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The cottage was quaint, but sizable. Severus wasn’t surprised when the wards allowed him entry, but he made his way to the door cautiously anyway. After the life he’d lived, cautious was practically his default way of life.
The aches and pains that littered his body weren’t helping his movement either, and so slow and steady was certainly his preferred method of moving.
The door opened to his touch, swinging open silently. He stepped inside and shut it behind him with a soft snick, before he walked through the cottage, carefully checking each room as he went.
He finally found what he was looking for in the kitchen. Harry Potter sat slumped on the floor, leaning back against the small breakfast bar, the fingers of one hand wrapped around a glass of amber liquid that Severus recognised as whisky.
Dull green eyes looked up to meet his own, and Severus watched as Potter seemed to look him over and then look away.
“You need to stop visiting me.”
Severus blinked. He hadn’t seen Potter since a few hours before his last stand against Voldemort.
“It’s not helping,” Potter added, though Severus noted the slur in his words. He wondered how much of the bottle Potter had tanked through in the last hour. “I thought that it was, but it’s not. You’re dead, and I need to accept that.”
Severus didn’t have time to sidestep the suddenly thrown glass, and he let out a noise of surprised pain when it struck him in the chest, before it fell to the floor and shattered on impact.
Potter stared, his eyes suddenly more alert as he registered the shattered glass. “Snape?”
“I realise that I’m probably the last person you want to see, Potter, but that seemed a little more violent than usual for you,” Snape said, his tone soft.
He rubbed at his chest, grimacing at the slightly sticky residue of the whisky.
“Who won’t you leave me alone? You… are dead,” Potter whispered. “I watched you die. I couldn’t… I tried to save you, but nothing was working, and—”
“It’s complicated,” Severus interrupted. “But suffice it to say, as a Potions Master, it would have been an offence to my life’s work had I been murdered by snake venom.”
Harry shook his head, and then buried it against his arms, propped up by his knees. Severus could just barely hear him muttering, “It’s not real, you’ve finally snapped, you’re going to look up and he won’t be there, it’s not real, you’re just lonely and stupid and drunk, it’s not real, he’s not here.”
“Potter.”
Severus closed his eyes for a moment, and then pulled out his wand from his pocket. He vanished the shards of glass from the floor and carefully ran his wand over his robes to get rid of any residue of the whisky. He turned the wand on himself and healed the bruised spot on his chest.
“Potter, you need to let me heal your wounds.”
Harry shook his head, still not looking up. His shoulders were trembling slightly, and Severus found himself at something of a loss. He’d never been the best at dealing with emotions, and certainly not people crying.
He wasn’t what one would call a ‘comforting presence’.
He stood awkwardly in the kitchen, waiting for Potter to… do something. Part of him wanted Potter to scream and shout at him, or even attack him, because it was better than this. At least if Potter attacked him, he would know how to handle it.
Eventually, the tears seemed to subside, or at least Potter’s shoulders stopped shaking, but when he still didn’t move, Severus realised that he’d fallen asleep.
Rolling his eyes, he approached Potter slowly and then bent to shake his shoulder gently. When Potter didn’t stir, Severus cast a feather-weight charm on him and lifted him carefully in his arms, pausing only to make sure that he had a good grip.
Potter’s injuries seemed to pull and twinge with every movement, and Severus grimaced as he made his way up the stairs. Severus kicked open one of the doors gently and found himself in what he assumed was a guest room.
Deciding that the guest room was probably the best bet, Severus laid Potter down on the bed and vanished his outer robe. Lacerations littered his arms and chest, and the shirt he wore beneath his robes was ripped and stained with dry blood.
Severus vanished the shirt as well, and set about healing the many cuts and bruises. He was certainly glad for his medical training as he managed to fix Potter up with healing charms and a few potions spelled directly into his system.
He let out a sigh of relief of his own when the pain eased, and then stepped back from the bed. With just a little effort, he managed to get the quilt from beneath Potter and he tucked him in carefully. Brushing the hair back from Potter’s face, Severus paused for only a moment before he turned and left the bedroom.
He silently walked down the stairs and went back into the kitchen. He cleaned it up, and then checked the fridge for food—there was none, which wasn’t surprising, but also wouldn’t do—before he called for his house elf, Miffy.
Instructing her to fill the fridge with food appropriate for both breakfast and hangovers, he walked into the living room. It was the most comfortable of the rooms Severus had seen, but it still lacked a certain homely nature that he would have expected of Potter.
Spotting an old record player in the corner of the room, Severus set it to play and took a seat in the armchair that had the best view of the door. He allowed himself to doze to the music, but he stopped himself from falling into a real sleep.
He just had to wait for Potter to wake up—and be sober—to have a real conversation with him. And, hopefully, help to pull his head from his arse at the same time.
…
“Either I’ve truly lost it this time, or you’re not as dead as the world believes you to be.”
Severus watched Harry slouch into the room in comfortable looking joggers and an oversized t-shirt, and slump down onto the sofa facing Severus.
“The latter, though I wouldn’t completely discount the former, given the state I found you in last night.”
Harry scowled but didn’t say anything. He looked rough, and his hands were shaking slightly in his lap. Severus sat him glance at the drinks cabinet in the corner.
“You won’t find comfort in the bottom of a bottle, Potter. Take it from someone who has tried, extensively.”
“How are you here?” Harry asked, clenching his hands into fists as though he’d only just noticed that they were shaking. “How am I… why can’t I feel you? Am I—”
“You’re not broken,” Severus said, softening his tone slightly. “Potter, I’m one of the world’s most accomplished Occlumens. I blocked the bond the moment I woke up from the coma that Nagini put me in.”
“Why did you do that?” Harry asked. “Do you have any idea what that did to—”
“If you think that I’m going to say sorry, you’ve got another thing coming,” Severus interrupted, perhaps a little harshly. “Potter, I thought that I was doing you a favour. I… am not the right choice for anyone, and certainly not for you.”
“You’re my fucking soulmate!”
“I am fully aware of that,” Severus replied, dryly. “Given that I was brought here by your injuries.”
Harry looked away. “I didn’t know that you were alive, so I’m not going to apologise for making you feel my pain.”
“I suppose that it’s a good thing that I didn’t come here looking for an apology then, isn’t it?” Severus replied, standing up from the armchair he’d been resting in. He walked through the cottage to the kitchen and started pulling food from the fridge.
He was glad that he’d asked Miffy to do it; she knew just how nit-picky he could be about food quality, and given the state of the rest of Potter’s kitchen had been in, he dreaded to think what he’d have had in, had there been anything at all.
He searched the cupboards for the plates, pans and cutlery he needed and set about cooking breakfast for two.
It didn’t take long for Harry to follow him into the kitchen. “Where did all of this food come from?”
“I had my elf bring it last night when I realised that you would wake up with a hell of a hangover.”
It thankfully didn’t take long to knock up a full english, and he put the plate down in front of Harry, followed quickly by a steaming mug of coffee and a tall glass of orange juice.
“How did you know that I’d have a hangover?” Harry asked, ignoring the food in favour of the coffee.
“The state you were in last night clued me in,” Severus replied, flatly. “Eat, it’ll make you feel better. Then, I believe that we need to have a conversation.”
Harry snorted. “I think I’d rather deal with the hangover.”
…
Severus only hesitated slightly before he joined Harry on the sofa, instead of returning to the chair. They each had a second mug of coffee, and Severus took comfort from the heat as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to explain his thoughts to his young soulmate.
Harry saved him the trouble.
“I… I understand you not wanting me for your soulmate,” he said, blowing out a long breath. “I don’t know how to block the bond like you can, we both know that I’m pants at Occlumency, but I’ll try and be more careful about getting hurt. I don’t want you to have to always feel my pain because I—”
“Potter—Harry—that’s really not the problem right now. I’m concerned about the way that you’re getting injured, and more importantly, not getting treatment, but not because I can feel your pain. I’m concerned about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve never been less fine in your life, and that’s really saying something,” Severus retorted, before he could stop himself.
“I… I couldn’t save you. Or I thought I couldn’t. And what was the point of anything I did if I couldn’t even save you? The one person who, for some indeterminable reason, is my perfect match. So, I, you know, lost it a little. Now that I know you’re alive, I’ll… I’ll be more careful.”
“Potter—”
“But I don’t need a babysitter, okay? I don’t want you to feel obligated to—”
“Potter, will you let me speak, you bloody nuisance?” Severus demanded. When Harry quieted himself, he continued. “My… lack of contact had very little to do with you personally,” Severus said, calming himself. “It had everything to do with a life filled with deception and deceit, and the wish to live out my remaining years in peace. I truly believed that I was doing you a favour; I had no thought that you would want me around.”
Harry looked away. He picked at a loose thread on the seam of his joggers, biting his bottom lip. Eventually, he said, “You don’t need to lie to me.”
“Potter—”
“You can’t even call me by my sodding name!”
“Harry. Harry, I thought… I thought that loving you wasn’t the right thing to do. And you are… so easily lovable. So I tried to push all thoughts of such a connection away because… because you deserve the best. And I am anything but that.”
“Isn’t that my decision? I’m not saying that you have to… we don’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t think properly.”
“Copious amounts of whisky will do that to a person,” Severus pointed out, a little slyly. He huffed a chuckle. “Go back to bed, Harry. We can continue this later.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t… trust that you’ll be here when I wake up.”
Severus, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, could see his reasoning and couldn’t actually fault him. As much as he would like to demand that Harry just take his word, he knew that that would be ridiculous and it wouldn’t help anything.
“Okay, come on,” he said, making a decision. He stood up and held his hand out for Harry to take—which he did, albeit slowly. Severus gently tugged him to his feet and led him up the stairs, back to the guest room he’d placed Harry the night before.
He stripped off his robe and toed off his shoes while Harry stood and watched him, and then climbed into the bed, shuffling across it until his back was against the wall.
“Get in,” he instructed, softly.
Harry did, lying down on his side, facing Severus.
“You… I can’t believe that you’re actually here. That I didn’t…”
“What he did to me was not your fault,” Severus murmured. “And it still wouldn’t have been, had I truly died.”
Harry cautiously reached out and wrapped timid fingers around Severus’ wrist between them. Severus allowed it, and then threw all caution to the wind and shook him off, only to link their fingers together.
“Go back to sleep, Harry.”
…
“I should have known that you would be clingy in your sleep,” Severus said sleepily, when he blinked his eyes open to see that, during their nap, Harry had crossed the bed and was now half lying on top of Severus, his head resting in the crook of Severus’ neck.
The stunning green eyes of his soulmate, no longer dull, sparkled at him. “I need a shower, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
Severus nodded, releasing the grip he realised that he had on Harry’s waist. “I’ll sort us out some lunch.”
“Dinner,” Harry corrected, as he sat up. “It’s after seven.”
Severus blinked at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for longer than four or five hours, and if it was after seven, then he’d slept for at least eight. Harry left the room, and a few minutes later, Severus heard the shower running in the bathroom across the hall.
He stretched and then climbed out of the bed, redressing himself quickly. By the time Harry joined him in the kitchen, he’d prepared a simple dinner of chicken, mash and vegetables. He’d considered opening a bottle of wine, but given his uncertainty about the level of problem Harry currently had with alcohol—if it was a problem at all, or just circumstances making him try and drown his sorrows more often—stayed his hand.
They ate with an accompaniment of orange juice instead, and then retired once more to the living room.
“Why are you here, Severus?” Harry asked, his tone wavering slightly over Severus’ name. He seemed to sign in relief when he wasn’t reprimanded for using it.
“I was worried about you,” Severus replied, being entirely honest. “And… I wanted… I…” he shook his head. “I wanted to see if you were happy in your life, Harry. That’s all I want for you. To be happy.”
“What about you?” Harry asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What about your happiness? Doesn’t that matter? What would make you happy?”
“My happiness is… irrelevant.”
“It’s really not.” Harry had a stubborn glint in his eyes that made Severus want to bang his head against the nearest wall. It was a familiar feeling, though the fondness that accompanied it was new. “You deserve to be happy too. What would make you happy, Severus?”
“I just want peace,” Severus admitted. “And… companionship. I’m not up for a love story, Harry. I can’t wine you and dine you like you deserve; I simply don’t have the energy. I cannot make large, loud gestures, or take you to the hottest new restaurant. I’m not built for a relationship like that.”
Harry frowned. “What on earth made you think that I would want that? Not that I’m saying that you have to be in a relationship with me, but really, do you know me at all?”
It was Severus’ turn to feel slightly wrongfooted. “Harry, I… what would make you happy?”
“I,” Harry paused, his cheeks flushing. “Your version of happiness sounds pretty good. Except, you know, with the occasional visit to the Burrow, so that Molly doesn’t hunt me down.”
Severus snorted, because he could absolutely imagine the Weasley matriarch acting as such.
He thought about his life as it was, living in the cottage he’d hidden from the world, with only Miffy for company, and then he considered what it would be like to add Harry to that life, splitting their time between their two homes, one in the countryside, the other by the sea. He thought about quiet mornings sharing breakfast, and evenings spent stargazing in the summer.
He thought that… well, it sounded rather wonderful.
Mentally pressing against his Occlumency barriers, he dropped the ones that he had been using to block their soulmate bond. He knew when he’d been successful; beside him, Harry gasped as their bond reconnected, a reunion of two souls that had been kept apart, and he smiled slightly, opening his eyes.
“Please don’t take it away again,” Harry murmured, reaching out to touch Severus’ hand. “Even if we’re not… even if you don’t want… please don’t take it away from me again.”
Severus hadn’t realised how much he’d been missing as the bond bounced lightly between them. While he’d been able to feel Harry—and his pain—the natural back and forth was so much better, and he was struck with guilt that he’d denied Harry the feeling.
It was no wonder that the younger man had been struggling with loneliness.
“I promise,” he whispered. “For the rest of our lives, I promise you. I won’t cut you off again.”
The look in Harry’s could captivate even the strongest of men, and Severus had never proclaimed to be that. Leaning forward slowly, he captured Harry’s lips with his own in a soft kiss.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, when he pulled back. “For what I’ve done to you, albeit unintentionally. “I’ll do my best to be… to be what you deserve.”
“Stop talking about ‘deserving’, Severus,” Harry replied, quietly. “It’s not about what we deserve. It’s… it’s about happiness, and that’s nobody else’s business.”
Severus couldn’t disagree, and even if he could, he didn’t want to.
…
The bathtub was filled with bubbles, and Severus shook his head when he saw Harry’s head just propped up out of them. “You’re such a princess,” he said, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet.
“But am I a pretty princess?” Harry asked, laughing.
“Oh, you’re just darling,” Severus replied, rolling his eyes. “What do you want for dinner, you little pest?”
“Isn’t it my turn to cook tonight?” Harry asked, frowning. “I was going to make coq-au-vin; it’s marinating at the moment. Also, this bath is big enough for two, and you should definitely come and be a princess with me.”
“Potter—”
“Severus. Come join me. It’s not even a squish here like it is at my place.”
Severus sighed, but he stripped his clothes regardless, because he’d found a peculiar dislike for telling Harry no. He climbed into the bath carefully, and despite his ridicule for the bubbles, he couldn’t deny that it felt heavenly.
Harry shifted so that Severus could slide in behind him, Harry resting up with his back to Severus’ chest.
“You know, your bathroom is like, the most Slytherin thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry said, turning to press a kiss against Severus’ throat. “I’m surprised that you didn’t get rid of all the snakes after Nagini.”
Severus wrinkled his nose. “Slytherin is part of who I am. Being bitten by a snake doesn't just cancel that out. Can you still talk to snakes? After the Horcrux?”
“I can,” Harry admitted. “I just… didn’t think that you would like it.”
“Do it,” he murmured.
Harry nodded, and there was a momentary pause before he hissed out what seemed like a few words.
Severus shuddered, but it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. “What did you say?” he asked, using his hands to massage Harry’s hips, before he moved his hands lower and lower.
Harry moaned softly. “I love you.”
“I know you do,” Severus said, chuckling. “But what did you say?”
“That’s what I said,” Harry replied, pressing up into Severus’ hands impatiently. “I love you.”
“Ah. I love you too. Tell me again.”
“I lo—”
“In parseltongue, Harry. Tell me again.”
Harry was more than happy to provide.