Harry still hurt sometimes. His bones would ache and his spine would seize, but he never said anything. He remembered the thinly-veiled worry in Severus' eyes as he poured potion after potion down Harry's throat. Harry could barely think then and can barely remember the months he laid near-death; he only knows the few details that he had drawn out of Severus in the months he was conscious but unable to move. After a few nights of waking up with a feeble hand outstretched and entwined with one of Severus', resting in a bundle on the arm of the chair Severus frequented and often slept in, he didn't have to ask how very much Severus had done for him.

He felt this overwhelming and profound sense of gratitude, something that he couldn't quite articulate. When he walked for the first time in three months, holding tightly onto Severus' arm and biting his lip and fighting back tears of pain, he had never felt happier to have someone to hold on to. Severus helped him back into bed, gave him pain potions, and settled down in his chair.

"Can you…" Harry's throat was dry, and Severus reached to get him a glass of water. "No, I…will you lay with me? You don't have to sleep in the chair."

"I'm perfectly content in the chair," Severus replied softly, and Harry could hear smooth uncertainty in his tone. "Would you like for me to cast a heating charm? Are you in pain?"

An unexpected prickle of tears overcame Harry's eyes, and he gingerly turned away from Severus. "I'm fine." A muscle that ran the length of his spine pulled tight like a bow and he whimpered, squeezing his eyes closed.

He could hear a sharp breath as Severus shifted. He felt a warm hand between his shoulder blades, pressing into tight muscles briefly before he slid into bed, pressing the length of his body against Harry. The warmth eased his pain, and he fell asleep with Severus' breath ruffling his hair.

He awoke alone, but free of pain. He heard the hushed voices of Ron and Hermione outside his bland little room at St. Mungo's, echoing positive words of potentially being able to go home.

On his bedside table there sat two unmarked bottles of pearlescent potion, and he drank one before trying to move. After the potion hit his stomach, warmth crawling through his veins, he didn't want to move.

When he woke up several hours later, Severus was unpacking potions silently. "I heard them say I could go home."

"Did they come to your room and tell you directly, or were you eavesdropping?" Severus asked, handing Harry a potion.

"I overheard them talking to Ron and Hermione."

Severus watched Harry drink the potion with raised eyebrows. "Your Healers are efficient at keeping your medical state confidential."

Harry frowned. "I gave them permission to tell my close friends and family about my health. Since I don't have family, they've only got friends to tell."

"But they can't tell you." Severus's tone was even, but his body was tense.

"I was asleep most of the day; I didn't give them a chance to tell me. The point is I get to go home. I'm tired of this place, I feel like my stomach is twisted into knots and I can't breathe."

Severus took the empty phial from Harry and gave him a glass of water. "Congratulations. I'm sure Granger and Weasley will be glad to have you."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm not going with them. I wanted to go with you, if you'll have me."

"With me."

Harry pushed himself up, carefully schooling his expression so as not to show pain. "I don't know, I thought…"

Something unreadable crossed Severus' face as he studied Harry, his arms crossed. "I hardly advise you to think in your compromised state."

Harry wiggled his toes under the blanket. "I thought you would want me to. Stay with you. I want to stay with you."

"Do you feel like you need extra medical care after you've been discharged?" Severus asked, perching on the arm of his chair.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Stop it, you know that's not what I mean. Will you stay with me tonight? And you can't leave in the middle of the night like last time."

Severus looked like he wanted to argue: wanted to argue staying, wanted to argue Harry coming home with him, wanted to argue everything. Instead he shrugged off his outer robes, folded them neatly, and climbed into bed next to Harry. Harry turned towards him, sliding as close to Severus as he could, twining their legs together as he lifted one of Severus' arms across his body. Severus's head settled just above Harry's, and he drew in a slow, measured breath before his fingers closed over Harry's hip.

It was in that moment that Harry knew that he had won.

Harry had taken up flying again after he could walk on his own, lazy circles rising higher and higher. He flew by the small, circular window that allowed light in the cramped attic, and he could see the faint outline of Severus moving inside, brewing and stirring and stocking his shelves. Harry flew until his back and shoulders began to ache and, frustrated, he landed in the hearty herb garden Severus kept.

Harry wandered back inside, leaning his broom beside the back door with a languid stretch of stiff muscles. The house was quiet, and Harry's stomach began to knot in an all-too-familiar way. He found a bottle of Firewhiskey, poured out a considerable amount, and drank it in a violent swig.

Harry made his way upstairs, the heavy door of the attic workroom pulled nearly shut. Harry could smell the familiar sweetness of his pain potion being brewed- it so often clung to Severus' skin. He pushed open the door without preamble, and Severus didn't look up.

Harry didn't say anything as he watched Severus finely chop an ingredient that Harry couldn't even begin to name. Severus' fingers were stained faintly green, and he carefully added the new ingredient to the simmering potion.

"We should go somewhere," Harry said softly, not sure why he felt the need to whisper. "Dinner or something."

"Are you sure you're feeling up to that?" Severus asked, stirring the potion carefully, still not looking up from his work.

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't feel up to it," Harry replied, drawing closer to Severus, standing at his shoulder. "My treat."

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment," Severus drawled, "This is a very delicate stage in the brewing process. I can't afford to 'go somewhere', even if it is your treat." Harry could hear the eye roll in his tone.

Harry stepped behind him and slipped his arm around Severus' waist, resting his forehead against a sharp shoulder blade.

Severus tensed minutely, but continued to stir his potion. "Potter, I'm sure you have something more important to do than bother me while I'm working."

"And I'm sure you have something better to do than work," Harry replied. "Please?" Harry's hands slid up Severus' sides and he pressed his lips against his neck, feeling Severus' deceivingly fast pulse against his mouth.

Severus stopped stirring his potion, and Harry smiled against his neck.

When Harry told Severus that he was bored, Severus had told him rather off-handedly to get a job. When Harry, at the only Quidditch game he had convinced Severus to go to with him, had met the owner of the local team who offered him a rather vague job as a 'consultant' if he ever wanted it, he hadn't given it much thought. He was sure the position would be mostly for show- as long as Harry Potter's name was attached to the team it was worth the money Harry was being paid. And he offered to pay Harry a large sum of money.

Severus said nothing of the offer, even though Harry asked his opinion. That night Severus fucked him slowly; Harry clung to him and kissed every inch of sweet-smelling skin he could reach. He came as Severus dug deep within him, shuttering uncontrollably and whispering nonsense into Severus' open mouth.

Harry felt Severus' come fill him, searing his insides as the heat of his skin seared Harry's outsides.

The next day, Harry contacted the team's owner and accepted the job. The knots in his stomach loosened just enough to allow him to breathe.

Most days he couldn't help but feel like the team's mascot. He was strongly discouraged from flying because of his injuries during the war, and strongly encouraged to join in festivities after the matches, win or lose.

He was neither discouraged nor encouraged by Severus. Harry had prided himself on his ability to read the slightest change in Severus' mood, but the more he was away the harder it was to interpret the darkness that had descended in his eyes.

As much fun as he had travelling with the team, he always loved coming home. He always brought something from each place he had been and hid it somewhere in Severus' work room to find later.

Severus never said anything about finding any of the gifts Harry had left, and Harry couldn't help but get more and more frustrated. He returned from a game in Spain with a rather grotesque stuffed torro and went straight upstairs with it, finding Severus working on a potion as always. He dropped the stuffed animal on Severus' cutting board. It was ignored.

"Can we talk?" Harry asked, watching a muscle work in Severus' jaw.

Severus turned off the fire underneath his still-bubbling potion. "This conversation clearly proves that we can, in fact, talk. I do fear that the sheer stupidity of Quidditch players has begun to rub off on you."

"Are you mad at me?" Harry asked, throwing his hands up. "I don't know what I've done."

"You've done all sorts of things, Potter. Of course you know what you've done. You've been working so terribly hard." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Harry tried to meet Severus' eyes, but he refused to look up from measuring out equal parts of his potion into phials. "I don't understand; you're the one who told me to get a job. I'm better now, and I'm bored here, and I just want to go out and do something other than try to garner your attention."

"I'm not stopping you from doing that," Severus said, his tone flat and noncommittal. "Go and garner the attention of whomever you want. I'm sure any number of Quidditch players would love to rub off on you."

"I'm sure there are."

It was then that Severus looked up, his eyes dangerous. Harry refused to look away, even though his throat burned.

Harry crossed over to him, their eyes never straying from one another. Severus was searching for something, but Harry had nothing to offer.

Severus didn't kiss him back at first. Harry arched up into Severus' taller, leaner body, sliding his tongue over thin lips.

Harry felt the minute Severus relented to him, and Harry leaned back against the work table. Severus followed him, leaving room for Harry to remove his trousers. Severus pulled Harry's hips forward and Harry leaned back, draping his legs over Severus' shoulders.

The batch of potion was ruined and they hadn't talked, not really, but Harry couldn't care less.

Will wanted him. Physically and emotionally. The feeling of being wanted was like a drug to Harry, a drug he was too weak to resist. Will's eyes were so different from Severus'- dark, watery blue that seemed to drink in Harry's face every time they were together.

Will would touch him, sometimes without even meaning to. Sometimes he touched him very much on purpose. Harry was sure what Will wanted from him, but he wasn't sure what he wanted from Will.

But Harry liked to be held, and Will liked to hold him. Harry liked to be touched, and Will liked to touch him. Will didn't ask for anything, and Harry didn't feel like he had anything else to give. At the end of the day, when he wandered home drunk to drown out the guilt, he hated what he had become.

He was sure that he could see flashes of hate in Severus' eyes too, and it was in those moments that Harry was convinced that Severus knew everything he had done. Or not done. But Severus would help him to bed and carefully touch Harry everywhere lightly, fleetingly.

Harry always wanted to ask if Severus was trying to make sure he had made it back in one piece or if he was trying to prove to himself that Harry had come back at all, but his thick, alcohol-dampered tongue could never form the words.

Harry came back from a match in Canada with a small jug of thick, sweet maple syrup and hid it in an antique, potion-stained storage cabinet that used to be filled with phials of healing and pain potions for Harry but was now empty. Harry stared at the emptiness for a few seconds, a twinge of something resting high and deep in his chest. He left the door slightly ajar.

Severus was in the shower and Harry joined him, pressing a kiss on each of his vertebrae. "I missed you. You should come sometime; you would really love seeing some of the places we go."

"Or we could go to one of these places together, sans your team," Severus replied, his voice sounding strangled.

"You want to go away, just you and me?"

Severus ducked underneath the shower head, brushing his hair back off his forehead. "I wouldn't be adverse."

Harry pressed a kiss in the hollow of Severus' throat. "It will have to wait until the off season."

Severus snorted. "Of course. What would the team do without you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, smoothing his hands down Severus' arms with a little laugh. "I think my absence would bring about a losing streak, not that you would notice. For all you know we haven't won a game."

"You haven't won a game. You aren't a part of the 'we', Potter."

Harry sighed. "I know that. Now lean against the wall."

Severus knitted his brows together but obeyed, and Harry knelt down on the wet tiled floor.

Severus had met him at the Quidditch Pitch after an afternoon of flying with Will. It had taken Harry by surprise- his skin was still buzzing from the excitement of being in the air despite protests from his Healers. His head was swimming with light, flirtatious touches and heavy glances as they raced through the sky in pursuit of a Snitch that Will snatched from his grasp.

He left Will behind in the showers and stumbled back out into the sun. Severus was waiting on him and there was an inexplicable sadness in his eyes, and Harry's heart ached like it had taken too long between beats.

Harry reached out a hand and Severus took it without hesitation, twining their fingers together in a hopeless knot.

I love you Harry thought but didn't say and wrapped Severus' arm around his neck, leaning into his side as they walked home. Severus smelled sweet and although Harry ached all over- inside and out-and was exhausted, he was the happiest he had been in ages.

Harry liked to be held, Harry liked to be touched, and Severus was learning.

"I missed you," Harry sighed, and he felt Severus' nose brush against his hair.

Severus drew in a deep breath, and Harry decided he would remember this moment forever- Severus breathing in his still-damp hair, trying to remember exactly how Harry smelled. "Yes," Severus hissed in a voice he had never used before.

Instead of trying to decipher the meaning, Harry squeezed Severus' hand.