Severus' pov

From my garden, behind my house, I hear the crack of Harry Apparating into the kitchen. It's unnecessarily confirmed with a shout of "It's me!"

I simply roll my eyes. Of course, it's him. He's the only one I allow to Apparate into my home freely.

"I know," I call back easily, continuing with weeding and watering the vegetables, fruits, and various potions ingredients.

He doesn't come outside right away, so I figure that he's brought me groceries and is putting them away. As he usually does when he comes to see me when a little more than a week has passed between us seeing each other. This time it's been twelve long days since we saw each other last.

For some reason Harry feels that my fridge and pantry should always be full; even if I do not actually need food. I assume it stems from the abuse and neglect he received while in the Dursley's home; a fear of someone he cares about wanting for food.

I scowl deeply at the memory of the stories of him being locked up under the stairs or in a room being starved by his bastard uncle and aunt.

I forcefully push down the anger, because if I don't, I'll find myself Apparating to their home and performing two Unforgivables.

"Hey," Harry says when he finally steps outside, slightly startling me from my thoughts. "Sorry," he says with a sheepish smile, noticing my little jolt.

"It's fine. Just got lost in thought," I explain, and then return, "Hello," digging my trowel into the soil to rest.

He kneels next to me, kissing my temple quickly and moving to simply settle next to me.

I frown slightly at the bland and chaste greeting. It's not like him. Unless he thinks he's bothering me. Which he isn't. We haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks and contrary to what he thinks, I do actually miss him when he's not around. I'm just not selfish enough to request more time with him since I know he's busy with work and his friends.

I remove one of my gardening gloves and turn towards him, reaching to caress his face and kissing his lips, showing him how much I've truly missed him.

He returns the kiss enthusiastically, showing, it seems, how much he's missed me too.

After indulging in a few moments of our proper 'Hello' Harry pulls back from me but I can feel his reluctance to do so.

He then gives me a brilliant but shy smile. "Hi," he says, his face flushed.

I'm barely able to conceal my own smile. I truly do miss him. "It's good to see you," I say, putting my glove back on and grabbing my trowel to continue with caring for my garden. "You were gone a while." I make sure my tone is light and unaccusing. He's already pulled in so many directions, I will not add to that.

Harry sighs heavily. "I know. I'm sorry. Just...a lot is happening at work. Possible new Dark Lord. And Ron's freaking out over the wedding. So, me and his siblings are trying to keep him calm and keep his anxiety quiet from Hermione so she doesn't take it the wrong way. Although, I don't know what he's freaking out over. He's been with Hermione for two years now. Also, he asked her!" Harry laughs, "What did he think was going to happen once he finally proposed?"

"Well, Weasley wasn't the brightest bulb," I comment airily.

Harry laughs lightly but cuts it short, looking a little guilty. "I'm not agreeing since he's my best friend. But...I'm not disagreeing either."

I chuckle. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

He bumps my shoulder lightly with his. "Yeah, I'm not too worried about you running to Ron to tell him of my traitorous thoughts."

"So, about that Dark Lord wannabe?" I ask, taking off my gloves, deciding that I'm done with my garden for the day; or evening as it is nearing sundown.

Harry groans. I give him a quizzical look.

"Sorry," he says apologetically, "I'm just tired of talking about him. But...just some idiot wanting to pick up where Voldemort left off."

I roll my eyes. "Knew someone would eventually try." I gather up my tools and stand.

Harry follows suit, nodding and sighing. "Yeah," he says disappointedly.

"Is he making any headway?" I ask, leading us into my house. I place my tools and gloves on a table next to the back door.

"Not really. Just a lot of talk, but it's got Kingsley nervous," Harry explains indifferently.

I nod. "Well, Tom started out the same. Simply talk and ideas. Just a few years later - we got Voldemort."

"Yeah, well...I killed him so...," Harry states simply as we walk into the kitchen. Harry heads over to the fridge, studying the contents.

I look over his shoulder and see that it is indeed full. Nearly excessively full for just one person who has one visitor occasionally.

I walk over to the sink to wash my hands. "You brought groceries?"

"Yeah. Got bored. Went shopping," he says simply. "I'm feeling chicken-y. You?"

I snort. "I have never once in my life ever felt like poultry. However, I could eat something made with chicken."

Harry looks over his shoulder at me hard, making sure I can see him and rolls his eyes. "You're eating dirt," he grumbles, turning back to the fridge, pulling out a package of chicken and different vegetables.

I sigh lightly at the lack of his usual amusement at my 'being purposely difficult'. He's not truly at ease as he wants me to believe he is, and by his reaction, I'm only making it worse. I know as much as he visits me because our relationship/friendship he also sees me as a safe haven because I don't demand things of him or place ridiculous responsibilities on him.

I walk over to him, taking the food from his hands and place them on the table. I then take him into my arms. "Forgive me. I can see you aren't truly as carefree as you want to be."

He simply sighs and melts into me. "I'm sorry. Just tired. Just...I don't know."

I kiss the side of his. "I understand; as you know. I spent years having two people tear me in too many different directions at once. I know that exhaustion."

Harry nods. "I just have too many people relying on me or expecting me to continue to be the hero," he says wearily. "I just want to be...I don't know - unimportant?" he says unsurely.

"Hm," I grunt disapprovingly. "Unimportant isn't the right word, but I know what you mean."

He pulls back from me, giving me a small smile. "I know it's not. But it feels right. It's why I like being with you. You don't expect me to be the hero or to solve all or any of your problems." He gives me a peck on the lips, "Thank you."

I roll my eyes at him, moving from him to look at my pantry. "I don't need to be thanked for being an adult, or for seeing that you are more than just some ridiculous superhero." I find the pantry filled as well; I grab a bag of crisps.

"Fair enough. But I guess that's why I thank you. You're the only one that bothers to see me as just a person," he says, walking over and taking the crisps from me. "Don't snack before dinner," he says, placing the crisps back on a shelf.

"I'm not a child, Harry," I complain, frowning.

"I know. But you'll ruin your appetite," he remarks, walking over to the table to grab his food ingredients and start cutting up the vegetables. "Can you get me out some pans?"

I take out the pans he needs, placing them on the stove. "I noticed that you did quite a bit of shopping," I comment lightly.

"I did," he admits and looks a little uncomfortable, focusing on cutting up the vegetables.

I walk behind him and embrace him, wrapping my arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. I can feel the tension in his body. "Darling," I start, using an endearment to soften the subject. "I'm not going to starve without you. I can take care of myself. Hell, if you wanted, I could take care of you."

He nods, his body relaxing. "I know that. I just...I don't know, Sev - I want to be sure you're taken care of," he explains seriously.

"And I am," I state. "But I do appreciate that you want to look after me."

Harry simply nods.

I let Harry continue cooking and set us up a couple of brandies. He gives me an appreciative smile as he takes his drink from me, taking a large swallow.

I lean against the counter and study him while I nurse my drink. "So, I get the feeling something else is on your mind," I remark.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Not really. Just work; maybe Ron," he says but then adds, "Maybe that my friends and the Weasleys want to throw me a birthday party." He sounds so tired as he says it.

"Ah, right. In a couple weeks," I state, nodding.

Harry looks over at me, pointedly. "I was really wanting a quiet night. Maybe...come see you?" he says unsurely.

I give a small chuckle. "You say that as if I'd be against it. I would like to see you anytime you're able to come by."

"No, I know that. Just - sometimes I feel like I'm bothering you," he admits, averting his gaze from me.

"And that stops you?" I say drolly. Before I allowed him to stay he forced his presence on me for nearly two years; I don't understand what would change that now.

He gives a small smile and shrugs. "I mean, no. I guess, it just feels different now that we...," he waves a hand between us. "...Are, I don't know...us?"

I sip my spirit thoughtfully. "Do you truly believe that I am that fickle?"

"No! I just...I don't want you to think I'm clingy or whatever," he says uncomfortably.

"That is nowhere near where my thoughts lie concerning you," I correct firmly. "I like you coming to see me. I miss you, even if you don't believe me. True, I don't die when you are gone, but I...desire your presence."

He nods but still looks unsure.

I sigh lightly. I know that I can't truly fix that with him. At least currently. I know the abuse I did to him in his school years makes him second guess me, along with the abuse his aunt and uncle inflicted. I know he feels unwanted by most. I don't think he'll ever get over it but I will try my damndest to ease it.

After dinner, we retire to the living room, laying on the couch together; his head on my chest and my left arm wrapped around him.

He watches TV with the volume turned low, his chuckles rumbling in my chest at some comedy he enjoys. I use my free hand to read a muggle sci-fi novel - his doing, introducing me to muggle novels as I do not enjoy muggle TV or movies. He felt I should read more than just periodicals and books for research.

Father had a TV but I wasn't permitted to watch it, and his choice of entertainment was sports or news which never interested me.

At a commercial for some sports car, he says casually, "So, I saw Dudley today."

"Hm," I grunt, surprised - that it happened at all and that he didn't mention it as soon as he arrived. I know that's a big thing for him.

"After two years leaving them, why?" I inquire lightly.

He shrugs. "I got curious about how he was doing. He seemed to have changed his opinion of me the last time I saw him when we were teens."

"Was it a good meeting or was he why you seemed more stressed?" I ask, feeling my usual protectiveness swell. If that brat has hurt him...maybe I'll actually be using an Unforgivable on a Dursley after all.

"No. That was all from our world. It was...nice. He's studying to be a lawyer; startling. Hopefully, he does well but I feel it may be a little...too advanced for him," Harry says, scrunching up his face as if it pains him to judge his cousin negatively. "He also has a girlfriend. Been together a year. He seems happy."

I tighten my hold on him, comforting him in case he's lying. He settles more but not in a way that shows he needs me.

"That's does he think of you?" I ask, hoping that Harry isn't just taking on more people that don't bother to see if he's well or not. His friends seem to believe he's doing just fine and don't bother to check in on him. Or maybe he's hiding it well. Still, there should be offers to listen to him because he doesn't offer that info willing. It's tooth and nail with him.

"He thinks my life is cool. Still using magic and being a 'Wizard police'," he says with a faintly amused smile. "He liked the stories I told him of what I do. He wants to hear more next time we meet. We only spent a little time together since he had a class right after our meet up."

"Will there be a next time?" I question interestedly.

Harry nods. "I want there to be and he seems genuinely interested. At least he didn't seem like he was just being polite."

"That's good," I simply remark.

He goes quiet then but it isn't a relaxed quiet; I can feel him thinking.

"You're holding something back," I state shrewdly.

Harry stays quiet a few moments longer before he mutters, "When he asked if I was seeing anyone...I told him about you." He sits up to look at me fully, a slight worry in his eyes and says in a slightly rushed and anxious tone, "I know what your stipulations are...about us - romantic or friendly - but I didn't see the harm in telling him. He knows no one in our world. There is no one for him to tell."

I don't respond, unsure of how I feel about that. I did tell him that he could only be in my life as long as he told no one about us being friends or together because I don't want the trouble his fame brings.

I have seen all his relationships fall apart because our media felt the public deserved to know anything and everything about him. I've also seen his friends hounded for info on him when he was out of the public eye for too long.

And I would get it doubly worse due to my own fame. Minerva owls me weekly about how many times she or other teachers are asked if I am willing to do interviews about my role in the war and my survival.

They would just demand answers and details about how I came to be involved romantically with the Savior of our world considering our history. Which is public knowledge now because his friends don't know the words 'no comment'.

No. I have no desire to put up with any of that. No matter how much I deeply care for him.

"Sev?" Harry questions softly, nervousness clear in his voice and face. "He isn't known to be connected to me. So no one in our media will know to go after him. And when I realized my mistake I made him promise not to tell even Muggles. He said he wouldn't. I believe him. I trust him."

"Even after just meeting once after two years?" I inquire.

Harry shrugs awkwardly. "Yeah. He held no ill will towards me. He seems genuinely changed for the better."

I study him, unsure if I should chastise him for his naivety or just trust him. I decide to choose the latter.

I sigh lightly and kiss his forehead. "Be careful of who you trust, love. You have been lied to before. I don't want to see you hurt."

He nods looking relieved but still searches my face. "I'm kind of surprised I'm not hearing any threats of you dropping me for nearly disturbing your peace."

I grin at him. "I should think by now you know them well. They still stand, but I believe as well that your cousin isn't a threat. Honestly, he's probably more trustworthy than you," I tease. "Perhaps I shall ask him to switch places with you as my Secret-Keeper."

Harry scowls at me lightly, shoving me roughly as he lays back down on my chest. "You're a bastard," he grumbles but I can feel him smiling.

I chuckle, running my fingers through his hair. "Be more careful," I simply warn.

He nods and goes back to watching his show. I don't immediately return to my book as now I'm curious about what he shared. I wait until the next commercial break to ask.

"So, did you tell him who I am exactly to you or am I just some random bloke?" I ask.

"No. I told him the truth. It didn't really occur to me to lie. I am not ashamed of you," he states easily. "He was okay about it, just thought it was kind of weird with you being much older than me, and being in love with my mum, and also being my former teacher."

I roll my eyes. "Correction: was in love. I hope you know that."

"I do," Harry says quickly; almost too quickly to sound truthful. He looks up at me and I can see in his face that he doesn't truly believe me. He then admits softly, "Sorry. With the memories...I just kind of accepted that as a forever thing." I can see a hint of hurt in his eyes.

"I will always love her, but I am no longer in love with her. Not currently," I say pointedly, holding his gaze.

His eyes widen slightly as he understands my unspoken declaration. "Oh." He then blushes. "Okay."

It's much too soon for us to express those feelings but it doesn't mean they aren't already felt.

I move to kiss his lips, needing to express those feelings if they can't be spoken comfortably yet. He responds easily and it leads to what I hate describing as a 'make-out session' - sounds so juvenile for two adults. However, I find that it doesn't really matter what it's called when it turns heated enough that an adult expression is needed.

His show and my book end up forgotten as I hurriedly guide him to my bedroom upstairs, intending to show him how much he truly is my 'current' and how much I severely miss him when he's gone.