Stupid Cupid by roozetter Title: Stupid Cupid Author:roozetter Pairing: Severus/Harry. Mentioned in passing: Charlie/Verity, Oliver/Cho, Draco/Astoria, Ron/Hermione, Luna/Neville Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 6,333 Warnings: Some violence and language, blatant disregard for the rules. Established relationship. Summary: After putting Cupid out of commission, Severus and Harry are charged with completing his last two assignments. It’s only two assignments, what could go wrong? … Cupid should have remembered he was dealing with two prickly men in a fairly new relationship, both of whom hate authority and holidays in general. A/N: Much love to onkoona for her idea-checking and Brit picking. Heartfelt thanks to the usual suspects for acting as proofers - dracosoftie and awrence. In fact, this is dedicated to awrence because she wanted something HAPPY since I forgot to include my warning when I sent her my other fic and made her emotional. Written for the Anti-Valentine’s Day mini-fest for severus_sighs using the prompt: “Love philtres, chocolates, perfume ... Yes, for a potion master, there are many ways to exact revenge on Valentine's Day.”
“Stupid Cupid”
“So…” Harry busied himself with cleaning up the lab, running his fingers absently through his hair and straightening his thick brown work apron when a glance at the polished marble countertop showed he had nothing left to straighten. “Are we doing dinner with Ron and Hermione tomorrow night?”
“Why on earth would we do that?” The tone was mild, but the studious way Severus examined each of the bottles he was packaging made Harry frown.
“Well, it’s just that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” Harry said quietly, staring at the thick black hair hiding Severus’ bowed head. “And we were invited to dinner.”
“No,” Severus corrected, placing the last bottle of the clumpy blue potion into the spelled wooden basket and shutting the lid firmly. “You were invited to dinner.”
Protests were bubbling in Harry’s mouth, but he wasn’t seventeen anymore. He was a man of twenty-three with a business and a tentative relationship with a prickly, sarcastic man. Protestations would merely make Severus become cold and defensive. He would have lost the argument before it even began. So he bit back everything he wanted to say and simply waited, taking advantage of the silence to untie his apron and hang it on the peg by the door. He pulled down the cuffs of his green sweater as he crossed back to the work table, whispering a quick cleaning spell on Severus’ unprotected robe and erasing the evidence of several hours spent brewing.
A heavy sigh blew Harry’s bangs off his forehead as Severus turned to him. “Harry…” And then a strong hand was yanking Harry back and a violent purple light was spearing into the corner.
A curse, a scream, and a rustling thump as a body and a mass of feathers hit the ground. “What the…” Harry shoved Severus’ hand off his chest and crossed the room. “Did you kill it?”
“How did he get in here?” Severus surveyed the room with narrowed eyes, checking for any breaks in the warding.
“He?” Harry squinted reflexively, though he hadn’t relied on glasses for the last several years, making out the shape of legs underneath the bloody fall of wings. “You shot a spell like that at a person? What the hell were you thinking?”
Severus scowled and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Do not presume that everyone has adopted your lackluster level of security.”
“Huh?” Harry raked a hand through his hair, pausing mid-motion to pull on the strands, hoping the minute pain would help him focus. “I don’t have a lackluster level of security.” He gazed in distress at the man lying prone on the stone floor. “How are we going to get rid of the body?” He ignored the odd look Severus sent his way.
The lumpy mass of feathers at their feet chose that moment to twitch, a pain-filled moan echoing around the room. Harry’s wand was in his hand and pointed down before the sound dissipated. He turned, giving Severus a look that clearly said, ‘see?!’
Considering Severus had been the one to spot and curse the… object… before Harry had even realized they were no longer alone in the room, he felt his point could be made with a single, eloquent lifting of his eyebrow. Harry flushed in response, looking back at the pile of crumpled feathers and kicking it tentatively with the toes of his trainers.
“Fucking hell,” the prone figure groaned, feathers rustling as wings were shifted around and a body was exposed. The man jerked his arm, emitting another muted howl of pain as his crumpled and bloody wing collapsed under his weight and sent him sprawling to the stone floor, loose feathers flying around in disarray. Deciding movement was painful and unnecessary, the man gave up trying and simply gazed blearily at the ceiling. “I haven’t felt this wrecked since Spring Break of ’54 when Martina Crenshaw threw a party in her father’s brewery.”
The man lying on the floor was short and oddly hairy, wearing white cotton drawstring pants and nothing else. His ill-kempt shoulder-length hair was a dirty blond color, making Harry fleetingly wonder if it would brighten to true blond if properly cared for. Lying on his back with his bloody wings cradling his body, he grunted and farted, scratching at his rounded belly while he waited for… something. Assistance, perhaps?
Exchanging looks with Severus, Harry kept his wand trained on the man and took a cautious step forward. “Erm.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “How did you get in here?”
One unnaturally light blue eye opened and glared pathetically at Harry. “You ever hear of something called magic, kid?”
Idly rolling one of the feathers collected from the floor between his fingers, Severus pierced the fallen man with a look promising pain. “Silky, lightweight feathers,” he commented neutrally. “Should sell for a reasonable price on the black-market, as will any,” he paused to run a cold, clinical eye over the sprawled out man, “unused ingredients.”
“Hey, man.” The feathered guy held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m M.A.G.”
“Mag?” Harry repeated.
“No.” Huffing irritably and using his stubby toes to shift his hips and relieve the pressure on his crumpled wing, he glared at Harry. “Not mag, M.A.G.” Catching the faint disgust on Severus’ face and Harry’s blank look of incomprehension, the man sighed. “Mythological Activists Guild,” he explained testily.
“You’re not Veela.” Harry dismissed the explanation and eyed the three-day beard and pot belly on the man significantly, “and I can’t think of any other winged species that would be able to surpass our wards. So unless you care to elaborate further, I’m going to pop out for fish and chips and let my partner deal with you.” Blue eyes flickered to where Severus was still idly rolling one of the feathers between his fingers. “He’s an exonerated Death Eater and Potions master,” Harry added helpfully, nodding with his head to the fully equipped lab behind him.
“I’ll talk,” the man said swiftly, eying the gleaming and deadly-looking tools of varying lengths Stuck to the wall, and bottles of creepy-looking ingredients. He struggled to sit up without the use of his damaged wing.
“Excellent,” Severus said flatly. “Begin with your unwarranted intrusion into my laboratory.”
“Our laboratory,” Harry corrected swiftly.
“I wasn’t intruding,” the man complained, wincing as he settled in a sitting position against the wall, “I was doing my job.” He waved a weary welcome. “I’m Cupid.”
“Cupid?” Harry repeated blankly.
“Cupid,” the man affirmed, picking at his limp wing pathetically. “And you’re going to be sorry for doing this.”
“I beg your pardon,” Severus demanded coldly.
“It’s in the rule book,” Cupid nodded to himself as he tried to preen his wings. “Anyone who interferes with Cupid while on duty must take over until all assignments have been completed.”
“The rule book,” Harry parroted again, shifting closer to Severus.
“Got in right here in my pocket.” Cupid eyed Severus warily. “I’ll show you, if you promise not to hurt me again.”
Taking their silence as assent, Cupid rummaged under his good wing, pulling out a bow, a satchel of gold-tipped arrows, and a red heart-shaped bottle that appeared to be pulsing. Settling all this to his side, Cupid finally found a battered scrap of brown leather, and pulled out a business card, holding it out to Harry since he was the closest and looked the least threatening.
Automatically testing the card to ensure it wasn’t cursed or a Portkey in disguise, Harry finally accepted it and read aloud. “You don’t marry someone you can live with – you marry someone whom you cannot live without. Call Cupid, for all your match-making needs.”
Cupid smiled mistily at Harry. “Pretty good, huh? But not that part; on the back.”
Obediently flipping the card over, Harry scanned the card until he noticed fine print embossed in shiny gold script around the edge. Casting a magnifying charm, he cleared his throat and read again. “Should Cupid become injured while on the job, the injurer must assume control of all assignments until such time as Cupid is restored to health under M.A.G. Rule 953.1.”
“Elucidate,” Severus demanded, his voice assuming the silky purr it did whenever he was very, very angry. Standing at Harry’s shoulder with his arms crossed against his chest, wand and a single feather clasped in a misleadingly casual gesture, black eyes burning with intensity, Severus looked every inch the dangerous projection of darkness that mother’s warned their children about in hushed whispers. Harry shivered.
“It means, jack-o, that you have to sow what you reaped by hurting me, until I can get back to work.” Cupid fished under his wing again, removing a cigar and biting off the tip. “Anyone got a light?”
“So long as you are already injured…” Severus leveled his wand at Cupid.
“Severus,” Harry hissed, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Severus’ wrist. “You can’t kill Cupid.”
“Yeah,” Cupid said warily. “What he said.”
“And it’s the night before Valentine’s Day,” Harry ignored Cupid and rubbed his thumb along the inside of Severus’ wrist soothingly. “Most of his work has to be done by now, there can’t be too much to do tomorrow.” He looked at Cupid for validation.
Cupid obligingly clamped the unlit cigar between his teeth and flipped back through the brown leather wallet, pulling out a pink sheet of paper that smelled like roses. “Two left in my segment,” he mumbled around the cigar. “I’ve been a busy beaver dealing with all this romantic shit.”
“You don’t seem very much like a Cupid,” Harry gave him an odd look.
“You ever hear of purgatory, kid?”
“And once we finish those two assignments you’ll go away?” Harry clarified irritably.
“Harry…” Severus gave him a warning look.
“We can’t kill Cupid,” Harry snapped in reply, fingers tightening around Severus’ wrist.
“That’s not really comforting, you know.” Cupid looked between the two of them uncertainly.
“People will come around asking questions if he goes missing.” Harry said insistently, trying to convince Severus.
“Card carrying member of M.A.G.” Cupid reminded them quickly.
“He’s not worth going to Azkaban,” Harry continued, ignoring Cupid entirely.
Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Are you casting aspirations upon my ability to dispose of deceased persons?” Cupid made a strangled squeaking sound.
“Of course not,” Harry said in exasperation. “You can kill him and get rid of the remains probably better than anyone I know. I’m just saying it’s only been six years since the war and people aren’t likely to have forgotten how truly capable you are. If people come around asking questions about missing persons…” He trailed off meaningfully.
“Hmm.” Severus scowled down at Cupid. “And after the two jobs,” he sneered the word, “are completed, you will leave.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Trust me.” Cupid looked between Harry and Severus and wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “You couldn’t pay me to stick around once I’m healed.”
~*~
“Get up.”
Harry snorted, shifting his head out from under the warmth of the fleece blanket and blinking his eyes hazily as someone shook his side of the bed. “Wha’ time s’it?”
“Six thirty,” Severus responded crisply. “I wish to be done with this whole mess as soon as possible. Breakfast will be served in twenty minutes. I suggest you shower.”
Groaning, Harry hauled himself out of bed, stretching out the kinks in his back as he stumbled to the loo. A shower and half-hearted wank later, Harry presented himself at the foot of the stairs in time to catch the cloak Cupid had demanded he wear when he refused wings, quickly grabbing some toast before Severus swept him out the door. “Wha’s ya hurry?” He mumbled around his toast as he shrugged into his cloak.
Severus made an exasperated noise, stepping forward to straighten Harry’s collar and fix the clasp. He surveyed Harry’s appearance, nodded, and then thrust the bow and arrow into Harry’s hands. “Our first assignment is room 403 at The Grandest hotel. Considering last night’s successful Quidditch match, I would like to complete our first task before our charges sleep off their hangovers.”
Out of sorts at being rushed about so early in the morning, Harry glared at Severus’ traditional black outfit before transferring his glare down to the iridescent cloak covering the silky red shirt and white trousers Severus had so thoughtfully lain out on the bed for him this morning. “Why do I have to wear this?”
“I am in charge of safely delivering us to our destinations,” Severus responded crisply, securing the clasp on his own traveling cloak. “Therefore, the practical aspect of our assignment naturally falls to you.”
“And I have to look like an idiot to accomplish this?”
“Which of us used to be a Gryffindor?” Severus asked, casting an additional layer of wards over their home.
Sighing, Harry gave his protests up as a lost cause. “Where’s Cupid?”
“Drugged out of his mind and locked in the pantry.” Severus arched an eyebrow as Harry choked on his bread.
Harry chewed the last of his toast and brushed the crumbs from his relentlessly shiny robe, adjusting his hold on the bow and arrow. “We have time for tea?”
“No.” Sliding an arm around Harry’s waist, Severus Apparated them outside The Grandest hotel.
Running perpendicular to Diagon Alley, Plumb Alley had been created two years after the war in the hopes of reviving the fading allure of Diagon. The Grandest hotel sat smack in the middle of it all, a sweeping tower seventeen stories tall, with gargoyles, arches, and asymmetrical windows placed in no recognizable order. Flanked on either side by the upside-down building known as the Bottoms Up! tavern, and the Dance the Hippogriff! night club, Plumb Alley was scorned by older, traditional individuals, and universally adored by the younger generations of witches and wizards.
Harry paused and admired the architecture before Severus clasped his elbow and dragged him inside.
“Good morning, sirs.” So early in the morning, the receptionist was the only one in the lobby. She jerked back, blinking vaguely, as Severus’ Obliviation Spell hit her directly in the forehead. Harry smiled apologetically at the dazed woman as Severus herded him into the elevator.
“How do I work this thing again?” he asked, giving the bow a dubious look. Cupid had attempted to explain the mechanics behind his whole operation, but the pain potion Harry had bullied Severus into administering had chosen that moment to kick in. Cupid had been slurring his words and giggling until Severus had finally Levitated him away in revulsion.
“You load it and shoot.”
Severus stepped gracefully off to the fourth floor, Harry trailing in his wake, and simply Vanished the orange door with the brass placard of three giggling nymphs indicating room 403. Evidence of a rowdy party and a hastily conjured Silencing Spell made Harry snort with laughter, as did the bodies draped around the room in various stages of undress. It was a testament to the success of the party the night before that no one so much as twitched when Harry and Severus entered the room.
Harry carefully dipped two arrows in the red heart-shaped bottle Severus held out to him, remembering enough of Cupid’s hastily and slightly drugged-from-painkillers directions from the night before to know that the pulsing red liquid should only be administered to those “blessed” to be In Cupid’s Sight, and notched them on the bow. “OK, who are the lucky runner-ups?”
Glaring distastefully around the room, Severus pulled a recently bleached parchment from his pocket and consulted it. “Charlie Weasley and Verity LeBlanc.”
“Right.” Harry scanned the room, noting Verity’s blonde hair spilling from a pile of robes on the floor, and Charlie sleeping in the window sill. He raised the bow and whispered a prayer as he released.
Oh.
The first arrow zoomed around the room, bouncing off the creamy white walls and careening around the multi-colored glass chandelier before bursting on Cho Chang’s shoulder in a mass of heart-shaped pink bubbles. The second arrow wobbled pathetically in the air before abruptly crashing down and landing in Oliver Wood’s opened, snoring mouth. Harry listened to the chirping of lovebirds bursting from Oliver’s throat in dismay.
Shit.
“Whoops,” he whispered feebly, glancing down at the bow and arrow in betrayal. Severus merely shrugged unconcernedly and held out the potion again, letting Harry dip two more arrows in the goop.
They stood in the doorway as Cho stirred, one bare arm emerging from her blankets as she stretched and sleepily opened her eyes. “Harry?” she asked in confusion. Then her eyes widened, fingers scrabbling at the blankets covering her chest. “Professor Snape?”
“We’re not really here right now,” Harry said soothingly, walking slowly towards Verity and simply throwing an arrow at her head.
“You’re not?” Cho questioned, watching as blonde hair seemed to birth a cluster of silver bells before the mass hovered, chiming sweetly, over Verity’s head.
“Nope,” Harry agreed, tossing an arrow at Charlie. They both watched as pink, white, and red flowers appeared to grow out of Charlie’s chest. “You’re dreaming.”
Cho nodded uncertainly, rubbing at her shoulder. “I’m dreaming?”
“Yep.” Job done, Harry backed toward the door. “About Char…” He trailed off, remembering who he had shot with the arrow. “Oliver,” he corrected. “You’re dreaming about Oliver.”
Cho blushed prettily. “I do like Oliver.” She shifted, lying back down on her commandeered settee. “Nice to, um, dream about you, Harry.”
“You too.” Harry reached out for Severus. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” He looked around the room as he realized he was standing alone in the doorway. “Severus?”
Walking around distributing business cards on all the slowly waking people, Severus ignored Harry. “Love philtres, chocolates, perfume ... Yes, for a potion master, there are many ways to exact revenge on Valentine's Day.” He kicked a leg blocking his path. “Come to Snape and Potter’s Apothecary for all your vengeful needs.”
Harry started laughing helplessly in the doorway. “Severus!”
Severus smirked, turning on his heel to stride gracefully from the room. “Come along, Harry.”
The poor receptionist collapsed into a chair when the second Obliviation Spell hit her in the forehead. Harry watched her and sighed. “Think we’ll get in trouble for Cho and Oliver?”
“Do I strike you as one who cares about the opinion of a half-mad Cupid?”
Harry shrugged in response, nudging Severus with his shoulder and nodding towards a café across the street. “Time for tea?”
Severus removed a pocket watch from his vest and frowned at it forbiddingly. “We have the time,” he admitted ungraciously.
“Great!” Harry led the way into the café, sliding into a corner booth. Severus nudged him, forcing Harry to slide over instead of climbing into the other side, so they could both sit with an unimpeded view of the doorway.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Their waitress, a tired-looking young lady, strived to sound cheerful as she brought water and menus. “May I interest either of you in a Be My Valentine, complete with free collector’s cup?” She pointed to a picture of a mug with an image of two cherries on it, their stems twisted into the shape of a heart. “Or there’s the Broken Hearts Martini,” she pointed to a pretty-looking drink, “which has the benefit of being alcoholic.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist, clearly debating the propriety of offering them alcohol so early in the morning, then seemed to decide she just didn’t care. “Last, there’s the Coo Coo For You,” she pointed to a picture of a elegant glass of hot chocolate, a heart made out of cinnamon adorning the whipped cream on top.
“Leave.” Severus accompanied his terse declaration with a look poisonous enough to send her a hasty step backwards.
Harry slid his hand under the table and squeezed Severus’ thigh, hard, before smiling up at the waitress. “We’ll have two coffees, plain, and some fruit.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Nothing holiday-ish, please.”
They sat and looked around the cheerfully decorated restaurant while they waited for their server to come back with their coffee. “I don’t blame you,” she commiserated, placing their coffee cups and fruit plate on the table. “I hate this holiday, too.”
Shifting on the seat until his back rested against Severus’ side, Harry chewed on a piece of melon while he fiddled with the bow and arrows. Severus silently handed him the red pulsing bottle of… stuff, before spearing a grape with a fork. Harry sniffed the bottle cautiously, shrugging and dipping the arrows in the gunk one-handed while he drank his coffee with the other.
“Wonder why Cupid gave us so many arrows when we only have two people to hit?” Harry grabbed two more arrows, notching them on the bow as he pretended to shoot. “That’s just begging for trouble, don’t you think?”
“I doubt the feather brain was aware of your proclivity for trouble when he passed on the assignment.” Severus rubbed his temples wearily.
“Um,” the waitress hurried to their table. “Could you not aim that at the customers…”
She stopped speaking as Harry, startled by her presence, released his hold on the bow. The first arrow went right through her throat, a box of chocolates appearing mid air, which she caught as she shrieked and automatically brought her hands up. The other arrow went soaring around the café, bits of the red syrupy potion dripping into cups and splashing into faces before stabbing the cook in the back of the head. He staggered, turning to look behind him, and made eye contact with the waitress. Lights flashed in both their eyes, the air in the café becoming heavy and scented with perfume.
“Hey, everybody!” A blond man wearing a business-cut robe stood up and addressed the restaurant. “I’ve just decided to propose to my girl!” People cheered as the man tossed a Galleon on the table and raced to the Floo.
“Erm.” Harry glanced at the bow in his hands nervously.
“Well,” Severus drained his coffee and stood, “at least it is a magical café.” Stepping over customers kissing passionately on the floor, Severus began tossing out business cards. “Tired of holidays, weary in body and mind, or merely seeking retribution?” His lip curled as he flung a business card into the pocket of the waitress as she embraced the cook. “Come to Snape and Potter’s Apothecary for all your needs.”
Laughing, Harry followed him out the door. “Think we’ll get in trouble for that?”
“It is no concern of mine whether or not the entire holiday falls to ruin due to your intervention.” Severus paused mid-stride, cocking his head to the side. “Perhaps we can create a holiday line,” he mused, running his thumb absently over his mouth. He gestured to the road on their left. “Shoot your arrow again.”
Shrugging, Harry loaded his bow, pausing as Severus liberally re-doused the arrows with the potion.
They went singing down the alleyway, literally, the melody dripping from the arrows as thickly as the potion. A teenage girl squealed as a teddy bear holding a silky red heart appeared in her hand. An older woman blushed crimson as her outfit altered into slinky purple lingerie. A little girl, no older than ten, clapped in delight as scented stickers appeared in her hand, giggling as she pressed a kiss to the cheek of a little boy wearing grass-stained robes. Two young men exchanged startled glanced, blushing and smiling shyly as their hands were magically clasped together and tied together with pink and red bows. A bottle of champagne burst from seemingly nowhere, spraying everyone in the vicinity. Perfume, jewelry, stuffed animals, the colors pink and red…
“Overwhelmed by the holiday? Needing birth control potions or an antidote for hangovers? Seeking reprisal from nauseating displays of sentimentality? Come to Snape and Potter’s Apothecary, for all your potion needs.” Spelling the business cards to fly down the alleyway, Severus nodded in satisfaction before offering Harry his arm. “Ready?”
Harry laughed out loud, pushing heart-shaped balloons aside and standing on tip toe to press a kiss on Severus’ mouth. His smile faded as Severus frowned and stepped away, wand in hand as he glared up and down the street.
“Nobody noticed, Severus.” Harry looked away while forcing his face into an expression of calm, reminding himself that it was ridiculous to feel hurt, and that Severus even agreeing to go out in public with him was a huge admission for such a private, controlled man.
Their relationship was still new, still in that tentative, fresh space where they were possessive of each others company. Hoarding gestures and smiles close to their hearts for fear someone would notice and attempt to intrude upon their hard-won happiness. Perhaps next year, Harry thought, consoling himself with the knowledge that even if Severus was unable to publicly declare his affection for him – yet – it was him Severus had agreed to start a business yet, share his personal space, his peace, with. And that knowledge was something so much more important than public displays of affection that Harry breathed a little easier.
Feeling steadier, he turned back with a small smile and touched Severus’ arm. “I’m ready.”
He stepped away from Severus the moment their feet touched down outside an unfamiliar restaurant. In stark contrast to the colorful activity of Plumb Alley, this building stood alone; nestled smack in the middle of an acre of winding trails and glistening pools. Fairy lights glittered around the discreet curves of the building, vibrantly hued flowers climbing up walls and growing out of patches of stone giving the impression that the restaurant was a living, breathing part of nature. Harry eyed the building critically. Years of living with a potions master may not have educated him enough to pinpoint the types of trickery used, but it had given him the knowledge that expensive potions and magic were needed to maintain such an illusion.
“In there?” Harry glanced over his shoulder when no response was forthcoming, stepping forward and lightly grasping Severus’ wrist upon noticing the tight expression, clenched jaw, and lightly ticking muscle under Severus’ left eye. “Hey,” Harry soothed, stepping until he was close enough to bump Severus with his shoulder. “It’s alright. We’re almost done and then we can go back to the lab.”
Severus’ jaw tightened but he didn’t say a word, instead sweeping ahead of Harry into the restaurant. Brunch was in full swing, miniature baby-faced cupids flying along the ceiling, releasing little arrows of rainbows as they giggled. Fairies danced along to the muted overtures of violins and pianos, casting their shimmering lights along the walls and ceilings. A sparkly crystal diamond blew equally sparkling bubbles into the air. Harry eyed the decorations in trepidation and notched two more arrows into his bow.
Draco Malfoy, resplendent in smoky gray robes as he brunched with his equally elegantly attired mother, looked at the two of them in shock. “Severus?” he queried, just shy of gaping. “You’re here with Potter?”
Harry felt immense satisfaction as one of the gold-tipped arrows hit Draco directly over his heart, small candies with cheesy clichéd sayings cascading onto the table before him. The second arrow hit a delicate blonde girl in the back of the head, streamers and sparks shimmering around her as the music swelled dramatically in the background.
“Astoria?” The blonde’s companion, a vaguely familiar girl with curly brown hair, looked alarmed as the blonde got up and flung herself into Draco’s arms. “What are you… Potter!” She glared, advancing on him. “What have you done to my sister?”
“Miss Greengrass.” The brunette stopped instantly at the silky threat of Severus’ tone, eyes widening as she took in the way he was half-standing protectively in front of Harry. “You will comport yourself immediately.”
“But, he.” Stammering, Daphne Greengrass gestured helplessly at where Narcissa was calmly sipping tea from a delicate china cup and watching her son roll around on the floor. “It’s Malfoy, sir!”
Harry rolled his eyes and walked away from the scene, uncapping the bottle of red liquid and pouring a generous amount into the bubble-blowing crystal. He could tell at a glance that the restaurant catered to the wealthy and elite - they could certainly use some romance in their lives. He pondered the pulsing red liquid, wondering if it was the jar or the liquid that was spelled to keep the bottle full.
“Do you actually find these trappings… amusing?” Severus sounded so truly befuddled that Harry couldn’t help but smile.
“No.” Harry turned and smiled at Severus as potion-drenched bubbles began permeating the air. “The only Valentine’s I ever celebrated was at Hogwarts. Even then…” Harry snorted with laughter at the memory. “Even then the only memorable thing that happened to me was being sat on by a Goblin while he sang about my eyes being as green as fresh pickled toads.” He shrugged and took a step towards the door. “Leave your business cards?”
Severus watched Harry steadily. “These people already know how to procure my services.”
“Sounds dirty,” Harry said, with a passable attempt at a lascivious grin.
Severus smirked, nodding toward the door. “Shall we?”
“Harry!” Luna beamed, bouncing in place as she ran into Harry at the door. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the mouth. “How wonderful to see you!”
“Hey, Luna.” Harry smiled back, refusing to turn and look at Severus and nodding at Neville. “Happy Valentine’s Day, guys.”
“You as well, Harry.” Neville smiled tentatively at Severus. “Professor.”
“Longbottom.”
“But what are you doing here?” Luna tilted her head to the side, giving Harry a puzzled look. Then she noticed the bow and arrows in Harry’s hands and jumped up and down in delight. “Oh, Neville! How utterly fantastic!”
“What’s that, Luna?”
“Harry and Severus think we should be married!”
Having made no such comment, Harry and Severus looked at each other in surprise.
Neville didn’t question Luna, simply gave her an adoring smile. “I plan on proposing after brunch,” he confided. “Look surprised.”
“Oh, of course!” She grabbed Neville’s hand and pulled him into the restaurant, waving cheerfully as they disappeared inside.
Severus didn’t say a word, merely slid his arm around Harry’s waist and Apparated them back to the lab.
Harry watched Severus begin laying out ingredients and quietly unclasped his iridescent cloak, hanging it on the rack by the door before going to the pantry and unwarding the door. Cupid peered up at him blearily from where he had been shoved under the bottom shelf. “Could have at least left a light on,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet with a wince and a weary groan as Harry cancelled the Sticking charm holding him in place.
“I trust your wing has satisfactorily healed?” Severus sounded completely unmoved, shedding his own robe and sending it flying toward the door before placing a brass cauldron onto the countertop and lighting a fire beneath it.
Cupid glared at Severus’ uncaring tone. “Like you care.”
“Perhaps you should take your surroundings into consideration the next time you break into a warded location.”
Aiming a nasty smile at Severus’ back, Cupid winked at Harry. “How’d it go today?”
Harry’s lips twitched as he handed over the bow, arrows, and jar of red gunk. “It was kind of fun.”
“Yeah?” Cupid’s eyes dropped to the considerably emptier sheath of arrows. “Wait a minute.”
“Bit of a mess downtown,” Harry continued cheerfully, “but the right people eventually got shot. Charlie Weasley and Verity LeBlanc, and Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass.”
“Malfoy?” Cupid’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “That tosser wasn’t on my list.”
“Oh.” Harry blinked, running his fingers through his hair. Then he shrugged. “Well, I put the potion stuff throughout the whole restaurant so whoever was supposed to get it in there was inevitably doused.”
“You did what?” Cupid stared at Harry in horror. “Do you even know how much paperwork that’s going to cause?”
“Again,” Severus interrupted coldly, deftly adding a sprinkling of crushed chaparral to the now boiling water, “perhaps you shall remember today’s activities as a learning experience.”
“You…” Cupid pressed his mouth together tightly and almost self-consciously flexed his wings. “Thanks for fixing me up after injuring me,” he snarled.
“Do not become accustomed to such indulgences.”
Harry shrugged when Cupid looked at him incredulously, already washing his hands at the sink in preparation of helping Severus.
Cupid swore, sticking his belongings securely under his wing and stomping toward the door. “You know what? You two deserve each other.” He flung open the door and stopped, turning to Harry and Severus with a nasty smirk. “By the way, Albus sends his love.”
Severus whirled around, wand raised and curse on his lips, but Cupid was already gone. “You do not believe…”
“Of course not,” Harry said placatingly, moving closer to Severus in order to bump his shoulder. “You saw all the clichéd bells and whistles that go along with being struck with one of those arrows. Anything like that ever happen to us that you can remember?”
Still pale and gripping his knife handle hard enough to leave an indentation in his hand, Severus breathed deeply in and out before consciously relaxing his grip. He nodded, slicing the leafy green plant before him with a bit more precision than strictly necessary. Harry left him to it, debating whether or not to change his clothes before deciding he didn’t care if his ridiculous outfit was destroyed. Unbuttoning his sleeves, Harry simply shoved the silky red cloth over his elbows and spelled it in place before silently tying on his heavy brown apron and moving closer to assist.
“You.” Severus stopped speaking, mouth tightening in irritation. “This is not.” Severus whirled, gripping Harry by his forearms and hauling him close for a fast, hard kiss that went straight to Harry’s head.
“I know.” Harry smiled up at Severus, easing up on his toes to relieve the pressure on his arms. “Really, I do.”
Severus nodded, giving Harry a searching look. Harry smiled again, pressing small kisses to Severus’ neck until he relaxed his grip and stepped away. They worked companionably together all afternoon, ignoring the delirious-sounding activities going on outside.
And later, he kissed Severus goodbye, leaving him to his hard-won solitude before going off to join his friends for dinner.
He laughed out loud as he stood on the cobbled street and realized he was standing in front of Bottom’s Up! again, casting a speculative look towards The Grandest hotel and wondering if Oliver had gotten in trouble for the missing door to his room. Shrugging as he entered the crowded bar, made smoky by the heart-shaped fireworks exploding overhead, Harry made a mental note to advise the hotel to bill the M.A.G. for all damages to the room. Perhaps the bill would serve as an additional reminder to Cupid that some people were happy in their present relationships, even without over-the-top gestures of adoration.
Hermione was radiant in a satiny red dress, breathless and giggling as Ron whirled her around the dance floor. Ginny was sitting across the room with Terry Boot, exchanging an uncomfortable nod with Harry as he caught her eye. Newly engaged Luna was blinking in fascination at the colored lights around them, Neville sitting dazed and flushed by her side, telling anyone who would listen about their newly official engagement. George and Angelina were sitting side-by-side in shy, awkward silence, blushing every time they met each others eyes or brushed hands. Harry grinned at his friends, accepting their hugs and kisses as he joined them.
“No Severus tonight?” Hermione, ever anxious to make sure Harry was happy, glanced hopefully at the door as she joined them.
“Not tonight,” Harry confirmed with a smile. “But we went out for… coffee this morning, and then spent the entire day together,” he continued blithely as Hermione’s smile drooped. She beamed in response.
“Really?” Ron looked delighted that both Harry and Hermione looked so happy, slapping Harry companionably on the back as he slid into a chair next to him. “It’s almost like you guys are in a real relationship, or something.”
“Or something,” Harry agreed, laughing as he accepted a Butterbeer.
“You’re so much alike,” Luna offered dreamily as she sucked on an ice cube, “with your innate suspicion of crowds.” She blinked slowly as a firework sparked over her head. “I think the Nargles are starting to finally like you guys.”
George snorted. “More like their ingrained inability to just be happy.” He winked at Harry. “Want me to prank him for you, Harry?”
Harry laughed, thinking of Severus’ words from earlier and paraphrasing best he could from memory. “Love philtres, chocolates, perfume...” He nodded meaningfully at Angelina. “Do you really want to mess with a potion master when there are so many ways to exact revenge on Valentine's Day?”
Paling slightly, George cast an anxious look towards the door. “Perhaps not.”
They chatted companionably, poking fun at the decorations and the drunken crowd around them, dancing and laughing until a huge gong shook the entire building and the bartender announced Valentine’s Day was officially over. The crowd roared with approval as management bought a complimentary round for the whole room, every cheesy decoration disappearing in a flash of multi-colored flame.
It was late by the time Harry made it home. Severus was already in bed as he showered off the sweat and smell of smoke and alcohol before climbing naked between the sheets of the bed he still couldn’t quite believe he’d been invited into. Still, he smiled as Severus wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, pulling their bodies close together.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Harry whispered sleepily, soothed to sleep by the feeling of Severus’ hands gently tracing the line of his hip.