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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9	By : lovetoseverus Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 25605 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 25: Disguises

It had been an exhausting day and an even more exhausting week. Severus’ thoughts about his career kept resurfacing and he wondered again why he was still teaching. It had never been a career he loved – nor wanted, though circumstances had been what they were at the time; he’d had no choice but to accept it. And the position had proven itself worthwhile…

But now that the war was over, there was nothing – and no one – holding him at Hogwarts.

Well, save one.

Yet Harry was no more bound by Hogwarts than he was, and since Severus’ career choice had little bearing on their current interaction – friendship? relationship? whatever it was – he couldn’t even argue that Harry was the one keeping him there. But if he did leave, where would he go? What would he do?

Would Harry still visit?

With no answers forthcoming, Severus made his way back to his quarters instead. He had been looking forward to his planned evening alone, catching up on research, finishing the damnable crossword from last week’s Potions Weekly, and nursing his favorite bottle of scotch.

At the last minute, he decided to make a short diversion to Filch’s office to retrieve the updated detention register so he wouldn’t have to stop in the morning. The very last thing he expected to see when he crossed through the entrance hall was Harry – holding a baby in his arms. Well, a toddler, anyway. The riot of bright blue hair suggested it must be Lupin’s offspring.

Severus froze and watched for a moment, knowing he was still out of Harry’s eye line. He recalled the last time he had thought such things about Harry, of thinking of him with a wife, standing at King’s Cross, waving goodbye to their brood of little Potters, and realized how far they’d come since that time; how much he’d learned. Yet one thing remained as certain as the day he’d first met Harry: at some point, Harry was going to want a family of his own. Even if their conversations had not revealed it, it was currently written plain as day across every inch of him. The way his finger gently caressed Teddy’s cheek as he spoke softly to him, the way he instinctively moved to keep the child from leaping wildly from his arms, the way he matched Teddy’s enthusiasm as he explained what was happening inside the animated House point hourglasses.

Almost automatically, Severus switched directions and walked until he was within paces of Harry.

“Kidnapping children now, are we, Mr. Potter?” he drawled, allowing amusement to color his tone.

Harry turned at the sound of Severus’ voice and smiled, a bashful sort of grin, and then strode towards him. It was then Severus noticed he was dressed head-to-toe in black: leather shoes, tailored wool trousers, and a smart, collared jumper. Only the light, golden hue to his face, neck and hands provided any sort of contrast. It was true Severus had always had a penchant for black, but to see Harry draped in it was almost too much to endure; he looked sinful. Severus swallowed his desire.

“Hi,” Harry said, a tinge of something almost like shyness to his voice. Severus furrowed his brow slightly, confused. What would Harry have to be nervous about?

Then Harry jerked his head out of the way as Teddy flailed excitedly and the moment was gone. He grasped the child’s wayward arm and gently pinned it to his side. “Sorry, he’s really restless for some reason. I think he likes it here. I’m sure he wants to run around, but I’m afraid if I let him down, I’ll never find him again!”

“That is probably wise; Hogwarts is no place for a toddler.”

“Aww, come on, Severus. Just think of all the interesting things he could do in your lab, for example!”

Severus watched a cheeky smile bloom on Harry’s face, but gave away nothing himself as he deadpanned, “A fair point. Even at such a tender age, I am sure Lupin’s offspring could out-brew you in Potions.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, piss off,” he said, mostly under his breath, but his eyes were twinkling. Severus allowed himself a small smirk.

It was then their interaction began to garner looks from students filing past them into the Great Hall. Many turned to look over their shoulders at Harry and Teddy, some tripping over each other as they did, no doubt wondering why they were there. Come to think of it, Severus wondered that, too.

“As much as I appreciate you darkening my doorstep, I assume you are not here to see me,” he remarked with a brief nod at Teddy.

Harry smiled. “No, Headmistress McGonagall invited us. Said it would be good to get Teddy out of Andromeda’s house for a while, and have him socialize with other people.” He paused, a slight tip to his head. “Come to think of it, I’m not quite sure she wasn’t really referring to me.”

Severus subdued the urge to snort. “That sounds like Minerva. She even requested you dress for the occasion, I see.”

Harry flushed slightly, then looked down to briefly assess his outfit. “No, that was me. I figured a t-shirt might not be appropriate at the Head Table. I almost wore robes, but they felt too… I dunno, official or something.”

With the corridor around them quieting, Harry peered into the Hall and noticed it was nearly full. The last few students were rushing past them, clutching books and backpacks, while the unmistakable hum of pre-dinner conversation filled the cavernous room. Harry adjusted Teddy to his other hip as he nodded towards the front. “Should we go in, do you think?”

“By all means.” Severus gestured for Harry to precede him into the Great Hall, and Harry smiled and walked on ahead. And if Severus found he got to appreciate Harry’s arse in those slim-fitted trousers of his, it was merely circumstance in his favor.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

“Severus! I didn’t expect to see you at dinner! I thought you were taking the night off for research?”

Severus’ gaze darted briefly to Harry, who was arranging Teddy in the highchair Minerva had transfigured for him – merely a blur of wiggling arms and legs by now – before looking back at the Headmistress. “Plans change,” was all he offered.

Minerva smiled indulgently at him and he scowled. Fortunately, no one aside from the pair of them seemed to have heard or seen the exchange; everyone else was too busy seating themselves and greeting Harry and Teddy.

When Severus turned to make his way to his usual seat, Harry stopped him and indicated the seat to his left. Indeed, it was the only one open, though despite the necessity, something still thrilled inside Severus at Harry’s invite. To Harry’s right sat Teddy, and then Minerva at the center of the table. Professor Sprout had happily given up her seat for Harry, who moved to the opposite side of Minerva, next to Madam Pomfrey.

Before long, the food appeared, and Severus decided to scan the Slytherin table for Marcus. He wanted to see the moment his wayward student noticed Harry was in attendance for dinner, as well as the new seating arrangements. He didn’t have to wait long – nor was he disappointed by the reaction.

Marcus had been conversing amicably with his classmates when he suddenly froze and stared at the Head Table. His actions were abrupt enough that several of the students around him turned to follow his gaze. Although Severus couldn’t hear what they were saying from this distance, he could surmise from their body language and some lip-reading: Who are you looking at? Is that Harry Potter? Is that his kid?

Marcus appeared to collect himself quickly, at least to the eyes of his friends, but Severus was not fooled. Still more than a little distracted, Marcus continued to look up at Harry as often as he dared, clearly not wishing to invite an inquiry from those around him should they catch him staring. After several glances, Severus finally caught Marcus’ gaze. They looked at each other for a long moment, in which Marcus narrowed his eyes, and Severus was struck with an idea.

Leaning over close to Harry, Severus draped an arm across the back of his chair and whispered something in his ear. As predicted, Harry laughed at the off-color remark, and then had to turn quickly back to Teddy, who was trying to drink unaided from Harry’s water glass. As Severus righted himself in his chair, he looked over at Marcus, and then eventually back down to his food. He knew he had been successful when he could feel the daggers Marcus was glaring at him from across the Hall.

Point to Severus, he thought, smirking to himself.

“Da, da, da…” Teddy babbled while grasping a green bean and holding it up, chubby fingers waving it in front of Harry’s face.

Harry smiled. “Yes, thank you. Here, let’s eat more of your dinner,” he said, collecting the bean and simultaneously trying to coax small bits of chicken into the child’s mouth. As Teddy chewed the food around Harry’s fingers, he turned his hair green, patting his palms on the table in delight.

The smooth, masculine tone to Harry’s chuckle flooded Severus with an unexpected frisson of desire, and he was forced to take a large drink of wine to stave off the impulse to lean over, in front of the entire Hall, and taste that sound right from Harry’s mouth.

“Harry,” Minerva started, “this evening is the annual December social for staff. I have invited Hermione – as well as Patrick, the Head Boy – and we’d love to have you join us as well. Can we expect you in the staff lounge at seven?”

“Oh,” Harry said, glancing between the Headmistress and Teddy. “I’d like to, but…”

“We’ll see to it that Teddy is taken care of while you attend,” Minerva assured him.

Harry smiled, looking weary but relieved. “Okay, great, thank you.” For a moment he seemed about ready to glance at Severus. “I’ll see you in the lounge, then.” Then Harry leaned closer to Severus. Quietly, he asked, “Will you be at the party?”

Startled, and once again feeling the plans he had made for himself slide easily to the side – disconcerting, really – Severus managed a sharp nod. Something relaxed in Harry’s posture, though Severus hadn’t realized he’d been tense before.

“Good. There’s something I wanted to tell you, anyway.” Harry darted a quick smile before having to turn back to Teddy.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Dinner had been a charming affair, but Harry was exhausted by the end of it. “That was an adventure,” he remarked with a small laugh, picking the remaining bits of food off the front of his jumper.

Hermione trailed several paces behind Harry and Severus, Teddy asleep in her arms. His face was tucked into her shoulder, one arm dangling limply down by her side. His cheeks had a rosy flush to them and his cherubic mouth was slightly open. Harry smiled at the look on Hermione’s face, knowing it was only a matter of time before she and Ron started having kids of their own.

“You were remarkably calm with him,” Severus observed as they walked.

“I’ve done it before,” Harry said. “Though it seems to get more and more challenging the older he gets.”

“I am not sure I would have the patience.”

Harry regarded Severus closely. “Then you underestimate yourself,” he said seriously.

Severus looked about ready to scoff when Harry suddenly stopped walking, having realized the third pair of footsteps in their group – the distinctive clack of women’s shoes – had fallen away. Turning, he saw Hermione had indeed stopped, a strange look on her face. Immediately Harry rushed back to her, thinking something was wrong with Teddy, but she shook her head minutely, obviously reading the concern on his face.

“What’s wrong, then?” Harry whispered.

Hermione gently lifted Teddy away from her body and held him out for Harry, who settled him against his body as well as he could, given how awkward a 10-month-old’s sleeping form was to arrange. “I’m sorry, Harry, I’ve… just remembered something I need to do,” she whispered back. Severus had since appeared at their side, his face a picture of concern. “I’ll catch up with you two at the party.” She nodded and was off.

Harry blinked after her and then turned to share an equally confused look with Severus.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

When Hermione finally rounded the last corner, moving against the flow of students heading back to their common rooms, she spotted Harry standing up against a wall, his palms flat against the stone. He was panting slightly, a rather wild-eyed look on his face. Grabbing his sleeve, she yanked him into the nearest classroom and immediately warded them inside for privacy. Without preamble, she turned her wand on his face.

“Who are you?”

“Don’t hurt me!” His hands came up in front of his face in a protective gesture, prompting Hermione to lean closer.

“Then start talking.”

As though on command, the long-familiar countenance of her best friend began dissolving into the blonde hair, brown eyes and panicked expression of Marcus Braham.

“I should have known,” she muttered angrily. She flicked her wand at a nearby chair and it skittered across the floor towards them. When it bumped into the backs of Marcus’ knees, it caused him to sit down hard in an inelegant sprawl. “Explain yourself!” she demanded.

“Can you please put down your wand first? I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Just… please don’t hex me!”

Hermione sighed. With her wand still grasped in her hand, she crossed her arms over her chest instead and began tapping her foot against the flagstone floor.

“Thank you,” he acknowledged, and righted himself on the chair. He took a deep breath and exhaled. However, Hermione was beyond impatient.

“Do I even want to know how you managed to get a sample of Harry’s hair?” She held up her hand just as Marcus opened his mouth. “Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. What were you doing Polyjuiced as Harry?”

“I was going to see Professor Snape.”

“And what were you planning to do if you reached him?”

Marcus at least had the grace to look sheepish and he hung his head. “I was going to tell him off.”

Hermione sighed, having guessed as much. “Not that this is any consolation, but he would never have bought it.”

“What do you mean? I was Harry!”

“Not in the details.” She nodded her head at his attire. “For starters, your clothing is all different.”

Marcus looked down with surprise, plucking lightly at his robe. Apparently, this was the first time he’d made that particular realization. “He would notice that?”

“Without a doubt, yes.”

“Why would it matter what I’m wearing, though?”

Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

“Sure I do – Professor Snape’s my Head of House.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And he is one of the Wizarding world’s foremost Potions Masters, with a resume that includes seventeen years as a spy. It was – and is – his job to notice details, no matter how small or insignificant they might seem to you. Even if you could have convinced him why your clothing had changed since dinner and learned the specific gait to Harry’s step, the very second your voice hit his ears he would have known you were an impostor.”

Predictably, Marcus’ eyes went wide. He stared off into the room at large, his gaze unfocused. When he finally came back to himself, he pressed his hands over his face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I almost marched into Professor Snape’s office thinking I could convince him, of all people, to leave me alone! I mean, to leave Harry alone!” He dropped his hands and gestured in a pleading manner. “Look at me, I’m not even thinking rationally anymore!” he exclaimed with a squeak.

Hermione regarded him for a second before deciding to pull over a chair and sit down across from him.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Harry and Severus walked the rest of the way to Madam Pomfrey’s office in silence, Harry with his mind on whatever Hermione had run off to do. It wasn’t like her to forget something and her behavior had him concerned. He was so distracted, in fact, that he barely realized when they had arrived outside the hospital wing, and stopped only when Severus cleared his throat.

“Thanks,” Harry said, an embarrassed smile on his face. Severus then left him to get Teddy settled, citing a need to attend to a few things of his own prior to the staff get-together.

Harry pushed open the familiar double doors, the sterile scent that permeated medical facilities tickling at his nose.

“Harry!” Madam Pomfrey called cheerfully, though immediately quieted her voice when she saw Teddy was asleep. “Right this way, I’ve transformed one of the beds into a crib. Teddy can stay here until you’re done at the party.”

“Aren’t you going?” Harry asked.

“Of course, but only for a while. Marion and I will each take a turn, as someone has to be here to staff the hospital wing at all times.” Remembering the many visits and near-misses he had in this very room, Harry nodded in silent agreement.

“If he wakes up—”

“—we’ll take care of him,” Poppy said, smiling at Harry like she might a new parent. Harry settled Teddy in the crib and brushed his hand over the toddler’s hair, smoothing it away from his face.

“Should I owl Andromeda and let her know we’ll be home late?”

“She’s already been notified and is fine with it. Between you and me, I think she is enjoying her evening to herself.” Poppy smiled.

Harry laughed softly. “I’m starting to understand that.” He looked back down at Teddy and tucked the blanket around his tiny shoulders. “It’s hard work. I know I haven’t taken care of him that much yet, but I don’t mind it. Sometimes when I’m around him, I forget he’s not actually my son.”

Poppy reached out and touched the side of Harry’s upper arm. “You’ll have kids of your own someday, Harry, and when you do, they’ll be lucky to have you as a father.”

He looked up at her and smiled softly. “Thanks,” he said, a tendril of warmth spreading through him at the thought.

After she walked back to her office, Harry took the opportunity to watch the peacefully sleeping form of his Godson. He didn’t understand why, but it was one of his favorite things to do.

Eventually, he slipped out of the hospital wing with a silent wave to Madam Pomfrey, and made his way towards the staff lounge.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Marcus watched as Hermione sat down across from him. “Professor Snape would have killed me,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Not likely,” Hermione said. “He may be a lot of things, but a murderer is not one of them. And luckily for you, killing students is generally frowned upon.” She managed a small smirk at that. “However, I’m quite sure he would have stripped you of all your titles and privileges, and likely suspended you. Or transferred you to the Kurgan Academy.”

“What’s that?”

“An all-girls boarding school in Siberia.”

Hermione watched, bemused, as the tension suddenly melted out of Marcus’ body and he began to laugh, the sort of off-pitch release that skirts the edge of hysteria. “I’d probably deserve it,” he said between breaths.

More than anything, Hermione was relieved she hadn’t been imagining things. While walking towards the hospital wing, Teddy asleep in her arms, she had seen Harry walk out of a parallel corridor towards the dungeons. Yet Harry – the real Harry – had been walking in front of her alongside Severus. She knew better than to involve either Harry or Severus at that point, and so had made her excuses to get away and investigate.

“Do you know, on my walk down here,” Marcus continued after a beat, “one person threatened me under their breath as I passed, one girl hugged me before I could realize what was happening, a young boy stood gaping at me and then proceeded to drop his books, I’m almost certain someone grabbed my arse – well, Harry’s arse, you know what I mean – and my friend Albert Hobbins shook my hand and thanked me!”

“Harry doesn’t stop being famous simply because the war is over.”

“Yeah, but is it always like that?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s everything – the allies, the adversaries, the doe-eyes, the glares, the reverence, the fear, being equally liked and disliked…” She was ticking them off on her fingers as she went. “But regardless of what people think of him, one thing’s a constant: he’s always the center of attention.”

Marcus groaned, his posture visibly sagging. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

Hermione eyed him, trying to surmise the reason for his reaction, and took a brief mental inventory of the things she knew about him: Quidditch captain, Prefect, Potions tutor, Slytherin – in essence, smart and popular. She drifted her eyes over his seated form. Plus well-groomed and handsome, she conceded. Suddenly, she understood his lament. “That’s what it means to be with Harry – his partner will probably never be the public face of the relationship.”

“If he marries, it’ll be two Mr. Potters? The other person will just become ‘The One Who Married Harry Potter’?”

Hermione shrugged with a nod. “I’ve never thought about it before, but yes, quite likely.”

“Fuck,” Marcus muttered.

“I don’t think he’s ever going to notice you, anyway, Marcus. I’m pretty sure he has his heart set on someone else.”

“It’s Professor Snape, isn’t it?”

Taken aback, Hermione regarded him speculatively. “That’s not for me to say; only Harry can decide when – or if – he shares his relationships with the world.”

“But how does he know who he wants if he hasn’t dated a lot of people yet?”

“You mean he hasn’t dated you yet.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

A quiet, nervous laugh escaped Marcus’ lips. “Well, yeah. Can you blame me? He’s bloody gorgeous!”

“Do you even know him, Marcus? Have you ever talked to him?” Hermione asked, feeling some of her ire return.

“Once,” Marcus said ruefully. “But I don’t know that it really counts.”

“So you are just after him for his name, then.”

“No, I’m not!” Marcus looked defensive for a moment, then frowned. “I just wanted to be the one who won his heart.”

“No,” Hermione countered. “You wanted to be ‘The Boy Who Landed The Boy Who Lived’.”

“That’s not true, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

Despite Marcus’ indignant denial, Hermione wasn’t fooled. “You can’t collect someone like a trophy, Marcus! Harry is a man with his own needs and desires, and deserves to be with someone who can give him those things; who loves him for who he is and not for his celebrity.”

“But did you see how he was dressed tonight? He doesn’t play fair!” Marcus pouted, effectively confirming his culpability by side-stepping the accusation.

Hermione stifled a snort. “I did. Though to be frank, I highly doubt it was for your benefit.”

It looked a bit like Hermione had just slapped him, the realization of that fact striking a hard expression on his face. “Well, I certainly hope he noticed, then. He’d be a bloody blind fool if he missed it,” Marcus added spitefully.

Even without stating a name, Hermione knew they were both referring to Severus. She recalled observing the man at dinner, and how charmed she’d been that Severus had only had eyes for one person in that entire Hall. It was so unlike him, the acerbic professor she had once known, to be so obvious with his regard. Perhaps it was the different atmosphere, the lack of threat to his life – to both his and Harry’s – that had allowed him to relax his guard. She wondered if Harry had noticed yet.

She was stirred from her thoughts by Marcus.

“So that’s it, then? I just have to let him go?”

Hermione thought for a moment on how to answer that. It was true she wanted Severus and Harry to have a chance to be together – had seen the possibility of that trajectory long ago, in fact, as intense feelings often run a fine line between desire and loathing – without someone like Marcus trying to interfere. But at the same time, who was she to say that Harry and Marcus wouldn’t be compatible, once they got to know each other? Hermione shook her head to rid herself of the thought; Marcus had proved his motivations would likely always be misguided where Harry was concerned.

Before she had a chance to weigh in on the matter, Marcus seemed to resolve his own question. He pressed his hands over his face. “Ugh. I know this is really shallow of me, but I’m…” He removed his hands and looked up at her. “I’m used to being the popular one.” He gave an unapologetic smile.

“Well, then I think you have your answer, as I certainly don’t see Harry’s reality changing any time soon.” She glanced at her watch and noticed it was nearing time for the staff party. “I am expected elsewhere now, I must go.” She stood to leave.

Marcus suddenly sobered. “Wait… you aren’t going to file a report or discipline action against me, are you?”

Hermione eyed him. As Head Girl, it was perfectly within her rights – and duty – to do so, yet she also knew she wasn’t above using the situation to her advantage. Or, rather, to Harry and Severus’ advantage. After all, for whatever other failings Marcus had, Hermione could plainly see dishonesty wasn’t one of them – at least when pressed for the truth, which she supposed was as much as she could ask from anyone.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

“Yes?” he asked eagerly, obviously keen to keep his name off detention registers – and away from other, worse fates.

“If you agree, I will expect a Wizard’s Oath to ensure your end of the bargain is met, and met satisfactorily. Once that’s done, I will consider this resolved. No one else will have to know or become involved.”

Marcus swallowed with a nod, but looked relieved. “Okay. What do I have to do?”

“Confess. To both Harry and Professor Snape.”

“C-confess?”

“Yes. Your Polyjuice stunt, your plans, all of it. Though I will allow you to tailor your explanation to each of them, as I get the sense that Harry wasn’t even aware you liked him.”

Marcus bowed his head, speaking into his chest. “I doubt it,” he said miserably. He sighed, seeming to contemplate his options while Hermione held out her hand, palm up. He lifted his gaze, his expression one of confused inquiry.

“I’ll need your Polyjuice, too.”

“I don’t have any more! I only took a small amount so Professor Snape wouldn’t get suspicious. I swear!”

Fortunately for Marcus, he continued to wear his earnestness (if not naiveté) on his sleeve. “Fine,” she said. Then she pointed her wand towards Marcus while softly incanting under her breath. “Do we have an agreement?”

He heaved a resigned sigh, his jaw jutting out stubbornly. “Yes,” he muttered, and touched the tip of his wand to the end of Hermione’s. For a brief moment, both ends glowed a piercingly bright gold and then faded to nothing.

Another glance at her watch told Hermione it was nearly seven. “Good news,” she announced. “I know where to find Harry. You can start now.”

She wished she could’ve had a camera at that moment to capture the look on Marcus’ face.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

“Hermione!” Harry called, feeling a surge of relief at seeing her approach. He rushed over, but came to a stop when he realized she was not alone.

“Hi, Harry, you remember Marcus Braham, don’t you?” she said, just as Marcus stepped up beside her.

Confused, Harry acknowledged him with a distracted nod and then looked back at Hermione. “What happened before? Why did you have to leave so fast?”

“It was probably because of—” Marcus started to explain, but Hermione interrupted.

“I found someone else to test your tattoo, Harry. I’ve been working on refining my theory a bit more and when I saw Marcus walk by, I remembered he and I had discussed it. I’m curious what the reaction will be.”

Marcus turned to look at her, his mouth open as though to object, seemingly confused. Harry found himself looking back and forth between the pair of them, definitely confused. Something didn’t quite add up, but he didn’t know what it was.

“You want to do this now?” was all he could think to ask.

Hermione looked agitated. “Yes. It’s as good a time as any, given that I’m never sure when I’m going to see you.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry said. For some reason, he felt the need to ensure they were alone, and glanced up and down the hallway first. Then he pulled up the corner of his jumper, baring the flesh around his ribs and the phoenix presently resting there.

Marcus’ eyes went wide for a moment and then glanced suspiciously between Harry and Hermione.

“Just touch my tattoo with a finger,” Harry instructed, but Marcus did not move. He looked torn, as though he thought it might be a trick.

“Why, what will happen?” he asked warily.

“One of two things,” Hermione said. “If the tattoo responds to your touch, then that’s good—”

“But if it doesn’t?” Marcus interrupted.

“Then it will avoid you, which basically means Harry should, too. It’s been enchanted to discern who is a good match for Harry… and who isn’t.”

Marcus seemed to ignore the emphasis she put on that last part. “All right,” he said, his stubbornness and determination evident. “I want to try.”

Harry couldn’t figure out why Hermione had just explained all that, and looked over at her just as Marcus reached a hand out. Somehow, Harry knew what was about to happen. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but as his gaze met Hermione’s, he realized she knew it, too. Sure enough, as Marcus’ hand – not just a finger, Harry noted with some degree of surprise – pressed against his side, the phoenix practically disappeared from his skin. At Hermione’s snort, Harry looked down to see that the bird was wrapped around his neck like a collar, its head buried underneath the feathers of its tail.

“Wait, let me try again, I don’t think I actually touched it!” Marcus exclaimed, but Hermione caught his hand as it headed for the phoenix’s current location.

“No, you definitely touched it. It only moves when people touch it.” She released Marcus’ hand, which fell slowly to his side. He looked absolutely crestfallen, and Harry grew even more confused than before.

“Sorry, Marcus,” Hermione said, though there was an odd quality to her voice that suggested she was saying more than just her words. Harry looked at Marcus and saw something flash across his eyes, but couldn’t decipher it. Then Hermione turned to him. “We’d better go, Harry, it’s after seven.”

“Wait… Hermione,” Marcus started, and she stopped and turned.

“Yes, I will consider this part complete,” she replied cryptically.

Marcus blinked. “But you changed what I was—”

“It wasn’t for your benefit, let me assure you,” Hermione continued. “Your other task, however… remains unchanged.”

As she turned and walked away, pulling Harry with her, he leaned over with an urgent whisper. “What was all that about?”

“It’s a long story,” she answered with a sigh, waving him off. “So, did you get Teddy settled all right?”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Heading to the party from the dungeons, Severus found he couldn’t keep his mind off whatever it was Harry had wanted to tell him. He’d seemed excited about it, but Severus had no context to work from, and didn’t like that he couldn’t anticipate the topic or purpose. He surmised it was something personal, as Harry had had ample opportunities at dinner – and during their walk to the infirmary – to discuss it, yet he hadn’t. But he supposed Harry had been distracted enough with Teddy that any attempt at normal conversation would have proved too difficult.

Preoccupied as he was, Severus almost didn’t notice when he turned down one of the back corridors that led to the lounge and nearly came face-to-face with the very object of his preoccupation. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t alone. Halting abruptly, before he could be seen, Severus pulled back behind a large column at the junction of two walls.

What was Harry doing in the hallway with Marcus?

He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but as he peered at them from around the corner, he noticed Hermione was there as well. Harry was standing with his back mostly to Severus’ position, Hermione to the side, and Marcus across from the two of them.

He didn’t need to see the look on Harry’s face to know what was going on – Marcus’ was telling enough. There was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes, and when he leaned closer to Harry, he appeared to slide a hand up underneath Harry’s jumper. Hermione merely looked on, a small, knowing smile on her face. Harry did not flinch or back away from it; if anything, his body language seemed to encourage it.

That was it; Severus had seen enough. He turned away and stalked off, taking the shortcut to the staff lounge instead – any route that would put him as far away as possible from the remembered visual of that traitorous hand touching Harry’s body. And Harry allowing it.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

It was a good thing Hermione had confided in her about Marcus, because from her vantage point at the end of the hall, it certainly didn’t seem to be over. Ginny had been on her way to Michael’s room in Ravenclaw when she’d caught sight of Hermione leading Marcus along a hallway towards the fourth floor. His body language suggested he wanted to be anywhere but there, so, curious what Hermione was up to, Ginny followed them. Stopping short of where they met up with Harry, she watched from a distance. She couldn’t hear what was said, and her view of Harry was mostly blocked by Marcus, but she still caught enough of the exchange to get the gist: Hermione was letting Harry’s tattoo do the talking. Though what the reaction was, she couldn’t see.

After Hermione and Harry turned to leave, Marcus watched them until they were out of sight, then turned to leave as well. He got as far as the back dungeon stairwell when Ginny stepped out in front of him.

In a blur of carefully-timed movement and one well-placed spell, she had Marcus’ wand in her pocket, his back up against the wall, and the point of her own wand pressed into his chest within a matter of seconds. He blinked for a moment, clearly disoriented, before leveling a glare at her.

“You wouldn’t,” Marcus challenged, clearly trying to sound confident as he looked between Ginny’s face and her wand.

Ginny grinned at the sufficiently terrorized look in his eyes, pleased that her reputation had preceded her. “Wouldn’t what?” she asked casually. He swallowed hard, staring back at her.

“Fine, so you would. What do you want?”

Relaxing her wand hand, Ginny took a step back. “I want you to leave Harry alone.”

Marcus gave a little snort of hysterical laughter. “God, what is it with you women?”

“I might ask the same of you. I’m not the one who’s being pathetic and stalking him.”

“No, you’re just pining for him in private.”

Ginny gritted her teeth but otherwise gave away nothing on her face, refusing him the pleasure of knowing he had hit a nerve. Fishing around in her pocket, she withdrew Marcus’ wand and held it for him, handle facing out. She sneered. “Here. You might need this in case any women try to overtake you again. Or small children, I hear they’re surprisingly lethal.”

Irritated, Marcus snatched his wand out of her hand. “Spare me the dramatics. It’s not like we’re still at war or anything.”

“Is that so?”

“Voldemort is dead, Ginny.”

Her laugh was cold. “Yes, because Voldemort was always the only threat. There won’t ever be anyone else who’d love nothing more than to take his place; to get Harry’s head on a platter. No one left who might seek revenge by bringing the hero down a peg… or twenty?”

Marcus opened his mouth to say something, then closed it with a snap.

“Exactly,” Ginny said, sniffing disdainfully. She eyed him up and down, her lips pursed. “You have no clue what it means to be in a relationship with Harry. You wouldn’t last ten seconds protecting him! I had you up against the wall, disarmed and begging for mercy in half that; imagine what a Death Eater would do. But do you know the worst part?” She stood with her hands on her hips, her gaze fierce. “Harry does anything he can to protect the people he loves – which usually includes putting himself in harm’s way, the daft idiot – but the point is, if he loved you, he would be prepared to die for you. What could you possibly offer him in return?”

Marcus glared at her again. “Just because you took me by surprise doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to protect him!”

Ginny laughed again. “Oh, right, my mistake. I forgot Death Eaters tend to announce themselves first, then attack.” Her comment made Marcus bristle even more, and she knew she’d made her point.

“So, what, you’re just going to play his personal bodyguard now?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. Just do us both a favor and leave him alone.”

Marcus stepped away from the wall and straightened his robes back into place. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just about to do that, so you can call off your search party.”

“Good. That’s settled, then.”

She slipped her wand back into its holster and was about to leave when Marcus stopped her. “Why do you care, anyway? Didn’t he dump you?”

Her gaze hardened. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it was a mutual decision. I love him. I always have, but he’s gone and decided that he prefers men, and obviously I can’t compete with that. But I’m certainly not about to stand by and watch him shack up with the wrong sort.”

“And I suppose I’m the wrong sort.”

Ginny turned on her heel, flashing a sardonic smile over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Marcus.”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

When they arrived at the party, Harry and Hermione had barely cleared the doorway when Hermione waved to the new Muggle Studies professor and excused herself to go join the conversation already in progress. Far from being offended, Harry simply breathed a sigh of relief that he’d be able to talk to Severus alone without having to make awkward excuses.

At the thought of Severus, he felt a bubble of excitement well up in his chest; he’d been looking forward to sharing what he’d realized in his seventh draught since shortly after it had happened, but just hadn’t found the right opportunity. When he learned Severus was attending the party as well, he hoped it would prove the right venue.

He noticed the staff lounge was modestly decorated for Christmas; it appeared they saved the true splendor of the holiday for the Great Hall, and rightly so, Harry supposed – at least there it could be enjoyed by everyone. The lounge itself was dimly lit, its candle sconces and chandeliers flickering a soft, cheery light about the room. It almost didn’t seem like the same room he and Hermione had discussed color theory in a week and a half ago.

Harry nodded to everyone as he wound his way through the room, and shook a couple hands, but otherwise kept his eyes scanning for his target. He finally found Severus leaning against the far wall, a sour expression on his face. Harry chuckled to himself, guessing that was the man’s way of discouraging small talk from his colleagues.

As Harry approached, he realized Severus had left him at the hospital wing in order to go change his clothes. Instead of his usual teaching robes, he now wore charcoal trousers and a black, button-down shirt. With a quick glance around the room, Harry realized this was commonplace: no one appeared to be wearing robes. He was now doubly glad he had opted to forgo them as well. No wonder Severus had commented on his attire.

But if Harry thought sharing his revelation was going to be easy, he had guessed wrong. Terribly wrong. Sidling up next to Severus, leaning against the wall next to him, he tried a couple different times to broach his topic and was disheartened by the lack of response each time. Confused, he tried for the third time to press on with his story, only to be met with a scowl. Finally, Severus interrupted him.

“Should you not be telling this to your boyfriend instead?”

“No, I wanted to tell—wait, my what?”

“Don’t play coy, Potter. I saw you two in the hallway just now. It is what you came to tell me, is it not?”

“You saw who? What are you talking about?” Harry cast his mind about, trying to figure out what Severus could be referring to. “Oh, you mean you saw me with Hermione and Mark–something?”

“Marcus Braham, yes,” Severus confirmed, looking disgusted at the mere mention of the name.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Marcus isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t even know him.”

Severus held up a hand, clearly in an attempt to forestall any further conversation on the topic, then reached out and grabbed a tumbler of Firewhiskey from a bypassing tray. He settled his gaze on the party, avoiding Harry’s.

“What is this about?” Harry pleaded, leaning into Severus’ eye line. “Does this have something to do with…” he lowered his voice, “the kiss?”

Severus suddenly turned and grabbed Harry’s elbow, guiding him forcefully – but discreetly – out of the lounge, down the hall, and into an empty classroom. Harry couldn’t figure out what was going on. It’s not as though he had been talking loud enough to be overheard. Was it because Severus didn’t want the other professors to know of their association? Though that didn’t make much sense, given they had just sat next to one another over dinner, chatting amiably, in front of the entire Hall.

Harry shook off Severus’ grip once the classroom door had closed behind them. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, his anger now sufficiently stoked.

“I was attempting to save you from embarrassing yourself in front of the staff.”

Harry scoffed. “Me? What about you?”

Severus’ eyes darted briefly to the side and he took a large swig of his drink.

“Severus, I’m not dating Marcus.”

“So you merely allow yourself to be groped by any hormonally-charged lout who shows a shred of interest in you, then?”

Harry recoiled, appalled. “That’s hardly fair! And believe me, that wasn’t what it looked like!”

“Kindly cease your explanations, Potter.”

Harry clenched his jaw in frustration, feeling the sting in Severus’ words more than he had for a long time. “I don’t even know how you managed to see it in the first place! Why do you even care?” he snapped.

The sudden, ear-splitting cacophony of glass breaking made Harry cover his head with his arms. It was only after a few thundering, tense heartbeats that he realized the source of the sound was Severus, who had thrown his tumbler against the wall with a surprising amount of force. The fine crystal was no match for the unyielding stone surface, and it shattered upon impact, sending a rain of shards flying. Harry blinked owlishly at Severus, who merely stood staring at the wall, one hand clenched into a tight fist, his breathing hard.

The clatter had apparently stirred up a ghost, for one floated through the wall and into their classroom then, brandishing an armful of scrolls and a flickering lantern. He seemed oddly oblivious to their presence, and continued his path into the adjacent room, his mumbled cursing trailing the eerie silence of his gliding.

“I am sorry you had to see that,” Severus finally said, his expression vacant. For a minute Harry thought he was referring to the ghost. “I do not know what has got into me. Perhaps it is time I retire for the evening.” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, with a flick of his wand, the pieces of glass that were once his tumbler were instantly Banished. No evidence of where it had struck the wall, nor its amber contents dripping over the jagged stones, remained.

Harry desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened, looking back and forth between Severus and the wall. They had been talking about Marcus and boyfriends and the kiss and why Severus didn’t want to hear Harry’s story and—

Wait.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as it hit him. Severus is jealous! But of what? he thought wildly. Marcus? That couldn’t be. Unless… Harry blinked. Unless Severus really does like me. That explains why he’d act this way – he was afraid Marcus had got to me first, that our kiss was a mistake…

Severus slipped his wand back into his sleeve and turned to leave. He got as far as the door before Harry spoke.

“Severus, wait…” Harry started, but was unsure of what else to say. He stepped closer instead, his mind’s eye flashing a quick succession of visuals: him singing at the piano while Severus played, the lyrics of that song still echoing in his consciousness; the hours they’d spent together in Severus’ antechamber, absorbed in conversation or pre-session discussion; the revelation of Severus being gay, something Harry knew was not an announcement he made lightly; the kiss they had shared, such as it was. He suddenly saw a myriad of connections and patterns he had missed previously: the way Severus always seemed to dote on him, protect him, make him feel safe; the way Severus’ demeanor and expression often changed the minute Harry entered the room; the fact Severus agreed to do things Harry never thought he’d do, simply because Harry had asked. Harry couldn’t believe what an idiot he was for having missed all this – despite his own distractions and burdened mind, despite everything.

Severus swayed forward then, looming slightly over him. He was so close that Harry could almost taste the Firewhiskey on his breath. Harry wondered exactly how much of it Severus had had that evening.

When he looked up at Severus, it felt like the room – indeed the entire castle – suddenly narrowed itself to just the two of them. Their eyes met and Harry felt himself being pinned by the intensity of Severus’ gaze. A frisson of electricity zipped up Harry’s spine and he swallowed thickly, his lips parting. As Severus lowered his eyes to look at Harry’s mouth, the air began to crackle around them. This was nothing like their spontaneous, in-the-moment kiss after his sixth draught; this felt different, and Harry found he was welcoming it in a way that surprised him. He remembered thinking about it in Australia, wondering if that same feeling he’d had a hint of would always suffuse their interactions. Now, finding himself confronted with that possibility again, he wanted nothing more than to find out what it would feel like to kiss Severus for real.

With his pulse in his throat, Harry looked back and forth between Severus’ lips and his eyes, waiting, wondering, seeking. He felt like a trapped animal, unsure whether his captor was going to strike or devour or possess… or…

Retreat? Wait, no!

“Goodnight,” Severus whispered, and was gone.

No!

Adrenaline and disappointment and a host of other emotions were pulsing under every inch of Harry’s skin, and he stared after Severus, the spot he’d just vacated somehow still vibrating with want. The air around him seemed to deflate rapidly and Harry gasped, clutching at the wall beside him.

No…
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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9