Coffee

Coffee

Snape bared his teeth as the potion sizzled in his wound, cleansing it of both dark magic and ordinary bacteria.

"Bugger… Bugger, bugger, bugger!" It was the longest string of curses he'd permitted himself to utter out loud in a very long time. In his mind he could be very creative, but as a teacher he had to keep his language as clean as that of a nun. Just another 'lovely' aspect of his job. In his opinion it was almost as bad as having to endlessly endure being drenched in botched potions from the obligatory two explosions a day. And wasn't it fitting that one of those explosions had finally reduced him to shouting profanities?

It had been almost two years since Longbottom had managed to botch the simple burn salve, and Severus was still feeling the effects. While it had obviously affected him immediately, it had taken him months to realize the extent of the damage. To say he'd been shocked would be a gross understatement. He was aghast. Incensed. He'd been absolutely horrified! But in the end he had had to be pragmatic about it. Trying to find a counter to an accidentally created love potion, though not impossible, would have been tedious and time consuming. As a teacher, a Potions Master, and a spy, in the middle of a war, Snape had barely had enough time to sleep, let alone undertake such a project. Since all his other faculties were intact, he'd decided he could deal with such a mild indisposition as a little infatuation….

It might have been famous last words, had Severus ever cared to utter them aloud. After all, while in his position, being in love with anyone would have been dangerous. Being in love with the walking target that was Harry bloody Potter was… indescribable.

And so he sat now, behind the heavily warded door of the headmaster's tower rooms, treating yet another wound he'd acquired in his mission to keep the boy not only alive, but also as well as could be expected under the circumstances. By now, he had quite a collection of scars to show for his efforts in juggling his roles as sentinel, Voldemort's right-hand man, and Hogwart's most hated headmaster. Scars, and the hatred and loathing of the boy-hero. Severus sighed and tossed back the rest of his scotch. Normally, it would be only the first of the evening, but with all the recent physical, mental, and magical drain, he was already more than pleasantly woozy. Perhaps he should stop with the one….

"Bloody boy! Bloody, buggering, mop-haired, four-eyed, witless, reckless, impudent, hero-complexed, lovely, beautiful, beautiful boy…." He hiccupped at the end and tipped another finger of whisky into his tumbler. Why ever bloody not? he thought. He deserved at least that much. "Lovely sacrificial lamb. Here's to the Wizarding World's virgin sacrifice!"

"Man, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes! You're even more disgusting drunk than you are sober, Snivellus!"

"Black!" Severus tried to turn in the direction of the voice, but the strain it put on his fresh wound caused him to double over, hissing, instead.

"That does bring back memories. You were always so easy to rile up! Oh, and no such word as 'hero-complexed' exists, by the way." Severus looked around slowly and located the source of the voice in the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Phineas himself feigned sleep a few portraits to the left, cuddled up on a love seat with Brunhilda Eeves. Severus sent a glare at both Blacks.

"You," he pointed a finger on the smirking, young face, "do not exist. There never was a portrait of you. You are a figment of my mind. A drunken hallucination. I must be more exhausted than I thought…. And I am allowed to have bad grammar when I'm drunk! It's one of the privileges of drinking."

"Oh, I am very much the real thing, Snivvy. Dear Mum commissioned a portrait the day they hauled me off to Azkaban. The prodigal son, as it were." Snape snorted. "Yeah. My thoughts exactly." Sirius grinned, then promptly made a face. "I don't believe I've actually just agreed with you."

"Believe me, Black, it makes me as nauseous as it does you. Or probably more, since I'm still alive to feel such discomforts." He turned his chair to face the painting and sat down again with his drink. "Was there a reason for this visit, or have you simply decided to torment me in your usual mindless fashion?"

"Yes, there was. Is! I wouldn't put myself through having to suffer seeing your ugly gob if I didn't have a bloody good reason!" seethed Sirius.

"Well then, it's your lucky day, Mutt. I'm exhausted and intoxicated far beyond caring. I'm all ears." To accent his point, and to stave off his headache just a few more minutes, he closed his eyes.

"Albus insists that you're in love with Harry," Sirius said as blandly as he could manage.

"Apparently, he's gone even more senile as a portrait than he was as a man," Snape shot back without opening his eyes.

"Yes. I thought so myself. Until I saw you stumbling in here, all bloody and irritated, mumbling about saving Harry and then calling him 'lovely'." There was rage and disgust in Sirius' voice as well as a bit of wonder. "You're twice his age, you pervert! You could be his father! You were in love with Lily, by Merlin! You depraved, sick… paedophile!"

"First," Severus held up a finger, "I am quite well aware of our relative ages. Second, I thank the gods that I am in fact not his father. Silencio." He hexed the portrait, since Black was surely about to explode again. "And third, this 'love'," he spat the word as if it tasted vile, "is nothing but the result of a potions disaster I've had no time to rectify as of yet." The confused look he encountered when he finally opened his eyes prompted Severus' inebriated mind to explain further. "Longbottom should be legally prohibited from any and all association with potions. And after you've decided to dodge responsibility once again and conveniently die, we had a war to wage." As if to agree with him, his new wound throbbed. He busied himself with applying another salve to it, this time to accelerate the healing process. When he looked up again, the Mutt was still fuming in his frame.

"Ah well, we might as well get this over with. Finite Incantatum."

"I did not 'conveniently die'! I was killed in battle!"

"Yes, in a battle you had no business taking part in! You were supposed to sit at Grimmauld and wait, like a good guard dog ought to do," Snape sneered. "And what have you done since then, hm? No one's heard from you for two years and now you dare to come here and act all godfatherly at me? Go and bugger yourself, Black, or whatever painted slut you've been boffing all this time."

"I'm here because Harry needs me."

"The boy needed you alive. Failing that, he needed you as a portrait he could have talked to, and you couldn't even be bothered to do that much. You have no rights anymore."

"Listen, you—"

"No, Black, you listen. You were never there for the boy. Never. And it's far too late to start now. In a few more months, the boy will sacrifice himself for the cause," he sneered, "like the good sacrificial lamb he was trained to be. By which time, should the Fates happen to smile upon me at least this one time, I'll be dead already."

In the silence that followed, Severus finally tossed back the rest of his drink. He examined his new, vivid pink scar and, satisfied, started tidying up the desk.
"Snape." Black sounded subdued, quiet. Not at all like him. Severus' triumph was mixed with regret. He didn't look up.

"What?"

"Do you love him?"

"As much as I know how to, Black. Which, considering, probably isn't much." Finally, both desk and room were free of any evidence that he'd ever left the castle, never mind returned bloody and battered. He looked the Mutt in the eye. "You needn't worry. In the unlikely event that we both live through the war, he'll still hate me." He turned and went to bed, to try and stave off his nightmares with visions of green eyes and a shy smile.

* * * * *

"Take… it…." Severus concentrated all his magic on releasing the necessary memories. It was bloody difficult to do this without a wand. Harry stared down at him, eyes wide and frightened behind his glasses. Breathing was becoming difficult. "Take… it…." Granger entered his field of vision, pressing a container into Harry's hand. Severus relaxed. It was over. He'd done everything that was required of him and he could die now.

The boy collected the last silvery strand and turned away. Suddenly, Snape wasn't relaxed anymore. He was restless. For the first time, he was terrified. Terrified of the certainty that he'd never see Harry's eyes again. He'd die without ever having those eyes look at him. He grabbed the young man's robes, his hands smearing blood on everything.

"Look… at… me…." He managed to wheeze out. His vision was already tunnelling. Focused only on those green, green eyes. "Look… at… me…."

And then he did. Harry's eyes finally, finally, looked at Severus and saw him.

"I love you." He didn't let himself say it. Even now. Especially now. There was no reason to burden and confuse the young man with his feelings. But he let himself think it. He thought it as loudly as he could in his disoriented, sluggish mind.
The beautiful green eyes widened even more. They filled his vision.

His hand was heavy — so heavy…. Weighted down with all the sins of his life, no doubt. He couldn't hold it up any more. The sound of it hitting the floor was distant, as though it came from another world, almost. His eyelids were just as heavy, but he didn't let them fall. For once in his adult life, he permitted himself to be greedy and kept the green gaze focused on him. He kept it even as his own vision dimmed and he felt himself lose consciousness.

In his final moment, at the very last, he was content. As he let himself go, he almost thought he heard shouting….

* * * *


Severus woke up to pain and blinding white light.

His neck throbbed and his head felt as though a Muggle eighteen-wheeler truck rode over it. Repeatedly. In comparison, the rest of his body was merely uncomfortably heavy. The white light hurt his eyes even through closed lids.

All in all, Severus Snape was not surprised to have woken up in hell.

He tried to move his head away from the piercing light and moaned as the pain in his neck flared unbelievably.

The last thing he heard before he passed out again was the familiar sound of harried, shuffling steps and the swish of skirts over stone.

* * * * *

When he awoke for the second time, the light was far softer and the only point of pain in his body was a slight pulsing in his neck.

Confused, he raised his hand to touch it and encountered the crisp linen of bandages around his throat. It threw him for a moment. He was supposed to be dead, and neither dead people nor ghosts needed bandages. He was also pretty sure that Inferi neither needed them, nor felt confusion or, for that matter, anything at all.

That of course left him with only one option: he was, in fact, still alive. And the fact that he was not only alive but also treated meant that the Light had won. However, what it meant for him personally remained to be seen.

Carefully, Severus opened his eyes and looked around the infirmary. In the twilight, he could see that almost all of the beds were occupied. The strong shielding spell securing a couple of beds at the end of the ward immediately drew his attention, but they were too far off for him to recognize any of the occupants.

He then turned his eyes to his closest neighbours instead. Curtains were drawn around the bed on his right, and his left-hand neighbour had their entire head swathed in bandages. With a sigh, Severus slowly lifted himself up on his elbows. On the bed across the room from him slept a fifth-year student. A Hufflepuff, if he remembered correctly. She had her arm and shoulder immobilised in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. She was fast asleep.

The effort of holding himself up, as well as the relief and incredulity at being placed amongst the Light, made him weak, and he lay down rather more abruptly than he'd intended. The pain in his neck flared once again and a stifled moan escaped him.
At once, shuffling, yet efficient, footsteps could be heard, and before he could even think of feigning sleep, Madam Pomfrey was on him.

"Severus Snape," she hissed. "I don't care how much everyone hails you as a hero, if you insist on undoing all my hard work every time you wake up I will personally bind you to the bed."

"Hero?" he mouthed at her, not wanting to provoke her with attempting speech just yet. To his surprise and mortification, her eyes became misty and her expression softened beyond anything he'd ever seen levelled in his direction.

"Harry told us. He told You-Kn… He told Riddle during their final duel. It was in the Great Hall. Everyone heard it," she sniffled out.

Severus' anger flared. How dared the boy spread his secrets like that? How dare he— "Now, Severus, don't be mad. He thought you were dead and wanted to clear your name. Poor lamb. Poor, poor lamb." She half-turned to brush her tears away and Snape's heart sank.

So, Harry was truly dead. Harry was dead, and he was alive. Severus' heart squeezed painfully and he wondered at his life: a long history of suffering after having lost things that had never truly been his. He turned his head to look at the ceiling, half-aware that he was still being spoken to, and wondering what it would take for the mediwitch to leave him alone. A touch on his shoulder startled him.

"Dreamless Sleep," she said, holding his head up and pressing a small vial to his lips. It wasn't the potion he wanted at the moment, but it was better than nothing. He drank. As he was drifting away, he imagined he could see a painfully familiar silhouette enter the ward and stop beside his bed.

"How is he?"

Unable to fight the potion, Severus slept.

* * * * *

Three days later, he woke before dawn, feeling almost himself again. The persistent heaviness had left his body and he no longer felt as though his head was going to fall off if he moved it too much.

He decided it was high time for him to get back to work.

Pomfrey had been getting by on apothecary potions for Merlin only knew how long even before he'd properly woken up. He wouldn't treat a dog with that swill, let alone another wizard. Immersing himself in brewing would also have the added bonus of distracting him from his bleak thoughts, just as it always did. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. When neither nausea nor dizziness swamped him, he summoned his robe and started to tiptoe quietly towards the door.

He didn't make it far before he was caught.

"Severus Snape! Where do you think you're going? Get back in bed this instant!"

"I'm going to my lab, Poppy. These people," he swept his hand around the room, "need real potions not the pigswill the apothecaries sell under the name of generic potions."

"People have used that pigswill to treat each other for years, Severus. I will not permit you to leave this room until I deem you completely healthy." She levelled her wand at him.

"Very well, Madam, have it your way." He smirked at her surprised face. "Elf!" One of the creatures popped in immediately. "You will arrange a temporary potions laboratory in that end of the infirmary." He pointed in the opposite direction from the shield charm. "In addition, one of you will remain on hand at all times to fetch ingredients."

"You will do no such thing!" shrilled the nurse.

"Yes, sir," squeaked the elf, looking apologetically at her.

"Apparently, Madame, I have not yet been relieved of my position as headmaster, my word overrides that of any of the staff, as far as the house-elves are concerned." He smirked nastily.

"You're to go back to bed until they put up the lab, at least. And if you insist on working you are to go back to bed as soon as you tire." Poppy huffed in irritation before stalking back to her office.

Half an hour later, his temporary lab was set up.

An hour after that, he had his favourite armchair positioned just so next to the table and a vial of fresh Pepper-up concealed in his sleeve.

Yet another three hours later, his head was pounding from an overdose of the reviving potion, and he was sweating and ready to drop. On the other hand, he had a shelf full of fresh potions and salves, and the last five potions just needed to simmer or be stirred a few more times.

Soon, he'd rest.

As he tended the last batch, Severus let his thoughts wander back to Harry. Or, to be exact, to his potion-induced love for him. He had thought about it constantly since he'd woken up. Every theory of potion making he'd ever studied told him how very unlikely it was to create the feeling of love with a potion. And that sustaining said love when its focus ceased to exist was utterly impossible. Nevertheless, that was exactly what was happening. That, in turn could mean one of three things: one, Longbottom was actually a savant of potions, which concept twisted Severus' innards painfully; two, he had allowed the potion to run rampant through his system for so long, that he had developed genuine feelings for Harry; or three, the potion used all the love that Severus had ever experienced to wrap around the boy.

None of the options gave Severus any hope of creating an antidote or, failing that, drowning the feelings out with another potion. At least not without rooting out any feeling of love he'd ever felt as well. Severus sighed. Tempting though it was, Severus knew it would be just as drastic and melodramatic as offing himself would have been. There was already far too much melodrama in his life to be going on with, thank you very much.

He doused the fire under two of the cauldrons and set them aside to cool. It left him with only twenty more minutes of work before he could return to his bed. He was just reaching for the rest of the Pepper-up to carry him through when Poppy bustled back into the room.

"Severus!" she shrieked. "What in the seven blazes are you doing up?! Look at you! Anyone would think you had a death wish, draining yourself like this!" She was waving her hands around, reminiscent of a huge, grey, enraged turkey.

He didn't even glance up. "Since you've already left me to it for three hours, you might as well give me the twenty minutes I need to finish those potions."

"I most certainly will not let you—" She didn't finish as another door opened and a familiar voice called out.

"Madam Pomfrey? I'm sorry, I came earlier but I have to be at the Ministry in the evening. Is Professor Snape any— better."

Severus stood there, still as a statue, his thoughts as jumbled as they'd been when he lay dying on the dirty floor of the shack. He couldn't move, yet he had to see. Slowly, he turned, automatically spelling the rod to stir by itself.

There, behind him, stood Harry Potter. Even thinner than when he had last seen him, unshaven, the green eyes rimmed by dark purple— He was a haggard shell of a man, but alive. So very much alive—.

But it couldn't be!

"You're dead."

The dratted spectre had the gall to smile at him.

"I'm very much alive. Thanks to you, mostly."

"Mister Potter!" The mediwitch's shrill voice broke through their conversation. "I've told you Professor Snape isn't well enough to—"

The young man turned blazing eyes upon her, and the elderly witch flinched back.

"Oh, so he isn't well enough to know that he did not, in fact, send me to certain death, is he? But he is well enough to brew gallons of potions for the infirmary." Even Severus himself flinched at hearing such familiar sarcasm spilling from the young man's lips. To his astonishment, the nurse looked away, guiltily. "I'd expect this from almost anybody else, Madam Pomfrey, but not from you," the boy sounded genuinely disappointed.

That the seemingly impartial, kind mediwitch would treat him so unequally staggered even Severus. He sat down heavily in his armchair, wondering why it was that after all these years it still managed to surprise and hurt him to be treated this way. A hand on his arm startled him. He looked up into Harry's eyes.

"Should I take them off the burners?" Harry gestured towards the three cauldrons, still bubbling away. Snape nodded and watched as the boy put out the flames with a flick of his wand.

"They need to cool," he said. "The other two are ready to be decanted. The blue one is the burn salve and the white—"

"—is the Dreamless Sleep. I know." The young man had already stuck funnels in the appropriate bottles and was Levitating the cauldrons, tilting them carefully.
"You look awful, Potter."

Harry laughed a true, happy laugh. "You don't look your best, either, sir."

The young man made short work of dealing with the potions and took Severus by the arm to help him back to his bed. Snape didn't know who was more surprised: Potter at being allowed to help, or himself at having allowed the courtesy.

He settled under the covers and looked once again at the man standing at his bedside. "Thank you, Potter. From what I understand, I owe my life to the stasis spell you cast on me. I'm in your debt."

"No, I'm in yours. You've saved my life more times than I can count." Harry fidgeted on the spot for a moment. "I… here." He produced a small crystal bottle, but seemed reluctant to place it on the table. It was filled with a silvery mist.

Severus' memories.

The older man stared at them for a moment before turning back to his companion. "We're even."

"Oh. Ah… thank you." Harry Potter, the boy hero, looked as uncomfortable as a first year about to confess that he hadn't done his homework. "I… Uh! I guess I'll see you around. Sir. The Ministry won't bother you and… um, get well soon." He turned and strode out of the room.

Severus had to close his eyes to stop himself from gazing after the boy. He'd fisted his hands in an effort not to touch, until his nails had bitten into his palms, but he'd managed. Harry was alive. He was alive and Severus hadn't made a fool of himself. That was more than he'd dared to hope for. Far more.

* * * * *

Aided by the superior quality of his potions, the infirmary started to empty rather quickly. Poppy Pomfrey hadn't looked him in the eye since the incident and Severus was grateful to be able to leave her care only days after it had happened.

The first thing he did on leaving was to officially cede his position as a headmaster to Minerva. She retaliated by making him her deputy. This was, of course, accompanied by a painful conversation, full of mutual accusations and apologies. In the end, they'd cautiously settled into the old pattern of good-natured rivalry. It was a relief to know that the previous year hadn't managed to destroy the trust he'd built with her completely, even though it did blight it.

With that out of the way, he joined the massive efforts being poured into the rebuilding of the castle and it's wards. Though, truth be told, it wasn't as tedious as it could have been had McGonagall not enlisted Potter's help. Every time they encountered damages particularly extensive or likely to take months or even years to repair, she'd send out an owl and the next day it would be good as new.

After the first couple of times, Severus learned to find or even create a hiding place near those repair sites. Late at night, Potter would suddenly materialize from underneath his invisibility cloak, unward an inside pocket, and take out the Elder Wand. Severus noticed that it was never the same pocket twice and approved heartily. After that, it never took more than half an hour of whispered spells before reality would bend to Potter's wishes and the castle would be that much closer to resembling its old self.
Severus took advantage of these times to look his fill on the young hero and to consider his situation.

Harry looked more haggard every time the older man saw him. His pale complexion was now almost as pasty as Snape's own. There were deep purple bags under his eyes, his hair looked dirty, and his clothes hung on his far-too-thin frame.

For the first time, Severus could fully sympathise with the Golden Boy. Since his own 'heroism' had become public knowledge, he'd scarcely had a moment's peace. Every day he had to dodge both his newfound sycophants and enemies; those who wanted something from him and those who thought it their duty to remind him of his real or imaginary sins.
In a word, the world thought it knew and owned him.

After a few weeks of this, Severus was ready to resort to Unforgivables. Potter had lived with this madness half his life.

This new insight into Harry's life proved to be Severus' undoing. It had been easy to keep his distance when he could paint the boy in his mind's eye as arrogant, self-centred, and spoiled. Now the iron hold his mind had on his feelings crumbled like so much old parchment. He wanted Harry more desperately than he'd ever wanted anyone, even Lily, and he didn't intend to let his love slip away again. The only question was how to capture his prize.

The 'Little Weasley Situation', as he called it, seemed to be resolving itself without his intervention, if the explosive fights he'd both witnessed and heard of were anything to go by. And having observed the crushes the boy once had on both Diggory and Wood, Severus was quite sure preferences would not stand in his way. Snape was now also a 'war hero', and so, theoretically, of a social standing high enough to pursue the 'Chosen One'.

The only problem seemed to be that Potter still hated him with a passion.

It was typical, he thought, that in his life the only problem must, of course, be the one almost impossible to overcome. Severus sighed quietly.

"Who's there?"

Obviously not quietly enough.
Potter whirled around and had him at wand point in an instant. Well, no time like the present, he supposed, to start fighting the impossible fight. Yet again. He sighed once more and emerged from his hiding place with his hands raised before him.

"I would greatly appreciate it, Mr. Potter, if you wouldn't point that wand at me."

"Snape!" Instantly, Harry lowered the wand. "I mean, Professor Snape. What are you doing here?" And just like that a cloud of anger — and was that disappointment? — covered the surprise. "Come to check on me? Don't worry, I'm not going to tear Hogwarts down. Nor do I intend to bend its magic to my will."

A plethora of biting remarks tried to make their way out Severus' mouth but he choked them down. It wouldn't do to antagonise the young man even more. "I couldn't sleep. I find that wandering the halls settles my mind. I didn't intend to startle you." The last, at least, was entirely true.

"Oh."

"I am also aware that your reconstruction work is quite… good. And trying to bend the will of a magic as deeply rooted and powerful as that of Hogwarts is as pointless as trying to bind the sunrise to one's whims."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to tell me that."

"Don't sulk, Mr. Potter. People in general, you will find, are idiots who tend to believe whatever suits them, regardless of the facts. After seven years, one might have thought you'd have built up immunity to it."

"Yeah." The young man looked resigned and, quite frankly, ready to drop. "I thought that they'd leave off with the bullshit at least for a few months, what with Voldemort gone and all." Severus couldn't suppress his flinch at the name. "Sorry."

He ignored the apology. "You look terrible, Potter," he said instead.

"You wouldn't make the cover of Witch Weekly yourself," Harry sighed, sounding sulky.
"Come." Severus turned and started down the hall, not giving his companion time to argue.

"I'm not your student anymore! I don't have to do what you say," protested the young man, following Severus' quick steps down the stairs. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"You need food, Potter. As do I, at the moment. We're going to the kitchens." Potter stopped abruptly, forcing Snape to do the same. He turned around and lifted a brow. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, that I do not intend to poison you."

Harry laughed. "I wasn't worried about that."

"Then what is it?" He couldn't hold in the snap. "Surely, you don't doubt the quality of the food?" Or is it the company that doesn't suit you, he didn't ask.

"No, the food's all right." Potter cocked his head to the side. "You know, I realise it's hard to break such a long-standing habit, but you don't have to protect me anymore."

"Curses and hexes might not be whizzing over your head but, from the look of you, you do need protecting. From yourself." Severus cursed himself in his mind. Why couldn't he at least stop antagonising the other man?

"Careful, Professor, someone might think you actually care about me," teased Harry and Severus thanked Fate for the gloom of the hallway as warmth flooded his cheeks. He hadn't blushed in over twenty years, for Merlin's sake!

"I've been saving your neck for the last seven years. Of course I care." Potter grinned at him, and Severus' insides twisted. Bloody hell! It was like being fifteen again. "And, anyway, your mother would come back and haunt me if I let you starve." Almost instantly, the grin was replaced by a dark scowl.

"You'll never see me as anything other than the sum of my parents, will you?" Harry went on before Snape could answer, "Save it. You won't reach any of them through me. I will not be used for that as well. Just keep away from me." And he was down the hall and out of sight before the older man could even form a coherent reply.

"Damn!" Severus quashed the urge to hit something; no need to add childishness and humiliation to failure. He stalked back to the dungeons. There would be other occasions. Even if he had to arrange them himself.

* * * * *

A few frames away, Sirius fought an internal battle.

* * * * *

Three days later a knock on his door ruined one of the few moments that Severus wasn't needed anywhere. When he opened the door, shock and confusion joined the irritation he already felt.

"Mister Longbottom. Miss Lovegood. To what do I owe this rather unexpected visit?"
"We… ah… We'd like to discuss a certain… um…" Neville glanced nervously at Luna. "A certain p-private matter with you, P-Professor."

A mixture of satisfaction and irritation washed over Severus at still being able to make the man who he had heard had led a charge against the Dark Lord and his followers stutter just by standing in front of him.

"What kind of private matter would that be, Mr. Longbottom?" He let his tone go frosty and raised an eyebrow. However much his respect for his worst student might have grown, he still had no desire to stay in his company longer than was strictly necessary. Unfortunately, he produced the opposite effect of the one he'd aimed for.

Neville scowled, straightened up, and said quite levelly, "Sirius sent us. We thought you'd want to discuss what he said privately, but if you'd prefer to have this conversation in the hallway…" He let the sentence trail off as he indicated the nearest portrait with a discreet nod.

"What did that godforsaken mutt come up with now?" Severus muttered under his breath, but let the two of them into his rooms.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them glance curiously around at the maze of furniture in the spacious chamber. He knew just how cluttered it looked, but between the ever-growing piles of books and the Prince family heirlooms, furniture, and bric-a-brac, it was impossible to prevent it. And personally, Severus liked the little nooks that formed here and there. He had even placed a divan and a standard lamp in one of them to use it for reading and relaxing. He led them to the 'conference area', as he called the huge dining table right in front of the door, and offered them a seat.

"Now," he said as they took their places across the table, "what is it that you believe you know?"

"One moment, please, Professor," said Longbottom.

Lovegood took something out of her pocket and, before Snape could protest, a portrait frame sat on the chair next to her. The next moment Black's too-young face looked at him from it. Severus glared.

"You see, Professor, Sirius told us that you're in love with Harry."

Severus glared harder. "I see you've found a new group of mongrels to torture and humiliate me for your amusement, Black. I suppose it was too much to hope for that death would mature you."

"Oh," breathed the girl before he could continue. "So you don't love Harry?"

"Certainly not." He was not going to be laughed at in his own home. "Moreover, I marvel at the sheer cheek you must all possess to barge into my house and question me on my alleged love life. People's love lives are private matters," he said haughtily. "As for my feelings, whatever they may be, they're none of your business."

Black snorted, Longbottom looked annoyed, and Lovegood looked… well, it was hard to say but Snape decided to term it concerned. Probably just realising what fools they'd made of themselves, he thought gleefully.

"Poor Harry," she sighed, turning Severus' glee into confusion with only two words.

"Mr. Longbottom," he said, striving for a calm he didn't feel, "I do understand that Miss Lovegood's perception of the world differs from the generally accepted, but I would appreciate an explanation."

The young man actually looked more flustered at the calm inquiry than at the previous menacing tones. "You see, sir, we… that is, Sirius believes that Harry is… that Harry might be in love with you."

Snape couldn't have suppressed the bark of laughter even if he'd tried. The situation was becoming more ridiculous by the minute. "Oh yes, and Black is such an authority on all things romance. And let us not forget just how delighted he'd be to see me with his precious godson," he sneered.

"I might not have been the most committed bloke in the world—" Sirius glared as Severus snorted. "And I might not have been able to always be there for Harry—"

"You never could be arsed to be there for him, you mean."

"I couldn't have been there! I was locked—"

"That excuse doesn't account f—"

"—in a bloody portrait, facing a wall!" Sirius shouted over him. "You do not just wake up in a portrait with all the knowledge of how to move around. You have to learn it. And there was no one to teach me. If Phineas hadn't found me, I'd still be stuck there."

Severus smirked nastily and was about to comment on the Mutt's mental abilities when the prat started up again. "But, whether I was there or not, I know that look he gave you a few nights ago. Merlin only knows I've seen it enough times on James and Dora. He wants you, though the why of it boggles the mind, and for once I'm going to make certain he gets exactly what he wants."

"And I guess what I want is irrelevant?"

"Oh, come off it, Snape! I know you want him."

"Need I remind you that it is merely a result of a potions accident? The first moment I have some free time, I'm going to reverse it," he barked, although, in all honesty, he had no idea why he was fighting them so much. As much as it pained him to admit, he needed help if he was to have even the slimmest of chances with Harry. On the other hand, to be offered help by these particular people vexed him no end.

"I wouldn't do that, Professor." The girl's perpetually dreamy tone grated on Severus' already fraught nerves. "Uprooting all your feelings of love and affection can be very dangerous. It attracts moth-winged shadow pixies. You could end up like Voldemort, and Harry wouldn't be happy if we had to kill you too."

Snape was hard pressed not to mimic the other men and gape at her.

"Let us say, for the sake of the argument, that I do not reverse the potion. I don't see why you'd want to help me," he said eventually. He looked at Longbottom; best to start with the idiot's tale. It might actually amuse him. "I thought our relationship consisted of apparent, straightforward, and mutual dislike."

"What I feel about you, sir, is irrelevant. Actually, I have two reasons," said the young man, without the slightest stutter. Severus hated his newfound confidence with a passion. "First off, Harry always protected me. He may very well be my best friend and I want him happy, and I have to agree with Sirius that he loves you. He talks about you constantly, always taking your side. And when the Aurors came for you while you were unconscious, he hexed five of them and then he went and hexed Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. He even gave an interview on the Wireless, constantly repeating what a hero you are, and how you should get an Order of Merlin, and how we would all have been dead without you."

With every word, warmth bloomed in Severus; a feeling that felt frighteningly like hope.

"I have to admit it's hard to hear how adamant he was and not be influenced at least some. Even with all that happened here, I guess I can't imagine what he went through no matter how I try. What you both went through. I mean… We were always together. It's easier, knowing there's someone who will help you. You two couldn't trust anyone, not really, and…." he trailed off and shook his head. "I suppose I just want my friend to be happy," Neville repeated himself with a shrug to indicate that he'd said his piece.
"Didn't you say there was another reason?"

Inexplicably, Longbottom blushed. "I… I guess I feel responsible for the situation you're in, sir."

That was unexpected. Severus hated surprises. "How so, Mr. Longbottom?" he drawled.

"I… uh… Well, I know it was one of my accidents that got you into this. I… Hermione told me always to keep a sample of any potion I make, even the botched ones.

Especially the botched ones." Snape's insides clenched. If there was a sample… "And then the Carrows confiscated it."

Relief flooded him and, with a start, Severus realised that he didn't want there to be a sample. He didn't want to reverse the potion. He didn't care where the feelings came from. They were there and they were his. He earned the right to have some happiness in his life, even if he didn't quite know what to do with it. Now he only had to find a way to make certain that the three… disasters of humankind in front of him kept their mouths shut about the whole matter. Maybe he could try and trick them into giving him a Wizard's Oath.

As ground breaking as the revelation was for Severus, it flashed through him in nary a second, and Neville continued to talk, unaware of the affect he had on his ex-teacher.

"I told them some sort of story, I don't even remember what, and they drank it. I hoped it would kill them, or at least make them sick. Instead they just looked at each other. I saw them later, in an alcove, going at it like rabbits." His face showed such disgust that Severus had to wonder just what else, besides incest, the young man had witnessed.

"That would explain some things," he muttered. "And I guess you're Gryffindor enough to feel obliged," he sighed. It was time to deal with the lunatic. "And what is your story, Miss Lovegood? You're not a Gryffindor do-gooder, you've not contributed to this sorry situation, and I must admit I've always believed you were ruled by reason, such as it is, not fickle emotions."

"For the most part you're right, Professor. But I do listen to my feelings. Only I filter them through my reason first."

"Don't tell me you are also doing this for Potter's sake. That excuse is already getting old."

"Oh, no." She giggled slightly. "I do love Harry dearly, but it's not him I'm worried about. No, I am doing this for Ginny."

Now Severus was certain. "You are mad. Ginevra Weasley has been hell-bent on marrying Potter since she was eleven." Severus scowled. He blamed her and the damned singing, pink dwarf for showing him just how amusing watching adolescents fall over themselves in their little love affairs could be, and thus bringing him down to Flitwick's level. Even if only in the secrecy of his own mind. "Probably even before that. How could your helping me be for her benefit?"

"You're right, sir. Ginny's wanted to marry Harry since we were eight. She told me once that she's always had this image of him as a dashing knight saving the day and sweeping her off her feet to shine as his princess."

Snape snorted derisively. "Potter, the society lion?" If the little upstart dreamed of high society and balls, she was better off pursuing the younger Malfoy.

"It was a long time ago, but no matter how much she'd changed those last few years, I don't believe she's lost that image completely. She's still idealising him far too much for it to ever work out between them. I want to spare them both the disappointment, but my main concern's for Ginny."

"I understand." And he did. He'd always idealised Lily. He'd attributed her with endless patience and saintly ability to forgive all sins and, in the end, he let himself slip one time too many….

In the silence that fell around them, Severus' gaze bored into the faces of his guests. Every fibre of his being rebelled against the mere idea of accepting their help but, on the other hand, he was acutely aware that he didn't know where to even start… courting Harry.

With a pained sigh, he resisted the urge to put his head in his hands as he asked:
"What do you propose?"

* * * * *

A few days later Severus regretted ever learning human speech.

It took days of fighting, wherein he had to use every trick and insult in his arsenal, before they finally admitted that there was no need for him to make drastic changes to his character. After all, as even Sirius admitted, Potter was already in love with him, and so had to find Severus' personality, if not appealing, then at least not an obstacle. In return, he accepted Luna's advice to be more straightforward about his intentions and to try not slight Harry while prizing him at the same time.

"It confuses him and makes him feel stupid," she said. "And that makes him angry, because he thinks that you intended for him to feel stupid. That's no way to deal with someone as insecure as Harry."

"Potter, insecure?" Severus only just held his snort in.

"He is, actually," said Longbottom. "I think he's even worse than I am, when it comes to relationships. And anyway, he believes you love his mother. That would bring anybody down."

"Even if he thought I loved—"

"Love, not loved. He thinks you still carry a torch for her," Sirius corrected from his frame. "That's why he got so peeved the other night. He probably thinks everything nice you do for him is because of her."

Severus groaned out loud. "What have I done that I deserve to be plagued by overly romantic, self-sacrificing Gryffindors?"

"I can give you a long list, Snape," snorted Black.

"Shut up. This is useless. If he believes all my actions towards him are based on my memories of his parents, then there's nothing I can—"

"You'll just have to convince him that you want him for himself," Lovegood cut him off sternly. Or as sternly as she ever got. "That means you'll have to talk to him, take him on a date. And a date needs proper clothes. We have to find you something less… unapproachable."

Both Longbottom and Black nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"Yes. Something less buttoned-up and less priestly. And maybe slightly Muggle," suggested Black.

Severus shuddered. In his memory, Black's definition of Muggle clothing was along the lines of 'tight and leathery'. Before he could say anything though, the Disaster piped up.

"I don't know about Muggle, but we certainly need something less black."

"There is nothing wrong with black!" Severus exclaimed indignantly.

"Why, thank you, Snape," grinned Black.

"Isn't there anyone else you need to torment, Mutt?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Before their argument could escalate into a fight, Lovegood started to enumerate colours that were 'dangerous' because of this or that unconfirmed, and quite likely imaginary, magical creature.

And so, here they were in the wizarding branch of Gladrags, with Sirius providing commentary from his frame, propped up on a chair, Severus standing in the middle, rejecting most propositions, and the other two, along with several clerks, running around trying to find a suitable compromise.

"Maybe we could find something similar to the Professor's own robes but with fewer buttons?" a mousy little girl, a former Hufflepuff, proposed.

Longbottom, the focus of Severus' most caustic barbs, looked at her gratefully and they hurried towards the back of the shop. A minute later, a couple came into the shop and the other two clerks thankfully scuttled away to greet them, leaving Severus alone with the Lunatic and the Mutt.

"Can't you be cooperative even when it's for your own good, Snape?"

"Not with you. Especially since I'm not yet convinced you have my 'good' in mind," snarled Severus. He was about to add that new clothes were hardly going to make a difference, when he was interrupted by Lovegood tugging him down to open the buttons at his throat. Severus had a sneaking suspicion that the girl was managing him just as deliberately and expertly as she did Black and Longbottom. "What, pray tell, are you doing, miss Lovegood?"

"I'm trying something out," she said in her whispery tone. "I thought maybe if we added a colourful cravat and maybe some embroidery here and there, then we could leave most of the clothes black. Would that be acceptable?"

Severus was grudgingly impressed with her skill in exploiting negotiation tactics. If not for her… eccentric ideas, she would have made a very good addition to some Auror division. "As long as I don't look like Malfoy's double," he grouched.

"Of course not." She smiled at him and held out an intense green and a royal blue cravat for his inspection.

"They're no good. Isn't there something darker?"

"For Merlin's sake, Snape! They're perfectly normal colours. The way you go on, one would think you were in mourning or something!" Sirius said, clearly exasperated.

"Perhaps that's because I am, you utter waste of paint," Severus hissed back.

"What? Sixteen years of mourning is extreme even for you, Sniv."

"As hard as it might be for you to comprehend, she was not my only friend or family."

"So who are you mourning now? Which of your Death Eater friends was so dear?"

"Who I'm mourning is none of your concern, you—"

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would much prefer something less traditional than black." This time the girl didn't even look up from perusing the cravats. "Though I don't think you'd look good in purple or magenta. How about plum violet?" She turned with a swath of opalescent, violet-navy cloth in her hand.

Severus' jaw tightened even more. "Are you a seer, Miss Lovegood?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. "Just a good observer. It's staggering how much people miss, just because they don't know how to observe their surroundings, isn't it, Professor?" She smiled at him and he couldn't help the twitch of his lips that such optimists as her could say was a smile.

"You are a very unusual witch, Miss Lovegood."

"Thank you, Professor." She stood on tiptoe to fasten the cravat around his neck.

That was when Severus caught sight of a familiar silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and, sure enough, Potter stood on the street outside the shop window, wide eyes flashing with surprise and hurt before he turned and hurried down the road. Putting together the look on Potter's face and all the information he had been given recently, Severus broke away from Luna's careful hands and strode out of the shop and after the young man.

At his call of "Mister Potter!" Harry only walked faster. Snape caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm. "Potter."

Unable to pull out of Severus' grasp without causing an even bigger scene, Harry turned. "Yes, Professor? I'm rather in a hurry."

Severus bit back a sarcastic reply and instead said simply, "I wish to speak to you."
Potter goggled at him. "That's why you ran after me?"

"I wouldn't have had to run if you hadn't been so determined to ignore me. Also, the matter is quite important and there's no way of knowing when I'll see you again. As you've pointed out so helpfully, you are 'rather in a hurry' a lot lately."

The younger man flushed. "Right. What is it then?"

"It's private." Severus cast a look at the people slowing down to stare. "I was rather hoping we could arrange a meeting. At your convenience of course. I am available in my quarters, every evening from seven onward."

"I have to be at the Ministry until eight. How about…" Harry hesitated. "There's a restaurant two blocks from the Ministry. I usually go there after work. We could meet there in two days, about half past eight?"

"Pardon my asking, but that restaurant wouldn't happen to be one of those chain atrocities that serves chemically processed food tasting of cardboard?"
Harry laughed at that. "No, actually. It's a small place called 'The Seven Seas' and it serves about every cuisine you can imagine."

Severus nodded. "Very well then."

"I'll owl you the apparition coordinates tomorrow, Professor." He turned to leave.

"One more thing, Mr. Potter, if you don't mind." The young man half-turned, looking up inquiringly. "What do you think of this?" Severus fingered the cravat still around his throat, pleased when the green eyes slid to the skin visible in the V of his open shirt. "Your friends, Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom, seem to think that I need a more… varied wardrobe and are surprisingly undeterred in forcing their opinions on me."

Harry looked shocked. "Actually, I can't really picture you in anything other than your usual clothes." A blush crept onto his cheeks and he cleared his throat before continuing, "But I'm not very good with clothes, so maybe they're right. Oh! I hope you have something Muggle? Robes wouldn't be a good idea for the Seas."

"I'm sure I'll find something. Thank you, Mr. Potter." Severus inclined his head and strode back to Gladrags. He could feel Potter's eyes on his back all the way down the street.

"I need Muggle clothes."

The statement was met with shock from Black and satisfied smiles from the younger two.

*****

The evening of the meeting, as Severus wouldn't call it a date — not yet, anyway — found him in front of a mirror, fighting the Muggle-style, violet-and-silver necktie. He'd wanted to settle on green, but had been sternly rebuffed by Black's, "It makes you look even yellower than normal." He, in turn, had vetoed red.

Now, after two days of intensive, magically enhanced skin treatment, the kind he should have done every week considering his career choice, but which had always seemed too much of a bother, his skin and teeth had lost their yellowish tint and he regretted losing that battle. Green would have been fine. Even though his complexion was still far from pleasing and his fingertips had proved unsalvageable, he had to admit that the difference was impressive.

With a last glance at the mirror, Severus grabbed the black overcoat and was about to leave when he remembered how out of place his hair would look in the Muggle world. Especially if he left it loose. He quickly transfigured a piece of parchment into a ribbon matching the tie to pull it back before hurrying down the hall.

In the entrance hall, Minerva gaped at him, prompting a self-satisfied smirk.

"Headmistress." He nodded without stopping and hurried across the grounds.

He arrived at the restaurant with minutes to spare. The place proved to be rather nice indeed. It appeared pleasant enough, if a bit cluttered, with all the bric-a-brac, furniture, and photos to prove the owner's familiarity with the world.

Severus selected a table in what had to be the oriental section, ordered a cup of some kind of flower-and-spice tea, and started perusing the book-like menu. It was almost ten to nine before Potter finally showed up.

"Sorry I'm late. I was held up at work," he said, taking off his red robe-turned-jacket and sitting down.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter. I know your relationship with tardiness very well. Also, I had a good lecture to pass the time." He indicated the menu.

"Um… You look good, sir. Muggle clothing suits you." Harry blushed beet red.

"Thank you. I'm afraid you still look like death warmed over."

Harry glared weakly and cleared his throat. "So what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"I think we should order first." Severus turned to his open menu. "I must admit you do have good taste in restaurants," he said without looking up, but still caught Potter's blush from the corner of his eye. "I'm particularly intrigued by… I'm not entirely certain how to pronounce it."

"What?" Harry leaned over the table as Snape pointed one spidery finger at an entry. "Rosoow z cnedlamy? It's a kind of light chicken soup with dumplings filled with meat and those really tasty mushrooms." Potter licked his lips unconsciously and Severus' eyes followed the pink tongue. "I had it a week ago. Tastes bloody good."

"Rosoow it is, then." Severus nodded. "And what will you have?"

"Something Eastern, I think. Thai, maybe?" At Snape's raised eyebrow, he explained, "I usually only choose the country or a region and let the chef surprise me."

Severus sneered. "I hate surprises."

"Well, I love them. My life was rather dull until I came into the magical world. Magic is one surprise after another."

"There are surprises and there are surprises, Mr. Potter. And I don't think you'd be so happy if your colleagues surprised you with a fine for endangering the Statue."

The young man shrugged. "People here mind their own business. That's one of the reasons I like this place so much." Harry shrugged and signalled the waitress.

"Hullo, Harry," she greeted him, confirming his status of a regular. "Finally decided to invite someone?"

"Hi, Rose. This is Professor Snape. He taught Chemistry at my school." The lie rolled smoothly off Potter's tongue.

"Nice to meet you, sir." She smiled brightly.

"Pleased to meet you, too, Miss Rose."

"So, what will it be?"

"Rosoow for Professor Snape and something Thai for me, please."

"Right away." She turned and hurried off.

"So, Professor… The food will take time to prepare. Maybe we could discuss whatever it is now?" Harry looked uncomfortable again.

"First, Mr. Potter, you are no longer my student. You may stop using my title. Not that you used it all that much to begin with," he added in an undertone.

"What am I supposed to call you, then?"

"My name is Severus. Or you can use my surname, if the change is too unsettling."

"I'll call you Severus, if you'll call me Harry." The young man's tone said he doubted Snape would do so.

"Very well, Harry." Potter shuddered almost imperceptibly. "I wanted to meet with you to ask you to stop spreading lies about me."

"What?" Potter sputtered. "I've never lied about you! What are you talking about?"

"You did during your showdown with the Dark Lord and you've continued to spread the lie ever since. I want you to stop," Severus said sternly.

"During the final battle? I don't know what you mean."

"You seem to be hell-bent on portraying me as some kind of Byronic hero, eternally in love with your mother. I am not, nor was I ever, in love with your mother."

Potter gave an impression of a landed trout, and Severus was grateful that their food hadn't arrived yet. "But — but your memories! And — and you! — You did everything because of her! For her."

"There is a difference between loving somebody and being in love with them. I'm sure you can appreciate that, Harry." Severus captured Potter's eyes over the rim of his cup, and he nodded. "I admit, there was a time when I did fancy myself in love with her, but that was a long time ago. I was impossibly young and even more impossibly stupid."

Potter stared at him as he finished off his tea. The silence between them, though, was not uncomfortable.

"I…" Harry started hesitantly. "I'm sorry, I guess. Of course I won't tell people you were in love with her anymore, but… I don't think going around and straightening this out would be a good idea."

"Indeed, it wouldn't be."

"So, was that all you wanted to discuss?" The young man didn't seem too keen on the idea of ending the conversation and spending the rest of the evening in silence.

"No, I also wanted to straighten out a certain… misconception on your part."

"Misconception?" Potter looked confused again.

"During our last meeting, you accused me, rather loudly I might add, of trying to reach your parents through you."

Potter blushed quite furiously. "I'm sorry about that. I…."

"No need to apologise. I understand that my manner isn't… inviting." Harry snorted inelegantly. "And combined with our… shall we say, complicated past, it isn't surprising that you'd come to such a conclusion."

"Yeah." Potter nodded.

"That's why I thought… or rather, your friend, Mr. Longbottom thought," Harry's eyes widened comically, "that it would be more productive to simply state my intentions plainly…." Severus trailed off.

After a long moment Potter leaned over the table and prompted, "Yes?"

"Talking plainly isn't as easy for me as it is for you," Severus snapped and then almost sighed. "I apologise," he gritted out, no doubt shocking the other man yet again.

"No need. My fault, really. After so many years, I should have known better."

"You should," Severus smirked. "What your friends insist I should say is: I am interested in getting to know you as an adult, not the snot-faced menace who had to poke his nose into everyone's business."

Potter laughed and Snape felt his hackles rise. Had he let himself be set up? "You really are something else! I don't know if that was an insult or a pass at me." He laughed again, and this time Severus heard the distinct note of unease.

"It was the latter," Severus said blandly. Potter fell quiet again. Severus longed to say that he wished he'd been able to silence the other man as effectively when he was still his student, but held his tongue. It was Potter's turn to speak, to make the next move.

That was when the food arrived. Potter thanked Rose profusely and immediately stuffed a forkful into his mouth. At once, his eyes widened impossibly and he flapped his hands at his mouth before grabbing the glass of water that arrived with his meal and downing it in one go. Despite the large amount of water, he continued to gasp. Severus laughed.

"That's why I abhor surprises. Waitress!" Rose was at his side as quickly as if she were a house elf, able to pop in when summoned. "Do you have vodka?" He eyed Harry. "Or better yet, make it a strong scotch. We don't want to get Harry drunk, just to save his taste buds. Two fingers should be enough."

She nodded and smiled at him. "Right this minute, Professor."

"Why… scotch?" Harry gasped out.

"The alcohol will neutralise the chemicals responsible for the burning sensation." By the time he finished his sentence, a tumbler slid onto the table next to Harry, and Rose disappeared again. "Sip," Severus instructed as the younger man grabbed the glass.
After a cautious swallow, Potter visibly relaxed. "Thanks. Um… So, how are the repairs going?"

Severus accepted the change of topic and let the conversation turn away from the strictly personal. It wasn't as if he had expected an answer right away, was it? As far as he knew, Harry was still involved with the youngest Weasley and didn't appear the type to dabble in infidelity.

They discussed the rebuilding of Hogwarts and Harry's future involvement in the refurbishing of the Room of Requirement. Severus told Harry stories of his colleagues and the students he worked with. Harry in turn told him of the utter chaos in the Ministry.

"It's as if there's a curse on every entrance! Perfectly reasonable people suddenly turn into babbling idiots! It's terrifying, to tell the truth."

"Perhaps there is a curse. It would save the general populace a world of trouble if the stupidity of bureaucrats could simply be removed." Severus said with a smirk.

"There isn't. I've actually asked Bill to check it," Harry sighed. "It's useless. At this rate, the rogue Death Eaters will die of old age before we find them all.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one even trying to catch them." He raked his hand through his hair, suddenly looking not only worn down but also years older. "Sorry, I didn't mean to whinge."

"Not at all. Though I must say you create your own problems."

"What? How is it my fault that people at the Ministry act like a band of baboons?"
Severus snorted and his spoonful of soup almost made it up his nose. "A very accurate description Mr… Harry. I'm impressed. But going back to the subject at hand: you let them use you. They don't do anything because they expect you to do it, and by complying, you close the circle. It's just as it was with the prophecy."

"But no one else could… "

"Kill him. Yes, I know. That does not change the fact that they could have fought back or at least tried to resist. Instead, the general magical population did nothing. They just sat back and let the Dark Lord take over."

"You might be right, but I don't know if I'd have wanted them to fight back. Most wizards and witches wouldn't have survived it. I already have enough dead people haunting my dreams." He pushed his food around the plate with a grim face. "Anyway, there's nothing I can do about the situation now."

"You could quit," Severus offered.

"Quit?" Disbelief was written all over the young man's face.

"Yes, Harry. Quit."

"I couldn't." He shook his head. "What else would I do?" He genuinely seemed to wonder. Then he gaped, looking terrified all of a sudden. "The press would eat me alive."

"You could do it, Harry, and you should. Whatever you might think, you are neither invincible nor all-powerful, nor even irreplaceable. There are people more than qualified to take over most of your tasks. As for the press, at this point, they'll sing your praises even if you should decide to dance naked around Piccadilly Circus, casting random spells at Muggles." Harry looked torn between indignation and laughter. "In a few months time… they might move on to slight disappointment." Severus shrugged. "As for what you might do instead? Whatever you want. Personally, I would recommend a lot of sleep and regular meals. The skeleton is not an in look this season."

"You don't look — well, actually, you do," Harry shot back, then he glanced down and sighed, suddenly wistful. "I always wanted to travel. Without hiding from everybody, you know, just… sight-seeing."

"Do you have anywhere specific in mind?

"I don't know, really. Somewhere warm, I guess."

They delved further into discussion of different places worth seeing. Before Severus noticed he found himself walking alongside Potter, heading towards Grimmauld Place.
The air was pleasantly cool and the usual smog miraculously absent. Potter's arm brushed against his every few steps as they alternately talked and just enjoyed the company in silence.

All in all, a rather pleasant end to a first date. Severus almost smiled at the thought.

* * * * *

By the time they reached the house, the moon was already high in the sky. They stood on the front steps in silence for a while, and Severus was just debating whether trying to kiss Harry would be inappropriate, when the young man blurted out, "Would you like to come inside?"

Severus blinked, too stunned to answer.

"I — I have probably a few hundred types of tea and… and Kreacher makes fantastic coffee, if you'd prefer."

"Harry, do you— I must ask you to clarify what you mean." Severus took a step closer to the young man.

Harry licked his lips, and his blush could be seen even in the murky light of the street lamps but he stood his ground. "I think you know what I'm offering," he whispered.

"Asking people in for… coffee, on the first date, Harry?" Severus purred dangerously, taking another step closer. This time Harry took a step back, coming up against the door.

"Not people. Just you." The impossibly wide eyes stared into Severus' unblinkingly. He appeared ready to bolt at the slightest hint that Severus was not interested in having… coffee with him.

"Oh? And why is that?" Severus' hand hovered just shy of Harry's slightly stubbled cheek. He knew he was pushing his luck; that the young man's temper could flare up at any moment; but some childishly stubborn part of him wanted to know all the reasons why.

"I…I guess I think you'll understand me."

"Mm…" Severus trailed his fingertips lightly over Potter's jaw and neck. "And?"

"Oh, God… I guess I suffer from a bit of hero worship?"

The weak smile he offered slid off Harry's lips as Severus breathed into his ear. "Is that so?"

"Y—yes…" It was more of a moan than a word.

Severus nipped lightly at the enticing earlobe, then frowned into the glazed eyes. "And what about Miss Weasley?"

"Ginny?" Harry looked confused. "Why would— Oh! You don't know. We broke up some weeks ago. She dumped me, to be precise. Told me I wasn't the person she thought I was." He shrugged. "I guess we'll be friends again after she gets over her snit." Hopeful eyes looked up at him and his lust spiked. "So do you want that coffee?"

Hero worship wasn't exactly what Severus wanted, but then, it was only their first date. He was positive that he could get Harry to admit that he'd fallen for him if he put his mind, as well as some other body parts, to it. He was a Slytherin, after all.
Severus cupped the scratchy cheek and guided Harry into a deep kiss. The younger man moaned and let Severus' tongue plunder his mouth. The delicate, fleeting touches soon changed into long sweeps, chasing from one mouth to the other, and nips to the reddening lips.

Harry's arms wrapped around him, and Severus slid one hand up to his throat and the other to his hip. They stood like that for a long moment, just kissing, before surfacing with a gasp.

Harry put his head on Severus shoulder. "Wow!"

"Indeed. Would you please open the door so that we might… enjoy that coffee you mentioned?" Severus turned his head to nuzzle Harry's pale neck.
Harry smiled and reached behind himself to turn the knob. The door opened silently. Severus backed him through it and into the wall just inside. Kicking the door closed, he moulded himself against Harry.

They met in a kiss, and Severus gasped as his hardening cock pushed into the other man's hip. Potter whimpered in return, dropped one hand to Severus' arse, and drew him closer. His legs parted slightly and Severus moved even closer, feeling the already hard cock press against his thigh as he thrust his leg into the gap.

Severus barely managed to tear himself away from the kiss. "Bed," he growled.

Potter grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. He all but kicked the door in and staged another attack on Severus' lips barely a step inside. His overcoat and shirt were practically ripped apart and yanked off him. Severus fought to free his arms, got rid of his tie, and moved on to divesting Harry of his clothes at a much more sedate pace.

Toeing their shoes off and unzipping their trousers, they stumbled in the general direction of the bed.

The hands in Severus' hair fumbled for a moment before taking off the ribbon tying it back. Severus leaned his head back as fingers carded through his unbound hair. Harry dipped his head to lick his Adam's apple and nip the base of his throat.

When they finally reached their goal, Severus flattened his palm against Harry's chest and pushed him onto the bed. Grabbing a fistful of denim in each hand, he dragged the jeans off in one fluid motion. After doing away with the young man's socks as well, Severus put one knee on the bed and toyed with the waistband of the tight shorts. Harry mewled and arched into his touch, one hand grabbing Severus' forearm in a vise-like grip. Writhing sensuously on the bed, he looked like sin incarnate.

"Severus!" His voice was desperate, wild and demanding.

Any intention Severus had of slowing things down was immediately discarded at the sound of his name spoken like that, and he stripped them of the last of their clothes in seconds.

As soon as he was within reach, Harry grabbed him and dragged him down.

Severus nibbled, licked, and bit his way from the perfectly plump earlobe to the base of Harry's throat. His fingers found a nipple and teased it into a hard, little nub. He let his hands roam, caressing every part of Harry they could reach. Harry moaned and whimpered deliciously, as their hips frotted together.

Suddenly Harry stiffened in Severus' arms, digging blunt nails into one bony shoulder-blade and convulsively squeezing his arse. Warm stickiness spurted between them, and Harry threw his head back in a silent scream.

"Oh God!" He moaned as soon as he came down from the orgasmic high. He buried his face in the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Severus pried the arm away. "Don't be. You're young. I'm quite flattered, actually." He smirked down at the flushed, tousled man.

"Really?"

"Quite."

Harry grinned. "Right, then! Give me fifteen minutes."

"To be eighteen again!" sighed Severus, making his young lover laugh.

"You're not all that old yourself." He pushed at Severus' shoulder. "Come on, lie down here."

Severus raised an eyebrow but complied, stretching out to half-sit against the mound of pillows. Potter straddled Severus' legs and with an impish smile trailed his fingers through the cooling semen on his belly. He flicked his tongue against one of the digits, humming slightly before offering his hand to Severus. He sucked one of the fingers into his mouth and Harry groaned, his cock twitching interestedly. When his fingers were clean, Harry pulled them free of Severus' mouth and proceeded to lick and nibble his way up his body.

When he reached Severus' ear he whispered, "What do you want?"

"Prepare yourself for me." His voice came out as a husky growl.

Harry kissed him hungrily before leaning to the side to retrieve a bottle of lube.
Severus let his hands slide up the strong thighs as the younger man poured a liberal amount of oil on his fingers. Shining eyes caught his as Harry's glistening fingers moved down and between his lean legs. Marvelled at the elated look on the young-old face, Severus raised a hand to caress one stubbled cheek. Potter leaned into the touch and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Even when the beautiful eyes closed, Severus couldn't turn his gaze away. Harry bore down on his fingers and Severus knew the exact moment when he found his prostate when his jade eyes flew open and his swollen lips released a drawn-out scream.

By the time Harry added a third finger, he was covered in sweat, his muscles quivering, as he fucked himself on his fingers. Severus trailed his hands over the shining body, teasing the hard nipples and caressing the straining thighs. The rosy, delicious cock, erect again and pointing its red head at him, bobbed with every move his young lover made. Harry's head was thrown back, his eyes heavy-lidded and unseeing. He was moaning almost constantly.

Severus was ready to explode just from looking at him.

"Enough." Severus grabbed Harry's arm. "Come here."

Harry removed his fingers with an almost obscene squelch and wriggled up Severus' legs.
Severus fumbled the lube out of the folds of the sheets and slicked himself quickly. He was far too close, and coming too fast was entirely out of the question.

Harry splayed his hands on his chest as Severus helped him position himself. Just as he was about to take Severus in, Harry stared intensely into his eyes and kissed him possessively.

Hot tightness enveloped the head of Severus' cock and he cried out. Potter stilled for a moment before lowering himself a bit further. His head hung slightly, jaw slackened and brow creased with concentration as he bobbed up and down slowly, taking Severus in, inch by excruciating, glorious inch.

It was maddening. Severus' hands clenched on the slim hips and he had to resist the urge to drive into Harry in one, swift thrust. Merlin… How long had it been for the infuriating brat that he had to go this slow?

By the time he was sheathed entirely they were both covered in sweat. Severus' muscles ached from holding still and he was almost mad with the desire to move.
Potter's hands twitched on Severus' chest and his eyes opened. Suddenly, he lifted almost all the way off Severus' cock before slamming back down. Severus threw his head back and hissed.

"Yes…."

Potter slid his hands up Severus' chest, around his neck and into his hair. Severus let himself be guided into a languid kiss as Harry set a steady rhythm: pushing himself up and almost off, then dropping down hard and fast, stopping for a moment between thrusts. Again and again, until Severus was almost lost in the exquisiteness of the moment.
They both moaned into each other's mouths on every downwards slide, using those endless seconds in between to whisper ragged endearments and oaths.

Severus prised his hands from the boy's bruised hips, slid them past the firm buttocks, stroking up the bumps of the too-thin back, and down again.

Harry shuddered. "Severus… Oh! Oh, God… Y— I-I can't… Touch me!"

Potter's rhythm was faltering, breaking, and Severus knew he was close. They both were. Heat was already pooling in his abdomen, making his hips start to thrust erratically.

He grabbed Harry's thick length, slick with pre-come, one pearly string connecting it to Snape's stomach. He let Harry's movements drive his young lover through his fist. He tightened his hold at the base, only barely touching at the head. Words fled Potter, and soon, the steady rhythm was only a memory. They fucked faster and faster, straining and striving for release.

Potter found it first. He threw his head back, breathless in the moment of utter bliss.
"Severus…"

Severus told himself that it was the spasms of the walls of Harry's tight arse that pushed him over the brink at that moment, and not the almost reverent, half-choked whimper. With white light exploding behind his closed eyelids, he snapped his hips up one last time, bit down on the thin shoulder, and filled his lover with his come.

Harry slumped forward, nose pressed to the base of Severus' neck. When his breathing finally slowed down, Severus nudged his own nose into his lovers matted hair.

"That was some coffee, Potter," he said tiredly.

Harry's only response was a snort and a few chuckles. Severus leant his head back against the pillows with a sigh and tried to nudge the surprisingly heavy young body off. Potter refused to take the hint.

"P… Harry."

"Mm?"

"Come on, brat, move."

"Don't want to…"

"No whining. As much as I find I can enjoy your company, I do not fancy being
stuck to you."

The infuriating imp only burrowed even closer to him and mumbled something that sounded like "spell", but could just as well have been "swell". Severus grimaced but
Accioed his wand anyway.

Scourgify left his skin slightly dry and scratchy, but it did take care of any risk that they might become glued together. With another flick of his wand, he cast a bed-making spell and was surprised when the mound of pillows didn't fly to the floor or some cupboard, but arranged itself around the bed to form a sort of nest. With a shrug, he decided to wonder about such things in the morning. At the moment, he was too tired, and it wasn't all that important, anyway.

With a little determination and a lot of wriggling about, which sadly caused his cock to slide completely out of Harry, Severus arranged them on the bed.

Harry was out like a light, a dead weight over Snape's side, as he snored faintly . Severus sighed and resigned himself to a sleepless night. The last time he had been able to sleep this close to another person had been so long ago it was even before Hogwarts. He and Lily had been about ten at the time, and had fallen asleep on the riverbank after a day of 'playing Quidditch'.

Severus smiled slightly at the memory. His father had been in jail then, for starting a brawl in a pub, making it one of his better summers.

Harry mumbled in his sleep and tightened his hold. Severus sighed and carded his fingers through the still-damp hair. After a moment, Harry settled back down.

I could get used to this, thought Severus. Potter's warmth was seeping into his skin, and his wild hair tickled through Snape's fingers.
Severus fell asleep with those thoughts on his mind and his hand still tangled in that thick hair.

* * * * *

He awakened to the unfamiliar sensation of light shining in his face. Before opening his eyes, he fumbled for his wand and spelled the curtains shut.

The first thing he saw was a big, yellow, beaded pillow with an elephant stitched in the centre. Severus raised his eyebrow at it, yawned, and sneezed when something tickled his mouth and nose. He leaned back to peer at that 'something' through bleary eyes and saw Potter's unmistakable tousled head. A slow smile stretched his lips for a moment, before his bladder prompted him to untangle himself from the warm body of his lover.

Deciding that going without was preferable to wearing yesterday's underwear, even spelled clean, Severus put on his trousers before looking around for his shirt. He found it with the overcoat, thrown halfway under the chest of drawers by the door. It lacked more than half the buttons. Snorting, he threw it on the foot of the bed. Deciding that clothes could wait, he put a warming spell on his feet and left for the bathroom.
After he appeased the demands of his bladder, his stomach took over and he followed its growling down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Some time later, after a very enlightening talk with Kreacher, pertaining, among other things, to Potter's habit of Apparating to the Ministry straight from his room, Severus re-entered the bedroom unsure of what he'd find there. He hated the feeling. It reminded him all too much of the most hazardous and loathed of his occupations.

What he encountered on entering took his breath away. Except for Severus' too-big shirt, Potter sat naked in the middle of the nest of pillows, face still flushed and eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. The livid red marks of Severus' teeth were clearly visible where his own mangled shirt slid from Harry's shoulder.

He looked the perfect picture of debauchery.

Severus' cock stirred, and he had to tighten his hold on the tray so that he wouldn't to drop it.

"Later," he promised himself in an undertone. "I brought breakfast," was what he said aloud.

Blurry, green eyes looked at him and Harry grinned.

"You cooked for me?"

"I cooked for us. Or rather, I toasted bread, sliced cheese, and opened some jars of marmalade. Apparently, you dine here so rarely, that your elf stopped replenishing the pantry." Severus placed the tray on the bedside table. "I wasn't granted the privilege of making tea, but I am assured it will be brought directly."

Harry waved his hand. "You cooked. It doesn't matter what you made." He blushed. "No one has ever cooked just for me before."

"There's a first time for everything. Now eat." Severus threw some pillows out of the way and sat on the bed with a piece of toast in his hand.

"I guess it's a season for firsts," shrugged Potter, a sheepish look on his face. He grabbed a slice of toast and marmalade.

"Oh?"

"First time skiving off work. First time sleeping with someone in one bed. First time having sex."

"That was no first," scoffed Snape.

Harry glared at him, then shrugged and mumbled through a mouthful of bread,

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Even flattered as he was, Severus was tempted, oh so tempted, to say something, question more, and probably needle his lover a bit. Instead, he stuffed the rest of his bread into his mouth and chewed studiously. The idea that Potter had in fact been a virgin… It simply boggled the mind.

By the time he finally swallowed, Harry had beaten him to the conversational punch.
"So, now that I'm skipping work, which is entirely your fault, by the way, what do you propose we do? Besides having more coffee, of course." The imp was grinning at him again.

The teapot chose that moment to pop into existence, and Severus poured them each a cup. He sipped thoughtfully before answering. "We could tour the house. From the little I have already seen, it seems your elf has done wonders with it. You should thank him. And get him a few more pillowcases or some such thing. I wouldn't like to think what your friend Miss Granger would make of you if she got wind of how you treat him."

Harry blushed, looking down into his teacup. "He did something with the house?"
Severus raised an eyebrow. "You didn't noticed the lack of enraged shrieks when we entered the house last night?"

"God… He got rid of Mrs. Black for me? But he loves that portrait!"

"She's now on a wall on the uppermost floor. I must admit that I find the substitute just as distasteful, but I suspect you'll disagree."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, looking decidedly apprehensive.

Severus waved his hand dismissively. "You'll see for yourself soon enough." He had no intention of sharing this morning with the Mutt. "Switching the portraits around is the least of what he has done. I felt as though I had stepped into a completely new house. It was actually quite disconcerting." Severus grimaced.

"Okay. So after we see the house and I thank Kreacher properly, what then?"

"Isn't there something you want to do?" Severus was tired, for the time being, of constantly planning three moves ahead of everything. Why couldn't the brat plan his own free time?

"I guess you wouldn't be interested in going to a Quidditch match."
Oh, yes, that's why, Severus thought and grimaced. He was startled when Harry actually laughed.

"I thought not. Anyway, it's still summer holidays, yes? So why don't we floo over to Italy? I hear they have really great coffee there." He winked.

"Coffee in Italy means espresso, Harry," drawled Severus, stretching out his legs as Potter slid up next to him. "It's intense, but small and far too sweet; made for a quick sip on the go."

"Mm…" Harry threw a leg over his, leaning sideways to set his cup back on the tray. His hip pressed delightfully against Severus' half-hard cock. He left it there when he settled back onto the pillows. "So what do you propose instead?"

"Turkey," Snape said firmly.

"Turkey? " Potter seemed momentarily confused, as if Severus' answer made no sense. "Why there?"

"Arabs are experts at coffee-making. Turkish coffee is almost a work of art. It's strong and thick, rich in aroma and flavours, and it can hold you through a very long time."

Harry blushed a delectable shade of red and smiled blindingly, before saying, "So how about we go and get ourselves an espresso today, and when we get back we each put in our notice and have ourselves that Turkish coffee?"

"Put in our notice, Harry?"

"You can't tell me you want to teach again." He sounded scandalised at the idea.

"Certainly not. However, I cannot leave now, with only two weeks until term starts. Minerva wouldn't be able to find a replacement at short notice."

Harry pouted. "Oh. So what do we do now?"

Severus weighed his words before he answered. "We could get that espresso today and you could put in your notice. I know Minerva still needs a defence instructor. Or," he hurried on when it looked as though Harry was about to speak, "you could stay at the Ministry and we stick with British coffee for a year, at which point we both put in our notice and finally try that Turkish coffee."

Potter seemed to hesitate. "So you propose that we wait a year, maybe find out if we like our coffee the same way…. And then, eventually, ditch work to go find out how we like that strong, long-lasting coffee?"

"Yes," Severus smiled uncertainly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"It's a good idea." Nodded the young man. "Very mature of you."

It was said with the same disarming solemnity a five-year-old might have used, and Severus thought for a moment that he was being mocked. However, there was no mockery in the face looking back at him, and only the slightest hint of playfulness hid in the corners of the rosy lips.

"I am mature, Mr. Potter."

"Mm…" murmured Harry, nuzzling just below Severus' nipple. In one, fluent move he straddled Severus' legs and bent his head so they were nose to nose. "I think I like that about my coffee," he purred.

Severus flipped them over suddenly, and lean legs instantly locked around his waist.

"Oh, do you now?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Harry sounded breathless.

"Mm… And I think I like this," he ran his hand from a buttock to a knee, "about mine."

"O—only this?"

Damn the young man's insecurities for ruining such a good line.

"No, not only, but I'd prefer not to go down the entire list just now. I still want my coffee before I have to get up to see this damn house."

"You'll want to be careful with that. They say too much coffee is bad for you." Harry laughed. "Raises the blood pressure."

"I'm afraid I might already be addicted." Severus silenced his lover with a kiss.

As short but nimble fingers undid his flies, Severus marvelled at how easy it had been to get what he wanted. Of course, keeping Harry was sure to pose problems, but he was certain that with enough time he could condition his lover to recognise his barbs and snipes for what they were — an expression of Severus' less-than-bright outlook on life.
At the moment, though, such thoughts were secondary to the sensations flooding his senses: the feel, taste, sound, and smell of Harry.

Severus decided that coffee would be his favourite brew from that day on.

-end-