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All Beneath the Full Moon [COMPLETE]	By : Onkoona Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 9163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 4
- 5
Epilogue

Sunday, April 16th, 2017, just before 11 am.

Harry yawned as he rolled over in the bed, only
partially awake. His right hand, of its own accord, sneaked out to
reach its owner's husband, the person who habitually slept on the
left side of the sturdy four-poster bed. When the sleepy hand only
encountered cold sheets, Harry's still drowsy brain was jogged into
wakefulness. Disappointment lanced through him as he propped himself
up on his left elbow so he could survey the entire left side of the
bed. It was indeed empty. And the temperature of the sheets indicated
it had been vacant for a while.

Harry quickly rolled back over to his right side and,
with an almost angry gesture, he threw off the bedding and sat up as
he swung his legs out over the bed. He sat still for a moment,
gathering his thoughts and emotions. It wasn't unusual for Severus to
be up very early, but that was on weekdays. It was Sunday, and on
Sundays they had what Harry privately called their 'Cuddle Morning'.
The fact that it had taken years for his stoic Potions Master to
unwind enough to let Harry just cuddle him for no other reason than
that it was pleasant, made their established Cuddle Morning a Most
Precious Thing, in Harry's book. To have to miss out on it this
Easter Sunday more than disappointed Harry.

It wasn't unusual for Severus to be absent from their
bed in the middle of the night. Harry was long since used to the fact
that his husband sometimes just needed to be alone, and Harry prided
himself on knowing when to give the proud man his space and when not.
But always Severus came back to the bed before the sheets could get
as cold as they had become that morning.

So the only thing Harry could think of was that
something was up. But after so many years of sharing their lives, no
matter how odd the beginning had been, Harry couldn't find a direct
cause for any problem Severus might have in his own behaviour, nor in
something as innocuous as today's date (April 16th) nor could he find
significance in the Muggle holiday of Easter.

As he toed his chilling bare feet into his baby blue
woolly slippers - the winter chill was still holding on to their
dungeon rooms with gusto - Harry fished his glasses from his
nightstand. Using the artificial daylight from the moving seaside
landscape painting that hung on his side of the bed as all the light
source he needed, he made his way around the room, gathering up his
winter house-robe on the way to the door to the sitting room. Getting
dressed could wait; he wanted to find Severus first, just in case
something really was wrong.

The sitting room, with its ceiling-high bookcases
covering half the walls, impressive and cluttered sideboard, round
table just big enough for dinner for two or studying for one -
Severus, usually - with two straight-backed chairs, two matching
brown leather upholstered recliner chairs, low coffee-cum-games table
- now strewn with Harry's papers - in front of a nearly dead fire in
the massive fireplace, was completely devoid of life when Harry
stepped through the bedroom door. The only sound that could be heard
was the soft sizzling of the dying embers, and without a second
thought Harry sent a well-aimed Incendio at the hearth. The flame
awoke and Harry directed his wand in a silent Wingardium Leviosa to
coax one of the dry blocks of wood that sat next to the fireplace
into movement. The block landed perfectly on the now roaring fire and
would keep the flames fed for a good while.

It wasn't until he'd finished stoking up the fire that
he became aware of a peculiar smell. It wasn't an unfamiliar smell;
it resembled the sour smell of citrus fruits - grapefruits most
likely - being squeezed for juice. And by the pervasive quality of
the smell, it must be a shipload's worth of grapefruits!

As the smell persisted, Harry's nose wrinkled; he had
never been a fan of grapefruits; he was more the satsuma type - small
and sweet. Then he remembered what else smelled like freshly squeezed
grapefruits, though it actually contained none: Cold Ease Potion and
Fever Reduction Potion. By the smell, it must be at least three big
cauldrons full that Severus was brewing, for the smell to reach the
sitting room.

Well, that explained where the errant Potions Master
had gone, if not why. It was very unusual for Severus to brew large
quantities of anything just out of the blue; he always scheduled such
things well in advance. Well, there was no better way than to go and
find out.

Harry swiftly tied his house-robe, knowing that the
hallway to the lab was draughty; he opened the 'secret' door that was
located behind the shallowest of the bookcases and after closing it
behind him with a snick he strode down the stone hallway that was
lined with shelves bearing various ingredients in jars and bags and
whatnots, where the walls weren't taken up with doors. Three doors in
all: to the left to a cold room with a freezing extension in the back
for ingredients, to the right to a library and storage room for all
kinds of potion-making paraphernalia, and straight ahead a heavy door
led to the brewing lab, where Harry could tell most definitely, as he
got closer, the citrusy smell originated from.

As he opened the door he realized he'd entered a war
zone: every single burner that Harry knew the lab held had been set
out on both of the brewing tables that lined the galley-style Potions
Lab. Each burner had a size 6 or bigger cauldron sitting on it, each
of which was bubbling like mad and was blowing bubbles and spreading
the same sour smell.

Harry quickly counted the cauldrons - seven on the
right, nine on the left - as he witnessed his husband moving from
cauldron to cauldron, adding ingredients from a pewter bowl, wearing
a leather apron over his winter housecoat and his green nightshirt,
with his hairy legs sticking out from under and on his big feet the
red-brown fox-eared house slippers Harry had gotten him two
Christmases ago.

The sight made Harry's mouth itch to break out in a
smile and he raised his hand to discreetly cover it. Just at that
moment, his husband looked up and the man's mouth and eyes changed
from clinical concentration to what Harry had come to know as warmly
welcoming, though anyone else might not have noticed the difference.

Harry dropped his hand, openly showing his delight at
seeing his husband of many years still be happy to see him. The
little bubble of worry that had taken hold deep inside his stomach at
finding his husband's side of the bed stone cold dissolved in the
face of his husband's next words.

"My apologies; a missive from St. Mungo's arrived
early this morning requesting aid in battling this year's epidemic of
Wizarding Influenza. The disease is quite virulent this year and even
St. Mungo's regular brewers are adversely affected," Severus
said as he moved a cauldron and hand-measured a dab of fuzzy
ingredients from his bowl, readying it to add it to the cauldron now
in front of him.

Well, that explained that. But, "Can't 'Mione do
some of this?" Harry hedged, now mildly annoyed that this had to
happen on their Sunday of all days.

Harry observed the steam coming from the cauldron as it
billowed into his husband's face and around his hair, curling some of
the shorter strands. He appreciated Severus' graceful hand as it
sprinkled the ingredient - dandelion seeds? hydrangea roots? silkworm
cocoons? - deftly all around the potion's surface.

"Mrs. Weasley has set up a temporary lab in the
Upper Level Potions Classroom and Mr. Weasley is overseeing some of
the house-elves preparing ingredients in the Lower," Severus
reported. Adding, "I do hope he is refraining from touching any
ingredients himself; Merlin knows what could happen," with just
the hint of a smile curling his upper lip.

After the many years Harry had spent with his husband
and all the adventures and misadventures they and the Weasley couple
had gotten each other into and out of, Harry knew Severus' opinion of
Ron wasn't quite as bad as all that. But on the other hand, Severus
was very demanding of people when potion-making - and usage - was
involved.

Harry also knew that Ron knew that his talents were not
in the field of Potions, but oddly enough more in organizing capable
people and house-elves, into doing what they did best. It had been he
who had overseen the day-to-day running of the DA while the three of
them had been at Hogwarts so many years ago, because at the time
Hermione had been mostly busy researching and Harry had been busy
getting ready to battle a mad wizard to the death. Neither Hermione
nor himself had realized the part Ron had played: that of big brother
to all the DA members, most of whom had been, well, not any younger
than the trio, but much less experienced.

So also had Luna. With her endless faith in Harry and
her boundless love for all living things, be they moping heroes or
hungry thestrals or crotchety Potions Masters, she treated all with
the same honest love and respect.

Severus killed the fire under his cauldron just as
Harry gave a nod of understanding, and then asked, "Do you need
me to help chop?" He knew better than to offer his help with
brewing; he knew he could chop for glory like a pro, but he'd never
truly gotten the hang of complicated brews, for all of the Half-Blood
Prince's help - turned out even in NEWT class, the brews were still
classed as 'simple'.

"Not at this time," his husband answered, the
lank hair almost hanging in the brew as his head now hung over the
cauldron the herbs had gone into, his formidable nose sniffing
around, almost touching the now still surface. He lifted his head and
took a step back. Then he gestured to the space under the workbench
and said, "Addy has been keeping me adequately supplied, and
this batch is nearly finished now anyway. All that is left is the
last step, then cooling and decanting."

Harry took a step aside so he could look under the
workbench. There, as though in miniature, another workbench sat, with
Addy - the Potions Elf, as he liked to call himself and Severus let
him, who was no higher than Harry's knee and who hadn't grown a
fraction of an inch in all the years Harry had known him - arranging
the last of the fluffy ingredient in a bowl and handing it to
Severus, who took it and moved to a still bubbling cauldron, ready to
dole out the fluffy substance. Addy, after waving at Harry and giving
him a toothy grin, turned back to his small workbench and started
clearing up dirty knives, icky chopping boards and stained
mortar-and-pestle sets, the obvious remnants of hours of chopping,
dicing and grinding. Harry was so not sorry to have missed all that,
even if his gleeful thought made him feel a little guilty for loafing
about in bed all morning while others had worked their socks off.

"How much longer?" Harry asked, doing his
level best not to make it come out whiny. He realized he'd failed
when his husband rolled his eyes at him, before bending over his now
still cauldron and doing the same smell test as before. Apparently
satisfied with the brew, Severus stepped back, turned towards Harry
and said, "No more than another hour."

Harry nodded, if only to himself, as Severus had
already turned his attention to the next bubbling cauldron. "If
you're sure you don't need me," Harry ventured, and promptly
received a response in Severus' thin hand that came out of a cloud of
steam and leisurely waved him away. "Then lunch will be served
in one hour. Scrambled eggs or omelettes?" he asked, already
knowing the answer after so many years of cohabitation, but still
giving his husband a choice; after all, Severus didn't take kindly to
being called predictable, even if that was exactly what the man was.
And Harry had to admit it was indeed one of Severus' more endearing
traits; it made Harry feel secure.

oqpodboqpo

Before getting on with lunch, Harry decided to check on
Hermione and Ron. He detoured back to the bedroom and quickly changed
from 'let's cuddle' to 'let's get this show on the road', donning
dungaree trousers, woolly sweater, and his winter shoes over thick
socks and winter underwear. He made extra sure that all items were
green or black, for he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he wore
his favourite reddish brown sweater with his favourite dark blue
trousers and Hermione spotted him again.

It was embarrassing how much fuss Hermione could make
over mismatched clothes, and it was perturbing how much Harry let her
dictate what he chose to wear. Why, Severus had never even commented
- if you didn't count the occasional raised eyebrow at breakfast,
which Harry absolutely refused to do - and he was Harry's husband!

Harry quickly left their rooms, hissing Good morning at
the snake that dozed in the corner of Ezekiel Slytherin's empty
portrait - he must have another hot date with Lucia de Medici at her
portrait; hopefully he wouldn't come home poisoned again or they'd
never hear the end of it - and quickly set off towards the
classrooms.

The first in his path was the Lower Classroom. The door
was open, and Harry could hear the sound of chopping and grinding
already. He stopped just outside the classroom and waved to Ron, who
was busy weighing ingredients on enormous brass scales.

"Oi, mate," Ron chirped, not taking his
steadying hand off the scales as he added weights with his other
hand. As the redhead stood at the table, he had a House Elf on each
side - both wearing Hogwarts towels - one with a sack with dry
ingredients in his arms and the other with an empty bowl. Ron
carefully balanced the scales before then taking the brass bowl with
ingredients off the balance and emptying the ingredients into the
House Elf's empty bowl. The House Elf - Dinky or Natty, Harry
couldn't be sure - took his bowl to the other side of the room while
Ron reset his scales.

At the right side of the room, about seven house-elves
- now eight with Dinky joining them - had each taken a student's
brewing desk and were busy preparing ingredients, each a different
one. One Elf had a huge jar standing next to his work; the large
label read Hydrangea Root in Severus' elegant hand. Hah, got it right
in one, Harry thought.

"I'm serving lunch in about 45 minutes, you and
'Mione wanna join us?" Harry asked.

Ron first weighted out his scales, before answering,
"Nah, ta. We started brewing at least an hour after the
Professor, we aren't anywhere near ready for lunch." He emptied
out the weighed amount into the waiting Elf's bowl before continuing,
"and besides, Mum has already let us know she's not lettin' us
weasel out of Sunday lunch, so she's holding lunch for us. You two
have your 'lunch' without us," he added with a smile and a
wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Well, okay, that's settled then," Harry
said, before making a quarter turn into the direction of the Upper
Classroom, totally ignoring the redhead's innuendo. "I'm going
to look in on 'Mione anyway, maybe I can help out a little," he
said, already starting to move in that direction.

"Oi! You can help by taking her the chopped
stuff!" Ron called after him. Harry turned back and looked to
where Ron had indicated. A large tray sat there with five
three-quarters full jars on it, all equally slimy but with
different-coloured ingredients. The jars were unlabeled, but the
contents were sufficiently different to even Harry's layman's eyes
that a Potions buff like Hermione should have no trouble whatsoever
recognizing what was what.

The tray looked heavy and Harry slipped out his wand to
cast a Featherweight charm on it. "No magic!" Ron shouted,
just in time. Harry gave his best friend an annoyed look as he put
his wand away again. He then stepped close to the tray and grabbed
hold of the handles securely.

The tray turned out to be lighter than expected, and
the jars were low enough that he could easily see where he was going.
Nonetheless he got on with getting there; he didn't want to run any
risk of breakage or spillage, at all. Hermione's tongue-lashings
could really rival his husband's!

With his hands full, Harry was forced to push open the
door to the Upper Classroom with his back, thus putting him face
forward into, well, 'Hell' really. Just before his glasses fogged up
from the steam, he could see that large cauldrons sat on most of the
worktables, bubbling away like mad. Each cauldron had a House Elf in
attendance, standing on the stools that came with the worktables. The
ceiling was invisible because of the steam, which was hanging like
cloud cover on a mountain. The place smelled incredibly citrusy, with
a persistent undertone of mint, so strong that it made Harry's eyes
start to water.

Just as he was considering calling out for help so he
could unload his burden, Hermione stepped out of the mist, looking
not unlike a fish in the odd goggles she was wearing. She grabbed the
tray and said, "Oh good! Supplies!" As she took the weight
of the tray, she turned her head aside and called out, "Pinny,
Dobby, come and give us a hand, please."

Two small figures came scurrying out of the mist,
Dobby, who smiled at Harry and said, "Dobby is very happy to see
Master Harry Potter this morning!" Behind him a smaller female
Elf nodded her head emphatically in agreement. "I'm happy to see
you too, Dobby, Pinny," Harry returned the greeting. It was such
a little thing, but it made the Hogwarts house-elves so happy if you
mentioned them by name. And so Harry was happy to do it as Dobby and
Pinny virtually jumped up and down for joy, but still managed to keep
the tray upright between them, before walking off with it.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped them before
turning to Hermione and asking, "Uh, do you need my help at
all?" He waved his hand around, indicating the chaos around
them.

"No, I'm fine," she said as she stepped
closer to the open door: the only place where the mist was thin
enough so they could actually see each other. She pulled off the
goggles and theatrically wiped her brow with the sleeve of one of her
pink long-sleeved tops that Harry had seen her wear underneath thick
sweaters all winter. Now that he was noticing her appearance, he
noted she looked hot and sweaty. And no wonder; the room's atmosphere
more resembled a Turkish bath than a classroom.

"Look, are you sure?" he asked again. Then
when she didn't reply, he added, "Can't you open a window, or
something? It's stifling in here!"

For a moment it was like she hadn't even been
listening, but then she seemed to snap out of it. "Can't
ventilate; the Cold Ease needs these conditions," she said. She
handed the goggles to Harry. "However," she sighed, "these
don't seem to work, so I'm going to try a Bubble-head charm next."
With that she took out her wand and cast the spell.

Harry had been standing quite close to Hermione and he
pondered on the odd sensation he got from being so close as she cast
it. But other than the odd feeling, there was no further effect. With
the possible exception of Harry's wonder at magic itself, as he saw
his other best friend blithely venture into the steam-filled chaos,
secure in the effectiveness of her spell. And that was a feeling that
to Harry never seemed to get old.

oqpodboqpo

After gathering all the ingredients for omelettes on
toast in the dungeon room's small but practical kitchen, Harry went
back to the sitting room to set the table, so he could make and serve
the omelettes as soon as Severus walked in.

Their two-person dining table - that with magic could
convert to four, but then would cramp the modest sitting room almost
uncomfortably - still had the heavy brown velvet tablecloth on it
that they habitually put on it after dinner. If it wasn't for the
fact that Harry had spotted the empty porridge bowl and spoon with
the other dirties, he might have been worried that his husband had,
again, skipped breakfast.

Indeed, over the years Severus had been getting better
at taking time for meals and breaks, but Harry was always on the
lookout for signs of Severus overworking and forgetting to take care
of himself. Harry could well understand his husband's behaviour; he
had done it himself when he was still fighting Whosit Whatsit. But
he'd never taken it as far as Severus did in times of stress.

Well, Harry had made it his mission to make sure
Severus took care of himself; after all, Harry got the benefit of his
own hard work from this: a happy husband, and all the perks that came
with that. Like Cuddle Mornings. And the best lube in the world
virtually free, plus practical demonstrations of its effectiveness
every day, if either of them wanted them. Hmm.

Harry pulled himself out of his lascivious thoughts and
picked up the first item he saw on the table; a worn pouch: made from
an old velvet material that once might have been purple. He
recognized it immediately. It belonged in Severus' box; the box that
Harry had given him some nineteen years ago. The same that now stood
open next to it on the table.

Harry gently put the pouch back into the box and then
surveyed what else was lying on the table; it was mostly flat paper
items. To get a better look but not wanting to disturb anything,
Harry slipped into the chair that his husband usually occupied. Now
he could see the papers right side up and was not too surprised at
what he found.

Harry was not unfamiliar with what Severus kept in his
box, but he had never pried for information. Nor was he looking for
any now. He just wanted to tidy up the 'mess' so lunch could be
served. So he reached out a hand to start gathering the old letters
and cards from Dumbledore and Minerva. Then he spotted something he
hadn't seen in nineteen years: a square folded card, with Celtic
knotwork featuring stars and planets and 'Thank you' on the front.

Harry didn't need to open the card to know that inside
was his signature, along with those of all the students present at
that infernal ritual. He remembered quite clearly Luna going around
getting it signed by everybody. He remembered trying to explain to
her that Snape might not want a reminder of that horrible day. He
remembered her answering that 'of course he would, silly!' He
couldn't convince her otherwise, and in the end he all he could do
was cave in to Luna's wish that he give the card to Snape.

And now it turned out the man with whom at that time
Harry had only managed to come to a truce, and who now was his
husband, had indeed kept this reminder of a Very Bad Day. It humbled
and it stunned him. And it made his heart swell with love for a man
who had gone through hell and back and had survived. And - as Harry
spotted another card on the table, a little space away from the
correspondence - he realized - as he read the card, for it was indeed
addressed to him - who had found himself still able to give affection
to the one that loved him.

The card read:

H,
Emergency at St. Mungo's

Potions shortage
Sorry, will make for it up later
S.

'Sorry, will make up for it later.' Why, that was
practically a declaration of undying love! Well, from Severus anyway.
Harry smiled to himself and slipped the card into his pocket, so he
could put it with his collection of other cards that his husband had
written him over the years.

He got up and started tidying in earnest. He put the
correspondence back into the box, idly noting that the amulet was
missing; Sev must be wearing it today, Harry concluded. Ah, that
indicated that he wasn't as relaxed as he'd have Harry believe. Harry
lifted the still open box and put it in its normal spot on the
sideboard. He left it open, since it would only open for the person
who had last closed it, and Severus would likely not be happy to find
himself locked out of his own box!

oqpodboqpo

Harry was directing a washing-up spell in the kitchen
when he heard the dungeon's front door creak.

"There's hot water in the kettle; if you make the
tea, I'll have the eggs done in a minute!" He had pitched his
voice just loud enough for sitting room occupants to hear him and
still not sound as if he was actually yelling; long experience had
taught him that the hard way. Not expecting a response, Harry got on
with starting the toaster and pouring the whisked raw eggs into the
hot pan.

oqpodboqpo

About halfway through lunch, Harry was puzzling over an
unusual role-reversal. Usually it was Harry who the faster eater,
with his husband often just picking at his food, and only eating
properly once he noticed Harry had already finished. But now Severus
was digging in, almost leaving Harry the straggler.

Harry swallowed his bite before asking, "Why the
hurry?"

Severus halted the movement of the well-laden fork
towards his mouth. Harry saw his right eyebrow rise in the Potions
Master's best 'you've got to be kidding me,' look before Severus
said, "I'm merely making sure that this break does not set the
brewing schedule back any significant amount of time."

Harry nearly dropped his own fork. "Brewing
schedule? You mean there's more potions to be made today?!"

His husband, while Harry had spoken, had continued
eating and now needed a moment to clear his mouth. He gave Harry that
same look and said, "St. Mungo's needs at least one more batch
of Fever Reduction Potion."

"But!" was all Harry could think to say, the
sheer disappointment robbing him of his speech.

While bringing a last forkful of egg to his mouth and
snagging the last piece of toast from the tray, his husband stood up
from the table and started to turn away. As Harry sat gaping at the
turn of events, Severus turned back and leaned forward, invading
Harry's space. Harry had to cross his eyes in order to focus on his
husband's black orbs - and formidable nose - so close to him.

"If," Severus drawled, using that voice, "If
you eat up and help me out in the lab, we can have the brewing
finished that much sooner, and we can reclaim our Sunday morning."

Harry couldn't help but grin at that, so he didn't
resist the urge. He also didn't resist the impulse to place a little
kiss on that nose, thoroughly embarrassing his husband. "All
right," he chirped, "lay out the smelly roots and slimy
slugs. With an incentive like that, I will chop anything you like!"

-The End-

I hope everybody liked to story. Thanks to all who have read and who have reviewed!

I have some good ideas for the time between the end of the story proper and the epilogue. I do indend for the epilogue to stand, but when I wrote it I had no plans for sequals so it may loose it's meaning at some point. As for more stories in with this plot; I'm planning them, but that doesn't mean I'll be fast in writing them. All I can say is I will try, but I make no promisses...
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All Beneath the Full Moon [COMPLETE]