AN: Hey folks, I'm back. This story may be familiar to some of you - it was previously published under Of Curses and Healing and it was unfinished. It's now back, re-written and hopefully better. It's AU as of book 5 and updates will be weekly.

Chapter 1

Harry waited outside Ron's office, tapping the side of his leg agitatedly. It wasn't the first place he would have chosen to spend his afternoon, and part of him was more apprehensive than he would care to admit at the thought of seeing his friend again after so many months of absence. Still, it was an undeniable fact that Ron was the best, and the best was what he needed right now.

He stole a glance around at the other people sitting in the waiting room with him and entertained himself briefly by looking from person to person and trying to guess what their afflictions might be. He supposed he'd get no prizes for surmising that the witch carrying her eyeballs in a glass jar had been hit with a blinding curse, albeit one with a black sense of humour. The others were less obvious, and he assumed that they were all suffering with unseen issues, as he was.

He uncrossed and crossed his legs for the hundredth time and snuck another glance at the clock on the wall; any hope he might have had at being given special treatment by Ron was clearly a false one. He sighed and was about to give in and equip himself with a horrific magazine when the door to his right opened and a man roughly his own age poked his head out and said,

"Dr Weasley will see you now."

Harry nodded and stood, following the man through into the office. Dr Weasley, Harry thought with a not unfamiliar jolt of disbelief. The level that Ron had risen to was now so high that he had earnt the right to be addressed as 'Dr', rather than simply 'Healer' and, at 27, it was an achievement that Harry had a hard time reconciling himself to sometimes.

Ron's assistant showed Harry through and directed him to take a seat in front of the large, ornate desk, assuring him that Ron wouldn't be long. Harry certainly hoped not; he'd had more than enough of waiting that afternoon and he feared for his temper if he was forced to endure much more.

He was just about to start examining the various knick-knacks that adorned Ron's desk when the door at the back of the room opened and his friend appeared. It had been a while since he'd last seen Ron and he was struck, as he always was after these long periods of absence, at just how grown-up Ron looked, especially in his smart, well-tailored Healer robes.

"Harry," said Ron, approaching him with a smile and an open hand, "it's good to see you."

Harry stood and took the hand that was offered, giving it a firm shake and returning Ron's smile as he said, "And you, mate. How are you?"

Ron settled himself behind his desk and indicated for Harry to resume his seat. "Not bad, can't complain," he said with a smile. "Work's as busy as ever but I'm planning on halving my practice work so I can focus more on my research."

"Research?" Harry echoed, unable to suppress a grin. "The 15-year-old you has just felt someone walk over his grave."

Ron snorted and said, "I know, I never would have imagined I'd turn into such a geek. Hermione's intensely proud of me."

Harry's smile faded slightly at the mention of their shared friend. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

"You'd know if you visited her," came the level reply.

"I – "

"Anyway, what can I do for you? I take it this isn't a social call, as we don't get too many of those these days."

And there it was, the reproach he'd been expecting and couldn't honestly say he didn't deserve. His constant absence in his friends' lives, indeed his absence in the very country they lived in, was a sore point that showed no signs of remedying itself.

Harry cleared his throat and reluctantly met Ron's eyes. "I was hit by a curse a couple of months ago. At first I thought it was just a straight-forward disabling hex; I was immobile for a couple of days and a little weak and wobbly but it seemed to wear off."

"And now?" Ron asked regarding Harry with professional interest as he summoned a piece of parchment and a dicta-quill.

"Now I feel like I'm losing my mind," Harry said tiredly. "I'm in pain all the time and I've tried every possible way of relieving it that I can think of and nothing works."

Ron nodded slowly and said, "Can you describe the pain?"

Harry sighed and said, "It's constant. Sometimes it's my joints that ache, other times it's muscle cramps and then sometimes it feels as though my nerves are on fire and I can hardly bear for anything to touch my skin it's that painful."

Ron scratched thoughtfully at the end of his nose then stood up, saying, "I'll need to examine you."

Harry nodded and Ron moved around the desk to him, saying with clinical efficiency, "Strip down to your underwear and stand still for me."

Harry did as he was told and stood in just his pants, which were a thankfully respectable pair, as Ron circled him several times. He took each of Harry's hands and examined them, then held each arm out, his face a picture of concentration. He tilted Harry's head from side to side then moved his hands over Harry's shoulders and back before he knelt down and examined Harry's feet and legs.

Harry was a little embarrassed, he couldn't deny it. Ron had seen him in such a state many a time; they had shared a dorm for seven years and none of the boys had been shy in stripping off, but this was different, and Harry couldn't help but feel exposed as Ron looked at him as though he were a specimen.

"Your range of motion is very limited," said Ron as he bent Harry's arm at the elbow and watched as Harry winced slightly.

"It's getting worse. Sometimes my knees and my hips are so stiff that I can barely walk. The ache is unbearable."

"Any other symptoms? Nausea, headaches, insomnia?"

"I get headaches, but I think that's just from the stress of it all, the same with my sleeping. The pain keeps me awake sometimes."

Ron reached for his wand and pointed it at Harry's head, moving it down his body all the way to his feet, a spectrum of colour appearing as he did so. Ron looked at each one thoughtfully and Harry was reminded of the many times he had played chess with the younger version of the man before him and how carefully Ron would scrutinise each chess piece. Harry felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the little buggers.

"Medicating with alcohol won't do you any good," Ron said with a raised eyebrow.

"Did the scan tell you that?" Harry said, his voice taking on a petulant edge.

"That, coupled with the fact that I can smell it on you."

"It just takes the edge off sometimes," Harry replied, averting his eyes from Ron's disapproving gaze.

Ron waved his wand and the colours disappeared. "Not a good strategy for the long run though," he said, and Harry was eerily reminded of the look Hermione would get before she was about to launch into a lecture. "The scans were unclear," Ron continued. "There's certainly evidence of dark magic but at this stage I wouldn't like to hazard a guess. Pop your clothes back on."

Ron looked thoughtfully at Harry as he yanked his jeans back on. "I'll consult with Bill, as I always do when curses are involved and…I'd like to discuss your case with a colleague, with your permission," he said eventually.

"A colleague?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing, sure that he could guess exactly who the colleague would be.

Ron nodded, and Harry knew that his friend was well aware that he knew whom they were speaking of.

"I suppose I don't have much choice," he said with a resigned shrug.

Ron rolled his eyes slightly and moved over the fire place, kneeling down beside it and sticking his head in slightly and chucking a small pinch of Floo powder in. "Severus!" he called loudly. "I need to speak with you, are you there? Severus? Sev!"

"Bloody hell Ron, you sound just like your mother," came the dry and amused voice. Harry's stomach unwittingly turned a somersault.

"My mum's never called you 'Sev'," Ron replied with a grin.

"That," said Severus, "is because she has a greater sense of self-preservation than you do. Now why are you interrupting my afternoon?"

"Why do you always sound so put out when you say that?" Ron replied, and Harry found himself feeling highly uncomfortable with the familiar, teasing tone that Ron had adopted. He shifted back a little further in his chair, just to make sure that Severus couldn't see him sitting there. "I could do with your help on a patient's case," Ron said, and Harry heard an amused snort in response.

"How they gave you a medical license I will never know."

"I'm only shuffling along until I get found out," Ron replied with a grin. "Will you come over to mine this evening and we can talk about it? 7 o'clock alright for you?"

"I'll be there, as the whisky had better be."

"Have I ever let you down yet?"

"Fool," said Severus, and Harry's insides twisted at the fondness in the man's voice. The flames dimmed and Severus disappeared, Ron getting back to his feet and moving back to sit behind his desk.

"What?" he asked Harry as he noticed the man looking at him.

"You two…you're still friendly then?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question after what he had just witnessed.

"We see each other twice a week and very often end up consulting each other in a professional capacity," Ron replied, but Harry could see that something in his friend was guarded.

"Why didn't…why didn't you tell him that I was the patient?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron paused for a moment and fiddled unnecessarily with the quill on his desk. "I thought it best to tell him face to face. I'm assuming he doesn't know you're back in the country?"

"I…I haven't had the chance to tell him yet."

"And does he know you've been cursed?"

Harry chewed his lip. "No, no I didn't really see the point. The last letter I wrote him was just…you know…the usual."

Ron shook his head and Harry thought he saw a trace of disappointment in his friend's face. "The same sort of letters we all get from you Harry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and Harry suddenly felt very much as though he would like to be anywhere else rather than in front of his oldest and supposedly dearest friend.

He opened his mouth to respond but shut it again when he could think of no proper response. Ron, it seemed, decided to spare him, and he made a couple of notes on the parchment in front of him, before saying, "I'll need to have a few samples from you before you go. I'll take them all, apart from one," he said, pointedly looking up at Harry. "For that you're on your own in a consultation room with a cup for company."

"You have a wonderful bedside manner, has anyone ever told you?"

"Several people over the years actually," said Ron with a horribly sardonic look that was too familiar to Severus' to be comfortable.

Harry let the silence hang in the air for a moment or two while Ron moved over to a cupboard to fish out several pieces of equipment he would need to collect blood, saliva and skin samples. "Will he help…when he knows it's me?" he asked eventually, and Ron turned around to look at him incredulously.

"You really are a stupid git sometimes Harry," Ron said, a flash of anger appearing in his pale eyes. Something hardened in his face and he brought the medical instruments over. "I'm going to take these samples," he said stiffly, and Harry regretted opening his mouth, "then I'll be in touch after I've spoken to Sev."

Harry arrived back in Grimmauld Place later that day feeling a good deal worse than he had done when he had left. Not only had the usual pain returned with vicious vigour, but he was well and truly ruffled after his encounter with Ron.

He was expecting it; it was always the same when he came back home after months away, but it didn't make it any easier. His job took him all over the world, his specialisation in eradicating archaic dark magic making his assignments often lengthy ones. He knew his friends didn't begrudge him his career; they were proud of him and his achievements, but his lack of communication in between and his dwindling return visits were points of contention.

He shrugged off his outer robe and hung it on the peg, kicking his boots off and placing them to the side of the front door. The house was in a far better state than it had been several years ago and, despite the fact that he stayed in it for no more than a few weeks at a time, Harry had been determined to make his base in England a suitable and comfortable one. He had worked hard to renovate the place, using both magic and sheer, determined elbow grease, and now, although it would never be a place of beauty, it was somewhere he was proud of.

He moved through to the kitchen and pointed his wand at the kettle and a mug, and within a couple of minutes he had a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He resisted the urge to sneak a nip of whisky in it, lest he receive another telling off from Ron. He glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite and noted that it was 6.30; in half an hour's time, Ron would be meeting with Severus.

He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about the man as little as possible, but it was often a fruitless endeavour. Severus crossed his thoughts at least once a day, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that time and distance had dimmed those feelings. He couldn't help but feel resentment at the relationship Ron had with him, a feeling that was as strong now as it had been years ago.

He'd envied the man the strange partnership that had arisen between him and Severus during the war and had never really understood it. Ron seemed to blossom during that time, seemed to grow up overnight, and seemed to feel no qualms in approaching Severus as an equal. Harry had just felt like an awkward, gawky prat and seemed to be forever tripping over himself around the man. War did funny things to people.

He tried to fend off the memories that were stirring; being back in bloody Grimmauld didn't help matters, and he wondered if perhaps he could knock himself unconscious before his mind starting taking a little nostalgia trip. A concussion would certainly be preferable to that.

~*~ 1999 ~*~

There was an almighty crash from the corridor and Harry and Ron looked at each other as a string of expletives rang out before a dull thud was heard, the sound, they both guessed, of someone collapsing in the hallway.

Ron stuck his head out of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and looked down the corridor, letting out a few choice words of his own. "Merlin's tits. It's Snape. Help me!" he flung over his shoulder to Harry and Harry jumped off his seat and out in the corridor to find Snape slumped on the floor, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

The two boys hauled Severus up and into the sitting room, supporting him between them and lowering him as gently as they could onto the sofa. Harry looked at the man, horrified; Snape was frighteningly pale and his breathing was quick and shallow. All the feelings that he'd been trying to push down over the last few months came crashing to the surface and he was rooted to the spot as fear washed over him.

"Professor," came Ron's voice, amazingly steady given the circumstance. "Professor I need you to tell me what's happened to you," he said as he knelt in front of the man.

"Bugger off," Severus said acidly, and Harry could hardly believe he could be like that in his condition.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that Severus," said Ron, and Harry was surprised not only by Ron's use of the man's first name, but by the firm, commanding tone he used as he did so. "Tell me what's happened to you so I can help you. Do you think I'm going to let you sit here and bleed to death?"

"You'd make a wonderful Healer," Severus sneered then winced sharply, clutching his side again as a wave of pain seemed to roll over him.

"Stop being a dick," Ron ground out, standing to move over and rummage in a nearby cabinet, one that Harry knew contained a ton of medical supplies, courtesy of Molly. With Grimmauld Place continuing to be used as the unofficial Order headquarters, she had insisted that, as well as a thorough clean, the place should be properly stocked with enough supplies to keep a small hospital going.

Ron moved back to kneel in front of Severus and took his wand out, waving it over the man from head to toe. "Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, torn ligaments and – fuck! Severus, you've been stabbed, you fucking arsehole. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Couldn't get a word in edgeways," Severus rasped, and again Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Ron spoke to the man in such a manner.

It was true that they hadn't been students for a little over a year, but still, most people had continued to treat the former Potions Master in much the same way as they had done before. It wasn't the first time Harry had witnessed Ron's changed behaviour towards the man, but it was the first time he had witnessed it so obviously.

"You're such a shit sometimes," Ron said through gritted teeth. "You could bleed to death! You're just lucky it missed your vital organs."

"Born lucky, that's me," Severus replied, and Harry felt himself starting to share some of Ron's anger, now that his abject terror that Severus was about to keel over and die was beginning to fade somewhat. "It wasn't deep," he added, seeing Ron's hard, reproachful look.

"Deep enough for you to lose a couple of pints of blood by the looks of things."

Ron waved his wand and muttered a couple of spells that Harry was unfamiliar with and Severus' breathing began to even out and the look of pain started to ease a little from his face. He hadn't realised Ron had become so adept at healing spells, but he couldn't exactly say he was surprised; for the past year Ron had, for some reason, taken it upon himself to be the Order's resident medic. Harry couldn't pinpoint how it had begun, but Ron was extremely competent and displayed a confidence when dealing with the injured that he didn't always show in other facets of his life.

"That's just a couple of preliminary spells," said Ron, getting to his feet. "I'll need to do a few more in an hour or so, and there are several potions you need to take."

"I'll need – " Severus began, but was cut off somewhat harshly by Ron saying,

"I know full well what you need Severus. Unlike you, I am not an idiot." Harry bit the inside of cheek to keep from grinning while Ron paused in the doorway and said, "Keep an eye on him for a minute, get him to clean himself up with the witch hazel and ethanol. I'll be back in a bit," said Ron, throwing one last glare at Severus before he left.

Harry cleared his throat and moved closer to the sofa, stopping when Severus said,

"I don't need a babysitter."

Harry rolled his eyes and knelt down, meeting Severus' eyes as he said, "You go and argue with Ron then."

He set about soaking a clean cloth with the witch hazel and ethanol concoction that was one of Mrs Weasley's own creations and, deciding to adopt the same firm tone as his friend, moved a little closer and said, "Let me clean the wound."

"No," Severus said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not asking you," Harry said, feeling his confidence slip slightly, but damn it, if Ron could do it, so could he. "Ron's healed the worst of it but there's still a chance infection could set in, and we wouldn't want to lose you to a nasty bout of sepsis, now would we?" Harry asked, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on his face.

Severus glared at him, but Harry was determined not to be deterred. "Open your shirt," he said, gently but firmly.

"I can't," Severus said, a distinct note of reluctance in his voice. Harry frowned at him and, with a sigh, he elaborated, "Weasley didn't fix my dislocated shoulder, I can't move it."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "Well, perhaps I can help."

"You?" said Severus, looking highly sceptical, and Harry was annoyed that he had seemingly been so fine with Ron attending to him and yet didn't trust Harry to do the same.

"I've seen my fair share of dislocated shoulders on the quidditch pitch," he said indignantly. "I know perfectly well how to sort them."

He moved a little closer to the sofa and propped himself up firmly on his knees then moved in towards Severus. "Place your left hand on my shoulder," he instructed, gratified when Severus did so without complaint. "Keep tight hold and don't move," he said, feeling the long, elegant fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder.

He gently took hold of Severus' right wright wrist and moved it so the man's arm was held across his body. Severus winced slightly but said nothing and Harry then moved the arm slowly back so it was held horizontally out to the side, then, without warning, he pushed it sharply back and upwards and heard the satisfying pop as the shoulder found its rightful place in its socket.

"Fuck," Severus bit out in a shaky breath and Harry stifled his laughter at the unusual lack of control from the older man. Severus collapsed back against the sofa and gave his shoulder a few tentative rotations then eyed Harry with a strange sort of reluctant curiosity. "Thank you," he said, and Harry blinked a couple of times in surprise. It was more than Ron had received.

"Take your shirt off," Harry said in response. He wasn't going to give in to the sudden civility, no matter what Severus might have expected.

The man again looked reluctant but nevertheless complied and slowly began unbuttoning the usual black shirt that he seemed to be permanently glued into. He slid it off his shoulders and Harry's eyes came to rest on the angry, deep wound on the man's side, just below his ribs. Ron's magic had done a fair bit of repair work and had made sure that there was no immediate danger, but he was right to want the wound cleaned, as it would need to be properly patched up and allowed to heal naturally.

Harry picked up the cloth he had soaked previously and moved back over to Severus. He lifted it to the wound and Severus went to bat him away, but Harry was quicker, taking hold of one of his wrists, glaring up at the man and saying, "Stop being difficult."

Severus returned his glare, but nevertheless leant back slightly and allowed Harry to dab away at the horrible mar on his flesh, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth as the alcohol stung him. Harry concentrated on his task, trying very hard not to focus on his close proximity to the man who, more often than not these days, was always in his thoughts.

He couldn't say when it had begun, truth be told he tried not to dwell on that too much, but begun it had. His thoughts, both waking and dreaming, seemed to always contain the former Potions Master, and working with him so closely in the last year since Hogwarts had been disbanded had done nothing to quell his treacherous mind. If only his mind was the problem though, he thought as he gritted his teeth together.

If anything, his mind was allowing itself to be dragged along somewhat unwillingly. It was his body that was doing all the leading. His body that seemed to react to Severus whenever he was near, and very often, when he was miles away too. His body was the thing that offered up helpful dreams and, dare he say, fantasies, with which to use when he had a moment of personal alone time, and it was his body that broke out in shivers and goose bumps whenever he stood too close to the man or allowed himself an indulgent moment to sneak a look across the room at him.

He cleared his throat and internally screamed at himself to stop bloody blushing. The last thing he wanted was for Severus to know what was running through his mind as he sat so close to the man's naked torso; he couldn't bear the humiliation of seeing the sneer that would undoubtedly settle on Severus' face at such a revelation.

Thankfully, his blushes were spared when Ron re-entered the room and said in that strangely authoritative tone, "Good, glad to see you managed to beat him into submission."

Oh very fucking funny, thought Harry, reminding himself to thump his best friend very hard the next time the opportunity presented itself.

Ron gave Harry a gentle nudge with his foot and Harry took the hint to move, allowing Ron to take his place in front of Severus. Ron held up three vials and passed them to Severus, saying, in a tone that brooked no refusal, "Take them all – the blue, then the red, then the clear."

"Yes, thank you," Severus bit out, "I think I know which order they need to be ingested in."

"Take them and just hope to Merlin that I haven't poisoned one of them."

"You couldn't make an adequate poison if your life depended on it."

"Oh I don't know," said Ron, fishing the sewing kit and a curved needle out of the medicine supplies, "I had a pretty good Potions teacher. He was an immense bastard, of course, but he knew his stuff. I could whip up something to put you in a coma for a month, give us all some peace."

Harry watched in horrified fascination as Severus tried very hard not to smile at Ron, and Ron, in return, smirked up at Severus. No one spoke to Severus in the way Ron had just done, not even the 'proper adults', who seemed content to keep the man at arm's distance as much as the younger ones. Yet here was the youngest Weasley boy, not only giving as good as Severus could, but doing so in such a way that he actually seemed to amuse the man. The mind boggled.

"I'm going to patch you up," said Ron, threading the needle with the medical thread, "and then, you're going to tell me exactly what happened so I can report back to Remus. And," he added threateningly, noticing that Severus had opened his mouth, "if you protest, I'll make sure I sew you up so badly that I leave a really wonky scar, which will annoy the hell out of you for the rest of your life."

"You're a git," Severus said, but there was no malice behind the words and Ron gave a soft snort of laughter as he leant forward and began his work.

Harry couldn't help but feel a spark of jealousy as Ron's large, pale hand splayed out on Severus' skin, touching him in a way that Harry wished he could. He wanted to know what Severus would feel like underneath his palm, but unless he was willing to take over from Ron's meticulous stitching, he couldn't see that being a possibility.

Severus didn't seem to be in any pain as Ron carried out his ministrations, and Harry couldn't help but think that, although he had said it mockingly, Severus had been right when he had said Ron would make a good Healer. He watched, utterly baffled, as Ron glanced up at the man and the two shared an odd kind of smile. Harry's insides twisted, and he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what was going on between the two of them.

Ron had spent more time with the dour man than most people had. It hadn't been planned that way, but it seemed that, more often than not, the two were paired together for Order assignments. Ron had hated it at first, and Harry and Hermione had heard nothing but complaints from him in the first few weeks, but as time went on, the complaints began to lessen and were instead replaced with observations about the man's behaviour or accounts of things he had said when they had had time to merely sit and converse.

Harry supposed he noticed more than others; after all, he watched Severus more than anyone else on the face of the earth, and he was closer to Ron than anyone. He shouldn't have been surprised that he was the one to notice the subtle shifts between the two men that went beyond the jibes and arguments and apparently easy use of each other's first names. The thought knotted in his stomach and made him feel a deeply unpleasant sense of hostility to both of them, something that he knew was unfair, but uncontrollable, nevertheless.

Ron snipped the end of the thread and placed the needle aside to be sterilised later, then placed a self-adhesive padding over the wound, pressing it gently in place. "I'll change it tomorrow and make sure the wound's showing no signs of putrefaction."

Severus nodded, slipping back into his shirt and disappointing Harry greatly as he covered himself back up. "Thank you," the man said, and both Harry and Ron could hear the sincerity with which those two little words were said.

Ron's face split into its customary grin and he extended his hand to Severus, who took it with more good grace than Harry had ever seen the man show before. "I'll swing for you one of these days Severus, I swear I will," said Ron, the grin still in place. "Now, tell us what happened."

It turned out, after much postulating and several colourful invectives from Severus, that the man had finally been unmasked as a spy amongst the Death Eater ranks. He'd taken a very serious beating before he had managed to apparate back to Grimmauld Place, and Harry knew, without doubt, that they would have killed him if they'd had the opportunity.

It was a blow to the Order, Harry knew that; the information that Severus had been able to provide had been invaluable, but Harry felt relief, nevertheless. He hated having to stand by and watch every time Severus had been summoned, every time he left to go and pay homage to that damned psychopath and Harry would never know what state he would return in, if he returned at all.

It was a sentiment that Ron vocalised, standing in the grimy sitting room with his arms crossed as he listened to Severus' narrative. "I know this is supposed to be bad news for us Severus," he said levelly, "but Merlin's beard I can help but be glad."

Severus frowned up at him, those dark, black eyes searching out exactly what Ron meant. He didn't have to search for long though, as Ron elaborated, "You risk your life every time by going back as one of them and having to lead this double life is killing you. I know it's what you've done for the last 20 years, but damn it, Severus there's only so much a man can take. You're still just as valuable to the Order whether you're a spy or not, and at least now I can sleep easy knowing you haven't been called to the feet of that wanker."

Severus blinked at Ron for a moment or two before letting his head fall back on the sofa and laughing. Harry had never seen the man laugh before, not properly anyway, and he revelled in the deep, rich sound, although he couldn't understand the reason for it.

"I'll never get used to Weasleys,"the man said eventually, when his mirth subsided, and Ron grinned at him again before leaving the room, stopping to say over his shoulder,

"You know I'm your favourite."

Harry watched Ron leave the room, noting, with a fiery flare of jealousy, that Severus hadn't corrected him.

AN: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, please leave a review and let me know.