Snape woke with a pleasant ache pervading most of his body. He was almost delighted to be back in his own bed, warm and comfortable, with Harry still sleeping contentedly, curled against him.
He ran his fingers through Harry's disheveled curls and murmured, "Good morning, Harry," close to his ear.
The sleeping man stirred and made an unintelligible sound, but did not wake. Snape trailed light kisses along his jaw until he opened his eyes.
"Severus," he muttered, half question and half greeting, and leaned up for a kiss. After he pressed their lips together for a lazy, open-mouthed kiss, Snape was able to shift his focus and think somewhat more clearly. At that point, it occurred to him for the first time that several people had witnessed his…declaration during the final battle. Had things changed? He would need to know where he stood.
"So, have you finally informed your little friends?" he asked, keeping the interest out of his inflection.
"Well, not exactly," Harry responded groggily. "I told them we got to know each other a bit over the summer and that we were close. That was when Ron started calling you 'greasy git', and Hermione made me leave the room before I throttled him."
"Close." What in the name of Merlin did that mean?
"Yeah, close," Harry repeated and snuggled up to Snape, who decided to put the matter aside for the moment.
"What day is it?" he asked.
"The seventh, I think," Harry grumbled.
"No, what day of the week," Snape clarified.
"Oh, um, Thursday?"
Snape tried to think what dunderhead Albus would have gotten to take over Potions while he had been incapacitated, but he could not bring to mind anyone even remotely competent. Much as he loathed the notion, he would have to get back to teaching as soon as possible, before all this students regressed to blithering nine-year-olds.
"I suppose we should extract ourselves from bed and get ready for class then," Snape mused bitterly.
"Oh, no," Harry corrected, "Professor Dumbledore has cancelled classes until Monday. Hermione was quite upset about it, but really it made sense. After Halloween, half the school was distraught over losing their friends or their parents getting arrested, and the other half was too giddy to focus on anything at all, so he sent everyone home."
Well, that was a relief. He did not particularly want to see anyone or do anything that was not right here in this room.
"In that case," Snape said and started to nibble on Harry's ear.
Just when he got the moan he had been after, someone knocked on the door. Snape waited, but whoever it was seemed to be rather tenacious and kept knocking.
"Blast it all to hell," he muttered and donned his dressing gown to get the door. He glowered at the person he found on the other side.
"Minerva." He said the name as if it were a curse. "Whatever it is had better be pressing," he threatened.
She scowled at him and her eyes widened when she caught sight of Harry standing behind him wearing Snape's bathrobe. " 'Had better be pressing'! Based on what I have seen thus far, I would say the matter is rather pressing, indeed."
Snape sighed. He would never be able to get rid of her now. Also, he figured it was better to get this unpleasantness out of the way sooner rather than later, as putting her off would surely only make it worse. He pulled the door the rest of the way open and she swept inside, her deep maroon and navy tartan robes billowing behind her.
"Morning, Professor," Harry said, and she glared at him.
"Have a seat," Snape instructed and conjured a cup of tea for her. "As you may well imagine, we were not expecting visitors at this ungodly hour, so if you will excuse us for a moment," he said and grabbed Harry by the arm to pull him back into the bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, he thrust Harry's clothes toward him and hissed, "Get dressed—quickly!" He found his own robes and they were soon clad in a manner much more appropriate for receiving quests.
Once they were seated in the main room, Snape got right to the point. "What was it you wanted?"
"Well, first I would like to know what you," she looked sharply at Harry, "are doing here at this early hour."
Snape and Harry looked at each other, but neither man spoke.
"Oh, never mind, I can guess very well what you were doing," she said and shook her head as if to dislodge some unwelcome mental image.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "We were sleeping, if you must know."
"Sleeping!"
Snape wondered if she was planning to repeat everything he said.
"Yes, yes," she said dismissively, "Sleeping, of course you were. The reason I have come is to tell you that I hope you have both thought long and hard about this relationships of yours, before you just jump in with both feet."
They made no response. Snape idly considered that if they both kept their mouths shut, she might just get bored of talking—or, rather, chastising with an ill-concealed threatening tone—to herself and leave them be. Unfortunately, they were probably still quite a way off from that point, however idyllic it seemed.
He was right—Minerva had more to say. "You have both been through so much, I would just hate to see you…torment yourselves. You deserve to have every happiness, but I am not convinced that is what will come of this." She looked back and forth between the two of them, trying desperately for some response.
Snape could tell she had not yet voiced her main concern. There would be no getting rid of her until she had, so he sat back and waited.
After minute or so, she stood and threw her hands in the air. "Well what else is there to say!" She started toward the door, but Snape knew it would not be this easy—when the old cat caught the scent of something, she hunted it down mercilessly until she killed it.
Halfway to the door she stopped, turned, and exhaled sharply. Here it comes—Snape mentally braced himself.
"I regret that I must be blunt, but I have to say that if anything happens to him—if you hurt him in any way, if you leave him suffering, if you…if you break his heart—I shall personally see to it that you regret your very existence, Mr. Potter!"
With that, she went to the door in two long strides and slammed it behind her. Snape sat there blinking in wonder at the indifferent door.
It was Sunday, and the students had returned. He and Harry had hardly left him rooms since Poppy had released him, knowing that Harry would have to return to Gryffindor tower that night. They were just finishing supper when Snape heard angry whispers outside his door, followed by a cautious knock.
Snape opened the door to reveal Granger, who was smiling up at him, and Weasley, who seemed quite unwilling to look him in the eye. He did not relish having them in his private quarters, but quite frankly, he was impressed that they had held out this long and admitted them.
The four of them stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a bit before Harry motioned his friends toward some chairs and they all took a seat.
Granger spoke first. "Good evening, Professor. Hi, Harry."
"Miss Granger."
"Hey, Hermione. How was your break?" Harry asked.
"It was fine—relaxing." She knew better than to inquire about his.
Weasley had been completely silent thus far, but was obviously bursting to say something. After a moment of silence, he blurted out, "Okay, what exactly is going on here? What are we doing at Snape's place!"
Snape glared at him and Weasley paled and shrank back in his chair.
Harry chuckled. "Relax, Ron, he's not going to hex you. He's not even mad—more amused, actually."
"How do you know?" Weasley asked, clearly disbelieving.
Granger answered for Harry. "Because he can feel it, isn't that right? Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry, I've suspected ever since I gave you that book at the beginning of term. So it was the red light then, the heart bond?"
Harry and Snape looked at each other, deciding how much to reveal. Snape gave a nigh imperceptible nod to indicate that Harry was free to say whatever he liked, and Harry explained, "Actually, it was all three—white light."
Granger's eyes went wide. "Oh my goodness, Harry, that's almost unheard of!" she nearly squealed.
"Excuse me," Weasley interjected, "but could somebody please tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?"
"Honestly, Ron." She rolled her eyes. "They're bonded—their hearts, souls, and magic have all bonded," Granger explained, exasperated.
Then Weasley fainted.