He ignored the soft snort that he heard behind him, and continued to the small building that was at the back of his property. No more than 400 square feet, it fit snuggly within the garden and the gate in the far back corner.

He opened the door after having Potter place his hand on it for the wards. “I have placed several wards on this building alone, as well as keyed them into the wards for the home over all. I will be aware of any dangers that face you, should any do so and vice versa. This is not a grandiose manor, but it should do and allow you some privacy.” He stepped aside, and kept his eyes on Potter for any sign of an adverse reaction. It wasn’t as small as a cupboard, but it was still smaller than some would consider comfortable.

To his own credit, he hid well the flush of confusion when Potter all but beamed and flew into the small garage, immediately enlarging his private belongings and putting things away.

“Ehmm, there is a small kitchenette that will do for tea, coffee, and breakfast mostly. The back corner as you can see is a small bath, with a toilet and sink for personal ablutions. I provided the bed and furniture, though if you have things that you’d rather place in here, please let me know and I can move the things I provided.”

“No! This… excuse me, sorry Professor. This is great. I have some small items that I wanted to put up and this would do well for that.” Severus watched as Potter went over to the kitchenette and looked out the rather large window (he wouldn’t look too much into why he’d felt compelled to put the window nor the skylight for what was merely a place to rest, for the man.) “You can see the garden and the stars at night! This is rather much more than I expected, Professor. Thank you.”

“I will admit that I was unwilling to lose more of my garden, so I do apologize for the lack of space –“

“No, please, believe me, this is perfect.”

Severus leaned against the door frame and watched the man enlarge several paintings and watched as they affixed themselves to the walls, painting supplies following and set up in the corner where the small work table was. The clothing that was in the trunk was levitated and put in the wardrobe and a crocheted blanket was placed with reverence on the bed and something small was placed under the pillow, faster than Severus could catch. The final shock came from what appeared to be an African dream catcher that Harry physically hung from the skylight where the small beads caught the remaining sun and littered the ground with green, red, blue and yellow lights.

“That should be about it. I saw that you were putting tea on, might I share with you as we finalize any remaining scheduling and training items in prep for tomorrow, Professor?”

Severus felt a small bead of an echo to an emotion he’d nary felt in longer than he’d like to remember and pushed it down. Mentally chastising himself to quiet contemplation later on it.

“Follow me.”

~~**~~

Severus woke up to his alarm and worked through the clawing paranoia and anxiety that engulfed him as it did every moonlit morning. The carry-over of nearly 20 years of double agency and a lack of freedom brought with it a myriad of deficiencies that he would deal with for the rest of his natural life, he was sure. He moved to get up and noted the smell that was not common place for his average 0400 wake up call. The sugary sweet smell of pastries, coupled with nutmeg, cinnamon and ginger filled him with a minor hum of consternation.

He let out an aggrieved sigh as he made his way to the loo. Should the intruder wish to murder him, he figured that they’d be kind enough to wait until he was freshly showered and apparently fed.

He entered his kitchen some time later to the sound of muffled pots and pans and the oven door closing. He strained past the muffalato spell that was encompassing the kitchen, and could hear the faint Mozart that was cascading from what he assumed was his record player. Leaning against the wide entry way to the kitchen, he watched as Potter moved around with an almost cat like grace and a quietude that unnerved him. He could see that Potter was a quiet individual, not for the spell, but as if it was innate. As if to be loud would cause attention, and to cause attention was to be avoided.

Severus felt his lip curl once again at the knowledge of Potters relatives and wished them another spat of ill will as he uncrossed his arms and cast a silent “finite.”

“I believe we discussed that you would not be required to cook breakfast.” He strode over to the kettle to set the water to boil.

“I couldn’t sleep, I was excited for the training to start, Professor. I figured that the kitchen in my private quarters would be good for the bare minimum, but I was craving blueberry muffins and strawberry porridge, and if I made enough for you, then you might not be offended that I used your kitchen to do so.”

Severus noted the small hints of a smile that laced the voice of the other man, and found that in as much as he wanted to be annoyed for the sheer joy of doing so, he also couldn’t turn down fresh blueberry muffins and sweet porridge. “Then by all means, but if you fall asleep during my training, be prepared for the worst. Do I make myself clear?” His hands moved swiftly over the tea preparations and though he could have sworn he heard a delicate giggle, he chose to rather ignore it, as he was aiming for intimidating.

“Yes, Professor.”

Severus didn’t buy the meek sounding accolade at all, but let it slide, as it was too early and he’d yet to take his tea.

He moved to pour the contents of the hot water and steeped earl grey into two cups and placed one in front of the other man at the counter as he moved to exit the kitchen.

“How long until you’ve finished making the muffins?” he didn’t sound as if they were too enticing.

“Hmm.. should be ready and sufficiently cooled in 20 minutes, Professor.”

“Good. If you wish to feed me so that you can avoid my consternation regarding the use of my kitchen, then you can bring them up when they are sufficiently cooled. Knock twice on the door to ensure that I am not in the midst of anything hazardous.” With that he left the kitchen and the sweet smells that assaulted his all too hungry stomach with the aroma of sugar and bliss. It wouldn’t do to show his hand regarding sweets, it wouldn’t do at all.

Approximately 21 minutes later and a soft rapping dragged his attention away from the task of setting out his ingredients for each potion near each matching cauldron. He had 7 potions to complete today and 5 should be done before Potters training even began. Simple bruise pastes and pepper ups for Hogwarts. The other two he would start while Potter partook of lunch, and would be completed by the time training resumed the following morning.

“Enter.” He said, as he counted the exact number of fig leaves and ginger root that would be needed for the modified pepper up.

The pulling of the latch and the soft ‘schnik’ of the door coming open was all that he had before the wafting smell of blueberries and sugar assaulted him. His hunger having waited to consume his normal jam on toast mixing with the smell caused his stomach to do the most undignified rumble.

“Sorry for the delay, Professor. I figured that you might have decided not to eat at your normal time in preparation for the muffins. As such I brought you two and I made bacon and an extra cuppa.” All the items were set down on his desk, well away from the contents of any of the potions.

“I appreciate the gesture. Be aware, I do not expect this moving forward, you are not a house elf and I will not have you waiting on me hand and foot, do I make myself clear?” moderating his tone to sound more unenthused than angry, and bothered with the hope that he came across exactly as he intended.

“Of course, however…” He swept an eye over the man as he moved to his desk and sat back in his chair.

“Out with it.”

“Well, I enjoy cooking. I haven’t had much opportunity in the past several years with work and school and, well, being single doesn’t necessarily promote the joy of cooking… I just…” he watched the bottom lip pull into the teeth and be gnawed on before popping back out and continuing. “If I do choose to cook, it will be of my own volition if it’s done so outside of the agreed upon contract. And if you don’t choose to eat what I cook, that is fine, but please do not feel the need to scorn my desire to provide this, as it is something I enjoy doing.”

“That’s quite the speech,” Severus leaned forward and picked up a muffin, immediately aware of the buttery softness and crumbly top. Working hard to stop the drool from escaping his lips. “Is your cooking even worth this very conversation, I wonder?” he kept a bored expression on his features as he tore a chunk of the muffin off and placed it to his lips.

The groan was completely involuntary. The smirk on Potters face, making it incredibly difficult to close his eyes and savor the tasty treat, not wanting to provide more evidence of his enjoyment. “This, is… well done.”

The laugh that bubbled out of Potter was charming to say the least, and Severus found himself struck once again with that webbed, echo of an emotion that he’d pushed down the previous evening.

“Of course, Professor. My five time award winning blueberry muffins are ‘well done.’”

He watched as Potter left the lab, the smile etched across his face, and just as he crossed the threshold into the passageway and stairs, Severus heard him mimic his earlier moan.

The flash of a stinging hex hitting the arse just as Potter took his first step, was worth the laughing he heard, so long as he got to finish the muffins in peace.

Chapter 5: Coming to a Pass

Chapter Text

Ch. 5
It was torturous, the constant desire to prove that he was worth it, while also seemingly failing every opportunity proved to him to excel. Harry packed up the scones that he’d made that morning leaving a few for Snape to come across when he left his lab later, and mentally checked off all the things that he needed for the trip to the burrow. He’d forgotten to tell Hermione and Ron that he’d be able to come, so he knew that it would be a blind faith celebration that he’d survived his first week.

His sigh was heavy leaden with defeat. Snape had provided one mock battle every day with no rules other than Avada Kedavra would not be used. He’d provided tools and homework to get Harry in the brewing techniques to make most commonly used potions for the Dark Arts. He had a schedule that he rigorously held himself to, including being up at 0500 every morning, going for a run down to Oxford grounds, coming back, showering and changing, entering the kitchen at 0600 every morning, reading some of the material over breakfast, finish up any outstanding homework or bits of training that he had questions on and then enter the lab at 0700. He would lay out all the potions equipment and various components of the chapter that he’d read the night before and get started working on the potions.

But here is where the rub was, Snape hardly ever corrected him. He never told him what he was doing wrong. He just informed Harry when to do certain things, or left him completely to his own devices to read the chapter and move through the potion creation. Yet that wasn’t the worst part, even while Harry knew that his potions weren’t abysmal and could maybe assume that this was all that Snape would come to expect of him and therefore found no purpose in chastising him; the man didn’t even correct him when it came to dueling.

Harry had, on multiple occasions, been beaten by Snape this week in their duels. He’d failed to see when Snape was going to counter, or when Snape had a hidden spell or had a trick loaded around the room or garden. He’d only won one duel, and honestly, Harry didn’t feel as though it was a verifiable win, because Snape’s potion boiled over and just as Snape went to move the shield from him to the cauldron, Harry sprung a jelly jinx on him causing the shield to not fully appear and allowing the contents to explode on Snape, leaving him slathered in a sticky gelatinous yellow paste that singed his robes.

He moved to the garden apparation point, and turned to look at the second floor windows. What was he going to do. He was exhausted, he was learning but he didn’t think he was getting everything that he rather thought he expected in coming here, and he felt… oddly dissatisfied in ways that he couldn’t quite understand. With that final thought, he popped out of the garden and into the fields just outside of the burrow.

The wind swept across the tall browned grass and the scent of lavender hit him and with it a wave of nostalgia that nearly caused him to cry. His eyes closed, and with a deep sigh he could all but feel the anxiety pour off of him and land at his feet in the dry earth awaiting it.

He walked the quarter mile to the burrow and smiled as three children ran just to the left of the back field, with George and Charlie shooting fireworks off for the little ones to try and catch before they POPPED in the sky.

Not wasting time to knock, he just opened the door and was immediately encompassed in the scent of pork pies and cherry cobbler. “Harry!”

Hermione ran up to him and embraced him, followed nearly on her ankles was both Ginny and Ron. “Did you quit?”

The laugh that bubbled up was as impossible to behold, as Ron’s look of hope was hilarious. “No Ron, I didn’t quit. Professor Snape gave me Sunday afternoons and evenings off so that I can come to the burrows for family dinner. The only stipulation was that I must be home by 2100.” He smiled as Ron muttered about small favors, and moved towards the kitchen.

“Hello dear, and how is training?” Molly asked with a tight hug that nearly stole the breath straight out of Harry’s lungs.

“It’s… good. It’s difficult, but that was to be expected, eh?” he said, taking the scones out of the bag and setting them on a tray to put at the table.

“Ohhh, are those my favorite black currant and chocolate scones, young man?” Mr. Weasley came in from the back door, his hands covered in greasy stains and his smile infectious.

“Haha! Yes, how could I not bring something to family dinner? And don’t tell mum, but you can sneak them after she goes to sleep, cause they are small.” Harry said in a stage whisper causing everyone within earshot to laugh and Molly to tut tut about secrets.

He did rather love his family.

~~**~~

The house was quiet, blessedly, completely quiet. There was no banging of pots and pans in the kitchen downstairs, there wasn’t any spell casting being practiced in the garden in the back. There was no secondary person, reading the potion ingredients out loud as they stirred the rod. There was just the blessed sound of peace.

Severus hated it, and he was furious that he hated it.

The silence and the peace just a mere 3 weeks ago, had been his friend and his confidant. It had nursed him back to health, and had helped him come to terms with the gnawing ache that had seemed to follow him for most of his life. And yet, here he was. Lamenting the fact that the complete peace of his lab was more of a ringing echo of loneliness than anything else.

However, that wasn’t all that was on his mind. Potter had been a model pupil in the previous weeks. There had been no outbursts, no sulky bouts of anger, no whinging about the level of homework and spellwork that was being given. And yet, Severus could tell that Potter wasn’t giving his best, even though he was doing well enough. He moved through the motions of making his potions, and practicing spellwork and completing each task that was directed toward him, but there was no fire, no passion, no joy.
His doorbell rang, and he let out a sigh, noting that the potion that should have been completed prior to Minerva’s visit, was instead a mess of the wrong color and texture. He moved his wand over it, banishing the contents and placed the cauldron in a stasis so that it didn’t mold while he had his tea.

“Hello Minerva,” he said as he opened the door, noting the dowager was wearing her walking clothes, and sighed but this time internally.

“Hello Severus, it’s a beautiful day. I figured we could walk down to the tea shop you showed me all those months ago, and enjoy a bit of the cool weather with me?”

He regarded her with the knowledge that trying to talk her out of this would be as useless as any of the times he’d tried to talk the headmaster out of one of his suggestions. “I will change, please come in and sit down for a moment.” He turned and went up the stairs, not waiting for a reply, knowing that she would not be waiting for one either.

A few minutes later, with a fitted black slacks, a lightweight button up in royal blue, soft grey loafers, and his hair tied up in a bun at the base of his neck that made him look less surly, he made his way downstairs. He grabbed for his cane, hoping that he wouldn’t need it, but knowing that when Minerva got it in her bonnet to go for a walk, they often did so far longer than his nerves could handle.

“You look pleasant, Severus.” She touched his forearm as she walked past him and out to the front courtyard, and he had to still his breathing. It was difficult still to be touched, even after all the years of peace… being the victim of what felt like eternal abuse, made one wary of all forms of affection when physical.

“As do you, madam. Let us be on, I would like my tea sooner rather than later, and I wasn’t anticipating making a trek to obtain such.”

“Oh don’t be a gruff, Severus. The exercise will be good for you, as will getting out of the house.”

He took a breath, and crooked his arm, and noticed that she smiled at him before placing her own arm through. He knew these small steps made her feel a sense of pride, and was rather alright with letting her feel so, though Salazar forbid should he ever admit so.

“How is training our boy?” She asked. The fact he didn’t scoff over the insinuation of mutual ownership of the young man that he was training, allowed him time to contemplate the very topic that he was hoping to discuss with the Gryffindor Headmistress.

“I had actually wished to discuss him with you while we had our tea today.” He moved around the light post and took a step in front of her when a pair of runners went past them on the trail, to shelter her from the strangers on the path. “He seems to not have a singular talent, so far as I can glean.”

“Severus, how dare you continue to abide by old and recognized faulty grudges?”

He played back what he’d said, and figured it made more sense to explain the overall issue. “You misunderstand me, please let me explain. Potter doesn’t have any fire, the same boy who would create above standard potions in my OWL and NEWT level courses, no longer exists. He creates potions that would pass a review, but there is nothing spectacular in there chemical makeup.” He moved her arm and positioned her behind him at the corner, so that should a car hit a water puddle she would not be harmed. “Additionally, he is doing average if mediocre in our spellwork as well. I was rather thinking that he would at least be excelling in this, but he seems to just be existing and getting through the training.” They moved across the street, and he helped her up the stairs to the small tea shop that held possibly 12 chairs and several scattered tables.

They took their seats in the bay window and the pale young girl came to get their orders before disappearing to the kitchens again.

“He doesn’t complain, he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t really discuss any of his ideas. He does the homework that I provide. He sticks to the potions in the text. He practices wand movement and spellcasting in the garden in the back. He doesn’t discuss theory with me, unless I bring it up in the lesson. Honestly, the only time that he brings up any fire or drums up any of that Gryffindor passion that I remember, is when we duel.” Severus waited for the young woman to place the tea tray on the table and the platter of biscuits and cheeses, allowing Minerva to smile and dismiss her before continuing.

“During those duels, he shows that ingenuity that gives me hope. He has phenomenal reflexes, and he continues to surprise me. He adapts quickly to methods that I throw at him, even if we haven’t discussed them previously and he will never complain if he’s lost the duel or if he’s been injured. And yet,” Severus drifted off, as he watched a young man with dark brown curly hair, run by the tea shop in small runner shorts and a tightly fitted tee. “He doesn’t ask questions, even when I can see that he has them. I watch him after every duel, write his questions down in his biro, but he doesn’t come to me. Instead he researches the answers in the texts that I provide, or has Granger obtain texts for him to be sent to my home.”

“How do you train, when you are with him?” Minerva asked him, politely. A question that he found he was ready for.

“I have been nothing if not the most pleasant that I could be. I do not wish to repeat all the drama of his Hogwarts years. I have provided him ample time to learn, I do not tower over him when he is making his potions. I do not ask him questions to see how he is thinking through his ideas. I have not pressured him in anyway, madam.”

“Of course.” He noted that she took a sip of her tea, and barely suppressed a smile. The woman twinkled nearly as much as the bloody headmaster had. And was damn near as confusing.

“And why would he show you any fire or passion or desire to converse, if you are not showing him any of the same in return?”

“Are you implying that I should be the man that I was when I was teaching him, madam? Or worse, are you implying that I mollycoddle him and have him feel ‘nurtured’ and ‘at ease?’” his sneer evident as any on the last four words.

“Do not dare presume to speak to me in that tone, Severus Tobias Snape. You would do well to remember that I am the person to which you are seeking advice.” He immediately felt chastised, which was what she was going for.

“You are correct, madam. Please explain, then, what it is that you are implying.”

“I am implying nothing. I am clearly stating that you cannot expect him to believe that he has the ability to speak freely with you, or share his thoughts, or explore the boundaries of the arts, because you have never before allowed him such liberties. In as much as you are believing he could provide you more, he may also be unsure of how much more he should or could be willing to ask for.”

Severus leaned back into his seat and sipped his cooling red leaf blend, and contemplated the validity of what was just said. He’d never thought that Potter wasn’t sure that he could speak freely with him. He’d never had an issue being insolent in school, but then again, Severus had always pushed the boy until he’d been able to take house points. He mulled over the fact that they’d never covered the teacher/student parameters of the Mastery bond they’d both embarked on.

He also took a moment to note that he’d changed in the previous ten years as had Potter, but neither had sought to understand where the other had changed and to what purpose. Though, Severus could admit that he had knowledge of Potters life, that Potter was not privy to, that may have altered the way that Severus treated him. Potter had no such information to work with, and the last that they’d worked together was through sheer terror in the final moment of a battle both of them never wanted to be in and were both sure they would die as the cause of.

He continued the afternoon with the dowager, and allowed the topics to move to other safer grounds of students that were still the same as ever and the Hogsmeade Autumnal Festival that was coming up. He found himself agreeing to appear as an extra pair of eyes for the festival that was in a little over two months. He figured it would be a good opportunity to get both Potter and himself out of his home and to use some of the tactics he’d been training, in the real world setting.

~~**~~
That evening found Potter home from the Weasleys early and sitting on the back patio pouring over the texts regarding the spells they’d gone over on Friday.

“I believe I told you that Sundays were to be your off days.” Severus said, as he slipped out of the back door with two cups of tea and sat next to the man placing the cups between them on the chaise.

“Correct, Professor. But I have our first test this week, and I didn’t want to do poorly, and some of the theory for this spell is still a little above my head.”

Severus watched as Potter kept reading and taking notes, while speaking. “Do you not feel it adequate, the teaching that I am providing?”

“Of course, Professor. You are the Master of the arts. I presume this is a failure on my end to understand the material. I wouldn’t wish to question your methodology.” Potter moved the cup to the left of the book and flipped the page, still not looking up, while he continued. “I had Hermione get me some extra reading, she gave it to me this afternoon while I was at the Weasley’s. This book in particular, I think, makes the theory make more sense.” He wrote down another passage, and Severus watched as he circled two parts of information and drew a line between the two chunks of writing.

With a swift and silent spell the biro that the man had been writing on, flew to his hands and he was looking over completely sound spell theory and cognitive spellwork diagrams. “It appears that you understand perfectly well the theory of the spell.” He tamped down with anger the fact that he would have preferred Potter discuss this with him. The connections he’d made, though coming out with the correct outcome, were made with different factors than he’d have utilized to understand the linear spell design.

“If I might have my biro back, Professor.”

Severus very nearly smiled, he finally heard some of the fire he’d been searching for. “I think not. Discuss with me the Langronsteins Board of Connecting Fire theory.” He closed the biro in his hand with a snap and spelled the pages together.

He couldn’t have been happier when Potter nearly growled. “I would, if you’d provide me my notes back, Professor. As I was in the midst of writing down that theory in particular, it would do neither of us any good to prove just how little I know in this moment, sir.”

“I believe this is the perfect time to discuss. You’ve freshly studied the material, and you appear to be interested in the topic. Are you telling me that even with the information fresh on your mind, you would still not be able to coherently explain the baseline technical theory to me?” He layered a bit of a sneer in his tone, and smirked in triumph when Potter slammed his quill down on the book in front of him.

“Langronsteins Board of Connecting Fire Theory consists of three basic principles. One, that all fire comes from a singular source. Two, that all fire is inherently dangerous and three, that all fire created must at some point be sent back to its original place of creation. LBCFT infers that all wizards must abide by a particular level of responsibility when mastering spells around fire. That we are not putting just a simple light at the tip of our wands when we speak ‘lumos’ but instead we are taking the light of the fire and utilizing it much in the way that muggles turned fire into incandescence in the late 1800s. LBCFT’s second rule appears to be the most important of all the rules, that all fire created is inherently dangerous. This instills that sense of responsibility that we must remember, that fire is neither created nor destroyed but is inherently a tool of both light and dark. We do not only use light while the room is dark, but we may not use fire when we are cold. We might shine a lumos in a dark room as much as we would in a light room when we are trying to gain another attention, conversely we may utilize a fire in the cold to keep us warm, but instead wizards have created warming charms that do the same thing without summoning fire to our hands.” Severus watched as Potter tapped his fingers against his thigh, and seemed to take a sip of the tea involuntarily, nearly spitting it out when he realized that he was still trying to be angry.

“It appears that you have a very solid understanding of Langronsteins theory. How about we test it out?” And before Potter could agree or not, Severus summoned a small flame in his palm with no words nor wand, before throwing it at the other man.

With reflexes that he knew should no longer surprise him, and yet still did, Potter seemed to inherently understand the complex nature of summoned fire and caught the small ball of flame in the air above his own palm with no word or wand either. He stared intently at it before closing his hand and whispering a cooling charm, the fire turning blue before disappearing in a puff of cold smoke.

“I expect you to speak with me regarding theories that are difficult for you to understand. I am your Master in this very field that you wish to be trained. It is my responsibility to make sure not that you pass a test, but that you truly understand the material on a level that goes beyond merely using the information. As such, you should feel free to speak with me, you may find that you understand the theory of a spell but a true Master will not only understand the theory, they will be able to work through all facets of the theory with another Master. This is how spells are created, their infancy is often in the midst of conversation with another.” He paused waiting for Potter to finally look him in the eye.

“I want a 2 foot essay on how you knew to catch the fire I just threw at you. How you did so with no wand or word. Finally, what you did to turn it blue and what you think that final bit means. You will be surprised to find, I believe, that you may have come up with a new spell for cold fire that I haven’t seen before.”

Severus got up from the chair, and summoned his tea. “You will however, not do so for the rest of the evening. Take a break and paint.” With this he entered his home and left the befuddled looking man sitting in a chair on his porch. He had rather enjoyed hearing Langronsteins theory spoken about with such passion, and found he wanted to discuss other theories with Potter when he was full of that fire.

He brushed off the hint of something that moved along his veins, and poured himself another cup of tea before heading up to finish a few potions before putting an end to this odd day.

Chapter 6: Survivors Guilt

Chapter Text

Harry slammed through the front door of his quarters and threw the sealed books and biros on the table. Snape had sealed them, it appeared, because he didn’t trust Harry to do as he was told. The fact that he’d tried to open the Biro after Snape had left the table, was notwithstanding.

That INFURIATING MAN!

“How does he even know that I like to paint?” he slammed the tea kettle down, a crack slivering up the side taking the wind immediately out of his sails. “oh, mum,” he muttered, and whispered the restorative spell and the kettle sat fixed on the counter. The small porcelain kettle, a gift from Molly the year after graduating Hogwarts, it had been given to her by Lily when Arthur and Molly had gotten married, and she’d thought it was better suited to Harry. He hadn’t been able to say no.

He calmly moved through the motions of making the tea and summoned the biscuits from the cabinet, twirling around and leaning against the surface chewing on a chocolate digestive. The painting supplies standing proudly and on full display in the front corner with dust collecting after having been unused since he got here, reminding him that Snape had been in the quarters when Harry had moved his supplies out of his chest upon entering.

His sigh filled the room as he closed his eyes. Tonight had been the first time he’d felt like he’d been pushed. He had been struggling with the rules and their true meaning and reading them repeatedly had been building a headache rather than a foundation of understanding.

Snape had even appreciated the way that he’d relayed all he’d learned, and saying it aloud had been all he’d apparently needed to piece some of the parts he’d been missing together. Even the practical use of the fire ball was impressive. He just wish he hadn’t lost his cool, he wanted to maintain the healthy relationship that he appeared to currently have with the Professor, and getting hot headed when pushed was not the way to do that.

He summoned the cup of steeped tea over to the table that was next to the canvas rack, and sat down. The myriad of paints laying on the table were as colorful as they were bright and cheery. Snape wanted to have discussions with him, he wanted to sit down and discuss theory and ideology and spell work. He wanted to actually listen to him… this was everything that he wanted in a Mastery, he knew that, but fear buzzed up his spine. He’d been able to keep his crush (now a rather budding overwhelming desire) for the potions Master hidden largely in part to the very separation that he’d put between them.

He knew that in the upcoming weeks, part of the Mastery training would circle around Occlumency and though he’d worked diligently in the last decade to build his walls up and make them firm, he knew that Snape had a way of bypassing all sense of welfare and getting at his deepest secrets. If they finally started down the path where they were possibly…friends, rather than strictly master and student, Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the feelings he’d had, ferreted away in their place.

He was unsettled.

The sun was setting as he took out the tools to paint. Maybe he would paint, but it wouldn’t be because he had been told to do so.

It was hours later that he stopped and noted that he had begun painting a portrait of the very man that was causing so much personal turmoil. The outline in charcoal bringing in the esoteric nose and the long lines of his neck contrasting nicely with the curved structure of the corresponding nose. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He was well and truly f*cked.

~~**~~

The alarm went off and with it the panic roiled in his gut, the dust settled around him and he clawed to escape the dreamscape he felt trapped in. The stench of blood, the aftermath of venom permeating his every nerve ending, the shock of fire moving through his blood, the knowledge that this was his death. He’d never meant to cry, he’d intended to use his magic for Potter to share his mind, but he’d seen those eyes, he’d seen the boy turned man, the pig raised for slaughter, the son of a woman he’d loved and a man he’d scorned, and the tears had been unable to be stopped. He gasped and jolted upright in the cool dark room. The after effects of the reality of the dream, leaving pain in his nerves and fire in his chest.

After thoroughly washing his face, and tamping down on the nightmares that were trying to break through his mental shields, he stepped into the shower to clean the grime of past sins from his skin. The steam rose around him and the remnants of the dream faded into obscurity. The screams and the echoes of crying becoming a bad echo of a past life, one he knew he’d survived.

The morning was slow to start, the aching of sadness lingering long after the images that had painted his mind’s eye during the night’s sleep had gone. Straining to move through the motions, he spent time focusing on each button, clasping each cufflink, drawing his hair gently and methodically through the band at the base of his neck.

He summoned a vial of headache potion from the lab as he went down the stairs to the kitchen. Opting to wait on downing it until he’d swallowed some tea and toast. The view that awaited him however, stopped him before entering the brightly lit kitchen interior.

Potter, passed out on the sofa his wand across his chest, and in a complete disarray of clothing, or rather the lack thereof. “Potter,” his voice was gruff, and upon hearing it he knew that he must have been screaming throughout the night.

The man on the sofa, flew to action, wand in hand, stance low and aggressive, glasses summoned wordless and wandless from the table, sparks flying without a word. “…Potter.”

The second saying of the man’s name spoken calmly and low, appeared to do the trick. He snapped out of the post war reaction and focused on Severus.

“Would you mind explaining, why it is that you are asleep on my sofa when you’ve perfectly good quarters that I have provided you?” He brushed by, tea was a requirement that he could no longer do without. His throat was on fire, and speaking had only brought the scorching pain to his attention.

“You were screaming all night. The wards alerted me to your plight, however I couldn’t cross the threshold into your room without causing damage to your home.” Potter followed him, moving to the fridge to take out eggs and cheese. “You finally stopped around 3am, but I was… it was difficult to get back to sleep.”

Severus watched as Potter moved around the kitchen, movements methodical, a resemblance to the way he’d just been upstairs alerting him to the fact that he didn’t appear to be the only person recovering from trauma. “I am a grown man, nearly 19 years your senior, Potter. I am fully capable of living through a night terror.”

“Of course, and I wouldn’t presume you couldn’t.”

“Then why would you feel the need to try and trespass my wards?”

He heard the sigh, and the weight of it hit Severus with force. “I do not only have experience with simple muggle night terrors. Mine were always terrifying, from childhood when I knew muggle dangers and in my teenage years when I learned the world was far darker and death was an unfortunate and inevitable side effect of sharing my mind with a mass murdering psychopath.”

Crack eggs. Whisk mixture. Dice peppers. Count beans. Breathe in and out, in and out, in and out…

“I still hear them. The screams of the people that died in my mind. The ones that I killed with him, or watched as he tore them limb from limb with spells, or worse, when he made his followers do it sans magic.”

Levitate the veg into the pan. Stir the mixture. Count the stirs.

“I know what it’s like to be there, though I wasn’t. I…”

Focus on pouring the right amount of cream. Count the tablespoons of oil. Pour on time.

“I saw what he made you do along with all the others. I wept tears of frustration and shame. I burned with rage at my ineptitude. I witnessed more death than I have ever witnessed life.”

Steep tea. Pour two batches of eggs and beans evenly on two plates. Count steps to table. Set up cutlery.

“No one should be alone. No one should face the echoes of the past, when you feel like you are going to drown in the blood and the stench of death, when your screams fall silent because you’ve warded the world from knowing your shame. No one should face that alone if they don’t have to. Sometimes, our demons are not ours alone to bare.”

Severus could hear the world wary weight of a man who had survived too much at far too early an age. Leaning up against the counter watching the methodic survival of memories that weighed too damn much. Drudging up all the mornings after, where he’d been alone and the silence of the house had been his saving grace, his tears’ hot path, still wet on his cheeks. The tea cup chattering against the saucer, as he’d focused on counting the steps up the stairs, the leaves one by one, the stir movements each as they passed.

He would never admit to feeling as though he was alone with this burden. He’d felt lost and alone after the war, the blood on his hands had been caked on and no amount of scalding hot water had seemed to burn away the pain he’d caused others. He hadn’t ever spared a moment to think of Potter having shared a mind of the madman.

He had known, obviously, that Potter had been privy to the Dark Lord’s thoughts, but he’d never put those two pieces of information together. He’d never spent time dwelling on just what that could mean. That the boy he’d been trying to train in Occlumency, was literally seeing the images that Voldemort had been taking glee in.

“You say that no one should be alone, but when we set out on this contract you originally wanted to spare me the gruesome sounds of your own night terrors.” He took his cup and moved to the table, sitting across from Potter, who was staring down to his plate.

“bloody good intentioned Gryffindors…” It was said with a smile, and before he could refrain, he chuckled at the joke. “It is in me to protect others and keep my own burdens to myself.”

“You were raised wrong. Protecting others is fine, there is no complaint there, but to do so at the detriment of your own health, leaves yourself at risk.”

“My upbringing has nothing to do with this, Professor.”

“Cut the sh*t, Potter. You were raised by fools, your abuse is clear to me now as much as it should have been when I was blind to your plight during your school years. You are not a burden, your pain isn’t yours alone, and you are not to be seen not heard. You move through life quietly now, you nary say a word and you keep to yourself as though you mimic a timid mouse.” He slammed the knife down on the table, and noted with aggrieved pain, Potters flinch across the table. “Where is that Gryffindor fire that lit you so brightly when you were a student? Where is that intrepid boy that made foolish choices and went with luck and sheer tenacity?”

“He survived a war. He lived through abuse that no child should ever be forced to bear, and he is still here. He saw people die when he relied on luck instead of listening to reason. He learned that choices made, when foolish had a much heavier weight than those made when they were thought out. He learned that though he had instinct and a fortitude of luck, he was often still found lacking and never did enough.”

Severus tensed when those deep green eyes found his, before the other man continued.

“That boy learned that he wanted respect but had never earned it. He wanted to be seen as a saviour in his own mind, and not the failure that he’d ultimately been on so many levels. So he grew up. He lost the passion to jump feet first into the flame, because he recognized that in so doing, others would inevitably follow to their possible demise. He learned that people’s faith is finicky and at best his chances of happily ever after was a wary chance at hope.”

Silence rang out across the kitchen. They both sat there, neither looking away from the other, but also not truly seeing one another. It appeared that Severus had far outweighed his own actions on the growth of Potter. In so long as he allowed this worm to continue to burrow in the mind of the man sitting across from him, there would be no true mastery earned in this time together.

“We will not be studying today.” Severus picked up his fork and knife and cut into the eggs on his plate. He took note of the warming spell that was mumbled across the table, and the steam that rose from his eggs, and barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“What will we be doing then, Professor?” he could hear the insolence and it gave him hope.

“Today I am not your Professor nor am I the Master. We will get out of these four walls and we will get out of our mental spaces. Eat.”

“Yes – “ Severus watched as Potter appeared to struggle with something. “When we signed the contract, you wrote in a codicil that I must refer to you in any tone, context or in the appearance of others, as Professor or Master Snape.”

The scroll appeared on the table between them, and opened to the amendment that Potter was referring. With some simple updates, Severus re-signed and moved to Potter for his signature.

“… moving forward, Harry James Potter is authorized to refer to me as Severus when outside of training or in friendly pursuit of conversation. During training, in the company of others in a training capacity, or in pursuit of educational gain, Harry James Potter will continue with the title of Professor, Master or Sir.” He watched as Potter signed with little flourish, and put the rest of the eggs on his toast and ate. Getting up and putting the dishes in the sink to wash themselves.

“Get dressed, and please… moving forward, if you feel the urge to save me from myself, do so with a shirt or trousers on. You’re very nearly a distraction.” He left the kitchen and went to the lab, he had some things to do before they made their way out into the world today, and one of them was cool his blood. The sight of pale toned abs, and dimples at the base of Potters spine were images he’d rather have never laid eyes upon. For having seen them, he knew he’d never be able to ignore their burned visage from his mind.

~~**~~

Potter appeared at the front door at 0700 in fitted black slacks and a charcoal grey button up, cuffed at the forearm. His loafers were the only part of the ensemble that appeared to have been previously worn, and a small part of Severus realized that Potter had purchased fine clothing before appearing on his door step, all those weeks prior.

“What are we doing today…” the pause was small, before he’d added, “Severus.”

The spark of awareness that centered in his chest and meandered down his spine, left him without air for a moment. It had been far too long for an attractive man to have his name on their lips. He shook the thought from his mind, choosing instead to focus on the question that had been presented.

“We are going to the market, and from there we shall see. I need some potions supplies, but also it might do us both some good to see and experience humanity. Too much of solitude isolates us from the knowledge that the outcome of the war, was in fact a positive one.” With that last remark he moved forward and opened the door, waiting for Potter to take his leave.

Chapter 7: Common Distractions

Chapter Text

Ch. 7
Harry was struggling to keep focus on anything but Snapes toned, tight arse in those fitted grey slacks he’d chosen to wear. As much as he wanted to pay attention to the ingredients conversation that Snape was having with the trader at the market, he inevitably found his attention straying to the arch of the man’s arse where the thick round curve met the toned upper thigh.

He kept repeating over and over again, the parting remark the man had made this morning after his outburst. He’d said he was a distraction and had said so while referring to his lack of dress. He felt the faint heat rise up in his cheeks as he contemplated the level of distraction that he was, and if it was a good one. He looked up trying to get some air in his lungs and cool his heated face, and noticed that the shop-keep was looking at him with a smirk which caused him more embarrassment, he had to get away, if only for a moment.

“I’m going over… there.” He said, vaguely pointing in a direction opposite of where he was currently. He had to move away, he had to get away from the man that was a distraction to his mental state. It had been nearly 2 months, and he’d not once let on that he was attracted to Snape, and he wasn’t going to do so now, if he had anything to say on the matter.

He didn’t wait for a response, choosing instead to trust that Snape had been genuine in letting them both escape and be in the crush of humanity. They’d apparated from Snapes front garden and had landed in what appeared to be a large warehouse in Ireland. The throngs of people speaking in Gaelic or with an Irish lilt, provided him with a lighthearted joy that he hadn’t recognized he’d been missing.

Passing by stall after stall of pork pies, curry, candied apples, and cinnamon delight, he found himself standing in front of a stall laden with chocolates of all types. From Oranged chocolate, to strawberries dipped in dark semi-sweet, his gaze travelled along the table, landing on several small mixed chocolates in the shape of gemstones and leaves. “How much for the lot of these then?” He asked, the smile on his lips as wide as any he’d sported in weeks.

“Ahh, the Fanciful Selection, eh?” the short, round, red cheeked woman stood from her stool and set her knitting down. He gave her a once over and immediately loved her. “That there’d be 5 Euro, lad.” Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out 6 placing it on the woman’s outstretched hand. “Take the extra for my appreciation of your talents.” He winked and picked up the small purple sack, noting with glee the pouch felt heavy in his hand.

“Aye, lad, a good one you are. How about this then, in return for such good manners.” He watched her lean down to the other side of the table and pick up a small green candy, handing it to him. “This here is a sugared toad.” He smiled as she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “It isn’t really a toad, but if you let this particular sweet sugar coat your throat, you will be burping in minutes, worth the laugh, my lad!” She cackled and he found he couldn’t resist laughing with her. He added the sweet to his pouch and said his thanks before pocketing the lot and moving on.

There were so many small trinkets on display. Everywhere he looked there were wind chimes, dream catchers, old toys, stately glass lamps; each thing beautiful and intricately made. He was in awe that so many muggles were talented like this and yet the magical lot still considered them inferior. He wondered at selling his own paintings in a forum like this, away from the throngs of people that would buy his art because his name was on it, and instead because they thought it worth the cost.

He was intently staring at a portrait of a lion, done in a cacophony of colors in what appeared to be watercolor, when a pair of loafers he recognized appeared next to him.

“Are you really so taken with the king of the jungle?” he heard the smirk in Snapes tone, and found himself amused at being so transparent.

“You know, I hadn’t given it that much thought. The piece itself is exemplary, much in that, had I seen a Snake done in the same manner, I might have even found that interesting.” He smiled and looked up, the air leaving his lungs before he could even breathe.

A halo of golden light filtered behind Snapes head, framing the stray silken black strands that were hanging loose from a bun that was at the crown of the man’s skull. He looked ethereal and striking in a way that Harry had never seen before. He was lost for a full moment in the picture of masculine excellence, before another patron strode between the window and the man in front of him, breaking the spell.

“Ehmm, right, well… I think it’s time for a snack, do you know what part of Ireland we are in?” he asked and moved back a foot, he needed space from such temptation.

“We are in Belfast, Northern Ireland.” Snape eyed him, and Harry smiled, yes he knew now where they were.

“Ahhh, perfect. I know the best place that we can go for a bit of tea and some scones.” He strode past Snape and into the cool midmorning late summer air. Cleaning his senses of the cobwebs that had gathered, and finding it easier to move beyond the ‘ethereal Snape moment’ he’d just experienced.

What a disaster that had nearly been.

~~**~~

The beautiful jut of land off the coast of Dublin called Howth, was a land unlike any he’d ever seen. The magic that muggles so often sought, layered deep in the soil beneath. The ground full of a riotous display of flowers, greenery, and life. The docks and the market that capped the island where the trained stopped allowed for the first glimpse of the peace and serenity to be felt. And if the visitor took their time, they could find much more in the lands givings. The small tea shop was nestled between a fancy steak restaurant and a well-known coffee shop for muggles. Harry walked in and sat down in the corner, smiling at the lovely young woman behind the counter as she noted him and his companion and smiled as she placed his regular order.

“They have a wonderful rose and chamomile tea. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you generally err on the side of darker teas, but do me the favor of trying this one, before you insist on your standard cuppa?”

Harry smiled and said his hellos to the girl, Georgiana, who brought the kettle and the cups to their table, before turning to Snape across the table. He looked very nearly absurdly out of place in the tea shop. It was rather designed much in the manner of a ladies tea room, small to the point of cramped, and the porcelain didn’t match, there were doilies on every spare bit of table, and the chairs had feminine fabric of a variety of shades, colors and patterns. However, their tea was fastidiously the best that Harry’d ever had, and he was excited to share this with the usually straight laced and overwhelmingly masculine man he’d come with.

He poured them both a cup and gently blew on his to cool it the old fashioned way, noting that Snape went for the subtle cooling charm before taking his own sip. Harry wasn’t disappointed. The first taste of the rose chamomile blend is always a punch to the gut. The two flavors generally are gentle and soft, but the blend in particular makes them potent, and at first touch to the tongue, it very nearly feels like a field of wild flowers bursts to life in your mouth.

He sipped his own, closing his eyes to savor the flavor while waiting for the verdict.

“Passable. It isn’t a strong cup of English Breakfast, but it would do for a cool midmorning tea such as this.”

“Better than I expected you to give it.” Harry smiled and kept all further comments to himself. He didn’t want to push their tenuous new steps in a bad direction. But he did make eye contact with the girl behind the counter, who noted the his own small smile and beamed before bringing out some biscuits to their table.

~~**~~

Severus took in the look of a calm and sated Potter across the table; the verdant emerald eyes of the lean man looking out on the fisherman’s shore while a porcelain cup rested against his lips and a smile etched its way across the generally stoic face. Getting out had indeed been what both of them had needed. He was sure that he’d be okay for 12 months, holed up in his home with Potter traipsing about, but of course as all things were with the slip of a man, his original assumptions had been wrong.

Severus contemplated all that they’d accomplished in the previous 2 months, and knew that in order to assist Potter in getting the full scope of the needed requirements of an internship for mastery, they had much to do to catch up. With the new scope of the contract, and the steps they’d made, he was sure that they’d get where they needed to be.

His concern however, lay in the fact that the next big part of the curriculum was Occlumency. Their last attempt had been dreadful to say the least. They’d both dug up memories that had been painful and harmful to the other, and they’d both been rather bestial in the way they’d moved through the mind of the other. He knew that they were in a much better place than they’d been back then, but it wasn’t the aggression that he was worried about.

Severus knew things about Potter, that Potter didn’t know Severus knew, and the very act of building walls to shield your mind was difficult in and of itself when you were doing it only to protect your own interests. However, to build walls to protect the person that was attacking them, was a finely honed art that he wasn’t sure he possessed to the degree he would need.

He knew that the topic of Potters upbringing would have to come up in the time that the man was staying with him. He’d hoped however, that they’d have built up a repertoire that could withstand the degree of trust that it would appear had been broken. Potter would learn that Severus knew of his childhood, knew in fact the darkest parts of his childhood and not only this, but that Minerva, the woman that he’d trusted as a boy who had just survived a war, had been the woman to share that information with him.

He only hoped that he could broach the topic in the best light possible. The rub was, he didn’t know in what way that was.

~~**~~

Severus was very nearly as exhausted as he’d ever been. The door to his home had never looked so inviting. After a long day cliff walking in Howth, and going to shop after shop for small things and knickknacks that neither of them ultimately bought, Harry had treated him to a fine steak and salmon dinner at a beautiful restaurant while the sun had set on the water. They’d discussed the ministries restrictions on plants and what it meant for potions. Why the ministry seemed hellbent on banning plants that would help witches that were pregnant, and why they seemed perfectly fine with plants for male fertility.

It had been a splendid evening and the conversation had opened him to the knowledge that Potter was a willing and rather vocal conversationalist. His views were well thought out, and when Severus had said something controversial to get a reaction, instead of going off on a tangent, the man had instead asked genuine questions to get to the root of the comment made. It had been years since Severus had held such an in-depth conversation and had found the meal passed far too quickly for his taste.

This didn’t stop his nerves in his neck, arms and back from being on fire. It had been a fair bit too much activity and though he’d known the possibility, he’d still left his cane at home. A small part of him, that he rather found himself ignoring stoutly, admitted that he hadn’t brought his cane because he hadn’t wanted to seem weak in front of Potter. Though now, he could admit that he’d kill willingly for a strong cup of tea and to sit down for a week.

They entered his home, and Potter immediately went to the kitchen, the smell of the burner heating up alerting Severus to the fact that the other man was already in the same state of mind. He looked the stairs and found that he truly didn’t think he’d be able to get up them alone and all the fears and doubts and incriminations of weakness filled his mind. He was going to have to ask for assistance getting to his rooms after their shared tea. He was sure that Potter was not going to boast of glee at his pain, but the man had hidden deeply his weaknesses for nearly 20 years, the very thought of sharing them with an ex mortal enemy, made the prospect terrifying.

~~**~~

Chapter 8: A Helping Hand

Chapter Text

Ch. 8
After a rather pleasant wind down to their day, and two cups of strong tea later, Severus knew that he was postponing the inevitable. He mentally berated himself and took a final breath.

“Two weeks from now, I will be chaperoning a Hogsmeade trip for the fall festival. You are more than welcome to come. It will take up nearly the whole of the Saturday.” He stopped and summoned the tea to top up his cup. “We can either move your regular break of Sunday to the Saturday, or you may come with me and I can do some field training with you, and you can take your Sunday as normally scheduled.”

“I believe I would like to do some field training. I enjoyed the tactical conversation and bit of training you provided on the rocky path by the cliffs today.”

“Very well then, I will let Minerva know that you will be coming with, so the students will be properly chastised to stay away from their overwhelming hero worship.”

He smirked at the small laugh that escaped the other man across the table, and then took a deep fortifying breath.

“I will need assistance getting to my rooms.” He said quietly, as Potter stood to wash the kettle and cups in the sink.

“Alright, let me set these to dry, and I will help you. Just a moment.”

Severus sat there in a state of annoyed shock. No questions about why, no insinuations that he was weak, no pity in the tone. Nothing. And though this was exactly what he would have demanded when being treated regarding his nerve damage, he found himself rather ostensibly annoyed by Potters distinct lack of care.

“So quick to help the infirm then?” the edge in his voice the only hint at his self-deprecating thoughts.

“If you wish for me to be a trollop about assisting you, or wish for me to act like I’ve not been a witness to your limp or the fact that you’ve spent the last 4 hours favoring your right side then you’ll have to tell me. As it is, I’ve been waiting for you to summon a walking stick or ask for assistance. You haven’t, but I wasn’t sure how you would get up three flights of stairs, and was going to more than likely make up an excuse to follow you up them, to make sure you made it, anyhow.” Potter finished wiping down the saucers and cups and placed them on the drying rack before turning. “bloody good intentioned Gryffindors, I believe you called it?” the smile was there, but it neither held pity nor amusem*nt for his ailment, he found himself mentally chastising his own false assumptions about the younger man, yet again.

“At some point, you will have to admit that I am not the insolent child that you once favored placing blame on, and learn that I genuinely innately care about others in my life.” Potter moved forward and stuck his arm out looking down with a stern if rather congenial smile. “Is it from Nagini’s bite?”

Severus took the proffered arm and let go of what little self-possessed, if in this moment misplaced, dignity he had. Potter was right. The man was being a gentleman and apparently had been for a good portion of the day, and to accost him at this point, would be a poor way to thank him for the fact he was going to have to help him regardless.

“Yes, and if Longbottom in all his infinite glory hadn’t killed the bloody blight on my life, I would do so willingly every day for the rest of my natural existence.” He muttered a curse on the general after life of the intrepid snake, and growled when Potter giggled. Actually giggled.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“At your pain? Absolutely not. At the vitriol you have against a creature that’s been dead for nearly as long as it was alive… maybe. Or the fact that I believe beneath all that vehemence might have been a snidely worded acknowledgement of Neville’s assistance, that as well. That was a pretty inventive curse you just mumbled under your breath. I believe it was something about the penis size of a snake, which brings far more questions than answers to my mind.”

Severus could hear the chuckle in Potters tone and found himself smiling along with the joke. The stairs were much more bearable with assistance, and he knew that the hardest part would be at the top, because he was going to have to ask for not so minor assistance with getting into his rooms. He’d never rekeyed his personal wards before, and the act of doing so, he felt, was incredibly intimate in a way he’d never expected.

They reached the landing of the lab, and he worked up enough energy to summon a pain potion from the long cabinets along the far wall.

“Have you eaten enough for that?”

“I should be fine, the steak at dinner was large and I am still full. This will not be imbibed though. If you will look,” he handed Potter the vial to study. “This variant is a bright orange color. This is a pain potion for mixing in the bath, not for internal digestion. I will however, need further assistance once we’ve made it to my personal quarters.” He hesitated, and pushed through the excruciating nausea as a jolt of pain went from his neck down through his arm and lower back.

“I rarely find myself in this level of pain, and most of the time when I am getting to this point I stop the activities leading there, and I am fine. As of right now, I do not think that I can summon enough strength to help me with my nightly ablutions.”

“No problem, what is it that you are going to need me to assist with?”

He heard a faint breathiness to Potters voice, but left it, as he was probably tired out from nearly carrying him up the steps.

“I know that this may seem most improper, and if I could spare you I would do so, please believe me. However, I will need assistance getting into the bath. Once I am in there you will be free to go, as I will be bathing in the pain potion and this will ease the pain and allow me the freedom of movement that I need to get on with the rest of my evening.” He finished and waited in baited silence as they reached the threshold to his personal room.

“That is fine. I know that I cannot get into your room however, so you will have to key me in at least this once, so that I can assist you.”

Severus moved his hand up to the door and said an incantation, noting out of the corner of his eye, Potters cheeks turning a dark shade of red and he appeared to be deeply breathing in and out. Not being able to come up with a rational reason for this reaction, he figured it was the exertion of the day taking its toll as well on the other man, and vowed to make the next few moments as painless as possible for the both of them.

“Please put your hand to the door and state your name and title as my pupil.”

Harry’s hand went next to his own, and their thumbs touched, causing a small fissure of awareness to move up his arm, seemingly warming him from his hand to his chest.

“Harry James Potter, Pupil to the esteemed Master of both Potions and Defense, Severus Tobias Snape.”

“Well that was rather fanciful, wasn’t it?” Severus said and they both shared a chuckle as the rooms opened to them both. Potters arm immediately swung back around his waist and he moved them both forward. “Where shall I stick you then?”

“You are not ‘sticking’ me anywhere you infernal child. You will be helping me undress and what I daresay hope, is gently assisting me into the tub.”

He watched as Potters cheeks again turned a deep and rather becoming shade of pink and laughed. “Alright then, let us be on. I’ve had the right urge to use the loo for an hour now.” Severus heard the breathiness and found he was stumped.

“Are you alright, you appear to be a bit breathless and though I know I am not light, I don’t figure assisting me up the stairs should cause you to be asthmatic.”

The coughing fit nee laugh that escaped from the man whose arm was currently wrapped around him, added nothing but confusion to the already incredibly odd situation he was in.

“It’s nothing. Just… ah, been a bit since I’ve seen a bloke without clothing on. Part of the contract and all, no personal relations while, ah, in training and all that.”

Severus’ head had never moved so fast in all his life. He had never thought that Potter could be gay. That he’d be putting the other man in such a situation like this, would have been in poor taste had been straight, but now it seemed downright improper. “If you wish to not assist me, I will understand completely. I had no awareness that you were of that persuasion. I would not ever presume to put you in a position in which you are most uncomfortable.”

“Why would being straight make this any less odd?” Potter leaned him against the counter and took a step back, putting his hands on his hips in much a way a mother would looking at a recalcitrant child. “Are you discomfited by my attraction to men?”

“That would be rather disingenuous of me, wouldn’t it?”

He saw the moment that Potter took his meaning, and the pink color rose again to his cheeks. He noted the man closing his eyes, and taking several deep breaths before opening them and firming his features.

“Alright, let us be on with it.”

And with that, Potter started waving his wand and avoiding eye contact as if the very act of doing so would be the only way to get through the night. The water in the bath started to fill, two towels were accio’d to the heating rack, and the man assisted him to the stool by the bath. His hands quickly on his shoes as he undid the laces and slipped them from his feet, taking his socks off slowly so that he didn’t jolt any particular part of Severus.

“It’s the left side, you don’t have to move as if I am china, but a fair bit of warning on the left side is all I am asking.”

“Fine.”

Potter stood him up and leaned him against the counter again, and at this point they both stood there a moment before the next step. Severus closed his eyes, and started itemizing the recipe for making his variant of dreamless sleep, noting that as soon as his eyes closed, Potter mumbled something, and Severus found that he was completely naked to the eye of the other man.

He kept his eyes closed a moment more before opening them to assess the situation. Potter had moved a towel to levitate around Severus’ midriff before spelling his clothing away. At that moment he’d never known such a respect for another person. It swelled within him so soundly he was nearly overcome. Potter wrapped the towel securely around his waist before assisting him to the claw foot tub.

“It might be easier if I lift you over the lip. I hadn’t realized you’d owned a clawfoot tub. It’s a fair bit higher than I was expecting.”

Severus rather thought he agreed and though he knew that this was purely a situation of inconvenience to them both, he found his heart rate kick up at the prospect of being held by the other man.

“That is acceptable.”

The next thing he knew, Potter had him in a maiden hold, his knees cradled gently and the other arm holding his back firmly and securely. He was concerned when the towel would be removed and when the moment of abject impropriety would occur, but as in all things, Potter surprised him in this as well.

With a small gasp, the man bent to his knees and placed him in the tub, the towel still firmly wrapped around his waist as he was placed beneath the water. The water at the perfect temperature and his dignity and privacy intact, he knew that this had been another moment to alter their already evolving relationship. What had already been bordering between a work based relationship had been teetering to a mutual acquaintances, and now moved even closer to something akin to friendship.

“Do you need any further assistance?”

“No, no this will be fine.”

Potters arm was still under his upper back and he slowly moved it out from beneath him, his slow deep breaths the only thing confounding Severus. He’d felt Potters muscles and knew that he’d not been so heavy as to cause the man discomfort.

“Alright then, If you need me, send your patronus. Do not hesitate. At this point, any hesitation would seem rather remiss. I will be off.”

And though Severus would never tell a soul, and he would never admit to seeing it. He hadn’t looked away quick enough and Potter hadn’t adjusted his trousers just yet. It was really not his fault that he’d seen such a large protrusion at the apex of Potters thighs before he’d turned and left the bathroom. It took a moment, but it all started to make unerring sense.

Severus found that he had a might bit more to ponder than he’d expected to while in his bath.

~~**~~

Harry very nearly ran down the stairs. He had just a few dozen meters between him and his bathroom, where he could release the built up energy in complete privacy. He’d just bared witness to nearly the entire naked body of Severus Snape, exhibit A to Zed on his fantasies and dirtiest dreams list. The man was like chiseled marble. Long, lean, firm and toned. Naked but for the towel that he’d thought to place at the last moment to leave Snape some dignity, he’d seen the rest of the man in resplendent glory.

Six foot and scarred, he looked like an ancient Roman statue of a god that had lived through war and still held all the beauty of the original maker. He pushed through the door of his quarters, and banished his clothes before he even entered his bathroom. With a flick of his wrist the water was on and he was under it. The cool temperature bringing his blood from a boil to a more tolerable throbbing ache.

He’d held Snape. In his arms. He’d seen the scars that traced their way up the path of his legs to the bottom of the towel and he’d wanted to drag his tongue down from the man’s scarred and beautiful neck to his navel. He’d never wanted for something so much in his life as in that moment.

He very well might be in love with Severus Snape. The man who he was currently training under. The man who up until just recently he’d only been allowed to call Professor, Master, or Sir.

He was so f*cked.

~~**~~

Chapter 9: A Crossing of Paths

Chapter Text

Ch. 9
The bone wary feeling had given way to calm relaxation shortly after the water had covered his body. That night he’d slept as soundly as he’d remembered doing in, well ever, and he was both confused and intrigued by the fact that he hadn’t woken with the start and normal paranoia that he normally did.

Severus looked himself over in the mirror and studied his reflection. He didn’t find himself to be a particularly attractive man, but he was drastically better off than when he’d been in the peak of the war. The two stone he’d put on, the color in his cheeks, the ability to experiment and formulate a better shampoo had caused him to look like a better weathered man. But he would never go so far as to say ‘attractive’. He harrumphed and finished cuffing his sleeves, before leaving the bathroom for the bedroom door. He passed through and thought of the night before where he’d altered his wards to allow Potter in. He shook his head and made to move to the kitchen, he would just alter the wards back to their original state, later on.

He had to forgo shoes today, as the nerve damage was still sending minor shocks through his toes, but overall he was in rather better spirits than he’d honestly expected. He summoned his cane before leaving the room, remembering the tone of derision from Potter the night previously, where he’d noted that Severus had been limping and hadn’t used his walking stick.

The smell of coffee and cinnamon wafted up the stairs, and a small smile hit his face unbidden.

“You’ve decided to take up cooking as a full time responsibility then? Have you always had aspirations to become a house elf?” He said as he entered the room. Moving over to the tea pot and noticing that it’d already been started.

“I started the kettle around the time I figured your alarm went off. The water should be perfectly steeped at this point. Don’t ever let Hermione hear you speak with such a tone of amused disregard about house elves, Sir.” Potter moved from the counter to the oven and took out a pan of cinnamon biscuits that quite literally made Severus’ mouth water. “And as for cooking; I was planning on studying this morning, but I settled for breakfast.”

If Severus noted the upraised brow of the younger man, out of the corner of his eye, he would never tell. He poured his tea and made for the table. “I set out the Prophet. ‘Mione sends it to me, and I figured you’d like to see page 6.”

Severus took up the paper, while sounds of early morning cooking took place around him. His tea, a perfectly steeped cup of English Breakfast, and the toast that was waiting to settle his stomach as he waited for more, made for a rather pleasing tableau.

The Golden Boy Studies Under Esteemed War Hero and Potion Master
We have obtained first hand breaking news, that Harry James Potter, Hero of the Wizarding War and Golden Boy has taken his internship for the Defense Against the Dark Arts Mastery, under a one, Severus Tobias Snape.

Though little can be confirmed as to how the two are getting on, our sources let us know that they are working together tolerably, and that Mr. Potter is well on his way to completing the last step between being a pupil and a becoming master in the field.

We are looking forward to the news of this great feat, and will bring you more on this as we learn of it.

He felt the sneer on his face, before he could school his features to something more calm. “How do you think they found out?”

“Well it wasn’t a secret in so far as I was aware. It could really have been anyone.” He watched as Potter placed porridge and sausage on the table and a rasher of beans before bringing the cinnamon biscuits to the table and sitting down. “Was it supposed to be a secret? I mean, I did tell my family – sorry, the Weasleys… and I am pretty sure Minerva is aware as she is the one that set us up. I- I – I mean, set this up.”

The blush was there again, and though Severus wanted to explore the reason for it, he left it for now. “No, it wasn’t a secret. I just don’t generally appreciate my business being out for fodder in the local rag.”

“Well, for that then I am sorry. It is my lot in life.” He heard the heaviness to the words, and decided to let them settle while he made his plate. “If it does truly bother you, I can put the Weasleys under oath to not talk about anything, and we can add an addendum to the contract to make you more comfortable.”

“That shall hardly be necessary, as first of all the information has already been presented to the press. You speaking freely with your family, and trusting them to not tell the press, is not something I intend to hamper. It has just,” he smeared jam on the biscuit as he mulled his words over. “been a while since I was in the news, and even though they painted me in a friendly light, it does not mean that others seeing my name will take it as such.” He contemplated people and their odd ways of taking information in and reactions.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

He looked up and directly into the burning green eyes of the man across the table. The man that he was teaching a mastery to, but was far more superior in a number of ways to him in magic. For once, Severus almost believed that he’d be safe.

“You cannot assure me that, in as much as you cannot assure your family will always be safe or that the world will go on tomorrow.” He took a bite of the biscuit, and allowed himself a small groan. “However, I can assure you that these biscuits are some of the best I’ve ever had, if that is any consolation.” He offered up a smile, and was pleased when he received a chuckle in return.

“Now, I was thinking things over last night after you left, and I’ve come to some conclusions about the restrictions we placed in the contract.” He waved his hand for the contract to appear and took note of the peaked expression on Potters face before continuing. “You stated very clearly that you hadn’t been with anyone since we started this contract, and though I can say your studies have been good, I am sure that allowing you some time to frolic as it were, once a month, with possible suiters, would not hinder your studies.” He stopped and chewed a bit before continuing, “You seem to genuinely be seeking education and as such, I think a little leeway could be arraigned.”

“You want me to date, while I am training for my Defense Mastery?”

“I believe that telling you that you cannot do so, while you are training, was rather more than I should have done.”

“You want me to go out, and date around, while living here and learning about Defense and Potions under you?”

“I am not sure why you continue to ask, as if you do not understand the common English language. I am stating that nearly as clearly as I can.”

He paused, and continued to eat, he figured Potter would get around to what he wanted to say eventually, and the sausage and biscuits really were too good to let go cold.

“I am fine with the contract as it is. It wasn’t like I wasn’t living the life of celibacy before the contract was created. Doing it for a while longer won’t really be a matter.”

He was steadfastly looking at his plate, but Severus could see the pink color sweeping up to the cheeks and figured he’d try one more thing to see what direction this would go. “That seems reasonable, however, should you feel stifled in any way toward that regard please feel free to speak openly. I do believe that at least some time can be set aside occasionally for frivolous acts of youth. Though I would ask, do you mind if I step out while you are doing personal study Saturday night, I have a previous arraignment that I need to attend.”

Potters jaw clenched, and Severus watched him work through the emotions to calm himself, and with a clarity he could scarcely credit, knew that his assumptions from the previous night were not unfounded.

“Do you wish to update the contract regarding me dating, so as we might update the contract for yourself as well? Do you have a date that you would like to bring around?” Severus nearly cracked his neck with the force of following Potter as he stood up so abruptly. “That is fine, I will make myself scarce. I can go to the Weasleys Saturday night, and just send an owl on Sunday when your paramour has left.” Before Severus could utter a word, or try to sway the conversation back to safe and friendly territory, the contract burned a bright gold and he watched as Potter signed with a flourish.

“The contract has been updated, as I was the one that requested you do not date while we were under training, it should be within magical law that I am updating the contract per your request. Please sign at your earliest convenience. I will go finish getting ready for the day.”

Severus watched in mounting frustrated horror, as Potter magicked his plates clean, banishing most of the food that had yet to be eaten, and the dishes to the sink with nary a flick of his wrist. “I will be studying until 0700 and will be at your lab on time. Have a good morning, Professor.” And with that he watched Potter walk calmly out of the kitchen, shut the door with hardly a schnick, and with that sound the possibility of a common ground appeared to crumble to dust.

~~**~~

The week had been utterly exhausting, it was as if the previous Sunday and Monday had been an aberration. Potter never referred to him as Severus again, and he didn’t come to him when he had questions, as he’d suggested he do. They nearly sparred every day both verbally and physically but beyond the actual scope of the lessons, they didn’t share anything else.

Severus was very close to losing his last shred of late gained patience on the impertinent man he was training. Saturday morning rolled around, and with it their final lesson before the Mental Shields training that would begin on Monday. It was like so many weights that were hanging around both of their necks.

Severus could hardly credit breathing through all the tension in the air when they were together. Though he’d meant to clear up the mistaken offer that had fallen rather flat the previous Monday, as the week had worn on, the prospect of being rid of the tension was appealing, and with Saturday here, he was both relieved and frustrated that he would be alone that evening.

He scribbled off a missive to the Headmistress and supposed that regardless of if she replied, he would be sans Potter for the evening and there was nothing he would be able to do about it.

He walked his apprentice through the Blood Replenisher Potion that he’d adapted and again took note that Potters potion came out accurate. Though the man scribbled so many notes, that he was sure he’d been thinking of changes, questions, updates and adaptations that he’d no doubt speak with Granger on instead of him.

“We are done. You can leave whenever you wish. Clean up your cauldron before seeing yourself out.” He said, slamming his stirring rod down next to his own pewter cauldron not looking at the other man. He was too angry and absurdly disappointed to be able to make eye contact just then.

“As you wish, Professor.”

There was a small part of him that enjoyed the tone of unrepentant insolence that vibrated so completely from the other man. He had missed that spark, he had missed the fire that had burned so brightly in the young man. The issue was, that with that burn, Potter became attractive in a way that Severus hadn’t previously been aware of. Though if he was completely honest, and he could be only with himself, he’d known that Potter was attractive. In the same way that a bee might see a cactus flower and note it’s beauty, but may also be wary of collecting its nectar for the prick of the thorn.

Severus was never one to be so blinded by beauty, that he’d risk the sting of rejection.

And yet, there had been that night, the moment in the bath, where he’d been at his most weak, and he’d seen something in Potters that hinted the rejection wouldn’t be there. He had just played his cards wrong, and here they were. Farther back from where they’d even started.

He stayed looking at his potion while he heard his apprentice clean his space thoroughly and without magic in the custom of a potions lab. He moved to the next stage of his own potion, noting that he was completely working on experience and no actual thought. His mind too preoccupied with how absurdly bizarre and frustrating this entire situation had become.

A great black owl tapped on the glass of his front window, and before he had a moment to take in the options, Potter snapped his fingers and the Owl was in the lab, and setting on the perch in the farthest corner of the lab, so as to avoid feathers and debris getting into a potion in error.

“I have cleaned my station. I will be leaving shortly for the Weasleys, please send word when you are clear for me to return tomorrow. They won’t have an issue should I need to stay until Monday.” And with that completely professional statement, Potter left the lab and calmly shut the door behind him.

It was the calm in his door shutting that both irritated Severus to the ends of the Earth, and impressed him beyond measure. To be so clearly angry, and to have grown so much that one didn’t show their anger through outbursts of violent aggression was something that he would never not be impressed by.

With a click of his tongue the owl flew to his shoulder, and he took the missive from her long taloned foot. Slipping her some dry bacon from the bowl on the edge of the table, he watched her fly out again through the open window before he magicked it closed again.

“Dearest Severus,

Poppy, Pomona and Filius are planned for dinner this evening. I have informed the elves that you will be joining the festivities. Though the question begs to be asked, why you are free on a Saturday evening, when Sundays are the day that Harry is not being trained.

I am sure all will be answered in due recourse. Be here no later than 1700, we can have a private chat over tea before the others arrive.

Cheers,
HdMstrs. Minerva”

He knew that he’d have to speak about the situation he was currently in, and he was loathe to admit that, though it was entirely his fault for being in the middle of a drama with Potter; Minerva may well be his only answer to getting out of it. He penned his response, gathered some potions that he’d be able to bring for Poppy and Scotch he was sure Filius and Pomona would enjoy, and made to finish the rest of his potions he’d have to brew for sales.

He was already annoyed with the silence of the lab. As he moved to clear the contents of his table, he noted that Potter had left his biro and pad on the table where he worked. It was with a common regard for checking the work of his student and nothing more that moved his feet before he thought of the pretense of privacy. He flicked his wand and the pad opened to the most recent notes,

“…wonder if the dust of a phoenix would or could be utilized in altering the replenisher to help light creatures?”

“…conversely, wonder would could be added to help Vampyres and Werewolves, with blood loss…”

“… edible versions in sweets like chocolate to be given to people adversely effected by Dementors?”

“…grey looks good on him… long toes, should sketch the arches of his feet. His eyes are not black, need to get brown to mix in with the black for the oil…”

“can a powder formulation be made for easier transport of the potion that could be altered when needed for liquid digestion?”

He took the notes and transcribed them on the blackboard that was on his long wall by his desk, moving his wrist back and forth, and notably leaving the comments about art off. These were incredibly well founded thoughts, and deserved research.

As did the idea that he looked good in grey, as the only grey he’d been wearing today was the grey slacks he allowed his mind to mull over the fact that this rather came off that his arse looked good, and that his eyes apparently weren’t black, and whatever art piece that the man had been referring to…

Severus left the lab with a lighter feeling, he had some idea of what he wanted and needed to do in the coming weeks to work towards the ultimate goal of Potters Mastery.

~~**~~

“Hermione, you weren’t there. It was obvious. He must have been put off by the whole situation from the night before.” Harry tossed the snitch in the air, and watched the kids run around the garden chasing after it after the wings sprouted and it flitted from bush to bush.

“I mean, I would have to give him credit, at least he tried to open the contract for us both.”

“Does that really sound like the man that we know? If he really wanted some time with a paramour, to my mind he would have been considerate enough to break the contract on a Sunday when it didn’t matter.” She put a cushioning charm under one of the kids that was climbing a tree to get to the snitch. “To me, he is Slytherin enough to break the contract if there was someone he was seeing, but too Slytherin to show his hand and allow you the same freedom.”

“’Lo, Harry, didn’t expect to see you on a Saturday!” Ron came around the hedges with George and Charlie in tow. “Aya, Harry was kicked out of the house –“

“Ronald!” Hermione stopped her husband from spilling information that he’d been sworn to keep private.

“Oh, right. Well anyway, he’s here, what do ya say to a quick match in the meadow?”

George started laughing followed quickly by the rest of the group, “You are the bloody worst at keeping secrets Widdle Wonniekins.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, how Ron had made it in auror training and did well at his job, was still cause for confusion amongst those closest to him. “Sure, but I still need to take some time and practice my evading maneuvers today. I don’t want to take today and tomorrow off and not pass the last test for this on Monday.”

“Hey, I can help you with some of them. We were taught those maneuvers for training with the dragons, easy as cream.” Charlie said, slapping him on the arm and passing by to get the brooms from the garage.

“Sure I would appreciate it, Charlie!”

~~**~~

Chapter 10: A Generous Confusion

Chapter Text

Ch. 10
Hours later, in the setting sun of the wide rainbow trees, Harry was exhausted and exhilarated. He had been holding temperance with Snape when they dueled. He never felt truly comfortable sharing that level of magic with the Master. But with family, he felt free and it was truly everything he loved about the particular art of DADA.

“Hare!” He turned at Ron’s urging and narrowly avoided the attack that came from George. Casting a jelly jinx at the red head that was violently gearing up with a skin slime hex, and ducking down casting a ground shield effectively becoming one with the ground. He muttered an earth to mud spell and the land started crawling up Charlie and George’s legs, but Charlie had been ready and Dragons breath shot out of his wand to the ground, causing him to fly up in the air several meters and land in a tuck and roll nearly half the meadow away.

Harry muttered and rolled out from the shield, George was still working on the mud that had turned to stone on his leg, he put a chain net charm on George noting that his yell was full of amused chagrin. Harry ran to the tree line and crossed over to the forest, he could hear Charlie on his tail and he pushed harder. There was a clearing about a kilometer in that he wanted to get to.

His shirt caught on several branches and ripped, and in a fit of pique he tore the rest of it and threw it to the ground, making it to the clearing alone. He threw up shield charms and prepared himself in the middle of the nearly perfectly round small meadow.

“Gone shirtless, eh, showing off that beautiful body for me then?” he heard Charlie taunting from the tree line, but could only pin point it to an area of a couple meters, he must be moving still.

“Figured I would give you something to aspire to, why don’t you come out here and face me like a man! Or am I more intimidating than those Dragons you tame?”

“Oh, you want me to tame you then?” a spell came flying from the right of Harry’s field of vision and he deflected and laughed.

“I don’t think you could if you tried Charles!”

“You dare call me my birth name you insolent whelp!” Harry heard the laugh in Charlies voice and ducked down at the exact moment that a spell flew toward him. He wasn’t expecting for Charlie to come up from behind him however, and take him into his grasp.

Two strong arms wrapped around his middle and he was trapped with his back to the front of a strong chest. “What are you going to do now? I am so close, how do you get out of this?” Charlies voice ghosted in a coarse and deep whisper in his ear. He was trapped and he felt frustrated and… aroused.

“How did you do it? How did you cast from the left and come from the right?” Harry asked, running through all his options. His arms trapped in the tight grasp making his wand nearly useless.

“Ahhh, think about it. How could any man do something alone that doesn’t seem possible?” Harry felt Charlies voice grow more rough, his lips nearly touching his ear and the shudder rolled through him out of a need borne deep. “Is it magic?”

“I have magic, and I know I cannot break the laws that bound us by science.”

“You shuddered… am I having an effect on you, then?”

Harry felt Charlie shift, and the man’s entire body moved to align with his, and his own reaction to the close proximity was not missed.

Harry was not the only one aroused.

“You weren’t alone.” It was a guess, but one he was willing to lay out there, as he needed something, anything to gain moment to breathe.

“Ahhh, there is that famed intelligence. Good boy” he purred and a jolt of electricity went through Harry’s spine. “You’re right, I wasn’t. You were so focused on my chase, that you did not pause to think that I might have released George from your spell. He followed in chase along the side of us, and went around the meadow to help me.”

He could hardly focus, as Charlies thumb was starting to move in a soft petting motion under his left pectoral muscle, slowly and tantalizingly dragging his attention away from the topic at hand. “But, as any good man would… he has left us alone, and whatever shall I do with my prize, then?”

His body gave another involuntary shudder, and he knew that he had to stop this. Charlie was nearly family, this had to be a part of the whole game. His mental shields slammed down and he focused on his options. Moving his body against the man holding him, hoping that it was showing interest, it struck him that if he used the same Dragons Fire spell, he would either fly up as Charlie had previously, or at the very minimum Charlie would let him go so that he could be free.

He cast the spell and as expected he flew, though not nearly as far as Charlie had when he’d done so. He landed and rolled around at the last possible moment, noting the ginger haired man having been knocked back to his bum, and cast ‘petrificus totalis.’ And with that he knew he’d won.

But what that meant, was a little muddled. He was violently aroused, and he felt need coursing through his blood. Practicing his deep breathing, he walked up to the man frozen on the ground and looked down.

“I want the honest to Merlin truth, Charles Henry Weasley. Blink if you understand how sincere I am being.” He noted Charlie blink once and look him directly in the eye. “Was this a game?”

Charlie didn’t blink.

“Are you taking the piss, because I am a fa*g?”

Charlie didn’t blink.

“Do… do you, was this-“

Charlie blinked.

A million thoughts raced through his mind, and he focused on closing his walls again. “I am under contract right now, you know that right?”

Charlie blinked.

“You, you are like family. You are like, like a brother.”

Charlie blinked.

“I consider myself flattered. You are an incredibly attractive man, you are talented and powerful and if… if I wasn’t already pretty sure that I… I might be falling for someone else… I might be able to, set aside some of the other things.”

Charlie kept his eyes locked on Harry. He blinked.

Dropping to his knees, he leaned forward and took Charlies face in his hands.

“Do not let this be something that ruins us. I don’t wish to lose you.” He leaned forward and kissed Charlies cheek, and let go of the spell.

“Is, is there any hope?” Charlies voice sounded rough and aggrieved but resigned.

“There is always hope. But… I will say that I am not sure what either of us would hope for. The man, the one that I have feelings for. He’s… well to hope that it wouldn’t work out so that this might, would nearly break me. But to also hope that you can just stop what you are feeling, would hurt you and I find that heartbreaking.”

“You really care about him, this man?”

“More than I think even I had realized, yes. And if anything, this is only helping me see it more clear.”

“Then I will hope that he is worthy of you. Snape is an worthy man, and I would never presume to fight against him.”

All the breath left Harry’s lungs and he fell back on his feet. “How do you know?”

Charlie laughed and it nearly sounded real as he moved to sit back on his bum with his hands resting behind him. “You’ve always had a thing for the strong and broody type. Those that are just out of reach of the moral spectrum. You have never really fit with anyone your age, and you’ve always had this weight to your eyes.” Charlie smiled and Harry knew that it was real, if a little sad. “Who would be better for you, than a man who also holds so much pain left from a burden of war that was too great for his own shoulders? But, just know, that if he ever hurts you… I, well I won’t presume to think that I can harm him. But, I will be there, if you ever need to let your mind go for a while.”

“I would never use you in such a way.”

“Consider it a gift. It wouldn’t be using me. I’ve had my eyes and heart on your for nearly two decades now. I’m pretty sure it’s a family trait at this point. We Weasley’s either love you as family, or want you as a lover. Most of us have fought this battle internally at some point, though I wish to point out this does not include my parents, I assure you.” They both shuddered and laughed, Harry falling back and breathing deeply.

“You are worth so much, Harry. Can I offer you some advice?”

“Of course.”

“You dropped your shields a bit when we were dueling and I could see that you don’t use your full potential in your practice duels with Snape. Might it be that he can tell you are not giving him your all, and in return is not giving you his?”

The ginger eyebrow rose and Harry felt his cheeks heat. “I don’t want to overpower him. He’s… so, dominate.”

“Ahhh… I doubt that you winning a duel will make him think that you are any more dominate than you are. I am sure he would, ahh…. Still be dominate in other areas.”

He coughed, “uh, right, yeah, thanks.”

“Come on, let’s go. Supper should be ready shortly and mum is probably going to make your favorite pudding because you are a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a brat!” he yelled and laughed.

The walk back to the burrow wasn’t nearly as painful as he expected, and he knew that they’d moved past the moment with an unusual adult aplomb.

~~**~~

The meal was pleasant, it had been a while since he’d been around more than simply Minerva or Potter, and he found that though he wouldn’t choose to do so regularly, the allure of being with others who understood his profession as well as him, was a nice reprieve.

“So, how goes having the apprentice, Severus?” Filius said, and he noted that the table nearly immediately hushed as if awaiting his decision on the matter.

“It’s, been… interesting.”

“Ah, tsk tsk, Severus Tobias, you will share your thoughts and feelings here. If not among friends, than with whom?” Minerva’s statement was joined by a cacophony of “here here’s” and Severus knew that he would be forced into giving up his privacy on the matter.

He took a sip of his brandy, and rather had hoped that he’d been further along in his cups before sharing intimate details about his life.

“It has been an experience to be sure.”

“Has he been doing well? Have you been pushing him?” Poppy asked with barely concealed interest.

“Severus was telling me that young Harry hasn’t been doing as well as we’d hoped. I think Harry is being an utter Gryffindor about the whole thing, and doesn’t want to show our Severus his true abilities.” Minerva added, pouring a bit more whiskey into her glass and leaning back in her seat. Ever the lady on her throne to Severus’ mind.

“That does sound like Harry.”

Severus perked up at Poppy’s statement, “Why do you concur with that, Poppy? Was Potter ever truly talented while at the school? He found himself in the healing ward many times to be sure.”

“Severus, shame on you, you cannot possibly still feel so little about Harry.” He took another sip of his brandy, and noted that Minerva was giving him an odd stare. Poppy went on, “Harry came to stay with me at Hogwarts during the year following the battle. He did so much for the recovery of the students that to be quite honest, I am not sure I would have been able to do all I did, without his assistance, now that I look back on it.”

“I never heard tale of Potter assisting in the infirmary while the castle was being rebuilt. Madam, I was here during that time.”

“You were, but you were also invalided. Additionally, it was your care in particular that caused me to be unable to truly provide the level of care that some others needed. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini for instance. It had appeared that the younger Malfoy was brutally beaten the summer after the war, he showed up on the doorstep and the elves ushered him to me, but you were having severe paralysis at the time and couldn’t be left for great lengths.” She took a sip of her sherry and leaned back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling in memory.

“Harry was so willing to help, that he immediately set aside old rivalries. It was the same honestly for both of them. I distinctly remember Harry saying sorry over and over as he wiped Dracos wounds.” She paused and blinked the wetness from her eyes a bit, “it was as if he was saying sorry for some of what he saw on the other man…”

Severus watched a single tear slide down the delicate cheek of the madam healer. “Then a few days later, Blaise showed up to see Draco, but Harry appeared to believe that Blaise was under similar fare. It turned out, that after he’d cornered the young man in the hall and pressured him, Blaise confessed that the left over vermin in their death eater masks had been torturing young Slytherins who had escaped battle.”

A shudder went through him and he turned abruptly to Minerva. Her silent nod, urging him to continue listening.

“Harry ushered Blaise into the infirmary and put him under a healing charm. Next thing I knew Harry was gone. You must have missed this when you went through all the papers when you were recovering, but Harry had gone proper heroic in the name of the Slytherin children being abused. He located the bastards at a home in Westingshire on the Green and had encouraged centaurs and several other woodland creatures to take their ire at their mistreatment during the war out on these cowardice individuals.”

Severus could almost imagine the field in his mind. The rolling green grass, and the overly opulent home that was made of old marble with a stucco overlay. The garden that had gone to decay while under the reign of the dark lord.

“In talking to Firenze after it was like Harry was an avenging angel. He swept in and stole the children out from the very hands of the bastards. They were doing such terrible things to them! Some of them nary old enough to be Hogwarts children at all. Firenze said that the centaurs and magical folk barely had anything to do but stop the ones that ran out of the house. He said that the house went up in fiendfyre and Harry came flying out of the second floor balcony. His wand aimed directly for Goyle and Malfoy. With a blast he cursed the entire house and it crumbled to the ground, all left within died immediately.”

She sniffed and finished off her glass. “He brought the rest of the children here, young Miss Parkinson among them. She the worst off, having been harmed in the most intimate of ways during her torture. He stayed with her and the younger ones while he showed Draco and Blaise how to assist with some basic healing charms when I wasn’t able to help. Honestly if it hadn’t been for him, there are many lives that would have been lost or others that would have been hurt beyond repair.” She finished and looked him dead in the eye. “Do not you dare, Severus Snape, undervalue the strength of that man. He’s too good for this world, and yet he continues to give.”

“I hadn’t been aware of this, madam. I do apologize.” He finished off his own brandy and sat back as well. “It does raise the question then, why he feigns weakness when we duel. He has lost nearly all our duels, and he doesn’t accept the one win, because it was happenstance that he took appropriate advantage of.”

“It’s probably because the boy is used to people having their roles to play.”

Severus looked to his seat mate, Filius. “What do you mean with that bit of wisdom?”

“Well, we all know his story. Or at least a large part of it. Harry came to believe that the abuse he suffered at the hands of those bloody ignorant fools he lived with, was all acceptable because of his role that he had to play in the war. He had to learn to sacrifice himself for all humanity and protect muggles even though the only muggles he knew intimately had been cruel and heartless to him.” Filius jiggled in his seat and reached across the table, charming the alcohol to go to the appropriate glasses to refill them.

“You see, young Mr. Potter grew up thinking that people have their place and role in society, and that is the way that he treats people. If you are a friend, then your place is at his side or with him protecting you. If you are an enemy then your place is the other side of the battle field. If you are powerful your place is one of respect. If you are weak then depending on your actions, ahhh I see that you follow. I would be willing to bet that a portion of the reason he isn’t showing you his all, is that he believes it’s your place to out measure him while under tutelage. He will have to be shown that there is nothing to be ashamed of being stronger than someone else. Even you, Severus.”

“Do you all truly believe him to be as strong as you infer?” He asked, but he already knew that Potter was. He’d felt it every time a spell had been cast and it hadn’t hit him with the force of the magic behind it.

“Aye, that we do.” Pomona added. “He… he has a gentle soul behind all that fire. He would do well with someone to show him that fire and compassion do not have to be at odds.” She looked him in the eye and he felt he was being told something other than what had been said.

“That he would do.” Minerva added, her eyes twinkling and Severus understood immediately where the conversation had gone.

“You cannot be implying that I take his innocence?!” he roared and abruptly stood up from the table, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “It would be most improper, and for you to imply such a thing… do you think so little of me that you believe me incapable of keeping chaste with a man who is in my care and seeking training from me?”

“Severus, that is not what we are saying.” Poppy tapped her glass and a the sherry turned to water, before taking a sip and continuing. “It is just that we,” she paused and looked at the others around her, noting their nods of approval before continuing, “know that you both deserve more. You are a quiet soul, with a heart full to bursting with a need to… prove your worth to those you deem important. And Severus Snape, we have found you worthy for a long time. Harry, he’s… he’s been hurt quite a bit in his time. Things that I will not share, for I am in his confidence, but trust that he may one day open up to you. He deserves someone that will show him that he too is worthy, worthy of being happy and loved and worthy most of all, of being whoever he chooses to be.”

“He does not think so highly of himself as one would think he should. I heard the boy talk with my Neville while assisting last summer in the green houses. He was… seeing someone at the time and they took great advantage of him, and they burned and scorned the truths and secrets about him that he shared. He has closed himself off and he doesn’t feel as though the world wants the true man that lives within.” Pomona looked down at her plate and fiddled with the peas on her fork. “He feels locked away, unable to share even the smallest part of him, lest he be found lacking. It seems familiar, does it not?” Her eyes looked up, and Severus could feel them on him as he moved back and forth in front of the fire place. Thoughts racing through his mind, things he’d never given real credence to, taking shape in a way he had never presumed would be accepted.

“But he is also strong of will. He will not be played with by anyone who does not equal him. He needs a strong hand to show him passion and fire and the joy of true understanding! He would be a great creator of charms, if he only allowed that burning spirit a little freedom. But alas, my boy, I do not see him letting the cage around his flaming soul, to open without a fair bit of help.” Filius added, bringing a flame up in his hand and charming a cage around it, showing his point.

Severus stopped pacing, and turned to Minerva. “And you, Headmistress, how do you feel about me stealing the innocence of your favorite little lion?”

“I for one doubt the innocence you seem so stuck on, but even at that. I have never seen two men more suited. If you are seeking my blessing, then though it is not mine to give, I will let you know you have it. My only hope is that you both flourish in this life. You have done so much and gone so far to show the world your true potential, and in so doing you have set in motion your ability to assist my young little lion boy, the same thing. I do so hope that you do not waste an opportunity when it is afforded you. That doesn’t seem to be a very Slytherin way of handling a situation.” She added, and her smirk was all but Severus’ undoing.

“You cannot believe him to find me a worthy companion. Any of you, you… you see me! I am not a young, virile man any longer, not that I ever was. He… he could have the world at his fingertips, any powerful wizard could be his.”

“Ahhh, if it’s his desire that you are unsure of, and this alone, then you might do well to truly pay attention to him in the coming weeks and months you’ve left with him in your home. From what I understand… he is not so stuck on the ‘culturally acceptable ideal standards of beauty’ and has always ‘found, striking and esoteric features to be what draws his eye’, if I do remember the comment well, Poppy, Pomona?” Minerva looked over to her two friends and they giggled and nodded their heads.

“What is this then? What do you know?”

“What we know is that it is your responsibility, if the desire is within you, to earn the trust of Harry and learn of his wants yourself.”

“Ahhh, Severus, my boy, it appears as if you have been out maneuvered! Haha!” Filius added, wiggling in his seat once more and sloshing a bit of his drink on his beard before charming it back to his glass for him to finish off.

“I believe then, that I am off. This appears to have been much more than I was prepared to converse of this evening. Good evening.” He bowed forward and walked briskly from the dining hall, ignoring the tittering and whispering of the occupants behind him.

Chapter 11: A Quiet Shame

Chapter Text

Ch. 11
Monday rolled around with its weighted potential for the worst to happen, and Severus couldn’t be bothered to think all the possible outcomes through. He hadn’t come up with a suitable time to discuss the finer points of his knowledge about Potters life with the man, and he knew that he was too late now. He would have to work hard to keep his shields up throughout the next weeks while they covered this portion of his training.

He had set aside all the potions on order for the next several weeks, as mental training would take much more out of him than the physical training that they’d been focusing on here-to-fore. He came down the stairs at 0630 and noted that Potter wasn’t in the kitchen, and the small note of annoyance that there was still this awkward distance between them creeped up in his mind, the scowl that accompanied it, he was sure it favored more the man from his Professorial days than what he most commonly showed now.

He went through the motions of making tea while checking the time and noting that he had plenty of it to make some buttered toast. He caught the glimpse of movement out of the back garden and focused on the shirtless man that had run around the house to his private garage in the back. Severus noted the sheen of sweat and the damp hair at the mans nape, the baggy pants that hung low on the waist and the dark thatch of hair that started at the lower back going into said shorts.

His mouth watered, and he banished his toast. He wasn’t in the mood to eat, and he needed to prepare for the day that lay ahead. To think of anything else at this point would be madness.

Potter showed up precisely at 0700 and the knock on the door was the standard two soft raps before Severus said enter. He’d moved the tables and chairs around so that there was a comfortable sitting area in the center of the lab. Two overly large, plush chairs, and several potions sitting on the chair side tables. The lights were low and the windows had sheer drapes over them. He’d set out many dozens of candles and burned lavender and rosemary for calming and clarity.

“This is… different.” Potter said, before moving to the seating in the middle of the large lab.

“Of course it is. We are focusing these next few weeks on building up your mental shields, and teaching how to utilize mental attacks for multitudes of reasons. There are many facets of Occlumency and Legilimency that I didn’t cover when we had trained on this many years ago. And I wish to do this better this time around.”

“Right.”

“Please sit down and we will cover some things before we get started.” Severus had never been more grateful for thinking of taking the mental clarity potion before Potter had walked in the room. He could see clearly how timid and worried the other man was, and he was not going to take the bait and hinder their already bad chances.

“Alright, the first thing that we are going to cover is mental shields. Now, I want you to try to get into my mind. Not just through the shields but I want you to see and feel the shields. I want you to try and get a grasp of how they look, how they react, how they move when you try to get through them. I think this will help you see what it means to build them up.”

“Alright, but you must know that I’ve already learned this… I had to for the first levels of the mastery training several years ago.”

“Yes, but I also know that you sometimes project. I have borne witness to several of these projections, and as such, I think that you may only use defensive shielding. Which in normal circ*mstances, is fine. But as a Master of Defense, you will have to learn to have a functioning shield at all times.”

“What do you mean I’ve projected? What have I projected at you, Professor?” Severus heard the abject fear in the voice and calmed his beating heart.

“Nothing untoward. Simple things that have allowed me the upper hand later on when we’ve dueled.”

“…right. Okay, sure.”

The hours spun away from them and before they knew it, it was supper time. Neither of them had stopped for lunch, as when Potter had finally started to understand what Severus was talking about with passive shielding they had moved swiftly towards the next level of mental mastery and so on. There had been several near misses where Potter had winged by his shields much faster than he’d anticipated, and he’d had to stamp down many thoughts, feelings, and memories to make sure that he didn’t give himself away. But the things that he’d shared had been no less worrying, as they were moments when he’d been masturbating in the shower, or when he’d been tracing his scars on his chest whilst looking in the mirror.

He’d let the feeling of irate frustration go, as he knew that this was part of the process and that he’d have to get better about letting more simple and easy-to-part-with items be visible. It wouldn’t do for him to make it so difficult or wish that Potter wouldn’t succeed, as he needed to and in so having done, proved that he was a quick and efficient learner when the thought process permitted.

He had also seen several small snippets and had never been more grateful to witness some of the very abuse that he’d known of. He knew that it would allow him the ability to bring it up later on. Now that he’d seen it, it might be that he would bring the topic up and never let on that Minerva had let him in on the knowledge of the depraved youth of the other man.

~~**~~

They did this repeatedly over the next several days before Friday showed and Potter didn’t appear on time at the lab door. It was a first and immediately Severus was on high alert. He left the lab and went down to the kitchens, noting that Potter hadn’t been in them in the early morning hours. He quickly moved to the garage and noted the small light that was flittering through the window and knocked sharply on the door.

“…Severus, please” he heard the soft whimper and slammed through the door and wards with ease. There on the bed, sweat pouring from the face and neck and through the shirt fabric, was Potter in a haze of red skin and tense muscles.

“I don’t have the potion… I need help. …can’t move, please.”

Severus took in all that he was seeing and tried to come up with anything that Potter was ailing from in particular. “What is wrong with you? What is happening?” He said, moving forward and casting diagnostic spell after spell to attempt to glean some answers.

“Horcrux. Aftermath. Shocks. Nerves, brain, so much bloody pain.”

Severus counted through all the potions that would normally assist with nerve damage and summoned several while moving the man to a seated position as gently as he could. He poured the first two down his throat before summoning a patronus and sending it to Granger. He hadn’t had any knowledge of this, and after Potter took the final potion he’d be asleep for the greater rest of the morning, and he needed answers, and he needed them now.

He watched Potter sleep while he wrote down all that had transpired that morning. The man had drifted to sleep shortly after the last potion he’d taken, and even in his sleep Severus could tell that it was not completely restful. He noted the mini seizure like happenings and the fever that continued to rise. He felt Granger enter the edge of his wards and sent her his patronus to walk her around the back to the garage.

He left the chair, but didn’t wander past the front of the door.

“Professor Snape? You said it was Urgent. Is Harry alright?” she said, running around the hedges and nearly directly into him. He placed a hand out on her shoulder to steady her and tamped down his urge to squirm, physical touch was still as difficult as ever, it seemed.

“He is not fine, Mrs. Granger, and I need answers.”

“Granger-Weasley, and yes, how can I be of service?”

“Follow me.”

He turned around and let her follow him through the door of the small abode. “Potter appears to be suffering from some ailment, however until today I had no knowledge that he was under any particular pains. When I came in here this morning, he was fevered, sweating and muttered about horcrux residual pains. He stated that he didn’t have his potion with him, and I provided what I could. But I need more to go on, if I am to assist him better.”

He watched as the young woman moved past him and cast several of her own diagnostic spells on the man laying prone on the bed. He waited as patiently as he could while she mothered and crooned on him, and watched her whisper a spell and pull an item from under the man’s pillows before summoning the blanket and wrapping him up completely.

“Alright, I will talk of this with you, if we can do so over a cuppa. He has his anchor now, and with your potions he will be as good as he can while he recovers.”

“Follow me.” He moved for his chambers, while recasting the wards on Potters room. He would have to ask Potter why the wards hadn’t altered him to his ailment when the man had recovered and was able to talk.

“Harry has some residual issues from having housed part of the Dark Lords soul for nearly 17 years. It was to be expected really, but we never really knew what to look for, or what signs there would or should be, as there had never been another case on record of a surviving human horcrux.”

Severus moved about the kitchen and made the tea while he listened. Taking as many mental notes as possible to ask questions later or for research.

“Around the time of the mental examinations in the Mastery school, Harry started having even more haunting nightmares, though he didn’t tell us. He just dealt with them as he does all other things that he deals with. It wasn’t until he spent a night with us that we truly understood what was haunting our friends eyes when he was awake.” He listened as she paused and took a deep breath.

“It appeared that when Harry had slain the Dark lord that night all those years ago, a shield had been built in the very place where the fragment of the hideous man’s soul had been. It was as if his brain had noticed that there’d been something there all this time, and in order for his mind to continue functioning, it had built a shield there to compensate for the weight that had gone.” She paused again and leaned forward. “Have you ever seen the muggle movie Indiana Jones?”

Severus brought the two steeping cups to the table and sat across from the woman, and nodded his head. “Yes.”

“Then it’s like the moment when he pilfers the item off the platform in the cavern and has to put the weighted bag at the same time, or at least this is how I think of it.”

“Seems reasonable ascertain.”

“Right. Well all the mental attacks that his mind was taking during the examinations apparently had disturbed this portion of his mind and the shield had fissured a bit. This is purely based on some mental digging I did several times while he’d been dosed and I was trying to get understanding.” He watched, mildly impressed, as she waved her hand and a simple cooling charm was laid over the cup.

“I studied hard in those weeks and set aside nearly all my classes to find a way to cure or aid him. I found a potion and spell combination in a tome from Egypt that discusses the pharaohs and their horcruxes that they’d made upon entering the tombs. Though fascinating it was also incredibly beneficial, because it talked of potions they created to aid their servants that had taken the souls of their masters and would sleep alongside their masters bodies in the tombs and take care of their resting place until they would need their soul back at a later time. They spoke of potions that would aid in the recovery of the servants that would survive the horcruxes that were taken from them should the pharaohs ever awake.

And though this never occurred, the potions design and spell was easy enough to figure out once I was able to travel with Bill to Egypt and get some of the original text transcribed.”

Severus watched as the woman across from him, closed her eyes and maneuvered her wand in a complex shape set, and muttered several words before a box and rolled parchment appeared.

“How did you get that past my wards?” he asked, his utter shock evident in a way he wished it rather wasn’t.

“You’ve appear to have woven some factors into your wards regarding the health and safety of Harry. The wards recognized my items as such that would assist in his recovery and allowed them through.”

“You see and feel wards?”

“You must not know my job, sir. I am the Ministries highest ranked official in the department of mysteries.”

He sat back and eyed the items that she’d brought into his home before taking a hold of the parchment and summoned his reading glasses.

“This should aid you in creating the potion, if that is what you are aiming to do. I have at least two vials left from before, and they should be good as they’ve been under a stasis this entire time. I hadn’t thought of the fact you’d both be going over mental magics again, or I’d have demanded he bring these with him, and discuss this facet with you prior to. Don’t worry, rest assured that he will get an earful when he recovers, from both Ron and I. We went through far too much for him to play these meddlesome heroics still all these years later.”

“I appreciate it, and I hope you understand that I too will have a word with him regarding this. It appears he also took down the wards that I had placed on his room while he was here, for very situations like there where he was in danger, so as to alert me.”

“How did you know to search for him then, sir?”

“He has been very prompt the entire time that he has been an apprentice. The moment that he was not at my lab at 0700 this morning, I knew that something must have been afoot.”

There was a silence that was neither overwhelming or uncomfortable between them for a time, before Granger-Weasley stood up. “Please let me know if you need anything else from me in the coming day or two. I am not sure how in-depth your mental magics have been but generally it takes about 24 hours after an episode before he is completely alright.”

“I will send word when he has woken. I assume he is still going to go to the Weasleys on Sunday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend most forms of travel when he is like this. Though side along apparation may do well.”

He thought he saw a calculating gleam in the dark brown eyes before whatever it was disappeared. “Of course, I will bring him when he chooses to set out.”

“That would be most welcome. I will let Molly know to set another plate for dinner.”

“Hold on, madam, I did not say that I would stay.” He stood abruptly while Granger set for the front door.

“Of course you didn’t, but you would never go so far as to offend Molly by dropping Harry off at the door and not staying for lunch at least. She would be so terribly offended. Not to mention from what I understand, you haven’t been over in several years. It would do you and the Seniors of the family good to have some time together.” She opened the door to the front of his home and turned back to him, “Plus you are training Harry, he is essentially their son, they should spend some time with you.”

“You presume too much, ma’am.”

“Of course I do. If you do not wish to stay for lunch, then you can let Molly know. But I will at least let her know that you are bringing Harry, so she can plan accordingly.” He watched the woman open his front door and close it behind her. He had a feeling he’d just been outmaneuvered and he didn’t know for what the game was the he’d just lost.

Chapter 12: A Conversation in the Light of Darkness

Chapter Text

Ch. 12

The rest of the day passed with Severus working until he had to take a break and let the potion simmer, running downstairs and out to check on Potter, providing what little moral support could be provided, and then running back up the stairs to move the potion along. He was exhausted and worried in more measure than he’d been since the last time he’d felt personally responsible for the life of the tiresome man that was downstairs.

He syphoned out 12 vials of the potion just as the clock chimed on the wall 2100 and he sat down on the overstuffed chair in the middle of the lab. He’d been working all day just so that he could avoid thinking about all the little things that wanted to creep in and destroy his calm. He now had nothing with which to do that.

He gathered the vials, and the parchment from the table, put the potions equipment under a stasis for it to wait until later for him to clean up, and went downstairs. He set out to make some tea and toast with jam, and once that was resolved, he made his way to Potters garage. He had not thought hard about his place in all of this, nor had he wanted to until he’d completed the task of creating the potion. Now that he had, however, he was at a loss for what he ultimately wanted.

The blame was partially on him, he knew that. Yes, Potter hadn’t shared with him all the information that he needed to, in order to adequately train him and prepare for this training, but it was on him for all the myriad of failings he had produced in a short frame of time due to his lack of trust and understanding of a boy who had the world on his shoulders, many years ago.

He felt the tightness in his chest, the anger and frustration at the man he’d been and the man he’d taken pleasure in being. He had loved the look of frustration and anxiety on Potters face when he was a student, the impotent rage that would well up so enticingly, he’d loved seeing him fail and had believed that it was due to Potters lack of intelligence and nothing else. He’d loved the feeling of being powerful and lording it over the very boy that everyone else mollycoddled and treated with kid gloves.

And yet, he’d learned that what he’d always assumed was in fact the farthest from the truth. Yes, Potter had been sheltered but for the very things he should have been better prepared for. And he was loved, but the people that truly loved the boy had been the Weasleys and some of the professors who knew of the sad tale of the boys life and had decided to show him what love and compassion could be like.

Severus had long since known that level of evil he must have been, and though part of him could still rationalize the reasoning behind it, he knew that there were facets of his treatment of Potter that had devolved due to his hatred of Potters father, and had nothing to do with the dark lord in which he had feigned devotion to. And what a failing it was to acknowledge that in yourself. To know that you were part of the reason a boys life, that was already being built for slaughter, was even worse; there was hardly any emotion to credit the shame and conflagration that he felt.

He opened the door to the garage and noted that Potter was still very much asleep, the potions from earlier would be waring off soon and he wanted to be there to re-dose the man if he needed it. He set down his things and made to move the chair closer to the bed. His thoughts a jumble of ‘what if’s’ ‘if onlys’ that he only ever allowed himself to think when he was at his own most vulnerable.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and hung his head, taking in the sleeping figure on the bed; the pale and slightly gaunt facial features speaking to how close to, ‘too thin’ the man was when healthy, the sheen of sweat and the shiver showing that he wasn’t nearly as out of the woods as Severus would have liked, but it was the item that he was clutching in his sleeping arms that caught his eye.

It was a small snake stuft plush. Severus’ first reaction was the smirk, but it was quickly quieted with chagrin. With as much as he knew there would have been no way that Potter had had this plush as a child, there was simply no way. He moved forward and laid a hand carefully on the plush and felt the charms that were layered into the fabric, and recognized it for the totem that it was. The very act of creating an item like this took care, and love and family. He searched for magic he recognized and felt the Elder Weasleys, Granger and some of the other Weasley clan, and he felt what appeared to be Minervas’ signature as well. It appeared that when this had happened previously, all the others of the people closest to Potter had devised a plan to keep him safe even when he was at his most vulnerable to the outside forces and the forces of within.

He let out a sigh and fell back into his chair. Sipping his tea and focusing on the man in the bed. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling something at this point, but it was a ghost of a feeling he’d long since given up on, and he wasn’t sure what it truly was or if it was real. All he knew was that he would have a word with the man when he woke up, and he would be giving him a real piece of his mind for making him worry as such.

~~**~~

The moan woke him from his tepid slumber. Rolling his neck to crack the stiffness loose, and blinking his eyes open to the bleary darkness only lit by the moon sweeping through the windows. He looked at the bed, and noted the dazed open eyed look of the man in the sheets and the deep breath that he’d been holding since that morning, swept through him.

Potter had survived.

“Snape?” The grumble of the hoarse throaty sound, washed over Severus like a wave of emotion come crashing down.

“Potter, you’re awake.” He moved to stand up and felt his hip and thigh tingle with pain. He hissed and leaned back down to stay seated for the time being. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Better. Thirsty.”

Severus summoned a glass of water from the kitchenette and he watched as Potter slowly sipped it. Noting that he didn’t take it too fast, and hashed it up to all those times that the other man had woken in the hospital throughout his tenure as a student.

“How did I… how did you, what happened?”

“You didn’t appear for lessons. I came here, you made some rather unintelligible hints at what disease had overcome you. I called for Granger who was able to fill in some gaps.” Severus growled a bit into the darkness and noted the slightly embarrassed look that flushed the mans’ face.

“Why didn’t you think to tell me about this possibility? At the very minimum we would have taken this much slower. We would have been prepared.”

“Because I won’t always be prepared in the field. I won’t always have every opportunity to put myself in the best possible place at the best possible time, to do the best possible thing for me. I have to learn to deal with this, so that I can excel through this issue and not be burdened by it.”

“That’s Gryffindor idiocrasy at its finest.” Severus rubbed his thigh and closed his eyes through the pain. “You will always suffer this ailment. It will be part of you FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. It would be better of you to learn how to protect yourself from this occurring whilst learning the basics. Than to assume that at some point your weakness will undoubtedly kill you, ‘so f*ck it.’” He made to stand, and though the pain in his thigh was severe he pushed through until he made it to the bed.

“You are a temperamental child. I need you to TRUST me. Why can you not do this?”

“I… I do trust you,”

“False, if you had trusted me then this would not have happened. I will ask only once more, why do you not trust me?” he glared down into the eyes of the man that he found he wanted answers from that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“I do trust you – no, I do… it’s just.” Potter let a sigh out that felt weighted with the worries of the world. “You are Severus Snape, Potions and Defense Master. Double Agent in the war. The best friend of my mother who I never knew. The most talented and adept wizard alive. You are wise and kind even if you do not wish to let others see that last part. I am so small by comparison.” The pause took a moment, but he spoke again before Severus could say anything. “I do trust you, but it’s much like trust placed in someone a bit too late. You have never believed in me. You have never known or accepted my role in the war and in life. And I reciprocated. I didn’t believe in you and I didn’t believe you. I never accepted you and I never took you for more than face value. Now I am trying to show you how much I can do, how well I can succeed, how independent I am and how talented I can be – but I am failing because to do all these things, I have to do so much more that isn’t who I am.” He watched as he levied himself up on the pillows and looked outward to the end of the bed.

“I am full of questions, but I fear that if I ask them you will think me ignorant. I am full of ideas, but I fear that to verbalize them you will think me arrogant. I am full of magical ability but I fear to show it would devalue my role as your Apprentice. I am trying to learn but I am also trying to show you that I am not the same arrogant, foolish and headstrong boy that I was.”

The silence rendered between them a level of discomfort that was only lessoned on Severus shoulders because he’d heard more to solidify what he’d been told by his staff friends. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and clasped his hands between his thighs. He didn’t look at the man on the bed, because he knew that if he did, he would lose all chance of saying the very things that he needed to in order to clear this miasma of fear and self-loathing between the two of them.

“I have told you to speak to me, to ask me questions, to share with me your thoughts so that we might discuss them.” He looked down at his hands and continued. “I need to let you know some things, but I have failed to build the bond that I felt was sufficient to do so. However, I do not think that I can hold off any longer, because it appears that this is the correct time to state the facts.”

He fell into a silence as he gathered his thoughts and pushed down the hatred and self-doubt that welled up within him.

“…yes?”

“Shortly after I was awarded the Order of Merlin’s First and Second class, I was sharing a drink with Minerva in her office. This was maybe 2 years after the war and Hogwarts had just opened back up and the students were set to start classes a few weeks later. I got drunk, and… and I let go of some things that I had kept within me. Things that I had felt and thoughts that I had had about you and… and Lily, and your Father. Minerva in all her dignified glory implored me to give up the hate that filled me at the thought of how I had destroyed your life, and the loathing for your father and the things he had done and borne witness to when I was a teen.” He felt his throat constrict but he swallowed through and kept speaking.

“I gave her what I thought was a very acute and complete piece of my mind on the subject, and she appeared to have had quite enough of me. I thought that she was going to push me through the floo, but instead she took out the penseive and pushed my spinning, aching head into the bowl.” He unclasped and clasped his hands again, and looked up at the wind catcher before looking back down again.

“I was thrust head first into what originally appeared to be a worse rendition of my childhood. A toddler lying on a matt, in a dark closet, covered in feces and urine and crying. I watched as the door opened and a woman who I immediately recognized as Petunia reached through the door frame and slapped the child hard. I recoiled and watched in horror as she shook the babe until there was silence, and she shut the door again.

I stood there as the air around me shifted like water and a young boy stood at the counter in sodden pants and a filthy shirt, trying to get the shells out of the eggs before he was caught, the frenzied panic that was in his eyes one that I could easily understand and sympathize with. But he wasn’t quick enough. A large rotund man entered the kitchen and noted the boy and their hands in the bowl and he took the whip to the boys back legs so quick, even if I’d been able to protect him, I wouldn’t have been able to move fast enough. I watched that boy crumple to the ground as he was lifted by his hair and thrown into the closet again.

The air kept shifting and so many scenes unfurled, until, at last I came to what was the worst thing I had ever born witness to. A teen who looked to be about the age when he’d just recently watched his newly found and favorite uncle die. Tied to the bannister of the stairs and being – molested…” the words clogged in his throat and though he swallowed them down, he couldn’t stop the ache that filled his voice. “I watched the light dull and the boy that was always so quick to anger, so quick to jump and save and ask questions later, became a shell of the very same. I stood there rendered helpless as the scene played out in its entirety in front of me and the powerlessness didn’t end there. I was shunted out of the memories and fell at the knees of the Headmistress.” His knuckles where white from where they were clasped together so tightly.

“I failed you. Where I should have seen the trauma in your mannerisms, I saw an arrogant boy. Where I should have seen the fear that haunted your eyes, I saw foolhardiness and shortsighted mindlessness. Where I should have recognized myself in you, I chose instead to see your father and his misdeeds. I failed you and where I recognized that, I also saw where we all failed you. Where we all chose to see the facets we wanted. Where we all chose to push you beyond anything that should ever be asked of a child, but because you were the prophecy of course you could handle it… there was never any doubt, and yet there should have been some support.”

He looked up and took a deep breath and turned his eyes to the man leaning against the pillows. “I don’t tell you this so that you might be turned from your trust in Minerva. Her only goal was to show me how truly wrong I was. She succeeded in this. I tell you this, so that you might know that whereas I have changed in the last 10 years due to being allowed to breathe and not having two manic masters whose behest I had to uphold, I also changed my perception of you.” He leaned forward a mere inch and noted the other man’s small intake of breath.

“When I ask you to trust me, it’s because I know that you can. Because I know things I shouldn’t, and I’ve sworn to never share what I know. I ask you to trust me, because I know these parts about you, and I understand them because I too suffered at the hands of an abusive relative and was made to endure torture and pain that never seemed to end. I ask you to trust me, because I want nothing more than to see you succeed in this and in anything else you do. Do you understand that?”

He kept his eyes locked on the darkened green eyes that made him feel like he was drowning. The moonlight casting a glow on the pale skin of the man he sought some form of understanding from. It was as if there was some sort of shift in their combined intimacy and though neither of them said another word, there was a comfort in the silence.

“I have copied the potion that Granger made for you, I will place them by your bed. Should you find yourself waking to any of the feelings as before, please take it. I have also reset the wards.” He looked down and felt the stern features cascade over his face again. “We will be discussing that when you are well tomorrow.”

“Yes… Professor.”

“Insolent whelp.”

He got up from the bedside and with a final hard look, trying to glean any information from the man invalided on the bed, he left the garage and felt as though when he crossed the threshold of the door the weight of years’ worth of pain and sadness seemed to melt away into the cool night air.

Chapter 13: Calm and Collected over Breakfast

Chapter Text

Ch.13

The night that followed and the next morning were as peaceful as to be expected. The emotional release had been good for him but he’d not planned on it and as such he was replete. He’d languished in the shower and had allowed himself a lie in, in the morning. Choosing instead to arise at 6 instead of his customary 5 am, as such he found himself walking into the kitchen at the same time that Potter did. They made an awkward attempt at eye contact, and he watched as Potter moved to scratch the back of his neck and hung his head low.

He decided to give the younger man some silence to work through whatever it was that was causing him to feel…whatever it was that he was feeling. He went through the calming practice of making and steeping the morning tea, and went to the table where the newspaper was lying open and waiting for him to peruse.

He relaxed as the sounds of cooking filled the room, and his tea floated over to his side. He could feel himself smirk but kept his face down to the table. The time passed for what he would have thought was a standard morning for the both of them, if he hadn’t known better, the events of the night before may not have ever happened.

“I forgive you. I… you didn’t know. Now you do, and I can see that you’ve been trying and I’ve been hiding. I… I will do better. I will try harder. Please… all I ask,” the voice was soft but firm and he understood it for the branch that it was. Neither of them looked at the other and neither of them said anything else. Severus kept his head down looking at his paper, for fear that looking up might derail the courage that the other man had seemingly gathered.

“Please don’t give up on me. Please. I am not used to… any of this. I need to be pushed,I don’t find any of this to be easy.”

“Then give me more, I need all of you. I won’t give up on you, I took an oath as a Master to keep you and guide you and show you all I know as my apprentice, but you have to show me that you want this. That you want all of this.” He sat there and let the words hang between the two of them. Their weight, heavier than they’d any right to be for so early a conversation in the day.

“I will give you more. I will, I promise.”

“That is all I have and ever will ask. Just give me what you have within you. I want to help you, and… as much as it pains me to say such, you are not the imbecile your father was. I believe that we could work well together in many fashions, but mainly to see you achieve and become the best master of a generation. I just ask that you allow yourself to flourish in this setting.”

He looked up and noted that Potter was facing away and looking out at the garden as the sun was rising over the horizon. He could see the tense shoulders and the firm grasped white knuckles on the counter and the breathing that looked close to being measured. He watched as the man moved to gather the eggs and toast and jam to bring them to the table. Levitating the sausage and ham to follow as he settled in his seat.

“I wanted to talk to you about why hibiscus isn’t used in the restorative draught.”

Severus looked up, and noted that Potter was still deftly looking down, as if the very thought of asking questions was something to be shameful of. He ran through his options on handling the situation, and decided that the best way through this was to speak about the topic and treat the conversation as if he was interested, which if truth be told, he was.

“It depends on where you are in the world mostly for some potion variations. Hibiscus is a native plant to the warmer regions and as such, it would be more commonly used in potions from there and created there. Why do you ask?”

“I was reading Gibsons Work on Potions and Alchemical Balances, and he states that every plant has a definitive plant or subtype elsewhere in the world that can balance out the same structure within potions; except of course for ‘The List of 10 Otherworldly Exceptions’ Hibiscus is a hardy plant that cant be grown in most green houses. It can be diluted, broken down, heated up, but it isn’t singularly used for a particular purpose and has many health attributions to choose from.”

Severus went to speak, but it was as if the dam in the other man had broken forth. He saw a note pad and biro sail in from Potters garage to the kitchen and land open on the table between them. “Additionally, I was thinking that there are several ways that we can better the current burn paste that is standard use across all wizarding platforms. The current variation utilizes plants that are mainly grown and maintained in cooler climates, as it was created first in Norway during the fires of 1604, however I think that with the correct detail we could manufacture a gel, much in the way that the muggles use and it would have a longer lasting effect and could be utilized for open wounds in the way the current burn paste cannot.” He watched as the mans’ left hand flipped deftly through the pages while the right held the fork of eggs that found his mouth, until he landed on what Severus assumed was the page in which he wished to display.

“See, here,” and he looked down as the page was turned to face him. Noting the detailed drawings of an aloe perfoliata, honeysuckle, chamomilium nobile, and the clerodendrum inerme.

“So, I was thinking,” Potter continued, “The current burn paste has the standard plants in it, but all of these are better for a base and can be made into three different textures; a gel, paste, and cream. All of these would be useful based on the age of the infirm, level of burn, and length of recovery. Also, they can all be grown in most climates, their seeds can be easily cultivated and with magic we might be able to bring the Cleodendrum back from near extinction from muggle over-culling.”

Severus read over the notes, and saw several key points that were valid. He let himself come up with several different arguments, but waited to allow Potter the chance to eat. He would happily admit to nearly anyone that he was not only excited that Potter had opened this conversation, but what this could mean for the collective Potions world as a whole.

He found himself impressed.

“Alright, several key reasons that I would have brought up, it appears you’ve already researched. How about today we take some time away from the mental magics, and we work on your prevailing theories for the burn paste. I think we should focus on the gel first and see what you can come up with.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, of course. Part of your apprenticeship is to either create or modify a spell or potion. This would fall under the second, however, I think that you might have to create a spell to work into this… but let’s work on the base first and then we can expand on spell work if need be.”

“Creating this… do you even have all these materials?”

“I have all except the aloe sub species in particular that you’ve got here… but I believe we can acquire it easily enough with a trip to one of my suppliers in Paris. I will work on obtaining the portkey while you get ready this morning.”

They lapsed into a shared silence as they ate. He fingered through the pages and noted the copious amounts of notes, and the well-drawn renditions of plants, different potion alchemical make ups’, and cauldrons with their matching magical stir rods. He also noted when the lettering was clean and when it appeared harried and quickly written, showing almost as clear as day when the man had thought of something and hastened to get it down before forgetting the idea. “You draw masterfully.”

He glanced up out of the corner of his eyes, and saw the blush creep up Potters neck.

“Thank you. It was just something to pass the time, and it helps me learn and maintain the information about specific plants in potions.”

“If it was just for memorization, you could easily just write about the object. You are a deft and practiced artist, you’d do well to take the compliment for what it is worth. I do not generally comment on the menial accomplishments such as art and the like.”

He watched across the table as the deep red sweetened the cheeks of the man that refused to look up. “You are not very Griffyndor-ish if you are not whooping for joy at the mere compliment of your very obvious talents.”

“You would think that, which is one of the many reasons that I wasn’t always comfortable with the limelight. But…” there was a pregnant pause followed with a sigh as he watched those verdant discs look up and directly at him. “thank you for the compliment.”

The day was mostly spent on working to get all the notations and information that Potter had already collected up on the boards in the lab. It didn’t take long however for Severus to see the sheen of sweat that clung to the brow of the younger man and was about to put a halt to the events when Potter himself stated that he needed a break. What originally started as a break for lunch, ended up extending into the evening as his apprentice continued to feel weak. It wasn’t a risk either of them was willing to test, and as such he allowed for the extension in both of their rest. It wasn’t until dinner that night that he remembered his promise to Granger, or the stipulation that he be present at the burrow for Sunday festivities.

“It was suggested that I bring you to the Burrow, due to any lingering weakness that might aggrieve you. It was also rather obliquely implied that I have done the Weasley’s a disservice in not showing my person at their meals now that I am an active participant in your studies.” He continued slicing his bread as he talked, and didn’t look up.

“As such, I will be bringing you to the Burrow tomorrow with side-along apparation. I will be staying for dinner only, so I was hoping that you would be alright with leaving a little later in the day. We might use that time in the morning to make up some of the time lost the throughout the past several days due to your recovery.”

“That… that is more than fine.”

“Really, no arguments about your strength or the implication that I am desired at your adopted families gathering?”

“Why would I argue either of those facts? You seem to continue to forget that I am more logical than you give me credence for being. I am still weak, and I remember with many regrets the times that I apparated or traveled via floo the last time this happened to me. It nearly cost me my life both times. And you should come ‘round for dinner. I can only assume that ‘Mione is going to give me a solid scolding for my scene that I caused here, but you may as well be there if I am to hear from Molly about my sheer inhospitable thoughtlessness that I never thought to invite you.”

“It would hardly seem appropriate, I am hardly more than your professor.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re a damn sight more than a basic teacher at this point. After all, had this been merely a century ago, I’d be your Eromenos and you’d have made a contract with my family and not I. It seems logical that some traditions still apply.”

Severus stayed silent, fearing the conversation would stray into more intimate topics if he asked the questions that littered his mind with curiosity.

“It is fine that we leave a bit later in the day. I did want to talk to you about what you thought regarding some of the ideas I brought up, and I also would like to see what we can come up with regarding strategy for avoiding an incident like previous from happening again. What say, 1600? Dinner is generally served around 1900 and this would allow me some time with the family prior to, and then we don’t have to stay so long after the meal which I am sure will be plenty of time to remind you why you didn’t appreciate the gingers of my life in Hogwarts.” The final statement was said with a smirk, and Severus was hard-pressed to see a reason to deny a solid plan as such.

“This is amenable for me.”

Chapter 14: A Mending of a Broken Heart

Chapter Text

CH. 14

The side along wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected it to be, he was used to having to traipse about with victims of the dark lord during his reign and he knew the odd feeling of mixing one’s life essence with another during travel. It was the firm hold on to his mid-torso from the side that put him off. Not that he’d tell a soul, but he found it very nearly impossible to breathe.

The expected feeling of nausea at being touched so intimately, never came to fruition, and it was that more than anything that caused the bright white light of epiphany to blind him for a moment. He wanted Potter, and in a way that it appeared his body already approved of, as if past trauma was already forgotten physically. Upon releasing the man in the lavender field outside the wards of the burrow, he waited a beat before rubbing his hand along the echo of warmth where another hand had lain on the lower half of his ribs and he felt the sheer desire hit him like a wave of longing he’d not felt in nearly half his life.

He relaxed into the smell of calming purple foliage and took a moment to connect dots that he’d been unaware he’d been collecting.

“Are you going to be ok, Severus?”

“Yes, it’s just been a moment since I’d been here. The last time wasn’t a pleasant memory.”

“You are talking about the night that we were ambushed in the clouds getting me here?”

“No, there was one more night that I was here. A night you were not present for. I do not wish to relive it just now.”

He watched the concern sweep through the eyes of his apprentice before it was hidden away. “Of course. You do not have to stay if it would be too much for you to handle. I can explain it to Molly. Of all the people with the capacity to understand burdens of trauma left over from the war, it would be them.”

He looked on fondly at the rolling hills and fields and the faint memories of a lighter time rolled through him. He had moved on, and forced himself to move past the pain and the fear, in most other aspects of his life, why would or should this place or these people be any different? He took a deep breath, “I am fine. What better opportunity to make new and better memories, correct?”

The flash of a smile, showered him with what he was sure was glee. He dampened the return smile down to a smirk and swept past the other man in the clearing. He had to get a grip on his emotions if he was going to formulate a plan to win. He had an apprentice to train, and a man to woo, and he’d be damned if he was going to harm either of those by being a love sick fool.

The moment they reached the wards and passed through, he could see the towering structure that was the Burrow. With its tortured parapets, held on with magic and sheer luck of architecture. He took in the wood and brick and stucco that built the home of one of the oldest magical families in the British isles. He smiled, and found he meant it. The home wasn’t beautiful, but there was something about it that was more than a simple place of dwelling or ancestry, it was for lack of all other words a home, something he’d only found later in life and he was glad to be able to see it for what it was now.

The door swung open and several children ranging from what he’d assume was four to early teens ran out of the house. The screaming littered with ‘whoops’ and ‘ahhhhs’ as a snitch zoomed in and out of reach of hands that were grasping to catch it. He looked up and noted that Potter was smiling and with a nod to his companion, the raven haired apprentice ran off with a shouted “Hugo, you didn’t wait for me?”

He shook his head, never would he be able to grasp the desire to play with children, and moved through the front door in to the vibrant dwelling that could be nothing less than the happenings of generations of family. Dollies that littered the back of the sofa, quilts that were completed, semi-complete, or patterns that were laid out on the coffee table for new sweaters were just some of the facets of what he’d always imagined a home with a devoted mother and siblings would feel like. The clock on the mantle that showed the entire family and their location in time and space tolling this 1600 hour.

He noted the face that appeared to continue to be aimed at “At Rest” and the echo of loss swept through him with a force he’d not been expecting. A life lost too young, an age for which he should have been planning more trouble and a business venture with his twin, instead he was in the midst of raging war and sacrificing his light to the cause.

He moved to the kitchen following the sounds of pots and pans being bashed together in what he could only assume was the makings of a meal. He rather expected that this was how Potter was trained to cook and why he was so loud in the kitchen while doing such at the Snape Residence.

Upon turning the corner he saw the shorter woman with frazzled hair and an apron that had seen many a better day. He could see the frenzied energy as she moved from platter to platter, cutting board being used for the magical knife that was slicing away at vegetables and the meat that was being tenderized with a metal mallet that was moving in swift downward hammers all on its own.

He cleared his throat and waited for the woman to turn around. He felt the anticipation and fear well up in equal measure. It had been nearly a decade since he’d last seen this woman, not counting the trials. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

With a swipe of her hand along the hem of her apron, he heard her say, “It’s about time you showed your face ‘round here.”

“You can’t have expected that I’d feel welcome.”

“I can too. You were never unwelcome here, Severus Snape. Not when you were a boy, not when you were a teen, and not when you were a youth seeking acceptance in things you didn’t understand.” He watched her turn around and place the towel that she’d been using to wipe her hands with on the counter.

“You were always on our side. There were many a fight had in this household over you, but had you still walked in any of those times this would have been your shelter as much as it would have been for my children.” She walked toward him, and he was at a loss to move away from the wall he’d found stabilizing him.

“You were found innocent and yet you still sought solitude. I could understand it, aye. Who wouldn’t want a little peace after all that war and pain. Aye, you’d be hard pressed to find a bit o’ peace ‘round here. But you’d have always been welcome. It’s’a bit on me and my lovely husband then, for not making that a sight more clear for you.” She put out her hands and waited patiently to see how he’d react.

He felt the tug of desire to reach out and hold her outstretched hands and let the wave of longing sweep him up. For once in his life, he didn’t fight the feeling of want for a family. He took her hands in his and looked at them with barely veiled confusion.

“You are, and have always been family. Never forget that Severus Tobias Snape.” He felt the pressure of her thumb as it moved gently across the back of his hand and he was helpless for the emotion that swept over him. The tears he’d not known were still within him tumbled out in the most undignified way and he finally sought her gaze.

“How could you feel so? The blood that was on these hands. The pain that I caused, the things that I did… How could you feel comfort in my being here, being with your family?”

“Because, my boy, you were never okay with the things that these hands did. If you were, these,” she took a hand away while leaving the other holding his, and swept a tear onto her thumb. “These would hardly still be here neigh on 10 years later. The pain that you felt, we felt with you. We might not have known the whole sordid story, and I blame a bit o’that on Albus. His secrets, isolated you. His desire to see the end of that dark evil man, nearly broke the soul that was still seekin’ love within you. But it didn’t. Look at you!” She patted his cheek and took another tentative step forward.

“You are big stuff now! Training my Harry, and building a business. Two orders of Merlin! Not many ca’ say that, now ca’ they?” She smiled, and he felt the warmth cover him like a blanket fresh from the hang in the sun. “You are a brilliant, strong, wise man who lost sight for a moment and paid the price for nearly as long as you’d been alive. Let yourself be loved. You’ll find nothing but acceptance here.”

He felt the weight of his world crush down on him, and the need buckled his spine as he bent forward and crashed into her shoulder. He, having not been a man of physical touch, didn’t do kinetic feeling well, but it was as if she knew exactly what he needed and held him close. The tears of more than 40 years fell freely from him onto the well-worn apron sleeve and with them, the residual pain that he’d been holding onto like a life line to remind him of his lack of worth, appeared to go with it.

He couldn’t say how long they stood there just like that. The sounds of children playing outside, the tick tock of the clock on the mantle tolling away the time, but a door never opened and she never pushed him away. He slowly came to himself and felt the relief of a thousand abuses wash away with the smile she offered.

“Welcome home, old friend.”

“Have you a bathroom that I might…”

“Yes, of course, turn right ‘round and through the hall. Second door on the left down to the right and you’ll see it right there. I expect you to come back and help me with this pie. Harry’s told me that you’ve a taste for his breakfast treats and I’ve a hankerin’ for cranberry rhubarb pie.”

“Of course, Molly.” He turned and nearly fled the moment. Needing some sense of solitude if only for a fraction of a second to put himself together, what pieces there were left.

~~**~~
The evening continued and it was as if he’d never been gone for nearly 10 years. The moment he’d left the bathroom, a child of nearly Hogwarts age barreled past him and closed the door. Sighting “gotta go, sir!” as a reason for the shove.

He found himself discussing the finer points of muggle machinery in chemical plants with Arthur as he sliced and mashed the rhubarb and cranberries for the pie. With nearly a half an hour to go for dinner to be on the table, he’d been tasked with searching out Harry and making sure he started winding down the children so they’d be ready to eat when the bell tolled meal time.

He left the kitchen with trepidation as he’d not seen his young apprentice since they’d separated nearly two hours previous, and his entire world had already shifted nearly twice in the same day. He found Potter rummaging through the pockets of a toddler who was laughing manically as the others looked on from floating and non-floating brooms. “No, I know I saw it go in here…” he heard Potter say loudly in what appeared to be a pantomime of words as he continued to tickle the smaller boy.

“Please, ‘Arry!” the giggles kept going and with it he watched as the Snitch glittered above and behind the duo that was in front of him. He noted that several of the other attendees had noted his presence but also noted the snitch and it appeared there was a debate on what to do. He lifted his eye brow and summoned the snitch. A feat that he knew a great many people didn’t know you could do, and then slowly lowered it into the back of the man’s sweater and noted the smiles of the children that were surrounding the duo on the ground. He motioned and above him a sign showed the dinner was in twenty minutes and they needed to be washed and ready and at the table in fifteen. But then turned and allowed them to ambush the unawares Potter who wailed with the injustice of it all. His smile was clear as day as he walked back to the house.

~~**~~

Dinner was a large and disorderly affair. He couldn’t mind his eyes as the dining room that he’d seen when he’d been in the kitchen previously, that could have fit 10, now appeared to be able to fit the nearly 27 bodies that were there. He’d been placed across from Potter, and between George and Granger, pleased that it appeared Molly had positioned him for the least interference with the children, and provided him with a well of good conversation.

He zoned out while the meal was served and heard the different conversations around the table, but brought himself back to the moment when he heard his name spill from Ronalds’ lips near him. “Professor Snape was the most terrifying of all the Professors to teach at Hogwarts, be lucky you lot don’t have him as your Professor.”

It was said with a cheeky grin, but he couldn’t help but play along with the jab. “Oh, I was terrifying alright. But I do believe that the Pink Toad of your fifth year, might have been a sight more terrifying than I.”

He nearly smiled at the gasp of recognition that hit several of Potters year mates and older. “You’re right! I am sorry to have assumed.”

“Who is he talking about, Dad?” came the voice of a youngster that was a few seats down.

“Aye, he’s referring to Umbridge. The most evil of all spinsters in the land. She would have used your hair for knitting and drank your blood for sport!”

“Ronald!”

“Sorry, mum…”

The giggling took a moment to subside before the curiosity struck the younger generation again. “Why do you think that Mr. Snape was a scary Professor, Uncle Ron?”

“He swooped everywhere he went! I was sure that he had little gnomes holding up his cloak every time that he moved down the hall. Chained beneath his every move. And his potions! So many explosions and moments of sheer terror that went on, just making his potions!”

The laughs that followed allowed Severus in on the fact that this wasn’t a joke at his expense, but mostly he felt the need to add to the element.

“Just because you were unable to ‘swoop’ as it were, young Ronald, does not mean that I was evil because I could. You are not talented in a great many ways, but I would hardly assume that what you are talented in, makes you any more terrifying…”

The snicker from George and Potter made him feel good and he let the smirk stand.

“Look Snape, you were scary and you can admit it here and now, you aimed at being scary!”

“Ron, honey, you were scared of spiders. You’re not a good judge of what is and isn’t scary, babe.” He couldn’t help the guffaw that fell from his lips and the laugh that followed. He felt the look of shock that was aimed at him, but he was damn sure unable to hold in the joy at Granger having eviscerated her own husband, seemingly in his defense.

The dinner wore on and he noted that Ronald appeared to have taken the whole thing in stride, but the conversation around him stayed a bit on topic.

“You did have rather difficult potions. There were so many explosions in our classes.”

“Just because you were unable to do the potions, Potter, didn’t mean that they were difficult. You just didn’t pay attention.”

“I paid attention!” He saw the smile but heard the affront. “You’ve seen that I can follow simple instructions. It is just that there are a far sight fewer distractions now.”

“How is he doing with the potions aspect of it, Severus?” Arthur asked a bit down the table.

“He’s…” He caught the eye of his apprentice and then looked down at Arthur and Molly. “He’s rather adept at them, to be quite honest. He takes copious notes, and he’s got a rather good insight on how we might adapt several potions into easier to produce or easier to obtain for rarer magical beings. Plus, I’ve recently been privileged enough to see the drawing that he uses for his note taking, and I have a plan to see that we might incorporate that into potions texts for younger students.”

“Oh dear! Look at that, I knew that you’d do fine. Just needed to get past all the jitters of lessons and probably a little easier now without that madman on the loose.” Molly said, and smiled fondly at Potter.

“Molly…” the blush rose up Potters neck and onto the cheeks and he found the site as alluring as he’d previously.

The conversation continued through the meal and into dessert. He volunteered to help with dishes along with Potter and several of the teenaged children as the rest of the family went to the lounge or out to the back meadow.

He soaped up the pans with a mixture of basil and lyme and washed them, handing them to Potter to dry. He heard the deep inhalation of breath and nearly chuckled. “I appreciate the acknowledgement. I started with drawing in class to help me focus. It would be tea cups when we were in transfiguration, the constellations in astronomy, the grim when Trelwany told me I was going to die,” Severus craned his neck and took in the laughing features of the man next to him, “Which was nearly every day for 6 years… I would draw plants and some of the items in jars that you had along the walls in your class, though it didn’t help because I was always distracted with something in your classes.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“What wasn’t taking my attention?” Potter followed this with a laugh. “I was sure you were a double agent bent on the destruction of Hogwarts and good common magical and muggle people. I kept a keen eye out for Malfoy or Parkinson who always found a way to distract or harm my potion or Neville’s. I had to avoid appearing as if I was listening to Ron drawl on about the ‘greasy dungeon bat’. Plus with hormones as they were, and you swooping about… it was difficult to-“ a pause followed quickly by a grunt. “It was just a lot going on.”

“I did not ‘swoop’.” Severus figured it was in both their best interests to allow the little slip of what he presumed was Potter nearly confessing to a teenage crush go, he wanted to build whatever it was that they were building and work on the other things later, as much as it went against the grain to take, devour, consume. He hated that he’d at some point in the last several months grown a moral code, that was opting to forgo nearly assured mutual attraction and sex, for a deeper base. But he was sure that if he did this, if he waited and bid his time well, that he would be able to have more than consensual and presumably outstanding intercourse.

“You most assuredly swooped. You swooped, and twirled and careened. You were a force to behold all those years, and we both know that you know it!” the laugh was nearly infectious and he allowed a small smile to grace his lips in the shared moment.

“If I swooped and the such it was because I was competent enough to learn the spells that allowed for me to be a ‘force’ as you attribute. This was for a purpose, as too many of the dunderheads that frequent that school, had nary a fiber of a brain let alone the entire thing. They needed to know and learn quickly who is in authority and who is not.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry- no one doubted your authority. You nearly scream dominance and power.” Another pause, “You always have.”

“Authority, dominance and power… thank you for the compliments, Potter.”

The blush was creeping up the cheeks again, and it was all he could do to not reach out and touch the heat that he knew would be radiating off the skin. “Is it a compliment if it is merely stating a fact?” He relished in the hint of a flirtatious tone.

“To state the fact in a tone such as you’ve done… implies a compliment. If it will help you, I can let you in on a fact about yourself.”

He waited through the pause as he continued to soap up the dishes.

“Sure. What is a fact about me?”

“You permeate the air around you with power, charm and an authority in your own right. You do it without losing that demure quality that makes you so desirable…” he paused for a moment to let the word settle between them, “As I am sure you are, for your peers.” With that he turned and walked from the kitchen leaving a stunned apprentice finishing the cleaning.

~~**~~

He kept looking at his hands as they were covered in the sudsy residue of the soap in the sink and felt the flush rise up in his cheeks. Snape had just stated that he was desirable… and yes, he’d also added the bit about his peers, but he still had said it, and there hadn’t been any snide tone and he sounded like he may have meant it another way.

He shook his head slightly and cleared the glazed look from his eyes, he continued cleaning. He was still a little sore from the previous week and he felt his joints ache in the way they do after a long cold night outdoors. The creak in every movement sending small jolts up and down the connecting bones and the headache he had wasn’t friendly either, but he was up and about and he felt like he was getting somewhere finally.

Chapter 15: A Duel Education

Chapter Text

Ch. 15

The knock on the door at 0700 the following Monday settled something that he hadn’t been aware was unsettled in his stomach. The previous couple of days had apparently done more for his anxiety where the man was concerned than he’d thought and he was unsure of the level and if it was more connected to the life before where he’d been constantly at the throat of worry and frustration at the child’s every move.

He let the feeling of peace for the moment settle over his shoulders and turned at the moment the door opened and noted the tomes and papers and biros that came through before the man carrying the lot.

“I have everything here… I figured maybe we could start with the blood replenisher but we could move to other potions that have spell components. I was thinking that there are whole aspects of healing that seem so singularly focused on the human physiology of magic that with a little thought we might expand on most common potions and move it to other magical folk and creatures.”

He moved out of the way just in time for the whole myriad of papers to be dropped on the table, and held his mouth firmly shut as he watched the 4 meter table across the room come sailing across the floor to Potters other side where the man started organizing the information into smaller piles. Nary a spell, a wand, word or glance in the way of the table, just what appeared to be a thought and the magic connecting Potter to the world around him.

“Right, so, I have set my notes up into three basic parts. One is adaption of basic elements into other formulations for travel or expense concerns. Two is adaption for the health and safety of those that are not of the human variation of magical being. Three is the alteration of base spells for potions that are already designed to make them more customizable for people that have lower or higher magical strength, which may help when dosing in emergent situations. Here, let me show you…”

Severus sat down in the plush chair and himself silently accio’d a biro and pad to himself. He was most assuredly intrigued and the very demeanor of the man in front of him was a sight to behold. He was sure that they were about to be on the cusp of something completely altering to magical society and that thought alone gave him a buzz in his ears that he’d scarcely had since the last time he created a spell for a potion in his early days after Hogwarts.

Potter continued, “So we have several basic but extremely common “others”” he turned and focused on Severus for a moment, “I will be referring to the other magical beings as ‘others’ moving forward as a whole group, but understand that they are not an ‘other’ any more than we are an ‘other’ to the muggles.” He didn’t wait for a response, but noted that Snape nodded in response none-the-less, before he turned back around and summoned several shades of chalk to his hand and began writing half with magic and half with physical writing on the board across the length of the long wall. “Vampyres, Were-beings, and Elves are some of the most common of the “others” and yet we do not cater any of our potions to their healing or assistance and we have covered with some of our studies that this is a big deal as were-beings need mood altering potions for before, during and after their transformations. Vampyres may be able to utilize the blood replenisher when they are created, and elves have been known to catch the common muggle ailment that magical folk do not because they are often the branch between the two worlds and are often left to the elements between the both of them.”

As the day went on Severus felt that he was learning more than he’d ever been able to teach, and he was so thoroughly impressed that he was scarcely able to keep it in. After only 10 minutes or so, he had gotten up himself, and had gone behind Potters writing and started adding his thoughts, fixes to some statements, and ideas or compounds that could be utilized for the base of some components. He’d seen Potter stop and look at him questioningly, “Keep going, I am just doing this so that we don’t have to cover this all again when we hit my part of responding…” Potter had nodded and the blinding smile that was sent his way was in its own way a reward.

The afternoon came on them quickly and they didn’t think through just rushing down the stairs and getting some simple items to carry up to the lab, although Severus did make sure they kept the food sequestered to the side of the lab where the potions ingredients were not. They continued their conversation late into the evening and well into the early hours of the morning.

“…right, but you switch the base for the BR away from a thick liquid and into a powder or a solution we would be able to get it out to more magical beings with more security that the cost wouldn’t be ineffectual. Think about it, if all that is needed is the water then the were-beings might be able to keep a dose of the powder on them for extended lengths of time and would be able to just add water and go if they need to… much more convenient than the current form that expires after only 30 days.”

“You can’t just make a potion into a powder, you would have to completely change the entire chemical make-up of the potion all together and that isn’t wise.”

“Alright, let’s say that we powderize all the parts of the potion, and then what is the liquid base for BR, Snape?”

Potter picked up the chalk and created a new blackboard in the middle of the room that hung from the vines that Severus had used to tie him up during the first duel.

“The liquid base is nearly always the same, water, but it has to be purified. There are some other bases that can be used but the outcome is almost always that it is nearly inedible.”

“… him, you are talking about vinegar in the olde versions, right?”

“Correct, good job.”

“What about apple cider vinegar?”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over the differences between the chemical dynamics of both. “We would have to take out some of the other components that break down into sugar complexities.”

“That wouldn’t be entirely difficult, we are already talking about switching out the current aloe and adding hibiscus which would have nearly a nonexistent sugar base.”

“Hmmm, you are not wrong.”

He walked over to the newly summoned board and took the chalk from Potters hand, “if we did this, then the chemical make-up would look something like this” he wrote out the diagram of the bonds and the tetrahedrons. “Currently it looks a bit like this…” he drew the current chemical bonds and side by side he saw that there were only two places that the new formulation was weak. “We’d have to strengthen the bonds here…and here.”

“Alright, but you are still assuming that we are going to keep the base a liquid. What if we removed this part here, and then focused on the bonds being a powder formulation? Then the user would add the apple cider vinegar later on, and at that point the liquid base would be the bond strengthener.”

“That…” he paused and drew up what he was thinking, “That is brilliant!”

The night went on like this until Severus woke up in his arm chair with the dawn light filtering in the windows. The stiffness in his neck reminding him that he wasn’t the young man he once was when he had originally been assisting in creating and altering potions and spells. He moved to vacate the armchair when he noted the man that was laying on the ground in up against the wall. As if he’d sat down for a moment, and then fallen asleep himself, the papers and chalk and other deleterious were scattered around his sleeping frame.

It could not have been comfortable, the position that the man was in, but he was asleep and Severus was loathe to wake him. He stood and held the grumble in for the pain that shot down his leg from his hip to his toes and summoned the blanket from the end of his bed and let it settle on the sleeping man, and the pillow that followed slid slowly under the resting head.

He limped to his own chambers and fell onto his own duvet. He looked up at the long clock face that was against his own wall and noted that it was only a bit after 0600, he set his alarm for thirty minutes and closed his eyes.

The alarm didn’t wake him but the gentle nudging did.

“You, well… we have been asleep most of the day…” he noted Potters hair askew and the sleep that had barely left the other mans’ eyes, as he rolled over and moved up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“What time is it? I did set my alarm.”

“I am pretty sure that you must have had a fight when it went off…” Potters smile was the only consolation as he moved out of the line of sight of the alarm that was in shatters along the far wall. “It’s nearly midday, sir.” The chuckle that left the other mans’ mouth was as charming as it was annoying.

“Go bathe and see about preparing something to eat if you want and we can go over some of what we went over last night. It’s… Wednesday and I might be able to set up the portkey for this evening to Paris and then possibly after gathering some ingredients there, I might be able to see about setting one up for Greece so we might test the theory you have about mermaids.”

He fought off the bubbling in his chest at the blinding light of a smile that the other man aimed his way, “Yes, of course. I will put something together for the both of us, what say you, about an hour to decide you want to vacate your bed, shower, dress and be downstairs?”

“Do I detect a bit of mockery in your tone? I can leave you here while I go to Paris and Greece, Potter.”

“Of course not… me? Never…” the laugh that left the raven haired miscreant of a man, echoed the walls of his chambers long after the man crossed the threshold out. The warm feeling in his chest stayed even longer.

Chapter 16: It's All in the Hand Work

Chapter Text

Ch 16

After all he’d not been able to secure a Portkey by that evening, but had one that was set to be used the following morning. He tossed together a small satchel and check-listed all of his items in the house. Making sure that the wards were updated to notate any movement while he and Potter were gone.

He mulled over the time when he had to disclose how long they’d need each key for, and he’d finally settled on two weeks total. They’d spend some time in Paris, some time in Greece. He packed logically as he always did and then decided at the last moment, to pack up the notes from their extended session on the blood replenisher. He had a feeling that the Librarian Master in the Greek Library of Magical Arts would be interested in the concepts that Potter had come up with and would possibly be able to guide them to some additional insights that they’d both find most intriguing.

~~**~~

The day started rough, Harry’s left side stiff from a night of sleeping on the floor but he was over the moon about the entire shift in their working relationship, and from small signs, their personal relationship as well. He’d finally decided to share all his thoughts on potions and he couldn’t wait to open the conversation on spellwork.

He’d been nearly bouncing off the walls of his garage as he tried to pack for the trip, he didn’t know how long they’d be in either place, but he hoped that they’d be in Paris long enough to visit the Louvre. He’d been wanting to go for years, but his training had always taken precedence, now that they’d be in Paris, he could only hope that he’d be able to sway… Severus into some moments of learning something other than magical elements.

He packed mindlessly, only making sure that he packed some of the nicer clothing and then some things that he didn’t mind getting dirty if they were going to go cliff exploring in Greece. He’d been hoping to gather some information on the alchemical and magical makeup of mermaid scales, and this was going to be a great opportunity. Especially after the lesson he’d had back in training about the complex and dynamic way that magical folk needed to treat and entreat mermaids, he’d always felt that he’d love to converse with them.

He'd been thirsty to learn about them, their history that was so often a mystery. He’d felt a certain kinship to their willful struggle against those who would consider them more important due to their status, ultimately causing a cataclysmic war between muggles, wizards and mermaids in 600BC that had resulted in Merlin sinking Atlantis for the protection of the mermaid folk. He wondered what type of healing they had, and their defense, and if they still could turn into humans at will or if that had evolved out of their genetics due to being in a city forever under the water… the questions were endless.

He threw the last bits of his clothing and paraphernalia into his bag, zipped it and then ran from the garage to the kitchen. He had only half an hour to get something together for them to eat before the discussed the trip and all they’d need to accomplish to make it worth it.

~~**~~

“We aren’t going to be able to leave today, but that might work in our favor.” Severus said as he walked into the kitchen, noting the satchel that was thrown over the chair and Potter cooking with a frenetic energy that in any other person would cause him to be terribly angry, but somehow caused a fondness to well up within him.

“We will be leaving for Paris in the morning. This will give us some time to discuss the finer points of the spell crafting that would go along with the new chemical base for the replenisher.” He moved to his tea kettle and noted that the tea was already steeping and nodded his pleasure.

“Right, I understand.” There was no missing the slightly quelled tone of excitement.

Severus sat down as a biro and pad sailed his way from the satchel across the table. “I have some base lines worked out for the spell itself, but I am not comfortable with the complexity of the gestures as they currently are. If we are hoping that Were-being’s might be able to utilize this during a full moon cycle, we must try and refrain from a complex set of hand movements.”

“I completely agree…” he watched a black board appear, floating next to Potter at the cooktop, who had spoken not taking his attention from the meat cooking. “Let’s say that a baseline for the complexity regarding the hand movements should be equivalent to a 1st year. Assuming that mental regression occurs at the onslaught of bodily change, and taking into account that elves have never relied on hand gestures for spell casting as they have an inherent magic that will possibly cause them confusion, we should make it universally simple for all beings.”

Snape watched as the 27 Common Hand Gestures for Spellcasting appeared on the blackboard. “Now, let’s assume that we need to take out anything with thumbs, because were-beings nearly universally lose their thumbs in their transition.” He watched as 11 hand gestures were crossed out with a red chalk mark… “We are left with 16 gestures that we can use.” He continued to watch in mild fascination and a hint of innate jealousy of Potters ease of using multiple forms of magic, when the man left the cooktop with the sausage still cooking, the spatula moving itself and the pan with the biscuits floating to the oven and placing itself to cook. “How about these gestures…?” And so Potter started the complex process of building a spell.

So their day went, with little more than a half mind on their eating and more focus spent on hand movements and the gestures that go with certain words, the Sign Language of Magical Dialogue (MDSL) and the difference in Gaelic, Latin and Greek spell casting and how it directly affected the hand movements utilized.

“… right, but my hand can’t do that.” Potter said, his teeth gritting as he tried and failed yet again to mimic Severus’s hand movement.

“You can, you are just thinking too hard.”

“Here,” Severus moved to take Potters hands and stepped behind him so that they had each corresponding hand in the correct partner hand. He then brought Potters master fingers together with his palms out, curled the mans fingers down in a stiff but not complete fist. He then brought both of his little fingers straight up and the two palms together, making sure the palms and little finger tips met at the same time. Lastly, taking the small fingers and moving the master fingers from a curled position to a pointed and joint position. Using the force between the four connected fingers to cause his palms to concave, showing Potter the spark of yellow energy that welled between the near sphere that was left. “This is how you do it. Keep each movement stiff and clean, don’t focus too overmuch on the straightness of the fingers or the tightness of the touch of the palm. It’s more the movements that are drawing the magic from what you are saying into the world around you.”

He felt the magic coursing up and down Potters arms, and knew that he should stand back and let his apprentice try the spell and casting on his own. But it wasn’t as if the man he was currently wrapped around was causing a fuss, and really it was a sight to behold.

“So, you are saying that when this magical well is full of the yellow energy, I would then release the magic by opening the bottom of the palms and it would drop into the cauldron?”

It was nearly impossible to miss the breathy weight of his voice or the slight hitch in the man’s hips as he tried to not lean into Severus’ touch. It was nearly his undoing. With an intake of breath and a closing of his eyes to focus on the issue at hand, he released the backs of his apprentice’s hands and moved to his cauldron to show him how it would work.

“That is correct. You will allow the magic to fall, as close to the center of the cauldron as possible, for equal distribution. However, remember, for this version we are using a mortar and pestle, so we will have to come up either with a large pestle or a smaller casting.”

He shut all the walls down and cordoned off the intimate thoughts that were threatening to derail his lesson, using the systematic movements of closing those thoughts off, to calm his raging blood.

“Why don’t we just skip the last step, and let the magic well in the palms and then separate them from one another just as we bring them down on the pestle, so that the magic forms between the palms as they rest on either side of the stone? It would look a little like… wrapping cling-film over the top that would then sink into the pestle.”

Severus thought it over, making to move his hands in the format that was being discussed and noted that his magic, though yellow, was more orange than Potters vibrant neon yellow, and pulled his palms apart as they cupped the pestle. The orange glow filling up the pestle and then settling and the powder they’d been using as a placebo lit a bright red before settling back to its white flour structure. “This could work, though we’d have to more than likely create a pamphlet as this is not standard magicks anymore.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, can you do this again only a wee bit slower?” Potter asked as he whisked out his pad and coals and Severus watched as the other man deftly and expertly crafted his hands in each motion as he went through the steps several more times. Making sure to note where the hands met, when, and in what direction.

“Once again you astound me with your talent, Potter.”

“I really try.”

The coy smile hit him in the gut and he let the resulting smirk happen all its own. “Do you now?” He watched as the other man brought his attention back down to the pad and continued drawing, but the soft pink glow wasn’t lost.

Another hour passed of them going through each step and making sure it was conveyed correctly before a buzz of the ward being passed went through Severus’ spine and the soft bell went through the room. He knew instantly that it was Granger and Weasley and expected it had to do with the outburst that Potter had expected of his bushy haired friend at the Burrow, but had not come to fruition. He could not reasonably drum up a sound excuse for Potters peers to not have an opportunity to speak freely with him, and sighed at the loss of their solitude.

“It appears your peers are here. More than likely to check on the status of your health. Just this once I can clean in here, go, welcome them in. It’s nearly supper time anyway, we may possibly go down to a pub not too far from here to celebrate our work. Go!” he said, shooing a smiling man from his lab and moving to clean the debris of another session well spent in creation of something good.

He felt that not only was he making way with his apprentice finally, he was making good on all that he’d done wrong in his life. So many dark sins and spells and potions he’d made under the tenure of a violent and evil psychopath, and he may well make up for it by working with magic for the light in a way that was purely to the benefit of the world.

What better way to spite the memory of the man who ruined and nearly killed him?

~~**~~

The door swung wide open and the next thing he knew his face was full of hair and his arms full of a frantic body. “How dare you Harry James Potter! You knew you had those issues, and you should have informed Master Snape of them!” though the reprimand was sincere and stern, it was whispered in his ear as he wrapped his arms around his dear friend.

He looked up to see Ron, who though he wasn’t nearly as frantic, also looked just as peeved. “Don’t look at me to save you, mate. Was a blimey sh*te thing to do, learning that you’d been downed again by these mental aberrations. Knowing that we can’t save you from them and can only try an’ help ya through.”

“I appreciate you not bringing this up in front of mum, saving it for interrupting my lessons was a much better way to go about the whole thing.” He could feel the smirk that rode up on his face, but the tone took on a thankful if slightly chagrined note. He and Snape had really been getting somewhere with the spell building.

He looked up and noted the frustration that laced Ron’s face but also the worry that shadowed Hermione’s’. He had already come to understand the depth of just how poorly his decision had been to delay letting Snape know of his health concern. He’d been trying to save face in the midst of showing Snape that he’d become stronger, but in the meantime had not only failed in that regard, he’d also caused his friends to worry yet again for his life.

He reached out still holding Hermione with one arm, to grasp his other friends hand and pull him close. “I’m alright. I promise. Was a bit hard there for a day, but all told and said it wasn’t nearly as bad as last time, and I think part of that was the anchor you guys helped make me. I kept feeling your magics in it every time the darkness would threaten to overwhelm me, and it felt like a soothing bath helping me soak the cold away.”

He held them close until he heard the distant sound of foot falls on the stairs. “Come on, let’s head to the kitchen. We were just finishing the session anyway, and I can make us some tea while we chat and then Master Snape stated we might all go for a bite down at the pub.” He let go of his friends but felt Hermione’s firm grasp stay in his hand. “Oh! You’ll be impressed with the steps we’ve taken working on those ideas I had, ‘Mione!”

He could see from the corner of his eye, the struggle that his friend had between continuing the onslaught of frustration at him and allowing the conversation to sway toward intellectual pursuits instead. It looked like the conversation for his ideas barely won out.

“Oh, yes! How did you come up with the transportation and what did you end up deciding was a good base in place of water?”

“Well, after a thorough testing of each base, we landed on Apple Cider Vinegar, but it was a near miss as we still can’t tell how readily accessible that component is going to be.”

“Well if that’s the concern, you shouldn’t be too worried, all the elves know how to make it, as it was part of their training only but a couple of generations ago. I know you’ve gone and made waves freein’ ‘em and all ‘Mione, but the knowledge is still there, and with the elves that stayed for most of the families they’d been bonded to, it would make the garnering of this component easy and reliable.” Ron said, as he sat down and moved to wrap his arm around his wife’s chair.

“That’s true, and I know that it isn’t what I originally thought, and I am happy that they’ve all had the option at least to have their contracts that were created in blood to be nullified, allowing them to open contracts based on merit instead. But anyway, continue…” She pulled a shrunken pad and biro out from her coat pocket and placed them on the table as Harry moved about the kitchen making tea.

Chapter 17: A Tingle of Awareness

Chapter Text

Ch 17.

Paris was everything that he’d wished for it to be and more. He’d nearly hugged Severus when they’d made it to their hotel and the man had stated that they’d be staying in Paris for several days. The very thought that he’d be sharing a room with the man, even though it would be separate beds, was a bit overwhelming but he had steadfastly and resolutely pushed it aside. He’d be respectful and he’d aim for consistent tact, even if it killed him.

They’d gone first to Snape's supplier in a building off Boulevard Saint-Germaine after they’d settled their belongings in the hotel room. The portly man of nearly 70 had immediately been nothing that Harry had expected, and everything that Harry had hoped for. He was stern and had the mannerisms of a man that had been alive through many a man-made wizard and muggle war. He had softly rounded, red cheeks and fiercely blue eyes that nearly twinkled (much like another blue eyed wizard) when Snape had introduced him as his apprentice. He’d been informed about Snape during his mastery learning days, and as much as he’d tried not to seem interested, he knew that Snape had caught him several times asking Master Ludon de Aremonde questions about Snape when he’d been apprenticing.

“… always up to something, this one was. A fine young man, it was hard trying to keep him on task.” Master Aremonde said, his eyes alight with laughter.

“Really? Why is that Master Aremonde?” Harry asked, sending a furtive sideways glance at Snape who looked disgruntled but unsure of where the conversation was going.

“Oh, he was a beautiful boy. Such long and soft hair, and his pale skin made for him to be an excellent delicacy for the young men in the neighborhood when he was under my tutelage.”

Harry sputtered, and nearly dropped his tea cup. “You, you mean that…” he turned and saw the look of utter shock and blotched red face of his Master. “You had affairs while you were training for your Mastery? You had… love affairs… while training… in Paris… in your teens?” Harry could feel his smile, and the laughter that was bubbling up. How so very unlike what he’d expected of his once hated Professor who’d always been surely and a rule keeper.

“I can assure you, I did nothing of the sort.”

A laugh sounded from Master Aremonde, that felt to Harry like it came up from the very stomach of the man, “For this is true. Severus was always focused on his Mastery, but he caused a spectacle everywhere we went. He was a beautiful specimen of British talent and refined features. He caught many an eye of prospective suiters that would have gone far to woo him.”

Harry sat back and let his laugh fall out. That sounded more like the man that he’d reconciled in his mind.

“Do stop exaggerating my youthful looks Are’… you’d do well to not undermine me in front of my apprentice.”

“Sev’, my darling little Potioneer. You have always been so serious. Those crow’s feet that used to walk up the sides of your eyes, they are no longer there mon cheri…”

“Some of us grew up…”

“Tis a shame,” Master Aremonde turned his attention to Harry who still had a smile tugging at his lips. “You will teach him to smile again, beau garcon…, oui?”

“I will certainly do my best, I’d love to see more of these crow’s feet you speak so fondly of.” He said before he could stop himself. It was as if Master Aremonde’s freedom regarding Severus and the comfort of speaking about his youthful looks at lulled him into a loose sense of security. He steadfastly kept looking at Aremonde.

“C’est un bon garcon…”

Harry sat back in his chair and kept quiet for the rest of the tea that was shared and let Snape and Aremonde argue in a mix of French and English, and mull over how much he rather wanted to see Severus smile more at him.

They had easily set up a supply chain to get the aloe derivative that they’d been searching for, and Master Aremonde made sure that the first shipment would be for the morning after they first got back to Snapes home. After that the rest of the trip was up to them and what they wished to do with it. It took all of Harry’s meager manners to wait until after they’d eaten to mention that he’d been hoping to see some of the sites. “I was wondering if you’d be alright with me taking some time to…,” he paused and tried to come up with a cultured way to speak, and finally just decided to be done with it. “Can we please take some time to see some of the sites? I completely understand if you are not interested or if you’ve other things you wish to accomplish instead. I could go alone and meet back up with you if you wanted…”

“So what you are saying is that you don’t want to see all that Paris has to offer, with me? But instead you’d rather see these sites on your own?”

He could see the smile softly outlining Snapes face but was still unsure of his footing, “Of course not! I would appreciate a guide in this city, and it appears that you know it well and may have seen all this city as to offer. I just didn’t want to be an imposition.”

“Potter, if I thought seeing Paris wasn’t on the agenda when we got here, I’d have only planned a day trip and we’d have been back at my home by this evening. Do, please, stop being foolish.”

He felt the blush rise up on his cheeks, and yet again damned which ever parent it was that made his face heat with each emotion, so easily.

“Alright then, what is the plan?”

“Oh, so now I am to not only be the guide, but also take on planning the entire trip? What? Are you saying you’ve no aspirations to see anything in particular while we are here?”

He felt his heart flutter a bit at the relaxed repose of his Master across the metal table. Snape had a charcoal grey, long sleeve button up that was rolled to the forearm and a pair of deep blue almost black slacks that were tantalizingly tight at the thigh due to the man’s right ankle resting on his left knee. He took in the figure that was leaning back against the metal chair backing, and couldn’t help the small smile that teased his mouth. Severus, free of burden, was a sight he wanted to witness again and again.

He pretended to mull over the question, while also letting the light hearted banter rest on his heart. It felt remarkably like flirting, but he didn’t want to dwell on it too closely for fear that he’d over think it, and they’d lose this… thing, between them.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to notice, but I dabble in the arts a bit. I’m sure you’ve just happened to overlook it, while you are always so stately and self-aware…” he looked up and noted the smile that gleamed in Snapes eyes and the accompanying arched brow, and blithely continued. “But I was thinking that since we were here, and since there is this fascinating museum of art here… I don’t know if you have heard of it, it’s called the Louvre, very, important parmi les elites.”

“Oh, I think that even I, the old stately and self-centered man that I am, might have heard of such a place during my expansive life living amidst the lower classes.”

The laugh bubbled up within him and he couldn’t help but nearly tumble out of the metal wrought iron chair that he was sitting in, outside the tea shop. “Good, then you might possibly see it within yourself to waste a few hours mulling about the elites as I study something other than potions and spells?”

“I am sure it could be arranged, who knows, I might even find something enjoyable in the experience.”

“Well, I wouldn’t hold any hope, sir.” He let the laughter in his eyes twinkle as he caught Snapes own and held them. The moment was light and happy and it felt like something. The nerves bubbled up and with them, he took his smile and looked down at the tea and croissant that was in front of him.

Chapter 18: A Work of Art

Chapter Text

Ch 18.

It was a dreamlike state that Harry found himself in the entirety of their tour of the Louvre. It had so happened that Snape had known an artiste who was able to get them a private tour after closing that lasted for 3 hours. Little had Harry known the treat that he was to be shown. Due to their magic, they had to do a swift cleansing so that their aura’s didn’t affect the carefully cultured patina on the frames and paintings. However, once that was achieved, they were able to roam the entire Museum with nearly unrestrained access to the pieces that normal tours could barely see through throngs of tourists and red barrier hangings.

Artiste Desomonde Francios de Leon was a Italian Frenchman that Snape had met when he was in Hogwarts, a journey of the French Magic Academy of Arts to Hogwarts in the late 80’s had brought with them the gregarious man that was currently showing them around the stately and austerely silent inner canal-like hallways of the Louvre.

“… as you can see here, the light capture in this 1200 B.C. work of art on stone is a brilliant expose on the magical folk that wondered freely so many millennia ago,” de Leon said, moving forward himself to take in the large slab of granite that had been chiseled in the workings of stick figures but the sun and the moon and the stars were all filled with ochre, kohl and wetted granulated marble.

“Truly the depth of the incisions in the work are more telling than even the work itself.” Harry said, his notebook out, taking notes on the works that intrigued him. “If you look here, you can see that whatever tool they had been working with, must have broken.” He pointed to a small centimeter square that held shattered small indentions. “I would wager, that the original piece wasn’t going to have the entire night sky in it, but was going to be instead a study in the sun on the land…” he pointed to the cattle and the vineyard that was along the bottom of the etching. “And yet, if you look here, it appears that the tool shattered and due to it, the artiste was able to see in the broken stone below a constellation that looked remarkably like Scorpio. But if the age of the stone is correct and the locale also correct, this artiste wasn’t able to see Scorpio for a large swath of the year.”

Harry stepped back and flipped through the pages of his notebook. Missing the intense look of intrigue sent his way be de Leon.

“Aha! This is the Great Wizard Hamza. He was of what would now be the African tribes of the Morroco. He must have been the granter of the knowledge of the constellations and their star breakdown to the artiste during the creation of this piece.” Harry shut his notebook, and took a long last look at the large expanse of stone, before turning and walking down the path to the next section of artworks from the era of enlightenment, followed closely by de Leon their conversation continuing on the merits of expanding education for magical children in the schools.

~~**~~

Severus counted himself a man of intense self-possessed understanding. He would readily admit that he was never one to have been inspired or intrigued overmuch by the arts. He found that there was a more judicious way to create what he truly felt was an art all its own and that was Potions. Where the outcome was a product that could do more than just look pretty.

However, he also understood that art was a talent, and he’d known that Potter had possessed it in a degree that was slightly astonishing. What Severus hadn’t counted on was the knowledge that Potter had held so closely to himself about art and the entirety of the different histories, mediums, cultural implications, educational impacts and protracted understanding of the different elements of the magical and muggle sanctioned arts that many had deemed the normal more than several thousand years prior, put him in a new light that Severus had here – to – fore been unaware he hadn’t known existed.

Potter was not a singularly exceptional specimen, and yet he was wholly and completely everything that Severus wanted in a partner. A well read, accomplished, wise, critically thinking, independent, talented magically powerful and attractive male.

The compounding knowledge that Potter so completely encompassed all that he’d ever wanted in a partner was simultaneously beating his standard of self-possessed understanding. Here he was on the back foot, and he’d unwittingly ushered in a brilliant master of the sculpting arts and middle aged bronzed Italian maestro, Desomonde Francios de Leon. He’d known Desomonde for more years than he’d just about known any other living person on the planet. He’d always been a gregarious man, with a smile a mile wide and the body of a man who spent copious hours chiseling away at marble, quartz, granite and other materials with nary a whisper of magic. Instead sculpting a masterpiece first from the very bones of the material and then using magic to refine and add flourish after.

He could see that Potter wasn’t enraptured in Desomonde, but that didn’t mean that Severus enjoyed watching Potter charm the man unwittingly and see the wheels turning in his friends head about the subtext of their relationship before moving forward with whatever he would deem appropriate.
He chose instead to stay back and listen. Allowing himself to take in this new side of a man that he was finding was as interesting and engaging as a geode. So many facets and hidden glimmers of the light on the other side, and so much more digging to find them all.

“… here she is, Oui!” he moved forward and took in the bright, blinding smile of Potter as he first laid eyes on the captivating Mona Lisa. Severus himself had stood here nearly twenty years ago, and saw the beautiful woman the first time. Marveling then at the way she seemed both timeless and ancient. Her master painter bringing her to life in a way that was both larger than life and smaller than you’d ever really imagined her to be.

“She is so small!!” He heard Potter exclaim and quickly hid his resulting smile behind his hand as he moved behind the man.

“She is, much like the history texts suggest, she seemed as if she was painted on a large canvas, the whole world able to see her with but a glimpse. But in real life, she is small but no less provocative.” He said, sparing her a glance while looking at Potter.

“She seems so alive and wise. As if di Vinci wanted her to be an oracle for the masses. It seems so wholly unfair that of all the di Vinci pieces that are littering the walls of Hogwarts, moving and speaking and breathing in their animated ways, that he chose her to be silent and still for the masses.”

“…Oui, it has been a topic of conversations for years, Monsieur Potter. How could it be that the Master Painter and with such great magical talent would choose some of his greatest masterpieces be silent.” de Leon said, moving on to the next room having already spent many years studying the greats, not seeming so enraptured like the younger man who was seeing them for the first time.

“I wonder…” Severus watched on as Potter moved his hand forward, bringing his master finger and this ring finger in entwinned and his thumb up touching them. Before their very eyes, the beacon goddess of centuries past winked at them and her smile grew. Severus looked on but that was all she did, before settling back into her normal settee.

“What did you just do?”

“She had some residual magic from di Vinci. It’s something that I learned when I first took some magical painting apprenticeship classes several years back. All magical people that paint will invariably leave a trace of their magic. It isn’t intentional, but it is there. Most paintings in some capacity, if painted by or even near a magical person for long periods of time will encapsulate a small idiosyncrasy that will mimic their master. It appears then, that di Vinci liked to wink at the beauty that was giving him the muse for this work of art.”

“You continue, nearly every day, to astound and astonish me Mr. Potter.”

“I am just being myself. If you choose to be astonished, then by all means, let me know what it is that does it for you, and I will make sure to do it so often that my normal state of being no longer shocks you.”

Severus looked at the man and noted not only the sass in the tone and comment, but the wink that was bestowed upon him before Potter walked in the direction of their tour guide.

~~**~~
The night sky was black and streaked with rays of lights bouncing off the clouds that littered the starry night. They walked down Champs in hopes that even with the lateness of the hour, they’d be able to spirit away some form of food before retiring for the evening.

“Did you see the Michelangelo piece that took up nearly that entire wall in there, Severus! You can only imagine what that would have taken a mortal to do. And to think that even he, with all that magical talent still took nearly 12 years to complete it!”

“Of course, I tend to think that Michelangelo was a man before his time. The color that he used, the depth and voracity of tone and texture surely would have given him away for what he was, if there was a painting alive now that created such masterpieces and tried to sell them to the adoring muggle public.”

“Oh, but there are, they are just using different platforms now. It’s no long the inner ceilings of cathedrals and domed entrances of the Vatican – now it’s murals on the sides of buildings that are hundreds of meters tall, and what muggles like to refer to as 3 dimensional art.”

“You speak as if you are aware of a mass of magical people that are still intrenched in the arts.”

“We are, Severus. I mean, if I hadn’t felt so compelled to get my DADA and possible Potions Mastery I would have become an artist. As it is, I do plan on still creating and being a part of that community regardless of where I inevitably settle down.”

“Hmmm…” Severus kept his eyes forward, but contemplated a life shared with a man of many talents and a desire to taste them all. He could admit that he rather liked the idea of a lover that continued to learn and adapt and create.

“Aha,” he said, before letting his thoughts continue even farther down a path where he’d yet begun walking. “There is a baguette shop up here and down the alley. They should be open at this hour and we might be able to get sandwiches before retiring to our room for the evening.”

“Fantastic! I am famished, and I still really want to sit down and sketch some things tonight before going to sleep.”

“Hmmm…” was all Severus could muster. He really was starting to wonder how long it would be, before he started crumbling against his own self-imposed will, and would initiate his on method of courting.

~~**~~

He took a step out of the claw foot bath tub, and gestured to clear the steam and fog from the bathroom and the mirror. He had decided on a long soak to take some time away from his apprentice, time to reflect on what he’d truly want, and what things he was willing to compromise now and what actions would require waiting.

He combed his hair gently and used an ancient female magical charm to straighten his hair as he did so. Methodically combing the gentle waves into straight lines. As he contemplated what actions he wanted to take.

He was fairly certain that his regard would be returned. Potter had done many things in the previous nearly 7 months that they’d been housed together, to instill a sense of desire. There were long looks, intense study of his person, notes that he’d seen in the man’s pads, small flirtatious comments, the incident with the tub after Howth…. Yes, he was sure that his regard would be welcomed. It was more, how does one move the dial to the next step in whatever this was.

He had implicitly gone out of his way to not have the standard apprenticeship contract because he’d found them not only incredibly offensive but utterly dull. He’d never thought that a relationship with a ward was something that built strong networks and he also had never felt truly connected with any of his masters that he’d had that he’d been forced into the standard contract with.

He summoned his floor length, pitch black, wool robe from the door before tying his hair into a bun higher up on his head and located his dark rimmed glasses. He didn’t see a visually appealing man in the mirror, but he knew that he was no longer repulsive. He closed his eyes, and made the mental note that if Potter had given any indication it was that his looks were not a detractor or a fault.

He opened the door and noted that the large and well-lit room was still tidy, but that the man in question was not in the chambers. It took him nary a moment to note that the doors to the patio were open and a soft melody of violin music was whispering into the room.

Severus strode over to the patio and took note of the red wine that was opened and airing out, the two glasses, the several candles and the sandwiches that they’d purchased were sitting out on the metal table. Potter was furiously sketching in a large pad, occasionally looking up at the night skyline of Paris. Severus found that he was enraptured not just of the man sitting there, drawing a nearly flawless artistic rendition of the scene before him, but the entire tableau itself.

He’d never been a romantic man, or so he’d thought. But the twinkling lights of the Parisian skyline, basking their unrepentant glow on the man who was so taken with capturing them for safe keeping in pencil and kohl was nearly his undoing. He slipped forward and took a seat, pouring the wine and staying silent.

He knew when art was being rendered, and he also knew when to appreciate art that was being unconsciously gifted to him in the form of life imitating it.

He leaned back into the chair and let the peace of the evening sweep over him.

This, this felt like the start of something different. Something new. Something exciting and echoing along his spine like tiny needles prickling his skin and reminding him he was alive.

So he let their first day end, taking in the scene before him and wondering how he got so lucky as to be sharing a romantic night in Paris with Harry Potter.

Chapter 19: A Mutual Agreement

Chapter Text

Ch. 19

It happened in a flash, a bang of a boot closing on the car in the street outside their small hut in Greece, shifting to an echo of a bomb in his dream… turning the soft moment of skin against skin and hair caressing his torso; to blown dirt and stone, and the smell of blood and electricity in the air. He felt the air in his lungs escape and he couldn’t catch any back, as he fumbled looking for his wand.

Why was breathing so difficult…? Voldemort was close, he could hear him, the mind numbing voice as it droned on, and the even more delicate sound of a massive snake as it wove its way next to their master. He could feel the stress well up in him, he was so close, but it wasn’t over. He wiped the tears from his eyes as they stung when they mixed with the debris on his face… Snape had died. He’d died right in front of him, another person who died because he hadn’t fulfilled his role yet. He still had his blood on his robe…. He had to set it aside. He had to, the memories still floating in his head as he calculated his next moves. He had to trust that this was all for a reason, and that he’d see Dumbledore and Snape soon enough… he just had to do this final thing. He just had to die, he felt the cold realization settle over his skin.

He cried as he fled into the forest, weeping as he fingered the stone in his hand. The silent weight of the whole world resting on his shoulders. The moment with his family, with Sirius and Lupin had centered him. He vaguely wondered why Snape hadn’t come to him… it was he who he’d been trying to call for, call too, say his final goodbyes to. He supposed on some level, that even in death Snape wasn’t going to suddenly be fond of him or come calling when summoned. He dropped the stone into the brush and rolled his shoulders before standing tall, and walking forward. He would die tonight, and he would do so for the world to continue.

>>>HP/SS<<<

Severus laid in his bed slowly drawing his fingers over his torso and chest, not quite touching the waist band of his sleep trousers as he did so. The moonlight casting its bright glow through his window, the sound of the Santorini waves gently cresting on the shore barely 40 feet below, gently keeping him in the semi-awake state that he found himself in.

He had woken from his dreams, of toned skin and soft scars, and green eyes… the taste of salty sweat on his mouth, to a noise outside. He’d allowed himself to stay in the half lucid state when he’d noticed how aroused he still was. The object of his desire merely 10 feet away across the room. He could feel the tingle of awareness as desire pooled in his belly, even the slightest notion that Potter could wake up and catch him touching himself, bringing a razor sharp bolt of heat to his co*ck as it slowly stiffened. He dragged his fingers gently down his torso again, this time pushing the band down until he could feel the base of his co*ck.

The heat burned brightly when he caught the soft moan across the room, the ache to be buried deep within the other man, almost overwhelming as he wrapped his hand around his shaft and started to slowly rub his palm against foreskin. He hitched a breath when another soft groan came from the other side of the room, a faint part of his mind wondering if Potter was also enjoying a dream much like his own… wondering what the other man’s fantasies were… how he performed…

It was his third rub down the shaft of his co*ck when the startled cry burst from the man in the other bed. Jolting fully awake, Severus waited with baited breath trying to ascertain what threat, if any there was, before realizing that there was crying. Without more than half of a thought, he leapt from the bed and over to Potters bedside. Up close, even in the darkened state of the room, he could see the tear soaked pillow case and the hitched breathing. He casted several spelled to detect if his ward was under yet another of those infernal dreams, but came up with standard reports. It appeared to just be a nightmare, a normal one, if not heartbreaking by the looks of it.

He stood there torn between leaving the man to sleep and waking him from what appeared to be something grievously personal. Time continued at a crawling pace, and the tears slowed but didn’t stop, the hitched breathing continued, and whispered words fell so softly out of his mouth that even to Severus’ ears they were incomprehensible. His decision was made before he really had settled on what to do. He sat on the edge of the bed and with feather light gentleness settled in and moved Potter into a cradled spooning position. Almost immediately he felt Potters body settle and calm. He allowed himself just the smallest breath to smell the tea tree and sandlewood scent of the black hair in his face, before he closed his eyes and allowed his heart to calm down and let sleep overtake him.

<<<~~>>>

Harry woke slowly, and with caution. He felt drained but well rested, somewhere in the middle of how he felt after a good nights rest and a bad dream. He took stock and noted the sticky feeling on his face and the wet feeling under his cheek; so a bad dream it was then, he wondered if Snape had been bothered in the night...

He took stock of his chest and forehead, and started the practice of morning meditation before he realized that someone was holding his hand, and then further realization that he wasn’t alone in bed. There was a body pressed to his back, wrapped around him like a vine. The heat emanating through his sleep trousers and bare back. The only person that could be, was… his heart skipped a beat and he opened his eyes. Not daring to move a muscle otherwise, he noticed long soft black hair tumbling over his shoulder and onto his chest. The breathing behind him hitting his neck with soft gentle sweetness that sent equal waves of desire and safety through him.

It took him an embarrassingly short time to make the connection between the tears on his pillow, the good sleep and the man wrapped so delectably around his body. The flush of heat in his cheeks only taking a backseat to the arousal that spiked into his lower belly. With that thought, came the realization that Severus was hard and his co*ck was nestled between his arse and thighs in a way that Harry simply could not ignore. His body rocking back before he could stop himself. He heard the deep moan, hitched breath, and felt the arm around his torso tighten before he settled back to sleep.

Well that simply wouldn’t do.

He settled in and wrapped his hand around his co*ck, already thickening as he thought about the possibilities should this foray actually pan out. He didn’t think too far, or really at all, he just wanted to be devoured and imagined what it would be like to roll over, push Severus onto his back, and take him deeply, to smell the scent of sleep as it lingered between them, the kiss those salt air roughened lips. His breath hitched and his heart sped up, he hadn’t intended to make noise, and the thought sent nervous excitement through him.

He was wearing boxers, but nothing else and there was so little between them both. He noted with pleased wonder, as Snapes chest began to rise and fall a little more shallowly, the barest hint of ragged breath escaping his mouth. He was awake, he was aware of what was happening.

He felt a gentle spurt of moisture leak out of his co*ck at the intense pleasure he got from being caught. He took the last lions share of courage and moaned, taking the hand wrapped around his torso and holding it for a moment. Giving Severus enough time to reject him, before slowly sliding it down to his co*ck.

He nearly came the moment those long calloused fingers wrapped around him. The feeling of a different hand than his own, shooting sparks of awareness throughout his nerve endings. This was Severus’ hand, and he was moving it of his own volition. He shuddered and pushed his body back, relishing the feeling of his co*ck being stroked and the hardness that was pressed neatly against his arse. The need for more and to be still and not risk ruining the moment, paralyzing him.

Severus brought his hand down to his balls and rolled them between his palm and fingers before bringing his hand back up the shaft and squeezing. The moan that escaped Harry was as involuntary as it was filled with needy desire.

“That’s a good boy.” He felt the rumble of hot air in his ear, as the words sank into his consciousness. His co*ck weeping pre-cum as he whimpered.

“Oh, someone likes that, doesn’t he?”

“Y..yes.” was all he could muster as wave after wave of lust rolled through him.

“What do you want?” that deep baritone still in his ear.

“I…” he couldn’t help but stop for air. Speaking when this aroused was not his strong suit. “I… please.” He knew he wasn’t making sense, he needed to be clear and direct. He took Severus’ hand in his own and stopped it for a moment so that he could focus. “I want to ride you.”

He had never been more grateful for not facing someone. He felt needy, and shameful, and aroused, and he felt raw… so raw with want.

“Then be a good boy and put me where you want me to be.”

It was as if he had woken from one dream and into another. He couldn’t hardly credit the situation that he was presented with. He… he was going to have morning sex, with Severus Snape… his Master but also the man of his dreams. He took a deep breath, as if rallying the forces of his lion courage, and felt the heat in his cheeks when he heard the rumble of a chuckle behind him.

He turned around but didn’t make to move the other man. He just stared into the deep fathomless eyes that he was presented with. With half a thought for propriety, he mumbled a charm for both of their mouths, and then took the moment of shock as Severus’ sucked in a breath, and moved forward to kiss him.

He caught the growl and then groaned as he was at one moment in charge and the next, very much not. He found himself being devoured. Every part of his tongue and mouth being tasted. He felt hands on his hips gripping him and pulling him close. His half covered co*ck rubbing against the fabric covered co*ck of the man in bed with him.

“Please…” he moaned, when he leaned back to take a breath. The feelings were overwhelming.

“You know what to do to be a good boy. I have already told you.” He watched as Severus leaned forward and licked his neck and it was as if sparks of need pushed him to finally take what he wanted. He surged forward and pushed him back on the bed. His thighs on either side of the creamy white skin that he’d been so longing to see in person.

He dragged his hands up Severus’ chest as he began to move against the cloth covered co*ck below his arse. The feeling sending shivers of delight through him, and seeing the glazed over need in those coal black eyes, made him feel like he wasn’t the only one cast adrift in the sea of need.

He found a rhythm, his hips moving backward and forwards, relishing the feeling of long tapered fingers holding his thighs tightly, the only thought in the back of his head being that there would be finger prints later. “Please…” he whispered and found himself from on moment to the next on his back and Severus’ above him. The soft tendrils of hair dragging ever so gently across his hyper sensitive nipples as that long hard co*ck took purchase between his legs and against his own heavily heated prick.

With blinding accuracy, Severus’ co*ck dragged against his and as soon as Harry felt the heavy weight of the man’s balls hit his, he exploded in a haze of white. Come shooting up his chest and hitting his chin. His eyes rolling into the back of his head as the pleasure overtook him. He felt and heard Severus as he shouted and came against him, mixing with the heady pleasure that he’d also found, before collapsing onto his side next to Harry. Both panting and wrapped around each other.

<<<~~~>>>

He wasn’t sure if it was second, minutes or years later…

Severus took in the body before him. The scars littering the otherwise marblesque physique of Potter. He felt lewd, and if he was honest with himself, in shock. He took a shuttered breath and and rolled to his back. He could hear Potter next to him. Breathing deeply, trying for the life of him, it seemed, to catch his breath.

He instantly understood the situation for what it was. An opportunity. Either he could continue to act like he wasn’t aware of what was between them. He could roll of the bed and close himself off and hope that this wasn’t an aberration… or he could be honest with not only himself but with the man he so desperately wanted, who was lying next to him.

“You are a tempting delight, you must be aware.” It had been so long since he’d been in a position to speak so freely, and he enjoyed the wash of need as it rolled through every nerve ending, tingled every hair, sensitized every inch of his skin.

“I would have to say the same back.” He could swear he heard awe in the mans voice. “I’ve wanted you for so f*cking long. I never dreamed…”

He waited for Potter to finish the sentence but it didn’t seem that he was all too inclined to.

“You never dreamed of this?” he asked, taking some small joy in teasing him.

“Of course I had. But… to have it actually happen is another thing entirely.”

Severus’ continued to look at the stucco ceiling, the fan blade lazily twirling above them both. Their breath slowing to a natural ease. He felt emboldened, as if his feet were suddenly back underneath him. Firmly aware of what he wanted and what he hoped Potter wanted in return.

“I can understand the sentiment.” He said, and took the hand that was next to his, in his own. He felt the staccato beat of his heart as it shifted in his ribs.

Before he could say anything else, a bright blinding light entered the room and they both started abruptly.

“Master Snape, Harry Potter – you are both requested immediately. Please report to the Ministers office, as soon as you can.” They both looked on as Kingsley’s patronus spoke the message it had be directed to speak. “There has been an emergency. Details cannot be shared outside of the office. Please advise your soonest availability.”

With that the patronus antelope faded to wisp and they were left staring at the empty area in the small room. “I wonder what has happened.” Potter said before he watched him summon his own Stag. “We are currently in Greece. We can be back in the ministry within the hour.” And he sent the Stag off.

“Potter, do I need to remind you that our portkey isn’t set to leave for another two weeks? And the standard protocol to change one can take 72 hours?”

“You don’t need to remind me, but I appreciate it.” He felt the keen wave of disappointment as he felt the man move from the bed, but it was softened by the gentle squeeze to his hand before he let go.

“However, loath as I am to appear arrogant, I can apparate us back to England rather easily.”

“That is several thousand miles. You cannot be serious.”

“Again, not trying to be arrogant, I promise you. Which is why I didn’t mention it before. But it really isn’t so difficult. I can side-along both of us to your home, we can drop off our things, and then we can floo to Kingsley’s office from there.”

Severus watched as the other man moved around the room, cum still drying to his chest and pants as he manually placed his things into his bag.

“For a man who forgets that he can use magic to clean cum from his body or pack his things, you treat rather massive feats of magic with disregard.” He said, and he meant the amusem*nt that laced his words. He stood up and before Potter could scourgify himself he grabbed the other man and pulled him close, licking a stripe of skin from chest to throat and tasting the salty bitter cum that was still there. “I don’t want you to think you’ve gotten away with talking about this.” He said as he kissed the slightly bruised lips before him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.” He saw the smirk but he heard the awe again and knew that it would be ok. They would be okay.

“Good, then let us be on.”

Chapter 20: The Inclusion of a Third

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

They tumbled out of the floo into Snapes home and made haste to get their things put away.

He looked over his shoulder at the man that was disappearing up the stairs, as he made to move to his garage. That had happened. That whole thing… the… he silently chuckled, the rutting had happened. He couldn’t hardly believe it.

Not only that, but Severus had made it clear that he didn’t want it to be a one off thing. Had even indicated that he wanted to pursue it, or at least talk about it… he felt the anticipation leave a path of goosebumps along his skin.

He put his clothing away with the haste of a man on a mission and let his thoughts move to whatever might be the issue that caused Kings to contact them overseas. He hadn’t been consulted on any missions for the aurors in nearly as long as he’d been working on his mastery.

He paused for a moment before heading back up to the main house; he felt the creeping of old anxiety climb up his shoulders, and he stole a moment to center himself; just because they were being called into the ministry, didn't mean that the death eaters were back and didn't mean it had anything to do with Voldemort. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and headed back to the study where the floo was located.

~~~HP/SS~~~

As in all things, even going to the ministry became an eventful activity that required extra aurors to make sure he wasn’t waylaid or ambushed by reporters on his way to the Ministers office. They were greeted in the entry corridor and then swiftly brought to the pathway behind the façade, that had a private lift for high profile visitors.

He caught Snape’s eye briefly as they settled into the back of the lift, and felt the man’s eyes linger as they slowly scanned his body from his feet all the way up. The rush of desire hit him in waves; once again damning whichever parent graced him with such easy tells as blushing, he looked away as he felt the heat linger in his face. He bumped his shoulder gently against the older man as they exited the lift on the Ministers floor, and relished the feeling of Snape’s fingers grazing the back of his hand.

“Harry, my boy! Severus, good to see you.” They were greeted with a hug, and hand shake, and a tea tray floating behind the Minister.

He took off his cloak and let it drift over to the coat rack that was beside the door. “To what do we owe the honor, Kingsley?” he listened as Snape walked directly over to the desk and took a seat.

“You are an old friend, Severus. No time for small talk?”

Harry could hear the fond exasperation, and it filled him with something akin to happiness. He hadn’t allowed himself to worry about Snape’s reputation, but it had been a concern for him, lingering in the back of his mind, constantly gnawing at the publicity that would inevitably befall them. Or the conversations he’d potentially have to have with those in his inner circle, should this… he stopped himself, he was thinking too far ahead for something that had just happened for the first time.

“We were on a rather pleasant trip, Kings. I think Master Snape here would’ve preferred we continued our research.” He said with a small smile as he took his seat next to Snape in front of the broad, red, and lavish oak desk that separated them from the Minister.

“That is fair. How is your Mastery going, Harry?”

“I would think it’s going well, but that would be a better question for Master Snape, I should think.”

“He is more than adequate.”

Harry let out a sputtered laugh before stealing himself and avoiding the dark and brooding eyes next to him. “Yes, adequate.” He smiled and rolled his eyes, “So what can we do for you, Minister?”

“Nothing so formal as all that, Harry.”

Kingsley smiled and his chocolatey eyes twinkled in a way reminiscent of another older blue eyed wizard long since gone. He pulled out two files and slid them across the desk before waving his wand and a small scene appeared between the three of them over their heads a few inches.

“There has been a small spate of potions poisonings. We’ve been trying to ascertain where they are coming from and unfortunately hit several dead ends.” The scene shifted from hazy to a clear picture of a body laying down and a small clear vial on the floor next to the victim. He could see Snape open the file he had been given to follow along with the information.

“We’ve had some leads, but the latest one was rather disturbing and we immediately felt it prudent to call you both in.”

The scene faded out and then became clear again, the potion vial on the ground becoming large and clear and in focus. Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he understood immediately. He could feel Snape tense next to him almost imperceptibly and knew that was as much as Snape would allow to show. The label was Snapes' but beyond that, someone had taken the liberty of forging the mans clear and undeniable signature seal on the cork.

“While we all understand that this is in fact not your potion Severus, you are very clearly being framed for these poisonings. We have reason to believe that this might be personal, but we’ve yet to ascertain who or what the connection is between you and the person committing these homicides.” Kingsley’s scene shifted and there were 6 bodies and 6 vials made clear for them. “We are hoping you both might be able to provide some insight.”

“While I can understand Master Snape’s need to be here, you must know that I won’t be of much use in this investigation, Kings.”

“Unfortunately Harry, this is not just about Severus.” One of the vials became more in focus than the others and Harry stared at it, trying to glean information from it. “I don’t understand, what does this have to do with me?”

Rather than Kingsley answering, Snape turned to him, “Look at the vial, tell me what you see.”

“It looks to be black? Maybe a potion of vitality?” He kept looking at the scene.

“That would be a good guess, there looks to be a faint blue aura, which leads me to think it might be a potion of virility; but look at the rim of the vial, and then look at the inside of the label.”

Harry did so, and noticed that the lid had a red and gold seal, that looked eerily like the one he'd been working on designing for his potion creations, he felt a cold feeling claw up his throat as he followed the glass down until he could locate the interior of the label, but he already knew what he’d see. With the unerring accuracy of something akin to divinity, he knew what he would see. His initials and a drawing of a lightning bolt. It was the symbol that had become synonymous with his fame shortly after the war. The prophet had plastered it everywhere and it had become something of an icon of the decade. He hadn’t seen it in years, but he suddenly felt exposed.

“It unfortunately took us some time to make the connection as the interior of the labels were overlooked in the initial 4 homicides and were only discovered recently, but we have some concerns regarding your safety Harry.” All of the vials became visible and he noted that the first one didn’t have the icon in the label, the second had the outline of the lightning bolt, the third the bolt was filled in, the fourth had the ‘H’, the fifth had the addition of the ‘P’ and the last was completely shaded.

“How would you like our assistance Kingsley?” he heard Snape say next to him, while he continued to examine the scene in front of them. Zoning out just enough to let them discuss technicalities while he tried to take in all the info he could from the scenes. He swiped his hand to the left and the scene faded and the first homicide showed itself clearly. There was something vaguely familiar about the scene, but he couldn’t place it. He swiped his hand again and the next homicide showed, and again he felt the tingling awareness of something he should recognize but couldn’t place.

He did this repeatedly while trying to memorize all the scenes to the best of his ability and then leaned back and closed his eyes. Trying to occlude enough to focus on the niggling suspicion of something that he knew he knew but couldn’t place.

“Potter, are you well?”

“Hmmm…?” he said, as he frowned and then unoccluded and opened his eyes. The room felt a little too bright, a little too hazy before he fully came back out of his meditation.

“Are you well?” Snape’s voice had an edge to it and he turned to look him in the eye.

“I am fine. There is just something… familiar about each scene and I cannot,” he groaned frustratedly, “place it. I was trying to occlude and focus on the feeling of familiarity to see if I could pull it into focus.”

“We will work on it this evening, I might be able to help. For now, we have our marching orders.”

“Of course.” He stood up and forcibly shook off the feeling between his shoulder blades, and then shook Kingsleys hand. “I anticipate that you might want to assign us aurors, Kings. I don’t have to tell you that it would probably not be prudent for both them and us, right?”

There were rare times when he used the tone but he saved it expressly for moments like this. He wouldn’t be saddled with a minder. Not when he was the most powerful wizard in England and potentially the world. Not when only so many people know of his power and two of them were in the room with him.

“No, I wouldn’t presume to put a detail on either of you. However,” Kingsleys hand tightened around his and he could feel the fatherly concern as if it were painted in so many words between them, “I expect a check in every morning and every evening for the foreseeable future until we arrest the criminal or criminals doing this. Do you understand me, Mr. Potter?”

Recognizing the command for what it was, and respecting the Minister both as his title was due and as a friend, Harry quickly agreed and let go of the his hand.

“Then we’d best be off.”

He followed Snape out of the door and held his thoughts close to his chest. There was something happening and he felt the thrill of the hunt tingle through his blood. He was excited, and the sense of anticipation was enticing.

~~~HP/SS~~~

Severus couldn’t see clearly he was so furious, though in that moment, as the lift went down two floors to the laboratory level, he couldn’t tell anyone what was more infuriating; the fact that he was being framed for crimes or the fact that the criminal clearly had something out for Potter as well.

He took several deep breaths and calmed himself; he wouldn’t be useful to anyone if he allowed his anger to get the better of him in this moment. He opened the file as the exited the lift and sent a charm to the folder so that it floated along in front of him, and walked toward the bank of labs that was on the opposite side of the floor.

“There have been 6 homicides and all 6 bodies are on this floor.”

“Understood.”

“We will be reviewing both the bodies and the vials. The ministry has already run all the diagnostic spells that fall within their purview, so should we need to run any, we can ask either for the documentation or they will run the tests if they haven’t been done, as yet.”

“Sounds good.”

“You don’t seem to be particularly concerned with this. Might I ask why?”

He felt rather than saw Potter tense before replying, “It isn’t that I am not concerned. I am bothered about this, that is sure. I am bothered by the fact that there is something I clearly know that I just cannot recall. I am frustrated that this is happening and that someone is trying to frame you for these homicides. But…”

The pause was heavy and leaden for a moment before the man continued, “I am also bemused because I am excited. It’s been a while since I had this feeling and I am a little bothered by my reaction, is all.”

He stewed on that information for a few moments before replying. Their shoes tapping on the marble floor the only sound in the hallway as they continued to the suite of labs where the bodies were being held, “It would make sense that your response would be a mixture of thrill and frustration. You hardly had a normal childhood, I am sure some part of you will always be excited by danger, maybe even enticed by it. It does please me that you’ve clearly matured enough in the last decade that you’ve gained some pause in experiencing that feeling.”

He turned swiftly and pushed the other man against the door in an alcove before pressing his body close. He looked into those deep green eyes and felt the mans hitched breath as he whispered, “I would ask that you refrain from putting yourself in too much danger. I find that I am rather taken with..." he paused, not sure what felt appropriate to share, "I would hate to…” he stopped and felt his hand move to settle with only minor hesitancy, against Potters toned abdominal muscles under the cotton button up. “lose you now that this seems to be getting somewhere.”

The moment was tense, but in the most pleasurable way. Heavy with expectation and desire and concern; bittersweet rolling waves of heat and cold.

“I will see to keeping myself safe, Severus.”

Before he could respond or step away, he felt the warm press of lips against his own and sighed into them as he immediately responded, pushing in to the body between the wall and his, before stepping away and straightening out his jacket. “Let us be going then. We have a criminal to catch and this,” he said, allowing his eyes to linger over Harry’s face for a moment “to continue.”

“I can’t wait.”

~~~HP/SS~~~

Chapter 21: A Tender Moment

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

They flooed back to Snape's home late in the evening. Their trip, long forgotten in the throngs of research that they’d been up to their elbows in. The first body hadn’t had much by way of trace material or magic left. They’d done a thorough analysis of the body, both inside and out and the vial that had been left at the scene – no clues had presented themselves.

They had spent the later hours of the day researching the second body, and the only minor clue was that they had identified the potion in the second vial as not being what was on the label – at least, not completely. The potion was labeled as a pepper-up, but upon Snape picking it up, he had immediately smelled trace amounts of moonflower – an ingredient that wasn’t in pepper-up, nor in most potions as it was extremely poisonous to most humans outside of highly regulated amounts. They logged the finding with the examiners and then made for Snape's home – they were both bone tired and Harry still had a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind that he needed to work free.

He watched as Snape went up the stairs, a minor limp, the only thing showing from his strain of the day. Harry shook his head and made for the kitchen, it seemed like tea was on the menu tonight before he even could contemplate food. He was stirring in the cinnamon into the decaf chai when he heard the other man enter the kitchen to sit at the table.

“Do you still want to work on mind magics tonight?”

He thought about it, while he ladled out the chai in both cups and charmed the biscuits to follow him to the table.

“I don’t think it would be wise tonight. I don’t feel like I am in the best shape to combat whatever might happen if we dive too deeply into my mind.” He lingered a bit as he looked into the creamy mixture that was in his cup, “I think I need to do something though.” He moved his fingers in circles and the spoon stirred the mixture so it didn’t all settle to the bottom of the cup.

“And what do you think you might need to do?”

He heard, rather than saw, the curiosity and snide undertones. He almost smiled, if it wasn’t for the itchy feeling in his skin. “There was something in at least 4 of the crime scenes that resonated with me. It was before you or Kings even called out the potions vial. It was something…” he slammed one of the biscuits down on the table and slid his chair back – the scraping against the tile grating against his nerves in the best way. “Why am I so GODSDAMNED USELESS?!” He yelled in frustration and threw his cup into the sink, the clatter and bang adding a period to the end of his statement.

“Are you done?”

He felt foolish, but he couldn’t help himself. “Look – you are the best at mind magic that there is, Professor. You could have pulled this from your mind with an errant thought and we more than likely wouldn’t be listening to me bitch tonight, and could potentially be back on our way to Greece. Instead, I have a faulty, f*cked up brain with nary the ability to do dogsh*t when the pen hits the paper.” He paced and felt the tingle of magic as it started to crackle against his skin.

“I need to do something!” he swiveled on his foot and pushed through the backdoor into the garden and stomped down to the stone walkway. He heard the door open and close again but more soft and controlled, and he hated how Snape could just hold everything in. Keep it all together, all the time.

“I wasn’t aware that you were still so emotionally charged by things like this. Do you not think it wise to get some rest for the night and we can try to gain perspective in the morning?”

It was like a bolt of electricity across his skin. The logic of the statement brushing against the lion in him that wanted to CHARGE, wanted to OWN, wanted to TAKE. He laughed and it was a mean and cruel thing. “Severus, you’ve known me for almost 20 years. I have always been headstrong, no?” He didn’t wait for the response. “I have never been illogical, at least not after the first two or three incidents when logic would’ve won out. So I know that there is a cause for concern when I get this brash. Which is why I am leaving the confines of your kitchen and moving to the outdoors where should I exhibit some threshold of my magic, I shouldn’t do untoward damage.” He resumed pacing up and down the pathway to the back of the garden and around the vegetables, and then back to the main pathway, then around the herbs, completing a full figure eight before stopping again. “I trust this feeling. The issue, so that you might understand more clearly, is that normally this feeling coincides an action. I know the action I need to take, to use mind magic and to peer into my past and find what I cannot clearly see. The issue, is that I cannot do that right now, because I am logical enough to know that I am too rightly bloody tired to do it, but the feeling is there, crackling like anticipation on my skin. So I am…” he drifted off. He was at a loss for what to do.

“Ahh.” He heard his companion say and the silence resumed while he continued to route the same path over and over again trying to get the itchy feeling out from under his skin.

“Have you ever not done something when you had this… feeling?”

“Yes, and every single time, something disastrous happens.” He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. He felt controlled, tightly sprung, tension in every single muscle and bone in his body. If he were a violin, he would be a hairsbreadth away from a string snapping.

“Ahh.” He heard his companion say again. He felt so unseemly, so foolish to be having an attack of anxiety like this. For that was what it was, as much as it was anything else. He would give anything to be calm and collected, like Severus. Able to hold it all in, hold it all together. After all, if either of them deserved to be angry, it was the Professor. He was the one that was being potentially framed for several murders.

He turned around the vegetable patch again and came head first into the broad chest of the Potions Master. “Do you think that walking is doing you any good, in this moment?”

He took a deep breath and caught the smell of bergamot and musk, it oddly centered him a bit, and lit his stomach aflame with need. He guffawed and took a small step back to catch his breath. “No, probably not. But it’s better than the alternative.”

“What if we tried something else, to maybe take some of the edge off?”

“What… like a duel? I couldn’t control myself right now, if I tried Severus. And I cannot… I cannot.” He finished lamely.

“Well, we will return to that statement in futures time, but I was thinking something a little different.”

Before he could really capture the shift in the tone, or understand what it meant when he felt two fingers under his chin pulling him forward. His breath caught, when he was looking upward into the pitch black eyes that were at once cold as ice and hotter than the depths of hell.

“Y-yeah?” he mentally slapped himself and tried again, “What might be on your mind then, Sir?” he saw the flicker of some emotion on the other man’s face before it was gone. He couldn’t place it, but it felt raw, hungry, hot.

“How about I show you?” and with that last phrase, he was pulled forward and under the starry night, he was kissed within an inch of his life. He could taste the mint and rosemary gum that the man chewed when he was staving off hunger between projects, he could feel the jagged edge of the man’s canines as they bit and pulled at his bottom lip. He felt flames lick up the sides of his stomach, the need swallowing him whole.

After just a moment, or ten years, or a lifetime, he could never be sure, he pushed back and brought his hands up to Snape's neck and held him tight. The resulting growl, sent a wave of longing coursing through him in rolling waves, if he were a lesser man, he was sure he would’ve drowned.

Their lips parted and they both stood there holding each other tightly but Harry’s eyes were closed while he licked his lips tasting the man, and catching a moments breath.

“Why don’t we go in where it’s warm?” Severus suggested, the husk in his voice, blanketing Harry with lust like he’d never truly felt before.

He nodded, and almost smiled full outright, when he felt a chaste kiss on his forehead as he was pulled to the house, his hand enclosed in Snape's.

~~**~~HP/SS~~**~~

Severus could feel the magic that was moving along Potters skin. It was both electrifying and made him crave the man with an intensity he hadn’t felt in decades. He caught himself pulling Potter to his house, holding his hand like some love sick fop, but try as he might he couldn’t release the man. Thoughts flashed through his mind that the murderer out there was after Potter, and he felt his fingers tighten their hold, before he could give any reasonable thought to not.

He pushed through the door, and realized in a moment that he had no real clue what he wanted to do. He couldn’t bed the man. He was still under his apprenticeship, and they had just started… this… this thing. It would be unseemly to take him to bed. Not to mention, in the heightened state that Potter was in, it felt far too predatory for his tastes. He slowed as they entered the sitting room and he turned back, pulling the man in for another kiss.

He felt the flames of the fire erupt and the shiver of magic as he felt it flow from Potter around him, made him almost immediately go back on every thought he’d just spared.

He tasted of wine, of ambrosia, of sunflowers, and sunlight. He tasted like iron and copper, and rust. He tasted divine, as if he were of the finest of potions and Severus was only so lucky to get to partake.

After what could’ve been hours he stepped back and leaned against his wall. Pulling Potter in to lean against him, while they both caught their breath.

“I cannot bed you.” He berated himself thoroughly because tried as he might, that was not what he had intended to say. Foolish of him to think that he might still be in control of his words when he was so completely inundated with lust.

“What I meant –“ but he was cut off

“—I don’t think that I am ready for that just yet anyway..”

“Oh, well I wasn’t aware you would need time to adjust to being in bed with me.” He heard himself sound defensive and aggressive and could do nothing to stop the petulance that laced his voice.

He felt Potter hiss between his teeth, as the man pulled away from him. “It isn’t that, and I think you are wise enough to know that.” He watched as Potter fidgeted and then appeared to take a breath and start over.

“I have wanted you for years.” The flush that overtook the man did far more to assuage the immediate need to push back, to fight even the idea that that could be true. “You have always been this idea. This concept of what my ideal partner should be.” There was a pause and he watched Potters right hand unclench and then clench again. “Well not always, but for a long time.”

“Look… after everything that happened – I was in a bad state. Mentally, I hadn’t really prepared for a life after Voldemort. Whether or not I knew that I needed to die, or not – doesn’t really matter. I had never afforded myself an idea of what post Voldemort would look like. It felt too hopeful, too impossible. Then… well then it happened. He was gone. It was over.” Potter started pacing back and forth, and Severus stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, taking in the man in front of him completely. Absorbing everything.

“But it wasn’t over,” he heard the scoff and found himself understanding completely. “It was all, trials, and funerals, and memorials, and gatherings, and networking, and figuring out ‘the future’,” he watched as Potter lifted his fingers to accentuate the idea. “You were invalided for a while, and I am not sure what you remember immediately in the aftermath, but it was a lot. I had a couple breakdowns and I was so very lucky that I had people in my immediate life who knew what PTSD was, and that I needed to see someone about it.”

Potter stopped by the fire and watched the flames lick up the brick surface, the span of time to gather his thoughts, gave them both time to reflect on what the immediate aftermath was like.

“When it all came out in therapy, it was a revelation to say the least. You were the only person that could have any idea of what my life was like, but you’d been my hidden in plain sight, enemy and savior for so long, that I had no idea how to approach the conversation with you. How to speak with you. So you became this star on the horizon, so to speak. Guiding me without knowing it.” Severus watched as a humorless laugh took the man in front of him. The cold sound rubbing along his nerves, sending buckets of ice into his veins.

“I am not saying that I idolized you. I want to be clear, this right here…” he gestured to them both, “It isn’t borne of idolization. But part of this is due to how far I’ve come in the ensuing years without you, and you need to understand that.” Potter looked up for a moment and caught his eyes. He was at a loss to do anything other than nod.

“Right. So… I just moved on. I got to work. I started apprenticing for the Aurors and found that I hated it immediately. Too ridged, but also not in alignment with the goals that I had. I had spent the previous 18 months in hiding, running, doing whatever it took, whenever it took to defeat evil. And here with the Aurors, they wanted me to give presentations, and write papers on what happened? That… it didn’t seem like something that would work for me.” The scoff again.

“So I went after what felt right to me. I started my defense mastery. And I was good at it… really good at it. It just… makes sense to me. But I would see you. When those godsforsaken balls would happen, or when I’d see you at the ministry for no reason other than we both happened to be there, or when I ran into you at Hogwarts two years ago, as you were leaving Minnie’s and I was walking in. And you changed.” He watched as the words suddenly dried up, and Potter stared into the fire. Lost in thought.

“What do you mean I changed?” he asked, his voice rough with disuse after their previous lust having not been sated.

Potter turned and faced him directly then. “You changed unwittingly in me. Sure, you physically changed some. You are a bit more fit now, your hair is a different style, you aren’t so pallid as you were during the war… but those are physical, merely an aspect.” He paused and appeared to gather himself. “You changed to me. You became approachable, and in so being, absolutely terrifying. You became a hero, and in so being, absolutely daunting. You became so powerful, and in so being, absolutely so godsdamned sexy.” He watched as Potter smiled and it was both breathtaking and illuminating. “It took me around 3 years to come to terms with the fact that I found men attractive. And another 2 years before I realized that I didn’t find women attractive and that it meant I was gay. Then there was a year of me just panicking about it until Hermione had to sit me down in front of Molly and Arthur and they all helped me understand that I am not some sort of a freak for my sexuality. But then I had to deal with the idea that I found you sexy.” He stopped and walked toward Severus.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. You are sexy. So bloody attractive you nearly reek of it. But it was YOU! My potions professor, the man who hated me my whole childhood, the man who had very real and legitimate issues with my father and his mates, the man who sacrificed his whole life to make up for a mistake with my mother, and continued the sacrifice to make sure that I was safe. The man who was 19 years older than me, who could never ever see me in any other light than MAYBE a student that he may come to tolerate. Talk about going for broke.” Potter came back within inches of him and took another deep breath and then reached out. “So I have been thinking about this for a while. The reason I can’t just fall into bed with you is because for me… this isn’t new, it isn’t some wild one off, it isn’t even courting or dating. For me you are the ideal man. And it’s still so very surreal to me. I need to take this slow so that I don’t f*ck this all up with my Gryffindorish habits and lose you potentially forever.”

Severus watched as Potters hand slowly, ever so cautiously, raised up to his neck and held him where the skin was raw and hideous. But he didn’t see repulsion in the eyes of the man in front of him. No, in those he saw nothing but heat and honesty.

It was bone-chillingly clear that what Potter had just spouted was sincere honesty, and it both terrified and cleansed him. For a long moment, between the second and the next he debated whether or not to push the man away and hide. To absolve them both of whatever way he may fail this opportunity; but he couldn’t, try as he might – he wanted to give this possibility a real and genuine chance.

He deserved happiness, Merlin be damned, and it appeared at least that Potter believed he may find happiness with Severus.

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to lean ever so slightly into the hand on his neck and he heard Potters breath hitch in acknowledgement.

“Then we shall take this as slow as we need. I am not an ideal of any man, but I am willing to allow myself the opportunity to become the man that can be an ideal.”

“There is no work, Severus. You are already that to me and more.”

“Potter, I…” he took a deep breath and reached out to grab at the hip where Potters shirt met his jeans. “I am not a kind man. What I do and have done, is always out of an abundance of purpose. However… the way you see me, it makes me…” he paused and felt his throat constrict with emotion, untold emotion that clawed at him and made him feel weak. “want to be the man you see me as. This…” he gestured between them with his other hand gently, “is the first time in 30 years that something feels positive, feels like it may have potential, feels… good. You are good. The very definition of it, some might say. I want to bask in that, and maybe, in so doing, I might learn to see…” he stopped. There was too much weight between them for him to complete that thought.

“Then I will do what I can, to help you see you the way I see you. Because Severus… you are a good man. No bad man does things for purpose that puts themselves at danger. That is called bravery and courage. Mere goodness is not simply attributed to men who risk it all for a child they were trained to despise. You are good. I promise you that.”

He watched in a moment of detached awareness as Potter leaned in, offering him the opportunity to step back, to take a break. For all the reasons in the world he should’ve he didn’t and instead he leaned in to meet the man half way. The kiss was gentle, sweet, affirming. It was kind and full of care. It was balm to his heart.

“This is the height of foolishness.” He whispered, when the kiss ended and their foreheads leaned against each other.

“That it may be, but what better way to encourage joy, than to risk being foolish?”

“You sound like a poet, Potter.”

“Awe, I think you just said I am being romantic.”

He scoffed, but couldn’t help the smile that lingered around his mouth. “Maybe you are. Who could’ve imagined?”

~~**~~HP/SS~~**~~

Chapter 22: A Terrible Connection

Chapter Text

He slept in fits and starts.

They had spent the next day going over all of the Aurors notes and the third and fourth bodies, hoping to find something…connect some sort of dots that the department had overlooked.

To both of their surprise, nothing came out that was missed or new.

They fell out of the floo in the late afternoon, and Harry immediately went to the kitchen, he needed to eat immediately, tea preferably with food.

He felt Severus walking behind him, and slowed down, and felt the man bump into his back. “Was there a reason you slowed down?” he heard the words uttered with only mild annoyance, as the man wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso and held him close.

“Well… yeah, but this is better.” He felt his heart gallop in his chest, and wondered if he would ever get used to the idea that Severus Snape was interested in him as something other than an apprentice or bane of his existence.

“And what was the other thing you were slowing down for, other than my embrace?” he felt the tickle of long black hair as it brushed against his ear, the man leaning down to whisper, the shiver of delight crawling through him.

“I…” he paused and took a breath. “I am not used to thinking of others when I am frustrated. I… I realized when you were following me to the kitchen, that I might be seen as rude or brash for not letting you know my intentions. That and… well this is still your home. I am just… here right now.”

“You are more than just here. You are my apprentice, you are meant to be here. Do I need to bring the contract out again, so you can read it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then we shall speak to the other item you mentioned. You are rude and brash.”

Harry felt himself bristle, but Snapes arms tightened around him, “You are. Don’t you dare deny it. But… that said, I believe I’ve come to understand you, at least more than I ever have before. You are not always easy to read, but you can be. I am not so unwise as to be offended when you make for the kitchen when we floo back to the house. It is rather clear to me that we both could eat and drink tea and talk of the day.”

The entire statement was said, as he was cradled in the arms of both his Master and potential lover. He’d never felt the soothing balm of touch before, but when combined with being seen, it almost made him cry. He felt the heights of foolish.

“You are…” he stopped, when he felt his throat constrict. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He turned around within the circle of arms, and kissed Severus on the lips, gently and quickly, and then continued on his way to the pantry to pull out the ingredients for dinner.

“Alright, so mental magics.”

“Yes, I believe it might be the best option for us to get another lead.” He heard Snape pull out the items to make tea and started the kettle for boil. “As much as I am loath to say it, it appears the Aurors did a decent job of reviewing and documenting all the items so far, minus the moonflower.”

“I agree. It’s… there is something else that is bothering me about all of this, Sev.” The nickname fell from his lips before he could retrieve it, and he heard a grunt in response. “hmmm…” he murmured. “Is that an acceptable grunt or a murderous grunt?”

“It…” there was a pause and Harry continued to divvy out the veg for dinner, starting the carrots for cutting, and setting the knife to magically dice the onion. “Your mother used to call me Sev.”

He let the silence fall between them while he absorbed that information.

“I am not adverse to it. It… well, I feel pleased.” He noted the confused tone, and Harry smiled to the window; the galloping in his heart, gave way to heat in his chest. He didn’t know what it meant, but he liked the feeling a lot.

He took some time to gather his thoughts and focused for a few minutes on getting the spread ready for bangers and mash.

“What was it that was bothering you?”

“Right, well… this seems rather sudden, right? If we take into account that it’s you and I, we are left with on its face one very obvious group of people; Death Eaters.” He stopped and dropped the carrots into the bowl, taking the beef from the cold box, to began setting it up to cook. “But that feels so, anticlimactic for them. Hear me out,” he said when he heard a chuckle from his kitchen partner.

“Go on.”

“Right, historically Death Eaters mostly had a purpose or a reason for their movements. While the purpose might be absolutely ludicrous, it almost always had some magical attribute, something esoteric or whatever, that we could at least understand. There is nothing about this timing that makes sense. We are 12 years, almost 13 years post the war. It isn’t near either of our birthdays. It isn’t near the death date of my parents… the timing doesn’t really have any significance. But…” he stopped, because the point he was making was terrifying to him in a different way entirely. “But the first murder happened after I’d been your apprentice for some time, but only when a handful of people even knew about this partnership.”

“Are you insinuating that the person doing this, might be someone close to one of us?”

“Well, yes. That is exactly what I am saying.” Harry stopped and let his thoughts fester.

“Young Malfoy is the only one of that side, that knows about our partnership.” He heard the defensive tone in Snapes voice, and admitted that it was valid.

“I don’t think it’s Malfoy, Sev.”

“You do not think it’s someone at Hogwarts either.”

“No.”

“You believe a Weasley is doing this.”

The raw emotion that underlined the statement from Severus, wasn’t easily identified, but it was very real. He felt it too. The fear that it might be someone close, someone good, someone… trusted.

“Yes.” Harry replied, so softly he wasn’t sure that Snape could hear him.

“Who?”

He charmed the beef to cook and the veg to start to cook down as well, as he took the towel and cleaned his hands.

“I want to work on the suspicion that I have first… we will work on the mental magics tonight, and depending on the outcome, I will decide if I feel comfortable even voicing it.”

Harry turned around and saw the cup being handed out to him, and followed the hand, up the arm, until he looked Severus in the eyes. “It isn’t that you don’t trust me.”

“Correct.”

“It’s that you are scared you are right.”

“…yeah.”

“Then we will do this your way, but, I want to make myself expressly clear… I do not like you withholding information from me.”

“I am not withholding. I promise. At least, not with malice… I am just… as soon as I say it, it becomes a real possibility, and I don’t want it to be.”

“I understand.”

They settled back into their corners of the kitchen making their meal, drinking tea, and talking about easy topics.

~~~~**HP/SS**~~~~

They settled into the lab after they’d eaten and taken some time to clean the day off. Harry had entered the lab, and found the two armchairs in their place in the middle of the room. The tables and potions related accoutrement having been moved to make room.

He sat down in the big, deep-set red chair, and focused on not fidgeting overmuch. He was nervous, but he felt like they were doing the right thing. The magic that had been tingling on the edges of his world since the night before, was calm, and he knew that to be a good sign.

“I will begin by pressing into your mind gently. I want you to think of the scenes we witnessed when we were in The Ministers office. I want you to focus on the specific feeling you got. The emotion of something on the edges, something that you know but cannot recall. We will start easily however, your first thought should be something you want to share, easy and simple, and we will dive layer by layer.”

Harry nodded, “That makes sense.”

“We will also use a two part system to make sure you are doing well. I want you to say Acromantula verbally if you begin to feel unwell. If you cannot speak, I want you to make red sparks, instead.”

Harry hated that he had to take these extra precautions, but understood that they were necessary. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let us begin.”

~~~~**~~~~

Severus saw the trepidation swallow the man across from him, up, but he wasn’t unable to offer any real comfort. After having seen the outcome of the last time they’d attempted anything close to mental magics, he felt trepidation was an appropriate response.

He peered into the mans’ mind, and the first memory he saw was the one of them the previous night. Kissing in his sitting room. He felt the heat and desire flowing from Potter, and the feeling of a raging heart in his chest. Not quite what he meant by an easy memory, but he appreciated the insight into how the other man had felt in the moment. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then said, “deeper.”

He felt the barrier between one memory and the other fade, and he was in the lift at the Ministry with Potter. Potter was fidgeting, he saw them both make eye contact, but this was a better position to catch the blush that crept up the mans’ neck. He saw Potters fingers flex next to his own hand, mere centimeters away, but not close enough to touch. The lift opened and they were ushered to the Ministers office. He took the chance to see what Potter perceived when he walked, and appreciated the level of detail that the man’s memories held. It was the constant vigilance that being in war brought. Severus took in Kingsley’s demeanor as soon as they entered, and noted that he wasn’t as open as he’d appeared when they were in the moment. The man was tired, his eyes showing what his face did not.

Severus realized in that moment, that Kingsley was going to be retiring soon. He let the faint echo of sadness wash over him before he focused again on the memory at hand.

He watched as he and Potter sat down in their chairs and The Minister began his statement. He watched Potter avidly, taking in every expression, every fidget, every moment of thought that crossed that beautifully expressive face. “Deeper.”

He said, and was shunted into a dark memory. The edges hazy, but not in the same manner as old memories, no, he recognized the dark magic in the corners, the tint to the memory, the haze… this was a memory when Potter had been under the influence of something unsavory.

He looked at the room in the memory and didn’t immediately recognize it. There were shelves on every wall, one door on the left of him and one window right ahead. Outside looked like a meadow or a field, inside smelled of stale, and petrol, and electricity. The room was too dark to perceive anything much beyond the room being filled to the brim with things. Potter was huddled in the corner shaking and Severus caught the faintest of sobs. The anger that resounded in him was immense, and took all of his excessive willpower to rein it back in.

He walked over to where Potter was on the floor and crouched down. He caught the line of sight and followed it to a body that was on the ground, not but a couple meters away from them both. He felt his eyebrows crease and wished he could comfort the teen that was quietly crying, but stood up and walked over to the body.

He vaguely recognized them immediately as a muggle born child that had been maybe two or three years behind Potter in Hogwarts. He felt the moment that it clicked for him that this was the child that Malfoy had brought back to their meeting when he’d been expected to bring Potter. They’d been nearing the end of the war, then, close to about five months from the final battle. The Dark Lord had been so significantly unhappy that he’d slit the girls throat immediately and banished her body, while he spent the next several hours torturing Malfoy the senior. He looked at the body and didn’t see anything that would connect the memory to the bodies of the potions victims. He sighed, and whispered, “deeper.”

The memory shifted, but only slightly. It was still dark but he knew immediately where he was. This was The Weasley homestead. There was a battle happening outside of the barrier, Bellatrix’ laugh could be heard in the field of lavender just off in the distance, close enough to be too close for comfort. He caught movement in the corner of his eye and followed immediately. Potter was running with Granger and the young Weasley boy. They were making for the house, but someone was following them closely. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he could hear them.

“Banana!”

Severus took a moment to try and understand what that might’ve meant, when both of Potters companions nodded their heads and Potter went left, Weasley went straight, and Granger went right. He followed Potter.

The boy could run, Severus was sure that had this been reality, Potter would’ve outrun him easily. He watched as the shed came into view and Potter casted a spell at the field to the left of them both, and an explosion happened roughly 10 second later, just as he opened the door and slid in, closing it while all under the cover of the explosive sound. Severus watched the man catch his breath, and then opened a pouch and held some small item between his hands.

“Safe, shed one.” He watched as Potter muttered into the small item, it began to glow and then the boy put it in the pouch and the pouch back in his pocket.

Potter turned into the shed and took stock of the room, it was clear he was looking for a place to hide, something he could do. Severus didn’t remember this happening, this battle… he tried to rack his brain for when Death Eaters had infiltrated the Weasleys and then remembered… the night the twin had been killed.

Potter made a sudden movement to the right of the shed and Severus watched as the boy lifted a heavy motorbike, as if it was a bag of grain. He was hard-pressed not to be impressed by the display of strength. He moved around the table in the middle of the room, and noted that Potter had bent down and was pressing his hands against multiple boards on the floor. “Where is it.” He heard the boy utter. Then a creak. “Got it.”

Severus watched as Potter lifted a plank of wood, and beneath it was a latch. The boy looked over his shoulder at the sound of an explosion came not but a couple dozen meters outside the shed, and then he lifted the latch. A door opened in the floor to the right of them both, and he watched as Potter hurriedly put the plank back, moved the bike over the plank and then moved and dropped through the new hole in the ground.

Severus found himself in a darkened chamber, the door having been closed immediately after Potter had entered the small hiding hole. He stood stock still as they waited in the darkness. The sound of the door above in the shed crashing opening, and closing. “Pottyyyyy!” he heard the shrill sound of Bella as she moved around the shed. “I know you’re here Green Eyes. Make this easy for me, baby. The Dark Lord just wants to talk. You’ll be completely safe.” He heard the maniacal laugh and barely repressed the shudder as it coursed through him. Potter was completely silent somewhere near him.

He couldn’t tell anyone how long the memory lasted, just like that, hearing the woman in the shed above them, tearing the room apart, looking for the man who was sitting there hiding. After some time, he heard Bella scream in frustration and mutter something and then he heard the door blown off its hinges as she left. He nervously waited while Potter sat there in complete darkness. Terrified that the boy would leave too soon, knowing that he hadn’t been caught.

The dichotomy of his concern for the boy in the memory and his knowledge of the outcome of the war, leaving him winded.

Another several minutes passed until he heard shuffling to his immediate right, and a shlick as a lantern was lit. He was immediately assaulted with the boy as he silently screamed and moved through Severus non-corporeal form into the wall behind him. He turned quickly to see what had startled the young man, only to find himself filled with latent terror, the body of the young muggle born girl was laying on a small table to their right. Had been there the whole time they’d been waiting in the darkness.

She looked different though. She didn’t have the slashed throat for one, but she was also younger. Severus realized, that they’d gone back about a year and half from when she’d ultimately been killed.

Why was she at the Weasley shed? Why had Potter never said anything about this?

He paused his questions as they both heard steps upstairs. Potter shut the lantern off immediately. “Harry, it’s Charlie, where are you? Ron sent me to come get you.” He heard Potter next to him shudder a breath and then stepped up the ladder to push the door open.

“Charlie,” he said as he opened the door, “I think there is something you need to see down here.”

“Oh, is there?”

Something wasn’t right… Severus didn’t like that tone. It didn’t sound, right, but he couldn’t place it.

“Yeah, there is a girl down here.”

“What?”

Severus didn’t like this, and all his instincts told him he knew what he was seeing, what he was witnessing, but it didn’t seem right.

He watched in latent horror as Charlie came down the ladder into the small chamber, and lit the room with a switch that had been on the wall. They both stood there looking at the girl, when Severus noted the wall of potions ingredients along the left of them. The vials… they were… oh no.

He knew it was pointless to scream, but he did. “Harry!”

“Now Harry, this is very unfortunate.”

“I know… Charlie… another casualty, she is a child.”

“No, not quite that.”

“Huh? What do you mean Charlie?”

“I mean, it is unfortunate that you found this.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I know, and I like that, it means when I do this, I will feel less guilt.”

“Do wha—” but Potters words were caught off. Charlie turned to him, and with the agility of a man who worked with Dragons, he casted obliviate and Potter fell to the ground.

Severus was shunted from Potters memory and took a moment to collect himself when he saw the red sparks shooting from both of Potters hands. He immediately sprung to action, and uncorked the vial next to him, and immediately poured it into the mans’ mouth, stroking his throat to force the man to swallow.

He murmured an incantation and Potter was immediately asleep. He captured the younger man in his arms and held him there for a few minutes while he tried to grasp what he’d just witnessed.

Charles Weasley had been a Death Eater? That… that didn’t seem right at all. He knew that wasn’t right. He’d been a damned Death Eater most of his life, and he’d never seen hide nor hair of the Weasley boy at any gathering, ever.

He was still missing something, and he’d have to wait until Potter could wake up for them to talk it out.

~~~**HP/SS**~~~

Chapter 23: Pink Sunrise Dreams

Chapter Text

Severus worked throughout the night, an old habit borne of years of paranoia and stress. He could hardly be credited for sleep when he was inundated with questions, the anxiety from having witnessed some of Potters wartime memories, and the concern for the man currently sleeping off physical trauma; who could sleep?

He worked on potions for Pomona, made a strong cup of tea, checked on Potter.

Made more potions for his clients, re-steeped his tea, ran a hand along Potters cheek.

He organized his notes on the Blood Replenisher, made decaf tea, held Potters hand.

He cleaned every cauldron in his lab, took a scalding hot shower, thought about Potter incessantly.

The time ticked its way to the next day, the hours in the dark of night always slower than those in the middle of the sun’s rays.

He truly had no idea how he found himself sitting in his favored armchair, watching Potter sleep in the garage in the back of the house; allowing the memories from that time to flitter from the darkest parts of his mind where he’d kept them for more than a decade. He had never anticipated having to force himself to dredge up those old memories, but he found he had no choice – he had questions that demanded introspection.

He closed his eyes, and dove headfirst into his own mind. Thinking about every meeting, every call, every gathering, every battle. Trying to think of when Charles Weasley had even been mentioned by the Dark Lord, let alone when the boy had been around.

The memories are not pleasant and the old anxiety crawled up his spine. The feeling of paranoia and frustration, fear and anxiety, stress… the insurmountable stress of it all, weighing each memory down with lead. Scene after scene of dinner parties, torture gatherings, beatings and lashings, his own torment of Potter… flickering through his mind’s eye, like a filo-dex of old acquaintances you’d allowed yourself to forget.

“Master, you cannot be serious. He’s a boy.”

“Are you questioning me, Severus?” the crack of magic. The feeling of wet blood, flowing down his back before the searing pain causes him to fall to his knees.

“No, of course not, Master.”

…

“Is this what you call an essay, Potter? You really are an imbecile. I am sure you think with your adoring fans, that you’ll be able to just float by. You are just like your father. Arrogant and ignorant. Detention!”

…

“Severus, you’ll have to teach the boy Occlumency.”

“Headmaster! He’s hardly intelligent enough to train.”

“Severus Snape – you will teach him. He needs to know how to shut out Tom from his mind.”

“He’s headstrong and foolish! It would be a waste of my time. Why can I not be the Defense Professor? I would be of more use there.”

“You know why… Severus. We’ve already spoken of this. You will teach him. Need I remind you, the oath you took to keep him safe?”

“No, Headmaster.”

“You will begin training him immediately.”

“Yes, Headmaster.”

…

… who could sleep?

~~**HP/SS**~~

Harrys dreams are broken and chaotic.

They make little to no sense, but they are clear and leave him confused in a lucid dreamlike way.

He’s watching himself play quidditch with the Weasleys, he can’t be more than 15 – he thinks on it and it must be Easter hol. He watches Charlie interact with him, and he can tell that there is something there but Charlie is eight years older, there is distance, but his eyes follow Harry. Tracks his every move. He wonders how he never caught it.

The memory fades away slowly, the echoes of laughter and whooping and hollering, following him.

The passageways of Hogwarts were always so haunting. Even when you live there and it’s the most magical place in the world, it’s still scary. It’s no different in his memories, or dreams, or whatever these are. He sees a tiny version of himself walking the corridors, the dust on the bottom of his robes, leading him to think of all the things he got up to in this castle when he was a boy. His own thoughts a muddled mess, when he sees his tiny self, come to a stop. He looks in his younger selves line of sight and sees Draco Malfoy by an alcove, no more than half a passageway from him. He watches his tiny self quietly hide behind a suit of armor. He doesn’t remember this happening. He shakes his head, befuddled and watches Draco skulking in the shadows, until a figure walks up and pushes the blond against the wall. Adult Harry bristles and takes a step forward before he realizes he’s just an aberration in a dreamscape of his own mind and he settles down.

The figure is taller than Draco, but he’s mostly in the shadows and Harry cannot make out who he is. He strains to see if his younger self had caught any of the words between the two down the hall, but hears nothing he can make sense of. He moves forward, and catches a glimpse of ginger hair, as the taller man steps away from Malfoy, and moves into the shadows again.

Harry is sure it’s Charlie Weasley.

But he’s wearing robes that are wrong, they are all black, but they are not the Hogwarts uniform… they look like something a professor would wear… it’s all wrong.

The edges of the dream fade and frustrated he tries to hold on, but to no avail.

He blinks, and in the space of one moment to the next, he is in a garden.

He knows this is a dream… he’s never been in a garden so beautiful. There are flowers on every surface, hanging vines of them, trees laden with petals… Charlie is walking toward him, down an aisle, looking so handsome in a suit made of dark burgundy linen. Harry sees suddenly that there are rows and rows of people in the garden, seats taken, by the hundred… he looks down and sees he’s wearing an all-white suit himself, and confused looks up, catching Snapes eyes in the audience.

The pang of his heart, makes it suddenly clear. He’s getting married.

To Charlie Weasley.

He turns from the man in the audience and sees a Death Eater as the minister. The haunting mask covering the face; the man austere and terrifying in green silk preist robes, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully married husband…”

The dream fades, and Harry can hear himself say “…no.” before he falls into the waves of darkness and lets his mind finally rest.

~~**HP/SS**~~

Severus woke up with a stiff neck, a sore back, and a headache that could wake the damned. His eyes are full of sleep, but his focus is pulled to the movement he can hear coming from the bed, and opens them against his own self-preservation.

Potter is slowly coming too.

Severus watches the man’s eyes open, and he notes that there is enough light melting in through the window to catch the faint silver outline of the scar on the man’s forehead. Soft pink light, the kind that speaks to early morning sunrises and birdsong. He has no feasible clue as to the actual time, but he knows that neither of them had a particularly restful night’s sleep.

He summons a glass of water from the kitchenette and shuffles to the bed. Ignoring the protest of his hip and leg, as he does so. It’s difficult to not shower the man with questions, demands, fears, but he stifles himself and waits as Potter lifts himself up to take the glass and sip, while he takes a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“How are you?” His voice rough with unspent concern.

“Tired.” There is a pause as Potter takes another sip from the glass. “I am okay. Just tired.”

“Do you remember what you shared with me?”

“Yes.”

“Potter, Charles Weasley wasn’t a Death Eater. I know this for a fact.”

“I know.”

The pause lingers between them, there are so many things that they need to discuss, but he’s tired and it’s all still covered in confusion. Severus has wanted so little in his life, but as he sits there, inches away from the man lying on the bed, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to just let it all go. Carry Potter away into the sunrise, where they can just be in their own solitude. In their own bubble.

The very thought leaves him feeling both fanciful and foolish.

He holds no control over the sigh that escapes him in response to the thoughts drifting through his mind. There is something bigger happening, and he can feel it. He knows they don’t have a lot of time, and he’s angry about it.

Serial killers don’t wait long… he knows another body is going to show up soon.

His head hangs and he outlines the stains on his fingers, the yellow from saffron, the black from the blackberries he had started using in Pepper Up to make it taste better, his nails clean and clipped; capping off long tapered hands that had touched beauty and ugliness and had never felt anything as pure as when he held Harry Potter the few times he’s been blessed to so far.

“Sev, I… I think my memories have been altered.” He guffaws but then stops when Potter continues, “I mean, more than the obliviate. I think someone has changed my memories… Charlie… he, he’s never ever been that way. He’s…”

Severus finds that he doesn’t like the tone, it invokes some sort of cold jealousy in his gut. It is both unexpected and completely and inordinately who he is, that he’s once again somehow on the backfoot even as he’s sitting down.

“He can’t be.”

He knows that Potter is correct. He knows it. But he can’t find it in himself to investigate the feelings he has on the emotion behind Potters words. “Get some sleep. We will look more into this when you awake.”

“You look like you might need some sleep too.”

He moves to stand, but stops when a hand falls on his on the blanket, “Don’t go.”

“I don’t know what you imagine, but I am an old man, Potter. My body cannot handle sleeping in a chair two nights in a row. I may actually murder someone myself, if I should.”

He hears the chuckle, but can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away from the strong, callused knuckles on the hand holding his on the bedspread. “Then lay with me.”

He looks up then, and sees the sincerity. The open vulnerability. “The bed is far too small.”

Before he can move or make to change anything, the full sized mattress is suddenly a queen and there are two pillows next to Potters own. “Is this still too small?”

“The fact you can do that, while invalided, after all that you’ve gone through in the last 24 hours, with neither word nor want… should not be as stimulating as I find it.”

“You find me stimulating, hmmm?”

“Don’t get your hopes up. You need sleep. As do I, since I spent most of the evening slaving over your welfare.” He stood up and took off his trousers and shirt. Not looking at Potter while he did so. He knew the man had near complete intimate knowledge of his body, or at least how it appeared – but he was still a private man at his core.

“You are so godsdamned beautiful, Severus.”

His heart stutters in his throat, and he can feel the recriminations bubble up. The self-deprecation that is second nature. He very nearly spills forth with vitriol, but forces himself to look at the man in the bed, the man staring at him with something soft that couldn’t be faked. An emotion that he couldn’t credit having ever been aimed at him. He feels a heat that makes him feel warm all over, it crawls up the back of his neck and settles in his chest and cheeks.

He slides under the duvet and pulled Potter close to him.

“You foolish man.” He says instead, kissing Potter on the forehead, feeling the fool himself for such a display.

“You should hear kind things more often.” The man is muffled, and it sounds like sleep is taking him again. Severus can feel the same unnamed emotion eek up his neck and his throat, it makes his nose itch, his eyes water in the edges, when Potters arm snakes around his torso and he curls into him. “I’m gunna say all the nice things to you, f‘rever, Sev. You’ll never k‘estion…” and then silence.

He lays there, exhausted, overwhelmed, and so profoundly emotional it’s a wonder he doesn’t crumble under the weight of it all. He pulls Potter in closer, “You foolish man, but…” in the darkness, with a warm body against him, the echo of all the sadness in his life just on the edges of his mind; it doesn’t feel so forbidden to be honest. “…I do adore you so.” He whispers, as he closes his eyes and lets sleep consume him as well.

**~~**HP/SS**~~**

They spend the next day pouring over all the investigation notes in the kitchen.

He had floo’d Kingsley that morning, and informed the Minister of what little updates they had. Not much to go on, but something.

Kingsley, having known Severus and Potter well enough, knew that ‘something’ almost always turned into ‘something real’ so he agreed to release the files to the men, while Potter stayed in and recovered.

“Keep me in the loop, Severus. Harry is like a son to me.”

“I am aware of how important he is, Minister.”

“You only call me Minister, when you are angry.”

He hears the tired chuckle of the man across the fire. He almost mimics it before he catches himself.

“You are important to me, as well, Severus.” Kingsley adds.

“Don’t get maudlin, Kingsley. We will find the killer.”

“You old goat. You were never one to accept kindness.” He hears the smile, knows the words are true, but said in jest, and he allows himself a tired smile in return.

“Harry is good for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Minister?”

The other man laughs boisterously, “See! ‘Minister’!” he waits with only mild annoyance, as the man continues to chuckle. “You smiled at me, I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve seen you more than grimace.”

“What has that to do with Potter?”

This time Kingsley sighs, and he’s almost sad to see the smile go, if he couldn’t see the humor that lingers in the man’s eyes. “Absolutely nothing, Severus. Nothing at all.”

They break the connection and the box of files appears on his kitchen table roughly fifteen minutes later.

He makes tea and sets it in front of the curly haired man, still in blue pyjamas that had small flying gold snitches all over them, at his kitchen table.

“You take the two bodies we haven’t investigated yet. I will take the ones we have and see if I can connect anything to Charlie or… anything.”

Severus just ‘hmmm’s, and takes the two files, and opens them up.

~~**HP/SS**~~

Chapter 24: Learning a New Skill

Chapter Text

It took longer than he expected, if he were honest to anyone discerning enough to ask. Potter had reviewed all the notes that were laying between them on the dining table, and had gotten up from the table an hour previously and made them both tea.

Severus had continued to pour over the files, gestured a nod when the cup was placed at his hand, and turned the page to the next. A magical photograph showcasing the body of a child that the aurors noted in the file:

Gender: Female / Female Presenting
Name: Fiona Lester Grace
Age: 13
Core: Magical / Vampyric Anthropomorphic
Time of Death: Between the hours of 20:00 and 03:00
Cause of Death: Potions Poisoning

“Severus, I want you to go back in and see if there are any other altered memories.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

Severus caught himself, barely, before snarking back. He took a deep breath, before replying. “It is far too soon. You only just broke through a mental barrier that was magically placed there to keep something from your own mind. You barely survived it, and it required almost a full 24 hours for you to recover.”

“Right, but I am recovered now. It’s also a risk I am willing to take. We need more information, and the information we are getting from these files, while important, is not what we need.”

“I am aware of that. It is still too soon.”

“I cannot believe…after everything, even the last nearly eight months, that you still treat me with kid gloves! YOU ARE THE ONE TRAINING ME! So train me!”

Severus looked up then, and saw the explosive anger being aimed at him. If he was honest, he expected this, it’s merely a disappointment that he knew it to be a communication issue and wasn’t at all clear on how to resolve it.

“If you won’t, then I will.”

“Potter,” a heaving sigh left him, “you are a credit to wizard-kind everywhere. Truly, your magic is, I presume… unparalleled in many a generation. However, we both know historically, you don’t have the innate talent to use Legilimency or Occlumency well enough to utilize their self-counterparts for internal introspection, especially unguided.”

It took a full moment, but when the silence stretched out between them, he looked back up from the file and saw the man standing on the other side of the kitchen – the look of frustration playing on his face. “I understand. I wasn’t aware that I was at risk for losing my Mastery due to this weakness.”

He watched Potter put his cup on the counter gently, and considered himself only mildly impressed.

“If that is it, I think I could use some rest.”

And with that, he watched as the man left the kitchen and walked to the garage.

He stared at the door for longer than he cared to admit. Finally putting the file down and closing his eyes, leaning against the back of his chair and taking a moment to breathe.

He would check on his Apprentice in an hour or so, after things had cooled down. Maybe by then, he’d have a better idea of how to communicate his concerns.

Until then, he sipped his tea and pulled another file closer to him and opened it up.

He had more to research.

~~~**HP/SS**~~~

The door closed behind him, and he couldn’t help but yell in frustration. He knew, logically, that Severus was right. It didn’t stop it from being a frustrating truth, nor did it stop him from his lions pride and need to prove himself.

He sat in front of his easel. The cool oil tones soothing his soul, the way the tepid midafternoon British sunlight shown through the window, played with the first layers of his painting. The way Severus looked romantic, and domineering, and a little playful with his bare feet… he was charmed despite himself.

There was a lot at stake, he knew, just as much as anyone else, that another murder was going to turn up. They didn’t have time to play safe. He was, had always been really, ready to do what it took to help others.

He prepared his paints and brushes, all the while working through his mental shields, carefully placing one after the other, in the down position. He knew that there wasn’t a technical up or down with mental shields, but it was a tool he’d learned from his original Defense Master, that had helped him understand the physicality of his mind.

It worked.

Before long, he felt the edges of his attention fade, and memories floated just beyond his consciousness. He could just grasp them, hints, colors, tones – but nothing concrete.

He laid paint to canvas, and played with the lighting and how it would work against Severus’ alabaster skin; and took the focus from that to dive just a little deeper.

***
Amycus Carrow. Terrifying ex-Death Eater (allegedly), and their new Defense Professor, second year. He’s skinny, and lanky, and his hair is the perfect shade of silver. His long nose and perfect smile send confusing shivers up and down Harry’s spine. There is something not quite right in the man’s eyes. He seems just this side of completely mental.

“Today, I will be teaching you all the brilliance of the Cruciatus curse.”

Hermione’s hand went up, and Harry wished with all that was in him that for once she’d realize that her curiosity wasn’t always the most important thing in the room. “We aren’t allowed to learn Dark Magic, Professor Carrow.”

“Who are you, Witch?”

“My name is Hermione Granger.”

“And you are telling me, an experienced and prolific Defense Master, what I can and cannot teach?”

“I…”

“No, please by all means, tell me Ms. Granger, why can I not teach the Cruciatus?”

There is a roiling pit of shame and anger in his belly, he can feel the shame of watching Hermione spar with the Professor, but the anger is from the way the man is speaking. It rubs him wrong. There is an innate lack of respect, and he hates the man for it.

“Well, in Chapter 34 of A History of Magic, it notes the Laws enacted to make sure that no dark spells would be taught to the next generation. That they would only be taught at the Mastery level and only to those most proficient in their field.”

“You are well read, what family are you from?”

He can sense a trap, it’s the way the man asked the question. He knows there is something he’s missing, but without that knowledge, he can feel the landmine for what it is. Leaning against his big oak desk, Harry can see the glee in Professor Carrows eyes, and it sets something on edge in Harry… it is too reminiscent of the way Petunia would ask him a question when she already knew, and didn’t like, the answer.

“I am not of the original 13 families, Professor.”

“Ahhh, so a lesser Witch. No worries at all my dear,” he purrs his response, and the sound crawls up his spine like so many needles, “then someone so well read as yourself you must be at least of the lower 27 houses?”

“No, Professor. I am born of two Muggles.”

You could hear a pin drop. For all Hermione had said, she may’ve well had admitted to being a murderer. He could see the moment that Carrow switched from just this side of remotely agreeable, to mean. The same look that Petunia got before she whipped him. He could feel his body tense, unsure if he needed to react or cower.

“Is that so?” he watched the older man stand up from his leaning position, and move toward Hermione’s table. She was only a few feet away from Harry. Maybe he could cause a scene… distract the Professor.

As he watched his younger-self grapple with which spell to cast, he heard ‘Mione scream and it curdled his blood. He looked at her as her face contorted in anguish and pain. “You unrepentant bitch. Your kind are so irredeemably disgusting to magic. Real wizards know your lack of value, but you may as well be taught now.”

He felt Ron tense next to him, and saw as Neville’s face begin to mottle with unspent anger, not unlike his own.

“You WILL learn your place, Filthy Mudblood.”

***

The screams fade, and with them the anger and sadness. He knows it’s fruitless to wish to change the past; but he can’t help the lingering thought that if only he could’ve killed Carrow back then…maybe it would’ve been worth the fallout. He knows it’s a memory that sometimes wakes his best friend up in the night, screaming and crying and he wishes he could take that pain from her still.

He forces himself to take a deep breath, while still entranced. The brush in his hand, moving of its own volition at this point. Too focused, is he, on digging deeper.

***

There is so much noise everywhere, that it cannot be helped but to be happy. It’s Christmas, and he can remember which one – this is fifth year. The year that he got the firebolt from Sirius. It was a great Christmas, and he can feel the warmth of the Weasley home, sooth him like balm to his soul.

There are presents everywhere, colors aplenty, stockings hanging up on the enlarged mantle. He can’t help but stare at his, with his own name, in Gryffindor gold and red, hanging heavy. He knows he has presents under the tree that are for him, he knows that people got him things because they thought of him, because they wanted him to be happy, because he was part of the family.

It’s almost too much to remember those first few Christmas’s back then… when it was all fresh and new and bright. When even the shadows of the war, couldn’t hold a candle to the incandescent happiness that was Christmas outside of the Cupboard Under the Stairs.

“Harry, watch this!”

He looks to see Ron coming around the sofa, running at full speed with Crookshanks in his arms, screeching madly. He catches himself laughing, until Hermione comes running after Ron with her wand raised. “Ronald, I swear on Merlin himself, I will turn you into a toad and let you loose in the snow, if you don’t unhand Crookshanks now!”

“Come on, ‘Mione, it’s just a cat. All I want to do is try the spell out. George swears by it, and said that it doesn’t hurt at all! Then we can ride a Reindeer!”

“That spell is rubbish, and she isn’t ‘just a cat’, she is my familiar! Unhand her!”

“What is going on in here? Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will put that cat down this instant!”

There is nothing more formidable, at that time in his life, than Molly Weasley angry with indignation, he’s sure of it. Even now, watching through the hazy of memory, he still can feel the sheepishness of being in the room when she is angry…it isn’t something he wishes to experience often.

“But, Mum!”

“Don’t you dare, you will go to bed without opening a single gift, so help me Morgana.”

Harry can’t help the laugh bubble up as Ron almost drops Crookshanks right then and there, and then catches her again, gets scratched up and down his arms, as he tried to put her gently down on the ground.

“Blimey, she’s a beast.”

“Well if you hadn’t scared her, maybe she wouldn’t have attacked you!”

Harry is still laughing at Ron, as Hermione runs to try and calm Crookshanks down.

The front door opened and in walked Charlie. He’s handsome, and tanned, and so muscular that Harry is sure that had he any idea of sexuality at that age, he would’ve known then that Charlie Weasley at 23, is a sight to behold. He’s rugged and primal, and a little on edge in the most deliciously dangerous of ways…

Time becomes a bit fluid, and he can sense that his memories were trying to pull him forward a bit, and allows the threads to guide him.

…“Mum, Dad, I am going to be accepting a position in Romania to work with Dragons.”

There is a moment of silence at the dinner table, and then every voice (except his own) starts speaking. There is congratulations, but there are also questions, and confusion, and concern. He can sense that this is a shock, but doesn’t really understand it. He commits to asking Ron about it after dinner when they are in his room.

“Charlie, what about your Mastery – you are so close to completing your education.” Molly says, her tone soft but somehow firm. Harry realizes now, that its consternation… that is the feeling Molly is portraying, it fills him with a sense of love for the woman that, for all intents and purposes had become his Mum.

“I am going to put my Healing Mastery on hold, Mum. I can’t turn this opportunity away. It’s the only position that’s been open at the reserve in nearly 200 years, I would be a fool to not try.”

“This is so sudden. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, Mum. Some time though, I think. I want to be a healer, sure, but to work with dragons? And some of the best dragon tamers in the world? That’s…”

Harry has to agree, there is something to be said about the idea of Charlie working with Dragons that is just right. Even to his mind now, Charlie as a Mediwizard doesn’t have the same ring to it.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He can tell that he isn’t the only one to have picked up on the coldness in the answer. The tone is wrong, but quickly the conversation turns into what types of Dragons there are at the reserve and if Charlie is going to be able to ride any of them.

The cold tone is forgotten quickly in the moment, but it lingers in Harry’s mind as the memory turns into echoes and he’s ushered into another one.

***

He falls into the chair, with unmitigated exhaustion. Quidditch had really taken it out of his small body, not to mention he’d had nightmares all night again, and he was starting to think that maybe all the adults were right and he needed to eat more.

He’s jolted from his musing, as Professor Carrow walks in, a woman in toe… she looks nothing like him but still somehow similar. She is stocky, has reddish brown hair, and her smile is crooked with malice. He can feel the bile in his throat, as if Petunia and Vernon were in the class with him right there.

Harry can’t hold back the moment he remembers what happens next. He recalls it a moment before it happens. The woman, later identified as Alecto Carrow, sister to Professor Carrow, turns around and points her spindly wand at Malfoy and he crumbles down to the ground.

It’s the stark contrast of Hermione’s screams to Dracos utter silent sobbing that adult Harry struggles to deal with. Things that in the moment he didn’t allow himself to understand, but he knows now speak to a childhood of abuse and pain.

A type that teaches you to cry quietly.

There is glee in Alecto’s face, but there is something coldly ambivalent about causing a child to cry, that sits with a lead like weight in Harry’s stomach.

As the memory fades to blackness, he can all but feel his need to comfort the young Malfoy, even though he knows that is fanciful at best.

***

The dreamlike memory only is gone for a moment, as Hermione’s cat like figure walks out of the bathroom stall and Ron and he break into laughter.

She’s been crying though, and as soon as he realizes that, he stops and elbows Ron hard in the ribs to stop him from laughing more. “We need to really get going, but obviously I cannot… go… anymore. I… you’ll have to do this without me, until the Polyjuice wears off.”

“But… ‘Mione, you came up with the whole plan.”

“Well, Ronald, I cannot go out into the castle halls, as a cat, now can I?!”

“Then we postpone this, how long until you are back to your old self?”

“We can’t postpone this Ron. You know that. Plus, I made a really strong batch of Polyjuice. Conservative estimates, we are all in these forms for at least 4 hours. That is too long to wait it out. You have to go and investigate now.”

“She’s right, Ron.”

“But…”

“Look, I will be here. If anything happens just send a patronus or run back to this bathroom. Ok?”

He can hear the reassurance as he can see the tears forming. He’s awkward at best with showing affection, since he hadn’t ever experienced it, but he tries to hug her, and is surprised when she hugs him back fiercely.

“It’ll be ok, ‘Mione. You are still really soft at least!” he says, and just like he hoped, she lets out a watery giggle.

“Plus, you are going to be super warm, since this bathroom is so bloody cold!”

“Ever the pragmatist, Ronald.”

***

The light of the garage, is like a blinding sun at the end of a dark night. Harry finds himself shunted from his thoughts and staring at a mostly completed second layer to his portrait of Snape.

“What are you doing?”

“I…” his heart does something funny in his chest, as he turned to see Severus standing in the doorway of his room, staring at him with an intensity that is wholly warranted and completely terrifying to him. “I think I have an idea…”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I do not like repeating myself, Potter.”

“No, I am sure you don’t.” he can’t help but pause, as the half form thought tries to slip away. “You’ll have to… ugh.” it takes a moment for him to come to terms with the fact that he needs to try to communicate clearly. For them both.

“I can’t have you thinking I am not good enough.” He had to admit, that he wasn’t going for that much candor, but in for a penny, ever the lion. “Look, I know you don’t really think I am any good at mental magics, but that isn’t the case. I had a lot of practice in my original Mastery training when all the Horcrux stuff came out. I am not fragile.” He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and it’s all he can do to push through. “This is why I was hoping to never have an episode around you. To act like it isn’t a big deal and to move on past it. Because I can’t be treated with kid gloves when I have my Mastery. When I am out there… doing the work. There isn’t going to be a rest day, if I get a headache or uncover a mystery.”

There is a pause, and Harry can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that Snape is seeing his unfinished painting, one that is so very telling of his thoughts of the man, if he but only looked clearly.

“In this, you are correct, at least.”

The relief he feels at the lack of an explosion, is almost critical to him.

“What is this idea you have?”

He watched as Severus walked into the room completely, and took the only other chair, next to his, to stare at his painting.

“I think that… well, I…” he doesn’t want to sound like he has an issue with Malfoy again. “I think we need to talk to Draco. He keeps coming up in my memories, and while I don’t think that this is due to him, I do think that my mind is trying to say he may be a connecting point.”

“While I cannot find fault in that logic, it does have some holes, such as, what are the memories you have been searching through and why do you think that they mean anything specific to the case at hand?”

“It’s just… I can tell that I know something, but I am missing a piece of the puzzle. I can see the shape, the tone, the texture, the intent, but I cannot make out the villain. I have been thinking about Charlie – “ he can’t help but feel a little shame oddly pool in his belly at the thoughts he’d had of the man not but a few moments ago. “He… there are some things upon further inspection of my memories that don’t add up. Tones in the words he used in general, or the way he looked at me but I never noticed.”

He set the palette down and rubbed his hands against a flannel to clean some of the oil off. “Then there are all these memories of second year, and Draco is in a lot of them. So is Hermione, but… I think that there is something about Draco that is important… I just can’t figure out what it is yet. It’s why I think we need to talk to him.”

He is met with silence, and can’t help but focus overmuch on the spot of crimson paint that is on his third finger…

“I will see if I can gain a dinner invitation from Draco and his wife.”

“Thank you.”

“Get some rest, Potter.”

There is no control in the world that could stop him from reaching out and grabbing Severus’ hand. He knows that, but hates how he still doesn’t have the control that Snape has over his own actions. “Stay, let me show you my painting.”

It happens in an instant, his barriers are still down, and he’s only just realized it as an errant thought crosses his mind and he unconsciously broadcasts it to Severus when he makes accidental eye contact.

***

He’s on his knees. Severus’ co*ck is long and heavy and hard and he’s got his mouth tightly wrapped around it while he sucks upon it like a straw. He can hear the groan, the growl as it curls out of Severus’ mouth and into the air. He’s looking up, catching those midnight eyes, curtained with hair.

He can feel the mans long fingers as they caress his scalp. He’s never wanted anything more than for Severus to come down his throat, to taste him finally. To be taken so completely.

***
He catches his thoughts, and slams his barriers down, though he knows it’s far too late.

The feeling of heat, sitting on his cheeks, making him too warm, too itchy with need and shame.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” the man almost purrs.

“I… should apologize, I think. I hadn’t brought my mental shields up completely yet.” There is a level of expectation. He is never on the front foot with Severus, and he can’t find the wit and charm he has for others, around the man; but in this he is completely taken aback.

“Is that something you think of often?”

“Honestly, Sev… yes. Among many… many other things. For ages, if I am being honest.” If he licked his lips, absentmindedly, well… who could blame him.

“Interesting indeed.”

There isn’t a moment to spare for an extra thought on that statement, as he was pulled up and into the most demanding kiss to date. He can feel the very life being sucked from his soul, and for one incredibly odd moment, he vaguely wonders if Snape is a Dementor before he is lost in a sea of need and heat and desire. There is a scraping of wood chair feet against the linoleum floor, and he can feel the sudden hardness of the wall against his back. The pressure of Severus’ hard body, sending desire like molten lava in his veins.

Lust, a living breathing beast in them both. “…please…” he wants to hate himself a little for the whine, but can’t bring himself to regret his vulnerability.

“… indeed.”

He can’t help but stand there dumbly, trying to catch his breath, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to will his erection down; as Severus gave him one last kiss, gentle as you please, stepped back, walked out of his room, and closed the door softly behind him.

~~~HP/SS~~~

Chapter 25: An Awakening of Truths Undeniable

Chapter Text

He stepped out of the shower, and caught the reflection of Severus’ painting in the mirror. The whisper of lust, cascaded through his veins, at the memory of the explosive kiss from the night before. He knew that they were playing a tenuous game against the clock of his Mastery. He wanted the man desperately, but he knew logically, that they had too many things happening right now to give what he wanted the space it needed to bloom into something more.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure the wait wouldn’t kill him.

His run that morning had been hard and grueling, but he’d woken up hard and aching and needy, and with so many questions pelting him the moment his mind awoke, he felt the only way to truly deal with them, was to run through them. He’d come up with an idea, and as he strode up to the house, he found himself excited to see how Snape would react to it.

The door closed with a shnick behind him as he entered the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks, as the very man from whom he could hardly stop thinking, was sitting at the table drinking a tea and for all intents and purposes appearing to wait for Harry to walk in.

He wished he was able to walk over to the Master of the house, sitting there so peacefully reading the Prophet, and kiss him silly as a good morning, but he settled on going over to the kettle to make his own cuppa.

“You’re down here earlier than normal.” He said, in lieu of good morning.

“I woke up… motivated to get several things accomplished today. I saw you take off for your run this morning.”

Harry paused, and then continued stirring the sugar into his tea. It was nice knowing that Snape had been looking out his window as he’d been about to start his day. As if… he’d wanted to check on him, to see him first thing. It might’ve been a fanciful way to think, but he was hard pressed to find a reason to not think in such a way.

“Speaking of my run, I think I have an idea, but I need to ask you some difficult questions about your time as a Death Eater.”

It was due only to the time he’d spent within the last year with the man, that he could hear the ever so faint intake of breath at the title, but he bulldozed through it. He wasn’t ashamed of the life that Snape had led, and had the man not done all he’d done, they may’ve never defeated Voldemort.

“What answers might I offer you?”

Harry took his cup over to the table and sat across from the other man, and grimaced. “Honestly, I know it’s going to sound like I am grasping at straws here, but I think I finally have my fingers on the thread, but there are just too many tiny things I don’t know enough about.”

“Oh, I am sure there are quite a few things you know nothing of, Potter.”

It was said with a hint of amusem*nt, and he allowed the smile to flitter across his face. Not too long ago, he’d have missed the teasing undercurrent and would’ve been put off by such a comment.

“You are not wrong, Master Snape.” He said, and enjoyed the ever so slight tinge of pink that graced the mans’ cheeks.

“So, to continue.” He took out his notes from that morning before his run and after, and set them out on the table. “When I think back on the memories that we’ve been delving into, I keep coming up with some thru lines that I think are painting a picture. My first question is, when did the Carrows become Death Eaters?”

He watched as Snape frowned, but answered none the less.

“They joined in the first war. They were true believers in the theories that Tom originally preached. They believed in the degradation of wizarding kind due to the ‘blight of muggle blood’.”

Harry nodded, and wrote down some notes. “And were they always talented in the dark arts? Did they have a specific focus?”

He watched as Snape started to piece together the questions that Harry was asking. “Yes, Amycus was always excessively good at the theory of magic. He understood how magic was intrinsically linked to intent, and when he casted he was of the few that could cast directly from his mind rather than his core. It is, I believe, what allowed him to be so cruel and vicious even to children.”

Harry took more notes.

“Alecto, she was always talented in the more brute force methods of getting people to do as she pleased. It wasn’t until the second war, that Voldemort found a way to use her latent ability to combine brute force with mental abuse, that she experienced her own Renaissance in the field.”

He switched to an quick notes quill and got up to get food prepared.

“I keep remembering Amycus when we were in second year. He features in multiple memories, and I think he may be the link to Charlie. But…” he paused as he reached up for the oats on the third shelf, the chuckle behind him catching him off guard as the oats floated down to his hand. He blushed at having forgotten simple magics for simple things, yet again. “Thank you.” He said, but kept his face toward the window.

“Of course.”

“As I was saying, I think Amycus is the connection for Charlie, though I cannot begin to say how; but this morning I was thinking. There is only one memory that I can place Alecto in, and it was when she unceremoniously casted Imperious on Malfoy in 2nd year. There is something about that… it never sat well with me, even then, but having recalled it recently, I think there is something more there that I cannot figure out.”

He placed the ham in the pan and then set it to cook with the spatula magically hovering over it.

Harry looked over his shoulder and caught the frown on Snape’s face.“What is it?”

“I do not recall an instance where Lucius mentioned Alecto harming Draco while in school. That would’ve been seen as a line crossed.”

“It happened, of that I can be sure, I just can’t figure out why she did it. I remember she walked in with Amycus and when they got to the front of the class, she spun on her heels and casted it on Malfoy before we had even started the class proper.”

“I may’ve thought that it was too soon to do more mental magics, but I do think it might have some merit in doing it before we finally meet with Draco. I would like to get some more insight on this memory; especially as I know that this would’ve even made Voldemort angry to see a Pureblood child harmed in such a way. There has to be a reason we never heard of this.”

Harry sat down, and picked up his note pad, “There was one last question.”

“Go on.”

“How long was Karkaroff a Death Eater?”

There was a long pause, and he caught Snapes eye as he looked off in the middle distance. He got up to check the ham and begin the toast, while Snape processed whatever he was attempting to process.

“It may come a surprise to know that while Igor was part of the original set of Death Eaters, he wasn’t fully on board until the second war. He… I believe that he was very much like me, in that he was coerced before he fully understood the ramifications of what he wanted and what he was committing too. It wasn’t until the second war, that I noticed the man having committed more completely to the Dark Lords plans.”

“I didn’t know that you both were so close.”

There was an edge to Harry’s voice, and he recognized it for jealousy.

“I wouldn’t say we were close. But, there are times even in the vipers nest, where you seek out the warmth of another person, if only to get through the night, the hour, the moment. Igor was volatile, he was fire and spark, but he was also incredibly intelligent.”

Snape trailed off, and Harry let him be lost in his thoughts for a moment. He wasn’t sure that Igor was as clear of conscious that Snape was able to be, but he also realized the time was not now to push. His hand snaked out before his brain gave it any real thought, and he laid it atop Snapes on the table.

“You are not alone with these thoughts any longer. I am sorry for the loss of someone that may’ve been a friend.”

He watched Snape grimace, flinch as if he was going to remove his hand, but stayed it instead. “I wouldn’t say that Igor was a friend. No more than any of the other snakes that found solace in the Dark Lords embrace; but for a time, he was someone I could find a moments respite with, even when we both knew that we were using one another.”

There was a long pause again, as they both dealt with the weight of a war long over, with scars ever present.

“Go ahead and eat. We have some planning to do, if we are going to do more mental magics today.” Harry said, and rubbed the pad of his thumb against the other man’s hand before pulling it back to tuck into his breakfast.

“I was also thinking we may try to go to Hogwarts in the next couple days.” Harry said, between bites as he eyed the notes that he’d taken. “I remember from when I was there, that there were some tomes on memory altering charms and spells in the forbidden section in the library, and I think we might have some luck there with what might’ve been done to my mind.”

“You do realize you are one of the few people that would even think to admit they’d been in the forbidden section of the library, to me of all people?” He could hear the smile in Snapes tone and he was pleased by it.

“If you didn’t know by now, there were few areas of Hogwarts that I lacked the compulsion to be fearful of; then you are not near so wise as I believe you to be.” Harry chuckled, while he dug into the rest of his breakfast. “With a crazy wizard haunting my every move and a potions Professor that I was convinced wanted me dead, it would hardly be some books that scared me more.”

“How insightful.” Was the only response.

**HP/SS**

They settled into the chairs in the laboratory upstairs, several hours later. Snape had sent off a letter to Malfoy in the time between, and Harry had set up all of his notes on a new chalk board in the lab and reviewed some of the other notes for the Blood Replenisher. Hermione had sent him a book that she’d found in the Unspeakables library, and it had given him some interesting theories on what the actual ingredients really need to be when the intent of a potion was healing.

“Why are you substituting river water for the vinegar in the potion?” Snape asked, as they situated the tufted chairs to face either other, and prepared for Snape to take a mental dive into Harry’s mind.

“Hermione sent me a tome that she came across written somewhere between 2000 to 3000 years ago, The Dharma. The book is about the literal interpretation of reality and the foundational principals that all things are guided by the same universal truth. However, there was a section on those that had been gifted with magic, being the other half of the balance of reality. In the section the author comments that magic is less a gift, rather it’s more an extra sense. Where most of humanity have the 5 basic senses, there are some that have a sixth. The sixth is the ability to connect and pull from the magic around you.”

Harry paused and looked off into the window behind Snapes head, and watched as a bird took off, flying into the mid-morning sun. “It got me thinking about how magic is just a thing, we happen to have the ability to store within us, but is not beholden to the bodies that have a core. Instead, it’s in the world, the air around us, and we are able to sense it and therefore pull from it. When you think about it like that, it rather breaks down all the fundamental aspects of some of the more theoretical work that’s been done regarding spells, but it also makes intuitive potion making easier.”

He was excited, and when he looked back at Snape, he caught the intensely focused stare of a man enthralled. Harry had never felt more seen or appreciated by the man, and it was a feeling he wanted to feel again and again.

“So, if we are to understand that magic is around us and in us, rather than in us only. We then are able to look at potions as a useful tool in adding a more physical layer to the magic we wish to cast. In that mind, it doesn’t matter over much about some of the more latent ingredients, as your intent will pull from the ingredient the goal that you wish to have. So while we would always say, need mugwort or yarrow for potions regarding abortions, we wouldn’t always have to have water that has seen a full moon, if we are able to get water even under the sun can bring the heat of fire to the same potion and just change the feeling rather than the outcome.”
He paused, enjoying himself for a moment. Forgetting the world for just a moment.

“Or, in cases like the blood replenisher, where the true intent of the potion is to heal the blood itself, the vinegar is really just a conduit to assist in the bodies increased consumption of the iron that is in the potion. So, in reality you just need any water substitute, to aid in that intent. And, further, if you are able to get running water, then the water already knows what it needs to do. It needs to move in the veins, it needs to flow freely; the magic in the water, is already poised to do something – in my opinion, that means to me, that river water might be better yet than vinegar, as it has an additional purpose within the potion itself.”

He had gotten up at some point, and had started writing out some of the more far afield thoughts that he wanted to pursue, like if things such as bismuth that muggles had long sense found aided in the pursuit of stomach problems, had been a muggle finding or rather the magic of the world, giving herself to humanity for aid.

“You…” Harry shivered, as the voice of Snape rumbled next to his ear. The man having stood up as quiet as the predator he could be, and had surrounded him from behind, at the chalk board. “Speak as if you are a Mage of the era. Your thoughts regarding magic sound both rudimentary as well as profound, and your intense glee in uncovering theory as though a child looking for a bit of fun; is infectious.”

He shivered as Snape ran his nose along the sensitive skin on his neck, from the nape to the bottom of his ear, the gooseflesh that ran trails down his forearm making clear the evidence of his arousal, for anyone so close to see.

In lieu of attempting to speak, he found his head rolling to the side, and the smallest of mewls came tumbling gently from his lips.

It was all it appeared to take for Severus to move. Teeth and lips cascaded their slow and ardent torture along his neck. Arched so that there was nothing hidden, he shivered with intensity as heat rained down his body; Severus’ body crushing up against him from behind, pressing him into the neat chalk marks he’d just made. Crushing his shirt, and pressing his straining co*ck against the hard surface in front of him.

“Ahhh…” he sighed, as he felt long fingers grab at both of his sides, his torso feeling the tendrils of desire, like roots stemming from Severus’ fingers. Harry pushed his arse back, and shame out of the window, keening with need when he felt the hardened length of Severus’ co*ck jutting against him.

“You are so wanton for me. The sounds you make…” Harry heard the thin strand of control snap just before he was pulled back up and fully in contact against the other man’s body from shoulder to toe. Harry looked up into the dark chocolate brown midnight eyes, “You are so open to me. May I look…” he growled, low.

Harry nodded. He wanted nothing more than for Severus to see.

“Legilimens.”

Harry was bent over the edge of the large bed in Snapes room. The angle leaving one knee up on the mattress while his other leg was straining to stay with toes on the floor. Snapes co*ck ramming into him over and over, hitting the bundle of nerves on every entry and brushing back against it on every retreat. The sweat that coated his skin, glistening in the low light, as he mumbled Severus’ name over and over.

“You are so beautiful. So utterly radiant…” Severus’ said, as if in benediction, as his hands roamed over lithe muscles, tense with need.

“I’m… ohhhh….” Tumbling out of his mouth, the edge of the black abyss into the void spiraling ever closer. “please.” He said, though he knew not what he meant.

“Come for me.”

It was if on command, Harry came, rutting against the bed, “good boy.”

The org*sm erupted from him like a rising crescendo. The opera at climax, the bass so deep, it rumbled forth from his core. With a final ram, he was pulled up into the tight embrace, as Severus came deeply in him, some spilling out, trailing wet down his thigh.

Breaths sharp, and harsh into the otherwise silence of the room.

“Legilimens.” He heard, faintly, as if pained, as if needy…

A young Harry, maybe second year, was standing on the other side of the whomping willow. Breathing heavily, the fear evident on his face. There were voices coming from the other side of the expansive trunk and Harry looked at Severus as they both parted to either side.

It was odd, being in a memory and not knowing what you are seeing. Your own mind conjuring a place you were but do not recall. He shook his head at Severus, and frowned as he continued to move around the tree.

Amycus and Alecto were standing no more than several meters from him. Arguing it appeared. He couldn’t hear them clearly, but then Alecto moved to pull her arm from Amycus before striding closer to the tree. Her words coming more clear, and in her wake, Amycus’ as well.

“We have to tell the Dark Lord that we’ve found Slytherin’s Chamber. While we may not be able to get into it, it doesn’t mean that He won’t be able too, and the longer we wait, the more angry He will be, should the Potter bastard find it instead.”

“Alecto, my darling stupid sister. You think with a shortsightedness that has always angered me. Listen, my sweet.”

Harry watched in horror as Amycus pulled Alecto to him in an embrace, and licked her neck while she moaned.

“The Dark Lord doesn’t even truly know that the Chamber still exists. He believes it might but he also thinks that it was an aberration that he saw it when he was a student. If we keep this between us for now, when we win and all the muggle bitches and betas are dead, we can swim in the blood of the basilisk and give it as a gift to the new Lord of All.”

Harry looked at Snape across the grass, and shook his head again. He didn’t remember this at all. This was completely new to him, and he had an intense feeling they were about to find out why.

A rustle of leaves was nothing unheard of when under the whomping willow. It wasn’t that, that caught the attention of the incestuous sibling duo, no, Harry caught it the moment it happened as well. The way the sunset shown just right, caught the shadow of the younger Harry on the other side of the tree. Standing frozen, still, so quiet. He hadn’t noticed that he had been given away. So focused was he on remaining unhidden.

Harry watched as Amycus sharply turned Alecto’s face until they both caught the fading dark shadow that melted back into the darkness of the tree as the sun sank behind a cloud. They both looked at one another and then parted.

The skin on Harry’s arms began to prickle, the hair began to stand on edge, the air began to crackle.

“What do we have here. A witness to our love, oh what we must do with those who… oh dear me… what a treat.”

He watched in horror as Amycus strode around the trunk and made eye contact with his younger self. It was as if through some telepathic bond, that Alecto came around the other side and immediately subdued Harry with a body bind curse.

“Oh this is just too perfect.”

“Oh, why don’t we just bring the Chosen One, right to the Dark Lord himself? How beautiful it would be to both be the harbingers of the gift of the Chosen, but also able to gift the Dark Lord with the Chamber as well? We will be royalty Amycus.”

There was something brewing behind those eyes, and Harry could almost hear the words just before they were spoken. Like a nightmares echo as you lived it and woke from it.

“I have an even better idea. Why don’t we play around with him a bit? See what other information he may be able to get us first, before we give him over. You’ve been eyeing that ginger bitch he seems to favor, maybe she can be your treat Alecto if I can be given just some time with the boy now.”

“Amycus, you naughty man. Oh how I do love when you spoil me so.”

Harry and Snape watched as Amycus raised his wand, “psyhkos mentis” a beam of nearly neon blue light pushed out of the tip and pooled at the edges of Harry’s temples, his ears were filled with the magical liquid, as he cried silently. The pain so intense, he had no physical energy to move his vocal cords.

“You will show us what we wish to see, or we will make you experience it so that we may relive it. Might you know only loss, and remember nothing of this moment.”

The spell seemed to coalesce and melt into his ears, before Harry saw his younger self look up at the siblings and nod quietly, the tears leaving wet marks down his cheeks.

“Now, before he awakens from the trance, where is the potion Alecto?”

“Here.”

They watched as Amycus downed what was clearly Polyjuice before he melted into Charlie Weasley before their very eyes. It was with a rather unbidden sense of profound impressive magic, that Harry watched Amycus then glamor himself so that the appearance was nearly impenetrable. A thin magical veneer almost, wrapping around the Polyjuiced form. He rather thought it was like putting varnish on a painting.

Harry was watching in unmitigated horror, when he noted that Alecto had also taken on a new form. As Malfoy.

“Now, you’ll tell me what I wish to know.”

**HP/SS**

They spilled out of Harry’s mind, Severus wrapped around him, tears unbidden falling from Harry’s eyes as he tried to still his racing heart, tried to catch a breath between stuttered hiccups.

Memories flooding in, so many memories, of Amycus and Alecto pulling strings behind the scenes. Potter blissfully ignorant the entire time. The shame of it all, the fear, the stress; looking back the knowledge that he was constantly being watched and thinking it to be Snape, when the entire time it was the two siblings that haunted his every move.

His mind, tired, and overrun with thoughts unable to be stopped, took a break and he passed out.

“My sweet boy.” Was all he heard, as he sunk under the waves of silence, and let rest hold him close.

Chapter 26: On Level Footing

Chapter Text

The real world came to him in fits and starts. Waves of sound echoing from a distance, flashes of red light behind his eye lids, feeling in his body followed by nausea from the intense head ache. He tried to mumble repeatedly for attention, to let Snape know that he was alive, that he was okay, but he couldn’t connect his mouth to his brain for whatever reason, and he imagined he would sigh if he could’ve – and resigned himself to just waiting until he could move or speak.

He subsequently passed right back out.

He woke up again, there was low light in the room, and it was quiet. Far more quiet than the garage normally was, even at night – there were often the sounds of nature just outside his window in the garden, or the neighbor next door’s weathervane as it would squeak in the wind.

Harry tried to force his eyes open, keeping his head in the same position, for fear that the splitting ache in his mind would come back. Thankfully it looked like it may’ve passed.

He immediately realized two things:

One, he was in Snape's bedroom, on the mans bed, and the curtain was pulled close, but he could see that it was either near sunrise or sunset with the orange glow peeking through the bottom of the curtain.

Two, he wasn’t alone in the bed, there was a body tucked up behind him, holding him, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist as another hand was gently stroking the hair on his head. The calmness stole his breath for a moment before another realization cascaded through him…

He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t like a reoccurrence of his horcrux issue – he didn’t have any residual effects like he normally would. He … had energy to spare, and then some.

No, he was sure that something else entirely had happened when he’d unlocked all the memories that had been buried or manipulated, but the horcrux problem, wasn’t the culprit.

“I can hear your mind, Potter.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if Snape could feel it where the man’s hand held his stomach. “Well, at least you may be entertained.” He said, his throat raw and dry. “How long was I out this time?”

There was a silence, that extended just long enough for him to realize that maybe he had been out longer than normal. Though, what normal was for a situation like this, might be complicated to analyze.

“13 days, 7 hours,” there was a pause, and Harry could feel Snape move as if to look at the clock on the wall, “and 24 minutes.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d never even contemplated that he could’ve been out that long. The most he would’ve ever imagined was a couple days.

It wasn’t lost on him that Snape knew the exact time.

“I… I’m sorry?” he said, quietly. Staying still in the embrace that continued to hold him.

“Don’t be. Never be sorry.”

He let the lingering touch of gentle sincerity, trailed along his skin, while he relished the silence between them.

“I… I remember so many things now.” He paused around the constriction that suddenly appeared in his throat, unbidden.

“We don’t have to go over it now. We have secured a dinner with Mr. Malfoy, but until I am confident in your health, we should go slow, I do not wish for you to relapse.”

He stayed quiet, unsure how he would even begin to explain that he didn’t think he had anything to worry about. He felt different, more whole; for all that meant. He felt healthy, in a way that he imagined he had never thought he could feel. As if suddenly, upon waking, he realized he hadn’t been living a complete life until that moment.

He felt Snape move as if to leave, “Please, stay.” He should’ve probably hated how needy he sounded, but he couldn’t be arsed to care.

“I will be right back. I haven’t left you for more than a couple hours at a time to brew. But you need several potions now that you are awake, and I need to make sure you take them as soon as possible.”

“I… yes, that is ok.”

The warmth left him as the bed dipped and Snape vacated it. He rolled onto his back slowly, letting gravity do all the work, while he allowed his body to figure out what it was feeling.

It was with barely controlled awe, that he kept his eyes in his head when Snape walked back out of the restroom, with only a pair of black linen sleep pants hung low on his hips.

“You sure that potions are what I need right now?” he asked, utterly shocked by the waves of desire coursing through him. The low thrum of need, brandishing a fire in his veins as if he was an instrument made to capture the sun.

“One would think you’d only taken a nap. You were unconscious for a fortnight, Harry.”

It was his name, that brought him up abruptly, with the cresting realization just after that, the desperation that had laced every single syllable that had tumbled from the normally stoic and taciturn man.

He held out his hand, and leaned forward, lifting his torso from the bed. Reaching out for the man that was standing just a meter or so from him; a look of unclaimed terror and longing, dripping from his face in such a way that made him appear both haunted and oh so lovely.

“Severus,” he said, unsure what he wanted to say just knowing that this moment felt raw, and unchecked, and real in a way so many other times in his life had. “Please…”

He watched as the man took a step forward, and then another, and suddenly he was there, holding his hand, the potions in his other tumbling onto the bed between them. “I was so overcome. How dare you make me feel this deeply for you?”

He let out a wet guffaw, before smiling. “It wasn’t my intention, but I can’t help but be a little proud that I can make you feel so much.”

“I can do little else. You have been at the front, side, and center of every thought for two weeks. But beyond your personal health in this moment, I…”

Harry watched as the man grasped for words, a single silken tear dripping from the corner of his left eye. “I cannot help but be filled with loathing yet again for all you were required to go through, at such a young age. For being blinded with duty and honor and responsibility. To have been a willing participant in your… your…”

It was with tsunami like waves, that they crashed into one another. An uncontrollable force, bringing two objects together, in stunning need. Tears flowing down alabaster cheeks, landing on his white t-shirt, and his own falling on the white skin under his chin. “You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know.” He said, unclear if it was forgiveness or absolution that he offered Snape, but willing to offer anything to get the man to understand that he had long since paid the prices of sins untold.

“I survived, we both did.” Harry gently pushed away from the standing man, but held him close, willing for the black eyes to look at him. “There were a great many sins of war, some of them yours, most them at your expense just as my own. We are here today, now, in this moment, regardless of the road that got us here, all we can do is choose how we move forward.” He cupped the sharp chin in his hand, and smiled.

“I,” the confidence that had held him so tightly a moment before stuttered before kicking back up with a flame in his gut. “I am going to kiss you, is that okay?” he asked, suddenly feeling for all the world, that he needed Snape to say yes.

It came as a shock to every nerve ending along his skin, to feel the gentle pressure of the man’s lips on his instead. His breath stolen in the micro-moment between one second in the next. The feeling of every light and heavy and strong and weak emotion, coursing through him; making him lightheaded with it; before the lips left his and a sigh escaped in their wake.

“You are a menace to my sanity, but by Merlin,” he opened his eyes and looked directly into the blackened orbs staring into his soul. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you, you foolish man.”

“Then let us make to be as we wish to continue. I am here with you now, don’t waste your time with looking back.”

“We have much to do, but for now,” he was rewarded with another kiss along his jaw. “Take your potions, and let us discuss what we experienced.”

He couldn’t tell if Snape was running from what he wanted, or if he felt an obligation to do one before the other, but he understood that regardless, pushing for anything else would be a losing battle. He sighed, but understood, and nodded while uncorking both of the phials and tossing them back.

“Are you well enough to discuss now, or do you wish to eat?”

He thought about it, and realized with a bit of shame that he’d been hungry but hadn’t paid it any mind until that moment. “I am famished.”

He stuttered out a giddy laugh when he was lifted in a maiden hold. Before being set down gently with his feet on the carpeted floor. “Hold on to me, it appears it is now my time to return the favor.”

**~~HP//SS~~**

The ate in relative silence, interspersed with moments of hand touching, and shared heavy looks. Something had shifted, but he was far too aware of it to really get what it was, that had.

“I want to test something.” Harry said, closing his eyes instead of looking into the other mans.

He opened his mind just a bit, “Yes, before you do anything else. I am connected significantly more to you now than previously. I am unsure if this is due in part to my magic assisting in untying the curse that had ensnared you, or if it’s due to you appearing to come into what I believe may have been your magical majority because of the curse being unraveled.”

“You… you know?”

“What do you mean, do I know?”

Harry paused, and thought about what he knew with absolute clarity. Listing them off much in the manner of symptoms of an illness, “I have energy, awareness, clarity. But I am also highly conscious of my nerves right now, every synapsis is firing and I can feel the sparks; it feels like my fingers are tingling with it. I am both acutely aware of your mind just on the edges of my own, while also feeling calm in my mind for the first time in... I just feel…” he stopped for a moment to try to find adequate words, “Overfull?”

He was met with a raised brow, and an exhale of air before the man across from him leaned back in his chair and for all intents and purposes, appeared to be inspecting an insect.

“Do you have any negative effects or symptoms?” Snape asked, and Harry paused to evaluate himself a little more acutely, a little more aware.

“No. I truly wish there was a way to--oh!” he stopped and then opened his mind and flooded Snape with all the feelings he could. Skipping past thought, and relaying images of his mind’s eye, what he felt along his skin, in his muscles, his very scar.

“Enough!” he opened his eyes suddenly and was met with the barely banked fire in the coal like eyes of his Defense Master. “That is, enough!”

They sat in silence a moment longer, before he erupted from his chair, and walked around the table; wrapping around the man sitting with a stunned look on his face. “Look,” Harry said, panting, a roaring inferno barely held back under his skin, “Either we do this,” he paused, looking up and down the contours of Snape's face, licking his lips as he did, “or we do something else. I have that need again, that feeling, just under my skin. But I refuse to use you or sit back and do nothing. Not this time. So what will it be?” he asked, leaning forward and shocking his own self to his core, licking the jawline of the man looking at him with an intensity he could all but feel.

“Meet me in the garden in an hour.” He felt himself be pushed back, “We will duel.” The wall behind him met his back as he was crowded against the drywall surface. “Don’t you dare tempt me, again.” Harry was overcome in a kiss so fierce and all-encompassing that he was entirely sure that had he even forgotten for a moment that he needed to breathe, he would’ve never remembered to breathe again. He would’ve happily given all of his air to the man sucking his very soul from his lips.

And then Snape was gone. In his wake, the pulsing awareness and unmitigated lust made him ache with unspent longing.

He couldn’t help the smirk that road up his lips. How utterly surreal his life had become.

**~~HP/SS~~**

Severus swept from the kitchen, onto the back porch to catch his breath and evaluate his life. He had been many things in his time on this Earth, but a man of honor he’d rarely had a chance to truly be. He intended to see his Apprentice through his Mastery before he bedded him, but damned if the man wasn’t making it difficult.

He shrugged off the need that was casting desire off him in heated waves, and took one final steading breath before stepping off into the garden to prepare the area for a duel. He had a feeling that the magic that Potter had long since been controlling, had been only because it was also hampered by the curse that had lingered long after The Dark Lords demise.

Severus was willing to lay claim, that when he finally got Potter to release all that unspent energy, that something truly remarkable would occur; and as such – he garden needed to be seen too.

He sent off a Patronus to Minerva, letter her know that Potter had awakened and appeared to be in good health, and that he’d be bringing the man around for an inspection with Poppy in the morning, but for now he needed to keep a close eye on him to make sure there weren’t any relapses.

While true, he did also relish in keeping the complete truth of the situation hidden for a while longer.

He extended the magical space in the back of the garden out, lifting the wards from the sky dome up another dozen meters or so, as well. He bolstered their fracturability rating and gave several extra layers of modified glamour’s around so that should any magic appear or shoot array, that no nosey muggle neighbor nor wizarding passerby have any need to inspect such a display.

It was as he was laying down the last of the spellwork, that he heard the door from the garage open and close. He looked over and caught his own breath in his throat as Potter walked out in low hung tight black jeans, a black cotton t-shirt, and calve high black leather auror boots.

“I am ready when you are, Master Snape.”

“Indeed.” He said, for how does one find the will to speak coherently when presented with the very definition of ones deepest fantasies?

He took a steadying breath. “Present as you would for a duel, Mr. Potter.”

He watched the man waltz over to the other clearing at the end of the garden pathway, roughly 10 meters from him, and lifted up his wand, in one hand, his other hand at his side, clenched and ready to provide kinetic counter balance to any movement taken.

“On the count of 3 we will begin. I want you to give me everything, do you understand me?”

He saw the moment that Potter understood, the slight nod that was received was all he got before he returned the nod, and began counting down.

“Three, Two, One…”

He shot off the first three spells in quick succession. Binding, Boiling blood, and Blinding, all part of an advanced runic summation that he relegated to the recesses of his mind from when the Dark Lord had trained him in such evil magic.

He watched as Potter shunted two of the spells, but missed the last one and the light left his eyes. He heard the curse, but missed the spell as Potter blindly and wandlessly, shot him with Quickening Fright. His heart thundering in his throat as his heart rate sped up and his body slowed down. He broke the curse with a half thought, and growled. He knew that the man was still not giving him his all.

He tapped into long forgotten magic, dark magic that he’d been trained in, and blinked into the space of his opponent, “Give me your all, Potter…” he said, but was surprised when the man shot his hand out and wrapped it around his own throat.

“I am.”

Severus heard the very faintest of wavers, whether it was the mental link they shared, or how in tune he was with his need for the man currently holding it throat, he couldn’t be sure. “Liar.”

He was shot back with the force of a tornado, and his body hit the brick wall of the back of his house. He felt the blood pool in the back of his throat before spitting it out onto his own hand. He smeared it across his own face, and summoned a Frightening Ghoul. His face turned into every fear, every thing that ever kept Potter up at night. All the things that he saw when he closed his eyes, a Dementors face, his Fathers face when Voldemort had slain him, Voldemort himself… before Potter stopped it with a counter spell, and swiped the tears from his eyes.

Severus pushed harder. He needed it all. He stood up and swept his robes out, casting True Glamour on himself and becoming Sirius, “Harry, pup, my boy…” he said, schooling his features in that of the mongrols whose face he bore.

“Sirius…” he saw it the moment that Potter had captured the spellwork. The flash of anger that crossed his face, giving Severus a glance at the true potential the man possessed within him. The ripple of desire that rolled up his spine, left nothing but lust in its wake.

“Give me your all, Potter!” he growled, daring the man to do is worst. To let himself finally be rid of the chains he put so securely around his own capability.

“You want it all, Professor?”

Snape heard the thunder in the undercurrents of the words, and felt for not the first time, the echoes of adoration in the face of abject power.

It was in the span of two breaths, that he was bound by the roots of the bushes and stripped of his clothing as fire lanced across his stomach in a burst of heat that burned his flesh. The glamour melting off him with so little resistance.

Severus countered the spell with an ice shield, only taking some of the damage, while shooting his own Flaming Rebuke back. The molten hot lava that erupted from his wand, licked up the pant legs of his opponent.

He watched as something flashed in Potters eyes before Severus made the subconscious decision to vacate the rooting that had held him captive. He flew up a dozen meters before he shot off another disarming spell.

The laugh that he was met with was both haunting as it was full of glee. “You think disarming me is enough, now?”

“Then do something, Potter!” He hardened his words with malice he didn’t feel, and relished the spark of something equally hot in the other man’s eyes.

“With pleasure.”

The next moment he was pulled from the sky with a force unlike any he’d experienced in his life. His stomach in his throat he was sure he was to hit the ground, and the last moment he floated frozen in space, merely inches from his opponent. “Don’t forget you wanted this.” Was all Potter said the heat of his breath ghosting hotly across his ear; before he shot spell after spell across Severus’ skin.

He’d been hit with Sectumsepra once, when he’s miss fired it off in practice and it had rebounded off a mirror in the classroom. His 16 year old body had been covered in scabs and cuts for weeks, the one that had landed across his eye had left him partially blind for almost two months before Dumbledore had figured out what was amiss and healed him.

But this was different. It wasn’t the scalding hot pain of thousands of cuts along his skin. It wasn’t even torture of the kind he was summarily used too under the regime of the violent sociopath that he’d long ago given servitude. No, this… this was something altogether entirely different. It felt like long lingering cuts, unwavering in their depth and speed. Pools of his blood falling in sheets, his flesh peeling backward like flower petals upon their demise.

He opened his eyes, and shot off several spells of his own, calling on his instinctual need, he pulled magic from the very earth around him as he was too inundated with feeling to use his own words. He saw rocks flung forward, hitting Potter in the abdomen, the chest, the cheek. He hurled wind and flame and ice. Cutting and pushing and battering over and over, but to no avail. The cuts along his skin was never ending, and the look in Potters eyes said that he wasn’t all together in the moment enough to stop himself from killing Severus.

It was with equal measure joy and trepidation that he closed his eyes, and casted Imperio upon the man. He knew that it wouldn’t work, but hoped that he’d be able to at least get Harry to think, to awaken, to be aware.

It worked, the moment he opened his eyes to cast the curse, it landed with no real action but the result was immediate. Potter dropped the spell, and caught Severus in his arms, before kneeling on the ground. He was surrounded by blinding yellow and golden light, and the slices that had covered nearly every inch of his body were laid clean and healed in their wake.

He couldn’t help but smile, “So this is all you’ve got, is it?”

“I think I could give you more, but I doubt you are ready,” he opened his eyes as the last glow of the healing magic dimmed and the sunset replaced the light in the garden, “Severus,” there was the faintest of pauses. “I did however realize something while we were fighting.”

He took in the shift, the way that Potters arms clenched just so around his waist. The way his eyes hardened and his brown dropped and his forehead creased.

“What is it?” he asked, making to get up and dust his robes off and check his body for trace magic while pulling his apprentice up from the ground as well.

“I think I know who our serial killer is.”

Severus heart stopped for a moment, then raced in his ears. His blood singing with it. “Who?”

“Amycus Carrow.”

**~~HP/SS~~**

“Potter, it isn’t possible, I’ve told you repeatedly. Amycus died in Azkaban by the Kiss more than 5 years ago, just shortly after that Alecto died of a heart attack in her cell waiting for her own Kiss.”

They had retired to the laboratory to discuss what Harry had come to realize while in the heat of their duel.

The way that Severus had fought had been far too close to the moves that Charlie had made not but a few months prior.

Harry wasn’t sure how it could be possible. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that the man that he’d fought, the man that had come on to him in the meadow, the man that he chased him and taunted him and almost beat him; wasn’t Charles Weasley.

“Then let us call Kingsley to make sure? What harm could it be to check in and make sure that there wasn’t a mix up? That something hadn’t been overlooked at some point?”

“By all means.”

He knew that Snape was humoring him. He also knew it to be the defense mechanism that it was. If Amycus was out there, than it meant that Death Eater rhetoric would begin again. It was raise some flags, start some fear, ripple outward in a way that always ended up with Snapes name taking heat.

And above that… they still had no clue what the cause could be after all this time.

He threw the floo powder into the fireplace and called upon Kingsley’s office.

“Harry, I am glad you floo’d. I was about to summon you both to the Ministry posthaste.”

Before Harry could reply or retort, the floo opened and they were beckoned forward.

“Another body showed up.”