You know that feeling of being watched?
Ya can't quite put a finger on it, but you swear that there's a pair of eyes following your every move. It makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand up straight and makes you more alert than after having three espressos in a row. But worst of all, you keep asking yourself: "Why me?"
After all, you're nothing special. Just the hero of a long-gone war who is looking for a quiet and simple life in a sleepy village.
So Harry thought when he moved just outside of London in settled in a small and stately cottage in a good neighborhood.
He wasn't looking for trouble. Only a house with big windows letting in the sunlight, a pub with a well crafted pint in walking distance and enough chairs at the table to host his best friends every other weekend (and potentially, any dates).
But he got much more than he bargained for when his first night there, the porch steps broke and Harry fell through, nearly twisting his ankle.
"Damn porch. Gotta fix that tomorrow," he grumbled.
When life fell apart as often as it did for Harry, one had to become a fixer-upper. Tomorrow, he'd go and find some wood and a hammer 'n nails to patch the old thing up.
But when tomorrow came, he walked outside with a cup of coffee to a freshly fixed porch.
Either someone was looking out for him or he was seeing things.
-x-x-x-
Nothing strange happened to him for quite some time until one black, black night, he'd come home pissed enough to play footsie with a bush.
That's when a pair of hands hoisted him up and guided him to his living room sofa where he fell fast-fast asleep.
In the morning, Harry had two questions: what did they put in that beer that made it so bloody drinkable and and what Divine Intervention had prompted Odin to take him to his sofa?
Questions he would not have answered until some weeks later.
As the Gods often work in threes (at least in some branches of Christianity), this Divine Entity had once again descended upon Harry's life when the young man had lost his back bicycle wheel to a gang of ruthless wheel thieves.
Harry didn't care about thieves. He didn't care for the stupid bike.
He really didn't care to see his neighbor rolling over a brand new wheel and fastening it to his frame one evening.
"Bloody hell, Snape? Is that you?" he snarled, crossing his hands.
"Potter," said the man in his matter-of-fact way.
Harry stuck out his finger and walked straight over. "What. Are. You. Doing. At. My. House?"
Snape replied equally dryly. "I. Am. Fixing. Your. Bike."
"I can fix my own damn bike. Give it here." Harry snatched the wheel out of his hands, but the man put up quite the resistence and Harry eventually fell over backwards with the wheel flying straight out into the open.
"Are you satisfied?" Snape asked.
"No."
"If you had just let me fix it, you idiot boy-"
"-how did you even get here?"
"In short, by bus. The long answer is that I now reside here." Snape gestured to the cottage right across the street. "Charming, is it not."
Harry stiffled. "You don't need to make ammends for 'old time's sake'. I've forgiven you. Get on with it already."
"Well that's bloody kind of you. Unfortunately the Ministry has different opinions."
That's how Harry learned that the Ministry had forced Severus Snape to complete a year long community service, protecting Harry from whatever harm could befall him during his vacation away from the Wizarding World. And all that, without his magic wand (which he would have in return for good behaviour and Harry's overall safety).
"Your wand is not my problem," Harry said and stomped back into his house, leaving Snape all alone to search for his wheel.
Later that night, Harry came outside, saw his fixed bike and wanted nothing more than to climb on it and ride far away from his most unsavoury neighbor. But when he thought about it some more, he decided that it wasn't worth continuing on his crusade against the man. After all, he was here for a peaceful new beginning. And Snape hadn't technically done anything wrong. In fact, he was rather helpful.
Harry rolled his bike over to Snape's cottage, climbed his porch steps and knocked on the front door.
"Bugger off," was the expected response.
"I thought I might invite you out for a pint at the White Thestral Pub," Harry suggested through clenched teeth.
"I don't drink."
"Really?"
A sigh escaped behind the door. "I don't drink with you."
"It's gonna be really hard to convince the Ministry you were being helpful to me when you're acting like a right git."
The silence continued on for quite some time, and just when Harry was about to ride off, the door opened and Snape appeared.
He grunted.
That meant yes in Snape-a-nese.
-x-x-x-
The two had ordered their pints of beer, both dark and bold, and were pleasantly surprised to learn of this common ground. When both also admitted to enjoying parmesan crisps, Harry began to have hope that having Snape as a neighbor might not be so bad after all.
And when the third round had come in, Harry was certain they would be the best of friends.
"Dontworry," Harry slurred. "When the Ministersss come...I'll putinagoodword...for you."
"That is. That is. That. Is." Snape swirled his glass around, trying to remember what kind of feeling words he knew. "That is," he began, "adeq- aquad...good."
"Thas right," Harry draped his arm over his neck. "We'll show 'em were the best of friends. They'll let you our earlllyy."
Well the bartender decided right about then, it was time for everyone to get the hell out and go home. So Harry and Snape stumbled out of the bar, hands still around each others' necks for support and stumbled off home.
They sang loudly, old songs of the war...about Voldy-morty the Wicked and the Weasley-Monkeys jumping on the bed.
They'd reached their street and realized in drunken horror that someone had broken into Harry's house.
Snape, for old time's sake, reached for his wand, pulled off some branch from a nearby bush and rushed headfirst into the house. Harry was not far behind, giggling very loudly. They'd climbed the tiny fence and stumbled to the back door.
Knocking it with his shoulder and arm, Severus banged himself over and over into the wood until the door finally opened and a man with a real wand came out and blasted Severus across the garden.
"Fuckity fuck!" Harry cursed, jumped on the man's back and tackled him to the ground.
"GetoffhimHarry," Severus yelled and yanked him off. "Weresosorry," was all he could muster up before the two ran out the way they came in.
They had finally reached their proper houses and stumbled in through the front gate. Harry opened his door and the two of them fell right against the wall, into each others' arms.
Whatever plot of convincing the Ministry they had MUST have involved them passionately locking lips and stumbling clumsily towards some sort surface and crashing upon it. They had sealed the deal for quite some time before they blacked out and fell fast asleep.
-x-x-x-
Snape woke up the next morning with a mop of black hair resting against his face. What the fuck had happened last night? His whole body hurt like anything and he was covered in scraped and cuts and leaves and dirt like he had rolled around in the compost.
"Harry, geddup," he mumbled, pushing the young lad off the sofa and onto the floor.
"The hell we've been up to last night?" Harry cried, jerking awake.
"Don't know. But I need to get home."
"Not like that. Let me get you-" And Harry hobbled off into the kitchen and threw him an ice pack. Snape stuck the item on his back and sighed.
"Better?"
"Much."
They looked out the window. A black cloud was forming in front of Severus' house. And on the doorstep appeared a man dressed in Ministry robes holding a briefcase and a walking cane.
"Shit shit shit," Severus mumbled, pulling himself together and stumbling out the front door.
The gentleman regarded him with a bewildered expression, wrinkled his moustache and tipped his hat. He must have been entirely confused as to why his client had broken the vow of secrecy and was not cavorting with his principle in a state of underdress.
"Good morning, Mr Snape," he said steadily. "I had expected you to take up residence in the house opposite your..." he looked at Harry. "Potter."
"Good morning officer," Harry said sheepishly. "We were just having a spot of tea and discussing Severus' plan of...my protection."
"Indeed," Severus agreed hastily.
"Ah, I see," said the gentleman-officer.
"Would you care to join us?"
"It would be my pleasure," said he, for he loved a spot of hot tea and a crumpet at any hour of the day.
Harry, had neither tea nor crumpets available at the moment, but he quickly whipped together boozy coffee and some old biscuits for the officer.
They sat together, all three, in an awkward threesome at the table. The officer had dreaded this visit originally. Severus Snape was a convict and an otherwise verbally unpleasant man by his colleagues' accounts. One did not get into social work and expect an endless cocktail party. But with the brandy pouring and the conversation flowing, the officer concluded that Harry was a rather pleasant and polite gentleman and Severus Snape, by proxy, was just as good.
With the brandy to coffee ratio falling more highly into the former, the officer left well foxed and agreeing that both Harry and Severus were extremly pleasant and easy to work with and he would put in a good word with Kingsley to shorten his sentence.
"Harry I could just kiss you," Severus cried out. And to his surprise, the wish was instantly granted.
-x-x-x-
Their life had fallen into quite a steady rhythm. Although Harry deemed himself good at fixing things, he concluded that Severus was far better at it and all the more willing to help. And of course, there was the added benefit of watching him covered in a thin layer of sweat, grunting as he screwed something into something else and biting his tongue in an unnerving fashion as he did so.
"Good to have you around," Harry said, pouring him a glass of water.
"At this speed, the Minister will let me out in a fortnight."
And that, the Minister did. Severus recieved a letter about two weeks after the coffee incident informing him that he was now free to live his life as he pleased and that his magic would return to him in three to five business days.
Harry sighed, "Guess this is goodbye then?"
"Doesn't have to be," Snape replied. "There are still many things to break and fix around here. And many more pints to drink. And I believe that I rather like this calm, country life."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Harry agreed. "Don't know what kind of neighbors I'd get if you moved out. Might be proper gits."
"Precisely my point."
And that's how they stayed, living opposite one anouther for the monthes to come.
This is a happy story, with a happy ending. That is all.
The end!