"Severus, are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Don't be an idiot, Harry."
"Severus, it's your mother! What would she think if you told her you had a lover who was twenty years younger than you?"
"She would say there is no age limit on love. Besides, it would be nothing compared to what your parents would have said if you had brought me home. Your father would have died of a heart attack."
"…Point taken…"
"You're nervous," Severus repeats, just to make sure.
Harry starts walking faster. "Who's nervous? I'm not nervous. I feel fantastic. You're nervous."
Severus bites back a laugh at Harrry's babbling. He doesn't feel like getting a kick square in the chest right now. Instead, he takes a hold on Harry's elbow, gently enough that Harry could release himself from the grip if he wanted to.
"Harry," he says, softer.
Harry visibly deflates at the touch. "Okay," he admits, his voice almost a whisper. "So I might be."
Severus frowns. "Why?"
"I'm meeting your mother. As your. You know."
"Lover," Severus says, and he watches in amusement as Harry turns a bright shade of pink at that term of endearment. It's amusing how the boy can defeat the Dark Lord, fly the broom so effrotlessly, and yet can't say the word 'lover' without turning as red as a tomato.
It's not exactly the time to tease Harry, though, because Severus can see the genuine insecurity hidden underneath the bravado. So he says not only what the boy needs to hear but also what he knows to be true: "She'll love you."
Harry gapes in disbelief. "How would you know?"
Severus thinks of Harry—brave, passionate, sincere-to-a-fault who dove headfirst into doing what he believes is right, who pushes Severus to be a better version of himself, and says, "Because I love you."
Harry snaps his head towards him at that, wide-eyed.
Harry knows better than most the gravity of Severus's statement, and they both know those are the last words Severus would throw around easily.
Harry is staring at him now, like he's waiting for Severus to take his words back. When Severus doesn't, Harry finally huffs and drags the former Potions master in the direction of their living room, mumbling, "Anyway, we're late."
It's not until the fireplace comes into view that he hears Harry say, "…thanks."
Severus stares at him. "What for?"
Harry pulls him into a kiss instead, and when their lips meet, Severus can feel the curve of Harry's smile.
After some time, Harry heaved a sigh as he followed his lover towards the fire place to Floo to their destination. When Harry turned 21 three months ago, Severus complained about feeling old, but the dark-haired youth just rolled his eyes and waved it off.
They stepped into the fire and each dropped a handful of Floo powder before disappearing in a swirl of bright green smoke. Even after all those years, the ex-Gryffindor still despised Floo-ing; he had never gotten used to it.
They stepped out of the flames and brushed their robes off.
"You have got soot in your hair, Harry."
Harry's previously combed hair were now a mess, sticking up all over the place like someone has been pulling at it and covered in soot and ashes from the fireplace.
"Look who is talking," muttered the Boy-Who-Lived as he ran his hand through his hair to remove it. "What exactly did you tell her?"
"I was bringing someone with I wanted her to meet."
"So you kept our relationship a secret?"
"It would seem rude to break the news about us during firetalking."
"I understand that, but..."
Harry's protest was cut off by a voice calling from the next room.
"Severus? Is that you?"
"Here we go," he grumbled before responding, "Yes, as I mentioned to you earlier this week, I have brought someone."
He quickly grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him behind him into what appeared to be the living room. Eileen Prince sat in a burgundy armchair near the fireplace, looking in their direction. Harry nervously looked around the room, desperately wanting to hide behind his lover.
The old witch stood up and approached them slowly. She did not look a day older than 50, but as Severus had told them, she was already 66. Her short black hair was pulled into a small bun, and Harry noticed that it had begun to gray at the roots, but the rest was as black as coal. He wondered if she had dyed it. Severus let go of Harry's hand to embrace his mother and kiss her on the cheek.
"How have you been, mother?", he asked.
"I have been fine, love," she shrugged. "I went to Diagon Alley last week for a new set of robes, but by Merlin, those ugly colors."
Her face twisted into a grimace.
"Everything is so flashy, like that foul orange and shimmering hardly ever sell any decent black robes anymore."
"I know, mother", the potions master sighed. "I had to order mine by owl."
"Did you need new ones again, Severus?" she asked, quirking her brow. "You have put on some weight, you know. You should watch what you eat more carefully, young man."
"I am 41 years old, Mother."
"That's no excuse not to keep an eye on that paunch of yours," she poked his stomach to emphasize her point.
Harry stifled a laugh from halfway behind him.
"Yes, mother," Severus growled, his cheeks flushed.
"And now, who is our other visitor?"
She peered around her son's back to see Harry. The ex-Gryffindor paled and tried to scurry away, but the potions teacher grabbed his arm and dragged him in front of him.
"You're not escaping," he whispered in Harry's ear before clearing his throat. "Mother, this is..."
"Severus!" she exclaimed. "Is this your son? He's lovely! How come you never told me you had a son? You never even mentioned meeting a girl to me. But it is possible that my memory is failing me... What's your name, dear?"
Harry gave Severus a desperate look, and it was now the dark-haired man's turn to stifle his laughter.
"She asked for your name," he chuckled. "Go on."
"It's Harry," the young man replied softly. "Mrs. Prince."
"Harry," she said as she looked at him more closely. "Dear, please forgive me, but my eyes are not that sharp, and I am not sure where I put my glasses. Nookie most likely knocked them off the table."
"Nookie?"
"My cat, dear. He'll turn up later. He knows when it's dinner time. "How old are you, Harry?"
"Twenty-one, Mrs. Prince."
"For goodness' sake, you can call me Granny, you know," she smiled. "And twenty-one? Severus! How come you did not tell me about him? For Merlin's sake, why did you not bring your wife to dinner?"
"Actually, Mother..."
"Oh, never mind," she sighed. "Let's have dinner before it gets cold. Come on, dear, sit beside your grandmother."
"But..." Harry protested.
Eileen Prince paid no heed; she simply took his hand and led him to the dining room with her. Harry groaned into his hands, with Severus following closely behind, still masking his laughter.
When they finally found a gap between Sev's mother's words, Severus decided it was time to reveal Harry's true identity. After all, Harry was somewhat overwhelmed by comments like "Do you want more meat, sweetie?" and "Eat your vegetables, young man; you are still growing."
"Mother," Severus cleared his throat, "there is something we need to tell you." Harry and I have something to say to you. You see, Harry is not my son. He's Harry Potter. "You know, Mother, Harry Potter?"
"Oh my goodness, Severus, why did not you say that from the start?"
"Because you did not give me a chance, Mother," he grumbled.
"Of course, I know Harry Potter! What an honor to have you in my home, Harry!" she exclaimed. "That's so kind of you, Severus, to let me meet the famous Boy Who Lived."
"Mother, that is not the only reason I brought him along," he said impatiently.
"Oh?"
"I am not married, Mother.I don't have a truth is Harry is my partner."
There was a brief pause, and Eileen blinked a few times, her gaze shifting between her son and his lover, before realization dawned upon her.
"Oh my," she exclaimed softly, "and I thought he was my grandson..."
The corners of her lips curled, and she let out a small laugh.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she smiled. "I just assumed... But now that you mention it... He does resemble that boy in Gryffindor, Severus, the one you couldn't stand."
"That was my father," Harry responded coolly.
"Mother."
"I am sorry, dear," she apologized. Then she smiled. "But I always thought he was a handsome lad."
Severus coughed in protest as the mere thought of James Potter being anything but handsome appaled him.
"Don't be so dramatic, Severus," she said, rolling her eyes. "Now, who wants some chocolate fudge?!