By Friday the small honeymoon phase Harry and Draco experienced has worn off. They're back to their usual. Harry has to have dinner on the table by five and be presentable. He doesn't get away with wearing a sweaty shirt and clambering up from the brewing lab at quarter after, and he has a small red mark on his cheek to remind him of that. Draco doesn't glamour that one away.

Harry isn't too miffed though. He's riding a high from the "Outstanding work, Mr. Potter," that Snape had given him yesterday, upon delivery of a successful potion. He smiles now just thinking about it.

He and Draco are walking together, at seven in the evening, toward the Leaky Cauldron to meet with Ron and Hermione. Draco is holding Harry's hand, loosely. They don't speak much, a few comments now and then, but nothing substantial. Dinner had gone by in the same stilted manner.

Harry does the majority of his talking with Snape. He helped the man brew on Tuesday and then stayed for lunch on Thursday. Talking with Snape is surprisingly easy. He doesn't seem to mind Harry's sarcastic remarks when he isn't a student, and Harry has a newfound appreciation for his stodgy professor's unique sense of humor when it isn't costing him a grade or house points.

Stodgy, while once apt, may not be the best descriptor for what Harry currently thinks of Snape. Talented, inspired, witty, intelligent? Maybe a little bit handsome.

Harry looks down at where his fingers are laced with Draco's and swallows. Handsome in a totally platonic, this guy is just being nice to me, teaching me how to make potions, rescuing me, and nursing me back to health kind of way. That kind of handsome. Very casual.

Draco glances at Harry who seems to have his head in the clouds. "What's on your mind, love?"

"Ah, not much. Thinking about potions" masters, potions masters.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it so much, it's good to see you happy about something," Draco remarks and looks away before Harry can make eye contact with him.

He wishes that Draco would just say what he means. Harry isn't dull, he can clearly see that Draco left out the part where he's mad about how unhappy Harry has been otherwise. And who's fault is that? He thinks, bitterly.

The Leaky Cauldron is busy, as it always is on a warm summer Friday. Hermione and Ron have already found themselves at a familiar booth near the back, four pints of ale sitting in front of them.

Harry hasn't heard from either of them since the letter he sent last week. Hermione hasn't written again, he doesn't know if that's good, she listened to what he said, or if that's bad and she's mad at him.

In either case, she acts as if nothing had happened and forces Ron out of the booth so she can give Harry a big hug. Ron claps him on the back. It doesn't go unnoticed that neither Ron, nor Hermione give Draco a very warm greeting, and Draco is similarly wary of Hermione.

This is going to be a long fucking night.

"How've you been Ron, any interesting cases?" Harry asks, taking a sip from his drink. He glances over at Draco who has chugged half of his ale like it's water. He hasn't had anything to drink since last Friday.

"Bloody course, mate. I wish these loonies would take the summer off or something. You wouldn't believe the amount of "Death Eaters" we busted just this last week." Ron makes air quotes around 'death eaters'. "Really I want to throw these half-rate ponces into a cell with Lestrange for an afternoon, see how flashy they think being a Death Eater is then." He remarks, obviously still fired up over the past week.

"And what would that be, Ron?" Hermione chimes in.

"Unethical," he does a mimic of Hermione's voice, far too shrill. "Believe me if there was no such thing as ethics we'd have a lot less crime," Ron takes another sip, seems to consider what he said, then adds, "That's not what I meant, but you get me, right Harry?"

Harry smiles, just a little. "Yeah, Ron, I get you." It had been a lot easier for the three of them (and of course, countless other students and supporters, but often only them) to get things done when they didn't have statutes and contracts to abide by during the war.

Talk about the war bristles Draco, but he doesn't comment.

"And 'Mione, how's Kingsley?"

Hermione looks miffed by her work week as well. She leans in, conspiratorily, lowering her voice, as she always does when she talks about ministry business she shouldn't really be sharing. "Honestly? I'm starting to get so bored. Everyone told me that being an aid would fast-track me into politics, but sometimes I'd rather be one of the protestors that just crash the Wizengamot every once in a while. At least then I'd feel like I was in on the action." She sighs and leans back in her seat.

"Why not both?" Harry suggests with a laugh. Hermione rolls her eye.

"I'm sure that would go over well. I had to walk right by Luna the other day and just pretend that I didn't completely agree that our treatment of Spotted Mysticoads isn't completely terrible."

"Mysticoad?"

"I have literally no idea, but Luna makes a compelling argument for how we endangered them and should stop using them for potion ingredients."

Ron butts in, "At least you didn't have to escort Luna out of the building. What am I? A bouncer?" He throws his hands up.

Harry is jealous again, as he often is of his friends. They both have exciting jobs that intersect with one another. Their conversations at the dinner table are certainly far more interesting than Harry and Draco's.

"Oh blimey Ron, that's awful." Harry nods in consolation. Ron's cheeks are already tinged red, whether from the drink or being so fired up, Harry isn't sure.

Ron keeps going, "I know, and the worst part is how nice she was about it. I mean, you know Luna of course, but it was all 'That's okay Ron, I know it's just your job,' and then even invited Mione and me out for dinner while I was essentially kicking her out."

I should write to Luna, Harry thinks, and makes a mental note to finally reply to her sometime this week. Maybe he'll even try to go see her.

They continue chatting. Draco chimes in every once in a while, just enough to act as though he isn't trying to ignore Ron and Hermione, but his responses only thinly veil his current thoughts toward Hermione.

Harry actually likes that Draco isn't talking very much. He's not steering the conversation, or pinching Harry's leg when he says something wrong. For the most part, Harry feels like he's actually just getting drinks with his friends. He brushes a hand over his cheek, the red mark that sits just under the frames of his glasses. This is fine, if life stays like this forever he would be alright.

After finishing his first pint Harry excuses himself to the loo.

The Leaky Cauldron's bathroom is just as grimy, but Harry pees quickly and washes his hands. He hasn't seen himself without the glamour since Monday, he has no idea how his eyes are healing. They're not very sore anymore, which is good. The blisters on his chest had all mostly gone away and the bruising was just pale yellow now, it no longer hurts to sit down.

The doorknob jiggles. Harry finishes up and opens the door, but it's Ron, who quickly pushes them both into the bathroom, locking the door securely.

"Uh," Harry doesn't know what to say, staring up at his stone-faced best friend.

"Harry," Ron starts, then seems to lose all of his steam. "I'm a little tipsy, sorry."

"And you're in the bathroom with me why?"

"Hermione told me to talk to you."

"Oh."

They don't say anything. This isn't Ron and Harry's friendship. Not to say that they can't share emotional and heartfelt moments with each other, they've had their fair share of those, it's just that they aren't the ones for long talks about things like this. They're more prone to work out their feelings through a game of Quidditch or occasionally making things explode until they feel better.

"Are you okay?" Ron finally breaks through the silence.

"Yeah Ron, I'm fine, mate." Harry wants to extract himself from this situation as fast as possible.

"If you aren't that's okay. Not, ugh," Ron runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Not alright that you aren't alright, it's just alright that you're not feeling alright."

"Jesus Ron, did you pregame?"

Ron only seems more frustrated. He takes a deep breath, as if centering himself to cast a spell, then says: "I'm not good at this Harry, but it seems to Hermione and I as if there's something going on you're not telling us about. If not, good, I don't want you to be hurt. If there is something going on, possibly between you and Draco, it's okay to need help. We'll do anything for you, Harry."

Harry is actually impressed by the way Ron put that, not that it's a good time for a joke about Ron's usual eloquence at the moment. Instead, Harry offers a slightly sad smile. "Thank you, Ron." He says, sincerely. "I appreciate you two."

The platitude doesn't seem to make Ron feel better. Harry knows his friend, he knows that Ron just wants the truth and for them to not beat around the bush, but Harry can't give that to him. Not yet.

Ron doesn't say anymore, but he does pull Harry in for a hug. It's not their usual, clap-each-other-on-the-back hug, it's a real, tight, stifling, comfortable, Weasley hug. Harry almost feels like he's going to tear up with how much he feels Molly and Arthur in Ron's embrace.

"I love you, mate."

"Love you too, Ron."

They finally break apart and Harry exits the restroom, thankfully no one is waiting to get in, that would be awkward.

Back at the table, Harry breaks apart Hermione and Draco's intense eye contact. He doesn't say anything, just sits down and they snap out of it. Ron takes a reasonable amount of time in the bathroom before coming back, with another beer for all of them.

Running out of new material, they slowly shift back to talking about their school days. Discussing what everyone is up to and rehashing almost decade-old gossip that no longer means anything. It's nice and comfortable, only made a little awkward by the fact that they have to avoid talking about one of their main sources of irritation during school, as he's sitting at the table with them.

Hermione and Ron had been only a little perturbed by Harry getting together with Draco. They'd both voiced their displeasure, but upon seeing that Harry was serious about him, they accepted Draco. They would never be great friends, but they wanted Harry to be happy.

Hermione keeps shooting glances at Harry from across the table. He feels safe right now, and still a little powerful from getting Draco to relax on the rules a bit. It's nice for him to finally feel as if he has a real choice. I can stay with Draco, or I can tell my friends and get help. It's completely up to me. This is of course, not entirely true, but Harry crushes down the niggling voice screaming manipulation in the darkest corner of his mind.

Their conversation is derailed by Hermione noticing a figure passing by. Harry is too engrossed in his beer to notice.

"Professor Snape!" She calls, waving a hand and hiccuping a little from her drink.

Harry's face shoots up instantly. Snape has just passed their booth, Harry is staring at his back. His broad back in a soft-looking blue sweater tucked into a pair of brown trousers. He looks quite trim with the belt accentuating his waist.

When Snape turns around Harry can tell instantly that the man had, in fact, noticed them at the table, and had been trying to walk by unnoticed. His face looks a little pained.

"Ms. Granger," he greets with a nod.

Harry can't draw his eyes away from Snape. He feels exposed, naked under Snape's gaze with Draco right next to him. A little bit sick to his stomach even.

"How are you, professor? It's been so long." Hermione has an enthusiastic smile on her face, Ron looks annoyed, and Harry can't bare to look at Draco. He can't bring these two worlds together.

"Quite fine. Mr. Weasley," Snape just nods at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, getting the attention off of him as quickly as possible.

"Good to see you, Severus," Draco reaches a hand past Harry and shakes his godfather's hand. It hurts Harry's heart a little bit to hear Draco call Snape by something so familiar.

Harry is the one that refuses to call Snape anything other than Sir or Professor in the first place, but that's born out of his desire for normalcy. It's too big of a step to suddenly call his professor by his first name, but now hearing Draco say it makes Harry want to be that close to Snape. He wants to hear Snape say Harry in that smooth baritone again.

"And you Draco." The look on Snape's face is, again, pained, but no different from how he usually looked in school.

After all the hellos have been said it's just Harry left. Harry knows that they have to say something to each other, it would be so odd if Snape just ignored him, but he has no idea what to say.

Harry stares into Snape's eyes as if begging him for rescue. Again.

"And I see the savior of the wizarding world is quite busy these days getting intoxicated at the Leaky Cauldron."

That was weak, especially for Snape, but at least he said something.

Drat, it's my turn now, Harry is just drunk enough to stumble through his words. "Good to see you as well, professor." He finally forces out.

Snape gives the table one last nod and disappears into the crowd. Harry wants to follow.

None of them stay much longer, the air has gotten tense.

Draco and Harry have their usual walk home, Harry just behind Draco, lagging a bit. They don't take the usual route home, so Harry has no chance to stare longingly at Severus Snape. Appointment Only. He's glad for that.

Draco is frigid when they arrive home, and thoroughly wasted. He pounded a beer right as they were about to leave.

The house feels dark and sad compared to the Cauldron.

Harry wants to cut through the tension between them, once inside he turns toward Draco and puts a hand on his shoulder. Harry tries to pull Draco in for a kiss but the man turns his head to the side, so Harry's lips make contact with his cheek.

"Everything alright, Dray?" Harry asks.

Draco studies Harry with his grey-blue eyes. Then he presses a short kiss to Harry's lips.

Draco's hands go to Harry's shoulders and gently push him to his knees. He's met with a large, obvious bulge in Draco's trousers. He looks up at Draco, he doesn't mean to do it in a sultry way, but looking up through his lashes causes an effect anyway and Draco cards his hand through Harry's curly black hair, pulling his face up against Draco's erection.

Harry doesn't know what to say. He's not in the mood, but this is better than the alternatives. The thought of saying no at this point sounds like so much work, so instead, Harry begins to undo Draco's belt.

I'm agreeing, I'm not saying no. So why do I feel so sick?

Harry tries to make it quick, and Draco seems to have the same idea. It's rough. Draco's cock is long enough that Harry can just fit the whole thing, his nose pressing against Draco's pubic hair.

Draco fucks into Harry's mouth quickly, snapping his hips against Harry's face. At some point, Draco forces Harry's glasses off.

After not too long Draco pulls Harry's head all the way down and comes right down the back of his throat, causing Harry to choke and gag, drool pours down the sides of his mouth along with any come that he wasn't able to force down.

Draco tucks himself back in his pants, leaving Harry on his knees, wiping his mouth. He stands up finally, Draco looks dark.

"Go to bed, Harry." Draco directs.

"Ah, it's only nine..." He trails off.

"Just go to bed before you do anything you'll regret."

Harry doesn't know what to make of that, but he's scared of the stormy haze in Draco's eyes, so he goes to their room and lies in silence until he finally falls asleep.

On Monday Harry leaves the house with a turtleneck on. It's 70 degrees in London that day, not a cloud in the sky.

He's covering a handprint around his neck.

Harry leaves the house immediately after Draco goes to work, but he doesn't have a location in mind. Draco hasn't given him any more money since last week, and he spent all of that on potion ingredients, so he can't go shopping or get any food.

He wonders if Draco will give him more money as he promised, but Harry doesn't hold his breath. They had a rough weekend. Draco was mad about something that he didn't care to share with Harry. Harry assumed that it has to do with Hermione, but he can't be sure.

There'd been two backhands and then of course last night.

They were having sex. It started slow, languid, Harry had been in the mood so he went along easily with Draco. At some point, things had shifted though, and Draco choked Harry until he blacked out, only regaining consciousness when Draco was coming all over his face.

So he needed out of the house, and now he's just wandering around London.

His first thought is to go to Snape, but Harry doesn't have the mental energy to help brew today.

He spends an hour at a small coffee shop, able to scrounge up exactly enough coins for a single cup of coffee and a postcard. Then he is truly destitute.

Luna,

Thank you for staying in contact, though I can't say I always know what your letters mean.

Maybe lunch sometime?

Harry.

It sounds stuffy, too formal for the two of them, but Harry doesn't know what else to say. He thinks about the final line for a long time and has no idea if Draco would even let him get lunch with Luna. The thought of lunch with Draco and Luna sounds like a form of torture that should be federally outlawed. It's probably all for naught anyway.

He looks at the card for a few minutes. A clock chimes ten, Harry can't believe he's been fretting over a few lines for about an hour now. He considers tearing the card up and starting over, but he doesn't have the money for another one. Instead, he stands and puts the card into his back pocket. He'll decide what to do with it later.

Leaving the small cafe Harry immediately notices the familiar form of a tall black-haired man weaving quickly through the crowds.

"Professor!" Harry jogs to catch up with him.

Snape is holding a small parcel and headed from the direction of the apothecary. Harry hasn't seen him since the Leaky Cauldron, since he can't leave on the weekends.

Snape looks warm and has the sleeves of his button-down rolled up above the elbow. His skin is pale, but not ghastly so. He looks handsome and has his hair brushed behind his ears.

"Mr. Potter," Snape stops in his tracks immediately.

"Harry." Harry corrects, thinking back to the last time he saw him.

"Can I extend the same to you?"

"Severus?" Harry tries the name on his tongue. It feels very wrong, dirty almost, to call his professor by his first name.

Severus looks happy though, glad that Harry called him that.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the Leaky Cauldron, that, was, awkward," Harry says and Severus nods.

"I'm not sure awkward is the correct word." Severus' eyes look dark, but not like Draco's, never like Draco's. "I'm going to get some lunch, care to join me?" From what Harry can tell Snape was walking in the direction of his shop, so he's surprised to hear the man was going to stop.

"Sorry, sir, I don't have any money, or I would."

Severus doesn't question why Harry, possibly one of the richest wizards in London, doesn't have any money. Harry is glad about this. "It's my treat."

Harry smiles and nods.

He was right, Severus certainly wasn't going to get food before running into Harry, because they start in the opposite direction than Severus had been walking in.

There's a small feeling in Harry's stomach at this. Butterflies, his mind supplies, unhelpfully. I most certainly do not have butterflies from getting lunch with Snape- Severus.

The air is light around them. They browse the menus in silence, but not an awkward silence, a companionable silence, and they both order when prompted.

"Bit hot for a sweater," Severus remarks.

Harry's cheeks flush and he sucks his lips into his mouth, not responding.

"Sorry." Severus corrects himself.

"It's alright. Just not really lunch talk."

"Messed up any more potions recently?"

Harry wants to hit his head on the table until he disappears, or cry. He wants to be able to talk with his friend without constantly having to dodge questions and step around answers. Yeah, I'm scorching but Draco's hand is still around my neck, and naw, I have to be at Draco's beck and call on the weekends, no time to brew.

"No I haven't had a chance to," he finally says. The look on Severus' face tells Harry that he knows there's more to the story. "What were you out shopping for?"

"The bloody St. Mungo order," Severus grumbles. Harry's not sure he's ever heard Severus swear before.

"That bad, huh?"

"I opened my shop to keep me actually doing something when I'm not teaching. Thought it would even be fun to make potions for people, but I don't have the time to do any brewing I want to do when Hogwarts and St. Mungo's are constantly requisitioning me."

"Well, it is appointment only, why not just refuse their appointments?"

Severus seems amused by that and nods. "You're right. I'm surprisingly bad at saying no."

Harry feels a chill go through him, the pit in his stomach again. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to force back a wave of dread and anxiety with the speed and intensity of the night bus. Surprisingly bad at saying no, his mind echoes.

They look at each other, both strained. Severus' is mixed with loathing, for himself, for continuing to accidentally step on Harry's toes. Harry's with sadness because all he wants to do is bare his soul to Severus.

"Your mother," Severus suddenly segues, "used to get on me for that. I'd always help people when they needed potions tutoring. In our third year, I missed a Hogsmeade trip because I'd agreed to tutor, oh, seven or eight different people that day. She laid into me for that."

Harry is slightly shocked that Severus so casually brings up his mother. People usually dance around the whole dead parent thing. Even Remus and Sirius would only bring up James under very specific circumstances, afraid that they'd set Harry off, and now they are both dead and Harry will never know those stories about his father.

"I've heard she had a bit of a temper."

Severus snorts. "Only around her friends. Everyone else thought she was perfectly mild-mannered."

"Tell me a story about her," Harry asks, glad to have the distraction. This is something they can talk about easily.

Severus racks his brain for a couple of minutes.

"She didn't like Ravenclaws," he starts.

"I think I knew that, Sirius mentioned it once." It had been in passing, something about his mother calling Ravenclaws 'stuck up' or along the lines, Harry barely remembers.

"Yes, but James and Sirius didn't know why she didn't like them. Or maybe James knew, but not till much later. She told everyone that she didn't like how Ravenclaw acted smarter than everyone else, and at the time they had won the house cup two or three years in a row, so it wasn't an uncommon sentiment. But anyway, we were first years, back when she and I were still very close, and there was a very handsome Ravenclaw," Severus trails off again, looking like he's trying to remember all the details, Harry can tell his thinking face now, with his eyebrows drawn up together.

"Gods I can't even remember his name. Novilius? Something pretentious. Every girl was obsessed with him, even I had a passing daydream that I would be the one finally chosen by him." Harry, who is taking a sip of his water, sputters suddenly and chokes. He coughs hard for a minute, gathering the quizzical eye of the entire restaurant and thoroughly embarrassing him. Severus cocks an eyebrow.

"Sorry- sorry. I just, you're... You know."

"Gay?"

Harry thinks he might choke again. Severus laughs.

"Yes, Harry."

"But I thought- you, my mom... You know."

"Very well spoken today Potter. But, no, your mom and I never 'you know.'" Severus clears up. "Lilly was my best friend, nothing more. History books hate when a single man and woman aren't in love with each other."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I never got the full story from you." Harry is honestly surprised. He isn't even sure who started the rumor in the first place, but he's had it in his mind since about mid-Hogwarts that Snape had a thing for his mom, which only served to make Harry testier in his class.

"Eventually Lilly got the confidence to go up to Novilius and asked him if he would go on a date with her. He agreed. I still remember her face telling me about him, it was like she'd just won the lottery." Harry is intrigued, obviously, he knows how the story ends but it's very humanizing to hear about his mom as a first year. James and Lilly are spoken of so larger-than-life that it's hard to relate to them. "He told her she could come with him the next Hogsmeade weekend, but when she showed up to meet him outside the front doors, there was another girl there, a Hufflepuff. He'd forgotten that he made a date with two girls for the same day."

"What?!" Harry is pissed on his mom's behalf at a decades-old douchebag. "She hexed him, right?"

Severus laughs his long laugh that Harry likes so much. "Harry, we were eleven. She just cried and held a grudge against the whole of Ravenclaw for the next ten years."

"I like that story," Harry says, almost dreamily, his eyes unfocused on Severus' shirt. The top two buttons are undone and Harry can see the beginning of black wiry hair on Severus' chest. "Not that my mom got screwed over, but that she was eleven once."

"You were eleven once," Severus responds and Harry can feel that the man is staring at his eyes.

Harry swallows. Yeah, I was. And I didn't think I'd end up here.

They're done with their food by now and Harry stacks his cutlery on the plate.

"Thank you for lunch."

"Anytime, Harry, I mean it."

"I'll drop by on Thursday right before your order's due and demand you take me out for lunch." He jokes.

"And I will," Severus says, serious.

They leave shortly after that, Harry doesn't know what to say in response, so they walk out in silence.

Right outside the doors of the restaurant they're met with two Daily Prophet wizards. The first snaps a photo before they can even tell what's going on, and the second immediately starts asking questions.

"Harry Potter, wizarding golden boy, and Ex-Death Eater, Severus Snape, what brings you together today?" He's a tall, loud man with unfortunate facial hair and ugly robes. Harry doesn't recognize him, which is good, there'd been a time when he knew basically every reporter in London.

Harry instantly grabs Severus' forearm and pulls him away from the reporter. "Lunch," Harry throws over his shoulder and they quickly walk away. The reporter is soon lost in a sea of wizards and they are turning into a, thankfully desolate, Knockturn Alley.

"And I thought they were finally done with both of us," Severus says, his words biting as he looks back in the direction of the reporter. Severus hates being called an Ex-Deatheater, he knows what they mean by it and he wishes they would just call him Notably Evil or something more direct.

When he looks back at Harry, Severus' face drops. Harry is staring at the ground and taking very deep, controlled breaths.

"Harry?" Severus asks, gently.

When Harry looks up his eyes are ringed with red, but no tears have fallen yet. He's still holding Severus' forearm, tightly. His hand is clammy and cold. "They're going to put those photos in the Prophet." He says and then takes another deep, almost gasping breath.

"It's just you going to lunch with an old professor, Harry, I'm sure nothing will come of it." Severus tries to rationalize.

Severus puts a hand on Harry's shoulder and pulls him into a small gap between two buildings, barely even an alley. There was no one walking about but Severus still wants them away from prying eyes.

"You don't understand. He'll know about you now." Harry's eyes are beseeching Severus. Harry finally drops his grip on Severus' arm, and Severus keeps his hold on Harry's shoulder.

"He knows you're making potions, right?" Severus asks and Harry just nods. "Tell him you needed help and arranged to talk to me. That's all."

Harry sucks in a breath and the tears finally spill over. He leans heavily against Severus' chest. Harry doesn't put his arms around Severus, just presses himself against him. Severus slowly brings his arms up to wrap tightly around Harry's shoulders, protective.

"Harry please don't go back there," Severus says, quietly, barely more than a whisper, but they're so close that Harry can hear him clearly.

Harry cries silently into Severus' shirt for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being held.

"I don't know how to leave," Harry finally says.

"You just have to do it. Pack a bag and come stay with me. Or I'll take you to Ron and Hermione's, or Molly Weasley's, or Hogwarts. Anywhere." Severus rubs a small circle into Harry's back.

Finally, Harry pulls away and Severus' hands fall limply to his side.

Harry takes a few more deep breaths before mumbling, "I have to go," and slipping past Severus out of the alley.

He leaves because he's scared if he stays any longer he'll say yes to Severus.