Chapter 10

~*~ Present day ~*~

"And so there I am in this mouldy old mansion that makes Grimmauld look like bloody Buckingham Palace and I'm attacked by a dancing armoire. I – stop laughing, it's not funny – then I – I said stop laughing. I'm so glad you find my pain so amusing."

"I do," Severus said as he poured them both more coffee. "Especially when your cases sound like a scene from Beauty and the Beast."

"Oh very bloody funny," Harry said, spearing his scrambled eggs with his fork. "I'll have you know it was bloody terrifying at the time, especially when all the knives began dancing and using me for target practice."

"You seem to have come out relatively unscathed."

"Oh really? Well, apart from the mental trauma, I have a very interesting scar on my thigh that says otherwise."

"What is it with you and scars?"

"Yeah, like I chose this one," Harry scoffed, tapping his forehead. "Mm, those eggs are good. No one makes eggs as good as yours."

"It's not exactly a fine art," Severus replied, buttering his toast then smearing brown sauce all over it. It was a habit Harry had always been amused by and it was oddly comforting to see it hadn't changed.

"You always did make a good breakfast, when you bothered to, that is. You always preferred using me as a house elf," Harry said, his heart racing at his casual reference to the past. They'd both been careful to avoid any kind of mention of the time they'd previously spent in the cottage, certainly not in passing anyway, but Severus seemed unperturbed by the remark.

"You were always the better cook," Severus said softly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Anyway, don't eat too much, remember we have lunch plans."

Harry couldn't stop the sour look that made its way onto his face and Severus gave him an admonishing look. He went to open his mouth but Severus said, "You promised you'd go."

"I promise a lot of things," Harry said childishly.

Severus lowered his coffee with a sigh and said, "I'm not arguing with you. We're going and that's an end to it."

Harry knew better than to argue but he pushed his breakfast aside and sat like a petulant child with his arms folded while Severus finished the rest of his. He knew he'd be strong-armed into going, whether he liked it or not, and Severus was right; he had promised he would go.

He'd been dreading it for days but a promise was a promise and he knew there was no reason not to go, not a rational one anyway. He'd tried to use his health as an excuse but he'd been much better for the last few days and Severus had said, in that voice that brooked no dispute, that Sunday lunch would hardly set his recovery back by much.

He was nervous, far more nervous than he would care to admit, although he was sure Severus could see through his sulking. He didn't know how he would be received or how the day would end up panning out. No doubt there would be another bitter confrontation that only served to sour things further. When viewed in that light, it seemed that hiding away under the covers and forgetting the damn appointment was the preferable option.

Severus didn't exactly have to drag him there, but he could feel the man's hand holding onto his elbow while they stood in front of the cheerful blue door and waited for it to be answered. "I'm not going to run," Harry whispered, a touch of indignation in his voice.

"Good, I should hope not."

Harry resisted the urge to pull a face and instead schooled it into a smile when the doorknob turned. Draco appeared on the other side, his smile looking far more genuine as he said, "Gents, right on time. Do come in."

Severus gave him a gentle push and Harry stepped into the house, taking stock of it as he went. It was a beautiful Georgian townhouse in Exeter, a far cry from Ron and Draco's childhood homes and yet it suited them both perfectly. Harry was ashamed that this was his first time seeing it.

"Come into the drawing room," Draco said, leading them into a bright, airy room, decorated in greys and sage green. "Lunch won't be long," he said, folding himself elegantly into a wingback armchair.

"Smells wonderful. Ron's cooking is always a treat," Severus said, and Harry forced another smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal cooked by Ron or indeed the last time they'd actually spent any significant time together socially.

"I keep promising to learn so I can do my fair share but I don't think Ron wants me anywhere near his kitchen."

"You're damn right I don't," Ron said, appearing in the doorway, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, his hair pushed back from his forehead in a way that made him look rather dashing. "I don't trust you not to start a fire."

"I was an excellent Potions student," Draco protested.

"Well I wasn't and I'm a far better cook than you," Ron said with a grin. "Corral our guests into the dining room, love, and I'll go and plate up. Hope you've both brought your appetites," he said to Harry and Severus before heading back to the kitchen.

"He has his mother's knack for portion sizes," Draco said with grin. "You won't go home hungry."

He led them into a dining room that had a beautiful view of the county park and they seated themselves around a pretty table that had been expertly laid out. Harry tried not to fidget, tried not to think how awkward he felt in his best friend's home, and wondered how long they'd have to stay.

"I have a particularly fine Beaujolais I might be persuaded to share with you," Draco said as he moved to the sideboard.

"I'm still abstaining," Harry said regretfully, wishing he could soak himself in alcohol to make the whole thing less painful.

"Here we go, folks," Ron said, coming into the room bearing two plates and levitating another two in front of him. "My famous pork casserole."

"I've told you to call it cassoulet," Draco admonished. "It sounds so much more refined."

"I'm not refined, love," Ron countered, taking a seat and holding his glass out for Draco to fill up.

"You can say that again. I don't know why I've put up with you all these years."

There was a short silence while they all tucked into their food. It was excellent, Harry had to admit, and he lamented the meals he'd missed over the years. Eventually Severus began to ask Ron about patients they'd previously consulted on and Harry listened as they spoke, yet again irritated, irrationally, at how in sync they were.

He'd never understood it all those years ago when the two men had had a strange kind of affinity for one another and he'd watched with envy as Ron had interacted with Severus in ways he'd only dreamt of. Somehow it was worse now they were older, now so much time had passed and so much had changed, and they were closer to each other than Harry was to either of them.

Their work sounded fascinating. It was still jarring to hear Ron speak so professionally, so confidently, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the man. There were glimpses, every now and again, of the boy Harry had known years ago; a lopsided grin here and there, a terrible joke that Ron sniggered at, finding himself terribly amusing. If only Harry could get to that Ron, maybe they'd have a chance at mending their friendship.

"God, don't they bore you to tears?" Draco asking, leaning over in his chair to speak to him. "I have to put up with this all the bloody time."

Harry smiled, moving his food around the plate as he said, "They do this a lot?"

"So much," Draco said with a groan. "I get my own back when Nev's around, we talk about plants until the cows come home."

"It's still funny to think of you two in business together."

"Tell me about it," Draco said, taking a delicate sip of his wine and reclining elegantly in his chair. "The man's a genius. I can't keep up with him sometimes. My only consolation is in teasing him that he looks like a garden gnome when he's covered in mud from planting. Truth be told, he actually looks kind of sexy."

"I heard that," Ron said, feigning a look of indignation. "Although you're not wrong."

"If you're both going to salivate over Neville bloody Longbottom then I'm going to leave," Severus said, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"You can't deny he's easy on the eye," Draco said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not my type," Severus deadpanned and Harry laughed.

"Mine neither," he said, and Severus met his eyes with something that bordered on a smirk but lacked the arrogance.

"Well," Ron said, cleaning the last bit of food from his plate, "we've bored you with our work, why don't you bore us with yours?"

"Oh um…there's not much to tell," Harry said, uncomfortable now the spotlight had been turned on him.

"Harry, you have a critically-acclaimed career in eradicating dark magic, I'm sure you have a story or two to tell," Ron insisted.

"Tell them about the furniture that had ambitions to join a chorus line," Severus prompted with an amused smile, and Harry wanted to hit him.

It was a slow and bumpy start. He was nervous and uncomfortable, he kept tripping over his words and getting details mixed up, but he felt Draco's long-fingered hand settle on his knee and it bolstered him. He settled into the story, Draco's encouraging smile helping along, and when he got to the part about the writing desk that sang arias Ron let out a hearty laugh.

It felt good to elicit that kind of response from him. He'd had little from Ron besides cool indifference and looks of disappointment in the last few years and it was nice to be the cause of his humour. He stuck with a couple more of his funnier stories, his confidence growing as the others responded well to them.

Part of him wanted to share his other stories, the ones that weren't so funny, the ones that kept him awake at night. Part of him wanted to tell them about the cases that had sprung from tragedies, the cases where dark magic had germinated from the darkest minds and had appalled him that people could be so wicked.

He thought better of it; he didn't want to sour the mood with his whining, and no one would want to hear it anyway. He kept his smile fixed in place and kept up with his humorous narrative, feeling a headache begin to creep up on him. He was relieved when the topic changed and he could take a backseat in the conversation.

He escaped to the balcony off the living room when dinner was done, taking a few deep breaths and hoping the headache would subside. He didn't know how much longer he was meant to stay but he was starting to feel the need to escape.

"Coffee?" came Ron's voice as he stepped out onto the balcony and proffered Harry a cup.

"Cheers," Harry said, accepting it.

"Still milk, no sugar, right?"

"Right," Harry said with a nod. "Um…thanks for lunch, it was great."

"No problem. It was long overdue."

"Yeah…" Harry said, trying to find something in the distance to focus on. "It's…lovely, the house I mean."

"We like it. Drake's adamant he wants something rustic tucked away in the countryside when we start a family and I have no doubt he'll get his way."

"A family? Wow," Harry said quietly, picturing Ron surrounded by a gaggle of children, perhaps a pair of mischievous twins thrown in for good measure. He'd always thought that he'd be an honorary uncle to Ron's children but now…he wasn't sure Ron would want him to be.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked, effectively ending that avenue of conversation.

"Fine," Harry replied, getting sick of answering that bloody question.

"I was asking as your doctor, not your friend," Ron said, his tone firm.

"I'm fine," Harry repeated, feeling resentful at not being believed. "I mean…I have a headache but I always have one. It isn't noteworthy."

"And the pain? Is it widespread? Focused? Acute? Dull?"

"It's – " Harry bit his lip, frustrated. "It's…ok. My legs are aching but it's bearable. My back's a little sore but it's not terrible."

"Do you think the therapy's helping?" Ron asked, his voice so level that Harry couldn't help being irritated by it.

"I guess so. Severus is combining the…muscle manipulation with a Valerian root mixture. It's um…applied directly."

He could feel Ron's eyes on him but he refused to turn and look at him, keeping his head fixed stubbornly forward.

"How do you feel about that?" the man asked in that same level voice, making Harry feel like more of a patient than ever.

He didn't answer immediately. He stared out towards the park and watched as a couple strolled hand-in-hand along the treeline while a group of kids played a very bad game of football.

"It's wonderful and terrible," he said eventually, his voice shaky. "I want it to stop and never end all at once."

He didn't think Ron was going to respond, indeed he thought perhaps the man was standing there regarding him with disdain, but suddenly Harry felt an arm slide around his shoulders and he was held gently to Ron's side.

He didn't know how to react, how to accept the comfort, if that was what it was. He took a few shaky breaths and allowed himself to lean into a little more, letting Ron support him. At least this time he wasn't crying himself hoarse and embarrassing himself with an uncontrollable display of weakness.

"Everything's so fucked up, Ron," he said quietly.

"I know," Ron said, his voice gentle. "But nothing's going to get fixed until you face up to the fact that some of this is…down to you."

Harry tensed, feeling immediately attacked. Ron seemed incapable of stopping himself from placing the blame at Harry's door any time they interacted. It was eating away at him, at them both, and Harry knew it would fester unless it was confronted. He only wished he had the courage to do so.

"Stop running, Harry. Stop running and let us help you."

"I'm not running anyway," Harry protested.

"Only because you can't this time," Ron countered. He removed his arm and positioned himself in front of Harry, Harry steeling himself in the face of Ron's assertive stance.

"I know this thing with Sev hurts, hurts like hell, but you have to admit – "

"I don't have to admit anything, Ron," Harry said, feeling his hackles rise. "My relationship with Severus is none of your business, as much as you'd like to think it is. You're not his bloody minder, you know."

"No, I'm his friend, and I care about him a damn sight more than you do!"

"Oh you'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" Harry shot back, his head beginning to pound. "It must be nice up there on that fucking pedestal. You want to be careful someone doesn't knock you off it."

"Making threats now?"

"Grow up."

"You fucking grow up."

"That's enough," came a firm voice from the French windows, and Harry turned to see Draco standing there, his face grim.

"Love," Ron ventured.

"I don't want to hear it," Draco interrupted, "from either of you. This will not continue and you will not keep tearing chunks out of each other. Do you think this is helpful? Harry, this is the last thing your health needs and Ron, do you think you'll fix any of your grievances by constantly going on the attack?"

Draco's voice was low and clear, he didn't raise it but the force behind his words fixed Harry to the spot. Draco had the kind of deadly gentleness Harry had always envied and a presence so commanding he could have been the next Riddle if he'd had a mind to.

"You will speak civilly to one another or you won't speak at all. I'm not having this anymore, do you understand? I'm not going to let you rip each other to shreds, doing more and more damage to the point where things are beyond repair. Ron, go back inside."

"But – "

"I said go. Now."

Apparently defeated, Ron pursed his lips and shifted past Draco back into the house. Draco's eyes fixed on Harry and Harry resisted the urge to look away.

"We're not playing this game anymore," the man said softly. "You're not going to hide behind fights and anger because that's easier than facing up to the truth. Ron's wrong in the way he goes about things and I'm not excusing his behaviour but you need to understand his anger."

Harry said nothing, unable to resort to the tactics Draco had accused him of, knowing they would be useless. Draco stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on Harry's cheek, his grey eyes unyielding.

"We're not letting you slip away this time," he whispered. "We love you too much."

Harry swallowed hard and briefly considered throwing himself off the balcony before he allowed Draco to pull him into a firm and thoroughly needed hug.

~*~ 8 years ago ~*~

Long fingers twined through his hair, gripping just the right side of tightly. He could feel the rough fibres of the carpet against his knees but he was focused on nothing but the breathy moans he could hear from above. He relaxed his throat muscles a little more and took Severus all the way in. He would have grinned, had he been able, at the low grown he elicited from the man.

He increased the pressure on the base of Severus' cock with his hand, slowly learning what the man liked best. He sped up a little more, feeling Severus' thigh muscles clench around him. The fingers in his hair tightened even more and Severus pushed himself into Harry's mouth as he came with a low, deep exhale.

Harry waited until he was sure Severus was done then gently licked him clean, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Severus, who was a picture sitting splayed against the couch with his legs parted.

"Don't look so bloody smug," the man said, tucking himself back into his trousers. "And don't think you can win every argument that way."

"No?" Harry said with a smile, getting up and sliding onto the sofa next to him. "Well, let me ask you – what were you doing this morning in training, hm? I don't remember hand-jobs being part of the agenda."

Severus smirked and wrapped his hand around Harry's neck, pulling him forward into a kiss. Harry melted into it, welcoming Severus' tongue into his mouth. He was fast becoming addicted to kissing Severus and was taking every opportunity to do so, whether it was convenient or not.

He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dreaming it all anyway. There was every possibility he would wake up and find it had all been a fantasy so why shouldn't he enjoy every second while it lasted?

"You're still wrong, by the way," Severus said, pulling back and tracing Harry's bottom lip with his thumb. "The Kolowski method isn't effective on the battlefield."

"I disagree. It's slower, sure, and is generally used in covert manoeuvres but it has its uses in battle."

"How would you execute it?" Severus challenged.

"With a few theatrics thrown in for good measure," Harry answered, getting into his stride. "It's like a feint in quidditch – you dazzle the field with a few basic displays that are little more than window dressing and then you slip in and perform the proper magic. Of course, it would work best if you were fighting in a pair, have each other's backs."

Severus pulled back, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "The idea…has merit," he said and Harry grinned.

"Well…I've been reading about the Theban soldiers. A select group of them were formed from pairs of lovers and they defeated the Spartan army."

A dark eyebrow quirked upwards and Severus said, "Where has this new-found scholarly streak come from? You have your nose in a book so often you're beginning to resemble Ms Granger."

Harry laughed and said, "Well I have to keep myself occupied in the moments you're not making me forget my own name. Besides, it's interesting. Two men, bound to one another, made into an unstoppable force because of the bond they share. Makes you think."

"I suppose it does," Severus said softly.

Not wanting to freak Severus out in any way by insinuating they were some kind of warrior lovers, Harry cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, I like reading the theoretical stuff. It's…intriguing."

"How times have changed."

"Means more now I suppose."

The fire suddenly flared to life and a tatty letter flew out of it, landing on the coffee table in front of them. They still weren't risking owls and Dumbledore had taken to flooing them important missives.

"What now?" Severus said with a sigh, reaching forward and grabbing the letter.

Harry watched as dark eyes scanned it, the man's expression becoming sombre and a frown knitting his brows. He looked up at Harry and Harry braced himself.

"One of the teams were attacked on a recon mission. Two dead, six injured."

"Oh God. Who?" Harry asked, feeling sick.

"The ones who are dead you don't know but…Lupin's critical and Mr Thomas has sustained nerve damage."

"Jesus Christ," Harry breathed, suddenly feeling his chest constrict. He felt dizzy and hot, and he staggered to his feet, feeling hemmed in by the sofa. "Oh fucking hell."

"Harry, calm down."

"Calm down? I can't…I…it's – "

"It's alright," Severus said gently, standing up next to Harry and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in close. "Just take a couple of deep breaths."

It felt too hot in Severus' arms but he needed the comfort, the stability, and so he let himself be held. His pulse was thudding too loudly in his ears and he felt like he was spinning.

"They'll be ok, Harry."

"You don't know that," Harry said, his voice muffled against Severus' chest. "Remus might….Jesus. And Dean? They could both – "

He pulled out of Severus' arms, worried he was about to throw up all over the man. He thought of Remus lying deadly still in a cold hospital bed and Dean with a tremor that might mean he'd never draw again.

"They'll send us news when they know more," Severus said, clearly trying to help.

"But it won't stop," Harry whispered, barely able to get the words out. "We'll keep getting letters like that, more people will be injured, killed, and it still won't stop!"

"I'm afraid that's war, Harry, and like or not we are at war."

"This isn't war. It's one man trying to gain power over everyone else and he won't stop until he's killed, until I kill him. Every moment I'm not ready to face him is a moment he's free to create carnage, to hurt someone I love."

"Harry – "

"And here I am hiding away up here and…doing…things with you when people are dying and I – "

"That's enough," Severus said, his voice firm yet gentle. "You can't think like this or you'll drive yourself mad. This fight is bigger than just you and there are people involved who are older and more experienced than you who are fighting of their own volition. There will be casualties, of course there will, but the blame doesn't lie with you."

"But it will do…eventually," Harry argued, feeling as though the walls were closing in on him. "If I can't stop him…if I'm not strong enough or…or…clever enough then it's game over. How do I live with that?"

"It doesn't sound like you are," Severus said, his eyes searching Harry's face.

"Would you? Would you be able to cope with people's lives on your conscience?"

"I had to…for 20 years."

"Fuck," Harry breathed, collapsing down onto the sofa, placing his head in his hands. "How did you do it? How the hell did you do it?"

He looked up at Severus and the man paused before he took a seat next to Harry. He placed his hands on his knees and looked at the fire for a moment before he said, "I internalised it. I drank, I neglected myself, I worked myself ragged to try and block it out. I lashed out, I pushed people away and I became a bitter and twisted man. I would not see you suffer the same fate."

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked, wishing the man could take it all away from him.

"Continue as you have been. You're working hard and improving daily. As for the rest…talk to me when you have these moments of doubt and concern. Or…if not me…then someone."

"I could?" Harry asked, feeling nervous and confused. "I could talk to you? You wouldn't…mind?"

"Mind?" Severus echoed with a frown. "Do you think so poorly of me?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "No of course I don't…but…I didn't think I could…come to you with stuff like that."

"You believe I only want sex from you?"

"No. I don't know," Harry said honestly. "I don't know what to expect."

Looking affronted but thoughtful, Severus reached out and gently placed a hand on Harry's cheek. "Our relationship is too complicated and long-standing to simply be reduced to anything solely physical. If you want to talk to me…I'll listen."

Harry didn't want to talk, not at that moment anyway, but he did want comfort and he wanted it from Severus. "Can I…can I sleep in with you tonight?" he asked tentatively. "I know we haven't…shared a bed and I'll understand if you'd rather not, but – "

"Of course you can," Severus said, and something loosened from around Harry's chest.

He leant forward and pressed his lips against Severus', determined to lose himself for a few blissful moments in the man.

AN: I know, I give with one hand and take with the other. Hope you enjoyed it and thank you for all your lovely words and good wishes.