InsaneJournal

Harry hurriedly retreats, closes the office door behind himself as quietly as possible, before the occupants of the room could see him, and takes a deep breath. Then another. Fortunately Snape’s lair – as most of the Ministry refers to it – is hidden in a rarely used, dark corridor where foot traffic is minimal, so there is no witness to Harry’s fierce blush.

He knows he shouldn’t be embarrassed or ashamed; he did nothing wrong, but still, he feels like a kid caught with a hand inside the cookie-jar.

He takes a few steps away from the door and tries to gather himself. His heart thumps madly and his face is on fire, his fists clenched by his side. He closes his eyes for a moment, but this turns out to be a mistake. All he can see is Severus: eyes closed, cheeks rosy, lost in a kiss with Kingsley. Severus as he sits on the edge of his desk with Kingsley standing in the vee of his legs, Kingsley’s one hand buried in Severus’ hair, his other arm around Severus’ waist, pulling him closer while Severus’ hands are roaming over Kingsley’s broad back. The memory is just as vivid as the real thing was mere moments ago.

Harry hastily opens his eyes and walks farther away from Severus’ office. The sight of the two men devouring each other was undeniably hot as hell, but Harry finds the whole thing wrong. Kingsley shouldn’t be kissing Severus! Okay, to be fair, Harry feels that nobody except him should be kissing Severus – as if that could ever happen! – but especially not Minister for Magic, happily married with two children, too-handsome-for-his-own-good Kingsley Fucking Shacklebolt! Definitely not in a public place where anybody could walk in, and absolutely not when Severus has a lunch date with Harry, even if it’s less of a date and more like a meeting between friends, but still.

Harry feels unaccountably embarrassed even if he knows he shouldn’t be.

Also he feels hurt and rejected.

He takes a few more deep breaths, makes sure that nobody else is nearby then walks away.

***

Severus doesn’t even mention their missed not-quite-lunch-date when they meet next time.

It’s their usual biweekly Friday meeting in the hole-in-the-wall Muggle pub not far from the Ministry of Magic which they prefer for the lack of curious gossips and constantly prying eyes. Ten years after the war, Harry and Severus aren’t such big sensations as they once were, but they still get way too much attention in the Wizarding world.

The image of Severus and Kingsley’s passionate embrace has been haunting Harry for the past week and now, when he actually is sitting across the man, makes him awkward and flustered.

“What’s your problem, Potter?” Severus asks after a few minutes. “You’re even more fidgety than usual.”

Harry’s really, really not sure whether bringing the cause of his discomfort up is a good idea.

“Nothing… Well, I… You see…” he stutters.

Severus rolls his eyes. “Spit it out already! I swear you are just as eloquent as you were in your Hogwarts days.”

“I saw you!” Harry blurts out and immediately turns beet-red.

“You don’t say,” Severus drawls. “Such an uncommon occurrence, given that we, most unfortunately I must add, work at the same place.”

It’s true of course; the Auror Office and Snape’s lair – the office of DMLE’s special consultant – are on the same floor.

“No, I mean last week. Erm… with Kingsley,” Harry admits awkwardly, eyes avoiding Severus’ gaze.

Severus expression closes off, and when he speaks his voice is a few degrees cooler. “What are you babbling about, Potter?” he asks sharply.

“On Tuesday when you didn’t show up at lunch I went looking for you,” Harry explains and with each word Severus’ face gets darker and darker. “Your office door wasn’t closed and I just… saw you two… together,” he ends lamely.

“I see,” Severus says rigidly. “It seems old habits die hard. You nose around in my private affairs and spy on me once again.”

“No, it wasn’t like that!” Harry objects indignantly. “The door wasn’t closed and anybody could have walked in! What were you even thinking?”

“That’s none of your business,” Severus snaps.

“Hell it’s not! You’re my friend!” Harry shouts angrily. It’s fortunate that Severus never forgets his privacy spells; that’s the only reason why they don’t make a spectacle.

Severus snorts. “You’re just an annoying little nitwit who bullies me into meeting him every second week and whom I indulge for the peace of my mind at least on the remaining, blessedly Potter-free, days,” he says, clearly trying to divert their discussion.

Harry isn’t buying it for a second.

“Uh-hum. Newsflash for you, Severus. I am your friend, I’ve been your friend for years, and so it’s my business – because I sodding care for you – that you have some sordid affair going on with somebody who is married and your boss!”

“You have no say, absolutely none, in my private life, friend or not, especially not when I haven’t asked for your opinion.” By the end of the sentence Severus raises his voice as well.

“I’ve never asked for your opinion on my love life either, but you still told me what you thought every time. That’s what friends do,” Harry retorts angrily. “When it’s been about my life, you’ve never been shy: ‘Weasley’s crush on the Boy Who Lived is ridiculous, Potter’,” he mimics Severus’ snotty tone. “’You should escape that messed up threesome while you can,’ or ‘A Muggle lawyer, Potter? You’ll be bored to death before you turn thirty,’ or ‘Krum might be attractive in an unwashed, caveman kind of way, but sweaty, broom-polish smelling fornication shouldn’t be your main goal in life;’ oh, and let’s not forget my favourite, ‘Malfoy? No, Potter. Just no.’” After his little tirade Harry gives Severus a challenging look, but Severus’ face once again is impassive.

“Are you quite done?” he asks, voice flat.

“I just think you deserve better,” Harry explains earnestly. “You shouldn’t be somebody’s dirty little secret,” he adds sadly.

“Your thinking process is absolutely predictable: without the facts you assume and jump to conclusions. You’re awfully quick to judge me. How do you know that I'm anybody's dirty little secret, as you put it? You, the champion of equality, couldn’t imagine that there’s a possibility for relationships out of your narrow-minded norm? After half a glimpse I’m a slut and a homewrecker?”

“What? No!” Harry cries out, appalled. “You know I’d never think that about you!” Harry feels ashamed. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way,” he adds sincerely. “I don’t think any of those horrible things. I just think you shouldn’t be second to anybody. It’s so unfair, and…”

With a hard, unreadable look, Severus interrupts. “I know. Please, just drop it, Harry,” he pleads quietly.

It’s the use of his first name that makes Harry oblige. With a heavy sigh he nods.

The rest of their evening is stilted, spoiled by the reappearance of a stiffness they grew out of years ago. Their usual easy banter is missing and they say their goodbyes much earlier than they generally would.

Severus’ back is ramrod straight as he strides away and Harry wants to run after him and hug him until Severus melts into his arms. He wants it so much that it aches, but instead he stays and watches Severus as he Disapparates.

***

The next few weeks are uncomfortable. Their previous discussion puts a strain on Harry and Severus’ friendship. In the two weeks following their pub-night Severus always has something important to do when Harry asks him to have lunch together, although before their last outing they used to have a meal together at least twice a week. Harry is afraid that Severus isn’t going to show up at their next biweekly outing at all but, to his ultimate relief, Severus appears. The conversation that night has more heavy silences than usual, but somehow they get over it, and it gets better every week.

Harry hasn’t seen Severus and Kingsley together since that day but he thinks a lot about what Severus said or, more accurately, implied. A relationship out of the norm, Severus said. Harry doesn’t really know what that means. Does Roberta Shacklebolt know about it? Is she a part of it? While the thought of the three of them is without a doubt arousing, it makes Harry’s chest hurt with longing.

Even if Harry wants to ask desperately, for Severus’ sake he doesn’t.

Two months go by and they’re almost back to the status quo, when the annual Ministry Winter Soirée is held. They’re even bitching together about the horrible formal Ministry functions and their obligatory attendance.

As Harry stands in the vast dancing hall, he at least can find one big advantage; he can feast his eyes on Severus in a dress robe. The man looks gorgeous in black satin, his hair pulled back into an elegant pony-tail.

Harry is so absorbed in the sight that he doesn’t notice his best friend until he is startled by Ron’s voice.

“Careful, mate, someone might slip on your drool and break their leg!” Ron teases him.

Harry tears his eyes away from Severus.

“Hey, Ron. What’s up?”

“Not much. Party is as dull as ever, but at least the food is all right.” To demonstrate this claim, he offers his plate, piled hazardously high with finger-food, to Harry.

“No thanks. I’ve already eaten.”

Ron shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

They stand in silence for a while. Ron’s occupied with his snacks, and Harry’s eyes involuntarily sneak back to Severus. The man is half-hidden in the shadows, standing very close to the wall, staring intensely at something in the middle of the hall. Harry follows his gaze and his heart clenches. Roberta and Kingsley Shacklebolt are dancing carefree, their bright smiles lighting the room. The contrast between them and Severus is so very obvious and painful. Severus shouldn’t be standing in the shadows, alone. It’s not right.

Harry is ready to march over to Severus when Ron’s words stop him.

“What do you have against good old Shacklebolt? You’re giving him the stinky eyes all evening,” he asks.

Harry turns to him in surprise.

“Nothing. Why should I have anything against him?” he protests a little too quickly.

“Dunno. Just askin’.” Ron shrugs and turns back to his food with enthusiasm.

By the time Harry’s eyes wander back to the place Severus previously stood, the man is gone.

The evening is quite tiresome after that. Schmoozing with strangers, exchanging pleasantries and forced politeness. He even has a few words with Roberta Shacklebolt. She is a very friendly lady and, as any dedicated wife of the Minister for Magic should do, she tries to chat with as many people as possible at these kinds of events. They talk about food and Quidditch, both topics safe enough. Throughout their conversation Harry can’t stop wondering what way this woman is involved in Severus’ life.

It’s after midnight, Harry hasn’t seen Severus for hours, and he is ready to give up and finally go home, when Kingsley corners him, quite literally.

“Harry,” the minister greets him.

“Kingsley,” he nods politely, albeit a tad coolly.

“The very man I was looking for,” Kingsley exclaims.

“Oh. What can I do for you?” Harry asks hesitantly.

“There is a tiny issue I need your assistance with,” Kingsley starts with a smile which is way too empty. “Severus, as the special consultant to the DMLE, brought a potential breach of confidentiality inside of the department to my attention.” Harry has his suspicions about where this conversation is heading, but he only nods to Kingsley who continues. “He is a highly valued advisor to the Ministry and I would never dismiss his concern.”

Advisor? Is that what it’s called nowadays? Harry’s inner voice mocks. Harry himself manages to stay silent, with some effort.

“You are a great Auror, Harry, the others look up to you. If you pay special attention to keeping confidential information inside the circle of people who have the proper authorization, I’m sure the others will follow your lead.”

“What…?” Harry chokes, astonished. Is Kingsley really saying what Harry thinks he is saying? He can’t do much else but stare at the other man as he speaks on.

“It would be a shame to lose any valuable member of the department to such easily salvageable matters, now wouldn’t it?”

Holy shit! Harry’s jaw drops to the floor. Did Kingsley just threaten him? God, he really did!

Kingsley steps closer, his massive frame looming over Harry rather intimidatingly. “I saw you had a nice chat with Roberta. Wouldn’t it be atrocious if nasty government business reached innocent ears like hers?” he asks with a predatory smile.

It’s only his overwhelming shock that prevents Harry’s rapidly growing anger from erupting.

“Be assured, Minister, I didn’t tell her anything confidential.” The last word he spits with disgust. He is seething with anger and needs every tidbit of his self-discipline not to start shouting.

“I’m glad we agree,” Kingsley concludes and pats Harry on the shoulder, none too gently. “Have a nice evening!” he throws over his shoulder before he departs.

Harry is rendered speechless. He needs several minutes to calm down enough to be able to stomp out of the room without making a scene.

Even hours later he can’t find enough peace to sleep.

***

Harry gives himself two whole days and waits until Monday, the day before Christmas Eve, to march into Severus’ office. He shuts the door, casts a Muffliato and turns his stormiest gaze on Severus, who doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Ah, Potter. Such a pleasant surprise. Why don’t you come in?”

Harry ignores the sarcasm and steadily holds Severus’ gaze.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Severus asks.

Harry draws in a deep breath to centre his thoughts.

“Several things, actually. The threat I received from your lover-boy, your lack of trust in me, but first and foremost the fact that you lied to me.” He is proud that he didn’t raise his voice.

“I cannot recall lying to you,” Severus replies calmly.

“Of course not, how silly of me. You didn’t lie, you only implied,” Harry says sharply, but keeps his cool.

“Indeed?” asks Severus, cold as ever.

“Yup. You led me to believe that the three of you were in some nonconventional romantic or sexual or whatever arrangement. Well played, Severus. I even felt ashamed that I made you feel bad. Naïve me! It almost worked like a charm except when my boss threatened – quite underhandedly, I must admit – to fire me if I let it slip to his wife that you two are fucking! After that, it’s glaringly obvious that Roberta doesn’t know about this little agreement.”

“As if he were in any position to fire the Boy Who Lived to Conquer!” Severus says with a smirk.

“True, but not my main concern tonight,” Harry admits dismissively. “What I find far more important to discuss is the fact that you lied to me about going behind Roberta’s back with Kingsley!” he adds, in all seriousness.

“Does it really make a difference?” Severus asks, resigned.

“You’re pulling my leg, right?” Harry asks back incredulously. “I think that little distinction between telling and not telling the third party means the world to those who live in such an arrangement.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “I mean, does it really matter to you whether I fuck Kingsley with or without his wife’s consent?”

“Of course it does! There is not one man on earth with more dignity than Severus Snape. And now you are in a relationship where you feel it necessary to lie to me, when during our friendship you had never, ever lied to me before. You always told me all the ugly truths even if it was painful for the both of us. And now you willingly accept an arrangement where you have to lie even to your sodding best friend.”

Severus snorts derisively. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. You are not my…”

“Don’t even try to pull that shit on me, Snape!” Harry interrupts him irritably. “I have been your best friend for years and we both know it.” He huffs. “And you know what? I’m fucking pissed off! Why would you accept such a position? Don’t you see how the whole thing is beneath you?” A sudden idea makes his train of thought falter. “Are you really this deeply in love with him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Severus scoffs, as if the mere idea were preposterous.

“Then why, Severus? A man of your calibre, reduced to lies and dirty secrets and hiding in the dark.”

“Have you already forgotten who I was previously? The lies, secrets and hiding, all the deception, it’s like a second nature to me. These were my best assets as a spy.”

“Yeah, I remember clearly. I can also recall how you were forced into the whole mess then, too,” Harry says bitterly. “You deserve so much more than that. It’s a shame, really,” Harry shakes his head tiredly.

Severus narrows his eyes furiously, but Harry quickly cuts in before he could interrupt.

“I’m your friend and that’s why I don’t understand why you didn’t trust me to keep your secret and why you sicced your lover on me. Did you think that I would go to Roberta to tattle-tale, or what? What do you take me for?” He feels his anger rising once again, but reins it in.

“What do I take you for, you ask?” Severus sounds deceptively cold and collected. “You come here, demand to know private details of my life on the premise of friendship, while sitting on the fucking high horse of your holier-than-thou morality and pretending to know what is good for me!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about morality!” Harry yells, “I don’t care whom you fuck behind whose back!” Harry stops sheepishly. Severus eyes him sceptically. “Well, okay, maybe that’s not quite true. You know I care. You know I lo… you know why…” he trails off blushing, eyes downcast. He doesn’t want to see Severus’ reaction to his almost confession; he had seen it enough in the past. With a sigh he collects his determination once again. “Personally I think that it’s Kingsley who owes any explanation and only to Roberta, given that she’s the one he pledged his fidelity to. Everybody else can go to hell, and you owe them nothing. I’m not here to judge! My only concern is whether you are happy or not.”

“Since when have you known so well what makes me happy? How do you know I’m not happy now? Did you even ask?” Severus demands, his volume steadily rising. “How do you know this is not the kind of relationship I would prefer? Easy, low-demand with no fanfare and no strings attached with a gorgeous man. What’s not to like about it?”

“But you deserve better! You shouldn’t be second behind anybody!” Harry cries.

“Oh, I see. Let me guess: you would be better.” His voice is definitely malicious by now.

Harry knows Severus, knows him well. He knows when the man is cornered he lashes out the way the most vicious serpent would. He knows that the man is out of arguments so it’s time for poisonous words and insults. He knows all that, but the implication still stings.

“It’s not what I said!” Harry protests vehemently.

Severus goes on mercilessly. “You are selfish! Just because I didn’t want a relationship with you…”

“No, no, it’s not that at all! I simply think that you shouldn’t settle for second place when you deserve to be all to somebody!”

“Now that’s rich! You have all these grand ideals about what I deserve and what I shouldn’t settle for and still you want me to settle for you!”

It’s like a punch to the gut.

It’s so very unfair, because even if Harry’s been in love with Severus for almost a decade, he never pressured him. He confessed, got rejected, fought for their friendship and pined from afar. He even tried to get over Severus, tried to see others – with little success.

Somehow Severus’ words have pulled all the air out of the now empty void separating them. There is no place for any more words between them, and the one syllable stumbling out of Harry’s mouth has to carve its way through the solid granite of their silence.

“No.”

Harry is locked into Severus’ furious gaze for what feels like an eternity.

And it hurts like fucking hell.

When Harry finally finds his voice it sounds rusty. “I’m sorry. I must have been some shitty friend if you truly feel like this: if you honestly think that’s what I wish for you.”

Harry doesn’t know what else he could say. He turns to the door. Takes a step away from Severus. Then another. He stands right in front of the door when he says,

“It just makes me so sad that you don’t dare dream of being someone’s everything.”

He grabs the door-handle and leaves.

***

Christmas is horrible.

So is the week after.

Harry feels like shit, but he must attend the Ministry’s New Year’s Gala. He is on guard duty, after he took Ron’s shift, so he could stay at home with a heavily pregnant Hermione. It’s only until eleven. You can do it, Harry tries to give himself a pep talk, without much enthusiasm.

He avoids Severus. And the Shacklebolts. And every other human being who thinks they should talk to him. He concentrates on his job and nothing else. It’s almost eleven o’clock when he makes one last security check along the hallways, and runs into them. Severus and Kingsley, standing awfully close on the deserted corridor. He turns around as fast as he can, and rounds the corner post-haste. It must be bad karma that he bumps into Roberta.

“Oh, Harry dear,” she giggles. “Have you seen my wayward husband?”

At that moment he knows that he can’t let her round that corner, no matter what. He doesn’t necessarily do it for Severus. He’s simply sure that letting Roberta see them is not the way to solve this situation. It’s ironic that in the end he is the one covering for them.

Miraculously, he is able to pull out his brightest smile from God only knows where.

“Actually, I have,” he answers bright and clear, possibly louder than strictly necessary. “He went the other way a few minutes ago,” he lies with a smile and waves in the other direction. “Shall I accompany you on the way, ma’am?” he asks with a chivalrous smile, and offers his arm.

She accepts with a delightful laugh, and they depart together. They do not find the minister, but Roberta is clearly not upset by their failed mission when Harry leaves her with some friends of hers.

When his colleague finally arrives at eleven to relieve him, he can’t be out of the building fast enough.

***

The doorbell rings unexpectedly. It’s the second day of the New Year, a lazy Sunday, just as shitty as the day before was, and also the day before that. Harry doesn’t feel like getting up from the couch and letting in whoever is on the threshold. So he doesn’t.

The doorbell rings again, but he doesn’t give a damn.

Then he hears the door creaking open followed by the sounds of footsteps, muffled by the carpet. Kreacher must have let the unwanted visitor in.

It’s not exactly a surprise when Severus appears in the living room, although Harry hasn’t expected him.

“Hey,” Harry says, because he is too tired to come up with anything else.

“Good afternoon,” Severus replies.

Harry makes a half-hearted hand-gesture towards the armchair, and Severus takes a seat opposite Harry. They don’t speak for a while.

Severus is the one who breaks the silence.

“When I woke up after the war and you were always there, constantly underfoot, I didn’t trust you,” he starts, voice rusty and determined. “I didn’t trust your attention or your affection or anything else you offered. I saw your obvious infatuation, but I didn’t trust that either. I couldn’t.”

Harry nods but stays silent; he knows that Severus needs to say this uninterrupted.

“When you confessed your romantic love for me, when you begged me to give you a chance, I found the idea… incomprehensible.”

Harry hides his wince; the memory of that particular conversation is still painful.

Severus marches on. “We were so fundamentally different, so far apart. How could I have accepted something so bright when I was so dark and twisted and broken?” Severus sounds haunted, and Harry aches with sympathy. “After I’d rejected your love you offered friendship. I didn’t trust that either, but I thought I could humour you. To my eternal astonishment it worked. You were right; somehow, you’ve become my friend, my best friend. And now I trust you implicitly,” he says, unhesitating.

Severus’ words fill Harry’s chest with warmth and make his eyes misty. “Thank you, Severus. That means a lot.”

Severus fleetingly nods. “I’m afraid even after all the practice I’ve got with you, I still don’t know how to be a proper friend. Or a proper lover, for that matter. Kingsley was easy. I didn’t ask for the things I didn’t know how to give in return,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Harry doesn’t miss the past tense. Later he’ll ask what happened, but now Severus needs to speak and he needs Harry to listen.

“Any kind of relationship with you is the exact opposite of easy. With you, it’s always a protective, possessive mess where I hate all your partners and criticize them constantly but nevertheless I cannot find the way to accept the love you offer,” Severus confesses.

His words make Harry’s heart pound wildly.

“You told me I deserved better; I don’t know about that, although I’m sure you deserve better than me. But I’m kind of selfish and I learned to tolerate your friendship, so I’m not ready to give that up.”

Not that I would let you, Harry thinks.

“I couldn’t trust your love when I first became aware of it, and I knew without a doubt that I couldn’t be trusted with it. Maybe… I can learn now,” Severus says hesitantly, a question burning in his eyes.

The heady mix of hope and love and longing washes over Harry in waves; it’s nearly overwhelming. He wants to shout yes, he wants to jump up and into Severus’ lap and just feel him.

Instead he reluctantly asks, “Are you sure, Severus? Are you sure this is what you want? Because, you know, you’ve never given any sign that you’d want something like that with me.”

“Do you have any idea how it feels to be on the receiving end of your emotions?” Severus questions in turn.

“Erm… no?”

“Quite frankly, it’s unsettling. Your care and love and concern are uncompromising and so fierce that it’s almost frightening. Also astonishing. And humbling, too. Invigorating and not a little arousing.”

“Oh.” Harry feels floored.

“Indeed. I assure you, Harry, I want it, very much so.” He smiles, with a fire burning in his eyes, and Harry has never seen him as gorgeous as he is now.

“Well, that’s good. Really good,” Harry says lamely.

For a few moments they just stare at each other. Then Harry offers his hand, palm up, to Severus, who lays his own hand in Harry’s. Harry squeezes it lightly, pulls it to his lips and kisses it. He closes his eyes and breathes Severus in. Then he lowers both of their hands, but doesn’t let go of Severus’.

“How do we do this? What would you like?” Harry asks.

“Maybe we could go to some nice place for a change and have dinner,” Severus suggests. “And from there we’ll see.”

That plan is good enough for Harry.

“Sure thing.” He nods, and they just sit there, content, hand-in-hand for a while.

Once again, it’s Severus who speaks first.

“By the way, Kingsley asked me to tell you he’s sorry for going a bit overboard at the Winter Soirée.”

Harry groans. “Could we make it a rule that we don’t mention him in moments like this?”

Severus only grins mischievously.

***

Roberta watches them with a smile on her face.

They sway gently together in the middle of the dance floor. Even surrounded by a crowd, they dance as if they were the only two people in the room. Harry leans into Severus, his head resting on Severus’ chest, his nose buried in the older man’s dress robe. He is obviously very tired; the last few weeks have been hard on the Auror Office. Severus holds him tight, supporting some of his weight, while he rests his cheek on the top of Harry’s head. Harry says something and Severus smiles a content, happy little smile.

Roberta snorts. She knows that if Severus saw themselves at the moment, he would be appalled how nauseatingly cute they look.

As they sway and turn to their own rhythm, Roberta can’t help herself but ogle Severus’ arse. Tough luck Harry would never, ever share, she thinks.

Her gaze lazily sweeps over the dancers. When her eyes meet Kingsley’s they share a tentative smile. She and her former husband are friendly with each other, but they are not friends yet. They’ll need more time for that. But they are good, both of them. It’s better this way. They both deserve to be happy.

Roberta declares this year’s Winter Soirée a definite success. She smiles and pulls her date to the dance floor.