Trigonometry of Souls

There were no victory parties at Hogwarts that night.

It was surprisingly easy to round up and lock away the Death Eaters that were trapped in the Great Hall. Stunned and disoriented by the death of their master, they didn’t put up much resistance. Moving the dead and wounded to the infirmary had been by far the more daunting task. There were so many of them: in the castle, on the grounds, in the Shack, students, Aurors, creatures and Death Eaters. Even now, after the elves had the Hall for themselves for a few hours, there were still blood-stained stones Harry was forced to step over as he traced the circle in powdered chalk and salt upon the floor. His footsteps echoed eerily in the empty chamber.

The sight of the Weasleys clustered around Fred’s bed etched itself into his mind. George’s empty eyes were even more striking than Percy’s wracking sobs. And Molly—strong, fierce Mrs. Weasley—clutching Ginny to her as if the world was going to come crushing down around her the moment she let go.

Then were the two beds where Tonks and Remus had been placed. There was no one to keep watch over them. Andromeda couldn’t find anyone to take care of the baby on such short notice. And little Teddy! Even younger than Harry himself had been and already orphaned… But not for long. Not for long! He choked back his guilt and concentrated on the lines of the pentagram he was drawing into the circle.

The emptiness around them was painfully emphasised by the lonely, bandaged up figure of Neville sitting by Snape’s bed. His silent presence kept others from desecrating the man’s body. Harry was painfully grateful for this, since he knew there was no love lost between his friend and his teacher. Neville did this for him, for Harry, even though Harry had let Voldemort set his friend on fire. As he set the last of the candles that were to stand in the corners of the star’s inner pentagon, Harry thought that Neville understood him and what he had to do.

Careful not to disturb any of the lightly glowing lines and sigils, Harry took his place within the lines marking one of the five arms of the star and took out the Elder Wand. It wasn’t exactly what he’d told Dumbledore he’d do, but it was the results that counted, not the means, wasn’t it?

His cloak was already around his neck, draped down his back. All he had to do was to summon the Stone. Right. Harry took a deep breath; scents of the late spring night, blood, and smoke mingled and made his head spin.

“Accio Resurrection Stone,” he whispered and waited. If this wand wasn’t able to summon the Stone, nothing would.

A few excruciating moments later, the black pebble slapped into his hand, and Harry almost sagged with relief. Now all that was left to complete the ritual was to light the candles and recite the spells.

As he chanted the short string of Latin, Harry wondered whether Hermione would have been proud or mad with him for picking the ritual up. After all, he’d only read it once, during one of the innumerable days they’d spent researching, and it had fairly ingrained itself in his memory.

“Ego vos Nex voco,” he finished and was blinded as the candle flames flared several feet into the air.

When he finally blinked the colourful bars of light from his eyes, there was a black, vaguely human-shaped shadow before him.

“You escape me, only to summon me back? Have you no sense, human?” The voice was surprisingly warm and feminine, for all the scathing words.

“I have a bargain for you.”

“A bargain?!” A tinkling laugh filled the hall. “You’ve already evaded my reach. What would you bargain for? And more importantly, what with?”

“I want you to release four souls,” he said calmly as he struggled to keep his taut nerves under control. It wouldn’t do to anger Death. Or to break any of the power lines on the floor. Or both.

“Preposterous!” The laugh tickled his ears again. “And what would you bargain with? Your one life is not worth four.”

“I know that. I thought you might want these back, though.” He held his hands out, palms up, so that the Wand and Stone were clearly visible.

He’d hoped for a momentary silence, a movement or a sound, anything to indicate that he had some kind of advantage, but all she said was: “They are only worth three souls.”

“Just bring the four I want, and then we’ll see, all right?” Harry barely managed to hold his anger out of his voice.

“Very well, if you want to torture yourself. And for whom do you want to bargain?”

“Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Fred Weasley, and Severus Snape.”

The remaining arms of the star glowed and four silhouettes coalesced from the blue-white light.

“They look like they’re sleeping,” he whispered, looking at the peaceful faces of the not-quite-ghosts floating over the bloody floor.

“They can hear and see, but they are not of this world anymore. They cannot influence it.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. “What do you want to bargain for first?”

“My cloak.”

“No!” The shout escaped him before he could think. Something twisted in him at the mere thought of giving it up. “I mean… Why don’t we start with the Stone?”

“Yes, the Stone.” There was something weird in the soft tone, a combination of calculation and curiosity. “If you have it, why don’t you use it? You could have all of them without losing any of my gifts.”

“You forget that I know how it works. I want them fully alive, not in the state in between.” Harry was proud of how steady his voice stayed.

“Very well. Who do you want for it?”

Harry looked around the circle, and his eyes fell on Tonks’ face. Suddenly he remembered how much he’d longed for his mother over the years. Yes, he had to take care of Teddy first.

“Nymphadora.”

The shadow shifted slightly, and two of the glowing silhouettes faded into nothingness. Harry blinked at the two pools of lightly smoking wax where the candles once stood.

“Soul-bound. I haven’t seen that in centuries.”

“What?” Harry “Why have you released both of them?”

There was a moment of silence when Harry felt a distant tingling, like a memory of a Legilimency spell.

“They were soul-bound. Their souls cannot be separated. If one falls into my realm, the other has to follow.”

“And if you release one, the other goes, too.” Harry silently thanked Fortune for yet another timely intervention and tried to hold back his grin. “Well, I’ve only bargained for the Stone. It’s yours.” He held his hand out again. The cracked Stone in his palm split in two with a hollow sound.

“Who will it be now, human?”

“Fred. I’ll give you the Wand for him.”

Another slight shift of the black shadow, and another arm of the star lost its glowing occupant, and the wand in his hand lost all traces of magic.

“The Cloak now.”

Panic filled Harry. It was ridiculous! That’s why he’d started this ritual in the first place: to exchange the Hallows for the lives of his friends. For some reason, though, even the thought of giving up the Cloak unsettled him. The cloak of absolute invisibility, the Cloak of Death…

“I cannot give it up. I won’t.”

“Ah, so you’ve summoned this man just to torture him with a glimpse of this world before—”

“No! I didn’t say I wasn’t going to bargain for him! I…” Harry thought frantically of anything else he could offer. “I’ll go in exchange for him. I mean, you’ve said yourself, I’ve escaped you already. A few times in fact. I’m sure you’d like to finally get me.”

“A life for a life?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m offering.”

“Very well.” Snape’s glowing form dissolved, and a sudden chill seeped into Harry’s bones as the world tilted. Just as suddenly, reality righted itself and he blinked in confusion. “If I didn’t know that you humans have no sight for such things I’d say you’ve cheated me. Soulmates! How very bothersome.”

“What?” Harry couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“A life for a life. If I took you, I’d have to take your soulmate, too. If you keep to your word, I cannot uphold my end of the bargain. You evade me again, but I will have you one day, human. When your mate’s within my reach, you will be also.”

With that, the shadow before him became thicker and the lines surrounding it broke, the flames of the candles flaring up to the ceiling. The sudden spike and crash of magic came down on him like a blow, and then the world turned black.

A loud bang and sudden jostling brought him out of unconsciousness and into a world comprised of cotton wool.

“Potter!” Cool fingers were pressed to his throat. “You buggering imbecile!”

There were sounds of a short commotion and suddenly cold water was thrown into his face. Harry sputtered and coughed. He lifted up on an one elbow, wiping the water from his face and smoothing his wet fringe out of his eyes with his other hand.

“You know, Snape, that’s not the proper way to thank someone who’s just offered to sacrifice his life to save you.”

“Thank you! You conceited, insipid, sanctimonious half-wit! Thank you? For what? For disturbing my hard-earned peace so that you can exact your revenge personally? Oh, but I forgot you’d be dead already. The media would love the story: poor Harry Potter sacrifices himself yet again so that justice can be served. I probably wouldn’t even see the Wizengamot before the mob fed me to a random Dementor.”

Harry blinked at the man sneering down at him, then allowed his gaze to wander along the semi-circle of people behind him: the Weasleys, Order members, and other occupants of the infirmary looked at the scene Harry and Snape were making with a plethora of expressions. Some were stunned, their jaws hanging limply open and eyes bugging out; some were blank; others looked angry, and a few seemed to be amused. None of them, Harry noted, had a wand trained on Snape. He huffed, heaving himself into a sitting position, and cradled his spinning head in his hands.

“No one’s going to do anything to you. They all know you were always on our side. I couldn’t resist throwing it in his face and the hall was full of people. I think I might have a concussion,” he muttered into his knees.

In moments his head was tipped back, and light from Snape’s wand was shining into his eyes. A piercing pain joined the spinning and his throat burned with nausea. Snape grunted and released him, letting Harry’s head fall back. A smaller hand settled on his back and he recognised Ginny’s sweet perfume and the smell of fresh bread that always clung to Mrs. Weasley.

“You do have a slight one, though, considering the fact that you should have been dead now… But than again, you have a knack for not dying, don’t you? How did you get out of it this time, Potter? How did you manage to cheat Death?” There was a note of honest curiosity beneath the sarcasm in Snape’s voice.

“I didn’t—” A loud snort sounded above him. “I really didn’t do anything. I was already halfway on the other side when she just changed her mind.”

“Potter.”

“Really. She pulled me back and said something about keeping her end of the bargain. That she couldn’t keep hers if I kept mine, or something. She…” A sudden thought pierced his sluggish mind. He rolled his head to the side and grinned weakly at Ginny. “She said I had a soulmate. A soul for a soul, that’s what we’d agreed on. She couldn’t have taken two for one.”

Ginny’s brown eyes widened and flickered up from his face and back before she smiled back uncertainly.

“You should lie down, Harry, dear. We’ll get you to the infirmary.” Mrs. Weasley beckoned with her hand, and a moment later he was lifted between the grinning twins. They were halfway to the door, and the crowd of onlookers—already much thinner than it was moments ago—parted respectfully, when Snape spoke again.

“Why didn’t you just give her the Cloak? It was obvious she wanted it.”

“She wanted it just a bit too much, don’t you think?” Harry looked over his shoulder. “It just didn’t sit well with me, giving it away. And I’ve learned to follow my instincts.”

As Snape stared at him, Harry studied him for the first time. His robes were crusted with dried blood and clung to his side. Dark circles under his eyes accentuated his almost skeletal thinness. He looked ready to keel over, himself. Harry felt his heart flutter weirdly and his insides twisted.

“You should probably find a bed, Professor. I won’t have anything to bargain with if you die on me again.” He forced his tired muscles to form a smile and saw who he thought was Hestia Jones go over to help Snape as the twins towed him out of the room and into the infirmary.

Ginny was right next to him the moment he was settled in a bed.

“Soulmates, Gin. Who’d have thought, eh?” He fought his dropping eyelids.

Her smile looked forced and he couldn’t understand why. “Yes. Who would?”

“He’s dead. We’ll be able to be happy now, you and I.”

“Yes, we will. Sleep now, Harry.”

And he did.

*****

Harry spent the next seventeen years clinging to the hope that being soulmates didn’t mean that your life together must be perfect. Because his life with Ginny wasn’t perfect. It was… pleasant at best, irritating at worst.

It wasn’t that they fought much. They argued just as much as any other couple ever did. They fought about who was supposed to Banish the trash, why the Floo powder wasn’t replenished, or whether scourgifying the clothes was the same as washing them. It was just the mundane everyday fights even Arthur and Molly had.

Their sex life wasn’t bad either. They did manage to produce three fairly good kids, after all. At first, there were some not-so-good times, but with all the things Ginny knew about sex, it soon got better. There wasn’t really any grand passion, but it was mostly fun and satisfying enough. Sometimes, when he let himself think of such things, Harry wondered what it said about him and about them, that he never resented the fact that some of Ginny’s knowledge wasn’t purely theoretical. He’d never again felt that burning, clawing anger he experienced in his sixth year.

They even managed to resolve the matter of all of their preconceived expectations of each other fairly well. They’d both bent in places and stood their ground in others, negotiating the rules of their life together like a peace treaty.

Although they’d managed to settle down together quite comfortably, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t as it should be. Shouldn’t there be more? More passion, more compatibility, more feeling, more… just more. That absence of something unidentifiable was always with him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch—irritating but nothing he couldn’t ignore. And ignore he did, because Ginny was happy, his family was happy, and he was… content, so why ruin it?

That’s probably why it shocked him as it did when Ginny asked him for a divorce. He’d always thought she was happy with their life. The conversation felt more than surreal.

They’d just sent Al off to Hogwarts and dropped Lily off at the Burrow for a day of being spoiled by Molly—a fine treatment for the sulk Lily had been in for days.

“Mmagh!” Harry yawned as he threw his cloak over a chair back and stretched. “They should call the first of September Parents’ Day. I mean, we should get a whole day off of work just so we can spend half an hour dropping three kids off at the station.” He picked up the teapot and peered inside. “There’s tea and it’s warm. You want some?” He turned around, cup and pot in hand, and saw her standing in the doorway.

“No, thank you, Harry.” She shifted and looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I—we need to talk.”

“'Kay. Just let me find some food first. Somehow, I’ve managed not to get any breakfast yet.” He found a plate of leftover eggs under a Preserving Charm in the cupboard and brought them to the table. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, summoning a roll to go with the eggs.

Ginny shook her head slightly and pulled a chair out for herself. “Eat first. This can wait.” The look in her eyes sent a frisson of apprehension over him, but he put it aside for the moment. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn’t urgent. It was a matter of minutes before he set his plate aside.

“Well now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Harry… I—I wish there was an easy way of doing this, but there isn’t. I’m really sorry. I really am.”

“Gin.” Harry reached out and covered her hands with his. “You’re not making any sense. What isn’t easy, and what are you sorry about?”

“I want a divorce, Harry. I’ve already filed the papers with the Ministry.” She said it to their joined hands, and for a moment his frozen brain refused to process the words. “Harry?” One of her hands slipped from under his and touched his cheek, breaking him out of his stupor.

“But—divorce? Why, Gin? I don’t… I don’t understand why you’d—We’re happy together. We’re…”

“Harry…”

“We’re soulmates, for Merlin’s sake! Soulmates don’t get divorced, Gin.” He made to take her hands again, but she pulled them back and stood up from the table. She walked the few steps to the counter and looked out of the window, hugging herself.

“Oh, God, Harry… We’re not soulmates. We may love each other in a way, but that… It wasn’t—it just isn’t enough to stay married.”

Harry laughed, sounding a bit unhinged, even to his own ears. “Not enough to stay married? We have three kids, Gin! Have you thought about that? About them? What will—our life may not be what either of us envisioned, but that’s just how life is, Gin. We’re soulmates, we just…”

“Stop it! Stop it!” She whirled around and yelled at him. “We’re not soulmates, Harry! We’re not!”

“Of course we are, Gin. I wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for the fact that…”

“You have a soulmate. Yes, yes, I know, but it isn’t me! It just isn’t me!” Tears slipped down her cheeks as he looked at her, uncomprehending. “I—Oh God. That night… I loved you so much, Harry, so much. And I’d already thought I’d lost you twice that night. When you told me what Death told you, I thought I’d lose you again, and… and then you’ve looked at me with that smile and… I couldn’t lose you again, Harry. I just couldn’t.”

“So you’ve let me believe that it’s you.” With every sentence she uttered, Harry felt as if someone had landed a good punch on him.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. So sorry.”

“Sorry?” He barely recognised the dull voice as his own. “You’re sorry. We’ve been together for seventeen years. Years when I could have… and now you tell me you’re leaving, because what we have is not enough, and you’re sorry.”

“Harry, please, you have to understand. I really believed that what we felt would be enough. That we loved each other enough for it to work out.”

“Work out. Ginny, I have a soulmate. There’s someone perfect for me that…”

“I know, Harry, I know.”

“So why have you done it, Ginny? Why?”

“She didn’t tell you who your soulmate is. It can be anyone. Anyone at all. Anywhere in the world. It can be someone from Africa or Russia, or… She said you had a soulmate, but you might never even meet.”

“Or it could be someone I already know, or someone I’ve met since and never did anything about it because I’ve thought…” The words became stuck in his throat and he almost choked on them. He couldn’t think for all the noise in his head that got louder every time he looked at her tear-stained face. He stood up and took his cloak and walked dazedly towards the door.

“Harry? Where are you going, Harry? Please…”

“I—I have to get out. I have to think. I can’t stay here.” He opened the door.

“Harry, Harry, please…”

He turned on the threshold. “I’m not leaving you, Ginny. It’s you who’s leaving me,” he said slowly and shut the door quietly on her sobbing.

*****

Harry didn’t know exactly how he did it, but he ended up on Ron and Hermione’s doorstep soon after that. It was Ron who opened the door.

“I need to get thoroughly smashed. Would you mind terribly if I did it at your place? For a couple of days?”

He was ushered into the library, or Hermione’s den, as everyone called it. The huge four-story-high room took up the space under the cottage stairs. The wonders of wizard space, Hermione always said, and smiled in a way that made Harry wonder if she was talking about the room or something else entirely.

Soon he was nursing his second whisky, drinking it down rather faster than he should, and telling his best friends about his crumbling marriage. He was unbearably grateful to see their shocked reactions when he told them about what Death had told him, and what Ginny has done. He couldn’t have taken any more that day, if they’d known. But they didn’t.

He spent the next few hours getting pissed out of his head in the library and the months after that in their guest bedroom. Ron became his second shadow, keeping him in line at work and calm in the face of the press vultures. He got them both signed up for training sessions with Auror candidates in the afternoons. To help him burn off his anger before he faced the kids, he said, and it worked.

In the face of this development even the fact that Rose got sorted into Slytherin blew over without much fuss. It wasn’t the only weird Sorting that year anyway. The Malfoy boy, for example, got sorted into Ravenclaw. And Reggie, Dean and Seamus’ boy, landed in Hufflepuff, of all places.

Before Easter, they were officially divorced and all of Harry’s anger was long gone, replaced by dull apathy. After Ginny moved out, Harry went back to their house in Hampshire and spent any time he wasn’t working with Lily. She’d took the whole situation surprisingly well, with only a few days of crying before she’d adapted to the idea. Before long, it was only the promise of her unwavering cheer and sparkling eyes that made him drag himself out of bed day after day.

Al and James on the other hand…well, Albus seemed to have recovered fairly well, too, but Harry didn’t get to see him much, since he was at Hogwarts. James, though… James moved instantly from shock to blazing anger and refused to move past it.

The day they’d gone up to Hogwarts to tell the boys what was going to happen, James scowled at him the whole time. The next day Harry got a Howler from him. He got a lot of them over the course of the divorce. The most vicious ones came any time the press got hold of something to print on the matter. A week before Easter a letter came letting him know that James was staying at Hogwarts for the holiday, and Harry did not hear a word from him after that.

That’s why, when an owl arrived with a message inviting him to a meeting with Deputy Headmaster Snape, he’d left the office at a run, Apparating mid-step, and didn’t stop until he reached Snape’s office. He barely waited for the brusque ‘enter’ before he barged into the room.

“What has he done? Is he all right?”

“Mister Potter.” Snape nodded at him. “I must admit I didn’t anticipate such a quick response. Nor do I know about whom you are enquiring.”

“James. He either did something stupid or got hurt or…”

“Mister Potter, do sit down.” Snape indicated the chair in front of the desk behind which he was currently sitting. “I can assure you that unless I am unaware of something, your son is guilty of nothing more serious than a few minor pranks. He was not harmed in any way, either.”

Harry collapsed into the offered chair and put his face into his hands. He was out of breath and on the very edge of sliding into hysteria. The clatter of china brought him out of his thoughts. A cup of tea sat on the desk before him. It smelled heavily of herbs.

“Calming draught,” said Snape. “Why, if I may ask, were you enquiring after your son?”

Harry raked a hand through his hair before taking up the cup and sipping the potion-laced tea. “He’s angry with me. For some reason he decided to blame me for the divorce.” He sighed again. “I didn’t have any messages from him since Easter. When I received an owl from you… I guess I might have panicked a bit.” Harry laughed self-consciously.

“I see. However, I did not contact you because of either of your sons.”

“Why did you owl me, then?” asked Harry, sitting up in his chair and trying for the calm he didn’t feel.

“I’ve heard that you’re considering leaving the MLE, Mr. Potter. Is that true?”

“How do you know that? I haven’t told anyone yet!”

“No one, Mr. Potter? I think your brother-in-law would resent that term.”

“Ron?” Harry stared at Snape, trying to reconcile the vision of the two men talking civilly with the reality he knew. He glanced dubiously at his tea and set it back on the desk before him. “When exactly have you two talked?”

“I haven’t been talking with Mr. Weasley himself. He told his wife of your plans, and she contacted me the day the vacancy opened.”

“Oh.” Well, Hermione talking with Snape made slightly more sense. “Wait, vacancy? You mean, there’s a job opening at Hogwarts?”

“That is the usual meaning of the word, Mr. Potter.” Harry gritted his teeth at the familiar tone, but managed to wrestle down his irritation at being treated like a half-wit.

“That would explain why you’re so polite,” he muttered. “Which subject?”

“History of Magic, due to your stellar scholarly achievements.” Surprisingly, the biting sarcasm only served to lift Harry’s spirits instead of bringing them down.

“Oh I didn’t know that getting your name into a book or two was enough recommendation,” he said flippantly. “Though if that’s the case, you might want to contact Lockhart again. I’m sure he was in more books than me.”

“Yes, and wrote most of them himself, as well.” Harry had to bite his tongue not to laugh at the obvious distaste in Snape’s voice. “That does bring us, finally, to the point of this meeting. Mr. Potter: Hogwarts would like you to consider taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

“Defence A—” The shock rendered him speechless for a moment. “You’re leaving? I know you’ve said you were only staying for a year, but…”

“And it would have been only for a year if that accursed tabby hadn’t made me responsible for recruitment.”

“So you’re leaving.”

“No, Mr. Potter. I’m not leaving. Will that pose a problem?”

“What? No! Of course not. If the post’s open, I’d like to try for it. I just want to know why it’s open. If the curse is acting up again… I have three kids to raise. I can’t risk not making the year.”

“No, the curse is not active,” scoffed Snape. “Professor Slughorn decided that his new collection of famous names is big enough to keep him stocked in good whisky and chocolate for the foreseeable future and chose to leave us. Since any suitable replacements are already otherwise engaged for the year, I’ll have to take up the post.” Judging by his expression, the mere idea gave Snape an awful headache.

“So the position is only for the year anyway?” Harry couldn’t help but be disappointed by that.

“Oh, no, Mr. Potter. If you prove to be a competent teacher, you will be offered a permanent contract. With you taking over the DADA and Cynthia taking over Potions, at this time next year I plan to be tending my resignation.”

“Oh. So you’re finally going to resign? What do you plan to do after that?”

“Mr. Potter! This is not the tenth annual war veteran reunion’s chit-chat session. This is a job interview. And I find myself less and less inclined to give you the job.”

Harry had to fight off a blush. Something about Snape always made him feel either like a blushing first year or a teenager high on a hormonal rush. “I’m sorry. I’m rather used to being the one asking all the questions.”

“Yes, well, if you want the job, you’ll have to get used to answering them as well.” Harry couldn’t decide if that was glee or just the candlelight glittering in Snape’s eyes.

“Yes, of course. So—ahm… What would you like to ask me?”

Within the next hour they covered what felt like a few thousand issues: whether or not Harry would be using Snape’s lesson plans for this year, or was he going to come up with his own? How soon could he come up with a list of questions for the final exams? Did he have an idea of what his grading policy would be? Was he aware of the policies against nepotism? Would he want Lily enrolled earlier, or was he going to leave her with other relatives? Was he aware of the required amount of student papers per year? And so on and so forth. By the time they’d finished, Harry’s mind was on high drive, adrenaline buzzing pleasantly in his ears, like it hadn’t done since his field days. He remained sitting only by the sheer force of will.

“I think that will be all,” Snape said to his notes before looking up at Harry. “Would you like a few days to think over our proposition?”

Harry laughed out loud, literally giddy with excitement. “I believe that’s the first time you’ve accused me of thinking, Professor.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Potter.”

“Well then, a fine teacher you’ve found for the young, impressionable minds.”

“You can’t be worse than some we’ve already had.”

“Right you are.” Harry laughed again. “I believe this is the best day of my year so far. If you’d pass me a quill and the contract?”

Snape passed him a scroll of thick, cream-coloured parchment and indicated the glossy black quill on the blotter. Harry made sure to check for any fine print, both visually and magically, before signing. He grinned at the page before rolling it back up and passed it back to Snape.

“Welcome to the Hogwarts faculty, Mr. Potter. I dare say you’ll regret today’s decision fairly quickly.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that, but if you really want to, I won’t scoff at your Galleons,” he laughed. “And call me Harry. We’re colleagues now.” The smug look slid right off Snape’s face as he stared at Harry’s outstretched hand.

For a second, Harry wavered between outrage and indignation before it hit him. In all the years they’d known each other, in all their interactions, they’d somehow managed to never touch each other. How odd.

Snape carefully set the contract on the table and took his hand. Harry barely managed to hold in the shocked gasp as their hands met. They both drew back quickly.

“Static electricity,” Harry managed to choke out eventually. Snape only nodded at him, still holding his own hand. “I… I’d probably better go home. Have to start planning.”

“That’s surprisingly wise of you. I’ll be sure to send you an owl with the meeting schedule for the summer within a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Professor. I’ll see—” Harry was almost at the door.

“Severus.”

“What?”

“As you’ve said, we’re colleagues now.” He seemed thoroughly uncomfortable with the concept.

“Oh. Yeah. Yes. Then, see you soon, Severus.” He smiled and left, completely missing the odd look, a mixture of shock and calculation, in the man’s eyes.

*****

The next few months were some of the hardest but most exciting of Harry's adult life. In between juggling the various trips he’d promised his children, reviewing and approving the mound of final reports that had been collecting on his desk over the last six months, and searching for adequate course books, he’d spent a lot of time fighting with Ginny and James.

Ginny’s first Floo call woke him up the very next morning after his meeting with Snape. She’d accused him of trying to ruin her career by making her stay home with Lily her first season with the Harpies, only to scream at him even more the moment he told her that Lily would be starting at Hogwarts a year earlier. Apparently, he was trying to separate her from her daughter by making it impossible for them to spend winter together. She’d Floo almost every other day after that. And every time she’d eventually seen reason and dropped whatever demand or accusation she’d had, but the fights were draining, all the same.

He’d taken to visiting at Lupin’s as often as he could. Somehow, as fucked up as it was, watching Remus and Tonks’ imperfect but still happy life made him feel better. There was also the added benefit of having Remus at hand to ask all of the many questions he had about teaching. In the end, ironically, he owed the completion of his booklist (a mix of Lupin’s and Snape’s own booklists) to his fights with Ginny.

His fights with James, on the other hand, led to nothing but growing frustration. Some days it seemed that a mere ‘hi’ from Harry sent the boy into a rage, other days he treated Harry as one would a scratch on a favourite broom: a truly loathsome thing he tried his hardest to simply ignore. Harry tried his hardest to get to his son. Every time he tried to talk with him, it ended up with the door to either James’ room or the front door being slammed in his face. Trying to engage him in any kind of ‘bonding’, be it Quidditch, sightseeing or, on one occasion during their trip to Italy, cooking, failed spectacularly. He tried to tell himself that it was only a case of teenage hormones acting up a bit quickly, but he wasn’t as good at deluding himself as he used to be. It was obvious James resented him for the divorce, and until he worked through that, nothing Harry did would work.

It was with a sense of utter relief, therefore, that he set off for Hogwarts a week before the term started. The kids would be staying at the Burrow with Ginny and their cousins, which was fortunate, since as spacious as his new rooms were, they simply weren’t designed to house four people.

*****

The last staff meeting before the term started didn’t seem like a meeting at all. To Harry it felt more like a final pep talk before a battle.

“That settled, I have only one more announcement to make,” said Minerva, and Merlin how weird was it, calling her by her first name. “As you all know, Severus will be taking over Potions once again. Unfortunately, he’s only agreed to do so for one year, until Miss Cynthia Ruel can finish her obligations at Beauxbatons. After that, he will be leaving us.” A murmur rose over the table. “That’s why I’d like you to think about it and approach me if you’re interested in taking over as Deputy.”

“I don’t believe even Potter is stupid enough to agree to that of his own free will, Headmistress. You’ll have to manoeuvre someone into it. Again,” murmured Snape.

Harry was relieved not to be the only one to snort at this. Next to him Neville made a little choking noise.

“I can always reject your letter of resignation, Severus, and then I won’t have to look for a replacement.” Her voice was icy, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

At the obviously faked look of abject horror on Snape’s face, Harry couldn’t hold it and laughed. Thankfully, Hagrid’s guffaws drowned him out.

After that, tea, drinks, and cakes popped up on the table and everyone dispersed into little groups. Harry took his cup of tea and wandered to a wingback near the fireplace. On his way, he heard Flitwick cheering Vector on, telling her how there wouldn’t be any Andersons in her class this year. For a moment he wanted to ask who the Andersons might be, but decided to do that some other time.

He sat himself in his chosen chair and took a sip.

“So, you got Snape to hire you. I must admit I’m impressed. I’ve always assumed it was McGonagall who chose the teachers,” he said, smiling at Neville.

“Yeah, well.” The other man blushed and looked away. “He says that Madam Sprout threatened him with Phallus Magica.”

Harry choked on his tea. “Sorry, I...” He cleared his throat. “Did you just say that Sprout threatened Snape with a perverse creeping vine?”

“That’s what he says,” laughed Neville. “I don’t believe him, though. I think he just doesn’t want to admit that I’m good at what I do. You on the other hand—wow. We all know that he contacted you. I didn’t believe Filius when he told me.”

“Yes, well…” Harry looked into the fire for a moment. “It’s good that he did, whatever his reasons might be.”

“I guess… I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to remind you—”

“It’s not like I can forget about it.”

“Harry—”

Harry waved him off. “Never mind that. In a week, I’m sure I won’t have any time to think about it, anyway.”

“Right you are. The first month is almost the worst.”

“Almost?”

“There are the exams in June.”

Harry groaned. “I’d forgot about that! Thanks, Neville! One can always depend on you!” teased Harry. “But anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm?” Neville took a sip of his drink.

“How does it feel? Working with Snape, I mean.” Harry looked to the other corner of the room.

“Hm?” Neville followed his line of sight and shrugged. “I don’t really know what to tell you. I don’t really have all that much contact with him. If it weren’t for the meals and staff meetings, I probably wouldn’t see him at all. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing.” Neville raised his eyebrows. “You’ll think I’ve gone 'round the bend, but… he makes me feel better.”

“You’re right. I do have an urge to Floo St. Mungo’s.” At Harry’s affronted look, he held up his hands. “For him, not for you. If he’s suddenly turned nice, there’s got to be something wrong with him.”

Harry laughed. “Nice? No, he’s not nice. Not really. But he’s not as nasty as I remember either. It’s… I guess I just know how to appreciate his sarcasm now. He’s actually quite funny. Like he was today.”

“Mm…You should be sitting on the other side of the room, then.”

“What?”

“Don’t get it the wrong way, Harry, but you look like shit. Anything that can make you feel better, I’m in favour of.” His smile made the scar on his cheek crease a little.

“Thanks Nev. But I don’t really have any good reason to talk to him, and I don’t think he tolerates small talk from… well, anyone any better than chattering from students.” Harry slumped into his chair.

“Probably not.” Neville shrugged. “Just go there, ask him something about teaching, and if you can’t build a conversation, come back here. From what I saw, that’s the standing technique for dealing with him.”

“That’s good to know, but I don’t have any questions. What could I possibly ask him?”

“Well you are going to teach a lot of kids that are family. You could talk about how to avoid favouritism.”

For a moment they stared at each other.

“Neville, are you taking a piss?”

“I wasn’t, but then I heard what’s coming out of my mouth.” Neville grinned at him and they laughed.

“I guess I’ll go see how the question goes over.” Harry sighed. “Are you going to finish that?” Neville passed him the rest of his drink and Harry tossed it back in one go. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered and made his way across the room. He stood behind the man for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Hello, Severus. Do you have a moment?”

“And what does your keen Auror sense of observation tell you?”

Harry snorted a laugh and slid into an armchair. “I’ve wanted to talk with you about something. Just…I’m not taking a piss, all right? Remember that.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Yeah, ok. It’s…” Harry scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m going to teach my own children. Not to mention all my nieces and nephews…” He hesitated before continuing. “I’m not afraid that I’ll play favourites. I know I can control myself. But I also know children like to blame the teacher for their bad grades. Don’t!” He held up a hand, as Snape was about to speak. “I know, ok? Just—how am I supposed to deal with the parents when they come complaining?”

“It would be a sound concern if you were anyone else. But since you are who you are, it will be at least a year before anyone will come knocking at your door.” It seemed that Snape was going to dismiss the matter and Harry, entirely. He looked ready to stand up, and Harry felt his mood plummeting to new lows, when the man changed his mind and pierced him with a look. “I do hope you can keep from favouring those children you’ve mentioned. It would really ruin my good mood if I had to finish this year with firing you.”

Harry blinked at him, feeling ridiculous for the warm feeling that suffused him. “Pot. Kettle,” he smiled. “And I don’t think I’ll have that much trouble. From what I know, only James has any affinity for defence, and he doesn’t like me all that much lately. He’s rather vocal about it, too.” Snape raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry sighed and slumped forward. “I don’t want to bother you with my personal problems.”

“Mister Potter, you’ve known me long enough to know that I am not one to suffer other people if I do not wish to do so. Furthermore, as Deputy Headmaster, it is my concern to know of anything that might influence your teaching.”

“He’s angry about the divorce. He’ll come around eventually. It’s nothing that should influence my teaching.”

“I’m sure he will,” murmured Snape.

“Careful, Severus, or I might start thinking that you care,” teased Harry.

Snape’s eyes flashed at him, and Harry felt his heart beat wildly in his throat. “Not even you can be always wrong, Harry.” And with that, he took up his tea and left.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” But of course there was no answer.

After that Harry made sure to sit next to Snape at every meal, go to him with every problem or doubt, and generally spend as much time in his company as humanly possible. It rarely amounted to more than half an hour a day. During that time the man made him laugh, irritated him, and confused him like hell. In a word, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time.

*****

Little did he know that his new obsession with the Potions Master did not escape anyone’s notice. Nor did the fact that Snape not only allowed, but seemed to encourage it. Most especially, it did not escape James’ notice. It wasn’t even halfway through September, and James was already sitting through two of his subjects with a mulish look on his face, refusing to participate in any way.

It didn’t surprise anyone when Snape finished one of the lessons with a deathly quiet: “Mister Potter, a minute of your time.”

James glared off all the sympathetic looks his friends sent him before concentrating his glare on his teacher.

“Do you have anything in particular against my way of teaching Potions, Mister Potter?” asked Snape with a calm of which any of his students knew to be wary.

“What?”

“It is an easy enough question, Mister Potter. It shouldn’t be beyond even your hormone-addled capacities.”

“No, I don’t have anything against your teaching methods, sir,” growled James.

“No? Then maybe now that your father is a teacher in this school you believe yourself above the rules?” A nasty snarl started to creep into Snape’s voice.

James almost saw red. “I didn’t think about that, but now that you’ve mentioned it… I’m sure Dad can persuade you to cut me some slack. After all you’re so close now,” he sneered.

“What did you say, boy?” Snape was around the desk in a flash.

“Oh, come off it, Professor. Everyone can see how he’s constantly fawning over you and following you about.”

“At this moment, your father would befriend a Blast-ended Skrewt if it offered to ease his mind,” dismissed Snape.

“A what?”

“Why are you so angry with your father?” The older man pounced at the moment’s confusion.

“I’m not angry—” James fairly bit his tongue in his haste to close his mouth and glared anew.

“Your acting skills are very well-developed then, as half the school, and your father, in particular, believes that you are,” responded Snape smoothly. “But of course, you know your feelings best. The fact that you can’t go a day without shouting at him doesn’t mean you’re angry with your father at all.”

“I’m not angry at him! I’m angry…” He bit his lip and looked away.

“Yes?”

“I’m angry with her, all right?! If they don’t want to stay married, they don’t have to, but why does she have to abandon us? And he just let her!”

“Your mother did not abandon you,” Snape said, and James snorted. “She is pursuing a career that demands a lot of time on the move. How is it different from your father leaving for weeks on end when he was an Auror?”

“But…”

“There are no ‘buts’, Mister Potter. Now, you will cut the spoiled brat act, and go back to work while you still have a slim chance of not falling too far behind.” James still looked ready to argue more. “Do not make me rethink my assessment of your intelligence, Mister Potter. You wouldn’t like me if I did. Now get out.”

James grabbed his bag and was halfway to the door when he turned around. “What’s a Blast-ended Skrewt?”

“Ask Professor Hagrid. He’ll be more than happy to tell you, I’m sure.”

“All right.” He was almost out the door, when he turned again. “You’re wrong, though. Dad does like you. And I think you like him, too. A lot.” And he ran before his professor had the chance to hex him.

*****

It took James almost a week to work through his conversation with Snape. In the end, it made him feel like a total heel and all of four years old—a feeling amplified every time he saw his father looking depressed and tired whenever he thought no one was looking. The only time he seemed anywhere near happy was when he was with Snape. That was why James decided to help get the two together. After all, Snape was a decent man, even if he was a total git as well.

Another week passed before he managed to organise a Potter clan meeting. The hardest thing was finding a way to get Teddy and Victoire into the castle without alerting anyone. In the end, Teddy owled him to tell him about the secret tunnel behind the statue of the hunchbacked witch on the third floor.

That’s where they were now waiting for him and Victoire.

“Mon dieu! There’s twelve of us!” They heard her before they even saw her, emerging, wand in hand, from the darkness of the tunnel. Within minutes the spot where they were standing became just a bit more spacious and filled with various armchairs.

“You really should go for those Transfiguration Masters Aunt ‘Mione keeps talking about, V.” Teddy was barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Victoire gave an elegant shrug. “I’m thinking about it.” They took up the loveseat, and Teddy sent up the orb of light that has following them to hover under the ceiling. “And who are they?” She indicated the pair of blue-eyed, blond first-years huddled together in an oversized armchair.

“Oh. They’re our cousins,” answered Al. “Lily invited them.”

“Cousins?”

“Second cousins. From Dad’s side. Arnold and Bridget Dursley,” added James.

“Oh.” She smiled at the pair. “Nice to meet you. I’m Victoire, and this is Teddy. Your uncle is his godfather.”

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Could we concentrate on the matter at hand, now?” interrupted James.

“Don’t interrupt my sister,” said Dominique. “You still haven’t told us what that matter is, P.J..” James scowled at the much-hated nickname.

“Dad and Snape. I know,” he added over the round of groans and sighs, “that me and Dad haven't gotten along all that well lately…”

“More like you were a total berk to him, you mean,” muttered Al with a scowl.

“Okay! I admit it, okay? But I’ve taken my head out of my arse, and—”

“You’ve said arse! And with so many girls around! I’m going to so enjoy telling Dad,” exclaimed Lily.

“Guh! Slytherins stay quiet!”

“Oh, so we’re going to have a morons-only afternoon, then?” Rose scowled.

“Could we get on with this? I have a ton of work for my Astronomy project,” whined Louis, and Dominique rolled her eyes at her brother.

“I’m missing my club because of this,” added Rose.

Roxanne looked put-out, and Bridget and Arnold looked slightly alarmed at the squabbling.

“Silence!” Teddy’s amplified voice rolled over the tunnel like a thunderclap. Everybody winced and put their hands over their ears. Bridget even jumped up in her seat. “Now,” said Teddy, after cancelling the Sonorous, “James, tell us why are we here. Quickly.”

“Dad’s miserable since Mum left. He needs to find someone new, and it’s obvious he likes Snape a lot. And vice versa. I want us to come up with a way to get them together.”

Everyone started talking at once again, but stopped when Teddy put his wand to his throat.

“I didn’t know your father was gay,” said Arnold.

“The issue is that he’s not particularly happy now,” said James, exasperated.

“I think he meant homosexual, P.J.,” said Rose.

“Huh? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Muggles don’t have giants, werewolves, goblins, vampires, and whatnot, James,” said Victoire. “But we do, so being involved with someone of your own sex isn’t all that shocking,” she said to the twins.

“But why does it have to be Snape?” whinged All. “Can’t we find someone else?”

“What do you have against Professor Snape?” Lily glared.

“I have nothing against him,” he said indignantly. “But Snape has something against me.”

“What? You never said anything. What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything, James. But he looks as if he’s going to chuck out his stomach every time he says my name.”

“Well, it’s not surprising, is it?”

“What?” Roxanne huffed as Al glared at her. “Honestly! Haven’t you read anything about the war? Our parents were all involved in it! Your father especially.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“You’re named after Dumbledore. Snape had to kill him. Connect the dots yourself.”

“You could try telling him to call you Al,” proposed a very small voice, that turned out to belong to Bridget.

“Might do.”

“So are we going to do it?” asked James.

“Can’t see how,” said Molly. “I’ve heard Aunty Hermione telling Mum that your father is really quite dense when it comes to feelings. Something to do with difficult childhood.”

“Hey!” chorused all three Potters.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” asked Dominique. “Else he’d already have made his move.”

“Would you just make a move, on Snape?” challenged Louis.

Everyone burst out in laughter at Dominique's horrified face.

“So what are we going to do?”

*****

Severus Snape strode down the main hall quietly, cursing fools, idiot children, and their suicidal pets.

Not five minutes before Scorpius Malfoy had barged into his office. Clutching his damn white ferret to him, he’d shouted about how Potter had rescued it, but now the Whomping Willow had Potter, and could you please save him, Professor? Because his father would kill him if he were expelled for killing a teacher.

Severus snorted contemptuously. And they say Ravenclaws were the intelligent ones. For getting this particular teacher killed, the brat probably could have asked for the moon and Draco’d get it for him.

He saw Potter as soon as he rounded the courtyard and restrained his laughter only thanks to his years as a spy. Potter looked hilarious, dangling from a branch, held up by one leg. Something, probably another branch, held his robes at the waist, but everything below, or was it above, hung loosely. He was obviously struggling, but he wasn’t flailing his arms, so the tree must have got a hold of them, too.

“Let me guess… Sybil decided to do a practical on tarot, and you’ve agreed to help. The Fool, isn’t it?”

“Oh, ha… guh… Bloody, ha, Snape. Ugh… Are you going to help me, or did… For fuck’s sake! Did you come just for the laughs?” Potter was wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“The laughs, of course. It’s not every day that you can see Hogwarts faculty dangling from the Whomping Willow.”

“Glad to be entertaining.” Potter was growing alarmingly red, and not all of that could be anger.

“Why didn’t you immobilise the bloody tree to retrieve the blasted ferret?”

“I did, but the spell must have faded. Huh…” Potter kept groaning and huffing as he struggled. It was clear he had difficulties drawing a breath. “It’s not an easy task—fuck!—to get a scared animal to do what you want.”

“You could have just summoned the damn thing.” He took out his wand. “Never mind. Do you have your wand?”

“No. It’s… ugh… it’s on the grass below me. I’d have managed to cast a Petrificus but it’d already… guh… had my hands. My fingers went… uh… went numb soon after that.”

“You have to do everything the hard way don’t you, Potter?” Snape put his wand away and took off his cloak. “There’s at least a dozen immobilizers, but of course you had to go for the one that doesn’t allow for any partial manipulation.”

“But it doesn’t… uh… wear off.”

“Immobilus doesn’t either, and it allows for partial manipulations.” The branches around Potter’s wrists were tight, but not too tangled, thank Merlin. It wouldn’t take long.

“I’ll remember that the next time a tree tries to kill me.”

Snape freed his hands and Potter started waving life back into them. “Thanks.”

“Can you move your fingers?”

“They’re a bit tingly, but yeah.”

“Good, this will make it quicker. I’ll help you grab your ankles. You untangle them, and I’ll take care of the branches around your waist.”

“Yeah, ok. As long as I’m at least partially right side up. Everything’s gone red already.”

“You are a fool, Potter,” groused Snape, as he took Harry under his arms and lifted him up.

“Yeah, and you’ve hired me.” Potter’s voice was only a little strangled even though he was almost literally bent in half. Snape had to consciously take a mental step back from that train of thought and concentrate on the branches still around Potter’s middle.

He ran his hands over the branches. “Damn.”

“What is it?”

“I do hope, Potter, that you’ve been keeping up with your Auror training.”

“Why?”

“The branches knotted. It’ll take me a few minutes to untangle this.”

“That’s ok. I have quite a few knots up here myself. Seems the old tree is really attached.”

Severus cringed. “Potter, do spare me your sense of humour.”

“Sorry, forgot you’re allergic,” grunted the other man.

“And stop squirming. It’s making this more difficult than it needs be.”

“I bloody well can’t. You’re tickling me!” Snape smirked and poked at Potter’s side. Harry let loose a strangled ‘meep’ and a grunt. “I’ll get you for that!”

“You do realise you’re not the first in that queue, don’t you? Now hold still. I’m almost done.” In truth he was just a tug away from unravelling the branches. All he had to do was to take a good hold and…

“Good, me too.”

…pull.

Before he could do or say anything the branches holding Potter suspended snapped back and twelve stone of man fell right on top of him. With a double ‘ompf’ of suddenly displaced air Severus found himself on the ground with various pointy appendages digging into his organs. A chuckle, not his own, reverberated through his chest, and Potter took an elbow out of Snape’s kidney to support himself. Harry leaned over, breathless, and looked at Severus. His eyes momentarily acquired a look Snape recognised instantly.

He just fell from a tree, he’s lying on me and he’s going to kiss me! On the bloody courtyard! In broad daylight! Where any half-brained brat can come and ogle us! But before he could decide whether to allow it or to flay the skin off the man’s back, Poppy Pomfrey’s voice cut the moment short.

“Harry! Severus!” she panted out as she run. “Are you all right?”

Potter rolled to the side and laid in the grass next to him for a moment.

“I’m all right,” he said, sitting up and summoning his wand. “A few bruises from the tree and Snape’s lack of padding, but he broke my fall from at least fifteen feet so it’d probably be wise to check him for fractured ribs.” He sent a crooked smile at Severus.

“You didn’t try to catch him, did you?” Poppy sounded both scandalised and more than ready to believe it.

“Of course I did not!” protested Severus indignantly. “The bloody fool fell on me. And could you, please hurry up and check my ribs? If it’s not too much of an imposition, that is.” Sarcasm dripped of every word.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Severus.” The old witch blushed to the very tip of her bonnet and started casting diagnostic spells. “Your ribs are whole, Severus, but your protein levels are low again,” she clucked disapprovingly. “I’ll get you eating properly if that’s the last thing I do.”

Before he could tell the old hag what exactly she could do with such declarations, Potter chimed in. “And how’s young Mister Malfoy? This old girl dealt him one or two good ones before he run for help.”

“Oh, he is all right, poor darling.” And she went on about what a good, helpful, smart young man he was. Severus rolled his eyes at how easily she let herself be distracted with even a slightest mention of her new protégé.

A hand suddenly appeared in his field of vision. Potter half-smiled at him when he took the proffered hand and let the other man help him up.

And was it only his imagination, or did Harry brush a thumb over his knuckles before he let go?

*****

“I’ve told you it wouldn’t work,” crowed Dominique.

“It would have, if Pomfrey hadn’t come,” Rose shot back.

“But she did come.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Scorp.”

“I am. I’m just stating the facts,” drawled Scorpius. “And don’t call me Scorp.”

Rose pouted and crossed her arms. “It’s always easy to critique when you don’t have ideas of your own.”

“Well I didn’t have an idea then, but I have one now,” interjected James.

“And that is?” Dominique asked haughtily.

“Now that we’ve jump-started Dad on the idea that Snape’s available…”

“More like ‘fall’-started,” Molly snickered.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you can all see how Dad’s acting lately. That’s why I’m going to ask him to reopen the duelling club.”

“What’s a duelling club?” asked Arnold.

“What’s that supposed to do?” asked Molly.

“Duelling club is the best club ever,” enthused Louis. “It’s magical duelling! But it has to be supervised by a teacher, so it’s hard to get it up and running.”

“Yes. And it’s always led by two teachers. If Dad opens it up, he’d ask Professor Snape to help him with it, and they’d have to work together to prepare.” James looked at his cousins and siblings, waiting for them to cotton on.

“You want to just put them in close proximity and leave them to work out their feelings on their own?” scoffed Dominique. “Why not just lock them up in some kind of closet? It’s bound to produce the same result.”

“And you have a better idea?” challenged Al.

“Not at the moment, no, but…’

“So when you have an idea, we’ll try it, and in the mean time, we’re going with my plan, okay?”

There was a round of nods and yes's all around, even if some were somewhat sullen.

*****

Harry was in a hell of his own making.

When James started to come around he was overjoyed. So overjoyed in fact that when the boy came to his office one night, talking about how utterly amazing it would be if the duelling club was opened up again, he’d all but swore that he’d do so.

He’d forgot he couldn’t open it on his own. Filius was more than happy to help, of course, but only if Snape didn’t want to. Because wasn’t the former DADA teacher of such experience better suited for this task? And of course the man jumped on the offer, or what goes for jumping for him.

They’d spent at least an hour each day together since then. Even two weeks earlier Harry would have been happy to have an excuse to spend time with the man, but now… Ever since the Whomping Willow Incident Harry had become hyperaware of the man, and it was driving him mad.

It wasn’t that he suddenly stopped noticing that Snape was hard to describe as handsome. He did know it. But somehow, it stopped being an issue. It stopped being an issue to the point where he got stiff at the mere thought of the man!

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, ready to get hard when the wind blew the right way. He should be able to control himself. Especially since he wasn’t attracted to men. He had been married for fifteen years, had three children, for Merlin’s sake. And anyway, he’d have noticed if he was attracted to men, wouldn’t he? Yes, he would. Only…

Only that didn’t explain why he couldn’t tear his eyes of the way Snape’s robes flowed and snapped when he moved. It didn’t explain why the odd smell of potions ingredients, dust and smoke, that always clung to the man suddenly seemed so enticing. It didn’t explain why the merest touch, even their arms brushing as they passed each other in the hall, made his heart flutter wildly.

And it most certainly didn’t explain why he was so agitated just because Snape was ten minutes late!

Oh, how Harry hated this. When Snape was concerned, he couldn’t control his reactions. It was as if someone switched off his mind and dragged him by the strings like a puppet. Something was pulling at him, making him feel—

There was a knock at his door, and Snape came in. Harry’s thoughts scattered as candlelight caught in Severus black eyes, making them seem as if they were glittering.

“I’m sorry for my tardiness, Harry. Cynthia Flooed with questions about her new project, and I lost track of time,” said Snape amiably.

Harry ignored the burning feeling he recognised as jealousy and forced out a smile.

“If it’s that interesting, don’t let me hold you up. I can prepare this meeting on my own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I let you plan it on your own, your harebrained ideas of what teaching duelling involves will get us killed, come Monday. I do value my life.”

Harry bit his tongue on the childish retort that sprang in his mind. He indicated the chairs he’d prepared for them.

“Do you work with her a lot?” he asked as casually as he could.

“Yes.” Snape was looking through Harry’s notes. “She has a keen mind. And the rare level of patience needed to deal with the brats. I’m sure you’ll get on well.”

“I’m sure.” No, he wasn’t sure at all. He could feel his brows knitting together in a frown and tried to lighten his expression, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing of importance, anyway.” Harry waved his hand in dismissal and picked up one of his books.

“It’s not nothing if it can influence your interactions with her.” Snape set down the papers and sat up.

“I know how to be professional, Severus.”

“Yes, this sulk shows that very well.”

“I’m not sulking. Let’s change the topic, all right? We have a lot of work to do.” He bent over the book in front of him.

“I will talk to you about it before the year is out, Potter.”

“Of course you will,” muttered Harry.

“What is your problem today, Potter?” barked Snape.

Harry was already opening his mouth to say something rude about noses and other people’s business, when he caught the thunderous look on Snape’s face and remembered how well he could hold a grudge.

“It’s—I just—” Harry sighed. “I know it’s childish, okay? So you don’t have to tell me so. I—You were my teacher. And it’s only been months since I’ve seen you as anything but. I… I guess that the concept of you being in a relationship with someone unnerves me somehow, all right?”

For a second, Harry almost wished for those easy times when Snape was only his mean teacher, and the world was black and white. Then again, Voldemort was still around then, so maybe it wasn’t as uncomplicated as all that.

“You’re right, it is childish,” answered Snape, an expression of malicious glee on his face. “Even though I can understand how it can be hard to perceive me as a sexual being.”

Well, there was that, thought Harry. No matter what he might decide about his sexuality, Snape was already taken.

“However, I am not involved with Miss Ruel in any other capacity than a professional one.” Harry blinked at the man, who was already leafing through a book. In search of some quote to prove Harry how wrong his proposed choice of spells was, no doubt. “Even had I been interested, I have no intention of finding out how Maryska, her vampire friend, would take any advances from me.”

“Vamp—” Harry impersonated a landed fish for a moment. “And is Maryska going to live with us next year?”

“Hm? I believe so. Will that be a problem for you?” Snape didn’t even take his eyes off the book.

“A problem? It won’t be a problem. It is a problem that you know a vampire and only tell me after I’ve covered the topic already!” exclaimed Harry, exasperated.

“I’m sure that I did. It’s not my fault you have the concentration span of a goldfish.”

“I do not have problems with concentration!” Harry was beyond caring how childish he sounded.

“Of course you don’t,” murmured Snape and moved from his chair and behind Harry’s in one fluid movement. He put the book he was leafing through on the table and stabbed a finger at a passage as he leaned over Harry. “Are you sure you want to teach this spell to first-years?” he asked.

“W—what?” Harry couldn’t focus on the page before him. How could he when Severus was all around him? His scent in the air, his arms brushing up against Harry’s back and side, his breath in Harry’s ear… “I, ah—I—”

Snape snorted. “No, no concentration problems at all.”

Harry turned his head, a scathing remark ready on his lips, and came nose-to-nose with Severus. His mouth was suddenly dry as the impossibly black eyes filled his vision.

“Maybe some,” he whispered as he inched closer. His whole body drummed with adrenaline, ready to bolt at the slightest move that could indicate that Snape was not interested.

“Mm… That’s an understatement.” Severus’ voice rumbled pleasantly in Harry’s ears.

They were just a breath away from kissing. Harry’s heart beat wildly, filling his ears with the hum of rushing blood…

Someone knocked on the door, and Snape’s head snapped to the side. Harry almost howled in frustration.

“Who is it?” barked Harry, and Snape moved back to let him get the door.

“It’s Minerva. Is Severus with you?”

“Shit,” muttered Harry under his breath. “I’m coming,” he added louder. He dragged a hand through his hair and closed the front of his robes, before opening the door. “Please, come in. We were working on the plans for the next duelling club session.”

“You mean that you were making plans, and Severus spent his time shooting down all of your ideas,” she said with a lopsided smile.

Harry laughed weakly. “Something like that.”

“How can I help you, Headmistress?” Snape’s voice was icy.

“Disturbed your fun, have I?” McGonagall looked pleased with herself. “You shouldn’t torment Harry, Severus.” Harry almost fainted at the thought that she might know what was happening in the room just moments ago. “But that’s not why I’m here.” She was all business again. “I need to know whether you’ll stay at the school for Christmas break or not. It’s just two weeks away.”

“Why are you asking this? Have I ever not stayed for the break?”

“Actually,” interrupted Harry. “I was going to ask you today if you’d come to the Christmas party at the Burrow at Christmas Eve.”

“Potter, you don’t have to—“

“It’s not me, actually. James asked me to invite you. He likes you, for some reason.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Snape raised a brow at him.

“Me too, but what can I do? Anyway, there’s another reason,” he added quickly. “Rose invited Scorpius and his parents, without telling either Ron or Hermione. When they flooed to RSVP, it was already to late to take it back. I’m sure both Draco and Astoria would appreciate it if you’d come.”

“How in the name of Merlin does Molly intend to squeeze so many people into one house?” McGonagall seemed shocked at the very idea.

“Oh, the party’s not in the house.” Harry laughed. “We’ve all pitched in, bought the field right next to the house and set up a barn. Hermione added some wizard space and voila, perfect place for Weasley family gatherings. It was a wedding anniversary present. The party’s all really relaxed,” he added, looking back to Severus. “Just a party. You don’t have to stay long, if you don’t want to.”

Snape looked uncomfortable. “I’ll think about it.”

“So you’ll be here for the break, with the possible exception of Christmas Eve.” McGonagall nodded. “And you, Harry? I assume you’re leaving for the holidays?”

“Yes. I’ve promised the kids that I’ll be home in case they wanted a break of Molly or Ginny.” He smiled at her.

“All right. I’ll leave you to your plans then, boys.” She walked to the door. “Don’t stay up too long.”

Harry tried not to overanalyze the smile she sent their way as she left.

*****

Severus felt surrounded. There were redheads of various ages swarming all around him.

The twins had set up camp by the punch bowl, giving out the horrendous eggnog. Though why anyone would ingest anything served by those two was beyond Severus’ imagination.

Molly flitted through the crowd, her dress of a finer cut than anything he remembered seeing her in. Her happy mood and energy were exactly the same, though. Arthur’s eyes followed her around from his seat by the fire.

Ronald, William, Percy, Charles: they were all here. There were the Lupins, the Malfoys, and the Lovegoods. All with spouses and children. Not to mention Ginevra and all the people he didn’t know—the extended families and friends.

If that wasn’t enough, the whole room was obnoxiously cheery. There were garlands of fir and holly dripping with golden tinsel and red ribbons, hanging from the beams on the ceiling and coiled around every post in the room. Clumps of mistletoe hanging menacingly from every frame, corner, and every other available surface. The wood of the barn itself was of a warm, cherry colour. A spelled set of strings and flutes played in the background, laughter and loud conversations almost drowning it out.

In a word, Severus felt extremely out of place, standing alone in the middle of the room and trying to hide in the meagre shadow of a post. He was already considering whether it was too early to leave without insulting the hosts, when he noticed Harry weaving through the crowd, two glasses of eggnog in his hands and an entirely too engaging smile on his face.

“Here you go, Severus. Drink up, you’ll feel better.”

“Eggnog, Potter?” Snape didn’t even try to hide his distaste.

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Severus was about to shoot the fool down with a choice word or two, but noticed the mischievous glint in Potter’s eyes. He looked into the glass in the younger man’s hand suspiciously.

“Where did you procure this beverage, Mister Potter?”

Harry laughed. “It’s not poisoned. And you won’t turn any weird colour, sprout feathers or any other additional appendages, I promise.”

“I’d better not, or I’ll make sure you loose a couple,” threatened Snape. He took a cautious sip and almost choked in surprise. It wasn’t eggnog. It was ale. His favourite, dark ale, to be exact. He looked back into his glass, but all he could see or smell was eggnog.

“Try tipping it a bit,” whispered Harry. Severus did and the veneer of the whitish drink slid back to reveal the dark amber liquid beneath. “The twins came up with this a couple years back, but we agreed to keep it out of general distribution.”

“Very useful.”

“Severus! How good of you to come.” Molly was beaming at him as if he was her long lost son. “Severus? I’ve always assumed that you didn’t like eggnog.”

“Obviously, I’ve never tried yours before, Molly.” Severus bowed his head slightly. Next to him, Harry choked on his own drink.

“It’s nothing special, dear,” she protested, but still blushed as she clapped Harry’s back.

“I'm okay, now,” Harry managed to choke out.

“You should be more careful, Harry,” she admonished with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to your conversation now, boys. I still have rounds to do.” And she was off, waving at some relative Severus didn’t recognise.

“If I could bottle that energy…” he sighed.

“You’d be a very rich man,” agreed Harry.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment before Severus spoke up again.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mister Potter.”

“Not at all. It’s actually good to have you here,” said Harry. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but the constant cheer can be a bit much, sometimes.” He looked away for a moment. “And anyway, it was James who invited you. I just passed on the invitation.”

“Of course.”

“I am happy that he did, though.”

“Harry—“

“Hey, Harry!” yelled Fred from his post by the eggnog. “Are you going to kiss him or not?”

There were gales of laughter all around them.

Harry squeaked out a startled ‘what?’ just as Severus looked up. And there it was: a small clump of mistletoe staring down at him from between curls of red ribbons and fir. Severus scowled at it, then concentrated his scowl on the twins, who were grinning like simpletons. When he turned to Potter, he was looking more than a little panicked.

“Come on, Harry! It’s bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe!”

“I’m sorry.” Severus barely heard before Harry’s lips smacked into his cheek.

“Aw, Harry! That’s not a kiss! Do it properly!”

“You—“

“George and Fred Weasley!” Molly’s voice drowned Severus’ out. “Stop harassing the guests! You might be grown men, but so help me, Merlin, I can still put you over my knee!”

Another burst of laughter rolled over the room, and the attention of the crowd moved away from them.

“Sorry,” muttered Potter.

“You’ve already said that.” His cheek still tingled where Harry’s lips had touched him, and he had to restrain himself not to put his hand over it, like some nitwit Hufflepuff first-year.

“I mean it. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I—”

“Be quiet, Potter.” Why couldn’t he man just keep quiet? He couldn’t focus his thoughts and the goddamned noise in the room was enough to distract him, without the fool chattering as well.

“Severus—”

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, can’t you just shut up?!”

He couldn’t think in this bloody noise! He had to leave this mad house. Severus slammed his glass on the closest table and stormed out of the barn.

Behind him, he could hear Potter calling his name before he Apparated back to the castle.


*****

Harry tore through Snape’s wards viciously and all but kicked the door open when they finally fell. The man in question turned to him. It was obvious that he’d just been pacing around the room.

“What the hell is your problem?” shouted Harry as he stormed up to the man. “Why did you storm off like that? It was just a bloody peck on the cheek! It’s not as if I had molested you in the middle of the party!”

“Oh, do get over yourself, Potter!” snarled Snape. “I couldn’t stand all that noise any longer.”

“Noise! If you’re going to come up with excuses at least do me the courtesy of making them good ones!” Harry was livid.

“I’m not making up excuses, Potter!”

“Oh, please! If the idea of kissing me is so repugnant to you—”

“For fuck’s sake, Potter!” Snape was suddenly in his face, and all the air left Harry’s lungs. “It was all I could do not to bloody slam you up against that post and molest you then and there, all the bloody Weasleys be damned,” snarled Severus.

They stood there for an interminable amount of time, staring at each other and panting. Suddenly, Harry broke the moment. He grabbed Snape by the lapels of his robe and dragged him down into a kiss.

It was savage. Their noses bumped, teeth biting and clashing painfully, but Harry didn’t care. They were tearing at their clothes, not really taking them off, but opening them, shoving them to the side, anything, just to reach the skin beneath.

They were stumbling around the room, panting and groaning into each other’s mouths. Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling this kind of urgency. It felt as if he was going to die if he didn’t touch skin soon.

His back hit something hard—a desk—and Harry sat up on it. He fumbled with Snape’s belt buckle, a task made distinctly more difficult by the teeth biting at his neck. Severus’ nimble fingers were making fast progress on Harry’s own trousers. In a matter of moments his fingers shifted through Snape’s coarse pubic hair, just before his hand closed around the heavy prick.

Severus’ moan sent vibrations up Harry’s neck and right down to his own cock. He was shoved down on the desk as Severus grabbed his wand and banished Harry’s trousers. Long fingers slid up the insides of his thighs and Harry let them fall open. He leaned back on the desk and arched his back.

“Severus…”

A finger brushed his pucker and Harry moaned. The feeling was incredible, making all his muscles tighten. He almost missed Snape’s quiet oath for all the blood that was rushing in his ears.

“What?” In response, Severus raised an eyebrow and brushed a finger over his entrance again. His dry finger. “Don’t tell me you don’t have anything,” panted Harry.

“In the lab.”

“Well then, summon it! Now!”

“Pushy,” muttered Snape.

“Not yet, but I will be if you don’t hurry the fuck up!” Harry’s back was starting to feel the desk under his back now that his distractions became slightly less.

“Accio lubricant.” There was a faint sound of breaking glass but moments later the blessedly not broken vial slapped into Snape’s hand. “Whatever broke, you’ll replace it,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever, but hurry up,” urged Harry. “I’m starting to lose the mood here.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?” murmured Severus as the first finger breached Harry.

“Yes!”

“Good that we agree on that—” Harry yanked Snape back for a kiss. Just to shut him up.

From that point on everything became a blur. Harry couldn’t have said how long it was between that first finger, and Snape sliding into him with shallow, jerky thrusts. He couldn’t breathe or think. How could something so uncomfortable feel so damn good?

It was utterly mad. They were clawing at each other, biting and growling, as Severus slammed into him again and again. Harry grabbed the edge of the desk, knocking over the inkwell. Its blood red contents spilt over the desk, soaking papers and staining his skin as he tried to keep from sliding off the desk.

Suddenly, Harry’s nerve endings exploded with pleasure.

“There!” He tightened his legs and slammed up to try and control the angle.

“Pushy… bottom,” growled Severus.

“Shut—shut up and f—Oh god! Fuck me.” Harry could feel the tension mounting and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “I’m c—oh, fuck. C—close. T—Tou—Severus!” Words abandoned him completely. but it didn’t matter since Severus obviously understood him.

Snape’s hand closed around Harry’s prick, letting their movements drive it through the tight ring of fingers. It didn’t take much more than that. In a matter of minutes, Harry’s muscles seized up and white light flooded his mind.

He barely noticed Severus’ hand leaving his cock a moment later and grabbing his hip again. A few furious thrusts later Severus stiffened and liquid heat coated Harry’s insides.

“Harry.” It was more an exhalation than a word, but Harry heard it all the same, as Severus sagged above him.

Harry stared at the hazy ceiling above him, panting. It occurred to him that he still had his glasses on. They were completely smudged up and digging into the bridge of his nose. Harry released his grip on Severus’ hair and reached up to take them off.

Severus brushed his lips over Harry’s neck and lifted up with a groan. He offered a hand to help Harry up, too. When he took it back, it was red from the ink. For some reason, that made Severus chuckle.

For Harry, cleaning and dressing back up felt extremely awkward. Already, the pleasant haze of afterglow was leaving his mind, and his thoughts were starting to catch up with reality.

“God!” he moaned. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Severus spared him a glance before resuming his perusal of the floors.

“If what we’ve just did isn’t enough for you, Potter, then I can’t help you,” he said.

“Are you daft? That could feed at least half a dozen incubi.”

“I don’t see what your problem is, then.”

“I don’t do things like that, Severus! I’m not the wild sex on the desk type!” Harry was the one pacing now. “It’s not been even a year since the divorce yet! You’re my boss! You were in love with my mother, for God sake!” A sudden thought occurred to him and all blood left his face. “Oh, God! Please tell me it wasn’t because of her.”

“Oh course it wasn’t because of her, you imbecile.” Snape spared him a glare before looking toward the floor again.

“At least look at me when you’re talking with me! What the hell are you searching for?” Harry was at the end of his rope.

“Tsk. Don’t yell, Potter. I’m not deaf.” Severus straightened up and pinned Harry with a calm look. “I have five buttons missing in my best set of formal robes.” He indicated spot where Harry lost patience with the bloody things. “I suppose I can summon them later.”

“We’ve just went from barely being friends to having explosive sex on the office furniture. How can you be so calm about it?” There was a shadow of a whinge in Harry’s voice.

“I’ve had almost twenty years to get used to the thought that this might happen. I was quite distraught for the first year or two, if that makes you feel better.”

“Have you gone completely mad?” Maybe Neville was right, all the way back in August, and they should contact St. Mungo’s.

“I am perfectly lucid, I assure you,” said Severus haughtily.

“You don’t sound like you are. I’ve only been here for three months. You couldn’t have had years.”

“I’ve known this could happen one day since the night you brought me back from the beyond.”

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” A horrifying thought occurred to him. “Please tell me you’re not going to spout some nonsense about how you fell in love with me because of that.”

“Do I look like your ex-wife to you?”

“I don’t understand! Why do you talk about years, then?”

“Semantics, Potter. Unlike you, I do understand the complexities of my native tongue.”

“Snape—”

“Do you remember what Death told you when she failed to drag you down to the great beyond?”

“Of course I do. She told me that she couldn’t take me because she’d have to take my soul mate, too.”

“No, Potter. That’s just your interpretation. She told you that she couldn’t keep her end of the bargain if you kept yours.”

“That’s the same thing,” protested Harry.

“God help me, who have I hired!” groaned Severus. “It’s not the same, you bird-brain! Think! What was her end of the bargain?”

“Bringing you back to life.”

“And how would Ginerva Weasley’s or anyone else’s death make it impossible?”

Harry stood there, unable to process the information, for long minutes. “You?” he managed to force out eventually. “You are my soulmate?” he asked in a small voice. Snape only nodded. “But—we’ve hated each other!”

“Yes. We’ve hated each other at first sight. A rather extreme reaction, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, okay, it was a little extreme, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we hated each other for years. We can’t possibly be soulmates.”

“You didn’t read a word about soul magic during all those years, did you?” Harry hadn’t, but he would be damned before he admitted anything of the sort. “I thought so,” Severus said with a sigh. “Let’s sit. I refuse to have this conversation while standing around.” He indicated the brocade set in front of the fireplace.

“I’d rather stand, thank you,” said Harry peevishly shifting uncomfortably.

The corners of Severus mouth twitched up into a momentary smile, before settling back into his usual non-expression. It was as if his muscles didn’t know how to sustain it.

Fine example of smile atrophy, thought Harry.

“There’s a spell for that. I’d have offered sooner if you’d said something.” Severus reached for his wand, and Harry relaxed under the effect of the spell.

“I wasn’t sure—I didn’t want to be rude,” he admitted, sitting in the chocolate-brown wingback.

“I don’t believe in suffering out of a sense of propriety. And I wouldn’t know if you were rude.”

“What do you mean, you wouldn’t know? Wait! I don’t want to know just how stupid what we’ve just done was.” Harry closed his eyes and dragged a hand through his sweat-wet hair. “Now tell me how can we be soul-bound and spend years hating each other.”

“Soul magic is not trigonometry. There are no strict rules. The only irrefutable fact about soul resonance is that the stronger it is, the more it amplifies the emotions of the affected individuals. And we are not soul-bound, we’re soulmates. Those are two different concepts.”

Harry sighed and looked at Severus. There were still blotches of red high on his cheeks, a clump of hair stuck to his forehead and his lips were still puffy from their biting kisses. He looked… well-shagged, and yet he managed to radiate seriousness. It irritated the hell out of Harry.

“So you’re saying that soulmates don’t have to love each other.”

“I’m saying that whatever the feelings between them, they will be extreme.”

“Well, we’ve loathed each other. Feelings this strong don’t just disappear, no matter what folk proverbs may want you to believe.” He was almost out of his chair by the end. He slumped back into his seat with a sigh. “Do you have any alcohol here? I think that I need something stronger than ale, right now.”

“Some wine and a bottle of bitters. I don’t do hard liquors.”

“Fine. Are you willing to part with that bottle then?”

“Of course. Accio beer.” Harry grabbed the bottle that sailed into the room. He took a swallow and winced.

“Gods, this is bitter.” He took another sip and set the bottle on the table. “So, about our situation…”

“Yes. In normal circumstances, we should have spent our lives happily hating each other. Unfortunately, nothing in your life could ever be ordinary, and not much in mine has ever been happy.” Harry watched as Severus grabbed the bottle and took a long drink. His hair fell back, and Harry noticed a bite mark peeking out from under his high collar. It made his insides twist, and not at all unpleasantly.

“So what happened?”

“You died, I died. We’ve both been brought back to life.” Snape said it as if it was something that happened every day. “If you believe in Imkhan’s theory of soul migration, death cleanses the soul of earthly emotions. Tabula rasa and so on.” He waved his hand around.

“So you’ve known all this time?”

“I’ve known that we are soulmates. I didn’t know what that meant for us. That’s why I made a point to prepare myself to accept every possibility.”

“Prepare yourself?” snorted Harry. “That sounds like love, all right.” Sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“I wasn’t in love with you then. And even had I been, feelings and the rational mind are two separate entities.”

“Are you in love with me now?”

Severus looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Is it like what you’ve felt for my mother?” It was all Harry could do to make himself ask that question.

“It’s been almost forty years since I’ve loved your mother, Harry. I honestly don’t remember how that felt.” Harry had never heard Severus voice this soft.

“But… Everything you did during the war was for her. Wasn’t it?”

“It was, but that was obsession, not love. Not after the first few years.”

There were hundreds of questions Harry wanted to ask. All of them intrusive, and some downright rude. He couldn’t, though. Not when his heart squeezed painfully at the empty look in Severus’ eyes. He wanted to comfort him. The feeling was so contrary to everything he knew, it made him dizzy.

He sighed and leaned forward, putting one of his hands over Severus clasped ones.

“You might have had time to rationalize all this, but I didn’t. I don’t know you, Severus. Not really. I know you’re a good, proud man, but that’s about it. All of the small things: your family, your likes and dislikes, your bloody favourite colour; I don’t any of that.” Harry shook his head slightly. “And I have to think of my children.” A sudden thought occurred to him. He jumped to his feet. “Bloody little runts! I’ll put them in detention with Filch for the rest of their lives!”

There was that half-second smile again. “Finally figured it out, have you?”

“You knew?”

“I’ve found it highly entertaining.”

“You would,” muttered Harry and dropped back into the armchair, a pout on his face. “Ok, so I don’t have to worry about the kids, since, obviously, they want us together.” He chuckled suddenly. “Enough to attempt homicide, it would seem. Merlin, that tree has almost ripped me to shreds!”

“You exaggerate, Harry,” interrupted Severus.

“Only slightly, and you know it. We both know that protecting the entrance to the tunnel was only one of its purposes. The other was making sure Remus couldn’t come back unless he was fully aware. But that’s not—I need to think it through, Severus. Put it all together in my mind. It’s all too strange for me now.”

“I understand. Do stop repeating yourself.”

They sat in silence for a very long moment before Harry stood up.

“I’d better go,” he said as he walked to the door.

“Potter.” When Harry turned around, Severus was standing by the couch, colour high on his cheeks and hands balled into fists. He took a deep breath. “My favourite colour is white; I cannot abide contemporary magical music; I have a rather shameful fascination with the James Bond novels, and I’ve eaten every last one of the sherbet lemons Albus gave me. Oh, and my mother still lives. Somewhere on the Continent.”

Harry blinked a couple of times in a stunned stupor, before a slow smile stretched his lips. That Snape was willing to unbend in this way spoke volumes.

“Any significant allergies I should know about?”

“Only to spoilt brats and human stupidity, but you already knew of them,” smirked Severus.

“Thank you,” answered Harry. “I’ll see you after New Year’s.”

“Yes.”

*****

In the end, Harry didn’t decide on any course of action during the holidays. Nor did he decide during the train ride back to Hogwarts. He decided when he entered the school to see Severus furiously descending on a group of fourth-years that appeared to be bullying a mousy Hufflepuff girl.

When asked, Harry wouldn’t be able to say what in that scene made him decide that he wanted Severus, but the fact remained that it did.

It also made him decide that he wanted revenge on his children, no matter how right or well-intended they might have been.

Convincing Severus to go along with his plan wasn’t difficult at all, as it went well with his chosen public persona and his enjoyment in fucking with other people’s minds. In fact, Harry was certain that his lover was enjoying himself immensely.

For the last two months, they’d created a very believable show for his children: they’d scowled, they’d glared, they’d insulted each other. They had even staged fights in the corridors that put any interactions they’d had during the war to shame. They’ve even hexed each other during one of the Duelling Clubs meetings.

Their sudden change of behaviour didn’t escape the notice of the rest of the faculty. Just last week Harry discovered that their colleagues had a poll for how long it would take them to kill each other. Minerva mostly just frowned at them.

The kids, on the other hand, seemed to be only more insistent for the challenge—a trait Severus insisted they inherited from Harry—refusing to acknowledge the fact that not all of them were, in fact, his.

They went through anonymous gifts, love poetry, and a few attempts to get them to socialise (the tickets for the “Phantom of the Opera” were tempting as hell). They were running out of ideas, it would seem, because their last ploy seemed rather substandard by comparison: locking them up in the same room.

“Whatever they’ve used,” muttered Severus from the door, “is either Muggle or has been cast in many layers.”

“Leave it, Severus. It’s not like we’re in a broom closet or anything.” Harry laughed at the idea. “It’s just the Astronomy Tower.” Thankfully, Sinistra had moved her classes to a new tower after the war ended. “We have a lot of room, a bloody gorgeous view, it’s warm and quiet. There’s really nothing to complain about.”

“You’re right,” Snape said and sighed It still looked as if it pained him to say it. “And it will crush them more if their plan works and nothing between us changes.” He seemed very self satisfied.

“Actually,” said Harry, “I was thinking that maybe it’s time to tell them.”

“It’s the theatre tickets, isn’t it?”

Harry laughed again. “Maybe a little. But… It’s been months now. I’m not used to keeping secrets from my family. As much fun as this might be, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Can it not wait another week?” Severus left the door and came to stand next to Harry, by the enormous windows.

“This prank really did get to you, didn’t it?” Wisely, Harry held his laugh in check this time. “I can wait some more, just not too long.”

“Of course.”

They stood in silence for a long while, when something occurred to Harry.

“Hey, you know, I’ve never came up to the Astronomy Tower when I was a student. Not for the usual purpose, anyway.” He trailed off for a moment. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Don’t be purposefully obtuse, Severus. It doesn’t suit you. I’m asking if you’d ever snogged in the Astronomy Tower as a student.”

“No, Harry, I didn’t. And you know why.”

“Hm… Want to work on that?” asked Harry, his voice going husky, sliding his hand up Severus’ side.

That was another thing Harry enjoyed very much about their new relationship: sex. Lots of it and all of the spectacular variety.

With Ginny, sex was always pleasant but a bit dull. With Sevesus every touch burned like fire. The fact that the man had unbelievable imagination in the bedroom didn’t hurt at all either. They’d had each other over and on every possible—and some entirely impossible—surfaces in both their rooms, offices, and a few of the castle’s unused classrooms.

“Hm… I might be persuaded.” Severus voice fell down to its deepest timbre. It never failed to bring a pleasant shudder up Harry’s spine.

“I’ll try to be persuasive then,” murmured Harry, dropping to his knees.

Giving blowjobs wasn’t Harry’s forte. He couldn’t seem to will his throat to relax enough. He enjoyed doing it, though, and Severus didn’t seem to mind that Harry couldn’t take in too much.

He ran his hands up Severus’ legs, enjoying the feel even through the thick material of his trousers. He slid the zip down slowly. Severus was half hard already, his balls heavy when Harry cupped them through his underpants. He mouthed at Severus’ length, his whole body thrumming with anticipation.

“Stop teasing,” murmured Severus.

“Mm…” Humming anywhere near his cock always brought a reaction out of Severus. “I’ll think about it.”

Harry hooked his thumbs under the elastic band and brought the pants down. He thanked Filius silently for the charms keeping the room so warm. Severus hated cold, as it turned out, and anything below twenty degrees was a dead turn off for him. As it was, Harry had a mouth-watering view of Severus half-hard cock. It was perfectly average: not too long or too short, thick enough, palest of pinks in colour, but Harry loved it with a passion.

Severus’ fingers carded through his hair, and Harry glanced up. He locked his eyes with the black ones, and licked around the head. Severus’ eyes fluttered closed and Harry smirked. He knew all the tricks to get Severus hot and he intended to use them all.

He took the base in one hand, as he cradled the sack in the other and applied all the skill he possessed to worshipping Severus perfect cock. He slid his tongue under the foreskin. He licked all around and slipped his tongue into the slit before moving back. He mouthed up the length, grazing his teeth just so over the vein on the underside and drinking in the moan it tore from Severus. He was fully hard before Harry finally took him into his mouth. The salty, biter taste made him groan.

All too soon Severus was urging him to stand up again. Before he could even protest his mouth was taken in a passionate kiss. And god, could Severus kiss. It was like every kiss was their last. As if they were to go into mortal battle and that was their last chance to kiss. It was breathtaking and left his mind reeling.

A broken, keening sound escaped him as his robe was slid off his shoulders. With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Severus fumbled with his belt, and their fingers tangled when Harry tried to help. Snape growled and batted his hands away, making Harry chuckle.

“That’s what I like about you,” he said, tugging Severus’ hair back to nip his ear. “Your eloquence.”

Finally his trousers and pants were slid down to his ankles.

“That’s the ‘Potter Effect’. You bring even the most erudite of men down to the level of growling, mad incompetence.”

“I wouldn’t call you incompetent,” teased Harry, letting his hand fall back to Severus’ length and squeezing lightly.

“I’m working up my immunity.”

Harry was starting to recognise Severus’ smirk for what it was: the man’s substitute for a smile.

“I can leave, if you want,” joked Harry.

“What I want is for you to turn around.” Severus’ voice took on that smoky quality that could make Harry do almost anything.

The glass of the window was pleasantly cool under Harry’s palms. All he could see before him was black sky and millions of stars. Severus drew in close, nibbling at his neck and ear. One of his fingers circled Harry’s entrance before slipping in.

“A fuck under the stars? I’ve always said you are a romantic.”

“I call that slander,” murmured Severus into his ear. Harry laughed.

“Of course you do. Oh, yes… Just there.” Another finger join the first and Severus went for his prostate again. “Um… That doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Oh.”

Whatever comeback Severus had to that, Harry shut him up very efficiently by turning his head, reaching back and dragging Severus into another searing kiss. Harry rocked on Severus’ fingers as much as he could in this position, groaning into the kiss every time they managed to graze his prostate.

When Severus took his fingers out, Harry moaned, trying to follow them.

“Impatient.”

“Please!”

The wet sound of Severus slicking himself up reached Harry’s foggy mind before he felt the head of that lovely cock nudge his entrance, just the slightest tease. Harry was through with teasing. With a guttural sound he thrust back, taking most of Severus in on one go. They both cried out.

Soon, they were rocking together. Kissing was no longer possible. Harry’s breath fogged up the window, obscuring the stars, but he hardly noticed. Severus mouthed at the crook of his neck and shoulder, dropping occasional nipping kisses. They were quickly spiralling out of control.

“God… Severus… Need you… Touch me… Now!”

Severus’ long fingers squeezed and tugged, expertly playing all his most sensitive spots. After just a few tugs, Harry was crying out, splashing the cool glass with his seed. Severus followed him by just a few seconds.

Harry let his forehead rest on the windowpane, tiredly carding his fingers through Severus’ hair. They stood like that for long moments, letting their breathing slow down.

When they finally had to separate, they made quick work of cleaning up.

“Well, that was some thirty minutes,” joked Harry. He leaned back against the wall. “What are we going to do with the rest of the night?”

Severus leaned over him. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure you will.” Harry smiled into another desperate kiss. He couldn’t ever get enough of them. He looped his arms around Severus’ neck.

“Now, children, those were some wards but you—Severus?!” Suddenly, Filius was standing in the open door, his eyes fairly bugging out. “Harry! I—Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean—I thought—I’ll—I’ll just be going now.”

“Filius?”

“Y—yes?”

“Leave the door open.”

“Of course, of course,” squeaked the diminutive man and hurried off.

Severus turned back to Harry and put his head on his shoulder.

“Kill me now.”

“No can do,” said Harry, chuckling. “I still have children to raise. We’ll get through this.”

Severus straightened up and looked him in the eyes. “Filius is the biggest gossip in this school. By breakfast, the whole faculty will know, students by noon, and then the rest of the country.” He sighed. “I’ve… If you repeat this, no one will ever find you,” he threatened. “I’ve enjoyed having you to myself.”

Harry grabbed Severus hand, knotting their fingers together.

“I won’t tell a soul.” He smiled and watched Severus’ mouth stretch in that momentary smile he saw so rarely. He brought his fingers up to Severus’ mouth when it disappeared. “Smile atrophy,” he murmured and kissed the corner of that mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry shook his head. “Let’s go, before someone locks us up again.”

They were almost in the corridor when Severus asked, “Why did you bring up your children?”

“Huh? When did I—“

“When I asked you to end my misery.”

“Ah, that.” Harry chuckled at the memory, but sobered up soon enough. “You don’t just cheat Death, Severus. Be it intentional or not.”

“What does that mean, Harry?”

“It means that the moment she has you in her hand, she has me as well.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, then.”

“What?” The non sequitur confused Harry.

“You calling me romantic.”

“Ha! It wasn’t my idea. Death told me that’s how it’s going to be. You die, I die,” he shrugged.

“Oh course.” Harry let the comment slide, hearing the warmth in Severus’ voice.

They walked in silence to Harry’s quarters and went to bed.

“I’ve got something for you,” said Harry. “It's a Muggle idea. You wear them only for bed. They’re woven in a different way, I think. They’re supposed to let the air through, so that you don’t get overheated.” He sat on the bed and gave Severus a pair of loose, white socks. “They’ll keep your feet warm when I hog the covers again.” He smiled.

Severus run his thumbs over the fabric before putting them on. They slipped under the covers, and Harry laid his head on Severus’ shoulder.

“We'll have to talk with the children tomorrow.” The deep voice vibrated under Harry’s cheek.

“You’re right.”

“Especially since I’ll need them on my side when we’ll tell Molly that we’re getting bonded.”

“What?” Harry sat up.

“I’ve said—”

“I know what you’ve said, Severus. I just don’t understand why.”

“Because I want to. Because your kids want us to. Because I know you want it, too. Because you buy me sleeping socks and make me as randy as a bloody teenager. Do you need more reasons?”

Harry sat there, stunned, for a very long moment. He supposed that he had to look quite ridiculous, gaping at Severus as he did. And still, as the time ticked by, Severus’ look of stubborn determination didn’t waver. Finally, Harry smiled.

“Yeah. You’re right. We need to talk to them tomorrow.” He laid back down. “James will be awfully smug, though.”

“Oh, I think I can cure him of that.”

Harry smiled into the folds of Severus’ grey nightshirt. If the man thought he could curb his children, he was in for a surprise, but Harry was going to let him find it out in his own time. He was going to enjoy watching the process immensely.

End.