Of Curses and Healing

by Cithara

ON HIATUS. When Harry is hit by a rogue curse whilst working on a mission as an Auror, he must return to England to seek help for a cure. However, coming back means facing things that he's been running from for years and facing the person he left behind. Can he reconcile himself to his feelings and find a means to heal in more ways than one? Canon Divergent/EWE

1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi to all, as with all my fics, this parts company with cannon somewhere around the middle of Book 6; Dumbledore is still alive, the epilogue never happened and DTH is not really adhered to. This will probably a four-parter, and I'll be updating the 2nd part soon. In the meantime, I hope enjoy you enjoy part 1.

---

Part 1

Harry waited outside Ron's office, tapping the side of his leg agitatedly. It wasn't the first place he would have chosen to spend his afternoon, and part of him was more apprehensive than he would care to admit at the thought of seeing his friend again after so many months of absence. Still, it was an undeniable fact that Ron was the best, and the best was what he needed right now.

He stole a glance around at the other people sitting in the waiting room with him and entertained himself briefly by looking from person to person and trying to guess what their afflictions might be. He supposed he'd get no prizes for surmising that the witch carrying her eyeballs in a glass jar had been hit with a blinding curse, albeit one with a black sense of humour. The others were less obvious, and he assumed that they were all suffering with unseen issues, as he was.

He uncrossed and crossed his legs for the hundredth time and snuck another glance at the clock on the wall; any hope he might have had at being given special treatment by Ron was clearly a false one. He sighed and was about to give in and equip himself with a horrific magazine when the door to his right opened and a man roughly his own age poked his head out and said,

"Dr Weasley will see you now."

Harry nodded and stood, following the man through into the office. Dr Weasley, Harry thought with a not unfamiliar jolt of disbelief. The level that Ron had risen to was now so high that he had earnt the right to be addressed as 'Dr', rather than simply 'Healer' and at 26 it was an achievement that Harry had a hard time reconciling himself to sometimes.

Ron's assistant showed Harry through and directed him to take a seat in front of the large, ornate desk, assuring him that Ron wouldn't be long. Harry certainly hoped not; he'd had more than enough of waiting that afternoon and he feared for his temper if he was forced to endure much more.

He was just about the start examining the various knick-knacks that adorned Ron's desk when the door at the back of the room opened and his friend appeared. It had been a while since he'd last seen Ron and he was struck, as he always was after these long periods of absence, at just how grown up Ron looked, especially in his smart, well-tailored Healer robes.

"Harry," said Ron, approaching him with a smile and an open hand, "it's good to see you."

Harry stood and took the hand that was offered, giving it a firm shake and returning Ron's smile as he said, "And you mate. How are you?"

Ron settled himself behind his desk and indicated for Harry to resume his seat. "Not bad, can't complain," he said with a smile. "Work's as busy as ever but I'm planning on halving my practice work so I can focus more on my research."

"Research?" Harry echoed, unable to suppress a grin. "The 15-year-old you has just felt someone walk over his grave."

Ron snorted and said, "I know, I never would have imagined I'd turn into such a geek. Hermione's intensely proud of me."

Harry's smile faded slightly at the mention of their shared friend. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

"You'd know if you visited her," came the level reply.

"I – "

"Anyway, what can I do for you? I take it this isn't a social call, as we don't get too many of those these days."

And there it was, the reproach he'd been expecting and couldn't honestly say he didn't deserve. His constant absence in his friends' lives, indeed his absence in the very country they lived in, was a sore point that showed no signs of remedying itself.

Harry cleared his throat and reluctantly met Ron's eyes. "I was hit by a curse a couple of months ago. At first I thought it was just a straight-forward disabling hex; I was immobile for a couple of days and a little weak and wobbly but it seemed to wear off."

"And now?" Ron asked regarding Harry with professional interest as he summoned a piece of parchment and a dicta-quill.

"Now I feel like I'm losing my mind," Harry said tiredly. "I'm in pain all the time and I've tried every possible way of relieving it that I can think of and nothing works."

Ron nodded slowly and said, "Can you describe the pain?"

Harry sighed and said, "It's constant. Sometimes it's my joints that ache, other times it's muscle cramps and then sometimes it feels as though my nerves are on fire and I can hardly bear for anything to touch my skin it's that painful."

Ron scratched thoughtfully at the end of his nose then stood up, saying, "I'll need to examine you."

Harry nodded and Ron moved around the desk to him, saying with clinical efficiency, "Strip down to your underwear and stand still for me."

Harry did as he was told and stood in just his pants, which were a thankfully respectable pair, as Ron circled him several times. He took each of Harry's hands and examined them, then held each arm out, his face a picture of concentration. He tilted Harry's head from side to side then moved his hands over Harry's shoulders and back before he knelt down and examined Harry's feet and legs.

Harry was a little embarrassed, he couldn't deny it. Ron had seen him in such a state many a time; they had shared a dorm for seven years and none of the boys had been shy in stripping off, but this was different, and Harry couldn't help but feel exposed as Ron looked at him as though he were a specimen.

"Your range of motion is very limited," said Ron as bent Harry's arm at the elbow and watched as Harry winced slightly.

"It's getting worse. Sometimes my knees and my hips are so stiff that I can barely walk. The ache is unbearable."

"Any other symptoms? Nausea, headaches, insomnia?"

"I get headaches, but I think that's just from the stress of it all, the same with my sleeping. The pain keeps me awake sometimes."

Ron reached for his wand and pointed it at Harry's head, moving it down his body all the way to his feet, a spectrum of colour appearing as he did so. Ron looked at each one thoughtfully and Harry was reminded of the many times he had played chess with the younger version of the man before him and how carefully Ron would scrutinise each chess piece. Harry felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the little buggers.

"Medicating with alcohol won't do you any good," Ron said with a raised eyebrow.

"Did the scan tell you that?" Harry said, his voice taking on a petulant edge.

"That, coupled with the fact that I can smell it on you."

"It just takes the edge off sometimes," Harry replied, averting his eyes from Ron's disapproving gaze.

Ron waved his wand and the colours disappeared. "Not a good strategy for the long run though," he said, and Harry was eerily reminded of the look Hermione would get before she was about to launch into a lecture. "The scans were unclear," Ron continued, "there's certainly evidence of dark magic but at this stage I wouldn't like to hazard a guess. Pop your clothes back on."

Ron looked thoughtfully at Harry as he yanked his jeans back on. "I'd like to discuss your case with a colleague, with your permission," he said eventually.

"A colleague?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing, sure that he could guess exactly who the colleague would be.

Ron nodded, and Harry knew that his friend was well aware that he knew whom they were speaking of.

"I suppose I don't have much choice," he said with a resigned shrug.

Ron rolled his eyes slightly and moved over the fire place, kneeling down beside it and sticking his head in slightly and chucking a small pinch of Floo powder in. "Severus!" he called loudly. "I need to speak with you, are you there? Severus? Sev!"

"Bloody hell Ron, you sound just like your mother," came the dry and slightly amused voice. Harry's stomach unwittingly turned a somersault.

"My mum's never called you 'Sev'," Ron replied with a grin.

"That," said Severus, "is because she has a greater sense of self-preservation than you do. Now why are you interrupting my afternoon?"

"Why do you always sound so put out when you say that?" Ron replied, and Harry found himself feeling highly uncomfortable with the familiar, teasing tone that Ron had adopted. He shifted back a little further in his chair, just to make sure that Severus couldn't see him sitting there. "I could do with your help on a patient's case," Ron said, and Harry heard an amused snort in response.

"How they gave you a medical license I will never know."

Once upon a time, thought Harry, that sentence would have been dripping with malice and would have been intended to hurt and offend. Now, it was warm and said with a dramatic eye-roll that made Ron break into another grin.

"I'm only shuffling along until I get found out," the red-head replied. "Will you come over to mine this evening and we can talk about it? 7 o'clock alright for you?"

"I'll be there, as the whisky had better be."

"Have I ever let you down yet?"

"Fool," said Severus, and Harry's insides twisted at just how fond the former Potions Professor sounded of the man smiling at him through the fire. The flames dimmed and Severus disappeared, Ron getting back to his feet and moving back to sit behind his desk.

"What?" he asked Harry as he noticed the man looking at him.

"You two…you're still friendly then?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question after what he had just witnessed.

"We see each other twice a week and very often end up consulting each other in a professional capacity," Ron replied, but Harry could see that something in his friend was guarded.

"Why didn't…why didn't you tell him that I was the patient?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron paused for a moment and fiddled unnecessarily with the quill on his desk. "I thought it best to tell him face to face. I'm assuming he doesn't know you're back in the country?"

"I…I haven't had the chance to tell him yet."

"And does he know you've been cursed?"

Harry chewed his lip. "No, no I didn't really see the point. The last letter I wrote him was just…you know…the usual."

Ron shook his head and Harry thought he saw a trace of disappointment in his friend's face. "The same sort of letters we all get from you Harry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and Harry suddenly felt very much as though he would like to be anywhere else rather than in front of his oldest and supposedly dearest friend.

He opened his mouth to respond but shut it again when he could think of no proper response. Ron, it seemed decided to spare him, and he made a couple of notes on the parchment in front of him, before saying, "I'll need to have a few samples from you before you go. I'll take them all, apart from one," he said, pointedly looking up at Harry. "For that you're on your own in a consultation room with a cup for company."

"You have a wonderful bedside manner, has anyone ever told you?"

"Several people over the years actually," said Ron with a horribly sardonic look that was too familiar to Severus' to be comfortable.

Harry let the silence hang in the air for a moment or two while Ron moved over to a cupboard to fish out several pieces of equipment he would need to collect blood, saliva and skin samples. "Will he help…when he knows it's me?" he asked eventually, and Ron turned around to look at him incredulously.

"You really are a stupid git sometimes Harry," Ron said, a flash of anger appearing in his pale eyes. Something hardened in his face and he brought the medical instruments over. "I'm going to take these samples," he said stiffly, and Harry regretted opening his mouth, "then I'll be in touch after I've spoken to Sev."

---

Harry arrived back in Grimmauld Place later that day feeling a good deal worse than he had done when he had left. Not only had the usual pain returned with vicious vigour, but he was well and truly ruffled after his encounter with Ron.

He was expecting it; it was always the same when he came back home after months away, but it didn't make it any easier. His job as an international Auror took him all over the world, and as he had specialised in eradicating archaic dark artefacts, his assignments were often lengthy ones. He knew his friends didn't begrudge him his career; they were proud of him and his achievements, but his lack of communication in between and his dwindling return visits were points of contention.

He knew also that his friends were perfectly aware that his job wasn't the only reason he wasn't around much. Almost immediately after the Final Battle and the fall of Voldemort, he had taken off without a word to anyone, just a couple of scribbled notes to let Ron and Hermione know that he was ok but that he didn't know when, or indeed if, he would be back. He still felt guilty about the way he had left, and he knew that the people around him had struggled immensely with his absence at the time, but it had been the only thing he could have done.

He shrugged off his outer robe and hung it on the peg, kicking his boots off and placing them to the side of the front door. The house was in a far better state than it had been several years ago and despite the fact that he stayed in it for no more than a few weeks at a time, Harry had been determined to make his base in England a suitable and comfortable one. He had worked hard to renovate the place, using both magic and sheer, determined elbow grease, and now, although it would never be a place of beauty, it was somewhere he was proud of.

He moved through to the kitchen and pointed his wand at the kettle and a mug, and within a couple of minutes he had a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He resisted the urge to sneak a nip of whisky in it, lest he receive another telling off from Ron. He glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite and noted that it was 6.30; in half an hour's time, Ron would be meeting with Severus.

He sighed and stared into his coffee, wondering if he was waiting for the black liquid to provide him with a helpful piece of advice. Of all the things to come out of the war, Ron and Severus' friendship was one of the oddest. It had happened gradually and most found it a little unusual, but then, a lot of unusual things were happening at the time.

~*~ 7 years ago ~*~

There was a crash from the corridor and Harry and Ron looked at each other as a string of expletives rang out before a dull thud was heard, the sound, they both guessed, of someone collapsing in the hallway.

Ron stuck his head out of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and looked down the corridor, letting out a few choice words of his own when he saw Severus slumped on the floor, clutching on to his side. "Help me!" he flung over his shoulder to Harry and the two boys hauled Severus up and into the sitting room, where they lowered him as gently as they could onto the sofa.

Harry was horrified. Severus was frighteningly pale and his breathing was quick and shallow. All the feelings that he'd been trying to push down over the last few months came crashing to the surface and he was rooted to the spot as fear washed over him.

"Professor," came Ron's voice, amazingly steady given the circumstance. "Professor I need you to tell me what's happened to you," he said as he knelt in front of the man.

"Bugger off," Severus said acidly, and Harry could hardly believe he could be like that in his condition.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that Severus," said Ron, and Harry was surprised not only by Ron's use of the man's first name, but by the firm, commanding tone he used as he did so. "You'll tell me what's happened to you so I can help you. Do you think I'm going to let you sit here and bleed to death?"

"You'd make a wonderful Healer," Severus sneered then winced sharply, clutching his side again as a wave of pain seemed to roll over him.

"Stop being a dick," Ron ground out, standing to move over and rummage in a nearby cabinet, one that Harry knew contained a ton of medical supplies, courtesy of Molly Weasley. With Grimmauld Place continuing to be used as the unofficial Order headquarters, she had insisted that, as well as a thorough clean, the place should be properly stocked with enough supplies to keep a small hospital going.

Ron moved back to kneel in front of Severus and took his wand out, waving it over the man from head to toe. "Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, torn ligaments and – fuck! Severus you've been stabbed you fucking arsehole. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Couldn't get a word in edgeways," Severus rasped, and again Harry was struck at the way in which Ron was speaking to the man. It was true that they hadn't been students for a little over a year, but still, most people had continued to treat the former Potions Master in much the same way as they had done before.

It wasn't the first time Harry had witnessed Ron's changed attitude, but it was the first time he had witnessed it so obviously.

"You're such a shit sometimes," Ron said through gritted teeth. "You could bleed to death! You're just lucky it missed your vital organs."

"Born lucky, that's me," Severus replied, and Harry felt himself starting to share some of Ron's anger, now that his abject terror that Severus was about to keel over and die was beginning to fade somewhat. "It wasn't deep," he added, seeing Ron's hard, reproachful look.

"Deep enough for you to lose a couple of pints of blood by the looks of things."

Ron waved his wand and muttered a couple of spells that Harry was unfamiliar with and Severus' breathing began to even out and the look of pain started to ease a little from his face. He hadn't realised Ron had become so adept at healing spells, but he couldn't exactly say he was surprised; for the past year Ron had, for some reason, taken it upon himself to be the Order's resident medic. Harry couldn't pinpoint how it had begun, but Ron was extremely competent and displayed a confidence when dealing with the injured that he didn't always show in other facets of daily life.

"That's just a couple of preliminary spells," said Ron, getting to his feet. "I'll need to do a few more in an hour or so, and there are several potions you need to take."

"I'll need – " Severus began, but was cut off somewhat harshly by Ron saying,

"I know full well what you need Severus, unlike you, I am not an idiot."

Harry bit the inside of cheek to keep from grinning; he couldn't believe how Ron was speaking to Severus, and neither, by the look on his face, could Severus.

"Keep an eye on him for a minute, get him to clean himself up with the witch hazel and ethanol. I'll be back in a bit," said Ron, throwing one last glare at Severus before he left.

Harry cleared his throat and moved closer to the sofa, stopping when Severus said,

"I don't need a babysitter."

Harry rolled his eyes and knelt down, meeting Severus' eyes as he said, "You go and argue with Ron then."

He set about soaking a clean cloth with the witch hazel and ethanol concoction that was one of Mrs Weasley's own creations and, deciding to adopt the same firm tone as his friend, moved a little closer and said, "Let me clean the wound."

"No," Severus said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not asking you," Harry said, feeling his confidence slip slightly, but damn it, if Ron could do it, so could he. "Ron's healed the worst of it but there's still a chance infection could set in, and we wouldn't want to lose you to a nasty bout of sepsis, now would we?" Harry asked, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on his face.

Severus glared at him, but Harry was determined not to be deterred. "Open your shirt," he said, gently but firmly.

"I can't," Severus said, a distinct note of reluctance in his voice. Harry frowned at him and with a sigh he elaborated, "Weasley didn't fix my dislocated shoulder, I can't move it."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "Well, perhaps I can help."

"You?" said Severus, looking highly sceptical, and Harry was annoyed that he had seemingly been so fine with Ron attending to him and yet didn't trust Harry to do the same.

"I've seen my fair share of dislocated shoulders on the quidditch pitch," he said indignantly. "I know perfectly well how to sort them."

He moved a little closer to the sofa and propped himself up firmly on his knees then moved in towards Severus. "Place your left hand on my shoulder," he instructed, gratified when Severus did so without complaint. "Keep tight hold and don't move," he said, feeling the long, elegant fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder.

He gently took hold of Severus' right wright wrist and moved it so the man's arm was held across his body. Severus winced slightly but said nothing and Harry then moved the arm slowly back so it was held horizontally out to the side, then without warning he pushed it sharply back and upwards and held the satisfying pop as it the shoulder found its rightful place in its socket.

"Fuck," Severus bit out in a shaky breath and Harry stifled his laughter at the unusual lack of control from the older man. He collapsed back against the sofa and gave his shoulder a few tentative rotations then eyed Harry with a strange sort of reluctant curiosity. "Thank you," he said, and Harry blinked a couple of times in surprise. It was more than Ron had received.

"Take your shirt off," Harry said in response. He wasn't going to give in to the sudden civility, no matter what Severus might have expected.

The man again looked reluctant but nevertheless complied and slowly began unbuttoning the usual black shirt that he seemed to be permanently glued into. He slid it off his shoulders and Harry's eyes came to rest on the angry, deep wound on the man's side, just below his ribs. Ron's magic had done a fair bit of repair work and had made sure that there was no immediate danger, but he was right to want the wound cleaned, as it would need to be properly patched up and allowed to heal naturally.

Harry picked up the cloth he had soaked previously and moved back over to Severus. He lifted it to the wound and Severus went to bat him away, but Harry was quicker, taking hold of one of his wrists, glaring up at the man and saying, "Stop being difficult."

Severus returned his glare, but nevertheless leant back slightly and allowed Harry to dab away at the horrible mar on his flesh, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth as the alcohol stung him. Harry concentrated on his task, trying very hard not to focus on his close proximity to the man who, more often than not these days, was always in his thoughts.

He couldn't say when it had begun, truth be told he tried not to dwell on that too much, but begun it had. His thoughts, both waking and dreaming, seemed to always contain the former Potions Master, and working with him so closely in the last year since Hogwarts had been disbanded had done nothing to quell his treacherous mind. If only his mind was the problem though, he thought as he gritted his teeth together.

If anything, his mind was allowing itself to be dragged along somewhat unwillingly. It was his body that was doing all the leading. His body that seemed to react to Severus whenever he was near, and very often, when he was miles away too. His body was the thing that offered up helpful dreams and, dare he say, fantasies, with which to use when he had a moment of personal alone time, and it was his body that broke out in shivers and goose bumps whenever he stood too close to the man or allowed himself an indulgent moment to sneak a look across the room or the table, or wherever it was they ended up.

He cleared his throat and internally screamed at himself to stop bloody blushing. The last thing he wanted was for Severus to know what was running through his mind as he sat so close to the man's naked torso; he couldn't bear the humiliation of seeing the sneer that would undoubtedly settle on Severus' face at such a revelation.

Thankfully his blushes were spared when Ron re-entered the room and said in that strangely authoritative tone, "Good, glad to see you managed to beat him into submission."

"Oh very fucking funny," thought Harry, reminding himself to thump his best friend very hard the next time the opportunity presented itself.

Ron gave Harry a gentle nudge with his foot and Harry took the hint to move, allowing Ron to take his place in front of Severus. Ron held up three vials and passed them to Severus, saying, in a tone that brooked no refusal, "Take them all – the blue, then the red, then the clear."

"Yes, thank you," Severus bit out, "I think I know which order they need to be ingested in."

"Take them and just hope to Merlin that I haven't poisoned one of them."

"You couldn't make an adequate poison if your life depended on it."

"Oh I don't know," said Ron, fishing the sewing kit and a curved needle out of the medicine supplies, "I had a pretty good Potions teacher. He was an immense bastard of course, but he knew his stuff. I could whip up something to put you in a coma for a month, give us all some peace."

Harry watched in horrified fascination as Severus tried very hard not to smile at Ron, and Ron, in return, smirked up at Severus. No one spoke to Severus in the way Ron had just done, not even the 'proper adults', who seemed content to keep the man at arm's distance as much as the younger ones. Yet here was the youngest Weasley boy, not only giving as good as Severus could, but doing so in such a way that he actually seemed to amuse the man. The mind boggled.

"I'm going to patch you up," said Ron, threading the needle with the medical thread, "and then, you're going to tell me exactly what happened so I can report back to Remus. And," he added threateningly, noticing that Severus had opened his mouth, "if you protest, I'll make sure I sew you up so badly that I leave a really wonky scar, which will annoy the hell out of you for the rest of your life."

"You're a git," Severus said, but there was no malice behind the words and Ron gave a soft snort of laughter as he leant forward and began his work.

Harry couldn't help but feel a spark of jealousy as Ron's large, pale hand splayed out on Severus' skin, touching him in a way that Harry wished he could. He wanted to know what Severus would feel like underneath his palm, but unless he was willing to take over from Ron's meticulous stitching, he couldn't see that being a possibility.

Severus didn't seem to be in any pain as Ron carried out his ministrations, and Harry couldn't help but think that although he had said it mockingly, Severus had been right when he had said Ron would make a good Healer. At one point, Ron glanced up at Severus, and neither man bothered to hide their smiles as they looked at one another. Harry's insides twisted, and he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what was going on between the two of them.

Ron had spent more time with the dour man than most people had. It hadn't been planned that way, but it seemed that more often than not, the two were often paired together for Order assignments. Ron had hated it at first, and Harry and Hermione had heard nothing but complaints from him in the first few weeks, but as time went on, the complaints began to lessen and were instead replaced with observations about the man's behaviour or accounts of things he had said when they had had time to merely sit and converse.

Harry supposed he noticed more than others; after all, he watched Severus more than anyone else on the face of the earth, and he was closer to Ron than anyone. He shouldn't have been surprised that he was the one to notice the subtle shifts between the two men that went beyond the jibes and arguments and apparently easy use of each other's first names. The thought knotted in his stomach and made him feel a deeply unpleasant sense of hostility to both of them, something that he knew was unfair, but uncontrollable nevertheless.

Ron snipped the end of the thread and placed the needle aside to be sterilised later, then placed a self-adhesive padding over the wound, pressing it gently in place. "I'll change it tomorrow and make sure the wound's showing no signs of putrefaction."

Severus nodded, slipping back into his shirt and disappointing Harry greatly as he covered himself back up. "Thank you," the man said, and both Harry and Ron could hear the sincerity with which those two little words were said.

Ron's face split into its customary grin and he extended his hand to Severus, who took it with more good grace than Harry had ever seen the man show before. "I'll swing for you one of these days Severus, I swear I will," said Ron, the grin still in place. "Now, tell me what happened."

~*~ Present Day ~*~

Harry was pulled from his reverie by the clock striking 7pm. Had he really been sitting reminiscing for half an hour? He placed his now cold cup of coffee on the table with a sigh, remembering what had happened after Ron had asked for Severus' account. The man had finally been unmasked as a spy amongst the Death Eater ranks, and had taken a very serious beating before he had managed to apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

It was a blow to the Order; the information that Severus had been able to provide had been invaluable, but at the time Harry had felt nothing but relief. He had hated having to stand by and watch every time Severus had been summoned, every time he left to go and pay homage to that damned psychopath and Harry would never know what state he would return in, if he returned at all.

It was a sentiment that Ron vocalised, standing in the grimy sitting room with his arms crossed as he listened to Severus' narrative. "I know this is supposed to bad news for us Severus," he had said levelly, "but Merlin's beard I can help but be glad."

Severus had frowned up at him, those dark, black eyes searching out exactly what Ron had meant. He didn't have to search for long though, as Ron elaborated, "You risk your life every time by going back as one of them and having to lead this double life is killing you. I know it's what you've done for the last 20 years, but damn it Severus there's only so much a man can take. You're still just as valuable to the Order whether you're a spy or not, and at least now I can sleep easy knowing you haven't been called to the feet of that wanker."

Severus had blinked at Ron for a moment or two before letting his head fall back on the sofa and laughing. Harry had never seen the man laugh before and he had revelled in the deep, rich sound, although he couldn't understand the reason for it.

"I'll never get used to Weasleys," the man had said eventually, when his mirth subsided, and Ron had grinned at him again before leaving the room, stopping slightly to say over his shoulder,

"You know I'm your favourite."

Harry had seen Severus shake his head in amusement, though he had noted that the man hadn't corrected Ron at all, and Harry could still remember that surge of jealousy all over again.

And now, seven years later, Ron and Severus were cosily holed up in Ron's apartment, having a discussion about him, or at least that's what they were meant to be doing. Harry knew he was being childish and that really he had no right to feel the way he did; he was the one who had left after all, but still, he couldn't help his feelings.

He wondered what Severus' response would be when Ron told him that he himself was the patient whose case they would be discussing, and a flutter of nerves assaulted him as he thought about seeing the man again. It had been a few months since they had last seen each other, and that had only been the briefest of hellos as they had passed each other in the Ministry.

There had been letters in between, but they were almost painfully polite and sometimes Harry wondered if they would ever be able to speak to each other the way they had done before he had left.

Knowing that he would do nothing all night but ponder over what Ron and Severus would be talking about, or worse, speculating about what they might be doing, he reached for the bottle of scotch on the side cabinet, Ron's warning be damned. He was starting to feel the familiar spread of pain through his hips and his lower back and he was in no mood to deal with physical and mental torments that evening. He would simply drink himself into oblivion and suffer the consequences in the morning.

---

Harry paused on the threshold of the cottage, stopping a moment to take in the painfully familiar surroundings. He was in Scotland, the north-east coast to be precise, and standing outside a cottage that had once belonged to McGonagall. She had left it to Severus in her will, and he had moved into it a couple of years ago, once he was finally able to accept that one of his oldest and dearest friends was indeed gone.

Harry held up his hand to knock on the door, stopping when he heard voices coming through the slightly open window to the left of the door.

"I hate that bloody tea, Sev," came Ron's unmistakable voice.

"Don't drink it then," came the amused-sounding response.

"You never offer me anything else!"

"Ron, you know perfectly well where everything is in this place, help your bloody self."

Ron chuckled and replied, "You're such a charming host Sev, that's what I love about you."

"One is only a host to guests, you Ronald Weasley, have never been a guest here, you're a permanent annoyance."

"But you love me."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I sodding well don't."

"Yes you do! Say you love me, say it or I'm going to do unspeakable things to you."

"I won't be threatened by you, you great over-sized oaf."

"You call me the sweetest things," Ron laughed, and Harry couldn't bear the easy familiarity that he heard in their interactions, not to mention the almost over-flowing affection and undercurrents of things that made Harry want to put his fist through the door.

He settled instead for knocking loudly and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet until Ron appeared.

"Right on time," said the red-head, stepping aside to let Harry in.

Harry allowed himself a moment to look around as he stood in the little entrance porch while Ron closed the door behind him. Upon first inspection it seemed as though nothing much had changed, and the realisation gave Harry a delightfully warm feeling somewhere around his mid-section. He moved a little further into the cottage and turned, almost instinctively, immediately to his left, into the little sitting room that he could picture so well to find Severus standing there, waiting for him.

His breath caught in his throat and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. They stood, simply looking at one another for a moment, Harry allowing himself the indulgence of drinking in the man before him. He looked well; his hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, clean and shiny, and he was nowhere as skinny as he had once been. He still looked strong and imposing but the guarded hostility that had once been a permanent fixture on his features was no longer there and it made him look softer, younger in a contrary sort of way.

"Hello Harry," he said softly, with just the faintest of smiles, and Harry had to stop himself from running and flinging himself into the man's arms.

"Hello Severus. You're looking well," he said, hoping his voice wasn't betraying him.

"Thank you, as are you."

"Harry," said Ron, entering the room, "have you got your luggage with you?"

"It's shrunken in my pocket," replied Harry.

"Fine, you're in your old room. Why don't you go ahead and get settled in and we can talk things through over lunch?"

Harry nodded, knowing an instruction when he heard one. He glanced back at Severus then headed for the stairs, hearing Ron say softly to Severus,

"Are you ok?"

"Of course," came the clipped response.

Harry padded softly up the stairs, running his hand over the twisted old bannister as he went. The place still smelt the same and it re-ignited memories that were so wonderfully bittersweet he thought he finally understood the kind of pleasure masochists derived. The bedroom was the one he had stayed in all those years ago and he wasn't ashamed when tears pricked his eyes at the sight of it.

Everything was the same; the deep, red curtains, the squishy green armchair by the small fireplace, the incongruously big wardrobe that Harry had once jokingly suggested could be the gateway to Narnia and the beautiful brass bed that he had passed so many nights in. He moved slowly over to it and ran his hands over the bedding almost reverently. He sat down on it, hearing the familiar creak of the frame under his weight, remembering how it had annoyed him the first few nights he had slept in it.

It was horribly painful being back there and he wondered how Severus could live in the place day after day and what precisely it was that had prompted him to do so. He was tempted to tiptoe down the hallway and see if Severus' bedroom was the same as it had been when the man had slept there last, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

He fished his trunk out of his pocket and re-sized it, then set about unpacking his things and placing them about the room, finishing last with his trusted journal that he placed on the little bedside table next to the bed. He wondered just how much he would write while he stayed at the cottage and if he did write in it, whether he would ever be brave enough to go back and read what he had written.

When he had received Ron's letter telling him that Severus was inviting him to stay at the cottage while both he and Ron worked on a diagnosis and solution, his first reaction had been to tell them both to go to hell. He could think of nothing worse than going back to the cottage that featured in his dreams most nights and spending time with the man who had a starring role in those dreams, but then his rational, grown up self had taken control of the thinking process and reasoned that really, he didn't have a choice if he wanted to find a solution.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, telling himself that he couldn't put it off any longer. He slipped out of his room and back down the stairs, walking quietly towards the kitchen. He stopped just outside the doorway, peering in slightly to see Ron and Severus working side by side at the kitchen counter, preparing things for lunch and speaking quietly to one another.

"Just take it one day at a time," Ron said as he sliced a thick, brown loaf of bread.

"There's not much else I can do," Severus replied, and Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.

"At least you have something to focus on Sev, just see it as another of our cases."

"Yes, yes that's the best way to go about it."

Harry bristled slightly. So he was just another case was he? Charming. An owl flittered past the window and Severus glanced up at it expectantly, frowning when it passed by without stopping.

"Damn, I was hoping that was Elodie's birthday present," said Severus.

"You big softie," Ron said with a laugh. "You spoil that child."

"She's my god-daughter!" Severus protested.

"She's my bloody niece and I don't shower her with gifts the way you do. Honestly, George will have your hide if you carry on like this."

"It's her birthday!"

"Oh don't give me that, you buy her presents every opportunity you get. Hermione still hasn't forgiven you for that children's potions set that ended up setting fire to their prized Persian rug. She thinks you're trying to fashion yourself a mini Potions Master in the making."

"Elodie has Hermione's intelligence and George's ingenuity, she'll be a force to be reckoned with, you mark my words."

"And you can tell all this about a 4-year-old can you?" asked Ron in amusement.

"She's my god-daughter, there's no two ways that she'll be brilliant."

Harry cleared his throat and moved into the kitchen, forcing a smile when the two men turned around to take notice of him.

"Just in time," said Ron, placing the bread on the kitchen table, then gathering up the plate of cheese while Severus dished up the platter of cold meats.

Harry took a seat and watched Severus as he went over to take the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring the water into a waiting teapot. Ron pulled a face, no doubt thinking disparaging thoughts about Severus' tea, but Harry remembered the taste of it with nothing but fondness, and found himself suddenly desperate to taste it again.

Severus brought the teapot and mugs over to the table and sat down opposite Harry, while Ron fished around the in the cupboards for a cannister containing other teabags, popping one in a mug and filling it with water from the kettle on the stove. He then brought out the plates and cutlery and set them on the table, and Harry realised just how familiar Ron was with the place. He knew where everything was kept and moved around the kitchen with the comfortable ease of someone who felt at home. Harry found himself wondering just how much time Ron spent in Severus' home.

"Thanks," he said, as Severus handed him a full mug of tea and he closed his eyes as he breathed in the familiar smell. It wasn't to everyone's taste, but he loved it and although it hurt slightly, he loved all the things it made him remember.

"How's the pain today?" Ron asked him as he settle himself down and began loading his plate up with food.

"Bearable," Harry said after taking a sip of his tea. "It's mostly a dull ache in my back and hips but nothing that's affecting my mobility too much."

Ron nodded and held out his hand, wordlessly summoning his satchel from the kitchen counter. Ron had always been powerful, Harry could never understand why people could never see that when they were younger, but after spending time with Severus he became more so.

Ron produced Harry's medical file and set it down in front of him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a muggle pen. Harry suppressed a smile, thinking how proud Arthur would be of his son. Ron made a couple of notes as he continued to eat, then looked up again at Harry and said,

"At the moment we still don't know what curse you've been hit with, but while we figure it out we're going to try and give you a better quality of life."

Harry looked between Ron and Severus questioningly and Severus placed his mug of tea down, saying, "I'll be trialling a selection of pain-relief potions for you. They'll need to be custom made, hence why you're here. Once we have a better idea of exactly which curse you were it with, we can start to formulate an antidote or counter-spell."

Harry nodded and Ron picked up where Severus left of, saying around a mouthful of bread and cheese, "I'll be here every few days to conduct your physical rehabilitation."

"You're not staying?" Harry asked. That was news to him.

Ron shook his head and said with a smile, "I'm not leaving Drake alone for anyone."

Harry paused for a moment, his brain trying to process the information he had just heard. "You and Draco…you're living together?"

"Yeah, nearly a year now. I did tell you, I sent you a letter when we got the place," Ron said, and Harry tried to remember whether or not he could remember reading that letter. In all probability, he hadn't.

"I um…congratulations mate, I didn't realise you were so serious," he said, aware that Severus was frowning at him across the table.

"No, well I suppose you wouldn't," Ron replied, that horrible admonishing look back on his face, and Harry busied himself by spreading a healthy dollop of butter on his bread so he wouldn't have to see it.

Ron continued to make his notes then, without looking up, said, "We have a few ideas as to the curse you might have been hit with but we'll need continuous samples from you to see how or if it's affecting you at a cellular level, and we need a little more time to do some proper research."

Harry couldn't help but think that the word 'we' tripped out of Ron's mouth a little too easily and he couldn't help but feel a little petulant indignation that there was even a 'we' to begin with.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be monitored rather carefully," Severus said, regarding him over the rim of his mug.

"Hey, as long as no one's watching me while I'm in the bathroom, I'll be just fine," Harry replied, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.

Ron snorted and said, "No one has any intention of doing that."

He made a few further notes, chewing his bottom lip while he scribbled away. Severus leant a little over his shoulder, placing an arm over the back of Ron's seat as he did so, and started to read what Ron was writing.

"Sev you know I hate it when you do that," said Ron, not stopping to look over at the man who was invading his personal space.

"I know," Severus replied cheerfully, emphasising the point by leaning in closer. Harry didn't think the man would ever be that comfortable letting his physical barriers down but it was obvious that a lot had changed since he had left England.

He had seen more of Ron in that time than he had of Severus, and he knew from the way Ron spoke about their former Potions Master that there was a deep connection between the two, but to see it so plainly and to see how utterly at ease Severus was around Ron was somewhat jarring.

"Your handwriting is appalling," Severus told the red-head.

Ron gave a dramatic sigh and glared across the older man. "So you tell me at least once a week. I suppose we should all write in over-flourished, fancy-pants calligraphy like you should we?"

"It would be an improvement on that chicken scratch," Severus said with a quirk of his eyebrow. "You should pity me for having to read it for seven years."

"Six," Ron corrected. "If you remember, I didn't complete my 7th year."

"And doesn't it just show?" Severus teased.

"You're such a git. It's a good job I love you isn't it?"

"Of course you love me, I credit you with some good sense."

Harry couldn't believe the easy interplay between the two men in front of him. Not only had Ron openly said that he loved Severus, but Severus had acknowledged it as if it wasn't the first time he had heard it. The ugly ball of jealousy settled in the pit of Harry's stomach again and he knew that somewhere, a little part of his brain was whispering, "It's your own fault you cretin, you were the one who left".

Ron stopped scribbling and flipped the file shut so that Severus couldn't read any more of it, then looked up at Harry, saying, "I'll need you to keep your own records Harry. I need a detailed account of each day in terms of your level of pain, discomfort, fatigue, appetite, headaches and so on. It has to be as in depth as you can make it. Start from today please."

Harry nodded his compliance, wondering what had happened to the awkward, bumbling teenager he had once known and how he had come to be replaced by this efficient, self-assured man who seemed to be in control of every situation.

"Right, well I'd best be on my way, I have afternoon surgery to attend to," Ron said, packing his things back into his satchel. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow and we'll start your rehab process."

"Sounds good," said Harry, getting to his feet as Ron did the same. "I really appreciated this mate, I can't tell you."

A strange look crossed Ron's face, replaced quickly with a small smile. "Don't mention it," he said softly.

"I'll see you out," said Severus, and the two men moved out of the kitchen.

Harry couldn't help himself; under the pretence of placing the lunch dishes in the sink, he moved over to the window and carefully glanced out to see Ron leaving the cottage, Severus behind him. They stopped and spoke for a moment then Ron reached up and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder, a touch that the man leant into with a smile. Something was said and they both laughed, then after a brief hug Ron disappeared with a soft pop and Severus was left standing alone.

Harry let out a shaky breath and gripped the side of the sink as stood there. It was stupid, Ron was with Draco and Severus…well who knew about Severus? He certainly didn't, that was for sure. What he did know was that no one touched Severus the way Ron did, and Severus didn't laugh or smile like that with anyone else. It was true that he was a different man since the end of the war, hell everyone was different, but he wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life leaving the way he had done when it had all ended.

He turned away from the window and looked around the beautiful kitchen. It was so good to be back in the cottage and he intended to fully re-acquaint himself with the place. He could still remember, all those years ago, the circumstances that had first brought it to the quirky, cosy cottage.

~*~*~ 7 Years Ago ~*~*~

They all sat around the long, slightly splintered, table in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, suffering through the weekly de-briefing. Harry and Hermione were wedged next to the twins, while McGonagall, Remus, Tonks and Bill sat opposite, all nursing lukewarm cups of tea that no one seemed to want as it was particularly warm outside. Ron and Severus were standing leaning against the cabinets, both with their arms crossed and faces guarded as they all listened to Dumbledore's unusually sharp tones.

"And so, as you can surmise, things have somewhat descended into chaos since Severus was unmasked as a traitor," said the Headmaster, standing at the head of the table, his long, bony hands braced on the chair in front of him.

In the last few months Harry rather thought that the man had dropped his kindly old elf routine and instead had taken to behaving much like an efficient war general. It was refreshing, Harry had decided, and he preferred the direct, competent approach the man seemed to be taking rather than the elusive, twinkling, scheming persona that had so often frustrated the hell out of him.

"Ever since Draco Malfoy took the Mark as well – "

"Malfoy's taken the Mark?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes I'm afraid so, we were alerted to it last night. Kingsley's team were staking out Malfoy Manor and reported the initiation back to us."

No one else seemed to notice the look that passed between Ron and Severus, but Harry did, and he also noticed the unusually pale shade his friend had gone. Severus quirked one black eyebrow and Ron gave a surreptitious nod, drawing his arms closer around himself. Harry frowned but turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"They also reported something that, while expected, is perturbing nevertheless." Dumbledore paused to re-arrange his small glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The Death Eaters are seeking retribution, vengeance for Severus' betrayal. You're not safe my boy," he said, and Harry's stomach lurched.

Severus snorted and said, "When have I ever been? This, as you say, isn't unexpected."

"No," Dumbledore agreed, "but it is avoidable."

"Headmaster?" Severus asked, his expression immediately suspicious.

"I believe it would be best if you were to…go to ground for a while. You're too vulnerable at the moment and too valuable to us to lose you. A couple of months until their bloodlust blows over should do it."

Harry had expected Severus to refuse point black, to stand there with his arms folded, his black eyes unyielding as he told the Headmaster in no uncertain terms that he would rather eat a Hippogriff than acquiesce to the suggestion. It was something of a surprise then when the man simply inclined his head slightly and said softly, "Very well Headmaster, if you think it best."

Everyone seemed to have been thinking the same as Harry, for they all looked askance at Severus' mild acceptance of the situation, all apart from Ron who simply stood where he was, smiling slightly into his chest.

Dumbledore recovered from his shock sufficiently more quickly than the rest of them and said, "Well that's…splendid dear boy, splendid. There is a…second part to that plan," he added, looking at Severus guardedly.

"Oh?" Severus asked, with such a reasonable expression that Harry wondered if perhaps the real Severus had in fact been killed when he'd been unmasked as a traitor, and that the man standing before him was a Death Eater disguised with Polyjuice.

"I would like Harry to go with you."

"What?" Harry said, snapping his head round so quickly to look at Dumbledore that he wasn't sure how he hadn't broken his neck. "Headmaster, what are you talking about?"

"It would be an excellent opportunity for you to continue your education with Severus."

"In Potions?" Harry asked with a slight squeak to his voice, earning himself a scathing laugh from Severus.

"I would hardly think so, Mr Potter," the man said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, not in Potions Harry, in Defence," said Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "But…but I hardly think it's a good idea for me to go with Professor Snape, I'm sure he wouldn't want me there, he wouldn't – "

"He can speak for himself Mr Potter," came the low voice and Harry turned back to look at the man.

"Well?" Harry asked. "You don't want me going with you, do you? I'm sure you couldn't think of anything worse."

"Oh? And when did you become so adept at Legilimency?"

Harry blushed slightly but stood his ground nevertheless. "So you do want me to come with you?" he asked sceptically.

Severus straightened himself up slightly and turned his attention away from Harry and back to Dumbledore. "If you wish Potter to come with me so he can continue to attempt to learn from me, then I have no objections."

Dumbledore was clearly as taken aback as everyone else in the room and for a moment all the man could do with blink owlishly as the former Potions Master. Harry was certain that Dumbledore had expected all-out war in response to his suggestion, as indeed Harry himself had. And yet there the man stood, tall and proud, stating with perfect equanimity that he didn't have a problem with it. What had happened to the world?

"Well that's…most decent of you Severus," Dumbledore said when he seemed to have recovered sufficiently enough from his shock.

Severus gave a curt nod and Ron seemed to be trying very hard to stop himself from laughing. Harry glared at him; he couldn't imagine what about this situation could be remotely amusing. He noted that although everyone seemed to have been concerned with whether or not Severus would agree to the proposition, nobody had given a second thought to how he felt about the matter.

While Dumbledore informed them that they would going to McGonagall's cottage in Northern Scotland, Harry sat and thought about how on earth he was going to manage living alone with the tall, glowering man. It was the stuff of his fantasies, but even he wasn't stupid enough to imagine that what transpired in his dreams could possibly translate into reality. It was true that in the year since Hogwarts had disbanded and he and Severus had worked together that some of the previous hostility had dissipated somewhat, but things were by no means easy.

Now they were expected to exist alone together in a remote Scottish cottage in the arse-end of nowhere, how was that supposed to work? It would be torture, pure and simple, Harry decided. While they were at Grimmauld Place or out on an Order mission, things were relatively safe; there were others to buffer them, others to talk to and take the pressure off, but for it to be just the two of them, day after day, surely Harry's secret would come to light.

"Well, I suggest that the two of you be allowed some time to pack and we can sort you out with a portkey," came Dumbledore's voice, breaking through his painful musings.

Everyone seemed to take that as their cue for dismissal, and the party broke up, everyone apparently having other things to attend to. Harry sat at the table, watching as Hermione and the twins left the room and Remus and Tonks apparated away. He stared down into his cold, half-drunk cup of tea and strained his ears slightly to hear Ron lean in and whisper to Severus,

"Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Of course, it's just a cottage Ron."

"You know what I mean."

"I know full well what you mean and I'd advise you to let the matter drop."

"You're a stubborn git," Ron hissed. "You can still change your mind."

"I have no intention of doing so, let that be an end to it."

Severus swept past him and Harry glanced up in time to see Ron rolling his eyes and glaring after the man, but it wasn't the kind of glare Ron used to wear in his dealings with the Slytherin. This one looked like the kind he wore when he was chastising Harry, the kind he wore when he was worried about someone he cared about. Harry wasn't quick enough to look away by the time Ron's gaze moved to him, so he simply settled for giving his friend a shrug and a wan smile.

Ron returned the smile then left the kitchen. Harry wondered if perhaps he was going off after Severus, but he decided that whatever was going on between the two men, it was unlikely that Ron was daft enough to push the man.

Harry found that he was suddenly alone in the kitchen and he blinked at the empty room feeling as though his world had slipped slightly askew. When he had woken up that morning it was a day like any other, there had been nothing out of the ordinary to alert him to the fact that by the afternoon things were going to go so spectacularly off course. He felt as though he had slipped into an alternate universe; how else could he explain the fact that everyone expected he and Severus to co-habit peacefully hundreds of miles away from the rest of the Order?

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands, trying not to imagine what the next few weeks would possibly have in store for him. He managed to push his ridiculous thoughts about the black-haired man to the back of his mind most days, but that was a lot easier to do when they sometimes went days without seeing each other and when he was living in a house that made The Burrow look devoid of life. How the hell was he going to cope when it was just the two of them in a remote cottage day after day?

"My life is a farce," he whispered into the silence, wishing that Voldemort would attack in the next few minutes and put him out of his misery.

---

A few hours later and he and Severus were standing side by side in front of the cottage. It was beautiful, there was no two ways about it, and the crashing sea in the distance put a smile on Harry's face that was hard to shift. Severus unlocked the door and let himself in, Harry following behind him, taking in his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer light inside.

He shrugged off his outer robe and hung it on the peg in the little porch they were standing in then moved further into the cottage to explore. The first door on the left led into a nice-sized living room with a cosy little fireplace, a couple of comfy-looking armchairs, a coffee table and several bookcases laden with books. The wide window housed a pretty little window-seat and let in a large amount of light, which was at the moment bathing the room in the low sunshine of the late September evening.

Opposite the living room was the kitchen, which was a large, farmhouse-style kitchen complete with a rustic wooden table and chairs, a deep-set sink, an Aga that Harry was sure had been magically enhanced and an array of cabinets and cupboards that looked as though they had been newly refurbished.

Towards the back of the house was a little library and behind the stairs Harry could see a little door that must have led down to a cellar. He ascended the stairs and found that there were three decent-sized bedrooms and, mercifully, two bathrooms. Deciding that Severus would knock him into the middle of next week if he took the main bedroom, Harry claimed the second largest room for himself, placing his shrunken baggage on the centre of the bed, intending to see to it later.

It was a cheerful, pleasant room with deep red curtains, a brass-framed bed and a sweet little fireplace with a squishy green armchair in front of it. It was far more homely than the room he had claimed for himself in Grimmauld Place, and he couldn't help but think, with no small touch of humour, that if he and Severus had to be sentenced to purgatory, it was a good thing it was a comfortable one.

Having fully acquainted himself with the property, he padded back down the stairs and found Severus in the kitchen, idly looking through the cupboards and taking stock of the larder and magically cooled storage room.

"I take it we don't need to put any additional wards up?" Harry said as he leant against the doorframe. He had been hoping to make the man jump but Severus didn't miss a beat, simply continued perusing the food, obviously aware of his presence.

"We can take a closer look at them tomorrow but Minerva is nothing if not cautious. The place is safe enough for now."

Harry nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "I suppose you'll want to start training right away?"

Severus closed the cupboard he had been looking in and turned his head to look at Harry, the faintest glint of amusement in his expression. "I wouldn't say that Mr Potter."

"Oh?" asked Harry, cautiously.

"Well, I don't know about you," Severus said, opening another cupboard and obviously finding what he had been looking for, "but I intend to take a couple of days holiday. I'd say I've earnt it." He produced a dusty bottle of brandy and held it slightly out in front of him, as if throwing down the gauntlet.

Harry could do little more than give an amused breath of laughter, unsure quite how to deal with this heretofore unknown version of the man. He took a seat at the rough-grained table and Severus produced two glasses and sat down next to Harry. He hovered the bottle of brandy over the glass nearest to Harry and quirked an eyebrow in his direction. Harry nodded and the man poured a generous helping of the darkest-looking brandy Harry had ever seen, then gave his own glass the same treatment.

He re-corked the bottle and held his glass up; Harry took the hint and clinked his own glass against it, knowing that he was staring at Severus, but unable to stop. He sipped the brandy, still looking at Severus over the rim of his glass while he rolled his tongue around the taste.

"That's…unusual," he said, running his tongue over his lips, aware that Severus was watching as he did so.

"I believe it's a McGonagall family recipe."

"Why am I not surprised that that woman makes her own brandy?" said Harry with a snort. He swirled the liquid around in his glass then set it down on the table. "Were you serious about a holiday?" he asked and saw the amused glint in Severus' eye once again.

"I was," the man said softly. "I've spent the last 20 years of my life in servitude and espionage and although it hasn't come to the end I would have preferred, it is ended and I want to take a moment to appreciate it."

There was a softness in Severus' face that Harry hadn't seen before and he realised that the man looked freer than he ever had done. An enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time in many years the man was his own master. It had to be a heady feeling and Harry could forgive the man a little uncharacteristic cheerfulness in the circumstances.

"I'll drink to that," Harry said with a small smile, one that was surprisingly returned. It was the first time Severus had smiled at him without any malice or sarcasm behind it, and Harry's breath caught in his throat slightly. He busied himself with taking a somewhat large gulp of his brandy, still feeling the man's eyes on him, causing a hot blush to spread across his cheeks.

He dipped his head slightly and mentally cursed himself for being so insipid. Severus would never blush, he was sure of that, come to think of it he was sure most mature adults who had had a modicum of sexual experience didn't blush. He had to get a grip of himself; he couldn't spend the next couple of months turning into a beetroot at every interaction they had.

He looked up when he felt the heat across his face had subsided sufficiently and said, "What does your idea of a holiday involve?"

Severus considered the question for a moment then said, "I have no idea."

Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing and Severus looked at him as though he were a little tapped in the head. "Neither do I," Harry said through his laughter. "What a pathetic pair."

Severus inclined his head in sight agreement and set his glass down on the table, his long fingers wrapping around it as he moved it in small circles around the table.

"It's beautiful round here," Harry said, still smiling, "and the weather is good for late September. That's good enough of a start for me."

"Yes," said Severus, raising his glass to his lips once again. "Yes I'd be inclined to agree."

---

Despite his best intentions, Harry awoke late the next day. He stretched lazily in his bed and the frame creaked beneath him. It annoyed the hell out of him when he had been trying to sleep, prone as he was to shifting positions several times before he fell asleep. He had to admit though, it was a very comfortable bed and he had had one of the best night's sleep he'd in a while. He wondered how Severus had faired.

Great, he thought, been awake for five seconds and already thinking about him.

He threw the bedcovers aside and got up, moving over to the window and pulling the curtains open slightly. It was another beautiful day and Harry could see the sea in the distance, glistening in the sunshine. He smiled and thought, not for the first time, that his life was sometimes very strange.

He used the bathroom and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, noting that Severus didn't seem to be anywhere upstairs. He trotted down the stairs and paused at the bottom step, hearing faint clinking sounds close by. It took him a moment to realise that the noises were coming from the cellar and he moved over to the door behind the stairs, pausing on the threshold and listening.

"Professor?" he called. "Are you down here?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" came the response, and Harry had to wonder, yet again, at the lack of acidity in the man's voice.

He walked carefully down the cold stone steps, taking care not to trip on their narrowness. The cellar was a large, dark space, lit by sconces on the wall. Severus was standing at a long workbench, setting up what even Harry could identify as potions equipment.

"I thought you were meant to be having a holiday?" he said in amusement.

"It seems," Severus replied, retrieving a couple of different-sized cauldrons from a box in the corner, "that I cannot easily accustom myself to inactivity."

"Did you just call me lazy?" Harry asked with a grin.

"I've called you worse."

"True, very true," Harry conceded. "Will you be brewing today?"

"There are several things that I need to get started on, the bases alone for some potions I have to make will take days simply to simmer."

"Blood replenishing draught?" Harry asked, nearly laughing out loud when Severus turned to face him with a look of unmasked surprise. "I did listen occasionally," he said with a smile.

Severus shook his head in mild disbelief and returned his attention to setting up his work space.

"Wonders will never cease," he said softly. "I have several potions that need attention; just because I've been banished to this place doesn't mean my skills aren't needed."

"As if that was ever in doubt," Harry replied, trying to smirk as he did so lest the man read the note of sincerity in his voice. "Well…do you fancy breakfast?"

Severus cast a pointed look at the clock on the wall, which informed Harry that it was half 11. "Ah," he said, embarrassed that he had slept so long. "Brunch then?"

"Brunch?" Severus said with a snort. "I am not a middle-aged woman with a rich husband and nothing to occupy my time."

Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, and he was sure the faintest of smiles was tugging at the corner of the other man's mouth, despite the fact that he kept his head bent over the workbench.

"Well, I'm going to go and make something, come up if you're hungry."

Harry happily ensconced himself in the kitchen, knowing that he was in comfortable territory. The larder was well stocked and the magical Aga was easily worked out quickly enough. Soon he had bacon, sausages, eggs and hash browns cooking merrily away and a couple of large, juicy tomatoes slowly grilling. He had made enough to feed a small army, but he was hungry and he would feel very gratified if he could get Severus to eat a little more while they were in the cottage. The man was too thin and although he was adept at keeping himself alive, he was not so skilled at looking after himself.

The smell must have tempted him up from the cellar, despite his assertion that he didn't do brunch, and Harry was just dishing up when the man strode into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, saying, "A man's got to eat."

"Eating is something you need to do more of," Harry said as he put one of the full plates in front of him, settling down opposite with his own.

"If you intend to behave like a clucking hen for the entirety of our time here then I'm warning you now, I shall have no compunction in hexing you."

Harry gave a soft laugh as he spread a liberal amount of butter on his toast. "Duly noted, sir," he said, watching as Severus took a tentative bite. There was silence for a moment before the man looked up and pronounced,

"Passable."

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Damned by faint praise."

"Faint is better than none."

They ate in a silence that should have been awkward but that Harry found strangely companionable. Severus wasn't exactly garrulous and Harry had long since learnt that he had little talent for small talk, not that the man would welcome it if he did. He had no desire to sit and try and make uncomfortable conversation; he would speak when he had something to say, and he hoped his housemate would do the same.

When they had both finished and Harry noted smugly that Severus' plate was as empty as his own, the man got to his feet and collected both plates, taking them over to the sink.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said, surprised at the action.

Severus shrugged and said, "You cooked."

Harry couldn't stop the surprised snort that escaped from his nose and Severus turned to look at him with his patented raised eyebrow. "Why Professor," Harry said, trying not to giggle, "I never had you down for reasonable."

"If you don't mind your manners, I shall show you just how unreasonable I can be."

"You were my teacher for six and a half years sir, I'm well aware of how unreasonable you can be," Harry said, earning himself a withering look before Severus turned back to attend to the dishes.

Harry smiled to himself and turned to look out of the window, an idea suddenly striking him. "Fancy a walk?" he said impetuously.

Severus turned to look at him once more and appeared to consider the offer for a moment. Harry braced himself for the refusal, surprised then when instead the man replied, "It would be a shame to waste such temperate weather."

The weather was in fact a good deal more than temperate and as they strolled along the cliff edge Harry rejoiced in the feel of the unusually warm sun bathing his skin. It seemed that Autumn had yet to take hold over Britain, and Harry decided to enjoy the reprieve while it lasted.

The previous evening he had taken a look at the framed map that hung in the hallway. It seemed that the McGonagall clan owned 20 acres of the land surrounding the cottage, including a small piece of the cove that lay below the cliff. When he was sure that the wards were strong enough, he intended to do a little exploring. For now though, he was content to walk alongside the quiet man next to him, who moved with the usual elegance Harry had come to expect, his hands clasped behind his back, his face turned out towards the sea.

"I was wondering," Harry said, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible so as not to break the overall feeling of peace, "would you mind…could I perhaps help you with your potions?"

The look Severus gave him was enough to induce a grin to spread across his face. He tried to control it and said, "Don't look at me like that. It was a serious question."

"Why on earth would you want to?" Severus asked, seeming genuinely confused by the request.

Harry sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hogwarts disbanded before I could finish my education. I know you have other things to teach me, more important things I daresay, but I'd like to be able to feel that I have something to show for my time at Hogwarts."

Severus stopped walking and turned to face Harry fully, a strange look of scrutiny settling in his features as he did so. "That is…one of the most grown up things I think I've ever heard you say."

Harry couldn't hold his laughter. "I don't know whether you've just complimented or insulted me."

"Neither," Severus replied. "It was merely an observation."

"I know you think I've always been an empty-headed moron – "

"I've never used those exact words," Severus interrupted.

"Only because your vocabulary's better than mine," Harry countered. "But I'm not a child anymore," he said softly, "I'll be 20 next year and I want to feel that I've accomplished something…something beyond being The Boy Who Lived. It's a small thing, continuing my education in just one of the subjects I once took, but it's something I can ask for, and so I am."

There was that strange scrutinising look again. It was odd to feel such a look of consideration aimed at him, and Harry wondered what exactly it was the man was looking for, and if he was, in any way, measuring up.

"You're right," the man said eventually, and Harry blinked in surprise at hearing those two words spoken together. "You're not a child anymore," Severus clarified. He paused and seemed to be trying to retain a sense of composure as he took a few deep breaths. "Very well then, if that's what you want then I shall oblige."

"Thank you sir," Harry said with a smile, hoping that Severus could see his sincerity.

"So much for a holiday," said Severus with a wry quirk of his eyebrow, then turned and resumed his mild-paced walking.

---

"I don't understand why that's important," said Harry as he peered over Severus' shoulder.

"Because of the transitional properties of the base," Severus replied, his voice soft as he reached for the chopping board and added the carefully diced arrow root. "If the arrow root was shredded rather than diced then its absorption properties would be different and we'd end up with – "

"A thicker solution," Harry finished, pleased he'd understood.

"Exactly. And why would that be bad?"

Harry chewed his lip for a moment, racking his brains before answering, "Because the thicker the solution in this instance the less potent it will be."

"Spot on. Now, how many times counter-clockwise should it be stirred?"

They had been working in much the same way for the whole day. The first time Harry had asked a question he had expected it to be met with sarcasm or disdain, but instead Severus had simply stopped what he had been doing and had turned to address the question levelly and without even the slightest implication that Harry was an imbecile.

He was still somewhat brusque, and Harry imagined that an obvious question would be met with the sneer it might have deserved, but he was endeavouring very hard not to ask such questions. He found himself truly interested in what they were doing, and Severus' patient and level responses made Harry feel as though he had stepped into a strange new world.

Perhaps, he thought, his assertion the previous evening that he was no longer a child had something to do with it. Perhaps it had opened Severus' eyes to the fact that they were heading more towards being equals and his behaviour should shift accordingly. He knew better than to keep his hopes up though, and was waiting for the other shoe to drop, no doubt when he eventually proved to the man just how ignorant and immature he really was.

Even so, despite his fear that the peaceful amity was tentative at best, he still found himself enjoying the time he was spending with Severus. The man's intelligence had always impressed him, and watching him work was truly a privilege that few could boast. He also couldn't help but revel in how close he had been able to be physically to Severus, and there had been a couple of times when he had stood closer to him that was strictly necessary, under the guise of peering into a simmering cauldron, while drinking in the pleasure he derived from being near to him.

It was foolish, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been fighting it for the last few months, and that had been easier to do when he could often go weeks without seeing the man, but now he had him all to himself, was able to study his face and watch his movements whenever he wanted, he found himself unable to deny his feelings. Not that he could have put have a name to those feelings if he'd have tried of course. Lust? Desire? Longing? Perhaps it was safer if they remained unnamed for the time being, if he simply allowed them to swirl around in his stomach and along the edge of his consciousness.

"Any why," Severus' voice broke through his reverie, "would you add groundsel?"

"For its purgative effect. If you're counteracting a spell that can release bile then it would be important to make the victim vomit as soon as possible."

"Quite so. How should it be added to the mixture?"

"After the leaves have been boiled in water and vinegar for at least 12 hours beforehand," Harry replied, surprised at how easily the answer came to him. "Don't look at me like that," he added in response to the raised eyebrows that were directed at him, "I'm not a complete idiot."

"My apologies," came the amused response as Severus turned to lower the light underneath the bubbling cauldron. "Your tenure at Hogwarts led me to believe otherwise."

Harry was about to respond when he realised that there was no malice behind the words, only a gentle teasing that had never been present in his dealings with the man before. He grinned and said, "Yeah well, yours had led me to believe that you hated teaching. Imagine my surprise."

Severus didn't look at him, but he was sure he could see the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, and that made Harry smile more than any response could have done.

"I'd better go and get started on dinner," he said, hopping off the tall stool he had been sitting on while he watched Severus. "Any preference?"

"Nothing too heavy," Severus replied, keeping his attention on the mixture as he stirred it carefully. "I intend to start your training after we've eaten."

"Decided the holiday's over have you?" Harry asked cheekily and Severus tilted his head slightly to look at him.

"You'd best prepare yourself Mr Potter," he said silkily, "the holiday is most certainly over for you."

---

Harry barely had time to blink before the curse came his way. He managed to get out a clearly-spoken Protego and the curse bounced and dissipated into the air with a slight fizz. He hadn't expected that his training would begin with shield charms, but he could see how it made sense. Severus had told him that he wanted to examine his form before they delved into anything other than a basic shield charm and so there they were outside the cottage in the last sun of the mild September evening.

Another curse came his way and he deflected it again, but this time noticed the resistance against the barrier he had created and felt himself pushed back a little as the spell returned to Severus, who obliterated it deftly and immediately sent another flinging towards him. Again he cast Protego but he felt the spell slice through the barrier without a second's pause and hit him squarely in the chest.

He was thrown backwards across the lawn and landed with a harsh thud, knocking the air out of himself. He blinked up at the darkening sky and tried to force himself to take deep breaths in, succeeding only in making himself cough. He leant over onto his side and a figure loomed over him before a hand was extended. He coughed again and wrapped his fingers around it, letting himself be hauled to his feet. He swayed slightly as he found himself upright once more, and Severus' free hand came to rest on his shoulder, steadying him.

"You see now how a simple shield charm is largely insufficient?"

"I do, despite the fact that you said we'd be sticking to basics," Harry said as he felt himself recover his senses.

"I like to keep you on your toes."

"Evidently you prefer knocking me off them," Harry replied wryly, realising that he was still holding on to Severus' hand. He let it go with a tinge of embarrassment and the comforting arm on his shoulder disappeared.

"A basic shielding charm will, at best, slow the curse down, but it won't stop you from being hit by it."

"So I'm going to be learning more effective ones?"

"Precisely."

Harry nodded, rubbing at his lower back, feeling that he was in for a hell of a bruise in the morning. "So, how was my form them? That was the purpose of this wasn't it? Or do you just enjoy seeing me knocked on my arse?"

Severus snorted and replied, "Both, obviously." He moved away slightly as if to appraise Harry further, and tilted his head a little to one side. Harry couldn't help but think that it was an alarmingly endearing gesture. "Your posture is surprisingly good for someone who's spent their entire life slouching and your stance is strong. Those two things will stand you in good stead I should think."

Harry looked at him for a moment or two before allowing himself to smile. "Did you just tell me I did something right?" he asked, and Severus rolled his eyes in response.

"I told you that you could stand on your own two feet. If you wish to interpret that as a compliment then who am I to stop you?" the man replied and Harry was sure he saw a flicker of amusement in those dark eyes. "You'll need more than that to master these shields."

"Exactly how many shields are we talking about here?" Harry asked, noting again the use of the plural.

Severus gave a thoughtful shrug of one of his shoulders and said, "That continues to be a point of debate amongst many leading figures on the subject."

"Oh?" Harry asked, his interest piqued.

"Some argue you need a specific shield for each curse."

"But you don't subscribe to that theory?" Harry asked, noting the slightest hint of a sneer.

"No I don't. I think in the heat of battle it's hard enough to determine what curse has been sent your way, let alone trying to organise your mind sufficiently to throw up the correct shield. I would argue that five would suffice."

"Five? Well that sounds do-able."

A black eyebrow quirked at him. "You think so? Well, we shall see how optimistic you are after a few more of these sessions."

"Hoping to break me sir?" Harry couldn't help but grin at the older man, earning himself a deeply unimpressed look in response.

"You are not a young Hippogriff, I shouldn't think it was possible to 'break' you."

"A fair few have tried," Harry said, his grin fading. "Damn well would have done if it weren't for you," he added quietly.

"Potter – "

Harry waved his hand, embarrassed suddenly at the foolish notion of getting sentimental in front of Severus. "I know, I know," he said, his voice sounding hoarse, "you were just doing your duty. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it."

There was silence for a moment and Harry turned his head towards the cliff. He couldn't see the sea from this angle, but he could hear it and when the wind carried towards him he could smell the salt in the air and, he fancied, taste it on his lips.

"It wasn't always duty," came Severus' voice to his left, quiet and soft. He turned to look at him and the man was also looking out to the horizon, his head held high, his profile shadowed slightly by the dim light of the setting evening sun.

"No?" Harry asked, his voice equally as quiet.

Severus shook his head and Harry turned back to face outward. His heart was thumping and he wasn't sure why; he could hear his pulse beating in his ears, louder than the waves in the distance, and he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "Oh," was all he could manage, which, he decided, was probably for the best.

---

AN: Well, that's it for now, please review and let me know what you thought of it. In the meantime, please take a look at my other fics and see if any grab your fancy :) Cithara xx