CHAPTER 31

Harry was sitting in Hagrid's hut, drinking tea with his friend. He was telling him about Severus and the watch.

Hagrid smiled as he looked at Harry's face.

"Ah, he wants ter tell yeh that he enjoys spending time with yeh now. And how could he not, eh? A nice lad like yeh. Am not surprised that yeh get on well now," Hagrid observed shrewdly.

The words and Hagrid's smile remained in Harry's mind as he slipped into Severus's laboratory; Severus had asked him to cut up magical evening primroses and water lilies, among other things, for an anti-aphrodisiac potion.

Although he knew and accepted that Potions lore would never be his forte, Harry was gradually learning more about potions and salves ever since Severus had started involving him in his Potions work and research. Before, he would simply cut up the ingredients and have it done with. Now, he was more interested and would look at the ingredients. Severus watched Harry keenly.

"What would happen if the water lilies were not added to this potion?" he asked briskly.

"Then the drinker would succumb to a sexual frenzy," Harry answered readily. The first time Severus had revealed this information to the class in Harry's seventh year, people had smirked and Harry himself had grinned. Severus had continued coldly:

"The drinker can be driven to such desperation that he or she – gender does not matter – will not hesitate to attack people, resulting in sexual harassment and rape. Brewers and people who knowingly stock such potions can look forward to a stint in Azkaban."

The smiles had faded, and Severus had deducted a large number points from Gryffindor.

"Correct," Severus said, handing Harry his silver knife. Their fingers touched, and Harry thought he saw something flash in Severus's eyes – something passionate and fiery; then Severus retreated to his cauldron, his hair tied back casually, a few tendrils still hanging in his face. He was perfectly familiar with brewing the potion – as with so many others – and could afford to concentrate on both Harry and the concoction in the cauldron. Watching clandestinely from behind the few strands of hair falling in his face, he followed Harry's movements. As if sensing his gaze, Harry looked away from the flowers he was chopping and glanced towards Severus, who instantaneously shifted his gaze back to his ladle and cauldron. The minutes passed. They were silent, absorbed in their work. When Harry had finished with the flowers, he turned and walked towards the store cupboard, legs moving smoothly, encased in a pair of old jeans. His equally old t-shirt clung to his body as he reached up and extracted a grater from the cupboard which contained working tools. It was becoming hot in the room. Harry had once attempted to adjust the temperature in the room, and Severus had snapped at him, telling him that it was his, Severus's, laboratory.

"It is hot and I'm finding it difficult to concentrate," Harry had retorted, whereupon Severus had curtly told Harry to mind his own business. This exchange had occurred during a disagreeable stage of their marriage, but Harry had not forgotten it, and Severus usually adjusted the temperature himself. This time, however, Severus decided to enjoy the sight of Harry sweating just a little. He wanted to see that soft blush spread over Harry's cheeks. The tongue come out to moisten those lips. To see him adjust his spectacles. To meet the green eyes when they sought his black ones, asking him silently to adjust the temperature. Severus was fortunate enough to soon witness these little things, from the blush to the eye contact. He himself was feeling hot, and it was not only due to their potion brewing. Harry stopped grating the bits of ginger he had taken from the store cupboard and went over to the sink in the corner to wash his hands. He returned and began to knead the flowers and ginger in a bowl. After this was accomplished, Severus walked over to him and inspected the mixture. It smelt intriguing, but there was a fragrance which was more than intriguing. Harry's own smell stirred Severus's nostrils. Fresh sweat, like grass and rain; shower soap; and something else which stemmed from more abstract sources. An arousing combination of sensuality and innocence. It made Severus long to undress Harry and feel his naked body yield to his hands and tongue…

"Can you please fetch me the pestle?" he asked Harry. Harry obeyed and returned with the pestle. Their hands touched this time as well.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Harry answered. Their eyes locked for a moment. Looks like I'll go into a sexual frenzy without a botched-up anti-aphrodisiac potion, Harry thought; then, realising that he was looking into the eyes of an extremely accomplished Legilimens, he averted his face and started settling the table at which he had worked. Severus ground a couple of sesame seeds with the pestle and added the powder to the mixture of water lilies, evening primroses and ginger. He carried the concoction to the cauldron and tipped in the contents.

"Thank you for your help. You may go if you wish," he said to Harry. The young man left.

Why does every touch and every look we share make me tingle all over? he mused. Can it be that I am starting to…fall in love…with…Severus Snape?

Harry went to his bedroom to change into fresh clothes, choosing another pair of jeans and a top Severus had bought him. He did not see his husband for the rest of the day; Severus had classes to teach and a staff meeting. When the Potions Master returned, he was irritated and curt, muttering about useless students and the lack of talent.

"I was not that good at Potions either," Harry reminded him, hoping to soothe Severus's dour mood.

"Yes, you definitely have a point," was the surly reply, "you have none of your mother's skill."

"Mom was good at Potions?" Harry said.

"Your father and godfather, too, but especially your mother."

Harry gazed at Severus for a few moments. He had often wondered about how Severus had regarded his mother. He had insulted her in the memory Harry had seen; but he had also noticed that Severus had always insulted Harry's father to his face – and never his mother. It was something he had realised around Christmas – when his and Severus's relationship had started to change for the better.

Severus seemed to guess his thoughts. He hesitated before taking Harry's hand in his.

"I know what you are thinking. That I insulted your mother. You, who have her eyes…" he stopped for a moment, then continued: "She was kind to everyone. She tried to be kind to me as well and prevent people from intimidating me. I turned to the Dark Arts instead. I mistook compassion for condescending pity and kindness for weakness. You, Harry, are compassionate and kind. Like your mother. And she was good at Potions. Very good. She could have easily become a Potions Mistress."

"Really?"

"Yes," Severus said, looking into the shining green eyes.

"I didn't inherit her Potions talent," Harry said with a little laugh.

"No, you obviously didn't," Severus agreed, amused.

Harry entwined his fingers with Severus's long ones.

"And from whom did you get your hands? These long fingers?"

"My mother." Severus's voice was slightly coated with bitterness. Harry regretted his question.

There was a pause.

"I have to go down to Hogsmeade and urgently buy some fresh scarabs and dragon scales," Severus announced somewhat abruptly.

"Okay," Harry said.

Severus reached the Apothecary just before the shop closed. He bought what he needed and stepped out into the street. Behind him, the shopkeeper began to lock up the place. It was dark, and Severus was both eager and reluctant to return to Harry and eat supper with him; eager because he now associated pleasant thoughts with Harry, and reluctant because of his confusing feelings towards his young husband. The way to Hogwarts was deserted. He was completely alone. Or not quite alone? A sense of dread stole over him, and he felt for his wand, his black eyes narrowing. He heard the intake of a familiar rattling breath, and something glided past him and brushed his face with a clammy hand.

"A Dementor!" he muttered underneath his breath. With a chill, he realised what this meant. Voldemort's arm was becoming longer and longer; he was sending Dementors near Hogwarts, near muggle and wizarding inhabitations to feed on people, and those who could not conjure Patronuses or who were not with someone who could conjure a Patronus were lost. Voldemort was sending them out to gain strength for the impending war. Severus whipped out his wand.

He thought of how Harry had put the chain around his neck. His right hand touched the jewellery while he pointed his wand at the approaching Dementor with his left hand.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted.

A Patronus shot out, blinding in its blazing silver beauty.

Severus stared. His Patronus was…different. He watched with wide eyes as it charged at the Dementors, making them scatter. It moved gracefully and lithely, like Harry did. Then it turned and ran towards him, and Severus inhaled sharply when he saw its face. It vanished. Severus shook his head. He had to see it again. He repeated the spell, and his black eyes were filled with tears in the glow of his new Patronus.

Severus was still in a state of shock, more about his Patronus than about the Dementors by the time he had returned to his dungeons. He was profoundly relieved to be an Occlumens and thus very well trained in self-control. He told Harry about the Dementor after supper – he did not want to ruin Harry's appetite. He did not, however, tell Harry about his Patronus.

"So the Dementors are spreading," Harry said. He was pale. "And it wanted to attack you…"

"Yes, it did. Dementors can be controlled by a Dark Witch or Wizard, and it would involve Dark Magic, which is what the Death Eaters do."

"So they do not recognise Death Eaters?"

"No, not specifically. I have to inform Albus about this. And kindly stop looking as if you had a potato up your posterior."

Harry blinked.

"I do not-"

Severus whisked out of their quarters. Harry glared after him.

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