Notes: Mystery slash pairing! I debated adding the second character in the story info but decided not to. Please read the short note at the end and let me know how I did. Also, plot inspired by a film called "In A Day".
A Good Day
The public owlery was unusually busy for nine o'clock on a Tuesday morning, and Harry almost missed the preferential treatment his fame had earned him in the first couple years after he had defeated Voldemort. He spent nearly fifteen minutes in line until he reached the counter and could turn in the token he'd untied from the owl that had flown onto his breakfast table not an hour earlier.
"I'll need your signature, sir," the clerk said, pushing a parchment and quill across the counter. Harry signed it and was given the certified scroll. He waited until he was outside and away from the press of people to tap the official wax seal with his wand and read the contents. His hands clenched in disappointment, crumpling up the expensive vellum, when his eyes encountered the words, "...regret to inform you..."
"Bollocks," Harry muttered. He felt weighed down with depression and his vision began to blur with tears as he thought of the promises he'd made to himself and people he loved and how he would have to go over today and break the news to him- well, he wouldn't understand, but she would, and-
"Look out!"
Harry swivled his head, broken from his morose thoughts by a warning shout-
But he only had time to move his face fully into the two-tonne missile of feathers, talons, and beak which slammed into his head and sent Harry to the cobbles.
Harry vaguely heard voices and felt the tingle of a spell. His scattered faculties automatically snapped together enough for him to try to raise his wand to address the threat.
"Cease that at once!" A clear voice commanded. "The bloke's an auror; one does not cast spells on an addled auror if one values his life. Let the man regain his senses first! You lot! Move along!"
Harry was thankful for the loud stranger's interference. Even though, Harry tried to say-
"Pardon?" The stranger asked. Harry finally got a hand to his face and wiped some of the feathers and dirt and blood away. "Allow me," the stranger said, and Harry felt a piece of fabric held next to his hand. The hankerchief made better progress with the mess on his face and Harry finally opened his eyes.
"I was just going to hex him," Harry said. "But thanks."
"Would you like a healing spell?" The stranger offered. Harry could only identify him as a blond blur at the moment.
"No, thank you. I can handle it myself." Harry used his wand and his face glowed warmly before becoming numb.
"I've repaired your spectacles." Harry took them from the man.
"Thanks." He finally was able to see the stranger, a blond-haired man with a round face who was wearing Muggle trousers with a waistcoat and jacket over a white shirt. He looked familiar, but not enough so that Harry could place him.
An older man elbowed his way through the remaining cluster of observers. "Mister Potter, sir. I'm so very sorry about Clarence! I knew his eyesight's been going, but I never thought-"
Harry levered himself up. "No lasting harm done, I guess." He tried to brush the muck off the front of his robes, only to feel that the back of them were soaked through from the water and mud in the gutter. He bit back a curse; another set of robes torn! Neither him nor Kreature were talented with mending spells, but maybe Hermione...
"...of no use for anything but the stew-pot!" The blond stranger was demanding.
"Clarence has been one of my most trustworthy owls for twenty years! I will surely not take a knife to him!" The older wizard replied.
"Perhaps he should be given a chance to retire," Harry cut in. "I hope Clarence wasn't badly hurt."
"Just a broken wing, sir," the man beamed at Harry. "A quick spell and a couple days' rest." The older man turned out to be the owner of the owlery, and after the back and forth of inquiries of wellbeing and reassurances that Harry was just fine, Harry shook hands with the wizard and left along with the departing witnesses.
"Bollocks!" He said to himself for the second time that morning, as a drying and a cleaning charm left him looking no more presentable.
"Excuse me, Mr. Potter? You left this." The blond wizard had followed him and held out the crumpled parchment Harry had forgotten all about.
"Oh, thanks," Harry said, reaching out to take it, recalling the message and knowing the disappointment was coloring his thanks to the man.
Thankfully the man just gave him a puzzled look as he handed the scroll over. His expression changed to chagrin as he glanced down at Harry's robes. "It appears they are ruined," he said.
Harry looked down and sighed. "Looks like it. Hey, thanks for helping me earlier."
"My pleasure," the man replied. "Could I possibly assist you in procuring some new ones? I am actually on my way to the clothing shop down the road."
Harry looked down the street. It was Drummattic Alley, and held the more high-end restaurants and stores of Wizarding London. Chances were that the robes being sold where the man was headed would be a bit out of Harry's price range.
"Please, I insist. It was my message that the owl was carrying, so I feel like I'm at fault. My treat."
Harry was taken aback by the man's persistance, but he seemed genuine in his offer and looked like he could afford it. Plus, it would delay having to break the bad news...
"If you're sure," Harry said.
"Positively. I feel horrible about this! Your face was quite gashed, and I was afraid that I hadn't been able to cast a cushioning charm quickly enough as you fell."
"I hadn't even noticed!" Harry exclaimed. "That kerb could have split my head open! You must have really fast reflexes," Harry admired as they started to walk. "I'm not sure I could have cast that charm so quickly."
"I used to be an auror," the man confessed. "Invalided out almost eight months ago."
"That must be why I recognize you," Harry said.
The wizard nodded. "I worked in the sixth district, so our paths never crossed."
That phrase sparked a memory in Harry's mind. "The White murders?"
The blond man nodded.
Harry grimaced. The case had been bad enough even before the disasterous ending where two teams of aurors had Apparated into an ambush of former Death Eaters. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been shaken down to find who had leaked the information about the raid, and two wizards in the Department had been arrested, tried, and found guilty.
The former auror touched Harry lightly on the arm. "Here." they stood in front of a store whose small hanging sign read "Frobisher's Garments & Haberdashery." This was definitely a top-notch store; there were no charmed manniquins in the windows, just swathes of spelled fadeproof velvet.
A small bell rang as Harry's escort opened the door. The shop was dim, even compared to the cloudy London morning outside.
"Welcome, Mister Heathcliff." A tall, thin man with brown wisps of hair around his balding pate stood up from a chair behind the counter. Several old-fashioned sewing machines were magically whirring away behind him.
"Good morning, Frobisher. I was hoping you could make up a set of decent robes to replace Mister Potter's."
"Certainly. Welcome to my shop, Mister Potter. Please come this way. Mind the step, here, and I will turn on the lights." Harry followed the man's directions as he was led onto a platform. Glowing orbs appeared, and the tailor looked Harry over, positioning Harry's arms out and walking around the auror.
"I have a deep navy wool that shouldn't require much fitting," Frobisher suggested after a couple minutes. "Flannel lining, so it will be comfortable for the season."
Harry and Frobisher waited for Heathcliff to nod, and the tailor moved toward a discreet door while Harry lowered his arms.
"I don't need anything expensive," Harry protested.
Heathcliff smiled. "It's no trouble at all, Mister Potter! It is my fault you need new robes in the first place."
Harry smiled back. "You can call me Harry."
The man seemed taken aback and unsure how to reply. After a moment he said, "If you would, please call me Heathcliff."
Harry inwardly shrugged off the man's weird response and smiled again.
Frobisher returned with wool draped over one arm. "Please, Mister Potter, if you would care to try this on?"
Harry somewhat reluctantly removed the ruined robes he was wearing and stood on the platform in his jumper, denims, and old trainers. Thankfully neither of the well-dressed men in the room commented on his ratty clothes. Not knowing what else to do with his old robes, Harry bundled them up, shrunk them, and stuck the wad into a pocket. Frobisher handed over the new robes and Harry shrugged them on.
He ran his hand over the material of the sleeve. He didn't know if it was magic or just because they were probably so expensive, but he'd never thought wool could be so soft and pliable. Mrs. Weasley's wool jumpers were itchy and bulky (not to imply that Harry didn't love them, of course he did). The lining against the skin of his arm was comfy; Harry could also tell that it would be much warmer than his other robes.
Harry was lost for a minute, admiring the robes, but soon noticed that Frobisher was whisking his wand around making glowing lines appear on the fabric. "Take it in a bit there, pull the hem up four centimetres... If you would remove it, sir, I'll have it hemmed in a few moments." Harry carefully removed himself from the robes, handed it over, and joined Heathcliff by the small fireplace.
He sat in the empty armchair and rubbed his hands on his jeans, feeling poor and grubby. "Really, thanks. They're nicer than anything I've ever owned," Harry said truthfully.
Heathcliff smiled warmly. "It's my pleasure, Harry. I know from experience that being an auror doesn't pay very well."
That reminded Harry that Heathcliff himself was no longer was an auror. "So what do you do now?"
A house elf appeared and Heathcliff took a cup of tea from her tray. When she offered it to Harry he took one as well, thanking her. Heathcliff was sipping from his tea when Harry turned back to him.
"My family had accumulated some wealth over the years. I have no need to work, but I find it good for the mind and body. Being a, being an auror," the wizard stumbled over his words and took another mouthful of tea as he seemed to gather his thoughts. "Being an auror was something I felt I should do, to make up for some... Childhood indiscretions. I found myself getting into quite a lot of trouble during my school years. I guess I thought being an auror, on the side of the laws, would even the balance. When I had my injury I found that there were more enjoyable vocations. I guess my injury and nearly dying gave me a sense that I've made enough... reparations for my sins. I've since returned to herbology, a subject I always enjoyed."
Harry asked a few questions about Heathcliff's work. Heathcliff had just asked Harry about whether he was enjoying his auror work when Frobisher reappeared with the altered robes.
Harry pulled them on and posed and twirled at the other men's requests.
"Thank you, both of you," Harry said, running his palms down the wonderful new robes.
"Very good work, Frobisher!" Heathcliff said admiringly. He turned to Harry. "We've been here quite a while. Would you care to continue our conversation over lunch?"
Harry cast a tempus charm and saw that it was almost half-past eleven. He had the day off from work, and all that he has to do that day was break the bad news, something he could definitely put off longer. "Sure. Do you have anyplace in mind?"
They settled at a delicatessen, taking a small corner booth. Harry ordered juice and Heathcliff a coffee.
"I'd like to pay for lunch. The robes- I appreciate them, but it's all too much!" Harry said.
Heathcliff set his coffee deliberately down on the table. "Harry, it was my pleasure to buy you the robes. Please say no more about it."
Harry chuckled and held up his hands. "Okay! Okay! I'm just not used to getting gifts like this from strangers. I mean, people would send me things after I killed Voldemort, but I never kept them. Most of them were hexed or love-charmed anyway. And for most of my life I never was given anything. The people I lived with when I was young were... not real family and never loved me. I suppose I'm just really suspicious about people giving me things. Usually they want something from me. I don't know if you want something from me, but you didn't try anything when I was knocked out by an owl earlier, so I feel a bit safer trusting you."
Heathcliff fiddled with his napkin. "I don't want anything from you, Harry, but I must admit that running into you this morning wasn't an accident."
Harry drank some of his juice calmly. Truthfully, he had known something was going to wrong now. He was Harry bloody Potter- nice, fit blokes didn't run into him on the street and help him out for no reason.
"Did you set up the owl accident?" Harry asked bluntly.
"No! As my word as a wizard!" Heathcliff said strongly. "I have no intentions of harming you. I was asked, by someone wanting to remain anonymous, to somehow meet you and give you a good day."
Harry looked at him sceptically. "'A good day'?" he repeated.
Heathcliff nodded. He seemed to be nervous, but was looking straight at Harry. "This person, your... would-be benefactor, I suppose, has hired me to give you a good day. Money is no object, he told me. Whatever you want to buy or do that would make you happy today I am supposed to provide."
"Why does he want to do this?" Harry asked.
Heathcliff hesitated. "He has his reasons. I can assure you that his motives are pure; he does not plan to use anything you do today or say to me as any sort of blackmail. I have met him and can promise personally, on my honor as a wizard, that the only thing he wishes is to be an anonymous benefactor to allow you to have a good day."
Heathcliff vowing on his honor was not something to be taken lightly. As he said the promise, he lay his fingers over his heart and Harry could see the slight glow that meant that his magic confirmed the truth of what he was saying. Harry could trust him that much; and perhaps he would decide to once he learned all Heathcliff would tell him about his 'benefactor.'
"Do I know him?"
Heathcliff shrugged. "He wishes to be anonymous."
Harry eyed him. "I'm an auror. I could investigate this. I know people."
Heathcliff gave a small smirk. "You cannot investigate me unless I am suspected of committing a crime. Buying a new acquaintance new robes is hardly against wizarding law. I know the laws, Mister Potter."
"Of course you know the law, Heathcliff. You were an auror." Harry said, smirking back.
Their meals appeared in the middle of the table. Shepherd's pie for Heathcliff, fish and chips for Harry. They ate, Harry giving measuring looks to the blond wizard who pretended to ignore them. When he was done eating, Harry wiped his fingers on a napkin. "Excuse me," he said. He stood up and tripped on the hem of his new robes, lunging toward the floor. Heathcliff managed to grab him by the arm and hauled him up.
"Thanks." Harry was blushing as he looked around the restaurant to see how many people were watching him. "I guess these robes are longer than what I'm used to," he said in a low, embarassed voice. "Um, I'll be right back." He carefully proceeded to the loo.
When he returned Heathcliff had made more progress on his pie, but put his fork down, wiped his mouth, and folded his napkin. "Have you decided if you will take me up on my offer?" He asked as Harry slid back into the bench across from him.
Harry made a moue of indecision. "I am tempted- after all, how many people literally get a blank cheque to have what they want for a day? But I really wonder whose money you're using." He paused and eyed Heathcliff who sat still, face giving nothing away.
"Well... what the hell?" Harry said. "But remember, I'm an auror and I was the one who killed Voldemort, so you're taking a big chance if you try anything tricky."
Heathcliff nodded and smiled. "So. What do you want to do?"
The newest Firebolt model was fast and responded almost to the merest twitch of Harry's thigh. He dove into a Wronski Feint, cackling at the horror on Heathcliff's face as he pulled up at the last second.
"Woo-hoo!" Harry whooped like an eleven-year-old, and nudged the Firebolt nearly vertical, the cloudy sky opening up a blue eye like the universe too, was conspiring to give Harry A Good Day. He flew up until he could feel the air getting thinner, and he laughed breathlessly as the flannel lining of his new robes kept the chill out like nothing Harry had ever worn flying before.
There was something about riding a broom that really brought home to Harry the fact of magic. Wands and spells made things happen almost like a Muggle remote control, and one got used to encountering elf and goblin faces. But while flying a broom you knew magic was real, you could feel it in the way you straddled a thin little stick and didn't fall over, how the wind numbed your face except for the chill of your ears and nose and made your eyes water when you weren't wearing goggles. There was nothing he'd known in the Muggle world that felt anything like flying a broom.
When Harry's lungs couldn't draw enough oxygen, he started to descend. A few more loops around the field, and he landed next to Heathcliff and collapsed on the ground.
"Idiot! All the cushioning charms in England couldn't have prevented you from breaking your neck!" Heathcliff's voice was censuring but changed to contain a tinge of panic. "Harry? Harry!"
Harry rolled onto his back and grinned up at Heathcliff. "I had forgotten how much I love flying," he said. "It was the first thing at Hogwarts I remember getting right. Everything else was strange and hard to figure out, but the first time I got on a broom it felt right. That was the first time I didn't feel anything but happy."
Heathcliff settled on the grass more decorously than Harry's sprawl. "It was like that for me with p-plants." His stutter was barely noticable. "My family may have been wealthy, but we were hardly happy. I was left alone a lot, and never held a wand until my mother took me to Ollivander's. But when I had that first practical in the greenhouse, I found out that I was naturally gifted at something. It gave me, for the first time, an image of myself fitting in somewhere in the world. I might not have had friends, but I had a talent."
Harry rolled on his side and propped his head up with an arm. "Talent doesn't make up for loneliness, does it?"
Heathcliff stared down as his hands plucked thoughtlessly at blades of grass. "It does not."
"You seem nice. I can't believe you didn't have friends."
The wizard shrugged. "I had a few." He seemed to come back to himself. "But most of them were troublemakers. And the others... The others turned out to be fair-weather friends who left me when I got myself into a mess I couldn't get myself out of."
Harry inquired, "What did you do that was so bad?"
Heathcliff's eyes met his before dropping back down. "I would rather not tell. Also, your benefactor would not want me to tell. One of the conditions to my employment is that we not develop any relationship that will endure after today. Shared vulnerability creates intimacy, and I've made a promise not to inspire any intimate feelings between us."
Harry flopped back into the grass. "You're not my type anyway." He waited for his companion to ask what was his type, but Heathcliff didn't. Harry opened his eyes and looked over at him.
The blond man gave him a small smile. "I'm not taking the bait."
Harry pretended to pout for a moment before sighing and closing his eyes again. "So why does this bloke want to make me happy? Because I killed Voldemort?"
"It's more personal. At least I think it is. I don't know him. Just like you, I asked if he was going to harm or blackmail you in any way, and his answer satisfied me. He is doing this because he thinks you deserve it, because your life hasn't always been a happy one."
"Whose life has been happy around here? Especially with Voldemort. My friend Ron has had a mostly happy life, I guess. But he had older brothers who teased him when they were growing up, and he lost one of them when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts."
Heathcliff nodded in understanding. He started to say something, then hesitated. "I think maybe he had personally done something to hurt you before." He peered at Harry to gauge his reaction.
Harry stretched and chuckled once. "Huh. That might narrow the list down a bit. Or maybe not. I've been an auror for almost four years, plenty of people have hurt me. I guess at least your bloke is feeling guilty about it."
They stayed silent for a while. The sun peeked through the clouds enough for some rays to shine through. Birds that had been startled into hiding by Harry's wild, joyful flight had emerged and the two men listened to their calls.
"What do you want to do next?" Heathcliff asked.
"To make this 'a good day'?"
"Yes."
Harry handed him a piece of parchment from his pocket. "I would be really happy if you could change this."
Heathcliff smoothed the paper out on his knee. "The Hyacinth Landry School of Magic," he read aloud, then proceeded to peruse the body of the letter. "Theodore Lupin is your...?"
"God-son," Harry replied. "He lives with his grandmother. You must have known his mother, Tonks. She was an auror."
"Nymphadora was a metamorphmagus. Her son inherited her abilities?"
Harry thought of Teddy and smiled. "Yup. The Hyacinth Landry School is a school for children with different magic than human magic. Metamorphs, Veela, even werewolves. They accept children as young as four into their day school. I was trying to get Teddy into it. He's nearly six and already he has some problems. I think it's mainly because he's lost his parents, but I think being around other kids with different abilities and appearances might make him happier and better adjusted. I pretty much promised Andromeda that Teddy'd get in, but the school turned us down. So today I'll have to go and tell them he won't be going to school there."
Heathcliff stood up. "I will fix this."
Harry sat up and laughed. "You will 'fix this'?"
Heathcliff offered him a hand up. "The Landry school is exclusive because a couple centuries ago wealthy Pureblood families wanted someplace to hide their not-so-Pureblood offspring. Thankfully it's become an actual school with academic and magic programs since then, but it remains exclusive- even more so since it's become the only respected school of its kind in the world. Your nephew has the genetics and has the sponsorship of the famous Harry Potter, all that remains is a sizeable donation to the school to be made in your name."
Harry had dusted off his new robes and picked up his new Firebolt. "I don't think it's fair that you and people like you can just throw money at problems."
Heathcliff grinned widely at Harry. "Mister Potter, you seem to have forgotten that you are even now enjoying the fact that your benefactor and I are throwing money at you."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "Okay, yeah. But I'm not exactly a problem, am I?"
"Perhaps you are to your benefactor."
"So that's three clues! He's a he, he's hurt me in the past, and I've been a problem to him," Harry crowed.
"I was only speculating on the last two," Heathcliff demurred.
Harry waved his words away. "I'll apparate us." He offered his arm and Heathcliff took it.
"They were both so happy," Harry said, some time later, smiling broadly.
"I hope it will be a good place for him," Heathcliff said. They walked away from Andromeda and Teddy's home. "What would you like to do next? It's four o'clock."
"When does my Good Day end, officially?" Harry asked.
"Six o'clock."
They left the garden and Harry led them down the lane to the left.
"Hopefully that will be enough time."
"Enough time for what?" Heathcliff asked.
Harry refused to answer, just kept walking. The blond wizard followed. Several houses down there was a small park. Harry grabbed Heathcliff by the hand and led him across the grass into the trees. "I'll Apparate us there. Ready?"
"No. Apparate us to-" Heathcliff was interrupted by the sensation of a hook behind his navel.
He looked around their new surroundings. "This is your home? I shouldn't be here. It's not in the contract."
Harry held on to his arm. He looked up at the other wizard with determination. His eyes seemed to flash as he said, "You're Polyjuiced."
Heathcliff's eyes widened. "No, that's a lie."
Harry's smile held no warmth. "I grabbed some hair when I pretended to fall in the restaurant. I tested it. Easiest test in the world for an auror." Heathcliff's lips moved but no sound emerged. A look of panic was growing more visible on his face.
"You stuttered twice. First when you called yourself a herbologist and later you stumbled over the first letter in 'plants'. Perhaps you almost said potions?"
The other wizard tried to twist his arm from Harry's grip more vigorously.
"When I did the Wronski Feint. I've seen that look on someone else's face before."
"Mister Potter, unhand me!"
"Stop fighting!" Harry growled. "I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm not angry! I just don't want you to run away!"
The Polyjuiced wizard stilled. "Fine. Do what you will, Mister Potter."
"Who else could tweak the Polyjuice Potion so it would last, what, six hours?" Harry asked.
"Eight," the man corrected.
"You let me think you were dead," Harry said sadly.
The wizard shot him a look of disbelief. "You can't have actually missed me, Potter," he said. The voice and face, though unfamiliar, sneered in a familiar way.
"Strangely enough, I did. Now, would you please follow me into the other room, or do I have to drag you by the arm?"
"You have my word."
Harry released the other man's arm and backed from the foyer into the living room. The wizard watching him snorted in amusement at the auror's paranoia and followed.
Harry went to an old-fashioned rolltop desk, opened a drawer and removed a vial. "I assume the regular antidote will work?" He asked, holding the vial up. When the other wizard nodded, Harry closed the desk and walked over to hand it to him. The Polyjuiced man swallowed the contents and a few moments later his body melted into that of Severus Snape.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked the man over. "You look much better."
"The last time you saw me I was dying," Severus said dryly. His hands turned the empty vial over and over.
Harry watched the man's fingers. "This whole thing was quite romantic." His eyes darted up to meet Severus' briefly. "Wanting to make me happy. Pretending to be a stranger so you could bear your soul without prejudice. Calling yourself Heathcliff was a clue, too."
Severus frowned. "It was meant to remind me how pathetic this plan was. I didn't think you'd be acquainted with Victorian-era Muggle literature."
Harry laughed. "I'm friends with Hermione! I've seen six film versions of the bloody book!"
Severus consciously stopped fingering the vial and set it purposefully down on the nearest surface.
"Your tastes are plebian. You ordered fish and chips, for Merlin's sake!"
Harry grinned. "I bet you've been wanting to insult me all day. Oh, wait, you did call me an idiot once."
Severus nodded. "But the aurors trained you well. I can't believe my spying skills were so rusty that I slipped that much from my role."
"Honestly, it did take me a while. Once I knew you were Polyjuiced I started really paying attention. You weren't an auror- you said 'laws' instead of 'the law' like we tend to do. And you referred to Tonks by her first name, which is something her superiors like professors mostly did. When I couldn't catch you renewing the Polyjuice, I wondered who would have the skills to create and brew an extended formula. Our conversation in the field gave me some puzzle pieces about your past that fit in with the memories you gave me when I thought you were dying."
Severus shrugged and adjusted his robes.
"It didn't take me long after that to realize how much you had done for me and Dumbledore. How much you suffered."
The man sneered, but it lacked the true distaste that had made the professor's expression so effective during Harry's school years. "I never suffered more than I deserved."
Harry's eyes flashed. "Don't play it down. Like you said earlier, you were young when you made your biggest mistakes. You've spent so much more time trying to make up for them." He frowned briefly. "Even today, you're trying to apologize for treating my the way you did when it was necessary. What I want to know is when you will let people- let yourself- make it up to you for what you've been through."
Severus shook his head. "I've moved on. Relocated to where I am not recognized. Set up a decent life for myself."
"But you deserve more than decent," Harry said. "And you haven't moved on. You're here in London, acting out a plot that must have taken months to plan just for me." Harry thought back to those moments of closeness in the field, and reached out to unclasp Severus' anxious grip on his robes and gently hold his hands. His auror-trained senses noted the other man's slight release of tension as Severus slowly accecpted the gesture.
"I confess that my return wasn't just for your benefit. I had read of your relationships in the Prophet, and my thoughts became of the... undisciplined variety. I had hoped to do this one thing and be shut of the matter." Severus refused to look at Harry as he said this.
Harry felt an erotic jolt as he interpreted Severus' words. "By the time my view of you changed, I thought you were dead. But I still wondered, sometimes. And today, as the clues added up, I found myself hoping..."
Severus changed the way their hands touched, fitting them together more comfortably, then releasing his right hand to hold it up tentatively. "Would you mind if I...?" His question remained unfinished as Harry nodded. With the auror's permission, the potions master raised his fingers to brush along Harry's cheek and into his hair. Harry sighed and leaned his face into the touch, watching Severus' eyes as the older man's followed the motion of his hand. Harry put his free hand on Severus' side and pulled their clasped hands to his chest. The two men pressed close and began to kiss, wrapping around each other and feeling the rising heat of excitement. When Harry pulled away to murmur, "Upstairs?" Severus nodded.
They released each other just enough to climb the stairs without tumbling. As Harry pulled Severus into his bedroom, he said, "This is the best day. I hope you are having a good day, too."
"With what I've gone through, I deserve a couple bloody good years," Severus mock-grumbled.
"Let me see what I can do," Harry replied with a bright grin as he closed the door.
Note: Did you guess? Did I make it too easy, or did you like knowing/not knowing? I would appreciate a note. Thanks for reading!