CHAPTER 42

A/N: I'm so sorry about the long delay! University has just started, and although I am attending only very few courses, I am bogged down with translation assignments and research/preparation for my PhD thesis °has got square eyes from being glued to the screen° Thanks a million for being so patient! :-D

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Two slender figures were walking across the Hogwarts lawns. Their pace was unhurried. Their dark heads were close together as they conversed.

"He tried to use physical duelling in your fourth year. This time, he will probably challenge you to a battle of mental magic when he finds out that you are adept in the art," Severus was saying to Harry. It was a cool September night. Harry tucked his cloak more closely around him and nodded at Severus's words. There was a small silence between them before Severus asked:

"How is your rectal health?"

Harry laughed.

"Sev, that sounds so clinical!"

"In that case, allow me to rephrase my question in a more…poetic manner. How is the interior of your posterior?" Severus drawled. He had, naturally, objected to being called "Sev" – but both Harry and he knew that he was actually very happy about it.

Harry leant against a tree, laughing helplessly.

"That sounds like a furniture shop or something!"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"This is the last time I shall modify my sentence to suit your fastidious Gryffindor standards. How is your ass?"

Harry nearly choked, resisted the temptation to answer, "It's braying" and said:

"Perfect, especially after your camomile salve."

They looked at each other, and the look turned into a gaze which silently but most effectively voiced passionate floods of intimacy between them – an intimacy which had been taken to the next level only the night before. Harry leant in and kissed Severus for a long moment; then they turned back and walked back to the castle. The light from the entrance caressed a band of Goblin-forged white gold around Harry's wrist– Severus's gift on the occasion of Harry's eighteenth birthday.

"I hope that it is to your taste," Severus had said somewhat stiffly, awkwardly holding out a box to Harry. Harry had had tears in his eyes on seeing the bracelet, timelessly exquisite in its simple elegance. He only removed it when he had a bath. He just about lived with Severus now. It had been Severus's suggestion – with the true reason veiled, naturally.

"May I propose, for reasons of practicality, that you cease this absurd scampering between two locations and decide on one – preferably mine, seeing that your quarters most deplorably lacks Potions equipment? I have adjusted remarkably well to your appalling presence."

"Appalling? I think you mean appealing," Harry had remarked slyly, quickly stepping out of hex range with a duel move Severus had taught him. It was Severus's way of asking him to move in with him, and Harry appreciated it, discerning the true reason behind the lofty words.

The two wizards went down to the dungeons, passing the picture of Apollo and Hyacinthus. Harry found it hard to suppress a grin whenever he saw it. Severus noticed, however, and glared at him, muttering something about frivolous and undereducated minds.

"Well, we've ended up in a state similar to theirs quite a few times…without the deadishness, naturally," Harry pointed out.

"Indeed, my Strawberry. You are very…animated," Severus remarked, a husky note creeping into his water-smooth voice. A drop of glowing lava seemed to spark up in Harry's chest and travel all over his body, notably groin-wards. It was strange, he thought, that he could still feel such desire when, according to Severus's latest information, Voldemort was preparing to have Severus bring Harry to him. But maybe it was because of this reason that he felt such desire. Time seemed to be terribly short for him as he was inexorably pushed towards an uncertain and terrifying destination. Short and therefore precious. He wanted to use every second to be close to his friends and to Severus. They reached and entered Severus's rooms. Harry turned to Severus and wrapped his arms around him.

Severus thought of how Marius had accepted such gestures with a kind of superior smug goodwill. It was so different with Harry. He could not help comparing the relationship he had had with Marius to the one he was currently sharing with Harry. Harry made him happy, happier than he had ever been in his bleak life. And, what still astonished him: Harry was just as happy with him – as if he did not have Voldemort to deal with; he seemed to draw strength and confidence from Severus. The anguish which gnawed Severus at the thought of losing Harry to Voldemort's cruelty would keep Severus awake long after Harry had fallen asleep next to him, snuggled close to him. He even visited the Hogsmeade church, which he used to vandalise in his rages against his father and fate; in this time of doubt and anxiety, however, it seemed to be the quietest sanctuary he could find. He was not religious; whatever religion his hypocritical father had hammered into his mind had been shoved into the darkest recesses of his mind. Maybe childhood memories of being conditioned to attend church sermons had resurged due to such emotional stress and had prompted him to seek the church; or maybe it was because he had someone he loved and feared for so deeply that only the gentle yet vibrant light of a candle and the sincerity of a prayer could bring relief to his internal agony. Lighting a candle, Severus murmured stiffly:

"Please keep him safe."

Severus was not a demonstrative man. He did not pounce from behind and wrap his arms around Harry's waist like Ron and Hermione did to each other. Severus never whispered sweet nothings into Harry's ear. And he never said, "I love you" to Harry. His most tender endearment for Harry was 'Strawberry'. He therefore did not speak to Harry about his worries; and there was one bead of rather Slytherin glee which still made him smirk. Marius, it appeared, had been rebuffed by Remus. Remus had mentioned it frankly in a letter to Harry, saying that they did not "have much in common after all".

"In other words, Lupin has finally realised that Rivers tends to think with his head, but not with the one on his shoulders."

"Severus!" Harry had exclaimed, laughing. Severus wondered how long it would take until he would be asked to brew double helpings of the Wolfsbane Potion.

Remus had given Marius the boot for another reason: he was seeing the man who had shared Arthur Weasley's room at St. Mungo's and who had been bitten by a werewolf.

"Well, everything happens for a reason," Harry had said happily.

Severus pushed aside thoughts of Marius, Voldemort and brewing potions and responded to Harry's hug, kissing him intensely.

Much later, after a round of passionate lovemaking and a bath, Severus was lying in bed with Harry. He raised his hand from where it was resting on Harry's hip and placed it on the young man's forehead, as if in a gesture of blessing. Harry closed his eyes. His parted mouth seemed to beckon for a kiss. Or two. No. More than two. Severus succumbed to that sweet mouth and kissed it gently. Harry responded just as gently. Severus rolled over on his side and draped his arm around Harry, holding him close. He ran his fingers through the spiky hair. Harry smiled and reached out, taking a strand of Severus's long dark hair in both hands. He divided them into three parts and started to braid them into a plait. Severus smiled, yielding to Harry's playfulness. After a while, Harry's fingers stopped moving, and Severus looked at him. Harry was sleeping, a dark strand of Severus's hair still wrapped around his fingers. Severus carefully drew the sheets over them both and Nox-ed off the light. He did not undo the plaits Harry had woven into his hair until he woke up in the morning.

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