The surge of magic Harry had on Friday only affected the wards temporarily, as he finds when he arrives home Sunday morning and can't get into the house. He raps his knuckles against the door a few times.
It's early, not even eight in the morning. Harry woke up with the sun and tried to sneak out of Snape's house before the man could catch him, but it was impossible. Snape was awake before Harry even left the bedroom.
Harry tried to make breakfast for Snape which caused a small back and forth before they conceded and made breakfast together. Having Snape prepare food for him the day before had been nice, really nice, something that hasn't been done for him in a long time. Having Snape cook with him had been even better. Harry can't even remember the last time Draco did a chore with him, maybe never. Whenever Draco was trying to do a nice gesture he would just have on of the house elves take care of the chores.
So they made breakfast together. Snape was even quieter than usual while eating. Harry didn't comment on it.
When they parted at the front door, Harry still wearing Snape's sweater, they lingered for a few minutes. Snape tried to convince Harry not to go back. Harry couldn't.
"Will you be able to come back here?" Snape asked.
"I'm not sure. I want to. How are you going to get all your brewing done without my excellent help?"
Snape had wanted to smile, Harry is charming, but the mirth in the young man's face was betrayed by the purple and yellow black eyes.
Harry stands with his head slightly down at the front door, that's how he walked all the way from Snape's. Thankfully he wasn't recognized on the way. This isn't an image he wants ending up on the front page of the Daily Prophet. What a return to notoriety that would be.
Eventually, Harry knocks again. He wonders if maybe Draco just won't let him back. The thought doesn't unsettle him as much as he expects it to.
Finally, the front door is pulled open.
Draco looks like a mess. His hair is sticking up, obviously unwashed since their fight. His eyes have dark bags under them, and his stubble is unshaven. His eyes widen when he sees Harry, in genuine surprise. "Harry?" He asks, quietly, unconvinced that it really is his husband coming back, how could it be?
Harry nods, finally looking up. Draco registers everything at once. He holds a quivering hand up toward Harry. Harry shies away and Draco drops his hand, nodding. He steps inside the house and opens the door wider so Harry can come in.
Nothing has been cleaned. The coffee table is askew, and a few books from the sofa table are knocked onto the floor. The hardwood and door frame both have blood splatters. There's a distinct trail of blood that leads from the living room to the stairs.
Harry pales and has to look down. His hands tremor and before he realizes it, his shoulders are shaking too. He's not crying, his body is wiped out from all the crying he's done. Instead, his body is just reacting to the vivid memories of what actually happened in the only way it can muster.
"Come, kitchen," Draco notices Harry's state and walks briskly to the kitchen. "Stay here," he commands.
Draco goes back into the living room while Harry braces his hands on the countertops in the kitchen and he breathes. He hears Draco summon several house elves before finally coming back to the kitchen.
"Can I get you anything?" Draco asks.
All of Harry's nerves are still on fire. He's scared, but at the same time bold, powerful, even, after briefly getting away from Draco. "I want to leave." He says, not looking away from the kitchen counter. He's centering himself on it, facing away from Draco, because he knows if he looks at the man he won't be able to speak.
"Oh." Draco doesn't say anymore, doesn't know what to say.
"Not you, I mean. The house. Every day, I want to be able to leave."
"Okay," Draco agrees immediately. "I'll take the wards off in the afternoon, you can come and go when I'm at work." Draco takes a few steps toward Harry but still leaves a noticeable distance between them, trying not to make Harry feel caged in.
Harry nods at this. "And the potions lab, I want to use it. I want to learn how to brew."
"Done," Draco takes another step forward. "I'll give you a larger allowance so you can buy ingredients. I'll have a better brewing room built in the manor."
They don't speak. Harry's breathing has returned to normal, and Draco is trying to keep his even.
"What else?" Draco finally asks.
Harry turns around then, he's said what he needed to say. "Nothing, that's all I want." He finally manages to look up at Draco again. Draco's eyes are brimming with tears, just like the other day after he'd beaten Harry.
"Harry, I'll give you anything you want, everything I can."
"Promise me you won't ever do that-."
"I promise. I promise. I'm so sorry, Harry. Thank you for coming back to me. I'm so stupid I can't believe I acted like that. You're so perfect for coming back love."
Draco raises a hand again and Harry steps toward him before finally letting Draco pull him into his arms. Draco cries into the top of Harry's head. They're long, sad sobs that sound so real to Harry's ears.
It's okay. He didn't mean to. He's going to let me go out, I can see Snape again. He won't do it again, he promised.
For the rest of the day, Draco hovers over Harry never letting him out of his sight. Harry kind of appreciates it, he feels safe and guarded. Draco wants to be around him and he won't ruin them for good.
Draco doesn't mention the new shirt that Harry has found, for which he's glad. He doesn't know what to say about it. He doesn't know if it's safe for him to tell the truth, but he can't think of a better lie. Going to Professor Snape's shop is a fairly rational solution, Harry figures. His only other options were to knock on doors until a stranger answered or to go to some kind of law enforcement, be that directly (Aurors), or indirectly (St. Mungo's). Harry doesn't know anyone else who lives in London, nearby at least.
As much as he rationalizes it, Harry realizes that really he just doesn't want to tell Draco about Snape.
He doesn't have any secrets, he doesn't have any life outside of what Draco dictates for him. Having someone of his own feels special and important. He loves Hermione and Ron, but he can't keep them away from Draco's clutches. His friendship with them has been tainted by Draco's darkness. Harry won't let it touch Snape.
On Monday Draco makes a show of taking the wards off the house before he leaves for the day. He stops before getting into the Floo then walks back to Harry and sweeps him into a kiss.
It's a soft kiss full of underlying desire. Draco cups Harry's face gently in his hands, tilting it back very gently. Harry brings his arms around Draco's middle, holding onto him with loose arms.
They kiss for a few minutes, just lips on lips.
Finally, Harry pulls back. "You're going to be late," he chastises with swollen red lips. Draco hates to be late.
That makes Draco go in for another kiss, this one not quite long, but just as longing.
Draco does get to work late, but he doesn't forget to cast the glamour on Harry's face before he goes.
Harry doesn't go to Snape's on the first day. After the kiss, he gathers some of the money that Draco left him and makes a list of ingredients. There's a brewing room in the townhome's basement, but a lot of the ingredients are no longer good. Draco doesn't brew almost ever.
He makes a stock list of everything they have, then double-checks what he'll need for the Blood Replenishing Potion. The only things he needs are nightshade and a moonstone. He adds more ingredients to the list, so confident in his abilities he's sure he'll be able to brew it right on the first try and breeze onto something different. After all, Snape makes it look so easy.
It's nice strolling to the potions shop leisurely, not worried that this will be his only chance out and feeling rushed. He gets the ingredients he needs, then picks up dinner from a local restaurant that he can pop back in the oven before Draco arrives home. Harry could get used to this.
He's in such a good mood, riding such a high, that it isn't until the second time the potion immediately turns that Harry gets frustrated.
The first time, Harry combined the beginning three ingredients: powdered snake fang, wolfsbane root, and one cup of nightshade. He then stirred clockwise twice and anti-clockwise thrice.
Snape's book had a little notation after the third step that clearly reads: subtle smell, pale color.
Harry's potion is dark brown and smells like a Muggle cleaning solution.
So he calmly takes the potion off the heat and cleans the cauldron out, by hand, before starting again.
The second time the exact same thing happens, at the exact same step. This time Harry's eyebrow twitches but he still cleans it up just as before, carefully scrubbing the cauldron to make sure that no kind of residue is causing this.
The third time he narrowly keeps himself from flipping the entire cauldron over and instead refocuses his anger on the stone walls of the basement, severely hurting his toe.
When Draco gets home Harry is sweaty from being in the lab for so long and has ruined the potion for a fourth time. He can't even try again because he's out of snake fangs.
Dinner isn't ready at five. Harry's just coming up from the basement, hair plastered to his head, and a tee shirt with sweat stains under the arms.
Draco doesn't look phased and doesn't comment on it. He uses a warming spell to warm both of their dinners and asks Harry about his day.
Harry tells him honestly, going into everything he did. This time, Harry can't say that he doesn't know what he's expecting. He is hoping that Draco, who's always been better at potions than Harry, will offer to go down into the lab with him and show him what he's doing wrong.
That doesn't happen.
Draco listens and commiserates with how annoying it is that his potion had turned that many times, but he doesn't offer to help and he doesn't say anything about his own day. He never does unless it's some kind of story where Draco thinks someone was being an idiot or inconveniencing him.
At the end of the day, though, Harry can't be too upset. He got everything he wanted and Draco is being very kind to him. There was no mention of sex the past two days either, for which Harry is very glad.
On Tuesday, the fourth day after the attack (Not that I'm keeping track) Harry is surprised to find that his resolve to make the potion has only furthered.
The moment Draco leaves the house Harry is out the door heading back to the potions shop. He buys more Snake fangs, enough that he could fail fifty potions and not run out. Although hopefully, it doesn't come to that.
Harry spends his time winding through different streets, taking stock of everything that makes up Wizarding London. He's never had much time to really do any exploring. He was here a few times during his Hogwarts years, mostly chaperoned, or with Sirius once or twice, which was kind of chaperoned, but the man was never a very stalwart caregiver.
Harry started dating Draco two months after the final battle. He had two months of adult life by himself before Draco got involved. It was nice, going from having so much weight on his shoulders to having Draco take care of him, it was exactly what he needed- at the time. He wasn't even truly by himself after the battle either. He stayed at the burrow most of the time and if he did venture to Grimmauld place Ron and/or Hermione were almost always with him. Afraid to leave him alone.
He really isn't surprised when he finds himself standing outside of Severus Snape. Appointment Only. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was heading in this direction.
Harry knocks on the door twice and it's answered quicker than ever before.
Peering into the shop Harry can see that Snape actually has a customer, a short, stout man is standing in front of the small counter.
"Mr. Potter, if you'll give me just a moment," Snape motions Harry toward the brewing room and Harry ducks his head, walking straight back there. He doesn't want to be recognized at Snape's store, though he's sure the customer can already tell who he is.
He takes a seat on the red couch, setting his packages in front of him. Harry unabashedly eavesdrops on the conversation in the front room.
"My apologies for the interruption, where were we? You need 40 bottles of Invigoris?" Snape asks, sounding bored with his customer.
"Yes, and as many bottles of Somnium Sedative as you can provide." The man's voice is rushed, he sounds out of breath almost, and slightly irritated.
"A number." Snape retorts.
"Ah, 40 as well'll do."
There's the sound of scratching, Snape writing something onto parchment.
"Anything else?"
"No, Mr. Snape, I think that will be fine."
"Alright," there are more scratching sounds. "I'll have these sent over next Thursday. I'll be expecting payment not long after."
"Next Thursday?" The man protests. "Mr. Snape, all due respect, St. Mungo's needs these potions-"
"And how is that my problem?"
Harry wants to laugh. How does he keep any customers with that attitude?
"Very well, sir, I'll have the payment arranged to arrive on Wednesday."
Snape tears something off and passes it, and then the man huffs.
"250 galleons? Mr. Snape, St. Mungo's appreciates the work you do, but this price seems higher than other brewers." The man sounds out of breath again, Harry wonders how long they've been having this conversation.
"That's because it is."
Harry has to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from audibly laughing. The man sputters, trying to figure out what to say. "My bosses will ask why the prices are so high, I'm not sure I can justify this."
"Would you like the long answer or the short?" Snape doesn't actually give the man a chance to respond before saying: "bluntly put, you've asked me to brew and bottle eighty potions in just over a week, both have expensive ingredients and are tediously temperamental. The long answer involves several jabs as to why the capable brewers that St. Mungo's employs can't create such commonplace medical potions."
"Right then, Mr. Snape, good day to you." The man disengages as fast as possible and Harry hears the front door rapidly open and close.
There are a few more minutes of Snape writing and he finally comes back into the brewing room, the look on his face is one that Harry easily recognizes, he's had it cast at him and Ron their fair share of times.
"That was a wonderful show, can I sit back here and listen more often?" Harry asks, cheekily.
The strain on Snape's face melts away as he looks at Harry, and is replaced with a bit of a smirk. "I'm beginning to think I need an employee. How is it that thirty minutes of haggling with St. Mungo's is more tiring than a full day of brewing?"
"Truly, how could that man not argue with you, your face just screams 'easy to shmooze and a bit naive.'" Harry jokes, and is pleased to see the corner of Snape's lips turn up a bit more genuine than his usual sardonic grin.
Snape moves deeper into the room, setting his ledger beside his cauldron. He chances a glance back at Harry, puzzling a bit at the sight of his face, no longer marred by the bruises. Draco's glamour.
Harry expects another quip back from Snape, but he doesn't get one. The man seems tongue-tied all of a sudden. I guess I can't blame him. The last time I came I was beaten bloody and now I'm acting like nothing's wrong.
"I, erm," Harry gets Snape's attention again, the man had started writing something on a loose piece of scroll, leaning over the brewing stand. Snape has a nice ass, is that wrong of me to think? Those stuffy robes were really not doing him any favors. Harry likes Snape dressed down, though he seems to always at least wear dress pants and a button-down.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Well, you seem busy, but I had a quick question if you have just a moment."
Snape stands to turn fully toward Harry, leaning against his brewing stand and crossing his arms in front of him, he quirks his eyebrow in a 'go on' motion.
"I've been trying to brew the Blood Replenishing potion, and, well, I've only succeeded in making a bloody mess four times now." He admits, rather sheepishly. He had so much bravado going into making the potion.
"Where is it going wrong, exactly?"
"Right at the beginning."
"Elaborate."
"Well, it seems so simple. I add the powdered snake fang, the wolfsbane, and one cup of nightshade. Then I stir clockwise twice and anti-clockwise three times. I know I'm not getting the counting wrong, I mean, how could I four times?" He asked, frustrated.
Snape seems to think for a moment, drawing his brows together and staring at the wall behind Harry's head. That's why Snape looks so old, Harry muses, his thinking face has left angry wrinkles between his brows.
"You're using one whole Wolfsbane root?"
Harry nods.
"And a cup of liquid nightshade?"
Harry nods again, this time more fervently. See, it must be the potion that's wrong, not me.
"And you're buying powdered snake fang."
Harry nods again, then halts and zig-zags his head, before it finally switches to shaking, no. "Uh, no, I bought whole." He digs around in his bag for a moment before producing his brown paper sack of snake fangs. "I've been powdering them myself."
"Have you ever powdered a snake fang before?"
"I guess I haven't, I just assumed it was like powdering unicorn horn or moonstone."
Snape motions for Harry to stand up as he moves to a small cabinet. He rifles around and pulls out a mortar and pestle, both made of grey stone. He then drifts to his own supply of ingredients and pulls out a small white bag.
Snape deposits one snake fang into the mortar and passes it to Harry. "Show me how you've been doing it."
Harry wants to glower at Snape. The man clearly already knows that Harry is doing it wrong. They share a moment of tense eye contact before finally Harry sighs, and demonstrates to Snape exactly how he'd done it.
Just like with any other ingredient, Harry starts by crushing it with the end of the pestle, creating small cracks in the tooth. Then he sets to work grinding. He holds the mortar in one hand and the pestle in another, trying to put all of his strength into it. He really, really doesn't want to disappoint Snape.
It's not the feeling Harry has when he doesn't want to disappoint Draco, that's a soul-sucking, anxiety-inducing feeling. Instead, this feeling is almost playful. Harry is a competitive person by nature, and he wants to win at potion-making.
Finally, Harry is satisfied with the powder, the consistency a bit finer than sand. He presents the bowl to Snape.
Snape looks down into the bowl, then up at Harry. The look on his face is clear, this is wrong.
"Why have you made your life harder by not just purchasing already powdered snake fang?" Snape asks, rhetorically, then takes the bowl from Harry and tosses the contents directly into the garbage.
Harry tries not to feel peeved. "I just thought it wouldn't be so hard and I already had some on hand."
Snape places a new fang into the bowl. "What does a snake fang have in it?"
"Uh, venom, I suppose."
"Did you think about that before trying to powder it?"
"No," Harry says simply. He'd noticed that his powder had a few clumps in it, but otherwise, it was pretty powdery.
Snape comes to stand right next to Harry, Snape's arm brushes against Harry's shoulder. "Start here," Snape demonstrates by placing the pestle at the sharpest and narrowest section of the fang. "This is where the majority of the liquid will be." Snape depresses the tooth, the end immediately breaks off and there is a minuscule amount of liquid that's released, an amount that could barely be measured. "The venom reacts with air and will start to dry up, that's good, you only really need the essence of it." Snape runs the pestle around the edge of the bowl a few times, spreading the venom evenly before he goes back to break the rest of the tooth.
Snape passes the bowl back to Harry. "Try again, from here." He instructs.
Harry starts again, slowly breaking the tooth up and running the pestle around the outer edge, grinding it.
"Stop," Snape instructs and Harry stops instantly in what he's doing. "You manhandle the pestle," he says, simply. Harry looks down at where he's gripped it in his awkward fingers.
Snape reaches out a hand and is about to touch Harry's hand, then stills. He glances at Harry, Harry gives him a small nod. Snape takes a few moments to rearrange Harry's hand until his grip is still firm, but more relaxed, he's not white-knuckling it anymore, and it's actually easier to hold for a longer period of time.
Harry grinds for a long time. He stops twice, thinking that it's fine enough, but Snape instructs him to keep going both times. Eventually, after twenty minutes Harry feels like his arm is going to fall off but Snape tells him that it's good. The snake fang is almost the consistency of flour or baking powder it's so fine. Harry curses himself for not paying better attention in potions.
"Good work, Mr. Potter," Snape says and Harry beams at him.
"Would one even say, Outstanding?"
Snape laughs, it's his short, clipped laugh. Harry prefers his long and unfiltered laugh, but he takes when he can get. "Show me a finished potion and we'll talk."
Harry has never felt more motivated to brew a potion in his entire life.
"Take this mortar, it's old but the stone is high quality, it will make your life easier," Snape says after a beat of silence.
Harry looks down at it for a moment. It's lighter and thinner than the one Draco has, and the grit of the stone is finer as well. "I can't take this, sir." He protests.
"I want you to have it." Snape insists, but then quickly adds, "If you can, that is." Harry knows the hidden meaning in his words and swallows.
"I'll take it, thank your sir." Harry can just tell Draco he bought it for himself.
There's an awkward silence. It's still early, only ten, Harry doesn't want to leave yet.
"I am quite busy today, I need to get started on my own brewing." Snape finally says.
"Oh, uh, of course. I suppose I should be going then." Harry says, fumbling over his words.
"Right," Snape nods at him.
They look at each other for a few minutes.
"Unless, um, maybe you need some help?" Harry asks, timidly. Snape's already done so much for him, he doesn't want to overstay his welcome and ruin what is basically his only refuge.
"It is an awful lot of brewing, I could use a hand," Snape replies, bluntly.
Harry grins, and Snape sends back one of his small, genuine smiles.