Chapter 8: To My Fool's Bed
Chapter Text
Ron made no comments at work. Harry expected him to pop in, wearing disappointment or worry on his freckled face. Instead Ron joked and laughed, at his ease for the first time in months. They had really fooled them, Harry thought, dumbfounded. Ginny had yet to leak news of their break to anyone. Even at the end she had never said what her intentions were, and Harry had been holding out hope she would take the whole thing back.
There must be hope for them, if Ginny didn't tell anyone. If they were pretending everything was fine. It would only be real if the family knew, Harry decided. As long as matters stayed between them, he had nothing to worry about.
It felt real enough when he wasn't working, but Harry only went to Grimmauld Place to sleep. He ate out for his meals, working slavishly well past his usual hours, and exploring local bars in his downtime. He never ordered a drink, though he was sorely tempted. Bad enough he'd consumed firewhisky with Severus, right after the children discovered the truth. Look where that had led - nearly slipping up in more ways than the one. Harry had regained his self-control with Severus, and now refused even beers with dinner until he felt on more solid ground. Recovery would be ongoing, for the rest of his life, he knew. He couldn't afford to let his guard down.
Whatever he told his department, there was only so much work that needed doing. By day he took to the streets, hunting recently escaped Delphini Riddle. By night, he tackled what had once been endless paperwork. Now, his paperwork had never been so up to date, his desk never so organized. It was while tidying up his desk one night the following week that he came upon that file of Esther Unger. He set it on his desk, glancing at it throughout the day, only daring to open it once the day was over and his department was blessedly still.
Esther was not very pretty, was his first unkind thought. Her figure was decent enough, he amended to himself, examining multiple photos. Curvy hips, full bust, and her stomach was only a bit flabby. Esther also wasn't necessarily ugly. Not much. There were more hideous witches out there, at any rate.
The witch was a healer for St. Mungo's with quite the pedigree. She came from a long line of successful witches and wizards, all well-respected intellectuals. She was well-educated, graduating from Hogwarts with honors, an alumnus of Ravenclaw House; she had been part of many groups such as Charms Club, the choir, and the gobstones team; she studied mediwizardry abroad with top names in the field; even now she continued her studies in her spare time, learning every branch of mediwizardry available. She had published several papers on various diseases. Even articles outside of her specialty were well received from Transfiguration Today and Spellwork Solutions. Most recently she had been featured in The Daily Prophet, a long-winded essay about research being done on dragon pox, a passion project shared with "brilliant potioneer, Severus Snape."
"Dragon pox," Harry muttered viciously. "Very sexy."
Esther must know a lot about potions. She could probably keep up with Severus intellectually, sharing in-depth conversations about their complementary fields of study. They probably got off listening to each other use big words. Maybe he read the dictionary to her as foreplay.
Did he grab her hips with the same possessive need he grabbed Harry's? Did he groan into her ear and whisper how good she felt around him? Did she tremble in his arms, the way Harry trembled now at the memory? Did he collapse onto her in the end, sweaty and panting, holding her close like he never wanted her to slip from his grasp? Was he as hungry for her as he always was for Harry?
The jealous monster in his chest roared. Harry flipped the file closed, drumming his fingers on his desk. They were good together, Harry thought. Neither was conventionally attractive, both shared a dedication to knowledge, both exceedingly talented in a variety of skills.
Their babies would be hideous, Harry thought viciously. They probably only fucked for the sake of convenience, a quick in and out to relieve an all too human need. He was probably bored, humping into her. She probably thanked him blandly after the fact. Harry snorted, rubbing his hands irritably through his wild hair. No, Esther Unger would not inspire that level of passion in anyone, much less Severus.
No, Severus's intensity burned for Harry alone.
Stuffing the file back into his drawer, Harry stood and half ran from his office. Once out of the Ministry, hidden from Muggles, Harry Apparated directly into Severus's living room. For days he had held himself back, unable to decide what to do, but now he knew. He couldn't let Esther have Severus. He had to remind Severus of what he had to offer.
It was spur of the moment, born of his own selfish jealousy. Severus always commented on his lack of preparation, lack of forethought. Might as well prove him right. Nerves jumped testily at the sound of music, a quiet symphony from the phonograph in the corner. Quiet laughter from the other room. Harry squared his jaw as he marched into the kitchen. The beast within flung itself against its cage, roaring furiously.
The pair stood conversing, glasses of red wine in hand. Esther wore a form-fitting pink dress, more romantic than the severe cuts worn in her photos. Severus wore his usual black attire, though the first few buttons were undone, exposing a tease of pale chest. Harry wanted to press his mouth to that flesh, biting and sucking, marking him as his.
"Pardon me," Harry said coldly. "Severus, we need to talk. Now. It's urgent."
"He never did have manners," Severus said with a tight smile to Esther. She frowned and glanced between the wizards. Harry struggled not to glower at her. "What can I do for you, Auror Potter?"
"We need to speak. Privately."
"My office hours begin at eight in the morning. I am rather busy at the moment."
"And I said it was urgent," Harry snarled. Any number of subjects could require urgency, be it help on a case, or even their children, for Merlin's sake! Leave it to Severus to draw it out, make him look a fool in front of his guest.
"I suppose I can take a rain check, Severus," Esther said, voice strained beneath the effort of cordiality. Severus was staring at Harry by now, his gaze calculating, magnetizing. Esther stood there a moment, as if waiting to be corrected, then set her glass down forcefully. "Goodnight, Severus. Auror Potter." Head held high, she strode from the room. Harry snatched the glass from Severus's hand, gulping what remained of the wine, as he heard the crackling of the Floo.
"You were always a rude, nasty child. I had hoped age would improve matters," Severus said. "To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?"
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your date?" Harry snapped.
The blackness of his eyes burned with cruel triumph. "Yes." Harry grabbed his collar and shoved him into the wall. "Aren't you pleased, Harry? Here I am, helping remove temptation from your grasp."
"Did you fuck her tonight?" Harry demanded. The hammering of his pulse rang loudly in his ears, vibrating through his skull.
"Not yet," Severus replied nastily. "I rather like to build the momentum with those worthy, you see? Take my time to savor them. I had you crowing within ten minutes, imagine what I can do with an hour of seduction."
"I hate you," Harry seethed venomously. He leaned in thoughtlessly, nose bumping Severus's roughly.
"No more than I hate you," Severus replied against Harry's mouth. The taller form leaned in for the promised kiss, but Harry turned his face away. Severus growled in frustration, teeth and lips bumping across his jaw in half-formed kisses.
"Did you kiss her?" Harry asked. His body was strung tight with tension, fury and desire raging through his stiff body.
"I have," Severus whispered into Harry's ear. "Often."
"Tonight?"
Harry felt the man's lips curl savagely against his ear as he breathed the word, "Yes." Tongue stroked beneath his ear, already oversensitive flesh reacting strongly to the warm, wet feel of it, and Harry bit back a moan.
This time Severus shoved him, a few feet back against the counter. The edges dug sharply into his lower back. Hooked nose slid alongside his own as Severus held him there, breathing in his air, black eyes alight with brutal humor. Harry grit his teeth. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to punish him for being with Esther.
"You don't have the right," Severus said. One hand stroked Harry's belly, right above his crotch, and Harry bit his lip. The hand slid around his side, folding around his back, tugging him forward until they were flush against each other. "You don't get to begrudge me this."
Harry wanted to rip him to shreds as Severus dropped his hand away, turning from him. He reached forward to grab the man, pulling him back, forcing him into a merciless kiss. Severus grunted into his mouth, returning the enthusiasm as he crushed Harry against the counter. Esther's abandoned wine fell over, spilling down the cabinets as Harry braced his arm behind him. The glass rolled, resting on the edge, but not for long. Severus thrust his burgeoning erection against Harry, his arm sliding across the counter, nudging the glass so that it crashed to the floor.
"Careless brat," Severus snapped, grabbing Harry by the hips and turning him around. His arms scrambled for purchase as Severus pulled at his red auror robes, shoving away only the fabric guarding his destination. The man didn't even bother with proper preparation, instead pressing the tip of his wand between his arse cheeks, two murmured incantations lubricating and stretching the area. It was an unpleasant, almost stinging sensation within, and Harry glared over his shoulder as Severus hastily parted his own robes, pulling his cock free from his trousers. Before Harry could even blurt out words of protest or encouragement, Severus was shoving his way roughly inside.
Harry cried out. Severus paused, fingers digging harshly into his hips. "Alright?"
"Yeah, go," Harry gasped. He held himself up on his hands, lifting his head enough to stare out of the window above the sink. The moon glowed brightly upon Severus's garden. He thought he saw a gnome sneaking through the fence before Severus's merciless thrusting drove all awareness from his mind. Blessedly, his mind could rest, blank as sensation overtook everything. The firm feel of his lover filling him, stretching him, taking him. Cool, calloused fingers digging where Severus held him down. Hot, heavy breathing on the back of his neck. Then Severus nudged his prostate and he took in a sharp breath. Severus adjusted his stance, aiming relentlessly for his target, until Harry's face was pressed into the counter top, whimpering helplessly with pleasure.
Severus came first, stiffening behind him, grunting into his ear. Harry let out a pitiful sound as Severus pulled suddenly free of him, manhandling him once again until they faced one another. Severus glowered down at him as he took Harry's manhood in hand, stroking once, twice, until Harry fell over the edge, body bending double in the force of it.
For only a few seconds did Severus hold him up. He stepped away as soon as he was able, leaving Harry to slide to the floor, his legs wobbly and useless. He panted where he sat, watching Severus calmly right his clothing and walk away.
For a man without a plan, this had not gone at all like Harry may have hoped. Cringing, he mentally cursed himself, gasping when his palm encountered a shard of broken glass. Harry scooted away from the shattered remains and carefully cleaned himself with a spell and fixed his clothing. Unsteadily he stood, rubbing his lower back. There was soreness, there, of a sort he hadn't enjoyed in too long. The atmosphere did not lend to delighting long in it.
Severus in the living room when Harry entered. He sat in his chair, finger tracing his thin lips, gaze unfocused on the fire. Harry walked up to him awkwardly.
"This wasn't what I meant to happen," Harry said, clearing his throat.
"What did you come here for, Potter?" Severus asked, tone more exhausted than he meant. Harry could hear the strain of the failed snark.
"You," Harry said simply. "Ginny and I are taking a break from our marriage. Six months. To…" Here he swallowed. "To sort out what it is we really want."
"Of course," Severus stated dryly. "Ginevera finally lets you off your leash and you come crawling here, expecting I'll be glad of whatever scraps I'm given."
"That's not what this is," Harry argued, pained. Always he'd thought of the hurt he gave Ginny; this was a classic reminder that she was not the only one affected. Even in the midst of their ongoing affair, he knew every night he crept out to return to his wife he was digging the knife in deeper. In the best of times he was breaking Severus's heart, however often he returned, because he never stayed. His inability to choose between them was always a sore point. When he finally had to choose, finally committed himself fully to Ginny, he hoped it might get better.
Maybe it finally had been, with Esther. Maybe he'd finally found someone new he could love and keep all to himself. Typical Harry, of course, bungled it up by barging in. What right did he have to be hurt? He was the source of pain to the people he loved most; he could suffer a bit of it himself.
Only now, finally, he and Severus could be together without barriers. They could finally see if this entanglement between them was lasting, if it was durable. After all of this time, they had an opportunity. An opportunity Severus had wanted, once. Perhaps it had come too late. What right did he have to make demands? To ruin whatever Severus had with Esther?
Harry bowed his head. "I love you."
"And what does that love mean, Potter?"
"It means I'm here! It means I want to give us a chance!"
"And I'm supposed to be grateful?" Severus asked, voice dangerous and slow.
"You seemed grateful enough five minutes ago."
"I'm always grateful to have a willing receptacle, whoever it may be."
"Don't do that!" Harry snapped, wounded. "Don't act like this is nothing."
"It is 'nothing'."
Harry's jaw clenched, half believing the man for a moment. However good Severus may be at hiding his feelings, he couldn't hide them from Harry. He was guarded - too guarded for a man pretending not to care. So Harry crossed the room, crawling into Severus's lap. The man immediately moved to shove him away, but Harry grasped his arms and held on tight. "You can have me, if you want me. I won't go home in the morning. I won't watch the clock." Hope and hatred blazing bright in the black eyes he so loved. "If you don't want that, then say it. If you want to see things through with Esther…" Here his jaw clamped shut, unable to say it was fine. It wasn't fine.
Severus grabbed him, rising to his feet with Harry scrabbling to cling to him. Unceremoniously he dumped Harry onto the couch. Harry twisted to right himself, staring at his lover as the man summoned a phial from the other room. The deep violet potion was thick, coating the sheer container, glinting darkly in the firelight. Severus's black gaze held Harry's as he pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it aside before drinking deeply of the contents. Then he placed his hand on the back of the couch, behind Harry's head, pressing the lip of the phial to his mouth. Harry parted his lips willingly, tilting his head back to accept the gift.
It oozed slowly down his throat, fizzling like a soda all the way down. It tasted of black cherries, dark chocolate, with a heavy floral kick. Harry couldn't read the man, but the potion was warm and growing warmer as it slid towards his stomach. "What was it?"
"Idiot," Severus said fondly. Slender hands grasped his shoulders and shoved him down lengthwise before straddling him. Arousal stirred deep in his core, causing the beast within to growl indecently. "I could have poisoned you."
"You can kiss me instead," Harry gasped, entwining his fingers in the dark hair that fell around him.
"I'm going to do more than kiss you, Harry," Severus purred. Still, the request was obeyed, a teasing kiss that stroked the embers of desire so recently satiated. In doing so, he fulfilled his own promise, long into the night.
Precisely one week into the new school year, Albus had managed to avoid his girlfriend but for classes. Always an excuse was at the ready if she sent notes dancing after him, or dropping into his lap via owl post. For the most part, he tried to stay busy, not only to avoid lying to Mabel as much as possible, but also by means of distraction. He studied hard, turned in extra credit work, joined the Gobstones team, the chess team, the Charms club, and he even visited his sister, to her delight. Otherwise he was glued to Scorpius's side, feigning very important conversations that Scorpius struggled to portray convincingly.
At breakfast on Wednesday, Mabel forewent use of her pygmy owl, Otis. Scorpius nudged Albus to bruising at her approach. The porridge he'd lifted to his mouth spilled down the front of his robes. "Damn it, Scorp," Albus grumbled, doing a double take as Mabel came up behind them. Her lovely face was weathered by her worry.
"Alby, take a walk with me?" she asked.
"I really shouldn't, I -" Albus said, but Mabel stomped her foot. Her face was pink, screwed up with frustration. A year ago Albus would have found it horrendously adorable.
"We need to talk," she demanded. "Now."
Patience lasted only so long with Mabel. Her sufferance was saintlike for a time, but it did not fade gradually, but fell away all at once. A week was plenty of time to her, and now that she had waited, she would dig until she had what she wanted.
"Fine," Albus grumbled. He took his time wiping the porridge from his front until Mabel spelled it clean in exasperation. The spell was too forceful, leaving a fist-sized spot faded on his robes, smelling of smoke. All down the Slytherin table, his house mates ducked close to whisper. Curious faces turned towards them from the other houses as Albus scrambled up, following Mabel out of the Great Hall.
Once outside the doors, she grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him out into the cool September morning. She said nothing as she marched them to a private area near the lake. His hand was sweaty in hers, and he half hoped it would slide right out of her grip.
"Spill it, Albus. What's going on?" Mabel asked, as calmly as she dared. He didn't even have to speak, only open his mouth, for her to sense the lie brewing. "You were so…weird…last year, Al! I barely heard from you all summer. I didn't see you once! And now, now that we're here, you've been avoiding me! Something is eating at you, Al, and I need to know what it is! We can't keep going on like this!"
"You're right," Albus agreed, turning to look at the lake. He felt outside of himself as he spoke, looking upon his own cowardice from afar. "You deserve better."
"Thank you," Mabel said, so easily placated. The terrible energy of her settled as she wrapped her arms around her middle. "So what's wrong?"
"You deserve better," he repeated meaningfully. "I hope you find better."
Her mouth fell open. Blue eyes widened, staring uncomprehendingly. He smiled apologetically as he walked away. All the while she stood there, watching him go. Only when he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was far enough away, did he hear her anguished sob behind him. His face crumpled and he ducked his head, picking up his pace to carry himself as far away from her as he could.
Enough was quite enough for Ginny Potter, having to hear from Fleur that her son was sick. It had been two months since she'd seen him last! She had not set foot in his new home, and had to hear from a source that James officially joined the Falmouth Falcons as Chaser. Ginny requested a meeting, then, on a purely professional basis, but was rebuffed even then. James owled back his statement, already aware of what his mother needed for her work. Ginny pinned the note up in her office, gaze straying to her son's handwriting multiple times a day.
Now, Ginny stood, dignity wrapped around her like a cloak. In her arms she cradled a pot of soup, a bag draped over her arm with other necessities. She knocked loudly, clearly, bracing herself for impact. Whatever James did, if he slammed this door in her face, she would at least get a good look at him, and be sure he took the offered goods.
James was extremely pale when the door opened, eyes hazy with sleep as he blinked at her. "Hey, Mum." He frowned at her full arms. "Did Vic send you?"
"Your Aunt Fleur," Ginny corrected. She felt off balance now, having so prepared for a storm. Her poor Jamesy really was sick. "May I come in?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, shuffling aside to let her through.
The flat was quite sparsely set up. A single couch, a small bookcase, a small dining table and chairs. No decorations but for a few signed posters of bands and Quidditch teams on the walls. Ginny set about warming the pot with a spell, unloading the contents of her bag. James joined her at the bar, sitting himself on the one stool, slumped forward as he meekly watched her. Out came the bread, the potions, and a few treasures he'd left behind. One was the rather lopsided blanket Ginny had knitted him years ago.
James reached for the blanket, wordlessly wrapping it around his shoulders. Ginny pressed the backs of her fingers to his forehead before ruffling his hair. No fever. According to Fleur he'd been ill off and on for several weeks. "Have you seen a healer?"
"This morning," James agreed. Ginny rummaged through his cabinets; only one clean bowl, and only two dirty ones in the sink. She'd have to run to a shop and bring him more. The clean bowl was filled with soup and she neatly placed it before her son. "They don't think I have a bug. Must just be something I eat that disagrees with me? I dunno, I barely want to eat. I sick up just about everything."
"Hmm," Ginny said. The fridge was equally spare, only a bit of pumpkin juice that would not sit well on his stomach. No tea in the cupboard, hardly anything there but snacks. Ginny snorted and returned to her bag, glad she'd brought along tea of her own. She set the kettle started then took out her wand as she approached him.
"Mum," James sighed. "If the healer couldn't find anything, what are you going to do?"
"Stand up," Ginny instructed. "Fleur says it's been weeks like this?"
"Yeah," James said. "I don't know how I make it through practice. I get home and stuff my face and fall asleep, if I'm lucky. If I'm less lucky I throw it all back up and sleep in the bathroom. It's miserable."
"You shouldn't be flying when you feel like this," Ginny fussed. "No wonder you're so unwell; you won't let yourself recover!"
"I can't miss practice, Mum, I just joined the team!" James argued.
Gears began to turn in Ginny's mind as she looked James up and down, hesitating before starting any spellwork. "I thought you didn't have much appetite," she said, reaching out to pinch his protruding stomach. Nothing, she was sure. If he was eating nothing but pumpkin pasties, no wonder he was sick, no wonder the pudge.
"Yeah, well, when I can keep something down, I'm ravenous, aren't I?" James said. He frowned as she stared at him considering. "What is it?"
"James," Ginny began, crossing her arms uncertainly. The pieces were clicking into place, and she did not like the image they were forming. Her wand was clutched tightly in one hand, nervous silver smoke puffing from the tip. "Are you pregnant?"