Reconciling Lily's Eyes

CHAPTER SIX



Harry likes to think of himself as a tolerant person, but Auntie Muriel could push anyone to their limits. She\'s tottering through the main tent griping and barking orders, and poor Neville who\'s somehow got himself roped into being her escort looks for all the world as if he\'s about to face down a roomful of Dementors.



Wandless.



"Ugliest flowers I\'ve ever seen!" Muriel declares, waving her gnarled hand at the bouquets. "Purple. Purple! And the dishes, white on a white tablecloth?! What will Ginevra think of next, ruffled fuchsia bridesmaid dresses?"



"Would you like to, er, sit down, Mrs-- Auntie Muriel?" Neville asks, as he\'s seen the bridesmaid dresses and prefers not to mention this for obvious reasons.



"Oh, I can\'t wait to see Rita Skeeter\'s write-up on this one!" Muriel says with nasty delight. "Now where is that Potter boy? Thinks saving the world entitles him to disturb his guests with substandard floral arrangements, does he? The cheek!"



Harry ducks back into the small bridegroom\'s tent, which is spelled with an Imperturbable and guarded from any and all intruders by Charlie, who looks very imposing in his black usher robes despite the fact that he once again pauses to blow Harry a kiss.



"Sorry, George put me up to it," he told Harry with a shrug after the third or fourth time. "Says he\'ll give me twenty galleons if I keep it up, and you know how I love my job, Harry, but dragons just don\'t pay like they used to."



Harry waved away his apology, as if he hadn\'t already guessed. "I\'ve always thought you were a very attractive man, Charlie," he informed him, "but I\'m afraid it would never work out between us. I just don\'t fancy ginger hair."



Ron\'s getting annoyed with it though, and nervous about the speech he\'s been reciting aloud all morning to various pieces of furniture and several disturbed chickens, and he shouts something rude to Charlie before patting his pocket for about the twentieth time. The way he\'s acting, you\'d think the rings were about to climb straight out of it of their own accord. Though Harry supposes stranger things have happened.



"Incoming," says Charlie, and Harry and Ron both turn their heads to the flap, where Mrs Weasley is bustling in with a plate of fruit.



"You look very handsome, boys," she says, holding the plate up for them, as the small table and chair set beside them are piled high with more odds and ends than Harry can count, belts and toothbrushes and socks and razors and Fizzing Whizbees, all in the name of thorough preparation. "It\'s just a shame there was nothing to be done with your hair, Harry..."



Harry smoothes self-consciously at his fringe, which has so much hardened goop in it feels like a hair helmet, and takes a strawberry. "Thanks, Mrs Weasley. You\'re the best."



"Oh, it\'s nothing for my future son-in-law, dear," she tells him, looking like she wants to kiss him on the cheek but is afraid she\'ll smear the pretty lipstick Fleur picked out for her. It\'s a sort of coral colour. "Would you like me to leave this here?"



"No," Harry tells her, straightening his robes and taking a deep, calming breath. "No, I\'m good. Great. Wonderful. Perfect."



And it\'s true. He is. He\'s left the past behind him and he\'s getting married, and this is going to be the best day of his life.



He’s fine. He really is.



"Hey, what about me? " Ron demands as she heads back out, fruit in tow.



"When you give that girl the ring, you can have as much fruit as you want!" Mrs Weasley calls sternly over her shoulder.



Charlie pulls back the flap to let her out, making a kissy face at Harry in the process.



"I can\'t believe Mum found the ring... if only I\'d learned to do my own laundry!" Ron exclaims. "Wait, what am I saying, I should\'ve just hid the thing better. Now Mum\'s hounding me day and night... Doesn\'t she understand? I\'m just waiting for the perfect moment!"



"Really?" Harry asks, amused. "Here and I thought you were dragging your feet because you found out Hermione told Boot off and Krum has a girlfriend."



"Might have a girlfriend, Harry, might!" Ron insists. "Even though he came with a girl, maybe she\'s just his cousin or something, you know, because she does sort of look like him, a bit duck-toed and horse-mouthed, and--"



"Harry?" Charlie says, sounding hesitant. "Um, someone here to ah, see you..."



"Right," Harry says, giving Ron an appraising look. "His cousin. Fine."



"Um, Harry?" Charlie says.



"Fine Charlie, let them in, what\'s the--"



At the flap of the tent, silhouetted by Charlie\'s hulking form, stands Professor Snape.



"Oh," Harry says blankly.



Snape looks awkward and uncomfortable, eyeing Harry with a that strange look of his that Harry can\'t decipher, his arms crossed at his middle. His hair looks even greyer in the daylight, his black robes stark, and he has harsh blue circles under his eyes. He is as out of place in the festive atmosphere as a troll in a tutu.



Harry swallows, feeling suddenly rather lightheaded.



Snape shifts on his feet, scowls his hardest, and clears his throat. "I may have made a... slight miscalculation," he says.



It takes a moment for the statement to sink in.



"What, now?" Harry splutters, a surge of panic running through him. "You made a slight miscalculation now?!"



"Technically," Snape corrects, looking harassed, "I made it last night."



A disturbed sort of whimper escapes Harry\'s mouth, and he tugs in distress at the stiff tufts of his hair. "And you couldn\'t have told me any time before now? I\'m getting married at-- Professor, I\'m getting married in fifteen minutes!"



Snape presses his lips together. "Then perhaps I did not miscalculate after all," he says, and turns on his heel.



"Wait!" Harry jumps and grabs at his wrist to keep him from walking out. "Wait. Just," he says, "just give me a minute, alright? I need to... just... God, you are so impossible..."



"What\'s going on, Harry?" says a voice, and he\'s suddenly reminded of Ron\'s presence.



His hand still on Snape\'s wrist, bony and thin under his robes, he looks up at his best mate and best man, and soon to be brother-in-law, a flower stuck in the button hole of the dress robes Fred and George bought for him with profits from the shop Harry funded. No one\'s been through more with him than Ron, they\'re practically brothers already, and right now he\'s giving Harry a look as though he\'s gone round the twist.



Harry wonders if maybe he\'s right.



He turns back to Snape. "Professor," he says, grasping harder at his wrist, "what about... you said last night that... did you...?"



"Many years ago," Snape begins, and pulls his wrist sharply from Harry\'s grasp with an offended look, "I made a horrific decision from which I shall never recover. From which the entire world shall never recover. I was young and foolish; I thought I could have it all, and the Dark Lord promised to give it to me. It took losing the one thing I cherished most to make me to realize how truly I-- must he do that?"



Harry blinks at Ron, who is gaping open-mouthed at Snape\'s confession. He shrugs hopelessly.



Snape clears his throat, throwing Ron a scathing look. "Only a coward does not admit to his wrongs, or a fool. I was wrong then. I was wrong last night. I would have been wrong not to come here. I am not a coward. I am not a fool."



Harry stares at him, speechless.



"I do not expect for you to alter your elaborate matrimonial plans to accommodate my... shortcomings. However," he says, looking pained, "it has lately come very clearly to mind that... I would not be entirely adverse."



"I... it has?" Harry manages, his heart flopping crazily in his chest.



"But what does that mean, Harry?" Ron demands, looking anxious and oddly pale behind his freckles.



"Ron, what it means is that I..." he begins, but that isn\'t quite right, and he shakes his head and takes another stab at it. "It means that Professor Snape is..." Sliding his hands up under his glasses, he presses them to his eyes so hard he sees stars, which spin with the seasick motion of his head. Opening his mouth to try one more time, all he can manage is, "Oh my God..."



"Indeed, Mr Potter," Snape agrees, sounding exhausted. "Indeed."



"Um, Harry?" Charlie says, and Harry slides his fingers uncertainly down off his eyes. He immediately wishes he hadn\'t.



"Harry, Ron? Time to get in your places, my dears!" Mrs Weasley chirps. She is standing beside Charlie, a smile on her face but without the fruit this time.



Harry wishes she had the fruit.



Fruit is safe, it never hurt anyone, unless you\'re talking about magical carnivorous fruit or something, which Harry is definitely not. He is talking about normal fruit, like little bits of chilled banana, slices of pears, and tiny red strawberries. No one who comes bearing strawberries could possibly make him feel this close to passing out.



Why couldn\'t she just be back with more fruit?



"Severus, what a surprise!" Mrs Weasley exclaims, clapping her hands together in delight, which only makes her horrifying fruitlessness that much more disturbing. "I had no idea you were planning on attending! So glad you could-- Harry, is something the matter?"



Unable to take it any longer, weddings and Snapes and fruit, the tent spins threateningly until he finds himself being lowered into a chair by large, firm hands on his shoulders. He plonks down into it feeling dazed, the faces around him a woozy swirl of colours. "Oh my God!" he moans.



"Harry? Harry! Are you alright?"



"It\'s nerves, Mum, Ginny\'s put too much pressure on--"



"Harry, how many fingers am I holding up?"



"Give him room to breathe, he\'s going to--"



"--bloody stupid tents and purple napkins--"



"Harry! Harry dear, tell us what you need. What can we do? Do you need a drink? A bit of air? A--"



"HERMIONE!" he croaks, gasping for breath. "Need Hermione!"



A sudden flurry of movement fills the tent, after which it falls into silence. With the sudden lack of sound inside, Harry can hear the wedding guests in the main tent laughing and one of the musicians tuning an instrument. He thinks he can catch Hagrid\'s deep voice somewhere in the background, probably apologizing for breaking the chairs again, and maybe it\'s only his imagination, but he thinks he even hears his godson\'s happy squeals from Andromeda\'s lap.



He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.



Snape is kneeling on the ground in front of his chair, and when their eyes meet, he rests a thin fingered hand on Harry\'s knee. Harry covers it with one of his own hands and slides his other against Snape\'s cheek, looking deep into those eyes that he never thought would hold anything but hatred for him. This expression, Harry doesn\'t know how long he\'s had it and he still doesn\'t understand it, but he thinks maybe he\'s starting to. He thinks it might have something to do with forgiveness, and acceptance, and need, and maybe just the smallest bit of desperation.



And he thinks maybe, just maybe, a very tiny hint of something more.



And then he realizes.



"Oh my God," Harry whispers, and curls his fingers around the back of Snape\'s neck, pulling him close. His lips are soft and warm, his tongue sliding between Harry\'s parted lips draws a shiver from him, and he can\'t help but moan into Snape\'s mouth. It\'s better than he remembered, fulfilling in a way he\'s forgot until now, and he can\'t help but take Snape\'s bottom lip between his teeth and tug.



Snape gasps and presses into him, hands wrapping around Harry\'s back, firm and strong, fingertips digging into his ribs. He nips Harry back, and runs his tongue around the circle of Harry\'s open lips the way he\'s learned to lick around the head of his cock before going down on him. Harry\'s head reels, and he arcs up off the chair, sliding a thigh up over Snape\'s hip.



"Harry! Ron told me you--"



Hermione stands in her awful fuchsia dress with the door flap lifted over her curl encrusted head and her jaw dropped halfway to the ground.



Snape pulls away from Harry, strides forward and grabs her by the wrist all in one fluid movement, dragging her into the tent.



Harry rubs hard at his forehead, cock throbbing. "Oh my God," he says.



"Harry!" Hermione splutters, "Harry, what are you doing?! You\'re getting married in five minutes!"



"Um," Harry says, feeling ill as he rises from his chair, and rubbing his arse when he realizes he\'s been sitting on a shoe horn and a package of shoelaces. "I sort of... needed to talk to you about that. The um, wedding. Thing." Their eyes meet for a split second, Harry trying to convey his desperate meaning, and hers widen in shock.



In the blink of an eye, Hermione is flying at Snape, blazing with fury. "What did you do to him?" she demands. "How could you! You swore to me there was nothing between the two of you! You said you were protecting him!"



Snape\'s lips twist in a sneer. "Naughty little lie, wasn\'t it, Miss Granger?"



Hermione looks aghast, attempts to say something, fails, and turns back to Harry. "Harry. Harry, you\'re making a huge mistake. You\'re nervous, that\'s all. You\'re making rash decisions, you\'re getting carried away, you--"



Harry sighs, wondering how his heart can feel so heavy when it\'s fluttering against his ribcage. "Hermione..."



"Harry, you have two hundred people out there waiting for you to walk down the aisle! And just imagine what the Daily Prophet is going to say, and your co-workers at the Ministry-- it\'ll be a scandal! And-- and what about Ginny?! You can\'t do this now!" she shrieks, looking desperate for the safety of her Hermione Bubble.



Harry swallows hard. Two hundred people, and they\'re all here in their best robes with gifts and smiles and pats on the back to see him get married. Hagrid and Teddy and Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Luna and Dean, and Gabrielle and Krum, and Neville and Aberforth and kindly old barmy Elphias Doge…



"Would you prefer he does it after the ceremony then?" Harry hears Snape ask in a hard, cutting voice.



"Well, of course not!" Hermione exclaims, aghast. "He won\'t be doing it at all! You\'ve brainwashed him, Professor, you-- you\'ve always hated him, and now you\'re getting your revenge! Harry stood up for you-- after everything you put him though, he stood up when no one else would-- how could you possibly do this to him?"



"If you were ever interested in anyone\'s point of view but your own, Miss Granger, the answer would be startlingly obvious," Snape retorts.



"Hermione, please," Harry urges, wishing she wouldn\'t look like that, "you have to help me. You\'re the only one who has any idea what\'s going on between us. He\'s here because I went last night to tell him how I felt about him--"



"How you felt about him!" Hermione exclaims, fuchsia ruffles aflutter. "Harry, he was in love with your Mum! There\'s no way he could possibly-- I know you don\'t want to hear this, but--"



"My feelings for his mother," Snape interrupts, looking murderous, "remain unchanged. As well as those for his father. This is beside the point. However, I must admit that my charitable feelings towards you, Miss Granger, have reached an all time low."



Hermione stares at Snape as though seeing him for the first time and not at all sure what to make of him. She blinks, tugs absentmindedly at a curl, and very blankly ventures, "You... actually have feelings for him?"



"Feelings for whom!?" Ginny\'s voice demands from the tent flap.



"Um, Harry..." Charlie says, baffled and not bothering to throw a kiss, "you might want to, er... should I stop letting people in? Because it doesn\'t seem to be helping. Yes? No? Harry?"



Harry\'s bride is standing in the entryway in Auntie Muriel\'s tiara and the whitest, poofiest wedding dress Harry\'s ever seen. She looks huger than the Express. "Harry! What the hell is going on?" Ginny demands, face a furious, blazing red. Harry can picture her ears blowing steam as she chugs down the track.



"Oh my God," Harry says again, burying his face in the sleeves of his robes until he can recover.



"I\'ll take that as a yes," he hears Charlie say.



"What\'re you doing here, Snape?" Ginny demands. "I specifically remember not inviting you!"



"Fear not, I have no intention of attending such an altogether horrendous farce of a wedding ceremony, Miss Weasley," Snape says, sounding combative.



"Horrendous farce of a wedding ceremony!" Ginny shouts, sounding bloodthirsty.



"Miss Weasley, I do believe that after seven years of having you as my student, this is quite probably the first time you have actually listened to what I\'m telling you," Snape snaps. "Though I fear comprehension has yet to dawn."



"Professor," Hermione attempts, voice atits most mollifying, "Ginny. Please, if we could all just--"



"Get out!" Ginny screams, and then a moment later, "Harry, make him leave right now!"



"Yes, Mr Potter, let\'s hear it," Snape orders him, "as there is clearly someone here who does not belong."



"HARRY!" Ginny bellows, with far more lung power than a girl her size should really possess. It\'s really quite impressive.



"As you apparently need it spelled out in true Gryffindor tradition, Miss Weasley, then by all means, allow me," Snape sneers. "There shall be no wedding!"



Of course it is what Harry wanted him to say, but that doesn\'t make it any easier, or Ginny any more understanding. She\'s gaping at him now in disbelief, waiting for him to deny it, to say Snape is lying or crazy, or both, but that\'s just not going to happen. Harry clears his throat and offers up the most comforting thing he can think of.



"Um… so this is a bit awkward," he says.



Ginny makes a noise like her train whistle\'s been pulled, and Hermione, who is suddenly grabbing Harry\'s shoulder, looks close to tears. "Harry, I-- I thought you had cold feet!"



He pats her hand. "It\'s okay, it\'s not your fault, Hermione. Maybe you should go now."



She sniffs, tugging a hideous fuchsia ruffle. "But I--" She doesn\'t finish though, instead looking long and hard at Snape, then sighing and turning away. She trudges slowly to the entrance, her fuchsia ruffles sagging and face turned to the ground, over-styled curls drooping sadly about her cheeks.



Harry wishes girls wouldn\'t do things like this. They are so very upsetting.



"Alright," Ginny says when Hermione is safely outside the tent, "I want answers, and I want them now!"



Answers is a bit tricky, as Harry isn\'t entirely sure what the questions are, and has a feeling he really won\'t like them when he finds out. Snape is right beside him though, looking comfortingly grim and more surly than ever, and Harry takes a deep breath.



"We are getting married!" Ginny declares, answers apparently forgotten for the moment. She crosses her arms over her locomotive bust, chest nearly tipping out of the luggage rack. "I don\'t care what anyone says, I\'ve been planning this for months and it cost thousands of Galleons and everyone\'s here, and this is not getting called off, do you hear me?!"



Snape clears his throat, a nasty smile spreading across his lips. "Miss Weasley, far be it from me that I--"



"Shut up!" she tells him. "Harry, are you-- have you been-- I can\'t believe this. Are you cheating on me? With--" she jabs her finger toward Snape, who looks down at it as though tempted to bite it off, "with him?"



Harry blinks and digs his toe into the ground, cheeks colouring. He didn\'t think of it like that at the time, but... "Er..."



Ginny slaps him. She slaps harder than Harry expected, and he can feel an angry welt rising immediately on his cheek. "Were you planning on ever telling me?" she demands.



Having assumed that the whole idea of cheating was to not tell, Harry says nothing.



"Clearly," Snape supplies, "he is undeserving of your kind, womanly aff--"



"Shut up!" Ginny shouts. "I\'m the bloody bride, you git, and you\'re ruining my special day!" She turns back to Harry. "Apologize!" she demands. When he only stares blankly back at her, she sucks in a deep, angry breath and repeats it, Apologize! Apologize, Harry!



And he should.



Harry\'s doing an awful thing, and he should feel like the absolute most horrible person on the planet. But he doesn\'t. In fact, he doesn\'t even feel terribly ashamed of himself. A bit, sure, but mostly because Hermione is sad and all their guests are going to have to leave without cake. And it is really good cake, and Hermione upset is a terrible thing, but Harry has this sneaking suspicion that\'s not what Ginny wants him to apologize for.



And as much as he wishes it would help, Harry can\'t see the point in apologizing for not feeling sorry.



He shakes his head. "I can\'t marry you, Ginny," he says. "And don\'t call him a git." He blinks in shock that he\'s actually said it, and so very levelly at that. Especially the git part.



Ginny shakes her head and grabs onto Harry\'s elbows, her fingers digging hard into his skin. She has that deep, serious Quidditch Pep Talk look in her eyes. Or perhaps it\'s only the light shining off the window of her conductor\'s car. "We can work through this, Harry. You should\'ve told me, it\'s so much worse finding out now, but it still doesn\'t change anything. We\'re getting married. If you need to go off every so often and..." she shrugs, looking in only mild disgust at Snape, "do whatever it is you need to do, then fine. I can respect that. We all have, you know, needs. But they don\'t have to ruin our life together."



Harry shakes his head, thinking he must have heard wrong, and turns to Snape. Snape is regarding Ginny the way he might look at a vial filled with a particularly nasty and intriguing elixir.



"So what you\'re saying," Harry finally manages, "is that you\'re completely fine with me having an affair as long as I keep you up to date on it. You don\'t care that I\'m not faithful as long as I come back to you in the end. We can still be a family. You\'ll do this for me, because you love me just that much. Am I hearing this right?"



Ginny nods. "I love you so much, Harry," she says, giving his arms a gentle squeeze, "I’ve always loved you, and I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy, together. If this is what it takes, I can deal with it."



"Ginny," Harry says, "that is the most awful thing I have ever heard in my life."



She and Snape both stare at him as he pulls away from her grasp. "What kind of person are you anyway?" he demands, appalled. "You should be ashamed, whoring yourself out for an expensive ring and the notoriety of snagging the Boy Who Lived! That\'s not love! I don\'t even know what that is!"



"But I forgive you!" she insists, looking panicked. "I want to be with you anyway!"



"Well I don\'t forgive me!" he spits. "You can\'t build a marriage on something like this. We\'ve always talked about being a family, but a family sticks together through anything-- together, Ginny! I\'d rather die than know the one person I\'d chosen to be with, to give my heart to without condition, could find comfort in another\'s bed. And you should too!"



Ginny pulls back, eyes cold and flat. "You\'re making a mistake, Harry."



"No," he says, "I made a mistake when I listened to this git and asked you to marry me!"



Snape makes an offended noise at the finger Harry\'s pointing at him. "Leave it to the Chosen One to take to heart the one, single piece of unwise advice I\'ve ever offered," he sneers. "Pathetic."



"I can\'t marry you, Ginny," Harry repeats. "And... look, I\'m not trying to be awful, I\'m really not, but the whole thing\'s a mess anyway. I hate purple, tiers of ruffles are an awful idea for bridesmaids, and you look like an absolute train wreck in that dress. Honestly, this just isn\'t working out."



One of the reasons Harry always got on with Ginny is because she\'s never tearful, or clingy like Hermione can sometimes be. Ginny is strong and independent and really very un-girlish when you look hard enough, and it\'s fitting that at hearing Harry\'s words, she spits in his face and throws the ring at his forehead with such force he actually staggers backwards.



"BASTARD!" she shouts, and storms out of the tent, her caboose floofing absurdly behind her.



"You Gryffindors always did have a way with words," Snape says.



Harry groans, wiping the spittle from his cheek and touching gingerly at the spot the ring hit. It\'s a nice match for the slap mark on his cheek. "What a disaster," he says with a sigh. "Now I bet you\'re going to spit at me and walk out too, right? Haha, joke\'s on me, five thousand points from Gryffindor! That\'d be just my luck..."



But Snape is in front of him, one hand against his chest and eyes so full of emotion, Harry cannot imagine how they could ever have been cold and empty. He closes them and slides down in front of Harry, resting on his knees, wraps his arms around him, and buries his face in Harry\'s robes.



Harry sighs and strokes the back of Snape\'s neck with one hand, twisting the fingers of the other into the man\'s hair. Snape lets out a long breath, tightening his hold around Harry\'s waist, and Harry smiles, smoothing his hair behind his ear. He is shocked by how grey it looks, and how soft it feels between his fingers.



"Did you shampoo your hair?" he asks, puzzled.



"Silence, Mr Potter," Snape says into his robes, and if Harry\'s not mistaken, the man\'s face has turned rather pink.



"It feels really nice," Harry assures.



"Enough," he snaps.



Harry sighs. "So what now?" he asks, squeezing lightly at the nape of Snape\'s neck. "I mean is this, you know... this is really happening, right? No joke?"



"I do not appreciate your continued implications that I possess a sense of humour," Snape informs him.



"Actually," Harry counters, "if you\'re going to stay down there on your knees, I\'d much rather imply--"



Just then, Hermione bursts through the back of the tent, wand in her hand. "I\'m sorry, Charlie wouldn\'t let me back in, I had to use that awful Sectumsem-- oh. Oh, Harry," she says, wringing her hands at the sight of them.



Snape tenses, hand reaching for his wand, and Harry places a protective hand against his back. "I\'m not getting married," Harry tells her again.



"I know," she answers, "I think that\'s-- well, pretty obvious at this point given the evidence, but-- Harry, you need to leave. Quietly and without-- Ginny\'s Incendioing the napkins, Harry! We\'re all getting very frightened-- you know how good she is with her hexes, and-- here, use this."



Harry blinks as she pulls from her small beaded purse his Invisibility Cloak, which he hasn\'t thought of in a very long time. Harry is always pleased with how practical Hermione is, and how quick she is to come to his rescue, even if she sometimes mistakes what that means. He thinks, not for the first time, that Ron\'s made a very wise choice.



When did Ron become the reasonable one?



"You\'re sure, Harry?" Hermione asks as he slides the Cloak from her grasp. "Of course I know you are, it all makes perfect sense now no matter how entirely disturbing it may be, but... are you sure? You don\'t want to... think about it a bit?"



Snape mutters something expletive filled into Harry\'s robes.



"I\'m sure," Harry confirms, giving Snape\'s shoulder a squeeze. Sighing heavily as though loathe to move, Snape rises to his feet. Harry gives Hermione an awkward thanks and kiss on the cheek, glad she understands, and then slips the Cloak over himself and Snape.



"Miss Granger. Not a word of what you\'ve seen here," Snape orders, "or they shall never find the body."



"Of course not," she answers, eyes blinking vaguely at their invisible forms. "Who on earth would believe me?"



Snape scowls and says to Harry, "This is the most preposterous thing I have ever done in my life, and I hate you."



"I know," says Harry with a grin. "Isn\'t it great?"





*****



Saturday afternoon, Beauxbatons overflows with activity. Young witches and wizards chat as they walk through the hallways, their fine silk robes swishing behind them, or sit reading books on benches along the walls. A group of girls is gathered in one corner designing a garish pink banner, and a small boy leans against a broken window, waving his wand at it in an apparent attempt to charm it new again.



The students stop and stare as Harry and Snape go past, and Harry wishes he\'d thought to stop at Grimmauld Place and change out of his dress robes. And wash the goop out of his hair. Not that it would really matter in the end, as it isn\'t as though they\'re going to be able to keep things secret anyway, living here. It might just be Harry\'s innate sense of paranoia, but he swears a few of the students actually know already.



Snape barks out something in French, and the gaping young witches and wizards scamper away. Harry wonders if he\'s threatening lifetime detention. Is corporal punishment allowed in France?



Floggings, maybe?



The two of them make their way to Snape\'s classroom, the one Harry met him in last night, and pass through a back door he didn\'t notice in candlelight. Beyond is a small room with a fireplace, wooden desk and chair, wardrobe and bed. In another setting the furnishings might look stark, but here they make the room look simple and comforting.



Snape\'s personal belongings are few, but light from the single slatted window falls across a row of books lining the back of the desk, and the small flask Harry bought for Snape sits in front of the books, filled with something opalescent. Beside it sits the plastic shark Harry bought at the Aquarium and somehow forgot about.



Snape closes the door behind them with a louder noise than Harry expects, and he turns to see the man leaning against the wood, his hand setting lightly on the handle.



"So," he says.



Harry flushes. "So."



Snape says nothing, just looks at him, and Harry sucks at his bottom lip and stares down at his shoes. One of them has grass on the toe, and he doesn\'t remember walking through any grass in Aix, or indeed even seeing any, which means it must\'ve come from the Burrow, and Harry wonders how he could\'ve made it all the way here without it falling off somewhere along the way, during Apparition or something. How do these things happen?



Snape\'s fingers are under his chin, and he feels stupid for thinking about grass, but stupider for being here, in Snape\'s room, in his wedding clothes with his hair cemented and absolutely no idea what\'s expected of him. Or rather, some vague idea, but nothing he can really tie down to--



"Are we doing this, or are we not?" Snape asks.



Harry blinks and feels stupider still. "Doing what?"



Snape stares disbelievingly at Harry, opens his mouth, shuts it, and scowls. His fingers drop from Harry\'s chin.



Harry swallows, heart plummeting. "Look, I\'m sorry I don\'t understand, you know, a quarter of what you\'re talking about. Ever. But I\'m really trying, I swear. I\'m not doing it to make you upset. It\'s just that you\'re…"



Snape sighs and walks to his desk, picking up a book, flipping it over, and setting it down again with a sigh. His back turned to Harry, he says, "I know. Perhaps… a bit more time would be in order."



A sudden wave of hopelessness washes over Harry. "But we lived together for nearly a year already," he says, "and there aren\'t even any dishes to throw in here. How long do you think it\'s going to take?" And is everything going to be all awkward and nerve-wracking now they\'ve recognized each other\'s feelings? Isn\'t that supposed to make things better?



"Well, I suppose that depends," Snape says levelly, turning back around, his gaze steady and hands behind him, resting on the back of the desk chair. "Exactly how long do you plan to magnanimously grace the world with your presence, Harry?"



Harry gapes blankly at him.



"And if I hear you say Oh my God one more time," Snape warns, shaking a finger at him, "so help me, I will--"



"Are we having sex now?" Harry interrupts. "This sounds like a pre-sex lecture. Do we get to have sex?"



Snape sighs, looks as though he wants to hurt someone, likely himself, and mutters, "Better late than never, I suppose…"



"Look, I haven\'t done it in months, and I\'m nineteen, Professor, do you have any idea--"



"I said yes!" Snape snaps, his hand at his forehead and eyes closed again.



"Oh," Harry says. "Oh, okay. So… now?"



Snape makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Are you attempting to get yourself thrown out the very day you move in?" he asks tiredly.



"No," Harry says, "I\'m trying to get a bit of leg over. I swear I\'m still half hard from when you kissed me earlier, and it\'s getting ridiculous!"



It is Snape\'s turn to gape, and Harry feels a smile tugging at his lips.



Without another word, Snape strides to the door. Harry\'s eyes widen and his smile drops, but instead of walking out, Snape stops and slides off his boots. Relieved, Harry removes his own and sets them neatly beside Snape\'s. He thinks he should grab the man right here and hike his robes up-- he\'s heard good things about wall sex-- but when he tries, Snape slaps his hand away.



"Patience, Mr Potter," he says, "is a virtue." He walks to the desk, and Harry wonders if Snape calling him by his actual name was just a one-off thing. Maybe stress induced.



He\'s about to ask when Snape, one hand against the edge of the desk for balance, takes off his socks.



Harry didn\'t realize he\'d never seen the man\'s feet. In fact, the thought\'s never crossed his mind until now, when he\'s sliding the faded black socks off to reveal the pallid flesh underneath, that he even has feet. They\'re high-arched, bony things, his callused toes curving in like he\'s worn ill-fitting shoes for a very long time.



Harry can\'t stop staring at them.



He blinks in shock when the sight of them is followed by that of pale, thin ankles, and then calves, knees, thighs, and… Harry realizes Snape\'s unbuttoned his robes and is sliding them off his narrow shoulders to hang over the back of the chair, and the man is standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of stark white pants. His thumbs hook over the top of the fabric and slide them down.



It is both awful and perfect, Snape standing naked in front of him, his arms crossed just above his odd flabby stomach, scowling at Harry as though this travesty is all his fault. Snape\'s bare legs are scrawny and terrible with knobbly knees like Harry\'s, and Harry likes them so much and wants to tell him this. He doubts it will come out right though, so he doesn\'t.



He wants to tell him so many things because he\'s feeling so many things, but none of them are the things he should be saying to the man he just left his bride at the altar for. None of it\'s romantic, or sweet, and Harry feels like it should be, considering he\'s pledged his undying love and everything. Harry should obviously be thinking of something infinitely more pure at this moment than how Snape\'s thick red cock is rapidly pulling up toward his belly, crooked a few inches from the top so it\'s pointing at his left shoulder.



Can you tell a man you\'re utterly enamoured with the bend in his cock? Is that allowed?



"I am utterly enamoured with the bend in your cock," Harry murmurs, just to try it out.



Snape makes a noise and the object in question twitches, and Harry decides he was probably okay in mentioning it. His own cock starts to ache in sympathy, and Harry frowns and readjusts himself.



Snape clears his throat.



Right, Harry thinks, takes a deep breath, and pulls his robes up over his head. He feels conspicuous and gawky standing there in his socks and pants, and realizes he\'s still by the door and has nowhere to put the robes, save throwing them on the ground. His cheeks flush with colour and he wishes he could sink into the floor, Snape\'s hideously enthralling nakedness be damned. Snape is beside him then though, hand brushing his forearm as he takes the robes and lays them across his own. Harry stares at his all but nonexistent arse before the man turns back and crosses his arms again.



Harry wants to kiss that spot in the middle of his chest where those few dark hairs grow from, lick a path to his nipples, and slide his hands down the man\'s back to see if that arse feels as horrible as it looks.



And then get fucked to within an inch of his life.



Taking a deep breath, Harry slides his pants down over his hips, careful not to catch the band on his erection, which has come and gone and been ignored and abused for so many weeks, he can\'t help but give it an apologetic little rub.



Soon, he promises it, and then feels silly for talking to his own cock, even if only in his head.



Snape\'s hand is on his arm which Harry realizes has paused a few inches from his cock, drawing Harry\'s hand away to get a proper look. Harry takes a shaky breath. It\'s not as though Snape hasn\'t seen before, or touched, or taken him so far down his throat Harry was sure he would choke, but this time is different, like he\'s being evaluated against some predetermined standard, and if he doesn\'t pass, he won\'t be allowed to take the NEWT level next year, and he really, really wants to make Auror.



"This does not mean that I care for her any less," Snape says, and it is so far from what Harry expected that he has to search a moment for an answer.



"I-- no one would think that, sir," he says finally, and wants quite violently to kiss the man but doesn\'t dare.



"I have enough…" Snape begins, but shakes his head and starts again. "It is possible for... it is not meant as a betrayal of…"



"Professor," Harry says, cottoning on, "she would want for you to be happy. She\'d understand, I know she would."



Snape makes a noise and poises his other hand just over the tip of Harry\'s erection. "She is not like you," he says in a level voice. "She does not forgive. That part of you that accepts and loves without condition… it is not from her that you received it. You did not see it all in those memories. You didn\'t see how I--"



"Shh," Harry says, pressing a hand to Snape\'s chest, looking deep into his eyes. "She understands now, Professor."



His hand still hovering above Harry\'s cock, an odd look comes across Snape\'s face, and he opens his mouth, shuts it again, and shakes his head. "I told you to stop calling me that. You\'re giving me complex," he murmurs, almost sensually.



Harry tilts his hips up, edging his erection closer to Snape\'s palm, and runs his hand on the man\'s chest across to pinch his nipple. "What am I supposed to call you, then?" he asks as Snape\'s chest hitches.



"That depends," Snape responds, at long last wrapping his fingers around Harry\'s cock, "upon whose eyes I\'m looking into."



His hand is warm and rough, and Harry groans as he thrusts into the circle of his fingers, wondering how he went without this for so long and certain he never wants to do again. Snape\'s fist starts working, up and down and so fast the friction\'s almost painful, and when Snape manages to slide the wet from the tip down his length, Harry\'s eyes roll back in his head. It is too much, too good, too soon, and Harry\'s head spins as his hips jerk, Snape\'s fist squeezing him so tight he bites his lip to keep from crying out, and he fists a hand into Snape\'s hair.



"Oh, bloody-- coming!" he gasps, unable to hold back. "Coming!"



It catches in the pit of his gut and shoots through him suddenly, like the jolt of a spell, blissful as a Cruciatus in reverse and leaves him panting, grasping at Snape to steady himself. It isn\'t nearly enough when what Harry wants is a long, hard fuck that will leave him drained and weak, and he looks down at Snape\'s gooey hand with a feeling of loss.



And really, how embarrassing, coming in five seconds and announcing it-- announcing it!-- as though it weren\'t the most obvious thing in the world he was about to lose it like a naïve little virgin. Revolting, he thinks, revolting, and he actually says it, "Revolting," even as Snape\'s hand releases his wilting prick, Harry\'s come dripping down his wrist.



"Bed," Snape orders, swallowing hard, "now."



Harry makes a noise of disbelief as Snape\'s dry hand grabs his upper arm and all but drags him to the bed, shoving him down face-first, jamming his glasses into his face and bumping his elbow against the headboard. "Ouch! Watch what you\'re--"



"Silence! Face in the pillow, arse in the air. Now," Snape commands, and Harry gapes at the sight of Snape\'s disgustingly drippy hand sliding along his own erection, leaving messy trails of whitish spunk down its length. It is without doubt the most shockingly vile, hottest thing Harry\'s ever seen, and even though it\'s really way, way too soon, his spent cock twitches with renewed interest.



Snape makes a frustrated noise and shoves Harry\'s face down, forcing the frames of his glasses into his nose, and smacks hard at his arse. Pulling on Harry\'s thigh, he manages to get him up a few inches so Harry\'s stomach isn\'t touching the bed but the end of his half hard cock is trailing wet across the blanket. Harry feels Snape\'s slippery fingers sliding against his arsehole and swallows. One of them presses inside, then pulls out and in again, wetter, and Harry does his best to relax and allow it, moving an arm down the sheets so that he can reach his fingers up and rub gently at his balls.



Snape makes a choking noise at this, and his fingers jerk against Harry, though not at all in a bad way, and Harry can hear the wet sound of his hand fisting at his own cock. Harry gasps, eyes squeezed shut, imagining the quick flick of that narrow wrist along that thick erection, and slides his hand to his own cock, which is almost fully hard again.



"Fuck," Snape curses, "fuck!" and Harry feels his hot, wet come splatter against his arse, and then Snape\'s cock shoves against the pucker of Harry\'s hole, still coming, oozing the sticky liquid against the sensitive wrinkles of skin. It doesn\'t push inside, and Harry moans and presses back toward it, even though he knows there\'s no chance of it now.



Snape places a palm against his left arse cheek to stop him, shuddering, and Harry hisses and tugs hard at his own cock. He\'ll be able to bring himself off like this quickly if he keeps it up, though it would\'ve been so much better with Snape inside him. He imagines it, Snape buried balls deep in his arse, gasping and grasping his hips like that time at Spinner\'s End, and can almost feel it as he thrusts into his own fist.



Snape\'s hand is on his, and Harry gasps at the added sensation, but it pulls Harry\'s fingers away, linking around them and refusing to let go. "Professor!" Harry protests, rolling over to glare at the man, shaking a little because he\'s just that close.



"Patience, Mr Potter," he pants heavily, dark eyes heavy lidded. "I am not so… young as I once was, and not even you could manage a third time."



Harry blinks as his words sink in, feeling thoroughly pleased, and slips his hand from Snape\'s gooey grasp to straighten his glasses. "I like this," he says, knowing he has a goofy grin plastered across his face and not caring in the least.



"That is rather the point," Snape says, huffing as he lowers himself down next to Harry on the bed, careful to keep his messy hands off the blanket.



"No," Harry insists, running his palm across Snape\'s chest, down over his navel and covering his sticky, nearly soft cock. It\'s not nearly as impressive looking like this, but Harry feels no less fond of it. Maybe more, actually. "I mean this. Talking and touching and… it\'s not just sex now."



Snape snorts, shifting against the blankets, and tells him, "I do not have sex. Surely you realize this."



Harry frowns, wrapping his fingers gently around Snape\'s cock so he doesn\'t overload it so soon after it\'s made such an effort, and then sighs. "Look, I\'m just saying I\'m not in it for the sex. I mean, not completely. If we never did it again-- you know, if you don\'t want to-- that\'d be, well, pretty horrible but--"



"That is not at all what I meant, Mr Potter," Snape informs him.



Harry lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God. I just always had this feeling you thought sex and other sorts of interacting weren\'t… I don\'t know, combinable or something. Like orange juice and toothpaste, maybe. That was one of the good things with Ginny, actually, she always--"



"Enough," says Snape, shifting his hips to press his cock, which is already starting to get hard again, more firmly into Harry\'s fist. "You shall not speak of her when we are intimate."



Harry grins at the word intimate and shifts onto his side so that he can rub his hard-on against Snape\'s hip a bit. They lie like this for some time, Harry moving lightly against Snape, and Snape working at getting hard again, his fingers trailing across every so often to pinch at his own nipples or roll his balls in his fingers. It\'s comfortable, but Harry still doesn\'t get the Ginny thing.



"Why shouldn\'t I talk about her?" he asks finally. "It\'s not like there\'s any real comparison. I mean, she doesn\'t even have a cock, much less one with a fantastic little bend near the top."



The object in question jerks at Harry\'s words, and Snape swears as his hips tilt him toward Harry\'s fist with a sudden jolt.



Harry grins, grinding himself with short thrusts against Snape\'s side, and decides he\'s on to something. "You like that, huh? Me talking filthy about your cock? Your huge, thick, hot--"



Snape\'s short fingernails are clawing the hand Harry\'s squeezing around said cock, all but ripping his fingers away. "Stop!" he hisses. "Silence!"



"What?" asks Harry innocently, coughing to suppress a laugh, as he doesn\'t think Snape would be terribly appreciative. "I don\'t know very many more words for it, anyway. Except maybe--"



"On your back!" Snape commands, shoving Harry over against the mattress.



Harry blinks, confused about the position, but does as he\'s told, squirming at the loss of hip to rub himself against. His cock looks silly sticking straight up in the air like that. "What are we doing?" he asks, wondering if he\'s allowed to do anything about it.



"This may take a moment," Snape warns him, and then adds, "raise your knees."



Harry frowns and slides his feet up so his knees are in line with his erection, and he pokes at it aimlessly, pushing it down an inch or so and watching it bounce back up into place. Some goo has gotten into the hair down there, and he wipes at it with his palm. Snape settles between his feet but seems to be closely monitoring the situation as opposed to actually doing anything. He slides his fingers against Harry\'s arsehole, which is still slippery from before and makes Harry shiver, and shakes his head.



"Professor," Harry starts, but Snape waves the question away, pulling the pillow out from under Harry\'s neck. His head hits the mattress with a padded little thud.



"Lift up," Snape tells him, tapping against the back of his thigh. Harry does, and Snape slides the pillow under his arse, folded in half.



"Are we actually going to do this sometime this year?" Harry asks, feeling impatient and exposed with his gooey arse boosted half a foot off the bed, staring at the ceiling. It is strange looking at Snape through his spread legs, and uncomfortable on his neck without a pillow. "Is this even a proper position? I\'m not a girl, you know. Why don\'t we just do it the old way? I\'m getting blue balls like this…"



"Relax or it will hurt," Snape orders, and pushes Harry’s knees rather sharply towards his armpits. Leaning over him, Snape braces himself with one arm beside Harry\'s shoulder, and he pulls his long hair to one side when it falls into Harry\'s mouth.



Harry feels the pressure of Snape\'s cock against his arse and swallows, already breathing hard as the man rubs the tip up and down along his crack. Then comes the slow, blunt press as Snape eases inside, different this time because Harry can see him do it, can see his thin lips press together, brows knitting in concentration, chest hitching with the effort to hold back.



It\'s not that Harry doesn\'t like it, but the visual is a bit much considering he\'s never seen anything before, and the angle is different, nudging at strange places inside him, and when Snape\'s balls press against his arse, Harry winces. Relax, he tells himself, and takes hold of his cock, squeezing at it to hold its interest. Snape makes a noise and pulls halfway out before sliding back in, and it stings, and Harry flinches, pressing at the man\'s chest. "I don\'t like this," he says.



Snape takes one look at his face, curses, and pulls out, leaving Harry feeling raw inside. Snape lies for a moment between Harry\'s thighs with his head against his stomach, panting, and Harry brushes his hair behind his ear. Snape mumbles something and reaches a hand up to pat Harry\'s chin. "Spit," he says, tucking his fingers under Harry\'s lips.



"Can\'t we just do it like before?" Harry asks uncomfortably, pushing the fingers away and wanting to squirm out from under the man. "Honestly, I don\'t think it can be done like this."



Snape sighs and pulls himself off of Harry with a great effort, rubs a palm across his forehead, and slips off the edge of the bed.



Harry\'s jaw drops, and he scrambles to sit up, arse tumbling sideways off the pillow. "Wait! Look, I didn\'t mean-- let\'s try again, alright? I didn\'t give it enough of a chance, I wasn\'t relaxed, I\'m sure it\'s perfectly--"



"I am not leaving, Mr Potter. Pull yourself together," Snape tells him, and makes his way rather gingerly to where their robes lie over the back of the chair. When he turns back around with a wand in his hand, Harry makes a noise of great relief and squeezes his cock again, rubbing his thumb across the slit in the tip, as the moment of panic did not do it any favours.



When Harry lies back and tucks the pillow behind his head instead of under his arse, Snape smacks him across the jaw and Harry snorts and flips him off. Snape throws him a look that very clearly conveys, Oh very mature, Mr Potter, but says nothing, sliding in to kneel between his thighs, which aren\'t as conveniently placed as before, but he\'ll have to deal with it.



Snape has the wand-- Harry\'s wand, he now sees-- pointed at the base of Harry\'s cock, the tip of it cool against his heated skin. He whispers an incantation and Harry feels something warm and wet coming from the end of the wand. Snape sets the wand aside and dips his fingers into it, sliding the stuff over his balls, making Harry jump, and rubbing it around against the pucker of Harry\'s arsehole.



Snape\'s fingers slide inside, and Harry lets his head roll back against the pillow, relaxing to the sensation. One of Snape\'s hands is on the inside of his thigh, kneading at the muscles. Sighing, Harry closes his eyes and lets his knees fall open, and tells Snape, "Much better."



Snape clears his throat and Harry opens his eyes, but the noise turns out not to be a cue for him. Snape sees that he\'s looking though, and grabs Harry\'s wand again, saying the same incantation as he slides it down the length of his cock, spreading a clear, thick gel across it. Harry moans when gets a good look at how painfully stiff Snape\'s erection is, the head and vein in the underside a vicious purple as he slides the gel over it, his balls hanging heavy below.



Harry closes his eyes again as Snape leans over him, and hooks his ankles around the man\'s waist. This time there is no pain, only that satisfying, full feeling Harry remembers, and when Snape starts to pull back, Harry holds tight to him with his legs, not wanting it to stop.



"Satisfactory, brat?" Snape asks through clenched teeth.



"Mmm," answers Harry, feeling warm-animals drowsy even though his cock is hard against his belly. He tips his head to the side and licks a path up Snape\'s neck, punctuating it with a bite.



Snape makes an urgent noise and tells him, "You need to let go. I\'m losing circulation."



The instant Harry eases his hold, Snape is pulling back and thrusting in, and the strokes are longer than before, and not as hurried. Sweeter too, because Harry can run his hands over Snape\'s chest, and across his back and down to his perfect clenching arse, and slide his fingers in and out of Snape\'s mouth and have them sucked like a cock. The feel of their naked bodies sliding together is sweaty and delicious.



The thrusts get sharper as they go on though, Snape adding a little shove at the end that slaps his balls wetly against Harry\'s arse. It feels good, better when Snape manages to grab hold of Harry\'s hand and wrap it around his cock, murmuring for him to stroke himself. Bringing himself off with Snape\'s hips pumping between his thighs brings back that lovely twist of muscles inside him, the one that urges more and faster and harder, and Harry moans, locking his trembling legs around Snape\'s back.



This close, this close, with his fist pumping frantically at his cock, Snape panting hard above him, his skin slicking with sweat, and if Snape could just find that spot inside him again, that perfect place that makes his entire soul feel like it\'s coming-- and Harry presses his hips up because Snape\'s got to be close too, and Harry needs to finish this now. Snape grunts and jerks, gasping, and Harry feels him catch it, just there, and cries out and digs the fingernails of his free hand into Snape\'s shoulder.



Oh God, oh fuck, and he pops his hips again on the upstroke and there it is, and all he needs is one more shove of Snape\'s hard cock against it, and Snape is cursing and shuddering above him, and Harry\'s cock is pulsing in his fist, and Snape hisses and curses and goes rigid and still.



Harry swears and pounds his fist against the man\'s chest, jacking his hips, but it\'s no use and Snape collapses on top of him. "You have really," Harry gasps, working his cock even harder, his fist jammed into the tight space between his stomach and Snape\'s, "really shit timing, you-- ah!-- know that!?"



Snape moans against Harry\'s neck, mouthing at it sloppily, and it sends shivers through him, bringing him back to the edge with a jolt. Harry\'s balls clench when Snape\'s hot tongue runs across his skin, and he grits his teeth and tugs hard at his cock, gooey precome squelching out between his fingers, and it throbs in time with the gripping spasms in his gut. Then it hits, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the orgasm runs through him, wrenching the come from his balls in thick, hot spurts that coat his hand and make Snape groan with him, and Harry\'s head swims as one last shock runs though him and the world seems to tip in a jumble of release and bliss and perfection.



Snape\'s hand is patting his cheek when Harry opens his eyes, and he\'s not quite sure how the man ended up lying beside him instead of on top and inside, but he feels better than he has in months, maybe ever, and is hardly about to protest. He grins stupidly, and Snape rolls his eyes.



"Can we get a dog?" he asks, simply because it is the first thing that comes to mind. He\'s never wanted one before, but now it feels like family, and closeness, and Harry wants more of that. They wouldn\'t get a dog like Ripper though, they\'d get a nice one that likes kids. He could buy it little jumpers.



"Absolutely not," Snape answers, and leans over to softly kiss his lips.



"I\'d really like one though," Harry murmurs into the kiss, catching his fingers in Snape\'s hair.



Snape tugs lightly with his teeth at Harry\'s bottom lip and murmurs back, "Preposterous."



Harry sighs, slides his fingers up the man\'s side and whispers, "I am so in love with you."



Snape makes an annoyed sound and lies back, pulling Harry onto his chest. "I am not a woman. I do not require constant reminders. In fact, never mention it again," he commands, though not terribly unkindly, as it\'s probably hard for even him to be cruel after two heart stopping orgasms in a row.



Harry sighs and presses his lips in against Snape\'s neck, which tastes salty and nice. "I guess I\'ll just assume you know unless you say otherwise, then."



"There is no otherwise, Mr Potter," Snape tells him, fingers behind Harry\'s neck, smoothing at his skin. "There never has been."



"I wish you made more sense, because I can never tell if these things are supposed to be endearing or not," Harry says, slowly and softly, tapping a few times at Snape\'s nose because that\'s how he feels right now.



"You like it," Snape tells him, snatching his fingers away. "If you wanted simple and uncomplicated, you would have married that Weasley. You like misunderstanding me."



Harry manages half an eye roll. "You like making my brain hurt. Do you think Ginny will ever speak to me again?" he asks.



"I should sincerely hope not," Snape murmurs, and kisses him again.



"Do you think everyone at the wedding knows why?" Harry asks against his lips, the half of his brain that\'s functioning imagining Ron cowering in a corner somewhere. "I mean that we\'re... you know... naked in bed together right now? They don\'t know yet, do they? Did Charlie hear?"



"I could not care less," Snape replies.



Harry snorts, decides he agrees, and nuzzles into Snape\'s neck, his nose against that place where his jaw meets it. His glasses are getting bent every which way and he thinks they might\'ve cut into his nose a bit, but he can\'t find it in himself to care. "Do they say shirt-lifter in the Wizarding World?" he asks. "I mean, because wizards don\'t really wear shirts, you know?"



Snape smacks him limply on the arse. "Stop it."



"Mm, so it\'s spankings, now? How\'s that complex coming, Professor?" Harry asks, kissing his cheek and wriggling in closer, their gooey stomachs and thighs and soft cocks sticking together. It is very unfair he can\'t actually wriggle underneath the man\'s skin, because it would be so warm and comfortable.



Snape makes a face and then squirms against Harry. "There is so little dignity in the aftermath of these affairs," he says. "How the human race has managed to thrive by means of such an unseemly activity is quite beyond me. Where is your blasted wand?"



"At least you\'re only unseemly on the outside," Harry says with another kiss, smiling mischievously against his lips. "I\'m unseemly, you know, a good eight inches in. At least. Probably more. It\'s more, right?"



Snape snorts and looks quite pleased with himself, as this seems to be one physical attribute he\'s actually proud of. Harry doesn\'t have the heart to tell him he\'d be just as pleased with four, as long as he got to keep that lovely little leftward bend. Or, you know, even if he didn\'t.



Harry kisses his chin. "Why are you using my wand anyway? And don\'t even try to Scourgify my bits because that is not on. No magic below the beltline."



Snape snorts against his fringe, which is plastered to his forehead now, and gives up the search. "Do you think I intend to clean them right off your body? I am rather invested in them, Mr--"



"This is so perfect," Harry says, making a broad gesture about the room. He drops his arm back onto Snape\'s chest, sliding his fingers against the man\'s warm, sweaty skin. "Don\'t you think this is perfect? I adore your complex. I can really stay here? And Floo back and forth for work every day?"



"The Headmistress herself approved it some time ago," Snape says, "though I have the feeling she will be rather startled to see it was you I had in mind."



"Some… some time ago?" Harry says, puzzled. "But you just-- why would you have asked about me--"



"I warn you," Snape interrupts, "this shall not be painless. As it turns out, the rooms here are Imperturbable only if their doors are solidly shut, and as you may have guessed by the interested looks we garnered on our way in, our good Irène left the classroom door ajar last night. "



Harry groans, but half-heartedly because he\'s too warm and sated and some time ago to put that much effort into it. "God, this entire thing got so bulloxed up… well, at least I won\'t understand when they whisper behind my back, being as I don\'t speak French and all…"



"And at the Ministry?" Snape asks. "They don\'t speak French either, as I recall. It is only a matter of time until this affair becomes common knowledge."



Harry shrugs, thinking affair is an odd way to put it. "Not concerned. Most of them feel sort of indebted to me anyway, some nonsense about vanquishing a Dark overlord. Rubbish, I’m sure. They\'ll get over it. Are you sure I can\'t have a dog?" he asks again, realizing now it\'s because of the family he saw at the Floo Christmas Eve, the happy little girls and their puppy. "Because I\'d really like one. A little one that--"



"No, no and no," Snape tells him. "And if you continue asking, I shall be forced to smother you in your sleep."



Harry shrugs. "I\'ll die happy. Though… really gooey. Didn\'t I say condoms next time? I swear I did. I think that was a key point, actually, that-- can I ask you something?"



"About condoms?" Snape asks.



Harry ignores him. "You said before I left that I couldn\'t save you. Hermione said something about it too. What does that mean? Save you from what?"



"I\'m sure that is absolutely none of your business, Mr Potter," Snape informs him.



Harry snorts. "Come on. I\'ve pledged you eternal love, devotion and, you know, full use of my arse, and you\'re still not going to tell me? I don\'t go around doing this sort of thing every day. This is kind of a special occasion. It\'s my wedding day. Do you need saving?"



"You need your head examined," Snape says, running his fingers along the outside rim of Harry\'s ear. "Do not speak of such things."



"I\'m a Gryffindor," Harry says, tipping his head to press his lips to Snape\'s palm. "It\'s what we do."



"What, need your head examined?" Snape murmurs.



"So you\'re not going to explain anything," Harry says. "Nothing at all about pushing me away so many times only to take me back again, or why you wouldn\'t let me see you naked until now, or what made you change your mind about--"



"Do you realize you still have your socks on?" Snape asks.



Blinking, Harry looks down. He wriggles his cosy toes, laughs, and presses his palm to Snape\'s chest. His heart is beating beneath the skin, steady and solid. "You don\'t seem like you need saving to me," he says, and kisses him softly, once on each eyelid. "And I guess I\'ve got a long time to figure out the rest. Have I mentioned I\'m in love with you?"



"Silence," Snape orders, takes his glasses off, kisses Harry back, and makes a rude remark about the gunk from the wedding in his hair before pulling his head under his chin. A blanket falls over them and Harry sighs, pulling himself in closer still, his arm wrapped around Snape\'s chest and knee pinned between his sticky thighs. He is warm, and comforted, and safe, happy and in love, and anything else he\'s always thought he would be on his wedding night.



"You know, it\'s funny how things work out," Harry says, nuzzling his nose against Snape\'s neck. "Really funny… did you ever in your wildest dreams imagine--"



"Silence," Snape reminds, and Harry smiles and drifts off to sleep in his arms.



Perhaps now he is ready at last for life in a world without Voldemort, a life on his own terms, the way he was meant to live it.



END



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



LETTER RECEIVED BY H. POTTER AT BEAUXBATONS ACADEMY OF MAGIC, OCTOBER 17, 1999



Dear Mr. Harry Chosen-One Potter,



After reading all about your unfortunate and embarrassing failure of a wedding in every single Wizarding tabloid in the nation and some smuggled in illegally from Mexico, all of us QUEAR Championship Team Members would like to send our congratulations on dumping that ho.



Mr. Snape is obviously a much better choice, and by shacking up with him, you\'re doing the next generation of witches and wizards a great service. You might not realize this, but the only time anyone in the whole school including the teachers could put up with him is when he\'d gotten some the night before. Good work with that.



Congratulations again,

Madison Barnett

and the rest of the QUEAR girls



PS If you ever decide you want children and male pregnancy is not an option, Chelsea is willing to bear your love child if you\'ll go to prom with her.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



POST-STORY NOTES



So I had this crazy idea for a Snarry fic, which was pretty much unwritable due to its pecise and specific level of craziness. I\'d never written a Snarry before, and other than crackfic, I\'d never written Harry at all. In fact, I\'d never even mentioned him in a normal fic. But then came NaNoWriMo, and those little "Winner!" pics look so shiny, I decided I would give in to the crazy and write the Snarry.



I\'m hoping since you made it this far, you might agree that it turned out pretty well =).



In case you\'re wanting more, since I was afraid it wouldn\'t be long enough, I started an epilogue, which will be making an appearance soon, though as a separate fic. It\'s basically PWP because I wanted to have Snape do more pervy things to Harry. *shrug* It\'ll be about their second (third? if you count the one in America) Christmas together, which they spend at the Weasleys\'. I have a bit more stuff I might finish up about later points in their life, but whether I publish those is still up for debate. Is Snarry sex still hot when Harry\'s forty, lol? (BTW, this will all be posted first on my LJ account, if you want it hot off the press!)



Thanks so much for reading, I love you all so very much!!