Part 2

~*~Present Day~*~

"Morning, did you sleep well?" Severus asked as Harry stepped bleary-eyed into the kitchen the following morning.

"Um…no…not really," he replied, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs opposite Severus.

The man put his paper aside and gave him an appraising look. "Pain?"

Harry nodded tiredly. "I managed a couple of hours, but it was too insistent, I couldn't ignore it."

"Well, have some breakfast, let yourself wake up and then come down to the potions cellar."

Harry allowed himself a small smile. "Is it still the same?" he asked softly.

Severus looked at him for a moment, his jaw twitching slightly, before he got up from the table and said as he left the room, "Yes, exactly the same."

Harry had no appetite for breakfast, indeed he had no appetite for much these days. After half a mug of coffee, which he didn't really want anyway, he steeled himself and made his way to the potions cellar. He hovered on the threshold for a moment, his senses overwhelmed by the bittersweet familiarity of the smells that were rising up the stairs. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, then slowly descended into the room itself, noting that Severus had indeed been right; the room was exactly the same.

He pulled up a stool and hauled himself up onto it, trying not to disturb Severus as he decanted a simmering cauldron into several waiting vials. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at the man's careful, measured movements, remembering all the times he had sat like this in the cellar, watching and learning as Severus spoke in soft, low tones, imparting what he knew while Harry enjoyed every minute of it.

There were other memories of course, other memories of that voice, those hands, this bloody room, but now wasn't the time for that, perhaps it never would be. He pushed them aside, just as he was so used to doing, and handed Severus a damp rag, offering him a small smile as he did so.

"Thank you," Severus said, wiping his hands, returning the smile slightly. He reached up to the shelf above his head and pulled out a notebook, flipping the pages with his long fingers until he found a blank page. He plucked a pen (an ordinary biro Harry noted with amusement) from a pot on the workbench and made a couple of notes before taking his own seat opposite Harry.

"Now," he said, looking up at Harry, "I need a list of everything you're currently taking, including any muggle remedies," he said, his pen hovering over the page.

Harry sighed and rubbed his knuckles along the fabric of his jeans. "It depends from day to day I suppose," he said, going through the catalogue of things in his mind. "Pain relief potions, muscle relaxant potions, ibuprofen, paracetamol, sleeping draughts…" He trailed off, trying to think if that was it, but he couldn't be certain. There had been times, times he wasn't going to admit to Severus, that he had drugged himself into oblivion, just to make the pain stop.

Severus wrote as Harry spoke, nodding as he did so. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop taking everything, just for a short time."

"I don't know if I can," Harry replied, his voice small and quiet.

Severus looked back up, his brow furrowed. "That bad?"

Harry paused for a second, then gave a reluctant nod. "Some days it's unbearable," he said with a shaky breath.

"I need you to get everything out of your system," Severus said gently. "The kind of magic you've been hit with could be being affected by what you're taking. It could hinder our chances of finding what you've been hit with and the most effective way of treating it."

Harry looked down at his shoes, the same kind he'd worn since he was a teenager, despite the fact that he was now in his mid-20s. "I um…" He cleared his throat, frowning down at the battered, scuffed toes in front of him. "I've used opiates a few times, more than few times really. I…suppose I got a bit dependent on them at one point. I just wanted the pain to stop…just for a bit."

There was silence for a moment and Harry continued to glare at his shoes. He nearly missed his name being spoken in a soft, gentle tone, then a more insistent, "Harry." He looked up, relieved not to see the disappointment he was certain he would find.

"Why didn't you come back to us sooner?" Severus asked, the look of genuine concern in his face almost heart-breaking to see.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shrugged. "I hoped it would go away," he said, hating how feeble he sounded.

"You know enough about curses to know that that almost never happens."

"It's not so easy to be rational about it when all you can think about is the pain. I'm here now," he added softly.

Severus nodded and lowered his head; Harry rather suspected it was so he wouldn't be able to see whatever other emotions were lurking in the black eyes. "We're going to do everything we can for you, but the next few days won't be easy. Are you prepared for it?"

Harry took a wobbly breath and dug his fingers into his thighs. "I don't have a choice."


"And now take it to the other side and hold."

"You bloody take it to the other side and hold."

"The more energy you use abusing me, the less you'll have for your rehab."

"I'll have enough energy to give you a thump," Harry mumbled as he stretched his arm across his body and tried to reach down to his opposite foot.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're an abominable patient?" asked Ron as he stood opposite, a pen and notebook in his hands, monitoring Harry's progress.

"Severus has mentioned it once or twice," Harry replied, stretching himself back up slowly.

"I'll bet," Ron replied with a grin. He snapped his notebook shut and placed it on the coffee table then shoved his pen behind his ear. It made him look about ten years younger and Harry had to smile despite his discomfort. "Lie down on the sofa," Ron said, unbuttoning his cuffs and starting to roll up his sleeves.

"I don't like the look in your eye," Harry replied, nevertheless toeing off his shoes and moving to perch on the edge of the couch.

"Don't flatter yourself mate, I've never had those kinds of thoughts about you."

"Liar."

Ron snorted then poked his head outside the door and shouted, "Sev, come in the living room for a moment, I need your help."

"Why do you need his help?" Harry asked, instantly feeling anxious.

"He needs to know what to do; I'm not going to be here every day."

"But – "

"Harry don't be a prick. This is physical therapy, it's to help with the pain."

"I know that but – "

"Lie down on the sofa before I hex you myself."

Harry sighed and flung himself face-down onto the sofa, propping his head up with a cushion that he punched into submission first.

"I'd really rather you didn't abuse my furniture," came Severus's voice as Harry buried his face in the cushion, which, he noted, smelt disobligingly like the man himself. He had the childish urge to say that actually it wasn't Severus' furniture, most of it he had simply inherited from McGonagall, but he decided that that would be a decidedly foolish thing to do while he was currently lying prone at the man's mercy.

He settled for simply grunting, shifting slightly to allow himself to breathe. He heard Ron sit down beside him and he braced himself. He was in no mood for either the pain that he knew was to follow, or for the awkwardness of having his best friend essentially give him a massage.

"Right Sev, you'll need to do this for Harry once a day, preferably in the evening. Don't be afraid to put a bit of muscle into it, this isn't supposed to be relaxing." Harry didn't need to look up to know that Severus would be smirking in response. "Right, now position your thumbs here just either side of the trapezius muscles and press down hard for ten seconds," Ron said, doing as he was instructing. Harry bit his lip as the pain rolled through him, wishing very much that he could turn around and push Ron off the sofa.

"Now you need to do that down the rhomboideus, applying and releasing pressure in ten second bursts, then you need to use the heel of your hand to create these circular motions from the sixth to the twelfth thoracic vertebrae."

Harry tuned Ron's words out after a while. He had no interest in learning the terminology for all the places that Ron was torturing. He was in agony and Ron was in no way being gentle with him. Physical therapy my arse, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain as Ron's strong fingers worked to make his muscles submit.

"Christ Harry, you're wound more tightly than a spring," Ron said as he continued to manipulate the body beneath him.

"You're telling me as if don't know," Harry ground out against the cushion, wondering what he had done so wrong in his life to be subjected to such punishment.

"You'll need to put a bit of strength into the obliques," Ron said again to Severus, "and given how much pain Harry's having in his hips, you'll need to try and really work your fingers into the fascia muscle here," he said, pressing his thumb into the line of muscle just above Harry's backside, causing Harry to bite the edge of the cushion in an attempt to muffle the pained, strangled noise that tried to make its way out of his throat.

"I hate you," he half-sobbed, a couple of tears escaping out of the corner of his eyes.

"I love a grateful patient," Ron said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice. He was definitely going to thump the prat.

The demonstration continued all the way down his legs and for a couple of minutes after he simply lay there, hating everyone and everything, listening while Ron instructed Severus to ensure that Harry did his exercises daily. They could both sod off as far as he was concerned, what did they know anyway?

He had been off all forms of painkillers for three days now and he wanted to kill himself. Severus had forbidden so much as ibuprofen to pass his lips and so even the mild tension headache that had settled itself behind his eyes couldn't be chased away.

"Come on Boy Wonder, up you get," said Ron, and Harry felt himself being lifted bodily off the sofa. Bloody hell but that git was strong, years of defending himself against a battalion of older brothers had seen to that.

"You're a sadist," he growled, twisting himself from side to side to see if his spine would re-align itself as nature had intended.

"I'm a doctor," Ron corrected imperiously.

"Same bloody thing," Harry countered.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to face Severus, who was standing with his arms folded, looking as he always did when taking an academic interest in something. "How's the pain relief potion coming?" Ron asked.

"It's a slow process," Severus replied. "At the moment I'm relying more on old-fashioned muggle apothecary remedies, it's too risky to have Harry ingest anything magical in case it tampers with whatever magic he's been hit with."

"Mm," said Ron, retrieving his satchel from the armchair where he'd previously slung it. He fished out Harry's notes and quickly scanned his eyes over them. "The latest trace scans showed elements of Eastern European magic in your system."

"Well I was in Bulgaria," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Even so, it shows higher levels than I'd expect," Ron said, pursing his lips in thought.

"Hang on, are you saying that magic leaves traces of its country of origin?"

"If it's old enough. I've seen it a couple of times in my patients, and Bill reckons he can spot an Egyptian curse from a mile off. I think we'd do well to focus our attentions on Eastern European curses."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Not a bad idea, at least it gives us something to concentrate on."

"Good. Well you can have a chat with Bill about it at the weekend, Hermione too. I'm sure she'll have a few ideas." Ron turned back to look at Harry. "You are coming aren't you? To Elodie's birthday party?"

"Of course I am," Harry said with a touch of indignation. "She's my goddaughter too."

"That hasn't always meant that much to you," Ron replied, his expression harder than usual.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, feeling his anger rise.

"You know exactly what it means. How many times have you seen Elodie since she was born?"

"I…I see her plenty," Harry said defensively. "Look I'm sorry my work takes me out of the country but we can't all live round the corner from our entire family!"

"We don't mind your work taking you out of the country, Harry," Ron argued. "What we mind is the fact that nothing seems to bring you back to it."

"That isn't fair."

"Isn't it? You're Elodie's godfather and yet I'll bet you can't tell me the first thing about her. In fact, I'll be surprised if she actually recognises you on Saturday."

"You can be a real git sometimes Ron, you know that?"

"Yeah well I learnt from you mate."

"If you're going to be like this then I don't want your help. I'll sort myself out without it."

"Oh yeah, you've managed really well so far haven't you?"

"I've managed worse problems without you Ron, don't bloody flatter yourself."

He pushed past Ron and Severus, out of the living room, into the porch and out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him. He stalked over to the cliff edge, his jaw set firm, his nails digging into the skin of his palms as he clenched his fists tightly.

He was shaking with anger and his pulse was uncomfortably quick. He could feel the headache he'd been warding off all day fight to gain a stronghold behind his eyeballs and the pain in his back and hips seemed worse than it had ever been.

The worst thing about it all was that he wasn't really sure he was in the right. He hadn't seen much of Elodie and the little girl was going to be five in a couple of days. He was her godfather and Ron was probably right – there was no guarantee she would even know who he was when he turned up. He didn't even know if she'd like the present he had bought her.

He released a shaky sigh and tried to concentrate on the breaking waves in the distance, but they were of no comfort to him. He became aware of a presence by his side and eventually a deep, level voice said,

"He's gone."

"Good."

"You don't mean that."

Harry sighed. "No, no I suppose I don't." He clenched his fists again and said, "You agree with him, don't you?"

Severus paused for a moment, no doubt considering his response, then said, "What you do with your life is your own affair." There was a long moment of silence before he eventually added, "But you can't blame people for missing you."

Harry felt the comforting presence subside and he didn't have to turn his head to see that Severus was walking back to the cottage. He emitted a noise of frustration and, for one brief moment, considered throwing himself off the cliff.


Harry stood in the garden of Hermione and George's home, nursing a paper cup of sadly non-alcoholic punch and looking around at all the people who were probably thinking the same thing that Ron was. He had been given a warm welcome and, much to his relief, his goddaughter not only knew who he was, but had been thrilled to see him, throwing herself at his legs and insisting on being picked up.

She was now happily ensconced with Severus, who really was shockingly good with her, and genuinely seemed to adore the little girl. Harry would never have imagined the man would not only be so good with children, but that he would actually enjoy their company. Elodie, for her part, was enraptured by the man and never seemed to be more than a few feet away from him.

Harry sighed and put his untouched punch to one side, wishing that he didn't feel quite so much like a stranger amongst people who were supposed to be his family. He'd had the usual enthusiastic greeting from all the Weasleys, with the notable absence of Charlie. It had been seven years and the man had still left a gaping hole in the family with his death, one that was horribly noticeable at times like these.

He let his eyes roam over the assembled crowd, stopping when they fell on Ron and Draco. The two were standing alone, having some quiet, gentle conversation, the kind that Harry suspected wasn't really about anything in particular. Draco reached up and brushed a crumb of birthday cake off Ron's lip and Ron smiled brightly at him, leaning in for a slow, gentle kiss. Harry could sense the affection rolling off both men in waves and something tight clenched at his chest.

A jumble of emotions all vied for attention and it seemed that shame was winning. He should have known how serious this relationship was, he should have known how totally in love his best friend was and should have been there to see this relationship blossom into what it so obviously was now. He felt guilty too, guilty for thinking that there might be something going between Ron and Severus when Ron was so obviously devoted to the man standing in front of him, the man who had slipped his arm around his waist and was looking at him with such a beautifully unguarded expression that it made Harry's heart hurt.

A movement next to his elbow caught his attention and he turned to see Hermione standing next to him, her unfocused eyes looking, but unseeing, in Ron and Draco's direction. Hermione couldn't see them of course, Harry knew that, but she seemed to be smiling at them nevertheless.

"Hello 'Mione," he said softly.

"Hello Harry," she said with a smile. "You don't have to stand by yourself in the corner you know."

"How do you know I'm alone?" he asked.

Hermione raised her face towards the afternoon sun and tilted her head slightly as though she was listening for something. "It's true what they say you know, about being blind. Oh not that rubbish about your other senses kicking in necessarily, I don't suddenly have a super-human sense of taste, but I can sense other things far more clearly than before, people's energies for example. I can sense yours a mile off."

"And what does my energy tell you?" Harry asked, wondering if Hermione was really telling the truth.

"What I already know," she replied, turning her face back to him, the unseeing eyes making Harry feel as though he were pinned to the spot. "You're unhappy," she concluded gently.

Harry looked away from her, back out to the garden. He couldn't see those eyes, couldn't think of all Hermione had lost that night she'd been hit with the blinding hex. She hadn't been able to see what George looked like on their wedding day, couldn't see how she herself looked in the beautiful wedding dress that she had chosen with Ginny's help, and worst of all, she had never been able to see what her own daughter looked like. It made Harry feel sick, and worse, it made him feel like a coward; facing Hermione was far too painful, so he did it as little as possible.

"I'm fine," he lied and Hermione shook her head.

"You think you can lie to me just because I'm blind?"

"Hermione – "

"Ron's told me about the curse," she said, cutting him off. "That amount of pain must be hard to deal with, I can only imagine. I hope they find a cure for you Harry, no one should have to live with that kind of pain indefinitely, it'll destroy you in the end."

"Hermione…" he tried again, but the words wouldn't come.

"You're welcome here any time Harry, I hope you know that." She paused and inclined her head away slightly, saying, "I sense Severus needs rescuing from my daughter, I'd better go and give him some respite."

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's cheek, the familiar smell of her perfume and shampoo washing over his senses, then she moved off into the crowd, her movements sure despite her impairment. Harry watched as she moved over to Severus and Elodie, both of whom seemed a little put out to have been interrupted in whatever conversation they had been having.

Harry moved a little closer, on the pre-text of casting his eye over the buffet table, and strained his ears to listen to the interplay, glancing up every now and again to watch.

"Uncle Severus says I can," said Elodie, her hands on her hips.

"Uncle Severus is a pain," Hermione answered good-naturedly.

"I promise, only the most basic of potions," Severus said, "you can even have Neville supervise if you don't trust me."

Neville? Harry thought. Since when is he on first name terms with Neville?

"I've said no potions until she's six," Hermione said, unknowingly mirroring her daughter and placing her hands on her hips.

"That's ages away," said Elodie, as though her mother hadn't quite grasped the concept of age, "I want to help Uncle Severus now. He says I'll be the best potions maker in the world if I start early enough."

"Uncle Severus is creating a monster. Don't think I've forgotten about my bloody rug," Hermione said, directing the last comment at the man himself.

"I said I'd buy you a new one," the man replied with a smirk. "You know full well that with the mix of yours and George's genes that she'll be starting plenty of fires under her own steam soon enough. Better surely that someone is there to help channel her energy."

"You rotten old Slytherin," Hermione said with a great deal of affection. Harry had to wonder when Severus had become part of this group, and when he himself had fallen from it.

"I'm going to be sorted into Slytherin when I go to Hogwarts," Elodie said assuredly.

"Almost certainly," Hermione answered wryly. "I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Uncle Severus won't be there to be your Head of House."

"Relieved," Elodie asserted. "After all, if he was, he'd have to treat me like the other students, and neither of us would like that."

Severus' laughter was still one of the most perfect things Harry had ever heard, and when it was a real, heartfelt laugh with no malice or sarcasm attached to it, it made Harry's heart constrict in his chest. He had yet to decide whether the feeling was unpleasant or not.

Harry watched as Severus scooped the little girl up onto his lap, one hand steadying her while the other came to twirl in the vibrant, auburn curls that adorned her head. The two made quite a pair and even Harry couldn't stop the smile from sliding onto his lips.

"Uncle Harry!" Elodie called, spying him out of the corner of her eye. She beckoned him over from her perch on Severus' knee and, never one to ignore the women in his life, he obeyed and moved over to join them. "Uncle Harry, do you think I'll be sorted into Slytherin?" she asked.

"All signs seem to point that way," Harry replied in the same serious tone his goddaughter was using.

"Uncle Severus and Uncle Draco were both in Slytherin," the little girl said, as if that settled the matter.

"Well," said Harry, kneeling down beside Severus so he could meet Elodie's eyes better, "Uncle Severus and Uncle Draco are two of the bravest, cleverest men I know. As role models go, you could do a lot worse."

Elodie nodded sagely, as if she had suspected as much herself. "I know Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor…and you and Uncle Ron…and – "

"And every other Weasley in existence," Severus finished for her.

"Now that's not true," came George's voice and he appeared next to Hermione, slinging an arm around his wife's shoulders and grinning down at his daughter. "Your great-great-great grandmother was a Slytherin."

"Was she really?" Elodie asked, her eyes shining.

George nodded. "She was indeed, and what's more, she was responsible for discovering the Riddikulus spell."

Elodie's eyes widened and she turned her head to face Severus again. "Did you hear that Uncle Severus? That settles it, I'm definitely going to be in Slytherin."

Severus dropped a kiss to his goddaughter's head and Harry's heart swelled at the sight. He rose shakily to his feet and excused himself, pretending he needed the loo. He walked into George and Hermione's little home, which was as similar as The Burrow to be an almost painful reminder of his youth. It was cosy and homely but without the general feeling of chaos that The Burrow had, which was remarkable in itself, as George had always been responsible for at least half of the chaos there.

Harry eased himself down onto the sofa, feeling suddenly very heavy-limbed. Pain was spreading through his hips and lower back and there was a dull ache forming behind his eyes. It had taken longer to hit him than he had been expecting though, he supposed his physical rehab was having more benefit than he had given it credit for. It still didn't make it any bloody easier though, having Severus' hands on him every night. It didn't matter that he had been fully-clothed each time, it was still as close as he'd been to the man in nearly seven years and it was driving him crazy.

He heard the patio doors open and he looked up to see Draco stepping inside, his movements as gentle and graceful as they'd ever been. He gave Harry a soft smile, the action stretching the scar along the left side of his face. Trust Draco to end up with a scar that makes him look more dashing, Harry thought wryly. He offered his own smile and Draco joined him on the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"How are you Drake?" he asked, leaning his head back against the sofa to look at the man properly.

"Well enough," Draco answered. Everything about him was so gentle, so calm that Harry felt immediately soothed. He wondered how Draco could be so different from the arrogant sod who could set his teeth on edge just by glancing in his direction.

"Ron told me that you and Neville have gone into business together," Harry said, thankful his surprise had subsided since Ron had told him that particular bit of information.

Draco smiled. "Yes, it's going rather well. I had thought I had a talent for Herbology until I saw Neville work, the man's a genius. Severus won't accept any other supplier for his ingredients."

Ah, thought Harry, so that's how they came to be on first-name terms.

"Are you enjoying it?" Harry asked.

"More than I expected to," Draco replied. "Neville has a keen mind and, as I say, his talent is unparalleled. We've got more orders than we can comfortably handle, we'll have to take on some staff soon."

"I'm pleased for you Drake."

The blond tilted his head and fixed his grey eyes on Harry. "And you?" he asked softly. "Should I ask how you are or will I get hexed for my trouble?"

Harry sighed and said, "I'd answer you if I knew how to."

"You're still in pain?"

Harry nodded. "This time of day it starts hitting in. Severus wants to trial a potion later though, so keep your fingers crossed for me."

"Ron's been working very hard on it, he'll find a cure," Draco replied, eyeing Harry carefully. When it seemed no response was forthcoming, Draco sat a little straighter on the sofa and turned his body to face Harry fully. "Why don't you go and speak to him, make it up?"

Harry pursed his lips, then, realising it probably made him look like Molly Weasley, quickly reversed the action and settled for a scowl instead. "Why doesn't he come and make it up?" he asked petulantly.

Draco chuckled and said, "You two are as bad as each other." Harry rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he was behaving more immaturely than his four-year-old goddaughter. "He hates arguing with you Harry," Draco said gently.

"It's not exactly a barrel of laughs for me either," Harry said defensively.

"He misses you," Draco replied, clearly not put off by Harry's tone. "He wants you to be around the corner, able to go for a pint with him after work or to have a quick fire-call with over lunch to complain about how terrible life is being in love with a Malfoy," he finished with a wry smile.

"He can talk to me any time he likes, just because I'm in a different country doesn't mean – "

"That's exactly what it means Harry," Draco said in the firmest yet gentlest tone of voice Harry had ever heard anyone use. "It isn't just that you're not here physically, you've taken yourself away from us in every way possible. Ron doesn't feel that he can just call you up at a moment's notice, that you'll want to apparate back on a Friday evening to come for dinner, or pop back on a sunny weekend to play with Elodie. You've created this barrier and none of us really knows what to do."

Harry glared down at his hands, wishing Draco would just rant and rave at him like everyone else so that he could feel justly vindicated in telling him to sod off. Instead he had to be so bloody reasonable, so mild and temperate in his censure that Harry knew he had no option but to sit there and take it.

"If you hadn't been cursed," Draco continued, "would you have come back?"

Harry frowned, still looking fixedly down at his lap. "I…I would have been here for Elodie's party," he said eventually.

Draco nodded. "There and back in the same day as usual?" The blond sighed and Harry felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. "People here love you Harry, and we struggle to understand what we've all done so wrong that you want to take yourself away from us."

"No one's done anything wrong," Harry said quietly. "I…I had to leave when I…after…after Voldemort fell. I needed to get away, to put some distance between me and…everything else. I don't know…it just got harder and harder to come back."

The hand on his shoulder slid up to his neck in such a familiar and affectionate gesture that it made Harry's raw, wounded heart feel soothed. He turned to face Draco, his eyes embarrassingly watery, and the man offered him a sad smile.

"Were you waiting for something to bring you back?" he asked gently.

"I…" his breath caught in his throat, a deeply embarrassing sob trying to make its way out instead.

"Oh Harry," Draco said, scooting along the sofa and pulling Harry into a surprisingly strong hug. The grace and elegance of Draco's movements hid the fact that the man possessed a good deal of strength, and that he could use it when he had a mind to.

Harry let himself be held. It had been so long since he'd had this kind of physical contact and it felt good. It was full of warmth and comfort and was so purely platonic that it made Harry swell under the unbridled affection of it. He rested his head against Draco's chest and Draco ran his hand up and down Harry's arm soothingly. He'd forgotten just how much regard he had come to feel for the man over the years and how close they had once been.

He hadn't been lying to Elodie when he had described Draco as brave and clever, but he should have added how kind and insightful the man was. He had changed so much seen he had been a teenager, and he was one of the best men that Harry had ever known. Ron was a lucky sod.

"You need to get this buggering curse out of your system, then all the rest can be dealt with. How can you expect to make sense of anything when your mind is so clouded with pain?"

"What was my excuse before the curse?" Harry asked, knowing that it was a question he should have asked himself a long time ago.

"Cut yourself some slack Harry. What you went through when Voldemort fell…I can only imagine. But you know…others suffered losses too, you might have been able to have found some comfort from people who were grieving if you had stayed. You didn't have to cope alone."

Harry lifted his head from Draco's chest and disentangled himself slightly from the man. "I did everything alone Drake."

"Maybe that's the problem. You're going to have to learn to let people in."

"I let people in," Harry argued.

"You used to," Draco countered. "But somewhere around the time that you lost Sirius you closed yourself off, shut down and started pushing people away. It's time to let us all back in. Or maybe, more specifically, it's time you let him back in again."

"Ron?" Harry asked with a frown. Draco gave him a look that was obviously meant to let him know that he had it wrong. "Oh," he said softly. "Who's to say he'd want me to let him in again?"

"Harry, sometimes I wonder about you."

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

"Armarria Sute!" Harry cried, flinging up his shield as a huge burst of flames erupted towards him. The shield blocked them, but the force of Severus' hex was a lot to withstand and a flare of pain shot down Harry's wand arm. The flames disappeared and Harry fell to his knees, clutching his arm with a hiss.

Severus was at his side in seconds, kneeling next to him, a hand on his back and a look of concern on his face that almost made Harry forget the pain that seemed to be setting his nerves on fire.

"Are you ok?" the man asked, his hand rubbing circles on Harry's back in what Harry was certain was an unconscious action.

"Just a slight kick-back from the shield. It'll wear off in a bit," Harry replied, rubbing his arm forcefully.

"I think perhaps that's enough for today," Severus said, leaning one elbow on his knee and looking at Harry closely.

"No, no I can go again. I just need to get my breath back."

"No," said Severus firmly. "We've been at this for hours, time to call it a day."

Harry went to argue again, but the look on Severus' face told him that it would be futile. He sighed and flexed his fingers, saying, "Sorry, I know I'm not picking this up quickly enough."

Severus frowned and Harry almost dropped dead with shock when the hand on his back moved up to rest at the base of his neck, cool, long fingers settling against his too-warm skin. He looked up to meet the man's eyes and couldn't quite fathom what he saw there, all he knew was that he would quite like to keep looking for as long as he was allowed.

"I'll not have you working yourself to death," Severus said, his voice unusually soft. "This is difficult, advanced magic and it will take you longer than a week to pick it up. You've done surprisingly well so far."

Harry's eyes widened and he blinked for a moment, stunned at both Severus' words and the surprisingly soothing tone he used to say them. "You're different," he said before he could stop himself.

Severus looked at him questioningly and Harry took the opportunity to lean into the man's touch further. "What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"Since we've been here, since you were discovered as a spy, you're…you're different," Harry said, searching for another word to use, but deciding that 'different' was as good as he could come up with. "You would never have treated me like this before. You would have called me an idiot and worked me until I collapsed."

"Was I such a monster?" Severus asked gently but as though he rather suspected what the answer would be.

"Yes," Harry replied honestly. "But now…it's like I don't know you…and it makes me think – I probably never did, did I?"

"I'm not a wholly new person all of a sudden," Severus replied, and Harry was acutely aware that those long fingers were moving back and forth across his skin. "I'm still bitter and misanthropic, and given half the chance I will cut someone down to size with one sentence," he stopped as Harry sniggered, "but I'm freer than I've been in over 20 years and perhaps now…I can discover who I am without looking over my shoulder all the time."

Harry smiled and very firmly squashed down the urge to lean forward and kiss the man. "Do you mind if I try and discover who you are too?"

"Why would you want to?" asked Severus, an enigmatic little smile playing about his lips. Bloody hell but Harry wanted to kiss him.

"Morbid curiosity," Harry said, wondering if he managed to nail his smirk as well as Severus did.

"It would have to be," Severus replied. "Come on, enough training for now. We'll start afresh in the morning."

He stood up, Harry immediately missing the loss of those beautiful fingers on his neck, then held his hand out, pulling Harry gently to his feet. They walked closely side-by-side back to the cottage and Severus ordered Harry into a bath as soon as they were inside to ensure his muscles didn't seize up from their exertion.

As he lay beneath the bubbles, letting the hot water soothe him, Harry pondered on the man he could hear moving about downstairs. He was different and things felt different here in this surreal little world where the two of them lived together and made potions in the morning and trained together in the afternoons.

It was surprising what you learnt about a person, Harry thought, just by living with them. Those little things that might take years to find out otherwise all naturally became apparent simply by existing side-by-side. Severus spent his life in bare feet. That had been surprising to Harry initially when he had glanced down as they had stood at the kitchen sink and he had noticed the long, bare appendages sticking out from the usual black trousers.

Harry had never given much thought to the man's feet in the past, indeed he had never given much thought to feet in general, but there was something about seeing Severus sitting on the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, his pale feet flexing as he read that fascinated Harry. It made him seem more human somehow too, and confirmed to Harry that more of the man existed beneath the layers of endless black fabric he swathed himself in.

He had found other, seemingly trivial, things out about his bunk-mate too. He took his tea sweet and his coffee bitter, although both he insisted had to be served with milk. Harry had been amused by that fact and had told Severus that he had always assumed he would have had his coffee black.

"Why?" had been the bemused response.

Harry had shrugged. "Dunno, just made sense to me. You seemed like a black coffee and cigarettes kind of person, listening to obscure bands on vinyl and reading Vonnegut."

Severus had fixed him with a particularly withering look and replied, "I am not a teenage aesthetic Mr Potter," to which Harry had dissolved into a fit of giggles that took an embarrassingly long time to recover from.

There were other, little things too that Harry guarded jealously, feeling as though he might be the only one who was acquainted with Severus who had had the opportunity to learn them. He had very fixed ideas about meal times, and apart from their first day, he insisted that they eat lunch at one and dinner at six, and these times were not to be deviated from. He had coffee at 11 o'clock and tea at three, the latter of which he took his time to enjoy.

He insisted that tea should be made in a pot, and so he did, waiting exactly five minutes for it to brew before he took the tea tray into the sitting room, pouring himself and Harry a cup, then adding a generous splash of milk to his and a spoonful of sugar before settling back into the comfy sofa and reading through one of his many potions journals.

Harry loved to watch him as he read, although he tried to do it as surreptitiously as possible. The man would cross one leg over the other and then eventually his (deliciously bare) foot would start drawing languid circles in the air. He often bit his lip as he read and would chew on it slightly as he became more immersed in the material, sending a hot flush to Harry's cheeks that he had to dip his head to hide.

Harry sighed and decided that if he stayed in the bath any longer he would be shrivelled beyond recognition. He hauled himself out, drained the tub and dried himself off quickly, throwing on his pyjamas and running a hand through his hair a couple of times.

He padded softly down to the sitting room and found Severus just as he had been imagining him, lounging on the sofa thumbing through a battered old book. A quick glance confirmed that he was indeed in bare feet, as Harry had suspected he would be, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep his smile at bay.

"I was beginning to think you'd drowned," said Severus, looking up as Harry settled himself into the squishy armchair by the fire.

"Oh well thanks for coming to check on me," said Harry with a grin.

Severus rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the book in his lap, gesturing his hand toward the coffee table and saying, "I've opened a rather nice bottle of red I found in the cellar. Help yourself if you like."

"Mm, don't mind if I do," Harry replied, fetching a glass from the cabinet in the corner and picking up the bottle from the table, giving the label a cursory glance before pouring himself a healthy-sized glass.

He took a sip, letting it settle on his tongue for a minute to appreciate the flavour. "You know," he said, taking a seat on the sofa next to Severus rather than returning to the armchair, "I used to prefer white wine to red, but recently I think I'm developing a taste for it."

"Well at least your palate's maturing if nothing else," Severus said, looking across at him with a raised eyebrow and a glint in his eye.

"I do so appreciate your lifelong campaign to make sure there's no chance of all the Boy Who Lived nonsense going to my head and turning me into an egotistical, conceited prat."

It was very nearly a smile that made its way onto Severus' face as the man said, "I'm most gratified that you finally appreciate my endeavours after all these years."

Harry grinned then quickly winced as a jolt of pain shot through his arm and hand. "Bloody hell," he growled, setting his wine down before he spilt it and flexing his fingers to try to ease the building feeling of cramp.

"Still giving you pain?" Severus asked, settling his own glass down and looking at Harry as though he were a potions ingredient.

Harry nodded and eased his wrist back and forth. "It keeps aching and then every now and again a spasm goes through it and it feels like my nerves are on fire."

"Wait here a moment," Severus said, getting up and leaving the room.

Harry continued to rotate his hand, trying to stave off the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles that were shooting up and down his arm. His hand was shaking slightly and he could feel the spread of residual magic irritating his skin.

Severus re-entered the room, holding a vial of something yellowish and seated himself opposite Harry once again.

"Give me your hand," he instructed, and Harry did as he was told. Severus took hold of it and unstopped the vial, pouring a generous amount of the oily, unusually pleasant-smelling liquid into his palm. Harry was about to ask what was supposed to happen when Severus began to rub the mixture in, spreading it all over his hand and up his arm nearly to the elbow.

The man began to massage his hand with his thumbs, applying gentle but firm pressure. Harry resisted the urge to let out a moan as those dexterous hands worked their magic on his pliable flesh, soothing away the tension and horrible, dull ache. It felt wonderful and a little voice somewhere in the back of Harry's mind wondered if he could get Severus to do this every night; all he would have to do was pretend that his hand continued to hurt him.

The thumbs worked their way to his wrist then up his arm and Harry's breath hitched slightly as a jolt of something very different to pain ran through his body.

"Did that hurt?" Severus asked, looking up at him.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, his voice sounding oddly thick to his own ears. "No…just tickled slightly," he lied.

Severus smirked slightly and said, "Ticklish are we?"

"Don't you dare you rotten Slytherin," Harry said, eyeing the man carefully.

Severus quirked an eyebrow and said, "Information I can file away for another time."

Another time? Bloody hell, thought Harry. Was Severus planning on ambushing him at some point in the future? Launching an attack on him, pinning him down and…no. No that train of thought was not one he should be boarding whilst sitting merely inches away from the man. A straining erection was not an easy thing to conceal in thin cotton pyjamas.

"It um…feels good," he said softly as Severus' deft hands continued to work his sore muscles, rubbing them into submission.

"Valerian root," Severus replied, "tempered with a couple of ingredients of my own addition."

"Wouldn't feel half so good without those hands of yours," Harry said before he could stop himself. Severus' eyes met his and Harry felt himself blush, Severus' hands feeling warm against his skin. "I just mean…" he stuttered, "you have strong hands," he clarified, feeling like a right prat.

"These things are best applied directly to the skin," Severus answered softly.

"How often?" Harry asked.

"As often as you need it."

"I think I'll need it quite a lot," Harry said, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't making a prize fool of himself.

"I'll be happy to oblige," Severus replied and Harry could have flung himself at the man there and then.

"Thanks," he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. He was going to have to get up, he was going to have leave the room before he leant forward and kissed Severus and bollocksed everything up. The man would be horrified, he was sure of it. What man in his right mind, a sophisticated, older man at that, would want a 19-year-old jumble of hormones launching himself at them?

The massaging hands stopped and Harry had to admit that his hand and arm felt much better. It didn't mean that the pain wouldn't be back tomorrow though, and Severus had said he'd be happy to oblige, should Harry need further help. Harry was fairly certain he was going to need those beautiful hands and their healing properties as often as he could get them.

Harry flexed his fingers and moved his arm around slightly. "Is there nothing you can't do?" he asked Severus with a smile.

The man placed the stopper back in the vial and looked at him with something very like a smile. "Tap dancing," he said, "never did pick it up."

Harry burst out laughing and shook his head in surprise. "Now that I would pay good money to see," he said in between bouts of laughter. "As would the whole student body of Hogwarts I shouldn't wonder."

"Such a pity none will ever to get to witness it then."

"Were you always this funny?" Harry asked softly.

"No," said Severus with a thoughtful look, "I never had the luxury of humour before."

"I like this version of you," Harry said, running his hand over Severus' then immediately getting up from the sofa before his treacherous body could lead him into making any further overtures. "I think I might have an early night," he said, "those shield charms have done me in. Goodnight sir."

He headed for the door and was about to make his escape when he heard the man's deep voice saying,

"Harry?"

He was so surprised at hearing his name from Severus that he couldn't help but turn around and blink questioningly at the man.

"I haven't been your teacher for 18 months and you're no longer a child, would you consider using my name rather than addressing me as sir?"

Harry's lip twitched and he tried to stop himself from smiling. Severus had just voiced the fact that he no longer viewed him a child, the last thing he wanted to do was disabuse him of that notion. "That doesn't seem like an unreasonable request," he replied. "Goodnight Severus."

"Goodnight Harry."


"How you can be such a good cook and yet so hopeless when it comes to Potions is beyond me."

"I'm taking the compliment in that sentence and ignoring the rest."

"Yes, well you always were good at selective listening."

Harry snorted and ran a damp rag over the mess on the work surface. His attempt at making a batch of Skele-Gro unaided had not been successful and Severus was attempting to salvage what was left of the bubbling mixture in the cauldron while Harry sheepishly tidied the rest away.

"What was your mistake?" Severus asked, fixing him with a stern look.

"Asking to try and learn this stuff with you in the first place," Harry shot back.

"Idiot," Severus muttered in a manner that Harry could almost have interpreted as fond. Almost. "Come here," he said, stepping back from the cauldron and allowing Harry to stand in his place. "First of all, the puffer-fish should have been diced evenly, not massacred in the way you did with your knife. Secondly, your stirring technique should have been far more measured."

"How on earth does stirring affect these things?"

"Magical properties, Harry."

Harry suppressed the shiver that hearing his name on the man's lips invoked. It had been a couple of days since they'd come to be on first name terms and Harry was beginning to suspect that Severus was using his name as often as he could. It was a silly notion, he thought, but it did seem as though the man was addressing him far more often than necessary.

"Potions is a magical discipline, or else muggles would be able to make them. Every time you make a potion, you use your own magic and so a stirring rod becomes your wand. In the same way that the movement of a wand affects spell, so stirring affects the outcome of the potion."

"Oh I see…that's…actually kind of fascinating," Harry said, looking over his shoulder to grin at Severus. The man quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Now, this mixture requires temperate, measured stirring to counter-act the unpredictable properties of the puffer-fish. Here, like this."

He moved forward and closed his hand over Harry's, guiding the stirring rod around the cauldron in wide, even circles. Harry tried to keep his breathing normal, but it was not an easy feat. Severus had moved forward so that his chest was pressed against Harry's back and, whether the man realised it or not, his free hand was resting on Harry's hip. It was as close to him as Harry had ever been and it was wonderful, terrifyingly, embarrassingly wonderful.

He could feel the press of the strong body behind him, could inhale the smell of the soap Severus used, mingled together with the potions ingredients they'd been using all morning. He felt safe encircled in the man's arms and he could feel soft, warm puffs of his breath at the base of his neck, sending goose-bumps erupting all over his skin. He arched himself back slightly, hoping Severus wouldn't realise what he was trying to do, and pressed himself closer against the man's chest, imagining how it would feel if the damned awful nuisance of clothes weren't in their way.

Oh that was surely a dangerous thought to entertain, but really, how on earth could he stop his mind from conjuring up such delicious images when –

"Ow!" he cried, an unexpected jolt of pain shooting through his hand.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, releasing his hand and moving back slightly.

"My hand, it's cramping again," he replied, turning around to face Severus.

"So much for the famed Potter healing abilities," Severus said with a smirk. He reached up to the shelf above Harry's head and retrieved the familiar vial of the valerian root mixture. He uncorked it and poured it into Harry's palm before rubbing it in, his long fingers sliding over Harry's skin, soothing and healing. Harry couldn't help but let a small moan slip from his lips.

Severus looked up and Harry met his eyes, his breath a little jagged as he said, "Sorry…you're just…it just feels so good."

Severus looked at him, holding his hand in his own, and Harry felt that he was being scrutinised, that those black eyes were searching his face for something, but Harry couldn't try and guess what. It was too much; they'd been in such close proximity all morning and Harry's body was still reeling from having Severus pressed up against him. He wanted only one thing and his mind was in no fit state to try and talk him out of it.

He leant forward and pressed his lips against the other man's and his hand was released in time for him to wind his arms around Severus' neck. He had expected to be shoved away the second his lips made contact, but he found a pair of strong arms snaking around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss was returned. Severus' lips were surprisingly soft beneath his own and after the initial shock of what he was actually doing wore off, he took the initiative to deepen the kiss.

He gasped slightly as his tongue met Severus' but as one of the man's hands travelled up his back to come to rest in his hair, all thoughts of stopping, or of Severus not wanting what was happening, were immediately banished. It was cool in the cellar but Harry felt as though his skin was on fire, and he felt a warm blush spread across his cheeks as he pulled his body up against Severus' and felt undeniable proof that Severus was as affected by the encounter as he was.

The hand at the small of his back was firm and insistent, holding him in a way that left no room for escape, which was just as well, as escaping was the furthest thing from Harry's mind at that moment. He'd imagined what it would be like to kiss Severus, but he was realising now that his fantasies had fallen sadly short. It was sensual where he'd imagined it to be hard and rough, and although he had been the one to initiate it, it was Severus who was taking charge, holding him firmly ensuring that not a hair's breadth existed between them. Fingers were ghosting up underneath his t-shirt and he was about to return the favour, desperate to feel Severus' skin beneath his own fingers, when a noise sounded from above that sounded like someone stumbling through the floo.

They broke apart, their breathing harsh and ragged but the regret that Harry had expected to see in Severus' eyes was lacking. The man was smiling, there was no hint of him believing the kiss to have been a mistake, and Harry felt his own mouth twitch in answering smile of relief.

"I'd better go and see whether our visitor is friend or foe," Severus said, his voice low and soft. He stood back a little, releasing Harry from his hold and said, "You'd better sort the rest of that mess out before it eats through the table."

He swept away and up the cellar stairs and Harry looked over at his aborted attempt at the Skele-Gro with a stupid smile playing about his lips. He grabbed the rag he had been using before and mopped at the mess on the work bench, his lips still tingling and his body still thrumming with tension. Severus had kissed him back, and what was more, it had felt as though the man was not merely humouring him, but had been actively involving himself in the activity.

He heard voices floating down the stairs from the house above and as he strained his ears to listen, he was sure he could hear Ron's voice. He frowned, wondering what his friend was doing there and if perhaps there was something wrong. He sorted the rest of the mess then moved to the stairs, moving quietly up each step and coming to stop at the threshold.

Sure enough, it was Ron, and he looked a complete mess. His hair was dishevelled and looked as though it hadn't been washed in days, his face was pale and there were heavy dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm just so worried, Severus," he said, and his voice sounded harsh and raw. "It's been days and I – "

"You can't think like that," Severus replied, and Harry was surprised to hear how gentle he sounded. "He knows what he's doing, Ron."

"Does he?" Ron said, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge. "He's only been doing this for a few weeks and he's up against all those bastards who'll be watching his every move, even his own father will be – "

"Ron, Ron calm yourself down," Severus said, and Harry watched in wonder as the man moved forward and wrapped Ron up in a firm hug. "I know you're worried, so am I, but torturing yourself like this isn't going to help."

Ron clung on tightly to Severus, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the man's robes, his chin resting on the man's shoulder as he clenched his jaw firmly. "I saw what they did to you Severus," he whispered. "I saw how you would come back from meetings, I know what they did for fun…I've been watching them for months. He's not as strong as you, he's not…"

Severus pulled back and held Ron by the shoulders, looking him squarely in the eyes. "He is every bit as strong and he has even more reason to fight than I did. He can do this, you know he can."

Ron nodded, but Harry thought that he didn't look particularly convinced. "I thought I could stop worrying about bloody Slytherins when you were kicked out by those arseholes, but now I have to worry tenfold."

Severus shook his head with a slight smile and said, "You needn't have worried about me."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said firmly. "I care about you, of course I worried."

Severus looked as baffled by the declaration as Harry was. He had known that Ron had begun to see Severus in a different light after they had started working together, but he hadn't realised quite how close they had become, or that Ron had developed genuine feelings for the man. He wondered just how far those feelings went.

Harry moved forward, pretending that he had only just come up the stairs, and said, "Ron. What are you doing here?"

His friend turned around and was obviously trying to pull himself together as he said, "Oh, hi Harry. I…I was asked to come and check up on you, make sure you haven't killed each other."

Harry wasn't sure if it was true or not, but he was glad to see his friend and he smiled as he said, "No, no we're both in one piece."

"I can see that. Looks like everyone was worried for no reason," said Ron, shooting Severus a look that the man met with a glare.

"Do you want to stay for something to eat?" Harry asked, and Ron smiled, saying,

"That would be great, I could do with some company."

Ron stayed for the rest of the evening, and Harry was glad to spend some time with his friend. He was obviously troubled and had been preoccupied and a little distant, but otherwise he was as good company as he usually was. What had surprised him was how easy it had been for the three of them to sit around the table together, talking and eating as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ron had no awkwardness with Severus, that was plain to see, but Severus was unguarded and as friendly as Harry had ever seen him with anyone. The two sniped and swiped at one another, but it was done with good humour, and more than once Ron had elicited a laugh from the older man. There was something between them that Harry couldn't quite fathom, but it soon became apparent that Ron hadn't been lying when he had said he cared about Severus; his feelings were palpable and it intrigued Harry.

"Next time you come, don't you dare turn up without your mother's flapjacks," Severus warned, surprising Harry as he did so.

Ron laughed and said, "I promise, I'll make sure I bring you some. Mum will be thrilled to think she's contributing to your well-being."

"She's been trying to mother me for years, you'd think seven children of her own would be enough for her," Severus groused.

"There will never be enough people in the world for her to mother."

Severus rolled his eyes and said, "Come on, I'll see you out."

"I'll try and come by soon," Ron said, wrapping Harry up in a hug. "Everyone's eager to hear how you two are getting on."

"I'll bet," said Harry, doing his best not to blush. They'd been getting on just fine up until Ron's little interruption.

Severus led Ron back to the sitting room and to the fireplace, and although Harry was supposed to be dealing with the clean-up, he couldn't help but walk softly over to the kitchen door and strain his ears to hear the conversation coming from the room across the hall.

"Try not worry," came Severus' voice, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but he knows what he's doing."

"I'm to be his liaison contact," Ron replied softly. "I don't know if Dumbledore knew when he assigned me but…"

"You can't let how you feel get in the way," came Severus' firm warning.

"I know." Ron's voice was quiet, and there was a pause before Harry heard him say, "And what about your feelings?"

"We don't need to talk about my feelings."

"Really?" said Ron and Harry could hear the slightly teasing tone in his friend's voice. "Being here, in this situation…I've been worried about you."

Harry frowned. What did Ron have to be worried about? He knew people were probably taking bets as to how long it would take he and Severus to hex one another, but it didn't mean that it was enough to constitute a reason to worry.

"Don't be such an idiot," Severus snapped. "I'm a grown man. I can survive some time spent in a rather charming cottage with…somewhat tolerable company."

Harry's eyebrows rose and he was sure that Ron's would have risen to his hairline also. What followed next was a small chuckle that Harry could tell was from Ron, then he said, "Tolerable company indeed. Severus…tread carefully, won't you?" Harry was surprised to hear the amount of affection in his friend's voice as he counselled the older man, although what he was being warned against, Harry had no idea.

"I would if I thought I were in any danger, but I believe I shall endure," Severus said, his tone softer.

Harry heard the rustle of clothing and guessed that Ron had pulled the man into one of his infamous bear-hugs. Merlin how things had changed; he wondered if Ron was as surprised by the change in his relationship with the former Potions Master as he was.

A muffled few words and a soft, whooshing sound moments later told Harry that Ron had left, that it was now just the two of them alone again. He moved silently and swiftly back to the sink, pretending that he had been there all along, and busied himself with piling the dishes in. He felt Severus' presence and he turned to see the man standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

"You have yet to ask," the man said, his voice low and soft.

"Ask what?" Harry said with a frown.

"To whom Ron was referring when you were listening at the top of the cellar stairs."

Harry blushed a little but squared his shoulders; Ron was his friend after all. "It hardly takes a genius," he said with a shrug. "Another Slytherin to worry about and one that's in danger from his father, has to be Malfoy."

Severus looked at him thoughtfully, then said, "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

Harry paused a moment before replying, "If Ron has seen fit to confide something in you that he doesn't want to tell me, then I won't pry. I'll admit to being curious, but I know more than others about the need for privacy."

He turned his attention back to the sink and regarded the dirty dishes for a moment before deciding to forgo the nightly ritual of washing up and casting his wand over the lot of it, cleaning everything in a matter of seconds.

"I would tell you…" Severus began and Harry smiled as he looked over his shoulder at the man.

"I would never ask you to betray a confidence, no more than I would expect you to ask so of me."

A softness settled over Severus' face and his lip quirked ever so slightly in the tiniest hint of a smile. "Gryffindor," he said, his voice still low and soft and without any of the usual rancour Harry had come to expect in the past when that particular word was aimed at him.

Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "You've called me worse things," he murmured. He flicked his wand at the sink and the dishes and cooking equipment removed themselves to fly back into their assigned cupboards.

"I suppose it's time to call it a night," he said, heading towards the door, stopping in front of Severus, who was barring his way somewhat.

Black eyes bored into his for moment and Harry could feel the blush creep up from his neck. Oh, he thought, here we go, let's have the speech about how what happened in the cellar was all a big, fat mistake.

"Harry," the man said, and Harry felt a shiver snake its way down his spine at hearing his name from Severus' lips. "I don't regret what happened between us this evening. If you feel it was a mistake, then I'll abide by you, but for my part, I can't say I'm sorry for it."

Harry's breath caught in his throat and all thoughts of moving past Severus vanished. He felt that with the thoughts rolling around in his head, his senses should have been cloudy, muddled somehow, but he felt a clarity, a definite certainty that bolstered him. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Severus' chest then slowly slid them up so they were resting on the man's shoulders. "I regret nothing," he whispered before closing the space between them and meeting Severus' lips with his own.

He was pulled into Severus' strong hold and decided that this time, it would take nothing short of an interruption from Voldemort to stop him. Severus' body was hard and firm pressed up against him and Harry felt the muscles tighten in anticipation beneath his fingers. He wanted more this time, the months he had spent imagining this moment were not going to be in vain; he wanted to feel more than just a promise of that body beneath the clothing.

His hands slid down Severus' chest and began undoing the buttons of the man's shirt, and he was immensely grateful that Severus had forgone his usual tightly-buttoned robes. His hand ghosted over bare skin and he felt Severus' breath hitch slightly as he slid his hand very deliberately inside the man's shirt. The skin was surprisingly soft, and he mapped it out with his fingertips, then broke away to look up at Severus through his eyelashes.

Severus held him close, one hand drawing lazy circles at the base of his spine. "I think it best to take this slow," he said softly, and Harry felt a mingled sense of disappointment and relief.

"You don't want to go any further?" he asked, trying not to sound petulant.

"Oh Harry, nothing could be further from the truth," said Severus, his voice low and sending a thrill up Harry's spine. "But things are…unusual in this strange environment we've been plunged into and I don't want you to do anything you might come to regret."

"I already told you," Harry said, running a hand up and down Severus' slightly exposed chest, "I don't regret what's happened."

"And I'm not trying to talk you out of anything, believe me, but we have plenty of time, we don't need to rush anything, and I think we'd be doing ourselves a disservice if we did."

Harry nodded reluctantly, seeing the sense in the man's words and not wanting him to think that he was a rabid, hormone-filled teenager in a rush to lose his virginity to the first viable option. He supposed, if he was pushed, that he would admit he probably wasn't ready to do much more than kiss, and he had to respect Severus' self-restraint in giving him time to consider it.

"You're right," he said softly. "There's no rush, and I really don't want to mess up…whatever the hell this is," he said with a small laugh. "I just want you to know though that I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and wish that I'd never kissed you, not after wanting to do it for so long," he admitted, feeling his cheeks heat.

"Neither will I," Severus said gently, "for similar reasons."

Harry's eyes widened, but he wasn't brave enough to ask exactly what Severus meant by that comment, perhaps he would a little further down the line. "I'll say goodnight then," he said, leaning upwards and pressing a light kiss to Severus' lips, then reluctantly disentangling himself from the man's wonderfully strong hold and heading off towards the stairs.

"Goodnight Harry."


AN: Well that's your lot for now, please review and let me know your thoughts, Cithara xx