AN: Thanks for the lovely reviews! The action will be starting to pick up from here, don't worry. There's a bit of sex in this chapter, but it won't be the main focus of my story because I don't believe that sex is the only thing these two would be doing when they weren't teaching. Sorry, not realistic for me. :P

I don't know how well Molly Weasley comes off in this chapter, but hopefully not too one sided. Enjoy!

Ch 12 - Exposed Slytherin

Snape led Harry awkwardly back to their bedroom, distracted by Harry's hands roaming all over his back and over his arse. The door closed behind them and Snape held up his hand stilling Harry from his oral attack on Snape's neck.

"Potter, are you sure you want this?" Snape's tone was not filled quite with concern, but there was mixtures of trust and something else in it.

Harry held one finger up and traced it down Snape's cheek, drawing it very softly over Snape's lips. He shuddered when Snape slowly licked his lips to moisten them, teasing the tip of Harry's finger as well.

"I want it." Harry said, his eyes never leaving Snape's.

Snape nodded and moved his hand up to cup Harry's chin, pulling the shorter man against him and kissing him soundly. His tongue flicked playfully along Harry's lips, and after a mere second or two he was granted access.

Harry's hands had drawn themselves down the small of Snape's back, caressing the taut lines of Snape's arse through the light robe that Snape was wearing. Harry already knew how well the black jeans curved to Snape's lean form, and he couldn't help grabbing and pulling Snape flush to him, delighting when their groins rubbed together.

Harry found himself being disrobed slowly, calloused but thin fingers tracing all over his body, lips following closely behind, sucking, teasing, nipping at his skin. The mouth that for six years had only brought him anger, humiliation, and disappointment was now torturing him with a whole new set of feelings.

There was softness beneath him as Harry found himself pushed onto the bed, and he lost track of time between losing his clothes, Snape asking him if he was still a virgin, and when he was pulled up to his knees on the bed. Harry knew it must have been at least a good fifteen minutes, as he'd never felt so cared for and frustrated at the same time by Snape's slow preparations. It was so uncharacteristic, Harry thought, to be receiving such tender touches, but then not so surprising that Snape would ensure to take the steps so Harry was properly prepared.

He'd felt pain, as he knew he would, but Snape had moved very slowly and waited patiently for Harry to relax. Harry was thus not surprised to find himself whimpering softly on all fours in the darkness, Snape's heavy weight atop him as they strongly rocked together. Harry's warm bum nestled perfectly into Snape's hips and his head was dipped forward, exposing his neck and shoulders. He felt Snape's hair tickle across his skin, and moaned appreciatively. Fingers splayed over the hand that Harry had supporting him by an abandoned pillow, intertwining together with Harry's own fingers. Snape's other hand had reached under Harry, spread out across his chest and pulled him close to ensure as much skin contact as possible.

Snape leant down for a second to lick slightly at the top of Harry's shoulder blade, before biting down on it. Almost breaking the skin with his bite, Snape noted that it would definitely leave a bruise. He growled one word: "Mine."

Harry jerked upon hearing Snape's claim, thrusting himself back almost painfully. For a moment, all he could feel was sweat, warmth, a very large fullness, a shudder, and the intense feeling of being completed. Fireworks rained through his mind, and without a second thought Harry passed out.

…..

Ringing invaded his dream, an old heavy ring that sounded bizarrely like a telephone. Harry grunted in his sleep. The ringing started again, and Harry opened his eyes. Beside him on the bed, Snape was lying on his stomach, pillow tossed on the floor sometime in the middle of the night. Snape managed to lift his head and look at Harry, hair covering his face. The ringing sounded again.

"What on earth is that?" Snape muttered, concentrating on opening one eye. It worked for half a second, before he dropped his head back onto the bed.

"I dunno." Harry grumbled, dragging himself out of the covers and heading toward the living room. Whatever it was, Harry was going to strangle it. He held his wand out, pondering just what hex would be best to use on Peeves.

Harry stood in the center of the living room, grateful not to find Peeves there. The ringing continued, and he finally narrowed his eyes on the small bookshelf in the corner. Things suddenly clicked into place as he moved to answer the rotary phone.

"Hullo?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter? Apologies if I woke you." The voice on the other end sounded amused.

"I uh..no. What time is it, Prime Minister?" Harry glanced around the room, but couldn't focus on the kitchen clock without his glasses.

"Nine am, and it's David, no formalities needed. I'm calling with some news on Kevin Krantz."

Harry woke up a bit more, and moved to the couch, wincing as he sat down and staring at the lack of phone line attached to the phone. Magic was handy.

"Good news or concerning news?" Harry flicked the drapes open and found a cloudy day outside. Not bad for a Sunday, though they both had plenty of marking to do that day and so going outside was doubtful.

"Good, I suppose. We have apprehended Krantz's supplier, with Mr. Shackelbolt's help, and we know Krantz will be back in England around Hallowe'en. You gave him your address, did you not?"

"Yeah, Snape did, in a way." Harry yawned.

"Excellent. Our SIS office and your…Aurors are they called? Well anyway, they believe that Krantz will now try to contact yourself and Mr. Snape regarding his compounds. We had originally thought that Krantz would be using his findings for some sort of chemical compulsion of people in the USA; however, he has increased his contact with British wizards it seems. He's, ah, using quite a few owls here in London and he's not been very subtle about it."

"Wonderful." Harry muttered.

"Indeed. There is not much further information at the moment, however please keep us informed if Krantz does make contact with you. And please pass the message along to Mr. Snape. I of course, do not wish to wake him." The Prime Minister sounded like he was smirking, and Harry snorted.

"Thanks, David. We'll talk to you later."

Hanging up the phone and dropping it off back on the shelf, Harry walked back to the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. He shivered slightly in the bed, cold from having to get out. Clamping hard on the duvet, Harry smirked as he rolled forcefully, pulling them across the bed and off of Snape. One good turn gets all the blankets, after all.

It only took a minute for Snape to realize he'd stolen them, however, and Harry suddenly found himself enveloped in a hug, pulled back against a warm body.

"Ow." Harry murmered, his bum feeling rather tender as Snape tucked his legs up behind Harry.

"Potion later." Snape grumbled back, before they both slipped back into sleep.

…

The next staff meeting to be held was the following Wednesday, and in exchange for less annoying behaviour, Minerva had promised not to share their secret amongst the other professors until it was time. Both Harry and Snape guarded their privacy fiercely. Snape shuddered at the headlines that would no doubt stain the front of the Prophet for months should the press ever find out. "Evil Death Eater Seduces Chosen One" and other such atrocities.

Looking around the room, he wondered if any of the other professors were harbouring secrets of sordid affairs. His eyes rested on Sinstra, and he shuddered again. Mental images were not welcome at this, or any time.

"Severus, you are required to be at these meetings. At least pretend to pay attention."

Minerva was impatient and from the looks of her notes, still had a long way to go. Snape didn't even bother to look guilty at getting caught, but instead shuffled the papers in front of him and slowly rolled them together. Flitwick was suggesting ideas for an October Hogsmeade weekend to keep the students from having cabin fever, and Snape thought best to let them go. As far from his flat as they could get.

He glanced at Harry seated beside him, and found that after a minute the constant rolling of pencil on the table was quite annoying. Harry was obviously on another planet, but for some reason he could not desist from rolling the pencil, making small high-pitched noises as it went over the grooves in the table. Somewhere Hooch mentioned that fool Lockhart. Snape, his full concentration on the irritating pencil now, stole a quick glance at his partner, noted the daydreaming in his eyes, and smacked Harry's hand with the paper roll as efficiently as if dealing with a buzzing fly.

Snape smirked, as Harry and the rest of the professors had jumped at the sudden movement. It only took a few seconds before Harry's glare penetrated him, and he saw the younger wizard open his mouth to say something scathing when a cold flush of magic hit them both. Petrificus totalus, and a bored sounding Minerva holding her wand was the source.

"Frozen for two minutes. Severus, he is not a household pest, Harry, rethink that reply you were about to grace us with." A snort of laughter came from a few of their esteemed colleagues.

"As I was saying, " Hooch continued, "when that idiot Lockhart was here there was a dueling club. The students seemed really interested in that, and even though You-know-who is gone, a little practise wouldn't hurt. Besides, we all know how popular Mr. Potter's DA sessions were when Umbridge was here. And according to the history books, we have two of the best duelists here."

Minerva considered this, and noted out of the corner of her eye that both men had broken out of the spell. She raised her wand and used it as a pointing stick, but the message was clear. Behave.

"If you are willing to supervise Mr. Potter and Mr. Snape as they attempt to teach dueling, by all means, go ahead." There was a challenge in that statement, and Hooch looked horrified at the mere thought.

"We could use the Great Hall like last club time. There are no books to put back together." Harry tried to sound friendly, but doubt registered on the faces of most of his colleagues. Snape was strangely quiet, no doubt considering how to work this to his favour.

"Minerva dear." Dumbledore's portrait chirped up. "Why not let them use the Room of Requirement for this task?"

"So nice of you to join us, Albus." Minerva spoke with terse lips.

Dumbledore beamed at the staff, who were all eyeing him wearily. "Well now, I do think the dueling club will give Harry and Severus here a better chance to know each other, and that room is able to transform itself to whatever one desires or needs."

Both Harry and Snape glared at the portrait, while Hooch just regarded the old man as if he were rather drunk.

"No, they can play outside. You get the quidditch field." Minerva consented, staring down both until she had their attention. "And I will make due on that previous threat should I find you dueling inside the school."

And so, before the students rose the next morning there were notices pinned to the common room bulletin boards in all four houses. HOGWARTS DUELING CLUB Saturday October 10th, 2 pm at the quidditch pitch. It only took an hour and a half from the time the students had finished breakfast before the rumours had confirmed throughout the school that Professors Potter and Snape would be hosting the dueling club, and from what it sounded like, not many students wanted to miss the display.

From their spot at the high table, Harry could only hold back a grin. He loved dueling, and Snape had always kept him on his toes. He felt a small pressure brush against his thigh as Snape moved to get more potatoes, and Harry did smile this time.

All throughout the hall students were stealing quick and sometimes not so subtle glances at them, and Harry could only imagine the thoughts running through their minds. Would this weekend be the weekend one of their two professors finally knocked off the other? He actually did snort at this, choking on a piece of potato and receiving a look of mock loathing from Snape.

"Honestly Potter, you can't even die without making a ridiculous amount of bothersome noise."

…

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter in the flat and tapped his hands against the edge of the hard counter. He had a Plan. True, he should have already learned that his plans were not the best for keeping himself out of trouble, but Snape wouldn't finish teaching for another hour and it was a fairly innocent plan. It only required one spell, maybe two.

"Point me Snape's list." Harry's wand spun him toward the bookcase, where a small pensieve sat in a box on the lower shelf.

"You must be mad." Harry scoffed aloud to himself, absolutely refusing to touch it. "Accio Snape's To Do list." Harry triumphantly called. A roll of parchment sailed towards him from the desk and Harry carefully opened it. His smile faded quickly as he read the words that were unraveled.

"Tsk tsk, Potter."

"Bollocks." Harry grumbled, carefully putting the parchment back. He knew he shouldn't snoop, but Christmas was in two months and Harry knew if he didn't start looking for present ideas now, he'd never figure out what to get Snape in time.

Snape found him later, sitting on the floor surrounded by CDs. Before coming to Hogwarts Harry's had persuaded Arthur Weasley to enchant a CD player for them that would still work within the castle, as well as a VCR and telly. They could only listen to music or watch movies on the devices, not receive any signal for television shows, but the movies were all they wanted.

"Getting ready for karaoke night?" Snape asked with an amused voice, smirking as Harry whipped his head around.

"No. Yes...what? How do you know what karaoke is?"

"I'm a half blood, Potter, not a bloody recluse. As you should know, seeing as you're digging through my CD collection."

"Right…" Harry replied distractedly, putting the CDs back in order.

"Besides, one can hardly miss the warbling our dear colleagues call singing at the end of year staff party." Snape added idly, sorting his class notes into folders at his desk.

"No way." Harry was fighting a giggle at the mental image of Minerva McGonagall singing anything.

"Oh yes," Snape smirked, catching Harry's thoughts inadvertently through the rings. "Her, Hooch, and Sprout, all singing I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor. They've claimed it to be their song."

Harry burst into laughter. He only settled down five minutes later when Snape moved over to the couch and slid gracefully into the soft cushions. Friday evenings were quiet and calm and their favourite time of the week.

"Snape, tomorrow's a free day. Pick something embarrassing from your list."

"Embarrassing?" Snape quirked his eyebrow as Harry stretched and climbed into the chair by the fireplace.

"Last week I took you to meet the Weasleys. Believe me, it's your turn." Harry pointed out, as he added a log to the fire.

"And you're taking me back there on Sunday." Snape summoned himself a root beer from the fridge. "I'm quite alright completing that type of list item by myself, thank you."

"That's not how it works." Harry protested, fighting a pout. "You know I won't laugh at you."

"Fine." Snape rolled his eyes at Harry and summoned the same roll of parchment from his desk. After a minute he looked up and tried to look nonchalant. "Join a sports team."

Harry blinked and bit his lip before he could say anything stupid. Instead, he nodded.

"Muggle or Wizard?" Harry finally asked in a neutral tone.

"I am uncertain." Snape replied cautiously. "Though I don't believe my talents are best suited for quidditch."

"No, I don't think so either. Too vicious." Harry agreed, keeping any tone that could be mistaken as teasing out of his voice. "You need a sport that involves logistics, I think."

"I don't consider chess a sport, Potter." Snape took a drink and started idly rolling the bottle cap on the side table.

"Me either, but don't tell Ron that." Harry grinned. "Cricket?"

"I don't run." Snape leveled.

Harry thought back to the last altercation he'd seen where Snape had retreated – out the window. Right, he didn't run, he flew.

"Golf?" Harry asked, remembering how Vernon had talked of the sport as if it were for kings.

"Ridiculous sport." Snape replied. He refused to dress in a pompous mismatched outfit and chase a small white ball up and down fields all day.

"Well rugby's out. What about polo?"

"No horses." The bottle cap was turned into a cork.

Harry shoved his socked feet closer to the fire and slouched down. What was that sport McGonagall had mentioned to him earlier? He scrambled to remember the details, as now that he thought about it, it was a potentially good sport for Snape.

"Curling." Harry finally remembered. He turned to Snape with a smile. "Old Scottish game McGonagall told me about, it's now quite popular. You have a bunch of round stones that you have to slide down a sheet of ice, knocking out the other team's stones. And you get points for being closest to the….I swear McGonagall called it a button. But it seems like it's almost all strategy and accuracy."

"That may be a possibility." Snape conceded after a moment's consideration, still wondering why Harry had not laughed at him for wanting to join a sports team.

"Brilliant." Harry smiled. "I've got to run to the library later for a class book, I'll see if there's anything on curling there."

"Perhaps we should invite the headmistress for dinner tomorrow." Snape suggested, reaching a new level of terror as he stared at the fire. "Only to gain further information, of course." He added, as Harry stilled in surprise.

…

The Burrow was loud. Snape had studied animals in school, indeed had even been called a walking encyclopedia at points, and he knew that weasels in general enjoyed quiet in their little domains. Not so at this Burrow. The walls were bright and covered with random artifacts and decorations everywhere, voices echoed from rooms to the sides and above him, feet seemed to be endlessly moving about on the stairs or in the hallway, and somewhere upstairs he knew a ghoul added to the cacophony. Snape was rather uncomfortable with the endless assault on his ears and eyes, but the Weasleys were perfectly content with this form of organized chaos, and he put up with the Weasleys for Harry.

Snape took comfort knowing that Harry was rather overwhelmed at points with the energy of the house as well.

When they'd arrived Snape had stood off to the side, waiting as Harry had been given a proper Weasley welcome, and then was shocked to find himself being hugged by Molly Weasley. Snape had stiffened at the contact, but Molly had pretended not to notice and said nothing of it, instead just welcoming him back and shooing them up to Ron's room while the dinner was being made.

Molly watched the four go upstairs, paying particular attention to Simon Prince. He was taller than Harry, his chocolate brown hair cut neatly around his ears and along his neckline in a stylish men's cut. The eyes were more grey than blue, and displayed a marked maturity, eyes of a man who had seen more of the world than was necessarily healthy. Harry had told Molly that Simon was twenty-nine, but Molly knew the man was closer to his late thirties. He dressed conservatively, charcoal grey slacks, a casual cream coloured collar shirt, and a royal blue cable knit jumper that matched his eyes splendidly. He was very neat, polite, and showed both the Weasleys and Harry respect.

Molly admired that. She also admired the way Simon's hand naturally trialed to the small of Harry's back as he followed him up the stairs, as if he was protecting Harry. When Harry and Simon had arrived Molly had noticed that neither looked like they were sleeping well. Oh, the boys were trying to hide it, but Molly did not have a hoard of kids without the experience that went along with it. It was just the way their shoulders were slightly hunched, and how the smiles didn't quite meet their cheeks. She'd seen that look on George all summer.

Molly returned to the kitchen with a smile to herself, ignoring Arthur's questioning look. He'd been trying all week to guess who Simon really was. Molly just continued to smile as she charmed the sweet potatoes to peel themselves. Her adopted son had finally found someone strong enough to ground him, something she knew Ginny could never have done properly.

…..

Ron opened his door with trepidation, never for once in his life thinking that Professor Severus Snape would ever be stepping into it. The Cannons regalia was still covering most of the available wall space, and though there were childhood knickknacks strewn about the surfaces, he sent a silent thanks to George for making him box away the more embarrassing items before he'd moved to Grimmauld Place.

Snape looked around in the room, inspecting it with barely hidden curiosity. The room was no bigger than his own at Spinner's End had been, but the difference was certainly startling. For all the teasing he'd heard by the Malfoy brat and had done himself about the financial status of the Weasleys, it did look like the Burrow was a wondrous house to have grown up in. He'd tasted poverty all through his childhood, and never known that the house and family could still be so rich, for lack of a better word.

Snape sat in Ron's desk chair, allowing the younger couple to sit on the bed. He was not surprised when Harry plunked himself down on the floor in front of Snape seconds later, leaning against his legs.

"Sorry it's so bright in here sir, must be very different from your dungeons." Ron apologized, with a blush.

"While the difference is rather notable, I don't believe you should apologize for the decorations of your own room, Mr. Weasley." Snape replied lightly. Ever since Harry's silly little experiment, Snape had found it easier and easier not to inflict malice into all of his statements.

"Well, dinner will be done soon anyway, Mum just wanted us out the way while she finished." Ron grinned.

Harry laughed, and Snape felt the warm vibrations in his legs. The conversation continued without him, talk about Grimmauld Place and plans for the future. Snape studied the trio, the way that Granger leaned in against Weasley, how his hand unconsciously rubbed circles on her thigh. They seemed to love each other, something Snape had seen coming since their infamous fights over that stupid rat all those years ago.

With a start, he realized that those little gestures they shared were some that he had done with Harry. In the morning, before Harry woke, Snape often leaned over and messed up the black hair even further than it already was. He gave small shoulder rubs and squeezes as they passed each other on the flat, and more often than not found themselves sitting together on the chesterfield in the evening, watching a movie or listening to music.

Merlin. Not even half a year after the war and he'd fallen in love with Harry bloody Potter.

Snape's attention was brought back to the conversation by warm fingers gently caressing his anklebone, just above where his shoes ended. The fingers circled softly around the bone, squeezing slightly. At least Potter is just as affected, Snape thought with a smirk.

"Alright, I want to ask something." Hermione proclaimed, abruptly changing the conversation. "Do you ever call each other by your first names?"

Snape gave her a bewildered look.

"No."

"But why not?" Hermione asked, clearly confused but spurned on by curiosity. "It's obvious that you like each other, and you're together…"

"I don't like his name." Snape explained, pointing a finger at Harry. His tone indicated that he thought this was a perfectly valid argument. Ron laughed.

"Severus sounds like a Roman gladiator. Why would I call him that?" Harry added, looking put out by the strict Latin name.

"Don't ever call me insensitive again." Ron told Hermione, with a grin on his face.

"Oh honestly, you're all dense. I suppose neither of you mentions the word love, either." She sounded exasperated to be surrounded by such emotionally stunted idiots.

"Four letter word, Hermione." Harry replied, and then stuck his tongue out. Her answer was cut short by Mrs. Weasley's yell up the stairs.

"Dinner in a moment! Come set the table please, you too, Simon!"

"She always treats us like we're kids." Ron muttered.

Snape pointed his wand at himself and the glamour reappeared. He reminded himself to ensure the potion recipe was hidden carefully away, as his potion made it quite easy for less scrupulous people to literally have split identities whenever they wanted.

Standing up, Snape followed Harry to the door, grumbling.

"The things I do for you, Potter."

They trudged down the stairs and Hermione followed behind after a few seconds glance. Ron looked at her quizzically as she kept looking at the doorframe after them.

"They do say it." Hermione murmured.

….

Dinner was quieter than the week before. Neither Charlie nor Percy was available, and Bill had taken Fleur out for dinner. Snape sat beside Harry at the kitchen table, Ron and Hermione across from them. The dinner was a hot and thick lasagna that Snape was certain outdid the house elves' recipe by miles. He was peacefully enjoying the meal, thinking to himself, when he realized that the room was entirely too quiet. Quiet Weasleys worried him.

"Harry dear." Molly started. "Minerva stopped by the other day for a cup of tea. She mentioned that you are doing well teaching the Defense class."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Harry smiled after a moment, waiting until his mouth was empty. "It's actually been rather fun teaching the kids, though with Voldemort gone it's hard to keep their attention sometimes. They're too carefree about it." Harry managed to roll his eyes and his friends laughed.

"Well, it's time for some fun too, don't forget. Though I heard that one of your lessons last week scared the class." She looked pointedly at him and Harry blushed.

"The immortality lesson was important for them to learn." He mumbled.

"Of course, dear." She smiled, and Harry instantly felt wary. "And what about this wonderful flat? You've got your own private room with floor to ceiling windows, I've been told."

"Yes…" Harry started, wondering just what else McGonagall had told her.

It's a trap, Potter.

Snape, whose own mother had been a true Slytherin and hell to grow up with for her mental games, was quickly trying to figure out what Molly was after.

"That's wonderful." Molly was passing out second helpings and Ron gave Harry a warning kick under the table. Molly pointedly ignored her son.

"Perhaps the next time we're in Hogsmeade we shall visit, seeing as you've yet to invite us to your summer home."

Harry saw a bit of hurt on her face and felt a bit guilty. "It's nothing much, Mrs. Weasley, and I…"

"Nonsense, Harry!" Arthur chapped in, giving them a smile. "We're family, and we'd love to visit. Simon must visit you all the time!"

Fight it Potter. Snape was sat very still.

"It's just a small room, really." Harry said, trying to convince them that it was really nothing. He knew otherwise, knew that besides Cairn Hollow that their flat was the best spot in Scotland.

"Yes, and it's probably wonderful to you, Harry. Your own first place to truly call your own." Her smile was genuine and Harry relaxed. This was not going to be a discussion on who he was living with.

"Yes." Harry answered, his voice a bit stronger, though he was fighting off a yawn.

"You can decorate it as you like, walk around in whatever clothes you want, sleep in till whenever you want…" Molly continued, watching as Harry nodded happily at each point.

"And you don't even need to put up silencing spells for your nightmares anymore."

"No, no spells needed." Harry agreed, before blanching and smacking his hand to cover his mouth.

Damnit.

Ron shook his head and cleared his and Hermione's plates. Snape was staring out the window, and Harry was trying his best not to look into the sad eyes of Molly.

"Harry, I know you won't stop having nightmares from the war. Not for a long time. But you need to talk to someone about it dear, so that they don't start consuming you."

She stood up to get dessert and under the table Harry felt Snape squeeze the top of his thigh. It was a good reminder to keep his mouth shut. As Molly started handing out pieces of pie, hesitating slightly over Fred's empty chair, Harry thought about how George had been handing the aftermath. He'd gone to see that muggle psychiatrist, and Harry supposed that's what Molly was referring to. Harry didn't want to involve more people into his misery however, and since he'd gotten closer with Snape, the nightmares had lessoned.

"They're not consuming me Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine." Harry put on a brave smile and thanked her for the pie.

"Harry." Hermione interrupted, ignoring Ron's appalling manners as he dug into his dessert. "We just want to make sure you're okay. Neither you nor…Simon look like you're sleeping the best."

"I assure you my sleeping habits are satisfactory, Miss- Hermione." Snape spoke with rigidity in his voice.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes, and Snape itched to take points.

"Yes, well, Harry." Molly continued, ignoring Snape's slip. "Its just that you hid yourself away all summer dear and now we see that you're back at Hogwarts, staying by yourself, and at war with Professor Snape again." She kept her gaze fixated on Harry.

"We'd like you to know that if you need to speak to someone, we will be here and help out. You yourself died in the war for a few minutes, young man. That is not something that one just walks away from."

Harry glanced around the table for help but only Hermione would look at him, and her eyes were filled with the same concern as Molly's. Even Arthur was staring at his dessert.

"And Harry James Potter, if you ever feel like you're completely overwhelmed and at the end of your rope, you will come and tell one of us right away." Her voice was stern, and Harry knew not to disobey.

"What do you mean, at the end of my rope?" Harry asked, wanting to make sure he knew exactly what he was not to disobey on.

Molly looked at him with sad and experienced eyes. "I mean when you feel like you, like you…" She trailed off, not able to finish the sentence.

"When you've got nothing left to live for anymore." Ron supplied, one hand on the back of Hermione's shoulder, the other one knocking once softly on Fred's chair.

Harry looked rather shocked when the meaning set in.

"No! I promise I will. But I haven't felt like that. I couldn't do that, couldn't cast that spell!"

"I know." Snape said, his voice colder than usual, the food on his plate forgotten. "You cannot turn your wand on yourself for the killing curse. I discovered that years ago." He subconsciously rubbed his left arm, where the dark mark was hidden ironically by muggle make up.

Arthur did not miss the action, and for the first time all evening allowed himself to relax once he realized who Harry had chosen to be with.

….

Molly was all smiles again as they stood around the fireplace, the small pouch of Floo powder offered around. Harry and Snape were leaving first this time, and Snape was a bit surprised to find himself un-adverse to shaking Arthur Weasley's hand upon his exit.

"Now, Simon, we expect that you are able to fully take care of our Harry?"

Molly's eyes were bright with amusement, but Harry still felt like he was being treated like a child.

Snape thought that Harry's blush was rather delectable, and he remembered back on all the passionate sex they'd finally indulged in that week.

"Indeed, Madame, I am fully capable. Once upon a time I even made a lion roar." Snape smirked as he watched Harry's face roll with a red-hot blush, stammering a goodbye as he spun off into the fireplace. Snape was about to join him when a sweet voice made his blood freeze.

"Oh, Mr. Slytherin?"

Snape turned to find Molly and Arthur watching him, neither holding anger nor annoyance in their eyes. Merely a strange contentment was there, and it was a look Snape was unused to.

"Please tell Mr. Gryffindor that when he finds his courage, we are waiting for him to reintroduce you, without that glamour." Molly's voice was deadly soft, a far cry from her normal shrill tones, and in that moment Snape understood why those bothersome twins had always remained mindful of their mother.

She started again before he could think up a lie quick enough.

"We trust you and that you're good for him. You care for him, and that's enough for any parent."

She refrained from hugging him this time, and Snape merely nodded before stepping into the fire.

…

When they finally had warded the front door properly, Harry tiredly made his way to the bathroom to change for bed. Snape noticed the owl waited on their window ledge as he was putting out candles, and when he opened the letter he called Harry out. The owl was from a London Express service., and perched on a kitchen chair while it waited for a response.

Snape held out the parchment for Harry to see, suddenly feeling much more awake.

Mr. Prince,

I have come into some difficulties in my lab, and require your assistance in creating a potion. I will of course compensate you handsomely for your time and efforts, if you wish to take me up on my offer. I will need approximately 500 individual doses of calming draught, and there is a deadline. Please send a return owl so we can discuss the terms.

Regards,

Kevin Krantz.