Fic: Blue Moon (Harry/Snape, NC-17) for potion_lady Author:centaury_squill Recipient:potion_lady Title: Blue Moon Rating: R Pairing(s): Snape/Harry, former Snape/Bill Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older. Summary: Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds he needs Snape's help. But it comes at a price. Warnings: bondage, rimming, AU in that Snape didn't die Word Count: 9,500 Author's Notes: Merry Yuletide, potion_lady! I had your kinks firmly in mind while writing this story ;-) and I hope it shows. Many thanks to my beta.
Blue Moon
The baby chuckled and reached out her arms to the pretty creature. It came closer, the firelight gleaming on the thick pelt along its spine. Rearing up on its hind legs, it rested its paws on the edge of the cot and looked down. Now the fire shone through the fuzzy ruff around its neck; individual hairs stood out, waving gently in the draught from the open door. The baby watched with delight as the hairs slowly changed colour: from silver to lilac, lilac to apple-blossom pink, then deepening to a rich crimson in the firelight.
The baby cooed in triumph as her uncoordinated waving fists managed to grab handfuls of the pretty fur. She tugged her new toy towards her. A long wet tongue came out and licked her face. She giggled, closed her eyes, and buried her face in the enticing softness of the animal's fur. Then, suddenly, it was no longer there; snatched from the comforting warmth of her cot, she was whisked out of the room in the tight, bruising grasp of her mother. She stretched back for a last sight of the beautiful, multicoloured creature, then the door slammed. The baby wailed, inconsolable at the loss of her new toy.
*
"He's got to be registered as a werewolf. He's got to be controlled!"
"Hang on, Ginny. This is Teddy we're talking about, not some dangerous beast."
"You didn't see him, Harry. He was slavering over Lily's cot. If I hadn't come in when I did, he'd have bitten her!"
Harry pushed his hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture. "You can't know that. And anyway, how come she was alone in the room? Where were you?"
He shouldn't have said that, he realised, trying to shut his ears to Ginny's indignant stream of complaints: he didn't know what it was like, looking after three children under five; not as if he pulled his weight, always off on some Auror mission; bad enough she'd been lumbered with his godson anyway, but now he'd turned out to be downright dangerous –
"He's never transformed before," Harry managed to interject. "Are you sure it wasn't – I dunno, some trick of the light, or one of his Metamorphmagus pranks –"
Ginny shot him a glance of withering scorn, and jerked her head in the direction of the living room. "See for yourself. I locked him in there."
And when Harry went to look, it was indeed a large wolf-cub lying asleep on the hearthrug in front of the fire.
A wolf-cub with turquoise fur.
*
"When's Auntie Ginny and the kids coming back?"
"I don't know, Teddy. Probably not for a while." If ever, Harry added to himself. He was stunned by the speed at which his marriage had unravelled.
"Good," Teddy said callously. "Jimmy was always breaking my stuff. Come and play Quidditch on the back lawn?"
Harry followed his godson into the garden, frowning in thought. Teddy had shown no ill effects from his transformation the other day... apparently hadn't connected it with the sudden departure of Ginny and the children... in fact didn't seem to remember much about it at all...
"Ouff!" Harry doubled up, clutching his stomach. "Teddy, how many times have I told you not to throw the Quaffle till I'm ready?" He picked up their practice Quaffle – actually a Muggle football – and hurled it back at his godson. "Go and get the brooms from the shed."
He watched the boy running happily across the lawn. He supposed that at some point he'd have to mend fences with Ginny, but for now Teddy was his main concern. Why had he suddenly started showing signs of his werewolf heritage at ten years old? Hormones, maybe?
"Uncle Harr - ee," Teddy yelled impatiently, hovering at head height on his small broom, trailing Harry's larger Firebolt behind him. Harry looked up at him, smiling.
"Come ON!" Teddy's eyebrows – magenta, today, Harry noticed absently – drew together in a scowl. The Firebolt left his small fist with a WHOOSH! and a shower of sparks, and hurtled towards Harry.
Oh shit, Harry thought, catching his broomstick with automatic Quidditch-player reflexes. Wild magic, now. Good thing he'll be going to Hogwarts next year, they'll soon teach him to control it... Then his stomach lurched, just as if Teddy had thumped him again with an unexpected Quaffle. No way Hogwarts would take a full-blown werewolf. I've got to sort out Teddy's problem, Harry thought grimly, mounting his broom and following Teddy to the far end of the orchard. I've just got to.
*
That night as he was getting ready for bed, Harry was disturbed by the sound of a beak tapping insistently on the bedroom window. He frowned, anticipating an irate owl from Ginny, but when he pulled back the curtains he saw a large seagull perched on the sill. It cocked its head and regarded him with a beady black eye. When Harry made no move to open the window, the bird rapped on the glass again with its menacing-looking beak, and raised a claw. Harry could see a thin roll of parchment tucked into a ring encircling the gull's leg. So it was an owl, of sorts. But who would send a message by seagull?
Harry opened the window and, being careful to avoid the wicked beak, plucked the parchment from the bird's leg. The scroll was sealed with a blob of scarlet wax, and impressed on the wax were the delicate whorls of...
"A seashell!" Harry said aloud, breaking open the seal. He glanced first at the signature; as he suspected, it was from Bill Weasley. He'd heard that Bill had gone a bit weird following Fleur's death: shutting himself and his daughter Victoire up in isolated Shell Cottage, rarely going out. He vaguely remembered Molly lamenting about it during family visits to The Burrow.
The obnoxious seagull rattled on the window again with its vicious beak; obviously it had been told to wait for a reply. Harry hastily turned back to the letter.
Harry,
I've heard about Teddy on the family grapevine...
Not completely isolated, then. Harry winced. What had Ginny been saying?
... and I think I may know someone who can help. Could you bring Teddy down to Shell Cottage for a few days, and we'll talk it over?
Rap, rap. The gull was getting impatient.
Just let me know if you can come – Fishy will bring your reply – and I'll send you a Portkey for next weekend.
Bill
RAP! RAP!
"Hang on, Fishy," Harry muttered, picking up a quill and scribbling Sure, thanks very much on the back of the note. He gingerly poked the parchment back into the ring, this time failing to avoid a stab from Fishy's beak.
"Ouch!" He snatched his hand back and slammed the window shut. The gull flew away into the darkness with a derisive screech.
*
The first thing Harry saw when he and Teddy arrived at Shell Cottage was Dobby's grave. He stared in silence at the inscription:
Here lies Dobby, a free Elf
It seemed like a lifetime since he'd carved those words. He'd been back once since then, for Victoire's christening. That had been in early summer, and Dobby's grave was covered in flowers. Now, in late autumn, no flowers bloomed; a drift of dead leaves rustled across the grave in the wind from the sea. Harry shivered, and looked down at Teddy, uncharacteristically silent by his side.
They'd landed, clutching the conch shell Portkey Bill had sent, in the garden of Shell Cottage. But nobody was there to welcome them and the cottage door stayed closed. Vaguely surprised, Harry picked up their suitcase from the grass and walked along the path lined with sea holly towards the cottage. Teddy trotted at his heels like an obedient dog.
Harry knocked on the cottage door. No reply. "Weird," he muttered. Why had Bill sent a Portkey for this particular time, if he wasn't going to be here?
They stood for a while, listening to the boom of the surf breaking against the bottom of the cliff. Teddy tugged at Harry's hand. "Let's go home," he whined. "I don't like it here. Let's go home and play Quidditch."
Harry hesitated, undecided. He looked up at the sky over the headland. A few seagulls wheeled against the clouds with mournful cries. Was one of them Fishy? It was impossible to tell. Then his attention was caught by two figures making their way along the cliff path towards the cottage. One was tall, the other tiny, child size. As they got closer he recognised Bill Weasley. The girl skipping along beside him must be his daughter, Victoire. She reminded Harry of Fleur.
"Sorry!" Bill called. "I meant to be here when you arrived, but this little scamp ran away and I've been looking for her all morning."
Victoire stopped skipping and hung back as her father opened the cottage door. She looked warily at Harry and put her tongue out at Teddy. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the cottage. Harry followed, grinning.
"Put him down, Victoire, he's too young for your Veela wiles." Bill sounded half exasperated, half amused.
"I'm a lot older than she is!" Teddy said. Harry thought the Veela reference had bypassed him completely: Teddy was just anxious to establish his superiority in the age department.
Victoire tossed her long blonde hair and tried to look haughty. Then she burst into giggles and pulled Teddy towards the stairs. "Come on, I'll show you your room. I put some of my old toys in it for you."
Teddy muttered something about "stupid girls' toys" but he went with her willingly enough. Harry and Bill were left looking at each other.
"Not seen you for a while," Bill said abruptly.
"No," Harry said. He felt awkward. In fact he hadn't seen Bill since Fleur's funeral. Should he say something about her? Bill's face was so scarred it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
"Better not talk about – things – until tonight, when the kids are asleep," Bill warned in a low voice. "George gave Victoire an Extendable Ear for her birthday. Stupid arse."
*
That night the autumn winds shrieked around the little cottage, but Harry and Bill sat snug and warm beside the fire, sharing a bottle of cognac.
"My in-laws send a case every Christmas," Bill said, refilling Harry's glass. "This is the last bottle, so make the most of it." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Ah. Peace at last. I thought the brats would never get off."
Harry nodded. "Um, sorry about the seagull," he said. "I didn't know Teddy'd smuggled his catapult into the suitcase."
Bill shrugged. "At least it wasn't Fishy," he said. "Victoire would never have forgiven him." He stretched his long legs out towards the fire and thoughtfully sipped his brandy. "Sooo," he said, drawing the word out. There was a pause. They both stared owlishly into the flames.
Harry felt more relaxed than he had for months – hell, for years. He swirled his brandy around the bowl of his glass as Bill was doing, and took another swig. "You said you might be able to help. About Teddy."
"Mmmm." Bill held his glass up to the firelight and squinted at the golden liquid. "I had more trouble with these –" passing his hand across his scars "– than I let most people know. OK, Greyback hadn't transformed when he bit me. But they were cursed bites all the same. If I hadn't had help – a lot of help – I don't know what would've happened." He drained his glass and set it down on the low table beside him. "'Nother one?"
Harry pushed his empty glass across the table. "And – you mean – whoever helped you, knows enough about werewolves to help Teddy? Who was it?"
Bill carefully refilled both glasses.
"Severus Snape."
Harry stared at him. He hadn't thought about Snape in years. He searched his memory. "Didn't they put him in Azkaban?"
"Only briefly. Kingsley Shacklebolt got him out. But he didn't want to come back to Britain. Said there's nothing for him here. He's been teaching at Durmstrang for the past – oh, must be five, six years? At least." Bill contemplated his glass.
"And he cured you?" Harry asked.
"Mmm." Bill chuckled reminiscently. "Made me jump through a few hoops on the way, mind you."
"Hoops?"
"Well, there was that tattoo on my arse –"
Harry spluttered, choking on his cognac. "Uh, excuse me? I thought you said tattoo –"
"– on my arse, yeah, I'll show it to you some day," Bill said. "But about Teddy. If anyone can help him, Snape can. I'll send a message to him if you like, get him to come and take a look at the kid."
"Um..." Harry was doubtful. Even though Snape had proved to be as much hero as villain, Harry still didn't much relish the thought of meeting him again. But what choice did he have? Teddy's future was at stake. He took a deep breath.
"Yeah, OK. Send it. Please."
*
The moon rose slowly over the battlements, striping the top of the tower with silvery light and eerie shadows. It revealed a tall, black-cloaked figure leaning on the ramparts and gazing moodily out over the moonlit countryside. It was not quite light enough to read the parchment he held in his hand, but he knew the contents by heart anyway.
So Bill Weasley wanted his help, again, did he? But not for himself, it seemed. For that whelp of Remus Lupin's. And...
"Harry Potter." He spoke the name aloud, his tone a strange mixture of exasperation and resignation. "Harry... Potter."
He twitched his cloak around himself and glared up at Bill's seagull, still perched ostentatiously on top of the castle flagpole. It looked quite capable of staying there as long as it took. When it wasn't dive-bombing him as he walked around the grounds, of course, severely tempting him to hex it. Why on earth had he given Bill Weasley the secret location of unplottable Durmstrang? Well, he knew why, of course, although it was a long time since Bill had last contacted him. His cock twitched reminiscently.
Narrowing his eyes, he regarded the moon. Half full. December's full moon must be about a fortnight away, then. Very well. It would be a test of his skill, at least. It might even be... amusing.
His mind made up, he unrolled Bill's parchment and tapped it with his wand. Bill's message disappeared. A moment's thought, another tap, and his own message replaced it. A flick, and the seagull flew down from the flagpole. It landed a prudent twenty feet away on top of the ramparts and eyed him suspiciously.
"Come," he commanded, holding out the parchment. "Take this to your master."
The gull strutted towards him along the moonlit rampart. Arrived within striking distance, it made a sudden lunge for his hand, but the man was faster. The gull found itself suddenly petrified. Its eye gleamed with helpless rage as the silver ring about its leg was snapped open, the parchment scroll placed inside, and the ring secured firmly once more. The bird felt itself being scooped up and hurled into space, the spell lifting only just in time for it to take wing before hitting the jagged rocks which encircled the castle. Screeching indignantly, it flew off into the night.
Severus Snape smirked to himself as he descended the narrow stone steps from the tower.
*
Harry came down to breakfast yawning and tousle-haired. Bill sat alone at the kitchen table, immersed in the Sunday Prophet. He glanced up as Harry came in. "Morning. There's still some coffee in the pot if you want some."
Harry poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down heavily. "Morning. Where are the kids?"
"Down on the beach. Victoire's taken Teddy fishing in the rock pools."
Harry had a few gulps of coffee and felt his hangover beginning to lift. He took a piece of toast from the rack in the middle of the table and buttered it. "Will they be OK on their own?"
"Yeah, nobody ever goes there but us. The only problem can be the tide, but Victoire knows all about that. She's played down there since she could walk." Bill slid a jar of marmalade down the table to Harry. "Try some of this. Mum's finest."
"Thanks." Harry spread marmalade thickly over his buttered toast and took a bite. "Mmm. Can't beat Molly's marmalade." He finished the toast and helped himself to some more. "I thought you didn't see much of her these days? I remember her saying –"
Bill snorted. "You know Mum. If you don't visit her or have her round every other week, she thinks you're a hermit."
"I dunno what she thinks I am," Harry said uneasily. "Ginny –"
"Oh, things'll be fine once we get Teddy sorted out," Bill said, a bit too heartily. "Ginny'll be back with you before you know it."
"I don't want her back," Harry said, surprising even himself. But it was true: the past couple of weeks had given him chance to re-evaluate his life as never before.
"If you say so," Bill said, obviously not believing him. He pushed the Sunday Prophet to one side and picked up a piece of parchment. "Listen, I had a reply from Severus first thing this morning." He chuckled. "I don't know what the old git did to Fishy, but I've never seen that bird so ruffled."
"What does he say?" Harry asked eagerly.
Smiling slightly, Bill looked down at the parchment. "Well, the gist of it is, he's willing to come here before next full moon to have a look at Teddy and see what he can do." He glanced at Harry. "Unless you'd rather he came to your place?"
"Um, I've been meaning to ask you about that," Harry said. "Thing is, I've got to go back to work tomorrow. I've already had more time off than I intended, and the Ministry –"
"That's OK," Bill interrupted. "I'll be glad to have Teddy here. He's company for Victoire. She's fascinated by his Metamorphmagusing: he had her in fits at breakfast, changing his hair colour and making funny noses."
This was so different to Ginny's reaction that Harry stared at him in disbelief. "So you're not worried about him turning her into a werewolf?"
"I trust the kid," Bill said simply. "Anyway, Snape will be here before the next full moon."
"I will too," Harry promised. "Can I, you know, pay for his keep or anything?"
Bill shook his head. "I'm fine for money," he said. "Didn't work all those years for Gringotts without learning a thing or two."
"Well, thanks," Harry said. "If you're sure?"
"No, that's OK," Bill said. He glanced down at the parchment in his hand. "Just make sure you get your arse back here as soon as Snape arrives."
Bill's scarred face made it hard to be certain, but Harry had the distinct impression that he was amused about something.
*
The moon gradually waxed. On cloudless nights Bill saw it rise over the headland and lay a silvery track out to sea, reminding him of long-ago moonlit sails when he and Fleur were first married. Harry glimpsed it between the apple branches in his orchard and remembered playing Quidditch out there with Teddy, safe from prying Muggle eyes. Severus Snape watched it rise over the ramparts of Durmstrang's highest tower, but if it brought him any memories they made no change to his brooding expression.
At last came the night of the full moon. Harry arrived at Shell Cottage to find everything in an uproar. Bill, wand touching his throat, was attempting to make himself heard over Victoire's banshee-like wails. Even with the aid of the Sonorus Charm, this was proving difficult. Seeing Harry, he immediately turned on him.
"WHERE'VE YOU BEEN! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE HOURS AGO!"
Harry's attempt at an apology was lost in the general cacophony. He stared round wildly. What was going on? Had they gone mad? And where was Teddy?
A sudden silence fell. Bill and Victoire, their faces puce, mouthed wordlessly. For a moment, Harry thought they were glaring at him. Then he turned round. Severus Snape stood behind him in the doorway, wand still raised. "That's better," he said.
Harry felt his heart beating faster. It was years since he'd seen Snape, but for a moment all the old mixed emotions swept over him. Then he forgot everything in his concern for his godson. "Where's Teddy? What's happened?"
"He's escaped."
*
Harry hurried after Snape. The brightness of the moon showed them the narrow path along the cliff top. As they went, Snape hurled terse words of explanation over his shoulder. He'd given the boy a dilute version of the Wolfsbane potion, not wanting to risk its full strength. Teddy had transformed as soon as the moon had risen, but had seemed docile. Bill had locked him in his bedroom. Victoire must have let him out.
By now, Harry and Snape had arrived at the steep descent to the beach below, and had to save their breath for the scramble down the rocks. At last they arrived on the beach and stood silent for a moment, looking out across the rock pools towards the sea. Sprawls of seaweed softened the jagged outlines of the rocks. The air smelt of salt and fish, and was filled with the endlessly repeated surge of the sea.
Snape gave a sudden exclamation and seized Harry's arm. He pointed to the thin strip of gleaming wet sand which divided the beach from the sea. A trail of paw prints led towards the water. Fear clutched at Harry. He knew how treacherous the currents were around the cliff, how easily they would dash a small boy – or wolf-cub – against the rocks. He started to run, but Snape held him back.
"Careful, Potter. You'll slip."
Harry nodded, and together they picked their way cautiously across the rocks and shingle until they reached the sea's edge. Advancing waves lapped around their feet.
"Tide's coming in." They stared at each other, faces white in the moonlight. Then they heard a long-drawn-out, wavering howl. Harry strained to see where it was coming from. Another howl.
"Over there, look!" Snape was pointing out to sea, where a rock broke the surface of the waves a few yards out from the shore. Clinging to the rock, head thrown back, was a wolf. Its pelt gleamed an eerie blue in the moonlight.
"That rock will be underwater at high tide," Snape said. He pulled out his wand and tried to Accio Teddy, but without success. Harry joined in, but even their combined efforts failed. Harry dropped his wand and started to take off his shoes.
"What the hell are you doing, Potter?"
"I'm going to swim out and get him."
"Don't be a fool. The current's too strong here." Snape's fingers dug cruelly into Harry's arm.
"Oh, why the fuck didn't I bring my broomstick!" Harry wailed. Images of flying broomsticks, of Buckbeak, of birds, of bats, whirled mockingly through his brain. Then he stiffened, looking intently at Snape. "You can fly."
"I beg your pardon?" Snape seemed oddly disconcerted.
"You can fly!" It was Harry's turn to seize Snape's arm. "I saw you – at Hogwarts – just like Voldemort! You can fly!"
"No, Potter."
"But you can! I know you can. Oh please, PLEASE, fly out to Teddy and rescue him." Harry was almost sobbing. The wolf howled again. The water was round their ankles now, but neither man noticed.
"Potter, you don't know what you are asking. I have put those days behind me. I don't even know if I still can –"
"Oh try! Please, please Snape. I'll do anything –"
Snape was suddenly very still. "Do you mean that?"
"Yes. Anything."
*
Harry sprawled helplessly across the four poster bed. He couldn't believe this was happening. Snape had waited only until the wet, shivering wolf-cub was safe in Bill's hands before swooping on Harry like a whirlwind and sweeping him into the bedroom. Now he lay face down, his wrists and ankles tethered to the bed posts. His glasses had fallen off and lay on the bed beside him. He could almost feel Snape's gloating stare raking his naked body.
"Nothing to say for yourself, Potter?"
He shook his head miserably. Then gasped, as Snape's hand met his bare buttocks with a stinging slap.
"Are you sure?" Slap. "Nothing at all?" Slap. "Dear me." Slap!
To his embarrassment, Harry found his cock hardening. He squirmed against the sheet.
"None of that!" Slap. "You –" slap "will –" slap "keep –" slap "quite –" slap "still –" harder slap, lengthy pause... "until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"
Harry whimpered.
"Good boy." Snape's darkly approving tone went straight to Harry's cock. He couldn't help trying to rub himself against the bed.
Snape's hand descended again. Harry yelped. His buttocks were on fire, his cock was achingly hard. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand. Then he felt the bed dip as Snape straddled him. What would he do now? Something warm and wet was tracing the stinging marks on his buttock cheeks, was running up and down his crack, was circling his pucker. Merlin, Snape was licking him! Was... was... pushing his tongue inside...
Harry jerked frenziedly, straining against the ropes tying him to the bed posts, bucking back against Snape's intrusive tongue, and babbling incoherently.
"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, Mr Potter," Snape breathed against his skin. The deeply seductive tone, the warmth of Snape's breath playing over his freshly-licked pucker, were just too much for Harry: he came there and then.
"And I certainly don't recall giving you permission to do that." Snape sounded amused. "Fortunately, I have the means to, ah, restore you to your former glory, as it were." And with hands, tongue, teeth and caressingly murmured spells, he did just that...
*
When Harry awoke the next morning, he couldn't remember ever feeling so good. Not just the sex, but the way he'd let go and completely surrendered himself to Snape, had satisfied something deep within himself which had never been satisfied by anyone before. If he'd been told a week ago what he'd be doing with Snape last night, he would have been shocked and disbelieving. But far from being horrified at the things Snape had made him do, he realised that he had revelled in them. And – yes – he wanted more!
Humming happily to himself, Harry washed and dressed. He heard high peals of childish laughter coming from downstairs, accompanied by the deep rumble of Bill's voice and strange popping noises. It sounded as though Bill was back on good terms with his daughter. Excellent! Harry wanted everybody to be as happy as he was. He looked into Teddy's bedroom; the boy lay fast asleep in bed, his hair still electric blue. He must have changed back to human shape during the early hours of the morning as the influence of the moon waned. Harry looked forward to having a good talk with him. And he really must nip home after breakfast and collect his Firebolt – maybe they could have a little game of Quidditch? He wondered if he could persuade Snape to play.
Smiling at the thought, he glanced around the untidy little room. In the short time Teddy had been here, he had made it very much his own. His small broomstick was propped up in a corner; jeans, t-shirts and underwear were scattered all over the floor; a trail of sand led across the carpet to his collection of precious objects, including a huge shell, some oddly-shaped stones and a gull's feather. Harry's smile became sardonic. Obviously Bill was not as houseproud as his little sister. The thought of Ginny made him clench his fists. Her last owl had all but threatened to prevent him seeing his children ever again. Still, he had Snape on his side now: Snape, who was so clever, so skilled at manipulation. He would be sure to think of a way to ensure Harry had proper access to his kids.
There was another loud POP! from downstairs, followed by a burst of laughter – what was going on? Harry raced downstairs, feeling almost like a kid again himself.
His euphoria faded a bit as he realised that Bill and Victoire were the only people in the kitchen.
"Where's Snape?"
Bill looked up from the game of Junior Exploding Snap he was playing with Victoire. "Had to go back to Durmstrang." His tone was casual, but when he saw the look on Harry's face he immediately put his cards down. "Pop up and check that Teddy's OK, would you, Princess?" he said, tugging at Victoire's blonde curls.
She began to pout. "But, Daddy, we haven't finished our game!"
"We'll finish it later."
"And then have another one?" Victoire coaxed.
Bill laughed. "You drive a hard bargain... Harry, Snape left something for you, over there –" he nodded towards the sideboard, where a flask stood on top of a piece of parchment, "– now off with you, Victoire. I want to talk to Uncle Harry."
Victoire swung on the door for a moment before scampering off upstairs. Harry walked slowly over to the sideboard, watched by Bill. He moved the flask – a potion flask, by the look of it – to one side, and picked up Snape's note. It was brief.
Thank you, Mr Potter, for a most enjoyable interlude. Give one small gobletful of the potion to Master Lupin every evening, increasing to two gobletsful during the week before each full moon, and you should have no further problems.
Harry stared at the note in shocked disbelief. An enjoyable interlude – was that all it had meant to Snape?
*
Upstairs, Victoire peeped into Teddy's room and smiled with relief to see her playmate returned to normal. She hadn't admitted it to Daddy, but she'd been scared last night when she'd unlocked Teddy's door and a four legged creature with rainbow fur had bounded past her and disappeared into the night. Daddy had explained that Teddy was having some problems because his daddy had been a werewolf, and it wasn't a good idea to let him out, even though Professor Snape was giving him a potion to make him harmless on full moon nights. She frowned. She wasn't sure what she thought of Professor Snape – he WAS rather dark and scary. And there had been some very funny noises from the guest bedroom he'd shared with Uncle Harry. And why had Daddy sent her away just now? He obviously wanted to talk secrets with Uncle Harry. Victoire didn't like being kept out of other people's secrets. She skipped across the landing to her own room, and took her Uncle George's present out of its hiding place. Suppressing her giggles, she tiptoed back across the landing. Cautiously, she lowered the long cord of her Extendable Ear over the bannisters.
*
"I thought it meant something to him," Harry said. "I thought it was the start of something special."
"Snape's a very complicated person," Bill said, rather ruefully. "I should know."
Harry looked at him in sudden speculation. "You know you said he made you jump through hoops when he helped cure Greyback's cursed bites? Did you mean –?" He broke off. Bill was nodding.
"Yeah. Much the same as with you, I'd imagine." Bill grinned. "It was great, but – well, he has this need to dominate, in the bedroom. And that was just what I wanted, at the time. I was all to pieces: Fleur had just died, Victoire was a baby, my bites were showing signs of contamination..." Bill shrugged. "But later, well, later..." He stared unseeing at Harry, thinking back.
"Later?" Harry prodded.
Bill shook his head. "It would never have worked," he said. He looked hard at Harry. "Do you honestly think it could work for you? He has such a fear of rejection: you need to win his confidence for anything more than the odd night of kinky fun and games."
"How can I do that, when he's not even here? How did your relationship with him work?"
"It wasn't exactly a relationship," Bill said. "More like a series of one night stands, really. When we both felt randy. And you've got to remember, it took him a while to sort out the curse contamination in my bites."
"Whereas he seems to have sorted Teddy's problem out already," Harry said. "I'm fucked, aren't I?"
Bill got up from the table and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Cheer up. I'll try inviting him here for Christmas. You never know, he might come."
"Maybe," Harry said doubtfully. He opened the kitchen door. "I think I'll go out for a walk along the cliff, think things out."
"Don't you want any breakfast?"
"Maybe later," Harry said, going out into the hall. He desperately wanted to get away, to be on his own, to remember last night and to think. As he crossed the hall to the front door he thought he saw a sudden movement, like something whisking over the banisters. He looked up, but there was nothing there. Thinking he must have imagined it, he left the cottage.
*
Victoire crouched out of sight on the landing. She hadn't understood most of what Daddy and Uncle Harry had been talking about, but she understood that Uncle Harry was unhappy, and that it had something to do with Professor Snape. She peered cautiously between the bannisters. Ah, Uncle Harry had gone now. She went thoughtfully back into her room and rehid her Extendable Ear. She liked Uncle Harry, and didn't want him to be unhappy. Maybe her new friend Teddy could help, now he'd stopped being a wolf. Maybe he'd know what was going on.
From the smirk on Teddy's face when she described as much of the overheard conversation as she could remember, he had a very good idea what was going on. "Sounds like Professor Snape was giving Uncle Harry one."
"Giving him one what?" asked Victoire.
"Er, never mind," said Teddy, suddenly remembering how young she was. "Let's just say that Uncle Harry seems to be very fond of Professor Snape, and now he's unhappy because he's gone away."
Victoire considered this. "Daddy said he'd invite Professor Snape for Christmas," she said.
Teddy shook his head. "I shouldn't think he'd come," he said wisely. "I don't think he's the sociable type. Potions and Dark Arts are what he's into, I reckon. He only came here in the first place to brew a potion for me. Well, he's done that now. He won't be back."
Victoire scowled at him. "Don't you WANT Uncle Harry to be happy?"
"He'll be OK," Teddy said. Attempting to cheer her up, he squinted in concentration and made his nose like Snape's. "Fancy having a nose like this, eh, Vicky?"
Victoire gave an unwilling giggle. "Make a house-elf nose!"
Teddy ran through his repertoire of noses, finishing with a Hagrid nose sprouting an impressive crop of black hairs. Victoire couldn't stop laughing. It looked so like the photo in her Daddy's school album. "Do his beard, too!" she spluttered.
Beards were more difficult, but Teddy eventually managed a tangled growth around his cheeks and chin. He held the backs of his hands out to Victoire: they, too, were thickly covered in hair. "What's the first sign of madness?" he asked.
Victoire shook her head, eyes wide.
"Little black hairs on the palms of your hands!" chanted Teddy. "What's the second sign of madness?"
Victoire shook her head again. She glanced apprehensively at her own small hands.
"Looking for them!" sniggered Teddy. He crossed his eyes, made his nose into a snout, and howled.
"Stop it!" Victoire said. "You're not to be a wolf!"
Teddy uncrossed his eyes and returned his appearance to normal. "Sorry, Vicky," he said. "Didn't mean to scare you. I'm only REALLY a wolf at full moon." Then he looked thoughtful. He, too, was fond of Uncle Harry, and if luring Professor Snape back would make him happy, well, Teddy thought he just might know a way to do it.
*
Bill Weasley, Shell Cottage to Severus Snape, Durmstrang
Severus
First I want to thank you for coming over here at such short notice and doing your best for Teddy Lupin. We all appreciated it very much, especially Harry.
It looks as though there may be another problem with Teddy, though. He's been showing definite werewolf characteristics in the past few days. We don't understand it at all, as it's over three weeks till the next full moon.
I wondered whether you'd care to come to Shell Cottage again. We'd all love you to spend Christmas and New Year with us, and you could take another look at Teddy while you're here.
Severus Snape, Durmstrang to Bill Weasley, Shell Cottage
Very well. I am unable to accept your invitation for Christmas, as I am required to preside over the Durmstrang Winter Solstice and Yule celebrations. However I should be able to spend the early part of January supervising young Lupin's potion dosage. Expect me on New Year's Eve.
Teddy Lupin, Shell Cottage to Harry Potter, Godric's Hollow
Dear Uncle Harry,
I'm really sorry you couldn't come for Christmas, the Ministry are a real pain for making you work. Still, you should get plenty of time off in January to make up, shouldn't you? Tell them you'll resign if they won't let you!
Thanks a lot for the new broom, it's just what I wanted. I'm trying to teach Vicky Quidditch, but you know what girls are like.
Uncle Bill gave me a super watch. I'll show it you when you come.
Don't worry about me, it's my Mum's genes not my Dad's this time, if you get my drift. Don't tell anyone, though!
Look forward to seeing you soon. Uncle Bill says to be here nice and early on New Years Eve if you can.
Love from Teddy.
PS Uncle Bill let slip that Prof Snape likes blokes in kilts. ;P
Harry Potter, Godric's Hollow to Bill Weasley, Shell Cottage
Bill
Don't expect me until late on New Year's Eve. I'm afraid I can't get away from the Ministry before then, but they are giving me the first fortnight in January off, hooray!
Harry spread the gaudy tartan kilt out on the bed in Bill's guest bedroom. It did look rather short. What had he been thinking? It was a good thing the kids were in bed...
The dressing table mirror gave a wheezy chuckle. "Put it on, dearie, go on. He'll love it," it encouraged.
Harry gave the mirror a startled glance. "Were you watching us, er, last time?" he asked it.
"Of course, dearie! And a fine pair you make, if I may say so. I'm really looking forward to your sexy fun tonight!" the mirror said enthusiastically.
"Er, right," Harry said, privately resolving to cover the mirror up with his cloak or something if there was any sexy fun. "What do you think I should wear with it?"
"Oh, that nice green shirt with the ruffled front would be just the thing," said the mirror. "And nothing under the kilt, of course! Hey, where are you going?"
"To get changed in the bathroom," Harry said over his shoulder, opening the bedroom door.
"Spoilsport!" the mirror called after him, following up its remark with a long wolf whistle.
The whistle was echoed by Bill when Harry finally entered the sitting room, blushing a bit and smoothing his kilt in a vain attempt to make it reach further down his thighs.
"Very nice," Bill said, looking Harry up and down. "Yes, I'm sure Severus will approve."
Harry walked over to the fire and sat down opposite Bill. Oh Merlin, the kilt seemed even shorter when he was sitting down. He tugged at it, then gave up. "Any idea when he'll be here?"
Bill shrugged and put down a piece of driftwood he was carving. "Soon, I expect. Would you like a drink?" When Harry nodded, he poured them both a generous tot of Firewhisky. "To salute the New Year," he said, handing Harry his glass and nodding at the clock on the wall; its hands were nearing midnight. "Present from mum," Bill said, as the words Time to see in the New Year appeared across the clock face, then slowly faded away to the sound of Auld Lang Syne.
Bill and Harry clinked glasses and drank. Harry welcomed the rough fiery sensation, but Bill winced. "Nowhere near as good as the Delacours' cognac," he said. "Still, it's traditional." He set his glass down and went back to his carving.
"What are you making?" Harry asked.
"A seagull," Bill said, and when Harry looked closely he could see the head and beak beginning to emerge. "It's for Victoire, to hang up in her bedroom window."
A companionable silence filled up the spaces of the little room. Bill whittled away at his carving; Harry stared into the fire and thought about Snape. Every so often Bill leaned forward to pick up another billet from the pile of driftwood in the hearth and throw it on the fire.
The clock had twice enquired Shouldn't you be in bed?, accompanied by a tinkling lullaby, before they heard a loud knocking on the cottage door. "That will be Severus," Bill said. "Let him in, Harry."
Harry stood up. His throat was dry and his heart was thumping hard. This was it, then. Would Snape want him again? Every piece of furniture in the room seemed to be conspiring against him; he bumped against the sofa, tripped over a stool and banged into the table. Bill watched in amusement.
Eventually Harry made it out into the hall and opened the front door. Severus Snape stood on the doorstep, a bottle in his hand. His dark eyes fixed on Harry, he simply said: "Ahhh..." It was a long note of satisfaction and anticipation.
"Let our first foot in, then!" Bill called jovially from the sitting room.
"First foot?"
"Old Scottish custom," Snape said smoothly, taking Harry's arm and leading him towards the stairs. He stopped for a moment and sent his bottle flying towards Bill.
"Aha, single malt!" Bill said, deftly catching it. "What's this, a consolation prize?"
Snape eyed him speculatively. "You wish to join us?"
Bill shook his head, laughing. "Nah. I'll just drink your health. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Such a wide scope," Snape murmured wickedly, pushing Harry ahead of him. Harry stumbled upstairs, feeling his kilt brush against his cock with every step; he was already hard even before Snape unceremoniously flipped up the kilt and gave him a stinging slap across the buttocks.
*
The dressing table mirror greeted them with a lewd cheer, then gave an indignant, muffled splutter of protest as Harry threw his cloak over it.
"Don't you want an audience?" Snape smirked.
Harry shook his head.
"Well," Snape said consideringly, "there is a more... interesting use for this impudent piece of furniture." So saying, he yanked the cloak away. The mirror's wheezy giggle of anticipation was abruptly cut off as Snape Transfigured the entire dressing table into a school desk.
"Time for your detention, Mr Potter," he leered, and tapped his wand on the desk top.
Harry grinned. From the way Snape was looking at him, he didn't think he'd be using it to write lines on.
"Lift up your skirt," Snape commanded in a hoarse whisper.
"It's a kilt!" Harry protested, flipping the kilt back to reveal his hard-on. Darkly red, his cock head was already weeping with precome. Without being told, he turned round to display his bare arse to his former teacher.
Snape's breath caught. "Bend over the desk," he hissed.
Harry obeyed. Snape took a moment to admire the young man's heavy balls framed between his buttocks. "Very fetching," he murmured. "Now undo your shirt."
Harry supported himself with one hand on the desk top while fumbling his shirt buttons undone with the other. His body tingled with anticipation. Where would Snape touch him first?
But for the moment Snape seemed content just to look. Puzzled at his silence, Harry looked over his shoulder. Snape was staring at him with such tortured longing that Harry was taken aback.
"Severus?" he said uncertainly.
Snape's face instantly became inscrutable; Harry could almost have imagined the agonised expression of a moment before, but was sure he had not. "Pinch your nipples," Snape said, slowly and deliberately. "Go on pinching them, while I fuck you. Bent over the desk."
Harry's face was red as fire, but he obediently found a position which allowed him to follow Snape's instructions: elbows on the desk, arms crossed, each nipple clamped between forefinger and thumb. Almost without thinking, he began to sway his arse languidly from side to side. His erect cock brushed against the desk as he did so. He whimpered.
"Ve-ry good," Snape said. His hands kneaded Harry's arse. "You enjoy playing the tart, don't you." His voice was flat.
"Only with you," Harry said, his voice muffled. "Only with you."
He wasn't sure if Snape believed him.
*
Next morning Harry came blearily to consciousness and stretched out his hand. Snape was still there. That was an improvement on last time, at least. He stretched and winced. Snape, though initially holding back, had finally abandoned himself to a savage passion which had left Harry sore and aching. But happy. Oh yes. A reminiscent smile curved Harry's lips as he trailed his hand down Snape's body. Snape growled in his sleep and turned away. Undeterred, Harry snuggled up to his back. He was just reaching round in search of Snape's cock, when he heard noises from the landing outside.
Scuffles. Childish laughter. Whispering. Then a loud knock on the door. "Uncle Harry! Time for breakfast!"
Guiltily, Harry snatched his hand away. "Be down in a sec," he called.
More whispering. A giggle. That was Victoire. "Hurry up!" That was Teddy. "I want to show you my new watch."
Afraid that the impatient pair would come bursting into the bedroom if he didn't stop them, Harry hastily pulled on his robe and followed them downstairs to the kitchen, where Bill was stirring a large cauldron full of porridge.
"Severus still having his beauty sleep?" he asked, with a wink at Harry.
"He'll be down soon, I expect," Harry mumbled. He rasped his hand over his stubbled chin.
"My WATCH, Uncle Harry," Teddy reminded him impatiently. "Look at my WATCH!" He held out his arm, proudly displaying his new possession. Its size made his skinny child's wrist look even thinner and more vulnerable. "It shows the moon, look," he said.
Harry looked. At the top of the watch face there was indeed a small, glowing disc, with just a sliver of darkness eating into its rim. The tiny silver figure of a wolf sat on its haunches just below and to one side of it.
"The wolf howls to remind him to take his potion," Bill said, handing round dishes of porridge.
"And the week before full moon, it howls twice as loud," Teddy added. "Isn't it neat?" He added milk and two huge spoonfuls of golden syrup to his porridge and began to slurp it down noisily. Victoire copied him, spilling some of her milk and leaving a trail of syrup on the table.
"It's a great watch!" Harry said. "It's really well made."
"It's also," came a sneering voice from the doorway, "a dead giveaway that he's a werewolf."
"And a good morning to you, too, Severus," Bill said drily. "Porridge?"
Snape strolled in and sat down at the table. Unlike Harry, he had obviously taken time to wash, shave and put on fresh robes. "No thank you, Bill," he said. "Just coffee and toast."
Bill shrugged and put a steaming coffee pot and full toast rack in front of him without further comment. Snape poured himself a cup of coffee and eyed Harry morosely.
"That boy will never be safe from this country's anti-werewolf legislation, Potter. And you needn't think that Hogwarts will welcome him with open arms, either."
Harry glared back. "So what do you suggest, Severus?"
"He needs to go somewhere more... enlightened. Let me take him back to Durmstrang with me."
There was a moment's silence. Then Victoire began to sob at the thought of losing her playmate.
"Shut up, Vicky," Teddy said, grabbing her hand. "I'll be able to see you in the holidays. And I'll send you owls."
"You want to go?" Harry said, surprised.
"Yeah, it'll be cool," Teddy said. "And I won't get you all into trouble when people find out about me."
Harry looked at Bill. "What do you think?"
Bill frowned. "I hate to say this, Harry, but I think Severus is right. You know the Ministry of Magic never repealed Umbridge's werewolf legislation. And if they've not done it by now, they never will. It's only a matter of time before someone finds out about Teddy." He hesitated. "Actually, I didn't want to tell you this, but my sister has been threatening to inform on him herself."
Harry's face closed. If he'd needed confirmation that everything was over between Ginny and himself, this was it. He looked across at Snape. "I'm willing for Teddy to go back to Durmstrang with you – on one conditon."
Snape regarded him warily. "And that is?"
Harry took a deep breath. "You take me, too."
*
The argument raged on throughout breakfast. Snape was determined that Harry wasn't coming to Durmstrang; Harry was equally determined that he was. Teddy looked from the one to the other, eyes wide, like a spectator at a tennis match. Victoire kept trying to interrupt, until Bill took her out into the garden to hunt for gnomes.
"You have no idea of what would be involved," Snape said for the hundredth time. "A typical spur of the moment decision, then as soon as you came to your senses, you'd be whinging to go home –"
"I don't whinge," Harry told him patiently. "I'm nearly thirty, not some kid anymore. I know what I want."
"And I'm nearly fifty," Snape said quietly. "Once the novelty wears off, you'll want someone your own age."
Harry stared imploringly at him, willing him to understand, to believe. "I only want you."
For a moment hope flickered in Snape's dark eyes, then he shook his head and his face became unreadable. Before he could say any more, there was a sound of boots stamping and pawing the doormat, and, with a swirl of cold air, the gnome hunters came back into the kitchen.
"You're running out of time, guys," Bill said, holding out a small roll of parchment. "An owl just delivered this. Seems like Ginny wasn't bluffing." From the look on his face, his sister would soon be hearing a few home truths.
Harry took the parchment and read aloud. "Watch out. Teddy's been shopped to the MoM and they're sending an arrest team from the Magical Beasts & Beings Office." It was unsigned, but Harry hadn't had a desk next to Ron's at Hogwarts all those years without being able to recognise the sprawling writing.
Snape stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. "That settles it. Get your things, Lupin."
Looking at Snape's implacable face, Harry felt his guts turn to ice. It was hopeless: even if Snape did want Harry to come to Durmstrang with them, he would never admit it. Maybe not even to himself. Harry watched sadly as Teddy and Snape hurried upstairs to pack.
When they came back, Harry crouched down beside Teddy to say goodbye. "Take care, Teddy," he said. "I'll try and talk some sense into those morons from the Ministry." Too choked up to say any more, he gave Teddy a hug, then watched in silence as Snape prepared to Disapparate, Teddy clinging to his hand. Snape gave him a stiff little nod; Teddy waved. Then they were gone.
*
Severus Snape stared moodily out over the battlements into the Durmstrang night. The moon was nearing its full. Another birthday had come and gone. He was a year older and just as bitter, just as alone. He seemed to hear mocking laughter blowing towards him on the wind. But what else could he have done? Potter would never have stayed. It was as he'd told him: a moment's impulse, soon forgotten. The mocking laughter came again, a strident cry which he suddenly recognised. He looked up. There on the flagpole was that damned seagull of Bill Weasley's, looking down at him knowingly. With a convulsive movement Snape had his wand in his hand, but this time the seagull was too fast for him: its leg ring clanged against the metal flagpole and the bird was away into the night, leaving a scrap of parchment fluttering down to land at Snape's feet.
Snape stooped and picked it up. He stared uncomprehendingly at Bill's bold handwriting.
Happy Birthday, Severus!
I'm sorry, but it seemed the best thing to do.
Have fun,
Bill
Sorry for what? What seemed the best thing to do? Oh, no, surely not... Crumpling the parchment in his fist, Snape strode to the edge of the parapet and peered over. Hovering on his broomstick, mere inches away, was Harry Potter.
*
Severus realised that he had given himself away completely. If he'd really wanted to be rid of Harry he'd have hexed him off his broom, or called the Durmstrang security trolls, or simply turned his back and left him hovering in midair. But he'd done none of these things. Instead, he'd swept Harry off the broomstick into his arms and kissed him thoroughly. And now, the brat was smirking – smirking!
"Have you any IDEA how difficult it was, following one particular seagull out of all the flocks of them over the North Sea?" Harry demanded breathlessly, between kisses.
"I suppose you think you deserve a reward for your... ingenuity," murmured Severus, pressing Harry hard up against the ramparts.
Sometime later Harry asked, "How's Teddy?"
Severus interrupted his mapping of Harry's body long enough to say, "Fine. Professor Elster has taken him under her wing."
Later still, Severus looked up from between Harry's legs, and asked, "What happened with the Ministry of Magic?"
Harry arched his back. "They – ooh, don't stop doing that – they sent their goons looking for Teddy. They wouldn't listen to reason, so I, er, hexed them. Then I had to resign." He let out a long, shuddering breath. "Any jobs going at Durmstrang?"
Severus snorted against Harry's stomach. "I daresay the groundsman could do with an assistant, help him deal with this infestation of seagulls we've been having recently," he grumbled.
But then Harry felt his lover's lips move against his skin, and knew that he was smiling.