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As the room spun in lazy circles around him, Severus Snape concluded that quite possibly he was drunk. But it was a pleasurable sort of drunkenness with the sharp-edged reality of his life becoming fuzzy and the flickering flames of his fireplace producing a quite impressive myriad of colours. Even his memories, painful as razor-blades when he was enjoying the dubitable merits of sobriety, were dimmed and too fragmented to do any harm.

The war was over, and he, Severus Tobias Snape, was for all intents and purposes still alive. He was almost certain that sooner rather than later the ugly downside to his fate would be revealed, but he was drunk, for the first time since he had been a teenager, and he was content not to overanalyse this unexpected stroke of luck. He was alive. He was a hero, Order of Merlin, first-class and all. His life was perfect.

His thoughts were swirling, puzzles that he had been agonizing over for years suddenly solving themselves, connections appearing where previously there had been only dots and everything becoming crystal clear.

He should definitely get drunk more often, now that he didn't run the risk anymore of the Dark Lord ransacking his mind. Dumbledore must have been drunk quite often – that man had been a genius. Rest in peace, yada, yada, yada. A scowl appeared on his face, but the expression seemed to require an unnatural amount of concentration so he let it slip again. He would miss the old coot, but Merlin, would it be nice to have some quiet after all this. What was this again? They were celebrating something, weren't they? Something important...

Chapter Text

It took Severus a moment to realise that the wretchedly loud groan that pounded his head like an unmerciful sledgehammer came from his own throat and another moment to stop it. With difficulty, he managed to pry his eyelids apart and roll onto his back, though he regretted the combination of movements immediately when bright sunlight assaulted his optic nerve and made him groan again.

He threw one pale, thinly muscled arm over his face and fumbled for his bedside drawer with his free hand, all the while trying to determine which furry creature had died in his mouth. He shuddered, barely daring to move his tongue out of the irrational fear he might push whatever it was down his throat, which would result in the spread of the furry-dead-animal-feeling. The thought made him gag. The rocking motion of his bed made him gag.

Finally, he found the handle of the drawer, wincing at the grating noise when he wrenched it open. His fingers fumbled over all those small odds and ends that had accumulated over the years - scraps of parchment, with late-night revelations and ideas for new potions, a self-inking quill, the square velvet box that contained the watch his mother had left him, but most of all vials over vials with sleeping draughts, pepper-ups, anti-venoms, concoctions that could give him an advantage in a surprise attack or could weaken his opponents, and finally a sober-up potion.

He had brewed that a long time ago, which might have worried him if not for the rhythmic pounding in his head that drowned out all rational thoughts and demanded that he take this potion right now. The relief was instantaneous, and Severus fell back onto his bed with an almost happy sigh. So this was his new life.

He was a little surprised at himself. Starting his new life and celebrating the end of years of servitude by procuring a hangover seemed to be the behaviour of a weak-willed, aimless and overall despicable character and he had not ever considered himself to fall into even one of those categories. But furthermore, he had never indulged in self-recriminations, knowing full well that on any given day there was no one who was absolutely and unconditionally on his side so that he had decided at a young age that at least he himself would always appreciate his own value. It was not an easy task, self confidence and self esteem not being something you could talk yourself into, but over the years he had steadfastly refused to look down on himself and he was not going to start now.

After all these years, he certainly deserved a night of drunken stupor, followed by a few days of quiet relaxation and excessive laziness, undisturbed by frantic calls for his assistance or the painful summons of one of his masters. He was going to enjoy himself, starting with a long soak in his heretofore rarely used bathtub.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, yes, he should have expected things to go downhill fast. But he had rather hoped to be able to finish his recreational phase, and in particular the crossword puzzle in The Practical Potioneer, before that. Harry bloody Potter's owl, however, reached him just as he was about to fill in S-H-I-N-G-L-T-O-N in response to "inventor of the self-stirring cauldron", narrowing down the options for "type of potion" with six letters to P-O-I-S-O-N or E-L-I-X-I-R.

He seriously considered blasting the owl into the next millennium, but then had pity on the poor bird that was already punished by being Potter's pet, and reluctantly freed it of the thin letter it was carrying. The owl screeched hideously, making Severus re-evaluate his assumption that the bird was the one to suffer from Potter's presence - maybe they were evenly matched, after all - and then took off again. Apparently, whatever had compelled Potter to disturb him did not require his reply via owl post.

Of course, when he had eventually managed to decipher Potter's scrawly, incorrigibly poor handwriting, it became clear that Potter would expect a personal response later that evening, seven p.m. to be exact, when he would show up uninvited, if not unannounced at Severus' quarters.

How utterly typical of Potter to not only assume that Severus had no prior engagements for this evening but also to not have the decency to at least tell him why he had requested, more like advised him of this meeting. It could be any number of things, though Severus was inclined to favour the options that were inconvenient, dangerous or downright lethal for him. Maybe the Ministry had decided to rescind his amnesty based on some new falsified evidence one of his fellow Death Eaters had pulled out of his behind to save said body part. Maybe the Order had discovered that the Dark Lord had had some more plans up his sleeve that either directly affected Severus or at least required his immediate attention. Maybe Potter or one of his little buddies had got himself into another spot of trouble and, intend on dragging Severus down with him, Potter had concluded that Severus was the right person to help.

Whatever the case – and did it really matter? – his day was ruined, his serenity lost. He thought about getting drunk again, reclaiming that peaceful alcohol-induced fuzziness where his thoughts would move with the velocity of a flobberworm and be just as meaningless, but the thought of Harry Potter seeing him in that state stopped him. He still had some pride left, probably more than was healthy.

Instead he made himself a cup of tea, sipping it slowly as he finished his crossword puzzle, and then went into his lab to work towards restocking the infirmary.

ö_ö_ö

One batch each of skele-gro, blood-replenishing potion and sleeping draught later, the knock on his door heralded the arrival of his unwelcome guest, and Severus put a stasis charm on the cauldron of pepper-up potion he had been working on before reluctantly leaving his lab and locking it securely behind himself. At least, Potter had enough common sense not to test Severus' good will by hammering against his door like a lunatic.

The doorknob felt cool under his hand and he became aware that his palms were sweaty, drew back to surreptitiously wipe his hands against his robe. Not that he had any intention of welcoming Potter with a handshake. He fixed a foreboding scowl on his face and finally opened the door.

"Snape." Potter inclined his head slightly, but maintained eye-contact; to Severus' dismay, Potter did not seem fazed in the least by his unwelcoming expression. "May I come in?"

"That's still 'Professor' to you," Severus snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in a move that he refused to classify as defensive.

"I haven't been your student for more than five years now," Potter replied calmly, somehow managing to slip past Severus without even touching him. "I think I'll stick to 'Snape'."

"You will show me the respect I deserve!" Severus closed the door forcefully, the wooden door frame protesting his rough treatment with an aching groan.

"My respect for you has never been related to your teaching abilities," Potter answered, his back turned towards Severus; this total disregard of the potential threat an enraged Severus Snape posed to the supposed Saviour of the Wizarding World was almost more insulting than Potter's refusal to address him with his well-earned title. "In any case, I thought you would be more interested in the reason why I'm here."

A casual glance over one shoulder and Potter sat down, uninvited, on Severus' couch, stretching slender legs under his coffee table. "You should probably take a seat. And I'd like a cup of tea, please." The last he said to the room at large and a few moments later a tea tray popped up in front of him, complete with a plate of cookies that with Potter's messy eating habits would probably end up crumbled all over his couch and floor. Severus scowled fiercely; Potter raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the armchair opposite of him.

"The only thing I'm interested in is seeing you leave again," Severus snapped, and though it was childish and pointless he chose to sit on the far less comfortable chair he had originally levitated over from the dining room to have somewhere to put his papers and writing materials.

"Would you like me to skip right to the punch line, then?" Potter asked, still with that infuriating calm, and Severus wondered when he had lost the power to get a rise out of him because the idea that Potter might have grown up was simply laughable.

Severus drew his eyebrows together, narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin, disapproving line, conveying as he hoped quite clearly that he would not play whatever game Potter was playing or act interested for the other man's sake.

Potter took a careful sip of his tea and delicately placed the cup back on its plate before he made eye contact with Severus. "I'm calling in one of your life debts. I want you to marry me."

Severus' breath hitched and he felt the prickle of cold sweat down his back, the hard, fast beat of his heart against his ribcage, before he managed to see Potter's insolence for what it was. "Who ever put you up to this truly amusing prank – your little pet wolf most likely or maybe one of the Weasley offspring – obviously neglected to tell you that life debts constitute magically binding contracts of the highest order and that your little proclamation just now could provoke us being irrevocably bound to each other. Since I'm certain that you want that about as much as I do, I suggest you take it back right now."

"I'm afraid I know all that." Potter reached for one of the biscuits, but then withdrew his hand again. "If you'll listen, I'll explain my situation and reasons to you. Once I've finished you're welcome to offer me a different solution in which case I'll consider your life debt fully paid."

Severus felt stark relief wash over him. So this was what Potter was after, this was his way of asking for his advice and for some reason he assumed that these scare tactics would yield better results than if he had just come right out and said what he needed. And there was of course the added bonus of being able to taunt Severus with the fact that his life was basically not his own as long as he was still in Potter's debts.

He reached for an empty cup, poured himself some tea and sat back as comfortably as possible in his chair. "So you have got yourself into another mess, have you, Potter? And I have the questionable honour of being a part of it. Well, let's hear it then. Unlike you I would very much like to drift off into anonymity and live out the rest of my life in peace and quiet. And preferably without ever seeing you again."

The corner of Potter's mouth lifted a little, but Severus was not certain if that was a sign of anger, amusement or nervousness. It hardly mattered, though he could admit to a slight unease because it was not as easy as it used to be to read Potter.

"During the Final Battle, Narcissa Malfoy was killed by a curse that might have been intended for me and she may or may not have intercepted it intentionally," Potter started before Severus could analyse his mimic more carefully. "In any case, the Wizengamot is going to accept Lucius Malfoy's petition that this act be recognized as me owing a life debt to Narcissa, and by extension Lucius Malfoy.

"I applaud your positive thinking," Severus mocked, calmly steering his tea and testing its temperature.

"I have it on good authority that the Wizengamot will indeed rule in Malfoy's favour," Potter said simply, evidently not willing to share the source of his information. "I further know that Malfoy will use this life debt to force me into marrying him. I don't know whether his plan is motivated by revenge or a wish to save his tarnished reputation, though I guess it's a bit of both, and it doesn't really matter."

"What you're saying is ludicrous," Severus sneered, mentally rolling his eyes – trust Potter to be overly dramatic. "Lucius Malfoy barely escaped the Dementor's Kiss. He does not have enough clout to pull one over the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Well-Die so even on the off chance that the Wizengamot would adjudge him this life debt, you could still turn down whatever he demands without fearing repercussions like the rest of us mere mortals."

"You overestimate my standing with the Ministry," Potter replied without missing a beat. "I've been given to understand in a not so veiled threat from the Minister himself that it would do me well not to expect much less demand any special treatment from the new government or I would soon find myself classified as a security risk and disposed of. As for Malfoy, you don't need a good reputation to use bribery and extortion, and Malfoy is very well versed in these methods. My information is reliable."

"Of course. If you say so..." Severus let his voice trail off sardonically even as a shiver raced down his spine. Potter was many things – arrogant, conceited, melodramatic, prone to temper tantrums and convinced that the world, the entire universe revolved around him – but he was also well connected and had access to knowledge, mysteries and secrets that were well beyond the scope of a any normal wizard's understanding.

"I'm not permitted to speak about how or where I got my information, Snape," Potter pointed out as if on cue, finally reaching for that biscuit and as predicted leaving crumbs all over Severus' dark upholstery. "You can either believe it or not. But I'm going to act according to what I know about Malfoy's plans and that includes making sure that I won't become Malfoy's next trophy wife by whatever means necessary."

"So you want to marry me because you perceive me as the lesser of the two evils. I'm flattered." Severus made a conscious effort to contain the trembling of his long, potion-stained fingers.

"The Malfoy family has very clear expectations for their spouses, and Malfoy would be well within his rights to demand that I meet each and every one of these. I suppose you know the specifics better than I do, but I've seen enough of these marriage contracts to know that I can't allow him that much control over my finances, my magic, my life." Potter's gaze was intense and unflinching. "I realise that this must be abhorrent to you and it probably isn't fair, considering how much you sacrificed to bring down Voldemort, but I am calling in this life debt."

"Why not someone else?" Severus demanded, standing up and starting to pace in agitation. "Surely, the hero of the Wizarding World could find someone who's actually willing to marry him."

"Maybe, but as you well know life debts override any pre-existing contracts and relationships." Potter had the gall to sigh as if he was the victim in all of this, as if he hadn't engineered this whole thing and put them into this situation.

"Another life debt then," Severus concluded, putting his hands on the back of his armchair and staring at Potter. "There're bound to be more victims of your all-encompassing hero complex."

"There are," Potter agreed. "But you're the one who stands to lose the least and gain the most by this."

"According to whom?" Severus narrowed his eyes angrily. "You, your little friends, or is this another insight that you can't share with the class?"

"All three, actually," Potter answered, reaching into his robe and pulling several scrolls from out of nowhere. "Hermione suggested a pro and contra list for everyone who owes me a life debt. As you can see here" – he spread out one of the scrolls and pointed to something, forcing Severus to come closer to have a better look – "we valued existing relationships, personal and magical compatibility, sexual orientation, plans for the future, repute, financial situation and a few other aspects."

"How would you even have all that information?" Severus stared incredulously down at the painstaking, tabular assessment of his life, feeling thrown back to when Potter had violated his privacy for the first time, snooping through his memories.

"That, I can't say." Potter's mouth quirked again, and Severus was overcome with the desire to throttle him. "Look, Hermione and Ron have already repaid any life debts that may have existed between us. Bill Weasley is in a stable and happy relationship. Neville Longbottom does not play for my team and is madly in love with Ginny. He already bought the ring. Luna Lovegood told me that something or other wouldn't look kindly upon our union and I've been friends with her long enough to take that as a warning."

Severus snorted, angrily noting that Potter had even managed to learn about his financial records: his monthly and yearly salary, his small inheritance, the exact amount of galleons, sickles and knuts in his Gringott's vault. "So just because I'm not engaged, love-sick or insane you concluded that my life debt was due? What about compatibility, you can't honestly think that we'd be a good match, Potter!"

"No, probably not," Potter conceded, but overall seemed hardly deterred. "Did you happen to see today's Daily Prophet?"

"No," Severus said shortly. "Why, was there another laudation on the great Harry Potter?"

"You made the front page," Potter answered to his surprise, shuffling through the mass of papers on the small coffee table before handing Severus the newspaper. "Not very flattering though. I believe you're mentioned in the same sentence as Bellatrix Lestrange, the Carrows and Antonin Dolohov and it is suggested that the Dementor's Kiss might be a more fitting reward than an Order of Merlin."

"What exactly is your point?" Severus demanded, his eyes roving over the printed text even as he waited for a reply.

"You're a war hero, but most wizards and witches will see the Dark Mark first, act accordingly, and ask questions later or not at all," Potter explained, pointing to another parchment with what appeared to be poll results. "Popularity charts. You have very few friends, Snape, on either side. Your association with me will convince the general public that you do deserve that Order of Merlin."

"It will also lead to an increase in the number of death threats I will receive from former... associates," Severus pointed out. "But I suppose you have considered that as well."

"I trust that you will be able to handle yourself." Potter gave a small chuckle; of course, he would find this amusing. "Another reason why I'm talking to you and not Neville... Plus, you owe me two life debts; do you really want to risk incurring another?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his large nose, trying to stem off the headache Potter's overly calm, overly confident, overly determined attitude was invoking. No, no, he didn't want to risk that. One life debt was uncomfortable, two life debts were worrisome, three life debts... three life debts equalled a death penalty. His life would be written over to Potter as soon as he ran up that third debt, no negotiations, no getting off easy, no way to refuse. He would have to protect Potter and die trying.

If Potter hadn't used every healing spell in his meagre repertoire upon finding him, hadn't rend through the Anti-Apparation Wards around Hogwarts and hadn't demanded that every available healer attend to him immediately, then, no doubt, Severus would not have seen the end of the war. Healer Coetzee had attested to that and got on Severus' nerves with his endless eulogies about the Hero of the Wizarding World, while Severus had still debated if death wouldn't have been preferable. He could have died quickly if not exactly painlessly and none of this would have come to pass. Living with yet another life debt against Potter had been an uncomfortable thought, but he had never seriously considered that Dumbledore's Golden Boy would call in his life debts. Weren't Gryffindors too noble to exploit their advantages? Severus had played with the thought of offering to brew some potions, helping to ward Potter's house against stray Death Eaters, sending him a fruit basket. Not this. Never this.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, pleaded, not meeting Potter's eyes because he already knew the answer. "When do you expect my answer?"

For the first time, Potter seemed at least mildly surprised as if the possibility that Severus would choose a life sentence at Azkaban over a life sentence as his husband had never crossed his mind. "I can give you until morning. I trust that, no matter your decision, what we discussed will not leave this room?"

Severus nodded sharply. "You will have my decision by tomorrow morning."

"I'll be back here at nine," Potter concluded and got up. Because he assumed that Severus would say yes to this foolish idea, that duty-bound, debt-bound, always reliable, always willing to sacrifice himself for the spawn of his school-time nemesis Severus would once again throw his own happiness on the pyre so that Potter wouldn't fall prey to the evil machinations of Lucius bloody Malfoy. Of course.

Severus didn't deign him with a reply, didn't say anything when finally, finally Potter closed the door behind him, leaving Severus to stew in his own tormented thoughts, his chambers in disarray, papers strewn everywhere, his life uprooted once again. Not even half a day to decide over the rest of his life. Not enough time. Not enough information. No choice.

Self-preservation was ingrained in his very being, etched into the swirls of his magic, cocooning the tattered remains of his soul. He couldn't choose Azkaban. Between the Dementors, the convicted Death Eaters and the few human guards he would survive a few weeks at most. He wouldn't choose Azkaban.

He could run, but he had lived the last two decades always looking over his shoulder, always fearing that today, today would be the day when he was found out. After all these years, he was finally free of his two masters, free of having to hide, steal and lie just to prolong his miserable life by one more day. He wouldn't trade that in for anything, least of all for Potter.

So Potter thought he had no choice but to marry him? Well, Severus didn't trust Potter's unnamed source of information. This might be just another ploy to lead them both into a trap, and Severus wasn't going to follow blindly.

He hastened over to his desk, impatiently brushing aside several reference books, a few unmarked, ill-written essays and the day planner Albus had given him on their last Christmas, neglecting to acknowledge that Severus had little use for such a thing as he had few appointments and even fewer he could write down. He dipped his quill into the waiting ink pot and scratched out a short enquiry to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If Lucius Malfoy wanted to claim the right to a life debt he needed a court date, and those were public record. He summoned an officious, floppy-eared house-elf and ordered her to take his letter to the owlery and send it off immediately.

There was not much else he could do, short of asking Lucius Malfoy himself, and though the idea was tempting – tip Malfoy off and watch Potter's scheming collapse into itself – it would also be foolish. Making an enemy out of Potter was not a smart thing to do these days. The Dark Lord could attest to that.

Cold resentment bubbled up in his chest like pus from a badly healing wound, but he was not sure if it was aimed at Potter or the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, Voldemort – nowadays it was all the rage to call the Dark Lord by his childish nickname as the Daily Prophet had made quite clear – had stolen years of his life, forced him into servitude, treated him with scorn and outright hatred, and Potter planned to hold the rest of his life hostage.

But this was not the time to lament the unfairness of his life. He might not have Potter's connections, but he knew Lucius Malfoy and though Potter might be vain enough to assume that the Malfoy patriarch would marry him just for the prestige of marrying the Harry Potter, Severus knew better. If Lucius truly meant to use his life debt to force a union between Potter and himself there would be reasons, Slytherin reasons, reasons Severus would be able to find if only he looked for them.

Potter's notes, he grudgingly admitted, were extensive and he had the sneaking suspicion that Granger was to blame for that. He even noted her handwriting in some of the margins, filling in some information Potter had overlooked or forgotten. Then there were also parts that were intentionally blanked out. Confidential information from Potter's secret sources. Severus' scowl deepened whenever he came across those missing bits.

But there was enough to tell Severus exactly how Potter had reached the abstruse conclusion that Lucius Malfoy not only wanted to marry him but would soon have the means to see his plan through. Witness' reports described in morbid detail how Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry Potter's life. Transcripts of Malfoy's trial declared him innocent of all charges. Testimonies confirmed that Malfoy had mentioned more than once how his wife had died to protect Potter. Surveillance reports monitored Malfoy's every step since the end of the war, detailing his trips to Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic and his visit to several members of the Wizengamot. Financial statements showed that the Malfoy family vault had suffered considerable weight loss, though still more sated than Severus' had ever been. There was personal, and very personal, information, intercepted mail, a list of all the spells Malfoy had used recently, moving photographs, a register of his floo calls, a collection of newspaper clippings.

Severus read through it all with rising desperation. The flood of information was daunting, Lucius Malfoy's whole life, his aspirations and motivations, his ways of thinking, his fears, his hopes, his everything becoming transparent to the reader. Potter had put this together. Potter. It did not bode well for anyone's future, but most of all for Severus, if that precocious little brat could gather this much information in the matter of a few days, weeks at most. Information, knowledge was power and Potter had enough of that already without being privy to every inconsequential detail and dark secret of any random person.

That begged one question: did he really want all that power in Lucius Malfoy's hands? No, no, he didn't. Lucius might have been almost a friend once, a protector, a benefactor, but Severus' had never been naive enough to assume that Lucius' actions were anything but cool calculations. Severus had been useful, as a Potions Master, as a spy on Dumbledore, as a way to keep an eye on Draco when he was at Hogwarts, nothing more. Lucius, simply put, was selfish, there was not one altruistic bone in his body, and he knew how to handle power.

Potter, on the other hand and contrary to Dumbledore's assurances that he had never done such a thing, had been groomed since birth to be the Saviour the Wizarding World had been clamouring for. Brave, sacrificially obedient, selfless and in the end deadly. But Potter had never been designed to take control and use his power for anything but the greater good. Potter was not made for ambition; he had always been just a pawn in Dumbledore's elaborate scheme to save the world, moving when told, capturing when told, sacrificing himself when told. Potter didn't see the bigger picture, didn't understand the game plan because he only knew one direction: forward.

Personal feelings aside, Potter was the only sensible choice to handle so much power. He would soak up all the attention he was getting now, feel secure in his status and never even suspect that he could have so much more. But he was skipping ahead and he did not enjoy cognitive befuddlement as much now than when he had been drunk.

Assuming that Lucius Malfoy won his court hearing - assuming that there would be a court hearing – what would be his next logical step? Would he really demand Potter's hand in marriage or did his plans run in a different direction so that Severus fulfilling his life debt would be all for naught?

There were obvious drawbacks to marrying Potter, at least for Severus, but for Malfoy? The marriage contracts of the Malfoy family were notoriously rigid and with Potter being the only heir to the Potter and Black fortunes, the monetary gain alone would be quite appealing. Severus riffled through the mass of papers on his coffee table until he held a copy of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black's prenuptial agreement in his hands. They began to shake, even as he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. Lucius Malfoy had had control over every aspect of his wife's life, from the food she was eating over the clothes she was wearing to the spells she could use, and Severus could not think of a single demand that would give Lucius that same power of Potter.

He needed a drink. He needed to calm down. So he summoned a bottle of old single malt whisky he had won in a bet against Minerva and poured it into his now empty tea cup, gulping it down with little appreciation for its taste and then got up. He wasn't thinking rationally and he couldn't risk making false assumptions and miscalculations on something like this. He needed clarity and for that he needed his potions. Nothing was more soothing to Severus Snape than the complex routine of chopping, grinding, pulverizing, measuring, stirring, heating, cooling, stabilising, observing, waiting. And while he was listening to his own heart beat, using it to pace the movement of his wand and keeping a careful eye on the sizzling flames underneath the kettle of calming draught, his thoughts became more focused, less determined by his own overly emotional mood and more by his cool-headedness that had kept him alive in more than one seemingly hopeless situation.

Lucius Malfoy, if Potter's information was correct, was indeed planning to get his life debt acknowledged and Severus had known the blond wizard long enough to realise that even after the war and the considerable drop in his reputation there was a very real possibility that he would get his way.

As Severus made a slight adjustment in the fire temperature to avoid the potion condensing too much, he also admitted that there was probably no smarter way for Malfoy to use his life debt than to demand that Potter marry him.

He slowly added the powdered starthistle and observed how the potion's colour changed to a deep blue, though the consistency was still not quite right. He would have to let it simmer for a few more minutes before he could mix in the juice of three fresh raspberries. It was almost too easy to push his last realisation to the back of his mind, at least until he had completed the potion, carefully filling it into small vials and labelling them scrupulously.

But then with a sigh he left the safety of his lab, noting that one of the house-elves had delivered the Ministry's reply and had left it on his desk. However, when he unrolled the small scroll, he was no longer looking for a clue that this was all one huge mistake, but merely for confirmation. Lucius Malfoy was expected to appear before the Wizengamot at 5 p.m. tomorrow and Severus' recognised some of the names of those summoned as witnesses from Potter's research.

This was as official as it was going to get and like he had done so often, Severus resigned himself to his fate. Protecting Potter, protecting Potter from Lucius Malfoy, protecting the wizarding world from Lucius Malfoy with power over Potter.

Chapter Text

Potter was punctual to the minute and his smart knock echoed through Severus' quarters that had once been homely and safe before they had turned into his prison. He left his empty tea cup in the sink of his small kitchenette that had seen little use over the years because of the house-elves' excellent service, and then opened the door. Potter once again pushed past him without actually pushing and graced him with a neutral greeting that made ire twist Severus' gut.

"I trust you have come to a decision," Potter said, sitting down on the sofa as if he had somehow laid claim to it the day before. "Will you tell me?"

"You know my answer," Severus said, not keeping the bitterness out of his voice, and sat down in his armchair before Potter could tell him to do so.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry that it has come to this," Potter answered, meeting Severus' gaze with eyes that always reminded the Potions Master of his once best friend. "Should we get started on the prenuptial agreement? I would like to have this all buttoned up by 5 o' clock."

"Before Lucius Malfoy steps foot into the court room," Severus clarified and Potter nodded.

"I fear it won't be a very lengthy hearing," Potter agreed, producing another set of papers and spreading them out on Severus' coffee table which had only just been cleared. "Would you like to have your lawyer present?"

"I don't have a lawyer, Potter," Severus snapped. "I hardly had the time to make all the preparations for this farce and we both know that I have to agree to your terms, anyway. So why don't you just get it over with? Where do you want my signature?"

Potter's brow furrowed, but it seemed thoughtful rather than angry or offended. "I understand that divorce is heavily frowned upon by the wizarding world, but I will release you from your debt as soon as Malfoy has enforced mine. Until then I intend to treat our marriage as real, which means that you get a say in our contract negotiations as in the rest of our lives."

"I don't want a lawyer," Severus gave back, pulling one of the papers towards him. "And I see you already drew up a contract."

"It's a preliminary draft," Potter corrected. "I had my lawyer draw it up with the requirement that it be as fair as possible and there a some things that we still need to decide - together."

"Living arrangements," Severus noted, reading over the contract. "Fidelity. Sexual intercourse. You want to join our vaults but retain individual ownership of personal items?"

"I believe we both have some things that we would not necessarily trust the other with," Potter explained simply. "I was not sure, though, how you wanted to treat properties. And I would suggest, unless you're emotionally attached to Spinner's End, that we buy a house together. Neutral ground, if you will."

"I do not factor my emotions into decisions like this," Severus snapped, but as he stared down at the contract in his hands he could not help but feel that Potter was being more than a little generous; he scoffed, guilty conscience, of course, such a Gryffindor phenomena. Potter felt that now that he got his way and effectively ruined Severus' life he could allay any twinges of his protesting conscience and placate Severus with acts of patronising generosity until he could happily tell himself that he was, in fact, doing Severus a favour.

"Would my suggestion be agreeable to you in that case?" Potter was immune to Severus' biting tone and oblivious to the undercurrents of his words. "I also own several properties, some of which I've never been to, so I could offer one of those as an alternative."

"I think it is best if we keep our properties separate," Severus stated. "And you already contacted an estate agent." He took up some prospects and a hand-written letter addressed to Mr. Harry James Potter from Melinda Hartwick, PS: Your devoted fan.

"Mrs. Hartwick sent me a folder with viable houses," Potter said. "She can get us keys when we know which ones we're most interested in."

"You already sorted out those that weren't to your liking," Severus said and it sounded accusing to his own ears; Potter maintained his infernal calm.

"I ranked them, yes, but I realise that we may not have the same idea about our future home and may not look for the same things in a house," Potter explained.

"Do any of those even have a potion's lab?" Severus demanded, leafing angrily through the folder.

"All of them already have a lab or offer enough space to put one in." Potter seemed a little surprised at the question. "I also had certain requirements regarding the wards and the possibility of adding onto them. They also all include a garden and in some cases a greenhouse where you can grow your own herbs, if you so wish. And they are rather secluded since I think we both value our privacy."

Severus swallowed an acerbic remark about Potter's thinking capabilities, instead perusing the housing portfolios in front of him. Potter took the opportunity to order some tea for himself, also receiving a small platter with miniature cakes that he devoured with obvious delight. Severus swallowed another acerbic remark about Potter's eating habits and sorted the properties into two piles.

"Which are the ones you're considering?" Potter asked, motioning to the stacks and pulling the smaller one towards himself at Severus' nod.

From the corner of his eye, Severus observed how Potter once again split the portfolios into two. He was unused and disturbed by Potter's matter-of-fact, business attitude, all calm and collected, no unnecessary shows of emotion, no temper tantrums, no pouting, no muttering under his breath about how Severus was ruining his life. It was unnerving. And now Potter had caught him staring, raising an eyebrow in question.

"There's no mention of children in the contract," Severus said the first thing that he could think of, cursing himself for the note of curiosity in his voice.

"And there won't be," Potter stated firmly.

"There are potions..."

"No," Potter interrupted him, showing more emotion than he had so far. "Call me naive, but I don't think children should be a contractual obligation. Plus, neither of us had an ideal childhood and I know what they say about vicious cycles: I don't think I could be the father my child would deserve, not at least, without someone by my side who is as committed to our family as I am."

"You said you wanted to treat our marriage as real."

"And I will. But we both know that this is not a love match. This is a marriage of convenience and those are no conditions for a child to be born," Potter explained and then sighed. "There will be no clause about children in that contract. That's final. Any more houses? Otherwise I think we found our three favourites."

Severus sneered and wordlessly threw another portfolio onto Potter's stack. He had no reason to feel slighted, he told himself, that Potter didn't want to start a family with him. He didn't like children and he sure as hell didn't like children with Potter's genes. But there was an angry twisting around his navel because Potter had once again assumed - assumed that Severus would be an unfit parent, assumed that their sham of a marriage wouldn't be a happy one, assumed that Severus would just nod complacently and move on as if this didn't affect him as well. Potter took a brief look at the property information and then nodded.

"I'll contact the estate agent as soon as we're done here," he said, pocketing the files and banishing the rest. "Have you considered what name you'd like to use after our wedding?"

"I'm not going to go around, calling myself 'Potter'," Severus bit out. "Not at least, if I have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice," Potter replied simply, writing something on a bright green piece of paper with one of those Muggle pens that did not require any finesse in their handling, did not call for the gentle and exact manoeuvring of a quill or the careful application of just the right amount of pressure to avoid ink blotches. Recalling Potter's atrocious handwriting, Severus supposed that pens were the safer choice.

"Excuse me, I must have missed the memo." He sneered, folded his thin arms over his chest. "I suppose you want to take my last name."

"Why not?" Potter asked innocently. "Though, I was rather thinking of taking a double name. I'm not quite ready to part with the name 'Potter'..."

"I do not appreciate being mocked," Severus replied tersely.

"I believe no one does," Potter answered, undisturbed. "And I'm not mocking you. I talked it over with Ron and Hermione, and with my PR manager, they all agree that this would show everyone that I'm serious about this marriage and that I'm not ashamed to be associated with you."

"You have a PR manager?" Severus' voice wavered between scornful and incredulous.

"You have any idea how many fan letters, interview requests, invitations to charity events, fundraisers, shop openings and photo shootings I get every day?" Potter asked. "I got those even during the war, though I guess most of them were intended as traps. Anyway, the sheer number of owls and floo calls I get every day and some friendly advice convinced me that I needed someone to help me deal with the press and public. You should probably talk to him as well, come up with what you want to tell everyone about our marriage." He reached for another brightly coloured piece of paper and wrote a name on it before handing it to Severus.

"Colin Creevey?" he read the name with incredulous horror. "Do tell me that you're not serious. And what the hell is this?" He angrily shook his hand, the lemon yellow piece of paper stubbornly clinging to his fingers.

"It's a post-it," Potter explained and his mouth did that curious little quirk again as if he was biting back a laugh. "There's a strip of adhesive at the back so that you can stick it to whatever surface you'd like."

"Why ever would I want to do that?" Severus demanded dangerously, picking at the thing gingerly.

"So that you can put it somewhere within easy view and be reminded of something important when you see it," Potter answered. "Hermione first got them for me when we were studying for our NEWTs."

"Have you ever considered," Severus said, his tone deceptively low and almost purring, "that if you want to stick notes or little smiley faces or whatever else you see fit to write down because you can't be bothered to take one minute to commit it to memory to your bedpost, the bathroom mirror or your forehead that there's one very simple spell even a first-year should be able to master that accomplishes just that?"

"There's also a spell to do away with the adhesive, is there not?" Potter asked, demonstratively sticking a post-it onto one of the folders. "Be glad that I didn't bring the heart-shaped ones."

Severus clenched his yaw; Potter chuckled.

"Why would I want to contact Mr. Creevey?" Severus demanded, his voice cutting through Potter's amusement. "I have no intention of making a spectacle out of myself."

"Which I appreciate by the way," Potter replied, inclining his head slightly. "But I'm afraid that any association with me inevitably attracts public interest and the question of how our marriage came to pass is bound to arise. You are free to tell them whatever you like – even to bugger off, if you'd prefer – but if you play your cards right, you could use it to improve your image. Colin will know how to spin the story just right to get the best response from the press. That's why you should talk to him, but it's your choice."

"Like everything else," Severus replied acidly and turned back to the contract draft, but from the corner of his eye he could just see Potter wiping over his mouth as if to capture a put-upon sigh that had threatened to escape; he didn't hold back the smirk of triumph that pursed his thin lips.

"Since you clearly find my company revolting, putting a fidelity clause in our marriage contract doesn't seem a good idea," Potter offered after a beat of silence. "Do you agree?" Severus was elated to hear the slight note of insecurity, of non-rhetoric question in Potter's voice, sign that finally, finally he was getting to him. About time.

"Tell me, Potter, what do you think Lucius Malfoy will do with his life debt once he realises that you're no longer available for marriage?" Severus asked instead of answering, reached for the tea pot on the table and gently tipped it to pour some of the aromatic brew in his cup. "What do your sources say about that?"

"The future is still on a different track," Potter explained, once again not sounding like the immature brat Severus knew him to be. "I hope that by calling in your life debt what was predicted will not come to pass, but it is impossible to foresee a future that has not yet been set into motion."

"So you still let others do the thinking for you," Severus taunted.

Potter had the gall to roll his eyes. "Personally, I think Malfoy will try to kill you. Which reminds me." He drew his wand, and Severus reacted on instinct, whipped out his own wand and vaulted himself out of his armchair, taking cover behind it.

Potter cocked his head, slowly lowering his wand.

"What are you doing?!" Severus shouted, not relaxing from his defensive stance and silently debating if he should just hex Potter now. On principle.

"Well, I guess that's good," Potter said softly. "But I wasn't going to attack you, just add my protection charms to your own."

"I don't want your protection," Severus spat. "And I dare you to point your wand at me again."

"Suit yourself," Potter agreed, pocketing his wand and sitting back down. "But if you get yourself killed, I'll be in the same mess as I'm now, so you'll find that granting me the right to protect you is part of our marriage agreement. A non-negotiable part. Anyway, I've answered your question, will you answer mine?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at his anger being so summarily dismissed. Severus had told Potter more than once that he should stop wearing his heart on his sleeve and think things through before rushing into dangerous situations or airing his unfounded opinions. But he didn't prefer this Potter over the immature, easily riled adolescent he had been for as long as Severus had had the misfortune of knowing him. This Potter was unconcerned with anything but getting what he wanted, stoically calm and aggressively passive and frankly, Severus found it insulting.

As if he had somehow read his thoughts, Potter sighed and looked up at him with chagrined eyes; Severus was struck by the thought that if it had been up to him, he would never have chosen a husband that was as obtrusively handsome as Potter. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drawn my wand on you without giving you a fair warning first. Merlin knows, I would have freaked out on you too if you had done that. We don't have much time, but that shouldn't be a justification to do away with common courtesies. So I'm sorry."

Severus studied the younger man carefully, looking for any trace of mockery, of deceit, before he slowly lowered his wand and retook his seat. "While I have no doubt that killing me seems like a sensible plan to you, Lucius Malfoy has never stooped to such inelegant solutions."

"What do you think he will do?" Potter asked, his eyebrows slightly drawn together in concentration.

"Something that does not require him to get his wand dirty," Severus answered after a short moment of hesitation; he was not in the habit of handing out complimentary advice, but there was also more than one reason why he was choosing to fulfil his life debt, not the least of which was the need to keep Potter's power well away from Malfoy's influence. "If you do not put a fidelity clause in our marriage contract, Malfoy will almost certainly demand that you bear him a child. Or would you not do anything to keep your child safe?"

Potter's face lost all colour so that for a moment Severus was half afraid he would throw up all over his dark green carpet. "I need a moment," Potter said instead and moments later the banging of the door finalised his departure from Severus' quarters.

Severus wanted to congratulate himself on finally accomplishing what he had set out to do from the moment Potter had stepped through his door – getting rid of him – but a traitorous part of his mind wondered if Potter was upset because of what Lucius Malfoy might be planning or because the prospect of being bound solely and exclusively to Severus was so abhorrent to him. Potter didn't want a fidelity clause, that much was clear. Maybe he already had a lover, one that was understanding or smitten enough that Potter could have continued their relationship even with Severus in the picture. And probably Potter had intended to keep their lives neatly separated, keep their interaction to the minimum. But if Severus was the only option?

Before Severus could decide how he felt about that, Potter re-entered his quarters and sat back down on the sofa. Composed. Calm. Calculating.

"Thank you for telling me," Potter said softly. "But it doesn't change anything. I called in your life debt to get me out of my present situation and I promised that you would have a say in our negotiations. I cannot suddenly demand more."

"So you still want no fidelity clause?" Severus asked incredulously, wondering if he should point out to Potter that his chivalry was wasted on him.

"No, I want one," Potter corrected. "But I can't demand... I won't demand that you give up even more of your freedom."

Potter's voice was calm, but when he reached for his tea cup Severus could see the slight trembling of his hands before he firmly wrapped them around the delicate china ware. Severus felt uncomfortable with the sudden turn their conversation had taken, with suddenly being the one who was calling the shots.

Even though, that wasn't what was happening, was it? Potter, it seemed, had learned more from Dumbledore, who had always known how to word his requests just so that there was no way to refuse, than his love of sweets. And if anything, Potter had the martyr act down to a par. Only that with Potter it wasn't an act: Severus could say no to a fidelity clause and Potter would accept it, maybe even waive his life debt because he realised how fruitless it would eventually be. Severus could say no.

"I'm not of a sociable nature," Severus said the words before he could give into his baser instincts. "And the requirement to remain faithful would hardly impede on my life style."

"Thank you," Potter replied with such a look of unabashed relief and gratitude on his face that Severus felt himself flounder for a moment.

"I believe that only leaves one last matter to discuss." Severus quickly collected himself, noting that the preliminary contract had changed to mirror what they had agreed upon so far.

Potter nodded thoughtfully, pushing papers aside, sorting through them and generally giving the air of being extremely busy. Severus had seen enough unprepared, homeworkless students to recognise such basic evading techniques. Somehow, Potter losing his directness and matter-of-fact attitude was not as rewarding as he had previously envisioned.

But then Potter looked up, his lips lifting a little in an embarrassed half-smile. "I think, unless you have anything else you'd like to point out to me that I have failed to consider so far, that I'll leave the question of sexual intercourse up to you."

Severus imperceptively straightened his spine, understanding that Potter was setting him up for ridicule. "Is that how you will approach all our married life, leave all the things you don't want to deal with to me?"

"On the contrary," Potter said, and damn, had he been quick to regain his calm. "I just have no desire to participate in rape. So I can only assure you that on my part it would be consensual. What you make of it... If you would prefer to only consummate our marriage once and otherwise keep our relationship on a non-physical level, I will of course accept that."

"And if I would prefer to fuck you through the mattress every other day, would you accept that as well?" Severus sneered, tasting out the coarse language even as his brain still tried to catch up to what Potter had implied.

Potter, short of being offended by his choice of words, seemed to find it amusing, stretching leisurely as if to show Severus exactly what he could soon touch and feel and possess. Severus noticed his blood pumping faster, his mouth suddenly dry and his clothes becoming itching and constricting. Potter, it had to be said, was a very good-looking specimen of the wizarding race. Lean muscles shifted under golden skin, long legs kicked out in graceful abandon, intense green eyes peered at him from under dark lashes, pitch-black hair curled around high cheekbones and finely-crafted ears; a study of contrasts, easy self-confidence and unwitting elegance. And Severus found that, even though he had been trying to scare Potter off and point out the foolishness of what he had said, he liked the picture his words had conjured up in his mind.

"I believe that is what I said," Potter replied, nodding for emphasis, and then held up one hand to stall Severus' biting retort. "Yes, I've thought about this, and yes, I know what we're talking about and yes, I'm certain. Especially given that we're putting in a fidelity clause, I don't see how exploring this possibility could hurt – that is, if you're interested. Are you?"

"Potter, what - "

But Potter interrupted him. "It's a simple question, isn't it? And I doubt you're worried about hurting my feelings..."

"Yes," Severus pressed out, bracing himself for Potter's laughter.

"I'm glad to hear that," Potter said instead. "Would you like to establish a minimum requirement or should I just put something like 'regular sexual intercourse by mutual consent'?"

"I prefer facts," Severus answered stiffly. "Though, as you cannot risk not fulfilling any part of this contract, I will not insist that we put what we agreed upon in writing."

"Contractual obligations concerning sex are seldom enforced by court," Potter pointed out with a shrug. "Not even in the wizarding world. But I would prefer not giving Malfoy an opening. Maybe we should continue this discussion once we had the opportunity to ascertain if our sexual likes and dislikes are compatible."

Potter once again shuffled through his papers, while the contract filled in the last point of their agreement. He then produced a quill, wordlessly handing it to Severus.

Truth be told, Severus did not like postponing that particular discussion, though even less did he want to be the one to start it up again. That would be too much like inviting Potter to make fun of him. What, had he so little confidence in his talents as a lover that he needed Potter's word beforehand that they would have sex, regardless? Pathetic. And for what? Horniness was never a good reason to do anything, least of all when you were well beyond your adolescence.

In any case, Potter's attention was no longer on Severus as he quickly and efficiently filled in several forms, pushing them over to Severus when he was done. Soon he had a whole pile of them, in addition to the still unsigned marriage contract.

"Are you done with that?" Potter asked, tugging the roll of parchment from under Severus' hand and quickly put his signature on the dotted line. "Is there a problem? Or would you just like to go over everything in peace?"

"When will the... ceremony take place?" Severus asked, putting the contract on top of his pile of parchment.

"Four o'clock," Potter answered. "Here at Hogwarts. I already told Professor McGonagall that I'll need her to meet me here at that time, but if you would like to have someone else stand as your witness, you should contact them now, of course taking the necessary precautions. Dobby will bring a collection of wedding rings over sometime before that. Pick whatever you like. He will also bring you dress robes, but feel free to wear something else if you don't like them. I booked a hotel room for tonight so you should pack whatever you will be needing."

"Who will perform the ceremony?" Severus demanded and stomped on the urge to ask Potter if he had taken care of the floral arrangements as well.

"Someone I trust," was all Potter would say, getting up and brushing down his robes. "Will you let me do the protective charms before I leave?"

"No." It was childish, even foolish, but Severus relished in being able to utter that one syllable, nonetheless, to thwart Potter's perfect plans even if just a little. This was his defiance.

"As you wish. Please have those papers signed by four o'clock. I'll see you in the Great Hall." After that Potter quickly packed up his things and left.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall didn't look any more festive than it usually did, in fact given the lack of students it appeared hollow and lifeless. Potter looked anything but. The ease with which he held himself, the radiance of his smile as he talked with his friends, the casual glance up when Severus entered the hall, it all confounded the Potions Master. So he turned his attention to the other people in the room: Granger and the youngest Weasley boy were in deep conversation with his future husband, their fingers intertwined in a sickening display of their intimacy. Minerva was sitting primly on her usual chair, her head turned towards the three young people but her thoughts obviously elsewhere. And lastly, a wizard older than Severus, with a neatly trimmed grey goatee and round glasses on his pug nose, pensively leafing through a thick book.

"Do you have the papers?" Potter greeted him, sending Weasley a quick smile when the redhead squeezed his shoulder in encouragement.

Severus placed the different rolls of parchment and sheets of paper on the Ravenclaw house table, prompting everyone present to gather around.

"Good," Potter said then turned to the old wizard. "You said there was a spell you needed to use?"

"To check that none of the concerned parties was coerced into giving his signature, yes," the wizard explained and Severus snorted. "You can always choose Azkaban if this arrangement is not to your liking, Mr. Snape."

"It's 'Professor'," Severus snapped. "And I can do without any unqualified opinions as to how I should run my life. I, unlike some people, can think for myself."

"So I've heard," the other man replied and Severus now knew where Potter had got his infuriating new attitude from. "Everything seems to be in order with these documents. Shall we proceed?"

"Please." Potter nodded and after some silent communication, Potter took a stand next to the older man, Weasley taking the place immediately next to him while Granger was still attached to his hand.

Minerva smiled a bit stiffly at Severus, looking for a moment as if she wanted to say something, maybe offer some words of advice or consolation, but then obviously remembered that Severus had never accepted such little wisdoms from anyone except Dumbledore - and even then only grudgingly. Instead she moved to stand opposite of Weasley, leaving enough space for Severus to position himself next to Potter.

He did so reluctantly and he had hardly locked his knees when the older man, whose name he still didn't know, started to speak. "We are gathered here today to witness the uniting in matrimony of Harry James Potter and Severus Tobias Snape." His voice was even, without noticeable inflection or accent, not loud but somehow ringing in Severus' ears as if he had still been suffering from a hangover. Maybe he was. "I am required to ask if there is any person here who knows of any lawful or magical impediment to this marriage, they should declare so now." There was silence; Severus wanted to break out into hysterical laughter and almost missed the man reminding them that the vows they were about to undertake were solemn and binding, how marriage was a sacred union between two people, voluntarily entered and everlasting. He wanted to laugh again.

"Are you, Harry James Potter, free lawfully and magically to marry Severus Tobias Snape?"

"I am." There was no hesitation, not even a hint of insecurity in Potter's voice.

"And are you, Severus Tobias Snape, free lawfully and magically to marry Harry James Potter?"

Severus cleared his throat and felt the reassuring weight of his wand against his arm. "I am."

"Please, turn to face each other and take each other's hands," he continued.

Suddenly Severus found himself face to face with his almost-husband, and though he couldn't later say if it had been Potter's initiative or his, Potter's slim, cool fingers were soon curled around his, their hold firm but not constricting.

"Repeat after me," the wizard took up again, addressing Potter. "I, Harry James Potter - "

"I, Harry James Potter - " Potter was looking right at him, dark green eyes boring into his, the pupils a little bit dilated because of the dim candle light that illuminated the hall.

" – take you, Severus Tobias Snape - "

" – take you, Severus Tobias Snape - " His voice was soft and certain, no longer the boyish squeak he had first come to Hogwarts with, but the darker and harder timbre of a young man who had seen too much.

" – to be my wedded husband."

" – to be my wedded husband." Potter's fingers tightened around his for a second, maybe to warn him that it would be his turn now, and Severus felt the calluses Potter had acquired during years of Quidditch practice and life or death missions.

His own declaration and the exchanging of the simple silver and black titanium wedding rings blurred past him. Had he looked at Potter, or avoided his gaze? Had his voice been even, clear? Had he added some acidic barb? Had he hesitated? Had his hands shaken when he slipped the wedding band onto Potter's finger? He couldn't have said.

"I hereby pronounce you married." The reality of the situation came rushing back with those final words. And they were final, weren't they? Severus had gone through the motions, he must have given his consent, and now he was married to Harry bloody Potter. "You may kiss." And then there was that.

"I'd rather not." The words were out of his mouth before he had time to consider that maybe he wasn't quite as averse to kissing Potter as he wanted to be.

"Well, we still have to sign the register." Potter gathered himself quickly. "You have the papers?"

The last was once again addressed to the old wizard, who produced a scroll that much to Severus' disgust was shimmering pink with some kind of legitimacy-checking-charm. He spread them out on the table, handed Potter a quill and watched him avidly as he signed his name on the bottom. The quill was then handed to Severus, who also set his name beneath the register, followed by Ronald Weasley and Minerva McGonagall. Finally, the quill circled back to the grey-haired wizard, who signed the piece of parchment with a flourish, tapped it with his wand and made it disappear before Severus could catch even a glance at his name.

"It has been sent to the room of records," he explained, also charming away the rest of the paperwork, supposedly sending them off to whatever office or department required them. "My work is done here."

Potter inclined his head, reaching for the older wizard's hand and squeezing it gratefully. "Thank you."

Severus thought he noticed a softening in the wizard's dark blue eyes. "Anytime, kiddo. I'll contact you if there's any new information about what we talked about earlier and I'll keep some eyes on the situation."

Potter nodded. "Sure you don't want to stay for some cake? Dobby made it so it's sure to be delicious."

"Ah no, you know how it is," the wizard said, brushing down his robes and tipping back his hat. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Potter replied, looking after him until he disappeared through the huge double doors and then turned back to the rest of them. "Can I interest you all in some cake?"

"Are you kidding me, I'm starving!" Weasley cried out, thumping Potter on the back and then expectantly plopping down in a chair, thus giving the signal for the house-elves to send up not one cake but four, each topped with two dress-robed sugar figurines. Each and every one of Severus' sugary selves was scowling, glaring or sulking. One of them had even kicked the more mild-mannered Potter figurine off the cake. Severus resolved to bite off the head of one of the little Potters – any more and he would probably have to throw up.

The small Potter simile, far from being offended, started to strut over the table, his feet leaving little chocolaty foot prints on the pristine white table cloth.

"Amazing," Granger breathed, holding out her hand for the small Potter figurine to climb onto and then bringing him up to eye level. "Isn't it amazing what house-elf magic is capable of? It would be almost impossible to achieve the same result with charms and enchantments."

"I can attest to that," Weasley chortled. "Remember that time Mione tried to cook for us, Harry? Merlin, that was a disaster!"

"Well, next time, you can cook while I sit on the couch and make unhelpful comments," Granger snapped.

"Guys, we already had this discussion, remember?" Potter intervened, pulling a chair out for Minerva to take a seat before he went around the table and did the same for the bushy-haired girl. "Dobby was terribly offended that you wouldn't let him help you and you promised him that he could cook from now on when we were all together. Please, help yourself to the cake. A word, please?" The last part - and Severus at first did not register it because he had been trying to decide which of the sugar figures would land in his stomach – was addressed to him and Potter motioned for him to follow him a bit away from the group.

"What, Potter?" He sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the unfamiliar ring catch on his robes.

"Two things: First, feel free to keep calling me 'Potter', but I'm not in the habit of being on a second-name basis with the people I sleep with, so I'm going to start calling you by your first name. You have until tonight to get used to the idea," Potter – or technically Potter-Snape – told him. "Second, as per our agreement, I'm now allowed to put you under my protection and I want to do that before it gets out that we're married. Right now, to be exact."

Potter's wand was in his hand before Severus could do much more than blink. Severus wanted to be offended, wanted to tell Potter what an abyssal warning that had been, but a part of him was impressed and another part recognised that Potter probably did not know how to draw his wand any slower, that he had never had the need to learn.

"I have no need for your protection," Severus pointed out instead.

"And yet you would be a fool to turn it down," Potter replied simply. "I'm not questioning your ability to protect yourself."

Severus was aware that there were quite a few things Potter could have said to advertise his plan, and indeed refusing Potter's protection out of ill-fated pride seemed like a very stupid thing to do, especially considering how many enemies he and Potter had combined. But there was a gulf between what Severus knew and what he was willing to accept and however foolish it might be, Severus was not willing to accept Potter's protection.

"You realise that this is not optional," Potter said. "This is part of our deal."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Severus pressed out. "I won't give you my permission."

"Very well," Potter replied, raising his wand.

Even though Severus told himself not to be impressed, the complexity and power behind Potter's spellwork was extraordinary. Severus felt the magic almost lift him off his feet, wrap around him like a cocoon, permeating his skin and leaving it tingling.

"Done," Potter declared, lowering his wand and letting it disappear up his robe sleeve. "How are you feeling?"

"That is none of your concern." Severus angrily brushed past Potter, bumping his shoulder hard into Potter's, even while he thought that barely half an hour after being married to Potter he was sinking to such lowly measures.

"I'm just asking because Ron felt rather dizzy after I did this charm on him so I had to adjust it," Potter explained, following him back to the table where the others were sitting. "So do tell me if you have an adverse reaction to it."

He ignored Potter. Granger was talking animatedly with Minerva, something about improving Muggle-Wizarding relations, about repairing the damage done to the school, about question seventeen on Granger's NEWTs for Transfiguration. Weasley was stuffing his face with chocolate cake.

"The cake to your liking?" Potter asked sarcastically, sinking into the chair next to Weasley and playfully shoving his shoulder. "Good thing we came back so quickly or there would have been none left for us."

"You wound me, and to think that I took upon myself the great risk of tasting your food to make sure it wasn't poisoned," Weasley's eyes opened wide in mock hurt; Severus bit his tongue because Minerva's thinly pressed lips told him that any comment about Weasley's ability to recognise any potion, be it beneficial or harmful, would not be appreciated.

Potter chuckled before abruptly turning to him. "Would you like some cake? Or maybe you'd like to bite my head off?" He motioned to the little sugar Potter that was sitting cross-legged on the table cloth, slowly licking away his fingers.

Severus sneered, angry at being so transparent, and Potter grinned obnoxiously before reaching for his plate and putting some of the dark chocolate cake on it. "Can I offer you another piece as well, Professor?" he asked, after handing Severus his plate back.

"Yes, gladly, but I think I'd like to try the walnut cake now," Minerva – and wasn't she supposed to be on his side? – held out her plate and Potter heaped a generous slice of the triple layered cake on it. "I must say the house-elves really outdid themselves today."

Less than five minutes later, Potter, Weasley, Granger and Minerva were all engaged in vivid conversation and polite small talk, eating cake, drinking coffee and tea, smiling at each other, while Severus wondered when they would finally notice that he was treating them with hostile silence.

"Who was that man?" He demanded suddenly, staring accusingly at Potter.

"A friend," Potter replied without missing a beat, giving Severus his full attention even though he clearly had no intention of elaborating.

"Forget it, man," Weasley spoke up and Severus' eye twitched at the familiar address. "Harry won't tell any of us what he's up to at work or who he's working with."

"That's because I can't," Potter said evenly, the last forkful of cake disappearing between his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, mate." Weasley energetically waved his long limbs around. "Just making a point that it's best not to ask."

"I at least the deserve the courtesy of knowing if that man was even in any position to marry us," Severus insisted. "Just because he's a friend of the great Harry Potter, it doesn't mean that what took place today will hold up in front of the courts."

"Of course it will," Potter said simply. "Would you like me to contact the Ministry to check? Though, I believe they will send us our marriage certificate as soon as the marriage has been consummated."

Minerva choked on her herbal tea and started coughing, her wiry hands fluttering over her chest. Severus crossed his arms over his chest, trying to kill Potter with his glare while the sweet taste of the sugar Potter still lingered in his mouth, rotting his teeth.

"Then why are we wasting time on cake when according to you, Lucius Malfoy is about to step out of court with a life debt against you in his hand?" Severus hissed, leaning over the table towards Potter and ignoring Weasley's tomato red face, Granger's nervous clearing of her throat and Minerva's embarrassed shuffling with her napkin.

"The marriage has to be consummated within the first month in order to be valid," Potter explained. "Eating some cake will not give Malfoy enough ground to impugn our marriage. And I'm expecting an owl soon about the outcome of Malfoy's hearing."

Severus dug his finger nails into the palm of his hand to stave off the angry flush that wanted to spread over his pale cheeks at Potter's half-scolding, half-informatory tone. They were married now and no one in their right mind would call their bluff if they actually waited until their wedding night to consummate their union. Severus knew that. He wondered if Potter had misinterpreted his comment as eagerness, if any of the people in the hall thought that he couldn't wait to have Potter writhing underneath him. He wondered, too, if there would be a kernel of truth in their assumption. Salazar help him, but ever since he had been forced to consider the possibility of having sex with Potter, it had been at the forefront of his mind. What did that make him? A man willing to make the best of the situation or a horny old pervert lusting after his former student?

The imperious screech of Potter's owl interrupted his thoughts and he was inclined to feel grateful until Potter wordlessly handed over the note he had received. It was the verdict, verbatim as the court scribe had recorded it, and Lucius Malfoy's claim had been recognised: For the heroic act of his late wife, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, which saved Harry Potter's life, said Mr. Potter owed Lord Malfoy a life debt, to be paid whenever and however Lord Malfoy demanded. Underneath the official statement, someone had scrawled three words: Good work, kiddo. Severus imagined they had been written by the same wizard, who had guided them through the ceremony, but he was not sure what to make of them. So Potter had thought for himself, for once? Had done the research, gathered the information and decided what to do? Severus, in his assessment of the situation, had always envisioned a Dumbledore-like character silently pulling the strings in the background. But that message implied otherwise and it did not sit well with the idea he had of Potter.

"Letters to some of my friends," Potter explained, having misinterpreted Severus' stare, and tied a pile of letters to his owl's leg. "I don't want them to learn of our marriage from the papers. Would you like to send some as well? I can tell Hedwig to wait."

"I have not written any notes." Severus thought that this answer was less pathetic than admitting that he had no one to inform of his change in marital status.

Potter nodded, turned back to his owl and petted her with gentle fingers before she tripled onto his arm, ready for him to launch her into the air. The bird curred, soft and motherly, affectionately nipped Potter's wrist and then spread her majestic white wings, taking off with a sharp flap.

The awkward silence that followed corroded Severus' nerves like the Mandrake Restorative Draught, simmering over a small flame, before one could add the Mandrake root: one of the most caustic concoctions known to wizards. Not that Potter would know that.

"Well, I must get back to work," Minerva spoke up. "The school doesn't run itself after all."

"Of course," Potter got up and accepted her hand. "Thank you for letting us use the Great Hall, Professor."

Minerva waved her hands as if to ward of Potter's gratitude, but the wrinkles around her mouth were not as pronounced as they usually were, softened by nostalgia and a certain bias in regards to her former protégé. Severus wondered if he was the only one immune to Potter's helpless but oh-so-brave orphan-act, if one by one they would all succumb to his innocent airs and leave him in a world of Potter's devoted fans.

"Oh, and, Mr. Potter, Severus?" she turned around, already halfway to the door. "Congratulations. I hope you both make an effort to make your marriage a happy and healthy one." Severus was not surprised to find that she was directing the last part at him and he answered her well wishes with a scowl.

"We should be going as well," Granger declared, stepping towards Potter and pulling him into a strong hug. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Harry. Take care, okay? I don't want to be getting any Floo calls telling me that you're in danger again."

"I'll see what I can do." Potter grinned, patted her back. "Thanks for being here today."

"That's how it is, mate," Weasley spoke up, also drawing Potter into a one-armed, manly bump of chests. "You just say the word, and we'll always come. Thanks for making me best man, though, it was an honour."

"Hope I'll be returning the favour soon," Potter murmured and Weasley's face turned the colour of an overly ripe tomato; Potter laughed. "I'll see you soon."

"Sunday, family dinner," Weasley corrected, taking Granger's hand.

Granger offered Severus a quick, half-hearted word of congratulation and then suddenly they were alone in the Great Hall. Potter turned to the table, piling up the used plates and collecting the used cutlery, but seconds later the house-elves zapped the table clean, leaving Potter no choice but to face him.

Severus had never considered himself favoured in what Muggles referred to as a the genetics department, but on occasions like these his impressive height allowed him to look down his hooked nose, dark eyes boring into his unfortunate victim.

"Would you like to check out some of those houses before going to the hotel?" Potter asked. "I've got the keys."

"Postponing the inevitable?" Severus sneered. "How very un-Gryffindor."

"You're right," Potter said, ignoring Severus' jab. "It will be getting dark soon, so maybe it's not the right time to look at houses. Do you want to stop by your rooms before we take the Portkey?"

"Take the Portkey where?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest in anticipation of Potter telling him that once again he couldn't say.

"I don't know. Hermione and Ron picked several hotels. The Portkey is combined with a Random Generator Spell; where we end up will only be decided in the moment that we take the Portkey," Potter explained, not bothering to repeat his own question and instead peering expectantly up at Severus.

Severus wasn't quite sure how to respond to Potter's words and so he just stretched out his hand, waiting for Potter to pull another one of his Muggle writing utensils out of his robe and offer it to him. He closed the remaining distance, the smooth plastic of the ballpoint pen cool on his fingertips.

"Paid in full," Potter murmured, and Severus felt the familiar jerk behind his navel as the Great Hall was twisted out of proportions.

Chapter Text

When his feet connected with firm ground and the world around them came into focus again, they were in a spacious, brightly lit foyer with marble floor and creamy couches arranged around ebony coffee tables.

"Mr. Potter!" a lanky wizard with a neatly coiffed side parting hastened towards them, both hands outstretched towards Potter. "What an unexpected honour! Lochlyn Lane, at your service. Please, what can I do for you today?"

"Friends of mine made reservations, under the name Parkland?" Potter graciously accepted the overeager handshake, but quickly freed himself again.

"Of course, of course. Let me check the register. Such an honour! We would have made more suitable arrangements if we had known..." he looked up in apology before quickly going back to consulting a scroll on the front desk; all the while, he didn't spare Severus even a glance.

"Take your time," Potter replied, taking a few measured steps towards the desk and casually pulling out one of the strategically stacked leaflets, glancing briefly at it before handing it to Severus.

The Serenity Seaside Resort, it read in huge curvy letters and Severus mentally took points for the unoriginal name.

"Ah, here it is, Mr. Potter," the receptionist finally declared. "Oh, but there must have been a mistake. Let me just check... I'm sure I can find more suitable rooms for you..."

"Whatever my friends booked will be fine," Potter declared. "If you could give us the keys, please?"

"But, Mr. Potter, I'm certain you would be more comfortable in our Seaside Suite. It's the best accommodation in our hotel and it offers a truly spectacular view over the shore," Lane explained eagerly. "This will only take a second."

"I appreciate the offer, but I would really prefer the room that was booked in advance and that I'm paying for." Potter reached over the counter and stilled the other man's hand with his own. "Please. I would consider it a personal favour."

"Well, of course, in that case. If you're sure, but it really wouldn't..."

"I'm sure," Potter interrupted. "Thank you."

"Could we move this along then?" Severus finally spoke up, having had enough of the perpetual back and forth and foreboding another objection from the receptionist.

"I will be with you in a moment, sir," Lane addressed him much less warmly than he had Potter, only briefly looking up at him.

"Actually we are here together," Potter intervened. "It won't be a problem to get two keys, will it? And you have the details of my vault, I assume. Do I need to sign anything?"

"Ah, no, no that was all taken care of already," the receptionist floundered a little, but then quickly found back into his well-rehearsed lines. "Here are your keys, room 17, one of our best. If you'll follow me? Do you have any luggage?"

"My house-elf is in charge of that, thank you," Potter said, taking a few steps to follow Lane then slowed his pace until Severus had caught up with him. "Room key?"

Severus took it wordlessly, feeling strangely embarrassed and watched even though the receptionist was walking with his back to them. But Severus was well aware of what he must be thinking, speculating what Harry Potter was doing at a hotel with the much hated Death Eater-turned-spy. No doubt, it would be in the Daily Prophet come morning, maybe they'd even print a special edition.

"Breakfast will be served from half past six to eleven in the great dining hall downstairs," Lane droned on, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds so that Severus considered it a small miracle that he didn't run into any walls. "The house-elf assigned to your room is Binky, please, call her or the reception if there is anything we can assist you with."

Severus wasn't really listening, too many thoughts clamouring for his attention and the soft squeaks of Potter's footwear more distracting than they had any right to be. And it wasn't only Potter's shoes. Potter's entire being was a distraction, alluded to something that had never been there. Not for Severus at least. There was no warmth, no joy, no protective presence, no... and Severus didn't even dare think about that. But nonetheless, Potter radiated goodness, and freedom, and purity like a bloody furnace. Not for Severus, but in general. For Severus, Potter was not quite an enemy, a liability perhaps, a burden in any case, a noose that steadily grew tighter around his neck. But a tiny, foolishly optimistic and incorrigibly sentimental part of him longed to be included in Potter's circle of light, just like his teenage self had always secretly longed to be a part of Potter Sr.'s tightly knit group of misfits.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter." Severus was doubtful that anyone could have packed more enthusiasm in such a simple sentence than Lane did. "Can I do anything else for you? It would be an honour."

Potter unlocked the door, holding it open for Severus in a move that the Potions Master found condescending rather than polite and then turned to the receptionist, treating him to a kind smile.

"Actually there is, if you don't mind." Potter's wand was in his hand in the blink of an eye. "Obliviate." Potter waited a moment for the spell to take effect and the glazed look in Lane's eyes to tell him that the other man was now susceptible to whatever ideas Potter wanted to plant in his head. "You just saw two guests to their room. The name was Parkland. They were polite but unremarkable. They do not want to be disturbed. You will now return to your desk and finish the rest of your shift."

"Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Parkland," Lane murmured and then turned obediently, returning to from whence he came.

"So do you make a habit of obliviating people?" Severus asked sarcastically, looking scornfully down at Potter. "Any chance they'll be coming to incarcerate you for the use of unauthorized magic?"

"Sorry, no." Potter shrugged, closing the door firmly behind him. "I have permission to obliviate anyone I see fit to protect my identity and my whereabouts. It's one of the perks of the job."

"You're not working," Severus protested, but of course Potter wouldn't see that as a reason to give up his privileges.

"I'm always working."

He threw a wry smile over his shoulder before turning away from Severus and starting a long series of chants and complicated wand motions, obviously warding their rooms. Severus took the time to look around the suite of rooms, spacious and airy. They were standing in a living room, two smaller couches arranged around a low glass table and a soft cream-coloured carpet spread over the dark wood floor. A fireplace, lit and crackling merrily, lent light to the room that was furthermore illuminated by several floating candles. The living room led to a balcony, a wide glass front protecting them from the cold night air and see-through white curtains framing the view over a moon-lit park. One closed door, Severus supposed, would open to the bathroom and another door, this one open, allowed him a glimpse of the bedroom that was dominated by a huge bed with pristine white covers offset against the wine-red carpet that covered a great square of the room.

Potter finished the warding and pocketed his wand again before casually throwing his dress robe over the back of one of the couches and sauntering over to the bedroom, curiously peering around Severus' form blocking the door.

"Not bad," he commented before he turned away again. "Mind if I take a quick shower?"

"By all means." Severus didn't bother to turn around.

"Great, I won't be ten minutes," Potter answered and soon after Severus heard the sigh of the door as it opened and the soft click when it was closed again.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, only for a second, a moment of weakness that he allowed himself. Maybe it was a good thing that he would have a few minutes to himself because every breath was a struggle and even though his outward demeanour did not betray it, his pulse was racing and his magic was all but lashing out against himself, against Potter, against the world. Severus wasn't normally prone to losing his calm - he had never been able to afford it – but his life had been changed so drastically from one day to the next that it was hard to keep his composure.

He felt lost, out of place in this unfamiliar hotel room with the clean white sheets and airy freshness. Even when a soft plop announced the arrival of the overnight bag he had packed, it didn't make it anymore his world. He did not belong here, not alone and least of all with Potter in the next room, probably already undressed.

He could hear the shower start, the babbling of water, which meant that Potter was definitely naked by now. It was rather telling that his mind was stuck on the thought of Potter without clothes. Truth was, he should be dreading what was to come next, resent Potter for demanding something like this for saving Severus' life when Severus had never wanted to be saved in the first place and certainly hadn't given his permission. But he wasn't. He was excited.

The shower shut off and Severus realised that he was running out of time. Potter seemed to have a plan for everything. Severus wondered what his plan was for this. Severus was almost certain that a part of Potter clung to romantic notions of sex being something to be shared between two people who cared deeply about each other. And it was clear that that description did not apply to them. Severus himself had never cared for such restrictions, but Potter was a Gryffindor after all, though he had put as much emotion into their wedding as in a simple business transaction. Although Severus had no desire to play the considerate, patient soothing influence faced with a nervous, blushing bride, seeing Potter not quite as in control and not quite as self-assured would be a blessing.

The clearing of a throat made him swivel around and the sight that met his eyes made him catch his breath. By Merlin, how could it be that one single person was so blessed by the Gods? Potter was casually leaning against the doorway, a white towel wrapped snug around his slim waist, while his right hand was occupied with rubbing another, smaller towel over his head, the pitch-black hair sticking out even more wildly than usual. His skin was still glistening with stray drops of water, a soft golden hue, smooth, unblemished except for a few small scars and a line of freckles across his nose. Potter's stature wasn't impressive, average height, lithe, with modestly broad shoulders and ridiculously compact hips, but he had a decent amount of muscle and held himself with confidence.

"So... any preference how you want to go about this?" Potter asked, snapping him out of what he hoped had been a discreet appraisal of the other man's body, and padded towards him, abandoning the hand towel on one of the conveniently placed chairs.

"I'm not going to spread my legs for you, Potter," Severus snapped, realising that Potter was not doing him the favour of being as uncomfortable about this whole situation as he should be, and being seized by the sudden fear that maybe Potter expected to take the lead in this as well.

"I prefer to bottom, actually, so I don't think that will be a problem," Potter offered. "Unless, you meant that it a more general sense, in which case I'm sorry, but consummating our marriage is part of the deal."

Potter was peering at him expectantly, though what he expected Severus could not fathom so he just stared back, trying not to get distracted by the dewdrops of water that dripped from Potter's wet hair and got caught in his long lashes.

"Do you want to postpone?" Potter finally offered, taking a step back and wandlessly summoning a bathrobe.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Severus refuted almost too quickly, loathe to see Potter's body be covered up.

"Then tell me what would be?" Potter demanded, the bathrobe hanging limply over his arm. "I was under the impression that you weren't averse to at least the physical aspect of this marriage, if you changed your mind or if I misunderstood there's not much else I can offer you."

"I never dreamed of saying this, but you're overthinking, Potter," Severus replied, somehow bolstered by Potter's apparent frustration and helplessness.

With a display of his own wandless magic, though weaker and more strenuous, he summoned the bathrobe and threw it aside. "You won't be needing that."

Potter grinned and he found the sight not as revolting as he had previously assumed. The soft sway of slender hips, on the other hand, was positively riveting and when he finally managed to shake off his daze, Potter was standing almost in front of him.

"I hope you know a spell for all those buttons," Potter whispered, cocking his head and slowly licking over his lips. "May I, Severus?"

His name, falling from those full pink lips, sent a jolt through his body that Potter interpreted as a nod, gentle fingers trailing over the row of tiny buttons that held his robes closed. Potter swayed against him and Severus found himself supporting the other man's weight as Potter lifted onto his tiptoes, tilting his head up and bringing his lips to hover millimetres in front of Severus'. He waited a moment longer, giving Severus the chance to either pull back or close the distance, but when Severus didn't do anything, he lifted those last few millimetres. It was not quite a kiss, more like a soft press of the lips, a gentle caress with the potential for so much more. If Severus allowed it.

But he hesitated. This was a trap if he had ever seen one. Someone like Potter – famous, good-looking, young – would never be interested in someone like Severus. Potter's interest, like everything else about him, was informed by his desire to play martyr. This wasn't about Severus, not at all.

"Now who's overthinking?" Potter asked mockingly, trailing one finger along Severus' sharp yaw. "I entered this marriage of my own free will, you know? You don't need to protect me from myself."

"That's an exercise in futility," Severus remarked, pushing Potter's hand away and instead grasping him hard by the hips. "You have no idea what you signed up for."

"You didn't see all the information I gathered," Potter pointed out, unconcerned. "Would you care for some foreplay or would you rather just stick to the basics?"

"That is not the issue," Severus growled, digging his fingers even harder into Potter's unnaturally soft skin.

"It might be the solution, though," Potter whispered, pressing up against Severus and rubbing their groins together. "I've been told that my blowjobs are pretty amazing. Interested?"

He didn't give Severus the time to reply, instead compelled the older man to take a step back with a quick, efficient press of fingers against his chest until Severus could feel the edge of the bed against the back of his thighs, and then dropped to his knees in front of him. His hands – long-fingered, slender like Severus' – rested idly in his lap and those almond-shaped, dark green eyes – exactly like Lily's – peered up at him with no trace of impatience, unobstructed by Potter's glasses that he must have left in the bathroom.

Slowly, Severus sank down on the bed, capturing Potter's hand when he went to open his fly. "Why are you doing this, Potter?"

"I do enjoy sex." Potter's shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "Very much so."

"No," Severus growled, squeezing Potter's hand until he was sure it hurt. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because it'll protect me from Malfoy and because frankly, I care much less about destroying your happiness than about the happiness of my friends," Potter said evenly, but Severus felt the words like a slap. Of course.

Potter's brutal honesty had one positive effect, though: Severus found it much easier to deal with the younger man when enraged instead of encumbered with a guilty conscience, frustration and hesitation because Potter had once again managed to put himself in the role of the victim.

He released Potter's hand and in the same movement buried his potion-stained fingers in Potter's hair, tugging harshly on the still damp strands. "Then what are you waiting for." He sneered, satisfied by the small sound of pain that escaped the other wizard.

But Potter's hands were gentle as they opened his fly and freed his erection, wrapped lightly around his shaft and weighed his balls in the palm of his hands. Soft breath ghosted over the sensitive tip of his erection as Potter slowly leant forward to close his lips around the head, his tongue swirling teasingly once around his erection and lapping at the drop of precome that had already gathered at the tip.

Severus tightened his hold on Potter's hair, braced himself with his free arm on the bed and unceremoniously thrust into the younger wizard's mouth. He was not in the mood to be teased and his cruel side relished in the gagging cough that shook Potter's form, though trapped in his throat. Severus barely took a moment to enjoy the hot, tight wetness of Potter's mouth before he pushed in even further, giving Potter no chance to get his gag reflex under control as his erection slid down Potter's throat. Severus groaned, closing his eyes to fully relish the feeling of heat, power and control. That was what he had been missing; for the first time in days he felt truly in control again and with Potter on his knees, nearly suffocating on his heavy erection and too weak fingers pushing in vain against his hips, he could almost taste the power on his tongue.

Potter swallowed convulsively around his erection, ripples of pleasure shooting up Severus' spine, and took a deep breath through his nose. Then his fingers released their vice-like grip on Severus's hips, and he actually relaxed into Severus' deep, forceful thrusts. His lips, carefully pulled over his teeth, applied gentle pressure to Severus' shaft, producing an obscene slurping noise whenever Severus drew back, and his tongue managed to swirl almost lazily around his erection, teasing the thick vein on its underside.

But Severus was relentless in the pursuit of his own pleasure and being teased, verbally, emotionally or sexually had never been high on his list of favourite pastimes. And so he didn't allow Potter much room to move, spared barely a glance for the rather appetising sight of Potter with his mouth full of cock, and thrust ruthlessly into the hot cavern until he spilled his seed down Potter's throat.

Potter's fingers tensed on his hips again at the unexpected gush of hot liquid down his throat, but like an obedient, well-trained catamite he swallowed everything, gently easing Severus' spent cock out of his mouth and catching a drop of come from the corner of his lips, licking it off his fingers.

Severus lay flat on the soft covers, his legs dangling over the end of the bed, his breathing heavy, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. It was one thing to take advantage of Potter's shameless advances, but quite another to make those advances himself. And hadn't he been worried about making a good impression on Potter so that he would get sex regularly? Well, that he had failed at spectacularly. He watched Potter through half-lidded eyes, looking for clues of the other man's next step and readying himself for insults, accusations and sniping comments to spew from the younger man's reddened lips.

Potter stretched languidly, straightened his spine and pulled his arms over his head before he got up, rubbing a hand over his knees. When the towel slipped from around his waist, he made no move to stop its downward slide, letting it pool around his slim legs. With a small hand gesture he conjured up a bottle of water, uncapping it and taking a sip before he placed it on the bedside table.

The bed dipped slightly, warning Severus of Potter's presence next to him, but nonetheless he startled when Potter suddenly touched his shoulder. "I take it you enjoyed that." Potter sounded insufferably smug again and Severus thought it best to shut him up before it got any worse.

He grasped Potter by the wrist and with a sharp tug, a little unnecessary twist, and a bit of quick manoeuvring he had Potter underneath him, spread out like an offering to the Gods. To him.

Potter's lightly tanned skin looked bronze in the sparse, warm glow of the few floating candles that had followed them into the bedroom and against the white bedspread. Healthy in comparison to Severus' sallow skin tone. Potter's eyes looked even more exotic against his dark skin, so much like Lily's that it almost hurt physically, but there was still no doubt in them, no fear, no hesitation, no shame. Maybe Potter had taken a Calming Draught, ignorant of its potentially addictive nature and the possible side effects. Maybe it had been an aphrodisiac instead.

"You smell really good, Severus," Potter whispered hoarsely, pressing his nose against Severus' throat and throwing one long leg over Severus' waist.

"Shut up, Potter," Severus retorted, pushing the other wizard harder into the pillows.

"Don't you think you're a little overdressed for the occasion?" Potter asked, ignoring his warning. "You'll get hot and sweaty, all over your nice robes..."

He didn't wait for Severus' permission, trailing slender fingers along the high collar of the Potions Master's robes and then started to slip the tiny buttons through their holes, caressing, licking, nipping at the revealed skin with the same forwardness.

"You taste good too," Potter commented between licks, sliding his hands under the black material and easing it over Severus' strong shoulders.

"I told you to shut up," Severus snapped, capturing Potter's hands and pinning them over his head. "Do you ever do as you're told?"

"Maybe if you give me the right incentive," Potter offered, struggling half-heartedly against his hold. "It kind of depends on the tone, you know?"

Severus didn't deign him with an answer. He felt the control slipping through his fingers, their roles starting to reverse again just because he was unsure what to do, hesitated. And that made him angry at Potter, but mostly at himself. When had he ever allowed someone to get to him, past his armour of self-control and acribic preparedness? In his days as a spy there had been nothing that could throw him off balance. But now? He hadn't felt so off kilter since his schooldays. And in front of his school nemesis' spawn, that was unacceptable.

"Make yourself useful and summon the lubricant from my bag, Potter," Severus ordered, getting off of the younger man and ridding himself of his robes and trousers, stripping down to naked skin. "This does not require another smartass comeback," Severus added, silencing the younger man with a glare.

He chose to ignore the curious quirking of Potter's lips and took the small vial of specially prepared lubricant from Potter's outstretched hand.

"Turn over," he then ordered, trying not to stare greedily at the smooth contours of the young man's body, the discreet ripple of muscles as he rolled around or the perfect curve of Potter's lower back and butt.

He had, however, a hard time ignoring the pleasure-filled moan that spewed from Potter's lips when his still hard erection was pushed into the mattress. It was sinuous and low, a plea perhaps for Severus to do something or maybe a reminder that Potter could take care of those needs himself if Severus didn't get a move on. But it was easier to act now that he didn't have to contend with Lily's eyes. Seeing just Potter's back, he could imagine that he was dealing with his school-time rival and not with his former pupil. And he had no qualms about taking advantage of James Potter.

"Lift up," he commanded, taking a pillow to stuff under Potter's hips, but instead the younger man got onto his hands and knees, presenting his perky little butt to Severus; he could work with that.

He rested one hand on Potter's hips, nudging him a bit, more to make a point than out of necessity, and one-handedly popped the cork of the small vial with practised ease.

"How much preparation do you need?" No, he wasn't going to let Potter take the lead anymore, but he was still only half his age and Severus wasn't about to hurt the boy.

"Two fingers and slow or three fingers and fast," Potter answered after a brief moment of consideration; Severus wanted to know if he had blushed, if there was any shame or modesty left in him. It was almost enough to turn the younger man around.

But he didn't, feeling instinctively that Potter facing away from him was the safer option. Instead, he dribbled some of the lubricant on his once again heavy erection, spreading it with two deliberately light strokes, and then coated three of his fingers with the oily liquid.

That first breach - Severus was acutely aware that he had crossed the line now, no going back, no backing out. It was liberating, all his doubts and hesitations wiped away, his world narrowing down to this hotel room, the young man on the bed and the endless possibilities of what he could do to him.

"Please." Potter pushed back against his fingers, whining happily when Severus' fingertips grazed his prostate. "Please, need more, Severus."

"Shh, it's all right," he found himself using the gentle, soothing voice that only his Slytherins ever got to hear, when they were distraught, home-sick or needed someone to just be on their side. "Relax."

Potter chuckled breathlessly, peering at him over his shoulder. "I'm relaxed. And impatient."

Severus had to hide a small, but nonetheless perceptible answering smile, and his hands had lost their harshness when he grasped Potter's hips once more and buried himself in the younger man with one smooth, calculated thrust. Potter keened, throwing his head back and curling his fingers in the soft bedspread.

Severus was about to ask if Potter was in pain when the other wizard pushed back against him, forcing Severus' even deeper into the tightness of his body. Severus sucked a breath through his teeth. Tight. Hot. His. His previous anger had all but dissipated to be replaced by a barely noticeable fondness for this young man who had placed himself so unquestioningly at his mercy and showed no sign of the resentment, distaste, distrust and hatred that Severus faced every day. Instead he seemed to be enjoying himself if the sounds of pleasure, the answering movements of his hips and incoherent pleas and encouragements were any indication.

It was sheer instinct that he leaned down and brushed his lips against Potter's neck, licking at the small drops of sweat and tracing the nubs of his spine with his tongue. He regretted it immediately, but the all but whimper that came from Potter and the way his body jerked at the unexpected sensation made it almost worth it. He did it again, simultaneously thrusting hard into the pliant body, and Potter collapsed under him, screaming his pleasure into the pillows.

When Potter started to push himself up again, Severus slung an arm around his chest and spun him around, making him land on his back. Legs wide apart, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, chest heaving with excitement, lips forming a little o, erection still heavy with drops of pre-come glistening at the tip.

"Don't stop now, please," Potter whispered, stretching one leg up and gently placing it on Severus' shoulder. "So close."

Severus slid back into the young man, tight muscles constricting around his erection, wet heat engulfing him with intricate possessiveness. Potter groaned and Severus echoed the sentiment whole-heartedly, though he suppressed any sound that wanted to escape.

With Potter's feet crossed behind his head, he quickly found back into his rhythm - deep, slow, sensual – claiming Potter with every thrust, every caress of knobbly knees and slight pectorals, every breath they shared between open-mouthed kisses. By Salazar, but if this was how married life would be like, he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

He plunged himself into Potter's smaller body with abandon, over and over and over again, feeling the muscles yielding to his intrusion even as Potter's hands reached up to clutch desperately at his arms, tightening into vices as if Potter feared falling into nothing. Severus knew the feeling. He was falling, tumbling, crashing.

When he came back to his senses, slumped over Potter's form, gooey liquid was cooling between their stomachs. He rolled off of the younger man, reaching for his wand on the bedside table to clean them up.

"Thanks," Potter mumbled, stretching luxuriously and carefully planting his feet on the covers.

"You're more polite when you're naked," Severus remarked, lying down next to Potter.

Potter laughed, ruffling his still damp hair. "I guess. I'll have to work on it." He continued before Severus could reply, "Do you want me to sleep in the other room?"

Severus hadn't expected that question, not at all, and before he got over his shock he had already asked, "Why?"

"I can't sleep in the same room with someone I don't trust. Figured it might be the same for you." Potter was peering at him, his head turned to the side, his body still stretched out on the bed, uncovered, a sensual display of his absolute shamelessness. "And you're quite a bit taller than I am, so it'd be rather uncomfortable for you to sleep on the couch. So if you'd like to have your space, just say the word. I won't be offended."

"Oh, good, I was worried about that," Severus mocked, wondering if he had received the underlying message correctly, if Potter had really just admitted that he trusted him.

Potter chuckled again, looking at Severus expectantly for a moment before he reached down for the sheets, tugged them over himself and turned on his side, his back to Severus. "Good night, Severus."

Chapter Text

The recollection of what happened the previous night, fragmented like a modernist novel, came to him slowly, having to fight through the fogginess of sleep and his awakening brain's reminder of the implausibility. Lying naked under the covers, his morning erection pressing into the mattress, he became aware that he was alone. Had he told Potter to leave? No, he hadn't. There had been no more words exchanged last night and the soft morning light tickling his face, filtered by the gauze curtains, told him that it couldn't be any later than half past eight. He had never taken Potter to be an early riser. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing, maybe he had drunk over his limit again, hallucinated the night away.

But he didn't feel hung-over and there was no reason why he should dream up Potter, anyway. It had been real; it still was for that matter. He needed a shower.

He swung his long legs over the side of the bed, noting absently that there must be Floor-Heating Charms on the room, and reached for the bathrobe Potter had summoned the other night, slinging it around his own tall form and taking his wand from the bedside table. The material was soft and fluffy, and he immediately felt better, safer.

He brushed that thought aside quickly, striding over to the door and jerking it open with every intention of making Potter spill his morning coffee all over himself. That would be a good start of the day. Instead, he almost stumbled back into the bedroom at the sight that greeted him. Potter, wearing loose grey sweat-pants and a sleeveless white shirt, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged. His hair still damp from the shower he must have taken. Hovering in mid-air. Surrounded by streams of magic, golden runes and sparkles circling around him, interweaving and flowing together with a soft hum.

"Good morning," Potter greeted him jovially, slowly opening his eyes as his magic ebbed back into him. "Did you sleep well?"

"What are you doing?" Severus demanded, wishing Potter would stop hovering.

"Meditating. I find it's a very restful way to sort through emotions and keep my magic under control," Potter replied readily. "You want to take a shower before breakfast?"

Severus strode past him without a word, firmly closing the bathroom door behind himself, determined to let the hot water wash away his anger and his beginning headache. How was it that the grand design had given him perpetually greasy hair and a hooked nose and had endowed Potter with such a ridiculously vast amount of magic that he could carelessly flaunt it without even the most minute sign of strain? A wizard's magic wasn't supposed to flow around him, wasn't supposed to become visible, was intimate, private, not for public display. But rules didn't apply to Potter, they never had and they probably never would.

The shower made him feel better and he even went to the trouble of washing his hair, for all the good it did, shaved and brushed his teeth. He was stalling. Eventually, he summoned his robes, carefully closing every button by hand and smoothing down the dark fabric.

When he came back into the living room, Potter was sitting at the table, taking sips of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Next to him was a pile of opened letters, reactions, no doubt, from his friends to his change in marital status. He still wasn't wearing any footwear, let alone proper wizarding attire.

"Oh, good." Potter glanced up briefly. "Breakfast will be here any minute. You want a section of the paper?"

"Why do you bother to read that drivel?" Severus demanded and reluctantly took a seat in the armchair next to Potter.

"There's the weather report." Potter smiled for a second. "Plus, I have to keep up with what they write about me so that I can enact according countermeasures."

"I thought that is why you employed Mr. Creevey." Severus sneered, then scowled when a veritable feast of breakfast dishes appeared on the table. Stacks of pancakes and toast, sausages and cheese, eggs in all possible variations, cake and rolls, croissants and cereals.

"I trust him. I just trust myself a little more," Potter offered unrepentantly. "And Colin doesn't always bother me with all the details. That's part of his job, too."

"So you employ him out of some misguided idea of friendship," Severus concluded contemptuously, pouring himself a cup of black tea.

"Not really. He's quite good at what he does. Did you know that his Dad owns his own advertising agency? And his mother is a photographer for a Muggle magazine," Potter explained, reaching for some pancakes and strawberries. "Anyway, my image is better than it ever was and I'm not constantly hounded by reporters. I count that as a plus."

Severus sneered, deeming that the only feasible answer to such an unwarranted insight into Colin Creevey's personal affairs, and added a few squeezes of lemon to his tea, just enough to give it that slightly sour, fruity aftertaste. They ate in silence after that, Potter devouring his pancakes with obvious relish and Severus buttering a few slices of toast with deliberate care.

Suddenly Potter fixed Severus with an intense, unflinching gaze. "Did I hurt you last night?"

The tea went down the wrong pipe and Severus spluttered and coughed. Potter reached out as if to thump him on the back, but Severus instinctively drew back and Potter let his hand drop into his lap, though his eyes remained fixed on Severus'. The Potions Master couldn't fathom what Potter might mean by that question. The thought that Potter could have possibly hurt Severus was laughable. Potter, who was trim rather than muscular. Potter, who stood at a height where it was quite comfortable for Severus to tower over him. Potter, who hadn't commented on Severus' rough treatment with as much as a reproachful look.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Severus demanded when he had finally got his coughing under control.

"I saw your bruises," Potter explained, motioning vaguely towards Severus as if that would clarify things. "On your arms and hips and torso. You kicked off the blanket in your sleep. So, did I hurt you or do you bruise easily?"

"I did no such thing," Severus protested immediately, even as he scolded himself for being juvenile and probably in the wrong. "And my physical wellbeing, whatever it might be, is none of your concern."

"I beg to differ," Potter answered and his wand slipped into his hand. "Severus, I need to know if I hurt you and if you won't tell me I have no qualms about finding out the answer myself."

"Don't you think, Potter, that as a Potions Master I would have a remedy for something as simple as bruises available, if one was needed?" Severus demanded scornfully, drawing his own wand to even the stakes.

"I do, yes, but if I was too rough I need to know now before your potion skills become a regular necessity," Potter explained, apparently unfazed by the fact that Severus' wand was pointed squarely at his chest.

Severus wondered if Potter was making this scene because he secretly hoped that Severus would demand to know if his treatment of Potter the other night had been too harsh. He could jump up, bury his hand in Potter's hair, silky strands clinging to his fingers, spin him around and bend him over the back of the sofa, then slip the soft trek pants down Potter's slender legs, make a lewd comment about Potter's lack of underwear and push hard and fast between the perfectly rounded arse cheeks. Does that hurt, Potter? Am I too rough, Potter? Need a potion, Potter?

"Severus, please," Potter's soft voice jolted him out of his fantasy. "Talk to me."

"I assure you that if you had hurt me I would have let you know immediately," Severus finally answered, just to avert that earnest gaze, adding, because he wasn't sure Potter would drop the subject otherwise. "I wasn't hurt."

"Thank you," Potter answered, smiling brightly at him and then turned back to his pancakes and his coffee. Severus followed suit, the awkwardness of the ensuing silence easily trumping the awkwardness of the previous conversation. He wished Potter would say something, mindless prattle like he had so often observed during breakfast in the Great Hall. He normally relished in quietude, but this strange speechlessness was like an affront, as if Potter didn't deem him a worthy talking partner and by extension not a worthy husband.

"This came in the mail today, by the way," Potter offered after he had finished his meal and handed an official looking scroll over to Severus before pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Severus wiped his fingers on the cloth napkin before taking the scroll and unfurling it carefully. It was their wedding certificate, their marriage proclaimed in curly letters on the crisp, off-white parchment. His eyes were drawn to the last line, his own precise signature on the dotted line beside Potter's scrawled name. Beneath those were the signatures of the witnesses, Minerva's that he knew from sporadic correspondences and school-related missives, Weasley's that was even more illegible than Potter's. And then there was the last line. No name. Four numbers. 4952.

"He didn't even sign his name. How can this possibly be official?" Severus demanded heatedly, stabbing his finger at the line were the registrar had been supposed to sign.

"We are required to protect our identity. Always," Potter explained evenly. "The Ministry is well aware of that fact and knows that the person identified as 4952 has the authority to perform certain ceremonies, especially if one of us is involved in them."

"You signed with your name," Severus accused, wishing that for once Potter wouldn't sound so reasonable and self-assured.

"You didn't marry my job," Potter replied, with that quirk of lips that Severus interpreted as amusement. "If it's all right with you, I would like to keep that certificate in our Gringotts vault."

Severus was thrown by the casual use of the plural possessive pronoun. Potter had probably already set up their joint vault, had transferred his own money without waiting or even informing Severus of his actions.

"The vault number is 268," Potter told him. "Here's your key."

Potter did not mention that Severus would have to give orders to have his vault contents moved to the new vault, but the implication was there, wrapped snugly around the heavy brass key with the irregular beard.

ö_ö_ö

Looking at houses with Potter, as it turned out, was less strenuous than he had expected. Potter had very few things on his checklist, most of which concerned matters of safety, and was complacent to everything else. When Severus dismissed the first house as too full of corners, Potter merely nodded and produced the key to the second property, the cellar of which Severus deemed unsuitable for a potions lab as extensive as he desired. The third house now, and Severus was loathe to admit it, was a thing of beauty: polished wood floors creating a sense of warm welcome and still conveying timeless elegance; walls in soft colours – beige, light blue, terracotta; large windows overlooking the lush green grounds and balconies offering the possibility to escape without actually having to leave the house. And the potions lab, spreading over the entire souterrain, was everything a Potions Master could wish for and in optimal condition.

It was the house Severus had imagined as a child when sitting in the dank, spider-invested alcoves of Spinner's End waiting for his parents to stop fighting. As a child he had reckoned that once he earned money and with the strict prerequisite that he wouldn't spend all his income on alcohol it would only be a matter of time till he would be able to afford it. His meagre teacher's stipend and his sporadic income for potions brewed quickly disabused him off such foolish ideas. He consoled himself with the thought that either the invention of a revolutionary potion, a prestigious award for such an invention or an Order of Merlin would pay for his dream house. The invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, as revolutionary as it was, was only useful for a limited and mostly less affluent percentage of society and thus had not brought with it the great riches Severus had envisioned nor had it warranted any award. The Order of Merlin, previously carrying generous amounts of galleons, had been considerably downsized in view of the many so-called heroes who had distinguished themselves in the war. Severus' own share, or so he had been informed, must have got lost in the mail.

It was the house of his dreams and the thought that Potter could easily afford three, five, maybe even ten houses like this filled him with bitter resentment towards the younger man. Buying this house wouldn't leave a dent in Potter's pile of galleons and Severus was equally sure that Potter's prize money had not got lost.

When Severus declared that he wanted this house with all the self-taught arrogance he could muster, Potter didn't even bat an eye and smiled as if to point out to Severus that he was being indulged. Severus felt ire rise in his chest like a potion kept too long over a flickering flame. This house, this supposed home would never be Severus', it would be Potter's. Bought with Potter's money and over his contacts.

The signing of the contract was insultingly uncomplicated as well. The realtor was in awe and desperate to be of assistance to the Great Harry Potter, barely remembering to afford Severus the courtesy of a handshake. She gushed about the great decision Potter had made, as if he had made any decision, offered to add another few acres of land or new wooden floors. Potter declined graciously, of course, ever the noble, undemanding, selfless hero. Severus' opinion on that matter was not discussed, his presence hardly acknowledged. He was a curious bystander, an onlooker, nothing more.

When Potter insisted that he also sign the contract, he almost asked why. It wouldn't make a difference, either way. In case of a divorce – was Potter already thinking of that? – any judge would take one look at Severus' bank statements and Potter's and correctly conclude that Potter had contributed the lion's share to this purchase. His signature wouldn't change a thing.

After the obligatory memory swipe of the realtor, which apparently she had agreed to beforehand, Potter saw the still slightly confused woman off the property and then called his house elf to start moving his material possessions into his new home.

"Would you like Dobby to ask one of the Hogwarts house-elves to help you move?" Potter wanted to know.

"Am I right to assume that you have no interest in taking up space in the potion's lab?" Severus demanded, his sneer making clear that he thought 'taking up space' was the only thing Potter knew how to do in regards to potions.

"It's all yours," Potter answered readily. "Though I would like to ward this place, including your lab, before you make yourself at home."

"Your wards will interfere with the delicate magical balance required to brew high quality potions," Severus hissed dangerously, taking a step towards Potter. "I have no desire for you to contaminate my workplace, Potter."

"I will endeavour not to do so," Potter replied nonchalantly.

"You know nothing of potions," Severus accused.

"I know a thing or two about wards," Potter pointed out, smiling brightly as if he expected Severus to join in his amusement.

"Is that another non-negotiable point?" Severus said, bitter and spiteful.

Potter hesitated, then lifted his shoulders in an aborted shrug. "No." He sighed. "Your lab, your terms. I would like to ward the rest of the house, if you could refrain from apparating for a while."

"And what am I supposed to do while you do your little parlour tricks?" Severus mocked, emboldened by his unexpected victory.

"Dobby will be glad to bring you anything you need to make yourself at home," Potter suggested, though his interest in the conversation seemed to be waning already. "Or you can take a look at the house and make a list of the things we still need to buy. The weather is quite lovely as well."

That, apparently, was the end of the conversation as Potter drew his wand and began to pace through the house, looking, or so Severus assumed, for the perfect place to anchor his spell work. So much for their honeymoon, Severus thought sarcastically, wondering at the same time if a traitorous part of him had not looked forward to lazing away the day in bed, with Potter, naked and wanton, pressed into his side.

Already he could feel Potter's magic brush in broad sweeps through the house, easily passing through walls and infusing doorways and windows with webs of energy. His lab would probably be the only safe place for a while, but what could he do there with no cauldrons, ingredients, vials or anything else? Stare at the gleaming stainless steel and granite tops, the little indents for portable fires, the ventilation and purification systems, the fixtures on the walls to keep his utensils, his knives and mortars and ladles and spoons, in order, the spacious cabinets, equipped with preservation charms, the integrated freezer, the stasis area and dream off all the potion's he could create here, even though he would much rather smash fragile vials on the floor and hear the satisfying low thump of a cauldron bouncing off the impenetrable walls.

Severus had never denied being petty or vindictive, had never denied that he could hold a grudge and fester in his own anger for a yet interminable time. He prided himself on being able to think rationally in all circumstances, but that didn't mean that he always thought rationally, that he didn't, when the situation allowed it, indulge in biased, prejudiced and maybe ill-informed mental rants against everything and everyone that he thought deserving of them. Potter was certainly high on that list.

ö_ö_ö

"I thought I'd take a shower before dinner." A sweaty Potter suddenly appeared in the door to his lab and Severus was briefly elated at seeing proof that Potter's magical resources were not, after all, inexhaustible. "Would you like to join me?"

"So does that mean that I can finally apparate again?" Severus demanded, gracing Potter with an unimpressed look.

"Sure. I keyed you into the wards so there should be no problems. I also connected the living room fireplace with the Floo Network," Potter replied easily and turned to go. "I'll leave the door open, if you change your mind. Let Dobby know if you have any requests for dinner."

There was no changing his mind because Severus knew exactly how this would play out. Sirius Black had made sure of that, making a lonely, desperately lonely, Severus believe that he not only stood a chance with the gorgeous, self-centred Gryffindor, but that he only had to reach out, take a tiny step (forget all the taunts and pranks), a non-existent risk (invite disaster) and Sirius Black would be his. Sirius Black, James Potter, Harry Potter, was there a difference? Not for Severus - hook-nosed, greasy-haired, anti-social loser - for him they were all unattainable and Potter Jr.'s laughter would sound just as jeering, as taunting, as derisive as his father's had sounded when he had stepped from behind the curtain and had mocked Severus for daring to hope that Sirius Black was really interested in him.

So instead of joining Potter for a shower he apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, walked to his chambers at a brisk pace and then ordered some house-elves to move his belongings to their new house, with the strict specification that they not come anywhere near his potions. His private laboratory, adjoining to his rooms, was certainly not as fancy as the new one, but it was familiar, a sanctuary, a refuge, well-worn like a favourite item of clothing, reliable, constant. He knew all the small imperfections, the scratches and scorch marks, the water stains and uneven spots. For more than two decades this had been his home, would he really give it up now? He could always return for the school year, move back into his teacher's quarters and pretend that the wedding band on his finger didn't exist. But he had never seen himself as a teacher, had never envisioned this future for himself and now that the Dark Lord was dead and all his obligations fulfilled, what was to stop him from fulfilling his dreams? Surely not Potter.

He carefully packed everything up, putting cushioning charms on frail vials, making sure that the ingredients were kept clean and separate, his notes in order, and began to move them, carton by carton to the new house, using either the Floo Network or Apparition, depending on his cargo. It was a lengthy process, but he didn't mind. There was something soothing about packing and unpacking, finding everything its new place and putting things in order as if he was creating a new place for himself, putting his own life back in order. Potter's dinner would have to wait.

ö_ö_ö

His lab put in order, Severus entered the dining room, half expecting an enraged Potter to lay into him with complaints and accusations. But Potter was sitting calmly in one of the chairs, sheets of paper spread around him, deep in thought as his magic floated around him.

"Ah, Severus, glad you decided to join me after all." Potter looked up with a smile, making his papers disappear with a negligent wave of the hand. "Would you like to eat something?"

Severus took a seat. "What were you doing?"

"Working," Potter answered, staring at him as if to dare him to ask further questions. "I think Dobby really outdid himself with dinner this time. This being the first meal in a new house and all."

No sooner had he finished this declaration that a veritable feast appeared on the table, plates upon plates filled with slices of meat, sausages, vegetables, rice, noodles, pies and everything in between, heavenly smells wafting up from the steaming dishes. Potter's stomach grumbled appreciatively and the young man didn't hesitate to start piling food on his plate, small portions of everything, not leaving even one plate untouched. Severus cautiously reached for the roasted trout and heaped some mashed potatoes on his plate, topping his dinner of with a creamy sauce that had an intense scent of rosemary and lemon.

Potter had waited until he had finished filling his plate and now tucked in with a healthy appetite and an awkward utilization of table manners. Severus wondered if Creevey had prescribed Potter etiquette lessons so that the hero of the wizarding world wouldn't embarrass himself at charity dinners and other festive occasions. But Potter's cutlery clunked too loudly, a bit of sauce dribbled over the side of his plate and there was a mouth-shaped smear on his glass of pumpkin juice because he had not used his napkin before drinking. Severus sneered.

"Do you have everything you need for now?" Potter interrupted the silence. "You can give a list of everything you still need to Dobby."

"I prefer to do my own shopping," Severus replied tersely, dissecting his fish with mocking precision.

"Sure, if you'd like," Potter answered. "I'll turn your ring into a Portkey."

"An unregistered Portkey," Severus clarified.

"Yes, but not illegal," Potter gave back, blurring the enemy lines on the battlefield of his plate with his fork. "Registering it would defeat the purpose of keeping my whereabouts secret. You should try the lasagne, it's really delicious."

The heap of pasta on Potter's plate looked far from delicious, cheesy, too much sauce, with no clear shape. Severus put a piece of fish in his mouth, chewing with deliberate care. They ate in silence.

When they were finished, Potter insisted on clearing the table, piling the dirty dishes and making them levitate towards the kitchen where an anxious house-elf was already waiting for him. It was their arrangement, as Potter conspiratorially whispered to him. Dobby was allowed to pamper him with his delicious cooking, do his laundry and fluff his pillows but Potter was allowed to help. Severus couldn't care less, except that their agreement made him hover uncertainly in the dining hall, unsure what to do or where to go.

"Did you want to see the library?" Potter suddenly asked, wiping his hands on a dishtowel that then disappeared from sight. "I think your books should already be in there, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep our libraries separate or put them together so I haven't unpacked mine yet."

"I don't think I have any use for your books, Potter." Severus sneered, imagining Potter's collection of old schoolbooks and something as juvenile as popular adventure stories.

"Your book collection is quite extensive," Potter conceded. "But some of the books from the Potter and Black estates might interest you nonetheless."

Severus felt anger rise in his chest again. This ignorant child had access to knowledge that was even beyond Severus' wildest dreams, tomes over tomes filled with secrets and rare knowledge, just handed to Potter while Severus had spent his entire life painstakingly wading through useless information in the oftentimes vain attempt to discover a long lost potions recipe, a well hidden spell, a uncensored account of a key moment in wizarding history.

"They're all catalogued so you can just look through them if you're interested," Potter offered negligently, motioning to a thick book that lay on one of the desks, ready to sate Severus' innate curiosity, fulfil his every dream, either in alphabetical, chronological or thematical order. "There's also a study adjoining to the library, the other one is down the hall. Do you have a preference?"

Severus knew that already, having decided early on that he would want the one next to the library, next to this well of knowledge and closer to his labs. "The one next door," he said and his throat was dry.

"I thought so. It's closer to your lab as well." Potter nodded. "I already started moving my stuff into the other one. You understand that I had to put up wards around it against intrusion." In other words, against Severus.

"It's standard procedure," Potter said conciliatorily, apologetic, placating. "Nothing personal."

"Like the rest of this sham of a marriage," Severus retorted, feeling the satisfaction of that comment deep in his gut.

"I realise that this is an imposition for you," Potter said, calm and collected. "But I explained my reasons to you and I'm determined to make the best of the situation."

Severus wasn't sure if Potter had purposefully communicated the "Are you willing to do the same?" but he felt the implied scold as acutely as Minerva's the day before. Was he willing to make an effort? Effort at what? This pseudo-marriage to a half-child? To the child of his school-time rival? What future was there to that kind of relationship? There was no saving that concoction.

"To what effect, Potter?" Severus demanded, feeling tired and exasperated.

"I haven't given up on happiness," Potter answered, smiled. "But that might be too ambitious an aim for tonight... There's a spare bedroom if you don't want to share, just tell Dobby and he'll move my stuff."

Was this the conversation Severus had been half hoping and half dreading? But there wasn't going to be any conversation, as apparently Potter had work to do and excused himself to his study. Severus was left in this gigantic treasure chest of knowledge, clueless as to how to proceed from there. He settled for perusing the inventory of Potter's books, feeling alternatively elated that these books were finally at his disposal and angry that they had come to be so through Potter.

When he finally left the library he told himself that he had already forgotten the question Potter had left him with or failing that, that Potter had already gone to bed and that it was too late to expel him from there, anyway.

The bedroom was empty, though, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains in front of the open window and cooling the smooth dark bed sheets. Potter's things had already been unpacked, Severus found when he opened the closet to look for his own night clothes, folded neatly on the right hand side shelves. He went to the bathroom with a stack of clothes tucked under his arm, washed his face and brushed his teeth and got changed. He didn't waste one more thought on Potter.

Chapter Text

Severus woke to Potter's cold feet, pressed into the back of his legs. The younger man was fast asleep, face half buried in one of the pillows, the blanket not quite covering his bare back, smooth, tan. And Severus hadn't noticed him entering into the room, had not even woken when Potter had got changed, when he had slipped under the covers on Severus' right. Were Severus' senses becoming dull, constant paranoia taking its toll on them so that now – the Dark Mark still visible as a faint outline in the right light and the ink on his acquittal still fresh – they had decided to desert him, or was Potter just so quiet, unnoticeable, sneaky? Neither option sat well with him and his muscles tensed involuntarily.

Potter woke immediately, the hand under his pillow most likely closing around his wand before he turned around to face Severus. "You okay?"

Severus harboured a strong aversion to incomplete sentences. "Your feet are cold."

"Sorry," Potter mumbled, detracting his feet and replacing his wand under his pillow. "Is it okay that I'm sleeping here?"

"I wouldn't mind you staying here," Severus chose his words with care. "As long as sleeping is not all you do. Otherwise I don't see the point."

Potter's teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness. "I couldn't agree more, Severus. Would you be interested in pursuing your idea right now?"

"I would be interested in clarity, Potter," Severus mimicked the younger man's tone, capturing his wrists when hands reached out to unbutton his top and squeezing them tightly, too tightly. Leaving bruises. "Tell me, what am I to make of this?"

"Would you like to talk about sexual intercourse now?" Potter offered, unfazed by Severus' brutal grip. "I was under the impression that we both enjoyed it last night, so I think it's safe to assume that we're compatible – on that level, at least."

Severus wanted to point out that sexual compatibility could hardly be determined through one single night of passion, but he thought it prudent not to distract from the main issue, that yes, he wanted to talk about sex, about sex with Potter. But the words wouldn't form, his mind too habitually guarded to conceive words that would expose him. He narrowed his eyes, nodded and released Potter's wrists.

"Would you like to establish how often we have sex?" Potter asked, his voice helpful and his eyes mockingly kind. "Do you have a suggestion?"

Severus' throat got tight, too tight and the sudden pounding in his skull – his heartbeat but too harsh, too quick – robbed him of the ability to come up with a snarky answer. "Once a week."

"Sure, if that's what you want," Potter agreed, but Severus had been his teacher long enough to detect the mutinous undertone. He did not have the patience to deal with an unwilling bedpartner.

"If you would prefer once a fortnight, that can be arranged as well," he said. Hell, once a month would be more than he had had in years.

"What? No," Potter's quick, forceful reply took him by surprise. "I had just hoped that I would have that pleasure more often, but once a week is fine. That'll keep it fresh and exciting, allow the build-up of anticipation... Would you like to fix a particular day as well?"

Severus considered admitting that he wouldn't mind having sex more often, twice a week, daily even if Potter would be up for it, but he had put his dignity too often on the line for one day already. "Monday." It was the first day that came to mind, the day when students tended to get more on his nerves than usual. It would be a good way to relieve tensions.

"I work late on Mondays," Potter refuted. "And Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"I thought you're always working," Severus mocked.

"I am, but I stay until late in the Ministry on those days," Potter clarified, unperturbed. "And I start early on Wednesday and Friday, sometimes on Saturday."

"That doesn't leave many options," Severus pointed out, wondering not for the first time what Potter was bloody well doing.

"I know. Plus, my working schedule shifts on a regular, non-regular basis, so I'd actually prefer a more flexible arrangement," Potter offered. "But my Sundays are mostly free."

Severus wanted to scoff, to sneer at Potter's oh-so-generous offer to keep his Sundays reserved for Severus, but what would be the point? He could grouse and complain, pretend that Sundays were a huge imposition on him, insist that Potter make room for him in his life since after all he had seen fit to drag Severus into it, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted.

"Sundays it is then," Severus declared, having to clear his throat before it came out as strong and as sure as he wanted it to.

"Sure." Potter smiled mildly. "I guess you wouldn't be interested in... getting some practise before that? I heard practise makes perfect."

"Are you propositioning me, Potter?" Severus sneered, slamming up his shields, both magical and mental. Set-up, set-up.

"Yes. I can be even less subtle if you'd like?" Potter was full out smirking now, tapping a soft rhythm on the dark sheets and peering at Severus. "Would you like to have sex with me now, Severus?"

But subtlety wasn't the problem. Not really. Not for Severus. He could read between the lines with ease, could decipher meaning from obscure references and gleam what was being said from hidden innuendos and word plays. But Potter hadn't come out and said that he wanted to have sex now; he had asked Severus if he would be interested and that was a crucial difference. If he said yes, Potter could smirk even wider, laugh, roll his eyes, jeer at him for being so foolish as to believe that Potter would be willing to accommodate his desires. Horny old man. Lecher. Pervert. Can't keep it in your pants for even one day, can you? If you want some action, go to the bathroom and jerk off.

He wanted to turn his back on Potter, close his eyes and fall asleep as if the idea of having the younger man again didn't appeal to him. He wanted to pretend at least. But Potter's siren's call was irresistible, inaudible but still pounding in his ears, making his heart beat faster with every little shift of that slender body. Potter had to know what effect he was having on Severus, deliberately using it against him as he was. He was still looking at him, utterly patient, amused by Severus' struggling, his confusion.

He couldn't say either of those single syllable words that would either reject Potter's advances or open a door to a world of pleasure. But when he shifted his weight, changed his position slightly so that he was sitting more upright and had one hand free to reach out to Potter, the younger man smiled, gently resting his cheek in Severus' palm. Potter could have taken his movement as a rejection, to mean that Severus wanted to push him back. But Potter took it as an invitation. To be that self-assured, that confident. Potter's breath ghosted over his wrist when he tilted his face and pressed a dry kiss to the pulse point of his hand. Potter's eyes sparkled. Severus had never been this forward with any lover; or this intimate.

Potter slid his hands over his chest, popping the buttons with a bit of wandless magic. Slowly. Giving Severus time to stop him. But the kisses – chaste and caressing – that he feathered over the exposed skin made sure that Severus never seriously entertained that idea. He didn't resist either when Potter compelled him to lay back down again, his chest already bare, his pants tented.

Potter's slender fingers traced patterns on his chest, warmth radiating from him, hair tickling his neck when Potter whispered in his ear: "I want to make you feel good, Severus."

Severus had no objections.

ö_ö_ö

Severus started to think of Potter as two different persons. There was Potter, aloof and calculating, calm to the point of being indifferent, unfazed by everything Severus did and unfailingly polite. Potter never slept in, was always up before Severus and seemed to have already completed an expansive physical and mental training programme before Severus even opened his eyes. He waited with breakfast, read the paper and then went to work, returning late in the evening with a pile of documents following him like faithful puppies. They ate the evening meal and Potter went to work in his study, the door firmly closed, charmed soundproof, impenetrable. Like the man.

But when Potter slipped into their bedroom he transformed, became someone that Severus began to think of as Harry. Not as aloof or self-assured as Potter, but still forward and direct, offering sex and giving in to Severus without restraint, without hesitance or fear. Without, as Severus had learned, even expecting him to return the favour. Harry, Harry was a generous lover, all soft kisses and gentle caresses, never demanding, always offering, and Severus was loathe to admit that he could get used to that.

ö_ö_ö

He had expected it of course, but it had been pushed to the back of his mind between shopping trips to get some furniture for his study, stock up on ingredients and buy potted plants and seeds to start a herb garden and getting used to the dichotomy of Potter and Harry.

"The news have leaked," Potter said about two weeks later, looking up from his breakfast. "Colin thinks it would be best if we gave a press conference now before the rumours start growing out of proportion."

"Does he now?" Severus pretended to be indifferent, but as always it had no effect on Potter.

"I happen to agree," Potter answered. "Of course we should make sure that our stories match. Have you thought about how you want to handle this?"

"What about Lucius?" Severus demanded.

"He contacted me almost immediately after he got his life debt." Potter shrugged; it was the first time Severus heard of this. "I met him at the Ministry four days ago, listened to his demands and informed him that I was unable to fulfil them. I referred him to the Department of Records to verify my claim. I suppose this is his revenge, petty as it might be. But of course some reporters make it their personal business to know everything there is to know about me... it doesn't really matter. It was bound to come out."

Severus had expected more melodrama, drawn wands and raised voices to do justice to at least Lucius Malfoy's character even if he was starting to figure out that it wasn't so much Potter's style. That all that had happened in the background, without any theatrics or headlines, made him think that Potter had manipulated Lucius more skilfully than he would have thought possible. Lucius might have thought he had the upper hand, but they had met on Potter's terms, played by his rules. Severus was grudgingly impressed.

Potter handed him the front page of the Daily Prophet, the bold-lettered headline screaming at him over a rather recent snapshot of Potter in Ministry robes on his way to work. When the Wedding Bell Tolls – True Love or Publicity Stunt? Severus snorted, both options were laughable. His name wasn't mentioned until the second paragraph, snugly wrapped up in accusations and threats, wild speculations and slights against his honour.

"What will you say?" Severus wanted to know, after he had quickly read the article, putting down the paper.

"That depends largely on what you will say," Potter answered. "On what version of these events you want to tell."

"What if I decided not to mention the life debt?" Severus pressed, wondering if that was what he was going to do.

"I would tell the press that there is a wealth of feelings between us and that I'm very lucky that you decided to accept my proposal." He took a sip of his coffee, smiling slightly when Severus snorted. "I try not to lie when I can avoid it, but that doesn't mean that I will tell them the truth."

"How very honourable of you," Severus taunted, buttering his toast.

"Not really." Potter shrugged. "It's just better in case the truth does come out in the end. Then I can say that I didn't lie, that they just misunderstood and they have nothing to hold against me."

"And what if I come clean about the life debt?" Severus demanded, wondering if maybe Potter would reveal some ulterior motives in his answer.

"Most likely I'd say that I was getting tired of the many marriage proposals that I get from people I don't even know," Potter replied after a short pause. "That I was getting tired of being alone and that you are one of the few people who see me and not some idolised version of a hero."

Severus wondered if that was true, if separating Harry Potter into two different entities was synonymous to seeing him. A few months ago he would easily have subscribed to the notion that Potter was an open book, but now Potter seemed more like a book with seven seals and once one of them was broken, it merely revealed another lock without key.

"In any case, I don't expect the conference to be long," Potter said, tapping his pointer finger on his plate to pick up the crumbs. "One of them is almost certainly going to ask if this has anything to do with my job."

"Does it?" Severus demanded, narrowing his eyes belligerently when Potter turned to stare at him.

"I can't talk about my work," Potter said instead. "And my answer to that question wouldn't change anything since I doubt you'd believe me. They never do."

"I could always tell when you were lying, Potter," Severus scoffed.

"You couldn't always recognise when I was telling the truth," Potter gave back simply.

Unbidden images of the night before came to Severus, of how they had lain next to each other in bed, Harry's come cooling on his stomach and such a sated expression on the younger man's face that Severus had wanted to ask: "Are you faking it?"

Harry had answered, "You need to have more confidence in your abilities as a lover." It hadn't been an answer, though, and Severus was almost, but not quite, certain that he had never voiced his question.

ö_ö_ö

As irritating as Severus found Potter's habit of skirting around the truth, his evasiveness came in handy during the press conference which they gave that same afternoon, in front of the gates to their new house. Potter hardly every answered the question he was asked, instead offered details about the ceremony that Severus hardly remembered, joked about the suddenness of it all and hinted at a crush that reached back far into his schooldays. But there was enough confidence and ease in his words that the reporters seemed all charmed out of their wits, not daring to object or pursue their original line of questioning. He knew all their names, was polite and gracious, vague without seeming to avoid the questions. Severus had to give him points for style, at least.

The enquiries addressed to him were far less genial, aggressive, invasive, plain insulting. His motives were ruthlessly questioned, as if he was the one with a motive, as if this was his scheme, and his answers, most of the time, were simply dismissed as lies. He told them that he had accepted Potter's proposal because he had feelings for the younger man and a sincere wish to see him protected, never mentioning the life debt or the fact that most of those feelings were negative. Raised eyebrows, shaking heads and snorts were his answer. They asked him what he hoped to get out of this. Potter's safety, he said. They demanded to know if he had dosed Potter with a love potion. He denied it, and Potter pointed out that he always checked his food and drink, even his shampoo, for tampering. That, they believed. They asked if he was in league with other Death Eaters, if this was a plan to resurrect the Dark Lord, Voldemort, as if he had needed clarification. He didn't deign that with an answer, glowered the reporter into the ground, while Potter did damage control, saying that Severus had experienced firsthand the cruelties of Voldemort's reign of terror, that he knew better than anyone what a repetition of that would entail, that he had fought valiantly during the last battle and risked his life more than once to aid the Light side. That he was a hero.

"I realise that such attitudes of fear and mistrust cannot be made to disappear overnight," Potter said seriously. "But Severus has been acquitted of all charges. I myself stood as one of his witnesses and I will not tolerate demeaning insinuations and insults against my husband." He turned to the reporter, who had asked that particular question, a plump man with curly brown hair, a Ravenclaw if Severus remembered correctly and too young to have experienced the war in its full intensity. "Please leave, Steven. We will be waiting for your apology."

"But..."

"Now," Potter didn't raise his voice, nor his wand, but the ground seemed to vibrate with his power, and moments later the Ravenclaw had apparated away. Severus wasn't sure if that had been of his own volition.

Colin Creevey stepped forward, spoke a quick Sonorus and asked everyone to be respectful when addressing these two war heroes and to remember that they were talking about the personal lives of two newly-weds, who had only agreed to this conference out of politeness and who were therefore entitled to that same politeness. Maybe he had rehearsed those lines in advance.

Someone asked what kind of wedding gifts they would like and Potter referred to a series of charity organisations that would appreciate any kind of donation, no matter how small, and were always looking for volunteers. It was his standard response to such enquiries, Severus knew, he had read it quoted often enough.

The topic then turned to their new house, which, as he only then learned, they couldn't even see and was nowhere near the location of the conference. Potter described it in vague, flattering terms, saying that it offered them everything they had looked for and thanked them in advance for not trying to breach his security charms. Severus thought both the question and the answer pointless; who would want to read such inconsequential drivel?

"Is it true that you recently broke up with Oliver Wood, the keeper of Puddlemore United?" a copper-haired witch shot at Potter and Severus saw the younger man tense.

"I wouldn't call almost five month ago recent, Isabel," Potter nonetheless said smoothly.

"Four and a half months," she corrected, and Severus' lip curled in a sneer.

"If you already know the answer, there's really no point in asking, is there?" he demanded, taking a surreptitious step closer to Potter, just in case, but the tension left Potter's muscles and a smile spread over his face, mirth in his eyes.

"You always knew the answers in Potions class," he whispered in Severus' ear, resting a hand on his shoulder and lifting onto his tiptoes; cameras flashed. "Just the rules of the game, Severus."

"Still, only two weeks ago you were spotted having coffee together," Isabel insisted, interrupting their private conversation. "Did he know that you intended to marry someone else?"

"None of my friends found out about this from the papers, I can assure you," Potter said, still close by Severus' side, touching distance, but his smile was directed at her now. "I also had tea with Severus two weeks ago. And we enjoyed some delicious cookies."

Severus almost rolled his eyes, remembering how Potter had left crumbs all over his sofa. He was tiring of this farce, wondered not for the first time why he had to be present at all since he only seemed to attract suspicion and antipathy while the horde of them was basically eating out of Potter's palm. He looked down at the young man at his side, observing the subtle rise and fall of his chest, tracing the v-neck of his shirt and the tan skin underneath with his eyes. What was he doing here?

"Let's see if we can speed this along," Potter murmured, and he could have... no. "Rita, you have a question?"

He addressed the garishly dressed woman with the mile-long fingernails and the jewelled glasses, who had been vying for his attention since the very beginning. "Yes, honey, indeed I have... several, if you don't mind. Now, you said you had tea together, so does that mean your marriage was not as out of the blue you would have us believe?"

"Oh, Rita, I would not have you believe anything." Potter winked at her. "I think you're fully capable of forming your own opinions. And in answer to your question, I would not call our marriage sudden. Severus and I have known each other for years, worked together during the war and also saw each other outside of Order business."

Potter, it seemed, had a narrow definition of Order business, because Severus could not remember seeing Potter in private matters. Except, of course, during school. Sneaky little brat.

"So when would you say you fell in love?" she asked, her quill poised and her ears, like those of the other reporters literally perked.

"I don't think I could pinpoint an exact date," Potter said sweetly. "Falling in love has for me always been a gradual process, something that happens when you get to know a person and realise that you have a lot in common and that your opposites attract." He sent Severus a so obviously fake besotted look that Severus had to pretend to cough to cover his snort. Potter smirked. "You want some water, Severus?"

"No," he made sure to make his voice sound even. "No, thank you."

"What about you, Mr. Snape?" Rita Skeeter asked, all but dissecting him with her looks.

"Please, it's 'Professor Snape'," Harry interrupted before he could come up with an answer. "Severus worked hard for that title, you realise, it must have taken a lot of dedication, not to say talent, to become the youngest Potions Master in wizarding history."

And that from Potter, who had outright refused to address him with his proper title. Hypocrite, but damn was he charming!

"Of course, of course," Skeeter hastened to assure him, though it sounded half-hearted at best and Potter narrowed his eyes at her, before pointedly turning towards another reporter, this one with a portly stomach and sweaty patches under his arm: "Austen, would you like to ask a question?"

"Eh, yes, thank you, Mr. Potter – Mr. Potter-Snape, I should say? Do you intend to adopt a pet into your new home and new family?" Severus was surprised until he saw the logo on his jacket: Pet-Paradise Monthly.

"I would certainly love to, but you know my work schedule is not really all that flexible and I don't think I would have the necessary time to take care of a pet," Potter sighed. "Other than Hedwig of course, but she's very independent and nocturnal to boot so I can spend time with her after work. But it's not easy to find a pet, let alone a husband," – he threw a smile in Severus' direction – "that can deal with the long hours and secrecy that my job entails."

It was a subtle change in Potter's answer pattern, from not mentioning his work at all to casually throwing it into his answer, but the effect on the gathered press was instantaneous. And someone, in the backrow, shouted out the question Potter had anticipated, had maybe provoked.

Creevey stepped forward again and Potter took Severus' elbow, carefully pushing him back. "As you know my client has a duty to uphold the secrecy of his occupation and cannot, will not, divulge any information regarding. We thank you for your attendance and your understanding. Any further questions may be addressed to my office, 34 Diagon Alley, Creevey & Creevey PR Agency. Thank you!"

A clamour arose, shouted questions and objections, demands for clarification, requests to take some more photos, but Potter paid them no mind, instead also taking Creevey by the arm and pulling them both back into the foyer of their house.

"Not bad," Creevey offered, grinning impudently at Potter.

"Works every time, doesn't it?" Potter smirked back. "You want some coffee?"

"Butterbeer if you have it," Creevey answered, following Potter with that same blind adoration in his eyes that he had already had in Hogwarts; Severus thought it best not to leave them alone. "Always reminds me of the good old times."

"I know the sentiment," Potter chuckled, plopping down on the sofa as a tea tray and a bottle of butterbeer appeared on the coffee table. "Severus, please sit down, join us."

"Why does it work every time?" Severus demanded as he sat rigidly down in his armchair, to the left of both Potter and Creevey. "By now they should know that you won't tell them anything about your work and that it will end the conference."

"You'd think so." Potter shrugged. "But there's always someone inexperienced enough that he or she thinks she might just get the big scoop."

"Plus, we have someone to jump in," Creevey added proudly.

"Never needed him, though," Potter said. "But I like to have a back-up plan... So do you think that will be enough for the time being?"

"Should fill several weeks' worth of papers," Creevey replied, sipping his butterbeer. "But unless you want them inventing new facts, it might be best to make a public appearance soon. I have your invitations here, if you'd like to take a look, but I think the Ministry's Annual Ball would be best. It's next Saturday."

"Would you be able to accompany me?" Potter turned to him, while pouring him a cup of black tea.

"I do not fancy these kinds of gatherings." Severus sneered, thinking that he had not been invited either.

"There's also the Children of the War-Initiative," Potter said. "In two weeks, I think?"

"I already RVSPed for you," Creevey agreed eagerly. "The second to next Sunday. And there's a request for you to attend the opening of a new day-care centre for single-parent children, maybe say a few words, cut the red tape. It's Monday in a week."

"I have to ask if I can get time off for that. Morning?" Potter asked, writing a comment on one of his sticky notes.

"Yes, nine o'clock would be best for them, but I'm sure I could get them to change that if it's a problem." Creevey also wrote something in his reporter-style notepad; Severus felt superfluous. "I also have here..." He ruffled through an unorganized heap of leaflets, cards, envelopes and scrolls. "Ah, here it is – the invitation for the Support and Integration of Magical Creatures and Beings. On the 1rst, that's a Thursday."

"Hermione told me about that." Harry nodded. "I'm going to attend and I'm sure they could do with a bit more press coverage."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Creevey answered confidently, making another note. "Here's a list of the other invitations. You can go through them in peace and decide if you'd like to attend. But as far as appearing as a couple goes, the Ministry Ball would be best: public, formal and general so you won't offend anyone by attending."

"Plus, I have to attend anyway." Potter hummed. "They are making me represent the Department."

"How can you represent them when you're not allowed to say anything about your job?" Severus demanded, wondering if Potter would ask him again if he was going to come.

"I represent us by showing everyone that we exist. Sometimes that is enough," Potter said easily. "But I also think Colin is right and that we need to be seen in public to make everyone realise that we're together and that our marriage is for real."

"I will think about it," Severus answered briskly and Potter nodded, turning to the list Creevey had compiled for him.

"I also have your mail," Creevey said, extracting another pile from his messenger bag. "And yours, Professor."

Severus' head snapped up in disbelief. "You read my mail?"

"I sorted it," Creevey said, biting his lip before he rushed on. "Work related mail has a red tag, invitations are blue, private mail green. I sorted out all the howlers and advertisements."

"So you read through my mail," Severus insisted, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. "Did you put him up to this, Potter? Wouldn't be the first time you violated my privacy, would it?"

"Colin doesn't read through the mail," Potter answered, unperturbed as always. "He scans it, with a charm, after the house-elves did a preliminary sorting. I doubt you would rather deal with the howlers and hate mail yourself."

"I'm capable of handling myself whatever some good-for-nothing, self-righteous, self-important people deem necessary to tell me." Severus sneered. "If you need assistance, that is your decision, but it doesn't concern me."

"How many unsavoury letters did Severus receive in the last few days?" Potter wanted to know of Creevey.

"I can't really tell. Most of the mail that has arrived since the news hit the papers hasn't got through the security check yet. But the house-elves are working overtime to handle all the additional letters and howlers," Creevey answered, glancing fretfully from Potter to Severus as if he didn't know whom he should try to please with his answer. "Sixteen so far."

"That's my point," Potter said, addressing Severus once more. "A lot of people will feel the need to comment on our marriage, some will be less than happy about it and I daresay you will have to bear the brunt of their ire."

"That gives you no right..."

"No, but it gives me probable cause," Potter cut his blossoming tirade short. "If you would prefer to sort your mail yourself for now, I'm sure Colin wouldn't mind."

While Creevey hastily agreed, Severus pondered the implications of that "for now". Potter seemed to assume, was steadfastly convinced that Severus would soon come to realise the error of his ways and once again make use of Creevey and his band of house-elves. Severus wasn't naive. Of course there would be howlers and pages filled with unnecessary and unwelcome advice and judgements. But it wasn't like he couldn't use magic to sort his mail. What was to keep him from using the same charm Creevey was using now, and with more efficiency no doubt? He would have to look it up, but that was a small price to pay for his privacy. What was left of it, anyway.

Since Potter and Creevey had continued their conversation, weighing invitations, analysing the press conference and planning their next moves, he turned to his letters, deciding to save his glares and his anger for when Potter would be able to appreciate them fully. One from McGonagall, red, to inquire about his suggestions for the Opening Feast and the Sorting Ceremony. Without Dumbledore there would have to be some changes and the losses among the student and teacher body, though thankfully minimal, would have to be acknowledged. His subscription of the Potions Weekly with a little green tag and a special feature on the uses of rare ingredients, such as dragon's blood and phoenix feather. And a blue tagged, creamy envelope with his name in a calligraphic, silver font. An invitation. The invitation. The invitation to the Annual Potions Masters' Symposium that was to take place in Paris this year and offered a not uninteresting opportunity to discuss recent developments in potion-brewing and related aspects, boast about personal experiences and trade recipes and obscure reference books. The Symposium was one of the few events where Severus would not feel like an outsider, would not be treated like a pariah but with respect and even sometimes with genuine friendliness.

He eagerly broke the blue wax seal, barely sparing a glance for the simile of a bubbling cauldron on it, and unfolded the heavy parchment to see what, or rather whom, they had seen fit to put on the agenda this year. There were certain fixtures, of course. Paul Ackerman, one of the founding fathers of the Symposium, who had furthermore significantly enhanced the efficiency of Dreamless Sleep and who was, in Severus' modest opinion, well past his due date. Siobhan Sickle, because she was one of the most prolific contributors to Potions Weekly and other such magazines and was expected to cover the event from a journalistic, if not necessarily qualified point of view. And Dagobert Daisy, not for his merits as a Potions Master, but because he was one of the principal sponsors and organisers of the Symposium. The latter would no doubt give the welcoming speech, like every year; Ackerman was likely to read the same paper as last year and Siobhan would discuss a number of potions without any depth or innovative thought.

But the rest of the speeches would be more stimulating and Severus noted with satisfaction that there were some people on the list that he would have considered inviting himself. True Masters and Mistresses of Potions, like himself. But since opening the letter, he had steeled himself not to expect anything more than an impersonal invitation to attend the event and he almost missed the second folded page, then assumed that it must be a questionnaire about what he would like to eat. Beef or chicken, salad or soup? He wasn't interested in that right now and simply put the second page aside, turning his full attention back to the first page, critically evaluating the different speakers and gauging their potential interest to him.

When he finally turned his attention to the second page, he had barely ten seconds of enjoyment before he caught sight of the reply-at-the-latest-date.

"Is there a problem, Severus?" Potter had read his mind again; or maybe, he admitted self-consciously, maybe Potter had just seen his knuckles whiten as his grip on the parchment tightened.

"This letter should have been here almost a week ago," Severus pressed out, making an effort to release the now useless page.

"It takes the letters up to three days to get through security," Potter said, giving him his full attention, though it seemed as if Creevey and he had been in the middle of a discussion. "It might have taken longer since I didn't adjust the charms right away to include your mail."

"I didn't know that," Severus snapped, feeling angry drops of sweat gathering on his brow.

"It's not common knowledge," Potter replied easily. "I hope this didn't cause you any inconvenience."

"I'm not just anyone," Severus hissed venomously, leaning forward until he was almost nose to nose with Potter.

"It was remiss of me not to inform you that there might be a delay in your mail," Potter answered graciously, having the good sense not to offer Severus any kind of smile. "I apologise."

"Do you know what this is?" Severus demanded, holding up the letter.

"It's an invitation," Creevey spoke up, eager to please, and in a moment of despair Severus noted that apparently hero-worship trumped Creevey's fear of 'The Greasy Bat'.

Potter returned his glare with patience, waiting for Severus' anger to boil over. "It's an invitation to the Annual Potions Masters' Symposium and it's completely useless."

"I'm not sure I follow," Potter said softly, slight furrows appearing on his forehead. "If you don't wish to attend..."

"They invited me to give a speech about a topic of my choosing. Provided, of course, that I confirmed before the closing date for submissions," Severus talked over the younger man, slapping the offending paper down in front of Potter. "Now guess when that was!"

"Yesterday." Potter hadn't guessed, of course, merely taken a look at the corresponding line as if Severus had given him permission to read his mail. "I assume you would have liked to attend and give a speech?"

"It's the opportunity of a lifetime, Potter," Severus raged. "I've been waiting for twenty years to finally get accepted and acknowledged by the Symposium and when finally, finally they have deemed me worthy... Your infantile security measures and your meddling interference in my life have destroyed any chance I ever had!"

For a moment, Severus thought Potter wouldn't answer and sulk at the unfairness of being scolded when he had done nothing wrong, when he had only tried to help, when it had been Malfoy's fault all along, when his potion had been perfectly fine and not about two seconds from blowing the entire dungeons to pieces. But Potter didn't withdraw into a corner to lick his wounded pride or tried to defend himself with words Severus had no desire to hear.

Instead he turned to Creevey. "Can you get me the name and Floo address of whoever is responsible?" It wasn't really a question though and Creevey hastened over to the fireplace, popping his head in.

"What are you going to do, Potter?" Severus sneered. "Think you can just make an appearance and everything will be right as rain again?"

"I do have considerable influence, Severus," Potter informed him mildly. "And I never wanted my life and my need for security to complicate your life. Is there a particular topic you would like to talk about?"

"Not with you, no," Severus said spitefully, knowing full-well that Potter had been referring to the conference. "You can't fix this, Potter. This is not your playground. The Symposium is organised by true masters of the art of potion-making, wizards and witches who won't be convinced by a flashed smile and your nonsensical answers... But why am I telling you this? You never had any appreciation for my work, be it potions or otherwise."

Severus abruptly got up and left the room. The sight of Potter's calm face sickened him. Potter couldn't care less that Severus had just lost his one chance to be accepted among the elite of Potions' Masters. You didn't turn down the offer to give a speech at the Symposium and even less did you not reply at all. They'd remember this faux-pas and he would be lucky if he got invited to attend again in a few years. They wouldn't consider him as a speaker ever again, no matter what notable achievements he might have in future. They held grudges like that. And so would he. He wouldn't forgive Potter for this.

He strode along the silent hallways, past landscape paintings that had appeared sometime during their second night here, until he reached his office, feeling satisfaction when he firmly shut the door behind him. As he sank into his worn old armchair that had made the journey from his old rooms in the dungeons to this airy room on the second floor, he wondered idly how long he would be able to resist Potter's sexual advances. If he even should. What was in it for him, except for sexual frustration?

Then he shook himself. How pathetic that his first thought went to sex! All his life, all his adult life anyway and most of his adolescence after he had discovered his talent for potions, he had dreamed of standing in front of that esteemed crowd, answering their questions with confidence and earning their approval, their polite or sometimes rambunctious applause. His speeches had changed over the years, with added teaching experience and new insights and discoveries, but the end result had been the same. Severus would have been recognised, the tarnish of the Dark Mark forgotten for at least a short moment in view of his knowledge and understanding. A wave of bitterness, expected and not entirely unwelcome, rolled over him. Potter had taken that from him.

He sank into dark thoughts, thick and ugly as the treacherous swamp deep in the Forbidden Forest, spinning ideas of taking his revenge against Potter, humiliating him like he had been humiliated, destroying him as completely as his career had been destroyed. It did not matter that many of those thoughts contained a naked Potter or that more often than not Severus took his dues from that perfectly toned body, leaving bloody trails on Potter's thighs, bruises on his hips. The many years as a Death Eater had left their mark on him, after all, and maybe so had the few nights with Potter. Severus couldn't find it in him to care.

Potter's appearance, when he eventually poked his head into his study, was decidedly disappointing, no look of pain on his face, no despair in his eyes, no blood anywhere.

"Do you have a moment?" Severus drew his wand with every intention to slam the door shut, preferably breaking Potter's nose, but Potter hadn't waited for an answer and slipped completely into the room, barely lifting an eyebrow at Severus' raised wand; attacking Potter directly would simply be foolish.

"What?"

"I've got your new invitation." Potter took two steps forward and placed an unopened creamy envelope on his desk. "They'll expect your answer within two days and if you'd like to be one of the speakers they would appreciate your abstract by next Friday."

"So what did you do?" Severus snapped in lieu of gaping stupidly at his younger husband. "Offered to give them a hefty donation? Played the hero card? Threatened them with unnamed horrors?"

"I explained the situation to Alonzo." Potter shrugged as if it was no big deal that he had arrived on a first name basis with Alonzo Alvarez, one of the most renowned experts for healing potions in the world, in the time span between Severus' storming out and him storming in.

Severus snorted and reached for the envelope, shredding it unceremoniously in his effort to get to the letter inside. It was the same one as earlier, safe for the changed closing date and a postscript in a different handwriting that was edgier, not quite as easily readable.

 Dear Professor Snape, it read, please accept our sincerest apologies for any inconvenience caused due to the invitations being sent out so late. As a regular and valued participant of the Symposium, you have long since been in consideration for giving a paper at our annual meeting and we would be most delighted if you were willing to share your thoughts on a subject of your choosing with our esteemed friends and colleagues. On behalf of the Symposium, I would also like to congratulate you on your marriage and wish you and Mr. Potter-Snape all the best. Please also extend our invitation to him. Kind regards, Alonzo Alvarez

"So you goaded them with your presence," Severus concluded bitterly. "And of course all the added publicity that your attendance would undoubtedly garner was too great a reward as that they could have resisted."

"I can't deny that they might feel that way, but I have tried to keep my role in this as minimal as possible, other than to explain that it was my security measures that made it impossible for you to respond in time," Potter said softly. "I believe they just wanted to have someone to blame so that they could still have you as a speaker without losing face. Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

If Severus had been a different man, a man of actions rather than of thoughts, he might have stopped Potter's stride towards the door and bent him over the next available surface where he would have proceeded to teach him the meaning of penance. But Severus was not thus inclined and had learned in painstaking lessons that where Harry Potter was concerned restraint was not only recommendable but absolutely necessary if he wanted to keep his job and his life. Albus had not been impressed with him losing his temper after the pensieve accident.

Instead he spent the rest of the afternoon, brooding over his invitation before he finally decided to send the confirmation that he would attend. He then went down to his lab, knowing that at least in there he would be undisturbed, and started to brew the most vicious poison he could imagine. He had once created the recipe in the vague hope that he might get to use it on the Dark Lord; now he entertained thoughts of slipping it into Potter's morning coffee. Neither would happen.

So ensconced in his brewing, he missed dinner and half expected to find Potter asleep when he finally retired to their bedroom. But as always, Potter was still hard at work and only came to bed way past midnight, creeping in as silent as a shadow so as not to disturb an ostensibly asleep Severus.

Chapter Text

They saw each other briefly at breakfast the next morning and Potter attempted small talk over the Quidditch World Cup that would start in a couple of weeks, asked Severus what he planned to do with his day without getting more than a blank stare in return and then excused himself to work.

Severus settled in the library to decide on a topic, write his abstract and get started on the actual speech for the Symposium, thoughts of Potter inevitably pushed into the background until it was time for dinner, a late dinner because Potter worked late on Tuesdays.

"The Daily Prophet article isn't as positive as we had hoped, but overall the press conference was a success," Potter commented over dinner, loading his fork with mashed potatoes and sausage.

"I haven't read it," Severus replied, hoping that it was clear that he had no interest in the topic or conversation in general. He wasn't entirely convinced that holding a grudge was the best course of action, especially as Potter had made an effort to secure his re-invitation, and he attempted to give his tone at least a civil veneer.

"They called you a Death Eater," Potter informed him.

"They aren't so far off from the truth," Severus gave back indifferently.

"There're different truths, they could have chosen one that is more recent," Potter replied without missing a beat. "Like the one that you're in talks to receive the Lifetime Award for Potions at the end of the year." He smiled happily, maybe even with a hint of pride at Severus, who had never taken much note of such rumours and wondered who or what gave Potter the right to be proud of him.

"One of your sources, Potter?" he asked sharply. "I didn't think you would make a habit out of prying into my personal life."

"Well, yes and no." Potter was grinning now. "Alonzo told me that you're one of the nominees."

Severus knew of his nomination, but in his opinion that was no reason to get his hopes up. He had talent, undoubtedly, and could brew first-class potions, mix antidotes and poisons, bottle fame, put a stopper on death, everything he said in his traditional welcome-to-Hogwarts-speech, but the war and the strain of being a double agent had hardly been conducive to ground-breaking discoveries or revolutionary new potions. A Lifetime Award at this time would have very little to do with his potion skills, quite a bit more with his involvement in the war and most of all with his involvement with Harry Potter. Those were dangerous grounds, though, as they were liable to reignite the fires of his bitterness and anger and those were feelings he could not indulge in. It would be foolish to make an enemy out of Potter, not only because they were married and because Potter was the universally loved hero of wizarding Britain, but most of all because Potter still held a second life debt against him and could make his life miserable on all accounts.

"How are you on such familiar terms with Alonzo Alvarez?" he asked instead, absently identifying all the herbs and plants in his mixed salad.

"We worked together a while ago," Potter said before quickly changing the subject. "Have you thought about the Ministry Ball?"

"I will attend," Severus conceded, skewering a quarter of a tomato on his fork. "If you stop wrapping those secrets around yourself like your bloody Invisibility Cloak."

"I can't..." Potter shifted uncomfortably until he seemed to regain his cool. "I swore an Unbreakable Vow. I can't talk about my work."

"I'm well aware of the limitations of what you can tell me, thank you." Severus sneered. "But after the press conference, do you honestly expect me to belief that you couldn't pass on at least some information if you only wanted to? I'm not asking you to divulge Ministry secrets, but I'm not an imbecile and I refuse to be treated as such."

The younger man pondered his words while gnawing his bottom lip in a most distracting manner. Severus was almost certain that he did it on purpose and resolutely concentrated on the distinct taste of rocket salad in his mouth.

"The wizard at our wedding," Potter said finally, twirling the stem of his water glass between his fingers. "Is... I met him early on."

"You mean he recruited you," Severus clarified.

"I can't say," Potter said with a small smirk and Severus snorted. "And I'm afraid, the rest of the information relating directly to my work is privileged. Though, I must say that I was surprised to find out that there are Healing Potions with blueberry flavour. Never had those in Hogwarts."

"Flavouring potions is an extravagancy that would no doubt have compelled you to land in the hospital wing even more often than you already did," Severus murmured absently. "Alvarez' Healing Potions are said to be the best."

"So I've heard," Potter agreed amiably, leaning back in his chair and sipping his butterbeer. "Have you decided on a topic for your speech yet?"

"Yes," Severus said, with no intention of elaborating and Potter didn't press the issue, but instead started to gather the piles of dirty dishes and the left-over mash potatoes to take them to the kitchen where an eager Dobby was already waiting for them and didn't waste time in sending Potter on his merry way.

"I assume you have some work to finish?" Severus asked into the awkward silence, strangely disappointed when Potter nodded.

"Won't take me long though," Potter offered while they slowly made their way to the library and their studies. "An hour, hour and a half maybe. But I'll try to finish earlier today. I was sad to find you asleep last night, I would have liked to apologise again." Potter was looking straight at him, with open, honest eyes. Not exactly guilty, but still willing to make amends. Severus wondered if he had no common sense at all. "And I know actions speak louder than words." Suddenly Potter was wearing Harry's smile, shy and flirtatious and oh-so-tempting.

"Well, if you can manage to finish before I retire, I'd be glad to accept... your apologies," Severus said primly, stopping at the door to the library and noticing the flush to Potter's cheeks with mild interest.

"See you later, then." Potter said happily and went to his study at a brisk pace; moments later, Severus heard the snick as Potter bolted the door.

ö_ö_ö

"Ready to go to bed?" Potter was leaning casually against the doorframe, his hair even wilder than usual as if he had run his hand through it repeatedly.

"I'm not particularly tired yet," Severus said, carefully studying the younger man.

"Good," Harry said, sashaying towards him and barely giving Severus the time to put aside Erich Eichenloh's treatise on curse-breaking before he perched down on Severus' lap, joining their lips in a kiss full of promise. "I still owe you an apology, don't I?"

"Do you?" Severus asked despite himself because to him it was clear that the other wizard was no more sorry than Severus was tired and as much as he enjoyed their sexual encounters he was not about to allow himself to be mocked.

"Yeah, I think I do." Harry brushed a light kiss over his cheek. "I'm sorry that my thoughtlessness spoilt this for you. I'm sorry that you now feel you got that second invitation because of who I am and not because of who you are. I'm sorry that I forgot that not all areas of my life are secret and that you're a part of it now. I'm sorry that you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry and I've had a lifetime to get used to disappointments," Severus replied, watching Harry for signs of pity.

Instead he found amusement and something like fondness. "I've had a lifetime to know when you're angry with me, Professor. You glare most formidably."

Severus scowled. "Ten years hardly constitute a lifetime, Potter."

"Well, I could certainly profit from some more experience," Harry agreed easily, running his hand over Severus' robe-clad arm and smoothing the wrinkles in the black material as effortlessly as he had smoothed Severus' rising temper. "That is, if a capable Potions Master would be up to the job of teaching me."

"I might know of someone," Severus murmured, ill at ease with this teasing banter and eager for it to be replaced with something more substantial.

Harry's face lit up in a smile, so carefree, so young, like Severus had never had the strength to pretend. Was it pretence with Potter? Maybe. Probably. It didn't bear consideration. He slid his cold, dry hands over the warm skin of Harry's stomach as he pushed up the soft grey jumper and the crisp white shirt. Harry must have left his robes in his study or banished them to the bedroom. Confident arms draped around his neck, daring fingers tangled in his hair, delicious lips pressed against his. Could one fake such passion, such desire? In his years as a spy, he had been called upon to fake loyalty and devotion, adoration and blind faith, but fortunately he had always been more useful in his lab than in the Dark Lord's bed. Though, from Lucius' vague descriptions the Dark Lord had not been particularly interested in whether or not his bed partner enjoyed the experience anyway. But he shouldn't be thinking about any of that.

Harry rubbed a single finger over the crease between his brows, then placed a feather-light kiss on it. Still smiling with that innate warmth that had drawn Severus to Lily. Thinking about Lily wasn't the best idea, either. Not with Harry undulating against him, teasing open the buttons of his robe, that mouth driving him to distraction.

When Harry pushed his robes down over his shoulders, worshipping his pale skin with nips and kisses while Severus slipped out of his sleeves, all his thoughts narrowed in on the younger man and he felt the sudden need to explore more of that sun-kissed skin with his hands and lips. He grasped his wand, but Harry's hand stilled his.

"It wouldn't be much of an apology if I had you do all the work, would it?" he whispered teasingly in Severus' ear, nipping the earlobe. "I could undress myself for you. Would you like that, Severus?"

He must have made some sound of agreement because Harry got up with fluid grace, trailing a hand down his bare chest as if he was loath to part with it. Severus thought that those nimble hands found an even more worthy occupation as they curled in the seam of Harry's sweater, rolling it up over his firm chest and pulling it over his even more tousled head. His seductive smile never wavered. But still no bare skin, the white shirt having ridden up momentarily but then falling easily back in place. Severus could have groaned in frustration.

Harry's fingers went to the buttons of his shirt and slowly slipped one button after another through their holes, revealing centimetre for centimetre the honey-coloured skin of his chest, his navel, the gentle ridges of his abs. He looked up coyly when all the buttons were undone, licked over his pink lips, and then finally pushed the shirt apart while rotating on the spot, swaying his hips to an unheard rhythm.

Severus caught glimpses of dusty nipples, twin peaks in the cool air of the library, and an auspicious trail of fine, black hair that started underneath Harry's navel and disappeared in his trousers. Harry kicked of his shoes, toed of his socks and then his hands went to his fly, undoing the top button and pulling the zip down. One finger disappeared inside and Harry threw his head back, arched his back and thrust his hips forward, moaning happily. Severus gulped.

Harry presented his backside again and pushed the trousers down his slender legs, bending over to allow Severus a perfect view on his enticing bum, wriggling it under the pretence of undressing. Severus admired the long, clear lines of his back, the moderately broad shoulders and the ridiculously narrow hips, inhaling a bit too forcefully when Harry pushed his pants down as well, kicked them off and stood gloriously naked in front of the Potions Master. Circe, he should start taking Calming Draughts as a precaution!

But Harry had no mercy on him, ran his hands over his exposed body, twirling his fingers around his nipples, combing through his dark pubic hair, and made obscene noises, groaning and moaning and panting and gasping, while his green eyes were fixed on Severus.

Severus cleared his throat, "Potter, while your concern about my over-exerting myself is most admirable, I do not think being left a passive observer to your evident shamelessness is what I would consider adequate recompense."

"Of course, Severus," Harry agreed readily, crossing the distance between them with light steps and sank to his knees in front of the Potions Master. "Would you like me to apologise... with my mouth?"

Already his slender fingers were working on the fly of Severus' trousers, rubbing teasingly over the bulge he found there.

Severus buried one hand in Harry's wild hair, twisting his fingers sharply in the pitch-black strands as he forced the younger man to look up at him. "Maybe I'm not interested in your apologies, maybe I want revenge."

Harry, of all things to do, leaned into his punishing grip as if it was a gentle stroke, a loving caress. "You wouldn't enjoy that as much as what I have in mind."

"Don't presume to know what I enjoy, Potter." Severus sneered, pulling a bit harder to make a point.

"I know you don't like pain," Harry said. "And you're not comfortable with inflicting pain on others. I quite agree with that. So why would we settle for revenge when there's a much more pleasurable alternative?"

Severus couldn't fault that logic, least of all with Harry's warm breath ghosting over the tip of his exposed erection and skilful fingers wrapping around its base. He followed Harry's urging and leant back comfortably in the armchair, his legs falling apart to accommodate the lithe man to his feet. He relaxed his hold on the younger man's skull, no longer twisting or tugging, but combing his fingers almost lovingly through the soft black hair and leading Harry's mouth to his erection.

Harry pointed his tongue, lapping at the first drops of come that had gathered at the tip of Severus' arousal, and the Potions Master marvelled at the look of curiosity on the younger man's face as if he truly expected to taste a difference to any other time he had swallowed his semen. Then an expression of bliss, a swipe over those kissable lips before they closed around the head of his cock, and Severus had to grip tight to the armrest so as not to thrust all the way into the deliciously moist cavern.

The green-eyed man hummed his approval, sending vibrations up Severus' shaft as Harry took more of his erection in his mouth. Severus pressed his head back against the backrest and closed his eyes, just enjoying the sensation without thinking too much about who was the one giving him this amazing blowjob. But Harry's name drifted to the tip of his tongue, just as the image of him kneeling between his legs pierced through the veil of his fluttering eyelashes, as he gushed down Harry's throat. If the name escaped him in a whisper, neither of them made mention of it as Harry licked and suckled him clean before he helped him out of his trousers and spread his own legs in invitation.

Chapter Text

Potter had no problem returning to his routine the next morning, getting up before dawn, absolving physical training and meditation and leaving for work immediately after they had breakfast. They would share the evening meal and then go their separate ways to their studies, the library or in Severus' case his lab till it was time for bed and almost inevitably sex, after which Potter would get comfortable on his side, close his eyes and even his breathing until Severus drifted off to sleep. Severus was starting to wonder if he would ever get to see the younger man sleep or if maybe Potter's trust in him did not extend that far.

All such unpleasant thoughts fled his mind when Potter emerged at the top of the stairs, dressed in dark blue dress robes with a silver trim. By Merlin, that would be his date for the evening. The cut of the robes accentuated his trim build perfectly and the colour made his skin glow and his eyes sparkle. The mirthful smile he was wearing didn't help Severus' libido.

"Ready to go? The Department doesn't approve of me being fashionably late," Harry, Potter dammit, said. "You look striking, by the way."

The kiss Potter brushed over his cheek was entirely uncalled for, as was the hand that stroked the small of his back to compel him forward. Potter urgently needed to be reminded who was on top in this relationship. Severus would have liked a reminder himself. But as Potter was already offering him the box of Floo powder they kept on the mantelpiece that would have to wait.

He went through the Floo first, arriving in the Atrium of the Ministry, and quickly stepped aside so that Potter could follow him. It was encouraging that Potter's arrival was still as graceless as it had ever been, more a tumble than a controlled step out of the fireplace. At least some things didn't change.

"Mr. Potter, so glad you could make it." Potter had just rightened himself when his hand was seized in an enthusiastic handshake.

"Senior Undersecretary Milton, it's great to see you again. You look lovely tonight. That new haircut really suits you." Potter smoothly extracted his hand from the smallish mauve-clad witch, who tittered when he smiled at her. "Have you met my husband, Professor Severus Snape?"

Her smile was frozen when she extended her hand to him and she released it after only the most cursory of shakes. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Severus forced himself to say, surprised when Potter leaned into his side; even more surprised when he slung his own arm around the slender waist.

"Well, enjoy the evening. I'm sure we'll have time to chat later," Milton excused herself, though they weren't alone for long before a sheer endless string of people greeted Potter, introduced themselves to him and engaged him in idle small talk, no doubt in the hope that some dim-witted reporter would happen by at just the right moment to acknowledge their moment of glory.

"I'm getting something to drink," Severus murmured to Potter between supplicants, intend to escape before the next barrage of fans.

"Could you get me some juice, please?" Potter asked. "Though, I understand if you want to get some fresh air instead."

"I'll be back," Severus said and slowly loosened his hold on the younger man.

Potter had no time to reply before the Head of the Office of Misinformation demanded his attention. Severus retreated to the refreshment table, glad to be out of Potter's immediate vicinity because all those suspicious looks and angry glares were making his skin itch and his mouth dry. On the other hand, it seemed like Potter was born for this. He apparently knew every person in the room, his or her name and title, a few personal anecdotes and at times vicious gossip that he was willing to share with Severus once they had turned away. But Potter was charming and witty, never impatient or impolite, and still managed to be attentive to Severus, sending warning glares left and right to anyone who dared look at him the wrong way.

He got a glass of red wine for himself and some pumpkin juice for Potter though he briefly considered adding a bit more pep to Potter's preferred drink. He might need it. But he had never seen Potter indulge in anything more alcoholic than butterbeer and getting Potter drunk probably wasn't a safe option. With his luck, Potter would be a flirty drunk.

"Thank you, Severus." Potter gratefully accepted the glass he handed him, kissed his cheek and took a large sip of his juice. "Do you know Liam Longstreet? He's the potions expert for the Invisibility Task Force."

"Professor Snape! It's great to see you again." The young man almost reverently extended his hand to him, his white teeth gleaming in his dark face. "I don't know if you remember me, but I was - "

"One of my best students." Severus finished, taking the offered hand. "I'm glad you decided to make a profession out of your talent. Are you working on your Mastery?"

"Yes. I remember you told me to come to you if I ever needed a second opinion, but I wanted to wait till I was sure to be on the right track before bothering you. If the offer still stands, that is." Liam had truly been a refreshing exception to the otherwise dull and duller student body, someone with not only talent but dedication, who had left Hogwarts with an impressive total of zero exploded cauldrons.

"Of course, I look forward to reading something other than ill-reflected student's essays," he replied and earned himself a laugh.

"It'll be great to have someone to bounce ideas off on," Liam answered, smiling again though not quite as charmingly as Potter; when Potter smiled his eyes sparkled and he showed a hint off dimples that could drive Severus to distraction.

Speaking of Potter, the ex-Gryffindor was already engaged in another conversation, surrounded by a gaggle of five wizards and witches in purple robes, most likely from the Committee on Experimental Charms, flashing those dimpled smiles left and right. Liam drew him into a conversation about copper versus brass cauldrons for the brewing of Grade 2 Invisibility Potions, and Severus forgot about Potter for a while.

But when it was time for the speeches – boring, pointless, long-winded speeches – Potter was at his side again, offering him a platter of hors d'oeuvres that Severus hoped had not come from one of his adoring fans.

"You okay so far?" Potter asked in a whisper, brushing his shoulder against Severus'.

Other than the unaccidental bumps, the unfriendly glares and the whispered threats the evening was indeed going well. "It was a relief to find at least one person who doesn't have the mental capacity of a flobberworm."

Potter chuckled. "I would be flattered, except I know you're not talking about me. But I'm glad you had a chance to reconnect with Liam. I also saw Tony McTibbins earlier. He's dreadfully boring and that not only because I'm generally underwhelmed by his preferred topic of conversation, but he's considered a genius when it comes to Shrinking Solutions, isn't he? Maybe you'd find him interesting to talk to as well."

"If this is your sad attempt to placate me with throwing moderately talented potioneers at me, you better not be expecting a thank you." Severus glowered down at the younger man.

"I've learned to scale down my expectations." Potter smiled again, applauding politely when the Minister for Magic took the stage. "Besides, I have other, more effective ways to placate you."

Severus rolled his eyes when he felt a hand ghost over his ass before resting on the small of his back. "Your ability to turn everything into a sexual innuendo is quite frankly astounding, Potter."

"Why thank you." Potter's hand pressed more firmly into his lower back, rubbing in a way that sent tingles up his spine; he took a step to the side and Potter dropped his hand.

The Minister was gaining momentum in his speech about how much progress they had made since the end of the war, how they were rebuilding wizarding Britain to be better and brighter than ever before, how they still had a long way to go but how the country would prosper through the communal effort of everyone. Potter had adopted his most attentive mien, nodding at appropriate intervals and clapping politely when the whole thing was over and they were invited to partake in the food and entertainment.

"Would you care for a dance?" Potter asked when the dance floor slowly started filling with couples who swayed to the soft music.

"Would it be advisable to perform a Steel-Cap Spell on my shoes beforehand?" Severus asked back, but followed Potter to the dance floor and pulled him into his arms. "I lead."

"Good, I'm still pretty crappy at that part." Potter admitted, resting his hand on Severus' shoulder.

Potter wasn't a confident dancer, he had a habit of watching his feet and his expression was one of extreme concentration, but Potter's inherent grace made his movements smooth and he reacted to Severus' non-verbal cues with ease. All in all, dancing with Potter was not wholly unpleasant, especially when the younger man swayed closer to him and put his cheek on Severus' shoulder.

"This will no doubt be my favourite dance this evening," Potter murmured.

"All these young, attractive men vying for your attention and begging for a dance with you, and that is what you would have me believe?" Severus mocked, his eyes sweeping over the wizards gathered at the sidelines and narrowing a fraction whenever he caught one of them staring at Potter.

"You make me feel safe," Potter said softly, kissing his cheek when the song ended. "Thank you for that. Now, would you like me to introduce you to Tony McTibbins before I try not to trod on someone else's feet?"

"How is it that you know everyone here?" Severus asked, pulling Potter back into his arms and lowering his voice so that hopefully the circling vultures, just waiting for a chance to sink their claws into Potter, would be deterred for a moment longer.

"When you're Harry Potter there're a lot of people who want to shake hands with you." Potter shrugged. "Plus, it's my job to be sociable. I'm the pretty face they plaster over all their untold secrets."

"It is that." Severus murmured, gently touching Potter's cheekbone before he shook himself and took a step back. "Since there is no other entertainment planned, I might request another dance in the course of the evening."

"Feel free to rescue me anytime." Potter sent him another smile before he let himself be submerged in the midst of those eager men and women who were standing in line for a dance with The-Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.

Severus was nurturing his half empty glass of wine, considering the likeliness of being able to make a quick, unnoticed escape with his husband for a roll in their always welcoming bed sheets, when his musing were interrupted by that cultured, smooth voice: "It seems you already lost your husband to the crowds, old friend. I wonder should I express congratulations or condolences?"

"Lucius." Severus took another sip of wine before turning to the regal-looking blond. "I never knew you to be lost for words."

"As I never took you for someone who would willingly attend these social gatherings." Lucius' silver eyes swept over the decorated hall, fastened onto Potter for a bit longer than could be deemed casual and then turned back to Severus. "Or marry, least of all the boy hero. You always described him in such... fond terms; it never crossed my mind that you would sully your relationship of mutual hatred by exchanging wedding vows."

"Had you been in my place, you would have been hard-pressed to reject that kind of proposal, too," Severus said, doing his best to keep his voice light and conversational.

"I suppose your union is not without advantages for you," Lucius conceded while Severus watched out for the concealed dagger in his words and in his robes. "Though, I cannot imagine that it has endeared you to the general public. I read the article in the Daily Prophet and the quill of that Skeeter woman is as sharp as it used to be."

"Your concern is touching," Severus replied with an absolute lack of sincerity in his voice. "But I know who to keep close... and who to keep closer."

"I hope I'm the one you'll keep closest." Potter had obviously caught his last sentence and was sauntering over to them with, of all people, Draco Malfoy by his side. "Did you notice that they have a chocolate fountain over there near that portrait of Nobby Leach? It's great... Mr. Malfoy, are you enjoying the evening so far?"

The slight of only greeting Lucius as an afterthought was hardly diminished by Potter's ever-so-charming smile, and on some deeply ingrained instinct Severus extended his arm, wrapped it around Potter's slim waist and drew him close, closer, closest. Maybe he was fooling himself, but Potter's smile seemed more genuine when he looked up at him.

He listened with half an ear to the strained exchange of pleasantries between his husband and the older Malfoy while he himself turned to the younger. "Draco, it's good to see you again. I didn't realise that you and... Harry were friends."

"Let's just say we suspended our enmity for an indefinite time." Draco still had that same smirk he had had in Hogwarts, the one that spoke of pureblood supremacy and a general feeling of superiority. "It's just more sensible."

"I believe you called it 'energy conservation'," Potter offered helpfully. "You're such a romantic after all."

"And you still delight in ruining my reputation," Draco retorted and for a moment Severus thought Potter's comment might have hit a nerve, but then they both started grinning. Like schoolboys, and he was suddenly glad that he would never again have to face either of them in the classroom.

"I think you have that backward, Draco," Potter corrected him sweetly, reaching past Severus for another glass of pumpkin juice.

Severus felt the tingle of a complex Poison-Detection Spell whizz past him though Potter hardly hesitated before putting the glass to his mouth.

"Given your association with my son, I would have assumed that you had transitioned to more mature drinking habits, Mr. Potter," Lucius remarked, sipping his own champagne.

Potter drank some of his juice in a silent challenge before he answered. "Alcohol has a nasty habit of enhancing the potency of most poisons and as such alcoholic beverages are more prone to tampering. I have too many enemies – and crazed fans – to be negligent about something as simple as that."

Potter smiled winningly up at the blond wizard, but Severus could feel the currents of tension thrumming through his body. It would have been fascinating to watch their exchange from a safe distance as an impartial observer, but sadly, where Harry Potter was concerned, Severus had never mastered the art of impartiality and with every flash of irritation in Lucius' eyes he felt the mounting urge to pack up Potter and take him to the other side of the room, seek cover behind the refreshment table or whisk him away over the Floo.

"A good reason to marry a Potions Master," Lucius said, inclining his head to Severus.

"Not the only one, I assure you," Potter said, moving in front of Severus as if to protect him; Severus wanted to laugh.

"Potter, please, we don't want to hear about that," Draco intervened and Potter rolled his eyes. "How about that dance now?"

"You hate dancing with me," Potter pointed out.

"I daresay you have marginally improved since our first dance," Draco commented and took Potter's juice glass away. "Besides, people will be keener to invest in one of my projects after they've seen me dance with you. Consider it your good deed for the day."

"No twirly stuff, okay?" Potter clarified but took Draco's hand with a sigh. "Minister Fairweather has already exhausted my tolerance for that."

"He does have a flare for the dramatics," Draco admitted. "You should ask him to let you lead next time. He could hardly refuse such a request."

"Believe me, I'm going to," Potter muttered before turning back to him and Lucius. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. Malfoy. I suppose you're going to be leaving soon, what with the raid that's happening at your house right about now. See you later, Severus."

"Raid?" Both the younger and the older Malfoy said at the same time and Severus would have dearly loved some explanation as well.

But Potter tightened his hold on Draco and pulled him onto the dance floor, not sparing Lucius another glance, who, predictably turned on him. Thank you so much, Potter.

"Severus." Having a name which started and ended with an alveolar sibilant posed a distinct disadvantage in situations like this as it was easy to convey a substantial amount of menace through anger-clenched teeth.

"Harry is not in the habit of sharing his sources with me," Severus warded off. "If there was going to be a raid, I'm sure you would have heard of it before me... and Harry would have heard of it before either of us."

Lucius' mouth pinched as if he had just bit into a lemon and Severus didn't have to be a Leglimens to know that Lucius was running through all the curses he would never utter in polite society so as not to tarnish his reputation.

"Don't get to comfortable with your new husband, Severus." Lucius leaned in close while absently adjusting his robes. "You'll find he's keeping more than one secret from you and not all of them are as harmless... It would be a pity, if, after all these years, you were the one to get him killed, wouldn't it?"

"You know how much I always value your advice," Severus replied, returning the cold smile with which Lucius bade him goodbye. He was getting too old for these games.

Chapter Text

"I'll have to work a few night shifts in the coming weeks, so this might be the last dinner we'll have together for a while," Potter said a few days after the Ministry Ball, looking at Severus as if he expected expressions of regret or maybe a temper tantrum.

"Don't make it sound so ominous, Potter. It's hardly the end of my world," Severus replied, while his mind inevitably wandered to what else he would have to miss out on, besides dinner.

"Of course not," Potter agreed and left it at that.

They hadn't touched upon what happened at the Ministry party, but the next day the Daily Prophet had included a feature article on the raids of the homes of several members of society 'who were suspected of having ties to the Death Eaters'. Malfoy Manor was among the properties which had been searched, though whether they had turned up anything more discriminatory than a few cursed family heirlooms was uncertain. No doubt, Potter would know. But Severus hadn't asked him and he wasn't going to any time soon. Some secrets were better left untouched. The better part of page two was taken up by an exposé about his and Harry's secret affair that had preceded their supposedly impromptu marriage. Source unnamed, of course.

"Would you like to join me for a shower?" Harry asked, getting up from the sofa and stretching.

Severus allowed himself a minute to drink in the sight of his husband as he stood there in the middle of the library, his skin flawless even in the thorough lightning of the room and his eyes compelling and inviting at the same time.

"It's not a trick, Severus," Harry tried to convince him and Severus felt his resolve harden. "Just a harmless invitation."

"Nothing is harmless where you're concerned, Potter," Severus snapped. "I would like to finish my book now."

"Door's open, if you happen to finish during the next half an hour," Potter said simply and left.

Severus read a few more lines before he threw his book away in frustration, images of Harry, naked and wet and wanton, invading his mind and vaporizing all other thoughts. Merlin, nothing was harmless with that boy, least of all the sex. It was a time-delayed poison, Devil's Snare and the more you struggled, the harder you tried to resist, the faster it consumed you. But he wasn't going to follow in the Dark Lord's footsteps and become obsessed with a boy who had nothing to distinguish him except for a sheer endless amount of magic and, as it turned out, a voracious sexual appetite.

He forced himself to wait almost twenty-five minutes before it no longer kept him in his armchair. He noxed the lights before he left the library, closed the door behind him and slowly made his way down the hallway to the door of the bathroom, partially open. To allow the billowing steam to escape, not to invite him in.

Harry was already out of the shower, brushing his teeth in front of the fogged bathroom mirror with only a towel slung around his slender hips. Severus found himself wishing he had arrived just a few minutes earlier, in time to catch Harry coming out of the shower with no bothersome towel in the way. But Harry's skin was still damp, slightly flushed, probably warmer than usual with just a smattering of dark hair disappearing under the towel. So tempting.

Harry scrubbed one final time over his molars, cupped a handful of water, rinsed, spit into the sink and dried his mouth on the hand towel.

"You might have a better view if you came inside," Harry said conversationally, wiping the steam from the mirror and looking at Severus in the reflecting glass. "And also, you need to tell me if I should get dressed. Or if you have other plans with me."

"I have no doubt that you could make equally as enticing a show with dressing as you demonstrated with undressing, but it seems rather pointless in the given situation," Severus remarked and Harry sent him a lazy grin, nestling for a moment at where he had tucked in the towel, then let it pool around his feet. "I'll be in the bedroom."

He tore his gaze away from Harry's body and turned to go, long, even steps.

"You're not very adventurous when it comes to sex, are you?" Harry asked, crossing the threshold to their bedroom moments after Severus.

"Weren't my sexual preferences part of the information you compiled about me?" Severus demanded, starting to unbutton his robes without turning to face his husband.

"I like finding some things out for myself," Harry murmured, draping himself over his back and kissing his neck. "Like that you smell like bergamot and sandalwood, rosemary after you washed your hair. It's so much more exciting to experience that personally instead of reading it on paper."

"That must have come as a surprise to you." Severus sneered, knowing that it was one of his least attractive expressions and hurling the words at Harry like a weapon. "That I do actually wash my hair."

"I always suspected." Harry buried his nose in the side of his neck, in the sensitive patch of skin between his jawbone and his skull. "And I wonder if my attempts at seduction might be more successful if I just joined you in the shower next time."

"I had not realised that your seduction had been unsuccessful so far," Severus replied, feigning indifference to the warm hands that slowly explored his chest. "Though, you will have to see for yourself what happens if you join me."

Harry laughed. "I don't know if that was a threat or a flirtation."

"You'll find out," Severus answered, surprisingly sure of the truth of that statement.

He felt Harry smile against his neck and bit the inside of his lip to contain his own smile. Maybe he had been trying to flirt, maybe, as laughable as it was for him to try to flirt with this gorgeous young man, this annoying little brat. Who was helping him out of his trousers, worshipping his skin with kisses and teasing nips, leading him over to their bed and giving over control as soon as he was ready to exact it.

ö_ö_ö

'Night shift' turned out to be a euphemism. Potter was gone two or even three days in a row, returned early one morning and left again that same night. The days he was there he spent working in his study, eating, meditating and fucking. He didn't sleep.

Severus had gone so far as to offer him a Dreamless Sleep Potion, served together with a list of all the side effects of sleep deprivation and Potter had laughed and told him that he took naps and meditated. He was fine. Not to worry. But thanks for the concern. Would he like to have sex?

"Maybe I'd like some answers instead," Severus retorted, fixing the younger man with his glare.

"If I can answer I will," Potter gave back easily, even going so far as to turn away from the row of books he had been perusing and meeting Severus' eyes with serene interest.

"Why don't you sleep?" Severus demanded immediately, not wanting to give Potter the opportunity to think of a way to somehow evade his question.

"The average quantity of magic I use every day is hardly enough to put a dent in my magical reserves. When I meditate I can still exercise my magic while giving my body time to rest," Potter answered, but Severus was sceptical if Potter had actually answered or just given him some vague facts in the hopes that Severus would draw his own conclusions and let the matter drop.

"What about your mind? Doesn't that need proper rest?" Severus asked and swallowed the instinctive insult that would probably merely amuse the younger man.

"You were the one who taught me that clearing and ordering one's mind is essential for a peaceful sleep," Potter answered mildly.

"The Dark Lord is dead. No one is going to invade your mind in your sleep, Potter," Severus said defensively. "I'm not that interested in your secrets."

"I know," Potter said with that inexplicable confidence. "I'm glad you didn't let Malfoy's words get to you."

"What are you talking about?" Severus demanded, taking a step towards the younger man. "Did you eavesdrop on our conversation?"

"We've had eyes and ears on him before we married, Severus," Potter said in that oh-so-reasonable soft voice. "I wasn't eavesdropping on you."

"The outcome is rather the same, wouldn't you agree?" Severus snapped, pulling back when Potter reached out for him.

"I don't want you to be angry with me," Potter said, but it sounded like Harry. "I have to leave for work in less than an hour. Don't you think we could find something more worthwhile to do than fighting about something you already knew?"

"You shouldn't assume that everyone draws the same conclusions as you do," Severus pointed out, but his admonishment lacked bite because it wasn't completely absurd to infer that Potter would have surveillance on Lucius Malfoy.

Potter cocked his head. "I still owe him a life debt and I don't want you to get hurt."

The Potions Master took a deep breath, wondering how Potter could be so absolutely tactless and self-centred and then throw his concern for Severus into the mix like something that was evident and without condition. "And don't you think we would both stand a better chance against potential harm if we were on the same page?"

"Aren't we?" The younger man asked in surprise.

"Your page might as well be written in Parseltongue for all the information I can gleam from it," Severus answered dryly. "Even Lucius seems to know more about your plans than I do."

Potter smirked. "Really? That's fascinating. You haven't met Colin's girlfriend yet, have you? Amanda Webb, lovely young lady and a wicked sense of humour. She works at the Office of Misinformation, I believe."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I have no interest in meeting any more of your friends."

"That's what I thought," Potter replied happily. "Severus..." He hesitated and then shook his head. "You're welcome to ask questions, but my secrets aren't as dark and dirty as some believe. Now, my offer still stands..."

Suddenly Harry was in his space, pressed along the length of his body and Severus couldn't help but notice what else was standing.

"You haven't told me the truth about why you're not sleeping," he still insisted but turned his face into the soft kisses Harry was nibbling along his yaw.

"I haven't lied." Harry's nose buried briefly beneath his ear before he continued feathering kisses over his throat and face.

"We both know that the one doesn't preclude the other," Severus murmured and finally gave into temptation, wrapping his hands around Harry's waist and pulling him closer. "One day you'll tell me your secrets. Dirty or not."

"Not all the secrets I keep are mine to tell," Harry whispered in his ear, but it sounded like a promise.

Chapter Text

Severus was sorting through his unending supply of hate-mail, skimming over the by now third letter from an anonymous writer who made him personally responsible for the second rise of the Dark Lord and the death of his son, who only died because everyone, including Severus, had been 'too busy protecting the Potter boy,' when the call came. It was a non-descript Ministry employee, maybe one of Potter's co-workers or maybe just someone who was charged with delivering unpleasant messages. He supposed it was a sign of courtesy that they hadn't sent an owl instead and he also supposed he should have expected something like this to happen, given Potter's track record.

But he wasn't prepared for the shortness of breath, the black spots dancing in front of his eyes, his jittery hands and shaky knees. The absolute helplessness as to what to do.

"St. Mungo's?" he confirmed with the head in the fireplace, summoning his robes and emergency potions kit and trying not to show his panic.

"Yes, the healers are still working on him, but you're on his emergency contact list so..." The head was clearly uncomfortable and just as clueless as Severus, though he was fairly confident that he was at least displaying greater composure.

"I suppose the staff at St. Mungo's will be able to give me more information," Severus said, shoving into his robes. "Unless you have something else to tell me, I suggest you get out of my way so that I can attend to my husband."

"Of course, good night, sir." The head disappeared before Severus could address the inappropriateness of those words.

St. Mungo's was a bustle of frantic friends and family members, patients and the brigade of mediwizards and healers in their lime-green robes who tried to be everywhere at once. Severus told himself that it was this kind of organized chaos that was making him anxious and not the worry for Potter. The reception area was packed full and the Welcome Witch was desperately trying to understand the wizard who had accidentally - or maybe purposefully - enlarged his tongue to a point where it probably obstructed his airway. A line was beginning to form and Severus really didn't have the time for this.

He used his glare and height to his advantage and inserted himself between the wizard with the swollen tongue and the witch with a suspicious fluid coming out of her eyes, nose and ears then sharply rapped his fingers on the counter till he had the attention of the Welcome Witch.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter, he was admitted earlier today," Severus said before she could admonish him to wait his turn and suppressed a curse at the immediate hushed silence that descended over the room.

"It is against hospital policy to give out this kind of information to anyone but immediate family," she pointedly raised her voice and stared disdainfully at Severus.

"I'm his husband," Severus snapped, leaning over the counter and into her private space.

"I'm well aware of who you are, sir," she bit out, still glaring balefully up at him though she had inched her swivel chair slightly away from the desk; Potter was smiling at him from the cover of the latest Witch Weekly issue, 10 Reasons Why He Married The Wrong Wizard. "You're not a blood relative."

"He's Harry fucking Potter, what blood relative would you like me to pull out of my sleeve?!" Severus exclaimed before he could stop himself.

She reached towards her wand. "Sir, if you don't calm yourself I will have you removed by security. You may wait in the tearoom until Mr. Potter is allowed to have visitors, if you wish."

"I have no intention of waiting in the tearoom," Severus pressed out, curling his hands into fists. "I - "

"Professor Snape! Over here!" he turned around quickly, spotting Potter's bushy-haired friend and their red-headed sidekick and strode towards them without another word to the unhelpful receptionist.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I assume you had more success than I did?" he asked, following them into a mostly empty hallway with examination rooms to both sides.

"With that stuck-up airhead?" Weasley snorted derisively. "Not a chance. But Harry is almost always admitted to Artefact Accidents or Spell Damage and we spoke with one of the mediwizards there. Harry's still being treated but he's no longer in critical condition, so that's something."

"We thought you might still be down here so we came to tell you where we are," Granger spoke up, smoothing a strand of frizzy hair behind her ear.

"I thought we were getting a cup of coffee," Weasley muttered, throwing her an unhappy look.

"What happened?" Severus demanded, not keen to let them get into a lover's spat.

"The healers don't know and as far as we can tell none of Harry's co-workers are here," Granger's tone all too clearly conveyed what she thought of that.

"Most likely it was another 'minor mishap', an 'accident', 'unforeseen complications'," Weasley groused, scuffling his feet over the stone floor as they made their way up to the Spell Damage Ward. "That's all Harry's going to say about it anyway."

"So this is not the first time something like this has happened?" Severus asked, following Granger's example and conjuring up a chair to sit in while they waited for news.

"You're kidding, right?" Weasley gracelessly plopped down in his own chair, all but blocking the hallway with his long outstretched legs. "He lands in the hospital more often than the rest of my family put together."

"Harry has always been a trouble magnet. That hasn't stopped just because Voldemort is dead," Granger said more softly. "Though, I have a feeling that recently it has less to do with Harry being accident-prone and more with whatever they have him do."

"Of course it has to do with his work," Weasley exclaimed and Severus couldn't help but agree. "I hate this. When are they going to tell us what the hell is going on?!"

"Would you really rather the healers were out here, soothing your frazzled nerves, instead of trying to save your best friend's life, Mr. Weasley?" Severus demanded scornfully. "Then, by all means, continue to make a nuisance of yourself."

Granger shushed her boyfriend before he could accuse Severus of something undoubtedly atrocious and uninventive and they lapsed into silence.

One hour later, Granger got out a book and started reading. Two hours later, Weasley went to get them some coffee and sandwiches; Severus checked his for poison. Three hours later, he had just got up to stretch his legs when a door, not the one they had obstinately been staring at the last few hours, but a door nonetheless, swung open and revealed three healers, looking suitably sombre and accomplished.

After a few exchanged words, two of them disappeared in one direction while the other one came towards them.

"You're here for Mr. Potter?" he asked, extending his hand to Weasley and Granger and finally to Severus. "I'm Healer Cardea, I'm in charge of Mr. Potter's treatment."

"How is he?" Granger asked, unabashedly hopeful and frightened.

Severus studied the healer while he gave them the news about Harry. Stable. Recovering. He had a natural suspicion of anyone who tried to compensate for his incompetence with his good looks and he liked the slightly too portly stomach, the washed-out red undershirt that didn't match his lime-green healer's robes, the bald spot on his head that told him that this healer wasn't vain enough to take a Hair-Regrowth Potion on a regular basis. Lacerations. Blood-Loss. He wasn't convinced that the dark rings under his eyes were a good sign, but Healer Cardea didn't indulge in expansive gesturing and his hands were steady. Blood-Replenishing Potion. Close monitoring. Rest.

Granger asked for clarification. What kind of lacerations? Where? How? How come they hadn't given Harry a potion to support coagulation to prevent major blood loss?

The answers weren't very reassuring. The healers were not sure what had caused the lacerations that had covered most of Harry's body, but they had to administer several potions in combination with a string of spells to finally get them to clot, which was why Harry had lost so much blood. But he was stable now, recovering, they were assured once more. It didn't settle Severus' nerves.

"Can we see him?" Weasley asked this time.

"Of course. He's conscious, though he might still be a bit disoriented from the painkillers we delivered," the healer warned. "Someone will be by shortly to give him another Blood-Replenishing Potion; you can come back tomorrow to visit Mr. Potter of course."

"Ah," Weasley said, but it didn't sound like agreement, but rather as if he knew something the healer didn't and so, after the healer had opened the door for them and excused himself, Severus stopped Weasley and gave him a look even the youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley could not misinterpret. "If Harry's conscious, there's no way the healers will be able to keep him here overnight, much less for however long they would like to monitor his recovery. You'll see."

He moved past Severus, following his girlfriend who had already taken position next to Harry's bed, tenderly smoothing the bangs out of his face. Weasley sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, opposite of Granger, tapping Harry's arm to get his attention. Severus went to the end of the hospital bed and took out the rolled up scroll of patient information so that he would have an excuse not to look at Potter.

But he couldn't not look at Harry, who appeared strangely small amidst the white sheets and yet not like the little boy he had been whenever he had been in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He looked tired, weary, sick. His complexion was pasty between the web of pink skin, barely healed and so thin that Severus could see the greenish veins on his wrists, his temple, his neck where the hospital gown had slipped down.

"Hey guys," Harry's voice was soft and he smiled tiredly at Weasley. "Thanks for coming, but I'm fine."

"Your definition of 'fine' needs some serious revision, mate," Weasley said, ruffling Harry's hair after Granger had just smoothed it down. "What did you do this time?"

"Oh, just a small glitch in our calculations." Harry shrugged, glanced at Severus before turning back to his friends. "Could you hand me my clothes, please?"

"Harry..." Granger sighed and sent him a reproachful look. "You know we're always on your side and I know you have your reasons for working for them, but this isn't healthy. You can't keep on like this."

"Can we talk about this later?" Harry asked, sounding piteously tired.

"That's exactly the problem, Harry," Weasley snapped. "We can't. Because you won't tell us what's going on or how you were hurt this time and when we can expect another call in the middle of the night, telling us that you just might not make it."

"We're your friends, Harry. Haven't we proven that you can trust us?" Granger wheedled, putting her hand on his knee; Severus battled down the urge to hex her for being so familiar with his husband.

"Don't play dirty, Mione." Harry wrestled himself into his sweater, breathing heavily when his head emerged again. "What do you want me to say? That I'll quit my job?"

"Yes," – "No," Weasley and Granger said at the same time before exchanging glares; Harry used the time to slip into his trousers and turned to Severus. "I hope they didn't drag you here."

"I came here under my own free will," Severus said stiffly. "Can you say the same?"

"Point taken." Harry chuckled and swung himself out of bed.

Severus reacted at the same time as Weasley to stabilise his wobbling stance. Severus drew back before he made contact and was saved from an awkward situation by the entrance of another healer.

"Mr. Potter!" the second healer exclaimed, scandalised, and hastened towards the young man, making to manhandle him back into the bed. "You can't get up yet. You need to rest and you'll have to stay here for observation for a couple of days."

"Healer Darton, is it? As well-intentioned as your wish to keep me here certainly is, I will be able to recover and rest much more easily at home where I can trust that my own security measures will keep me safe." Harry warded off the healer with a simple raised hand. "And since you're so concerned for my health you will understand that I have no wish to waste energy arguing about this."

The slight sarcasm was softened by the smile he bestowed on the healer. Weasley barely covered a laugh behind a coughing attack and Granger took pity on the befuddled hospital employee.

"We'll see to it that he isn't alone and if his condition should worsen we'll bring him back here immediately," she said, ignoring Harry's eye roll.

"So you'll be going home with Mr. Potter?" the healer grasped at the lifeline she had thrown him – and missed because Severus certainly wasn't going to have his house invaded by the entirety of the Golden Trio. It was hard enough trying to decipher what Harry was up to without having to take Granger's book-learning and Weasley's pettiness into account.

"No," he said, attracting the attention of everyone. "You'll release Mr. Potter-Snape into my care. I believe you have a list of potions he is to take?"

"Er..." Darton commented smartly, but Weasley spoke up before he had to follow up on that insightful statement.

"No offense, but we can handle Harry when he's sick or hurt. You have no idea how difficult a patient he is."

"I'm still here and my ears work perfectly fine, thank you," Harry grumbled. "Ron..."

"I know exactly how difficult it was to get him and the rest of your dunderheaded classmates to listen to simple instructions and I, unlike you, Mr. Weasley, have completed basic healer training as part of my Mastery. I assure you, I can handle him."

"Listen, you - "

"Ron! Enough!" Harry went between them. "Severus is my husband and I have every faith that he'll take excellent care of me. If you have any more concerns I'd be happy to listen to them in private."

He put delicate emphasis on the last word and Weasley shifted guiltily, throwing a quick glance at the healer, who was making a show of studying the potions he had brought with him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered though he didn't sound the part.

Harry nodded in acceptance before he turned to the healer. "Healer Darton, I'm sure you'll find Severus a much more competent listener in regards to those potions than I could ever hope to be, so if you would? Thanks."

"Well, there's a mild pain relief, and a stronger one for overnight." He held up a small bulbous vial, followed by a square one, opening his mouth to protest when Severus uncorked both of them and brought them to his prominent nose. "Sir, you can't..."

"I will provide my husband with potions from my own stock," Severus declared, pushing the bottles back into the healer's hands. "These are of barely adequate quality. What other potions does he need to take?"

"This is not... I mean, we don't usually recommend the usage of non-hospital-issued potions," the healer trailed of uncertainly, looking at Weasley for help, but much to Severus' surprise it was Granger who spoke up this time.

"Professor Snape has been supplying the Hogwarts Infirmary for as long as he's been teaching potions and in that time saved more than one student's life – including Harry's," she said, wrapping a travelling cloak around Harry's shoulders. "Harry needs to go home and rest now, as I'm sure you would agree."

"Essence of Dittany," Severus noted, eager to speed this affair along. "To be applied once more in the morning, correct? And another Blood-Replenishing Potion with his next meal, though I don't see why you have not brought a blood-type specific potion, which would be far more effective and less likely to cause complications."

"We don't have those in stock," the healer admitted sheepishly before he conjured up a copy of the list of prescribed potions and handed it to Severus. "Do you need Dreamless Sleep?" Severus declined and listened with half an ear as the healer warned him about possible addiction and cautioned against prolonged use of Sleeping Draughts. As if he didn't know. "Here are all the dosages and treatment instructions and if you have any questions, we'll be glad to help. Mr. Potter, no strenuous activities, lots of water and sleep for at least one week. Your check up is next Monday at three p.m."

"Thank you, Healer," Harry said softly, gratefully accepting Granger's help as he made his way over to the door. "Is there a fireplace we could use?"

The healer was surprisingly gracious as he showed them to his own office and offered them his personal pot of Floo powder before Granger pulled him aside, presumably to ask some more questions about Harry's injuries and treatment, and then showed him the door.

"Sure you don't want us to come home with you, mate?" Weasley asked immediately after the door closed behind Darton.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll be resting anyway. Not much you can do." Harry shrugged, pushing half-heartedly at Weasley's chest when the redhead ruffled his hair. "Go."

"We'll come by tomorrow to check on you," Granger declared, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead. "Professor Snape, you'll contact us if something should happen, won't you?"

"You have my word, Miss Granger," Severus agreed, throwing a bit of Floo powder into the crate. "Harry?"

"You best go through first," Weasley advised, still looking mildly constipated. "Unless you want Harry to hit his head when he tumbles out of the fireplace and be sent right back here." The glare that accompanied his words made clear that he would expect nothing more from the Potions Master. Severus sneered and snapped out their address, stepping into the green flames. The last thing he saw, as his body gradually took up speed on every spin, were Harry's green eyes.

Chapter Text

Weasley's prediction, as loath as Severus was to admit it, was dead on and Harry's damaged condition seemed to have further reduced his absolute gracelessness when it came to Floo travel. He didn't land on his feet; he landed in Severus' arms. He wasn't heavy by any means, but he was compact enough that his limp body had Severus take a half-step back to keep his balance.

"Sorry," Harry's voice was slightly slurred as he struggled to get his feet back under him and his body into a vertical position.

"You never apologised before for throwing yourself at me," Severus remarked drily and helped Harry up. "Don't start now."

Harry laughed, but the tiredness still lurked behind his eyes. "I need a shower."

Severus grimaced. "You need to rest."

"I'm itching all over from the Cleaning Charms they used," Harry explained and started to walk resolutely if unsteadily towards the bathroom. "If I don't get rid of that feeling I'm going to start scratching and open my wounds."

"What happened?" Severus demanded, wrapping an arm firmly around Harry's waist when the younger man stumbled.

"Please don't ask, you know I can't answer," Harry sighed.

"Was it my spell again?" Severus challenged, feeling a horrible twisting in his stomach of being culpable, in whatever abstract way, for Harry's injuries. "Sectumsempra?"

Harry opened his mouth, made a small choking noise and furiously shook his head; he then furrowed his brow and stopped to look up at him. "I... haven't used that spell in a long time." Harry reached up and tenderly cupped Severus' face in his palm, smoothing his thumb over Severus pronounced cheekbone.

"Someone else then," Severus pressed out, knowing that Harry wanted him to read between the lines but also realising that Harry hadn't answered his question.

"It's not a well-known curse," Harry said softly. "I think it would be best if it stayed that way. Severus, I wouldn't lie to you."

"With your talent for evasions, you don't have to," Severus groused, but resumed their trek to the bathroom where he made Harry sit down on the toilet seat. "You should take a bath instead. I have some bath oils to boost regeneration and soothe skin irritations."

"Sounds great." Harry smiled at him and started the slow process of getting out of his clothes while Severus ran the bath and added the oils, including one that would help Harry relax and make him sleepy. "Will you join me? Please?"

"It might be advisable if someone were here to keep your head over water," Severus agreed after a short moment of hesitation and Harry beamed; Severus felt a twisting in his stomach again, but this time it was less nauseating. Must have been something he ate.

He quickly undressed, never having felt comfortable without the protective barrier of clothes between him and others, and put his folded clothes on top of the small cupboard that contained their towels. When he turned around with two fluffy towels for later in his hand, Harry had already lowered himself into the water and closed his eyes. Severus wondered if the younger man would even notice if he turned tail and ran as fast as he could in the other direction.

"Water's perfect," Harry mumbled, without opening his eyes. "Coming in?"

Maybe he would notice. Even injured and half-drugged, Harry was a perceptive little brat. He suppressed an annoyed sigh and his inborn embarrassment and approached the bathtub, getting in opposite of Harry. When he had sunk almost up to his nipples into the warm water and stretched out his long legs around Harry's body, the younger man blinked his eyes open. With a contented smile, Harry sat up a bit more and turned around so that his back came to rest against Severus' chest, his head in the small groove over Severus' collarbone.

Harry's slender legs were warm and slick against his and Severus felt his loins stir with interest. Harry groaned softly, pressing back against him and spreading his legs wider in a clear invitation. But in his present condition it would be foolish to give into Harry's seduction or his own desires. He took up a sponge, lathered it in soap and carefully slid it over Harry's body with soft pressure. Harry sighed and slumped completely, all his muscles going lax. Pliable. And Severus felt not only arousal but an unexpected rush of tenderness as he slid the sponge over Harry's lean back, over the smooth golden skin and the slightly protruding shoulder blades and discovered a barely healed lesion that might have damaged vital organs if it had cut any deeper. Harry winced even at his gentle touch.

"Do you need something against the pain?" Severus asked, abandoning the sponge on the rim and curling his fingers around Harry's waist.

"I'd rather not take anything," Harry murmured. "Potions against pain always pretty much knock me out."

"You're supposed to rest anyway," Severus pointed out, but reached out for Harry's shampoo, squeezing some into his hand before massaging it into Harry's soft – so soft – hair. Harry moaned happily.

"It's a pity, really," Harry mumbled after Severus had rinsed his hair and was quickly washing his own body. "I finally get you into the bathroom with me and I'm too tired to take advantage."

"There's always next time," Severus murmured, teasingly trailing his fingers from Harry's navel up to the hollow of his throat, his fingertips just grazing Harry's right nipple. Harry arched into his touch.

"I hope you mean the next time I get you in the bathroom and not the next time I get hurt," Harry joked, but his eyes stayed closed for longer after each blink, his gaze not as focused as usual. "Want me to wash your hair?"

Under other circumstances the answer would have been less unambiguous, but with Harry half asleep in his lap, his head lolling onto Severus' shoulder and his body being on an almost imperceptibly slow downward slide deeper into the water, Severus chose to demonstrate his self-restraint and shook his head. "Next time. Let's get you to bed."

Harry made a sound of protest, but when Severus stood him up and wrapped a towel around his shoulders before helping him out of the tub, he had trouble finding his footing. Severus kept a firm hold of him as he rubbed him dry and watched attentively as Harry slipped into the soft pyjama bottoms Dobby had laid out for him. Severus quickly towelled off and dressed in his own pyjamas while Harry sat meekly on the toilet seat, rubbing absently over a pink line of newly healed flesh on his arm.

"You laced the water," Harry accused, leaning into Severus as he was led to their bedroom. "Sleeping Potion."

"Just doing my marital duty," Severus gave back, unimpressed by Harry's groggy glare. "You need to sleep, actually sleep."

"I was going to, even without the help of drugs," Harry protested, snuggling under the covers and turning his back on Severus.

Severus made a mental note that Harry became cranky when he was truly tired and walked around the bed to get in on his side. Harry demonstratively turned around again and a moment later his breathing evened out and he was fast asleep.

ö_ö_ö

Severus could have cursed – he did curse when he awoke to an empty bed, an empty bedroom, an empty bathroom, an empty library and dining hall. Dobby finally informed him that Master Harry was in his study. Severus had to suppress the urge of repeatedly slamming his skull against the next-best wall at Potter's sheer stupidity. Instead he repeatedly slammed his closed fist against the door to Potter's study.

"Something wrong?" Potter finally opened the door, pushed himself through the small crack and pulled it close behind himself.

Severus took a deep breath, just to make sure that he wouldn't grab Potter by the shoulders and shake him in a vain attempt to activate the part of his brain that was responsible for common sense and which seemed to be permanently switched off. The younger man still looked wan, dark bags under his expressive eyes and a feverish flush to his cheeks, and rattling him physically was not a good idea.

"Were the healer's orders not clear to you?" Severus asked instead in a quiet, dangerous voice. "For that matter, was the concern of your friends not real enough for you?"

"I wasn't doing anything strenuous," Potter replied nonchalantly.

"Oh," Severus paused as if he was actually considering Potter's ludicrous excuse. "Is that why you're bleeding again?"

He sharply grasped Potter by the hip and pulled him closer before carefully peeling away the thin light blue shirt, a trail of drying blood making it stick to Harry's side where one of the cuts had opened again. Harry's teeth snapped together with an audible click, the only concession of pain. Despite his irritation he examined the wound with gentleness, turning Harry slightly so that the early morning light that fell through the window illuminated the broken skin and the reddish lines that criss-crossed Harry's torso. Harry still had that same hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression when he knew he had done something wrong but wasn't willing to admit it.

Harry didn't protest when he ordered him back into bed and obediently undressed so that Severus could tend to his wounds with Essence of Dittany and Severus' own healing salve that just happened to have soporific qualities. Harry was out like a light before Severus' treatment was over. Severus tucked him back under the blankets and chastised himself for the inappropriate thoughts that had once again sneaked past his guard. Harry was in no state for their usual activities and in sleep he looked younger, more vulnerable. Not like Potter.

He had just packed away his potions and settled into a transfigured armchair with his current reading material when Harry's wards heralded the arrival of his friends with a bell-like sound. Harry was awake immediately, sitting up and legs already out of the bed before Severus managed to get to his side and press him back into the pillows.

"The healer must have failed to mention that apart from the dozens of cuts that riddle your body you also suffer from short term memory loss," Severus taunted, drawing the blanket tight over Harry's chest. "So let me remind you, you're on bed rest and since I have better things to do than to make sure you adhere to the healer's orders I will bring up the Devil's Snare Pomona entrusted to me as a wedding gift, add a bit of Fertilising Potion and see if the threat of strangulation won't persuade you to stay in bed."

"Your threats are much more ingenious than Ron and Hermione's, but I'm not sure if Devil's Snare can compete with Molly Weasley's endless fussing," Harry murmured with a smile and wiggled under the blanket to loosen it again. "And don't drug me again."

The warning was clear though Harry's voice was friendly as ever, no more intent than if he had commented on the weather. There were no fiery arrows shooting from beneath lowered lashes, no subtle crackling of magic in the air, no squaring of those finely muscled shoulders. Severus wasn't fooled, though.

"I'll send up Dobby with your breakfast and the Blood-Replenishing Potion," he said as he got up. "I'm sure your friends will be happy to keep you company."

Severus told himself not to be disappointed when Potter didn't stop him from leaving, not to feel a pang of jealousy when he met Granger and Weasley on the stairs and moments later heard Potter's cheerful greeting, not to waste time thinking about his husband as he worked down in the quiet of his labs. He was partially successful.

He finished the batch of Wound-Cleansing Potion Poppy had requested and started the base for a number of Sleeping Draughts and then took inventory, finding that he was running low on beetle eyes and dragonfly wings and that he needed to stock up on aconite and powdered unicorn horn as well as on boomslang skin. Furthermore, one of his cauldrons was becoming a bit thin due to frequent scrubbing and there was a residue of frog slime in his wood mortar that resisted all attempts of removal. Kind of like Potter.

Around noon, he went upstairs to enjoy his midday meal since he had skipped breakfast. He regretted it when Granger found him halfway through his filet mignon and told him that they, Weasley and herself, had to get back to work and that Harry was once again his responsibility.

"Professor..." He did not appreciate her dramatic pausing nor the way she hovered just this side of his peripheral vision. "Harry will want to return to work as soon as possible. Don't let him. Ron and I don't know what he does for them, but they are wearing him thin and he needs his rest... I sent off a letter to his department and he's on sick leave for the next ten days."

"Miss Granger, I fear you seriously overvalue the influence I have on my dear husband," Severus answered and took a sip of his vine. "If Harry pleases to ruin his health, I doubt very much that there is anything I can do to dissuade him."

She still had that look in her eyes, that know-it-all-gleam that he had been faced with in every Potions class, and he was still as unwilling as back in Hogwarts to listen to her rehearsed answer to every bloody question. She took no heed of his disposition, of course. "Harry knows that he should rest, but it might help him if you showed him that you know as well. And that you care whether or not he ruins his health."

"I'll see what I can do," Severus said tersely, biting back on comments about Potter's unfailing commitment to breaking rules and his own ability, or lack thereof, of caring.

"I appreciate that," Granger said pleasantly. "And Ron and I are only a Floo call away if you would like some help. We recently had our apartment connected to the network."

Granger said her goodbyes and Severus realised that he had lost his appetite. He might as well go up to check on Potter before the younger man once again locked himself in his study. The door to their bedroom was ajar and through the crack he could see Harry's rumpled side of the bed and a collection of books, no doubt Granger's idea of keeping Potter occupied. He pushed the door open, just to make sure that Potter had once again foregone bedrest in favour of more exciting activities, and took an involuntary step back when he found Potter not in bed, no, but hovering half a meter over the fluffy down comforter, studying one particular strand of magic from the web he had to choose from. Again.

"You have a curious definition of resting," Severus commented, forcing himself to enter their bedroom and face the younger man; he felt completely out of his element with Potter so obviously flaunting his magical wellbeing that it wouldn't be a stretch for anyone to surmise that he was physically recovered as well. What was he supposed to do with that? Granger seemed to think that Severus should do his due diligence and force Potter to take it easy, but with Potter's magic palpably swirling around the room Severus could only conclude that he wouldn't be able to force Potter into doing anything he wasn't agreeable to.

Potter flicked his fingers, sending the magic around him into a faster spin, rotating outwards and until it was absorbed by the walls. "I was just checking on the wards," Harry said with an embarrassed smile.

"Everything is in order, I trust," Severus replied sardonically as Harry slowly drifted back onto the bed. "Or are there any more obstacles to you sleeping?"

Harry looked far too enticing when he blushed as that Severus would consider it anything but a ruse. The small "no" that escaped those full lips sounded no less contrite, but that too didn't fool Severus.

"In that case, you should get under the covers," Severus ordered – ordered, as if Harry had any reason to obey. "Would you like me to darken the room?"

"I guess." Harry's enthusiasm was less than overwhelming, but at least he got into bed and turned on his side, drawing the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes.

Severus was surprised and a little suspicious about this easy victory, but reclaimed his armchair and buried himself in his reading, only looking up from time to time to study the still line of Harry's back. Not a peep, barely a shift, for one hour, two hours before Severus put his book down and checked on his husband, going around the bed and kneeling down. Harry blinked his eyes open immediately, no drowsiness in his gaze as he focused on Severus.

"Did you sleep at all?" Severus demanded, resisting the urge to reach out to the younger man.

"I rested," Harry offered, rolling closer to the Potions Master and pressing a short kiss to his surprised lips. "Did you enjoy your book?"

"Why didn't you sleep?" Severus wanted to know, tilting his head slightly so that Harry's hand was cupping his cheek. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm kind of hungry," Harry said. "Will you keep me company and eat with me? I'll ask Dobby to bring something up."

"Very well," Severus conceded, reaching for his own pillow before putting one hand on Harry's shoulder and urging him to lean forward so that he could support his back with a second pillow.

Harry stole another kiss as Severus drew back, tangling his hand in Severus' hair to draw him closer. "I missed you."

"You wouldn't have if you had been asleep," Severus pointed out, tucking a few strands of dark hair behind Harry's ear. "Why didn't you sleep, Harry?"

"You called me 'Harry'. In private." he smiled. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

Severus almost bit his tongue at the unintentional slip and only when Dobby had sent up their dinner and Harry was already devouring his spaghetti bolognaise did he realise that Harry had still not answered his question. He wondered if Potter had jinxed him with Confondus to make him this easily distracted.

After the dishes disappeared, Harry allowed Severus to check on his wounds, pulling up his sweater and presenting Severus with planes of smooth skin, only a faint line of red where the injury had started to bleed again this morning. He rubbed some dittany into the tender skin, pulling the younger man into his arms when he shivered.

"Does it hurt?" Severus asked, surreptitiously checking for any more lacerations and was relieved when he found none.

"Just sensitive," Harry whispered, leaning against Severus' chest. "But maybe I should get undressed, so that you can check."

The leer was tempered with an almost shy smile that Severus found ridiculously hard to resist. "I would be more inclined to take you up on that offer if you had decided to sleep earlier. Care to answer my question now? And I will be insulted if you pretend not to know what I'm referring to or feed me some half-truths like you did before."

Harry kissed him instead, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and skirting it along the back of his teeth before licking over his lips. It was Harry's way of telling him that he wouldn't get an answer, Severus was sure, but he was almost happy to accept the compensation Harry offered. Less complicated, maybe, maintaining that invisible barrier between them through lack of emotional commitment and frequent sexual intercourse. He didn't need anything more, as a matter of fact, he didn't want anything more. Right.

He slipped one arm under Harry's thighs, dragging Harry's body down so that he lay flat on his back, Severus hovering above him. Their mouths were tantalisingly close and Severus took advantage, tasting, devouring, claiming. Harry moaned into his mouth, arching up against him and slinging one leg over Severus' back to bring their groins into closer contact. It was Severus' turn to groan, thrust, kiss, press, slide, own. Clothes were shed, skin on skin, heat against heat.

ö_ö_ö

Severus snapped his hand out and clamped it around Harry's wrist and felt a current of magic rushing towards him, paralysing him, strangling him more effectively than the slender fingers that wrapped around his throat, pressing against his Adam's apple and cutting off his air supply.

Harry's pupils were blown wide, his face a grimace of abject fear. Severus choked, jerked as much as he could and tried to catch Harry's eyes, getting him to recognise where he was, that he was safe. But Harry's body was as taut as a wire under electric charge or a wizard under too much magical pressure and he was looking through Severus right into his nightmares, his magic ruthlessly squashing Severus' feeble attempts at wandless defence.

Just as black spots began to dance in front of Severus' eyes and his muscles started to go lax, Harry's protective shield flared to life and pushed the younger man back, clear across the room. Severus heard the thud as his head collided with the hard plaster wall. He struggled to draw breath, get his arms and legs to support him as he hefted himself out of bed.

Harry had sunk down to the floor, slumped and his head too heavy to look up at Severus until the Potions Master slid a hand under Harry's jaw to support him, but his eyes were open and gradually clearing from the fog of what must have been one hell of a nightmare.

"Sev'rus?" he slurred, trying to sit up and blink his eyes into focus as he started to shake, trembles of seismic proportions wracking his lithe form. "Shit... hurt you? Shit, I'm sor-"

Severus cut him off with a slow kiss, then pulled Harry's head against his chest, to check the back of his head for blood or bumps. The younger man hissed, but his fingers remained dry and Severus stalled any further apologies or explanations with another kiss. He was past the need to know.

Harry responded beautifully, burrowing his naked body against Severus and willingly lifting his leg as Severus slid one finger into him. Harry's passage was still a little slick, but Severus had to work past the tension in his slender body to add a second finger. But he wanted this to hurt, a good pain, to remind Harry that this was real and that whatever had haunted him in his sleep could not get between them.

He entered Harry with one smooth thrust and set up a hard and fast rhythm, bruising Harry's mouth with biting kisses and sucking marks into Harry's neck. Harry trashed and whimpered, but Severus just pushed in with more force until a small cry told him that he'd found Harry's prostate and he angled his hips so he hit it fully on the next thrust. Harry howled and Severus gentled him with soft caresses down his back before he grabbed Harry's perfect little butt to cause even more friction between them.

He smothered a groan in Harry's neck at the velvety soft heat surrounding him so exquisitely, clinging and massaging his length, and he sank into his smaller lover one, two, three more times. Harry came with a shout of his name, creating a sticky mess on their stomachs as his inner walls tightened deliciously around Severus, pushing him over the edge. Severus carefully eased out and when his muscles decided to cooperate again, he scooped Harry up, despite his back's protests, and carried him to the bed where he tucked him under the covers and slid in behind him.

Harry was quiet now, not exactly relaxed, but no longer thrumming with anxiety and his quaking had subsided to small trembles. Severus was ready to go back to sleep. Harry had other ideas. Once again, the Potions Master had to grab Harry's wrist and tug him back down, though this time he didn't end up strangled. Instead, Harry peered at him in askance.

Severus trailed one hand lazily over Harry's chest, debating his next move and was presented with a solution when Harry gave a small sigh, one that Severus recognised as one of pleasure. Oh, to be young and excitable again!

He wrapped his fist lightly around Harry's cock, conscious that it was still sensitive so soon after Harry had climaxed. Soft, sure strokes, up-down, up-down, a flick of his thumb over the moist tip of Harry's erection to gather a bit of precome and smoothen the motion. Regular and soothing, like their sexual encounters seldom were, but Harry seemed to appreciate it today, finally coming with a quiet sigh.

He slumped against Severus, who used a bit of wandless magic to clean up the mess Harry had made of their sheets before he pulled his sleek frame closer to his body, feeling the smooth, heated skin against his. Harry's sweaty hair tickled his nose, but even that he found less than repulsive, and the mixed smell of sex, Harry's apple shampoo and his natural scent was strangely appealing.

Severus felt the moment energy returned to Harry's lax body, nervous energy that he had hoped would have seeped out of him in his two orgasms. But he had once again underestimated Harry's stamina and recalcitrance. It would be a long night.

ö_ö_ö

Severus had expected – not that he had any expectations - to either wake with Harry gone or with the younger man's mouth on his morning erection. It had seemed like something Harry would do to play over whatever insecurities or embarrassment he might have felt due to the night before. Instead Harry brushed a close-mouthed kiss over his lips and offered him a cup of black tea when he sat up.

"Morning." Harry seemed cheery and bussed another kiss over his lips. "Slept well?"

"I take it you did," Severus accepted the breakfast tray Harry set up over his lap, examining its contents. All his favourites, he wondered what that was supposed to mean.

"More than that." Harry grinned at him. "And Dobby made waffles. You want some?"

"No thank you," Severus replied, opening the marmalade to add to his buttered toast. "What are your plans for today?"

It was a trick question, of course, but Harry wasn't fazed. "I thought I'd read some of the books Hermione brought me. Knowing her, there might be a quiz later."

Harry's good mood held, though Severus thought it best to observe from the safety of the library, only checking up on the young wizard every hour or so to make sure that Harry was still in bed and out of excuses to leave it.

"I was thinking about taking a shower," Harry greeted him when he opened the door towards late afternoon, swinging out of bed before Severus could argue for the utilisation of Cleaning Charms. "You want to make sure that I don't slip and hit my head?"

"I better do," Severus stepped up, took Harry's finely muscled arm and led him to the bathroom where he stripped him off his clothes, pressed him against the shower wall and did more than just kiss him senseless before he handed over the soap and shampoo.

He ran curious hands over the once again perfect skin, over ridged muscles and peaking nipples, marvelling at the smooth gold under his pale, spidery fingers.

"Let me get your back," Harry murmured and Severus obeyed the demand of calloused hands that turned him around, bracing himself against the wall as Harry spread soap over his back, massaging and kneading out knots of tension and sprinkling kisses over his back and shoulders. "Thank you."

It was belated and mumbled almost to unintelligibility and Severus drew back and reached for a towel without acknowledging Harry's gratitude. As if he deserved it, as if sex with this gorgeous young man was a hardship instead of a reward he had selfishly granted himself.

"Your wounds have healed well," he commented, swishing his wand over the bathroom mirror to clear the film so that he could estimate whether or not he needed to shave.

"I didn't have much else to do," Harry replied as if he saw it as a personal achievement and wanted to be modest. "Dobby should have dinner ready by now. In the dining hall."

"You're still on bed rest." The younger man ignored his protests and Severus was at the end of his tether with playing Harry's personal nursemaid and watchdog. Besides, Harry had proved resilient enough that the small trip downstairs would not be overly detrimental for his health. And he was glad for the time alone, away from Harry and the constant need to be on guard because you never knew when Harry might reveal that he really was Potter, hero complex and in-your-face secrecy included. He was still waiting for the other Hagrid-sized shoe to drop and wondered who would be the one to let it fall on his head: Potter or Lucius. What would the coming night bring?

ö_ö_ö

It brought another panic attack followed by several rounds of amazing sex, followed by Harry quietly falling asleep against his chest. It was probably the first time he saw not even a hint of Potter in the younger man. He stayed up just to watch the gentle up and down of his breaths, caress over the naked back and the swell of his ass. Harry never woke and Severus finally drifted off to sleep with his arms tight around Harry's slim waist.

ö_ö_ö

The next day, Severus decided to work in his lab and Harry, to his surprise, set up in the library near the fireplace and started on their joint tax declaration. Severus was doubtful that Harry really knew what he was doing, but since it was not a physically strenuous activity but merely a supremely frustrating one, he saw no reason to interfere. Harry could send off a couple of owls to Gringotts and the shops in Diagon Alley with requests to forward the details of their bank accounts and whatever tabs were still outstanding, sort through receipts and fill out some forms before he would inevitably come to the conclusion that he was in over his head at which point Severus would be happy to mock the younger man for his hubris and recommend they employ an accountant in future. It promised to be a good day.

He took the steps down to his lab, securing the door behind him, and set up a cauldron before pinning his notes and the experimental recipe against the wall over his workplace. Experimentation always required special attention to detail and posed a certain risk for exploding cauldrons and so he readied a number of stabilising ingredients, a Fire-Extinguishing Potion and an Acidity Regulator, just in case. He slipped on his dragon-hide gloves, conjured a small fire and started to lose himself in the easy, exhilarating rhythm of potion-brewing.

A few hours later, he capped the finished potion, holding it up against the light and noticing the midnight blue colour and that it was inspissating as it cooled. He jotted down his observations before he put the stoppered vial aside for further testing at a later time. Then he packed up the rest of his ingredients and set the cauldron to soak in the sink, washed his hands and finally locked his lab behind him.

ö_ö_ö

Harry was sitting sideways in his wine-red armchair, a wad of receipts in one hand, a self-inking quill in the other and some forms on his lap, paper strewn all over the floor.

"Making progress?" Severus queried, pouring himself a cup of tea from the teaset that had appeared on the coffee table with his entrance.

"I'm in the middle of June," Harry mumbled, lightly tapping the feathered end of the quill against his chin. "I didn't think you'd want me to do your accounts for before our marriage, though. Did you have fun in the labs?"

"Fun?" Severus echoed, tasting the inadequate description of his day on his tongue.

"I guess you'd prefer a more sophisticated term." Harry looked up with a smirk. "Can I ask you something?"

Severus inclined his head, curious despite himself of what Harry would want to know, and took a few steps further into the room.

"I've got this receipt from Potage's Cauldron Shop, it doesn't say what it's for...?" Harry held it out for his inspection and Severus saw himself confronted with the frivolous and petty act of vindictiveness he had indulged in on his first trip to Diagon Alley after their marriage.

"A knife," Severus replied shortly, neglecting to mention that it was a knife with a diamond edge, ideal for slicing, dicing and otherwise preparing pricy ingredients but certainly not something he really needed.

"For your brewing?" Harry clarified, smiling happily at Severus' nod. "Great, then this goes into the work related expenses. We'll get quite a tax refund."

Severus wavered between relief that Harry obviously wasn't going to make a scene and incredulity that someone could be so indifferent about the small fortune he had spent. He decided on his own brand of indifference, tempered with the arousal he couldn't quite suppress and that flared up as Harry shifted, his sweater riding up and revealing a thin stripe of flat abdomen.

Harry, for his part, was once again focussed on the bits of paper, creating piles all around his armchair, sending the receipts to the right stack with a flick of fingers or, as Severus suspected, with wandless magic. One stack completed, he sent the papers up in a swirl, sparkling numbers trickling through the air and sinking into the form.

"I thought we had an agreement that you would not exert yourself," Severus commented, looking past Harry out of the window as if he was not very interested in the younger man's reply.

Harry swivelled his head left and right in confusion. "This is no exertion."

The frustrating thing was that for Harry it might well be true and convincing him otherwise would be a waste of time. So instead he settled in his own armchair with a book, stretching his legs towards the fireplace and barely avoiding one of Harry's piles.

ö_ö_ö

Harry's sick leave was almost over, the healer had given Harry a clean bill of health after the check-up appointment and Severus was overcome by a bone-deep tiredness from lack of sleep and an unusual overstimulation of certain parts of his anatomy. Harry still had the stamina of a sixteen-year-old teen, but Severus thought he might be sore from too many orgasms. He had taken to sleeping with one arm thrown over Harry's body, hand clasped tight around one wrist so that he woke at the first sign of Harry's nightly panic attacks.

But tonight he hadn't woken immediately, sleep clinging to his senses with an insistence that belied the two wars he had lived through, and when he did wake, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed. He almost reached out, but then thought better of it, wanting to know what Harry had normally done before they had established their new routine. His eyes barely open and refraining from any movement, he observed the younger man, taking in the hunched back, the curved in shoulders and the bent head. A picture of misery.

He was unsurprised when Harry started trembling like a leaf, feeling the shaking even through the mattress of the bed. But Harry didn't get up; he got back into bed, laying for a moment stiff as a board next to Severus before he scooted closer, pressing his shaking form against the Potions Master.

"Severus?" he whispered. "Severus, please wake up. Wake up, please." Harry pressed even closer and his shaking intensified, but Severus pretended a sleepy groan and buried deeper into his pillow; Harry gave a desperate whimper that might have been his name.

Harry shifted and Severus thought he might leave. He didn't. But he carefully reached behind himself, searching for Severus' arm and tugging it until he was once again safe in Severus' embrace, their bodies moulded together without an inch of air between them, Harry's back to Severus' front.

"Severus?" Harry tried again, rubbing his thumb in circular patterns over Severus' pulse point even as his body was wracked by violent shivers. "Please."

The swell of Harry's butt was nudging enticingly against Severus' groin, his cock cradled between muscular thighs, and his body betrayed his intention to feign sleep. He grunted, tightened his hold on the younger man and started to rock his hips. Even that little contact was enough to provoke a sigh of relief from Harry though the tension in his body didn't diminish.

"Were you going to molest me in my sleep?" Severus asked, freeing his hand and caressing the fine black hairs between Harry's bellybutton and crotch.

They didn't usually talk, breathless kisses and heavy pants the only form of communication, and so he wasn't sure if Harry would answer, if he was even capable of forming coherent thought in the state he was in.

"I don't want to be alone." Harry turned his head and whispered the confession against his neck. "Please, don't let go."

"I don't intend to. Shush, it's all right," Severus promised, gentling the frightened wizard when he jerked in his grasp. "What do you want?"

"Just hold me?" Harry asked, all but snuggling into his chest when he felt Severus' nod against his head. "Or you can - " He ground back. "- if you want."

"You need to get up early tomorrow. You need your sleep," Severus said. And so did he. Maybe sex wasn't the only way to comfort Harry.

Chapter Text

Harry returned to work and a bit of the vulnerability he had allowed Severus to see disappeared again under the mask of indifference and calm. He also started meditating again and worked out regularly, often before he joined Severus for breakfast. Severus tried not to feel slighted, as if sex with him had only been a temporary solution as long as Harry was incapacitated, and that he made no move to let Severus in on what haunted him in his nightly terrors. Not that Severus had asked, not in so many words, anyway. When he had once commented that Harry seemed not to be sleeping well, Harry's reply had been a saucy grin and the suggestion that maybe he needed to have more sex. They had implemented Harry's plan almost immediately.

But work was clearly Harry's priority and since they couldn't talk about that, not even in the most general of terms, and since Harry had still not managed to develop even a modicum of interest in potions, any attempts of conversation had to fall short.

All the more surprised was he to find himself asking Harry to accompany him to the Symposium. It was a spur of the moment decision, if he could presuppose any thought process at all, brought about by the euphoria of having finished his presentation and receiving a rather flattering letter from a colleague congratulating him on the honour of being chosen.

Harry agreed easily. During Severus' speech on the Obscura Serum, he adopted his most attentive mien and listened thoughtfully to the questions from the audience and Severus' answers. Overall his presentation went well, taken in in respectful silence, and he surveyed all the potioneers on their upholstered chairs, some with quills poised to take down notes, others with their lips pressed into thin disapproving lines or their eyes heavy-lidded with either boredom or fatigue. He did expect that his speech would be above some peoples' understanding of the subject matter and he had no intention of simplifying his deliberations for their benefit. But of course that drew a certain amount of vacuous questions that he was forced to take seriously and answer with polite competence.

"Yes, thank you, Severus." Talbot Teague stood up and Severus was glad that the speaker's desk hid his clenching fists. "If I understand you correctly, you developed a potion to erase selected memories from one's mind, thereby providing a way to sidestep traditional means of interrogation such as Veritaserum and Leglimency. Thus, you're proposing a way for criminals to evade the law, which, if I'm not mistaken, is still considered illegal. This is not a platform for the Dark Arts, Severus."

Murmurs broke out and some, he was sure, were in agreement of that observation. Harry never took his eyes off of him and he showed no outward sign of tension, but of course that didn't mean anything.

"Talbot," he rolled the name off his tongue and used the chance to look disdainfully down on the other man. "I'm afraid you did misunderstand so I'll do my best to facilitate your comprehension of what I can assure is not a Dark potion." He made a dramatic pause and caught Harry's smile. "The Obscura Serum does not in fact erase memories, but obscures them, aiding the efforts of an at least moderately skilled Occlumens in ordering his or her mind and protecting it from intrusive influences such as Leglimency. However, any versed potioneer will know that there are more effective ways of avoiding Veritaserum, namely the antidote which is an over the counter potion available in any well stocked apothecary. But of course, if you have any further concerns you are free to take them up with the Ministry."

He panned the room, once again making eye contact with Harry, who looked totally at ease, right at home between his good friend Alonzo and the internationally renowned Potions Mistress Deidre Beukes.

"I imagine this potion turned out to be invaluable during... for your activities," Storm Stevenson took up that line of questioning and Severus couldn't quite suppress the sneer that curled his lips. "But I'm wondering what application you see for it in the future."

"Painful memories are a common denominator of many of those fortunate enough to survive the war and all it entailed. And like a Pensieve, Obscura can put a lid on those memories thus offering relief from anxiety attacks, insomnia, nightmares. But unlike with a Pensieve the memories are not actually taken from the witch or wizard, limiting the risk of sensitive information getting into the wrong hands and keeping them readily available if and when the witch or wizard feels up to dealing with the past. I'm sure that many would profit from putting their minds to order."

Harry's smile, and maybe it was only his imagination, had grown tense at the mention of the symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder and maybe he was wondering what Severus' motivation for inviting him to this event had been. Severus was still wondering that himself.

After he fielded a few additional more technical questions, Alonzo thanked him for his contribution and conveniently vacated his seat next to Harry so that he could sit down while the next orator was introduced.

Harry leaned into his side and brushed his lips over his cheekbone. "You were great, Severus."

"You enjoyed my speech, I suppose," Severus replied in a sardonic murmur, feeling Harry's hand on his thigh.

"Not as much as your other... oral presentations." Harry smirked before turning back to give his full attention to the speaker. "And I kind of hope that they'll open the buffet soon. Potions always make me hungry."

"Ah, is that the reason why I never had your full attention during class?" Severus asked, reprimanding himself for the teasing tone.

Harry wiped one hand over his mouth, curbing his mirth and his chuckle. "The problem is that you always had more of my attention than the subject you presented, Severus."

Severus subtly rolled his eyes before he focused back on the presentation. But during the discussion about the usefulness of local flora he found half of his mind drifting to the young man beside him, taking in the delicate scent, so different from the potioneers around them who were always surrounded by a cloud of potion fumes and the odour of exotic and often fetid ingredients. Harry smelled pure and uncontrolled and the side where Harry's body was lightly pressed against his was pleasantly warm. If he turned his head, Harry's hair would tickle his nose and he was surprised at how enticing that idea was.

He had enough presence of mind to ask a few intelligent questions at the end of the three following presentations and then led an apparently starving Harry to the buffet, where he watched in slight horror as Harry partook of the food indiscriminately, loading his plate until the variety of hors d'oeuvres and finger foods were in danger of toppling over.

"There will be an actual meal later," Severus cautioned. "This is just to tide over those ravenous and bored Gryffindors."

Harry laughed, but steered towards their table, nodding at a few of Severus' colleagues and smiling brightly left and right. The centre of attention even if he had no knowledge to back him up. The same instant popularity that had exuded from James Potter with his unfathomable confidence and his thousand-watt-smile that made everyone want to be part of his little group, part of the fun, even Severus, who had been filled with simmering envy at how easily Potter had managed to twist perceptions in his favour. Harry did the same, greeting most of the company at their table by name and even commenting on some of their achievements and speeches, and before the first course popped up he had them all charmed.

"I'm glad you decided on the Obscura presentation, Severus," Alonzo said to him. "Even if it was a bit risqué."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, already finished with his soup. "Surely it's not that uncommon to choose an interdisciplinary subject."

"Interdisciplinary?" Alonzo cocked his head at so much naivety. "No, I meant because of the implication that Severus might have used Obscura to hide evidence from the Wizengamot."

Harry furrowed his brow, looking over at Severus as if only belatedly realising that he had no right to answer for Severus. But Severus didn't feel like bailing him out this time and was mildly curious what Harry would have to say in his defence. Harry took his silence as permission to try to save Severus' honour.

"I'm sorry, Alonzo. I still don't see why that would be cause for agitation," Harry said softly. "It's not as if Severus' acquittal hinged on his testimony given under Veritaserum or even the Pensieve he submitted. It was unanimous and even if you discredited everything Severus said, there'd still be all the other testimonies and evidence proving his innocence."

"Of course, of course." Now Alonzo was the one who looked a bit embarrassed, smiling first at Harry and then nodding at Severus. "If you look at it from a strictly rational point of view, of course, there's no doubt that Severus does not belong in Azkaban. But his choice of subject was bound to raise some eyebrows, you understand."

"I had the experience that everything is bound to raise questions in the wizarding world." Harry smiled with boyish charm. "Especially if someone has the audacity to want to protect their privacy."

Then he lifted up from his chair and kissed Severus on the cheek. Severus was grateful when the main course gave him something else to focus on and allowed him to ignore the mindless chatter going on around the table.

ö_ö_ö

"Quite a husband you have there," Alonzo remarked, ending their discussion about the different presentations. "He's an impressive young man."

Severus didn't want to talk about Harry, much less about their relationship. But Alonzo wasn't a good enough friend to understand that and since he had always treated Severus with respect and friendliness, Severus couldn't simply ignore him.

"He has his qualities," he said noncommittally, while the object of their conversation was laughing about something Siobhan Sickle must have said. Severus thought uncharitably that Harry had found someone who shared his lack of knowledge in regards to potions and apparently his sense of humour. "I heard you worked together a while back."

"Didn't see much of him, to be honest," Alonzo demurred. "He was the one who approached me and invited me to work with them, but he seemed to be busy with another project while I was there. And of course everything top secret. I can imagine that it's not always easy living with that level of discretion."

"We make do," Severus answered, unexpectedly jealous that this man had been allowed into the inner sanctum that was Harry's workplace while he hadn't even spied the door yet.

Alonzo might have replied something, he was almost sure of it, but he had no recollection of the words. He only snapped back to attention when he was corned by a group of very sceptical colleagues, who tried to massacre his work with their moral concerns and pointed questions. He had no compunction of tearing into them with words, slashing them to manageably little pieces with his tongue then watching them slink away with their tails between their legs. It was refreshing and almost therapeutic to let out all the acidic comments he had swallowed so as not to jeopardise the peaceful arrangement he had with Harry. He didn't have to watch his words with them and though he had to remain vigilant it was on the level of backstabbing and defamation he was used to. Things with Harry, though he tried to deny it, had become much more personal. He tried to be fine with it. Just fine, and nothing more because 'fine' was suitably neutral to minimize the risk he was already incurring. 'Fine', because he would still be fine when things inevitably went bad. Fine.

ö_ö_ö

Harry's skin was pearly with sweat as Severus rolled off of him. Harry sighed, turning his face in his direction, but without moving the rest of his body. Severus smoothed his hand over the curve of his back, brushing his thumb over the dimple in Harry's left cheek.

"That wasn't angry sex," Harry murmured, sighing again at Severus' touch. "I thought I would do or say something at the Symposium to annoy you."

"You behaved yourself well," Severus replied generously, kissing Harry's neck. "Though, I'm sure we can find a reason to have angry sex, if you'd like."

Harry chuckled. "Believe it or not, but the prospect of getting angry sex wasn't my sole motivation for coming with you. I enjoyed seeing you in your element."

Severus snorted against Harry's neck. "Considering the scarce interest you have always displayed in regards to potions, I find that hard to believe."

"You're very passionate about your work," Harry murmured, arching his back under Severus' lips. "I find that incredibly sexy."

Severus found that even harder to believe but decided not to argue, also because it wasn't a healthy habit to get into to defend his own unattractiveness. "And yet I remember you saying that you never respected me as a teacher."

"Being in that classroom never seemed to be something that you enjoyed." Harry shrugged, reaching out to caress a line from Severus' wrist down to his elbow. "Today, on the other hand, you left one hell of an impression. If you'd like I could forward all those compliments I heard about you?"

"You're full of flattery today," Severus said, pushing himself to hover above Harry's laid out form and following the line of his spine with his lips. "Should I be mistrustful of your motivations?"

Harry laughed. "Only if you don't want to have sex with me again. Besides, it's not like you to be modest about your talent. What's so bad about enjoying one's work?"

"Do you?" Severus asked, almost certain that the sudden tension in Harry's trim body was due to his question and not due to Severus gently spreading his arse cheeks, and tonguing the secret valley.

"Yes," Harry replied after a moment's hesitation, jerking in surprise when Severus' tongue skirted over his tender entrance.

"All doors were opening for you after graduation," Severus commented between tiny, swirling licks. "Wasn't there another career you would have liked to pursue?"

"Was there for you?" Harry asked with just a touch of defensiveness that was at odds with the vulnerable position he had put himself in.

"My options, as you no doubt already know, were very limited, and we're not talking about me," Severus replied before licking over one of Harry's testicles. "Answer me. Or we can leave all of this for a time when you feel more like... opening up."

Harry gasped, pushing his hips hard into the mattress. "I... There..." He shook his head in frustration and wriggled out from under Severus, sitting up and placing a pillow over his erection. "If you want me to answer, I need to think and I can't do that with half my blood rushing to my cock."

Severus smirked, sitting up as well and motioning with his hand for Harry to think all he wanted, exercising patience as he waited for Harry to find the right words.

"You're wrong, I didn't have any choices once I had graduated," Harry finally offered. "And as you might remember, my choices before that were subject to necessity not personal preference."

"They recruited you beforehand?" Severus asked, honestly surprised, wondering when exactly they had snared the Boy Hero, if he had been anything more than a frightened child at the time.

"I can't say," Harry said seriously but with a tiny smile that Severus took as confirmation. "Relax, Severus. No one could keep me against my will, and at the risk of destroying your image of me: I never wanted to be a professional Quidditch player, an Auror or some rich playboy. I like my work and..." He broke off again, shaking his head in frustration. "Dammit."

"You like that as well?" Severus challenged. "Choking on your breath whenever you even hint at revealing something that for all intents and purposes might as well be inconsequential?"

"Do you like the potion fumes that leave a layer of grease on your hair? The stains on your fingers that never wash off? The occasional cauldron that explodes in your face?" Harry gave back.

"My cauldrons do not explode," Severus said stiffly, making to get up, but Harry reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

"My point is that there're always drawbacks," Harry said softly, grasping his hand and pressing a kiss to each potion-stained fingertip. "But just as your job affords you certain advantages, so does mine."

"And you can't talk about them," Severus concluded with a sigh, using Harry's hold on him to pull him closer.

"I'm afraid so," Harry said with a small laugh. "So, now that we have established that I like my work, will you tell me what you would have liked to do after school?"

Severus hesitated, studying Harry's open expression, his eyes warm with gentle curiosity just as Lily's had been, the same verdant green. More than that they had the same almond shape and the same frame of long lashes, even though Harry's were the colour of soot. He couldn't remember anyone else ever looking at him like that, but maybe his memories of Lily were embellished by nostalgia and what he wanted to see revived in Harry's gaze.

"I never intended to teach," he finally said, knowing that it wasn't exactly a revelation. "I thought with the right connections I would have the financial support to dedicate myself to research and maybe be able to put some money aside to one day open my own apothecary. Of course, the connections I chose to make were not helpful in that respect."

"That one choice doesn't define you anymore," Harry answered and kissed the bridge of his nose before biting it lightly. "Maybe it's time you realised your dreams."

ö_ö_ö

They hadn't talked anymore that night, their mouths being otherwise occupied, but Harry's words had taken seed in Severus' mind and when Minerva sent him an owl to confirm that he would return for the next school year, he found himself hesitant and irate that she had already attached lessons plans and a checklist for his duties as the Slytherin Head of House, as if there was no doubt that he would indeed teach another year, another batch of untalented and uninterested students, as if he had no other options. He found himself thinking that maybe he did.

He thought of the heaps of galleons in their joint account, gold glittering in every corner so that even the considerable investment of opening a new shop would hardly leave a dent. He thought of the moulding little apothecary in Diagon Alley that sold sub-standard ingredients and only a small selection of basic potions and the hidden potions shop in Knockturn Alley that catered only to a very specific clientele. His mind was churning with possibilities and when Harry came back from work he still hadn't sent his answer to Minerva.

He tried to find the right words and maybe also the courage to approach the subject with Harry all through dinner, barely responding to Harry's usual enquiries about his day.

"Sickle for your thoughts," Harry said teasingly, suddenly sitting on the now cleared table in front of him.

"I'll need more than a sickle," he said abruptly, stroking a finger over Harry's ankle, under his trousers and up his calve. "I was thinking about your offer."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry asked, putting one leg on either side of Severus. "I'm glad. Want to bounce off some ideas?"

What Severus wanted was Harry's definite agreement to lend Severus' his financial support and immediately afterwards he wanted Harry's legs more snugly wrapped around his waist. But he didn't say that.

He pulled Minerva's letter out of his robes and handed it to Harry. "I'm thinking of telling her that she needs to find someone else to teach her brats."

"I bet you wanted to do that for a while now." Harry grinned, putting the letter down without reading it. "Did you want me to contact Miss Hartwick? And I know there's an empty property at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alley."

Harry's response held enough enthusiasm that Severus managed to take a leap of faith and ask what he really wanted to know. "So you would be willing to finance this endeavour?"

Harry tilted his head, an unreadable look his eyes, before he slid from the table and kissed Severus softly on the lips. "Of course. Let me know if I can help."

Harry was almost at the door when Severus got up. "Thank you... You wouldn't happen to have the contact details for the owner of that empty shop, would you?"

"I can find out." Harry sent him a beaming smile. "Meet you in the library?"

ö_ö_ö

The previous shop owner had left some dusty wooden shelves, a chair with only three legs and flaking off letters on the generous glass front. The shop itself was moderately spacious and offered room enough for a small private lab and enough storage space for ingredients, equipment and finished potions. He considered the smartest way of arranging the shelves and tried not to get distracted by Harry bending over to inspect something on the floor and showcasing his firm behind.

"There're still some wards around the perimeter, but they're not very stable," Harry commented, running his wand in intricate swirls over the wall. "Any chance you'll let me secure your shop?"

"We'll see," Severus murmured, jotting down some notes about what still needed to be done: tiles on the floor, a signpost over the door and new shelves, contact suppliers and negotiate prices, advertise though maybe Harry's involvement would be advertisement enough.

"Please consider it," Harry said seriously. "I'd feel better if I knew you were safe here."

"Paranoia is not a good look on you," Severus said absently, catching Harry's scowl out of the corner of one eye.

"And dead isn't a good look on anyone," Harry snapped, the sudden forcefulness of his voice causing Severus to look up sharply. Harry took a deep breath and turned his back to him, his fist clenching and unclenching rhythmically. "I apologise. I better get to work."

He was gone before Severus had figured out if maybe he should have been the one apologising. He completed his list, then wrote a stack of letters with the intention of taking them to the Post Office when he went to get something to eat and once more inspected the shop's interior. But Harry's unexpected loss of temper left him with a feeling of unease, a tingling of that sixth sense of foreboding. Maybe, no almost certainly, Harry knew something that he didn't. Maybe he had heard of some nefarious plans through the grapevine; maybe he had got his hands on another piece of irrefutable information. Maybe he was just taking a leaf out of the Dumbledore Manual of Meddling and wanted to protect Severus, preferably from himself. He did a quick check of the wards for himself and found them lacking, weakened over the years and not covering all the corners or the ceiling. Certainly nothing compared to the elaborate security system that all but smothered their house, but probably on par with other shops on Diagon Alley. He would have to update them, but only after the restoration or he would have to do everything twice. He pushed away the stray thought of asking Harry to take care of the wards, fearing that the motivation would be anything but security.

He locked up behind himself, the old brass key turning with difficulty and the sound of tortured mice, and felt better. As if he was safer without any wards around himself. Severus liked to think that he didn't lose time berating himself for his irrational relief.

ö_ö_ö

Harry returned later than usual from work when Severus was already in bed and half asleep. He heard the sounds from the bathroom, then Harry's soft foot falls on the carpet and the rustling of the sheets as he got under them. The soft sigh as he snuggled into his pillow.

"Long day?" Severus asked, rolling over and throwing one arm casually – not possessively – over Harry's slender frame.

"Something like that," Harry's voice was subdued and inflectionless, reminding Severus more of the boy-hero who had been forced to grow up too fast and had reacted with a kind of morose determination than of the flirtatious young man he had come to accept as... someone he shared his bed with. Severus wasn't sure how to deal with Harry in their bed when he wasn't initiating sex or at least sleeping.

"Do you think you will be able to sleep?" he asked, expecting one of Harry's usual unambiguous innuendos, but Harry just buried himself deeper in his pillow.

"I'm tired enough," he murmured. "And anyway, it doesn't really matter since I have to get up again in three hours."

"Oh?" Severus felt a cold shiver race up his back. "You didn't mention that you had assumed another night shift."

"It wasn't planned," Harry answered, still in that detached voice. "I'll try not to wake you."

Severus thought it would have been easier to deal with Harry if he had been angry or accusing or sulking to get his way, instead of this cold indifference that didn't tell him if Harry's problem was with him, with himself or just lack of sleep. His default was not to do anything except pulling the blanket a bit higher over their forms before once more trapping Harry under his arm, his hand closing around Harry's wrist.

"Severus..." Harry said, soft and questioning, followed by a stuttering sigh.

"Yes?"

"I can't tell," Harry whispered, punching his pillow in frustration before he suddenly spun around and kissed Severus full on the mouth with unprecedented force and urgency. Pushing his tongue into the Potions Master's mouth and swiping it over his palate, the row of his teeth, before he withdrew slightly only to bite Severus' lower lip. "Promise me..."

He broke off again, his hands clutching at Severus' shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his lips once more against Severus', hard and insistent, demanding entrance and giving Severus no chance to refuse. Severus had the inappropriate thought that he still felt like he had to protect the son of the man who had once made his life hell and who, despite that, had saved it. But he couldn't kiss this, whatever it was, better.

Harry's hands were everywhere, making quick work of his pyjamas, teasing up his flanks, flicking over his nipples, encircling his wrists as if to anchor the Potions Master to his side. Then his mouth tore free of Severus' lips, wandered down his chest. He was moving faster than usual, less playfulness, no less gentleness so that it still came as a surprise to Severus when he understood what Harry had in mind.

"May I?" Harry asked softly, the single finger that rested just behind Severus' testicles making all too clear what he was asking.

Something in Severus clenched, like an iron fist around his heart. He had grown complacent with their nuncupative arrangement where Harry initiated their intimacy but unfailingly and uncomplainingly ceded control to Severus, never claiming the dominant role. Those were the rules, only that now Potter was doing what he did best: breaking them.

"No," he said and even though he had tried to sound natural, a simple response to a simple question, it came out forced and hurried.

Harry nodded. Maybe he had expected that reply. He gently mouthed the junction between Severus' thigh and groin before fastening his clever mouth on the pale skin and sucking with vigour. Severus felt his back arch, his hands fisting in the bed sheets, his toes curling, his legs trembling as pleasure shot up his spine. Fuck, he was ready to change his mind.

"Don't heal that," Harry said, caressing lightly over the bruise as he slipped up until they were once again face to face. "Please."

"Why?" Severus asked after he had managed to even his breathing.

Harry shrugged. "Just a feeling. Maybe."

He was looking at Severus again, unblinking and unflinching, but Severus' brain was still fuzzy after that orgasm that had not quite happened so that whatever Harry wanted him to deduce got lost in a haze of aborted pleasure.

"I'll be careful, Harry. I always am," Severus murmured instead after a while when it became clear that Harry wouldn't – or couldn't – provide any more information.

Harry sighed again, then brushed a much softer kiss over Severus' lips. "I know. I'm sorry."

Severus pulled the younger man closer against his chest, feeling the jumping heartbeat against his fingers that only gradually slowed down. "Of course it would help if I knew what I have to be on the lookout for." He hazarded carefully, petting the fine hairs on Harry's arm.

"I don't know," Harry said, sounding tired and frustrated. "My information is more goal-oriented."

"And I guess there're not your goals," Severus said softly, soothingly rubbing the soft patch of skin between Harry's fingers.

"No," Harry admitted before abruptly changing the subject. "The Support and Integration of Magical Creatures and Beings event is tomorrow. Will you attend with me?"

Severus studied the younger man, noticing once again the tight line his lips were pressed into, the furrow between his brows and the intense look in his eyes. "Remus will be there too."

If there had been any doubt in his mind, Harry's last sentence clinched it because he had to believe that Harry, ever perceptive Harry, wouldn't be naive enough to assume that the werewolf's presence would be an incentive for him. "No, I don't think so."

Harry pushed his nose into the pillow and exhaled. Severus interpreted it as a sigh of relief. "Good – I mean... I'll be home for dinner so we can eat together."

Severus pressed a brief kiss on that smug little smirk and they fell silent again while Harry struggled for forbidden words. He fell asleep before he found them, leaving Severus to ponder all the implications of what had been said, and of what had been left unspoken. Should he be worried? He was always careful; he never let down his shields, neither mental nor magical; he was attentive to his surroundings; his wand was never out of reach. And even now, with Harry fast asleep, he could feel the quiet thrumming of Harry's magic around him, like an impenetrable layer over his skin, shifting when he moved, adjusting when he went outdoors or into a crowd. Impossibly strong. What was there to be afraid of?

ö_ö_ö

Severus woke around seven in the morning, Harry's side of the bed empty and cold. He hadn't even noticed the younger man's departure and wondered, not for the first time, if he was actually as vigilant as he liked to believe. He took his breakfast alone in the dining hall and spent some time tinkering with the wards around his lab, making sure that they were to his satisfaction and as masterfully crafted as Harry's, though of course, with less power behind the magic. But they were good, no loopholes or backdoors.

But he had to leave the safety of their house to open the shop for the carpenters and painters that he had hired for today. And thanks to his misguided pride, his refusal to accept help, the shop might well be a death trap. He admonished himself for being melodramatic and apparated.

Chapter Text

In the end, it was neither the unfriendly carpenter with the russet curls and the suspicious attachment to his tool box, nor the first, unlabelled delivery of potions ingredients, nor the meretricious sales girl from Madame Pimpernelle's Beautifying Potions who snooped out the new competition under the guise of bidding him welcome with free samples of their bestselling products. In the end, it was the Daily Prophet and he was willing to see the irony of it that the bottom half of the front page was taken up by a photo of him and Harry at the Annual Potions Masters' Symposium and an article about their attendance (continued on page 3), which he had had occasion to read, together with the rest of the newspaper, in the sheer endless amount of time he had spent in the doorless room after he had felt the nauseating jerk around his navel. A Portkey.

To an unknown location that blocked his magic and probably magic in general as even his wedding ring, Harry's Portkey back to safety, wasn't working. He still had his wand, for all the good it did him, and a couple of potions that he would only too gladly use on his abductor, if he only showed his face. He was beginning to wonder if he ever would. Maybe he would be locked up here forever, or at least until he died of hunger and thirst, carefully tucked out of sight. Forgotten. He tried to decide if that was Lucius' style, weighing the blonde's principle of keeping his hands clean against his innate desire to gloat. His conclusion wasn't definite.

But that wasn't the most disconcerting discovery he made. He couldn't feel Harry, or better said, he couldn't feel Harry's magic wrapped around him, cradling him in safety. Nothing. There was nothing. And he felt a sort of cold emptiness as if his body had got used to the protective coat of Harry's magic and no longer remembered how to fend for itself.

He should have known better than to pick up something even as innocuous as a newspaper and he should have made sure that the Anti-Portkey Wards extended over the front steps of his shop. He should have. But he hadn't. And he should have listened to Harry when he had offered to take care of the wards instead of doing a makeshift job himself. But he hadn't. And playing "what if" wasn't going to get him out of here any faster.

He looked around his prison - peeling woodchip wallpaper in a nondescript white that tended towards yellow, roughly quadratic with high ceiling and hard concrete floor, no furniture safe for the uncomfortable chair he was sitting on - and finally focused on the sole other occupant. In one of the corners, with a beady-eyed suspicious glare and long, black-clad legs sat a dust spider in her tightly spun white web. Severus pondered its significance, if its presence was intentional or a coincidence, a sign of contempt or a sign that his abductor had not thought of everything, that something as insignificant as a spider could escape his notice. He also considered the possibility of strengthening one of his potions by using the unsuspecting spider as an ingredient, but then determined that without a cauldron or the possibility to conjure up a flame he would only end up ruining a perfectly good potion.

Patience. It was the single approach that promised any sort of success. Patience and vigilance. And thus, he waited, on his rickety chair, his wand firmly in hand and tried not to think about being forgotten. Or about what Lucius had in mind for him.

ö_ö_ö

The wall shifted. Squares and rectangles popping out, spinning, moving like the tiles in a sliding puzzle before fading back into the wall. All without a sound. But Severus hadn't been asleep, had been sitting for what seemed like hours, fixating the wall with increasingly tired eyes.

"Severus, sorry to have kept you waiting." Lucius didn't step into the room but instead hovered in the opening. "I hope you're comfortable."

Severus stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, but without taking his eyes or wand off of the blonde wizard. "Lucius. You didn't have to go to so much trouble to see me. I still respond to my owl post."

"I wasn't sure you would have the time to meet an old friend, what with how full your social calendar is nowadays." Lucius said with a disarming smile and a nod towards the Daily Prophet that lay discarded on the floor. "I'm sure you already tried that, Severus, but please, feel free to try again. I know how much you love being thorough."

The last was directed at Severus slowly raising his wand, hoping to escape Lucius' notice as it turned out to no avail. Severus felt the flush of humiliation rise in his cheeks and knew that Lucius had noted it, too, from the way the side of his mouth quirked. But he tried, nonetheless, snapping up his wand and attacking Lucius with a curse that was almost impossible to block. Lucius had never quite mastered the counter and the blonde's shields had always been, like him, more about flash than about substance. Nothing. Not even a spark.

"And now, I suppose," Lucius continued, studying him with amusement. "You'll try to attack me physically. Which will be just as futile, of course, but be my guest."

Once again, Lucius' prediction turned out to be true and as Severus made to step through the opening, Lucius having stepped aside with mocking derision written in every line of his body, he encountered an invisible wall that resounded with a hollow bang when he knocked his fist against it.

"Extraordinary, isn't it?" Lucius commented, fondling the wall with excessive admiration. "It's the dead centre of the manor, or to be more precise, the dead centre of the wards, which draw power from this place. It was built over generations; I doubt even your husband would be able to get out of here. Though, I'm sure my wards would benefit from the added magical input."

Severus suddenly felt weak around the knees, straightened his back against the dizzy spell that was just in his imagination. Lucius' wards might be able to absorb the magic of his curses before it had time to manifest in the form of sparks and beams of light, but there was no way they could suck the magic directly from his body. His magic was safely contained in his body, but with Harry's habit of letting the considerable magical power he possessed float around him... he shuddered to think what would happen to him in this room.

Lucius smirked. Severus barely resisted the urge to hit him.

"So that is what you want," Severus finally said when he was sure that he had himself under control. "This is a trap. For him."

"In a roundabout way, certainly," Lucius replied generously. "But I think you'll find my plan more imaginative than that. Using you as bait would be so undignified of our longstanding friendship, don't you find?"

"I assume that even in view of our 'longstanding friendship' you won't tell me what you are planning," Severus snapped impatiently.

Lucius laughed. "And spoil your only entertainment while you're here? Now that would not be very polite, would it? On that note, I'm afraid I'll have to cut our little banter short. Tight schedule, you understand."

"Don't let me keep you," Severus said sarcastically, debating a last ditch attempt of escaping his prison, throwing himself at Lucius or feigning a seizure. But the first had already proven useless and there was no guarantee that Lucius even cared if he was dead or alive, as long as he was safely tucked away.

He had time to brace himself, vainly muttering a shielding charm before his wand flew obediently into Lucius outstretched hand. "You don't mind if I borrow that, do you? After all you don't have much use for it right now."

Before Severus could protest – what good would it do? – Lucius spoke another Summoning Spell that swirled around Severus like a harsh wind, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. And naked. While his black robes and complimentary black trousers settled neatly folded in Lucius' arms.

"Severus, Severus." Lucius shook his head lugubriously, sweeping his eyes over Severus' disrobed body from head to toe and up again. "Now that you have that delicious young husband at home, I had really expected you to take better care of yourself. Not everyone is attracted to intelligence."

Severus felt the angry, embarrassed flush on his cheeks, crossed his arms over his pale chest and tried to focus on what was important. Later, he would have time to mull over Lucius' taunts, preferably with Harry's caresses and kisses to take away the sting of his insults. The important part was getting out of here first so that he would live to see Harry again.

"Those are not your style," he said, striving for a neutral tone, but knowing that he didn't quite get it right.

"They'll go with the rest of my outfit," Lucius answered easily, smirking again. "Just one more thing. Accio Severus' wedding ring."

A smooth glide of metal over his ring finger, a twisting wriggle where it caught against his arm and then his wedding band was gone. He felt bereft without it, violated as he watched Lucius slip it onto his own finger because it wasn't just a stripe of metal, it was a symbol and Lucius was desecrating it. Violating Harry.

"You'll still need some hair, nail, skin," Severus pointed out, tearing his gaze from Lucius' finger to focus once more on silver eyes.

"Don't worry, I've got that covered." Lucius turned his back. "You are not as careful as you believe and you've spent how many nights here? Eating from my plates, using my shower, sleeping in my bed... You left a lot of things between my sheets, didn't you? I wonder what your husband would think of that..."

The wall closed again, squares popping out, shifting, rearranging, obstructing Severus' view on the departing blonde until he was once again staring at the blank wall. His breath caught in his chest as if a snake had uncoiled in his windpipe. He didn't know what Lucius was planning, but he would have bet anything that it didn't bode well for either Harry or him. Harry. Standing there in his boxers with goosebumps crawling over naked skin, he saw pictures of the war all of them had just barely survived. Pictures of Lucius' sweat-matted blonde mane, of rivers of blood, crumbling stone walls, uprooted and charred trees, of Harry bloody and beaten but still defiant. Would it end like that this time as well? With Harry victorious? He didn't want to image what Lucius might be planning.

ö_ö_ö

There was a sound that startled him from his twilight sleep, his mouth dry and his lips starting to split from lack of water. A crunching sound, like the amplified grinding of teeth, followed by loud voices. His fuzzy brain needed a bit longer to be able to make out the actual words instead of just the muted cadence of an angry argument.

"I know he's here," someone said in a tone of voice that suggested that he was repeating himself.

"Don't you think that my father would have chosen a less obvious place to hide him away?" the other voice had the same stubborn inflection. "Always assuming that he really did abduct him, which you have no proof of. And could you please refrain from destroying anymore of my manor?"

The reply was indiscernible, maybe more a hiss than actual words, but Severus didn't care. He got up, too hastily and swayed as the blood suddenly rushed to his head and his numb limbs, leaving them tingling with the pinpricks of a thousand needles. But he didn't care because they were looking for him and he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to help them find him. He hastened towards the wall and started hammering his fists against the wallpaper.

"Harry!" it came out like a croak, followed by a hacking cough. "Har-!" His voice broke and his hands were trembling weakly against the wall instead of battering against them.

"... he were here, the manor has more than one hundred rooms, not counting the secret chambers, dungeons or double walls," Draco's voice drifted to him as if on a haze. "And there is no foreign magical signature so - "

"Shut up," a furious whisper almost against Severus' ear and he once more hit the palm of his hand against the wall. "There's something behind this wall. Open it."

"Open what?" Draco replied testily. "There's nothing here. Look, Harry, I get that you're... worried, but maybe our chances of finding him would be better - "

"Either you open it or I tear down the whole wall. Your choice," Harry interrupted the young Malfoy heir and though a part of Severus was worried what Harry's radical approach would do to him, the larger part was too relieved to care.

"Fine. Fine! Just let me check if the wall has any memory of some kind of hidden door or opening mechanism," Draco replied and Harry must have given his consent because there was silence. But it was also possible that with the blood pounding painfully behind his ears and his own heavy panting from in between parched lips he just hadn't heard.

He stumbled back as the wall once again started to shift and he landed hard on the floor, opting to stay sitting in lieu of chancing another moment of vertigo. But he turned his head towards the slowly opening wall and forced his itching eyes to stay open because he had to warn them and couldn't miss the moment.

"Shit! You were right!" Draco's voice and he made out the tall blonde, slightly in front of Harry. "Sever- "

"No." It wasn't more than a weak whimper, but they halted. "Don't... come... in."

"Why not?" Draco again; Harry was producing sparks.

"It's where the wards are anchored," Harry said and Severus managed a jerky nod. "It's devoid of magic." Severus nodded again, concentrating on Harry's deep green eyes. "If we enter we'll be stuck as well."

Draco cursed, took a hasty step backwards while Harry crouched down and spoke to Severus directly. "Severus? Are you okay?"

He wanted to say something suitably blasé, something about how he had survived worse situations, how he had survived being married to a Gryffindor and that surely a day or so without food or water wouldn't kill him.

What came out instead was a throaty, "Thirsty."

Draco called one of his house-elves, who popped up with bottled water and some crackers. If Severus' mouth hadn't been so dry, he would have salivated at the sight. But then Draco hesitated, turning to Harry in askance.

"Do you think something will happen if I try to throw the bottle in?"

"Isn't this your house?" Harry muttered before he began swishing his wand, making the heretofore invisible web of magic that was holding Severus captive glow like Muggle Christmas decorations with a few practised incantations. "And I'd roll the bottle, if I were you."

"I've never been in this part of the manor. I didn't even know it existed!" Draco protested, waving the bottle around to underline his point and making Severus quite dizzy because his eyes refused to detach from said bottle. "So if you don't have the answer, I suggest we call in an expert."

"Give me that," Harry said with a sigh, reaching for the bottle and rolling it through the opening over to Severus without any more ado. "Guess that answers your question."

Severus didn't listen to Draco's answer, concentrating on getting his trembling hands to uncap the bottle, then on the first greedy swallow of pure liquid bliss. It slid down his throat, cool and refreshing and he immediately felt better, his head clearing. He took another sip, smaller this time, forcing himself to exercise restraint. He caught the package of crackers Harry slid over to him and focused on getting his body nourished and hydrated.

"There are no weaknesses," Harry concluded his examination, sitting back on his haunches. "And I can't disable the wards without seriously compromising the anchor."

"So I'll call in the experts?" Draco asked. "Because I don't think there are any notes on these wards and if, they wouldn't be easy to find."

"There has to be a failsafe," Harry argued, looking at Severus as if he expected Lucius to have revealed the secret to him.

"Almost certainly," Severus agreed, finishing the last of his crackers and carefully getting to his feet. "But if I knew where it was, I wouldn't still be in here. Lucius was able to use magic from the outside that had an effect in this room, so I suggest you work from that angle while Draco sees if he can't find some information in the library."

Draco sighed, but obediently left in the direction of the library while Harry scowled at a particular part of the wards. "There are layers over layers of magic so any weak spot is covered and inaccessible."

He then looked up at Severus, his eyes sweeping appreciatively – or at least so Severus liked to believe – up his body. He then swished his wand again, non-verbally calling for Severus' robes and trousers, even including a pair of shoes, none of which were however the ones Lucius had taken from him. Severus was briefly touched that Harry had thought of his comfort and tried to preserve the last shreds of his modesty without Severus having to prompt him. Then Harry hesitated and Severus' gratefulness vanished, down the drain like the rest of his illusions.

"You feel right, but obviously I can't get a read on your magic, so would you mind?" Harry asked, gesturing vaguely.

"Mind what exactly?" Severus scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Would you please take off your boxers?" Harry asked, again with an expansive hand gesture, but this time met Severus' eyes, who just glared back not deigning to answer. "I'm sorry and I will apologise later, but I need to know."

"And me taking off my boxers will accomplish that how?" Severus demanded testily, but as he shifted, his thighs brushing together, he remembered. "You want to see this." He lifted the hem of the only remaining piece of his clothing, revealing the dark red mark on the juncture between thigh and groin. "Satisfied? Could I kindly have my clothes now?"

"Thank you," Harry murmured, quickly pushing the folded clothes over the floor through the barrier. "I could probably overcharge the wards and make them explode outside instead of collapsing inwards."

Severus continued buttoning up his robes while he answered, "Lucius mentioned that the wards feed on the magic contained in this room. Considering how much magic already passed through here, I doubt there is a limit to how much they can absorb."

Harry's eyes went distant, looking past Severus and past the first layer of the wards, seeing something that only someone with his extraordinary magical talent could perceive. "I can freeze the wards so that they can't expand to cushion the sudden increase in magic. That should do the trick. Though I'm not sure if Draco will still talk to me afterwards."

"I doubt it," Severus said, sharing a smile with his young husband before he shook himself of such inappropriate sentimentality. "Maybe you should check with him to see if he turned up a less extreme solution."

"Sure." Harry shrugged, his wand twirled lazily between his fingers, settled and produced a flawless, pearly white, clearly cut stag Patronus that trotted off through the walls without pause. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Severus said, studying Harry's eyes. "But you knew that already."

"I know that you're not hurt now," Harry corrected. "That's not a guarantee that you weren't hurt earlier."

"I wasn't," Severus conceded, taking a step closer to the opening.

"Good."

"Are you not going to ask me what happened?" Severus demanded, wondering why he cared, if Harry cared. But the last was a foolish thought.

"I didn't think it would be fair," Harry said softly, those damned verdant eyes all Lily's. "Since I can't answer you if you should ask me the same question."

"This had nothing to do with your work!" Severus protested. "Right?"

"You know I can't answer that," Harry returned. "And as long as my Department hasn't decided on a version of the events, I can tell you even less than usual."

"How presumptuous you are, to assume that you know best which truth is the most palatable for everyone else to know." Severus sneered. "I underestimated Albus' influence on you – you really learnt quite a lot from him, didn't you?"

"Considering how much he meant to both of us, I don't think we should drag Albus into our disagreements." Harry answered firmly before turning away. "I'll better contact some of my colleagues. This might get tricky."

He apparated, wards be damned, before Severus found his tongue or his rightful indignation that Harry had dared to use that lecturing, reprimanding, patronising tone with him. And how immature and impolite to leave him standing when he couldn't very well do the same. He paced the length of his small prison, the billowing of his robes doing much to calm his nerves even though he would never admit to having been upset at his state of undress. Or stung by Harry's words.

Before long, he heard steps on the corridor, saw the restless shadow that moved towards him, followed by lean legs and trim hips all belonging to the young man he had once considered the closest man would ever get to physical perfection.

"Severus? Harry said he found a way to get you out. Where is he?" Draco greeted him, looking up at down the corridor as if he expected Harry to jump out from behind one of the decorative armours along the walls.

"Gathering reinforcements to take down your wards," Severus replied dryly, not missing the brief flicker of shock, the minute wince that Draco tried to hide.

"Take them down?" Draco asked. "You mean lower them, temporarily. Right?"

"No, I'm afraid, Harry's version includes more crashing and burning and permanent destruction," Severus offered caustically, knowing from the scandalised look on Draco's face that his words, spoken out of misdirected anger, had hit their mark.

There was indignation, outrage, a short spell of despair and then resignation. "Father won't like that. But then, he only has himself to blame."

"Do you know what happened?" Severus asked, almost bashing against the wall of magic in his eagerness.

"I only know what I saw: Harry at that charity fundraiser with what I thought was you, then someone attacking, commotion, Aurors leading my still polyjuiced father away." Draco looked up at him. "Then Harry cornered me, dragged me out and told me that we needed to get to Malfoy Manor because my father had kidnapped you and was keeping you here."

"Didn't you ask him what was going on?" Severus demanded.

"Why waste my breath?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I thought it more likely that he was plotting something against my father and was using me to get in here. If we hadn't found you..."

"And still you were willing to go along?"

Draco took a side step, turned half away. "Harry would have found a way in, with or without my help. I rather thought that my cooperation would keep the destruction of property to a minimum. Seems I was a bit too optimistic."

"Indeed," Severus replied while he studied Draco's profile; he wasn't telling the truth, or at least not the whole truth and Severus hated being lied to. He wasn't quite quick enough to snuff out the thoughts that assailed him, full of bitterness and undefined jealousy, and Draco noticed his glare and gave him a wry grin.

"Harry looked... distraught. Even if I didn't believe him fully, I had no doubt that he thought this was important and I would have never forgiven myself if he was right and I did nothing to help you. So I brought him." Draco met his eyes this time, and Severus was slightly more convinced about his honesty.

"I wasn't lying." Harry popped up as suddenly as he had disappeared.

"You seldom do," Draco acknowledged, then added with an apologetic smirk. "Not that I know of, anyway."

"And you never shall," Harry said with all that boyish charm and Draco laughed.

Severus wasn't laughing. He was staring at the three men who had appeared with Harry, were keeping in the background while observing everything with keen eyes. Severus knew that technique all too well.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Harry?" he demanded, fixing his eyes on the tallest of the lot.

"This is Mr. Anderson, with the Auror department." Harry motioned the brunette closer, but even though Anderson stepped towards Severus, none of his facial muscles so much as twitched. "He's here to verify that you were actually abducted and kept here against your will."

"Are you entirely convinced that this is Mr. Snape?" the Auror asked of Harry.

"I'm certain that this is my husband Professor Severus Snape," Harry asserted immediately, glaring right at the Auror. "And I'm sure any other questions can wait until afterwards."

Harry's stance didn't allow for arguing and Anderson didn't make the mistake to try.

"The perimeter is secure," one of the other two said, taking a step forward. "We are ready to begin the procedure."

Harry nodded, but Severus just stared incredulously at the two unnamed wizards, Harry's colleagues as he deduced. They were identical down to the last key characteristic. If the Aurors had been looking for them in connection to a crime and had interrogated any number of witnesses, they would have received the same description over and over again. Height? Medium. Skin tone? Lightly tanned. Hair? Short, black. Eyes? Green. Any distinguishing features? Scar on the forehead. But of course, none of the witnesses would have answered like that – they just would have said that they saw Harry Potter. Two Harry Potters. Three if you counted the original. Sure, the one to the left had eyes not quite as brilliant and a nose that was slightly to large and the other one was more broad-shouldered and when he moved the air around him rippled under a not quite perfect Concealment Charm, but on first glance they could be mistaken for no-one else. Severus suddenly felt sick, wondering if one of them had been in their house, in their bed, just pretending to be his husband while Harry was off somewhere else. He didn't know what game they were playing or what role he had in it.

Harry noticed his look. "Everyone knows what I am so they use gla- "

"Harry!" the one with the larger nose interrupted sharply, swishing his wand in an abrupt downward motion that took Harry's breath and left him choking. "It is none of his concern."

For the first time, Severus was glad to see that stubborn mutinous expression on Harry's face. Harry jerked his head, shook off the enchantment and inhaled deeply. "I'd thank you not to attempt that again."

The second Harry's face turned slightly sheepish and he mumbled something like an apology under his breath.

"Shall we proceed then?" the third Harry asked, drawing his wand and looking expectantly at the real Harry.

Harry nodded and turned to Severus again, pulling a simple black and silver titanium band out of his robe pocket, Severus' wedding ring. "I reactivated the Portkey. You should use it as soon as the wards fall so that you don't get buried under the debris."

"Debris?" Draco echoed in a pain-filled whisper.

"I'll try to lower the wards only enough for Severus to get out, but he is my priority and I can make no promises," Harry said, putting a hand briefly on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I get it," Draco assured him. "I best get out of the way, if you don't require my assistance."

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said, then threw the ring over to Severus, waiting until he had slipped it on before he continued. "Are you two ready?" his colleagues nodded, positioning themselves left and right of the opening with Harry in the middle. "Good, Severus, I'm coming in."

"What?!" Severus asked sharply, slamming into the magical shield in his haste to block Harry's entrance. "Have you not been listening to a word I said?! The room will suck you dry and leave you no way to block or withdraw when it gets too much. You're not coming in!"

"We are all well aware of the risks," the broad-shouldered Harry said in a monotonous, droning voice.

"It's not your risk to take," Severus snapped. "And since I'll be the one blamed for getting the Saviour of the Wizarding World killed, I don't think it's your risk either." He glared at Harry, still bracing his arms on both sides of the opening for maximum effect.

"Severus... My magic isn't limitless and it's in all of our interest to take down the wards as quickly as possible. I'll be able to charge them with more magic at once, aim for the weakest spot, if I'm inside," Harry explained. "I'll be fine."

"Excuse me if I don't find that reassuring. You haven't considered all the risks." He raised one hand when Harry made to protest. "Not to you. I know how little you value your own life, so we'll leave that matter aside. But do you think Lucius put me here for fun? That he had qualms about killing his old sometimes friend? I may not know what his plan A was, but I can hazard a fairly accurate guess as to what his plan B might be. And you're playing right into it."

"If you have information you would be well-advised to tell us what you know," one of Harry's colleagues said and Severus snorted incredulously.

"Why don't you read between the lines?" he asked mockingly, but not of the false Harry, and when Harry took a step back he availed himself of the opportunity and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know as well as I that the Ministry and the Order did everything imaginable to make sure that Voldemort would never rise again," Harry said softly, peering up at him through dark lashes.

"You're a tad too young to remember, but they did that last time as well," Severus taunted, but it came out tired and with soft melancholy. "And Lucius was not entirely uninvolved, or unimaginative, when it came to bringing back his old master."

"Do you have concrete information?" Harry asked, shushing his colleagues and the impatient Auror.

"No," Severus admitted. "But if Lucius is planning... something, shouldn't you at least leave the back door open?"

"Or check beforehand if there's something more to the wards?" Harry suggested, talking over Large Nose's triumphant crowing. "I'll do that, if you don't mind waiting a bit longer?"

"I don't set store by impatience," Severus concluded, taking a step back to give Harry space to work, but still keeping an eye on his young husband.

Harry also took a step back, tapping specific strands of magic with his wand, making them flare and pulse with energy. Severus noticed that Anderson was getting impatient and he feared what it might do to Harry concentration if he made his displeasure known. Harry's colleagues on the other hand had settled, one of them following Harry's progress with keen eyes doing at the least a credible imitation of having an inkling of an idea of what was going on while the other one started a conversation with one of Draco's ancestors.

After the sixth or seventh strand, Harry's face darkened and his eyes unfocused, seeing beyond the first few layers of magic. He turned his head abruptly from left to right, up, down, in a diagonal slash to something far beneath Severus' feet.

"Well?" Anderson demanded, making Harry jerk back like a stone released from a slingshot.

Harry raised his hand, but to Severus' surprise not to the Auror. "I've got this," he said to his colleague. "Let's try to end this day without any more Obliviates, please? There's one strand that doesn't follow the logic of the warding system. It might not be anything."

"Can you tell when that strand of magic originated?" the large-nosed one asked. "If it's as old as or older than the rest we can conclude that it is likely a harmless anomaly and not part of Lucius Malfoy's master plan."

Harry nodded, focused again and made the magic web light up.

"Look for signs of weakening," his colleague coached softly, stepping closer to Harry. "Frayed edges, loosening connections. Can you see which branch of magic superimposes itself over the other at intersections?"

"It feels younger," Harry finally declared, looking at the other man. "It runs in a very clean-cut way, right through the rest of the wards, but then it buries deeper and it gets hard to follow between all the different signatures."

"Can't you identify the signature?" Anderson asked impatiently.

"Feel free to try," Harry replied calmly. "But I'm sure you'll also notice that intrafamilial signatures are often quite similar."

"So what do you suggest?" Anderson demanded. "Maybe the clocks work differently in your department, but we like to get things done and if my boss hears that I've been standing around all day watching you do nothing, he won't be well pleased."

"Let that be our concern," the one with the broad shoulders said dismissively. "Only seldom rash actions achieve better results than a well-thought out strategy."

Severus only barely suppressed a snort when he thought of how valuable that lesson would have been to Harry if only he had learned it early on in his schooling. Harry turned to him and smiled.

His colleagues meanwhile started an examination of their own, plucking out different strands of magic all with the apparent aim of following the anomaly. With predictable results and all in good time of course. Harry didn't seem to mind and Anderson had resigned himself to his fate. Severus himself didn't have much choice in the matter.

"We'll send a controlled impulse through the wards," Large Nose finally declared. "If something untoward should happen, you will be able to block my magic."

"Alright," Harry said, then looked at Severus. "Please step back."

Concern? How touching. Severus couldn't help but feel a bit like a disobeying child that had climbed that rotten, but oh-so-inviting tree in the backyard, got stuck when one of the branches predictably gave way, and now had to wait for rescue in form of concerned, but still slightly annoyed parents. The thought that he had cast Harry in the role of concerned parent made a sneer curl his lips even as he stepped back.

They all raised their wands, almost in unison though Anderson lagged slightly behind, obviously because he didn't really understand what was going on. Severus heard the indistinct mutter, saw the clear blue stream of light, but he didn't feel the rush of magic, the slight singing in the air, a prickle going over his skin. He wondered briefly if that was because it wasn't Harry doing the magic, if he had got so used to feeling that immense power rushing out even with the simplest spell that now he had unrealistic expectations. But of course he was in a magic-free bubble so that the magic outside his prison was just out of reach.

Harry screamed. Stumbled back with his hands thrown over his face, his legs crumbling from underneath him. Broad Shoulders was just in time to catch him, one arm going round his torso and lowering him gently to the floor.

"Harry!" Severus found himself joining in the shocked exclamation of the other man, and he took a step closer only to make painful contact with the wards.

"'s not good," Harry mumbled indistinctly, showing his bloody fingertips to his colleague while the other hand still clutched his forehead. "Sev'rus was righ'."

Severus, as much as he liked to hear Harry's acknowledgement that he had been right, was proportionally more worried about the slur in Harry's speech and the implications of his worst-case-scenario turning out to be founded on truth.

"Maybe you should take Harry to see a healer," Severus suggested, raising his voice to be heard above the fray.

"Never could do anything for me," Harry refuted, pushing hands aside and getting to his feet. His scar was still bleeding, viscous red liquid running over his nose, smeared over his glasses. "I'm going to be fine. Just shocked me. Let me see those wards."

He stumbled; Severus wanted to reach out to stabilise him but once again found his options restricted. Then Harry rightened himself, smiled at Severus and turned to the wards. The expression he wore – or was it the blood? – was too much like during the war, too much determination, too much focus and too little human emotion. Somehow it woke associations in Severus of a younger Harry, barely into adolescence, whose innocence they had all failed to protect because they had been too busy with saving his life.

"I can trace it now," he declared. "But we better call in reinforcement."

"Is it... You-Know-Who?" Anderson asked with trepidation, his voice wavering between resolute and high-pitched.

"We will make inquiries," Large Nose said, stepping around Harry, who was still looking at the wards. "Maybe you could arrange for some of your colleagues to secure the area. Discreetly. A mass panic is in no one's best interest."

"I know where we have to go," Harry said, soon after Anderson had taken his leave. "It's - " He choked, hands going to his chest and leaving smears of blood on his light blue sweater.

"Don't struggle," Broad Shoulders said, once again reaching out to stabilise Harry. "Just breathe, don't try to talk."

"What the hell is going on?!" Severus demanded, hitting his fist against the wall when they didn't pay him any attention. "Harry?"

Harry was still gasping to regain his breath, his fingers curling in fits and spasms, but he met Severus' gaze, his eyes full of the answers Severus was not sure he wanted to hear.

"Harry needs a healer," Severus said, trying for a rational tone and staring the one closer to him into the ground.

"'m fine," Harry managed between panting inhalations.

"No, you're not," Severus refuted, before turning back to the one in front of him. "Whatever is going on, whatever you did, Harry's in no state to deal with it. So take him to a healer."

"It's already passing," was his answer. "We have more urgent matters to attend to."

"It's okay, Severus," Harry agreed softly. "They upped the level of security. I wasn't counting on that so soon and it took me by surprise."

"You don't look okay," Severus pointed out, lowering his voice as Harry stepped closer to the partition. "At least take a Pepper-Up Potion. If anything you'll need all the strength you can get." He reached into his robes and pulled one of the tiny vials out, carefully rolling it over the floor.

Harry smiled. "I'd really like to kiss you now, just so you know."

"Just drink the potion," Severus insisted. "Then take care of whatever Lucius set up and get me out."

"Aye, sir." Harry chuckled, downed the potion and turned back to his colleagues. "Let's go."

Chapter Text

After hours upon hours, Severus had finally been released from his prison when Harry had broken through the wards and somehow managed to keep the walls of Malfoy Manor from crumbling down over their heads. But instead of going home with his husband, he had been sent ahead with only the briefest brush of lips while Harry had remained presumably to clean up the mess, to cordon off the scene and obliterate all traces. Severus didn't know, and he probably never would.

He stared at Harry's back, met Harry's eyes in the bathroom mirror as the younger man scrubbed the dried blood from his forehead. "I assume the matter has been resolved?"

Harry hmmed noncommittally, throwing handfuls of water in his face before reaching for his toothbrush.

"Harry," Severus said warningly, reaching for Harry's waist to turn him around. "I deserve some answers."

"I know." Harry sighed, resting his cheek against Severus' chest. "I know."

"But you're still not going to tell me anything," Severus concluded, kissing Harry's forehead and feeling the inflamed skin under his lips. "I'm going to bed."

"Can I... Can I come with you?" Harry asked and his voice broke. "I know you're angry, and you have a right to be, but..."

"Come," Severus said, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to their bedroom where he laid him out on the bed and undressed him, kissed and caressed him, prepared him carefully and finally slid gently into him. And only when Harry was drifting off to sleep in his arms, did he start to wonder again what had happened and how it would affect him.

ö_ö_ö

"Morning," Harry greeted him, pouring him some tea and bussing his cheek. "I have to do some paperwork so I'll be in my study, but why don't you read the paper and do the crossword puzzle?"

"You seem cheerful," Severus said and it came out accusing.

"I had an idea," Harry said with a large smile. "I'll see you at lunch? Or just knock on my door if you want to talk."

"How generous," Severus said. "What if I want to talk now?"

"You should enjoy your breakfast first, read the paper," Harry shot him down, going so far as to put one of his Muggle pens on top of the Daily Prophet. "See you later."

He was gone before Severus could protest, and really, he wasn't obtuse enough that he wanted to because Harry's meaning had been more than clear. So he read over the front page article (continued on page 3), concluding afterwards that all the available information had been packed into the headline – "Lucius Malfoy and Walden McNair arrested at charity event" – and that he needn't have bothered to continue just to read Harry's statement of "No comment."

On the second page, he found the press release Harry, or one his department, had written, but it told him even less, speaking vaguely of a "minor altercation" involving one of their "co-workers". He leafed to the back of the paper, glanced at the weather report and scowled at the unimaginative caricature of a Wizengamot sederunt and then got started on the crossword puzzle.

The first few questions were mind-numbingly easy and as much as Severus wanted to find a way to connect them to the events, he very much doubted that H-I-P-P-O-G-R-I-F-F, S-A-L-E-M or A-R-I-T-H-M-A-N-C-Y held any relevance. But then he was asked for "potion to change one's appearance" and he perked up because if he knew something it was potions and Lucius had all but admitted that he planned to assume Severus' identity. And Draco's summary of the events had also suggested as much. He filled in P-O-L-Y-J-U-I-C-E, noting that the second box was marked with a small four, prompting him to look to the bottom of the page. It read, "Fill in the right letters and collect your prize." He rolled his eyes and continued with the main puzzle.

The next two words were flukes, but then he was asked for a synonym of "love bite" and once again decided that he was on the right track if his forced striptease the other day was any indication. Again, the second letter was part of the solution word and he thought that maybe Harry had made it easier for him to find the relevant words between the random assortment of letters.

He looked for the rest of those little numbers. He quickly filled in V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T, musing briefly how far reduced the general fear was that the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not strike anyone as odd in this crossword puzzle before he added a synonym for "journal". And froze. Because he might have had his suspicions, but they had only been that and Lucius using one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes was a lot more concrete and less given to instant failure than he ever feared. But all the Horcruxes had been destroyed, hadn't they? And the one in question had been impaled on a basilisk's fang, if he wasn't mistaken, soaked in lethal potion. Maybe Lucius' plan had been unrealistic after all.

It allowed him to breathe easier again though he would have to ask Harry how close Lucius had come to starting another Dark Age, confirm his deductions and try to read correctly between the lines.

But first he needed to find all the pieces of the puzzle and figure out what Lucius' other plan had entailed. Synonym of "quiet, peace"? He raised an eyebrow even as he filled in T-R-A-N-Q-U-I-L-L-I-T-Y, for the first time finding Harry's hint, if it was a hint, less than illuminating. Tranquillity? Maybe that wasn't the word Harry had been aiming for. Quiet, peace? What else could that mean? He tapped his pen against the paper, its weight and shape unfamiliar in his hand that was used to holding a quill. He allowed his eyes to rove over the puzzle, settling on the next number and decided to leave the matter of how "tranquillity" related to anything for later.

Another word for "assailant (pl.)" which also started with an A as it crossed paths with tranquillity. He carefully wrote A-T-T-A-C-K-E-R-S into the little square boxes while he pondered the implications of that plural. The article had reported the arrest of Lucius and McNair, but though he couldn't be sure, Severus doubted that Lucius would have stooped to a direct attack on Harry. Someone else then, someone who had not been mentioned in the article. Did that make him more important, more dangerous – or less so? And who was it? Had his, or her, attack been aimed at Harry, at Lucius, at Severus? Harry's hint raised more questions than it answered and Severus felt the familiar coil of frustration in his stomach that Harry wouldn't (couldn't) just tell him what was going on.

"Ability to give birth"? He filled in F-E-R-T-I-L-I-T-Y and thought back to their farce of contractual negotiation, Harry's stone-faced refusal to demand a fidelity clause even after Severus had revealed that Lucius would try to get him with child. Severus had a moment of blind panic, followed by rage and jealousy that were just a visually impaired. Harry had wanted to see the hickey, had he seen the lack of it on a polyjuiced Lucius? How long had it taken Harry to realise that something was amiss? How far - ? He stopped the thought, but not quite in time to prevent the images of Harry in the throes of passion, spread out on the bed like he had been last night (to replace other memories?), arching wantonly into every caress and moaning in pleasure with every thrust. Had Harry noticed in time? He replayed last night's encounter, trying to decide whether Harry had been frightened and traumatised or merely on edge.

But Harry always kept himself well-checked, tightly leashed even in the supposed comfort of their own home and Severus had never been able to determine if that was an act or a habit that was by now so deeply ingrained in his character that he did so without thought. Maybe it was a bit of both, or neither, maybe it was just a necessity for someone with Harry's considerable abilities never to lose his calm and to always be in control because one slip, one moment of emotional instability could have disastrous results for Harry and everyone around him. Maybe. Severus didn't know. What had happened?

He started to fill in the rest of the gaps almost without thinking, his mind still abuzz with everything that might have happened, could have happened while he had been immured in Lucius' wards. C-A-G-L-I-O-S-T-R-O, D-R-A-U-G-H-T, M-U-G-G-L-E. He paused for a bit when he came to "obligation owed to another wizard (pl.)", almost sure that this was another hint, even if there was no small number in one of the squares. Of course there was more than one life debt involved in this whole mess – between Harry and him there were two already, between Lucius and Harry another one, and Severus wouldn't put it past Harry to have called in some other favours to get whatever warning he had received in advance. But Severus knew all that. So what was it Harry wanted to tell him? There were no new life debts between Harry and him, nor would it make sense for Harry to mention life debts that were not directly related to the situation as he had to assume that Severus would draw the wrong conclusion. Another life debt between Harry and Lucius then, but who owned whom his life?

There had been at least two attackers, at least one of which had been in league with Lucius. So maybe Lucius had wanted to up the ante by saving Harry's life from an orchestrated attack. It was pure speculation of course, but with nothing more than a selection of more or less helpful words, there was little else Severus could do. Assuming that this had been Lucius' intention, it stood to reason that he had failed since Harry hadn't seemed particularly troubled this morning.

That still didn't answer who the other attacker had been and Severus took great care to place his cup gently back onto the saucer. Another two words later he came upon P-O-I-S-O-N, wondered briefly if that might also be important but then dismissed it as too vague a hint. He continued with S-I-S-T-E-R-S, L-E-T-T-E-R and was deliberating over a "poisonous garden plant" when he caught sight of the curious constellation formed by P-O-I-S-O-N, T-R-A-N-Q-U-I-L-L-I-T-Y and L-E-T-T-E-R. Poison and letter lined up with –quillity. Quill. Poison, quill, letter. Poison-quill letter. He was all too familiar with those and since their marriage the number of hate mail had more than tripled. It was still less than clear what Harry had intended, but "poison-quill letter" made at least marginally more sense than "tranquillity" so he was inclined to follow that line of thought.

He mentally sifted through all the hate mail he had received, the major part of those letters from love-sick fools who threatened to uncover his nefarious plots, prove that he had used a love potion to snare Harry into his bed. Since there was neither anything to uncover nor to prove, he had always dismissed them out of hand and he couldn't recall any of the threats escalating to a worrying level. Then there were the letters, anonymous but still all too recognisable, from those who had served under the Dark Lord, spewing accusations of betrayal and treachery, of selling them out, of being in cahoots – C-A-H-O-O-T-S - with mudbloods and blood-traitors. All of which was true, of course, and he kept those letters in case he should ever have need of them – as blackmail or as proof of his good intentions. They also included death threats, but Severus could not discern any reason why Harry's colleagues would release the identities of Lucius and McNair to the press and keep a third Death Eater out of the papers. At the very least it sounded unlikely.

That left letters from those upstanding citizens who saw him as the scourge of the earth, the blight of humanity, blaming him for lost property, lost limbs and lost loved ones. One of them was steadfastly convinced that his brother died from a poison Severus had brewed and had warned him that he better watch his morning tea. Severus found it more ridiculous than worrisome. Another blamed him for her son-in-law's murder and the resulting suicide of her daughter and had threatened to curse him with impotency because he didn't deserve to have children of his own when hers had been taken from her. As if he wanted children (he allowed no room for a differing thought). There were others of course, but he couldn't remember any concrete threats, something to tell him how serious their intentions really were. He would have to try and ask Harry.

He drank the last of his tea, capped the pen and gathered the newspaper before finally pushing back his chair and getting up. He mentally prepared his arguments, his theories, a list of questions as he took the stairs upstairs. Just to have them wiped from his mind, when Harry answered the door after the first knock, holding it open wide instead of slinking out like a guilty child.

"Come on in."

"I thought that was against the rules," Severus said, but stepped past Harry, feeling a heavy feeling settle over his shoulders, like a rain-soaked coat.

"I locked away all sensitive information, all information really," Harry explained, carefully closing the door behind them. "This is just a room. But if anyone should ask, you were in here to have wild sex on my desk."

"And why am I really in here?" Severus demanded, looking around Harry's office with its wine-red carpet and matching hangings, a huge bay window and dark wood furniture. No books were on the ceiling-high shelves or if they were, Severus couldn't see them, but there were several photos of Harry's friends, his godfathers, his parents. Lily was looking at him from the frame on the desk, curious and warm, while Potter Sr. tightened his two-dimensional arm around her shoulder and glared.

"I can talk more freely," Harry's reply was slow, sign that he still had to choose his words carefully. "Here's where I work, and no-one is supposed to be in here, so it's not as closely monitored."

"Won't they - "

"No," Harry interrupted. "I've cloaked your presence, but the longer you're in here the more likely it is that we'll be caught."

"In other words you want to get to the point," Severus answered and sat down in one of the low, red-checkered armchairs in front of the fireplace.

"Or to the wild sex." Harry grinned, resting his hand briefly on Severus' shoulder before he sank into the other armchair. "So did you enjoy the newspaper?"

Severus gathered his thoughts. "I'm quite certain that Lucius locked me in that room to trap you in it and harness your energy and magic to facilitate another rise of the Dark Lord through his school-time diary – the one that was supposedly destroyed at the end of your second year at Hogwarts."

"Dobby could tell you an interesting story about how I freed him and what other than a sock I gave Mr. Malfoy that day," Harry replied.

Severus had to bite back on instinctive recriminations and Harry must have noticed his darkening expression because he added with a touch of defensiveness. "Basilisk venom is not known for its regenerative properties."

Severus was willing to concede that point and further allow for mitigating circumstances considering Harry's age when he had given a Horcrux, destroyed or not, back to a known Death Eater. "I'm assuming that the remnants of the diary are safely contained now?"

"I can't answer that," Harry said immediately, but Severus took his quick reply and his unconcerned expression as a yes.

"Very well." Severus steepled his fingers, pressing each fingertip against its counterpart to contain the shaking of whatever emotion stirred in him at the next topic. "Lucius used Polyjuice potion to make himself look like me. He further had the intention of giving you a potion that would enable you to carry his child."

Harry pursed his lips, staring at the merrily dancing flames in the fireplace. "I wasn't joking when I said that I check my shampoo for tampering."

"So you noticed the potion, determining that something wasn't right," Severus concluded easily, almost missing the twitch of Harry's fingers against his leg.

"Mr. Malfoy is well aware of my... paranoia," Harry said.

Severus studied Harry's profile, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his hands. "There are potions that Lucius could have taken, even in combination with Polyjuice, that would have increased the probability of impregnating you."

"I understand inducing a pregnancy that way, without giving the bearer's body sufficient time to adjust, is risky."

Severus didn't bother to point out that Lucius would be all too willing to take that risk, that any pregnancy was potentially dangerous for the one carrying the child, that he would just like a clear answer for once because this was Harry's way of answering, slowly nudging him in the right direction, revealing truths through the most minute change in tone or facial expression. So instead he pondered if maybe he had misunderstood Harry's clue, but knowing that at the very least he was on the right track.

"There is the general assumption," Harry started when he had been silent for too long. "That I let my partners rule my life, that I'm as docile and pliant and submissive in bed as they no doubt hope I am outside of it. I guess it's just more comfortable for everyone if they can believe that I'm easily managed. I never bothered to clear it up, though I believe Colin squashed a book exposing quite a few intimate details about the truth of that assumption a few months back."

"By Oliver Wood?" Severus hazarded a guess and Harry winced almost imperceptively. "Is that why you broke up with him?"

"Severus, don't you think we have more important things to talk about?" Harry chided, finally looking at him. "I wasn't trying to make small talk."

"I'm aware, but I think I'd still like an answer," Severus replied, enjoying Harry's irritation perhaps a little too much. "Unless you think it too personal that you cannot confide with your husband." He put delicate stress on the last word and Harry visibly deflated. Guilty, obviously.

"I don't think our sex life was the problem," Harry said softly and it sounded sad, wistful, making Severus doubt that he really wanted to hear about this. "But Oliver was more concerned with what his team would think, what the press wanted to see, what his boss hoped to gain than with... me."

Harry got up abruptly before Severus could catch the traces of hurt and vulnerability that Harry's tone had suggested. He stepped over to his desk, seemed to realise that there was nothing for him there and paused with his back towards the Potions Master. He then tapped his fingers twice softly against the surface of his desk, which must have been a sign for Dobby to send up tea and scones. Harry poured two cups, took a sip from his and brought the other over to Severus.

If Severus had been any other man or if his social skills had not been quite as rusty, he might have said something encouraging or horribly cliché about how Wood didn't know what he had given up. But he wasn't familiar with such platitudes and not sure if this would be the right time to practise them. So instead he just returned to their original topic of conversation.

"You did ask me if I was amenable to changing our usual roles during sexual intercourse," he noted and Harry nodded and took another sip of tea. "Though you never expressed any desire to that effect before and Lucius is aware that I prefer to be on top."

Harry shrugged. "Mr. Malfoy doesn't know me, though and he might have been under the impression that you did not enter this marriage quite as willingly as the press seems to assume."

"He assumed you didn't give me a choice in the matter," Severus concluded, equal parts horrified and smug.

"Maybe," Harry said. "On another subject, wouldn't you agree that it's much easier to drink any given potion yourself than to try and get a notoriously paranoid wizard to drink it?"

"Indeed," Severus answered, but his mind was already elsewhere. "Did you sleep with him?" It came out sharper than he had intended, accusing and harsh as if he had any grounds to make Harry responsible for whatever had happened.

Harry opened his mouth, gasped and closed it again. Obviously whatever he had wanted to say was considered classified information.

"It wasn't Mr. Malfoy's decision."

Which ranked certainly among the top ten of Harry's most ambiguous answers, but didn't really clarify things for Severus. He searched Harry's face, stared into verdant green and tried to fight down his own revulsion at the thought of what might have happened between Lucius and Harry, to his body. Not Lucius' decision? Well, that was becoming abundantly clear, but then again Lucius would never have chosen to give himself over to Harry if he hadn't thought it necessary.

"You must have seen the lack of mark on Lucius' thighs if you thought to proof my identity by looking at mine," Severus said, observing Harry carefully.

Harry shrugged lightly. "It wasn't the first time I saw you naked."

"Was it the first time for something else?" Severus insisted.

Now Severus could see a smirk appearing on Harry's face, laughter in his eyes. "I don't think I ever turned you down." There was the slightest, the most minute of emphasises on "you" and Severus felt elation and the almost overwhelming urge, which he stomped down viciously, not to be turned down by Harry right that moment. They still had things to discuss and though Lucius' plans B and C were reasonably clear to him now, he still didn't know everything he needed to know about Lucius most immediate strategy and about what had happened at the charity event.

"Lucius accompanied you to the charity, and his agreement to go must have consolidated your suspicions that he wasn't me, where he had planned to save your life from the orchestrated attack by Walden McNair in order to augment the debt you owe him," he allowed for a short pause in case Harry felt the need to add some oblique reference which Severus would have to decipher, but then continued when Harry kept silent. "They were both arrested and you don't seem to be burdened by any additional life debts so I can only assume that Lucius' plan failed."

"I take it you enjoyed your crossword puzzle?" Harry asked rhetorically, reaching for one of the scones and dunking it unceremoniously into his tea.

"The paper only mentioned two arrests, but you - "

Harry cut in warningly, "But I already gave you all the information that is accessible to the public at this time. I'm sorry, Severus, you'll just have to content yourself."

"Right," Severus said dryly. "But Draco mentioned that it was quite a commotion and so I've been wondering if McNair could have been solely responsible or if maybe there was another factor. Like a second attacker, one independent from Lucius' plans."

"That seems a little far-fetched, don't you think?" Harry said, but it sounded more like an encouragement and thus Severus continued undeterred.

"Of course that would pose the question who that second attacker was after: Lucius, you, me, someone else? It's not as if either of us is lacking in enemies."

"Indeed, which is why I found it quite impractical that you insisted on sorting your mail on your own when Colin and I worked out a system to efficiently distinguish between the letters that need not concern us further and the ones that need to be taken seriously," Harry said and looked over to the window, where a flicker of sound had already directed Severus' gaze to find Harry's owl perched comfortably on the sill, preening her feathers with obvious care.

"And what would register as a threat in your system?"

"I'm glad you asked." Harry turned back to him. "You see not every angry letter is written with the intention of going through with every thoughtless threat and we would deplete our resources needlessly if we were to follow up on every one of them. But, I guess, we're all too scarred from the war not to err on the side of caution." Harry sent him a self-deprecating smile. "Most people only write once, to vent, to get it off their chest and then they go back to live in peace. We monitor those who write more than once; we find out who they are and what their grievance is. Most of them don't hide their traces nearly as well as they would like to believe."

"So what would they have to write to raise the alarm?" Severus asked. "I can imagine that the list is still quite lengthy."

"It varies, but I've found that most people are not willing to commit murder over something as trivial as a burned down house or lost money." Harry shrugged. "If one of their family members died during the war, especially a child, all bets are off, however."

"It figures that they would be more willing to disregard such pesky concerns as morals or the law under those circumstances," Severus murmured, running through the shortening list of potential attackers. "Are they likely to make concrete threats?"

"It's not a science, you realise," Harry said as if he was humouring Severus' sudden interest in his methods. "But no, it seems that people who have actual plans of killing someone don't usually share the details."

That still left a good handful of candidates and Severus had never taken those letters overly seriously, had never considered them with more than half his attention let alone taken the time to find out who had written them and if he should be worried.

"They have different motivations, different reasons and some of them might even be good. Righteous," Harry said softly. "They are convinced that I still carry a part of Voldemort in me or that I'm plain dangerous in my own right. Maybe it doesn't matter, if it wasn't this, they'd find another reason. I know you had your fair share of threats, even before our marriage."

Three to be exact, taking into consideration what Harry had told him so far, all of the senders having lost children sometime during the war and blaming Severus for their loss. He hardly knew more than that and he doubted that Harry could give him any more information. And maybe Harry was right, maybe it didn't matter who the attacker had been. Someone who held a grudge against Severus and took the most inopportune moment to enact his revenge.

"There are very few pureblood families left who have been unsullied by the war," Harry said seemingly out of the blue. "It would be a blow, maybe a fatal one, to our society if one of them were to be implicated in a scandal of any kind whatsoever."

"And thus your department hushed up the second attacker," Severus concluded, already planning to run a scan on the last three letters to find out who had written them and who of them came from an old family.

"We don't get involved in such matters," Harry said in his most officious voice and as strange as it was, Severus believed him. But if it hadn't been Harry's department, it probably had been ordered by the Minister of Magic because the life of an ex-Death Eater was hardly as important as the image of the wizarding world and of a most likely mentally disturbed upstanding citizen.

"Should I be worried the next time I leave the house?" Severus asked.

"You'll always have my protection, Severus." Harry's foot nudged against his leg, maybe by accident. "No matter where you are."

"You protected Lucius." Severus couldn't believe that it had taken him so long to figure it out. "You saved his life."

"You haven't filled in the solution, yet," Harry said, got up and walked over to his owl, petting her lovingly. "You should do that."

It sounded like a dismissal as if Harry's mind was already on other matters, back at work where Severus would never be allowed. Severus once again unfolded the newspaper and poised his pen, quickly jotting down the D from D-I-A-R-Y, O from P-O-L-Y-J-U-I-C-E, I from T-R-A-N-Q-U-I-L-L-I-T-Y, R from F-E-R-T-I-L-I-T-Y, C from H-I-C-K-E-Y, E from A-T-T-A-C-K-E-R-S and finally the V from V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T, all in their right position and stared incredulously at "his prize".

"Divorce?" he asked through gritted teeth and it wasn't neutral, like he had intended, or calm, like he had hoped for.

"Well, now that you mention it, the factors that forced my hand are no longer of concern," Harry answered softly, sat down at his desk and opened one of the drawers. "Your debt is fulfilled. You're under no obligation to stay married to me." He pulled out a stack of parchment and Severus could just see the curly lettering and tightly written legalese of a divorce agreement.

"So you orchestrated this elaborate hoax to tell me that you want a divorce?" Severus pressed out, staring at Harry and only seeing Potter.

"I never said that," Potter answered. "I -"

"You never say anything. It's always between the lines, always implicit, always just out of reach." Severus sneered, more angry at himself than at Potter because he should never have got involved in Potter's games or participated in his stupid treasure hunt. He should have learned his lesson years ago, should have anticipated that in the end he would be the punch line. Again.

"I wanted you to know the truth. About everything," Potter replied still in that soft, wounded tone. "I never said I wanted a divorce, but if you - "

"And why wouldn't I?" Severus interrupted him again. "Not all your faults are as enjoyable as your inability to sleep the night through without a hefty dose of sex."

"I realise that," Potter said and Severus wanted to strangle the fake sincerity out of him. "You can read through the divorce agreement and I'll contact Colin to see how to best present this to the press."

"Best for you, you mean," Severus snapped. "Because there's no way that my reputation will ever recover from the social suicide of a divorce. And to think you encouraged me to start my own shop." He laughed bitterly. "I don't even have to bother opening it now – no one will buy from the Man-Who-Divorced-Harry-Potter. And I suppose you'll want your money back. Another kind of debt. What will you demand this time?"

"Well, I suppose if you insist on sneering and glaring at me all the time, all of Colin's ideas will have little effect," Potter replied and Severus was not in the right frame of mind to be teased.

"I'm so glad that you find the ruination of my life amusing!"

"I will not apologise further for something in which I had no more choice than you." Potter got up, gathered the parchment and motioned Severus to the door. "If you truly found being married to me so abhorrent, sign the papers and we'll deal with the press. Good day, Severus."

How he came to be standing in front of Potter's closed office door with a wad of parchment in his hand and the faint remembrance of a fleeting kiss over his cheek (mockery, to be sure), he could not have said, because he was quite certain that he had not at all been finished. But Harry's – Potter's magic was as subtle as it was frightening and no doubt he could have easily called an end to their argument.

Chapter Text

As always in these situations when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, he turned to his potions, barricaded himself in his lab – how much longer would it be his? – and lost himself in research and experiments, the easy, calming rhythms of slicing and dicing ingredients, of stirring potions and scrubbing cauldrons. When he had no more storage room for prepared ingredients and finished potions and all his cauldrons were spotless and neatly stacked in their proper places, he thought himself sufficiently calm that at the very least he could look into who had tried to kill him at the charity.

He pulled out a stack of letters, hand-written dates added when necessary, and once again lost himself in accusations and recriminations, enumerations of his many faults and sneering insults to his character and looks. Of course Harry wouldn't want to remain married to him. Who would? Harry was bright and young, full of life and joy and his future resplendent with possibilities. What could he possibly see in a dour Potions Master with greasy hair, waxy complexion and a sharp tongue? His anger was transmuting into something self-destructive and painful, just as Potter Sr.'s taunts had echoed in his mind even when he was once again alone and safely locked in the dormitory or bathroom, when he had vainly tried to defend himself against the kernel of truth in every barbed joke. He wasn't sure anymore if Harry had set out to hurt him or if he had done what was necessary, like so many times before, sacrificing himself for the greater good and choosing Severus as the lesser of two evils. And there was the problem: Severus wasn't angry anymore, he was hurt, that same unpopular teenager who had desperately, desperately wanted to belong. By Salazar, he was pathetic.

It didn't take long to find the letters he was looking for and Harry was right, most of the senders hadn't bothered to hide their identity very well. Three simple spells later he stared down at the name of his would-have-been attacker: Amos Diggory. It was a bit of a let-down, for he had imagined someone whose grudge was a bit less far-fetched, who had suffered more or less directly at his own hands. Cedric Diggory's death was a tragedy, to be sure, but it was one amongst many and Severus had no more failed to protect him than his colleagues, than Albus, than Amos Diggory himself. He wondered if Diggory had written other letters as well, to Minerva and Pomona or to any of the other teachers, but he doubted it. He was far too convenient a scapegoat, even though he had been nowhere near Cedric Diggory when he had died. Grief had a curious effect on people.

But the Diggory's were one of the last pureblood families above reproach, so even if he had been arrested, which Severus doubted, it wouldn't have found its way into the newspaper. Maybe he had been admitted to St. Mungo's for something as innocuous as Vanishing Sickness and then quietly transferred to the Janus Thickey Ward. Harry would no doubt have all the details.

He gathered the letters, thought about incinerating them, but then just pushed them back into the drawer. His eyes fell on the divorce agreement and almost hastily he set it atop the letters and closed the drawer with more force than necessary. Well, that was that.

ö_ö_ö

Harry's form was a ridiculously compact mountain ridge amongst the hilly landscape of their bed. He didn't usually curl up like this, but after all there was no need to pretend anymore that he enjoyed Severus' touch. And he didn't usually go to sleep before Severus, but maybe that was his new pretence to keep him safe from Severus' advances. Not that he would make any, Harry should know that.

He pulled out his sleep wear, not bothering to be quiet or to go into the bathroom to change. He doubted Harry wanted to have a look. He slipped into bed, buried under the covers and felt like an intruder.

ö_ö_ö

He drifted more than he slept, somewhere between wakefulness and nightmares, afraid to close his eyes even though they were already closed, unwilling to show any weakness. Harry had no such compunctions, and even Severus had a hard time seeing his wide-eyed, quick-breathed, quaking terror as calculated. They had all seen the manifold atrocities of war, but Harry had borne the full brunt of it at an age where most of his classmate had still been safely ensconced by their families. Severus didn't think he would fake his nightmares. This wasn't Potter.

But still when Harry burst up from the bed, fingers clutching at his wand and twisting in the bed sheets, body taut as a trip wire, he didn't reach out or tried to soothe him with words. Of course he didn't, he still remembered Harry almost strangling him to death in his panic. Instead he kept his eyes open and trained on Harry's back, following his movements when he got up and the mattress relaxed with the lack of his weight. For minutes, as Harry just stood there facing away and tried to regulate his breathing.

Finally: A heavy exhalation. A hand through unruly hair. A straightening of shoulders. Then: A quick glance over his shoulder that turned out to be not so quick when their eyes met. After a small eternity, Severus wordlessly lifted the covers and Harry padded back over to the bed, slipped under the covers and pressed himself against Severus' chest. Severus tucked the blanket and his own arm around Harry, soothingly ran his hand up and down his chest a few times, but stopped when Harry pressed back harder, his butt pushing appealingly against Severus' groin.

"Sleep." That was the beginning and the end of their conversation, but Severus supposed that neither of them really heeded his directive.

ö_ö_ö

The next morning Harry was gone, presumably to work, and Severus followed his example and immersed himself in getting his little shop ready for its grand opening. The first thing he did was update his wards, making sure that they covered every nook and cranny of his shop and identified Portkeys, cursed objects and glamours. Then he kept himself busy, which turned out to be remarkably easy. There was so much to do that he had missed dinner by the time he was locking up, Diagon Alley dark and silent behind him.

When he got home, Harry was either still at work or locked in his study so he asked Dobby to prepare a small supper for him, read a book about wizarding psychology for a while and then went to bed. When he woke, Harry had somehow ended up in his arms and was jerking awake from another nightmare. Severus pulled him back down, slowly and carefully because Harry tended to lash out, caressed his quivering back and patted his unruly hair until they both drifted off to sleep.

ö_ö_ö

Severus surveyed his apothecary one last time, the accomplishments of two weeks of work from the early morning hours till late at night, and then walked over to the shop door and deliberately turned the key. There was no immediate rush of prospective customers, of course, no avalanche of jostling wizards and witches who just couldn't wait to purchase his potions. But he'd run advertisements in the Daily Prophet, in Potions Weekly and The Practical Potioneer and hung flyers in the Leaky Cauldron, Potage's Cauldron Shop, Flourish & Blotts, Borgin & Burkes as well as the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade so that he had a steady trickle of customers and people who just wanted to look around, gossip and probably hoped that Severus' husband would pop out from behind one of the shelves.

Said husband did make an appearance, bringing with him a lunch pack, his godfather and a horde of adoring fans who flocked around him and filled Severus' shop almost to bursting point, threatening to trample fragile vials and precious ingredients under uncaring feet.

"Hey, looks like you're doing good." Harry - Potter greeted him, lifted onto his tiptoes to brush a chaste kiss over Severus' cheek. The blinding flash of at least three cameras made Severus grateful that he had locked away all light-sensitive potions.

Severus didn't know what to say or how to react to their close proximity and so he was glad when Harry pushed the lunch pack into his hands, giving him something to do. He disappeared behind his counter, putting it in one of the hidden compartments.

"Thanks for your expert opinion," he said finally, but it came out less biting than he had intended. They hadn't really talked the last few weeks, nothing beyond the obligatory greetings and some strained small talk, the still unsigned dissolution of their marriage like a giant wall between them. "If I'd known you would show up I would have saved the money for advertisements."

"Sorry," Potter said, smiling distractedly at a middle-aged witch who was standing much too close, her ample bosom pushed against Harry as if she wanted to have his autograph on her cleavage. "I thought we could have lunch together, but you're busy so I better let you get back to work... I'm happy for you."

Another fleeting kiss and he was gone, in defiance of Severus' carefully constructed wards, leaving him almost deaf at the enraged-disappointed outcry of his adoring fans. It took almost ten minutes for most of the sycophants to vacate his shop, though even then some lingered in the obvious hope that Harry might return. Severus did his best not to glare at them because he had promised himself to keep his antisocial behaviour in check so as not to scare away potential customers.

"Hello, Severus." The werewolf's casual greeting put Severus' hard-earned resolution to the test, but he dug his finger nails into his palms and nodded at his former colleague. "I was wondering if I could have a moment?"

"It's still 5 galleons and 11 sickles, Lupin, my prices haven't changed," Severus said, half turning away to wrap up a real customers purchase. "That makes 16 sickles and 23 knuts, Miss Kaleidos, have a nice day."

"You too, Professor," his former student dipped her head with a blush and he did not want to imagine for what she needed that potion.

"Good to know," Lupin took up their conversation again. "But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about."

"Let me guess." Severus sneered. "You're here on behalf of your beloved godson, who's wondering when he'll finally be free of me."

Lupin furrowed his brow. "No, no, I don't think I'm here for that. Though if there's something weighing on your mind you should try talking with Harry."

"'Try', of course, being the operative term," Severus hissed under his breath as he rang up the fourth Hair Replenishing Potion he had sold today. "No more than two drops a day, sir. The potion is very potent. Enjoy your day."

"It's not easy for Harry, either, you know?" Lupin said in that same voice he had used with Lily when she had demanded that he stand up to his friends and stop the abuse on Severus. He never did, of course.

"I never expected sympathy for the choices I made, however wrong or devastating they might have been, so please don't expect me to extend any towards anyone else," Severus retorted, glaring at the werewolf. "Now, say your piece and then kindly leave."

"Harry thought you still might have some questions about what happened at the charity," Lupin answered.

"And you will be able to provide the answers," he didn't quite make it a question. "Please don't touch the ingredients if you don't intend to purchase them, madam."

"Was this hellebore harvested during the full moon?" she asked and Severus dug his fingernails deeper into his palms because if the moon exposure had any relevance, at all, for potions brewing he would have labelled it, thank you very much, and if she had any intention of buying said ingredient she'd know that, too.

"No, on a Wednesday, but if you'd like I have some in the backroom that fits your criteria."

"No thank you, that won't be necessary." She sniffed, stepped away from the ingredients and promptly left the shop. He could not bring himself to care that he'd just lost a potential customer.

"I'm afraid you have come for nothing." He turned back to Lupin. "Any questions I might have had have already been answered, and even if they weren't I'm not sure what good any additional information would do me a so long after the actual events."

"That's good then," Remus said easily. "But feel free to contact me, if you think of something. Would you like me to pick up my potion or will you send it by owl?"

"Whatever you'd prefer," Severus said with forced politeness.

"In that case, I'd prefer owl-order. I never feel up to much in those days." Lupin smiled as if he expected Severus to share in the joke.

"Fascinating," Severus said and Lupin finally took his cue and said his goodbyes, turning around one last time when he was almost at the door. "This is a great shop, Severus. I'm glad things worked out so well for you and Harry."

He left before he could protest that Harry had nothing to do with the shop or with Severus' comparative well-being or anything else relating to Severus because Harry had been merely a figment of the imagination. Maybe it was better that way. The last remnants of Potter's fan club had perked up at the first mention of his name and renouncing Potter publicly wouldn't be good business sense.

So he practised his smile, gave polite advice, engaged in small talk and even had an intelligent discussion about using magically filtered water versus clear spring water. It was his dream come true, with all the little drawbacks and disadvantages that inevitably arose at the conversion from dream to reality. But still his dream, the mixed scent of precious ingredients, the finely stocked and carefully labelled jars, drawers, boxes, bottles, vials and bags, the gentle tinkling of hard-earned money in the cash till. Something that was his alone.

He locked the door after the last customer, flipped the sign to "closed" and started restocking the shelves, while several household spells swept the floor, dusted the shelves and polished the window. Then he counted his earnings, left enough knuts and sickles in the till to have small change for the next day and put the rest in a bottomless pouch to be taken home and at a later date to Gringotts. When all was done and the shop ready to be opened again, he sat for a while in the dark, behind the counter, staring at the lunch Potter had brought him and for which he hadn't found the time. It didn't mean anything that it was his favourite chicken sandwich with creamy pesto and small cherry tomatoes because in all probability Dobby had made his lunch. It didn't mean anything. So why did he sit in the dark, brooding?

ö_ö_ö

He still wasn't sure about the answer when he made his way back home and he noted Harry's absence with relief and an aftertaste of disappointment. Maybe Harry was avoiding him and maybe that was a sign that he wasn't as indifferent to everything as his perpetual calm suggested. Severus wasn't convinced that that wasn't just what he wanted to believe. He didn't know what he wanted to believe.

ö_ö_ö

Harry was pressed against his chest when he jerked awake. His skin was clammy with sweat, his chest heaving with too many too quick breaths, and Severus gathered him even closer. He made shushing noises, tangled their legs together and set in to wait until Harry was no longer jittery with fear and wild magic. He could feel the soft swell of Harry's bottom pressing against his burgeoning arousal, Harry sporadic twists and turns doing little to discourage his interest, and it reminded him sharply that they hadn't had sex since before Harry had handed him those damn papers. Because Harry hadn't offered and Severus never asked. Not for lack of interest, at least not on his part.

He braced his arm so that his upper body was slightly more upright and he could look in Harry's face, all the while keeping up the soothing caresses of his other hand. Harry didn't even seem to notice and he certainly wasn't meeting Severus' gaze, the movement of his eyes as erratic as his breathing. Whatever horrors he was seeing, whatever terrors were haunting him in the night, Severus knew maybe a fraction of that. He ran his fingers between Harry's pectorals and abdominals, caressed the soft skin just above Harry's pyjama bottoms and teased the fine black hair under his navel.

"You're all right now," Severus whispered, rubbed his nose behind Harry's ear, against the thin skin and the velvety hair. "You're safe."

Harry made a pitiful little noise, pain and fear, and buried deeper into Severus' embrace. The Potions Master complied gladly, as pathetic as it was that he was taking advantage of Harry's need for comfort. He missed their easy intimacy, the awkward but nonetheless welcome companionship of another wizard, even Harry's calm politeness and the glint in his eyes when his professionalism slipped.

"There's nothing to fear." He pulled the covers a bit higher when he noted the goose bumps on Harry's arms. "Just breathe."

Of course that wasn't strictly true, because if the last few weeks – or the entirety of Harry's life – were any indication, there was a lot to fear. But he still felt justified because even when the odds were stacked against Harry, Lady Luck was always on his side and together those two were an invincible combination. Harry had nothing to fear. Maybe he just needed reminding.

He kept up the low murmurs, the slow and deliberate rearranging of Harry's body, the caressing touches along Harry's taut body that sometimes produced the licking, flickering sparks of instinctive magic, until Harry's panic subsided and Severus himself felt heavy with fatigue.

"Sleep now," he said, rather content with Harry tucked safely against his side, a position that connoted trust if not necessarily intimacy. Harry had implied that early on, his trust, as if it was something that was easy to give and to which Severus could lay any claim after years of thinly veiled contempt and unprofessional bias against him. But maybe he was earning it now, by being here for Harry when his defences didn't quite hold. One nightmare at a time. And a small, optimistic part of him hoped that that would be enough.

His eyes had drifted shut, his arm no longer pressed firmly across Harry's chest but merely a loose ring of protection around him, when Harry said, "Are you going to leave?"

Severus thought there might be a "me" implied, trailing the sentence like a shadow, and that would change things, would speak for a vulnerability and quiet pleading that he wanted to hear, but couldn't be sure of because Harry was a master of implying and never quite saying what he meant and Severus feared that this "me" might just be an echo of his own wishes. Harry didn't say it. And standing alone, the sentence could just as well be an accusation, Harry's voice too low as that Severus could gleam the meaning from his intonation. Or worse yet, a suggestion.

He couldn't find the words to answer, even though a simple "yes" or "no" would suffice to fulfil the simple semantic meaning of the question. But if wouldn't be enough, could never be enough, to answer all the things that might have been implied and to communicate all that Severus might want to imply. Thus he hesitated.

And Harry rolled away from him, slipped out of his arms like sand in an hourglass, with that same effortless grace he had displayed during their first meeting, as if he was moving on a different plane of existence, one far removed from Severus' feeble grasp. He rolled away, slipped out of his arms, placed his feet on the floor and sat up, his finely muscled back with the elegant curve of his spine turned towards Severus.

Severus still hadn't found his tongue when Harry got up, reached for his glasses on the bedside table, tugged a pile of clothes and his running shoes out of the closet and left, all without looking at Severus. Severus understood now how he had never noticed Harry coming or leaving; he was as silent as a spectre, not even stirring the air with his smooth movements. When he finally managed to make a sound, the door had long since closed after Harry, but it didn't matter, because it wouldn't have made Harry stop anyway. Cursing seldom helped in these situations.

ö_ö_ö

When he got up, earlier than usual, Harry was nowhere to be found, but the door to his office was closed and Harry's running shoes had ended back up in on the bottom shelf of the closet. He had lain in the dark, cursing himself and wondering what Harry might have meant and what he could have said to achieve a more agreeable result, all with moderate success, and even though he had drifted off to sleep eventually, he didn't feel rested.

He waited with breakfast until he barely had time for a hasty piece of toast and scalded his tongue on his morning tea, but Harry didn't show up. Frankly, he was surprised that Harry resorted to petty avoidance. He apparated to his shop, unlocked the door and the register and then sat himself down to wait for his first customer. When half an hour went by with no one coming into his shop and only two witches and a group of goblins walking past his window, obviously themselves on their way to work, he brought out the newest issue of The Practical Potioneer and did his best to take his mind off of Harry.

All his attempts were blown to pieces, however, when he discovered the centrefold feature, complete with several glossy, moving pictures, about the Annual Potions Masters' Symposium which allotted more space than he felt he strictly deserved to his speech. And Harry's attendance. A full-page photo showed Harry surrounded by a group of Severus' colleagues, radiant and smiling, his green eyes fairly sparkling as he waved at someone to the side. Severus. Scowling as usual, dour and sallow-skinned, but maybe with less shadows in his gaze and a minute lifting of one corner of his mouth when he met Harry's gaze before he reinforced his glare and turned back to his conversation partner. Harry was beautiful.

He didn't read the article, not really, catching a word here or there, but in the end always returning to the picture of Harry, then thinking of Harry's question, accusation, suggestion. And of the pile of papers in his lab, still unread and unsigned. Was he leaving?

ö_ö_ö

Harry missed dinner and if he joined Severus in bed, he was so stealthy Severus didn't notice. He woke up alone, the other side of the bed woefully cold, no icy feet pressed against his calves, painfully hard, as if his body was once again being ravaged by teenage hormones.

Harry wasn't at breakfast.

Chapter Text

Severus didn't get to see Harry for the rest of the week and as happy as he was that his apothecary was going well, he almost wished back those long holidays between semesters that would have enabled him to wait Harry out. But since he spent the better part of the day pandering to his customers, he didn't even see a shadow of his husband. It was as if Harry had already initiated their separation.

But on Sunday, with the day spreading out before him like the banquet at the end of the year feast of Hogwarts, he had every intention of confronting Harry and clarifying a few things between them. He was prepared to wait all day, even by sitting in the corridor in front of Harry's closed office door, but as it turned out, that wasn't even necessary.

"Good morning," he said in surprise, when he found Harry sitting at the breakfast table, half hidden behind the Daily Prophet.

"Good morning, Severus," Harry said, polite and distant. "Would you like a part of the paper?"

"No, thank you." Severus passed by Harry's chair slowly, hoping that Harry would do more than send him an uninterested glance, but was disappointed when Harry turned back to his reading. "Actually... there is something I need to get from my labs. Do you think you could wait for my return?"

"Of course," Harry replied, with the tonal equivalent of a shrug. "I hope you don't mind that I already started with breakfast. I wasn't sure when you'd be up."

"Not at all. You must have been hungry after getting up in the middle of the night," Severus answered, and almost bit his tongue in frustration because he had not intended to drag Harry's nightmares into this nor to read insults into Harry's words.

Harry just looked at him, and if Severus hadn't noticed before that something was wrong, that look would have told him everything. There was no light in Harry's eyes, not even a glimmer. Just cool professionalism. It was high time he set the record straight.

When he came back from his lab, Harry had shifted his attention from the newspaper to his mail, though he put down the letter he had been reading to look up at Severus.

The Potions Master stepped close to Harry, maintaining eye contact as he carefully placed a pile of parchment on the table. "I came to the conclusion, foregone as it might have been, that I won't be needing these."

Harry slowly, oh-so-slowly reached out to pull the papers closer, as if afraid that Severus would snatch them away at the last moment. "You have no use for them?" Harry asked softly, when he saw the still blank signature line on their divorce agreement.

"Now or ever," Severus affirmed, trying not to panic at how much like a vow his words had sounded; the Quaffle was in Harry's court now, and whatever happened it would not be the first or last disappointment in his life. Nor would it be the worst. At least, that it was he told himself.

"I'm glad to hear that." Harry was suddenly grinning, ear to ear and as bright as the sun, making Severus momentarily unstable on his feet.

The younger man placed his hand over the agreement, fingers spread out so that his little finger and his thumb just touched the edge of parchment, and before Severus could subtly question him if he agreed with Severus' decisions, blue flames burst from his palm, searing forth between his fingers and incinerating the thick stack of parchment, leaving nothing but the quickly dissipating scent of burning paper.

Then, before he could even breathe out in relief, Harry's lips were on his, his lithe body pressed intimately against his and his fingers tangled in his hair. Severus had a moment of panic because he couldn't quite remember when he had last washed his hair and he didn't want to scare Harry off with bad personal hygiene so early into their reinitiated marriage, but then Harry's tongue was in his mouth, tipping against his own and he couldn't but respond to the kiss.

Harry's mouth tasted like strawberry jam and coffee and as always Harry ceded the lead as soon as Severus showed interest in dominating the kiss. He pulled the young man closer, pulled Harry's athletic smoothness against his own hard-edged sharpness, and cradled Harry's head with one hand. They surged against each other like waves in the ocean, pressing and grinding and smashing because Harry seemed to share Severus' feeling off not being able to get enough of the other, of wanting to hold on and reconnect and never let go again. Preferably without clothes.

There was a breathless, shaky moment, where – had it been extended for just a second longer – one or maybe both of them might have regained a modicum of composure, when Harry toed off his shoes and socks and reached to unbutton his jeans. Severus slapped his hands away, popped the button and moved down the zipper. Harry moaned, surged forward again and attacked Severus' throat with nipping kisses, while Severus slipped one hand into Harry's jeans, immediately meeting hot, velvety skin. Harry's feverish pants against his neck almost distracted him from the slender fingers that stroked over the seam of his robes, magic taking care of the many buttons, and spread the black material, pushing it over his shoulders. It was Severus' turn to groan and his eyes fluttered shut against his will.

He had the vague idea that maybe they should talk, that Harry had revealed himself to be no less insecure than Severus and that he needed reassurance. But the thought was fleeting and not nearly as stimulating as Harry's caresses, gentle and teasing and intimate. He startled slightly when Harry pushed him away until he felt the edge of the chair against the back of his knees and gladly accepted the support. He opened his eyes when Harry stepped back, but had no time to protest or question before Harry was back again, perched over his lap, not a stitch of clothing left on him and his pupils blown wide as if he had used belladonna eye drops. He was absolutely breathtaking.

He put his hands on Harry's hips, not trusting himself with anything else, and held him steady as his lips sought out Harry's. The younger man melted into him, long arms winding around his neck and their heaving chest pressed together. And suddenly the rest of Severus' clothes were gone too, Harry's warm skin against his own, tan and golden were his own was pale and sallow. But he didn't waste any more thought on that, for once looking past his own inadequacies and focusing on this all but perfect young man in his arms.

Harry's hair tickled his nose and he felt soft lips exhaling his name against his ear. And then Harry repositioned himself, his fiery green eyes locking onto his as the younger man impaled himself on Severus' hard length, sinking down slowly but without hesitation and enveloping his erection in tight heat. Severus couldn't suppress a groan or the flicker of concern that Harry might have hurt himself in his eagerness. But Harry's movements remained smooth and confident, his passage tight but not dry and with the last ounce of conscious thought, Severus concluded that Harry must have used magic to prepare himself before he gave up on thinking and himself over to bliss.

Harry was a solid weight against him, not heavy but substantial like he hadn't been in the last few days. He was real and there and Severus', now more than just on paper. Harry moved up and down steadily, bracing his legs on the outside of Severus' thighs before sinking back down and taking Severus into himself with a possessive, victorious tilt of his hips that pushed his bobbing erection against Severus' stomach, painting pearly trails of pre-come over his skin like a signature. It was almost perfect. But Severus wanted to do more than sit placidly, wanted to claim Harry and make him his again, or maybe for the first time, and his current position didn't lend itself to more than rolling his hips, kisses and maybe an awkward handjob. It wasn't enough.

So he allowed his hands to slip from Harry's hip, lower, outlining the muscles in his thighs and when Harry settled into his touch, he dug his fingers into Harry's perfectly shaped butt and hefted him up. Harry laughed delightedly, making to say something, but Severus closed his mouth with a kiss, freeing one hand and using it to swipe the dishes from the table so he could set Harry down. No sound of breaking china followed, but even if the dishes hadn't magically ended up in the kitchen instead of on the floor, neither of them would have cared as Severus pushed back into his green-eyed lover, claiming him from the inside out. Harry made a delightful little whimper, slinging his long legs around Severus' waist and drawing him impossibly closer.

Severus felt them meld together, becoming one with every leisurely thrust, every instinctive tightening of Harry's legs around his waist, every heavy breath that fell between them. He didn't want it to end. But they were both skidding towards the edge and Harry's hands were clutching so tightly to the sides of the table that the Potions Master feared for the physical intergrity of his fingers. So he sped up his thrusts, maintaining a steady rhythm with the last shreds of his self-control, and ran his hand over Harry's sweaty flat stomach, down to the dark curly pubic hair and wrapped his fingers around his proud erection.

With a squeeze he commanded, "Come for me." And Harry arched his back, his toes curling, and covered both their stomachs in his come as he shouted out his release, tightening his muscles around Severus' erection. Severus threw his head back, his eyes closing or his vision going black as he left his own signature inside of Harry, and his one-handed grip on the other man's hip was so tight that he was sure it would leave bruises. And he couldn't feel the slightest remorse for leaving another mark on Harry.

When he finally broke their connection, Harry's legs slipped from around his waist, dangling over the edge of the table in a position that on anyone else would have looked awkward. On Harry it looked carelessly sexy, not in the least self-conscious and when Severus sank back into the chair, he felt the schism between them again.

"Don't think," Harry admonished him, sitting up and slipping sideways into Severus' lap with more energy and grace than Severus could have mustered in his post-coital lethargy. "You've done enough of that the last few weeks, round in circles I suspect, and you could have saved both of us a lot of headaches if you hadn't. So please, don't think. Not now, yeah?"

"I'll wait until you give me permission again to exercise my mind, shall I?" Severus asked, but couldn't suppress a smirk when Harry kissed the corner of his mouth and then nuzzled his neck.

"Perfect," Harry whispered, smoothly transitioning from 'sexy' to 'affectionate' and then right back to 'sexy'. "I hope you don't mind that I intend to use you for sex shamelessly beforehand."

"As long as we can have at least some of that sex in the bedroom, I see no reason to object," Severus agreed magnanimously and it was Harry's turn to smirk.

"Only some of it? My, my, Severus, it seems you have an adventurous side after all..."

ö_ö_ö

Harry was sitting with his back against the headboard of their bed, reading some kind of report or message when Severus came to again, pleasantly sore in all the right places and their left hands intertwined.

"Hey," Harry greeted him with a smile, putting away his papers and scooting lower until they were face to face.

"Hey," Severus echoed, not quite sure what else he could say. "Was I asleep long?"

Harry lifted his shoulders. "You needed the rest."

They fell silent again and Severus smoothed his thumb over the back of Harry's hand while he studied the younger man's face. He startled when Harry drew back, sitting up again.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked this before, but I was just too happy that you didn't want a divorce," he said, pleading for understanding with his eyes. "I shouldn't have assumed... I should have asked if you wanted to renegotiate the terms of our marriage. Do you?"

Severus was glad Harry spoke so fast that he had no time to start doubting himself and could almost enjoy Harry's unease. "I think we should, yes." Harry's eyes widened and Severus bit back a smirk. "I think we should have sex more than once a week."

Harry cocked his head before breaking out into a smile. "When have we ever had sex once a week?"

"My point, exactly." Severus smirked, pulling Harry into him and kissing him soundly. "It's time we adapted our rules to our lifestyle."

"You, Severus Snape, are a very clever man." Harry said, relaxing into his side. "How about if we have sex as often as we want to? And we could put the new rule into action right now."

"In a moment," Severus answered, tracing the ridge of Harry's spine with his fingers. "Is there something you want to renegotiate, since you brought it up?"

"That's not why I brought it up," Harry insisted, starting to pepper Severus' chest with kisses.

"But there is something?" Severus questioned, wondering if he really wanted to push this. "Tell me."

Severus expected Harry to ask for what he was about to offer him, which might have made offering easier, but instead he offered something that Severus hadn't really considered asking. He also expected that he would have needed to do a bit more convincing before Harry answered. "I would like to ward your apothecary."

"I renewed those wards after the whole kidnapping fiasco," Severus pointed out.

"I know." Harry nodded against his chest. "And I'm not saying that your wards aren't good because they are among the best and strongest I've ever seen. But mine are better."

Severus knew that of course, had always known that, and he didn't see the point in arguing anymore. "All right."

"Yeah?" Harry asked in surprise, then bestowed another smiling kiss on Severus. "I think I like renegotiating with you."

"I'm not sure we can justly call this renegotiation," Severus remarked, lightly resting his hand in the small of Harry's back. "It might just be we've come to a new understanding."

"I like that as well," Harry said easily, shimmying against Severus with a devilish smile. "I especially like our first new understanding."

Severus rolled his eyes and administered a light slap to Harry's firm behind. "I should not have given you ideas."

"Why not?" Harry questioned, undulating against him and caressing suggestively over his chest and around his erection. "I have it on good authority that you like kissing me, touching me, being inside me, buried so deep that I can feel your magic wrap around mine and your pulsing in time with my heartbeat. And then when you come it's like summer rain or shooting stars, all over my body and tingling through my veins and my magic pulls you even closer until your body leaves an imprint on my soul that I can feel for days afterwards."

It was a curious mixture between dirty talk and a confession, but Severus' erection filled out nonetheless and he held Harry a little closer. "I do indeed. But if you were to ask me again..." He shifted, allowing his legs to fall apart just slightly.

"Severus." Harry pressed a long kiss over his heart and gently touched the inside of his thigh. "Do you want me to ask?"

"You hinted that I might have been operating under a false assumption," Severus said, thinking back to their conversation in Harry's study. "It's a time of new understandings, as you said."

"That's very thoughtful of you, but I wasn't talking about us. I'm perfectly happy with the way things are. I'd love to experience that with you, but only if you want to as well." Harry rubbed tiny circles into the sensitive skin between his legs.

Severus swallowed, kissing Harry's forehead to hide his emotions. "I want you to ask me. Now."

Harry grinned, swinging one leg to rest between Severus', kissing him long and sensually, before he asked. "May I?"

"Yes," Severus answered, surprised at how easily the word came over his lips. "Yes."

They kissed again, and Severus allowed his hands to wander slowly and gently over Harry's slender body, memorising the soft skin and the strong muscles underneath. And the magic that swirled up to greet him, a soothing flow of energy along his body.

"It wasn't like this before," he commented, slightly breathless after their kiss. "You never let me feel this."

"You can handle it," Harry said confidently, gently biting along his jaw and kissing his Adam's apple. "But tell me if it gets too much."

"That – ah – That's not what I meant," Severus got out, burying his hands in Harry's sides. "Why did you rein it in before?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to know you like this," Harry murmured, arching his back and bringing their stomachs into contact.

Severus' answer got lost on the way to his mouth and he abandoned this line of thought in favour of Harry's lips and the hands that went to his shoulders to make him turn around. "I want to see you."

"You will. But let's work up to that, okay?" Harry suggested, lifting up so that Severus could roll onto his stomach and then straddling him. "I want you to relax."

Severus sank back into the mattress, folding his arms around his head and resting his cheek on his forearms. "There's some oil in the bedside drawer."

"I knew there were advantages to marrying a Potions Master," Harry said, and his voice was warm and teasing just as his touch when he started to kneed the tension out of Severus' back and shoulders. "Pressure okay?"

"You've done this before," Severus noted, but without accusation and let himself sink into the touch. "I should have thought of this when you had trouble sleeping."

"I like your method better." Severus could hear the smirk in Harry's voice and feel it on his neck when Harry leaned down to kiss him.

"I'll have to give you a massage soon, maybe you'll change your mind."

Harry laughed. "I look forward to that. But first it's your turn. Shh, that wasn't a threat."

Severus supposed he must have tensed up, or maybe his magic had recoiled and Harry noticed before he was even aware of it. But he didn't want Harry to stop, not when he was more caressing than massaging now, gentle and teasing and probably less than efficient.

"It's been a while," he offered by way of an explanation and suppressed the little voice that wanted to add a "not long enough."

Harry kissed him again, pressed his dry lips to the nape of his neck and ran his fingers through his hair. Severus expected him to say something about how he would stop if Severus needed him to, about how he wouldn't hurt him, about how they didn't have to do this, but he didn't and Severus supposed it was understood. His own certainty surprised him, but there was no doubt in his mind that Harry would never use his superior magical strength against him. He was too chivalrous for that, and the thought did not carry its previous sarcastic edge.

He rolled around, Harry easily adjusting to their new position and deliberately reached for the small vial of oil that Harry had dropped on the bedspread.

"Give me your hand," he said and Harry obeyed immediately.

It was as always gratifying how easily Harry followed his lead and it gave him a small boost of confidence, enough to lead Harry's right hand between his legs and release it with a last careful squeeze to his wrist. Harry's movements remained deliberately slow, waiting for Severus to relax and studying his reactions with an avid eye, doing nothing to suggest that he was getting impatient. And when Harry slid into him, one fraction of an inch at a time, it didn't hurt, wasn't even uncomfortable, just different, new, not at all like he half-remembered despite all his efforts of forgetting and suppressing. Harry punctuated every thrust, more like roll of his hips, with a lingering kiss, a caress over sweaty skin or a whisper of Severus' name.

"Stop teasing," Severus growled, countering Harry's next inward stroke with an upward push of his hips and tightening his inner muscles.

A light tinkling laugh was his answer, but Harry sped up marginally and even reached out to take a delicate grasp of his erection, beginning to massage it in time with their rhythm. "Would you like to come for me?" Harry's voice was slightly breathless, and still teasing.

Severus didn't mind. In fact, he didn't mind much of anything anymore because he felt a rush of pleasure through his body that wasn't entirely his own, like a cresting wave that crashed down over him and first drowned then let him float through his orgasm. He vaguely noticed when Harry's hips stuttered, slender fingers dug into his thighs and Harry's warm release coated his insides, but the storm of magic all around them took precedence. It was full of colours and white noise, warmth and power and emotion, so uniquely Harry that he couldn't quite identify them.

He wondered what emotions Harry was receiving from him, what revelations he could draw from their connection and looped an arm around the younger man to keep him close even as Harry settled beside him.

"I wasn't going to break," Severus clarified, meeting Harry's eyes.

"Of course not," Harry replied, swirling his fingers through the drying come on Severus' stomach. "I just thought you deserved someone to be careful with you for once."

"Thank you." Severus led Harry's hand to his mouth, kissing his fingertips and tasting his own come.

"Right back at you." Harry grinned, slinging one leg and one arm over Severus' torso.

"I wouldn't mind doing this again, sometime," Severus offered, cradling Harry's head in his hand and running his fingers through thick black strands. "Though, my general preferences haven't changed."

"I'm glad to hear that," Harry murmured. "Do you have time for a nap?"

"Close your eyes, I'll be here," Severus answered, using a bit of wandless magic to clean them up before pulling the blankets around them. Harry snuggled closer, rested his cheek over Severus' heart and closed his eyes.

ö_ö_ö

"There was something I wanted to give you, but it didn't seem appropriate earlier." Severus walked over to his young husband, who had settled in the library to attend to his mail, and held out an old photograph. "You should have this."

Harry took the photograph, holding it reverently in his hand as he studied the two people in it. "When was this taken?"

"At graduation," Severus said softly, focusing on Lily's radiant smile instead of the confirmation of his lack of photogeneity. "We started to drift apart after some thoughtless utterances on my part, but Lily was always good at reaching out to others and she insisted we take a photo together."

"I've never seen this photo before," Harry said. "Hagrid gave me a photo album my first year at Hogwarts but most of the pictures are of my dad."

"Lily was a bit camera-shy," Severus offered, refusing to comment on James Potter's attention-seeking tendencies for fear of ruining the moment. "And I'm afraid I was not very cooperative when Hagrid approached me about his project."

Harry looked up at him at that, studied him for a moment like he had studied the photo and then smiled, blindingly bright and so much like Lily that it was as if he had appropriated her smile merely by looking at it. Or maybe Severus had never wanted to notice the similarities before. Hindsight rendered his perceptions less certain.

"Thanks for sharing it with me now," Harry interrupted his musing, brushing a fleeting kiss over his cheek. "What do you say about hanging this picture in the library? This way, we can both feel close to her."

"I think that's a good idea," Severus agreed, and offered his opinions, when prompted, until they settled on the wall space directly above Harry's master book, which by now catalogued all the books in their library; Severus thought that Lily might have appreciated her place of honour above this fountain of knowledge.

"I would suggest adding some of our wedding photos, but you don't look nearly as happy in them as you do here," Harry said, still looking at the picture of him and Lily.

"There'll be others," Severus answered and it sounded like a promise as he stepped behind Harry and enclosed his lithe, strong body in his arms. If someone had taken a picture of them then, it would have shown the same besotted expression on his face as in the older photograph.

"I hope so," Harry murmured, leaning back into him as if he actually needed Severus' strength. "I really hope so."

Severus kissed his temple, then rested his cheek atop Harry's wild crown of hair and returned Lily's and his own questioning gazes, not feeling the usual pang of regret and rejection. It was time to move on.

Chapter Text

"Harry, what are you doing here?" It was his question, but not his voice, and he watched in morbid fascination as the vaguely familiar man hugged his husband. "Wow, you look great."

"That's sweet of you," Harry said in what Severus by now knew was his public voice: low, because there was no need to advertise their conversation; polite, because there were always so-called reporters lurking somewhere close by just waiting for that one thoughtless comment or juicy bit of information that would make their career; distant, because Harry was open with only a select few people. Severus was one of them; this other man evidently wasn't. "I didn't know you were back in London. Don't you normally have a training camp down in Cornwall this time of the year?"

"Oh, right, no, we had a tough season. Half of our players are either injured or down with the flu after the last game – seven and a half hours in sleet – so Hugh decided to give us another week to recover before we start training again. We could get a coffee and I'll tell you all about it." Oliver Wood, Severus remembered now, Harry's Quidditch-playing ex-boyfriend who had tried to further his career by using Harry. He was smiling hopefully at the black-haired wizard, even white teeth in a tan face.

Severus was not inclined to let him play happy reunion with his husband and stepped around the counter, reaching Harry's side in two long strides. "Did I miss our lunch date?"

He knew he didn't because lunch had popped up about thirty minutes ago in a bright orange plastic box that Harry referred to as Tupperware and with a note on top that proclaimed the contents to be a turkey and ham wrap. As if he couldn't have figured that out himself. Harry just liked sticking heart-shaped, brightly coloured pieces of paper anywhere within Severus' line of sight.

Harry turned towards him, placed one hand on Severus' shoulder for stability and lifted up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Their height difference wasn't really large enough to necessitate Harry going up on his tiptoes, but they both liked the excuse for publicly admissible closeness. He quietly touched Harry's slender waist, feathered his thumb over his hipbone and then released him because he wasn't going to break his rule about public displays of affection just to stake a claim.

"Hey," Harry's voice was warm and intimate even without any endearment, the use of which Severus had radically vetoed. He wasn't 'darling' or 'honey' or 'love'; he only wanted to be himself and thanks to Harry that was finally possible. "Actually, I had to stop by at Colin's and since I was already here..."

"You thought you'd distract me from work and my potentially paying customers from actually buying something?" Severus concluded, rolling his eyes when Harry beamed as if he had just given him a compliment. "Of course you did... Mr. Wood, is there something I may help you with?"

His tone was probably a tad sharper than was polite, but Wood had been staring at Harry like a kid in candy store and there were limits to Severus' good will. Wood startled, jerking his gaze around to Severus.

"I, eh, was looking for a potion?" Severus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I mean, ah, a potion against the flu?"

"You don't look sick, Mr. Wood," Severus noted, scowling at the younger man before tilting his head slightly so that he could keep an eye on Mr. Haversham and his kleptomaniac tendencies.

While Wood spluttered out an answer which Severus translated to mean that he wanted a potion to boost his immune system so that he wouldn't fall sick, Harry touched his arm softly and nodded towards the back room. Severus inclined his head and Harry slipped away after only a fleeting smile and a soft "Good seeing you" thrown Wood's way.

"Harry, wait," Wood called after him, but Harry had already closed the door after himself.

"I suggest a Pepper-Up Potion," Severus said and permitted himself a tiny vindicated smirk. "I just made a fresh batch this morning."

He resisted the urge to snap his fingers in front of Wood's face when the Quidditch player didn't answer in favour of making moony eyes at the door behind which Harry had disappeared. "Mr. Wood, if you need time to consider I have other customers."

"I... No, that's fine. I'll take the Pepper-Up." Wood was still staring mournfully at the door to the backroom, and Severus took great pleasure in blocking his view when he reached for a small, labelled bottle and handed it to Wood. "Five sickles, if you will."

"Right." Wood started rummaging in his pockets, darting glances at the door all too frequently. "Could you tell Harry - "

"If Harry had wanted to prolong your conversation, I have no doubt he would have stayed. And you can be equally sure that if he should wish to contact you in future, he will have no problem finding you," Severus interrupted and accepted the money. "Good day, Mr. Wood."

He turned away and also slipped into the storage room, blinking a few times to adjust to the semi-darkness. Harry was sitting on a stool at the back of the room, a globe of blue light dancing idly in the palm of his hand, not upset or apologetic, and Severus knew that any thoughts of Wood was already gone from his mind. There was no reason to be jealous because if Harry belonged to anyone, it was Severus. Of course, more than anything, Harry belonged to his work.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't look like you're on a social call," Severus remarked, categorising, as always, Harry's every move and gesture and noting his sheepish smile.

"Not primarily, no," Harry admitted, rising from his stool and coming towards Severus. "But I still expect a kiss hello."

"Have I ever told you that you're high maintenance?" Severus questioned lightly, pulling Harry against him and claiming his mouth in a proper kiss.

"You say the nicest things," Harry murmured when his mouth was released. "Must be why I married you."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Deliberate misinformation? I thought that was beneath you."

"I like to think of it as flattery." Harry smiled at him. "And just because that wasn't the original reason it doesn't mean I wouldn't marry you again."

"Good thing I still owe you a life debt, then," Severus answered and though he had meant it as a joke, Harry turned serious.

"Does that bother you?" he asked. "Because I can cash it in. I really don't want you to spend the entire weekend in your lab again."

Severus took a surprisingly short time to consider before he answered. "Save it for a rainy day. I was planning to spend the weekend with my husband... probably in the bedroom."

"I'm sure your husband will love that," Harry returned. "Provided he can get all his work done before that."

"Right." Severus nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I need someone to brew me this potion," Harry said, handing him a recipe.

"A Sleeping Draught?" Severus questioned suspiciously after only a brief glance at the list of ingredients. "I have those ready-made."

"I need someone to brew me this potion," Harry repeated. "Within the next twenty-four hours. If there should be problems procuring some of the ingredients I can get them."

"I own an apothecary," Severus pointed out, feeling the familiar twinge of annoyance because Harry was clearly telling him something, but not everything and Severus was not even sure if he was supposed to fill in the blanks. He went through his steadily growing checklist of things that might be hints, but Harry hadn't told him to read the newspaper or to do a crossword puzzle, hadn't mentioned the final score of some regional league Quidditch match, bought Severus a new shampoo or planted non-useful flowers in his herb garden.

"That's why I thought you might know of someone who'd be willing to help out," Harry answered serenely.

"Would this be a once-off deal or a more permanent engagement?" Severus asked, perking up.

"I might know of a project that could use the assistance of a skilled Potions Master." Harry shrugged as if to cast doubt on his statement, but Severus caught a flash of mirthful green eyes and knew he had been right. "Of course, you might have noticed that my work hours are intensive so whoever brews that potion should consider carefully if he can invest that kind of time for a few weeks at least."

"I've been considering hiring an assistant to manage the shop part-time," Severus pointed out. "To have time for more inspiring pursuits."

"I know a few people who might be interested in a job," Harry offered, but Severus grimaced.

"I would prefer if my shop didn't turn into another secret operation," Severus answered, noticing from the slight darkening of Harry's eyes that his remark hadn't been well received, but not willing to budge on this point. Harry's offer might have been completely unrelated to his work, but again, it might not and this was still Severus' shop, his dream, something that he was determined to keep as far away from Harry's hidden agendas as humanly possible. "Not all of my students were as hopelessly untalented as certain Gryffindors and Miss Padma Patil and Miss Claire Abbott have both expressed interest in helping out."

Harry's eyes softened. "Padma recently separated from her husband. I think it would do her well to get out of the house."

"In that case, I'll send Miss Patil an owl," Severus replied and gently touched Harry's cheek with the tip of his finger where he knew a dimple would appear for his concession. "And I will forward the necessary information to the right person."

"Great." Harry's face lit up with a smile as predicted. "Any chance I could get another kiss before I leave?"

"One to tide you over," Severus answered, wrapping his arm snug around Harry's waist and tilting him slightly for a better angle before he lowered his mouth to those invitingly plump lips and darted his tongue into the warm cavern behind. "One because I love you."

He heard the small hitch in Harry's breath and felt the way he dug his fingers a little harder into his back, hard enough to leave bruises, maybe, but Severus was okay with that. He had never really spoken those words before, heavily implied them and let his actions speak for themselves, yes, but never given Harry the vocal confirmation of what he must surely know.

Not that Harry himself had ever said as much and it had become another secret between them, unspoken and unacknowledged, because Severus was afraid of pulling the plug on their happiness and Harry was too good at not saying anything but implying everything all the time.

"I love you, too," Harry replied when they broke apart.

"I know," Severus answered confidently. "That's why we're still married."

"Shh, don't go spilling my secrets," Harry whispered in his ear, his eyes alight with amusement when he drew back. "See you at home, Severus."

He disapparated with a soft plop, leaving Severus with the faint traces of warmth against his body, a feeling of elation in his chest and the folded recipe in his hand. This was his way in, the answer to all his questions, and he let Mr. Haversham go after only a stern talking to, eager to close up his shop, send that owl to Miss Patil and get into his lab to brew a basic Sleeping Draught.

THE END