Work Text:
Cover for Love From the Past, by Maraudersaffair.
Harry was alone. He was divorced with no kids. He didn’t even have his career anymore. He didn’t even have his magic. It had betrayed him.
He had spent over a month secluded in Grimmauld Place. Just him and the shadows. Oh, and the dust. He couldn’t be arsed to clean, especially under the circumstances.
His Floo was open, but he didn’t answer any of its calls. This made him feel guilty. Ron and Hermione especially deserved better treatment, but he was feeling too sorry for himself to talk to them. They had family, they had each other, and he had no one.
Then, one morning, after he managed to have himself a shower and make himself a proper breakfast, his Floo chimed and he finally managed the courage to answer the call.
It was Hermione, of course. “Harry,” she gasped, relief flooding her voice. “You answered this time!”
“Yes,” he grumbled.
“Ron is out with George, but we heard what happened to you, it’s awful that Robards forced you to resign—”
“It was for the better,” he explained, feeling utterly numb. “My magic was putting everyone at risk—”
“Still,” Hermione said, jaw clenching. “They gave up on you pretty quickly, didn’t they?”
“They have a job to do, Hermione. People to save and to protect. I was only in the way.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, Harry. You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I don’t?”
“No.” She shook her head sadly. “You sound depressed.”
That’s because I am, he thought, frowning.
After a moment, she asked a follow up: “Harry, dear. Have you sought any help for your condition?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I spent a few days in the Department of Mysteries under supervision and they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. If they couldn’t figure it out …” He trailed off, defeated.
Now the tears were spilling down her cheeks. Harry averted his gaze. Really, he couldn’t handle her crying right now. Not when he felt so numb on the inside.
“Have you heard of a cartomancer?” Hermione said.
“Isn’t that just a silly fortune teller?”
“Yes, they use cards to peer into the unknown.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I visit one?”
“Well … yes.”
“Merlin,” he muttered. “The irony.”
Now her voice turned a little stony. “People change, Harry. And I’ve broadened my appreciation for all different types of magic.” She paused. “Also, I just really hated Trelawney.”
He grinned faintly. “You weren’t the only one.”
“You should see the woman who helped me.”
“You sought out a fortune teller?”
Her cheeks went pink as she nodded. “Yes … Ron and I were having some troubles in the bedroom and I … well … I just wanted a second opinion.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. It took them both by surprise. “Wow,” he said, blinking. “I haven’t laughed in ages.”
“Perhaps you should take that as a sign.”
“To go see your fortune teller?”
“She’s not mine, but yeah. It can’t hurt just to hear what she has to say.”
He nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll check it out.” He felt something already untightening in his chest. He wondered at the feeling before realising it was hope.
*
That night, he set out for the cartomancer. It was cool outside, and the threat of autumn hung in the air in the late September night.
The cartomancer lived in a houseboat on the Thames. It was painted entirely in black, and it bobbed on the murky water like a shadow. A single candle danced in the front window.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped off land. A tiny bridge connected the boat to the pier. When he was at the door, he knocked on the old wood before he let himself do any second guessing.
The door swung open in a loud yawn. It sounded almost like a scream. Harry blinked into the gloom.
An old woman perched at a table. She gave him a snaggletooth grin. “Harry Potter, I’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?”
“Oh, yes. Now sit down before me and let me tell you what you need.”
He shrugged and sat down. His heart was beating fast.
The old woman had a deck of cards on the table. She shuffled them and asked Harry to cut them several times for her. Then she dealt out the cards.
For several minutes, she gazed at them in silence. Sharp intelligence sparked in her gaze.
“You have lost control of your magic, haven’t you?” she said.
“I can barely use my wand.”
She nodded. “That is because your other half is dead.”
He felt himself go cold. “What?”
“Yes.”
“But … what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Pay me a fee and I will tell you.”
Sighing, he took out a handful of Galleons and set them on the table. “Is this good enough?”
“Yes.” She snatched up the gold and hid them within her robes. Then: “Your future lies in the past.”
“Um. That doesn’t make sense.”
She slammed her hand against the table. “Of course it makes sense! Now listen closely: I’ve got a spell that will help you but you mustn’t use it willy nilly, do you understand? You must mean it.”
“Okay?”
Nodding, the woman withdrew a piece of parchment from her pocket and handed it to him. “Only use the spell once.”
“I will.”
She sat back in her chair and watched him pocket the note. “A word of advice. Open your heart. Let yourself love.”
He blinked at her. “I just want my magic back.”
“And you want someone to share your life.”
He felt his cheeks warm. “Something like that.”
“Sometimes the perfect person isn’t so perfect on the outside. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I believe I do.”
She nodded. “Now go.”
*
Harry waited until the next day to cast the spell. He didn’t let himself think too deeply about it. He didn’t let himself grow concerned. He would be able to handle whatever happened. And anyway, he was willing to do anything to get his magic back.
He made room in his parlour to cast the spell. He spent several minutes practising the incantation, the wand movements. It was a complicated spell. Hopefully he didn’t fuck it up.
Then he took a deep breath and raised his wand. He said, “Ostende Mihi Cor Meum.” He sliced his wand through the air in multiple Ws, some inverted and some not. “Coniungere Nos Semel Iterumque.”
The world went sideways. There was a terrible roar in his ears. He closed his eyes, wanting to protect himself. He felt a soft breeze against his face.
When Harry opened his eyes, he found a teenage boy standing before him. For a moment, they stared at one another in shock, both not understanding.
It’s Severus Snape, Harry thought.
Snape’s young face twisted in hatred. “Potter,” he spat, and he slashed his wand through the air.
Harry only had a moment to react. He twisted out of the way, and Snape’s deadly Curse hit a portrait and shredded the canvas. Harry recognised the stench of Sectumsempra. It sat like bile in the back of his mouth.
“Snape, no!” Harry yelled.
“What have you done to me, Potter?”
“I’m not—”
Snape sent another Curse at him, this one blazing red.
Jesus Christ, he’s trying to kill me, Harry thought. Using his own wand, he threw up a magical barrier. It was silver, nearly transparent, and it throbbed like a heartbeat.
Roaring, Snape sent Curse after Curse at him, but his magic couldn’t break through the barrier. Harry was barely focussed on the attack because he was too busy marvelling at how easy it had been to use his wand. How long had it been since his magic had properly listened to him?
“Snape, please,” Harry said.
“Fuck you!”
“Stop and take a moment to just look at me. I’m too damn old to be who you think I am.”
Snape was panting, his wand still raised. A look of pure terror flashed across his features. “This is a prank. This is—”
“It’s not, I promise,” Harry said gently. “I think—I think my magic Summoned you.”
“What? Who are you?”
“Do you promise not to attack me while I explain?”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t make promises. Especially not with people like you.”
Harry grinned darkly. “You don’t even know me, Severus.”
Snape started. He hadn’t expected Harry to use his first name. After more hesitating, he growled, “Fine, but I’ll fucking eviscerate you if you try anything funny.”
“Okay, okay.” Harry dropped the barrier and stepped forward. Snape stood his ground bravely. “Look at me, Severus. Look at my eyes. They are green. Like my mum’s.”
“Who’s your mum?”
“Lily Evans.”
Snape’s mouth dropped open.
“My name is Harry, Severus. Harry Potter. And my magic Summoned you from the past.”
“Potter?” he said shakily. “Like …”
“Yes, my father was James Potter.”
“No!” Snape nearly screamed the word. He sounded gutted. He raised his wand again as if to attack Harry, but another Curse didn’t come his way.
“Severus … I think our magic is mated. I think that’s why it brought you here.”
Snape’s dark eyes went wide again and pink flooded his face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputtered. “Mated?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re a man! Men can’t be mated with one another!”
Oh, bother, Harry thought. Harry sighed and took a few steps back. “Will you sit down and have a cup of tea with me? Then we can figure out our next steps.”
Snape gave a curt nod.
Harry cleared off a table in the parlour and Summoned the tea things from the kitchen. When the kettle arrived, Harry found that it had already filled itself with fresh water. Very convenient.
Snape eased down into a chair as they waited for the kettle to boil. A deep sneer twisted his mouth as he looked around. “Why am I surrounded by Black family heirlooms?” He gave Harry a deeply suspicious look. “I thought you said you were a Potter?”
“I inherited this house from Sirius Black,” Harry said. “He was my Godfather.”
“So Sirius Black is dead?”
“Yes.”
Snape’s face lit up. “Black is dead and I’m alive,” he muttered. “Brilliant.”
“My father is dead, too.”
Snape’s glee only deepened. “And what about your mum?” He licked his lips. “I would like to see her.”
“She’s no longer with us, too,” Harry said gently, pouring the boiling water into their teacups.
Snape’s expression fell. “Oh.” He now looked gutted.
“Yes, I never knew her. She died young. They both did.”
Snape fiddled with his cup as his tea steeped. “In the war?” he whispered, gaze cast down.
“Yes.”
A look of utter pain came into his face, and Snape ducked his head so that his hair fell as a curtain over his features. It was such a teenage thing to do.
Surely this boy can’t be my soulmate? Harry thought.
“What year is it?” Snape mumbled.
“2017.”
Snape jolted up. “What?”
“My parents had me when they were twenty, and I’m currently 37, so … you do the maths.”
“You’re 37?”
“Yes …”
“Fucking hell.”
Harry crossed his arms. “I’m not old.”
“You’re not young, either!” Snape leaned forward in his chair, dark eyes scrutinising Harry. “You’ve even got a bit of grey in your hair!”
Harry pressed his lips together. He wasn’t going to let a teenage boy rile him up.
“Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
Snape leaned forward even more. “I think you’re a paedophile.”
“No, I’m not!”
“You just said you Summoned me from the past because our magic is mated. What do you take me for, huh? An idiot? How many times have you done this? Summoning boys from the past so you can enact your sick, twisted desires on them? It’s disgusting.”
Harry was too stunned to speak. He’s come from 1977. You must remember that.
Snape sat back in his chair, looking triumphant. “I’m not going to let you do anything perverted or unnatural to me. Absolutely not! And if you try, I’ll kill you.”
Harry was shaken. “It’s not perverted,” he said quietly. “It’s beautiful when two men love one another, not unnatural or—”
“Yes, it is!” Snape sputtered. “It’s sick and disgusting, and—”
“You’ve already said that.”
“It’s wrong!” Snape’s colour was very high in his face.
Harry watched him for a moment. The lady doth protest too much. “Do you feel too uncomfortable to stay here?”
“What do you mean?” Snape said anxiously. “You’re not going to kick me out, are you?”
“Of course not, Severus, but I wouldn’t want you to stay somewhere that makes you uncomfortable. I could always find another place for you to live.”
Terror flashed across Snape’s face. “It’s 2017, and I haven’t got any money on me. I don’t even know anyone here, and my parents are probably dead!”
“I’m not going to chuck you out.”
“I can’t—I don’t—” Snape was gasping, breathing heavily.
The poor boy was having a panic attack.
Harry stood and came around the table. He almost rested his hand on Snape’s back, wanting to soothe, but he didn’t want to do anything that Snape would find inappropriate.
Harry Summoned a glass and cast a Aguamenti, filling it with crisp water. He handed over the glass to Snape. “Would you care for a Calming Potion?”
“Yes,” Snape gasped.
Nodding, Harry went upstairs to get the potion. He wanted to give Snape a few moments to himself. When he returned, he found Snape with his head buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking.
“Severus,” he said gently, “here’s your potion.”
“Don’t look at me!”
“Okay, I won’t.”
Covering his face with a hand, Snape uncorked the phial and swallowed down the potion. He was trying to hide that he was sniffling.
“Let me show you to your room,” Harry said gently. “I’ve got plenty of open space, so you get your pick.” Harry waited for Snape to get up, then he walked ahead of him upstairs.
They walked through a couple of levels. Harry showed Snape his options and kept his gaze politely averted.
“I want this one,” Snape said, picking the darkest, gloomiest bedroom in the entire house.
Harry smiled. “Sounds good … however, I’ll need to dust it for you—”
Snape shut the door in his face.
Harry blinked at the old wood. Well then. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said through the barrier.
He received no answer.
Sighing, Harry went back down to the parlour. He needed to get in touch with Hermione.
*
Less than a half an hour later, Hermione was standing in the parlour of Grimmauld Place, her eyes wide in her face.
“It’s impossible,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well, it’s not,” Harry responded. “The boy’s up in one of my rooms right now. I can show you.”
Frowning deeply, Hermione nodded.
They went up to the third level. No sound came from Snape’s room.
Harry knocked quietly. He felt bad for disturbing the boy. When he heard no answer, he said gently, “Severus, I need to open the door. This is your warning.” He waited a long moment before easing open the door. He was surprised it wasn’t bolted shut.
Snape was passed out on the bed. He had kicked off his boots and torn off his shirt, which now lay crumpled on the ground. Harry picked it up, folded it, and set it on the bedside table.
“I can’t believe it,” Hermione murmured as she approached the bed. “Is it really him?”
“Yes … I’m telling you I Summoned him from the past. It’s barmy, I know, but that’s what happened.”
Hermione leaned close to the boy. “Are you sure he’s all right? It’s a bit alarming he hasn’t woken up.”
“I gave him a Calming Potion … it might have been too strong.”
Snape was barely moving in his sleep, but his breath was deep and even. He was very slender and pale. He looked fragile.
He lay in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, with his upper body twisted one way, one arm thrown over his face, and his lower body twisted the other way. If 37 year old Harry slept like that, he would wake up barely able to walk.
“This isn’t good, Harry,” Hermione said.
No shit, he thought. Nodding, he motioned for them to leave.
Back down in the parlour, Hermione began to pace. “No one can find out about this. Especially the Ministry.”
Harry’s stomach clenched as he thought about the Department of Mysteries.
“If the Unspeakables get their hands on him, they will never let him go,” she said. “He’ll become a test subject, a prisoner, and—”
“Yes, I realise.”
Hermione stopped and took a deep breath. “Did it help your magic, at least? That’s why you Summoned him, didn’t you?”
“It did help my magic. That cartomancer was right. Somehow.”
She shook her head in amazement. “Of all the times to listen to a crackpot fortune teller …”
“You’re the only who told me to go see her!”
“Still! She told you to Summon someone from the past and you just decided to try it out?”
“Her instructions were vague, thank you very much! I didn’t know—I was desperate—”
She deflated. “I’m sorry, Harry. You’re right. How could you’ve known?”
“You can’t imagine how hard it’s been not being able to use or trust my magic,” he said hotly. “I was panicking, I admit it. I didn’t want to end up as a Squib!”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and went to him. He accepted her hug. It was comforting.
“I wonder if Snape’s already taken the Mark,” she whispered within his arms. “I didn’t check when we were upstairs.”
“Merlin, I didn't either. I hope not.”
“He looked so young.”
“Yes.” Harry couldn’t imagine someone so young taking the Mark, but he reckoned that was how Voldemort ensnared people. He made them swear fealty before they understood the ramifications. Like Malfoy.
Hermione stepped back. “I’ll do some research, but I don’t think we should try to send him back. Who knows what changes his time travel might cause.”
“Is it even possible to send someone back?”
“I don’t know … but, if you can Summon a person to the future, surely you can send them back to the past?”
Harry just blinked at her. “I don’t know.”
She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I don’t know either,” she sighed.
“I’m sorry to be forcing my problems on you.” He gave her a dry smile. “It’s like our school years all over again, isn’t it?”
“Oh, stop it. You need help, and I will always help you, Harry. Always.”
He gave her a grateful smile. He wanted to hug her again but felt the affection would be overkill.
“I must go now, Wizengamot duties never end,” she said with a smile of her own. “But please keep me updated on the situation. And don’t let him sneak off!”
“I won’t,” he said firmly, sounding more confident than he felt.
*
Snape slept for several hours. Harry put a spell on his door that would alert him to movement. As he waited, he made a cottage pie for dinner, doing everything by hand. The preparation of the food calmed him.
As the pie baked, he wandered up to the old Black library. It was dusty in there, and very dark. He looked around at all the black curtains and thought Snape would love it.
Harry was pretty shit at researching nowadays. He was no longer a schoolboy who was always in the library. During his Auror career (he didn’t like how past tense that sounded), he had Ministry archivists who did all his digging for him. He was much better at interrogating a suspect than a stack of books.
Still, Harry perused the stacks in search of anything about time travel. He was flipping through a mediaeval tome when the timer went off on his wand. The pie was ready.
Down in the kitchen, Harry was standing at the sink, nursing a glass of wine, when Snape finally made an appearance. Harry had kept the pie warm via charm.
Snape rubbed his eyes and squinted into the candlelight. There was a pink pillow crease on his cheek.
“You’re awake,” Harry said with a bright grin.
Snape yawned widely and gave him a dull look.
“Would you like a bit of dinner?”
Snape slouched over to the counter to inspect the pie. “It smells good,” he muttered.
“Is that a yes?”
A nod.
“Okay, have a seat. I’ll serve you.”
Snape slumped down at the battered old table. He eyed Harry’s glass of wine. “Can I have some?”
Harry hesitated. It wasn’t unusual for a seventeen year old to have wine, but it still made him uncomfortable to give Snape alcohol. “Well … Are you sure? You’ve had quite the day.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Nodding, Harry poured him a glass, and sent it over to him via his wand. It still felt so, so good to be able to use his magic so effortlessly.
A minute later, they were seated at the table with plates of cottage pie in front of them. Harry made sure to give them both water.
Snape picked at his food, but gulped down his wine. Without looking at Harry, he Summoned the bottle from the counter, and poured himself some more. It made Harry frown.
“You should slow down.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
Harry sighed. “I can’t, you’re right, but I want to protect you.”
“If you wanted to protect me, then you should have left me in 1977!”
Harry shut his eyes and breathed deeply. “It was an accident, and I’m sorry—”
“Nothing you say can change the fact that you ruined my life.”
“There are positives here, you just need—”
“God, will you shut up?”
“No, I won’t,” Harry said hotly. “And I don’t appreciate your rudeness.”
Snape slammed his fist to the table. “AND I DON’T APPRECIATE YOU KIDNAPPING ME!”
“I did no such thing!”
“Oh, yes, you did. You abducted me. And now you’re going to take advantage of me!”
Harry shoved to his feet. He was seeing white he was so angry. He faced the sink, trying to get himself under control, but instead he swerved around. “Have you taken the Mark?”
Snape paled. “What?”
“You heard me. Have you sworn fealty to Voldemort and let him brand you?”
“How do you—”
“Answer me!”
“No, I haven’t! I was about to. I was so close to being accepted. Do you realise how difficult it was for me to even meet the man? I was this close to getting what I wanted and you took it from me!”
Harry just stared down at the boy, his anger like something ferocious inside him. “You say I’ve ruined your life, but I only beat you to the punch, you moron.”
Snape hurled his plate at Harry and stormed up the stairs to the parlour. Harry threw up a barrier so none of the pie hit him. Beef and mash still splattered the floor and counter.
Harry went after him. “You can’t leave!” he shouted at the teenager’s back.
“Fuck off!” Snape yelled over his shoulder.
Harry cast the strongest locking spell he knew on the front door. Snape twisted around.
“Kidnapper,” he hissed.
“The Ministry—”
“Sod those fools!”
“If they get their hands on you—”
Snape raised his chin. “I’m not afraid of them. I’m not afraid of nothing!” He snapped his mouth shut, colour entering his cheeks. His accent had been straying for much of their heated conversation. “I mean, I’m not afraid of anything.”
“This isn’t a game,” Harry said. “Don’t you understand? Your life could be at risk.”
“What does my life matter if I’m already dead?”
Harry pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not tonight.
Snape laughed at him. “I’m dead in 2017, aren’t I? Aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
Snape laughed again, voice high, sounding hysterical. “I’m not even supposed to be alive, but I’m standing here because of you, Potter.” He spat his name, and it sounded so much like how Malfoy used to say it when they were in school.
He’s just a kid, Harry told himself.
“I’m leaving.”
“Please, don’t. Not yet. We will come up with a solution. A false identity. Then you may walk around freely.”
Snape breathed heavily. His eyes were very dark. “Why should I trust you?”
“I’m not asking you to fully trust me. It’s smart of you to be suspicious. I just want you to … give me the benefit of the doubt, at least for the next week or so. Give me time to secure your safety.”
“What do you know about safety?” Snape huffed, almost laughing.
“I’m an Auror, for one—”
“An Auror? What shit. How can you tell me to fear the Ministry when you are the Ministry?”
Harry took a deep breath. “It’s a good question, and it’s responsible of you to ask.” He licked his lips, wanting to get his words right. “The Ministry and I have a long history. I have a long history. When I was your age, the people in charge didn’t like me much, and they used governmental powers to target me. Afterward, I chose to join the government because I wanted to help people—protect them—and I wanted to change the Ministry from the inside out.”
“What made you so special? Did you murder somebody important?”
Harry almost smiled. “Yes … I sort of did. I don’t want to get into the details tonight, but I will tell you another time.”
“How do you sort of murder somebody?”
“Like I said, I’ll explain another time.”
Snape stared at him suspiciously. “I want to see your badge.”
“My badge?”
“Yes, your Auror badge.” His tone added you idiot to the end of his sentence.
“Oh, um. Yeah. Okay.” Harry raised his hand and wordlessly Summoned his badge from his bedroom. There came the sound of a drawer toppling open, and a few thuds, then the badge came zooming through the doorway and into Harry’s awaiting hand.
Harry handed over the badge.
Snape smoothed his thumb over the Harry Potter etched into the gold. “You weren’t lying about your name.”
“I wasn’t.”
Snape looked around, his eyes narrowed. “This whole thing could still be a prank, a set up. Are you sure James Potter didn’t put you up to this?”
“I’m not following.”
“This could all be an elaborate hoax, just another way Potter and Black try to humiliate me. We’re in Black’s house, aren’t we? And you look too much like James Potter.”
For some reason, this gutted Harry. Snape was just so innocent.
“Severus,” Harry said quietly. “They are all dead. Really. And no one is trying to prank you.”
“Show me something that proves it’s 2017. Actually, I want more than one piece of evidence.”
Harry frowned, thinking. “Will a newspaper work?”
“Yes.”
Harry grabbed the newspaper from the side table and handed it over. Snape’s eyes widened as he scanned the front page.
“Okay, one more thing. Make it good.”
“Make it good …” Harry thought for a moment, considering everything he owned. “Well … okay, I’ll pick something important to me.” He raised his wand and Summoned a box from way up in the attic. The box banged and banged against the attic door until it opened, then it came zooming down the stairs.
“What’s in the box?”
Harry knelt on the floor and lifted the lid. Inside lay remnants of his marriage. He handed over his engagement announcement to Snape.
“You were married to a woman?”
“Yes, I was. You can see the date says 2001.”
“And you’re divorced now?” Snape asked, not taking his eyes off the photograph.
“Yes.”
“Pity, she’s cute.”
“Um.”
“Do you have your divorce filing? I want to see it.”
“Haven’t you seen enough?”
Snape handed back the engagement announcement. “No.”
Sighing, Harry picked up the document on the top of the stack. “Here.”
Snape read over the document quickly. “You were married for fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Where are your kids?”
“Ginny and I didn’t have any.”
Snape looked at him over the top of the parchment. “Who the hell is married for fifteen years and doesn’t have kids?”
“Loads of people!”
“It’s weird.” Then: “There’s no reason listed for the divorce. Did your wife finally discover you were a pervert and leave you?”
Harry snatched back the filing. “That’s not nice.”
Rolling his eyes again, Snape said, “Are you two still friendly? Does she come around at all? I’d like to meet her.”
Harry stared up at him from the floor. “Why do you want to meet my ex-wife?”
Snape shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe she’s single.”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Snape … Severus.”
“I don’t like it when you use my first name. We aren’t friends.”
“What if I want to be your friend?”
Snape shook his head. “Why would you want that? So you can lure me into a false sense of security and then bugger me?”
Harry threw his arms up. “Christ, I don’t want to bugger you!”
“You said our magic was mated. Do I need to give you the definition of a mate?”
“It doesn’t need to be a sexual thing. Christ, you’re a child. We could be platonic mates. I could end up being a father figure to you or something.”
Snape crossed his arms and gave him a deeply unconvinced look.
Harry got to his feet and sent the box back to the attic. He stretched and muffled a groan. God, the day’s stress had him aching. “I think we should both just go to bed and get some sleep. We can continue our discussion in the morning.”
Snape’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. He shifted his gaze away, arms still crossed, not acknowledging the sound.
“You’re hungry, so why don’t you go back down to the kitchen and eat some pie,” Harry suggested. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight.” He walked past Snape, who didn’t move.
Don’t fucking try to run away or I’ll know, Harry wanted to say.
Up in his bedroom, Harry tapped his wand to the wall, and cast the strongest security spell he knew. It was the same spell he’d used with detainees at the Ministry. He would bloody well know if Snape left the house.
Harry changed into his pyjama bottoms and lay down in bed. His mind was swimming. The guilt pressed down as if a small animal were sitting on his chest.
I did this to him, Harry thought, agonising. He’s right; I ruined his life.
As he drifted off to sleep, an image came to him. Snape was sitting at the kitchen table, face buried in his hands. He was sobbing, his breath coming fast, too fast. He sounded as if he were choking.
In front of him sat a sad little serving of cottage pie, one measly bite taken out of it.
I should go to him, Harry thought. He needs someone to comfort him.
Then Harry fell asleep.
*
There was a storm outside, and the wind was howling, screeching. No, that was an alarm.
Harry sat up, heart thumping. His detainee spell was going off. Snape was trying to escape.
Harry bolted out of bed, knocking his knee into the bedside table. He howled just like the wind. Not bothering to put on any more clothes, he raced downstairs. The front door was wide open.
“SEVERUS!” he cried.
Out on the street, the sky had opened up, and the rain came down in sheets. Harry squinted through the wet darkness and spotted a hunched figure. He sprinted in its direction.
Please don’t Disapparate, please don’t Disapparate, he thought desperately.
“SEVERUS!”
The figure broke into a run. Harry ran after him, catching him just at the corner.
“No, no,” Snape yelled, beating at Harry with his fists.
“Please don’t run, please, please,” Harry said, taking the hits. “I know this is hard, but trust me, just trust me.”
“I hate you!” Snape said, still struggling, but there was defeat sinking into his limbs.
“Severus, please.” Harry clung to him, the rain utterly drenching them. Christ, what would his neighbours think?
Snape was suddenly clinging to him, trembling like a kicked puppy. He was gasping for breath. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Harry whispered back. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m supposed to be dead.”
“No, no.”
“Yes,” Snape said, face buried in Harry’s shoulder.
The rain was drenching them, but Harry held him through the storm, smoothing his hands up and down his back. His skin burned through the soaked fabric of his shirt. He felt so fragile in Harry’s arms.
“Let’s go back,” Harry murmured.
“I want to go home.”
“I know, I know. I’ll try to send you back, I promise.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I will try.”
Snape sniffled.
Still holding him, Harry turned around and walked back to Grimmauld Place. He was aware of how Snape’s hand gripped his bare waist. The boy was still trembling.
Back in the house, Harry helped Severus sit down on the settee, then he cast several Drying Charms on the boy. He wasn’t even aware of his own partial nudity until he noticed that Snape was staring at him.
“I’m sorry, I should have put more clothes on,” Harry said, looking down at himself. His wet pyjama bottoms were glued to his skin, the waistband pulled down past his hips.
Snape crossed his arms and looked away. A hot flush was creeping up his throat.
“I’ll get us tea,” Harry said hurriedly. He Summoned himself a shirt from upstairs and cast his own charms to dry himself, then dashed down to the kitchen. He took his time fixing their tea. He needed the breather.
Once their tea was done, he ventured back up to the parlour, where he found Snape laying down on the settee.
“Um, your tea,” Harry said.
Snape sat up, rubbing his face. He took the offered cup without looking at Harry. Harry gingerly sat down beside the boy.
They sipped their tea in silence.
“This is good,” Snape said gruffly.
“Thanks,” Harry said. “I put enough sugar in yours?”
“Yes.”
Harry set aside his. “Severus … I really am sorry. And I really will work to find a way to send you back.”
“Fucking hell, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Harry nodded, not sure what else to do. Snape radiated a desperate need for comfort.
When Snape was finished, he sent his cup soaring back down to the kitchen. Then, still not looking at Harry, he inched closer until his head was resting on his shoulder.
“Is this all right?” Snape whispered.
Harry was afraid to move, to even breathe. Snape had gone from yelling that he was a pervert to willingly leaning on him.
“I can wrap my arm around you … if that’s what you want.”
Snape hesitated. “Okay.”
Very carefully, Harry curled an arm around Snape, holding him close. The boy felt tremendously breakable. Snape sighed heavily in his ear.
“I’m so knackered,” Snape whispered.
“Then go to sleep, it’s all right,” Harry whispered back.
“I don’t think I can in this position.”
“Do you want me to take you up to your bed?”
“No … but can I put my head in your lap?”
Harry blinked down at the boy. “You’d—you’d be comfortable with that?”
Snape gave a moody shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess? I wouldn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Just forget about it,” Snape huffed, and stood. Harry grabbed his wrist.
“No, don’t go.”
Snape looked down at him, gaze averted. He didn’t try to pull his wrist back.
Harry gulped dryly. “I want to comfort you. And I want to help you get some sleep. If you resting your head in my lap will help, then … yeah, let’s do it.”
Snape sat back down and Harry made room for him on the settee. Snape stretched out on the cushions and gingerly rested his head on Harry’s thigh.
For one awkward moment, Harry hadn’t a clue what to do. Then he gave into the urge to card his fingers through Snape’s hair. Snape sighed.
“I’m sorry for running off,” Snape murmured.
And for calling me terrible names?
“It’s okay. I understand why you did it … just don’t do it again.”
Snape sighed again.
Harry continued to card his fingers through his hair, making sure his movements were slow and calming. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the old house, of Snape’s breath quietening, deepening. He felt the moment the poor boy fell asleep.
I’m sorry, Harry thought again. He would sit in this position for as long as Snape needed.
*
“He tried to run away last night.”
“No!”
“Yep. Luckily my spells alerted me and I caught him before he could Disapparate.”
It was the next day, and Harry and Hermione were sharing a bag of crisps down in the kitchen. Harry had a terrible crick in his neck from sleeping on the settee, but Snape had woken up bright eyed and refreshed.
“Where is the boy now?” Hermione said.
“Upstairs. In the library, I believe.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re letting him be around books alone?”
“Yeah?”
“He could be researching how to get past your spells! He could be researching the past, finding out everything he missed in the last forty years!”
“I don’t think those books are up to date like that.”
“Still!” Hermione cried.
“Fine, let’s go up and check on him, but I warn you he can be a bit rude.”
“I know how teenage boys act, Harry.”
They went up to the parlour, then ventured up the shadowy stairs. Harry found the library doors closed. He knocked politely before entering.
Snape was straddling a chair backwards as he read. He had about fifteen books hovering all around him. He looked up distractedly and his gaze snagged on Hermione.
“Oh, hello,” he said, straightening up. He was wearing Muggle clothes, which was a very strange sight. His shirt was white with black bold letters across the front: BLACK SABBATH. He wore dark washed bell bottom jeans.
Harry stared. “Where did you get the clothes?”
“I found them,” Snape said casually.
“You must be wearing Sirius’ old things.”
“No, Regulus’. He told me so.”
“When?”
A shrug. “This morning. I found his portrait.”
Harry looked around at the walls, expecting to see Regulus Black watching them. “I didn’t know he had a portrait remaining in this house.”
“Yeah, he’s been spying on you.” Snape laughed, then turned his full attention on Hermione. “What is your name?”
She smiled. “I’m Hermione Granger … it’s a pleasure to meet you, Severus.”
“No, the pleasure’s all mine,” he answered huskily. He was ogling her.
Hermione shot Harry a what the fuck? look. Harry shook his head, utterly at a loss.
“How are you doing today?” she asked carefully.
“Better … now that you’re here.”
Harry flinched. So did Hermione.
“I prefer if you don’t flirt with me,” she said. “I’m much too old for you.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I thought age gaps didn’t matter anymore. Didn’t you hear that I’m Potter’s mate?”
“I said our magic is mated, not that … Oh, hell!” Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
There was a long, awkward pause, then Hermione said, “Are you uncomfortable here, Severus? I could help you find another place to live if you are.”
“Everyone keeps asking me if I’m uncomfortable! Why does it even matter? Potter didn’t think about my comfort when he cast his stupid spell.”
“I didn’t know what the spell would do!”
Severus shot him a furious look. “Then you must be an imbecile.”
“I’M NOT—”
“Please, let’s all just calm down,” Hermione said.
Harry took a deep breath, then another. “I apologise for raising my voice.”
Snape snorted.
“Let’s sit down and I can Summon us some tea—”
“No, I’m done with drinking tea,” Snape snapped.
“Forever?” Harry said in disbelief.
Snape plopped down in a chair. He motioned rudely for them to join him. “You two want to talk? Fine, let’s talk.”
Harry and Hermione sat down at the table, ignoring all the floating books.
“You seem like a boy who appreciates conversation that is straightforward … blunt,” Hermione said.
“I am.”
“All right.” Hermione folded her hands in front of her. “I don’t think we can or should try to send you back to 1977.”
“Hermione!” Harry groaned. This was very unhelpful.
Snape’s eyes flashed. “Who says I need your help? I’ve been researching all morning. I could do it myself, just you watch.”
“You couldn’t do it without Harry’s help.”
Snape’s mouth twisted. “But, you see, Potter wants me to like him. He will do whatever I want of him.”
“That’s not true!” Harry said.
“How else will he get me to shag a 37 year old paedophile?”
Hermione gasped. Harry gritted his teeth.
When she recovered, she said, “I thought you were clever, Severus? Mated magic works both ways.”
“It doesn’t need to be consensual!”
“Yes, it does!” she fumed. “Do you even know the basics—”
“Ah, yes, the basics. Unfortunately, some of us have graduated beyond the fundamentals … but I have sympathy for those who are unable to grasp such … advance magic.”
“You haven’t a clue who I am or what I’m capable of,” Hermione said. “You are merely a boy too cowardly to admit that he’s scared.”
Snape rolled his eyes again, but a flush had entered his cheeks. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
“I see that you don’t have the Dark Mark on your arm,” she said.
Snape straightened in his chair and bared his teeth. “Shut up.”
“Is that a sore subject for you?” she said innocently. “My apologies.”
“He believes I stole the opportunity from him,” Harry said quietly.
“Both of you need to shut up!”
Hermione shook her head. “Is that why you are so eager to get back to the past? So you can become a Death Eater?”
“It’s none of your business,” Snape hissed.
“I think you should start evaluating the goals you had for yourself in 1977 and start considering how you can achieve them in 2017. Of course, without pledging your life to a dark wizard and murdering innocent people.”
“The Dark Lord only murders when he has to! He wants to better Britain, not—”
“Severus, please,” Harry said.
“No, I think we should let him continue,” Hermione said. “We need to know how deep this irrationality goes.”
“You are not helping,” Harry said.
“I should walk out right now!” Snape said, eyes flashing, face growing redder. “I should seek old my old friends and allies and—”
“They are all dead,” Hermione said.
Snape slumped in his chair. “Oh.”
Harry’s heart was beating fast. “Are you saying you want to find former Death Eaters and—and—”
“No, I’m not saying that,” he grumbled, head down, black hair curtaining his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Severus … Snape.” Harry swallowed thickly. “I wanted to tell you slowly about everything that happened in the first and second wars, but it’s important you understand—”
“I’ve already written to the Daily Prophet,” Snape grumbled again. “They should be sending me copies from their archives today.”
“Today?” Harry said. Damn, the boy worked fast.
“Yes.”
“And you’ll read them?” Hermione asked.
“No, I shall use them to wipe my arse,” Snape sneered.
Harry shook his head. “Please don’t be rude.”
“Then don’t ask me stupid questions!”
“You should take him to the Ministry archive,” Hermione said. “They are bound to have loads more information than copies of the Prophet. And anyway, that newspaper is so biassed.”
“He will need a disguise,” Harry said.
Snape perked up, looking intrigued. “A disguise? Like Polyjuice?”
Harry shrugged. “Sure.”
“I know how to brew it,” Snape said proudly.
“And so do I,” Hermione said. “I even have some on hand. I could send some over once I get back home.”
“Yes …” Harry said, trying to decide if this was a good plan or not. At the very least, it would keep the boy occupied. “I also want to pop back over to that cartomancer, too. I believe she has some explaining to do.”
Hermione caught Harry’s gaze. She was asking him something nonverbally. He shrugged as if to say, Go ahead.
“Now, before I leave,” she said to Snape. “Is there anything you would like to ask me about what you missed in the past?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to hear it from Potter.”
Harry blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes … I doubt the newspapers or the archives will give me the full picture. I want you to be the one who fills in the details.”
“Are you sure?” he said roughly. “I thought you didn’t trust me like that …”
Snape gave him a dull look. “Who else can I trust?”
A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione were on his front steps. He had come down from the library to see her out.
“I can’t keep this from Ron very much longer,” she said.
“I know.”
She bit her lip. “I already know you don’t want him to know about this.”
“It’s awkward … with the divorce. And with …”
“Your sexual preferences.”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “I don’t think he’ll take the news of Severus Snape showing up from the past very well, but all we can do is try.”
“Just give me a little more time.”
She nodded. “I’ll try.”
“And you’ll send over the potion?”
“Yes … but be careful with it. Snape doesn’t seem like he’s thinking very clearly, to say the least, and walking around looking like another person can be very dangerous.”
Harry grinned. “I know. We did it several times.”
After she left, he went back upstairs to fetch Snape. “I know you said no more tea, but how about a bit of lunch? You must be hungry.”
Snape looked at him with his dark eyes and nodded.
Down in the kitchen, Harry evaluated the contents of his cupboards. Luckily, he had a lot of ingredients on hand. “What would you like to eat? I can make you pretty much anything.”
Snape sat at the kitchen table, head in his hand. He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Do you like sandwiches?”
“Sure.”
“What’s your favourite kind?”
“I don’t have one.”
Harry sighed. “You’re determined to be difficult, aren’t you?”
Snape dropped his gaze. He traced the marks on the old wood with a finger. “Perhaps I’m not used to people asking me what I want or like.”
“No?”
“No.”
Something tender squeezed within Harry. He remembered how he’d practically cradled the boy’s head in his lap last night. “How about some roast beef sandwiches? With cheddar cheese?”
Snape’s expression brightened. “Okay.”
“And some homemade chips.”
“You know how to make chips?”
Harry laughed. “Yeah.” He turned away and got to work.
Snape wandered to the magical refrigerator. “I doubt the Blacks had this.”
“No, they didn’t. I installed it.”
Snape opened up its door. His eyes went big. “You’ve got fizzy drinks?”
“Yeah!”
Snape inspected his options, then plucked out an orangeade. After a long, blissful sip, he said, “Mum used to sneak fizzy drinks when Tobias was still alive. He didn’t like her eating sweets.” His face fell. “I suppose she’s dead now, too. 1977 was a long time ago.”
Harry looked at him. “I don’t know, Snape. We can look her up if you would like.”
Snape went back to the table, carrying his orangeade. He scratched at the label as he said, “You can call me Severus. I don’t mind anymore.”
“Thanks … and you can call me Harry if you’d like.”
Snape raised his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Every time I call you Potter, I just think about your—your—”
“My dad?”
“God.” Snape hid his face. “It’s all so weird.”
“It is.”
Once the food was ready, Harry set everything down on the table. The grease on the chips was still scalding hot. He let Snape build his own sandwiches, then pile the other half of his plate with the salty chips.
“So,” Harry said, after Snape had wolfed down a sandwich. “What would you like to know?”
“How did I die?”
Harry gulped. “At the end of the final battle. Voldemort did it.”
“He killed me?”
“Yes. He killed a lot of people.”
“Why?”
In his lap, Harry twisted his serviette. “Because you betrayed him. Well, no. I doubt he ever knew that until I told him. It was because he wanted the Elder wand.”
“What?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to get bogged down in the details right now. I would rather give you the big picture.”
“How did I betray him?”
“You were Dumbledore’s spy for almost twenty years.”
Snape’s young face contorted. “Dumbledore?”
“Yes, and you killed him.”
“WHAT?” Snape grabbed the table, nearly going to his feet. “But—but—”
“He asked you to kill him, so that Voldemort and others would never doubt your allegiance.”
Snape breathed heavily. “And Lily?”
Harry slowly ate a chip. He was determined to remain calm. Snape needed him to be. “There was a prophecy.”
Snape just blinked at him.
Taking a deep breath, he continued: “There was a prophecy that you overheard and—and you took the information to Voldemort. In turn, he decided to target me—and my parents. They tried to protect me, but … it didn’t work. He found us and—and he killed them. Both of them. He tried to kill me, too, but my mum’s magic … it protected me.”
Hot tears spilled down Snape’s cheeks. He barely moved as he stared at Harry. “Are you saying I—I was the reason Lily was murdered?”
“You played a part in it, yes.”
“Oh my god.” Snape put his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”
Harry went to him, determined to catch him before he fell to pieces. He put his arms around Snape. “You made it right, I promise. You sacrificed so much. I wouldn’t have won the war without your bravery.”
Snape clutched him, trembling, his tears wetting Harry’s shirt. “She’s dead.”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“And it’s because of me.”
“And Voldemort and Pettigrew—”
“I don’t understand,” Snape said into his shirt.
“I’ll explain later.” Very carefully, Harry carded his fingers through his hair. He just wanted to soothe the boy.
The touch made Snape cry harder. He trembled with each breath, feeling as if he really were breaking apart.
Snape cried for a long time clinging to Harry. At one point, they slipped to the hard kitchen floor, and Harry cradled him. They remained like that for so long that Harry’s legs fell asleep.
“I’m sorry for acting like a prick,” Snape murmured wetly, face pressed to his neck.
“Hush, it’s all right.”
“No one has ever been so nice to me … so caring,” Snape said. “I still think it’s some sort of trick.”
Harry ached for the boy. He had only been treating him with kindness and understanding, that was all. “It was an accident, not a trick. I didn’t mean to ruin your life.”
Snape pressed closer. “I’m beginning to think you saved me.”
Later, Harry guided Snape back up to his room. He was hobbling because his legs were still asleep. It made Snape laugh.
Outside the bedroom door, Snape paused and dropped his gaze. “I don’t think I want to go to the Ministry archives. Not anymore.”
Oh, thank god, Harry thought. “Why?”
Snape shrugged and picked at the lacquer paint on the doorframe. He still wasn’t looking at Harry. “I’d rather wait for the newspapers to come in. That way, I can control how much information I take in at a time. I think going slow will make it not hurt as much …”
Harry nodded. “I think that decision shows great maturity on your part.”
Snape snorted.
“Get some sleep, Severus. Tomorrow we can discuss next steps.”
Snape sneaked a shy glance at him. “I don’t think I want to return to the past. Not anymore.”
“Sleep on it. Give yourself time to process everything. You might change your mind.”
Snape was still looking at him shyly. Harry didn’t know what to make of it. “I don’t think I will change my mind.”
*
In the evening, Harry checked on Snape and found him asleep. He cast his usual security spells and slipped out the door. He was determined to talk to that bloody cartomancer.
When he made it back to the pier, he found the water’s edge deserted. The fortune teller’s boat was nowhere in sight.
“What the fuck,” he growled. Maybe it had been a set up after all …
Sighing, Harry went back home. There he discovered an expression owl tapping at his window with Hermione’s Polyjuice potion tied to its talon. Feeling a fresh wave of relief, he took the potion, paid the owl in coins and treats, then ventured up to his bedroom, where he put the potion in his bedside table and locked it up with the strongest spell he knew.
Snape’s behaviour might’ve been improving, but Harry still couldn’t trust him around dangerous potions.
Except he already knows how to make dangerous potions. Locking them up is not going to help …
Harry sighed and tried to think optimistically.
*
Over the next week, things settled down at Grimmauld Place. Snape spent all his time in the library, reading over books and newspapers, but he still chose to eat every meal with Harry. He also managed to be polite. Most of the time.
As the days progressed, Harry tried not to get his hopes up too much. His magic was stronger than ever and he found himself daydreaming about returning to the Ministry. He missed the business of being an Auror. He missed it a lot.
Harry tried to keep himself occupied throughout the day. There was much cleaning to be done in the old house. Sometimes he even joined Snape in the library, fruitlessly attempting to research how to reverse time travel. Even the authors of the books seemed to think Harry was more than a tad mental for even asking the question. This is all hypothetical, they wrote, but it wasn’t for him. It was real.
Harry didn’t try very hard during his research. He didn’t even leave the house. After all, Snape had said he was warming up to the idea of staying in 2017.
Sometimes, when Harry wasn’t in the library, he would pass by the closed doors and hear voices. He knew it was Snape speaking to Regulus’ portrait, but it still made his skin crawl. It was like eavesdropping on two ghosts through the keyhole.
Then, one evening, Harry received an owl from Hermione. You better come over for dinner, she wrote. Ron’s asking questions and can’t understand why he’s barred from visiting you at Grimmauld Place. Best he hears the truth from you. Perhaps don’t bring the boy? - HG
Harry gnawed his lip as he twisted the parchment between his hands. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Snape alone, not one bit, but he had to learn how to trust him. Harry watching him twenty-four-seven wasn’t sustainable.
Harry went up to the library and found the door closed. He knocked politely, even though he wished terribly to know what Snape was hiding from him, if anything.
“We’ll continue this later,” Snape said, then opened the door with his wand.
As Harry strode into the room, he looked for Regulus in any of the portraits. He thought he saw a flash of robes retreating in a portrait of a chair and books.
Harry took in Snape’s appearance. The boy looked a bit harassed. “Is everything all right?”
Snape shrugged. “Regulus and I were just having a disagreement, that’s all.”
“About what?”
Snape gave him a squinty-eyed look. “It’s none of your business.”
Harry held up his hands. “All right, sorry I asked.”
Snape deflated and rubbed his face. He sneaked a lingering glance at Harry through his fingers.
“I need to go out,” Harry said.
Snape dropped his hands. “To where?”
“To a friend’s house. For dinner. Unfortunately, you can’t come.”
“Unfortunately? Why would I want to have dinner with you and your friends?”
Harry sighed. He was sighing a lot these days. “I want to trust you to be alone here.”
Rolling his eyes, Snape muttered, “You can trust me.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem to be in a mood …”
Snape raised his chin. “You don’t know me, Harry. Not one bit.”
Another sigh. “I’ll be back before eleven.”
Snape turned away. “Sure.”
*
“You did what?” Ron cried.
“It was a bloody accident!” Harry said, stabbing his fork through the air. He got a bit of sauce on the tablecloth.
Ron looked at Hermione, then back at Harry. “How long have you both known about this?”
“A week,” Hermione said.
“And you didn’t tell me!” Ron was turning red. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Harry looked at him. “I asked her not to, mate. I thought … well, everything’s been awkward between us since the divorce, hasn’t it?”
“I told you I just needed time! I get that you and my sister don’t love each other anymore …”
“Ron … Snape and I … we might be mated.”
He blinked at Harry. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know what it means, not yet. He’s still so young and immature. I could never be with someone like that …”
More blinking. “Are you telling me it’s—it’s—”
“The cartomancer implied it could be true love,” Harry said carefully.
Ron stood abruptly, knocking over his glass of water. “That’s ridiculous. You were married to my sister for what? Twenty years? THAT’S true love.”
“It was fifteen years, and Ginny and I are divorced,” Harry growled, losing his patience. “We’re never getting back together.”
Ron walked out the room. Harry shook his head and stood as well. “I guess I should be going,” he said.
“Oh, Harry … He just needs time,” Hermione said sadly. She walked him to their front door. “What’s the update on the boy?” she asked, voice lowered.
“He’s doing a lot better but I am relieved that I’ll be returning earlier than expected. I still don’t like the idea of leaving him alone.”
She smiled a little. “That’s not that young, Harry. And soon he will demand his freedom.”
“Yeah …”
Squeezing his shoulder, she said, “Just keep me updated.”
“I will.”
*
Harry Apparated into Grimmauld Place’s shadowy foyer. Something made him stop in his tracks. For a moment, he didn’t understand what exactly put him on edge, but then he heard giggling. It was coming from a girl.
Harry raced into the parlour and found Snape on the settee with a teenage girl sitting beside him. They were snogging, and his hand was shoved down the front of her dress.
Something in him just broke. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he roared.
Both teens startled apart. The girl cowered against the cushion. In her hand she held an iPhone. Snape had brought a Muggle into Grimmauld Place.
Snape jumped to his feet. “THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”
“OH, YES IT IS! YOU BROUGHT A—A—” Harry couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Snape was suddenly in his face, seething. “What? Are you jealous or something? I fancy girls, can’t you accept that, you pervert?”
“She’s not safe here, you idiot! I’m surprised some anti-Muggle charm in this house hasn’t shredded her to bits!”
“I don’t want to die!” the girl cried.
Harry spun around to face the girl. God, what a mess. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” he said soothingly. “I’ll take you home, okay?”
“Fucking hell,” Snape growled, then stormed from the parlour, stomping up the stairs. A few moments later, his bedroom door slammed shut.
Harry managed to give the girl a smile. “Where do you live, love?”
“I’m in uni … King’s College. My flat isn’t far from there.”
“Good. I’ll walk you home.”
The college was farther than Harry expected and it gave him loads of time to ask the girl how she met Snape.
She laughed and tucked her ginger hair behind her ear. “You mean Seth?”
Harry snorted.
“I met him last Saturday. At one of the pubs.”
He felt himself go cold. Snape had been sneaking out for days. But what about Harry’s spells? Had Snape learned how to bypass them?
When they reached her dwelling, Harry took out his wand and muttered a casual, Obliviate. Now there was no chance of her remembering anything about charms or Muggles.
Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry was so angry that he trembled. He knew Snape was still up in his bedroom, but Harry didn’t trust himself to confront the boy. Not when he was in such a black mood.
Merlin, he needed a drink. He went to the liquor cabinet and found its doors open and several bottles missing. Snape had nicked his damn liquor. And the good stuff, too.
Now virtually snarling, Harry grabbed a bottle of whisky and threw himself down on the settee. Then he remembered what had just happened there and quickly moved to a chair. He turned on the wireless to low, moody classical music. The whisky burned his throat but it made everything in his head go quiet.
It made him feel as if his world wasn’t crashing down around him.
Time slipped away as Harry drank. He didn’t bother to put on any lights or to light the fireplace. The dark fit his mood.
It was past midnight when Harry lifted his head and found Snape standing in the doorway, just looking at him.
“What do you want?” Harry snapped. He slurred his words a bit.
Not saying anything, Snape left the doorway and came over to him. He was moving slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid. Harry raised his head and levelled a glare his way.
“I said—”
“I want you to stand up,” Snape said, halting in front of him.
“For what?” Harry laughed. “Are we going to duel?”
“No.” Snape just stared down at him, his eyes glittering in the dark. He waited expectedly.
Huffing, Harry shoved to his feet, wobbling a bit. Snape didn’t step back and suddenly they stood very close together.
Snape smirked. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
“So what?”
“Good. So have I.” Snape framed his face and kissed him.
The kiss was so brazen, so unexpected, that Harry didn’t react right away. He even arched, letting the boy take control.
Then his mind caught up and Harry ripped away. “What the fuck?”
Breathing hard, Snape came for him, trying to kiss him again. Harry blocked him, twisting away.
“Severus, no.”
Snape didn’t stop, and they fell against the wall, wrestling. Snape was warm and thin against him, and entirely too strong. He got both of Harry’s wrists pinned to the wall.
“I told you to stop,” Harry gasped.
“Why should I? We both know you want this, you pervert.” His breath skated across Harry’s skin. It felt nice, really nice, but Harry refused to accept the indignity.
Harry tore away. When Snape tried to grab him, he shoved the boy so hard that he nearly fell to the floor. “And what about you?”
Snape right himself and came for him again. “What about me?” he said, wrestling with Harry against the wall.
“You just kissed me.” Harry yanked out of his grasp each time Snape almost got a good hold of him. He could have ended this scrabble with a few powerful spells, but he didn’t reach for his wand. Neither of them did.
Snape leaned in and sank his teeth into Harry’s jawline. It made Harry gasp. “What if I told you I can’t stop thinking about it?” Snape whispered, now licking the bite. “Would you believe me?”
“About what?”
“Fucking you.”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed. He wished he could think properly, but he couldn’t, and now the boy was grinding into him, and he had an erection. A big one.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said shakily. “You’re still just a child.”
“Exactly,” Snape hissed. “I’m nothing but a stupid, lost kid. Nothing I’m saying matters. Nothing I want matters, right? Then let me fuck you. Right here. In the dark. We’re both pissed. It wouldn’t matter. None of it would. God, let me see your cock. I’m dying to see it. Just let me—”
Harry tried to twist away again, but Snape captured his lips in a kiss. There was so much insistence in the kiss. So much confidence.
Harry moaned, he couldn’t help it. It made Snape’s breath stutter. He allowed the kiss to go on for a few seconds too long. The shameful truth was that it felt too nice to pull away, but finally, Harry managed to break free. He put several paces between them.
Breathing hard, Snape came after him, so fucking insistent, grabbing and grabbing. Harry was forced to pull his wand.
“No,” Harry said, pointing his wand at the boy.
“BUT YOU KISSED ME BACK!” Snape yelled, probably waking up every portrait in the house.
“Yes, I did, and I’m sorry,” Harry answered shakily. “It was a mistake.”
“Oh my god, fuck you.” Snape stormed out of the parlour and up the stairs. A few seconds later, his bedroom door slammed shut. The sound of it made Harry flinch.
He just needs space, Harry told himself, but he was still nervous. He didn’t want Snape to try to run away again.
After giving the boy a few minutes by himself, Harry headed up to his room. He knocked and said, “Severus, I just want to make sure you’re all right, that’s all.” Silence.
Frowning, Harry knocked again. Still, he heard nothing. It made his stomach twist. He remembered how Snape had been sneaking out to pubs without his knowledge.
“Severus, I’m coming in just to check on you.” Harry tapped his wand on the door and it popped open. Inside, the room was vacant.
Harry did a quick search of the place, even looking into the wardrobe as if the boy had squeezed inside into the tight space to hide.
Nothing.
Snape had disappeared. And Harry hadn’t even heard the pop of his Disapparation.
*
“What do you mean he’s gone?” Hermione asked sleepily.
“He’s gone. Disappeared. We had a row and he went up to his bedroom and just disappeared.”
“His magic isn’t that strong,” Hermione said. “He’s only a kid.”
“I also found out that he had been sneaking out to the pubs. Past my security spells.”
“How is that possible? You’ve been using them for years on detainees.”
“I don’t know!”
Hermione sighed. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. We’ll look for him together. Try not to panic.”
“Thanks.”
*
“You’ve been drinking.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s that obvious?”
“The parlour reeks of alcohol. What exactly happened?”
Harry wanted to lie to Hermione, but she was obviously very tired and had still come to help him. She hadn’t even bothered to comb her hair.
“When I came home from our dinner, I found Snape with a girl in the parlour. A Muggle girl.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he mad?”
“Maybe. Or just plain stupid.”
She shook her head in amazement. “I’m sure you were not pleased.”
“No, I yelled at him and took the girl home. When I came back, I decided I needed a bloody drink. So I had one. And Snape was drinking, too. Up in his room. After a bit of time, he came down and tried to—to—”
“Snog you?”
Harry shuddered. “Yes.”
“Did you allow it?”
“A little … but I also pushed him away. He got really angry and ran up to his room. I tried to check on him but I found him gone.”
Hermione muttered a curse under her breath. “Harry, this connection you two have … it wants you two to be together.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Mated magic is nothing to sniff at—or to deny.”
“I can’t be with someone like that. A child. He throws a trauma and runs away when upset!”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not going to lie to you.”
Harry now rubbed at his forehead. “Let’s just focus on finding the boy. I can worry about being mates or whatever later.”
“All right, let’s track him down.”
*
Outside on the pavement, the night was cool, the neighbourhood dark and quiet.
“I’ve been practising this new tracking spell,” Hermione said. “I believe it’s stronger than anything the Aurors are allowed to use.”
“Have you needed to track something down recently?”
“I was doing it in preparation for this moment.”
“You knew he’d run?”
“I knew he was sensitive and afraid and not willing to be honest about his feelings. That’s not a good combination.”
Harry managed a smile. “It’s not.”
Hermione stepped up to the edge of the pavement and raised her wand. “Inveniro Personam,” she muttered as she sliced her wand through the air.
Glowing footsteps suddenly appeared on the ground. Hermione and Harry looked at each other, then followed the footsteps all the way to the end of the neighbourhood.
There the steps were replaced by wheel tracks, Four of them. And the tracks disappeared after moving forward only a few inches.
“He Summoned the Knight Bus,” Hermione said.
“Fuck!”
“Well don’t panic just yet,” she said. “My wand is heating up. It wants me to Apparate.”
“Is it your spell?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed his hand. “We’ll Side-Along.”
“Okay.”
She spun them and Disapparated. When Harry opened his eyes, they were standing in front of an old house. The air was cooler and the scent of it was different.
“Look, there’s more footsteps,” she said.
On the pavement glowed footsteps that led right to the front door of the house.
“He’s inside there,” Harry said.
“Yes, it appears so.”
“I wonder if this is his childhood home or something.”
Hermione looked at him and raised her wand. “Or the home of a former Death Eater.”
Sighing, Harry raised his, too. “All right, I’ll knock. Stand behind me.”
“Of course I’m not going to stand behind you.”
He shook his head and stepped up to the door. He knocked.
An elder woman opened the door. Harry blinked several times. “Um. Mrs Snape?”
The woman’s mouth twisted. “No, Prince.”
“Who are you?”
She raised her eyebrow that reminded him so much of the older Snape. “Shouldn’t you know that? You’re the one who knocked on my door.”
“We are looking for a teenage boy. Um.”
There was movement behind the woman. “Let them in,” Snape said from the shadows. “I don’t want to hide.”
The woman stepped aside to reveal Snape. Harry let out a heavy breath.
“I was so worried,” he said.
Snape raised his chin. “Why?”
“Why? Because I care about you.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Just words.”
“Can we come in? I would like to speak to you. And also find out exactly who you are with.”
The woman interjected. “I’m Maureen Prince. His aunt.”
Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Severus … how does Maureen know about you?”
“Because I sneaked out five days ago and found her living here. I told her everything.”
“Five days ago?” It took everything in Harry not to shout. The boy had betrayed his trust.
“I needed answers, Potter. I wasn’t going to be your prisoner.”
Harry stepped closer, wanting to grab Snape. “I told you to trust me,” he hissed.
Snape looked at him without flinching. “Why should I trust you when all you want to do is reject me?”
“Oh, Severus,” he said quietly.
Colour had entered Snape’s cheeks. It was apparent even from the shadowy front step of the house.
Harry licked his lips. “I liked what happened,” he said quietly, hoping their audience couldn’t hear. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Because you don’t trust me. Because you don’t see me as an equal.”
“You haven’t given me any reason to trust you!”
Snape glared at him. “Why? Because I’ve shown agency? Because I refuse to fully trust someone who wants to keep me locked up?”
Harry blew out air. He was so angry that his vision was blurring. “So what? You want to stay here?”
“Yes.”
“And what if people find out who you are? What if the Ministry gets their hands on you?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know that!”
Snape levelled a glare at him. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“Yes, he is my son, Severus Prince,” Maureen said. “The son I named after my heroic nephew.”
“You will need forge documentation,” Hermione said.
“We know that,” Snape hissed.
Hermione took a step back.
“Severus, will you let me speak to you for just a moment? Alone?” Harry asked.
Snape looked at him for a moment, his gaze blank. Then he gave a slight nod.
“You can use the study,” Maureen said, not sounding happy.
“I’ll wait outside for you,” Hermione said.
Harry gave Hermione a tight smile. “I’ll be quick.”
He followed Snape into the gloomy house. It seemed even Maureen shared her nephew’s preference for dark places.
In the study, Snape shut the door and turned to him, arms crossed. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”
Harry stared at him for longer than what was polite. He stared for so long that it made Snape shift uncomfortably. Then he reached out, took Snape’s face in his hands, and kissed him.
Snape gasped against his mouth.
Harry let himself kiss and kiss the boy. He gave into all his needy, inappropriate impulses. Snape moaned and clutched at him.
“What are you doing?” Snape whispered, staring up at him as if he were a god or something.
Harry stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. “I do want you, Severus.”
“But?”
“But you must admit that you’ve given me loads of conflicting signals.”
“You haven’t been straight forward, either.”
“No?”
“No.”
Harry kissed his temple. “I don’t want to hurt you. And you are so young …”
“I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”
Harry thought of the Muggle girl. “That’s debatable.”
Snape wrestled out of his grasp. He lifted his chin. “I’m not going back with you, no matter what you do. You could drop to your knees right now and suck my cock, and it still wouldn’t change my mind.”
Harry gave him a hot look. “Are you sure about that?”
Snape gulped.
Sighing for about the hundredth time, Harry rubbed hard at the back of his neck. He was doing his best to sort out all his thoughts. “I reckon some distance would do us both a bit of good.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Just promise me you will be careful.”
Snape snorted. “Of course I will.”
“All right, it’s settled then.” Harry forced himself to go to the door. He didn’t want to leave Snape, but it was for their own good.
“I’m not a bad person,” Snape said to his back.
Harry turned. “What?”
“I don’t want you to think that I am because I almost joined the Death Eaters.”
Harry went all tender on the inside. “I could never think you were bad, Severus.”
Snape wrapped his arms around himself. “I just wanted to be wanted, you know?”
“Yes.”
Snape bit his lip. “And it feels good to hear that you want me. It feels really good.”
Harry nodded and opened the door. He had to leave before he had his way with Snape right in his aunt’s study. “I’ll write to you.”
“And I’ll write back.”
*
Harry’s magic didn’t like the distance. In fact, it absolutely hated it. The next morning, Harry woke up and discovered that he could barely use his wand.
Well, fuck. There went all his hopes and dreams about returning to work.
He ignored his immense disappointment and tried to crack on with his day. He felt hollow on the inside.
A few days slipped by. Then a week. Harry stuck to his word and wrote to Snape. Snape wrote back. They spoke of vague things, polite things. Snape wanted to study to become a licensed Potioneer. Harry gushed with encouragement.
As time went on, Harry grew weaker and weaker. He did his best to hide it from everyone, even Hermione. It was obvious that Snape was happy living separately. And Harry would rather waste away than stifle the boy’s dreams.
Then, one day, Harry was laying on the settee in the parlour, his head spinning, his limbs aching, when he heard a voice. He cracked his eyes open, turned a head that felt weighted down, and found a painted Regulus Black staring at him.
“He misses you, you know,” Regulus said.
It took Harry a moment to understand. “How do you know? You’re stuck here.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “You are quite dim, aren’t you?”
Harry gave a lazy shrug. “Sure.”
“Severus took one of my portraits with him. I jump over to that canvas whenever I fancy a chat with him.”
“How lovely.”
“He wanks to you.”
Harry looked at him too quickly and it made a bolt of pain flash through his head. “Ugh. How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I’ve caught him doing it. Several times. Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry!”
Harry squinted at the portrait, taking in his satisfied smirk. “You’re bluffing.”
“Maybe.” Then: “He asks about you, too.”
Harry shot up, then cursed and grabbed his head. Fuck. “You haven’t told him, have you?”
“Told him what?”
“About me! About my—my illness.”
Regulus clicked his tongue. “What a dumb question. Of course I haven’t. He’s not here, is he?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“If he knew, he would drop everything to help you. You must know that.”
“I don’t know that.” Harry rubbed his head. Merlin, it hurt. “Or maybe I do.”
“You need to stop being an idiot and tell him.”
“No.”
Regulus laughed. “You are so stupid, Harry Potter.”
“Hey, one of us in this room faced down the Inferi and lived. Guess who.”
Regulus stormed out of his painting.
*
Everything hurt. The world had turned into nothing but lights and sounds.
Harry couldn’t remember the last time he left his bed. He just didn’t have the energy. And his wand was no longer working.
Harry was dreaming about Snape. Everything was soft and warm as he held the boy—the man—close.
In the dream, Snape reached out and caressed his fingers over Harry’s scarred forehead. “This is where he tried to kill you,” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“But you survived.”
“Yes, I did. Several times.”
Snape’s hand trailed down to pet Harry’s exposed chest. There were scars there, too. A lot of them. “You are so strong, so competent. You are powerful. So why are you allowing yourself to die now?”
“Because I love you too much to make you unhappy.”
Snape leaned close, so close, almost kissing him. “I would be devastated if I lost you. Why can’t you see that?”
“All you did was call me terrible names and push me away …”
“I was scared and now I’m not.”
*
“Wake up, damn you.”
Someone was shaking Harry. Harry groaned and tried to hide his face. “Leave me alone.”
“No, get up. Now!”
Harry blinked open his eyes. Snape was leaning in close, worry transforming his expression. “You really are here.”
“What?”
“I had a dream …”
Snape nodded. “I think I had the same one.”
“Really?”
“Yes … I was lecturing you for being an idiot, wasn’t I?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, Harry, but you are being an idiot. Why didn’t you tell me this was happening to you?”
Harry tried to shrug but he was too weak. “I dunno. I guess I wanted to be a martyr.”
“No shit.” Snape wrapped an arm around him and helped him sit up. “Come on now. You need a bath.”
“It’s all right—I don’t need your help—”
“Jesus, Harry. Shut up.”
For some reason, Snape’s stern tone made Harry smile weakly.
Snape helped him stand, then virtually carried him to the bathroom. He turned on the water and drew him a nice hot bath. Harry was too weak to even undress himself, so Snape did it for him.
Harry waited for the embarrassment to come, standing naked in front of Snape, but he only felt a deep sense of gratitude.
Snape guided him into the hot water and murmured for him to sit down. Then he began to wash Harry.
“Thank you,” Harry said, tears stinging his eyes. He had never felt so taken care of.
In response, Snape leaned in and kissed him. It was shocking, unexpected, and it made Harry moan.
“I want to be by your side,” Snape said, dragging the soapy flannel over his chest. “I want to try to make a life with you.”
“But …”
“There are no buts. I’m here because of you. Because you love me … and because I love you.”
All Harry could do was stare at him. “You don’t think I’m a pervert?”
“I never thought that. I was just lashing out.”
“And now?”
Snape kissed him again. “I don’t think I can be happy without you, Harry.”
Harry laughed softly as Snape washed his hair. His fingers felt so nice against his scalp. “Is living with your aunt that bad?”
“It’s not bad at all. But I miss you.”
“Oh, Severus.”
“And I…. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Snape averted his gaze as he said this.
“Regulus finally revealed himself to me. We spoke about you.”
“I know, he told me.”
Harry felt his face grow warm. “He was telling fibs about you.”
“I don’t think they were fibs.”
Harry bit his lip. He was trying not to become aroused. He was already feeling so, so much better with Snape by his side.
After Snape was done washing him, Harry had a proper stiffy. Snape was looking at it through the murky water.
“I want to touch you, Harry,” he said quietly.
Harry leaned back against the cool tile. He let himself smirk just a little. “Yeah? And what do you want to do to me?”
Snape looked away, his cheeks growing pink. “I want to bugger.”
Harry caught his breath. “Oh. Well. That does sound nice.”
Snape pulled him out of the bathtub. Harry dripped water all the way back to his bedroom. There, Snape urged him down on the bed. He covered him with his lithe body. Harry gasped when he felt his hard cock straining against his trousers.
Then Snape was tearing off his own clothes, suddenly very desperate, very excited.
Harry reached for him when his cock was revealed. It was hard and wet and pretty. Snape grabbed his wrist before he could get a hand around him.
“No, you’ll make me come,” he said, voice rough and low.
Harry gulped. His heart was beating very fast. “You’ll need to get me ready. Stretched. It’s been a while.”
“Yes.”
Eyes glittering, Snape muttered a lube spell and reached between Harry’s thighs. When his wet fingers found Harry’s hole, they both moaned.
“God, Severus,” Harry said, squirming. “Please.”
Snape nodded and pressed a finger inside him. The fit was so tight. It burned a little. Panting, Snape watched as his finger slowly buggered Harry.
“Yeah?” he said, gulping.
Harry squirmed some more. “Yeah. Add another one.”
Another nod. Snape eased a second finger inside him, thrusting and thrusting. His fingers were so wet.
Harry stroked himself, his toes curling. “Can you find my prostate?”
“Yeah … I think so …”
A look of deep concentration came over his face as Snape aimed his thrusts. Then his fingers brushed the little nub and it made Harry cry out softly.
“Yes, yes, more …”
Snape fucked him quickly, widening his fingers. His eyes were glued to Harry’s hole.
“Now, Severus. Please now. I need you inside me.”
Snape withdrew shakily and got into position. “Do you need more lube?” he asked nervously.
“Sure.”
He Conjured more lube, making everything so wet. Then, staring down into Harry’s face, he pressed inside. The penetration made Harry groan. Snape was so big.
“Oh God.” Harry stroked himself quickly, trying to take the edge off.
Then Snape was all the way inside him. Panting, he looked down at Harry, his eyes dark and lidded. “All right?”
“Fuck me,” Harry growled.
Moaning, Snape fell into a rough, desperate pounding. His movements were jerky, uncoordinated, but it was good, so good. It was raw.
They would have years for Snape to learn how to fuck properly, but right now, his inexperience only added to Harry’s arousal.
“God, god,” Harry whimpered, clawing at his back with one hand, wanking himself with the other. “Fuck me, fuck me. Please fill me up. Please, please.”
Snape kissed him desperately, whimpering into his mouth. He was trembling all over. It was obvious he was trying not to come.
“It’s all right,” Harry said reassuringly. “Everything is all right.”
“I can’t, Harry. I can’t.”
“It’s all right, yes, yes. Fuck, come inside me. Yeah, come, come. God, Severus, I love you, I love you.”
Snape cried out and thrust hard one last time before stilling. Harry felt him spilling inside him. It was a hot pounding warmth. It was perfect.
Harry’s eyes rolled up as he shot between them. So much semen painted their stomachs. His pleasure made him squeeze around the cock inside him. Snape cried out hoarsely.
When it was all over, Harry held Snape closely, listening to his hammering heartbeat. They were both very sweaty.
Snape kissed the scar on his chest, the place where Voldemort’s curse hit him. “I love you, too,” he murmured.
Harry carded his fingers through his hair. “I just want you to be happy.”
Snape raised up and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. “And I’m happy with you.”
“Are you going to move back in?”
“Yes. Are you going to return to the Aurors?”
“I want to.”
Snape nodded. “And I want to become a Potioneer. Would it be acceptable for me to brew in this house?”
Harry smiled and kissed his nose. “You can do anything you want here, Severus. It’s your home.”