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“You need to go and see him, Harry,” Hermione said, eyeing the bite mark on Harry’s arm with concern. “You know that he’s the only one who can brew the potion to fix… that .”
Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s fifty-fifty odds on whether it’s even dangerous, Hermione. I think I’ll take my chances.”
“He’s your soulmate, ” she snapped. “It’s not like he’s going to turn you away, is it?”
Harry huffed a laugh. “You know that being soulmates isn’t a fix all, right? He’s hated me for years, and I’m not exactly fond of him. Some random ‘fated’ bond isn’t going to actually fix anything.”
“Well… he’s not going to let you die,” she offered, conceding that Harry might be a little bit right in his assessment. “He saved your life plenty when we were younger, and that was before the bond manifested.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Harry shook his head. “I’ve successfully avoided him for nine years, and I see no reason to break that streak now.”
“Except, you know, the fact that you might die if that bite is infected.”
“Might.”
“Harry—”
“Enough, Hermione, please. For now, at least, I won’t bother him with this. If nothing else, he’s earned some peace and quiet from me, okay?”
She bit her lip, but didn’t reply, and they ate in silence for a while, before eventually, Harry asked her a question about work. He knew that it wasn’t the end of the matter, but he’d hopefully bought enough time for the Healers at Saint Mungo’s to work their magic.
…
Harry frowned when his fireplace dinged with an alert that someone who wasn’t on his pre-approved list was requesting access to his floo.
He left the kitchen, where he’d been preparing dinner, for the living room, and waved his hand over the log.
He blinked when he saw the name, and then groaned.
“Bloody Hermione,” he muttered, shaking his head.
He considered, for a moment, refusing the request, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Snape didn’t know where he lived. Undoubtedly the man would only come and bang on the door until Harry answered anyway.
He tapped his wand against the request to grant it, and then sat down in the armchair facing the fireplace. Moment’s later, Snape stepped through the flare of green flames into the room.
He looked… different.
Admittedly, it really had been nine years since the last time Harry had seen him, and the last time he had laid eyes on him, Snape had still been in the hospital, after Nagini’s attack.
“Potter.”
“Snape.”
“I heard about your… injury. Why did you not come to the school for the cure, you idiot?”
Harry snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you. Besides, it’s not as serious as Hermione seems to think it is. The healers are working on it.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “If you’re putting your faith into the potions department at Saint Mungo’s, then I shall prepare my funeral robes now.”
“Charming as always.”
“Let me see it,” Snape demanded, holding his hand out for Harry’s arm. “I didn’t save you through your Hogwarts years, only to see you dead from a kneazle bite.”
“It was a cross breed,” Harry replied placidly, as he held out his arm. “Though nobody is completely sure what it was crossed with. Something poisonous, apparently.”
Snape nodded, pulling his wand out to cast a few spells over the wound.
"Well, it's certainly infected," he said quietly. "And if you don't take the antidote, you're likely going to die."
Harry sighed. "Of course I am. When am I not likely to die?"
"Well, you will choose to work a dangerous job," Snape said, letting go of Harry's arm and putting his wand away. "Come up to the castle in three days, I'll have the potion ready for you."
"You don't have to do that."
Severus gave him a frustrated look. "You might not put much stock into soulmates, Potter, but I do, and I shan't let you die when I can stop it from happening. Hogwarts, 2pm on Sunday."
Snape stepped back into the fire before Harry could question his comment on soulmates.
Odd.
…
"You know," Harry said, when he stepped into Snape's office on Sunday afternoon. "It wasn't that I didn't put any stock into soulmates."
Snape looked up from his desk and arched his eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Hmm. I genuinely didn't think you'd want anything to do with me," Harry offered. "It's not like you ever gave any indication that you even tolerated me, much less that you'd want to pursue anything. When your name came in on my arm… I guess I just figured that I'd be doing you a favour, by staying away."
"You didn't think to ask?" Snape asked, oddly calm in a way he'd never been with Harry before.
"Honestly… no." Harry shrugged. "You could have owled me yourself, you know? It's not a one way street."
"You're correct, of course," Snape agreed as he stood up. "Although usually, it is the younger of the two that reaches out first—a courtesy, if you will, of the elder in the pairing, in case the younger doesn't feel ready to settle down."
"I… admittedly didn't realise that," Harry offered with a small sigh. "I apologise."
Snape merely nodded his head and set a potion bottle down on the desk between them. "You'll need to take that every day for a week, and the bite should settle down. Hopefully, you'll be left without scarring, although that differs from person to person with magical bites."
Harry nodded and picked the bottle up, rolling it between his hands. "It's not like I don't already have scars, is it? What's one more?"
"Quite."
Shifting awkwardly, Harry said, "Thank you. For making the potion, I mean. And, saving my ass. Again."
Snape chuckled. "I'm so good at it; I wouldn't like to break the tradition."
Harry grinned at him, and for a moment, they were just two men without a shared bond or a messy past.
The moment didn't last long, and Harry left soon after, promising to owl if there were any problems with the potion.
He felt a sense of… not let down, but perhaps an odd sense of loss as he walked across the grounds of Hogwarts towards the gates.
The soulmark on his wrist seemed to burn.
…
"Professor Snape," Hermione called cheerfully, waving her hand.
Harry bit his lip, while Ron groaned under his breath. Snape paused before he approached their table.
"Miss Granger," he greeted with a nod of his head. He glanced at Ron, and then his eyes settled on Harry.
"Potter."
Harry's lips tilted up slightly. "Professor."
"How's the bite?" Snape asked, adjusting the bags in his hand slightly.
Harry shook his sleeve down to show the faint teeth marks. "All healed, minor scarring. Thank you."
Snape nodded, and then Hermione drew him into conversation. Harry tuned them out. He had heard enough of Hermione's ranting about the new laws she was trying to push through, without hearing about them again.
"So, you're really thinking about packing it in?" Ron asked, voice quiet, his head turned in Harry's direction as he continued the conversation they'd been having before Hermione saw Snape.
Harry nodded. "I'm tired of almost dying. I just… I guess I don't know what I want to do instead, and I can't just sit at home. I'd go mad within a week."
"You could speak to Kingsley?" Ron suggested. "Wasn't he saying a few weeks ago that they were looking for more instructors for the academy? You could teach? Who wouldn't want to be taught by Harry Potter?"
Harry laughed. "Merlin, can you imagine me as a teacher? It'd be an unmitigated disaster. I don't think the academy is ready for our version of dumb luck, mate."
"Nah, you'd be good at it," Ron argued. "Look at what you did with the DA, mate, and we were just kids back then. Speak to Kingsley, I bet he'd go for it."
"Maybe," Harry conceded, picking up his milkshake.
"I must be off," Snape said. He turned, but then looked back at Harry. "For what it's worth, Potter, I agree with Weasley. The Academy would be lucky to have you."
Harry blinked at his retreating back and then turned to Ron, who looked equally as shocked.
"He agreed with me!"
Hermione just looked smug.
…
"How is teaching treating you?"
Harry turned around to see Snape standing behind him. He was surprised to see that the man was wearing soft-looking grey robes—instead of his usual black—but they looked good on him.
Given Harry hadn't seen the man for so long before Hermione’s interference, it was almost odd that he was now seeing him so often. He found that he wasn't mad about it though. He was even beginning to look forward to the meetings, despite his initial wish to avoid Snape.
"Oh, hey, I didn't realise you were going to be here," he said, stepping back to perch on the empty seat beside the Professor. "It's going well. Tiring, but, well I guess you already know that."
Snape smirked. "Just a little. Teaching suits you; you've put on a little weight."
"Is that a polite way of calling me fat?" Harry asked, grinning.
"No, I'm saying you look much healthier ," Snape replied, rolling his eyes. "At the risk of sounding entirely too much like the Weasley matriarch, you were far too thin, Potter."
Harry snorted. "Oh trust me, it's nothing I haven't heard from Molly a thousand times. It's not like I don't eat, you know? I guess I just have an active metabolism."
"Something many would pay a lot of galleons for, I'm sure," Snape commented. "You have no idea how many requests I get via the hospital for the weight loss potion."
Laughing, Harry shook his head. "Why do they always come to you? No offence meant, of course, but surely they realise that you're busy enough up at the school? Can they not find their own potions masters?"
"I am the best," Snape replied, and it wasn't egotistical coming from him; perhaps because Harry knew that he spoke the truth. "They have their own brewers for the more common potions, but the potions that require skill… they outsource it to me."
Harry nodded. "Makes sense, I suppose, although I can't imagine how you find the time to get them all done with your teaching schedule being what it is."
"Well, the lack of a social life comes in handy occasionally, I suppose. Besides, I enjoy brewing, especially the more complicated potions. It gives me a chance to exercise the skills that I don't get while teaching, or stocking the hospital wing."
Harry could imagine that the man did actually enjoy it; he'd never seen Snape look more content than when he was bent over a cauldron, after all.
"Harry!" Kingsley called, waving to him from across the room.
"Well, duty calls. But, I uh. I was thinking maybe we could do dinner sometime?"
"'Do dinner', Potter?" Snape repeated, sounding mildly amused. Harry felt his cheeks heat up, and Snape took pity on him. "I'll send you an owl about it."
"Okay, uh. Good. Enjoy the rest of your night, Professor."
"Harry… I think Severus would be more appropriate from here on out."
Harry grinned. "Yes, sir ."
"Brat."
…
"Were you really never going to contact me?" Harry asked, as the two walked up the path towards Hogwarts. They'd spent a few hours in the village, had an enjoyable dinner together in the small restaurant behind Zonko's, and Harry had offered to walk back up to the castle gates with Severus.
"I wouldn't have," Severus confirmed softly. "Not because of a lack of desire to, I hope you understand. Our pasts have been so… twisted together that I rather thought you deserved the option to make your own choice. Too many of them have been made for you in your life."
"What about your choices though?" Harry asked, brow furrowing slightly. "You deserve happiness as much as anyone else does, Severus."
"My past mistakes would likely say something different. I'm not… unhappy with my life, Harry, you have to understand that."
"Not being unhappy isn't the same as being happy though, is it?"
Severus looked at him with a wry smile. "I suppose not."
They reached the gate, and Harry glanced up at the castle before he returned his eyes to Severus.
"Would you like to repeat tonight?" he offered, his stomach fluttering nervously.
He genuinely hadn't expected to enjoy the date as much as he had.
Severus twisted his lips and then nodded, his lips tilting up slightly in a smile.
"I'd like that, though I hope you'll allow me to plan the next one?"
"Sure," Harry agreed. "Owl me the details?"
Severus nodded, and then reached up to cup Harry's cheek. "Will you permit me to kiss you goodnight?"
"Of course."
Their lips met in a chaste kiss, and Harry practically melted under Severus' touch. He'd kissed others, but it had never been like this, and suddenly, he thought he understood what Hermione was talking about when she said that fate knew what it was doing with soulmates.
When Severus pulled back, Harry blinked at him.
"Wow."
Severus smiled. "Wow, indeed."
Harry leant up on his tiptoes for another kiss and grinned against Severus' thin lips.
"I guess fate maybe knew what she was doing after all."