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Not Just For Wolfsbane	By : Originella Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 2464 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the characters; I just play with them. No money is being made from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Not Just For Wolfsbane
- 1
The snow had already begun falling that late-afternoon on Christmas Eve as Harry maneuvered himself along the country lane from the market to his country house. In the years after the Battle of Hogwarts, he had sold off Grimmauld Place to newly-elected Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, in the wake of the ministry needing a place for potential people to lie low in the wake of spy games, bad marriage breakups, or just people who needed a fresh go at things. Harry was happy to sell off the property; it truly frightened him, the way the house had been built, and leaving that portrait of Mrs. Black behind certainly had worked wonders.
Several other things had changed since the Second Wizarding War had ended, including the fact that he and Ginny had not worked out as a couple, as they realized they saw each other as siblings more than anything else. Ginny had decided to take up law, right beside Hermione, and Ginny’s first case had been as Draco Malfoy’s barrister. It only took three months for the trial to be set up, and then a fortnight for the case to be presented, plus a week of deliberations. Ginny had managed to get Draco acquitted of all charges placed against him, and, during the trial itself, the pair developed feelings for one another. As soon as the verdict of “Not guilty” had been read out by the court, Draco had dropped to his knees and proposed to Ginny, who had immediately accepted the proposal.
Others were pairing up in the wake of the battle ending, with Ron and Hermione being a forgone conclusion, Luna getting engaged to Rolf Scamander, Neville beginning a long-term relationship with fellow-year Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott, and George getting closer to Angelina Johnson in the wake of Fred’s death. The only person who wasn’t keen on getting with anyone, at the time, that is, was Harry, for he discovered that the one person he wanted likely wouldn’t be the least bit interested in him. The person itself was Severus Snape, former potions professor, who had gone to St. Mungo’s in the wake of Voldemort’s slashing his throat and Nagini’s attack on him in the Shrieking Shack, and was released after three months, and going silent.
Harry, who had celebrated his twenty-first birthday the summer before, had watched all of his friends moving on with their lives around him. Ron and Hermione were coming up on their third-year wedding anniversary, and already had a daughter, two-year-old Rose, between the two of them. Ginny and Draco had been married two years, and had a one-year-old son, Scorpius, with plans on having further children down the line. Luna and Rolf had been doing extensive traveling since their engagement, sending frequent wildlife articles to Luna’s father at The Quibbler, and were set to get married the following summer. As for Neville and Hannah, they were busy training to be the next Herbology professor at Hogwarts and working as the landlady at The Leaky Cauldron respectively, although they had considered engagement. And then there was George, hard at work running Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes with Ron, in the wake of the latter quitting the Auror Academy, and working up the perfect proposal ideas for Angelina.
“What do you think, mate?” George had asked him, when Harry had come one afternoon to Diagon Alley for lunch, and George had what appeared to be a spread sheet in front of him, which was a shock to Harry.
Harry shrugged. “Expanding plans?” he asked.
“Everyone knows about our shop in Hogsmeade, and our Paris one is set to open by the New Year—we can thank Narcissa Malfoy for that one,” George told him with a wink.
“All right,” Harry said, as Ron and Hermione came to the back to join them, sandwiches from The Leaky Cauldron in Ron’s hands. “So, what am I looking at, then?”
“Oi, Georgie, don’t go bothering Harry with that,” Ron ordered, handing Harry his favorite sandwich from the pub, roast beef.
“Honestly, Ronald, don’t be rude,” Hermione said primly, taking small bites of her cucumber sandwich before she hugged Harry and kissed George on the cheek in greeting before she moved towards the couch in the center of the living room.
“Well, Ronniekins, if you had proved to be somewhat helpful, I wouldn’t have to go to another one of our brothers,” George replied, snagging his ham and cheese sandwich and unwrapping it, biting into it but continuing in his talk with Harry. “I was thinking either a romantic dinner at that posh new bistro—The Flaming Phoenix—or just going over to the Burrow one night with Mum’s cooking. What do you think?”
“Um... What is this for?” Harry asked awkwardly.
George carded a hand through his red hair as Ron rolled his eyes, chewing his bacon butty from across his older brother’s apartment above the joke shop. “I’m talking about Angelina,” George said, fighting to keep his tone patient as he took another bite of his sandwich. “I want to ask her to marry me,” he said with his mouth full.
“Blimey, is that what I look like?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Harry and Hermione said together.
“Bloody hell,” Ron said quietly.
“Might I weigh in?” Hermione asked, having finished her sandwich, before casting a Cleaning Charm on her hands and tossing the wrappings into the fireplace.
“Please,” George said, and Hermione walked over to his plans, the latter placing a casual arm around her shoulders.
“Oi! That’s my wife!”
“And my sister-in-law,” George said, narrowing his eyes at Ron. “Didn’t you just hear me, little brother? I need Hermione’s help in proposing to Angelina, as in, my girlfriend of nearly two years, who I’m madly in love with.”
Ron crossed his arms, kicking his trainer on the wooden floor. “Fine,” he muttered.
“How about taking Angelina to the Burrow?” Hermione told him with a smile. “Mum Weasley loves any excuse to have you home, plus Angelina wouldn’t expect anything.”
“And the proposal?” George asked.
“Have you got the ring yet?”
George shook his head. “I was going to get it during the weekend...”
“Good, I’m free,” Hermione said brightly. “You know how close Angelina and I’ve been since school, and I’d love to help, if that’s all right.”
“I could use all the help I can get,” George told her.
“Good,” Hermione told him with a grin. “Once dinner is concluded, on your selected evening at the Burrow, take Angelina for a walk on the grounds. It’ll be quiet, plus it’s so beautiful out there to begin with. You can pop the question during the walk.”
“Or, better yet, take her flying,” Harry put in.
George looked at Harry and grinned. “That might work, little brother!” he said. “For someone who’s given up on romance, you sure know how to plan something epic, Harry,” George told him, and Ron was left to roll his eyes.
Harry made his way to the end of the country lane to his house in East Sussex; it was an estate house, and the wizarding realtor had informed him that it had once belonged to a wealthy duke during the Tudor era. Harry loved the old architecture—especially since it wasn’t imposing in nature like Grimmauld—and had used a bit of his fortune to purchase it, as well as the proceeds of the sale from his former Islington home. After walking through the wards and up the stone staircase, Harry levitated his carrier bags for a moment and unlocked the front door, before using magic to turn on the lights, before locking the door behind him.
Setting the purchases down upon the floor of the entryway, Harry removed his overcoat, scarf, gloves, and hat and put them up upon the pegs, before settling himself down upon the bench below for a moment to remove his snow boots. In stockinged feet, he levitated the bags once more and walked into the kitchen; the kitchen was one of his favorite parts of the house, due to how much space there was and how tastefully the colors were put together. Banishing his groceries onto the kitchen island, Harry set to work putting everything away, and smiled as he turned towards the window, the darkening sky slightly illuminating the grounds of his East Sussex home, which were quickly becoming flooded with deep flurries.
Once the shopping had been put away, Harry walked into the living room and added some wood to his fireplace, before igniting it quickly, and rubbing his hands together. After this, he turned on the Wizarding Wireless, the familiar Christmas Eve broadcast read aloud by Lee Jordan a comfort to his ears. Returning into the kitchen, Harry set to work on making some chicken fettuccini and some roasted vegetables for dinner, and soon, the house was filled with the garlicky aroma of the cream sauce simmering on the stove, as well as the vegetables and butter steaming in the oven.
As Harry strained the pasta about a quarter of an hour later and started on grating the parmesan cheese, he peered out the window onto the grounds then, and saw a shadowy figure stumbling through the snow. Accio-ing his wand, Harry also summoned his coat, boots, and scarf, which he layered on quickly before putting a Stasis Charm on his meal, and promptly walked out the kitchen door and onto the grounds. Knowing that only a magical being could successfully pass through the wards unscathed, Harry felt safe in bringing out his wand.
“Lumos Maxima,” he whispered, and the tip of his wand suddenly flared to life as he stepped closer to whomever it was, coming deeper into his property. “Hello?” he called, and whoever it was suddenly stiffened at his voice. “Who is there?”
When the person didn’t answer, Harry trudged forward; due to the abuse and neglect from the Dursley’s for much of his life, he had never sustained a height of six foot. In all, he was in the upper middle range of five feet, and the snow, becoming deeper and deeper by the minute, seemed to want to pull him downwards into the drifts it had created. As Harry shone his wand upon the being, he stiffened automatically, as the familiar face of Severus Snape came into view, but the tortured demeanor was never one he thought he would ever witness again.
“Snape?” he whispered.
“P... Potter,” the man managed to get out, his teeth chattering.
“Dammit, come here,” he said, crossing the final few feet towards him and casting a Warming Charm upon him, before dragging him towards the door of his house. “It’s going to storm tonight, and it’ll be too cold for you to even think about Apparating properly. Come inside and warm yourself up,” he said, and continued pulling him.
“I’ll not t-take charity, P-Potter,” he said, his teeth still chattering.
“Please,” Harry grumbled, finally passing over the threshold and back into his kitchen. “It’s hardly charity if a person owes you something, and I think we both know that I owe you plenty, Snape.”
“I hardly think that...”
“Hush,” Harry ordered softly, and Snape looked surprised at the order. “If you really don’t want to be here, I’m sure you know how to find the Floo.”
Snape didn’t move, and finally sighed. “Very well, then.”
“Good.” Harry hastily put a Cushioning Charm onto one of the kitchen island chairs, before spelling the kitchen door closed and re-warding it. “Go ahead and sit down,” he said, waving his wand to the kettle to boil some water for some tea. “I was just making some chicken fettuccini and some roasted vegetables for dinner, and there’s plenty for us both.”
Snape, who was about to protest, inhaled the offering, and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks at the invitation. “That would be acceptable,” he said softly, and slowly removed his black, woolen cloak from his shoulders.
Harry nodded, putting his wand into his pocket and plating up the dinner by hand, and placed the first in front of Snape, who looked mildly surprised at how it looked. “I promise, I haven’t poisoned it,” the Gryffindor called over his shoulder as the kettle went off, and he poured them each a cup of tea. “I’m going to be eating it, too, after all.”
“I suppose I’m mildly surprised, Potter,” Snape said softly, picking up his cutlery, “that you would produce something that at least looked eatable. Potions is so similar to cooking, I can hardly understand how you would prove to be visually capable in one and completely helpless in the other...”
Harry sighed. “Well, I can say I had people berating me on both subjects for many years,” he informed his former professor quietly, no animosity in his voice as he brought over their tea, before plunking down beside Snape.
“When did you learn to cook?”
“On the fly, before reception,” Harry said, and Snape nodded; as a fellow Half-Blood, he would understand what the term meant. “All those memories about my past—the ones involving my relatives—that you saw during our failed attempt at Occlumency were true,” he went on, his voice silent as he slowly moved to pick up his fork. “I may have appeared to be lazy and arrogant, like my father, because that’s what you wanted to believe. It would’ve been easier that way, I suppose. Not to get attached, I mean, in case he did end up killing me...”
“You were never going to die by his hand, Potter.”
“Harry.”
“What?”
“Please, call me ‘Harry’,” Harry said softly, braving a look at him, and Snape felt himself transfixed by the beautiful green eyes staring back at him. “I never liked being called by my surname, although Robards doesn’t seem to care one whit either way.”
“And what makes you think I would?” Snape asked.
Harry sighed, turning back to his dinner and twirling a piece of pasta on his fork. “I suppose now I can legitimately say that I know how different you are,” he said softly.
Snape sighed. “Point,” he said, his tone equally quiet.
Harry began eating his dinner only after Snape had taken a bite, and felt a rush of relief that the man had seemed to enjoy it. Harry had never fully gotten over his crush on the Half-Blood Prince, and the notion that the two of them were literally sharing a meal together filled him with something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Shaking the thought from his mind, Harry finished his dinner, and cleared both of their dishes away.
“Don’t be in a hurry to rush off,” Harry said, and wandered over towards the lower oven, in which he produced a treacle tart. “I always like to have a bit of pudding on special occasions, and you’re welcome to some.”
Snape gave a nod. “My thanks.”
Harry plated up the tart and also produced a bottle of expensive-looking whisky, which Snape didn’t balk at. “We can sit in the living room, if you’d like.”
“Your house,” the man said, and got to his feet.
“Very well, then.” Harry moved past him, levitating their plates with an individual slice of tart on each of them, plus the two glasses of whisky, and the bottle, and they drifted into the living room together. Harry sat on one end of the couch, and Snape took the other, begrudgingly taking his plate of tart, but seeming to enjoy it nevertheless. “Whisky?”
“Thank you.” Snape took the offered glass and sipped it.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to East Sussex?” Harry asked softly, looking the man over, after he had eaten about a quarter of his dessert. “Last I heard, you’d gone to St. Mungo’s after the battle, but then there was nothing...”
“I sold my childhood home at Spinner’s End, and I used that money, plus my income from working at Hogwarts, to travel a bit. As you might have guessed, I didn’t have many golden opportunities to do so before.”
Harry shook his head. “No, I suppose not. But that doesn’t answer my question of what brought you to East Sussex, tonight of all nights, and onto my property.”
“If it is an imposition...”
“No, please,” Harry said, hating that his voice was filled ever so slightly with desperation as he reached out and gripped onto Snape’s arm, as the man attempted to get to his feet. “Please, don’t go away. Not again.”
Snape arched an eyebrow, but slowly settled back onto the couch. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but just outside your property is a rather expansive forest.”
Harry nodded. “I know of it. I opened it up to Luna and Rolf when they wanted to do some local research, and there was a rumor that some Gytrash were lurking within.”
“Were they?”
“Yes. About half a year ago, as a matter of fact, Hermione heard the rumor, and the ministry commissioned Luna and Rolf to have a look. The spirits were relocated to The Forbidden Forest, as the centaurs don’t scare easily, apparently...”
“Well, I’m pleased that Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Scamander are being so productive in their everyday lives.”
“It’s Granger-Weasley now, but yes,” Harry said, and Snape gave a slight nod.
“To answer your earlier question, I was there to restock some of my potion ingredients. In an old book I found during my travels, I became aware of the fact that there was a clearing within those woods that boasted an abundance of wolfsbane.”
Harry’s eyes widened, his heart temporarily aching for the loss of Remus, whom he had considered a father, but, knowing how important the plant truly was nevertheless, he inclined his head. “Really? Was it there?”
“Yes, and I harvested some,” Snape confirmed.
Harry nodded. “I am glad you found it.”
Snape looked momentarily surprised. “Thank you,” he said awkwardly. He looked around then, admiring the impressive-looking Christmas tree that Harry had, and also noticed the plenty of gifts wrapped expertly beneath it. There was a festive holiday garland above the fireplace, and it seemed that it boasted some wizarding photographs nestled between the false pine, including a fair few of Draco Malfoy as well. The windows, which Snape hadn’t noticed before, were spelled with cheerful frost, and the rest of the living room was decorated tastefully. However, one thing that shocked Snape, and that was the lone stocking hanging from the fireplace, aptly reading Harry.
“Something on your mind?”
Snape turned towards the Gryffindor, and spoke what was on his mind without thinking. “There is only one stocking suspended from your fireplace.”
Harry didn’t even bother looking, and shrugged his shoulders, before getting to his feet and gathering the dishes that they’d accumulated. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he called over his shoulder as he returned into the kitchen, and spelled both the dinner and dessert dishes to wash themselves, before making a grab for the whisky bottle and bringing it into the living room. “I am on my own here, and have been, since selling off Grimmauld Place.”
Snape looked astounded at the declaration, but accepted a second shot of whisky. “I don’t understand. I would have thought that you and Miss Weasley...”
“Ginny?” Harry sputtered, placing the bottle onto the coffee table and sipping his own shot. “Oh, please. She looked too much like my mum, for one thing. And, for another, she’s happily married to Draco now; they’ve got a son and everything—Scorpius.”
Snape looked flabbergasted. “I see.”
“You surely kept in contact with the Malfoys,” Harry went on. “You seemed to favor Draco while we were all at Hogwarts. I thought he was your godson.”
“He is, but in the wake of my succeeding him as Albus’s murderer, a bridge seemed to be broken, and we didn’t communicate much after that.”
“You’re no murderer,” Harry said. “Kingsley cleared your name, all with the memories that I had McGonagall view. She held them for me, after Kingsley returned them from using them as evidence, and promised to get them back to you...”
“She did, don’t worry.”
“Good,” Harry said, clearly relieved.
Snape inclined his head for further questioning. “So, Miss Weasley is now the new Mrs. Malfoy... How about Miss Chang? You seemed quite taken with her during your fifth-year...”
Harry sighed, swirling his whisky around in his glass. “Physically, I think it had something to do with her dark eyes and dark hair,” he said quietly. “Otherwise, there was no chemistry. She had the same problem that Ginny did.”
“Problem?”
“Or perhaps, to get technical, I was the one with the problem...”
Snape sighed. “Don’t speak in riddles, Potter. It pains me.”
Harry swallowed the last of his whisky, and although his senses screamed at him to have a further glass, he put his down and rubbed his temples. “It’s Harry.”
“Harry, then. So, what was your problem, then?”
“I’m gay.”
Snape sat in silence across his former student, staring at him until those green eyes raised to lock with his, unsettling something from within him again. “Excuse me?”
“I’m gay,” Harry repeated. “That’s why I couldn’t be with Ginny, Cho, any witch, or any Muggle woman, for that matter.”
“I’m surprised that it isn’t all over Wizarding Britain.”
“Ginny acts as my barrister, and she’s quite good at it, too,” Harry said, his voice filling with pride for who all the papers called his ‘childhood sweetheart’. “The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, Witch Weekly, and any other wizarding publication that wants to write anything about me has to send me a copy beforehand, and I have authority to approve and reject it. If they don’t, one Floo call to Kingsley gets them reprimanded, or potentially shut down for a week.”
“Merlin, Harry...”
“What? I hated half the shit they said about me while I was in Hogwarts,” Harry said, and crossed his arms. “Hermione even has incentive against Rita Skeeter, and she’s forbidden from writing about me because of it.”
“An incentive?”
“She’s an unregistered Animagus,” Harry explained. “A nasty little beetle that Hermione kept in a jar after the Triwizard Tournament, and told her she’d only let her out when she agreed to stop printing lies. Fat lot of good that did us, when she wrote that goddamn pile of lies about Dumbledore in the wake of... Well, everything.”
“So, no men have caught your fancy?” Snape asked.
Harry swallowed, pulling his knees towards his chest. “Not the one I’ve wanted,” he whispered, and straightened up slightly then. “I tried the wizard and Muggle gay club scene, if you can believe it,” he said quietly with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, which had filled out considerably, due to the fact that he was frequently working in the field for Auror duty. “Had to use a glamor for the first few times I visited a wizard club, before Gin finally managed to get the necessary addendum added to the whole newspaper situation. But... I don’t know. The whole thing of being the Boy-Who-Lived never appealed to me, and the fact that all the men I came into contact with wanted to shag me senseless because of it was a turn-off.”
“And the Muggle gay club scene?”
“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Harry admitted, resting his chin on his knees. “I... I suppose the whole thing of intimacy issues comes up, and they’d be upset when I wouldn’t...”
Snape blinked. “Harry, do you mean to tell me that you’ve never...?”
Harry shook his head. “Not once. I suppose I was waiting for the right man, but you’ll find the entire notion deluded...”
Snape sighed. “Perhaps I would have said such a thing when I was an embittered man who spent most of his time attempting to serve two masters, whilst also endeavoring to avoid his own execution,” he said quietly.
“I’m glad you didn’t die.”
“Really, Harry, I know it’s Christmas Eve, but you’ve no need to spread falsehoods and tidings of hostility,” Snape told him.
“No, I mean it,” Harry said, and those intoxicating black eyes snapped to his. “I really mean that, Snape. I promise. If anything, I’m spreading the truth and tidings of goodwill.”
“Harry, you don’t need to...”
“I know I don’t need to, Snape, but can’t you just let me say something nice to you, just this once?” he asked, and threw his hands up into the air.
Snape quickly sneered, and he perfectly resembled his potion master of old. “Really, Potter. I expected far better of you than to lie on a supposed magical day for witches and wizards and Muggles alike.”
“That’s not what this is at all,” Harry snapped, glaring at him. “I know you doubted my sincerity when you claimed I was a stubborn and bratty teenager, but things are different now. The war is over, and we neither of us have to play games or pick sides anymore. Yes, I was a Gryffindor and you were a Slytherin, and you had to put up walls to make people believe that you hated me, and I understand your actions were that way for a reason, I understand all that. What I don’t get is why you’re deliberately attempting to provoke me now. I’ve opened my home to you, fed you, given you drink, not to mention helped get your ungrateful arse cleared of any charges, saving you from spending the rest of your life in Azkaban—!”
Snape straightened up then, before finally shooting to his feet, his robes billowing out around him. “Perhaps you are the problem completely, Potter,” he ground out. “No wonder you weren’t interested in Miss Chang—she had no discernable personality anyway—but Miss Weasley was likely bored with you once the excitement wore off. It was likely your temper which ended up driving the pair of them away from you, at the end of things—”
“Damn you!” Harry yelled then, losing his temper, and hating that he was literally proving the man’s point. “It was you, dammit!” he cried out, his voice very nearly breaking as he felt tears entering his eyes. “It was always you! The reason why it couldn’t work with Cho was because she was still hung up on Cedric, but with Gin... I couldn’t make it work with Gin because of you! It was because I wanted to be with you! Nobody else would measure up because I fell in love with you, you fucking pillock!” he said, and then shoved past him, and up the stairs, before slamming his bedroom door behind him.
The door seemed to nearly splinter off his hinges from behind him, and when Harry permitted himself to turn around, he saw a very shocked-looking Severus Snape standing in his doorway. However, the shock upon the potion master’s face didn’t last long, and a possessive hunger quickly took its place. Heart hammering in his throat, Harry hardly had time to prepare himself before Snape all but threw himself into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him, and yanking Harry into his arms, their hearts thundering together as one. Their lips met almost immediately thereafter, and their bodies smashed together, so much so that there seemed to be no beginning or end to the pair of them.
“Snape... Severus, what are you...?”
“Do you realize how long I’ve wanted this, Harry?” Severus whispered to him, pulling back and cradling Harry’s face in his hands.
Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. “You’ve...? You want me?”
“Yes,” he told him.
Harry swallowed. “But... What about my mum?”
Severus shook his head. “I feel for her as you feel for Miss Granger. Pardon me, Mrs. Granger-Weasley,” he amended. “Nothing more, nothing less. She was a close friend, a sister, and nothing more than that.”
Harry shook his head, desire and longing bubbling from within him. “You want me?” he asked a second time.
Severus nodded. “Yes, and you will hate me forever if I admit how long,” he said, and slowly wiped Harry’s tears away with the pads of his thumbs.
“How long?” Harry asked softly.
“I believe the inkling began upon Voldemort’s return, on the night of Diggory’s death,” Severus responded without hesitation, and Harry’s desire proceeded to pool into his groin.
“What?” he whispered.
“Yes,” Severus confirmed. “But it all went to hell during our Occlumency lessons. I could hardly bring myself to be close to you, and the constant push and pull between us was detrimental, given our hostility, but we needed to do it, for Voldemort had returned, and you were in desperate need to learn how to shield your mind from him.”
“Just wish I knew then what I know now,” Harry whispered to him. “It would’ve made things so much easier...”
“Hardly, Harry,” Severus said, and chuckled—he actually chuckled—which directly caused goosebumps to appear upon every inch of Harry’s body. “What would you have done, had you known that your most-hated professor wanted to fuck you senseless?”
Harry chuckled, hardly believing that he was enveloped in the arms of the man he had loved since he was sixteen-years-old. “Well, I felt a heat of something by that point, so I likely would have been receptive to it, despite the ethical and moral dangers,” he admitted. “But I think I truly fell for you when I had your copy of Advanced Potion Making. All I wanted was to know who you are and, once I figured it out...”
“What, Harry? Speak.”
Harry nipped at his lower lip. “All I could think about was, at the time, how I perceived you to be a murderer, a murderer of one of the few adults who cared for me,” he admitted. “Looking back now, I know how much Dumbledore used me, and he was the epitome of imperfection, to say the least. I think that the blood wards were a bunch of horseshit, and he needed me to be preconditioned to abuse to be a precious little weapon for the Wizarding World.”
“You truly believe that?”
Harry sighed. “I do. Power at its finest. Yes, the man was fighting for the light, but being considerate to everyone involved, and I mean everyone, was not his strong suit.”
Severus sighed, stepping forward and putting his forehead against Harry’s. “I am so sorry about everything I’ve said and done from the time you walked into my life, Harry. I know that you know that I was a spy, but I clearly took things too far.”
“Your intentions and your heart were in the right place...”
“It doesn’t matter where either of them were, Harry. You were a child, a child whose father I hated and, because of that, I transferred my hatred from him onto you.”
Harry hesitated for a moment. “You want me?” he clarified.
“More than anything,” Severus affirmed.
Harry swallowed. “Well, then... Why not forever?”
Severus blinked. “What?” he whispered.
“Will this be a one-off for you, Severus, or do you want a future with me?” he asked, and stared openly up at him. “And when I say ‘future’, I mean everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Marriage, family, children,” he said, hating how his voice was trembling, but forced himself to press on. “I want a life with you, Severus, and I have for a good five years now, and I don’t want to let you go, now that you’re here with me. I want you to stay, and I want it to be forever. You’re the only one I want, and the only one I’ll ever want.”
Severus smiled slowly then, before leaning down and capturing Harry’s lips with his own again, and, this time, he gently explored Harry’s mouth for a few moments before pulling back. “Yes, to all of it, Harry.”
Harry gasped then, and didn’t take his eyes from Severus’s. “Marry me,” he said.
Severus grinned. “Nothing would make me happier. I love you, Harry.”
“I love you, too, Severus,” Harry replied. “Forever?” he queried.
“Always,” Severus assured him, and his lips met his.
Harry looked behind him then as his grandfather clock sounded on the main floor below, and chimed midnight, and he shook his head, realizing that, not only had they been talking for much longer than he’d anticipated, but it was Christmas Day. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”
“Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry bit his lip then, and smiled slowly up at him. “Well, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to give you your Christmas present, then.”
Severus raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I didn’t,” Harry said, pressing his lips to Severus’s, and, a moment later, both of them were starkers, and clinging to each other. “What I have to give is already yours, and I think you know what that is, what I want.”
“And what is it you want, Harry?”
“I want you inside me,” Harry whispered, biting down hard on his lower lip. “I want you to fuck me, Severus.”
Severus smiled hungrily down at him then, and slowly reached downwards, permitting Harry’s bare legs to wrap around his equally bare torso, before gently laying Harry down upon his four-poster bed with a crimson-colored duvet. He then straightened up, waving his hand about the room, so that the only thing their respective bodies were illuminated by was candlelight, and smiled down at Harry, nothing but love in his eyes.
“You’ll be gentle?” Harry whispered. “I... I know it’ll hurt...”
“Yes,” Severus assured him, and beckoned with his hand, and a tub of lube seemed to leap from outside the room into his hands. “A special brew of mine,” he informed Harry.
Harry arched an eyebrow. “And you fancy a wank in the woods, Severus?” he asked, smirking and subsequently becoming aroused at the picture it painted.
“No,” Severus replied, climbing up onto the bed and hovering over Harry, and hearing the younger man’s heart beating in such a way for him, as well as the intensity of his eyes caused him to become completely erect. “The wolfsbane was just an excuse.”
Harry shook his head. “Just an excuse? What do you mean?”
“Minerva is as meddling as Albus once was,” Severus explained, leaning down and kissing Harry deeply for a moment, before pulling back, and gently tweaking one of his nipples, and Harry arched up and off the bed at the sensation. “Let’s just say that when she returned my memories to me, she made it a point to tell me where you resided.”
Harry swallowed. “You... You didn’t just come here for wolfsbane, then?”
Severus smiled at him. “No,” he replied.
Harry’s breath hitched in his throat then, and moved so that he was bracing himself upon his elbows, watching, wide-eyed, as Severus gently teased the furl of his entrance with just the right amount of lubricant. “You came here for me?”
“Always,” Severus said, and leaned down a second time, capturing Harry’s lips with his, and slowly, teasingly, slipped a finger inside of him. He sensed Harry’s momentary discomfort with the situation, and broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “Breathe, love,” he said, and pushed deeper, as if searching for something. “Breathe. It will pass.”
Harry was about to mention how much it hurt, but then, he felt Severus’s long fingertips brush against something from inside him, and the squeaks of pain morphed into surprised moans. “I... I never...”
“It is all right,” Severus assured him, moving his lips downward, tracing the shell of his ear and moving towards the stubble of his jawline, which his tongue momentarily moved out to taste every now and again. “I’ve got you.”
Harry writhed in pleasure at Severus’s ministrations towards him, lying back comfortably and permitting him to continue, and felt no discomfort when a second finger was added. His eyes rolled back in his head when Severus deliciously brushed that thing inside him, this time with two fingers, causing him to clench around his fingertips, and Severus stiffened, considering what it would feel like for Harry’s tight arse to do the same to his cock. In no time at all, a third finger was added to the mix, and Harry’s groans and pants continued.
Once Harry seemed adequately stretched, Severus slowly removed his fingers with a surprising pop, and Harry sighed, momentarily distressed at how empty he felt. A surprised gasp leaked from his lips soon thereafter, when something sharp poked inside him, and Harry somehow managed to lift his head and lower his eyes, which quickly widened at the sight before him. It was none other than Severus Snape, potions master, all-around greasy git of the dungeons, who had wrapped himself around Harry’s heart and, for some splendid reason, was as much in love with him as he was, with his tongue in Harry’s arse.
“Severus,” he whispered, shaking his head at the picture before him, his legs trembling as the older man’s tongue flitted in and out of him, effectively stretching him more, and had discovered that he had never felt anything so amazing in his entire life. Harry felt his backside attempt to clench around the invading specimen, but Severus’s oral stimulation was much too quick. Harry fisted the bedsheets and writhed at the attention, never knowing that this was a thing. “Oh, Merlin...” He groaned.
All too soon, Severus slowly permitted himself to stop tasting the lusciousness of Harry’s arse and slowly slicked up his thick cock, and Harry bit his lip nervously, wondering how in the name of Merlin that was supposed to fit inside of him. “Pillow,” Severus said then, breaking the spell, and Harry promptly reached backwards, fetching a pillow he wasn’t lying on, and put it underneath his arse, and fisted the bedsheets once more. Severus smiled down at his lover, and gently eased his erect member close to his entrance, and took Harry by the hand. “I love you, Harry,” he whispered, his tone reverent before he slowly pushed his head inside.
“Merlin!” Harry gasped.
“Push against me,” Severus told him gently, still holding onto Harry’s hand, and, slowly but surely, Harry heeded his command. “That’s it, Harry. You’re doing wonderfully,” Severus said softly, and, not even a minute later, Severus was fully sheathed inside.
“Fuck, Severus, move!” Harry yelled then, just as the tip of Severus’s cock was brushing against his prostate, and wrapped his legs around his torso. “Move inside me, please! I need you! I’ve always needed you! I love you!”
Severus smiled. “I love you, Harry,” he assured him, and began to move, faster and faster, panting and groaning with Harry, as Harry met Severus thrust for thrust. It was unexpected for Harry when Severus let go of his hand, and pushed up his legs, effectively bending his young lover in half, but the new position permitted him to repeatedly hit Harry’s prostate.
“More, more!” Harry shouted, and Severus moved faster than ever, Harry meeting him all the way, and, suddenly, all the arousal which had pooled in his groin moved downward. “Severus, I’m going to—”
“Come, Harry!” Severus told him. “Come for me! I’m there, too!”
Harry let out a shout then, spasming around Severus before his entire body seemed to rocket off the bed, ropes of come streaming from his cock as he came, completely untouched. He felt relief at the sensation of warmth inside him, as Severus came as well, and the room was suddenly overtaken with a bright gold light, followed by a silver one. The gold light wrapped around the two of them, while Harry somehow managed to shine silver as well. Once the lights cleared, Harry’s eyes locked to Severus’s, his eyes wide.
“What... What was that?” he whispered.
Severus’s eyes filled with tears. “Magic at its finest, Harry,” he replied, and slowly slipped out of his younger lover. He performed a Cleaning Charm and lay beside him, gently wrapping Harry into his arms. “The gold light was a Bonding Spell.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you and I, in the eyes of Wizarding Law, are married,” Severus explained tentatively. “It’s for soulmates, and only they can make it happen, usually when they make love for the first time, and it particularly helps when one of the witches or wizards involved is a virgin.”
Harry nodded, and slowly smiled. “So, this makes me Harry Potter-Snape, then?”
Severus grinned, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “If you’re so inclined, yes.”
Harry worried his lower lip then, and pushed himself upwards, so as he could stare into his new husband’s eyes. “But that doesn’t explain the silver light.”
“Ah, that is even rarer magic, Harry,” Severus told him. “That means that, because of our bonding was so successful, that you’re now pregnant with our child.”
“Pregnant?” Harry whispered, placing a hand upon his stomach, and feeling a small flutter of a magical signature from within. “Lily,” he said softly.
Severus looked at his husband, and slowly sat up as well. “What?”
“Lily,” Harry repeated. “I can feel her. She’s telling me that she’s a girl. Here, feel,” he ordered, and made a grab for Severus’s wrist, placing it upon his stomach, and Severus’s tears soon pooled over the edges of his onyx eyes.
“Lily,” he agreed.
“Lily Eileen Potter-Snape,” Harry told him, and Severus’s eyes snapped to his, a look of joy in his entire expression.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” Harry told him, kissing him.
“Happy Christmas, my Harry.”
“Happy Christmas, my Severus.”
~*~
Epilogue: Twelve Years Later
It was Lily’s first Christmas home from Hogwarts, and although Severus attempted to hide his disappointment, Harry was secretly still feeling smug that their first-born had been sorted into Gryffindor two months before. Almost two years after Lily’s birth, Albus Severus Potter-Snape had been born, followed by eight-year-old Iris Hermione Potter-Snape, five-year-old John Ronald Potter-Snape, and, finally, much to their shock, two-year-old Freya Minerva Potter-Snape was born.
Harry was in the kitchen as usual, with Freya down for her mid-afternoon nap, and Lily, Al, Iris, and John in the backyard, surrounded by Victoire (Bill and Fleur’s eldest daughter), Dominique (their middle daughter), and Louis (their only son), Rose and Hugo (Ron and Hermione’s two children), Scorpius, Ursula, and Dora (Ginny and Draco’s three children), Molly and Lucy (Percy and Audrey’s daughters), Roxanne and Fred (George and Angelina’s two children), Lorcan and Lysander Scamander (Luna and Rolf’s twin sons), and Olivia, Noah, and Leo (Neville and Hannah’s three children). The children were screaming happily, tossing snowballs at one another, or generally running about in the snow.
Rose was a third-year already, with Victoire a second year, and Lily, Scorpius, and Dominique in first, and all four girls had made Gryffindor, with Scorpius, like his father before him, being sorted into Slytherin. Hugo was on track to begin at Hogwarts the following autumn, along with Lorcan, Lysander, and Roxanne. The next bunch to begin were Olivia, Ursula, and Louis, and everyone was torn on whether or not Olivia would make Gryffindor like her father, or Hufflepuff like her mother. There weren’t bets for Louis, however, as he was expected, like every Weasley, to make Gryffindor, while Ursula, much to everyone’s surprise, was demonstrating Ravenclaw tendencies.
Severus, while Harry was making a massive amount of chicken fettuccini, a roast, a turkey, a chicken, a goose, roasted vegetables, plus a wide variety of puddings, was entertaining their guests in the living room. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Teddy, Andromeda, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Percy, Audrey, George, Angelina, Luna, Rolf, Neville, and Hannah had all come to the Potter-Snape house to celebrate the holiday with them. An undetectable Extension Charm—in case some Muggles accidentally wandered into the wards—had been placed on the living room and dining room to accommodate everyone, as Harry and Severus—save for alternating Christmases and other massive holiday gathering occasions—weren’t used to this much company. Ron and Hermione, of course, were the most frequent visitors, and Severus had quickly adapted to having such a large family that actually cared for him.
Harry let out an indulgent noise as Severus crept up behind him as he was grating cheese for their fettuccini, and pressed a kiss to his thirty-three-year-old husband’s neck. “And what brings you here, Severus? Hermione getting too much for you?”
“You know as well as I do that I apologized for referring to her as an insufferable know-it-all, as well as taking points for no reason, exactly twelve years ago,” Severus told him.
Harry smirked, and remembered arriving at the Burrow, Severus in tow, after a trip to Diagon Alley, where they’d quickly purchased bonding rings. The announcement that they were married, soulmates, and expecting their first child had been quite a lot for the Weasleys to handle. But, they wouldn’t have been a proper family if they hadn’t taken it all in stride, which is precisely what they all ended up doing. It had been a lovely first Christmas together, with promises of many more to come.
“I just can’t wait until Freya begins her first year,” Severus whispered in his husband’s ear, as he looked over his shoulder, where all the children were screaming and laughing in the heavy snowfall from the night before. “Then, we can go off during the school year...”
“Searching for wolfsbane?” Harry asked with a giggle.
Severus rolled his eyes, grabbing the grater and the brick of cheese from Harry’s hands, and spun his husband around, staring intently down into his beautiful green eyes. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
Harry smiled. “I’m not complaining.”
Severus looked him over then, skeptical. “What are you keeping from me, Harry James Potter-Snape?” he asked.
Harry bit his lip. “Well, this morning, you had to run to the shower rather quickly after giving me my annual Christmas gift...”
Severus smiled. “I had to get the house ready while you saw to the children, and I could hardly do that without washing up,” he explained.
“I’m not complaining,” Harry repeated, “it’s just that you missed something quite obvious, and I hated to share it alone.”
Severus arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“I glowed silver,” Harry said softly.
Severus’s eyes widened. “You... You’re...?”
Harry nodded at him. “A boy,” he informed him, and reached out slowly, and placed Severus’s hands onto his abdomen. “I know that we said that we would stop after John, and then after Freya, but we’ll need to think of a permanent arrangement to all this, or just give up our sex lives altogether...”
Severus swept up his husband into his arms, molding his mouth to his, and kissing him for all he was worth, leaving Harry with the impression that Severus would never give up sex with him. “I love you,” he whispered.
“You... You’re not mad?”
“Mad? I’m thrilled!”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, what shall we call this one, then?”
Severus sighed. “How about James Sirius Potter-Snape?”
Harry gasped. “You would actually consent to...?”
“It has been a long time, Harry,” Severus explained, gently caressing his husband’s belly. “And I may have found the Resurrection Stone while visiting Minerva last week.”
Harry shook his head. “You didn’t tell me that...”
Severus nodded. “I know. It was meant to be a surprise. I spoke to them, and to Lily, and Remus, and told them everything. We all forgave each other, and then I brought the stone to Molly and Arthur, who said goodbye to Fred, a proper one...”
“Where is the stone now?” Harry whispered.
Severus reached into his pocket, and handed it over to Harry. “There.”
“Please get Andromeda and Teddy,” he begged.
Severus slowly smiled. “Of course,” he said, kissing Harry’s temple, and leaving the kitchen, with Teddy and Andromeda coming in a moment later.
“Harry, dear, what is it?” Andromeda asked.
Harry smiled, and handed the stone to Teddy. “I know this will sound completely mad, but I need you to think of your parents.”
“My parents?” asked Teddy; as a fourteen-year-old in Hufflepuff who had inherited his mother’s Metamorphmagus abilities, he fancied himself too old to play in the snow, and old enough to form a reciprocated crush on Victoire Weasley.
“Just trust me,” Harry said.
Teddy sighed, wrapping the stone in his hands, and considered then, and Harry smiled, while Andromeda gasped, as the spirits of both Remus and Tonks appeared in the kitchen, holding hands and smiling at them all. Teddy’s eyes snapped open then, and gasped at the sight before him. “Mum? Dad?” he whispered.
Dora smiled at her son, letting out a weeping giggle as his hair changed from its typical brown, which matched Remus’s, to a vibrant yellow, signifying happiness. “Hello, Teddy,” she whispered to him.
“Dora,” Andromeda said, weeping, and turned to Remus, while she continued to blubber. “Oh, Remus... Oh, my loves, we cannot tell you how much we all miss you...”
“We miss you, too, Dromeda,” Remus assured her, and turned to Teddy. “I am so sorry that we had to leave you, my son.”
“I understand what you and Mum had to die for,” Teddy assured him. “I still miss you two so much, though...”
Harry smiled and waved to them both, and slowly slipped out of the kitchen, and moved into the dining room to make sure it was set up properly. Turning, he saw his husband hesitating in the doorway, and he smiled at him. “Little did I know that wolfsbane would one day prove to be beneficial to me,” he said to him.
“It was not just for wolfsbane, Harry,” Severus declared, and walked across the room to take Harry into his arms.
Harry nodded. “I know,” he assured him. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry stood on his toes. “I want this baby, and our family, and I love you, Severus.”
Severus pressed his lips to his husbands, never wanting to let him go. “As do I, my Harry. And I love you. Always.”

THE END
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Not Just For Wolfsbane