Chapter Text
Diagon Alley was filled to the brim with exasperated parents and nervous students. Harry loved it as he strolled past all the shops, Snape and Voldemort at his side. They'd visited many other wizarding shopping districts around the world over the years, but none of them came close to Diagon Alley as far as Harry was concerned.
They passed Eeylops Owl Emporium, and Harry slowed his pace. "Perhaps we should get an owl," he said quietly, as Snape and Voldemort looked at him. "So we can keep in touch with our friends about...you know who." He looked up at Voldemort with a wide grin, who stared back at him with a sneer.
"It's not a bad idea," Snape said as he peered at the owls displayed in front of the shop. "It's good to see that you possess a decent brain after all, Potter."
Harry was tempted to stick his tongue out at Snape, but thought better of it. They examined the owls for a few moments.
"This one," Voldemort said, pointing at a huge, black bird with mean yellow eyes.
"No, this one." Harry gave Voldemort a stern look and indicated a beautiful snowy owl. He'd missed Hedwig over the years, though he knew Hermione had taken good care of her until she'd died of old age.
Snape cleared his throat, and gestured at an inconspicuous barn owl. "Or we could go for something a little less...flashy. It wouldn't do to write to our...friends using a bird that stands out like a dragon amongst puffskeins."
Harry sighed. He hated it when Snape was right and he wasn't. Voldemort considered the matter for a few moments and then nodded his head. "Very well."
Harry picked up the caged barn owl, went inside the shop to get some more supplies and pay for it, and when he walked outside again he found Snape and Voldemort in a heated discussion.
"I say we name him Hades," Voldemort said. "Or Styx."
Snape snorted. "The bird is much better off with a decent name like Barnaby or Maximillian."
"Betsy!" Harry said, blurting out the first funny name that popped into his head as he held up the cage. The owl hooted happily. When Voldemort and Snape glared at him, Harry added with a grin, "It's a girl!"
Before Voldemort or Snape could hex him into tiny little bits, they were interrupted by a loud squeal.
"'Arry!"
Snape appeared at Harry's side so fast it seemed as though he'd apparated. "Miss Delacour," he drawled, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders before Gabrielle could come close enough for a hug. Harry pursed his lips and stared at the ground. He knew if he dared laugh at Snape for his jealous behaviour, he'd be sleeping on the couch for a whole week. Voldemort, however, had no such qualms and chuckled as he watched the scene unfold.
"Hi, Gabrielle," Harry said, and tried very hard not to notice the dress she was currently wearing was even more low-cut than the one she'd worn before.
"I'm so 'appy to see you 'ere," Gabrielle said with a blinding smile. "Perhaps we could 'ave lunch, yes?"
"No," Snape said at once, eyes narrowing to slits, but Gabrielle didn't seem to notice. She only had eyes for Harry. "We have much shopping to do, still." Snape gave a little tug on Harry's shoulders.
Gabrielle released a disappointed sigh. "Then I will see you at 'ogwarts soon."
"Undoubtedly," Snape said, and before Harry could even say goodbye to Gabrielle, Snape steered him away into the crowd.
Snape released Harry once they were quite a distance away and glared at him. "Must you encourage that little trollop?"
"What?" Harry asked, and he looked over his shoulder at Voldemort for help, but Voldemort seemed far too amused with the whole thing to intervene. Harry glared back at Snape. "Oh, come on, I didn't do anything!"
"That is not how it looked from where I was standing, Mr Potter." And with that, Snape stalked off towards Madam Malkin's.
"But I didn't do anything!" Harry said urgently to Voldemort, who only shrugged in response and walked off after Snape.
Sighing, shoulders slumped, Harry made his way to Madam Malkin's as well. At first, he thought Snape's behaviour amusing, but now he was torn between anger and hurt. He really hadn't done anything (well, except perhaps briefly stare at certain specific parts of Gabrielle, but he was a man, dammit!), and here Snape acted as though Harry had declared his undying love for the girl.
He pushed the door to the shop open and noticed Snape and Voldemort perusing a rack of robes. The second Madam Malkin spotted Harry, she rushed over towards him, almost tripping over the hem of her own robes in sheer excitement.
"Mr Potter!" she gushed, urging him further into the shop. "So good to see you here again. Teacher's robes for you today?"
"Er...yeah..." Harry let Madam Malkin guide him to a little dais, and he allowed her to work her tape measure on him after he carefully put Betsy's cage down. Hogwarts' teacher robes were plain black and rather boring, as it turned out. Harry also selected a few burgundy robes made of a lighter material, which he thought would be comfortable to wear during the actual flying lessons.
"Harry!"
That voice made Harry cringe, and he turned to see Croaker standing in the doorway.
"I thought I'd glimpsed you in the Alley," Croaker said, striding towards Harry with brisk steps. "How about lunch? My treat." And then he actually winked at Harry.
"We're ever so sorry, Headmaster, but we'll have to decline. We have a few other appointments that cannot keep." Snape sidled up to Harry and offered Croaker a faint smile.
"Ah." Croaker seemed to consider a few things for a moment, as he glanced from Harry to Snape and back. "That is a shame, a shame indeed."
"Headmaster," Voldemort said as he moved to stand beside Croaker. "I was meaning to talk to you about a few things I ran into when making my lesson plans. Perhaps I could take you to lunch."
"Well..." Croaker looked up at Voldemort with a slightly baffled expression. "I suppose you could do that."
"Marvellous." Voldemort smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "Harry, will you take my new robes home with you? I'm sure we'll sort it out later." And with that, Voldemort placed one hand on Croaker's shoulder and resolutely led him towards the door.
Harry stared after them for a moment, his stomach clenching with dread. Voldemort wouldn't actually kill Croaker, would he?
"I'm sure our friend only wants to take a closer look at the Headmaster," Snape whispered, and Harry turned to stare at him. Of course! If Voldemort had Croaker to himself for an hour or so, he could focus on Croaker's mind and hopefully find out what Croaker was up to.
"All right." Harry smiled at Snape, and he was glad to see that Snape seemed to be over his earlier bout of jealousy. "Apothecary next?"
Snape nodded, and together they gathered all their new robes so they could be on their way.
----
They got home an hour later, and Snape insisted on cooking, shooing Harry from the kitchen. Harry let Betsy out of her cage, offered her a few owl treats, and then settled in the drawing room after he put the rest of their purchases away. He couldn't help but glance at the door every few minutes or so. Voldemort still hadn't returned.
He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew Snape was shaking him awake.
"Supper's ready," Snape said. He'd changed out of his robes and was now wearing black trousers and a black shirt with silver cufflinks. Harry blinked. Had Snape brushed his hair? Well, whatever he'd done, he looked...nice.
"Good," Harry said, and bit back a yawn. "I'm hungry."
He followed Snape down to the kitchen, where he found the table set for two, which wasn't out of the ordinary. What was new, though, was the single candle burning between the plates.
"Sit," Snape ordered, before Harry had a chance to comment.
Harry sat, and watched as Snape levitated the dishes to the table. Snape had cooked roast beef with roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and peas. It was Harry's most favourite food in the whole wide world, and Snape had cooked it for him. Why, Harry had no clue, but he appreciated it all the same.
"Smells great," Harry said, and tucked into his dinner. Snape hummed his agreement, and for a few minutes they ate quietly.
"Tom's not home yet?" Harry asked.
"He flooed that he's running late," Snape said, unconcerned, and took a bite of roast beef.
"What is he running late for? How long does it take for him to question Croaker?" Harry sat back and stared at Snape. It just didn't sit well with him that Voldemort was out there, on his own, doing Merlin knew what.
"He ran into Ms Granger at The Leaky Cauldron, who offered to take him to the Ministry where they could discuss Croaker with a few of your Auror friends."
"He what now?" Harry was halfway out of his chair and ready to apparate straight to the Ministry, but Snape rose from his seat and glared at him.
"Sit down!"
Harry sank back down in his chair, his back rigid, his hands trembling.
"He's only trying to find out everything he can about Croaker," Snape said, as he, too, sat down again.
"This is Voldemort we're talking about," Harry grumbled, unable to understand why Snape wasn't more worried about Voldemort loose at the Ministry with Hermione of all people.
"No!" Snape gasped in mock surprise. "I hadn't figured that out yet, who he really was, in the last ten years."
Despite his unease, Harry snickered, and received a smirk in return. "Tastes great," he said as he returned his attention to his dinner.
"Hmm." Snape waved his comments away with his fork, and they resumed eating in silence.
Afterwards, Snape disappeared as Harry did the dishes and cleaned up. It was a rule they'd come up with early on in their odd relationship: the cook never had to clean up.
When the kitchen was clean again, Harry went in search of Snape. He found him in the drawing room.
Snape was sitting on the couch, reading a book, but doing so in a very obvious way. He had the book held open right in front of his face, and Harry saw his black eyes peek over the rim for a second, as if to make sure Harry saw him, only to then disappear behind the book again.
And just as Harry wondered what Snape was up to, he recognized the book Snape was holding. It was the battered copy of Advanced Potion-Making Harry knew only too well. It was the Half-Blood Prince's book.
Harry bit his lip. While he'd still had Voldemort stuck in his head, and they'd been searching for Ginny in the Room of Requirement, Voldemort had retrieved the book and given it back to Snape. But that was the last time Harry had seen it in ten years.
What was Snape trying to -- wait...was Snape trying to...no. Harry frowned. Was Snape trying to...seduce him? But why? If any of them wanted sex, they usually just said so. The three of them had discovered early on in their relationship that they liked sex a great deal, and there was never a problem getting it with three healthy blokes around.
Harry moved a little closer to the couch and cleared his throat. "Interesting book you're reading."
Snape lowered the book just a bit and looked up at Harry as if he'd only just spotted him. "I'm merely revising a few things of the potions curriculum for the upcoming school year."
"Ah." Harry sat down on the couch beside Snape, who went back to reading, turning a page noisily. Harry wasn't sure what to do next. Should he propose sex to Snape now? Or what?
"How did this book land in your possession anyway?" Snape asked, and he sounded as though he was trying to make polite conversation.
"Slughorn," Harry said without thinking, and Snape looked at him in surprise. "When I had Slughorn for Potions in my sixth year, he told me to get a book from the stack in the classroom, and that book was the only one left after Ron snatched up a newer copy."
"Hmm." Snape turned another page. "I suppose I had forgotten it in the classroom when I started teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Harry shrugged and looked at Snape again. "I liked the book, though. I didn't have...you know, what Hermione said...a crush or something. But I did like the book a lot."
"But you didn't know it was me, did you?"
"No, not until after...well, Hermione figured it out, but it took her a whole year." Harry shifted a little closer to Snape. "I didn't start to think of you in that way until after you sucked my cock, really."
Snape bit back a snort of laughter.
"I hadn't ever considered you had a dick or liked sex before that," Harry continued with an amused smile. "So when did you start thinking about me like that?"
Closing the book in his lap, Snape frowned. "I suppose after you fucked me that first time, when you and the Dark Lord exchanged memories."
Harry nodded. He remembered that whole episode only too well. He still had Voldemort's memories, merged with his own.
They remained quiet for a few moments, until Harry turned towards Snape. "I really did like it, though. Fucking you for the first time, I mean. Even though Tom was in the way that time."
"Hmm." Snape shifted a little closer to Harry. "I suppose it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience."
"But back then, it was just sex, right?" Harry placed his hand on Snape's arm and traced his fingers up to Snape's shoulder. "Now...it's not."
"Isn't it?" Snape curved an eyebrow.
"No, and you know it, you Slytherin git." And Harry rushed forward and crushed his lips to Snape's. He grabbed the book from Snape's lap and threw it in the general direction of the coffee table. With a groan he pushed Snape back against the couch, letting himself fall on top of that wiry, familiar body.
He deepened their kiss, moving his lips and tongue hard, and then he pulled back and licked his lips. "You need to stop it with this jealousy whenever I notice a girl."
Huffing, Snape made to push Harry off himself, but Harry pushed back down hard. "Potter, your insinuations -- "
Harry pressed his finger against Snape's lips. "Shut up and listen. I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want you to go anywhere, either. Understood?"
Snape quirked an eyebrow in response. "Very well."
"And now I'm going to fuck you, just so you know."
"I appreciate you informing me of your intentions," Snape said, and pulled Harry's head down for another kiss. Their teeth clinked and their noses bumped, but Harry didn't care. This was familiar and good and in its own imperfect way still exactly what he wanted.
Harry tugged on the buttons on Snape's shirt just as Snape tried to lift Harry's t-shirt over his head. They struggled, snickered, and then Harry leaned back and pulled his own t-shirt off as Snape unbuttoned his own shirt. The moment Harry saw Snape's naked chest, he pushed him back down and didn't even give him a chance to pull the shirt off.
With a grin, Harry attached his mouth to one of Snape's nipples and teased it with his teeth and tongue. As he'd learned over the years, Snape had very sensitive nipples and with the right stimulation it was the quickest way to get Snape to beg. Snape wormed his hands between their bodies and worked on the fastenings of Harry's jeans, his head thrown back and his back arched as Harry put more and more pressure on his nipple.
"Fuck," Snape moaned, and Harry smiled as he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same kind of relentless attention. Snape managed to push Harry's jeans down, followed by his pants, and cupped Harry's bare arse with grasping fingers.
"Harry...just..." Snape squeezed his eyes shut.
"Just what?" Harry asked innocently as he pulled back, and Snape glared at him, his eyes mere slits.
"Just fuck me already, you damned foolish boy," Snape snarled, followed by a groan as Harry reached between them and squeezed Snape's hard cock through his trousers.
Chuckling, Harry pushed himself off the couch and quickly stepped out of his clothes. He leaned over Snape, who was watching him with gleaming eyes and pursed lips, and as he pulled on the buttons of Snape's trousers, he mouthed around Snape's cock through the fabric. Snape bucked his hips off the couch, almost throwing Harry off, and Harry snickered and quickly pulled Snape's trousers down. After taking care of Snape's shoes and socks, Harry grabbed the legs of Snape's trousers and yanked them off completely.
Snape was lying naked on the couch, glaring up at him, and Harry stroked his own hard prick a few times as he took in the sight. Snape was still thin even though he'd put on some much needed weight. He was still pale, though he'd lost the worst of his sallow pallor over the years. His face was still all hooked nose and dark brows and bottomless black eyes, with a few more wrinkles here and there. His hair was as black as ever, and if Snape spent any time near a boiling cauldron, just as greasy as before.
And Harry wouldn't have him any other way.
As he lowered himself on top of Snape, Harry reached for his wand and summoned the lube from their bedroom. Snape moved his legs apart and Harry stroked his hands across Snape's hard cock before he cupped his balls and rolled them across his palm gently. Snape twitched his nose, moaning, and Harry caught the lube and squeezed a generous amount on his hand.
Preparing Snape was familiar, as familiar as anything he'd done thousands of times over the last decade. He eased two slick fingers inside Snape and watched closely for any signs of discomfort. Snape's body first clenched and then relaxed around his fingers, and Harry moved them in and out a little faster.
"All right?" he whispered, and Snape gave a crooked nod in response, allowing his eyes to fall shut as he moved his body in time with Harry's fingers.
Harry squeezed some lube on his cock, stroked it a few times, and then positioned himself between Snape's legs as he pulled his fingers out. Pressing the tip of his cock against Snape's pucker, Harry gently rolled his hips and squeezed his eyes shut as his prick slid inside.
"Fuck," he moaned, the slick heat of Snape's body engulfing him. Snape groaned in response and reached a hand up to pull Harry closer. Leaning one hand down beside Snape's head, Harry arched over him, thrusting his hips while he kept one foot planted firmly on the ground. With his free hand Harry reached for Snape's cock and squeezed and stroked in time with his hips.
Snape tangled his fingers in Harry's hair and pulled his head down to capture his lips with his own. They kissed as Harry thrust his hips and fisted Snape's prick, and it was quiet and exciting and just so fucking right.
With a sharp groan, Snape bucked his hips up and came, slick semen spurting across Harry's fingers. Harry captured his lips again, kissing him deeply as he slowed his hand around Snape's cock. Snape's eyes were unfocused, hooded, and Harry smiled down at him and thrust his hips a little harder, burying his cock a little deeper. Pressing his lips against Snape's cheek, Harry moaned and fucked Snape fast and deep until he couldn't take it anymore and he came with uncontrolled jerks of his body, his cock buried deep inside Snape.
Harry slumped down on top of Snape, their bodies slick with sweat, and pressed his face against Snape's throat. "That was good," he whispered.
"Hmm." Snape wrapped his arms around Harry and moved his hands across Harry's back in languid strokes. Harry closed his eyes and for a while, Snape's body beneath his and Snape's hands stroking his skin was all he knew.
----
"I see you two managed to have a more entertaining evening than I did."
Harry blinked his eyes open, realizing he'd dozed off on top of Snape. Beneath him, Snape looked equally dazed as he stared up at Harry with bleary eyes.
Looking up in the direction of that voice, Harry saw Voldemort standing in the door way, arms crossed. "Hey," he managed to say, and then cleared his throat.
"Hey, yourself," Voldemort said in a mockery of Harry's mellow voice, and strode across the room to throw himself into one of the armchairs.
"What happened?" Harry stretched his stiff muscles as he gently pushed himself off Snape.
"Nothing," Voldemort spat, tapping one foot on the floor.
"Oh." Harry flinched when Snape cleaned them both up with a flick of his wand.
"I spent the whole day with that little know-it-all friend of yours, and it was a complete waste of my time." Voldemort rubbed his hands across his face in a tired gesture. "She's bright enough, and determined, but she just would not stop talking for one single second."
"Hermione?" Harry gulped. If Hermione had annoyed Voldemort that much, then what --
"Oh, relax, my little horcrux," Voldemort said with a smirk. "No one died."
Harry snickered, but it was out of sheer nervousness, not amusement. He glanced at Snape, who was sorting through their scattered clothes to get dressed, ignoring him. "Are you hungry, Tom?"
"I suppose," Voldemort replied with a shrug.
"We've saved you a plate." Harry got up from the couch and reached for his jeans. "Severus made roast beef with all the good stuff."
Voldemort chuckled as he stood up from his chair. "Now this little scenario makes more sense. No wonder you fucked him through the couch, then, Harry."
Grinning, Harry pulled on his clothes as Snape did the same. "I had to show my appreciation in some way, didn't I?" He offered Snape a lavish smile, which Snape returned with a sneer, and then they followed Voldemort down to the kitchen.
Harry heated the plate with a quick charm and served it to Voldemort, who tucked in at once. Snape made them all a cup of tea, and they joined Voldemort at the table. For a few moments, none of them spoke, but then Voldemort sat back, wiping his mouth on a linen napkin.
"Croaker is an Occlumens." Voldemort narrowed his eyes in obvious annoyance. "Not a particularly good one, but he was still able to shield parts of his mind from me."
"Well, crap," Harry said, which earned him a snort from Snape.
"I did get a few glimpses," Voldemort continued with a thoughtful frown. "He most certainly is interested in you, my little horcrux. There was a strong desire, an obsession almost, with wanting you or wanting something from you."
Snape crossed his arms and looked at Harry. "This is not good news."
"Indeed." Voldemort took a bite of potatoes, and they waited patiently until he'd swallowed it down. "Besides that, I picked up something to do with Dumbledore, but what, I haven't a clue."
"Dumbledore?" Harry said in astonishment. "He's dead."
"The Headmaster may be dead, but his portrait is still there," Snape said, and he did not sound pleased with this latest bit of news.
Voldemort nodded. "I could not see further into Croaker's mind. Whatever else was there, he shielded it from me. But there is no doubt that his desires run towards Harry and Dumbledore."
"Do you suppose Dumbledore told him stuff?" Harry wondered out loud. "His portrait, I mean."
"I doubt the Headmaster would voluntarily share anything he does not want to become public knowledge," Snape said. "Portrait or not."
"Like horcruxes," Harry whispered.
Voldemort looked from Harry to Snape with a furrowed brow. "And while portraits are easily Confunded, it is particularly difficult to force them to say or do anything."
They remained quiet for a few minutes, all lost in their own thoughts. Voldemort continued eating while Harry and Snape sipped their tea.
"Did you find out anything about Croaker at the Ministry?" Harry asked, once Voldemort was done with his dinner.
Voldemort leaned back in his chair, pushing his empty plate to the side. "Only that the Ministry is buried in useless regulations. Your Auror friends checked every rule in the book, but they could not find any way to receive clearance to the Department of Mysteries, and in particular Croaker's work there."
"Not without any concrete evidence, I should imagine," Snape said.
"Exactly." Voldemort sighed. "And evidence is the one thing we do not have."
Harry put his elbows on the table and leaned his chin in his hands. None of this sat well with him. Croaker clearly wanted something from him, but without knowing what, there was very little they could do to stop him. "Do you suppose Croaker wants to make his own horcrux or something?"
Voldemort looked thoughtful for a second. "Perhaps."
"But what does he want me for, then? I don't know how to make a horcrux," Harry said with a slight touch of hysteria to his voice. He was so sick and fucking tired of horcruxes messing up his life.
"We don't even know if this is what Croaker wants in the first place," Snape said with a stern look directed at Harry. Snape had no patience for hysterics, and Harry sighed and leaned back in his seat so he could stare up at the ceiling.
"Severus, I assume you have Veritaserum at hand?" Voldemort asked without a care in the world.
Snape snorted. "Of course."
Harry stared between his lovers while his mouth sank open, and Voldemort chuckled and gave Harry a wicked smile.
"Just in case, my little horcrux. Just in case."
----
Harry folded a freshly laundered teacher's robe and added it to the pile on the bed. Beside him, Snape did the same with his own new robes. Voldemort was sorting through a stack of books on the desk.
"Seeing as we will be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, I believe it is time we come up with a concrete plan to search for Flamel's research," Snape said as he reached for another robe in the laundry basket.
Harry blinked. So much had happened already since they'd returned to Britain, he'd almost forgotten why they'd come back in the first place. He glanced at Snape. "Maybe we could talk to Dumbledore's portrait. He trusts us, right?"
"I believe so," Snape said, shaking his robes a few times before folding them. "But we must remember the Headmaster's office belongs to Croaker now. It might not be safe to question Dumbledore's portrait with him lurking about."
Voldemort turned around to look at them. "We may have a way around that. Harry, do you still have that handy map of yours?"
It was a testimony to how little Harry had thought of Hogwarts over the years; he actually had to think for a minute what Voldemort was talking about before he remembered he still had the Marauder’s Map tucked somewhere in the bottom of his trunk.
“Of course!” With a grin, Harry pushed his trunk open and started searching through its contents.
“Map?” Snape asked, looking suspiciously between Harry and Voldemort. “What map?”
Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out in laughter. After rummaging around in his trunk for a few minutes and coming up empty, he pulled out his wand and just summoned the damned map.
Snape stepped closer as Harry sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the map in his lap. Voldemort sat down on Harry’s side, and Harry glanced between them briefly before tapping his wand against the map.
“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
Ink appeared at once, twirling and stretching until rooms and corridors formed, and Harry unfolded the map further so they could see as much of Hogwarts as possible.
“What is this?” Snape’s voice was no more than a whisper.
“It’s a map my dad, Sirius, Remus and Pettigrew made while they were still in school,” Harry said, giving Snape an anxious look.
“This -- “ Snape swallowed visibly and for a moment looked like he was going to hex Harry. “You had this map in school, didn’t you? In your third year, I confiscated this, but that damned werewolf gave it back to you!”
Harry snickered quietly and shared an amused glance with Voldemort.
“I knew it,” Snape muttered, sitting down beside Harry, eyes narrowed as he stared at the map. “I knew you were up to something with that scrap of parchment, Potter.”
“You can give me a detention later,” Harry said with a grin. Snape glared in return, but then, for a second, Harry saw the corners of Snape’s mouth twitch. Harry released a relieved sigh and focused his attention on the map.
“There,” Voldemort said as he pointed to the Headmaster’s office. The little dot named ‘Croaker’ sat still in the office. They studied the rest of the map, and saw more dots they recognized. Neville, Pomfrey, Gabrielle, Flitwick, Sinistra, Trelawney, Filch and Hestia Jones. There were a few names Harry didn’t know, but he assumed they were new staff members.
“We will use this map to keep our eyes on Croaker,” Voldemort said. “This way, you two can question Dumbledore’s portrait while making sure you’re not caught.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Harry said, and tapped his wand against the map. “Mischief managed.”
Snape leaned back and crossed his arms, looking down at Harry over his hooked nose. “Now about that detention, Potter.”
Harry jumped up from the bed, laughing. “Tomorrow, at Hogwarts, you can sign me up for all the detentions you want.”
“Don’t think I won’t just because you are no longer my student,” Snape said, rising from the bed.
“I look forward to it.” Harry stuck his tongue out at Snape and went back to his pile of laundry.
Voldemort looked between them for a moment and shook his head.
----
Croaker stood waiting for them in the doorway of Hogwarts. They’d apparated just beyond the main gates and walked towards the castle, their trunks and Betsy in her cage floating behind them.
“Welcome!” Croaker spread his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”
Harry exchanged a quick glance with his lovers, but none of them gave more than a nod in reply to Croaker.
“Let me show you to your rooms,” Croaker said, waving them inside the castle. “Professor Snape, your old rooms in the dungeons have been made ready, of course. Professor Taylor, we have prepared rooms for you on the third floor, near the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.” Croaker stepped closer to Harry as they walked through the Entrance Hall. “And for you, Harry, we have found excellent rooms near the south tower, on the first floor.”
Harry stopped dead in his tracks, almost causing Voldemort to bump into him. “Headmaster,” Harry said as he glared at Croaker. “I’m staying with Severus. The dungeons will suit me just fine.”
“Well,” Croaker said, looking between Harry and Snape. “I understand the two of you are...intimate...but this is a school, you see. We cannot allow these kinds of...relations inside the castle.”
“And what kind of relations exactly would those be?” Voldemort asked, lips thinning.
“Relations between two staff members...” Croaker pulled on one of his sleeves for a moment in an obvious nervous gesture. “Who are of the same gender,” he finished in a hushed voice.
“All right then,” Harry said, and turned around at once to walk straight back out of the castle. He’d had enough of this. They would just have to find another way to make a Philosopher’s Stone. He hadn’t liked Croaker to begin with, but now the man dared to suggest there was something wrong with them because they liked shagging their own gender?
Snape caught Harry’s arm to halt him. “Headmaster,” Snape said pleasantly enough, though his eyes gleamed with malice. “Have there been any changes to the school rules since last I was employed here?”
Croaker managed a thin smile. “Not as such, I don’t believe.”
“Then my relationship with Harry is none of your business, now is it?” Snape pulled Harry close against him. “We will share my rooms in the dungeons, since this is not against any school rules. If you have a personal problem with our preferences, I suggest you stay out of our way.”
And with that, Snape pulled Harry along towards the dungeons, Voldemort on their heels. Croaker stood still for a moment, appearing speechless. Then he hurried to catch up with them.
“I did not mean -- “
Voldemort cut him off. “Headmaster, for everyone’s sake, I suggest you shut your mouth right about now.” Harry glanced at Voldemort over his shoulder and swallowed when he saw Voldemort’s hazel eyes flash crimson. Croaker, who was walking slightly behind Voldemort, thankfully didn’t notice.
It was one of those peculiar things Harry had learned about Voldemort over the years. While Voldemort was prejudiced in several ways, and quite unapologetic about it, he absolutely despised any kind of homophobia. Harry hoped for Croaker’s sake he’d never mention his distaste for their personal lives again in front of Voldemort, or else he wasn’t sure what Voldemort might do to him, but it would certainly involve lots and lots of pain.
Croaker heeded Voldemort’s advice and they remained silent as they made their way down the long stairs towards Snape’s rooms.
Snape pushed the heavy wooden door open, and Harry followed him inside, taking in their surroundings with curious eyes. It looked much the same as he remembered it. A sitting room with the kind of generic wooden furniture you’d find all around Hogwarts. A few doors leading to the bedroom and bathroom, the workroom and to Snape’s office.
The only difference was that there were several portraits hanging on the walls. As far as Harry remembered, Snape hadn’t had any paintings in his rooms the last time he’d been a professor.
“These will have to go,” Snape said, waving at the paintings. Apparently he’d noticed the difference, too.
Croaker, who’d acted rather subdued until that moment, straightened himself and squared his shoulders. “These portraits are a part of Hogwarts’ history,” he said rather indignantly. “They can be found all around the castle, and in every staff room.”
“But these are our private rooms,” Snape said, looming over Croaker as he crossed his arms. “Certainly you can understand Harry and I will be performing lots of private acts in this room. We do not require an audience for that.”
Croaker looked between the three of them and clenched his jaws. “I cannot -- “
“This is not up for debate,” Voldemort said, moving closer to Croaker, his hand disappearing in the pocket of his robes where he kept his wand.
Harry’s eyes widened and he swallowed. Was Voldemort going to curse Croaker? Perhaps an Imperius, as he had suggested before? They couldn’t risk that kind of exposure so soon into their stay here. “Headmaster,” he said quickly, and managed a cheeky grin. “Snape enjoys giving it to me up the arse. Hard. And frequently. And we really don’t want anyone to see that. I’m sure you can understand.”
Croaker’s cheeks flushed bright red and he looked down at his shoes. “Well...I suppose...Dinky!”
A house-elf appeared, wearing a pristine pillow cover. “Headmaster?”
“Have these paintings removed and take them to the east corridor on the fourth floor.”
“Yes, Headmaster.” The house-elf gave a little bow, and started flicking his fingers. A few moments later all the portraits were gone, and Harry looked at the bare walls and heaved a sigh of relief. He couldn’t care less if some old portrait saw him shagging Snape, but they could not risk anyone, painting or not, overhearing their private conversations and learning of Joseph Taylor’s true identity.
“We will manage from here,” Snape said with a curt nod and ushered Croaker out of their rooms.
“We will see you tonight at dinner, I assume?” Croaker managed just as he stepped out into the corridor.
“Certainly.” And with that Snape slammed the door shut in his face.
Harry glanced briefly between his lovers, and as per an unspoken agreement they all got their wands out and started casting the strongest locking and silencing charms they knew. Thanks to Snape and Voldemort, Harry had become quite good at them over the years, and it only took a few minutes before the rooms were as secure as they could make them.
Harry tucked his wand away and stood beside Betsy’s cage. He unlatched it, and Betsy hopped out, gave a little hoot, and settled on the armrest of one of the armchairs. “That fucking bastard,” Harry muttered, and dragged his trunk inside the bedroom.
Snape was only moments behind him with his own trunk. “Indeed,” he said, shoving his trunk towards the wardrobe. “And yet we must treat him as best we can, lest we draw even more attention to ourselves.”
Voldemort stood in the doorway, arms crossed, wand still in his hand. Harry assumed he’d unpack his things later in his own rooms, seeing as officially, he was only their friend. “I suggest you two question Dumbledore’s portrait as soon as possible to find out what Croaker is up to.”
“Yep.” Harry flopped down on the bed, arms spread out over his head, and heaved a deep breath. “I just can’t believe he’s after us for gay sex of all things.” He raised his head and looked at Snape. “Ten years ago, when you and I announced we were shagging, the staff didn’t care half as much, and I was eighteen and your student.”
Snape shrugged, but Voldemort moved further into the room and stopped beside the bed. “This isn’t about our private lives. This is about Croaker trying to split us up, specifically you two.”
“Huh.” Harry sat up and stared at Voldemort. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Colour me surprised,” Snape said with a smirk, and he went back to unloading his trunk.
----
After they stopped by Voldemort’s new rooms to drop off his trunk (and see to it that the house-elves removed all the paintings there, too), they decided to take a stroll around the castle before dinner, just to see if anything was different about the grounds.
The Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance, and a flutter of excitement rushed up Harry’s body. He’d missed playing Quidditch over the years. Voldemort had no interest in Quidditch at all, and while Snape enjoyed watching it enough to accompany Harry to see a few professional games over the years, he had no desire to play it.
And thus the last time Harry had ever sat on a broom to chase a Snitch had been when he’d still been a student. At least now he got to fly again, he reasoned, while teaching the students. That was something.
They made their way towards the Forbidden Forest and walked along the edge. It still looked dark and unpleasant, and Harry suddenly remembered meeting Voldemort there in his first year while serving detention with Hagrid. He glanced up at Voldemort and wondered if he was remembering the same thing. Voldemort stared down at Harry with a slight smile.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” both Harry and Voldemort replied, as Snape took a step back and looked at them in alarm.
A small, black body slithered through the grass towards them.
Voldemort crouched down at once, and Harry followed his example. The snake raised its shiny head and peered at them with lidless black eyes.
“Who are you?” the snake asked with a tilt of its head, its tongue flicking curiously.
“We are friends,” Voldemort replied, reaching out a hand to touch a finger to the snake’s scaly back. Harry glanced from him to the snake and back, smiling. They’d met a few snakes here and there throughout their travels, and he always enjoyed talking to them as they usually meant them no harm and were merely curious about the two-legged beings who spoke their tongue.
“Hello, friends,” the snake said, slithering a little closer. Harry thought it was an adder, a species native to Scotland. Venomous, but usually not aggressive. He’d learned quite a bit about snakes since living with Voldemort.
“Joseph,” Snape said, finally taking a step closer to them. He admired snakes, Harry knew, but rarely desired to interact with them. “Perhaps we should only let Harry talk to snakes while we’re here.”
Both Harry and Voldemort looked up at him, and after a moment, Voldemort stood up and nodded once. “You are right, Severus.”
Harry looked back down at the snake and held his hand out, so the snake could flicker its forked tongue across his fingers, taking in his scent. Snape was right, of course. The whole world knew Harry was a Parselmouth, but if suddenly Joseph Taylor showed the same ability, there would be unwelcome questions. Parseltongue was too rare a gift, after all.
“Bring the snake, Harry,” Voldemort said, casting one last and seemingly longing glance at the snake before he turned his back to them.
“Would you like to come with us?” Harry asked politely as he held out his hand a little further. “There are plenty of mice to eat inside the castle, and we will keep you safe.”
The snake seemed to consider this for a few moments with rapid flicks of its tongue, and then slithered up into Harry’s hand and curled its tail around Harry’s wrist. Smiling, Harry got up and gently slid the snake inside the pocket of his robes.
Glancing around, Harry noticed they were quite alone and no one had seen or heard their encounter with the snake. He was glad for it, as it wouldn’t do to have to Obliviate someone on their first day as Hogwarts professors.