CHAPTER 28

While Severus lay in the bathtub, slowly managing to relax, Harry sat on his bed, toes scuffing the sheets as he mulled over the person whose name was Severus Snape and to whom he was married. He found it nearly incredible that he not only no longer disliked the man but was starting to find him attractive. He had discovered that Severus could have a rather sensual way of looking at him; the gaze of his eyes was like a caress; and since Severus had shown him the little courtyard with the wind chimes and had told him a little about his childhood, Harry had felt the bond between them grow warmer or stronger. Harry got up and fetched his sketchbook. He remembered how he had once tried to sketch Severus's face from memory. He closed his eyes and decided to draw Severus's figure; he felt he could capture Severus's whole outline better than details of his person in the case of Severus's physical absence.

His hand moved quickly. Instead of looking satisfied when he had finished, his face became gloomy. His thoughts drifted. Severus in his usual black class robes, Severus with his long black hair. Severus wearing pants and shirt on weekends or in the evening. Severus's exquisitely shaped hands holding a small ladle – something he used all the time whenever he brewed his potions. Severus, Severus, Severus…Harry could not stop repeating the name in his head, stressing the first "e", then the second "e", and finally the "u"; or drawing out the first and last "s", or lingering on the "v". His mind returned to Severus's hands. Harry raised his pyjama shirt and touched his ribs, where he had been bruised. Maybe it had been Severus's hands which had worked the magic, and not so much the ointment. Or both. Severus had made the ointment himself, to judge from the handwritten label stuck to the jar. He had been relaxed, lying on the sofa while Severus massaged him. But hadn't he felt the slightest tingle of excitement at that strangely intimate touch, at the fact that he was lying topless among the cushions with Severus bending over him, his hair tickling Harry's collarbone or stomach from time to time? He could see Severus pushing back his hair in that sharp, nearly irritable manner. He wondered if their growing closeness was partially due to the blood bond. It was a magical contract. The information on blood bonding had focused more on the technical aspect of the ceremony. Or had he and Severus simply become so used to living together that they were learning to appreciate each other with affection? Harry thought that their friendship was a warm and vivacious thing; he had seen Severus smile – something he was sure hardly anyone had ever witnessed before. And he had been in Severus's arms. Severus had kissed his forehead. He had comforted him and looked at his tear-stained face with such gentleness…

Severus's smile. Severus's eyes, no longer dead and cold. Severus's bravery in the face of Voldemort's perverseness and cruelty. Severus's fingers curling over his hand. A gesture which called forth so many tingles and which made the hair on his arms stand up that Harry felt restless and slid off his bed. He stared at his sketch for a moment.

"I don't even have a photograph of you," he said loudly into the silence of his room. He had been thinking of buying a camera to take snaps of scenes and objects which he could fit and combine into his drawings.

The next day, Severus was somewhat taken aback when Harry hurtled into their rooms, breathless and a camera clutched in his hand. He had borrowed it off Colin Creevey, who, although no longer clingy and such a fanatic of Harry, had been delighted to lend it to him.

"What is that for?" Severus asked somewhat peremptorily.

"To take a picture of you."

"You have already sketched me."

"It's not the same thing," Harry remarked, raising the camera to his face and peering at Severus through the lens.

"Magical drawings can also move. Will you kindly put that thing down?"

"It's still not the same thing. I'd like a snap of the two of us together. What do you think?" Harry asked him lightly.

"What for?"

"That way I have a picture of the two us, and I can carry it around, and so can you, if you want," Harry replied, lowering the camera and flipping it around, pressing a couple of buttons.

"Okay, I've activated the timer. If I put it on the table over there, then that will leave us ten seconds to pose."

"I don't-"

"I know you don't want to."

"You don't know what I was about to say," Severus said, annoyed.

"I'm sure you were about to say that you don't want to pose," Harry quipped. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Very well. Go ahead. Let us get done with this waste of time."

Harry frowned slightly.

Severus clarified:

"We see each other every day. What do you need a photograph for?"

"To make me feel secure. To look at when you're with Voldemort," Harry said.

"I think you are taking your marital duties too seriously."

"Severus, you are being very snappy," Harry said calmly.

Severus was silent. It was true that he had been particularly short-tempered. He knew only too well that his encounter with desire for Harry and his delicious rediscovery of his body were to blame.

Black eyes and green eyes studied each other. Then Severus took the camera from him.

"So it's on timer?"

Harry nodded.

Severus pressed the button to activate the timer. He set the camera on top of a shelf and hurried back with Harry. He wrapped his arm around the young man's slight waist.

"Is this pose to your taste, maudlin Gryffindor?"

Harry blushed.

"I'm not maudlin!"

"Of course you're not," Severus said sarcastically, patting a strand of unruly hair out of Harry's face.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed.

The camera flashed, capturing their image – Severus with his hand brushing aside a strand of Harry's hair, and Harry looking half indignant, half amused.

"Now one of you alone," Harry said, grabbing the camera. Severus, looking deliberately bored, masked his face with his usual Potions Master mien.

"Think of something funny," Harry said. "Think of the itch bomb prank you pulled off on me."

It worked: a glint of amusement appeared in the black eyes and the corners of the stern mouth rose. Harry instantly pressed the button.

"And now, one of you," Severus said softly. Their fingers touched and their eyes met as they exchanged the camera.

"Smile for me, Harry," Severus told him. Had Harry's smile been one the sources which had triggered that overwhelming desire in him last night?

Harry did more than smile. He laughed, his eyes sparkling, and waved at the camera.

They developed the pictures together in Severus's potions laboratory, using the magical potion which would animate them.

Harry grinned when he looked at the picture of Severus brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"That's really cute, you know," he commented.

"Whatever you say," Severus said sardonically.

"Okay. This one is for both of us. And these look really good." He studied the pictures of them posing separately.

Severus silently took the one of Harry, and Harry picked up the picture of his husband.

Their gazes collided again.

"Uhm, I've got to go for my lessons with Professors Moody and McGonagall. Thank you for posing, Severus," Harry said, standing up and leaving the room. Severus gazed at the animated picture of the two of them together. There were two copies of the snapshot, and he picked up one, wondering whether he should have it framed. On the other hand, what was the use? Why should he display a picture showing the two of them together if they were to be separated when they confronted Voldemort or if they divorced? Severus recalled how he had shown the divorce forms to Harry after their marriage. How he had made it clear that it was something he was looking forward to. He tried to imagine the divorce. And life afterwards. Provided they were still alive at all. What would it be like? Two former spouses who were forming an emotional bond after years of hate? How would they behave towards each other? Severus sighed and examined the photograph of Harry. Laughing, waving and shining like the sun. That smile! Severus felt something clench in his breast and ground his teeth.

"Stop it!" he said sternly to himself. An image of Harry lying on the sofa flitted through his mind.

After his lessons, Harry talked a little with Nessa.

"Your husband is happier, Harry Potter," she said. "You share more than a blood bond now. You are more than just used to each other."

Harry smiled.

"Yes. We are friends."

"Go inside, young one, and warm the place with your smile," Nessa said.

Harry found Severus sitting on the sofa, casually holding a glass of wine in his hand, a large book on his lap. A narrow-shaped bottle stood before him on the table.

"Elf-made wine," he said as Harry looked at it questioningly. "A brand-new bottle."

"I've never had that before," Harry said, "is it as sour as most wines are?"

Severus raised an eyebrow and his thin mouth curved into an amused smile. He closed the book and set it aside. Harry could see that he was wearing the chain he had given him. He never seemed to take it off.

"Sour? I am relieved that your alcohol intake seems to have been very minimal, to judge from your opinion of wines."

"Well, I don't suppose Butterbeer is something to worry about in terms of alcohol content," Harry remarked, sitting down next to Severus, "though I must say that the wine you're drinking has a beautiful colour."

"If you like the colour, then maybe its taste will appeal to you."

"So it isn't sour?"

Severus leant towards Harry.

"Rather the opposite," he breathed.

"May I taste it?"

"A drop won't harm," Severus remarked, languidly dipping a slender forefinger into the deep ruby depths. He brushed the crimson drop against Harry's lower lip. Harry nearly forgot to breathe when he felt Snape's finger touch his mouth. The finger was withdrawn, and Harry curiously licked his bottom lip while Severus watched him closely.

"It's too little, I can't get a real taste of it," Harry complained, "I only caught the slightest flavour, and it wasn't enough."

"Shall I humour you with a sip?" Severus murmured, picking up his glass. Even a few weeks ago, Harry would have been surprised that Severus was willing to share the same glass with him.

"Come closer," Severus said, his voice low and silky.

Harry shifted closer, and Severus held the glass to his lips, tilting it very slowly. Harry waited impatiently for the liquid to pour into his mouth. Droplets of something deliciously sweet touched his tongue. The glass was removed.

"That still wasn't enough!" Harry protested.

"You will have to come even closer if you want more," Severus whispered, his slim hand keeping the glass out of Harry's reach.

"How much closer?" Harry asked, his green eyes alert, aware of the mounting tension and of the fact that Severus seemed to be flirting unabashedly with him.

"Where is that renowned Gryffindor courage?" Severus inquired lazily. Harry rose and boldly straddled his husband's lap.

Severus shifted the wine glass to the space between their bodies, his free hand on Harry's left thigh.

"Is that close enough?" Harry asked, placing his hands on Severus's shoulders. His jeans were starting to constrict him, and the hand on his leg wasn't helping matters.

The glass was approached to his lips a second time. This time, the wine flooded his mouth in a warm enticing wave. It was honey-sweet, flavoured with skilfully mixed spices. Severus made to take away the glass again, but Harry was quicker, imprisoning the glass in his hand. Severus's black eyes glinted, and he released the stem.

"Mmmh, delicious," Harry commented, holding the half-empty glass to Severus's mouth. Severus sipped elegantly, took the glass from Harry and leant forwards to place it on the table, causing wonderful friction in Harry's groin as he moved. He leant back, locking eyes with Harry.

"Delicious is definitely a good assessment," he agreed, hands on both of Harry's thighs now, drawing casual circles with his palms. "Delicious," he repeated, whispering into Harry's ear before capturing his green eyes with his black ones again.

Their faces were very close. Suddenly, Severus's face went blank the way it always did when he suppressed the pain radiating from his Dark Mark.

"I have to go," he said abruptly. Harry immediately slid off his lap, and Severus rose and disappeared inside the bathroom to dress. He soon returned and picked up his travelling cloak. "I'll be back," he said.

Harry nodded.

"Look after yourself."

Severus left.

Harry went to his bedroom and collapsed onto the floor, his back pressed against the wall.

The wine was still sweet on his tongue and his arousal was heavy and trapped. He slid his hand between his thighs and bit back a loud moan. He had been so close to brushing Severus Snape's lips with his own…The notion of kissing Severus sent him over the brink, making him search wildly for satisfaction until he was lying on the floor, one hand in his jeans, his body shuddering with pleasure, a scream caught in his throat, forbidden to escape; and the feeling was as heady as when he had sat on Severus's lap, tasting that delicious wine, and moreover, tasting the spice of Severus's scorching sexuality, which paled the flavour of the elf-made wine.

---