Secret Snarry: FIC: Dissembling Truth Title: Dissembling Truth Author:the_kinky_pet Gift Recipient:isisanubis Rating: PG Word Count: 8,500 Content/Warnings: (highlight for spoilers) *clichés, fluff, non-HBP-compliant AU* Summary/Prompt: Snowflakes, cabin in the woods, peppermint hot chocolate. Albus organizes a faculty retreat over the holidays and Harry Potter desperately needs Severus’s help to discourage an overly persistent suitor! (Non-HBP-compliant AU…) A/N: Happy holidays to Snarry lovers the world over and particularly to my mysterious muse & giftee! Many thanks to narryaworry for the excellent and speedy beta work!
Dissembling Truth
Potter apparently didn’t realize that whispering, particularly vehement whispering, drew one’s attention far more than a quietly spoken word. Idiot.
“I said ‘no’ four times, Mark,” Harry hissed, voice carrying, “please let it drop.”
Potter, the new Defense Professor—well, fine, not “new” after three years—and Mark Connor, the actually new Muggle Studies Professor, were fixing themselves tea on the far side of the staff room. They were a study in contrasts: Connor-- blond, heavily muscled, and tall; Potter-- dark, slim, and short enough Witch Weekly called his build “compact.”
Mark Connor, apparently less of an idiot than Potter, answered more discreetly, voice a deep rumble and the only words Severus caught from across the room were “later” and “persistent.”
At the head of the staff table, Albus cleared his throat and everyone began to take their places. Potter, never particularly graceful on land, nevertheless managed to bring two cups of tea to the table, then flop without spilling. The boy—man, whatever—slid the second cup down the table to Severus with a smile. Severus nodded.
“Now then, everyone,” Albus said, beaming at the table. Albus Dumbledore was wearing red and green striped robes with falling snow moving across them at a rather remarkable rate. They made Severus’ head hurt and he found himself thinking of freezing to death in blizzard; he doubted that was the designer’s intent. As though responding to his thoughts, the snow-fall began to gentle. Severus glared.
“I have some delightful news,” Albus announced, looking very pleased with himself. Severus immediately began to worry. “As part of a new relaxation and recreation program, I’ve decided that we should do some faculty bonding over the break.”
Faculty bonding? No, no, no!
“Headmaster,” Severus said, with his most acid sneer, “Isn’t it supposed to be a *break*? This sounds decidedly like work and I for one planned to spend the time away from class catching up on my research.”
“Exactly!” Albus exclaimed with delight, “It should be a break. Thank you, Severus, you quite prove my point. Left to your own devices, I know you’ll all just catch up on work, which really isn’t a break at all.”
“Albus, you’ve quite missed my point,” Severus said with a huff. “I meant—”
“Do be quiet, Severus,” McGonagall said. “Let Albus finish.”
“I’ve rented a set of cabins and a lodge in the woods,” Albus said. He popped a sweet into his mouth. “We’ll go there on retreat for rest, relaxation and hot chocolate.” He had another sweet, then added, “Peppermint hot chocolate, I should think. And roaring fires.”
Severus glared, but when he looked around everyone did seem pleased, except perhaps Potter, who was looking nervously down the table to where Connor grinned.
“Most of the cabins have suites which will accommodate three or four, but there are a couple of smaller two-person occupancy cabins as well.”
“You must be joking!” Severus cried. “I require privacy. Solitude! You can’t possibly expect—“
Albus continued as if Severus had never spoken. “So, be thinking about your roommates.”
* * * * *
Severus railed and stormed inwardly as he made his way to the dungeons. Albus was impossible. Simply impossible. Nothing Severus said would change his mind about this ridiculous holiday. He wouldn’t even make the event optional. Severus’ robes snapped around him as he strode towards his chambers. (He savored every angry step—it had taken two years of potions, persistence and pain to recover his old gait after the war.)
“Mark, lay off!” Potter’s voice had an edge to it and Severus could hear scuffling around the corner. He broke into a run.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, drawing his wand. Mark Connor had Potter pressed up against the dungeon wall. Connor calmly stepped back and turned toward him with an unconcerned smile. He shook his blond hair out of his eyes. Severus glared. “What’s going on here?”
“Hello, Professor Snape,” he said, “Nothing at all. Harry and I were just making some plans.” Potter frowned. “Anyway,” Connor continued, “I’ll see you both later.” With that, he sauntered away.
“Potter, are you all right?” Severus asked. He put his wand away.
Potter sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine I guess.” He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I just wish Mark would drop it. I’m not interested, but he can’t seem to take no for an answer.”
Severus glared down the hall. “I thought you and Connor were friends.”
“Me too, but lately he’s become horribly,” Potter waved his hand vaguely, then finished, “pushy.”
Potter looked so dejected that Severus made the offer impulsively.
“Come along, then,” he said briskly, “Have some scotch.”
Potter smiled up at him, tossing his fringe out of his eyes. “It’s not Thursday,” he said.
Severus glared. “Do you want that scotch or not?”
“’Course I do.” Potter grinned. Severus nodded and strode to his chambers. The portrait of Paracelsus was still bickering with Vesalius in an adjacent painting; the idiot took ten full seconds to stop arguing long enough to hear his password. Severus really needed a new guardian.
“They sure know how to hold a grudge,” Potter muttered. Severus scowled and hurried to pour two fingers of his second best scotch. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to make it four fingers instead. They took their usual seats and, as always, Potter spelled the fire too hot.
“You know, it’s harassment, Potter,” Severus said. “You need to talk to the Headmaster. Such behavior is unacceptable.”
Potter looked the very picture of despondency-- sagging shoulders, knit brow, and droopy mouth. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, then took a sip of scotch. “At first, I didn’t want to get Mark in trouble, but as you can see things have gotten pretty bad,” he sighed again, “I told Albus yesterday and he just got that infuriating look and said—” Potter stroked an imaginary beard, smiled enigmatically, and intoned, “—‘love often moves in mysterious ways, Harry my boy.’”
Severus stared. “That’s absurd.” He took another sip of scotch then added, “Even for Albus.”
“Yeah,” Potter agreed, staring into the fire. “Game of chess?”
Severus summoned the board.
Severus stormed out of the staff room after his regular cup of afternoon tea. (They were out of lemon wedges. Again.)
“Why not?” he heard that blasted Connor saying. “No reason not to indulge. There isn’t anyone else right now, is there?”
Severus hurried around the corner to find Connor once more invading Potter’s personal space.
“Connor,” Severus barked, drawing his wand, “I suggest you leave Professor Potter alone or, in addition to speaking to the Headmaster about your conduct,”-- he ran his eyes up and down Connor’s body . . . slowly. . . then continued in a lower voice, “I’ll also be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
Connor swallowed hard and stared at Severus’ wand. That’s right. Remember, I used to be a Death Eater.
“I’ll see you later,” Connor said. He shook himself a little and recovered his absurd arrogance. He sauntered away, casting a grin at Potter over his shoulder as he left. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor, Potter looked up.
“Thanks, Severus.”
Severus put his wand away and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter. What kind of wizard are you?” He shook his head. “Good afternoon.”
Later that evening, Potter knocked on his door and strolled into the Potions Master’s sitting room with a casual, “Hullo, Severus.”
“Potter.” He acknowledged him with a nod. “I suppose you’re here to drink my scotch again?”
“Yep-- regular as clockwork.” Potter smiled. “It is Thursday night, after all.” Severus just nodded and summoned the chess set. Potter added in a strange tone, “Yeah. Everything’s just like *usual.*”
At that Severus looked up. Yes, everything was like usual. It was 8 o’clock. The infuriating Potter had arrived. He would lose one or both their games of chess. They’d drink scotch, kvetch about their students, and discuss magical theory, Ministry policy and whatever else might come up. At 10:30, the boy would depart until next week. It was quite usual, or at least it had been since Potter’s second year as the Defense Professor; yet something about the way Potter said “usual” communicated precisely the opposite. Severus frowned.
Potter shook himself. “So, how did it go with the Headmaster?”
Severus slammed the chessboard down on the table with a bang.
“That badly?” Potter asked quietly.
Severus turned, barely restraining the impulse to gesture wildly and yell. He clenched his fists. “He was utterly unreasonable! I couldn’t tell if he didn’t believe me or if he simply didn’t care! Kept mumbling on about mysteries and love.” Severus frowned. “Perhaps his mental health really is failing. . .”
“I told you so,” Potter said quietly as Severus set the board. (He liked doing it by hand-- the cool marble of the pieces against his fingertips. The set had been a gift from Albus. Humph.) “He wouldn’t listen to me either,” Potter shrugged, “So, black or white?”
Forty minutes later, Severus snapped, “Honestly, Potter, you’re no challenge at all. If you didn’t wish to play chess, you certainly weren’t obligated to do so. Your focus is abysmal.”
The young Professor smiled sheepishly and Severus snorted.
“You’re my friend, right, Severus?” Potter asked raking a hand anxiously through his hair.
“Honestly, Potter—“ Severus began, gathering himself for a compound-complex, polysyllabic put down. Potter cut him off.
“Now’s no time for bluster,” he insisted. “You can protest and insult me all you like later, but . . . well, you are my friend, right?”
“I despise labels,” Severus muttered peevishly into his scotch.
Potter nodded and smiled. “Just as I thought,” he said, seeming ridiculously pleased, “After all, if you didn’t like me at least a little you’d have told me to shove it years ago.”
“It’s a clear sign I’ve been teaching here too long, deprived of mental stimulation,” Severus said.
Potter took a sip of his drink. “I—” he bit his lip and started again, “I’d like to ask you a favor.”
“Go on.”
“It’s about Mark.”
Severus waited. When Potter seemed to need more prompting, he raised an eyebrow. The shaggy headed boy—man, whatever—resumed. “He just won’t let up and, well, with the upcoming trip I really wish I had a good way to be rid of him.”
Potter trailed off and stared into the fire. Severus waited. Finally he glared then snapped, “If you want to ask a favor, get on with it. I’ve no interest in dragging it out of you.” Potter gathered himself and Severus cut him off, “And, no, I will not provide you with lethal poison.”
Potter laughed. “All right, no more hesitating. Look, Mark is pretty frightened of you. You have a reputation for the Dark Arts and, well, you can be quite scary when you choose to. And Mark keeps saying that I have no good reason not to hook up with him since I’m single, so I was thinking that the best defense, at least over this horrid trip Albus has planned, would be . . . er . . . well . . . that is, to pretend thatyou’remyboyfriend.”
“What!?”
“Think about it! If you’re my boyfriend, not only am I taken, I also have a frightening and potentially jealous lover who could really make him back off!”
Severus laughed. “Absurd! Nobody would believe it.”
“Why not? Everybody knows we play chess and have drinks every Thursday.”
“A weekly chess match is far from romance.”
“Nobody keeps tabs on us that closely,” Potter insisted.
“I’m twenty years older than you are!”
“Who cares? In the span of a wizard’s life that’s nothing.”
“I was your teacher!”
“Well, you aren’t anymore. That was years ago.”
“Nobody would fall for it.”
“If we both say it’s true, why would anyone bother to doubt us? We could say we were keeping it quiet because we didn’t want to end up in the Prophet.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! This is an absurd and utterly unnecessary plot-- I don’t need to pose as your lover to menace that moron.”
“No, but if we’re lovers, um, well, I think Albus would give us one of the double cabins.” Severus knit his brow. “I kinda maybe implied it already to see. And then there’d be no chance of me bunking with Connor and you wouldn’t have to stay with Hagrid and Flitwick.”
Severus stared. What a horrible prospect.
“Potter, there’s simply no need for this,” he insisted, “Just go to Albus and ask to be my roommate and I’ll do the same. He’s wanted us to get along for ages. I’m sure he’ll oblige us.”
Potter shook his head obstinately. “No. Hagrid already asked to bunk with Flitwick so he’d have someone to play sparkstone with and Flitwick already asked for you ‘cause you’re the only one who doesn’t always lose to him at chess. So, he’s putting you three in a trio and I don’t think the Headmaster is going to budge without . . . extraordinary circumstances.”
Flitwick. Hagrid. A cabin.
Potter chewed his lip a moment. “So, what do you say?”
“It’s a deal.”
Severus was looking forward to the next staff meeting more than he had thought possible, though he’d never admit it to Potter. There was a certain pleasure to be had in shocking one’s colleagues. Just a few more hours and it would be time for a brilliant performance. After all, he’d been a consummate spy—it would be a rare pleasure to use his skills without the threat of torture and death. But first, a spot of tea.
“Honestly, Harry, I told you it’s a terrible idea.” The unmistakable sound of Hermione Granger’s disapprobation assailed Severus’ ears. Potter’s mumbled response was incomprehensible. Severus slowed his steps and tread softly. He wasn’t eavesdropping; he just wasn’t storming into the faculty lounge as usual.
“There simply must be a better way to deal with the situation. This . . . this ruse, you’ve started! It’s absurd. You’re both adults! No good will come of this. What will happen when he finds out?” Another mumbled Potter reply. Granger’s voice went soft as she answered him, “Oh, Harry, surely if you just talked to him about it. This time, be really direct—“
Severus finally entered the faculty room. Potter had his back to the doorway, but Granger went silent and bit her lip at the sight of him. She looked embarrassed and guilty. Severus smirked. After a long moment, Potter followed Granger’s line of sight and turned.
“Severus,” Potter said, with a wry little smile, “I suppose you heard. Hermione doesn’t approve of our little plan.”
“Your little plan,” Severus corrected him. “Miss Granger, you’re in no way mistaken. It is absurd, but I assure you both Potter and I have been extremely direct to no avail.”
Granger’s brow furrowed, bushy eyebrows meeting under bushy hair. “Yes, sir, it’s just that—” she glanced at Potter who frowned, “honesty usually works out best in the long run.”
Severus snorted. Idealistic Gryffindor—who did she think she was speaking to? “By all means, Miss Granger,” Severus said in his most scathing tone, “do make your disapproval known. Speak to the Headmaster.” Now that Severus himself had been convinced by Potter, how dare she not follow suit? He was the one participating, after all. He intensified his glare. “Albus has been shockingly irresponsible in this matter. Perhaps your shrill tones can pull him from his twinkly-eyed, sentimental haze where Potter and I have failed.”
Vexed, Severus poured himself a cup of tea and stalked back to the corridor.
“Good day, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter.”
“Harry—” the boy corrected. Severus just snorted and left. Granger could take the fun out of anything.
* * * * *
“So, it’s all arranged,” Albus was saying. “We’ll leave the 28th from Hogwarts. Do remember to pack your mittens. You have your room assignments, so I think that’s all for—“
This was his moment. “Albus,” Severus interrupted. “There’s a mistake in the room assignments. Harry and I asked to share a double, you may recall.” Minerva and Hooch exchanged a glance at the use of Potter’s first name and Connor frowned.
“Now, Severus,” Albus said, lifting a hand, “I couldn’t accommodate everyone’s requests, so I’m afraid the assignments will have to stand.” Albus looked around. “Is there anything else before we adjourn until next term?”
“Er, I have an announcement,” Potter said hesitantly, with a glance at Severus.
“Potter, don’t,” he commanded.
“Severus . . .” the boy entreated. (He was good at this, astonishingly.)
“Harry,” he countered, with a hint of pleading.
“We were going to tell everyone on New Year’s eve anyway—” Potter said to him and reached a fumbling hand for Severus’, “now seems like a good time.” He raised Severus’ clasped hand to his lips and kissed it. (Potter’s lips were warm and soft.) He gave Severus a dazzling smile then turned to look at the rest of the faculty. The shock on all their faces amused Severus and a sincere smile rose to his lips.
“Severus and I have been seeing each other for a couple of months,” Harry said and dropped a bashful smile.
“I don’t believe it,” Sinistra blurted. Severus stiffened. He should have known nobody would believe that Harry Bloody Potter would want him—it was too absurd, too . . .
“Congratulations!” Hagrid boomed, “Why on earth didn’t you tell us sooner?”
“Well, you know how private Severus is,” Potter said. Minerva looked surprisingly misty-eyed. “We didn’t want the Prophet to get wind of it. In fact, we’d still like to keep it fairly quiet. And we didn’t want to say anything until we saw if things might work out and, well, it’s been a while now and we haven’t killed each other.”
“Yet,” Severus added. Everyone laughed. Poppy, like Minerva, might soon need a handkerchief. Albus twinkled. Connor stewed.
“This calls for celebration,” Albus announced. Potter opened his mouth, a question on his lips, but Albus cut him off, “And, yes, I’ll rework the room assignments.” Albus quelled Connor’s objection with a glance and steaming goblets of mulled wine appeared on the table.
“To Harry and Severus,” Albus proposed raising a glass.
It was just too much. “My God, man, we said we’re dating, not engaged to be married!” Severus snapped. Everyone just smiled. Harry laughed and kissed him on the cheek as everyone raised their glasses. After saying a toast, everyone got up to sip their wine and cluster around him and Potter.
“However did this happen?”
“So unexpected!”
“All that passionate resentment—I thought it might turn to another kind of passion eventually.”
“I saw it in my crystal ball of course. . . though, between you and me, I fear it shall end quite badly . . .”
Minerva and Poppy drew Potter off to one side to speak to him quietly. Severus tried to answer Hooch’s questions politely while listening in. “Harry, dear, why ever didn’t you tell us?” Poppy said. Minerva laid a hand on Potter’s shoulder and squeezed, then said, “I’m so happy for you. So very happy.”
Minerva came over to Severus and smiled. “Take good care of him, Severus.”
“Minerva.” He nodded. “I’d have thought you at least would object.”
She shook her head with a little smile. “Not at all. Harry deserves to be happy.” She reached out as if to touch his hand, then thought better and just added, “You both do.”
Shortly thereafter, Severus fled to the dungeons.
* * * * *
“Worked like a charm!” Potter chortled, flopping into his usual armchair. “Told you nobody would doubt it. Did you see Connor’s face?”
Severus nodded. It had been a pleasure to shock his colleagues and they’d clearly carried it off, but his mind was now ranging ahead to the inevitable end of their farce.
“The break-up will have to be mutual,” he told Potter tersely, handing him a glass of brandy. Potter looked up startled.
“We’ve only been together an hour and you already want to break up?” he said teasingly.
“I’ll not have Minerva the lioness after me for hurting her cub,” Severus said. “And I refuse to be dumped. Too predictable and embarrassing.”
Potter opened his mouth to say something, but took a sip of brandy instead. “Sure. Fine. Just tell me what the story is and we’ll make sure it’s consistent,” he shrugged, then added, “but let’s not rush. We can keep it up through part of next term, right?”
Severus nodded hesitantly. He hated to admit it, but Miss Granger might have had a good point. Potter kicked off his shoes and summoned a book from the shelf, curling up in Severus’ chair. He glanced up, “Or did you want a game?”
Severus shook his head and summoned his own book instead. An hour later, he was getting anxious for Potter to leave.
* * * * *
At dinner the next night, Potter scooted his chair closer and closer. Severus forced himself not to snap or move away. If only at least one of the students had signed up to stay over the holidays, none of this would have happened! Severus decided next year he would simply bribe a few of his little snakes. He’d not be subjected to ‘faculty bonding’ again.
“Severus,” Potter said, leaning close, “you’re not looking very couple-y.”
Severus forced himself to smile, uncomfortable at Potter’s proximity. “Well, Harry dear, we’ve been together for two months and never looked couple-y before. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“But now everyone knows,” he said more quietly leaning a bit closer. His breath was warm on Severus’ neck and ear. “A bit more public affection or signs of closeness would be normal. Just smile like I’ve said something charming or something.”
“Or something,” Severus muttered and did his best to oblige. Then he turned to gauge the results. Potter’s face was very close. He forced himself not to frown.
* * * * *
“So, maybe you should come to Christmas at the Weasley’s with me,” Potter said. “I mean, if you were my boyfriend, I’d definitely invite you.”
“If I were your boyfriend,” Severus said, making his scorn for the word very clear, “I’d still refuse to come. Besides, this charade is for Albus’ benefit. No need to extend it to your red-headed family as well.”
“All right,” Potter agreed with a sigh, “I’ll tell everybody that you’re too shy.”
“Shy isn’t the word for it,” Severus muttered.
“Well, I’m leaving tomorrow morning for the Burrow,” Potter said with a hesitant glance. “So, I guess I’ll see you the 28th, yeah?”
Severus nodded.
“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Potter said. His eyes were very green and he was standing nearer than usual.
“And to you, Potter.”
The Defense Professor hovered a few long moments before he turned and left.
* * * * *
Christmas day was as uneventful as ever. Severus wasn’t sure he was the only person at Hogwarts; he refused to leave his chambers and risk finding out. As always, Albus somehow circumvented his wards so his gifts appeared on the table in a cloud of glittering snow right after his second cup of morning coffee. Daft old fool. Though Severus wouldn’t say no to the scotch considering the rate at which Potter had been drinking it.
The house elves served goose for dinner and were brazen enough to start caroling at him. He let them finish “Deck the Halls” before starting to frown, scattering them with a look. (And Albus said he had no Christmas spirit! Ha!) He could only imagine the noise at the Weasleys. He settled into his armchair to savor the quiet.
* * * * *
“This is going to be glorious!” Harry Potter whirled around the small cabin, poking about, his face eager and bright. “Look, Severus! We’ve got our own fireplace!” He pulled the curtains letting snow reflected light pour into the little room. “You remembered to pack the chess set, right?”
“Potter.”
“I’m sure I forgot a few things, and there’s no Floo here, part of the rustic experience, but I guess I could Apparate if it were totally necessary. That would sort of spoil things though, wouldn’t it?”
“Potter!”
“Look! They’ve even left out hot cocoa under a warming charm. Isn’t that—“
“POTTER!”
“Yes?”
“The bed.”
“Yes?”
“There’s only one.”
“Well, they think we’re dating.” The little idiot shrugged. “They must assume we’re having sex.” He smiled. “After all, I’m a randy twenty-three year old.”
Severus was just gathering himself for a good tirade when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“It meets with your approval?” Albus asked. His red and green robes had a dizzying pattern of ice skating penguins. Severus wanted to strangle him.
“It’s marvelous!” Potter exclaimed, “I’d been wanting to get Severus away on a mini-break.”
“I’m so glad,” Albus said, “Now that you’re settled, won’t you join us at the lodge?”
Potter grabbed his cloak and went out into the stupid, scenic snow, pausing for Severus to join him. He offered his arm. Severus ignored him.
The “lodge” was a long log cabin like something out of an American film. It was riotously decorated with green and red, silver and gold. (Severus immediately and surreptitiously banished every sprig of mistletoe.) Two gigantic hearths framed either end and there was even a fire pit in the middle. Flitwick was roasting marshmallows on seven different sticks with a well-managed leviosa.
“Harry!” Xiomara called out. From her boisterous tone she was already well into Hagrid’s special eggnog. They approached and she gave them both a sly look and a wink. “Harry, I won’t demand it of you just now, but eventually you’ll have to tell us how ever you managed it.”
“Managed what?”
“Why to woo Severus of course! Can’t imagine it was him who did the wooing,” she said with a snort. “No easy feat, I’d think.”
“Er, I was going to get some hot cocoa,” Harry protested with a bashful glance at Severus. He reached out and took Severus’ hand. The Potion’s Master forced himself not to resist.
“Yes, well,” Xiomara huffed, “It can wait for now. Go on, then.”
The day passed . . . less miserably than Severus had expected. Potter frolicked in the snow with Hagrid while he played a few games of chess against Flitwick. Connor, Albus and Minerva played some endless Muggle board game with scraps of paper and railroads. Dinner was a sumptuous affair and Severus had seconds of shepherd’s pie and a well-spiked Irish coffee for dessert.
“Thank you again, for the cake, Hagrid.” Potter was dutifully thanking everyone a second or third time for their gifts, as they all bade each other good night. “And the Snitch, Xiomara. You’re really too kind.”
“Oh, not at all. Thank you for the Quidditch tickets,” she said. “So, what did you and Severus give each other?”
Potter gaped at her, totally unprepared for the question. Severus drew himself up and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Honestly, Madam,” he said, “Some things are private.” She looked torn between horror and delight for a second before the latter won and she grinned.
“And now,” Severus said with great solemnity, guiding Potter with a hand on the small of his back, “we bid you all good night.”
“G’night!”
“Good night!”
“Sleep well!”
It was a full moon and the snow was falling gently, so perfectly it looked almost like it had been ordered on command. (Perhaps Albus had a spell for such things?) The pine trees glistened under fluffy blankets of snow and a thin sheen of ice crunched under their feet as they walked. Potter slipped an arm around his waist. Severus froze.
“Thanks for getting us out of there,” Potter said softly, “It was getting a bit draining.”
“Quite.”
“Shall we go back to our cabin?” Potter nudged him forward, but didn’t remove his arm. It was a firm presence around his waist. They walked back in silence. The cabin was dark except for the light from the hearth. They hung their cloaks and left their boots on the mat.
“Okay for me to take the bathroom first?” Potter asked and, when Severus nodded, he vanished into it. Severus stood at the window, staring out at the snow until a few minutes later when Potter emerged in sharp red and white pinstripe pajamas.
Severus retreated to the bathroom. The mirror was not magical, thankfully, so it did not scold him for his appearance. It merely reflected. His black eyes, crooked nose, lank hair and pale skin. The crows-feet and the furrow at his brow were deepening, and the lines at his mouth had not been caused by laughing. He snorted and pulled on his black pajamas.
In the main room, he was shocked to find Harry Potter, curled up on the far side of the bed, reading a book by the light of a small bedside lamp. He looked up with a small smile and pulled the blankets back.
“Sleepy?” Potter asked. Suddenly, Severus realized he was exhausted and this whole thing had been a terrible mistake. He spun to the armchair and drew out his wand. Damn Minerva! He hated to admit it, but he’d never been good at transfigurations. The chaise lounge that grew hesitantly from the armchair looked less than sturdy.
“Severus,” Potter called.
Severus tried again. This time it sagged in the middle and the left leg was too short.
The sound of rustling blankets and soft-padding feet. A hand gently placed on his shoulder. “Severus,” Potter said softly. “Please don’t sleep on that rickety thing. I’d rather sleep on the floor than let you sleep on that. I know your back still pains you sometimes.” Potter pulled on his arm, turning him around. “Surely, you know me well enough to realize I’m not going to molest you or hurt you in your sleep. It’s huge. Can’t we just share the bed?”
Severus didn’t move. Potter sighed.
“It’s fine, Severus. Just take the bed. I’ll be okay on the floor, or I can transfigure something. I don’t want your back to suffer—after all, you’re doing this as a favor for me.”
Severus stepped hesitantly to the bed, then watched as Potter summoned a pillow and started to settle on the floor beside him.
“Honestly, Potter,” Severus snapped. “Get up off that floor before you catch a chill.” He nodded to the far side of the bed and Potter smiled.
“Thanks, Severus,” he murmured, climbing in. “Good night.”
* * * * *
The next day passed much as the first, in idle games and foolishness. Albus refused to let him retreat to their cabin during the day, but graciously permitted him to catch up on his reading (Potions Quarterly and Mastery Manuscript) by the fireside, on the condition that he drank copious amounts of hot chocolate. Potter had curled up on the rug at his feet with Miss Granger’s latest Christmas present, a copy of Oscar Wilde’s fairy tales.
“So,” Madam Hooch said to Potter, as she settled on the opposite couch, “When are you going to tell us about the wooing of Severus Snape?”
“I’m right here, Madam,” Severus pointed out waspishly.
“Why so you are. Now, how about it, Harry?”
Potter glanced up at him with a smile. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like much of a story, really.”
Hooch snorted. Flitwick, Poppy, and Hagrid looked up from sparkstone nearby. Albus and Minerva paused surreptitiously in their game. Sinistra took a seat beside Xiomara and added, “Yes, do tell.”
“Well,” Harry said, with perfectly bashful awkwardness. “We really have more in common than anyone used to realize, though I didn’t always see it. And Severus is far braver than I am. I guess I first started admiring him when I found out everything he did in the war, all the sacrifices he’d made.” Potter reached up to hold Severus’ hand; the angle was awkward, but apparently he thought the effect was worth it.
“When I came back to Hogwarts to teach, I was determined to get to know him. I had sort of idolized him after the war, but I didn’t actually know him. Being friendly sure didn’t work, so it all started with a challenge—I knew I had to find something to appeal to his inner Slytherin and his habit of putting me in my place while teaching me.” Potter said it affectionately, glancing up at Severus occasionally with a little smile as he spoke. “So, I said I could beat him at chess. Proved me wrong! We started playing every Thursday. At first he’d only talk about chess, explaining to me where I’d go wrong, but little by little we talked about our classes, current events, what we were reading. I guess, that’s how I first got to know him.”
It was very warm by the fire. Severus could feel his face heating. He glanced at Potter’s audience, sitting in rapt, dewy-eyed captivation. Potter was stroking his hand, with soft, delicate fingertips as he spoke.
“I learned to appreciate that though Severus is strict and has a nasty tongue, he keeps discipline in his classroom with a glance and he can actually make insults funny. He distills his own whiskey as well as potions, he’s read every book Hermione’s ever given me and he never fell for any of the Boy-who-lived hype.”
Severus tried not to squirm in his seat or pull away. It was strange to hear their . . . acquaintance . . . transformed into narrative for an eager, romanticizing audience.
Potter continued. “It took a while for me to realize it, but I wanted to see more of him and not just as a friend. Thursday night chess wasn’t enough. Of course, he turned me down at first. I think, he still saw me as a boy, barely past being a student.”
“How did he convince you, Severus?” Xiomara asked.
Severus snorted and spoke without thinking. “Sheer stubbornness.” Everyone laughed. Potter was still stroking his hand. The boy took a breath as if to launch into another story; Severus pulled his hand away.
“Sorry, Severus,” Potter said softly, “Didn’t mean to natter on. Anyway,” he said turning back to Xiomara. “It surely doesn’t seem so strange, does it?”
“Not in the least,” Minerva answered. She cleared her throat. “Shall we go to dinner everyone?”
* * * * *
That evening, in their cabin, after taking turns in the bathroom, Potter settled into bed beside him, small and distant across the huge bed.
“Severus?” he said so quietly it could hardly be heard.
“What?”
“About earlier . . .” The sheets rustled and the bed shifted as Potter rolled on his side to face him. “Everything I said, about the way I admired you and I wanted to get to know you—it’s all true. I really did—I mean, do—admire you. You really are . . . amazing, like I was trying to say.”
Severus rolled onto his side, turning his back on the boy.
“You surprised me there, Potter.”
“I did?” There was a breathless quality to his voice.
“I didn’t think you had that kind of skill,” Severus said. “I thought you’d overdo it, grandiose and Gryffindor. But the best, the most convincing lies are the ones nearest to the truth.”
Potter was silent for a very long time. When Potter whispered Severus’ name again, he pretended to be asleep; the boy finally rolled over.
* * * * *
The next day, Severus awoke to the sight of a half-naked Harry Potter, a tiny towel slung low on his hips as he rummaged around in the dresser. His body was still glistening from the shower, his damp hair flat on his head, unusually orderly.
“Potter!” The young man turned, his lithe, muscular body on full display. Severus flushed. It was no longer the body of a scrawny, under-fed adolescent. “Have you never heard of a bathrobe?”
“Sorry, Severus,” he said with a shrug. A trail of dark hair drew a line from his navel to the edge of the towel and down . . . “I forgot to pack one.” He bent again to rummage about in the drawers, his backside framed by the damp towel. He gathered a green shirt and grey trousers, then stretched as he stood, sending his muscles rippling.
Mercifully, he had the decency to dress in the bathroom.
* * * * *
Outwardly, the day was like the two preceding. Sprout coaxed some winter lilies into gilded flower. Hagrid displayed unexpected patience bird watching. Everyone played games, drank hot chocolate, read books by the fire and frisked about in the snow. (Well, everyone except Severus, though he did play a dignified game of Snow Croquet.) He doubted that anyone else would have noticed the change, but to him it was unmistakable.
Potter had started touching him. He would touch his hand to get his attention before speaking. Or lean his head on Severus’ shoulder for a moment when they stood next to each other during croquet. He sat closer to him by the fire and let his knee press against Severus’ own. Paired with the revelation of Potter’s less-than-adolescent body, it made Severus . . . uncomfortable. In more ways than one. He finally proposed a game of chess just to put some space between them.
But there was another change too. Before, everything about Potter’s interactions with him had radiated satisfaction—the air of a young man happy in his relationship, one unassailable by pesky, unwanted suitors. Now though, Severus often caught Potter looking at him pensively, with an expression that he would almost call . . . wistful. Minerva noticed it too and cast them occasional worried glances.
At dinner, Potter leaned to him and said, “I wish it were Thursday night and we were in the dungeons.” He smiled. “You’ve been quiet all day, you know.”
Severus nodded.
“At Hogwarts, you always have plenty to say to me,” he shook his head, “I miss that.” There was that wistful look again. Severus didn’t like it at all.
“Severus?” Potter asked when they retired to their cabin. “I have something for you.” He took a small box out of a side pocket in his suitcase. “I came upon it purely by chance and it was so close to Christmas and your birthday, it just seemed a shame to pass it up.” He fidgeted with the silver ribbon on the box. “I meant to give it to you the day we arrived, but somehow didn’t. . . anyway, I hope you like it.”
“Potter, that was unnecessary.”
“I know, I just thought. Er, well, won’t you open it?”
Severus sat down on the side of the bed and Potter joined him, their knees touching. He felt very naked in his pajamas with Potter. He untied the ribbon, opened the little velvet box and was momentarily baffled to find it contained a ring. (Was this some sort of mock proposal?) He took the signet ring from the case and examined it, then nearly dropped it in shock.
After a moment, Potter hesitantly said, “The clerk said it was spelled to resize itself, so there shouldn’t be a problem with fit if you actually want to wear it.” He fidgeted again. “Do you like it?”
The ring was shaped like a heraldic shield and featured a snake twined about a wand, much like the symbol of Asclepius. It rose up from a cauldron and flanked by a lily and a sprig of rosemary.
“This is one of Elijah Trevisan’s signet rings,” Severus finally said.
“Um, yeah,” Potter nodded. “I was shopping with Hermione. She’s the one who recognized it in the shop and I remembered you talking about how influential his healing potions were and that they’re the basis for your work on Wolfsbane.”
Severus caressed the ring reverently. “He was the greatest Potions Master of the nineteenth century.”
Potter nodded again. “I thought you might like to have it.”
“Potter, it’s priceless, I—“
“So you like it?”
“It’s perfect. You shouldn’t have. . . I didn’t—”
“Oh! You didn’t need to get me anything. It was just dumb, Gryffindor luck that I stumbled across it.”
“No, that’s not,” Severus floundered, “Accio Potter’s gift!” A bottle with a ribbon around it sped from Severus’ duffle.
“To Potter, To Thursdays,” he read, then looked up. “You did get me something! Your own?”
Severus nodded. “I’ve been working on the aging spells. They become unstable the higher the volume, but that’s last year’s distillation and I believe I’ve replicated ten years.”
“That’s amazing!” Potter turned the unlabelled bottle over in his hands. “Thank you so much, Severus. It means a lot to me.”
They sat on the edge of the bed, examining their gifts. The silence stretched on.
Finally, Severus cleared his throat. Potter started.
“Good night, Severus,” he said, going to his side of the bed.
“Good night, Potter.”
It took Severus a very long time to fall asleep.
* * * * *
Severus awoke to find Harry Potter nestled in his arms, head pillowed on his chest. His leg was carelessly wrapped around Severus’ side and the young man was breathing the deep, perfectly regular breaths of someone pretending to be asleep.
For fifteen minutes Severus lay perfectly still, but finally his back cried out in protest and he had to move. (It was only to be expected that after Bellatrix broke his spine in four places, he’d never been quite the same…) Potter, still feigning sleep, rolled to the left and continued dissembling as Severus got up and took the first turn in the shower.
“I’ll meet you at the lodge, Potter.”
Severus fetched a cup of coffee from the sideboard and, before anyone could waylay him, went for a brisk walk in the snow. He often did his best thinking on the move.
When Severus returned, Potter was at breakfast, demolishing a pile of crepes and sausages. Severus laid a hand on Potter’s shoulder as he took a seat and the young man jumped, dropping his fork on his plate with a clatter.
“All right, Harry?” Severus asked. Potter nodded, though he gave him an odd look. “Pass the coffee and the toast, please.”
“Would you like to play another game of Snow Croquet today?” he asked, buttering his toast.
“Um, sure. I didn’t think you’d want to,” Potter said.
“I rather enjoyed it,” Severus said with a smile.
As they walked out for the match, he casually put his arm across Potter’s shoulders. The boy froze. It took a long moment before he bit his lip, glanced up at Severus, and put an arm around his waist. He practically radiated uncertainty.
Throughout the game, Severus bestowed little caresses on Potter. It wrought havoc on the young man’s aim, but Severus was resigned to lose at croquet.
Back in the lodge, he pulled Potter close to read together by the fire. Severus summoned frequent refills of hot chocolate for his young lover, unwilling let him get up. The faculty left the new couple to themselves, though Minerva cast frequent, fond looks at the pair of them. In all his years, Severus had never expected the redoubtable McGonagall to bestow such a soft expression on him.
As the day wore on, Potter became more and more flustered. He blushed and squirmed. Severus ran his fingers through Potter’s unruly hair and the younger man positioned his magazine strategically across his lap.
Severus smiled to himself.
After a late dinner, which Severus spent pressing his knee against Potter’s, Albus enchanted some music. Connor, acting a perfect gentleman all of a sudden, asked Minerva to dance. Albus led Poppy to the floor. Severus rose from his seat and, with a little bow, held out his hand.
“I’m really not much of a dancer,” Harry protested.
“Nonsense!” Hagrid boomed, “Anyway, steps don’t matter. Just enjoy yerself!”
“Harry?” Severus raised an eyebrow.
Looking horribly nervous, Potter followed him to the dance floor. “I’ll lead,” Severus murmured. It was a stately waltz and Severus allowed Potter to maintain a certain distance between their bodies. Between songs, they sipped champagne. Everyone grew more boisterous (not to mention tipsy) as midnight approached.
Albus cast a merry glance in their direction, then conjured slow, love song Severus no longer remembered the name of. Severus pulled Potter close as they danced and the young man shifted awkwardly about in his arms, trying not to reveal how Severus was affecting him. Severus trailed his hands down Potter’s back, drawing him nearer, then ranged down a little further to caress Potter’s arse. He gasped and squirmed, burying his flushed face against Severus’ chest, as Severus’ thigh pressed hard against his erection. He rubbed his cheek against Potter’s hair, his own arousal unmistakable.
“Nearly midnight,” he murmured. He thought he heard the other man gasp “oh God!” but couldn’t be sure over the music and merriment.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Everyone counted gleefully, giddy for another new year without the threat of the Dark Lord. He held Potter pinned against him with his right hand at the small of his back. He drew his left hand up the young man’s body—over his hip, his chest, his neck, to cup his chin.
“Seven! Six! Five! Four!”
Severus pulled Potter’s face from his chest, tipping his chin up. He gazed into Potter’s flushed face, his gleaming green eyes. He looked practically mesmerized.
“Three! Two! One!”
Potter’s breath hitched.
“Happy New Year!”
Severus pressed his lips to Potter’s and it was like taking flame to tinder. He dragged Potter closer, caressing his neck, his face, holding his hair as they exchanged hot, punishing kisses, all tongues and teeth and terribly, terribly good. Potter was gasping into his mouth, fingers scrabbling on Severus’ robes, trying to find a hold to insist on close, harder, more. Some distant part of Severus’ mind finally realized this was not a polite New Year’s kiss and that they shouldn’t devour each other in front of their colleagues. He gathered his magic and with a *crack* they vanished.
“That’s cheating,” Potter gasped, looking around their cabin wild-eyed. His lips were swollen. Severus leaned down for another intoxicating kiss, but Potter struggled away, breaking free from his arms. He stood panting a few feet away. “You’ve been torturing me all day!” Severus took a step closer, Potter a step back.
Potter took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. His eyes and voice still a bit wild, he said, “Severus, I-- I don’t want this to be just some New Year’s eve hook-up, though I can see why you might think . . . oh, gods, I’ve gone about this all the wrong way. . . ” The young man started to pace in front of the hearth.
“Potter—” Severus tried to calm his racing pulse.
“No, Severus, please. There’s something I have to tell you. I hope you won’t be too angry, but you see—“
“Potter!”
“I don’t want there to be any secrets between us and I couldn’t bear to go to bed with you only to find out-- “
“POTTER!”
Potter stopped in his tracks and looked up. “Yes?”
“You can unburden yourself as needed once you answer one question for me.” Severus took a step closer. Harry did not retreat.
“Er, okay.” He looked nervous.
“What did you offer Albus and Connor to go along with your scheme?”
Potter’s mouth dropped. “You know?” he whispered. Severus smirked. “How?” Potter shook his head as if to clear it. “You’re not angry?”
Severus reached out to caress Potter’s cheek gently. “All things considered,” he looked at Potter’s hopeful expression, “no.”
Harry flung his arms around Severus’ neck and held tight. “I was so worried,” he whispered against the man’s neck. Severus huffed.
“Now answer the question, Potter.”
The young man shrugged. “I offered to help Mark with his class prep for two weeks, though I doubt he’s going to hold me to it. We’re pretty decent friends.”
“He isn’t even gay, is he?”
“Straight as an arrow,” Potter grinned.
“And Albus?”
“Queer as a brass galleon.”
“You know what I meant!”
“I didn’t have to offer him anything. He was glad to help.” Harry smiled up at him. “He’d do nearly anything to see you happy. I promised I’d be good to you.”
Severus wanted to roll his eyes, but couldn’t quite make himself do it. Suddenly he remembered another question. “What about Poppy and Minerva?”
“Oh. They had no idea. That was probably a mistake,” Harry looked down and bit his lip.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Because they already knew . . .”
“Knew what?”
“How I felt about you. Er, at least, how I idolized you right after the war. They’re both such romantics. I didn’t want to tell them I was planning something sneaky.”
Severus’ mind was racing. Poppy and Minerva? Why . . .
“It was you!” he exclaimed, then repeated more quietly, a hint of awe creeping into his voice. “It was you. I always thought it must have been Albus, but it was you, wasn’t it?” Harry nodded. “And Poppy and Minerva saw you with me in hospital.”
He nodded again and whispered, voice catching, “Almost every day. We weren’t sure you would wake up. Or that you’d walk again once you did.” Potter buried his head against Severus’ chest and held him close. Severus carded his fingers through the young man’s hair. It was snowing outside and the fire crackled, filling the room with flickering warmth.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I tried. You weren’t listening.” Potter ran his hands up and down Severus’ back and asked, “Why all that . . teasing . . . today?”
Severus shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to be sure that you really . . .” he made a vague gesture between them.
Potter laughed quietly. “Want you? Always, Severus.” He rubbed his cheek against Severus’ chest like a cat. Or perhaps a lion. “Did I convince you?” Severus nodded.
“You’re really not angry?” Potter asked softly.
“All in all,” Severus said with a chuckle, “It was a rather Slytherin courtship, Mr. Potter.”
Harry grinned.
“Now, where were we?” Severus asked, pulling him closer.