Hello everyone! This is a long chapter about Snape and Harry getting to know each other/both being awkward.
I have two questions for you: How do you feel about a little Snupin smut scene? AAAND who should Ginny have a crush on? Luna, Hermione, Pansy, ?
I hope you enjoy reading!
Previously:
There knelt Professor Snape, bare chested with just swimming trunks, a necklace, and a wand holster on. He was soaking wet, water dripping from his ponytail, and a slight scowl across his face and swirling black eyes. Harry quickly looked down again.
Shit.
"Oh, um, sorry Professor. I'm sorry, I'll go now, I'm sorry," he stammered, attempting to stand, but becoming dizzy just when he lifted his head.
"Quiet, Mr. Potter. You're bleeding, but from an invisible scar. Please drop your glamours so I can heal you," the dark professor said quietly but seriously.
Harry dropped them, reluctantly. He was thin, he knew, but he hadn't looked in the mirror in weeks without the glamours on. He didn't dare look up to see his professor's face, knowing there would be a scowl on it. I'm such a pathetic bother. He was just swimming and I came and ruined it for him. He doesn't care if I'm injured. He just has to check because he's a professor. He doesn't care. No one cares.
But… he did help after Ron attacked me. And hasn't told anyone. And keeps sending me nutrition potions…
"Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter!" Harry looked up. "Please keep your attention focused on this moment. Keep sipping your drink; keep fumbling with the stone, whatever helps. Now, I need to heal you. I am going to use my wand to touch your skin on your shoulder and around your neck. Is that okay?"
Harry nodded, but tensed as the man shifted closer to Harry's side. He pulled out his wand and began muttering spells. Harry's attention however, was focused elsewhere. From the corner of his eye he could see what must have been very deep scars starting from the man's throat, out towards his shoulder. Right, Nagini. Merlin, that looks painful. The scars are still so puffy and pink, not even white yet.
Beside the snake scars, covering the edges of the shoulder and down at least part of the man's side, was more discoloration. The skin was mottled between blinding white, dusky pink, and the regular paleness of the rest of him.
All of a sudden, he felt Snape's hand brush by his neck and Harry tensed further, breaking his study of the professor's scars. Snape stepped back then, assessing his work briefly. His face was blank and his body rigid. Just like always, really. Snape looked over Harry's head then and waved his wand, a pile of clothes levitating from somewhere into the man's hands. Snape turned and Harry gasped.
On Snape's back shoulder was a large tattoo of the moon, three quarters full. Harry only got a glimpse of it for a second because Snape had shrugged on a black tee, followed by a jumper. Harry averted his eyes, a guilty feeling bubbling up.
Snape's a private guy. He must be so angry that he was forced to deal with me while he was swimming. And now I've seen scars and a tattoo and it's all too strange. He must hate me.
"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, "Please accompany me back to the castle." Then he turned on his heel and began the journey back around the lake. Harry scurried behind him, feeling dreadfully short. Snape's long strides were hard to keep up with, and Harry felt stupid for not keeping up. After about ten minutes of half-jogging, Harry stopped all together. Fuck it. Harry lit a cigarette, feeling better immediately.
"Did you realize it is quite rude, Mr. Potter," Snape said silkily, making Harry almost drop his cigarette in fear, "to not offer to share with your company?"
"Er… What?"
"Eloquent as always, Potter."
"Do you, um, wanna smoke?" Harry said cautiously, raising his cigarette pack towards the dark professor. This has got to be a trick. Now I'm gonna have detention for the rest of the year.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Snape plucked a cigarette from the pack, put it between his lips and… rubbed his hands together? Then he put a fingertip on the end of the smoke and it was immediately lit. Bloody hell. How'd he do that?
Snape turned and continued walking, however slowed down a bit so Harry had a chance of keeping up.
"Er, sir. Am I in trouble?" Harry asked the man's back.
"Now why would you be in trouble?" Shit.
"I think I began walking before curfew was over? And, um, smoking?"
Snape did not respond for a moment, making the sense of dread rise in Harry's chest. Detention forever. Fuck. I hate cleaning cauldrons.
"How about I take five points, and you accompany to my quarters for breakfast and a discussion?"
Is this a trick now? Only five points. McGonagall would take of loads for smoking, I'm sure. Breakfast? Discussion?
"Okay, sir," Harry panted. They were now climbing one of the steeper hills, about half way there. I wish I brought a bloody jacket. The wind is picking up. Stupid stupid stupid. Can't do anything right.
"Um, can I ask one more question, sir?" Harry hated how timid his voice got.
"I suppose you may, though I may not answer," Snape said, stopping and turning towards Harry and raising an eyebrow.
"Erm, how come you have a tattoo of a moon?" The man's eyes narrowed and Harry took a tentative step backwards.
"How about we play a question game instead? You ask, I answer, I ask, you answer. Honesty is vital. Would that be satisfactory?"
"Yes," Harry said tentatively. "Well, can I say I don't want to answer something?"
"Only if I do not believe that you are attempting to hide something that is causing you injury," Snape said sharply. "But yes, we can refuse questions."
"Okay, um, deal?"
"Deal," the professor said, looking at Harry intensely. He flicked his cigarette to the side, banished it, and pulled off his jumper. "Wear this, Potter. I don't want to have to make a visit to the hospital wing with you." He held out the black material to Harry while straightening his own tee shirt.
"No, its okay professor. You'll get cold," Harry mumbled. Why is he being nice? Is he gonna tell people that I wore it? What's the catch?
"Potter. I just did an hour of intense physical exercise. I am perfectly fine without it. You, however, are shaking. I also am concerned that you will simply fall over if your body temperature lowers any more. Take it," he commanded. Harry reached out and quickly pulled it over his head.
Warmth. It was so warm. And it smelled nice and safe. Like bay leaves and shrivelfigs and other potion ingredients Harry couldn't name.
"Come along then, Potter," Snape said softly, leading the way again. By the time they reached the doors, the sun was firmly up, but the grounds remained silent. It was almost spooky how desolate Hogwarts was between 3-7 AM on weekends.
Snape had said they would chat in his quarters, and Harry was slowly feeling dread fill his body. What does he want? Is he going to yell at me? I didn't do what he wanted. He took time to take care of my pathetic arse and I still fucked up.
Harry began dragging his feet down the dungeon stairs, feeling the chill deepen as they moved farther into the heart of the castle. They passed the potions classroom, the Slytherin dormitory entrance, and Snape's office before stopping in front of a large tapestry. It was of a forest, and as they moved in front of it, a raven and a stag appeared. Snape twisted his wand through the air and waved Harry through. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped through the tapestry into a surprisingly cozy room.
The walls were full of books, first of all. There was a book on every available wall space, squeezed together haphazardly in some spaces and orderly on others. There was an inviting light brown leather sofa in front of a low table, flanked by two deep blue wing chairs, all crowded in front of the sofa. Underneath this furniture was a faded Persian rug. It was all placed in front of the fireplace, which lit as soon as Harry walked in. The windows showed only a greenish light. It took Harry a moment (and a fish) for him to realize they were under some part of the Lake.
"Not exactly the epitome of gloom most students expect, is it Potter?" Snape asked dryly, suddenly appearing behind him. Harry flinched. Snape moved ahead of Harry, stopping to light the candles on the small chandelier, and sat in one of the chairs, motioning Harry to the sofa.
Delicately, Harry sat on the edge of the seat, head down. Snape ignored him for the moment, instead tapping the table twice with his wand. Two large bowls of oatmeal, a bowl of berries, tea, and a cup of milk appeared on the table.
"Now, Mr. Potter, I will go easy on you this morning, but I expect that glass of milk, and half your oatmeal to be completed before you go. I will continue to supply you with a nutrition potion as well," Snape commented casually, as if he wasn't forcing Harry to eat in front of him. The professor picked up his spoon and ladled strawberries and blueberries to the top of his oatmeal before taking a bite.
Harry's stomach turned, but under Snape's watchful eyes, he picked up the milk and had a few sips. It was cold and refreshing, washing through Harry mercifully after his night of heavy drinking and smoking.
That sat in silence for a few moments until Harry finally started eating small spoonfuls of oatmeal. After his third very timid bite, Snape started speaking.
"I imagine someone has told you about the prank Black attempted on me at Lupin's expense?"
Harry nodded. Lupin had explained it to him during third year. It was a rather foul trick that had tainted the joy of having a godfather somewhat. There are always bullies. Sirius had been one, Ron is one, Snape usually is one, and Draco was the worst for four years. It's not new anymore.
"Well, that initially inspired a deep fear of werewolves, but more importantly, it showed me that I was vapid, weak, and unprepared for realities outside my areas of comfort. I was forced to keep this dangerous news a secret, and forced to owe a life debt to my greatest enemy." At this, Snape nodded to Harry a bit stiffly. Right. Broomstick, first year. Cheers, mate.
"When I turned 19, after already receiving my Dark Mark and eventually regretting it, I decided to get the moon. Too many times had I been unprepared and weak in the face of dilemmas. Too many times had I chosen the easy way to power and mistaken strength. The moon reminds me of my mistakes and my debts, made due to my initial fears of being seen as, to sum it up in a word, Snivellus."
Holy shit. Merlin. Did he really just say all that to me? What the bloody fuck? Why did he just tell me about his…emotions. Snape has emotions. That are apparently quite life altering that he just shared with me. Harry Potter. Bane of his existence. What the fuck is going on?
"Potter," sneered Snape at Harry, who's mouth was hanging open. "Eat more oatmeal."
Harry stuffed a few more bites in his mouth and swallowed more milk.
"Can I ask a follow up?"
Snape eyed him, but nodded.
"Are you still afraid of werewolves? Does it upset you that Remus works here again?" Snape's lip twitched upwards for just a moment. Harry decided it was just another sneer.
"I am better. I have worked with many werewolves since joining the Order, primarily Lupin. He allowed me to study him in order to make improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion. I am not comfortable with any other wolf, however, probably due to numerous interactions with Fenrir Greyback. He is the reality of my fears, very different from Lupin. The Board of Governors approved Lupin as a professor so long as the Headmaster and myself ensure he takes his potion and remains outside of the castle during the full moon. Conveniently, the tattoo changes with the real moon; therefore I can never forget when it is."
"It's like a magical tattoo? It can change and stuff? And its not, ya know, evil?"
Snape did that weird lip thing again, but nodded. Holy shit. I need one, like now.
"My turn, Mr. Potter. I was very honest and open, I hope you remember to do the same," Snape warned in his low, cool voice that demands attention. Harry snapped out of his thoughts of tattoo designs, feeling anxiety come back up. When did it go down? Listening to Snape was kinda cool, but damn, that doesn't mean I'm safe. Harry nodded to his professor, wringing his hands a bit.
"I have asked this before, but, Mr. Potter, what are you on? Or more accurately, what were you on last night?"
That's not so bad. He already kinda knows I get fucked up a lot. Or at least knows more than any other adult.
"Er, lets see. A lot of whiskey and beer was involved. A bit of weed. Some coke and Adderall were thrown in as well," Harry muttered, avoiding eye contact. For some reason he could feel that Snape would not dock points or suspend him for this.
"Adderall?"
"A muggle pharmo. Kinda like cocaine. Makes you hyper. Er, sir."
"So you're telling me you had large quantities of both uppers and downers and yet your heart still works?" What the fuck is that tone? Sounds like bloody Mrs. Weasley when she wants you to know you're stupid. Merlin. Just yell at me like a regular guy and get it over with.
"Yes, sir. But, really, it's fine. Its just, ya know, for parties," Harry said quietly.
"Yes, of course. That's why you smell like marijuana every day in class. Not to mention the occasional days I smell alcohol on you. Trust me, drinking and brewing is not a good combination." Snape motioned towards the oatmeal again, and Harry hurriedly bent his head and started spooning in a few more bites. He was getting full, but still had a ways to go. The stress of the situation was making his stomach act up more than usual though.
"Other professors are too old or too ignorant of muggle lives to see certain things, Potter. I will not get you in trouble for now, but if it becomes a deeper problem, I will have to report it."
Shit. Okay, well. He's not doing anything now. Just gotta learn to hide it better. Stupid stupid stupid. And what does he mean? How would a bloody Death Eater know shit about muggles? Ex-Death Eater. Whatever. I forget he's not old too. He seems so tired. And when he's dressed in all those heavy black cloaks, he looks bigger and more distant. He looks kinda 36 right now. The same age my parents would be. Weird. Wonder if I can see Mum again. I wonder if there is wizard acid or if I just have to die. Maybe if I go into a coma? Maybe…
"Mr. Potter, please come back to the land of the living. It is your turn," Snape stated sternly, drawing Harry back into the conversation.
"Er, right. Um," Shit. I don't know. What am I supposed to ask him? "What were your parents like?"
"Pass. Ask again," Snape said, voice emotionless and cutting. Oh fuck. Shit. He seems upset, or like, not as non-angry as before. Alright. Balance.
"Why do you swim in the mornings? Do you do it every morning? Even in winter?"
Snape nodded in approval, having a sip of tea before answering.
"I was asked to choose a physical activity to do by my Mind Healer. I chose something that needed endurance, and swimming was what made me feel better. Before the Battle, I would run a few miles each morning, but we decided I should do something different, something unrelated to the war. Swimming is soothing. It makes me slightly less volatile and offers a place to relieve my stress.
"And I do it every morning except Fridays and Saturdays. Did you not notice the rather strong heating charm in place where you were sitting, Mr. Potter?"
"Oh, that's what it was," Harry bent his head in embarrassment.
"Indeed. I place an intensive isolated heating charm throughout the top five feet of the lake in a straight line. In winter I also have to place barriers so ice won't float in my path."
"Mind Healer?"
"Mandated after the trials. Many people were required. It is quite a mystery that you were not," Snape said slyly.
"I was never on trial?"
"Neither were many people who were strongly advised to seek a Mind Healer. It seems people believed you to be immune to what happened since you are the hero," a bit of snark edged into his voice and Harry gripped his hands together tightly.
"I'm not immune and I'm not a hero, sir," Harry said lowly, biting out the words, "But I would appreciate it if we could move on."
Snape gave him one of those deep appraising looks, making Harry curl on himself even tighter.
"Fine. What do you eat every day Mr. Potter?"
"Pass," Harry snarled.
"This is a case of endangerment. You do not get to pass," Snape replied coldly and deadly serious.
"What happens if I don't answer," Harry asked, tension making his shoulders shake.
"I will have to inform Poppy that you need help at meals. She will likely force you to eat every meal with her in the infirmary."
Harry sat quietly for a moment, anger swirling in his body. Fucking Slytherin prat. Pomfrey will tell Dumbledore.
"If you don't like my answer, who will you tell then?"
"No one," Snape said swiftly. "I will only tell if you begin to worsen. I give you my word."
"Fine," Harry grated out, everything in him telling him to run. "I eat a bit of fruit and coffee with Draco in RoRi. I grab some fruit and a roll, or just a sandwich to last the rest of the day during lunch."
Snape stilled. His dark eyes widened just slightly, but it was enough for Harry to duck his head again.
"You will start eating lunch and dinner in the Great Hall," he said sternly.
"No! I won't! I hate going in there. Everyone stares and is too loud and.. and … just… I would rather bloody eat in here than going there. Listen, I'll just start eating more okay? You can check with the elves and everything. I promise," Harry was feeling desperate. He felt unraveled. He felt fear trickling down into his body at the idea of eating around bloody Ron and Seamus and everyone's eyes every day. Snape, however, had laced his hands together, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "Er, sir?"
"You will eat one meal in the Great Hall and one meal with me, here. Every day. We do not have to speak or even look at each other if you do not wish to. But you must come here and eat. Either lunch or dinner will work for me."
What? Did I just do that? No. Noo. Bloody hell. How do I always make things worse. Just… at least he's not going to Pomfrey or Dumbledore. But, why? What does he gain from this? This doesn't seem cunning, it just seems like a huge bother. Now I'll just be another burden on someone else.
"Er, dinner, sir," Harry said to his hands, not trusting himself to open his mouth again.
"That is satisfactory. I will make arrangements and you can meet down here at 6, sharp. I will set it so the tapestry recognizes you. Now," Snape said, continuing with his impersonal tone, "I believe it is your turn."
My turn. Right. What the fuck do I ask him that he won't pass on? Snape lifted his cup of tea to his lips, providing Harry with his question.
"Does your Dark Mark still hurt ever?" Oh wait. Shit. That does seem personal now that I said it out loud. Aaand he's raising his eyebrow, a light sneer, right. Good job Harry.
"No," Snape finally said after a moment of Harry's panicking, "The last time it hurt was when he finally died. Do you not remember how all those bearing the Mark reacted?"
Harry tried to think back, but honestly all he could remember was a delirious exhaustion from the last hours of battle. Voldemort crumbled, and then…Harry remembers Dumbledore placing his hand on his shoulder and Hermione and Ron and others swarming them. Even that was blurry though.
"No, sir, sorry. It's a bit hazy," Harry admitted.
"It is to be expected. Well, I assume you know that he had control over our Marks; he could call us through them, typically through pain. It is similar to Cruciatus, but located only inside the Mark. When he died, every Death Eater's Mark burned intensely, and only slowly faded away. I, of course, barely remember this as well due to my injuries, but it was quite fierce. But since then, no, it has not harmed me, just like I assume your scar will not harm you."
Harry instinctively flattened his hair over his scar. That all made sense according to the testimonies he had heard. Harry nodded, ignoring eye contact.
"My turn again. Eat something first, Potter, you need it."
Harry reluctantly picked up the spoon and had a few bites of the now lukewarm oatmeal. His stomach turned, but he had a few more sips of milk, which helped soften it.
"Do you have nightmares?" Snape said, lacing his fingers together on the table.
"Why would you think that?" Harry snapped, his patience wearing thin. This man is bloody omniscient. Why is he asking all these kinds of questions? He already knows the answers.
"Because, Mr. Potter, when you removed your glamours, I noticed the dark circles under your eyes. Which is probably a mix of sleepless nights and a lack of proper nutrition. So, nightmares? Insomnia?"
Harry curled his fingers into his hands, anger pulsing through him. But, after a moment of that pure, sweet anger, came exhaustion. He's right. I'm a disaster. But of course I have nightmares. So many people died. I died. Of course he thinks I have nightmares… they're just… not like he thinks they are. Harry had been having weird dreams since the end of last year. Right after the Battle he dreamt of the dead almost every night. Now he dreamt of falling, of suffocating, of drowning every night. He dreamt of broken bones, of large waves, of mercy.
"Some unsettling dreams, sir. I wouldn't consider them nightmares. But I'm fine, ya know. Lots of work this year, and such."
"Yes, and when you wake up from these dreams you do schoolwork, not wander around the castle, of course?"
Can't catch a fucking break.
"Walking helps me calm down," Harry said through gritted teeth, shoulders tense. If he takes points for something he didn't stop in the act, I will walk out right now.
Snape stood, startling Harry. The man stood and perused a bookshelf for a moment before plucking one out and handing it to Harry.
It was a thick, well-worn book, red and soft from touch. The title read Warding with Runes: Safety in Symbols.
"I know you chose Divination instead of Runes or Arithmancy, but you should look through there. It is very informative if you can understand your own needs," Snape said stiffly.
This is probably the weirdest weekend of the past few years. I have a party with Draco Malfoy in the room we share because we are both gay outcasts, and then Snape helps me with a panic attack and gives me a book about protection.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, flipping through the introduction. "But just so you know, Dumbledore suggested Divination because it would give me more time to find Horcruxes with him."
"Yes, well, the Headmaster and I have different ideas on what constitutes a pastime for children," Snape said coldly. "You may read this book in here, and take notes, but it should not leave my quarters as it is very old and very valuable. Try to get an idea of the total book for the next hour or so, then tomorrow you can begin investigating what, if any, runes would be helpful for you."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, something strange expanding in his chest. Don't get your hopes up; this is Snape after all. He will destroy you tomorrow because you relaxed today. But today he decided to help you. So use it now while you have it.
For the next twenty minutes, Harry eagerly flipped through the large book, trying to soak in as much information as possible. But, eventually, he started to fade into the warm leather sofa, his eyelids getting heavy, and the fire casting such a gentle light that he couldn't help but doze off.
Sssssssssssssssssssssssss
Severus looked up from his grading every few minutes to make sure the boy was reading, then sleeping. Probably stayed up all night, the irresponsible teenager. Yet, Severus could feel his worry about the boy in his fingertips. He was worse. He doesn't eat. He drinks and smokes and does strange drugs. He sleeps poorly. He has panic attacks. And he only speaks to Draco, his former enemy, just because they are both supposed outsiders.
Then again, if there was a party last night, I'm sure they are doing just fine in the social arena again.
Still. There seemed to be some great shift in the Potter boy from the rest of his school years. His relatives surely have been abusing him for some time, so why would he all of a sudden be more likely to flinch at every motion? He died. He was grown to die and now has lost all sense of what the purpose of living is in the first place. The Dark Lord is gone but he is still here. He celebrated, he mourned, and now what is he supposed to do?
Severus felt uneasy. His arm twitched. His thoughts, free now that he was essentially alone, were racing. It was one thing to help the occasional Slytherin abuse case, another thing entirely to deal with the lost Boy-Who-Lived. But he felt he had to. Something inside him that Severus often attributed to his Slytherin side, ambition, perhaps, called to him to act. Not ambition to impress others, but ambition to prove to himself, once again, that he has integrity, that he has changed. Power from others is lost or abused, but power within stays true.
Potter. The small 16 year old would be accompanying him for dinner every night. But, more importantly, how do I make the boy talk? Trust? Give him an idea of life past 16, past Hogwarts? How am I, snarky Slytherin git, supposed to get the Gryffindor golden boy to truly live when I hadn't for so many years?
Then, his arm twitched. And again. Until it was doing the spasmodic dance it has taken to doing the past year. Severus bowed his hand and attempted to systematically tense and relax his arm and hand muscles. It did not help much. Luckily, this episode was not looking as bad as others. They came and went, appearing almost weekly, but sometimes will be triggered by certain actions. Actions such as rage fueled rants. And cigarettes.
Severus sighed and went back to grading, attempting to ignore his arm by slashing red across pages of inane essays on mugwort properties from second years that can barely spell their own names. There was peace for about fifteen minutes.
"All I'm saying, Albus, is that there is room for a whole underwater garden," Remus practically shouted as he stepped through the tapestry into the room.
Severus shot up and shook his head silently, causing Remus and the Headmaster to stop in alarm. Severus rolled his eyes and nodded towards the sleeping teen on the sofa. Eyebrows went up.
Severus scowled and waved them towards the tiny kitchen, pulling the leather tie from his hair as he followed. Once he shut the door firmly behind them, he held up his hand to stop the barrage of questions sure to start.
"I found him this morning after swimming. He looked like he was having a…difficult time. I informed him that he could lose many points or come eat breakfast with me and then perform a detention. He chose detention but fell asleep. It seems as if he was up all night," Severus said stiffly, hair partially obscuring his face.
"Ah, that is kind of you Severus," Albus smiled widely, eyes twinkling.
Severus sneered, anger channeling through his body. Albus already knows what is going on. Manipulative old man. I just wonder how much he knows. Regardless, I can tell he will let me do what I want now. He has not interfered much since the Battle. Even he can take a few hints. Rather aggressive hints.
"Is he okay?" Remus asked, concern etched over his face.
"He will be," Severus said shortly, not looking into his partner's eyes. Of course, that only made Remus more suspicious. He could feel the werewolf scanning his body, making a small tsk tsk sound when he saw the shaking hand.
"Love, have you not taken your potion for it?"
"Not now, Remus," Severus spat, eyeing the Headmaster angrily. "What do you think of the boy, Albus?"
Remus frowned, leaving the room, causing Severus to feel guilt well up. But the other man knew he did not like his weaknesses flaunted, especially to people he could not trust anymore.
"I think that Harry needs help and that I can not help right now. You, therefore, are the logical choice. My turn has passed, Severus, and I failed greatly in some aspects. You may do what you please. You have my full support," Dumbledore said, eyes shining with tears. Severus snorted.
Tears will not weaken me, old man. You failed. You failed Potter. You bloody sacrificed a fifteen-year-old boy. Now that he survived, you do not know what to do with him. But you expect me to fix it right up. Pathetic, lowly, sinner, Severus Snape to the rescue.
I will do better by the boy than you ever have. And not just to spite you, either, because there is no real reward in that, either.
Severus held the Headmaster's gaze through his thoughts, knowing the man could decipher them through his eyes. Then he swung his hair forward and turned sideways, not wanting to see the few tears trickle down the cracked and aged face.
Remus stepped back in, silently closing the door. He faced Severus, holding out a small vial of a blue potion.
"Stop your whinging and take it," he said sharply, forcing it into Severus's hand. Then, gentle as could be, Remus tucked some of the lank black hair behind his ear and kissed the corner of Severus's mouth.
Honey. Honey, wildflowers, and cinnamon. Severus inhaled his lover's scent deeply and felt his muscles relax. He squeezed Remus's hand briefly, an apology, and stepped to the small stove to put the kettle on. He pulled out one mug and his favorite Earl Grey and honey.
Remus and Albus chatted in calm voices for the few minutes until the water was boiling. Severus poured his tea and chugged the blue vial, feeling relief wash over his spasmodic arm. Remus half smiled, and then led Albus out of the kitchen and back to the hallway.
Severus collapsed into his chair, mug in hand, running the other hand through his hair.
I will have to explain bits and pieces to Remus. After all, I won't be having dinner with him for a while. I just have to convince him to not get involved. Which will be practically impossible.
A noise stirred Severus from his musings. Potter was curling up tightly on the sofa, gasps coming from his mouth like he was struggling to breathe.
Merlin. What am I supposed to do now?