Notes:
No more NC-17 fanfiction on this site! Can you believe it? I am astounded. And no music groups. I used to be a big fan of those.
This is the finale to "New York, New York." As I wrote before, a sequel is in place, due to all of your support. See the postscript immediately following this story regarding the sequel.
I encourage all of you to review after you finish reading. Now that all of the authors have Review Alert (the diamond in the rough of restructuring, I suppose) reviews would become so much better.
Also, an important comment: If anyone would like a copy of my soon-to-be deleted NC-17 stories (particularly "The Marauder's Song"), feel free to contact me by e-mail. I would be glad to send one.
___________________________________________________________________________
New York, New York
by Galae
"And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap"
"What the hell are those?" Snape said, looking distastefully at the two cups of coffee that Harry bought from an American landmark—Starbucks.
"Lattés. Have one."
Snape touched his cautiously, as if expecting it to turn into a dragon and bite him any given minute. He finally sipped it. "So, what horrific trip does our sainted headmaster have planned for us today?" Snape asked.
Harry still couldn't get around to calling him Severus. Out loud, that is. He rather liked hearing it in his head, though. "Um, Empire State. And the Metropolitan Museum of Art."
"Are those tourist places?"
"Very much so."
"If I do get trampled to death, which I very much expect, give Albus my deep hatred," said Snape.
"That would be a bad thing," Harry agreed. "But would that mean that I could skive off Potions for the rest of the year?"
To his immense surprise, Snape—um—smiled. Well, the corners of his lips curled up in a way that neither demeaning nor sneering. Harry was again reminded of what those lips felt like, opening up to his tongue. He looked away quickly.
"Strange, I thought that was what you and Weasley were planning to do anyways."
Ron. Oh, goodness, what would he say, if he ever knew what went on between him and Snape last night? Thank God he was in Los Angeles. It took him a while to get back to Snape's remark. "Not really," Harry said truthfully. "You were beginning to grow on us. I mean, your comments weren't really that snarky anymore. At least, they still are, but we're really used to it. Because, you know, we've had a lot of, um, experience." Another raised eyebrow. "Okay, I'll shut up."
Silence. "You and Weasley did get more than your share, didn't you?" Snape said.
"What? I mean. Yeah. At least, you never picked on any of the other Houses as much as you picked on us. Like the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs."
"Did it occur to you that not any of the other students had half the problem with paying attention as you and Weasley did?"
"But that didn't mean that we had to be your scapegoat!"
"And I suppose, Harry, that if I simply let you go, that all the other students would still maintain their fragile respect for me?" Snape asked, archly.
"Oh." He'd never thought of it that way. "Well. Then, I guess."
"You get away with murder, Harry, when I turn my back. I have never punished you for the firework in the Swelling Potion."
Harry gasped. "You knew it was me?"
"Of course." Snape said. "How could I not, with you tapping your wand and flitting cautious looks at me when you thought I'm not looking?"
"Then why didn't you—"
"Harry, even you weren't stupid enough to do something like that just for fun," said Snape, rather distastefully. "I wanted to see what you were up to. It was clear after much of my ingredients were missing after class. Who did you do the Polyjuice Potion on?"
Harry had decided not to ask anymore questions. "Crabbe and Goyle," he mumbled. "We thought that Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin."
Snape's lips curled again. This time Harry couldn't distinguish. "Of course. The elementary solution. I suppose Ms. Granger came up with the potion?"
"Yes. She was the only one clever enough to do it."
Snape was silent for a minute. "When you first came to Hogwarts, Harry, I thought that you would be someone tremendous. Oh, with Dumbledore hovering over your back, you did do certain things. But Dumbledore stresses life-and-death situations far too much. Life is not as clear as fighting basilisks and riding hippogriffs. It is not a clear line between good and evil most of the time." He sighed. The ice cubes in the lattés had completely melted, but Harry didn't care. He was watching Snape, whose eyebrows were knitted together as he figured out what he had been thinking for the last seven years.
"The ability to see a grey world is the most important of all," Snape continued. "It is much more important than killing Dark wizards, because that is the process by which stability wins over disturbance. In a school divided in two, I had believed that you would be clever enough to see that the fight is not only in blood and sword, but in learning. Granger knew it, but she hadn't your powers. You, who did, refused to believe it. You were a child, I suppose, and every child needs clear definitions. Everything was black and white, good or evil, to kill or not to kill. In a way your view of the world helped you, but without Granger and Weasley, you wouldn't have been able to go halfway. That is why I insisted on being hard on you. Harder than most of the Gryffindors. Because I knew you needed more."
It was the most amazing thing. Even though Snape probably made no sense whatsoever to the average listener, Harry understood every single thing he said. Snape's mind was working at hyperspeed, and Harry followed him perfectly.
"Oh. I didn't know that."
"Probably not," Snape said with a certainty that was annoying. "But you learned. You grew up, and you learned, and that was how you defeated Voldemort. It was all about the process, Harry. Your little duel with the Darkest wizard of all time means nothing. All that you've done, up to that one climatic point—that was what is truly important."
"Then why didn't I—"
They never got to the Empire State Building that day. By the time they finished talking, they had lunch and went to see Monet.
~*~*~
"These little town blues
Are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York"
There was something wrong with that day, Harry thought as Snape hailed a taxi from Chinatown. The older man was becoming very deft at handling New York City.
Something wrong . . . He puzzled over it while they made their way back to the Waldorf-Astoria again. Harry got it. It was nice.
It was not uncomfortable. Snape was not nasty. And they didn't go straight to sleep that night, either. Again, they talked until one, but it wasn't over a deadly potion.
This time, Harry didn't remember who initiated the kiss. All he knew was that one minute they were debating whether Dumbledore's protective or relaxed, the next minute he was staring into those endless eyes again, and then they were on the bed, gasping and moaning like there's no tomorrow.
It started out slower than the night before. This time it wasn't an outpouring of emotions that they were never aware of. It was a slow, steady exploration. An entire conversation was held while their tongues dueled and their hands traveled, touching, nipping, discovering. All of the sudden, Snape was everywhere around Harry. His skilled tongue was in his mouth, his fingers were rubbing against his hips, every inch of his body was pressed against his. Harry wrapped his legs around the older man's waist. He was getting hard.
This time, he broke off the hot kiss and his mouth dragged downwards, licking a line down Snape's long, graceful throat. He then wrapped his mouth around the first button, undoing it, and then the next, and then the next. Snape's shirt fell open at the top and Harry greedily took in the white collarbones that had tempted him so in the fitting room. Harry smiled lasciviously, and, rejecting temptation, hunted over Snape's cloth-covered chest for his nipples. He found one, and like quicksilver lowered his mouth to suck on it. Snape gasped with surprise, then the sound turned into a groan.
Harry definitely licked that reaction. He increased his suction until the nipple was a hard nub, then moved on to the other one. He probably ruined that shirt, but he didn't care.
"No."
It was a whisper inside a moan. But then Snape said it louder. "No."
Lust had drawn his teenaged brain into a puddle. He didn't process Snape's request until Snape took his hands and forced them away from him. Harry looked up, bewildered and flushed.
"Oh no. Not again," he murmured. "But I need you. I want you. Please."
"No. We can't."
Since when did Snape develop so many morals? Damn him! "Why not?" Harry asked, nearly bursting into tears with frustration.
Snape cupped his chin with his hands and forced him to look at him. "Harry. I'm still your teacher. We can't do this. Not now, at least."
Harry quieted. His erection was still throbbing and needy. But too many emotions were cursing through him and it made his sexual arousement less.
"I—" he cut himself off. "I don't know. Are we in a relationship now?"
"Yes," said Snape, quietly.
"I love you."
"I love you too." It was a simple statement, spoken without restriction nor hesitation. Harry's heart flowed again.
"And we're in a serious relationship."
"Yes."
Harry turned onto his back, breathing heavily. Then huge, tremendous fear cursed through him. "I want you. So bad. Why don't you want me? Am I that disgusting?"
"No, no, no." All of the sudden Snape's face was close to his again, fingers on his chin. "You're beautiful. I—I want you too. But we can't do it now. I'm sorry."
"When can I ever have you?"
"When we know where we're going."
"How will we know?"
"Believe me," Snape said firmly. "We'll know. When the day comes. Please promise me you can wait."
"I can wait," Harry whispered, "Severus."
A few minutes later, Harry went to take a very long, very cold shower.
~*~*~
"If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere"
"Gosh, three more days until we're out of here!" Harry exclaimed. "I can't believe it!"
"I can't wait," said Snape dryly.
Harry kissed him softly. "Admit it, you've had fun. At least, you've had fun with me."
"Dragging me to some of the most vile Muggle structures ever built?" Snape asked. "How will I ever live without the excitement."
"You like the Metropolitan Museum," Harry pointed out.
"Well," said Snape, very reluctantly.
"Today we're heading for Times Square and Central Park," said Harry. "You can't leave New York without visiting those. C'mon. And wear your new shirt."
"Why?"
"Because I like seeing all the women google over you."
"They do not google," Snape sniffed.
"Yes they do. Now get dressed."
The women were no longer bothering Harry anymore, since he found out at Bloomingdale's that they all thought that he was Snape's son, not his . . . well. That had been a relief. He didn't really know how comfortable Snape was with the situation yet.
It was at three o'clock in the afternoon when they sat down on a bench in Central Park. It was one of Snape's quiet days. He didn't say much. Just sat there and thought.
But after five minutes, he said, "Harry."
"Yeah?" Harry murmured, nearly dozing off.
"I want to show you something."
"What?"
Snape had reached into his pocket again, except this time he drew out the object and placed it in Harry's hand. It was the first time that Harry had seen the thing in its entirety. It was small, half the size of a Snitch, and it was circular in shape and about two centimeters thick. It was indeed silver, but rather bluish in color. It was obvious it was old. A family crest of kinds was carved upon the object, with an elaborate 'S' done in relief.
Harry tapped it, it was hollow. He turned it around in his hand. Just as he expected, there was a tiny clasp on the right side. A box. He tried to force it open, but it wouldn't budge.
"It would only open to a word," drawled Snape.
Right. A password. Of course an old pureblood family heirloom would require a password. Harry tried the obvious ones first, of course. Snape. Slytherin. Severus.
"You've got the first letter right. The answer is right in front of your face."
Harry glared at him. He knew that Snape wouldn't tell him the password. He turned the box around. Should he speak in Parseltongue? No. Snape wasn't a Parseltongue. He twirled it in his hand, enjoying the way the light sparkled off of box, like a jewel.
Harry put it down. How stupid of him. The box was made to look like a jewel. "Sapphire," he said clearly, and the box popped open.
Inside there lay a ring. It was a woman's ring, carved so it looked like many threads of silver intertwined. There was a beautiful sapphire set on it.
"That was the engagement ring of my great-great-great-great-grandmother." Snape said. "Her name was Claris Pendlemene. She married the family patriarch, Sapirden Snape."
"Oh," said Harry. "It's very pretty." He turned to give it back to Snape. But Snape shook his head and wrapped Harry's fingers around it.
"It's yours."
Harry felt dizzy again. Snape was given it to him. His great-great-(how many greats?)-grandmother's heirloom. A Snape family engagement ring. And he was giving it to him.
What does it mean? Was Snape—no.
"Um," was all that came out.
"It's just a gift, Harry," Snape said. "To bind our . . . understanding."
Oh okay. It was that kind of gift. Harry was somewhat relieved. And somewhat disappointed. But he chose to be happy.
"Thank you," he said, beaming at Snape. "Thank you."
~*~*~
"It's up to you
New York, New York"
Last day.
They were leaving for London the next day. Harry looked at his watch. Six o'clock.
Snape had given him something very important. At the time, Harry felt some leaden feeling. He had no family treasures. He didn't even know his own grandmother's name, let alone his six-times-removed ancestor's. Of course, Snape would never demand anything back. But still.
"Are you ready?" Snape asked. Their plane leaves at eight in the morning. They were packing that night.
"Yeah, I guess," said Harry, looking at his jumbled suitcases, and then at his watch again. Six-ten. "Um, do you mind if I step out for a minute? I'm just going to catch a subway. I'll be back in half an hour?"
Snape looked at him.
"Relax. I'm seventeen. It's not very far."
"All right then," Snape said finally.
Harry flew out the door.
The JFK Airport was alive and buzzing. Harry smiled as he pushed his stuff through the conveyor belts, allowed the security guards to wave that metal-detector wand over him, and proceeded to his gate. Snape didn't smile. Of course.
Merlin, had it really been two weeks? It seemed like forever.
They boarded the plane at their scheduled time. Harry had the window seat. He looked out as the plane went down the runway, paused, and took off.
Through the window, as the plane rose higher and higher, Harry watched as New York faced him in its entirety. It was a magical city. It was real, yes, but in some ways it was not. It was a city that just was beyond explanation. Capital of the world, indeed.
He silently said good-bye.
Then Harry turned to the man sitting next to him. "Severus," he said.
"Yes?"
"I have something." He took out the box that had been burning in his shirt pocket for so long. "Here. This is for you."
"For gods' sakes—just because I gave you something—" Snape looked at the box.
"No. I really want you to have it. It's not, like, an obligation. Here." He practically shoved it into the other man's hands.
"Your Gryffindor ring?" Snape said in disbelief.
"On a chain. So you can wear around your neck instead of having all your students think that you're betraying your House," Harry explained quickly. "I got a chain for your box, too."
There was a pause. "I'm not sure what I should say."
"Thank you?" Harry suggested.
"No." Snape said. Instead, he lifted up his drink with long, tapered fingers. "Understanding?"
They clinked their plastic cups and drank.
"Now," said Snape, looking at his cup in fascination, "what is this vile solution?"
~*~*~
"These little town blues
Oh, will be away
I'm gonna make a brand new start of it"
"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "You're back! Oh my God! How was New York?"
"Fantastic!" Harry enthused. "How was Montréal?"
"It was so incredibly beautiful. I mean, I had no idea that it was so great. All the French people were very nice, not like some of the Beauxbatons people. Ron! How was Los Angeles?"
"Yeah! How was it?" Harry asked his friend.
"I think," Ron said solemnly, "that I was made to live in the States. I'm seriously going to move there when I'm old enough. But how was New York for you?"
"We saw a lot of stuff." Harry said.
"How was Snape?" Hermione asked. "Did he kill anybody? Did he try to kill you?"
"Yes. No." Harry thought for a minute. "I mean, he did try to curse a couple of Muggles, but nothing more than that. We found out a lot of stuff about each other on the trip. I guess you can say we're more . . . understanding now."
Ron wrinkled his nose. "What did you possibly find out about Snape? That he likes to kill centaurs and use their hooves for potions?"
"No—although Voldemort did use that in the Acries Alius potion. No, it's not that. He's actually human, Ron, and . . ." Harry failed to finish. He'll tell them about that. Later.
Meanwhile, he turned to the teacher's table. Snape was staring at him, face stony as usual. But this time, he saw his eyes smile.
"And if I can make it there
I'm gonna make it anywhere
It's up to you
New York, New York.
New York . . ."
Good night!
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SAME NAME BIT—
Snape's first name, Severus, is actually the same as the one of a Roman emperor, Severus Septimus (I think Septimus means seventh, but maybe that's just my French kicking in). He lived from 146 to 211 and was famous for his military campaigns. According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, "In 208 Severus went to Britain. From there he harassed Scotland, but he died at York before completing his plans for a large invasion." And guess what Severus's middle name is. Lucius. Coincidence? I think not.
What happens after the British Invasion? "England" is the sequel to "New York, New York."
P.S.
Because of FanFiction.net's new policy regarding NC-17 stories, I am no longer able to post "England" in its entirety. Thus, I am planning to post an edited copy on this site and the complete version on another archive, probably Ink Stained Fingers or something of the sort. I had planned on submitting to Walking the Plank, but unfortunately, they rejected "New York, New York" due to sappiness, domestic bliss and improper grammar. I will keep you updated on the archives I do post in. (Meanwhile, I need a beta reader!)