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Making Happy	By : neelix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5457 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story that are from the Harry Potter books. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Epilogue
- 1
- 2
a.n. Hello everyone :) It's been a while. This is what I've been up to. I hope you like it.

1. Where Harry Can’t Avoid The Past

A great source of calamity lies in regret and anticipation; therefore a person is wise who thinks of the present alone, regardless of the past or future.

~ Oliver Goldsmith ~

Harry

Serephina Bulge told me, in one of her more lucid moments, to “Cut the Glamour, Harold, and grab life by the balls.” At least, I hope she was lucid. She has been in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s since before the final battle, the befuddled victim of a Confundus Charm gone badly wrong. At least that’s the diagnosis. There are no records of Serephina Bulge, so we don’t even know if she is who she thinks she might be. This means that the children and husband she talks about might or might not exist, and the worldly advice she imparts to me day and daily might be good, or it might be so bad I should ignore it completely.

I have taken that one little nugget to heart though, and it is energising to be Glamour-free and yet remain anonymous. I love it here in Dublin, and I am content to watch the seething mass of Christmas shoppers from the right side of Bewley’s window, a cup of steaming coffee in my hand. I think I am becoming obsessed with ordinary Muggle life, because no one gives a shit about Harry Potter here. Even the waitress looked right through me. I fucking love that.

I drink my coffee and close my eyes for a moment, savouring the flavour and my freedom to do so unobserved. Unfortunately, as I go to put my cup back onto the shiny, porcelain saucer, I can sense someone staring and the familiar tingle of magic. Before I turn my head, I already know that Hermione is looking in at me from the street.

Fuck it. After seven years, why here of all the bloody places?

She looks beautiful. I don’t know why I’m surprised. She always was, although she could never see it. I wonder if she does now. I should at least acknowledge her, I suppose. I wave, and she stupidly waves back, still staring with her mouth open. If Ron were standing there doing that, Hermione would be all high and mighty about manners and ‘It’s rude to stare, Ronald.’ Apparently the mighty have fallen, but I already knew that. This reminds me… I look beyond Hermione, and suddenly there he is, as if my sudden recall has summoned him out of the ether.

Now I’m the one staring. His hair is longer than I remember it, and he looks leaner in his Muggle coat.

‘Stop staring, Potter.’ I can almost hear his voice inside my head yet again.

Oh, how touching. The possessive hand on Hermione’s shoulder makes me want to punch him through the glass and damn the consequences, but his piercing gaze meets mine and I look away. Through the corner of my eye, I see him put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and drag her away, and I can’t help but turn to watch as my old life rejects me once again.

There is a child walking between them, a girl. She is holding their hands and skipping, which makes her long, dark curls bounce between her shoulders. I think I’m going to throw up.

I abandon my coffee and the Christmas melee in favour of beer and licking re-opened wounds. I should have known the bliss of my pity party wouldn’t last long.

***

Hermione

Honestly, there are days when I could quite happily strangle Severus Snape, and today is one of them. Bloody wizarding vows. Of course, in hindsight I should have stayed a bit more sober. It’s always that way when we start talking. Time flies, and the Firewhisky comes out.

I need to stay calm. It’s not Harry’s fault I’m pissed off, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Imagine him being in Dublin, for goodness sake! Actually, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Severus and Harry have more in common than they would ever admit, and it could have been so different. But Severus is the most stubborn arse of a man I have ever met, especially where Harry is concerned. The whole subject has been off-topic for years, but seeing him the other day has churned up a whole load of stuff. Severus could hardly look at me at breakfast, but bloody tough shit. Harry is still my friend. I hope.

Here it is, number 30. Nice, and so much more cheerful than Grimmauld Place. It looks like a lovely street, too. You don’t see many places with front gardens these days. Not in London, anyway. Maybe Dublin is different. Oh, look! He has cyclamen in pots.

I know I’m procrastinating, but I just can’t bear the thought that this will be a disaster. Severus will smirk and say, ‘I told you so.’ He always looks on the dark side. *Snort* Oh god! I mustn’t laugh hysterically on the doorstep; Harry’s neighbours might think I’m a weirdo. Here goes nothing.

I knock the door with the shiny, brass knocker. The sound echoes around for a moment, but there’s no sign of life from the house. I knock harder in irritation, and I can hear movement behind the door. It cracks open slightly, and I see a sunlit glint on Harry’s glasses and a familiar tuft of dark hair.

‘Hey,’ I say, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice.

‘I might have guessed.’

He’s miserable, but he’s left the door open, so I’ll take that as an invitation. He’s been drinking. I can smell stale beer, which immediately takes me back to the summer I worked for Rosmerta. I can’t ponder that for too long, because this is far more important than thinking about what might have been.

I follow Harry into the kitchen and try not to stare at his five o’clock shadow or the stains on his t-shirt. The worktop looks like it’s made of good quality granite, but it’s hardly visible under the numerous empty beer bottles.

‘I suppose you’ve come to gloat,’ he says. He’s angry; there’s a harsh, deep rasp in his voice. I wonder briefly if it’s because he’s older now, or just because of the beer. Behind his glasses his eyes are red, and suddenly I know he has been crying. I feel guilty.

‘I came because I’m your friend, Harry.’

‘’Course you did. How is it, playing happy families with Snape?’

I can’t tell you. It’s complicated.

‘We love our daughter very much,’ I say. I can feel the weight of the Vow lie heavily on my tongue, and I want to curse Severus Snape to Azkaban and back.

‘Bit of a shock that,’ he says. His voice is soft. He’s hurting.

‘I wanted to tell you, but Severus…’

‘Severus. How cosy.’ Now he sounds bitter. I want to cry.

Damn. I hate crying in front of people. I swallow deeply and try to avoid his gaze.

‘Harry, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ Even I can hear the pleading tone in my voice and suddenly, I can feel everything slipping away. It was never meant to be this way.

‘Of course not. So you decided to hide your relationship with Snape, and your pregnancy. I’m surprised the wedding picture didn’t make the front page of the Prophet.’

Ah. Right. That.

‘We’re not married, Harry.’ He looks surprised, and I see the flash of relief in his eyes. I can’t help but smile as I see the face of my old friend for a brief but welcome moment.

‘I suppose you’re waiting until your daughter is old enough to be bridesmaid?’

That was below the belt, but I suppose I deserved it.

‘Her name is Happy, and no. We have no plans to marry, Harry.’

‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?’

Oh, god. He looks like he’s going to cry. Please don’t let him cry, because I can’t tell him what he needs to know to make it alright again.

‘How could you, Hermione? You know how I felt, back then.’

‘I know, Harry, but…’ Damn you, Severus. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Why are you here, Hermione? This changes nothing, and as you can see, I need to clean up, so unless you’ve come with better news, you should go.’

He’s right. I probably shouldn’t have come. I can see the mess he’s in, and I know I’m probably making it worse. He doesn’t understand, and I can’t explain. It’s so unfair, on all of us.

‘I really am sorry, Harry,’ I whisper. I stand in silence, watching him as he scuffs his heel miserably against the tiled floor. He always used to do that when he was anxious or upset. I should leave. I take one more look at his face, and he takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes. I can’t bare it.

‘Hermione…’ His voice cracks and I turn at the door to look at him.

‘Yes?’

‘Is he… Well, Snape, I mean. Is he..?’ I know what he wants to know.

He wants to know if Severus talks about him at all, if he misses him.

I can’t answer the real questions, so I give him the only response I can.

‘He’s fine, Harry,’ I say.

Harry nods and takes a breath, and I know it’s not enough. He wants to know everything. Everything I can’t say.

I murmur goodbye and leave without looking back.

***

The house looks welcoming when I finally arrive home. Spinner’s End is often like this, grey, dull and wet, but Severus always leaves a light on in the front window. Usually it cheers me up, but not today. I don’t know what to say to Severus, but I go in anyway. I can feel the heat from the fire as I walk into the sitting room. He looks up from his magazine, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. Normally I would find it endearing, but I can’t help the sudden urge of anger that bubbles up. I shoot him a glare and turn around to hang up my coat, ignoring him.

‘It didn’t go well, then?’

Well done, Snape. Powers of observation are as sharp as ever.

I don’t want to tell him, because he has this habit of looking superior when he’s right. He’s right about most things, the smug bastard.

‘Where’s Happy?’ I try to change the subject, but I know I’m just putting off the inevitable. I could never hide from him. I suppose that’s why we’re friends.

‘She’s asleep. It’s past eight. I left your dinner under a Warming Charm, if you’re hungry.’

He looks at me, eyebrow raised in that ‘you know you’ll tell me eventually’ way of his, and I give in. I flop down onto the sofa and feel suddenly exhausted.

‘I hated you today,’ I say, sighing pathetically. ‘Not for very long, of course, but that bloody Unbreakable Vow...’

‘You wish me to free you from it?’ He folds the magazine carefully and slips his glasses off, putting them safely back into the case. His face is a blank mask.

Shit.

He always said I would throw it in his face one day. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t.

Fuck.

‘Of course not. We both agreed, and I still stand by it. I couldn’t regret it, not for a moment. It did make my conversation with Harry very difficult, though.’

I hope my tone is placating, but he just looks at me, his smooth, cool hands folded in his lap as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Perhaps he doesn’t care anymore. I wouldn’t know, of course, because it’s still ‘off topic.’ Maybe he really doesn’t give a shit.

‘Don’t you even want to know how he is?’ I know I’m challenging him.

‘He seemed well the other day. What else is there to know?’ He speaks so softly, and I wonder if he does that on purpose, at times when his voice is likely to betray emotions he wants to stay hidden.

‘That he’s really unhappy, and that bumping into us sent him off in search of alcohol and who knows what else? He was a complete mess, Severus.’

‘And no more mature, it would seem.’ His voice is sharp and his eyes are narrow now, and I know we’re treading on risky ground. Better if I go and avoid a difficult and probably dangerous argument. It’s all such a bloody mess.

‘I don’t want to go over all of this again, Severus. I do think that you should tell him the truth, though. In fact, you should have told him the truth at the start,’ I say softly.

‘I had my reasons,’ he says stiffly, his jaw tight.

‘It hasn’t made you happy though, has it? Not really.’

He doesn’t answer, but turns his head away to brood at the fire, and I know the conversation, such as it was, is over.

‘I’m going to eat and get an early night. Goodnight, Severus.’

I pause at the door, wanting to apologise, but he senses this and waves me away imperiously. I understand he needs to be alone, so I go, wondering just when he will realise that I was right all along, and that all we have done is cause hurt and pain to someone we both care about.
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Making Happy