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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
- 31
- 32
- 33
Chapter 32: Somewhere Only We Know
It had been two days since Harry had last seen or heard from Severus. Two days since he’d woken up in that large, warm bed, his arms and legs curled around a long, lean body. Two days since he'd dressed from their incredible weekend together and left through the Floo, Severus’ shuttered expression haunting his mind’s eye ever since.
He knew Severus had requested the time to prepare for second term, but why did that mean Harry couldn’t stay with him at night – at least while the students were still on break? He missed the conversations and the reading in bed and taking meals together and waking up with someone beside him. And, yes, he missed the sex, too. But mainly he missed the company; he missed Severus.
Harry rolled over in bed and sighed. He already wasn’t sleeping well, unable to stop wondering when or if he should make contact. Then again, Severus hadn’t instigated their interaction the first time, so how likely was it he’d do so this time? In retrospect, perhaps it had been foolhardy to get so attached to the man. Sure, they had been getting along for months now, but Harry never imagined it would extend to the bedroom, or even to the simple joys of domestic companionship. Who would’ve guessed they even had this compatibility together?
Harry had also been wanking a lot, trying to take the edge off the flow of desire that hit him whenever visuals of their weekend assaulted his memory. Which, unfortunately, was most of the time. (He was afraid if he wanked much more, he’d rub it clean off.) He'd even turned down a request to meet up with Ron and Hermione, saying he was busy but that he'd catch up with them later. Harry scoffed. Busy. If busy meant obsessing and thinking and reliving, then yes, he was busy. He just wasn’t ready to talk about this with his friends yet – not until he had any clue if there was even something to talk about. All he knew was that Severus had awoken something within him, and whatever it was, it was refusing to be unheard, unfelt, unseen.
But a relationship was an entirely different thing than seeking pleasure in one another. Maybe it hadn’t meant the same thing to Severus as it did to Harry? Was it possible Severus had just used the circumstances to satisfy his own urges? Somehow Harry didn’t think so. Severus was the least impulsive person he knew, and didn’t act until he had every conceivable aspect of a situation anticipated: the risks minimized, the odds calculated, any and all protections put into place.
If anything, it was probably that Severus thought things were moving too fast. It would certainly explain why he’d pulled back and not contacted Harry since they’d parted Monday morning. He definitely seemed the type to throw himself into his work when he didn’t want to deal with something in the harsh light of day, where emotions could crowd in on him.
Harry snorted. What was he thinking, wanting to get involved with Severus Snape – easily the most guarded, suspicious and challenging person he’d ever met?
That is exactly why, his inner voice reminded him.
And it was true. It was what had attracted Harry to him in the first place. Life would never be boring with Severus and there was a certain security to that knowledge. There was just a certain security to Severus, period. Harry also liked how alive he felt around the man – being challenged and pushed, and made to try and do and strive.
When he was a student he used to hate that, but back then he’d assumed the censure was done to single him out or belittle him in some way. Now, after getting to know the man, Harry saw the other layers he’d missed before. It was never just as straightforward as trying to get Harry to hate him – that was far too simple a motivation. Severus could’ve just ignored Harry completely, or favored Slytherins without antagonizing him, or acted cold and distant – any of those things would have yielded the same result: distaste for the man.
No. Instead, his Professor embarked upon the kind of personalized goading that ultimately gave Harry thicker skin, made him tougher and stronger and…
More prepared.
Harry almost laughed. Even back then, Severus was protecting him – albeit in his own way. Severus had always protected him, and Harry knew now he always would.
Yet Harry wasn’t about to let Severus do all the work, for it was really the give and take between them that he anticipated most – an invigorating clash of fortitude and stubbornness; a grand tug-of-war where each person pitted their strengths against the other’s: the brilliant and cunning strategist versus the resilient and nurturing crusader.
Together, they really were a potent combination, Harry realized. One he couldn’t imagine ever giving up, now that he’d had a taste of what might be possible.
A quiet knock sounded at his door and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He kicked the sheets off his bed and hurried to the door, but had barely got it open when he nearly collided with Kreacher.
“Master is receiving post from the Muggles,” the elf intoned, holding up a plain, brown box.
“What?” Harry grabbed it, wondering why on earth the Dursleys would be sending him anything. He certainly didn’t need any broken coat hangers or used socks. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from them since they’d been relocated during the war, so how would they even have his address?
Curious – if not a bit suspicious – Harry inspected the box more closely, using his wand to test for possible hexes. When it came up clear, he gave the label a closer look. In small print he hadn’t noticed before (indeed, it may have been his wand that revealed it), it indicated the sender was ‘S. Prince’ at an unfamiliar address in London.
A flutter of nerves and excitement stirred Harry’s stomach. Was this from Severus? “Why didn’t he just Owl it?” Harry wondered aloud, but Kreacher had already turned to shuffle off, a bored shrug his only reply.
Harry sat back down on his bed and immediately tore open the box. Inside was a smaller box, this one long and narrow and dark green. There, stamped in gold foil along the top, read Harrods. Even for as sheltered and non-fashion-minded as Harry was, even he had heard of Harrods.
Was this a message from Severus? Did Severus miss Harry as much as Harry missed him? Already halfway down his rose-lined path of hopeful thoughts, Harry had to force himself to stop his romanticizing. This was probably just a belated Christmas present – a mark of proper etiquette, too, given Harry had presented Severus with one.
Setting the box top aside, Harry pulled back the tissue. Inside was the softest scarf he’d ever felt (a lambswool/cashmere blend, the tag said) in striped tones of slate blue, plum and dark gray. He thought it would look really sharp with his formal winter cloak, as well as the black peacoat he usually favored.
He unfolded the small piece of parchment and read the simple note:
Just looking after your interests.
- SS
Harry let out a delighted sort of laugh, remembering their conversation about this barely two weeks ago. You always have, he thought more seriously. He couldn’t recall ever mentioning to Severus that he hated the cold weather, though…
Slipping the scarf out of the box, Harry put it around his shoulders, looping one end around his neck. It seemed to warm him instantly and he found himself fingering the material again, wondering if perhaps Severus had put a charm on it.
When he found he still had it on hours later – despite being indoors the whole time – he convinced himself it was only because he had forgotten to take it off.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
By nighttime, Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. It was just past eleven and he had already been lying in bed staring at the ceiling for almost an hour, despite being exhausted from his previous two nights of fitful sleep. He’d been right: his bed was cold and lonely without Severus. They had just spent a little over three days together, scarcely leaving the other’s side, and now the two days since had seemed like two weeks. Harry felt Severus’ absence so keenly it was like he’d loaned out a limb to someone and they’d not had the courtesy to give it back yet.
Harry got out of bed and walked over to his Floo, not even bothering to put something on over his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. When he emerged at his destination, the room was dark. The only light he saw was a soft yellow glow coming from the bedroom door, which was almost closed. Within moments, Severus appeared in the doorway, squinting into the dark at his intruder. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Harry standing in his antechamber.
“I can’t sleep,” Harry said, rather lamely.
Severus looked at Harry for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few seconds. Harry could see he was wearing his nightshirt and was likely on his way to bed himself. Harry felt immediately out of place.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be bugging you. I’ll go.” He had almost turned back to the fireplace when he saw Severus open the bedroom door wide, then walk out of view towards his side of the bed. Harry stood there a moment, blinking, before his relief spurred him into action. For even though Severus hadn’t said a word, the invitation was clear.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
Harry woke up the following morning – Thursday, if his internal calendar was on track – alone in bed again. This didn’t surprise him, nor did it unduly upset him. He knew Severus was going to be working this week, and he was fine with that as long as it meant they could be together at night. At least he hoped that’s what being back in Severus’ quarters meant. Getting up, he used the loo quick, donned the robe he found hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and went in search of Severus. He didn’t have to look long.
Harry poked his head around the door to the lab, which stood slightly ajar. “Morning,” he said quietly, smiling at the scene before him.
Severus had looked up briefly at the intrusion but did not seem to mind. He was chopping some plant-like ingredient with the speed and efficiency of a trained chef, then using the blade of his knife to scoop the pieces into a small bowl.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this last night, but thank you for the scarf,” Harry said. “I love it.”
Severus gave a slight incline of his head. “You are welcome. I might say the same thing about my chocolates.”
Their gazes met briefly and Harry flushed. Then Severus turned back to his work, adding some sort of blue, pulverized powder to the largest of the four cauldrons in front of him and stirring it clockwise three times, before sprinkling in some of the plant pieces he had just cut up, the mixture changing from a sickly yellow to a dull gold.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Harry asked, coming further into the room.
“No,” Severus said, counting out what looked like twelve beetle eyes and scooping them into the littlest cauldron. “But you may watch.” He stirred it to combine the ingredients. “Silently.”
Harry laughed, but was relieved that he would be able to stay all the same. He pulled out a stool and sat, becoming almost instantly distracted by those long-fingered hands at work. They moved so gracefully, a mesmerizing dance of economy and precision, ingredients and tools, timing and technique.
Harry could barely handle one cauldron at a time, let alone four, and Severus was moving amongst them effortlessly, chopping here, stirring there, attending to each one’s needs simultaneously. Harry would have needed three extra arms for all that, and maybe another set of eyes. But he supposed that's what it looked like when a Master was at work. He'd never really had cause to see it before, as his professor had never worked in front of the class like this, only stalked around them all like a disapproving vulture, looking for his next kill, or perhaps just ways to take points.
After several minutes of observing, Harry leaned closer to the worktable, nodding at the cauldron closest to him. “Volubilis, right?”
Severus gave a distracted nod.
“I could tell because of how you prepared the mint. The sprigs have to be minced, not chopped.” Severus’ eyes snapped up in surprise, but Harry just shrugged with an impish smile. The potion had been one of Harry’s favorites, memorably annotated as it had been in the Prince’s book. He also knew that adding in the stems along with the leaves increased the duration of the potion’s effect, and told Severus as much.
“My, my, it seems something of my teaching did manage to stick in that head of yours after all.”
Harry grinned, hearing the good-natured sarcasm in Severus’ voice. “Sort of. It was from your Potions textbook, actually. Your notes were, er, really good. Slughorn thought I was a genius.”
Severus snorted. “And you saw no reason to disabuse him of this notion?”
“Of course not,” Harry said with a laugh. “It was the first time I’d ever done well in Potions and it was actually kinda fun. Besides, Hermione was nearly going spare trying to figure out how I was doing it. That book saved my arse – I wasn’t about to give it up.”
Severus looked approving, one eyebrow arched. “You would have made a worthy Slytherin, I daresay.”
Harry smiled slightly, looking down at his feet as he bounced them against the legs of his stool. “The Hat wanted to put me there, you know.”
“And you did not see fit to accept that choice?” Severus said, a slight edge to his voice, causing Harry to look up again.
“Not once I’d learned it was the House Voldemort was in, and that it’d turned out more evil wizards than all of the other Houses combined. I begged the Hat to put me somewhere else – anywhere else – and it chose Gryffindor.”
Severus hummed, still looking a little annoyed, but his features eventually relaxed. “I suppose that was probably for the best. It would have been more difficult to maintain my pretense if I’d had you underfoot all the time.”
Harry grinned. “Is that some back-handed Slytherin way of saying you’d’ve liked me sooner if I’d been in your House?”
“Have a high opinion of yourself, do you?”
Harry laughed again. “Not usually, but you pretty much just said that my irresistible charm would have worn you down.”
Severus scoffed, but Harry could tell he was having fun with the conversation. He seemed intent to cover that fact, however. “It is more likely you would have become directly entangled with Death Eaters, and perhaps far sooner than you would have been ready.”
“Do you always have to go and spoil my fun?”
Severus smirked before turning back to his work, siphoning off one of the cooled potions into a series of empty vials. Once corked and labeled, he turned to the other cauldrons, putting lids on two of them, and then in the last, added two more ingredients: something small and wiggly followed by a dry, brown leaf. Severus watched until both items had dissolved into the mixture and then put a lid on that one, too.
Moving to the table behind him, Severus picked up his quill and leaned over a journal that had been laid open on the marred wood surface, marking down some notes.
Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down that slender body to the slim hips and pert backside, sheathed as they were in black trousers. He thought it was probably a good thing Severus had worn robes while being a teacher, something much more voluminous and loose-fitting, or he may have found himself appreciating the view much sooner. Slipping off his stool, Harry approached slowly, his fingers itching to touch, to be closer to this man.
“I wanted to thank you for the scarf,” Harry said.
Severus stood up straight and turned. “I believe you already did.”
“No, I mean… properly.” Harry let his gaze sweep Severus’ body appreciatively.
“Clumsy, Mr. Potter.”
But Harry just laughed. He knew he was crap at seduction, or even flirting, having never really done either before, or at least not done them well.
“I can’t help it, I just want—I just want to touch you…” He trailed off, pressing a palm tentatively against the front of Severus’ trousers, satisfied to hear the hitch in Severus’ breathing. When his touch wasn’t refused, he slid down the zip, opened the placket and insinuated a hand inside, surprising himself at his own brazenness.
Severus just stood there, frozen, as though he was waiting to see what Harry was going to do while knowing full well exactly what Harry was going to do.
By the time Harry had pulled Severus’ trousers and boxers down, he could see Severus was already half-hard. Harry grinned. Severus would never be able to talk his way out of this one now, not when the proof of his interest was staring Harry in the face.
It occurred to Harry that in all their weekend together, he had not really done anything for Severus – especially not this, something so quintessentially male, something Severus had already done for Harry multiple times.
Time to fix that, Harry thought. Then he amended that thought in his head, realizing it wasn’t about evening up some score, but rather about wanting to bring Severus pleasure. He wanted Severus to feel what he, Harry, had felt.
Sinking to his knees, Harry took hold of Severus’ bare hips and leaned in. He started by licking around the head of Severus’ cock, his tongue trailing every curve of the top and underside, mapping out what pleasure Severus enjoyed. Then he took Severus in as far as he could go, burying his nose in the dark patch of fur at its base and inhaling the earthy musk, relishing the weight of that warm, velvety cock in his mouth. He felt himself grow hard in response, unencumbered as it was by the simple robe he wore, and began to suck with enthusiasm, guiding his untutored actions by what others had done for him that he’d liked.
Chancing a glance upwards, Harry saw Severus was leaning slightly against the worktable behind him, his fingers curled so tightly around the top that his knuckles were turning white. But it was really the look on Severus’ face that got Harry going. Those usually sharp features were twisted into something so blissful it almost resembled agony. Harry loved that he was responsible for that look; that his mouth could be a vessel, a gateway, to bring about that sort of pleasure in another – particularly when Harry licked just… there. The answering gasp from somewhere above him made him smirk around the flesh filling his mouth.
Before long, fingers curled around Harry’s shoulder, at first trying to push him away, and then when it was clear Harry wasn’t going to budge, a tightening grasp told Harry the man was close.
Severus’ orgasm still came as a bit of a shock, but only because Harry was so engrossed in what he was doing. He began to swallow as soon as he felt the warm, bitter fluid hit the back of his throat, determined not to spill a drop (he figured Severus would have his hide for making a mess in his lab). Harry kept licking and suckling until Severus reached down and hauled him to his feet. Before he could protest, Severus captured his lips in a demanding kiss, his tongue probing Harry’s mouth as though seeking out the taste of himself, his appreciation clear in the low, satisfied moans he was making. Harry thought it was probably the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
After pulling the zip back up on Severus’ trousers, Harry grasped the man’s hands and beckoned him to follow. Something in Harry’s expression must have convinced him, for he allowed Harry to pull him out of the lab and into the antechamber, where Harry urged him to sit on the sofa. He poured a drink for Severus from the decanter on the sideboard and then flopped down next to him, earning him a weak glare for his troubles (even post-orgasmic, the man clearly didn’t appreciate being jostled about).
Severus settled into a relaxed slump, his head back and his eyes closed – a far cry from his usual formal posture. Harry used the opportunity to press the heel of his palm against his groin, trying to will his erection away, but it did no good. Instead, he shifted in his seat so he could cross one leg over the other, hoping that would hide it sufficiently. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to don Severus’ robe earlier – it didn’t cover much. He just didn’t want to spoil what he’d done by making Severus feel like reciprocating was a condition of it. Instead, Harry cast about for a change of topic, one that would shift his thoughts completely, or at least shift them upwards. He considered several topics until a curious one floated to the top. He had no idea what reminded him of it, but he realized he’d been wondering about it for ages.
“You never told me what you did in your Evochi sessions.”
If Severus seemed surprised by the statement, he didn’t show it. He merely opened his eyes and stared at the glass tumbler he was balancing on his knee. “No. Doing so would have revealed things about me I did not wish to divulge.”
Harry nodded, having half expected that answer. “So, do you still wish to, er, not divulge them?” Severus looked confused, likely at Harry’s convoluted question, and took another long drink from his scotch. Harry forged ahead cautiously. “You said it wasn’t my mum, so I just wondered… was it… me?”
“No.”
“Oh,” said Harry, trying not to feel disappointed. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help sifting through what he remembered of Severus’ memories, trying to figure out what or who the sessions could have been about. The memory of Severus and Lily as kids struck him even though Severus had already said they weren’t about her. And certainly not about Petunia – dear Merlin. Eventually he decided to let it go, sensing he wasn’t going to get an answer to the question anyway. But it did bring to mind something else: Severus must have lived by the Evans’ in his youth, since the park where they’d first met was near his mum’s house.
Harry refocused on Severus’ antechamber then, looking around with interest. In some ways it was as though he was seeing it again for the first time. He wondered if Severus went anywhere over the summer holidays or if he stayed at Hogwarts. Did he have someplace he called home outside of these quarters?
“Your house in Spinner's End, was that your childhood home?”
Severus looked over, a crease between his brows. “Yes.” He seemed to be holding back the ‘Why?’ with some effort.
“Where is it located?”
“Cokeworth.”
Harry sat for a moment, processing the information. “So my mum grew up in Cokeworth,” he said, mostly to himself. “And so did you.”
“This is the first time you have thought about this?” Severus asked.
“Well, yeah, I guess. The only house I knew of was the one in Godric's Hollow, so it just seems weird.”
“What does?”
“That you knew my mum when she was young.” At Severus’ increasingly agitated look, Harry clarified. “It’s hard to explain, but there’s times when you’re just my friend, or mentor, or... lover,” he said hesitantly. “And other times you were my teacher and a Death Eater and the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy. I dunno, sometimes it’s hard to reconcile those are all the same person.”
Severus took another drink, the hint of a sneer on his face. “I see. So who am I now, if not all those things?”
Harry regarded him closely for a moment, then gave a small, one-shouldered shrug. “Now you’re just Severus – a man with a past that no longer matters and a future open in front of him, same as me.”
“Same as you,” Severus muttered, shaking his head. His eyes were downcast for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he set his tumbler on the coffee table, stood, and walked into his bedroom without saying another word.
Harry blinked, his heart beating sharply inside his chest. What had just happened? What had he said? He quickly ran through their conversation in his mind, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Was Severus’ youth still a sore subject for him? Was Voldemort? Unsure of what to do next, Harry remained on the sofa, watching the flames flicker and jump in the fireplace, the bright oranges and whites searing his retinas until he couldn’t focus anymore.
Finally, when he felt he’d given Severus enough time, he got up and walked to the bedroom door. With a gentle push, he eased it open far enough to see that Severus was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed and hair curtaining his face.
“I’m sorry if I said something stupid, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Harry said quietly.
The silence stretched between them for a minute, with Harry standing awkwardly by the door, when Severus spoke.
“I am unaccustomed to sharing my life with others. In fact, ‘unaccustomed’ may be a rather generous word. There is no need for you to apologize, I understand your curiosity.”
Harry closed the door to the bedroom with a soft click and then moved to sit next to Severus on the bed. He stayed within arm’s reach but not touching, wanting to give Severus the space if he needed it. They remained like that for a while, in silence, until Harry wondered if perhaps this wasn’t the right time at all.
“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” he said.
Harry could hear Severus inhale and then let it out quickly. He raised his head.
“The last time I loved someone, I lost him. You never met him, but you knew his brother.”
Harry stared at Severus for only a moment before the name came to mind. “Regulus,” he breathed, more out of some sense memory than conscious thought. “You loved Regulus Black.”
“Yes,” Severus said.
“And that’s why you hate Sirius so much, isn’t it?” Harry continued, suddenly understanding. “He must have found out about you two somehow.” Several things began fitting together in Harry’s mind. He knew there’d been more to the animosity than what he’d seen in Severus’ memories. “What did he do?”
“Got their mother involved. Despite not being a proponent of the family’s pureblood ideology, Sirius still did not want a ‘dirty half-blood’ like me tainting his brother, and offered news of our relationship as a bargaining chip to reinstate his own good graces. After that, Regulus and I were no longer allowed to see each other – something they enforced with a loathsome bit of restrainment magic. That’s when Regulus made it his mission to end the blood purity mania, and set out to destroy the Dark Lord alone.”
Harry sighed with a frown. “I know. I’m sorry he wasn’t successful.”
Severus’ head snapped up. “What do you mean you ‘know’?”
Harry started. “Well, only because of the note he left behind when he stole Voldemort’s locket. It was a Horcrux. I didn’t know who he was to you, though.”
Severus’ brow furrowed, as though he was trying to work out all that Harry had said. Perhaps Severus didn’t know about the Horcruxes, or the locket, or the manner in which Regulus had died. Harry assumed he’d been overtaken by the Inferi after ingesting too much of whatever potion Dumbledore had also been made to drink. A potion that had likely been made by Severus in service to the Dark Lord, though Harry doubted he knew what its intended use would be, or that it would one day poison his lover’s mind – and later, his mentor’s.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, though which part of it he was sorry about, he wasn’t sure. Maybe all of it. It was just hard getting his head around the fact that Sirius had effectively destroyed Severus’ relationship. “I can’t believe he did that,” Harry said, knowing Severus would get which ‘he’ he was referring to.
“You knew a different Sirius. Eleven years in Azkaban will change a man.”
Severus looked down at the floor and sighed again. “The war against the Dark Lord claimed everyone I cared about: my mother, Regulus, Lily, Albus.”
“Except me.”
Severus turned to look at Harry, their eyes meeting, and Harry gave him a soft smile. “Right? The war didn’t claim me. Or you. There must be a reason for that.”
“Yes,” Severus said. “Sheer dumb luck.”
Harry let out a bark of laughter, though it was really just a marker of his tension, not his amusement.
Severus brushed his fingers across the top of where Harry’s hand was pressed into the duvet. “Forgive me if I do not seem eager to rush in, Potter. I do not have the best track record.”
Harry frowned at the use of his surname. He knew by now that whenever that came out, Severus was using it to distance himself from his emotional discomfort; from Harry – which, as Harry was rapidly discovering, were often one and the same. Hoping to halt that retreat, Harry threaded his fingers through Severus’ and squeezed, holding on tight.
Severus looked at their joined hands, his jaw clenching, then turned away. “What are you doing with me?”
“Sorry?” Harry asked.
Severus sighed. “Why are you wasting yourself on me? It would be more prudent for you to go out and find yourself a suitable partner – someone younger and…” He stopped short but Harry could guess at what he left unsaid: handsome, unsullied, befitting of a Savior. It was all rubbish as far as Harry was concerned, and he felt a flicker of an old anger ignite within his chest.
“When are you going to believe me when I say I want to be here? That I choose you?”
“It is not much of a choice when I am the only one you have be around in months. My proximity alone is—”
“—If you so much as utter the word ‘convenient’ again,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “so help me God, I will hex you into next week.”
But Severus just continued as though he hadn’t heard. “You have not explored beyond the boundaries of Britain yet, to see what the world holds, what your options are…”
Exasperated, Harry turned his body to face Severus properly. “So what, do I need to go shag my way across Europe and then come back in order to convince you that you’re the one I want to be with?”
“But how do you know?” Severus snapped. “You haven’t been with anyone else!”
Harry bristled a bit at this, knowing he had been with someone else – Ginny – but didn’t argue the point because he figured Severus was only referring to men. And a blow job from Charlie didn’t count, if for no other reason than he knew he and Charlie were not relationship material.
Harry sat back, his chest tightening as though being slowly squeezed. “You’re right, I haven’t been with another man, but sex is not the only marker of a relationship, Severus. And maybe there is someone else out there I could be compatible with.” When Severus turned to stare at him, his expression a mixture of hurt and shock, Harry felt his anger abate slightly. “Is that what you want? To send me away in search of someone else so I can get more experience first?”
Severus looked away again, his expression pained. “I have been foolish to indulge myself this way,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. Before Harry could respond – and Harry had plenty to say, for he had been going over and over this part in his head, ready for just such a refusal – Severus got up, gave his wand an agitated flick, and sat down at the piano bench once it had emerged from its cupboard in the wall.
The music started without preamble, and despite no further indication of Severus’ feelings on his face, the song was telling, and Harry belatedly realized this was one of the ways in which Severus communicated. The melody was stirring, both triumphant and melancholy, and it seemed that Severus was playing the keys harder than was absolutely necessary. Maybe the song required it? Harry didn’t know. Watching for a moment, Harry felt something shiver down his spine: a feeling, a hunch, and instantly he knew why Severus was playing this particular song.
Harry moved over to the edge of the piano and leaned against it, putting his weight on his forearms. He listened for a bit longer, enough to confirm his suspicion. Yes, he was sure of it.
Severus was afraid of being happy.
Up until now, it had all been about Harry: his pleasure, his initiation, his desires. Severus had only done what he thought would make Harry happy, but spared none for himself. In fact, he actively seemed to be pushing the experience away, likely because he thought himself undeserving. What did Harry have to do to convince this man?
Returning his attention to Severus, Harry realized the answer was staring him in the face. Harry needed to communicate with Severus the way he did best, just as Severus was trying to do with Harry. Now was not the time for talking, or even for music. Now was the time to show him.
Turning, Harry hoisted himself up on the edge of the piano and then swung his legs around to the front. He dropped his bare feet gently to the keys, clouding Severus’ song with a discordant clang of new notes. So obstinate was Severus that he continued trying to play around Harry’s feet, until Harry slid his arse down onto the keyboard and wound his arms around Severus’ shoulders and neck.
Severus finally had to stop, and when he looked up at Harry, it was with a weak glare. For a fleeting moment, his gaze was filled with uncertainty, vulnerability and pain, and it clenched so tightly at Harry’s heart that it made his whole body ache for this man. Then it was gone, replaced by that closed, flat look that was altogether too familiar.
“No,” Harry whispered, cupping Severus’ face with both hands. “Don’t keep doing this. Don’t keep hiding.”
Severus tried to wrench his head out of Harry’s grasp, but it only made Harry grip tighter. He circled his legs around Severus’ body, locking his ankles together to further drive home his point that he wasn’t going anywhere (and wasn’t about to let Severus go, either). He knew if Severus really wanted to free himself, he could, but Harry felt no such inclination from him, despite the warring emotions he had just witnessed.
“Severus,” he said, and this time Severus looked up at him. “Don’t go. I couldn’t bear it if… not after this, not after everything. Please…” His breath hitched, but he swallowed against it, determined to maintain his composure. Harry knew he was at a disadvantage with words – he had always been more of a physical creature – so instead, he put everything he had and felt into a kiss.
His first touch against Severus’ lips was chaste but firm, a statement, and when he was not refused, he pulled Severus’ face to his and deepened it immeasurably, crushing their mouths together. Sliding his tongue along those thin lips, he felt Severus begin to respond in kind, and then tightened his hold, the heat and emotion beginning to arc between them. He felt Severus’ arms encircle his body, clinging so tightly as to almost be painful. With a gasp that was part pleasure, part constriction, Harry murmured against Severus’ lips amid a series of kisses, “I love you, Severus. I love you so much.”
Squeezing his arms around Severus to reinforce his point, he felt one of their bodies shudder. He wasn’t sure whose it was, so he drew back for a moment and looked into Severus’ eyes. For the second time in almost as many minutes, his heart ached at what he saw. Severus’ gaze was watery and the dullness had gone from his eyes. In its place was an openness, a hope, unlike anything he had ever seen from the man before. In that moment, Harry finally understood: after all this time, after all they had been through – the last several days, months, perhaps years – Severus had never once let himself believe.
“You thought I’d leave, didn’t you? You thought we’d shag and I’d get what I wanted and then leave?” Harry didn’t wait for Severus to respond. “I can’t believe you think I’d give that away so easily. I wanted it to be you. Please, Severus.” He pressed their foreheads together, blinking away the prickling at the corners of his eyes. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for longer than I even realized.”
“You are an idiot.”
Harry laughed, part hysteria, part relief. “I know I’m an idiot! But I get there in the end, don’t I?”
Severus attempted a sneer, or what would have passed for one a few weeks ago, but now only came across as a pained sort of fondness. Harry stared back as those dark eyes bore into him, heavy with feeling, and felt a palpable shift of energy in the room. He shivered, suddenly needing this man to not change his mind, to not give up on him. Ever.
Lurching forward, Harry closed the scant distance between them and captured Severus’ mouth in another kiss – this one a searing thing with tongues and shared breath and a heated sort of urgency.
“Severus,” Harry mewled, “fuck me. Fuck me now. Please… I need you, I need to feel you…” he begged.
Severus growled and grasped Harry’s hips, mouthing along Harry’s jaw with his teeth.
“Please…” Harry whimpered.
Severus stood up and unzipped his trousers, and Harry’s hands were on him, coaxing that beautiful cock to hardness. Harry swiped his tongue along his lips automatically, wanting to taste him again, but knew something more physical was needed. Severus untied the knot of Harry’s robe, flung the garment open, and pointed his wand at Harry’s arse. A lubrication and stretching spell was not a preferred method of preparation, but now was not the time to attempt the usual, drawn-out particulars.
Harry squirmed on the piano keys, more discordant notes ringing into the bedroom as he watched hungrily, waiting to be taken, needing the confirmation that Severus was still there, was still his.
Severus tossed his wand onto the bed and roughly gripped Harry’s hips, positioning himself near Harry’s entrance. Holding this breath, Harry watched as Severus slid closer and closer, feeling himself filled and stretched as he was slowly impaled on Severus’ cock.
Once fully seated, they both paused to breathe for a moment, and then Severus looked into Harry’s eyes, dark with intensity and unfathomable desire. Harry swallowed a gasp, panting lightly in anticipation, and leaned back on his elbows. It was uncomfortable, the edge of the piano digging into the ridge of his spine, but he didn’t care. Severus didn’t seem to, either, for he started thrusting into Harry with soft sounds of exertion, his eyes pinched shut and his lips slightly parted.
Harry grunted with each in-stroke, his own cock erect and needy again. He knew Severus would be in no state to attend to it, so he gingerly shifted his balance onto one elbow, circling a palm around his shaft and fisting in time with Severus’ unrelenting thrusts. Throwing his head back, Harry made contact with the top of the piano. Fortunately, the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body drowned out that sharp stab of pain. He let the weight of his head rest there, finding it actually eased some of the tension in his back. Using that leverage, he arched into Severus, trying to angle himself better. Severus seemed to catch the motion, for he tightened his hold on Harry and canted his own hips downward, resuming his thrusting with increased fervor.
The energy and magic and connection that flowed between them was so intense, so electric, so incendiary, that it pushed Harry’s emotions up higher and higher until they sat simmering just below the surface, volatile and molten, ready to erupt at any moment.
Severus’ orgasm hit first, a guttural groan wrenched from his throat as Harry’s channel was flooded with warmth. Harry clenched in response, drawing another moan from Severus, and then felt his own climax overtake him, the world whiting out until all that was left was that fierce and desperate feeling – the one that told him his heart would shatter if Severus ever left him – amplifying tenfold until it felt like it was going to burn him up from the inside. He gasped, willing his heart and lungs to keep up with the demands of his drained body, and then he lost himself to it, wave after wave of emotion exploding from him, tears streaming down his face.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
Coming back to himself, Severus lifted his head from the warm, sweaty shoulder he was pressed against. Harry grunted at the movement and Severus realized they were still slumped against the piano, the unyielding wood probably cutting into Harry’s back. Standing up, he lifted Harry off the piano, using one arm to coax Harry’s legs around his waist. Stumbling a bit, Severus managed to get them to the bed, where they collapsed together into a sticky, sweaty mess.
Harry buried his face in Severus’ neck, shuddering softly, and Severus pulled Harry closer to him, feeling the body that was already half-draped over him cling even tighter, nearly to the point of discomfort.
It wasn’t until Harry had come back to himself, and moved so he could lift his head, that Severus noticed Harry’s cheeks were damp, his eyes rimmed in red. It was clear how much their coupling had affected him; how intense the emotional release had been. How much longer could Severus pretend he didn’t know the truth of Harry’s feelings for him?
Harry quickly dried his face with the back of his hand and cleared his throat, though his voice was soft when he spoke.
“The Weasleys are having a New Year’s party tonight. Will you come with me? I know you’re doing your work this week, but can you just leave it for one night?”
Severus felt himself start to object, but Harry cut across him.
“Please, Severus – I really want you to be there with me.”
“As what?”
“As my guest,” Harry said, as though it should be obvious. “I know being public with this kind of stuff is not your thing, and I respect that. I do. But they’re not just anyone, they’re my family, and… well, I don’t mind them knowing, is all. I’d like them to.”
“Know what, exactly?” Severus ventured.
Harry looked at Severus for a moment, then directed his attention to a small crease in the sheet below him, smoothing it out with a finger. He gave a slight shrug. “How I feel about you. That… we’re together.” He looked up again. “I’m not wrong, am I?”
Those eyes were worse than a puppy’s and Severus knew they would be his undoing – in this, and likely in a great many other things. He sighed. “No, you are not wrong,” he said, and Harry’s smile was back. “Though I would prefer to accompany you as a colleague so that our interaction may remain professional.”
“They would never believe that.”
Severus scoffed. “Two men are perfectly capable of being friends and party guests without having subtext.”
“Yes, but not us two men. Most of the Weasleys don’t even know we’ve been meeting for the past six months. They probably still think I ha—that we don’t get along.” Harry flushed slightly.
Severus knew what Harry had just side-stepped: that Harry used to hate him. He also knew he couldn’t take it personally, for he had built his life around that very protection. While Severus was within the Dark Lord’s camp, it had been essential for Harry to harbor antagonistic feelings towards his Potions Master. Any such softening of interaction between them could have been disastrous for the cause; for Harry.
Still, Severus couldn’t help reflecting on how much had changed in six months. Or eight months, really, if one included the time in hospital after the end of the war, which Severus did. Not only had he helped Harry get on a path to recovery and embark on a friendship with his erstwhile student – and later, a glorious weekend of debauchery – but he was presently entrenched in a conversation that had just used the word ‘us’ and included a party invitation – which, for all intents and purposes, would likely be their coming out to Harry’s friends and family. And they had only been sleeping together for a week.
Yet if that was supposed to be too much, too soon, then why did it feel just the opposite to Severus?
Unable to account for this wholly unexpected feeling, Severus smoothed it over with a put-upon sigh. Not surprisingly, Harry still heard the acquiescence in it, and his face lit in a beatific smile.
“If we may keep things… understated, I would be grateful,” Severus said, though in truth he was already warming to the idea of being with Harry in a semi-public place – and in the Weasley house, no less. There ought to be some poetic irony to that, he thought with relish.
“I’ll try,” Harry was saying, a hesitant grin on his face. “Though I can’t promise I won’t pull you into a broom cupboard and snog you senseless. It is New Year’s, after all – begin as you mean to go on, and all that rot.”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
The last vestiges of dinner had been cleared from the table, and yet the air was still rife with forced politeness and stilted conversation. Not that Severus had been to many Weasley parties, but he assumed they were not usually as subdued as all this. Harry had seemed on edge all evening, too, casting one too many nervous looks towards the end of the table for Severus’ tastes. He hadn’t wanted to make things awkward for Harry, but it seemed his presence was doing a tidy job of that anyway.
He imagined Harry standing up and sharing his announcement as an ice-breaker: ‘Guess what everybody, I'm gay, and I've chosen this ex-Death Eater slash all-around snarky git as my lover. Okay? Okay.’ Cue polite applause. Severus snorted into his glass of wine and everyone looked up.
He couldn’t help but marvel at the absurd reality he was now living – one that put him in some kind of sexual-romantic relationship with Harry Potter (of all people), at the kitchen table at The Burrow (of all places), contemplating a way to lighten the mood (of all things). Still, he’d had enough of those uneasy looks from his teaching days at Hogwarts, and knew it was up to him to fix it.
“My apologies, Arthur, Molly, various ex-students of mine… but for a New Year’s party, the mood is far too somber in here, and I fear I may be the cause of it. Perhaps it would help if I shared a quick tale?” He tilted his wine glass, swirling the merlot around the base of the goblet. It was a rhetorical question, and they all knew it.
“A blind wizard walks into a pub, finds his way to a stool, and sits down. He signals for the barkeep, and in a rather loud voice, says, ‘How would you like to hear a Hufflepuff joke?’ The entire bar goes silent and the barkeep says, ‘Sir, I will be honest with you. You are speaking to a former Hufflepuff, the man behind you is an Auror from Hufflepuff, and the woman to your right is a Hufflepuff dueling champion. We all have our wands drawn. Do you really want to continue?’ The blind wizard is silent for a moment before he curtly replies, ‘No, I do not. Not if I am going to have to explain it three times.’”
George was the first to laugh, almost spraying his drink across the table. Harry’s eyes went as big as saucers, as though he couldn’t believe Severus was even aware of such humor, let alone capable of voicing it – and at a Weasley party, no less. Molly hid her shock behind her hand, though it was fairly short-lived, for the slow wave of laughter that swept across the table soon became raucous.
“Oh yeah?” Harry said. “I’ve got one, too! A Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw get stranded in the desert. They stumble upon a lamp and a genie pops out and says he will grant them each one wish. The Gryffindor says, ‘I wish I was back at Hogwarts,’ and poof, he is gone. The Ravenclaw says, ‘I wish I was back home with my family,’ and poof, she disappears, too. Then the Hufflepuff says, ‘Aww man, I wish my friends were still here.’”
Harry grinned like a fool as another round of laughter erupted, and this continued for a few minutes until several others had chimed in with their own favorite joke, the tension lessening and the laughter increasing the further around the table they went.
Harry looked over at Severus, his eyes sparkling with mirth and gratitude, and Severus knew he’d made the right decision. Playfully, Harry piffed a peanut at him and Severus ducked, smirking into his glass of wine. Severus immediately felt eight pairs of eyes swiveling between them. Gradually, those looks became knowing. And Severus, to his inestimable surprise, found he didn’t care. Let them think what they like.
Aloud, however, he said, “Mind yourselves, or I shall be forced to start in on the Gryffindor jokes!” which earned him a fresh wave of laughter and more smiles than he’d ever had reason to account for before.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
As the countdown to midnight neared its conclusion, everyone shouted in unison, “Four!… Three!… Two!…” Before Severus knew it, Harry was making a beeline towards him from across the room. He had barely heard the shouts of “… One! Happy New Year!” before Harry grabbed him and pressed their mouths together, wrapping his arms around Severus’ neck, effectively confirming the question that had been lingering on everyone’s minds since dinner.
For once, Severus ignored all the reasons why he should resist – the fact was, at that moment, he wanted it. He pulled Harry into a rather proprietary embrace, one arm tight around Harry’s back, the other grabbing an arse cheek, and visibly slid his tongue into the kiss. If Harry was going to make this a declaration, Severus may as well stake his claim for all and sundry, too.
He heard Ronald’s gasp, Hermione’s squeal and Molly’s exclamation, the woman’s hands flying to her ample bosom in shock. George wolf-whistled and sent a charmed firecracker around the room, fizzing and popping overhead, and Arthur merely laughed, looking proud. Even Ginevra seemed to take it in stride, a begrudging sort of approval on her face.
Harry didn’t let up until at least twenty seconds into the New Year, then seemed to remember himself all at once and pulled back quickly, smiling at everyone even as a fierce blush crept up his cheeks. Sneaking a hand down to his side, he laced his fingers with Severus’, and, with the merest of sideways glances, lifted their joined hands as if to say, ‘Yes, we are.’
Severus was careful to keep his expression neutral through the blur of congratulations and excited murmurings, trying to act as though he announced this sort of thing every day, but inside he felt like he was flying.
For the rest of the night Severus barely left Harry’s side, always with a hand at the small of his back or a touch against his arm. More than once he felt Harry press back against him, as though he’d found the empty spot and discovered he fit perfectly.
Severus knew the contentment he was feeling was more than just the warmth of the drinks he’d imbibed, for this had an entirely different feel to it – something as foreign as it was wonderful, though not something he felt the need to name just then.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
They had barely stepped out of the Floo and Harry had already attached himself to Severus.
“God, I’ve wanted you all night,” Harry said breathlessly. “All those little touches were driving me mad! And that kiss!” He had already removed his shirt and was starting in on Severus’ when he heard the spell.
“Mobilicorpus.”
Without warning, Harry’s feet were yanked out from under him and he found himself flat on his back, floating in mid-air. “Hey, wait a minute!” he protested, but Severus simply leaned over him, the ghost of a smirk on his face.
“I have plans,” was all he offered, and with two small flicks of his wand, Harry led the way into the bedroom, bobbing through the air.
Severus unbuttoned his shirt and trousers, but left them on, and Harry – desperate as he was to move, to touch – tried to reposition himself, but his limbs and torso were pinned as though by invisible ropes. His cock pressed insistently into the front of his denims, and he tried to squirm to give himself some friction, but Severus had clearly seen to that, too. The only thing Harry could move was his head.
Lying down on the bed, Severus made himself comfortable and then flicked his wand again, floating Harry closer until he was hovering above the man, his feet somewhere north of Severus’ head. Then Harry began rotating slowly, as though being turned on a spit, until he found himself looking down at Severus’ groin, the ‘plans’ suddenly becoming clear. The fact that they were both still mostly clothed only added to the appeal, and Harry shivered with anticipation.
Lowering Harry down until he could almost reach Severus with his tongue, the man all but purred, “One advantage of being a wizard, Mr. Potter, is that I may retain full range of motion during soixante-neuf, while you may simultaneously relax and put that sinfully appealing mouth to good use.”
Harry groaned, feeling himself grow harder. “Shame they don’t teach this use of levitation in Charms,” he said, earning a soft chuckle from Severus. Then he felt his flies being opened, followed by a rush of cool air against his cock, and then the tight suction of slippery, wet heat.
Harry gasped, then felt Severus’ cock bump against his own lips. Once again he thanked his lucky stars that magic existed. His last thought, before he set himself eagerly to his task, was to wonder at all the other ways magic could be put to use in the bedroom. He would enjoy returning to that thought later, he knew. Again, and again, and again…

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
Harry never really did leave Severus’ side again – at least not at night.
Alternating between Hogwarts on weekdays and Grimmauld Place on weekends, Severus figured he’d had more sex in the last twenty days than he’d had in the last twenty years. It was making him feel like an teenager again, or at least more alive than he could ever remember feeling. But he supposed part of that was just being around Harry – seeing him every day, instead of just on Sundays, had been a surprisingly pleasant addition to his routine; had given him something to work towards each day, making the tedium of his job that much more palatable.
Severus may not have expected to share his life – his bed – with anyone, but now that he had Harry in his bed, he was getting used to waking in the morning with a warm body wrapped around his back, a morning erection poking his backside, an arm curled snug around his chest. It was... nice. So nice, in fact, that he frequently caught himself in the middle of a class or staff meeting, counting the hours and minutes left until the evening when he could have Harry back in his arms again, buried sweetly deep inside his young lover’s body.
Pathetic, Severus, his inner voice chided.
And it wasn’t so very long ago that he may have even heeded that cynical voice, making a swift retreat to the safety of his isolation – a protection he’d depended upon for nearly two decades. But now, as he watched that sleeping form in his bed, the tousled hair dark against the white of his pillow, and remembered the pleading nature of that breathless voice and the muscular hands grabbing and pulling at his own flesh, Severus knew it was anything but pathetic. Foolish, perhaps, but then there were worse things to saddle oneself with. Love was not one of them.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
The following weekend, Harry walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld to see Severus already awake and cooking breakfast. He was surprised to discover they were both shirtless and barefoot. Perhaps Harry wasn’t the only one who felt comfortable with the situation, the house, or the relationship. Or perhaps all three. He smiled and stretched, feeling like he could get used to this.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept this good.”
“I am hardly inclined to feel flattered by that, Mr. Potter, given the amount of sex we have indulged in over the last twenty-four hours.”
Harry bit his lip, but a grin stretched past it. “No, I mean – well, yeah, there is that – but I meant it’s nice sharing a bed with someone. With you. I think I sleep better that way, knowing you’re there.”
“I see your sentimental streak is still as appalling as ever.”
Harry laughed and walked closer, snuggling up behind Severus and letting his naked torso press against Severus’ equally naked back. When he wasn’t rebuffed (he rather thought he felt Severus relax into the contact), he smiled to himself and closed his eyes, pressing his nose to a warm shoulder and inhaling that sleep-warmed scent. He loved the feel of Severus’ body, the tall, lean frame, wiry muscles and firm buttocks. A feeling of rightness swelled in his chest, and he knew then he’d never felt this way about anyone else before.
“Would you mind not accosting me whilst I cook breakfast?” Severus asked, though his tone was far from angry.
“Sorry,” Harry said, though he wasn’t really, and moved over to lean against the counter instead. He peered into the pans on the stove – one frying bacon and sausages and the other scrambling eggs – and felt his stomach growl agreeably.
“You mentioned once that your tattoo was imbued with different reactions,” Severus remarked.
Harry pulled two coffee mugs out of the cupboard and turned back towards the stove. “Yeah, though I’m not sure how many there are or if I’ve even seen them all yet. Why?”
Severus pointed at Harry’s chest with the spatula still in his hand and Harry looked down.
“Whoa. What the…?” Startled, Harry watched closely, fascinated by the way the tattoo was making a slow, sinewy circle around his heart. Before he could say anything else, Severus reached over and pressed his palm against Harry’s chest. The bird immediately stopped and opened its wings in a majestic arc, the entire thing infused with an indigo glow. Harry gasped just as Severus pulled his hand back.
“How did you know to do that?” Harry asked.
“I have seen that reaction once before.”
Harry blinked. “When?”
“Sunday night of our first weekend together, after you had gone to sleep.”
“What color was it?”
“Indigo, same as now.”
Harry froze, Hermione’s words from weeks ago echoing in his mind: You will see that reaction, Harry. I know you will.
“What is it?” Severus prodded.
“Did it only turn that color after you touched it?”
“I believe so. Why?”
“The colors themselves have meanings. Hermione told me purple is the loyalty of blue and the passion of red. If it only turned that color when you touched it, then it’s about you.” Harry tried to keep the sloppy grin from stealing across his face but was unsuccessful. “It must mean that you love me and want to be with me.”
“And you believe a tattoo that one of the Weasley twins charmed?”
“It hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Severus harrumphed, but Harry just laughed and walked closer, pulling the man into a kiss. When they parted, Harry leaned back with a sly grin on his face. “So when did you realize you loved me?”
Severus rolled his eyes. For a moment it seemed as though he wasn’t going to answer, having turned back to the pans, flipping bacon and sausages and stirring the eggs, but then he stopped with a sigh. “I believe it happened at St. Mungo’s.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “… What?”
“You were imposing yourself upon my life once again. Nothing I wasn’t used to, or so I thought. But then I realized you had viewed my memories, things I had not told a soul before – certainly things I would not have parted with if I had considered the possibility of surviving the war – and yet there you sat, forlorn yet talkative in your hospital bed, treating me very much as you would treat anyone you held in esteem. I admit to feeling quite disoriented by it. There were several times I swore I had woken to some bizarre, alternate reality, or had actually died and realized my fate was to listen to you natter on for all eternity.”
“Very funny,” Harry said. “No, really.”
Severus set down his utensils and turned to Harry. “But even I could not deny the pleasure of your company, your confidence and your respect. It was almost as though you considered me a… friend.”
“After viewing your memories, I realized you had always been one.”
“Yes, a Gryffindor would think that.” Severus collected Harry into a warm embrace as he spoke, however, belying his words.
Harry smiled and fingered the tips of Severus’ hair before leaning in, his face in the crook of Severus’ neck, breathing in the scent of his lover – something that could make his groin twitch and his heart sigh all in the same breath. When Severus finally looked down at him, Harry tipped his head back. “Want to know when it happened for me?”
“No,” Severus said.
Harry laughed. “Git. It was my dreamscape. The relationship was with you, only I didn’t realize it until later.”
Something like reckoning appeared on Severus’ face. “In your ninth draught. That is why you left the room so quickly.”
“Yeah.” Harry flushed slightly, still feeling sheepish about that, even though Severus hadn’t known the cause of it at the time.
“What happened in that session, if I may ask?”
Harry gave him a quick run-down of the events of his ninth, describing the Mirror of Erised and how it had worked differently than the real one, how Dumbledore had joined him for part of it, helping him to understand what he was seeing, and how he had changed locales and visited the cottage from his dreamscape at the end.
“You know what’s odd, though,” Harry started, thinking back on it, “the Dumbledore I talked to seemed like… himself. He was familiar, but there was also something inconsistent about it. I can’t explain it. He just didn’t seem like my other draught participants.”
“It is possible the Albus you saw was not, in fact, a figment of your subconscious. He has appeared to you before like that, has he not?” Severus turned back to the stove and began dishing up their food.
“Yeah, after Voldemort’s spell hit me.” Dumbledore had felt strangely independent from his subconscious then, too, as though the spectre of the man he’d chatted with really had been Dumbledore versus something he’d just made up in his head. “So he was actually in my session with me?”
“It is possible, yes.”
“How'd he do that?”
Severus shrugged, looking genuinely perplexed. “I cannot say. Albus was indeed a man of many mysteries.” He pushed a plate of food into Harry’s hands and took his own over to the table to sit down.
Harry smiled to himself, realizing he liked the notion of that. There was a certain symmetry to the fact that Dumbledore always seemed to be with him for the beginnings: in his ninth draught, in King’s Cross at the end of the war, and even that fateful night when he was placed on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive.
“How did you learn about the dreamscapes, anyway?” Harry asked, realizing he’d meant to ask this on several occasions but kept forgetting. He filled the two coffee cups and went over to sit down across from Severus.
“It was part of Alessandro’s notes.”
“Oh. So are there any other kinds of sessions, then, aside from the dreamscapes and the regular ones?”
“No. None that were documented, at any rate. Why?”
“Just curious.” Harry shrugged, then grinned. “Wanted to be sure I got my money’s worth, is all.”
“Greedy brat,” Severus replied, though amusement glinted in his dark eyes. He reached for the pepper shaker and shook it liberally over his eggs.
“It doesn’t hurt that you’ve also given me the greatest sex of my life,” Harry said, tucking into his eggs.
“Ah, yes, the real reason you have stayed with me.”
“True, I’m afraid.” Harry grinned.
“While I assume that was meant to be a compliment, I understand the sum total of your experience to that point was Miss Weasley; therefore, I shall not give your assessment too much credence.”
Harry flushed. “And her brother, too. But we didn’t do… that.”
“Which brother?”
“Charlie. Do you remember him?”
Severus nodded. “Mm, yes, I recall. Persistent little bugger.”
“Yeah, he said that… he thought…” Harry bit his lip. “He told me he thought you’d be a great fuck.”
“Why, that impertinent little—”
“No, no,” Harry said, trying to placate Severus but finding it difficult not to laugh. “No, it’s okay. He was – he was right.” Severus harrumphed but somehow still managed to seem pleased with the assessment.
“So why didn’t you ever take him into your quarters and ravish him? Didn’t you find him attractive?”
“He was my student, Harry. Despite Charlie being of age, there are still rules of propriety all staff members are expected to follow. I understand that rules are a foreign concept for you—”
“But I’m your student, too.”
“Not since the war you haven’t been.”
“So if things had been different and I had approached you before the war, you would have turned me down?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you had liked me back?”
“I didn’t say it would be an easy decision, but yes, I would have.”
“Wow.” Harry reflected on that a moment. “So did you know this was going to happen, then? Us, I mean?”
“I presume you are referring to my suggestion that you take Evochi?” Harry nodded. “Then no. If I had known, I assure you I would have doubled your dose early on.”
Once Harry realized what Severus meant, he started to laugh. Severus just lifted a brow and took a drink of his coffee, letting a small smirk settle into the corner of his mouth.
“So that’s what you were hoping to do with Evochi? Just get me in bed?” Harry laughed at his own joke.
“No, you imbecile, it was to help you heal from the trauma of war. The fact that I also, at present, have your delectable arse in my bed is merely an unforeseen perk.”
Harry grinned back at him. “Well, not technically. I mean, right now we’re nowhere near your bed.”
“That is easily remedied.”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
“Why can’t you just levitate me? We are wizards, you know.” Harry was astride Severus, balancing himself on his feet and riding Severus’ cock. Even with the assistance of Severus’ hands on the undersides of his thighs, the muscles in his legs kept getting tired and cramping.
“Because then there would be no gravity to—” Severus emphasized his meaning by thrusting up into Harry at the same time as he pulled Harry’s body down against him “—bring you back down.”
Harry hissed in pleasure and tightened his hold on Severus’ arms. “Okay, okay, you might…” — he took a moment to catch his breath — “have a point.”
Harry had asked if a man could be ridden like a broom and Severus looked at him in confusion.
“You know, if I am straddled over you like I’m sitting on a broom and you’re, you know…”
“Fucking you?”
Harry blushed, wondering if he’d ever get used to hearing that word from Severus’ mouth. “Yeah. Can we try that?”
“If you would not mind indulging me on something.”
“Sure, anything,” Harry breathed.
“I should like to watch you… pleasuring yourself.”
Harry felt a shiver of arousal shoot through him at the thought of doing that while Severus watched, and even more aroused at the fact that Severus had even made his wish known. “At the same time, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Done.” Harry pulled the book out of Severus’ hands and set it on the nightstand, then straddled the man, peering down at him with a grin. “You’re really hot in glasses, you know that?”
Severus rolled his eyes. “Says the teenager with the lust-addled mind.”
“No, I’m serious. Can you, maybe, leave those on?” Harry bit his lip, his expression keen.
“Got a kink for men in glasses, Potter?”
“Dunno. Let’s find out,” Harry said with a wink.
“Here, switch your position,” Severus instructed, helping Harry move from a crouched stance to one that had his knees pressing into the duvet. “You may kneel while you… finish that,” he added, his voice tight and skin flushed as he eyed Harry’s cock. It was one of Harry’s favorite looks on him. The glasses only added to it.
Harry decided to put on a bit of a show, gently riding Severus while stroking himself in an alternating rhythm – a series of quick strokes followed by some slow and languid ones, wanting Severus to feel what he was doing even though the man was only watching. For Severus’ part, he remained transfixed, looking his fill, his gaze alert, intense and hungry. Harry thought there was something decidedly hot about doing this with an audience, particularly when that person's gaze looked like it was going to burst into flames if it projected any more heat.
As soon as Harry finished, Severus looped his arms underneath Harry’s knees, drew his own knees up underneath Harry, and in one smooth motion, flipped them both around to settle Harry on his back. Severus took his time licking Harry clean, suckling and nipping at his skin, before lifting Harry’s legs and putting them on his shoulders.
Severus’ face went slack with pleasure once he seated himself back inside Harry and began making slow circles with his hips. He cupped Harry’s ankle, kissing and nuzzling the inside of his leg, his eyes closed while he explored. Harry found the tenderness of the gesture inexplicably erotic and marveled at how he, his body, was causing these reactions.
Severus gradually increased the pace until he was thrusting vigorously, his face pinched in concentration, his glasses slipping down his sweat-slicked nose. Harry grinned in a lazy, debauched fashion and pushed the glasses back up, comically trying to line up his finger with the bridge while he gave his body over to Severus’ pleasure.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
“Some paperwork error that must have been.”
They were lying in bed, enjoying their afterglow, when the statement came out of nowhere. Harry froze.
“What do you mean?”
“Despite half the medical staff at St. Mungo’s apologizing for the mishap, no one ever seemed able to correct it. A situation that should have lasted mere hours, or perhaps a day at most, saw you sharing my hospital room for over a month. If that was an error, I am the worst spy on the planet.”
A dusting of color infused Harry’s cheeks.
“As I suspected,” Severus said. “What I don’t understand is why.”
Harry shrugged. “I dunno. I just didn’t think it was right to leave you there by yourself to recover. At first it really was an error. They came in to tell me I was being transferred to an observational room since they needed the space in my ward for other people. Once I realized where it put me, and that you didn’t hex me on the spot, I decided I wanted to stay for awhile. I thought it was only going to be a couple days, so I told the nurse to fix the books, but not tell you. I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Harry smiled grimly. “I’m not sure she did, either, but I figured if they were going to grant me some special status, I wasn’t above using it to my advantage. But then once you started talking to me…” He shrugged again, more emphatic this time. “I told her to keep doing it until you were released.”
“I have been alone most of my life, Harry. I assure you, it would have been no great hardship to remain in the room by myself.”
Harry looked down, twining his feet in the blankets bunched at the end of the bed. “Maybe it was me who didn’t want to be alone,” he murmured.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
“Why did you return to teaching after you left St. Mungo’s?” Harry asked.
They had been silent for awhile, each likely thinking about the days and weeks after the war, now that they’d started talking about it. Severus was mapping the curvature of Harry’s bare hip with his finger, something Harry found both comforting and oddly sensual.
“What else was there for me? I was not yet convinced the Wizarding world believed my role in the war or my non-complicity in Albus’ death, and felt more time at Hogwarts would convey my intent better than any explanation I could give. It was a convenient opening until I figured out what was next.”
“But you hate it. The job, I mean.”
“Yes. It has served its purpose, however. Sometimes we must do things that are unpleasant to make way for things that are not. To that end, I have already put in motion an exit plan for myself. I wished to see you through your Evochi sessions and finish out this school year, but come the end of June, I will let my contract lapse. At that time, the post of Potions Master will become available.”
Harry’s head snapped up. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”
“I admit this is not how I imagined telling you, but the opening just presented itself in our conversation. I apologize if this comes as an unwelcome surprise for you.”
“But where will you go? What will you do?” Panic lanced through Harry as he imagined all sorts of possible answers. He wasn’t sure how to ask more questions without digging into the man’s private life, things which were probably none of his business anyway, but still, he couldn’t help feeling like Severus was slipping away.
“I am not sure yet. To start, I will tie up any remaining estate matters surrounding my family home and release the property for sale. There is no point keeping it as I do not ever wish to set foot in that house again. Beyond that, I have made no firm decisions. There are… other variables at stake.”
Harry looked over at him, the constriction in his chest loosening a little. “Like what?” But Severus gave away nothing with his expression except a quick purse of his lips.
“Variables.”
“You mean… me?” Harry ventured, holding his breath.
Severus grabbed another pillow and put it under his head, fluffing it until he was comfortable. “Perhaps,” he finally allowed, and Harry broke into a smile.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
“I think we should make it official.”
“‘It’?”
“Us.” A slow smile stretched across Harry’s face. “We already have the compatibility. We just… make sense together.”
“Yes, Potter, our shared love of Greek food and science fiction, apparently.”
Harry chuckled, but then redoubled his efforts. “You deserve to be happy, Severus. You don’t have to keep carrying this misguided sense of guilt about the war or your role or what happened to my parents. What’s done is done, that part of our lives is over. Somehow we both got a second chance, so we need to wipe the slate clean and start fresh, today. Sure, we don't have everything figured out yet, but we can—”
“Harry.” There was something about Severus’ tone that kept him from protesting the interruption. “All right.”
“All right?”
“All right. I believe we should try this.”
“You believe…” Harry stopped as a bright smile lit his face. “We should? I mean, of course we should! Yes!” He nearly launched into Severus’ arms, but caught himself just in time. He couldn’t help it – he hadn’t felt this excited since… well, he didn’t think he’d ever felt this excited before. It was like winning a Quidditch game, or finally mastering some new spell, or getting to eat treacle tart for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Or maybe all those things together. Times one hundred.
Leave it to Severus to ruin his giddy mood, though.
“Are you prepared for what is to come?”
“What do you mean?”
Severus took a deep breath. “Going public.”
Harry frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ever prepared for anything in my life. I wish everyone would just bugger the fuck off, though.”
“Did you intend to merely step out with me and let that speak for itself?”
“Would you be okay with that if I did? It seemed to go okay at the Weasley party. They all accepted it just fine. Hermione even hugged you!”
“Something emboldened by the evening’s copious libations, I’m sure,” Severus remarked, and Harry smiled. “They are also your surrogate family and love you as one of their own. It is their nature to be supportive of such choices, even if they do not agree. The public, however, will not grant you the same courtesy.”
“Well I don’t care what they think!”
“It is easy to say that from the comfort of one’s bed, Harry, but I have dealt with the ire of the Wizarding world for nigh on twenty years; I daresay the backlash to such an announcement will be swift and fervent. The journalists will seek to vilify me, accuse me of having you under some enchantment, and possibly make things difficult for us. I am not sure my reputation can get much worse, but you certainly don’t deserve it.”
Harry slid closer and pressed his body against Severus’ side, putting an arm around Severus’ chest as though simply embracing him would shield them from that fate.
“That’s why I want to leave Britain. If I stay here, I’m always going to be under their microscope for something. I don’t want to be the reason they sell newspapers and have remembrance balls. I just want my own life now. Haven’t I earned that?”
“I should say so.”
“And so have you! My God, you’ve done more for them than they’ll ever know, the ungrateful pricks!”
“Says the stalwart champion himself,” Severus mocked, placing a hand over his heart.
“I’m serious!” Harry said, steeling his expression. He sat up in bed, looking down at Severus’ face. “Come away with me. Leave Britain – before they have the chance to poke their noses in. Will you do that?” He paused, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Severus’ ear. “Will you have me?”
Severus looked back at Harry, his eyes softening. Harry was beginning to learn that was an expression only he would ever get to see. “Only if I can keep you.”
Relief and happiness flooded Harry and he grinned. “Deal.”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

~ Five Months Later (June 1999) ~
The war was over and Voldemort was dead. Although the celebrations had long since finished, and the optimism (no longer cautious) had spread across England and beyond, there was still one man left standing at the center of it all. Except this time, he was no longer The Chosen One. Now he was just… Harry.
He had realized long ago, somewhat resentfully, that his existence had been towards one end, and one end only: to defeat the Dark Lord. But now that that was done, it was time to reclaim his life. It would no longer aimlessly chart itself. It would no longer unfold at the whims of a prophecy. Now it was time for him to discover a new purpose: living.
After six years at Hogwarts, seven years on the trail of Voldemort, and nine draughts of Evochi, Harry wanted to take his hard-won freedom – and his partner, Severus Snape (and how strange was it to be able to say that?) – and see what lay beyond the verdant green hills of his homeland. Away from Hogwarts, away from everything.
Perhaps for good.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP
Harry leaned closer to Severus, his eyes alight with mischief and happiness. “How do you feel about Costa Rica?”
Severus blinked once, his expression bland. “They have sunshine there.”
Harry’s laugh seemed to fill the room around them. “Oh, come on,” he said with a grin, tugging Severus’ sleeve. “You’ll love it.”
“And how is it that you have become so familiar with Central America – a place, unless I am very much mistaken, you have never been?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s where I went in my dreamscape. I figured it out.”
“I see.”
Despite Harry’s blinding smile, Severus made no attempt to avert his eyes. Instead, he let himself fall into those sparkling, green depths, their effusive warmth and love surrounding him, beckoning him. “If we must,” he added, feigning a put-upon sigh.
“You said yourself you wanted to be able to source your own potions ingredients. Wouldn’t a rainforest be ideal for that?”
“Perhaps.”
“And mountains? And an ocean?”
“It would seem you have been paying attention, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor,” Severus remarked dryly, as though he was still begrudgingly giving them.
But when two arms wound their way around his neck, and two of the softest, sweetest lips he’d ever tasted pressed against his mouth, Severus knew, without a doubt, he would always follow wherever Harry might lead.
As long as it was onwards.

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A/N: For readers on Skyhawke and Adult FanFiction specifically: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews throughout this story – they always make my day! I would love to give each of you a personal reply, but these sites don’t offer a way for me to do that. If you’d like a response, please connect with me through my fandom website at lovetoseverus.me.
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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9