Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: Waiting for Harry to Get His Groove On Title: Waiting for Harry to Get His Groove On (or People You Meet at the Matchmaker Mingle) Author:hdwriter Other pairings/threesome: Neville/Hannah, Seamus/Lavender, hints of George/Hermione and George/Lee Jordan, past Harry/Luna, past Harry/Oliver Rating: PG-13 (mostly suggestion) Word count: not quite 6000 Content/Warning(s): None Prompt: #15: Harry has lost a bet, and he'll have to go to a matchmaker as penalty… Summary: Harry's had his eye on someone for a while now, but he's kept his feelings secret from even his closest friends – who think he needs help. When he's set up to lose a silly bet, Harry must go and see Lavender, a Matchmaker, as penalty. Lavender wants to use Harry's fame to promote her business, but she also promises Harry will be happy with the results… A/N: I always enjoy reading matchmaker-type fics, so this was my first choice. Severus is more sneaky than powerful, but hopefully that's close enough. I had fun writing this, and I hope it makes you smile, maris35! (Thanks, as usual, to the wonderful nenne for her Beta and Brit-pick help.)
Waiting for Harry to Get His Groove On (or People You Meet at the Matchmaker Mingle)
"What?" Harry glared at Seamus. "You couldn't have told me your girlfriend was Lavender before we made the bet?"
Seamus giggled, though he must have realised how girly he sounded because he stopped suddenly and cleared his throat. "And you would have gone for it, if I did?" He grinned, shaking his head. "But you agreed, mate. And you lost. Pay up."
Harry shook his head. "Why don't I just give you money? That should work. You can even pass it along to Lavender, if you want --"
Seamus was already frowning. "No you don't, Saviour Boy. A bet's a bet."
Ron jostled Harry from behind, looking sheepish. "True, Harry. You can't renege, mate."
Harry turned his glare on Ron, who winced. "It's your fault. You're the one who told me the Pygmy Pythons were a sure thing." Harry groaned, knowing it was really only his fault. He'd clearly had too much Firewhiskey to even pretend to think. When Ron had gotten them all involved in the new craze of Pygmy Puff Fighting (which was more like which Puff could out-cute the other than actual fighting), Harry should've known then the only real loser would be him.
He turned back to Seamus, who watched him with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Fine. So I have to support Lavender in her new business. What does that mean? She's going to fit me for a robe? Bake me a cupcake? Merlin, tell me it's not some kind of divination thing – I don't care --"
"She's a Matchmaker," Seamus said, cutting in.
Harry blinked at him. Behind him, Dean snorted his drink, and Harry felt drops of it hit the back of his shirt. "Pardon?" he said.
"You know. A Matchmaker. She sets people up – and she's damn fine at it too, let me tell you."
Best mate or no, Harry was going to kill Ron. It was his idea to have the stupid Pygmy fight on their bi-monthly night out. It was his plan to make a bet around it. And it was his guilting that made Harry agree to help out Seamus's once-nameless girlfriend if the Pygmy Pythons (previously undefeated, Ron claimed) lost. "It's harmless, Harry," Ron had said.
Ron must have felt Harry's ire because when Harry turned around to inflict a little revenge, Ron had vanished. "Must dash," Ron called from the far doorway. "See you later!" The cold air briefly kissed Harry's hot face, and Harry groaned.
**
The next day, Harry met Hermione for lunch. Diagon Alley was filled with Christmas and Yule decorations, the pine and holly framing every door and window. Large Christmas balls, shining even in the grey light, brightened up the cold and shimmered in the frozen breath coming from everyone's mouths.
Harry ducked into the small café not far from George's shop, enjoying the jingling bells on the door. He unwrapped his scarf, shrugged out of his coat, and sat down across from Hermione, who barely paused before jumping right in. "You should've known better," she said, no sympathy at all in her voice. "Ron always comes up with crazy schemes these days. He's worse than George."
Harry sighed. He hadn't really meant to get Hermione involved. Ever since she and Ron split up, the three of them rarely spent time together; when they did, Harry had to keep the other two from taking potshots at each other. He suspected they'd get to the point of their previous friendship eventually, but things were still too raw now for that to happen.
This morning, when Hermione had Owled about their lunch, he'd made the mistake of mentioning his hangover. Then, when she Fire-called with a Hangover Potion, he'd blurted out the story about the bet. Thing was, Hermione had resented their boys' nights even while she and Ron were together. Now that she was on her own, she especially hated that Harry still met up with Ron regularly with the other guys – and without her – even though Harry had lunch with Hermione at least twice a week. Of course, Ron now lived with Harry, though he'd chosen to spend the previous night at WWW rather than face Harry's wrath.
"I can't believe they're insisting I have to do this, though," he whinged. "We were all drunk. They can't really expect me to stick with it."
As if Seamus was eavesdropping, an owl flew into the shop from the small window by the door and swooped down to their table, dropping a parchment in Harry's soup before flying off again. Hermione clucked in annoyance as Harry fished out the parchment, grimacing at the mess.
Dear Harry,
Please be at my office tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock for our first appointment. I will give you the details of your involvement at that time. I'm so delighted you've decided to seek out my guidance, and I promise that you will not regret your choice.
Sincerely, Mademoiselle Lavender Brown, Certified Matchmaker, Level Four
Harry flung it down in disgust. "My involvement? My first appointment? What the bloody hell is this?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Serves you right." Then she paused, taking in the horrified expression Harry knew he wore. She sighed. "Fine. Let me see what I can find out."
"Do you think you can get me out of this? I don't need a bloody matchmaker, 'Mione."
A strange expression flickered over Hermione's face. Before Harry could parse it, she shook her head. "I imagine you'll have to go tomorrow, at least – unless you just want to tell the boys that you're reneging on the bet?"
Scowling, Harry shook his head. Stupid or not, he couldn't just back down.
Hermione sighed again and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Silly gits," before standing up. "I have to run. I'll firecall you in the morning, all right?"
"Thanks, Mione," Harry said, hugging her.
"Don't thank me yet," she warned. "Besides, maybe you'll get a date out of this?"
"I don't need the likes of Lavender – the Trelawney worshiper – to get a date," Harry said.
Hermione paused before saying brightly, "Of course you don't."
Harry frowned. "I don't. I date plenty."
"Whatever you say, Harry. Talk to you tomorrow!" And she was off.
Harry sat back down, still frowning as he stared after her. He had dated plenty. Sure, none of them had worked out, but finding the right person was hard work. And he was still young. Hell, it had only been three years since the war ended. No one else had found their mate yet, either. Of course, Ron and Hermione had dated two and a half of those three years, and Neville and Hannah had just announced their engagement. But George was still single, though he did spend all his spare time with Lee Jordan, and Harry knew they weren't just 'mates' like they always claimed. Luna! Luna was still single, and she never dated. Well, at least not often. Or maybe often but not the same person. And he'd dated Luna for a time. He couldn't hold back a fond smile as he thought of it.
After he'd broken things off with Ginny for good – which happened about thirty seconds after the last battle – and Ginny had hexed him and screamed at him in good measure, Harry had enjoyed the single life. Kind of. When he ran into Luna at the accelerated NEWTs preview, he'd asked her out on a whim. They'd dated for over a month before Luna started bringing other blokes – and girls – on their dates with them. When she actually brought another girl into the bedroom, Harry'd been done. He had a hard enough time concentrating with just one girl; two was more than he could fathom.
The next time he and Luna got together – for lunch only – she'd suggested he might consider blokes. "I don't think you should limit yourself, Harry," she'd said in her dreamy voice. "But you might enjoy boys more than girls."
At first, the idea had been terrifying. It was bad enough that people stared at him for supposedly saving them all. What would they do if they knew he was gay too? But then it turned out the wizarding world didn't care about such things. He shouldn't have been that surprised – after all, Hagrid's parents had been a wizard and a giantess. If people could handle that, they could probably handle two wizards just fine.
So Harry had tried blokes. Well, mostly. He'd gone on a few dates, at least. But though the sex really was amazing – yes, he truly was gay and not simply bi-sexual – connecting with another person beyond that hadn't been any easier. And after a while, he didn't enjoy the one-offs that much, either.
Now, Harry sighed, re-reading Lavender's note. Maybe Hermione had a point, though Harry shuddered to think what kind of person Lavender would come up with. Knowing her, she'd choose a Lockhart clone or something. "Gross," Harry muttered. Hopefully Hermione would find a loophole.
**
She didn't, and Harry sat in front of Lavender on one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever invented. The plush, overstuffed wonder had practically eaten him when he entered, and he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper every second. Lavender had peppermint candles lit, and the smell filled the room. Her holly held fairy lights, and the twinkling was starting to give him a headache.
Lavender sat in a similar creation – though hers seemed to have some kind of support that kept her solidly upright – and beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're here, Harry. I just know I will find you your soul mate. In fact, you're just in time to experience my first-ever speed dating match-off – a matchmaking mingle."
"Er, what?" Harry shifted, trying to get his elbows out of his stomach and only succeeded in almost blackening his own eye with his knee.
"A match-off. I know how much you boys like your games and all." She giggled, and Harry was reminded annoyingly of Seamus. "It's this Friday night. I've reserved the entire space at Parvati's Tea & Sweets Shop." She clasped her hands at her chin, peering at Harry over them with a wistful expression on her face. "It's going to be amazing. I almost wish I was still single so I could participate too."
"Sorry?" Harry said. His knees were practically at his forehead now, and he could barely see Lavender's overly sweet look from between his legs. Then he noticed she was waving her wand at him, swirling and looping. Not only that, but something like a Quick Quills implement was making tons of notes on a piece of parchment in front of her.
"I'll be sure you get your script well in advance, Harry. Be at Parvati's at six sharp. You'll find your soul mate there, I'm certain." She put her wand down, glanced over the note-filled parchment with a pleased smile, and looked up at Harry with a huge grin. Suddenly Harry was on his feet, like the chair had vomited him out. She also stood, kissing him on each cheek. "Oh, this will be so good for my business," she cooed.
And Harry found himself on the street outside her door, standing in the midst of some slush, completely at a loss as to what had just occurred.
**
"A script, Ron – that crazy bint sent me a script!" Harry was practically screeching.
Ron, whose face was awfully red all of a sudden, just looked sheepish. "I know, mate. I mean, I have one too."
There was a brief silence before Harry erupted again. "What?"
"Seamus wants Lavender to be successful, so he kind of asked all of us to participate --"
"He asked you? He didn't trick you with some stupid bet set up by your stupid best -- former best – mate?"
"Aw, come on, Harry. It won't be that bad. I'll be there, and Dean and Seamus – and Seamus said Neville and Hannah are even going to help out, just to show it works."
Harry stared at Ron. "People who are already practically married are going to be there?" His whisper didn't seem to reassure Ron any.
"Well, you know. There will be others too – like a couple of blokes Dean's working with, some friends of George's, a few of Parvati's friends. Lots of people." Ron wouldn't meet his eyes, and Harry had a really bad feeling.
"Like who?" he said.
"You know. People."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Which people, Ron?"
"Parkinson, Malfoy, Zabini – and a few others," he muttered.
"Seamus is inviting Slytherins?" Harry suddenly couldn't breathe. "Oh, my god. What did you get me into?"
Ron looked hurt at that. "I'm doing it too, mate. It won't be that bad – it's just one night, you know."
Harry thrust the script into Ron's face, shaking it. "A script! How on earth does she think any of us can meet our soul mate when we have a bloody script?"
Ron grimaced. "Did you read it yet?"
Harry glared at him. "No. I don't want to read it. I don't want to go to this stupid, bloody event, and I don't want Lavender Sodding Brown setting me up with some Slytherin! I can get my own bloody dates!" Harry stomped to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Ron flinched then sighed. "If you can find your own dates, then why are you always alone?" he whispered.
**
On Friday night, Harry pulled on a t-shirt, his denims, and his ratty trainers. He might have to go (stupid, sodding bet), but he wasn't about to dress up. He hadn't seen Ron since their 'discussion' the other night, which was fine by him. He wasn't as stupid as they all seemed to think – he could see the pity in their expressions when he showed up at things alone.
"I don't need a sodding matchmaker," he muttered to himself. Thing was, he'd had his eye on someone for a while now. Someone who would never resort to a matchmaker, let alone the likes of Lavender Brown. So what if Harry hadn't gotten up the courage to ask him out yet – these things took time.
"Bollocks," he said loudly, running his hands through his hair. There would be Slytherins there tonight, and one of them was sure to say something to the person he really wanted, and that would be the end of that. The man would never respect Harry – not that he did now, which was why Harry had put off asking him on a date for so long.
Harry glanced in the mirror and made a face before grabbing his heavy cloak. Of course, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and was colder than a Muggle's tit – or so Ron claimed. Harry sighed. With Christmas only two weeks away, part of him wished he could look forward to this evening – wished he could believe something good would come of it. With another sigh, he flicked his wand to turn out the lights. Might as well get it over with.
**
Harry stood in the doorway, watching the witches and wizards mingling throughout Parvati's shop. He'd seen no fewer than five former Slytherins, and he knew he was screwed. Before he could slip away, stupid bet be damned, Lavender jumped up on the counter and held her wand to her throat.
"Welcome to the first of many Matchmaker Mingles for single witches and wizards," she proclaimed. "Unlike other gatherings, we use only guided 'dates' during these mingles. And for those of you who forgot your scripts, we have copies of all of them." With a flick of her wand, pieces of parchment flooded the crowd.
One dropped right into Harry's hands, and he swallowed hard. It was all over now.
"Here's how the evening will work," Lavender went on. "You'll notice that you have five sections to your script. Each section represents one match-off with another person. I've grouped you so that your top five matches will be included. When I call out 'One,' all of your scripts will reveal your first mingle. The questions there are only to get you started, but I promise you that they will reveal your compatibility immediately, so I suggest you stick with the script until you've completed that section.
"Each mingle will last fifteen minutes. At the end of the five mingles, you can choose which you'd like to meet again. You have my guarantee that at least one of them will be an amazing match for you." She beamed at the crowd, and Harry's stomach tightened. What if he didn't want anyone here? Worse yet, what if someone wanted him – someone he couldn't stand and would never get rid of after this?
"Parvati has graciously allowed me to expand her shop, and there are enough tables for each couple to meet up. One person of each pair will have their name appear in red – if that is you, then choose a table and let your partner find you. Are we all ready?"
Most of the group yelled out an enthusiastic, "Yes!" Harry swallowed hard on his trepidation and hoped he didn't look as sick as he felt.
"All right. One!"
Harry looked at his script, wincing anew at the name Draco Malfoy which appeared on his parchment. It was in black, so that meant Harry had to find a table. He chose the one nearest the door, plopping into the chair and praying that this evening would pass quickly.
There were tons of people – many more than Harry would've thought Lavender even knew – so it took a few minutes for everyone to get situated. The room had stretched to the point that Harry couldn't really see those on the other side of the shop. That was one thing to be grateful for – he wouldn't have to move!
Malfoy sank gracefully into the chair across from the small table. "Well, Potter. Who would have thought?"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There was no way Malfoy was one of his top five. Lavender was already proving herself a total nutter. She had probably used an actual Quick Quotes Quill, which meant it could have written anything at all – and none of it true. He looked down at the script, not wanting to attempt coming up with his own conversation. He doubted it would go well if he asked things like, "So, still a raging coward?" or "How's your control-freak father doing in Azkaban?"
He script said: What are you doing with your life these days? Harry winced. What an asinine question – one he didn't care to hear the answer for, in fact. But like a parrot, he said, "So, what are you doing with your life these days?"
Malfoy smirked, clearly amused. "Actually, Potter, I've been working with some of my old housemates to set up a program to help pure-blood wizards and witches better understand the benefits of Muggle ideas and world views. You might have heard of it – our motto is Purebloods create new traditions for a better world."
Harry blinked in surprise. He had heard of it. In fact…he narrowed his eyes. "This is Snape's project."
Malfoy shrugged. "Yes, Severus was one of the minds behind the project. But it was my idea to extend it beyond just children."
Harry looked at him. He leaned on the table, forgetting his script for the moment. "Why? Why are you interested in this?"
"Honestly, Potter. Just because I followed the Dark Lord before doesn't mean I can't see the importance of change now. Purebloods need to understand the rest of Wizarding society. We can't simply cling to our traditions without being willing to merge them with ideas from Muggle and Muggle-born society. We need to be the leaders in this new age."
Although Malfoy said this casually, his flushed face told a slightly different story. Harry glanced at his script again. Where do you see yourself in ten years? Harry didn't really want to get into a philosophical discussion with Malfoy, so he again parroted the script.
Malfoy grinned. "I'm going to run for Minister of Magic eventually. I have what it takes to strengthen our society and blend the various worlds together. And I'm a born politician."
Harry hated politics, so he couldn't argue that. "Do you not have a script?" he asked suddenly. "Why am I the only one talking?"
Malfoy snorted. "My script says to let you take the lead."
He was going to kill bloody Lavender. "Fine." He glanced down again and read the question from the page. "What kind of partner do you want?"
Malfoy leaned forward, his grey eyes suddenly very intent. "I want a partner who isn't afraid of the public eye. I want someone who has strong beliefs and opinions and doesn't hesitate to stand up for them. I want someone who will risk his life even for his enemy, simply because it's the right thing to do."
Harry swallowed. That certainly explained how he ended up as Malfoy's partner – but it seemed rather one-sided. "I hate the public eye," he murmured.
He got another smirk. "Of course you do," Malfoy said. It was obvious he didn't believe Harry. "That's why you're always in it."
Harry wasn't about to try and explain. Instead, he read the last question. "What's your idea of the perfect evening with a romantic partner?"
Malfoy leaned forward even closer, and Harry wished he could scoot his chair back without looking rude. "First, we'd have a nice Seeker's game. Then, we shower together. Once we were dressed in our finest, we'd take our supper at Delicieuse. Finally, we'd retire to our home and make sweet love for hours before the fire."
Harry almost choked on his own spit. He could feel the heat in his face, and it was obvious that Malfoy assumed it was a good thing, as his eyes dilated a bit.
"Two!" Lavender called.
Harry almost blurted out, "Thank Merlin!" Fortunately, he managed to hold his tongue, and a very reluctant-looking Malfoy rose from his chair.
"I'll see you at the end, Harry," he murmured as he sauntered away.
Harry put his face in his hands, groaning. He didn't look up until he heard the chair scrape. "Neville?!"
Neville gave him a warm smile. "Hiya, Harry."
"Nev, you're engaged. What are you doing?" Yes, Ron had said Neville would be here, but Harry hadn't believed him.
He shrugged. "Hannah thought it would be fun – you know, kind of a last hurrah."
Harry didn't know. Nothing about this evening was fun. At least he could talk to Neville, though. He didn't bother looking at the script, and the two discussed plants and gardening. Although Harry didn't really have a full-time job, per se, he did dabble in a number of things – and helping Neville build up his greenhouses was one of them.
Their fifteen minutes passed quickly. "Thanks for the fun," Neville said with a grin as Lavender called out, "Three!"
Harry shook Neville's hand, wishing he could just hold him there for the rest of the evening. Neville's grin widened, like he knew what Harry was thinking, but he pulled away. "You might have fun, you know," he said over his shoulder as he strolled off.
Right. Fun. Harry sighed and tried not to look around as people shifted to their next 'date.' When he noticed Oliver Wood walking across the room, however, he didn't hold back his stare. Oliver was doing this? Oliver had his choice of partners – Harry knew this, since they'd gone out once. When Oliver didn't stop but headed to Harry's corner of the room, Harry shook his head. No. No, no, no.
"Hiya, Harry," Oliver said, plopping into the chair across from him with a huge smile. "Good to see you again."
Harry managed a smile. "Ollie."
Oliver's smile grew. "I asked Lavender to put us together, you know? I told her we have so much in common."
He asked -- so Harry could've asked for…no. The one Harry wanted would never do this type of thing, and even if he did, Harry would be the last person he'd want to 'date.'
Harry sighed and hoped he had a pleasant expression on his face. "So, Ollie, how are things?" He didn't even glance at his parchment, even though it was vibrating in his lap like a frustrated crup. He'd gotten through that one date with Oliver; he knew how to do this.
"Things are good. I got my broom fixed up by Peakes – you know, premier broom maintenance?" He didn't wait for Harry to acknowledge but continued. "He made these adjustments with the bristles that let me stop in mid-flight and change directions like I'm being led by a wand."
Harry tuned him out, watching instead the familiar look of obsession as Oliver went on and on about his broom, about Keeping, about Quidditch and being a star player. Harry wondered if all Oliver's dates were like this – maybe that's why Oliver was doing this event. And maybe that's also why he asked Lavender for set-ups. How could anyone match up someone who really only needed a nodding head and the pretence of interest?
"I really want to fly with you again, Harry. I don't know why you never showed up for any of the try-outs. I told Coach you were coming, but you didn't. You kind of made me look bad, you know?"
Harry stirred from his own thoughts. "I never said I was interested, Ollie. I don't want to play professional Quidditch."
"Course you do," Oliver said. "Everyone wants to play. You'd be a right fool not to." And he was off again, his dark eyes shining with enthusiasm, his brogue thickening.
Harry noticed, of course, that Oliver was good looking. Especially like this, all alight with passion. But the passion never seemed to extend beyond Quidditch. Even after their one date, when Oliver had kissed him sloppily and jerked him off outside his flat, it had felt a little too much like he was on a Quidditch pitch and vying for the Snitch or something. All in all, he was relieved when Lavender called out, "Four!"
"I'll Owl you, Harry. We need to get some alone time." Oliver gave Harry an intense look, and Harry responded with a weak smile.
Not happening, he told Oliver in his mind. Merlin, this evening has been the longest night of my life.
Moments later, a tall, wiry, older man slipped into the chair. "Harry?" he asked, his accent declaring he wasn't British.
"Yes, I'm Harry. You are?"
The man gave a shy smile, and Harry sat up a little taller. Could Lavender actually have gotten something right? "I'm Karl," he said. "From Bulgaria. I'm actually a distant cousin of Victor Krum. He told me a bit about you and Herminee when he heard I vas coming here for v-work."
"What do you do?" Harry didn't want to think about what Victor might have told Karl. If it was heroic crap, he didn't need to know.
"I'm in plants, actually."
Harry blinked. So Lavender had been paying attention. "Really? What do you do with plants?"
"Vell, I v-work at making them tougher so their time of functionality is longer. So they can be used better and with more potency."
"Wow. I didn't realize you could change any of that. How does it work?" And Harry jumped into the conversation, listening closely to Karl as he attempted to put English words to his work with extending the life of various herbs and plants. It was fascinating, and Harry wondered if Karl and Neville had also been matched. This was right up Neville's alley.
As with Neville, the fifteen minutes flew by, and when Lavender called out, "Five – last one," he knew he wanted to talk to Karl more. Of course, he wasn't interested in dating the man, but he he'd love to learn more about his work.
"Can I Owl you – my partner and I work with plants, and I think he'd really love to hear more about your work, as well," Harry said quickly, standing and holding out his hand.
Karl gave that shy smile again, and Harry found himself gently squeezing Karl's hand, hoping to reassure him. "I vould like that," he said softly.
"I'll get the information from Lavender then," Harry said, offering another squeeze before letting go.
As Karl turned to go, he bumped into another tall man dressed all in black – black denims, black t-shirt, and black-as-night hair. "Excuse me," the man said, and Harry's heart stuttered.
No…it couldn't be.
Severus Snape slid into the chair Karl left empty. He raised his brow at Harry's gaping mouth. "Catching flies?"
"What are you doing here?" Harry whispered. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"And ruin the surprise?" Severus smirked. "I insisted Ms. Brown keep my participation quiet. Of course, everyone knew about you. The great Saviour, Harry Potter, taking part in the first ever Matchmaker Mingle."
Harry felt the heat rise in his face. "I didn't ask her to advertise that," he muttered.
To his relief, Severus inclined his head. "I know. Tell me, Harry, how long would I have waited for you to ask me out if Draco hadn't leaked your participation in this event?"
Harry swallowed, forcing himself to meet the black eyes across from him. "I didn't think – you never seemed that interested."
"And you only ask out those who are obviously interested?"
"N-no. Lots of people are interested," he blurted then cringed with embarrassment. "I mean --"
Severus snorted. "Yes, yes. Everyone wants to be with the Saviour."
"No! That's not – most people just want to be seen with me. Or to tell people they know me. Even though none of them do. No one that I actually like or want to be with ever seems to notice me." Well, that sounded even worse. Poor little Harry. He closed his eyes, trying to get himself under control. "If I thought you'd still agree to spend time with me even after I asked you – that you wouldn't just be so disgusted that our friendship would completely fall apart -- I would've asked. I wanted to ask. I've wanted to ask for a long time, actually." He swallowed hard, trying to control his babbling. "I'm asking."
Severus stared at him without expression, and Harry's heart sank and his chest tightened. Oh, god. He shouldn't have –
"Tell me why you think we would work as a romantic couple," Severus said, his tone unrevealing.
Harry fidgeted, but he knew he had to be honest. "Erm, well, we seem to get on okay as friends. I like talking to you. I like hearing what you have to say. I love your sarcasm and your wit." He faltered as he realized that he had many reasons why their relationship would benefit him…but were there any benefits for Severus?
Suddenly depressed, he shrugged. "I guess that's not much," he murmured.
Severus cocked his head. "You like my sarcasm?"
Harry nodded, his mouth dry. "Not so much when you're aiming at me, but when…well, when I can tell that you are truly just teasing, I guess." He sounded pathetic. He wiped his hands on his denims, wondering how much time was left. Would Severus ever speak to him again?
"You are an extraordinary person, Harry," Severus said quietly.
Harry stared at him, something like hope beginning to bloom.
"How many people would have forgiven me for the way I treated them – the way I treated you," he said. "I was beyond horrible to you. I made you feel terrible about yourself. Even though it was an act – especially those last few years – I could tell that I was hurting you." His voice was hoarse now, but he didn't look away from Harry. "Why -- why -- would you want anything to do with me?"
"I like you," Harry whispered. "You make me feel alive and smart and worthwhile. I want to spend more time with you – to make you feel as good as you make me feel."
And Severus smiled. "Well, then. My answer is yes."
Harry blinked for a second before he caught on. "You want to go out with me? You want us to be a couple?" Could he have understood correctly?
Severus nodded. "Though I might have to rethink this if you continue to gape at me like a messy-haired fish."
Harry laughed in relief, and without thinking, he reached over and grabbed Severus's hand. Severus curled his long fingers around Harry's, and for a moment, Harry couldn't breathe. "Would you like to go and have a quiet dinner together tonight?"
"Yes," Severus said simply. "Someplace Muggle, since I put on these ridiculous clothes – at Lavender's insistence."
So, Lavender had done more than one something right, Harry realized. Maybe she wasn't a hack, after all. "I love the way you look in those clothes. Of course, I like the way you look all the time --"
Severus snorted. "There is something seriously wrong with you, Mr. Potter. I am not an attractive man."
"Shows how much you know," Harry shot back. "You're amazingly sexy." He looked up at Severus beneath his lashes. "I could show you how sexy you are," he added.
Severus smirked, but Harry saw how the flush moved up his pale cheeks, how the heat flared in those dark eyes. "Perhaps," Severus admitted.
Definitely, Harry thought.
**
The next morning, Harry slipped from bed, tucking the blankets around Severus, who was still asleep, and jotted a quick note. Mademoiselle Lavender, I will endorse your business. Thank you. ~Harry Potter
He sent the note out with his owl, and then he returned to his bedroom, pausing only briefly to enjoy the way the early morning sun flickered on Severus's smooth skin, before climbing back in, barely wincing at the mild (and pleasant) ache in his arse, and wrapping his arm around Severus's chest. He hummed in pleasure as Severus pulled him closer. It would be a good Christmas now – a good Christmas for years to come, if Harry had anything to say about it.
**
In her own bed, Lavender squealed as the owl dropped off the note. "It worked," she crowed to Seamus, who was barely awake.
"Which one?" Seamus muttered.
"Harry and Severus – and Hermione and George, I might add."
Seamus just tucked her closer to him. "I knew it would," he said. "Everyone could tell Snape and Harry belonged together – not to minimize your part," he added quickly. "You're amazing, Lav." He kissed her bare shoulder.
Lavender shook her head, but even Seamus's easy acceptance couldn't lessen her delight. When Severus had come to her yesterday morning and insisted he join in the Mingle, she'd done a quick read on him. Then she'd blended his profile with all those who'd be attending – and Harry had been the top choice. She'd hesitated to put them together, even though she'd heard they'd become friends, but Severus had added that he'd only join in if he got to spend one of his segments with Harry. "We have things to say to one another," he said.
"Wear denims and a well-fitting t-shirt," she'd said airily, resigning herself to the possibility of an explosion of sorts that evening.
Now, she giggled, surrendering to Seamus's wandering hands and realizing there had been an explosion – an explosion of love.