Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 12
- 13
Missed Opportunities
Chapter Thirteen
He showed up at the Crystal Cave the following evening at closing, and again, escorted me to Grimmauld Place… and every evening thereafter. I was incredibly busy replacing stock, and dealing with an ever-increasing flow of customers that did not ease up, even after The Prophet stopped publishing updates about the attack and the shop’s recovery. Every evening, Severus took me home, and we ate and talked, played wizard’s chess or discussed his research or some potion… often enough, he would follow me into the workshop, and watch as I worked crystal and glass. Sometimes, he would brew a potion I needed for annealing or for tempering the materials once they were worked, or for imbuing them with characteristics that would protect or enhance their intended contents. At times, we would floo to his home so that he could check some reference, or lend me a book from his private library. If he was busy with brewing or research, he set me to chopping or stirring, welcoming me to his lab as I had welcomed him to mine. He became integrated into my day in ways that almost hurt, because I realized I was coming to rely on it.
Severus, in my home, in my life, in his home, welcoming me as if I had every right to be there. I knew it couldn’t last. One day, I knew, he would tell me he was leaving on a trip, and come home with some other man, who would sit across from him at dinner, talking with him – more intelligently than I could – about his research, or playing chess by the fire.
I started to study him – more than before, I mean – so that I could store up images and impressions and the feel and scent and sense of the man, against the time when he would decide I no longer needed mollycoddling and could reasonably be left alone, so that he could return to his life. I memorized his hands, his voice, his eyes, when he got lost in telling about his latest research. I ran my fingers across the books in his library, jealous of each one that had felt the touch of his hands, his fingers lingering over them, caressing their spines and edges, treating them with gentle care, arguing with them… loving them. Severus’ home held me ever more closely, and leaving at the end of an evening was ever more difficult.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to just… belong. With him. To him. Every time I floo’d in, whether with him or at his invitation, was bittersweet. Gods, I wanted to stay!

It never turned romantic. Every time his hand or arm or thigh brushed mine, I ached – both physically and mentally and… I just wanted to touch him. On purpose. Openly. I wanted him to let me. I wanted to have the right, the privilege. But he was always careful, always, always bloody respectful. On the one hand, it soothed me, because I still startled whenever anyone stood behind me, and got tense whenever anyone touched me, even Ron or his father. I thought, more than once, that he was touching me deliberately, in an effort to help me get over the effects of the attack.
On the other hand, it drove me crazy. I didn’t want respectful from Severus. I wanted his touch… and not therapeutically, damn it! I wanted him to… to touch me. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted permission to… to lean in, to hold his hand, to kiss his neck… I wanted to know what his hands would feel like on my face, what his lips would feel like on mine. Oh Merlin, please!
I just wanted to… be in his life. Forever.
Ron and Hermione’s wedding drew nearer, and my evenings and weekends were sometimes taken up with reassuring Ron, helping him select his wedding robes, reassuring him, talking him through his wedding vows, reassuring him, talking him out of hexing his brothers, who were teasing him mercilessly, and reassuring him. We were sometimes joined by Severus, who would hide his smirk from Ron – but not from me, since I could read him so well, by then – and talk reassuringly. It was a measure of Ron’s nervousness that he never even objected, but took the sometimes sarcastic comments Severus made as serious advice, nodding as he stared off into space.
One evening, the three of us sat over glasses of fire whiskey at a wizarding establishment Severus had picked out. I excused myself to the loo, and came back to find them with heads bent together, so deep in discussion that I lingered at the bar, so as not to interrupt. When I finally rejoined them, Ron looked the most clear-eyed and… settled… that I had seen him in weeks.
“You’re looking better, mate. What did he tell you?” I asked, when Severus went to settle the bill.
“Oh – nothing. He just… he had some good advice… about… you know… love… and commitment, and all that.”
“Really?” I watched Severus head back to the table. He would be an expert on that, too, I thought wryly.
Ron refused to elaborate, even later, but all of his anxiety seemed to melt away, and he looked forward to his wedding day, eager and at peace, though for some reason, he kept looking at me contemplatively.
Hermione was just as anxious, though Ginny, who was standing up for her, and Mrs. Granger had most of the responsibility of reassuring her. She still showed up at the shop a couple times a week for tea, and inevitably, we would end up talking about Ron, and about our years at school, and, especially, our year on the run, before Voldemort was finally vanquished. Her eyes would glow as she talked about Ron, and I knew theirs was a love that would never be broken.
I guess some of my… wishing… would show on my face, because, often, she would reach across the counter, and put her hand on my arm, and say, “Oh, Harry… it will be alright. You’ll see,” and I’d have to hide the tears that seemed ever ready to come to my eyes.
“I’m not jealous, Hermione,” I insisted one day.
“I know, Harry. But… you’ll find love. I know you will. And besides… you still have to have your dance with Severus,” she said, dimpling.
I groaned. “I don’t know,” I said. “I think I blew that opportunity.”
“There’s still the wedding, Harry.”
“Yeah…” I said glumly. Somehow, my anticipation that Severus would decide he was done chaperoning my evenings became tied up with the impending wedding, and I dreaded it, convinced that that would be the marker event that would prompt him to… release me.
The Saturday before the wedding was the rehearsal, and Molly insisted we each bring our dates. Severus showed up at The Crystal Cave just before closing, dressed casually, as Molly had instructed. Before the rehearsal itself, we would be erecting the tent and warding the space, as we had done for Bill’s wedding, years earlier, and for George and Angelina’s wedding, two years past.
I closed up the shop, letting Severus lock the doors and check the wards, as was becoming his ritual. The day of the wedding, we’d have to Apparate to a spot outside the wards that surrounded the Burrow, because there would be too many people attending for floo safety, but this night, we stepped out of the fireplace in the Weasley’s living room, into the warmth and laughter and welcome of fourteen Weasleys-and-dates, Hermione’s parents, and the officiant. Arthur directed the nineteen of us in raising the tent and setting the wards, and then the officiant put us through our paces. George had provided a fake bouquet, spelled to burst into a rainbow of colorful paper birds that flew at Ron before whirling up to the top of the tent and perching on support ropes, fake rings that temporarily turned Ron and Hermione’s fingers green, and sufficient other hijinks to relieve any lingering anxiety, courtesy of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. Even Molly laughed.
The rehearsal, though, made my chest ache, glad as I was for my best friends, and I had to fight to keep my attention on the officiant, rather than seeking out Severus, who sat talking with Ron and Hermione’s parents about something that had all of them laughing. Andromeda Tonks showed up shortly before we were done, with Teddy and Victoire. She handed the baby off to Bill, and released Teddy to run up to me, his arms held up, calling, “Uncle Harry!” I think his touch was the only one that did not make me startle or tense up in self-defense, anticipating the need to hex someone, still anxious after the attack.
I hoisted Teddy up and he wrapped his arms around my neck, and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. I held onto him tightly, burying my face in his hair, letting the warmth of that soothe me. When I turned to follow Andromeda with my eyes, Severus was watching me. I smiled – a bit uncertainly, I think, and he nodded his understanding and support. I busied myself playing finger games with Teddy, using small bits of magic to amuse him, laughing at the changes in his hair and eyes, as he reacted.
Teddy sat on one side of me at dinner, and Severus on the other. The table, set in the backyard and protected against the cool of the season by warming charms, was crowded, the twenty-two of us packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Severus’ warm thigh pressed against mine every time he turned to pass a dish. I craved it, even though it made me tense up. Is that fear or desire? I couldn’t tell. I thought they might be entwined, when it came to him.
“Uncle Harry, taters!” Teddy demanded, pointing across me, down the table.
Severus reached his long arm to nab the dish from in front of Ginny, who sat to his left. “Allow me,” he said, and waved Teddy’s dish to hover in front of him. He placed a dollop of potatoes on the plate, and leaned forward to raise an eyebrow to Teddy in inquiry.
“More!” Teddy said, clapping his hands.
“Hmm…” Severus said, considering Teddy’s plate. He added a mere drop to the scoop of potatoes already on the plate, and before Teddy could demand more, he waved the serving spoon as if it were a wand, and the potatoes rose off the plate and shifted around until they formed the shape of a dragon. Teddy squealed in delight. “Ah-ah!” Severus said when I would have taken the plate to hand to my grandson, and transfigured the dish to form a cave around the “dragon”.
Teddy clapped his hands and said, “Gimme!”
Severus narrowed his eyes at him significantly.
“Pwease, Uncle Sev’rus?”
The startled look on Severus’ face made me laugh. He hesitated a moment, and then carefully hovered dragon and cave to land in front of Teddy, reaching across me to tap the toddler on the arm when he raised a spoon to attack it.
“What do you say to Uncle Sev’rus, young man?” I said, barely containing my mirth.
“T’ank you, Uncle Sev’rus,” the boy said in a sweet voice before diving his spoon toward his treat.
Severus had leaned toward Teddy, so that when I turned my head toward him, his face was inches from mine, and my lips parted in a gasp at the intensity of the look he gave me. His cheeks took on a high color, and he lowered his arm, brushing against mine, and then I felt the brush of his fingers against my thigh. My body instantly reacted, and I gasped again, not able to pull my eyes from his until a spoonful of dragon landed on the table in front of us.
Please!

No!

Oh, gods – I’m so fucked up!

Please, Severus!
I’d made Ron and Hermione a set of crystal goblets, spelled against poisons, but allowing alcohol, for their wedding. They had pale amethyst bowls that blended into deep emerald stems and bases, the colors Hermione, Molly, and Ginny had chosen for the wedding. They were the first goblets I had made, after my mastery, and I was pleased with how they had come out, made with all the love and joy I felt for my friends. I could tell Hermione loved them – she said so, for one thing, and squealed and hugged me, for another. Ron held them as if they were worth all the galleons in Gringott’s, and kept saying, “Wow, Harry!” Others said complementary things, as well, but it was only those responses that mattered to me. Severus had watched me make them, and he looked almost as proprietarily pleased by their reactions as I was, and turned to look at me, giving an approving nod. I thought I felt his hand against my thigh again, but a moment later, he was lifting his napkin to his lips, and I wondered if I had imagined it.
Around eleven, Severus escorted me home through the floo, and I stood awkwardly in front of him, outside my fireplace, wanting to… say something… take some next step… but not knowing, for the life of me, what that next step would be… or whether he would tolerate it, let alone welcome it… let alone reciprocate… let alone whether I had the courage to do it. There was silence for what seemed like forever, Severus’ body tense across from mine. Finally, he broke it.
“I… will see you in the morning, then.”
“Yeah. Um… ten o’clock, right?”
His fingers were clenching and unclenching, for some reason. I was fascinated by them.
“Oh. Ah – floo powder. Right there.” I gestured toward the box, thinking, Idiot! He knows where the floo powder is!
His fingers opened and closed again… and then he stepped back, and I breathed again, though I practically whimpered in frustration and loss. He reached for the box of floo powder, took a scant handful, and softly said, “I will see you at ten, then… Harry.”
I nodded without looking at him, and waited until the burst of green flames and his softly spoken “Snape’s Lair” indicated he had gone, before stumbling to the sofa and collapsing on it, my head in my hands.
What am I doing?
Severus… dear god…
I wanted him. I mean – I knew that. I had wanted him for a long time… but I wanted him despite the attack and what it had done to me… despite my fear… despite the fact that I could not distinguish want and fear when it came to Severus Snape… despite that I could not distinguish fear due to the attack and fear due to how very much out of my depth I was, or how very much my desires were controlling my thoughts, my eyes, my cock, my hands…
My hands shook as I opened my trousers and palmed my aching cock. I came in three tugs, hissing his name in some prayer to the universe to take pity on me.
Gods… I’m a demon! I want to do to him what Mario tried to do to me! What kind of sick pervert…
NO!
No. That’s not true. I… I want… I want to love him… I want him to love me. I want… I want what we have, except… I want him, too. I just… I just want to touch him.
Don’t lie, Potter. You want him to bugger you.
Oh, god…
I think I sat for an hour, trying to figure out the difference between what Mario had tried to do to me and what I wanted… with… Severus.
It was love, of course. Finally, I realized that what I wanted with Severus was love… and friendship… and belonging… and family… And even if that’s what Mario had wanted, he had tried to take it, whereas… I wanted Severus to… invite me… want me… Gods, I wanted to dance with the man!
Please, Severus! Oh, please, Hermione – be right!
I made my way to my bedroom and showered, thinking about how much, how very much, I truly loved the man… But that led to thinking about his warm eyes, and the support of his hand at my back, and sleeping a meter away from him in Paris, and the way he… I wanked under the warm spray until I came again, then climbed into bed… where I tossed and turned and thought of how very, very much I wanted to kiss the man… or just lean into him… thought of his warm thigh rubbing against mine… thought of his hand on my leg – not accidentally – right? – thought of his stunned face when Teddy called him “Uncle Sev’rus,” thought of what he looked like in candlelight and firelight and sunlight and the light of potions classrooms past, and laughed as I stroked myself until I came again, for the third time, finally falling asleep thinking of how his face had softened and pinked as he interacted with my godson.
I woke to a need so intense I wondered how I was going to get through the day, with him at my side. Groaning, I shoved my hands under the covers, thankful I had slept naked, and ran my fingers across the tip of my cock, shivering at the way it jumped and twitched, wishing harder than I ever had before that it was Severus’ hand that was stroking me, easing the foreskin back from my weeping tip, spreading precum with a finger, following the slit at the tip with a fingernail.
Gods, Severus, please!
I stroked down, tightly, then up, lightly, repeated it… brushed my fingertips against my bollocks, gasping. I drew up my legs to cup them, tugging at my cock in uneven rhythm, feeling behind my bollocks to that spot that I knew I wanted him to take.
Oh, gods! Please, please, please, Severus!
I circled my hole and pulled forward to stroke my balls again, but I needed that so badly… needed to feel him in me… needed to know what that would be like, though it was all fantasy, as I had never so much as let another man near me before.
Oh, gods… if he took me, he’d know I’m a virgin!
Thank god I’m still a virgin! What if they had…
NO!
I groaned again in despair, fought against the fear… thought of Severus… whispered a lubrication spell I had looked up, in a moment of desperation, and slipped a finger inside… and then another… and thought of Severus’ fingers… thought of what it would feel like to have his body next to mine… to feel his legs twined with mine, our cocks lined up, rutting against each other… thought of how my toes would stretch for his, and my mouth line up with his prominent Adam’s apple… what it would be like to kiss and lick and suck at his neck… at his collarbone… to feel his hands stroking my chest, brushing my hips, pulling me into him, pulling on my cock… Wondered what it would be like to whisper into his neck, Want you… Love you, Severus… Please… I came with a groan, but without much in the way of white stickum, and somehow, was not surprised to find the corners of my eyes wet. After I calmed my breathing, I went to take a shower, determinedly turning my mind away from… Severus.
Joy for my best friends, warmth at being such a part of the Weasley clan, anticipation of spending an entire day with Severus, nervousness about speaking up for Ron in the first toast, fear that the event would mark the end of Severus’… solicitousness… consumed me and left me unsettled and bouncing from one end of the emotional continuum to the other, as I got ready and anticipated the day. And…
Dancing.
Severus showed up promptly at ten, stepping from the floo, travel robe protecting his wedding attire – still black, of course, but lined in soft sage satin that shone at wrists and knees with every move and accented his folded back collar, outlined in twisted braids of amethyst and sage. His hair was pulled back in the same twisted colors, leaving his face clear and stark, framed by that soft ebony. My heart practically stopped beating at the sight of him – more handsome than I had ever seen him. His eyes warmed as they took in my own wedding wear – deep sage green robes, lined in lighter sage, trimmed in black and amethyst, the exact counterpart to his, over black trousers, crisp white shirt, and a sage waistcoat. He must have talked with Hermione about her color scheme, I thought, irrelevantly. It was sweet and thoughtful.
He held a box out to me, and I cocked an eyebrow at him in inquiry. “I believe it is traditional…” he said, his eyes warm, a slight smile on his face.
I opened the box to find a pocket square that matched my outfit, along with a single white rose to fit on my lapel. I felt my face warm as I looked up at him in confusion.
“I recommend you wait until we Apparate there, however,” he said. “So the rose is not crushed.”
I stifled an urge to bury my nose in the box and smell the rose, instead nodding.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Oh! One moment.” I turned back toward the kitchen, where I had left our joint present for Ron and Hermione – a full set of vials from my shop, filled with a selection of potions that every wizarding home seemed to have need for, and a few extras, all of which Severus had made, of course. They were tucked securely into a wooden box that I had made and Severus had inscribed with the date and their names. Kreacher had wrapped it for me, as that art escaped me, and it was beautifully done – again in their choice of colors. There was no need for a card – there was no one else it could have come from but the two of us.
The two of us.
Fear and hope fought a war in my stomach, as I turned back to the living room – and ran directly into Severus, who was standing so close behind me that I could not avoid it. He grabbed at my shoulders to steady me, a smirk on his face that looked, of all things, mischievous. He sobered at my instinctive jerk, however, then raised a hand as if to touch my face, but let it drop.
“It will be crowded… Are you going to be alright?”
I shut my eyes and drew a deep breath. Opening them, I looked at him, his head cocked to one side, his gaze warm and uncritical.
“I know I’ll be okay,” I said. “You’ll be there.”
“Indeed, I will be,” he said, the mischievous look back in his eyes. He gestured at the gift box. “Don’t drop it now,” he chided me, one hand coming to rest under mine, where it held the box. His touch was so warm that the rest of me instantly felt chilled, but not in a bad way. He slid his hand from mine slowly, seeming to linger over my fingers, and I shivered, hoping he did not notice. “Come.” He headed toward the living room, and I followed him, feeling more off-balance, rather than less.
I had my hands full, between the box containing Ron and Hermione’s gift and the much smaller box Severus had handed me. I juggled them until Severus took the smaller from my hand and placed it atop the other, with a temporary sticking charm to keep it in place. His eyes glimmered ominously, as if he were stifling some cutting comment like, Forget you are a wizard, Potter?
“Come,” he said again, turning and gesturing for me to follow. He led the way to the entrance hall, then out the door, and held my elbow as we descended the steps and crossed the street to the small parkway that Grimmauld Place faced. “Turn around,” he said.
Frowning, I complied, and then yelped when he put his arms around me, pulling me back into his chest. I could have sworn he buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply, before turning us both on the spot, into the tight, twisting embrace of Apparition.
He held onto me longer than strictly necessary, when we appeared in the field outside the protective wards around the Burrow, his arms tightening briefly. Then he was asking, “All right?” and I was nodding unsteadily, unsure of my voice, my body following his involuntarily as he backed away.
“Harry! Severus! There you are! Ron’s pacing like a dragon in heat, Harry – you’d better get up there,” Charlie’s voice warned, and I stepped reluctantly away from Severus, whose frontside was so warmly inviting against my backsi… er… my back.
“One moment,” Severus said, and he turned me to face him, unstuck the box with the rose from the top of our wedding gift to Ron and Hermione, and opened it. He withdrew the pocket square, and brushed aside my outer robe, making my breath hitch as his fingertips pressed in against my chest, and tucked the square, folded into some artistic shape, into the pocket of my shirt. He took the rose and pinned it to my outer robe, fussing with it until my nipples hardened in agony of need, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked as he soothed his fingers across my chest, concerned.
I glared at him. “Sorry,” he repeated in genuine contrition. I went to correct his misunderstanding, but he turned me back to Charlie.
“Go on,” Severus said, his face bland and his voice controlled. He held out his hands for the present. “I’ll see to this and check in with Arthur, ask if there’s anything they need. You go see to your friend.” He relieved me of my burdens and shooed me away, turning to Charlie.
I groaned and cursed – himself, me, my libido, his fingers, the betrayal of my body – under my breath as I took the stairs two at a time, just to work off the nervous energy. What was that about?
I reached the top of the stairs more settled, and found Ron pacing in his old bedroom, and tore my attention from my own issues to focus on his. “You backing out?” I asked, teasingly, settling on what had been his bed. He barely looked up.
“How do you know, Harry?” he said, anguished as only Ron could sound.
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know that you love Hermione enough?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I love Hermione quite enough,” I said, grinning.
He stopped and gaped at me in shock. “You… you… what?” he yelped, taking a threatening step toward me.
I laughed again and held up my hands to ward him off. “Not that way, you prat! Hermione’s like a sister to me. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Oh,” he grumped, and plunked himself down on the bed next to me, heaving a sigh. “Guess I’m having an attack of nerves.”
“I can see that,” I said, trying to stifle my mirth.
He hit me with a pillow. “I just… I just want to be good enough for her, you know?” he said.
“Ron. Hermione is the brightest witch our age…”
“I know!” he groaned and flung himself backward onto the bed, covering his eyes with one arm.
“… and she chose you. She hasn’t made a mistake. You two were made for each other. I knew it first year,” I added.
He uncovered his eyes. “You did?”
“’Course I did! After we got the Stone, if not before. I could see you two were nuts about each other.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Did you know – she was always the only girl for me. I mean – that thing with Lavender?”
I winced.
“Yeah. I know. It was stupid. But I only did it to make Hermione jealous.”
“You think?” I said dryly.
He snorted. “Okay, okay!”
“You’ll be fine, Ron. I just wish I…”
He got a sly look on his face. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll be okay.”
“Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion.
In answer, he jumped up and brushed at his robes. “I’d better get downstairs. How do I look? Robes alright? Not that it matters, really, but… I want to look okay for Hermione.”
“Ronald,” I said, trying to channel Mrs. Weasley or Hermione, and failing utterly. “What do you mean –?”
But he was out the door, clattering down the stairs, and I cursed and dashed after him.
Downstairs was chaotic, and I could barely follow his progress across the crowded room. He was heading toward the back door, through which I could see Severus talking to Bill. It hit me for a moment how striking his ebony self looked against Bill’s red hair and rich green robes, and then I shook myself and remembered that Bill was married… happily. I squashed down my flash of jealousy and insecurity, and made my way, more slowly, out to the garden, completely forgetting why I had been chasing Ron.
Severus’ mouth twitched as I came up to them. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just nerves.”
He nodded. “I understand that is to be expected.”
“I guess,” I shrugged, though I was thinking I’d never be nervous about…
“Harry! Over here!” someone called, and I glanced over my shoulder, then waved at Severus as I headed off in the direction of the call. He nodded back and turned back to Bill, who had been joined by Arthur and Neville.
The next hour was busy, and I barely had time to notice what Severus was doing, as I tried to keep track of Ron, prevent his brothers from pranking him, manage Teddy every time he got loose from Andromeda, and listen to last-minute instructions from the officiant. Finally, we were all in our places at the front of a tent full of guests that we all knew and loved, and Hermione and her attendants were walking up the aisle to Pachelbel’s Canon in D Minor – which I had always loved, no matter that I had heard it was overused in wedding ceremonies.
My eyes searched the crowd until I located Severus, sitting with the Weasley relatives, right behind Ron’s parents, the mark of his acceptance warming me. He was turned, as were the rest of the guests, to watch Hermione’s progress. Gods, she was stunning! I always thought she was beautiful – well, starting somewhere around the Yule Ball, the year of the TriWizard Tournament, anyway. I turned to look at Ron, wanting to capture the memory of his face as he watched… his bride… walk up the aisle, and grinned at his gobsmacked look. I turned back to Hermione, realizing why brides are always described as radiant.
The ceremony itself was very much like Bill and Fleur’s, and George and Angelina’s, and I wondered if that was because it was the same officiant, or if all wizarding weddings were alike. I found myself wondering what I would say, if I wrote my own vows… if I were pledging myself to Severus… and whether two wizards ever bonded… I faced Ron and Hermione, watching them, aching with happiness as my two best friends pledged their lives to each other… watching the bond sink into their hands… And so wished…
My shoulders itched, and I turned slightly to check the perimeter of the room, but all was well. My eyes slid across the crowd, and my heart stopped when they found Severus, staring at me, the strangest look on his face. His eyes softened, but Ron nudged my elbow as he reached for Hermione’s hands, and I turned back to them.
After the ceremony, the crowd stood to allow the setting to change, oohing and ahhing at the beautiful table settings. Hermione, her mother, Molly, Ginny, and Fleur had really outdone themselves with the decorating – it was tasteful but richly beautiful. I kissed Hermione on the cheek, laughing at Ron’s growl, and turned her over to her new brothers-in-law, who had lined up for the privilege. I shook Ron’s hand, thumped him on the shoulder, and laughed when he asked me to get him some punch – which I knew had been spiked by Bill and Charlie. I headed off in search of something to calm his nerves, and found Severus at my elbow almost immediately.
“Carrying out your best man duties?”
“Yeah. Ron needs something to drink.”
“Hmm. Not the punch, I don’t think.” His eyes twinkled at me. “Spiked. I happened to see what his brothers put in it. Libido suppressant, if I am not mistaken. Do not drink it – unless you need to…” he said in that damned sultry voice of his.
My belly tightened, and I’m sure I turned some shade of red, as I turned away to hide the effect he had on me. He gave me no relief, staying close enough to continually bump into me, as if by accident – hip, thigh, arm, shoulder… He reached from behind me to snag a canapé, his chest brushing against my back, and I thought I would have a heart attack. Oh, gods, I was so confused! Are you flirting with me, Severus? Or is this “therapy”? Please tell me you’re flirting with me! He helped me carry drinks back to Ron and Hermione, nabbing champagne for the two of us from a tray borne by a house elf, along the way.
Maneuvering through the crowd, I was surprised to bump into Tom, who was – I nearly gasped when I realized – holding hands with Charlie. He blushed when he saw I noticed, and mouthed, “Later,” and I laughed and nodded, then kept looking over my shoulder at them, as Severus and I continued on toward the head of the receiving line, which still stretched from the front to the back of the tent. It took me several glances back to realize that Severus’ face had gone carefully blank, and I wondered what had caused that.
We left the drinks with Arthur, rather than Ron and Hermione, because we couldn’t get near them, by then, so by mutual consent, we retreated to a far corner of the tent, where things were calmer. Even so, people kept coming up to say hello, as nearly everyone in attendance was a friend, classmate, former student, or colleague of one or both of us. Soon enough, though, it was time to sit for the celebratory meal, and Severus accompanied me to Ron and Hermione’s table, which we would share with Ginny, Neville, and both sets of parents, close enough on my heels to touch my back repeatedly, as if merely assuring me he was there. My shoulders and arms ached with the repeated need to hold myself back from leaning back into him, and my abdomen tightened every time I felt his touch.
“Allow me,” he said when we got to the table, and pulled out my chair. I frowned at him in confusion, but he simply stood, waiting for me to take my seat, which he then nudged closer to the table with a bit of wandless magic. I turned to find Ron trying not to laugh, and Hermione grinning at me. “What?” I mouthed at her, but she just giggled and turned to Ron, who looked at her, and completely lost his focus… or found it, as he ended up leaning toward her and kissing her cheek.
Severus settled himself next to me, and placed his serviette on his lap just as I did the same with mine. Our hands brushed, and, involuntarily, it seemed, I turned mine palm-up. His fingers wrapped around mine. Startled, I turned just a bit to look at him out of my peripheral vision. He was looking across the table at Hermione’s father, a look of attentive listening on his face, even as his hand squeezed mine. My heart pounding, I let my fingertips brush the back of his hand in response, and his lips turned upward in a half smile that I knew was meant for me. When he withdrew his hand, his fingers brushed the inside of my wrist, sending my blood racing.
Oh, gods… Please don’t make me stand up!

I don’t remember dinner. At least – I don’t remember anything other than sitting next to Severus, magic and energy and attraction singing between us – at least on my part. I read off the toast I had been too nervous to commit to memory, and people laughed and clapped in response, even Severus. I’m sure I responded when people talked to me, and I did not end up with any food on my robes, so I suppose I was attentive enough, though I occasionally caught Ron or Hermione laughing at me for things I did not understand, when they weren’t tied up in each other. Then the guests were directed to stand, and the tables changed again – smaller, closer together, more intimate, to make room for dancing.
Ron held out a hand to Hermione, and spun her into the slow music they had chosen for their first dance. I laughed quietly and shook my head.
“He seems to have learned how to dance, since the Yule Ball,” Severus noted into my ear. He was close enough behind me that I could not step away without stepping onto the dance floor, and I would not be able to turn around without ending up chest-to-chest with him… and as I was already having a heart attack…
“They belong together, don’t they?” I said, and then closed my eyes against the aching longing in my heart.
“So it has always appeared,” Severus replied. “Inevitable, I would say.”
Inevitable.
Severus…
It was inevitable that I would fall in love with you…
Hermione’s father evidently decided that was enough, because he broke in when the music changed, whirling Hermione away, as Arthur escorted Molly to the floor to dance with Ron. And then they danced with each other’s parents, which turned out not to be as awkward as it sounds. Arthur had Hermione laughing so hard she could hardly dance, which seemed to please him to no end, and Doctor Mrs. Granger was clearly totally taken with Ron, who seemed completely comfortable with her. I shook my head, wondering when my best friends had grown up.
“Your turn,” Severus said into the back of my head.
“What?” I turned to find him laughing at me.
“Dance with your best mate’s partner,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“But…”
But who are you going to dance with? I found myself thinking, and a possessive spark of jealousy shot through me.
I nearly refused, but his hand was on my back, pressing me forward, and then he was tapping Mrs. Granger’s shoulder… and pushing me toward Ron… while he stepped in when Arthur released Hermione to him. Before I could do more than choke a protest, Ron grabbed me and wheeled me away, like some witch or another, laughing down into my face, reminding me of how bloody short I was… am…
And Severus… Severus twirled Hermione about the dance floor, her face pink with pleasure, and everyone stopped to watch the tall, elegant, graceful man who had stolen my best friend for a dance, before they joined in, the dance floor ever more crowded. They were breathtaking.
Oh, gods, Hermione… please, please, please be right!
Dancing with Ron was so weird that I did not even think about the fact that some man other than Severus was touching me. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and I found myself dancing with Bill, as Ron whirled away with Fleur. Bill handed me off to George, and I began to wonder if the Weasley men had conspired to get me over my anxiety. It was working. It didn’t seem to matter who danced with whom – because I saw Ron dancing with George, and then Neville, amidst the women who grabbed each of them for a dance. George handed me off – thank Merlin! – to Ginny, which gave me time to adjust to the strangeness of it all, though Ginny kept looking around to spot Neville, though she was fun enough to dance with. She was interrupted by Molly, who demanded a turn with me, while Robards, Ron’s boss at the Ministry, spun Ginny off. I partnered Hermione, finally, and she laughed at me, when I tried to look over her shoulder to see if I could spot Severus.
“Harry – he’ll ask. I’m sure of it! Don’t worry.”
“But, Hermione…”
“It’ll be all right, Harry. You’ll see,” she said, hugging me tightly before being claimed by Neville.
Ron’s Aunt Muriel demanded a turn with me, which was awkward, as she reeked of alcohol and opined about everyone – loudly. When we passed Severus, now dancing with Ginny, she said, loud enough to carry to everyone around, “That man has the most squeezable bum here! When is someone going to claim it and shag the man? I tell you, if I were five decades younger, I’d show him a night to remember! Mark my words, that man will be bonded before the year is out, if the wizarding world has its wits about it!”
Severus, shockingly relaxed in this company, laughed out loud, throwing his head back in true merriment, while Ginny tried to bury her red face in his robe, shaking her head. When they turned in my direction, she mouthed, “I’m sorry! I’m soooo sorry!”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, as well, and when the music stopped, I kissed Muriel’s cheek as I turned her over to Arthur, who shook his head in chagrin.
And then McGonagall was in my arms – even she was taller than me, damn it! – pink-cheeked and out of breath by the time we were done spinning around the floor. She was followed by some distant Weasley cousins whose names I was constantly forgetting, though I had met them at previous weddings, and then by Charlie and Tom, simultaneously, Charlie’s eyes twinkling suggestively, confusing me and making me dizzy. By the time the dance was coming to an end, I was desperately in need of something to drink, and wondered Where is my bloody date??
As if the thought had called him out of the air, he appeared next to Tom, and stepped in, his face blank again, but to my disappointment, instead of dancing with me, he handed me some champagne. “You look like you need a breather.” He took my elbow in a firm grip, and steered me away from George and Tom, to the edge of the dance floor, near some tables.
“I do,” I admitted. “Thanks for the rescue.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It’s what I do, it appears.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I asked with a sigh.
He smiled, finally, and tilted his glass to touch its rim against mine. “Never,” he said, and raised his glass to me before taking a sip.
My chest swelled with some emotion, and I gasped slightly. “Good,” I said, finally, and followed his example. “Though… I don’t want you to have to protect me all the time, you know?”
He gazed at me steadily, his eyes glinting. “You are aware that I am not here… merely… to protect you.” He moved subtly closer to me.
“Oh. Um…”
“You’re rather more social here than I expected you to be,” he commented, changing directions abruptly.
I laughed. “You’re one to talk. But… why d’you say that?”
“You clung to the edges of rooms, at the conference in Paris, and you did not say much at meals, unless we were talking about your work.”
“I can watch the room better… look out for problems, you know?”
His eyes softened. “You tend to skulk in the corners at Ministry affairs,” he insisted.
I twitched in annoyance. “Yeah. Well… politics is not my thing.”
He nodded. “That is wise. People would use you.”
“They use you,” I observed.
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I can play that game, when I need to. You,” he said, tilting his glass toward me, “on the other hand, are too much a Gryffindor to do that effectively.” I laughed. “Skulking, however, does not suit you.” He moved close enough that I could smell him… feel the heat of him, and I felt a bit dizzy.
He put his glass down on a passing tray, under which was a house elf, took my glass from me, his fingers brushing mine, and placed it on the tray as well. “You have danced with everyone other than me, Mr. Potter,” he said at my querying look. “As you are the one who talked me into this nightmare of ginger-headed nonsense,” he said, a predatory look in his eyes, “I believe you owe me a dance.”
Ohmygod…
“I do, don’t I?” Every nerve in my body came to attention, and I held my breath, hope and terror filling my own heart.
He held out a hand. “May I have this dance… Harry?”
I let my breath out slowly, keeping my eyes on his, then raised my hand to take his. He linked our fingers, and led the way back out to the dance floor, looked for an opening in the whirling crowd, and stepped us smoothly into place, his arms already urging me into the rhythm. The long, warm fingers of his left hand twined with those of my right, his right hand settled on my left hip, and I suddenly realized I had to put my left hand on his hip and thought I was going to die right there, right then.
Oh, gods… Hermione…
But then I couldn’t think of Hermione. He pulled our hands in, to settle them between us, urging me closer. My hand settled on his hip just below his beltline, and, as he didn’t object, I left it there. I didn’t know where to look. The pleats on his shirt and the buttons of his waistcoat rose and fell as he breathed. His hand slid partway around my back, to direct me between two other couples – who they were, I had no idea – still keeping a decorous distance between us.
It didn’t matter. I was dancing… with Severus… and his hand was on my back, and his chest was beneath my fingers, and Oh, god! I could feel him breathing, feel his heart beating under my hand, feel the beat of the music thrumming through him, and through me. He was wearing a scent that I wanted to bathe in. I wanted to lean into him, but instead, I leaned back and looked up at him, to find him intent on me.
“All right?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.
I bobbed my head. “Danced with everyone else. Why should it be any different with you?” I asked, my heart pounding. I wondered if he could feel it, the way I could feel his own steady beat.
He nodded. “Indeed. No reason why it should be.” He spun us gracefully between other couples, and some part of my mind catalogued faces, most of them turned to watch us as we danced. I looked past his shoulder once, to find Ron and Hermione swaying in place to the gentle rhythm, Hermione smiling at me with tears in her eyes, and Ron giving me a thumbs-up behind her back. Minerva winked at me, and went back to dancing with Arthur Weasley. George mock-gagged, and Angelina swatted at him and rolled her eyes at me.
I wondered what Severus was seeing, and looked up at him again, but at that moment, his eyes were closed. I found that alarming… and incredibly, incredibly sexy. He opened his eyes and caught me staring at him, smiled, and spun me out away from him and back, laughing at my own startled laugh, as he caught me on the return, still careful of the distance between us.
He never let go of me again, and I lost track of the number of songs we danced to – once, shockingly, something hard-core and modern that had everyone younger than Muriel stomping their feet and bumping hips and dancing in one large circle, each couple taking a turn in the middle – even us. People whistled and cheered and clapped for each other – but never so loud as for me and Severus, I thought - not even the cheering for Ron and Hermione. Someone pounded my back as we returned to the circle to watch Molly and Arthur take a turn at the center.
But eventually, the magical night came to a close, and Ron and Hermione disappeared for a bit, to return dressed in Muggle clothes. They kissed or were kissed by their parents, and then Ron’s brothers hooted as they walked, waving back at everyone, out the gate and past the wards to the apparition point, whirling away to wherever they were spending their honeymoon.
Severus and I said our goodnights shortly after that – which took nearly a half hour, as there were so many people still there. Molly hugged me and whispered in my ear, “You be careful of him, now.” Arthur shook our hands and held mine tightly, looking over my shoulder at Severus, then back to me, a mixture of concern and affection on his face. George laughed at me, for some reason, and Charlie and Bill pulled me aside to whisper some advice in my ears that had me blushing and looking anywhere but at Severus.
Then Severus was at my elbow, laying a casual arm across my shoulders and urging me toward the garden gate, beyond which lay the apparition point. Once again, he pulled me against him, inhaled into my hair, tightened his arms around me in an embrace that had nothing to do with apparating, and whirled us away into the arms of the night, back to the park across from Grimmauld Place. Wordlessly, he escorted me across the street, one hand lightly linked with mine, which tingled. My whole body tingled.
What are we doing?
I didn’t know what to do.
“Um… would you care to come in for tea… or something stronger? Or… I have some of your favorite wine…”
We stopped in front of the door, standing on the front stoop, facing each other. He dropped my hand, though he did not move away, but stood looking down into my eyes, all warmth and onyx and curved lips and regal bearing and I just…
Pleasepleaseplease come in! Please say yes! I stared into his eyes, hoping he would see the invitation there.
He raised a hand to my face, and I thought I would stop breathing, could stop breathing forever, if it meant I could have that one moment – forever. His fingers brushed my face, and then tangled themselves in the hair at the back of my head.
“I… don’t think that would be wise, tonight,” he said, pulling me closer to him, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. “I…” His eyes burned down into mine and his hand was trembling and I turned my head into it, to reassure him.
“It’s all right,” I said, not at all sure what I meant by that. “It’s all right.”
He stilled himself and took a breath, never breaking eye contact. “Perhaps… you would allow me to call tomorrow evening.” His fingers kneaded the back of my neck and I moved closer… needing… something.
“I… yes. Of course.”
He nodded and swallowed and then bent his head slowly, and time seemed to stop before he brushed my lips with his, letting go of my head and holding onto my shoulders. It felt as if his whole body was trembling… or it could have been mine. I gasped, my mouth opening under his, and he moaned and I felt just the slightest bit of his tongue brush my lips… And then he pushed away with an effort.
“Tomorrow,” he said unsteadily, raising his hand once more, but letting it drop before he touched me.
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Missed Opportunities