Missed Opportunities
Chapter Nine
The final day of the conference was anticlimactic, filled with interesting presentations and more handshakes. I had ticked off some talks I wanted to see, and at breakfast, Severus shook his head at some, nodded approvingly at others, and indicated which he would be attending. There was little overlap – my choices were clearly marked for lower-level, less experienced wizards, his for advanced practitioners. We agreed to meet for dinner, but to go our own way for lunch, unless we happened to bump into each other.
Although I looked for him during breaks in my schedule, I did not see him, and was glad, in a way, as it helped me regain my balance. Bill came up to me during the second hour, and tagged along with me for the rest of the morning, and we had lunch with Tom and Charlie. Mario was apparently on some other schedule, or perhaps he was avoiding me, after two nights before. In any case, he did not insinuate himself into our group, and the four of us had an amicable lunch, exchanged contact information, and then headed off to our afternoon presentations.
The conference ended at five, merely petering out with final presentations rather than any closing ceremony or presentation. Severus appeared out of nowhere, suddenly just
there, nodding, shaking hands, and waving farewell to colleagues as he made his way through the thinning crowd to where I was exchanging a few last words with Tom, who was telling me he intended to visit England in a few weeks. Severus stood by as I gave him directions to my shop in Diagon Alley, and shook Tom’s hand after he and I had said our goodbyes. We collected the few items I had left from my wares, arranged for them to be transported back to England, shrank our travel bags, and stood in line for the floo. We arrived in the Leaky Cauldron without incident, and turned to the Muggle-side door. On the street, I stopped awkwardly.
“Do you… would you like to come to my place for… tea… or something?”
“Thank you, but no. I would like to unpack and get settled. However, as I recall…” Severus smirked, “it is your turn to choose a restaurant, and this is an ‘on’ week. I will await your owl.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Could we do somewhere other than Paris?”
“Your choice,
Monsieur Potter,” he said, giving it a French twist.
I groaned and laughed again, looking around Muggle London. “Feels good to be home.”
“Mmm,” he said, noncommittally. “Thursday. Owl me.”
I nodded and turned to go.
“Potter,” he said, and I turned back. “Well done.”
I grinned my thanks, and he turned and walked off in the opposite direction from Grimmauld Place.
It felt like I had been away a month, not merely a few days. I was home no more than ten minutes, and Kreacher was still hanging up my belongings, when the floo flared and Hermione’s head appeared.
“Harry, are you home?” she called. “Oh, you’re back! Can I come through, then?”
“Of course, Hermione. Come on. I’ll get tea going,” I said, not even waiting for her to step through. “Come on down to the kitchen.”
Hermione was, as usual, a good listener, laughing, clapping, gasping and asking questions at all the right places, concluding with, “Oh, Harry! Well done!” when I told her about my talk. She clapped her hands over her mouth when I told her Severus asked me to dance.
“Harry! He asked you to dance? In public?” Her eyes were wide.
I tried not to feel offended. “What? You don’t think he should have asked me? I mean, I know I’m pants at dancing but…”
“Harry – no, of course not! But…”
“But what?” I asked defensively.
“Harry… you’re not exactly
out.”
“What?
Oh!” I was flabbergasted. “Oh. Wow. I… Hermione… do… do you think it would… um… do you think it would make a difference?”
“Of
course it would make a difference, Harry!”
I was stunned. My stomach sank, my heart pounded, and my chest hurt.
“Harry, if everyone knew you’re gay… Oh my god, we have to go shopping!”
“
What?”
She looked me up and down. “Harry, you’re a very good looking man, you know that, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
What??“People will expect you to be… well… a little more
put together, you know? I mean… you have an image to keep up, don’t you? And you’ve never paid much attention to what you wear. Not that you look bad…” she hastened to assure me. “But once you go public… Oh my god, you’re going to be on the cover of
Witch Weekly!” She was talking at that fast pace she gets when she is overly excited about something, and my brain had slowed down, so that the upshot was that she wasn’t making sense to me.
“What? Hermione,
Witch Weekly is for witches!”
She laughed. “And it circulates equally well among the gay community, Harry! We
have to go shopping!” Her eyes had acquired that acquisitive gleam that only witches get for clothes shopping.
“Hermione… uh… I didn’t dance with him.”
“I know, Harry, but… Ohhhh!!!” She shook her hands in a frenzied motion, then grabbed them to stop herself, for which I was glad.
“What?” I demanded.
She sat down, took a deep breath, folded her hands into her lap, and looked at me very seriously. “Harry. Severus Snape asked you to dance with him.
Severus Snape, Harry.”
“I know, Hermione. So what?”
“Harry… Snape only dances with men he’s dating.”
“What?”
“He said so – in that article in
The Prophet I showed you – remember?”
“Hermione… you show me
every article in
The Prophet that he’s in.”
“True. Well… anyway, that’s what he said. Some reporter asked him if he would dance with her, and he said…” Hermione took a deep breath and her eyes took on that focused look she gets whenever she recites from memory. “‘Thank you, but no. I am reserving my dances for a special man – a
very special man.’” She sighed and clasped her hands to her chest. “He’s so dreamily romantic!”
“Hermione!” I barked, and she looked at me and giggled.
“So you see – you’re a ‘
very special man’ to him!”
I think my whole body chilled… in a good way… and all I could do is stare at her dumbly and say, “Oh.” After a few moments, I said, in a small voice, “Hermione… I said ‘no’.”
She smiled at me, totally unruffled. “That’s all right, Harry. I know how you’re going to get to ‘yes’.”
