Chapter 18 – Light of My Life

"Cam? Hey, Cam!"

He knew that voice. Flourish and Blotts and the search for new textbook possibilities forgotten, he paused in his stroll down Diagon Alley to search the faces in the crowd.

"Hullo, Simran."

"How are you? I heard you've got my old job."

"I have. It's going fairly well. What are you doing now? I didn't know you'd stayed in the UK."

"I'm working for Gringotts. Papa wanted me closer to home, but I decided to stay after Miles made me a lantern." She gestured to the man standing next to her and Cameron noticed him for the first time.

"Marks?"

Her brow furrowed. "Oh, you two know each other?"

He had no idea how much it was all right to say. "Er, in a way."

Marks cut in, "Not to worry, I told her all about it. Just didn't know to mention your name."

Simran laughed. "That was you? You were the crackerjack curse-breaker?"

"Yeah. Wait a minute—did you say he made you a lantern?" He turned toward Marks. "Hobby of yours?"

Simran put her hands on her hips. "You can't be serious."

Clearly, he was missing something here. She was looking insulted, and he had no idea how he'd put his foot in it. "Muggle-raised," he reminded her, raising a hand and waving his fingers at her.

She had the grace to look sheepish. "Right. Well, er, it's what wizards or witches do when they, you know, when they want to—" She waved her hand, indicating Marks and herself. Cameron looked back and forth between them. He didn't know what he was supposed to be seeing.

"When they want to bond," Marks explained. "I proposed. In the magical world, when someone wants to propose bonding, they present their intended with a lantern."

Well, of course. That made…no sense at all. "A lantern."

"It's a very old tradition. Something about being the light in each other's lives. Usually, there are scenes from the courtship or hopes and dreams about the future relationship drawn or painted on the shade."

"Miles' was just beautiful."

"I see." He didn't really, not exactly, but he was resolved to get himself a detailed book on wizarding rituals and traditions, and that was near enough for now. "Wait. You're getting married?"

"Bonded, yes."

"Oh. Well, congratulations then."

"Thanks," she beamed. "Expect an invite in the next few months."

XXX

He saw the announcement in the morning's Prophet, on page seven near the bottom.

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were to be bonded Saturday next in a small, private ceremony officiated by Headmaster Dumbledore.

His first incredulous thought was to wonder what in the Founders' names qualified Albus Dumbledore to go 'round marrying people. Maybe in the wizarding world, the celebrant didn't need to be a minister or anything like that. Maybe 'ancient' or 'nosy' or 'blithely serene' were top selling points in officiants for bondings.

Then he paused to think about who had done the lantern-making, but not for long. It had to have been Tonks. There was absolutely no way Remus would think enough of himself to propose tying Tonks to himself for eternity. He wondered what Tonks' lantern had looked like. The book he'd read said that magic helped shape the making of the lantern, particularly the shade, with memories and emotions and intent. What would it be like to receive something like that from someone, knowing they couldn't lie about their feelings or intentions? Personally, he would be terrified of making one. What if the magic knew him better than he knew himself? Who knew what the pictures might show.

Next, he felt like an idiot for his assumptions about Remus and Sirius. Still, they seemed awfully close and he refused to apologize for it.

After that, he wanted to know what was with all the marriages. Almost immediately, though, he realized it was only the two and that led him to wonder what could be going on in his head to make it strike him that way.

Then he remembered Teddy. That was the important thing, and he was a bit angry at himself for taking so long to arrive there. Maybe this time, Teddy could grow up with his father and mother and grandfather all alive and there to love and care for him. He would be surrounded by family, like a child should be.

He didn't think he'd ever been so glad that he went back in time.

XXX

"Remember, that's eighteen inches on vampires and the myths surrounding them by Tuesday. I'll see you then. Have a nice weekend!" He shouted the last bit in the vain hope the students pushing through the door were still paying him the slightest bit of attention. Not that he blamed them, in all honesty. He was not so old that he couldn't remember what it was like to sit through the last class of the day on a Friday.

Hell, he still felt that way most of the time.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last ones out. Unlike most of their classmates, they were in no hurry to put their things away as they chatted about Hogsmeade tomorrow. Apparently, Sirius and Remus were meeting them and buying them all lunch.

He saw Harry duck down to pick up the best quill that money could buy. He recognized it instantly and he knew Harry had to as well. Everyone knew that quill.

"Malfoy left his quill."

Ron made a face like he'd swallowed a slug, then grinned. "What should we do with it?"

Harry frowned. "Give it back to him. What else would we do with it?"

He saw Ron's eyes dart toward him and back to Harry. "Right, of course. Why don't I just hold onto it, then?" He extended his hand, but Harry made no move to give it over.

"Ron, I know you've seen him with this quill. It's obviously very important to him." Harry held the quill close to his face and examined it.

"Well, that's the point, innit?" Ron asked in what he obviously thought was a whisper. Cameron continued arranging the papers on his desk.

"Oh, Merlin."

"What is it?" Hermione asked between disapproving glances at Ron.

Harry held the quill toward her, but kept hold of it. "Read it."

" 'To Draco with highest esteem, from your Father on the occasion of your twelfth birthday'. Wow. I'm sure this is very precious to him. Lucius Malfoy went missing over the summer, you know."

Ron huffed. "Yes, we know. The whole world knows."

Just then, Draco shot into the classroom and skidded to a halt. He was breathing hard, his eyes darting about. When he caught sight of Harry holding his quill, he took an abortive step forward then froze. Did he think Harry was holding the quill hostage, or something? Malfoys were a paranoid bunch, but he supposed they had reason.

"I found this under your desk," Harry said, holding the quill out. "Thought you might like it back."

Draco's eyes narrowed and he looked at each of the three in turn. When no demands were forthcoming, he ventured, "Why?"

"Well, er…I could tell it means a lot to you."

"Of course it does! Why are you just giving it back to me?"

"Because it's yours." Harry thrust the quill into Draco's hand. "I'm sorry about your father," he muttered, then snatched up his bag and scurried out of the room. Hermione and Ron were right on his heels.

Draco looked after them for a moment, bewildered, then blinked and gave his head a slight shake. He stroked the quill before sliding it carefully into its case, nodded to Cameron, and left with his usual poise.

Once he was sure no one would overhear, he whispered, "Five points from Gryffindor for being an arse, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, ten points to Gryffindor for showing compassion and doing the right thing, despite the influence of your peers and infantile guardian. And five points to Slytherin for keeping your head, Mr. Malfoy."

XXX

"What's all this?"

"Gumbo."

"You made it?"

"I did. Well, mostly. You're a bit earlier than usual—it should be done in a few minutes. I hope you're hungry."

"So, it's food?" Snape asked as he removed his outer robes.

Cameron spun around with the ladle in his hand. "Of course it's food."

"What possessed you to cook? And what, precisely, is gumbo?"

"You don't have to say it with that tone of voice. I just…felt like doing something for you. I thought you might enjoy it." He shrugged and turned back to the pot. He didn't know why he'd decided to cook. He just liked the idea of the two of them sitting down to a home-cooked meal at the end of the day. He'd pictured Snape closing his eyes in appreciation…and now he was just embarrassed.

"You, er, still haven't told me what it is."

"It's a type of soup popular in Gulf Coast region of the States. It's served over rice; there's stock, roux—"

"And roux is…?"

Cameron sighed. "Do you really need the recipe? It's good. I think you'll like it. Can't that be enough?"

He only realized how vigorously he was stirring when a hand landed on his and stilled the ladle. "Sage, what's wrong? I didn't mean to interrogate you. I was simply trying to make conversation."

He leaned back into warmth behind him. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I had this ridiculous vision of dinner tonight, and…I don't know. I'm being silly."

"Yes, you are. Now, is dinner ready?"

Dinner was ready, and they ate mostly in companionable silence. It wasn't the fantasy of utopian domesticity he had pictured, but it was good. Snape remarked on the flavor of the food, and tried to guess all the spices. It didn't take him nearly as long as Cameron would have liked, but it was amusing.

After dinner was better. The dishes were left for the house elves, and Snape seemed to be feeling apologetic. Or maybe he was just in an odd mood. Either way, Cameron was very appreciative of the careful attention Snape paid his body, and didn't hesitate to express it.

Or at least until he was rendered speechless by the searing tongue and inquisitive fingers caressing him all over, which took a pathetically short amount of time. He wasn't too concerned about his incoherency, though, since his mouth was soon occupied with more important things.

And, oh, how he loved kissing Snape. Sometimes, it seemed like the most intimate thing they did. With anyone else, Cameron had never been terribly taken with the kissing—it seemed a prelude to other, better things—but with Snape he wanted it to go on forever. The nipping and licking and sucking, the feel of Snape's nose pressing into him and the hint of a rasp on his chin and the long, coarse hair under his fingers, the indescribable taste, the bony hands fisted in his hair and clutching at his shoulders and leaving bruises on his arms…

"Sage," Snape whispered against his lips, running a fingertip down Cameron's chest, "I want to feel you inside me."

The world shifted and Snape was underneath him. He couldn't hold back a moan. The lube slapped into his outstretched hand as he nibbled down the pale column of throat before him.

"Like this?" he asked.

Snape answered by pulling his knees back and groaning. Cameron wasted no time getting the jar open and slicking his erection. He brushed his slippery fingers over the puckered entrance and Snape whimpered.

"Not necessary, you know that."

He did know it, but he liked touching his lover.

"Now, I want you now. Cameron, please."

There was no resisting that look or that tone. Not that he was trying especially hard. He cupped Snape's face for a kiss with one hand and aligned his cock with the other. He swallowed Snape's sigh when he pushed inside.

"Gods, you feel so good."

Cameron would have liked to answer, but he didn't think he could speak just yet. He was still reveling in the sensation when Snape legs wrapped around him and his heels pressed into Cameron's back, urging him to move.

"Please," Snape repeated when he didn't comply quickly enough.

Cameron began to thrust. He couldn't have held still at that point even if he wanted to. He opened his eyes and found Snape's dark, penetrating gaze studying his face, drinking him in.

"I am so lucky," he muttered to himself and started to move faster.

"Yes! Oh Merlin, yes. There!"

Snape was writhing beneath him, mouth half open and eyes hooded. He was utterly irresistible at the best of times, but when he was like this Cameron wanted to swallow him whole. He snaked a hand between their sweat-slick bodies to grasp Snape's throbbing erection.

"So incredible. I can't…I'm going to…"

"Yes," Snape entreated, arching up toward him, "Yes!"

A few more erratic thrusts and he was lost, moaning, "Oh, Severus, Sev—Oh!" and the world went white.

The next thing he noticed was Snape's tongue licking the semen off Cameron's hand. He must have looked as dazed as he felt, because when Snape released his hand, he smirked.

"Arrogant sod."

Snape ignored his comment. "It's early yet. I still have marking to do. Will you join me?"

"In a moment."

When Cameron came out of the loo into the sitting room, he found Snape tucked into the corner of the sofa with a pile of parchment on his lap. He looked up with the half-smile that was downright cheerful for him, and Cameron noticed that the dressing gown Snape was wearing was his.

His mind reeled. Incredulous, all he could think was, 'Snape is wearing my dressing gown.'

"What is it?"

"I, er…nothing." He sat beside Snape and threaded a hand through his hair. "Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"Actually, I believe you have."

There was no way he could explain the utter perfection of the evening. And it just kept getting better.

"I just….I really, really love you. You know that, right? You believe me."

Snape put his quill down and looked at Cameron as if trying to diagnose him. "Yes. Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just…sometimes I am so in love with you that it hurts. Do you know what I mean?"

For an eternal, excruciating moment, Snape said and did nothing. Then, he stroked his thumb over Cameron's bottom lip. "I…yes. I do." Snape's kiss was soft and gentle and lingering, and Cameron wondered why they ever spoke at all when they could communicate like this.

Then, Snape pulled back and picked his quill up again.