Harry sighed as he let the bag slip from his shoulder, thudding onto the table as he quickly scanned through his mail. He threw most of them down as focused on one. One addressed to Harry Potter.
There were only so many people who addressed him as that anymore even though he had asked them to call him mark. He'd had a time and a half convincing Malcolm that they were obviously meant for the tenant who had lived in the flat before him. Speaking of Malcolm, Harry stuffed the letter into his pocket as keys turned in the lock and his live in lover entered.
"Hey!" he called, seeing Harry at the table. He tossed his keys into the bowl on the stand next to the door and slipped his coat off, draping it over the back of a chair as he came up behind Harry and wrapped his arms around the young man's waist. "I saw you heading in, but you were too far away to hear me."
Harry smiled and tipped his head to the side as a kiss was pressed to his neck. "Beat you again." He grinned.
Malcolm let out an amused growl and bumped against his shoulder as he moved away. "How about we get a pizza tonight, I can't be arsed to cook." He disappeared into the living room and Harry could hear him pick up the phone.
"Sure." He agreed, mindless of the fact that Malcolm was already ordering. Harry thrust his hand into his pocket and felt at the edge of the thick parchment. What could they want? The order hadn't written to him for ages, he wasn't anymore use to them. That was why he had left, started fresh in the muggle world.
"Half an hour." Malcolm announced as he came through, thumbing off the phone. "I'm gonna have a quick shower." He placed a quick kiss on Harry's lips, "Wanna join me?"
"No." Harry said quietly, aware of the hole the letter was burning in his pocket. "I have a few forms to fill in, I'll get them done while you're in there."
"Suit yourself." Malcolm gave him a baleful look and swaggered off. Harry toed off his shoes and left them in the middle of the kitchen as he moved into the lounge and sat down on the chair near the window, staring out on the rapidly darkening city. He loved London, if only for the busy rush it could give him, the way it could take his mind off things. It was where he had met Malcolm, in the Equinox nightclub in Leicester Square on that miserable night when he had left the wizarding world for good. He still had contact with his friends who wrote to him occasionally, telling him of how the world was now that they had rid it of the dark lord. But he was better here, no one knew him. They didn't stare at him, bug him for his autograph, and stalk him. No...here was good.
But it didn't stop him missing it, didn't stop it hurting at night when he thought of all he had given up, all the people he had left behind. He missed Ron and Hermione like crazy, he missed Remus, he missed Albus and Mad Eye, he missed Tonks and Fred and George, he missed Severus. Harry felt the little tug at his heart as he thought of him. He'd never actually had the courage to work up the nerve to call him by his given name, and he had always remained 'Potter' to him. Theirs was an odd relationship, born of hate and annoyance; everyone was quite frankly amazed when they stopped calling each other vitriolic names. But they had never actually been friends, and Harry had decided that it was better that way. Because that way Snape would never find out how he really felt about him.
It was better this way
He heard the shower turn on and figured he had at least five minutes free in which to read his letter. He pulled it from his pocket and smoothed it out, flipping it over and running his finger beneath the seal, which cracked open. He slid the heavy cream paper from its envelope and unfolded it.
'My Dearest Harry,
Please forgive me from intruding on your self-imposed exile, although I have news of which you may find interest. The ministry have released much information and material that was garnered during the first war and among the items were the remnants of the personal effects found in the ruins of Godrics Hollow.
Do not feel that you must return, I am merely informing you. If you do wish to come and collect some of the items, we are holding them at the address overleaf, which coincidentally is the new headquarters. I'm sure that many people would be very happy to see you again but they will understand if you choose not to come.
There will be no need to call forward as there is usually someone at the house at all times. I hope to see you soon.
Albus'
Harry turned the sheet over and sure enough there was a neatly printed address written on the back. He sighed and swallowed around the lump that had gathered in his throat. His parents things? Why was the ministry releasing them after all this time? Did he really want to go dragging up the past, but just the thought of leaving them felt like he was betraying them.
The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped and Harry hastily shoved the letter back into his pocket, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. He walked across to the table and tugged a folder out of his bag; setting himself down on the sofa just as the door opened and Malcolm strolled out towelling his hair. Harry beamed at him in what he hoped was a genuine way as his lover threw himself down beside him.
"Do you know how sexy you look when you work." He purred in Harry's ear. Harry huffed a little.
"Well I don't work in front of a mirror so I wouldn't know." He replied. He felt himself tighten a little as the folder was pulled from his hands and dropped onto the floor.
"Well, you are. You should have taken a shower with me."
"I'm not really in the mood Malcolm." Harry muttered as a hand found its way under his shirt, fingers skating over his skin.
"You're never in the mood. I'm just glad I know how to perk you up." He grinned, fingers clamping down on a nipple and making harry gasp.
"The pizza will be here soon." Harry breathed.
"We have time." And Harry couldn't respond. Malcolm had sealed his mouth with his own, his heavier body pressing him down into the couch and harry found himself letting him, flickering images of long hair drifting over his skin, skilled fingers working at the buttons on his shirt. Harry pressed his eyes shut and damned the sender of the letter. He hadn't thought of him for months.
The next morning found Harry standing on the pavement outside a completely normal looking house, checking the wet paper that was slowly crumbling in his hand. He was in the right place but he could see no sign of anything out of the ordinary going on. But then, knowing Dumbledore he had probably cast some pretty elaborate charms over it.
Harry swept his sodden fringe out of his face and stepped up the neat path that led to the door. He raised his hand and knocked twice. He waited for a little while, glancing up at the sky in the hope of interpreting when the rain would abate. He looked around as the door clicked open and a young woman answered.
"Can I help you?"
"Err..." Harry stared at her. "I'm here to see Albus."
"Can I see the letter?" it wasn't a polite question. Harry frowned but fished around in his pocket all the same, producing a crumpled sheet of paper with smudged ink on it. He handed it over to the woman who humphed and looked at it in distaste.
"And how do I know you're Harry Potter." She accused him. Harry looked at her in perplexity, he shook his head and shrugged in utter bewilderment. He raised his hand and swept the hair from his forehead, revealing his still vivid scar.
The woman tisked. "Anyone can do one of those. How do I know you're really him."
"I don't know, maybe there's someone there who knows..."
"We all know you, but how do we know it's you."
Harry was starting to get a headache, which didn't get any better when a familiar voice came from within the house.
"For god's sake you stupid woman, just let him in!"
The woman was jerked aside and harry found himself face to face with the very last person he wanted to see at that moment. Severus Snape stood on the doorstep and fixed Harry with a most peculiar look.
"Well, are you coming in or not."
Harry was still reeling in the turmoil of emotions seeing the man again had caused. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus on what his feet were doing as he stepped past the door and into the hallway. He shook himself a little; dispelling much of the water that had seeped into his coat. The woman who answered the door gave him a disapproving look and stomped off up the stairs.
Harry looked around, a little blurred as he removed his glasses to wipe them dry. The house bore an eerie resemblance to privet drive except that it wasn't kept as anally tidy as his aunt Petunia had wanted. He pushed the glasses back onto his nose to look at it in greater detail. Now he could see the distinct sign of wizard ownership. There was a notice board littered with notes and photographs which all moved in tandem with each other, many of the more urgent notes had begun to flash in rapid succession.
"I'm sorry about her. She's new to the order and has a tendency to take her duties very seriously."
Harry turned back to where Snape had shut the door behind him, his hand still on the latch. He gave the man a tight smile.
"I assume you are here due to the letter that Albus sent you?"
Harry nodded. Snape made a sudden movement and walked past Harry, obviously expecting the man to follow him.
"The ministry had people deliver your parent's belongings a couple of days ago. They're being held in the library." Snape commented as he led Harry through the magically enlarged house.
Harry himself was in rather a bit of trouble just trying to control his breathing, let alone think of anything with which to reply. He swallowed thickly as they walked down a darkened corridor, Snape's customary black melting into the shadows. What was he thinking, getting all bothered about this man. He was involved with someone, he was happy...wasn't he? What was it about Snape that brought him to this every time he saw him, that reduced his heart to a hammer in his chest, that caused his face to flush with every look the man bestowed on him.
They entered a smaller room that was filled floor to ceiling with books of every shape and form.
"Cat got your tongue?" harry snapped his head around from it's perusal of the shelves and looked at his former teacher. He shook his head and winced inwardly. "No." he rectified, garnering a slightly amused look from Snape. His face turned more serious as he slid a box forward on the table. It was perhaps the size of a shoebox. Harry stepped forward and looked down at it, not quite daring enough to open it.
"Would you like something to drink?"
Harry was surprised by the soft question and nodded in response. He let his fingers drift across the crisp cardboard surface as soft movement filled the air. A small glass tumbler was set next to his hand, the amber liquid reflecting in the low firelight. The bottle was put down beside it. He nodded his thanks, his eyes fixed on the plain container. He breathed in hard, fighting down the shaking that was permeating his hands. It was just a box, filled with old things that he had no memory of. But they had belonged to his long dead parent's, they had held them in their hands, had chosen to have them in their house. He sighed as he balled his fists, leaning on them as he braced himself against the table.
"You don't have to do this now, Mr. Potter."
Harry flinched a little as he heard the name.
"Mr. Baddock." He corrected. "Mark Baddock." He could feel the wieght of Snape's stare on his rounded shoulders.
"All the same, you may take them home if you wish."
And risk Malcolm finding them. Harry had no idea what was in the box and he really didn't need the hassle of explaining to his lover why there was a moving picture in their apartment.
"No." he replied softly.
He reached out and removed the lid of the box, immediately choking back a sob as he caught sight of the first item. A silver framed photo of his parents on their wedding day. He traced a finger down the cold glass, the figures beneath moving as it ran its path. He bit his lip and picked it up, placing it on the desk so that he could look at the rest of the box's contents, all the time aware of the shadow looming in the corner. Snape's dark stare and encompassing presence doing wonders to calm Harry. He didn't know if he could cope if he were alone in the room with no reason to control himself.
"I can leave."
"No." Harry replied quickly. "Please don't."
He shifted the items in the box, lovingly caressing the charred surface of a music box that chimed a few notes as he set it down beside the photo. The rest was mainly little things, bits and pieces that had survived the ensuing fire and destruction after Harry himself had been taken. The key to the front door, a small ornament of a cat that no longer moved on its own a badly burnt silver tipped quill that one of his parents had no doubt used to write a letter. Just small things. And there at the bottom of the box was a dark blue velvet pouch, the only thing that looked new. Harry carefully extracted it and held it in his palm, feeling the barely there weight. He hesitantly tugged on the strings until they undid, shaking the contents out into his waiting hand.
Two rings. One slightly larger than the other, both twisted from the force of the killing curse that had ripped through his parent's bodies. In his hand lay their devotion, their love, their utter desperation to do good over evil. He clenched them in his fist, feeling the cold metal dig into his skin. He picked up the glass and down it's contents in one mouthful, fighting back the stinging tears.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder as the first wave of tears fell unchecked from his eyes. He choked back a sob and relished the warmth and support that Snape's touch granted. It seemed strange to Harry, for Snape to comfort him over something he would have usually, in the past, taken distinct pleasure in reminding Harry of.
Time really does change all things.
"You should sit down." He was led to a chair beside the low burning fire and he was subjected to the warm tingle of a drying spell wringing the last of the rain from his clothing. Harry wanted to tell Snape that he shouldn't have done it, that he had been living without magic for the past couple of years, but he couldn't find the words.
The glass was pressed back into his hand, re-filled. He threw it back and blinked hard for a few seconds as the liquid burned in his throat. "Thank you." He said for want of broken silence, Snape seemed to notice Harry's need for distraction.
"How are things treating you." He asked softly, settling into a chair opposite Harry.
"Can't complain." Harry replied, eyes staring unseeing into the fire.
"What do you do?" polite questions.
"I work for a post production film company. I courier film cans around for various studios."
"Sounds nice." No it didn't.
"It is." It wasn't.
"What about life? Anyone special?" don't say it.
"Yes." No.
"Good." Fuck, "I hope they treat you well." I hate them already.
"He does." He beats the shit out of me.
"You deserve it." He doesn't deserve you.
"..." That's what he says.
"What about you Professor? Anyone in your life?" Please no.
"No." But I wish there were.
Harry sighed in melancholy. He knew he shouldn't have come back. Coming back meant that he would see all the things he missed, would smell the magic in the air, could feel the thrill of it rushing against his skin. Coming back would mean that he would see him again, drag up all the feelings he had tried to bury, to forget and deny in the face of certain rebuttal. Coming back meant that that the hurt and tears he fought were a cruel betrayal to his parents as their cause was more to do with the man sharing his solitude. Coming back meant that he would have to go, after his brief jaunt into agonising temptation would inevitably lead him to weeks of feeling soulless as he tried again to bury the resurfaced emotions.
He couldn't stay here.
"I should go." Please make me stay.
"Of course." Stay.
Harry reverently packed the memories into their case, keeping the rings in his pocket, designing to put them on a chain when he got home. He would tell Malcolm that he had been searching through his things and found them, surely he wouldn't refuse him such a pleasure.
"Is it okay if I leave these here. I'm not sure how Malcolm will take it if I turn up with them." He spoke to the box.
'Malcolm' Snape thought. "I'll make sure they are kept safe." He promised, seeing the relief settle a little on Harry's over stressed face. "I'll show you out."
Harry nodded his thanks and left the room behind Snape, his gaze resting on the innocuous box one last time.
"I know him." Harry declared when they had reached the door, looking at the notice board, fingers still zipping up his jacket. Snape stopped what he was doing, head swinging round to see what Harry was looking at. The young man was peering quite closely at the top photograph on their 'most wanted' list.
"Who is he?" Harry pointed, all discomfort and awkwardness forgotten. "I think I've seen him before."
Snape stepped away from the door. "Tiberius Haulk. He's wanted for the murder of fifteen muggles, four wizards and the grievous bodily harm of twenty seven muggles and one wizard." It was amazing how Snape could reel off casualties like he was reading a shopping list.
"Of course." Harry breathed, studying the picture in detail. "Channel four are doing a documentary on killers who have managed to evade capture, they've done a lot of research into this guy."
"Anything recent?" Harry could tell he had Snape's interest.
"Umm..." Harry frowned as he tried to remember. "Yeah. I had to carry some sealed files over to the head office a couple of weeks ago. Anything sealed means that it can't be viewed by the public until it's been cleared through data protection, anything with sensitive material. I'm pretty sure it was about him, I had to take it to the same office as last time."
"Could you tell me where the office is?" Harry could feel the push of magical suggestion at the edge of his mind. He looked at Snape, an almost eager look on his face.
"I can't. I've signed disclosure forms, if I tell you I'll lose my job."
"We need fresh information, we've been close to finding him before but he always... slips away."
"I'm sorry Sir, I can't." Snape sighed.
"He killed nineteen people, Potter!" Harry flinched away from the raised voice. "If you have any information regarding his location I need you to tell me, before he kills again!" Harry frowned at the mans vehemence. Snape seemed to realise his position and pulled back giving the door a nasty look as he did so. Harry stared at him, or more precisely his neck. He had only just seen it, in the split second in which his hair had swung as he turned his head.
Dredging up pure nerve he reached out and brushed the dark sheet back, startling the older man who gave him a death glare that Harry ignored. He gasped, it started just below his ear, running in a thick sinuous line down his neck. Harry's fingers followed its path, tugging a little on the black shirt to see where it slid over collarbone and further down to where the shadow claimed it.
"It was you." He whispered, eye's transfixed on the scar. "It was you he used as a shield." Harry's eyes locked on Snape's who was regarding him with a closed expression. "He shot you five times." Harry breathed with disbelief. He remembered the pictures. Those grainy black and white images that had appeared in the paper, of the station platform, bodies littered as those around them tried to save them and in the middle, the large man, a knife pressed to the throat of a man he held in front of him. Of course Harry hadn't recognised his former teacher, his black hair had obscured his face, his head tipped in effort to get away from the blade cutting into his neck. He felt sick. "Oh God."
"It was supposed to be a ministry arrest." Snape spoke quietly, eyes closing briefly as Harry let his fingers drift over the healed skin. "The order was informed of his whereabouts and were dispatched to take him in. but somebody had tipped off the muggles. They arrived not long after we did and, as you know, some of them have a habit of acting first and thinking later. I'm sure you read about the results."
"I did." Harry pulled his hand away, eyes flicking over to the photo that moved on the wall. How could one man be so desperate to get away that he had to resort to slaughter? Not even Pettigrew had caused that much damage.
"Then you can understand why we need more information." Snape spoke softly, his voice doing everything it could to break Harry's resolve.
"I'll look into it. But I can't promise anything."
He looked Snape in the eye, seeing the slight relief. "Thank you."
"I really should go now." He moved past his teacher and opened the door before either of them could say anymore and strode down the path ignorant of the rain that had grown heavier since he had been inside. If he had looked back he would have seen the other man watching his every step as he walked away, his fingers against his neck running the same path that Harry's had taken.
"Where were you today?"
Harry jumped, dropping his keys. He snapped his head up and saw Malcolm leaning against the doorframe. Harry picked the keys up, stuffing them into his pocket. "I was at work." He replied evenly.
"I phoned the office, Maggie said you weren't in." Harry thought quickly.
"I was late, you know what the tubes are like, they had to shut down the central line and Clapham junction has got all these signal problems. It's been a nightmare."
Malcolm didn't look convinced. "I tried to phone your mobile."
Harry frowned and dragged his phone out from the front pouch of his can bag. "It's dead. I forgot to charge it."
"Don't lie to me." Malcolm pushed himself away from the wall and advanced on Harry. "You've been seeing someone haven't you?"
Harry sighed and shook his head. Malcolm was the most loving bloke, really caring and kind, especially when he had first met him, but then he changed, had turned into this paranoid creature. Every time, every time Harry was late, or when Malcolm couldn't get hold of him the man's mind immediately jumped to Harry having an affair. It was quiet frankly tiring, especially when Harry knew that all it was late trains, dead cell phones or having to do overtime. As such, he wasn't surprised when he felt a fist connect with his cheek, his head snapping to the side. He winced and groaned painfully. A fist wound itself into his wet jacket and harry found himself up against the wall, head slamming back painfully.
"I haven't been seeing anyone Malcolm." He ground out, choking a little against the fist pressed to his throat.
"Why do you always fucking lie to me Mark!" Malcolm pushed more of his weight onto Harry's thin body.
"I'm not lying!" he shouted desperately.
"Then where were you?"
"I told you. The trains were late, check on the news if you don't believe me." Harry knew he would never check. The tight hold released him and he was shoved further into the room, stumbling and hitting his arm against the cabinet. Malcolm just stared at him, Harry recognised the look, he was calming down a little, meaning that any violence was over now.
Malcolm snorted, "Should have known. Who would want you...pathetic little runt."
He said it every time, but the words never stopped hurting. He sank into a chair as Malcolm left the room, leaving the tears that washed his face to go unchecked. The cycle of abuse much worse this time after his visit to the new order house this morning, after seeing all the things he was missing, the life he had given up, what he could easily go back to. But he stayed here, because he knew that somewhere deep down, Malcolm loved him for who he was, and that Harry loved him for that.
He could practically time the minutes until a mug of tea was set down in front of him and that same hand that had struck him settled on his shoulder, squeezing slightly in an attempt to show Harry that Malcolm was sorry and he 'didn't mean it.' He mentally ticked of the kiss to the side of his neck, the whispered apology in his ear, the promise that he would make it up to him and his assurance that it wouldn't happen again.
That night when Harry was lying beneath him, eyes pressed closed to shut out the numbing reality, he though of Severus, and for the first time he could remember he smiled.
"Hello."
"Professor Snape?"
"Yes."
"Hello, it's Harry."
"Mr Potter." Snape acknowledged, the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he wrote another note and pinned it to the board.
"You know," came Harry's voice from the other end of the line, "For a secret organisation, you really should take your number out of the phone book."
"We are no longer a secret Mr Potter, we are a ministry approved faction."
"I see." Harry replied, he shouldn't have been so shocked considering Mr Weasley had finally got into office. "Umm...I'm phoning about the other day."
"Go on." Snape took the phone in his hand, all attention on the voice travelling the lines.
"I think I might be able to get you into the office. Tomorrow is a bank holiday and the fifth floor will be empty from twelve thirty onwards, I have to deliver a package there at two and have been given the keypad number." Harry sounded nervous and Snape could make out the sounds of traffic in the background. "We'll have to be quick as security will still be around."
"It's perfect thank you, did you want me to meet you somewhere." Snape snatched up a pen and wrote on the back of his hand.
"Sure, can you meet me at Kings Cross, at one thirty. I'll find you." Harry sounded rushed.
"I'll be there."
"I have to go. I'll see you."
Harry thumbed the phone off.
"Who was that?" Malcolm sneaked an arm around his waist and handed Harry the ice cream he had gone to buy.
"Maggie. She was giving me a key pad number for tomorrows afternoon run." He showed him the numbers written on his hand. Please believe me.
"You have to work tomorrow, I thought you had the day off?" Malcolm bristled, the first warning, Harry was glad they were in public.
"Just a couple runs for a stretched deadline. You know I'm their best courier." He smiled as he looked up at the older man. "I won't be long, just a few hours. You can watch the match in peace." Harry knew that Malcolm liked to watch the football without interruption, and Harry was one of those people who couldn't bear to sit and watch ninety minutes of (in his opinion) boring shite.
"I suppose." Malcolm kept a possessive grip on Harry's shoulders. "Just make sure your phone is charged."
Harry nodded.
It wasn't exactly hard to spot Snape in a busy station, the man had a habit of creating an invisible bubble which everyone kept out of, automatically avoiding the potions master.
"Sorry I'm a little late." He panted as he stopped just short of the other man. Snape glanced at the clock. 1:33.
"I'd hardly say you were late Potter."
Harry grinned sheepishly, it was a habit he had had to get used to living with Malcolm. "Let's go shall we?" he indicated the stairs that lead up to street level and twisted and turned his way through the thick crowd of tourists that seemed to flock to London on their days off.
"What happened to you?" Harry caught Snape's gaze which was heating the side of his face, making him aware of the bruise that was only just fading from his cheek.
"I had a run in with a guy on the train. I think he was drunk." He replied casually, surprised that he could lie so easily. He breathed in the heavy air as they emerged into the fresh bright sunshine of an unseasonably hot July.
"Seems like you've got yourself a great profession there Potter." Snape responded dryly.
"It pays the bills." Harry replied, fishing in his bag for a bottle of water, his throat dry from his exerts getting from south bank to Kings cross in what he thought was record time.
"You look as though you're about to drop dead." Snape remarked.
"I ran." He answered, necking down the water and panting as he screwed on the lid.
"In that case, I'll drive, my car is parked over there." Harry stared at Snape in shock.
"You drive?" Harry instantly regretted the question, as it was bloody obvious that he did, why else would he have a car and offer him a lift.
"Yes Mr Potter, just because I'm a wizard does not mean I'm ignorant to the ways of muggles." He shook his head good-naturedly and led the way to the car park. Harry whistled his appreciation as he stopped by a (predictably black) Jaguar X-K8.
He ran his hand over the dashboard as he slid into the soft leather seat, his coat and bag placed reverently on the back seat.
"This is nice!" he said in an awe-tinged voice.
"Hogwarts pay's well." Snape offered in explanation. "Now, are you going to tell me where I'm going?"
They arrived early at the high rise office, it's polished glass front glistening in the summer sun. They sat for a while whilst they looked the building over, Harry noted that all the windows on the fifth floor were closed meaning the cleaners had already been and that it was probably safe to go up. They got out of the car, like walking into an oven compared to the air-conditioned interior of the car.
"Hey Carl!" Harry waved at the security guard behind the reception desk as he strode purposely through the lobby and ducked into the lift pressing the button urgently before he could question Harry about Snape's presence.
He breathed out in a sigh, regarding his reflection that surrounded him in the mirror-lined lift, his hand tapping against the film can that was hugged to his side in a firm grip.
"Calm down. Its not like this is Ocean's Eleven." Snape reprimanded him from his side.
"Easy for you to say that. You're not the one with his job on the line." Harry muttered back.
"From what it looks like, the job doesn't cut up to much." He gazed directly at the bruise on Harry's cheek.
The lift stopped and the doors opened silently, Harry looked around and was relieved to see no security on the floor. He motioned with his head for Snape to follow, pausing at the door to type in the number that was smudged on the back of his hand, they snuck quietly into the darkened room.
"I'm not sure where they keep everything but the head honcho's desk is over there." He told Snape, pointing at a desk that was surrounded by hundreds of post it's and memo's. "You'll have to be quick."
Harry himself dropped his parcel onto the desk of the sub editor with a cover note and invoice, his eyes constantly looking out for movement in the corridor. He moved to stand by the door, trusting Snape to know what he was looking for, wincing as the filing cabinet closed with a screech. It was at that moment his mobile rang, the harsh ringing screamingly loud in the deadened office.
"Hello." He answered it.
"Hey Mark, it's me." Malcolm's voice on the other end of the phone, by the sound on t.v Harry guessed it was half time. He glanced at Snape who watch rifling through another drawer of files.
"Hi. What's up." He tried to sound cheerful.
"Nothing, just wondered if you were done yet? I miss you." No he didn't, Harry thought, he just wanted someone to fuck.
"Nearly. Just finishing up here." He said as Snape shut the drawer and made his way over to harry. "I'm done."
"Who was that?" Harry winced, cursing Snape momentarily.
"Err...David." He looked at Snape's frown. "He's new, Maggie wants him trained up so I let him come along." Shit, shit, shit, shit, fucking shit!
"Right! I want you home. Now." The phone went dead and Harry sighed, he was in deep shit this time.
"I have to go, I hope you have what you need."
"It will give us a good start." Snape stared at Harry in concern, not liking the depressed look on the younger man's face. "Are you alright."
Harry nodded, straightening to look at the other man. "I'm fine, I need to get home." He held the door open for Snape.
"I'll give you a lift." He told Harry as they descended in the lift.
"No it's fine." Harry answered back.
"I insist." Harry knew better than to argue with Snape when he used that tone of voice, it was the one he used when he would not take no for an answer, Harry looked at him, his chest aching a little at the intense look that he received.
This was all such a bad idea.
"You can stop here." Harry folded his jacket in his lap as the car rolled to a stop by the kerb. He glanced across at the man beside him. "Thanks." He offered weakly, aching to stay in the car, but not daring to delay any longer. "I hope that stuff helps you." He unclipped the seat belt and opened the door, letting in the warm air.
"I'll see you around Mr Potter." Snape nodded in farewell. Harry smiled tightly and closed the door behind him, he doubted he would ever see Snape again, he wouldn't have the need. He wrung his hands together as he walked down the path, he'd made Snape stop further up from where he actually lived. He did not need Malcolm seeing him getting dropped off by another man, although at least this time there would be some justification to the beatings. Because this time he really did have feelings for him. He could feel the anxiety building in his chest, replacing the contentment that Snape had caused, he was half tempted to run back to the car, to get in and just ask him to drive. Anywhere, it didn't matter. But this was real life and he would have to live up to it.
Snape sat, hands clenched white knuckled around the steering wheel, and watched as Harry made his way along the path, it was so bloody obvious that he didn't want to be going home and Snape deduced that home life was not all it was cracked up to be. For god's sake, the man had lied about who he was with earlier. Okay, granted he couldn't really say he was with his old potions professor but he really shouldn't have looked quite so scared to get a phone call from his boyfriend.
Harry slid the key into the lock, hands trembling minutely as he pushed the door open. Malcolm waiting for him on the other side.
Snape sighed and put the car into reverse, turning in his seat as he made to back out of the one way street. His eyes snagged on the dark green bag that Harry had been carrying when they met.
Harry cried out as the first punch landed with perfect accuracy, right in the stomach. He doubled over, a knee coming up to smash into his face.
Snape turned off the engine, pulling the bag into the front. He held it as he stared down the street at the house into which Harry had entered.
Sharp tooth bit painfully into soft lips and a blow landed against his jaw.
He got out the car
The hard wood floor bruised his knees as he fell.
He counted the houses.
He coughed, blood splattering the floor from where it dripped from his cut lip.
Up the front steps.
A kick to the stomach
A knock on the door
The whole scene froze. Malcolm stopped mid kick, his angry gaze on the door as a second knock echoed in the hallway. On the other side of the door Snape waited, the bag hanging loosely in his hand, the long strap wound around his wrist. He listened closely, head near the door when he heard a small squeak, not sure if it came from a person or a door opening. He waited, nerves growing with every second that the afternoon sun beat down on his back, causing the black shirt he wore to over heat, it's weight pressing against him, making him claustrophobic in the small arch of the doorway. He glanced down distractedly at the bag in his hand. The door ripped open revealing a severely pissed off looking man who actually sneered at him.
"Is Mark in." he was careful to use Harry's alias.
"No." the answer was snapped at him, raising Snape's suspicion.
"Funny," he commented, eyes roaming the man in front. "I just saw him come in."
Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "I think you're mistaken, Mark is still out."
Snape frowned, he did not like this. His grip tightened on the bag, his eyes moving past the figure blocking most of the door to look for a sign of the young man. He caught sight of the speckled pattern of blood on the floor.
"Harry!" he pushed the door open as Malcolm tried to shut it, forcing the pair of them inside. "Harry!" he called out again, eyes fixed on the man in front of him. There was movement from the kitchen as harry appeared in the doorway, a hand towel pressed to his bleeding face, a look of disbelief and hope etched in his features.
"Severus?" his hand dropped, revealing the ugly bruise that was emerging on his jaw, the swollen lip and smudged blood.
"Come here Harry." He reached a hand out to him. "I'm taking you away from him." He looked dangerously at Malcolm who was busy assessing the situation. Harry crossed the room, his hurried steps taking him close past Malcolm who, with seeker quick reflexes, took hold of his arm and swung him in front of him. Snape reacted in kind, drawing his wand and aiming it right at the man and his hostage, surprise blooming on his face as he saw a similar length of wood pressed against Harry's straining throat.
"What the fuck?" he muttered softly, his mind bending as he tried to work this out.
"Malcolm?" that was Harry, who was no doubt as confused as Snape was. "Malcolm...what's going on?"
"Oh shut up you whiny fuck" he jabbed the thin point further into the soft skin. He fixed his eyes on Snape, "you know, it's a wonder it's taken you this long to find me." He grinned maniacally against the side of Harry's face.
"What!?" Snape felt a little out of depth, he had not expected this. "Who are you?"
"You don't recognise me?" he purred, making Harry cringe. "Ah, the wonders of magic." He stepped backwards, Snape stepped forwards, eyes trained on the wand pressing into Harry's neck.
"Why don't you tell me?" he tried to sound calm, if not for him then for Harry.
"I thought you were smarter than that Snape. Maybe you'll figure out when I give this little slut a scar to match yours." Harry tensed in the suffocating grip, eyes wide. But it was nothing compared to the sick look of recognition in Snape's eyes.
"Haulk." He breathed, his hand gripped around his wand so tight that he felt the carved pattern cutting into his skin.
"Well done." He smiled indulgently, "See, it wasn't that hard."
"How the fuck did you get here?" Snape looked bewildered.
"Oh come on! Think about it. If you were on the run where would you go. It's so easy for a wizard to hide in the muggle world. All I needed was to find a quiet place to settle until things died down. Harry here, "he nuzzled his cheek against Harry's, smearing the oozing blood. "Provided such a perfect opportunity. The saviour of the wizarding world, condemning himself to life as a muggle, that meant no magic, a perfect chance to keep off the ministry's radar. And who else to be close to than dear old Harry, if there was anything to be found out Harry would do it, he works in the field, he tells me things. If the trail had been picked I would have known. Thank you harry dear." He pressed a kiss to the bruised face. Harry flinched away.
"But I met you before you went on the run." Harry cut in, keep him talking, time gave them options.
Snape looked around, assessing the layout of the house, the possible routes of escape. There was no way to contact the order.
"You met Malcolm, really Harry, am I that good an actor that you never noticed." Harry felt sick, he did notice, but he had never needed to piece together the puzzle to reveal this.
"Where is he?" he sounded desperate, beginning to struggle slightly in the firm grasp.
"Safe." Haulk sounded pleased with himself. "The angels have him now."
"You fucking bastard!" harry struggled harder, straining to free himself from the restraining arm wound around his neck.
"Now, now darling, language." His grip loosened, instead fingers wound into Harry's shirt, bunching up the material on one shoulder.
The next few moments were frantic, haulk pushed Harry away from him, his fist full of power as he propelled him, the young man slamming into Snape at the moment the man had let a hex loose from his lips. As a result the spell went astray, hitting the ceiling and punching a dark hole into the bare white ceiling. Haulk himself turned on his heel and ran, his footsteps resounding through the house and Snape followed, pushing harry aside.
Harry slid down the wall, disbelief written plainly on his face as he listened to the racket that echoed through his house. He rubbed at his neck, a welt raised from where the narrow tip of the criminal's wand had lain. He heard the back door open and slam closed, only to be opened again. There was a muffled shout and a general crash as the bins were upended. Harry thought of Snape, out there trying to bring the man down alone. He struggled to stand but his legs would not support him, the pain exploding across his face as blood rushed to the swollen areas, his stomach screamed in protest. It would be no use anyway, he didn't have his wand on him, as it lay discarded in the back of a drawer in his bedroom. He crawled in their direction anyway. Maybe he could cause a diversion so that Snape could gain the upper hand. He made it through into the kitchen where a breeze floated through the open door. Harry smelt ozone as a flash raked across his forehead, an errant hex gone astray. He gasped and fell to the floor, his hand pressed to his head, gasping in agony.
He felt the world shading in around him and was only just aware of the thunder of many feet, the assorted shoes that ran past his field of vision. He only had the strength to frown before he felt himself slip away.
"Harry?"
He felt fingers stroke soothingly through his hair, keeping the headache at bay. He scrunched his nose up as he tried to sort his thought out. Wherever he was it was soft, the cover that lay over him cool against his heated skin. He struggled to think of a reason why he was here. He remembered coming home, having been dropped off by Snape.
Snape.
He sat up. Every single memory coming back to him in a cacophony of noise and vision. "Severus!" a whispered name dying on his lips.
"I'm here."
Harry jumped at the close proximity of the soft voice. Snape sat on the edge of the bed, his face concerned. Harry looked about himself, half-afraid to find Haulk still in the room with them. But this wasn't his house, his house wasn't this big, or richly furnished.
"What happened?" he asked, his eyes wide and breathing heavy.
"You should lie down." There was an insistent press to his chest and Harry followed the command. "I'm surprised you woke up this early, I expected you to be out for another few hours."
"What happened?" Harry repeated. His thoughts a little distracted by the hand that still lay on his chest.
"You were hit by one of mine I'm afraid, nothing serious but you might want to stay in bed for a while." He smiled at harry, making the young man shift and blush a little, Harry aware of the fact he was barely dressed.
"What about Haulk?"
Snape stood and went to the side dresser where a pitcher of water stood, he poured a glass and took it back to Harry who accepted it gratefully. "Haulk is under ministry control right now, I was able to raise the alarm when he escaped and the rest of the order showed up not long after you passed out."
"No...I remember that bit." Harry cut in, holding the glass in his lap.
"Well, anyway, he's been brought in and will no doubt stand trial in a month or two." Snape took the glass and placed it on the bedside table.
"What was he wanted for, before he killed all those people?"
Snape gave a funny little sigh and raked a hand through his hair, he had the demeanour of someone who was in dire need of sleep. "He was head of an organisation that was set up to reign after Voldemort's defeat, an errant band of death eaters and ministry opposed individuals hell bent on creating chaos. They've been responsible for most of the atrocities that have gone on in recent months. Haulk himself is a self-taught master of Potions, it was him who released those chemicals in Istanbul last November, that's why I'm on the case. Needless to say the ministry wanted him arrested before it escalated into another war, Haulk was intent on destroying as much as he could and then letting the muggle world in on our secret, thus turning them against us."
"Is that why the order was given legal status?" Harry struggled to sit up, that delightfully warm hand slipping from his chest, dropping to rest on his thigh. "To catch Haulk and his men?"
"My my, your perception has improved over the years." Snape smiled in a sarcastic manner. "Yes. Minister Weasley wanted people on the case who were used to dealing with people like Haulk, the aurors are all well and good but they can be a bit gung ho sometimes." Harry laughed a little.
"So you're the specialists?" harry raised an eyebrow, a pale imitation of his former Professor.
"The 'hit squad', as named by the Prophet."
They sat in silence for a while, Harry trying not to concentrate too much on the dull pounding in his head, nor the sharp sting of where the hex had hit him. It was hard to think that the man he had been living with all this time was in fact a completely different person, a murderer. Now harry looked back on it, he could almost pin point the time his behaviour had changed, how he had been so surprised when the first blow had landed. How could he not have thought of this? But then, he had no reason to think of the possibilities, Malcolm was a muggle who had absolutely no idea that there was another world coexisting with his own.
It certainly explained the man's behaviour, the abuse, and the possessive grip he had on Harry. He had never been allowed out with his friends, Haulk was no doubt paranoid that he would shop him, he had kept him close. It explained why when harry had wanted to quit his job, find something a little less frenetic, that Malcolm had told him otherwise, had made sure he didn't leave.
He idly lifted a hand to play with the newly placed chain, the twin rings making small sounds as he fiddled with them.
Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
"Thank you." He whispered. Soaking up the heat from the hand on his leg.
"What for?"
Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's, compassion written all over his face. "For coming back. No one I know would do that. No one I know would care."
Snape's eyes softened, a pained look flitting across his face. "You can't know many nice people."
"I know a couple." He stared at the older man, hoping to convey what he meant in his eyes. His heart leapt into his throat as a hand rested against his cheek, thumb just moving over soft skin. The man had such an intense look about him that made it a little hard to breathe.
"I will always care about you." He whispered, leaning a little closer to show his sincerity. Harry breathed in sharply, amazed that Snape had said such a thing. His heart hammered in his chest, a dull roar of blood pounding in his ears. He found his own hand raising, resting against the other man's chest, the tips of his fingers just brushing the slick white scar that showed above his collar. He could feel a matching pace beneath his palm. Adrenaline flooded his system, making it possible for him to tilt his head, raising those last few inches so that he could press his lips against Snape's.
That one second was an echo of eternity, everything blurred shrank and exploded, eventually coalescing into pure, mind numbing ecstasy. The time had passed when the kiss should have ended and still they pressed deeper, mouths opening to welcome each other, soft moans escaping as arms wound around each other pulling each other into a tight embrace.
"I was worried about you." Snape said when they had parted, his words spoken into Harry's hair. "When you were lying there, and there was so much blood, I ... I didn't know what to do."
Harry lifted his face, his hands pushing dark hair back from Snape's face. "I had no idea... that you felt like this. I always thought you hated me."
"I did." He said gently, "For the longest time, but you grew up. Into someone so fucking beautiful that it hurt to look at you sometimes. If anything, you were the one who hated me."
Harry shook his head, "I've spent the last four years thinking about you," He lowered his eyes, staring at the top button of Snape's shirt. "It's one of the reasons I left, I couldn't stand to be somewhere, near someone...and not be able to touch them. You have no idea how it hurt, to see you every day. I felt like I was dying, and I think I was. I had to leave."
"Then come back." Harry looked up, "Come back, there's no reason to stay away."
Harry felt his heart skip a beat, "You mean...?"
Snape nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Come back with me."
Harry felt the familiar burning of tears at the back of his eyes as he threw his arms around the other man's neck. "Yes."
Harry had never been so glad to be back in the wizarding world, content to let the dishes wash them selves or summon the remote control because he was too lazy to go and fetch it. He was currently standing on the balcony, leaning against the handrail with his headphones in, as such he was a little surprised when arms snaked around his waist. He snatched the earphones from his ears and turned in the mans arms.
"You scared the bloody shit out of me, you know that?!" he admonished, but it did nothing but make the other man smile.
"You need to be kept on your toes." He said, placating the man with a soft kiss. "How was your day?"
Harry shrugged, "Fucking boring. I can't wait to start on Monday." Harry, upon his return, had been immediately summoned by the minister who had practically forced Harry onto the hit squad, which pleased Harry to no ends. The money was good, the risks minimal now that Haulk was imprisoned and his men rounded up. And he could be with Severus.
"I'll look after you, make sure the bully's don't pick on the new kid." Snape actually winked at him.
"Like they would." Harry could hardly wait until Ron and Hermione came back from Russia to find Harry at the house. "Anyway, what took you so long?" he complained, pressing himself tighter to a firm chest.
"Somebody has to do the shopping, not all of us has a life of leisure, besides, I had to make sure you got your ice cream before you moan at me like you did last time." Harry gave a little squeal of delight and broke their embrace to go rifle through the bags on the kitchen table, Snape watched him with amusement as he pulled out the frosty tub and took the lid off then and there.
"You are not eating that now." Snape pointed a finger at him, Harry just grinned as he reached for a spoon. "I swear to god, if you don't eat your dinner I am not cooking for you again."
Harry made an over exaggerated noise of enjoyment as he ate a large spoonful, "It's good, you want some?" he held the spoon out.
"No." Snape replied, moving to stand in front of Harry and wiping away a speck of the dessert from his lips. "I want you." Harry's eyes went wide, the spoon dropping forgotten into the ice cream when his lips were claimed in a possessive kiss. He moaned wantonly as a tongue pushed into his cold mouth, spreading heat where it went. His arms went around Snape's neck, his body arching against the taller frame. His moans became breathless gasps as those skilled lips left his mouth and worked the path along his jaw, a gentle lick to that spot just below his ear that made his knees go weak making Snape lift him up and set him down on top of the kitchen table.
Harry's head fell back, legs opening so that they could fit together perfectly. "You do this every time Severus." He breathed.
"Are you complaining?" said between kisses, hands already working their way under the soft t-shirt.
"No, but this is how the ice cream gets ruined!" he smiled. Snape tutted and let go of harry.
"Well go and put it in the bloody freezer then." He moved to let Harry slide off the table, "And hurry up." He tossed over his shoulder as he walked to their bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he went. He threw the shirt on the chair in the corner as he opened the bay windows, letting in the warm breeze. A month ago he would have called the person crazy who told him he would be sharing his life with Harry Potter. But now he couldn't think of anything quite as perfect. Harry had infected him, just looking at him could bring about a smile, he spread light and happiness wherever he went, and Snape was quite frankly amazed that he could still be so trusting and loving after everything he had been through.
It was his turn to be startled when arms wrapped around him from behind.
"What are you thinking of?" a soft kiss pressed between his shoulder blades, those hands splaying wide to cover as much skin as they could, Snape found himself drawn to twine his own fingers with them.
"You." He whispered in reply, "Always you." He smiled gently when he felt the lips pressed against his back curve into a grin.
"Anything bad?" he asked teasingly, nuzzling his face into the mans neck as he turned, strong arms encircling him.
"No." skilled hands held Harry's face, framing it perfectly, "But I think I love you."