Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Harry Potter series and am making no profit of any kind through the writing of this work of fiction.
A/N: AU set before the books. A series of snippets.
Exhausted, Severus falls into the armchair, scrubs a hand over his face, and casts a look of disdain at his husband, already lounging on the couch. He looks far too cheerful after over three hours of dealing with a colicky, inconsolable baby. A baby who is finally, finally asleep, safe in his crib.
"Told you, you've got the magic touch with our little Harry," James says, winking.
Severus fights the urge he has to hex his husband, and rolls his shoulders, wincing at how tight they feel. "I was beginning to think there was no end of crying in sight," Severus admits. "He certainly has your lungs."
James chuckles heartily. A sound that Severus had hated when they were rivals in school, but one that he's come to enjoy now.
"That he does," James says, voice fond. "He's got your scowl, and piercing stare."
"Your nose, thank Merlin," Severus adds. "And your unruly hair. No doubt he'll have any number of witches and wizards fawning over him when he's an insufferable teen." The, like you, is clearly understood, if unspoken, in Severus' sardonic tone of voice. "Something tells me that we'll have our work cut out for us."
"If this war, and your part in it, doesn't take us away from him," James says, uncharacteristically serious and bitter.
Pinching the bridge of his nose to tame the slight headache that he has, Severus reaches out for James' hand, and clutches it tightly in his own, rubs a thumb over James' knuckles.
"It's just a few more months," Severus says. "Just a few more months of spying, and then we'll have what we need to win this war against He Who Must Not Be Named."
Severus squeezes James' hand when James shudders. "I just wish that there was another way," James says. "I hate sending you off to meet with that...that...monster, and never knowing what state you'll come home in. If it wasn't for Lily and Narcissa, I don't know what I'd do."
"Come now," Severus says, pressing his lips to James' knuckles. "You've got your own part to play in this war, too. Don't think for a minute that every time you go off on a mission with the Aurors that I'm not wishing you were right here, where you belong, with me and our son, safe and sound."
"I just wish," James says on a sigh. "I just wish that the war was over, and that you could return to your studies, and I -"
"To your damnable Quidditch," Severus all but growls out, tightening his grip on James' hand.
James' pursuit of the game after their schooling at Hogwarts has been a point of contention between them. Severus hates seeing his lover injured. The sport is almost more dangerous than his work as an Auror, but James' love of it has never waned, not even after spending a week at St. Mungo's after taking a bludger to the head during a semi-professional game. After the war, James wants to quit his work at the ministry and pursue Quidditch professionally. Severus wants him to retire, become a house husband, maybe a professor.
James laughs. It's a lovely sound, now that Severus no longer equates it with cruel derision. "You know you love me in my uniform, my firm, round -"
Severus cuts James off by crawling into the man's lap and kissing him soundly. Grasping James' bottom lip between his teeth and tugging, he rubs up against his husband, relishing the needy sounds that it elicits from James, and the way that his lover moves beneath him.
"The baby is sleeping," Severus all but purrs, wanting, needing, a distraction. "And you know what they say in the wizard childcare books about taking advantage of baby sleep time."
"What's that?" James asks, breathless, eyes locked on Severus', pupils blown so wide that his eyes look like inky pools.
"I think it's better if I show you," Severus says, tugging James off of the couch, and toward their bedroom, praying to Merlin that Harry doesn't wake until he's had his way with his lover, and they've had time enough to reaffirm their love for each other.