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Missed Opportunities	By : thewandcrafter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7900 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all contained within it belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomberg, Scholastic and others, not me. No money is made with this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Missed Opportunities

Chapter Twelve
I dreaded returning to The Crystal Cave. It wasn’t that I was afraid. While I was recovering – at Snape’s home, I realized, once I was coherent again – Mario and Daltry had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to Azkaban, all without the need for me to even testify, as Veritaserum and Legilimancy provided sufficient evidence against them, though Poppy and Severus testified to my injuries, and the Aurors Kingsley had led to the Cave upon receiving Severus’ Patronus testified as to the physical damage in the shop.
I simply dreaded facing the damage – months of work in glass and crystal shattered, and even those that survived intact likely contaminated, unwarded in that negative atmosphere for so long. However, on the third day after the attack, Severus silently handed me clothing he had brought from Grimmauld Place, then headed to his kitchen.
I joined him twenty minutes later, having taken my time getting ready, reluctant to leave. I trailed a hand down the bannister heading down the stairs to his sitting room, and followed my instincts to find him sitting at the table, two places set with breakfast. He looked me up and down as he flicked a serviette open and spread it on his lap.
“You look none the worse for your adventure,” he commented.
I snorted. “Adventure?”
He ignored that. “Tea?” He raised the kettle in inquiry, and I nodded, taking a seat. Breakfast looked and smelled delicious. I took a fork to the scrambled eggs, and let out a moan of pleasure when they nearly melted on my tongue.
“Oh, my god! Delicious!” I said, attacking the rest of my breakfast. Severus graciously did not comment on the fact that I had talked with my mouth full. I forbore to state the obvious, knowing he would make the inevitable comparison between cooking and brewing potions, but the smirk on his face said it anyway. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes as we ate, and then, as I slowed down, he said, “I’ll accompany you back home.”
“No. I need to get to the shop,” I said, my stomach gone cold.
He nodded as if he expected that. “All the same, I’m coming with.” His tone brooked no disagreement, and I smiled wry assent.
“All right,” I agreed. “Thanks. For this…” I waved around.
“Breakfast is easy,” he said, deliberately mistaking my meaning. I threw a bun at him, and he caught it, tore a piece, and used it to sop up egg yolk from his own fried eggs.
I watched him a moment or two, and he looked up.
“What?”
“Your floo let me in.”
He returned to chasing egg around his plate, then rose and took his dishes to the sink. His back to me, he said, “Just returning the courtesy.”
I grinned at his back, somehow taking more from that than it likely merited, I thought.
“Are you about done?”
I drained my cup of tea, and took my dishes to him. He washed them by hand, rinsed them, and placed them on a drying rack, laughing lightly at my quizzical look. “Not everything requires magic,” he said, and there was a strange gleam in his eye. “Gather your things. We’ll return by floo.”
My stomach clenched, and I wished I had held off on breakfast, but I climbed the stairs, careful of my left arm, which was still sore at the shoulder. I glanced into rooms in the upstairs hallway as I passed them. None of them was as large or as completely appointed as the room I had been in, and I suddenly realized I had been sleeping in Severus’ bed. My cock gave an interested twitch at the thought, accompanied by a bit of panic that immediately deflated the little bit of tightness, both of which threatened my composure. I reached his room and took hold of the door handle, leaning on it a bit to steady myself, took a deep breath, and entered.
I had few things there. My clothes had been washed and lay folded at the foot of the bed, but I did not even want to look at them. I waved my wand and banished them. Looking around, I saw only the latest issue of Casting in Crystal, shrank it, and tucked it in my pocket. I turned completely around, taking in all of the room, its warm masculinity and familiar scents soothing me as if Severus stood protectively at my back. I shook my head at the thought, and headed down the stairs again.
We stood in front of the fireplace together, but when I reached for the floo powder, Severus stopped me. “One moment.” He drew his wand and raised an eyebrow at my frown. “Expecto Patronum,” he said, his lips twitching in humor, and when his Patronus appeared and would have turned toward me again, he called it wordlessly, and it turned to nuzzle his hand, instead. “We’re coming. Open the floo,” he said, and the doe bounded off.
We waited two minutes, perhaps three, for an answer, and when it came, it was Ron’s Jack Russell terrier. It opened its mouth, and Ron’s voice said, “Come on, then.”
I looked up at Severus, wanting an explanation, but he took my arm and directed me to the fireplace. “Hold your left arm tight to your side,” he said, and took up a position to my right, his left arm crossing my back to lightly grip my shoulder. The tip of his ebony wand pressed into his right palm, I had time to notice, before he dropped floo powder and said, “The Crystal Cave.”
He kept me from falling, when we stepped out at the other end, which was good, as the safety bar I had installed – despite Ron’s snickering – was on the left, and I likely would have hurt myself grabbing for it. I had expected to have to face the ruins of my inventory, expected to spend the day sweeping up, repairing shelves, and counting my losses. But the shop was clean, bright, and tidy… and filled with people. Severus’ hand pressed against the small of my back, urging me forward.
“Harry!” Hermione flew at me and threw her arms around me. I winced, and she drew back. “Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry – but, oh, you look great!”
“Hey, mate!” Ron went to pat my shoulder, but pulled his hand back at Severus’ frown.
“Harry!”
Suddenly, I was surrounded – by Weasleys mainly. Arthur, George, Molly, Ginny – even Charlie, somehow. “What are you doing here?” I asked when he came up to shake my hand.
“Just by coincidence, I was home on leave when this happened.” He waved around.
I laughed. “It doesn’t look like anything happened. I… I don’t know what to say. Thanks. Everyone.”
I was grateful, but… My inventory required specialized handling, and despite how the shop looked, I knew that the wares that were displayed on the now less-crowded shelves would likely serve no better purpose than perhaps holding perfume. They’d be contaminated, and useless as potions vials. I smiled anyway, hiding my dismay.
“Mister Potter,” someone said, and I turned to my right, to see Geoff Crittenden standing next to Severus. I shook my head in confusion.
“Mr. Crittenden? What…?”
He came forward and shook my hand. “When Severus told us what happened, we had to come help. Fortunately, I needed to come to London, anyway, so I was able to kill two birds with one stone, as they say.” He waved a hand and laughed. “I always hated that metaphor. In any case…”
“Hey, Geoff, what should I… Harry! Hey, guys – Harry’s back!” I was stunned to see Tom, Bill and Charlie, from Paris, emerge from my workshop.
Severus bent to murmur in my ear, “I took the liberty of calling Geoff for advice, and he – and the dynamic trio – decided they had better rescue your shop from the likes of me. I apologize in advance for their excessive… enthusiasm.” He glared at the three, and they approached more cautiously, keeping Geoff between them and Severus.
I grinned at them, and then turned to Mr. Crittenden. “I thought my vials…”
“I couldn’t bear to let that happen, Mister Potter!” he said. “While I am not certain that everything is as you would like it, I was able to determine, in general, how things should be. Ingenious warding you had set up. And I wonder if you could explain to me…” He pulled me off to one side, careful of my arm, but I glanced back at Severus, who was looking far too pleased with himself, as Hermione asked his opinion about something or another. He waved Bill and Charlie – not Weasley – back to the studio, and tugged Tom’s arm to get his attention, pulling him along to help deal with whatever Hermione had asked about.
Hours later, after a late lunch provided by Mrs. Weasley, Kreacher, and Winky, the dozen of us sat around an expanded workbench, finishing off our drinks and eating chocolate-covered biscuits. “We should see to the warding, now we’ve eaten,” Severus said, directing his comment to Mr. Weasley.
I shook my head. “Shelves are all warded now, Severus.”
He looked at me with something like his old disdain, and I almost grinned at him. “Protective wards – around the shop, and the building,” he said.
I frowned. “How do you ward the shop and still let customers… oh!”
Severus shook his head in apparent disgust at my ignorance, but he was smiling. It was Hermione who answered, though, of course.
“Harry! Honestly! Did you even pay attention to what we were doing when we warded our camps?”
“Er…”
Ron snickered, and if he had not been sitting on my left, I would have elbowed him.
“Take Cave Inimicum, for example,” Hermione went on. “Do you have any idea what that spell actually does?”
“Uh… it keeps enemies away?”
“Exactly, Harry, and it warns you of malevolent intent! It’s a really ingenious spell! It was developed by –”
“Hermione!” Ron said, just as Severus said, “Miss Granger!” and she halted, her face pink. “Another time, perhaps. You should apply to McGonagall to teach charms once Flitwick announces his retirement,” he added, and the pink in her face deepened.
“Do you think so?” she asked, hope and caution in her manner.
“I have never met a person so filled with passion and possessing such a deep knowledge of spells. I believe you would make an excellent charms professor – and probably inspire that passion in all kinds of little demons – heaven help us!” he added, and the rest of us laughed.
“In any event,” Severus said, rising from the table, “if you all would join us…” He nodded to indicate Geoff, Mr. Weasley, Charlie, and myself. “… your contributions would be appreciated, I am sure.” He turned to me and gave a slight bow. “With your consent, of course, Crystal Master.”
“Sure! Yeah! Whatever you think best, Severus. Um…” I turned to the rest of the group. “If… if you would join us in setting the wards, I’d really appreciate it.” Especially since I did not know what I was doing.
Ward-setting is a beautiful thing to observe, and truly awe-inspiring to experience, when done as a cooperative effort. A dozen wands raised in synchrony, a common intent to protect and defend, the energies of a dozen witches and wizards, woven together in intricate harmony… It was tangible, tasted of sweetness and chocolate and cinnamon and tea, warmed us and stood our hair on end, surrounding us with halos of light and energy, sending my blood racing. Severus stood next to me as he and Arthur, on my other side, led us in casting the spells. Geoff stood next to him, followed by Tom, Bill, Charlie, Charlie, Ron, Hermione… and the rest, each of us with one hand on the shoulder of the person to our left, wands in our right hands. I could feel each person’s touch in the wall of protection they built around my workplace.
We cast first in the studio, then in the shop, then, at Severus’ insistence and Mr. Weasley’s urging, outside the shop as well, first the back, ending with the front. People in the street stopped to watch, mouths agape. Shopkeepers up and down Diagon Alley stood in their doorways, watching, more than one nodding approval or raising a wandless hand as if to add their energy to the mix. It was like a community blessing, and by the time we were done, I had tears in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered, when I had myself under control, and each one came up to hug me, or shake my hand, or pat my back, and more than one whispered a blessing into my ear, Mrs. Weasley last, hugging me as if conveying all the love of all the Weasleys. It was powerful magic… and left me feeling simultaneously drained and elated, and very, very safe.
Geoff was the last to leave – other than Severus. “I hope you won’t mind if I come back tomorrow,” he said. “I would like to discuss the set-up in your studio, and…” He paused as if embarrassed. “… commission a set of stirring rods… for my nephew. I could do it, but frankly…” He gestured around. “…your work is exquisite, and he is more likely to value another’s work over that of his old uncle.” He laughed at that, and Severus said, “One is never a prophet in one’s own land.”
“Of course, Master Crittenden. You are welcome, any time. I’d love your input,” I said.
He held out his hand. “It’s Geoff, if you don’t mind, young man.”
“Geoff,” I said, and watched, somewhat star-struck, to tell the truth, as Severus escorted him to the floo.
Severus turned back toward me, a warm glow in his eyes. “You’ll want to be getting home… get some rest,” he said, still holding the box of floo powder.
“Yeah. I should do that,” I said, reluctant for him to go. “Could you… would you… would you join me for dinner? I don’t mean going out – I’m too tired for that. But Kreacher could…”
He smiled and nodded. “Of course.” There was something on his face that led me to believe he was relieved, as if he had wanted to escort me home, make sure I was alright. It did something strange to me – some combination of amusement, chagrin, frustration, gratitude, and longing that, mixed in with the afterglow of the ward-setting, made me want to just wrap my arms around him and never let go.
Severus.
I settled for his arm across my shoulders as he waved a wand to lock the shop, and we jointly floo’d to Grimmauld Place.
We ate, Kreacher persuaded by Severus to feed us something not too heavy, in deference to my still-recovering insides and the lateness of the hour. Despite my intentions, by the time we had consumed our meal, I felt drained and lethargic, barely registering Severus by my side until he stood next to me and spoke.
“Come, Potter,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Potter?” I protested.
He snorted. “Come – Harry. Let’s get you upstairs.”
“I can get upstairs by myself!” I protested, but I lacked the energy to even stand by then.
“Kreacher!” Severus called, and he appeared with a crack.
“Is the master bedroom ready?”
“Master Harry’s room is always ready, with fresh linens and a warm fire,” Kreacher said.
“Lead me,” Severus said with an approving nod, and, ignoring my squawk of protest, flicked his wand, murmuring a feather-light spell, and picked me up. I struggled against it in token protest, but the truth is, the moment he held me against him, I wanted to be nowhere else in the world, and I curled one arm around his neck, and clutched at his robes with the other, as he carried me up two flights of stairs, following Kreacher. He could have used a Mobilicorpus, I realized, halfway to my room, and, sighing happily, I buried my head against his shoulder and just… inhaled his scent, hoping he would put it all down to the residual effects of my injuries, the potions I had taken over the last three days, and exhaustion from the warding.
I do not recall the end of that journey. I must have fallen asleep in his arms. For the first time.
Kreacher woke me with breakfast in bed, the next morning, along with the day’s Daily Prophet, which carried pictures of a dozen witches and wizards, wands raised, the sign for The Crystal Cave clearly visible overhead, and a story about the attack and the warding. I ticked off the Weasleys, Geoff, Tom and the others, identifying them all easily, despite the photo being taken from behind us. Severus, of course, stood out, tall, slender, graceful as he moved his wand through the complex movements he, Arthur, and Geoff taught the rest of us before we began the warding. I found it hard to tear my eyes from watching him. Other merchants had been interviewed for the article, and they each expressed concern about the safety of Diagon Alley, and best wishes for the shop’s recovery. There was no mention of my injuries – only of the damage to the shop, and I was grateful that I had recovered at Severus’ place, so that no one would think me injured and thus an easy target.
I read, ate, and stretched, then showered and dressed, my mind on work, wondering what the impact of the article on my business would be. I floo’d to the shop an hour before I was due to open, carefully guarding my shoulder as I exited the fireplace – without falling, thankfully – looking forward, though with some trepidation, to double-checking my studio and the list of unfinished projects. The shower and getting dressed had adequately demonstrated that I was not ready to work crystal and glass yet. The risk of error caused by weak or uncertain muscles was too great.
Paperwork, then. I sighed. Well… even that was part of the business. Maybe I could hire an assistant as Severus suggested… I snorted. I’d have to generate consistent sales before I could do that, and make up for the lost inventory. It would be a long time before I could afford that. I put that plan to the side, levitated my records out to the front counter, pulled up a stool, and grabbed a fresh quill. I uncorked a bottle of green ink, smiling as always, as it reminded me of McGonagall.
Some time later, there was a tap at the door, and I looked up to see a short, very plump witch waving at me through the window. I glanced at the clock, but it was still twenty minutes to the hour. She smiled and waved again, motioning me over. Letting my wand drop into my palm, and hoping the wards were actually working, I left the counter and strode to the door. I flicked a knock-back spell into partial existence, just leaving the final motion undone, and opened the door, plastering a welcome on my face.
“Oh, thank you! This is warm!” the witch said, bustling past me when I stepped back to allow her admittance. She was carrying a pan of something covered in foil, which she set down perilously close to my paperwork. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, and I followed her almost involuntarily. “Apple-cranberry tarts,” she said, turning to me with a smile and removing oven mitts from her hands. “Fresh-baked. You’ll want to let them cool before you eat them.”
“I’m sorry, but… who are you?” I asked, though my nose was urging me toward the baked goods.
She laughed. “Oh, heavens! I’m sorry! I haven’t introduced myself,” she said, holding out a hand. “Maggy Edgecomb. Yes, yes, I know!” she said, when I checked myself, halfway to accepting her hand. “Marietta’s my niece.” She shook her head. “Not a terribly clever, nor a terribly thoughtful, young witch! I don’t know how she sorted into Ravenclaw. Can’t say I approve of what was done to her, but there is no doubt she deserved it!” She snorted and patted me on the arm. “And you, of course, young man, are Harry Potter. Shame what they did to your shop. Saw it in the early edition of the Prophet. Thought you could use a pick-me-up, so I brought something over. I own the bakery just down the Alley, on the other side. I didn’t know what you like, but everyone likes apple, I figure, so… Oh, listen to me going on! How are you, young man?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. She reminded me of Molly, Minerva, Hagrid, and Poppy, all rolled up into one person, and I felt instinctively safe with her. I surreptitiously pushed my wand back up my sleeve with one finger. “I’m fine… er… Mrs. Edgecomb?”
“Call me Maggy. Everyone does,” she said.
“Maggie,” I said, nodding. She pulled the foil back to reveal the source of the incredible aroma. “Thank you so much! These smell delicious! Would you care to join me in some tea, then?”
“Oh, Merlin, no, dear! I would love to, but breakfast is a busy time for the bakery. I just wanted to grab a moment to come over and tell you we’ll all be watching out for you. Godric knows, the Alley is usually safe enough, but… I suppose with you being a war hero, and all…”
“Um…”
“It’s alright, dear! Don’t you worry. Well, I’d better be getting along now. You just send that platter on over with that house elf I saw around here the last few days, once you’re done. No rush. I must be off.”
With that, she whirled around, stepping nimbly between my shelves despite her girth, and was out the door before I could gather my breath to say anything more. She stopped just a moment, went up on the tips of her toes, and touched the top of the doorway on the outside. I thought she must have been brushing off something, her touch was so swift.
I went to lock the door again, but before I even reached it, Vincent Fortescue, Florian’s nephew, who had taken over the ice cream parlor, appeared, waving cheerfully through the window. How someone who sold ice cream for a living could remain stick thin was a constant mystery to his customers. I grinned and opened the door.
“Harry! Just wanted to stop by and say hello, make sure you’re alright,” he said, shaking my hand vigorously. “Saw Maggie leaving…” He sniffed. “Mmm…”
I laughed, took the hint, and invited him in for tea, which he accepted, saying, “Too early for ice cream, anyway. Spot of tea and baked goods is just the ticket!” He looked around the shop while I fetched the kettle from the back and warmed it. “Say, I like this one,” he said, pointing to an amethyst vial. “Good for standard healing potions?”
“Sure,” I said. “Most anything, really. Bit pricey for that, though. What about this one?” I showed him a few choices, but he insisted on the amethyst.
“It’s for my aunt,” he said. “It’ll remind her of my uncle – his favorite robes were just this color. I’d fill it for her, but the potions at St. Mungo’s are dreadful.”
“Severus makes better brews. Maybe you should ask him.”
Vincent brightened. “Hey – I’ll do that! You seeing him soon? I know you two are mates.”
I smiled and poured our tea. “Yeah. I see him pretty regularly.”
“Aha!” he said, pointing his spoon in my direction. “I knew it! You’re dating him, aren’t you?”
“What? No! What gave you that idea?”
“He’s been photographed with you more than anyone else these last months.” He leaned in as if confiding a secret. “Odds are running seven to one you two end up together.”
“What?!” I laughed, and heat rushed to my face, but I cannot say I was unhappy about the odds - just surprised… but I should have known that would happen, given Severus’ celebrity.
Vincent smugly turned toward his tea. “I’ve got seven galleons on you,” he said teasingly. I choked on a bit of apple-cranberry tart.
If I thought I was going to get anything productive done that day, the denizens of Diagon Alley quickly disabused me of that notion. I don’t think I had five minutes to myself, between them and the occasional customer. Barely would I sit down behind my records and the door would open, and yet another merchant would walk in, wanting to commiserate, or offer assistance, or bring me a token of some sort. As each one left, they stopped to touch the lintel of the doorway, so quickly that at first, I thought I was imagining it, but so consistently that I came to expect it, watch for it.
When Severus showed up, I cocked my head at him. “It’s not Thursday,” I said.
“Astute observation,” he smirked. “But it is closing time.”
“I’d noticed. What are you doing here?” I got up to wave the sign in the window to “closed”.
Severus waved his wand alongside me. “Calloportus,” he said. He repeated the gesture at the back door, through which I sometimes received deliveries, then waved his wand in a circle to check the warding. He narrowed his eyes, checked the wards again, and a small smile appeared on his face. Nodding in satisfaction, he tucked his wand back up his sleeve and took my elbow, directing me toward the floo. “I’m escorting you home.”
“So I see,” I said dryly. “Why?”
He paused and frowned, but did not look at me. Nor did he answer. “I assume you have tea,” he said instead.
I raised my eyebrows at him, but for naught, since he wasn’t looking at me. “Of course,” I conceded.
“Fine, then,” he said, and tossed floo powder into the fireplace, pushed me in ahead of him, and said, “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place”.
I stumbled out at the other end, and moved quickly away. He followed a moment later, stepping out gracefully, as always – Irritating man! He flipped off his travel robe and laid it over a chair near the fireplace. His eyes never left me as I walked toward the staircase and tossed my own robe to the set of hooks by the front entrance. I had the impression he was assessing my health, and turned to glare at him.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He humphed, and turned toward the kitchen without waiting for an invitation. I copied him – in word and deed, and couldn’t help but watch his hips as he entered the kitchen ahead of me.
Odds are running seven to one you two end up together.
I stifled a groan and called for Kreacher.
We talked over dinner about my depleted stock and what I needed to do to efficiently build up enough inventory that I could pay rent on the space without dipping into my personal funds. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it – I just felt, and Severus agreed, that the shop should pay for itself.
“It seems like every merchant in Diagon Alley came by today,” I told him.
“Even Olivander?”
“Yeah. And… every one of them did something strange as they left.”
His eyes gleamed knowingly over his cup of tea. “Did they?”
“Prat! Why don’t you just tell me, then?”
“Touched your lintel?”
“Yeah. Why?”
He smiled in satisfaction, and nodded as if confirming something to himself. “It has always been rumored that the shops in Diagon Alley are warded by common consent… and that the wards are linked, so that a threat to one shop is communicated to all the rest. Although I do not know for certain, I suspect they were adding their personal commitment to the ward.” His smile increased slightly as he looked at me. “It means they have accepted your presence in the Alley, and personally pledged their protection. You might notice that there is no thievery from the shops, despite the display of wares on the street.”
I hadn’t. I hadn’t even thought about it before, but I did not say so.
“The shops are united in their protection. And in coming by, they have added their protection to the wards we set up. Congratulations, Mister Potter. You’ve been officially welcomed by the merchants of Diagon Alley.” He raised his teacup in salute.
I laughed and touched my cup to his, and my chest filled with a mixture of pride, happiness, and relief.
He followed me into my workshop after we ate, and took up his stool the other side of the broad table that ran down the middle of the shop, taking notes while I systematically reviewed supplies and the inventory I needed to replace, as well as my research and crafting plans, asking pointed questions. By the time we were done, I had a prioritized list of tasks that helped me feel organized rather than overwhelmed. I was extremely grateful, and told him so. He got that indescribable look in his eyes again, and said, “Well… I must be off. I’ll stop in tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I would like to add a couple of commissions to that list. No urgency, but if you would be so kind…”
“Of course,” I nodded, pleased all over again that he thought so much of my work.
He stopped just short of the fireplace. “Be sure to finish your potions, so that shoulder heals completely.” He fastened his travel robe at his throat and took a handful of floo powder. “As you probably figured out by now, my floo is spelled to admit you. Do not hesitate to use it. The only other persons keyed to be let in are Minnie and Kingsley.” His voice took on a more insistent note. “You’ll be safe there, Harry. My wards are impregnable – or as good as. If you enter when I am not there, I’ll be notified… and I’ll come. Do not hesitate to come. Do you understand?”
My throat had closed up, so I just nodded. His eyes softened. “Even just to visit,” he said. “My floo is open to you at any time.” I nodded again, and he stepped into the fireplace, tossed the powder, and said, “Snape’s Lair,” holding my eye until he was whirled away home.
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Missed Opportunities