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Chapter Text

Prologue: The Match

“So, how was everything?” Harry asked as he rose to gather the dishes, his husband and children having sat back with satisfied sighs.

“You know it was great, Dad,” Eli replied with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, stop fishing,” Matilda added with a teasing grin.

Harry huffed jokingly, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me for wanting to ensure my family’s satisfaction. Don’t think I have forgotten—”

He was interrupted as he was tugged down into a kiss by his shirt.

“It was delicious, my love, as always,” Severus assured when the kiss broke.

Harry hummed happily and kissed Severus again, pulling back with a smile. “Thank you.”

He finished gathering all the dishes, holding some and levitating others easily behind him, effectively clearing the table except for his husband’s wine.

“Dad, let me do that,” Eli said suddenly as Harry began placing the dishes in the sink and he glanced past the island to see his son coming over to him.

“I’m fine, Eli, I’ve got it.” Harry shook his head. “Go visit with your father.”

“It’s your anniversary,” Eli argued, bodily shoving Harry away from the sink. “You and Papa should just be relaxing today.”

“Besides, you’ve got a story to tell,” Matilda chimed in from the table.

“Is that so?” Severus drawled as Harry let himself be shooed lovingly out of the kitchen to rejoin his husband and daughter. He sat next to Severus whose arm immediately draped along the back of his chair as the man sat back, crossing his long legs and gently swirling the wine in his glass. “And what story would that be?”

“You know perfectly well what story,” Matilda said and Harry grinned at the tone, so much like Severus.

“I’m afraid there are simply too many for me to know for sure,” Severus lamented dramatically, quickly earning a dry scowl from Matilda across the table. “Do you want the story of when your dad thought he could fight a troll?”

Harry blinked and turned his own scowl on Severus. “Hey!”

“Or perhaps when your dad used a Disarming Spell so strong it rendered me unconscious even though I was trying to protect him?” Severus continued lightly.

“That was thirty years ago!” Harry protested. “And don’t you dare pretend you weren’t in that shack to get back at Remus and Sirius.”

“Or maybe when your dad led a resistance against a Ministry official?”

“That was deserved and you know it!” Harry exclaimed, pointing aggressively at his husband.

“Or maybe my personal favourite,” Severus said as though Harry hadn’t spoken. “When your dad spent an entire year following written instructions in an old book and never recognized the writing.”

Harry huffed. “Your writing was different when you were sixteen, okay?”

Severus looked sidelong at him with a sharply arched eyebrow. “I made those notes when I was thirteen, actually, and it was not so different you couldn’t have seen the similarities.”

“I was preoccupied!” Harry defended himself.

“Your obsession with Draco, I remember.” Severus nodded, taking a sip of his wine.

“I was not—”

“Dad!”

“Papa!”

The twins’ simultaneous shouts interrupted them and they looked at their eighteen-year-old children who shared an exasperated glance.

“We want the story of your courtship,” Matilda said as though it was obvious.

Severus sighed, heavy and dramatic. “Must we tell it again?”

“Yes!” Matilda said emphatically.

“You tell it every year,” Eli added, snapping his fingers absently at each plate to turn it sparkling and waving a finger lazily to send them to their cabinets.

Harry just rolled his eyes at his son’s blatant showiness of the ridiculous power he and Matilda had inherited.

“You should be able to tell us this story by now,” Harry said, turning back to his daughter and flashing Severus a smile as his husband’s fingers danced along the back of his neck.

“We could,” Matilda agreed.

“But you and Papa tell it better,” Eli finished.

“How would you know if you’ve never tried?” Severus pointed out and the twins rolled their eyes.

“Papa,” they chorused, a plea in their voices.

“Please, Papa?” Matilda begged, emerald eyes growing wide like when she was five. “It’s our favourite and it’s tradition. You always tell it on your anniversary.”

“It’s why we come home,” Eli said with a mischievous smile, his dark eyes glittering.

Severus’ eyebrow rose and Harry didn’t bother hiding his amused grin, folding his arms on the table and propping his cheek on one of his palms to watch his husband’s act.

“Is that so?” Severus said. “In that case, I’m not convinced you deserve the story this year, not if your dad and I are not enough to bring the both of you home after eight months away.”

Severus rose then, grabbed his glass of wine, and walked out of the kitchen to the sitting room, back to his gaping children and grinning husband.

“Dad, you know that’s not true,” Eli protested.

Deciding to play along, Harry forced himself to sober slightly and shrugged, also getting to his feet. “I might have to agree with your father on this one. You should come home for us, not a story. You’ve no idea how much your father misses you when you’re gone. Counts down the days until we can see you again. But if a story is more important…”

He snickered silently at the spluttering he heard behind him as he followed Severus’ path to the sitting room. He shared a grin with his husband who erased his when they heard their children running from the kitchen. Harry stumbled slightly and grunted when the twins crashed into his back, arms wrapped around him.

“You and Papa are more important than anything!” Eli said. “Of course we come home to see you and for no other reason, right, Tilly?”

Harry couldn’t see the significant stare that followed his son’s poignant words, but he felt it and felt his daughter nod vigorously against his chest.

“After all, we have to see you to hear the story,” Matilda told them. “Right, Daddy?”

Harry craned his head down to look at his daughter’s doe eyes and heard Severus snort quietly. “I suppose,” he hummed, amused.

“We just love the story so much because we love hearing you fall in love,” Matilda said earnestly.

“And hearing the story means we get to spend time with our favourite people in the whole world,” Eli added.

Harry glanced at Severus, raising a hand to gently grasp and rub Eli’s arm across his collarbones—honestly, he was eighteen; why was he so tall?—and grinned again at the mockingly thoughtful look on his husband’s face.

“I suppose I do enjoy remembering your fool father’s attempts at romance,” Severus said.

Harry scowled playfully. “Fool or not, they worked, didn’t they?”

Severus just smiled, sipping his wine.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head fondly. He turned his head to press a kiss to Matilda’s crown.

“Go sit with Papa, Tilly,” he told her. “Let’s tell a story.”

Eli and Matilda cheered, acting far younger than their eighteen years, and Matilda hurried over to drop on the sofa next to Severus, the man’s arm instantly wrapping around her shoulders. Harry moved to sit in the lounge chair, Eli squeezing in next to him. The boy squirmed until his ridiculous height fit by sinking down until his head and shoulders were against Harry’s chest, and his long legs were folded against the chair arm. Harry mirrored his son, wrapping his arm across Eli’s collarbones and kissed the top of the smooth, black hair that was pulled into a low ponytail. He’d been spending far too much time with Bill. Harry was just waiting for the day an earring appeared.

“Are we settled?” Severus asked, fingers stroking through Matilda’s long, silky black hair, and the twins nodded enthusiastically. “Take it away, love.”

Harry smiled. “As you know, I was…”

Twenty Years Earlier – 2005

Harry was spinning aimlessly in his chair the day his Match Letter arrived, his legs crossed on the seat that was clearly too small for such a thing and his head craned back against the chair back as he stared at the twirling ceiling. He drummed his fingers on the chair arms to the unknown tune playing in his head, humming quietly.

“Hey, Harry.”

He spun, finding his office door had been opened and Bill was standing there.

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry asked, letting himself continue spinning, glimpsing Bill with every rotation.

“Shouldn’t you be working on the plague doctor mask?” Bill wondered.

“Probably.” Harry shrugged at the ceiling before finally bringing himself to a stop facing Bill. “So, what’s—whoa, bloody hell.” He closed his eyes as the room spun violently and his head felt light. He heard Bill chuckle and cracked one eye open, testing his dizziness, and spotted Bill’s raised eyebrow as the redhead leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Good, mate?” Bill asked, amused, when Harry’s eyes finally slid open.

He blinked slowly, vision settling so he only saw one of Bill and the redhead was no longer spinning. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Bill laughed again.

“So, what’s up?”

“Post for you,” Bill replied, holding out an envelope.

Harry reached out to take it, eyes widening when he saw the unique symbol in the top right corner. “My Match Letter.”

Bill smiled at him. “Congratulations. I know you’ve been pretty anxious to get yours.”

Harry nodded, gazing at the envelope with his name in loopy font. He had been waiting, having watched so many of his friends get their matches since the program started six years earlier. He’d become convinced he’d never get a match due to his power level. He just wanted to be happy like his friends.

When the Ministry had proposed the Magic Replenishment Program a year after he defeated Voldemort, Harry had fully supported the initiative. It was a pretty good solution to fix magic, all Voldemort had done having tainted the purity of magic and corrupted it, leaving it fractured and dying. To combat Voldemort’s impact, they simply had to create and release new magic that was powerful and pure, and, as Dumbledore used to always say, love was the most powerful magic of all.

Thus, the program had been developed. Witches and wizards were paired based on power levels and compatibility, engaged in a magical, year-long courtship where they grew new magic, and then completed a sex ritual to release their new magic into the world, healing its damaged magic. It had been wildly successful, leading to a healing world, more witches and wizards being born, and some remarkable love stories, and Harry had been patiently awaiting his turn.

“Well, go on,” Bill pushed, and he looked at his friend and coworker, the curse breaker gesturing to his letter.    

Harry took a deep breath, still nervous that his letter was going to tell him he couldn’t be matched, and flipped the envelope over, tearing into it. He pulled the parchment out and quickly read the contents, a mixture of excited and anxious.

Dear Mr. H. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that a match has been successfully identified in accordance with your magical power levels and magical profile. However, we must also inform you that, due to the rarity of power levels such as yours, we are unable to match you with more than this single individual. As such, refusal of this match is not permissible except to separate after completion of the courtship and ritual.

Your Match Meeting will occur on the 15^th of January at 5:30pm at Founders’ Café. Upon both parties’ agreement to begin the courtship, both parties will receive the courtship rules and schedule, and the bond will activate.

We thank you for your participation in and contribution to the Magic Replenishment Initiative, and we wish you the best of luck in your coming courtship.

Congratulations, Mr. Potter.

Astrid Dahlia

Head of the Magic Replenishment Program

Department of Magical Reparation, Replenishment, and Revitalization

Ministry of Magic

Harry lowered the letter to his desk with a frown.

“Everything alright?” Bill asked when he didn’t immediately say anything. “You got a match, right?”

“Yeah, but only one,” Harry told him. “Whoever it is, they’re my only option.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised, per say, he knew he had ridiculous levels of magic, but he was disappointed. Everyone usually got matched with three to five people, giving them at least a semblance of choice. After the Match Meeting, if they decided they weren’t happy with that particular match, they could decline and meet one of their other matches. He, apparently, wouldn’t have that option.

“That’s too bad,” Bill said sympathetically. “It’s only a year though. You don’t have to stay with them at the end.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly, gazing at the letter still wearing a small frown.

“I’ve got to go,” Bill said after a couple of quiet minutes, sounding reluctant. “It’ll be fine, better than you think.”

“Maybe,” Harry said with a half-hearted smile. “Go. I’m fine, really. I should go work on that mask anyway.”

Bill nodded, giving him a long look, and they both left Harry’s office. Harry waved Bill off, knowing he was in the middle of a huge research project, and headed off himself, making his way to the Artifact Room, even as his mind remained stuck on his Match Letter.

“Help me!” Harry pleaded, holding handfuls of clothes as he looked at his friends, Ron just barely managing not to laugh and Hermione gazing back, exasperated. “What do I wear?”

“Why are you so wired, mate?” Ron asked from where he was lounging across Harry’s bed as Hermione hopped off the bed and began rummaging through Harry’s dresser drawers. “It’s just the Match Meeting.”

“I know, but this is my only match,” Harry said, glancing at Hermione when she pulled the shirts from his hands and held another up to his torso before returning to the dresser. “Just because they’re my only match, doesn’t mean I’m theirs. They probably have other options like everyone else, but are going to be stuck with me for the next year.”

“You don’t have to be with your match,” Ron pointed out. “It doesn’t work out, go find someone else. A regular relationship.”

“I know that,” Harry replied, “but I want it to work out. There’s something special about matches. Just look at Neville and Blaise, Draco and Luna…you two.”

“I don’t think we count, Harry,” Hermione said. “We were together well before the program.” She held up another shirt and considered it before shoving it into Harry’s hands.

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” Harry said, pulling off his current shirt and shrugging on the casual yet nice deep blue button-up Hermione had handed him. “Just…I want that, you know? And I don’t think I can get it outside of matching because of who I am and my magic. I want this to go well so I at least have a shot next to whatever other matches mine has. Plus, if I can give some of my magic to fix Voldemort’s damage, well…” He shrugged.

“You’ve done more than enough for the world in that regard, mate,” Ron told him and Harry gave him a grateful smile as Hermione began fiddling with his outfit. “Any idea who your match might be?”

“Honestly, no,” Harry said, shaking his head and watching Hermione roll back his sleeves to sit just below his elbows. “I was sure I’d never get a match at all because of my stupid magic so I never thought about anyone specifically.”

“But you got a match,” Hermione said heartfully. “There is someone for you.”

“Maybe.” Harry sighed. “I just don’t want them to feel forced, which I know it all is forced, technically, but I don’t want it to feel that way, if that makes sense.”

“It does actually,” Ron said, nodding. “Look, mate. You got your match and you get a year with them. Just go tonight and enjoy yourself.”

“Ron’s right. All you can do is be yourself and if that’s not enough for them at the end of the courtship, then you’ll find someone else who you do have that worth with,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled and kissed her lightly on the cheek. As she stepped back, he glanced over at the clock on his bedside table, nerves instantly returning to twist his stomach.

“I should go,” he said and his friends nodded.

Ron rose from the bed and they all headed downstairs, walking around the staircase and to the back of the house where the sitting room was.

“Everything will be fine,” Hermione assured him. “Just take a breath.”

“Come over for brunch and let us know how it goes,” Ron told him.

“And who it is?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “Before the official announcement?”

“Well, duh,” Ron said and Harry laughed, bidding them ‘goodbye’ as they Flooed away.

Harry returned to the foyer and pulled on shoes, a Muggle long coat, and a scarf. Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside into the English winter and Disapparated to Bristol, appearing in front of the magical establishment, Founders’ Café.

Despite his anxiety, he hurried inside to escape the air that was quickly becoming frigid as it grew later. He glanced around the open space filled with small tables, iron chairs with plaid cushions and intricate back designs, and the front display full of sandwiches, biscuits, and pastries. The tables had little lamps, plates and teacups with delicate designs of different colours, and small menus. There were a few customers, but no staff wandering, the only worker he could see behind the display where she was periodically tapping things with her wand.

Though he’d never been to the café, he knew it was a designated location for Match Meetings and that they typically took place away from the general area. So, he walked up to the display and got the woman’s attention, absently spotting the ‘Chelsea’ nametag.

“Hello! Welcome to…oh!”

Harry winced, but forced the polite smile to remain on his face though it became strained.

“You’re Harry Potter!” Chelsea exclaimed and Harry sighed at the eyes he felt land on him. “However can I help you, Mr. Potter?”

“I have a Match Meeting scheduled,” Harry told her.

“Oh, how exciting!” Chelsea simpered. “Your match is ever so lucky!”

Harry just smiled tightly and waited, Chelsea gazing at him with glazed, but sparkling eyes. When she said nothing more and made no move to show him anywhere, he arched an eyebrow and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Could you…” he said slowly. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, of course!” Chelsea said, physically shaking herself and hurrying around the display. “Come with me. Your match is already here.”

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall, confirming he was still six minutes and twenty-three seconds early. His match was clearly a very punctual person.

He was led through a white curtain that had colourful threads twisting together and down a short corridor when he was pointed through a door. Inside was a small room with a single square table with the same arrangement as those in the café and a couple of tall windows that faced the street, but that Harry knew didn’t exist on the outside. The lights were dimmer in this room, making the table lamp’s yellow light glow warmly.

“Have fun, Mr. Potter,” Chelsea said with a giggle and Harry felt the magic as she walked through the curtain which erased their identities from her mind, leaving her with just the knowledge that there was a Match Meeting in progress.

When she disappeared, the curtain fluttering behind her, Harry turned back and took a step into the room only to freeze. His match had apparently heard his name and their head was now raised, eyes glued to him and wide. Harry’s own eyes popped as he recognized the person at the table.

“Snape?”

He was stunned. Even if he’d thought about possible matches in the last six years, Severus Snape never would have been an option. It being Snape sitting there, he couldn’t do more than stare. He didn’t know what to do or feel. Snape wasn’t exactly his enemy anymore, they could be civil, but this was an entirely different situation.

“Sit down, Potter.”

Harry blinked at the sharp order and obeyed, walking to the table and slowly unbuttoning his coat. He pulled it and his scarf off, draping them over the back of the chair, and slid into the seat. Snape had sat back and crossed his arms, staring at Harry with the slightest downturn of his thin lips and the rest of his face blank. Harry fiddled with his rolled sleeve uncomfortably as a heavy silence descended.

Despite what they both would have likely wished during those Hogwarts years, their lives had not separated with the end of the war. As a thank you, Harry had found the specialist that saved Snape’s life, Nagini’s venom having been far more than simple snake poison, and had cleared the man in the Death Eater Trials. They hadn’t seen each other after that first year and a half, going their own ways for another year until those years brought them together in 2000 when they both became employed at the Ministry.

Taking his NEWTs through the Ministry and then gaining some specialty certifications, Harry used his experiences and new expertise to team up with Luna Lovegood and Bill Weasley to establish a brand new department of their own in the Department of Mysteries: the Ancient Artifacts, Curses, and Other Spellwork Department. Snape, on the other hand, had been appointed to the Head of Potions which he expanded to become the Department of Potions, Experimentation, and the Magical Black Market.

Their departments crossed fairly often, potions frequently helpful in dealing with curses and hexed artifacts, artifacts often appearing on the Black Market, and their respective research often intersecting. He and Snape had settled into professional civility, more than able and willing to tolerate each other, but that was all. They were acquaintances with a past they didn’t discuss and occasional coworkers, nothing more.

He certainly didn’t hate Snape by any means and he was almost positive Snape didn’t hate him either, but to be matched to complete a romantic, sexual relationship? That was jumping so far past their line that it didn’t exist anymore and Harry wasn’t sure he could do that.

He’d wanted a match, wanted the love and happiness his friends had found with their matches, but he was sure that was impossible with this match. He frowned to himself, despondency growing in his heart. Snape was his only match, but there was no way it would work beyond the mandatory year. He’d get no other options, meaning he’d have to settle with a non-match relationship or, more likely, no relationship at all. That intimate loneliness that he was so familiar with and did his best to ignore was already creeping back in.

“Let us be straightforward, Potter,” Snape said, tone even, and Harry looked at him hesitantly. “The situation is unexpected, but unavoidable and must progress with pure intent. Thus, unless the idea is so abhorrent you wish to request an exemption, I suggest we be intentional and enter this courtship with a mindset to actually try honestly.”

Harry looked at him, surprised it was Snape proposing they give even a forced relationship an honest try. He’d assumed Snape would be, using the man’s own word, abhorred by the mere idea of being forced to date and, ultimately, sleep with Harry.

“Potter?”

“Right, sorry,” Harry said, pulled from his musings. “I just didn’t expect you, of course, or for you to be…okay with…me.”

“As I said, it is unavoidable. The match has been made and with no other options available.”

Harry winced at his singular match being pointed out, automatically feeling the need to apologize.

“I believe we should endeavour to contribute to the healing of our world and that requires us to be true, honest, and pure in our intentions,” Snape continued, tone still even with little emotion. “A courtship and relations between us simply become a means to a desirable end at which point we part amiably.”

A means to an end, Harry repeated in his mind bitterly. Story of my damn life.

“Are you agreeable?”

“So, you want us to act like we’re actually courting each other?”

“Not acting,” Snape corrected. “I am proposing we pursue the courtship seriously for the best results.”

“Can you even like me that way?” Harry asked, positive he knew the answer.

“A question I can return to you.”

Harry chewed his lip, not having expected to have the question turned on him. “I…I don’t know, honestly.”

“Nor do I,” Snape admitted. “And that is where the courtship can facilitate if we participate honestly.”

Harry tried to push through his disappointment and cold loneliness to see the situation in the way Snape was framing it. It could be a year of fun, maybe even a year at the end of which they could find some sort of camaraderie with each other. At the very least, they could help heal Voldemort’s damage to their world which was actually the entire point of the program anyway. Matches falling in love had become a side achievement.

Eventually, he sighed, accepting that he couldn’t get what all his friends had found but he could still help the wizarding world, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s give it an honest try.”

“Are you certain?” Snape asked. “I realize this is not ideal and your expectations are likely not being met…”

“When are they ever, really?” Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty used to putting my expectations aside in favour of someone or something else. If we can make some magic that can help, I can take this seriously.”

“If you are sure.”

A fairly large part of Harry wasn’t sure. How could he be serious about pursuing Severus Snape romantically when it was truthfully nothing more than an obligation between two people who had only come to tolerate each other in seven years after a previous seven years of hatred? How could he be honest in a courtship he knew could never lead to what he’d hoped so deeply for?

“Potter?”

Harry blinked, once again pulled out of his concerned thoughts. “I’m sure.” I hope.

“Very well,” Snape said. “Shall we?”

When Snape held out his hand over the table, Harry stared at it for several long seconds before hesitantly sliding his hand into the man’s grasp. The long fingers wrapped gently around his hand and their other hands also joined. The touch was soft and warm, surprising Harry who gazed at their hands curiously.

“I, Severus Snape, pledge to honestly and truthfully engage in a courtship of Harry Potter. I vow my intent to be pure and my heart to be open. On my magic, I promise to share with you my passion and my world in which, for the duration of this courtship, you will have a place. I give to you my magic and soul to create a new light. I, Severus Snape, pledge myself to thee.”

A tingling warmth spread through Harry’s palms to his fingertips and to his wrists where it wrapped around like gentle fingers. Letting out a subtle, but deep breath, Harry recited Snape’s words.

“I, Harry Potter, pledge to honestly and truthfully engage in a courtship of Severus Snape. I vow my intent to be pure and my heart to be open. On my magic, I promise to share with you my passion and my world in which, for the duration of this courtship, you will have a place. I give to you my magic and soul to create a new light. I, Harry Potter, pledge myself to thee.”

The tingling grew stronger and silvery tendrils appeared, twisting around their joined hands. The warmth became focused on his inner left wrist and, keeping in Snape’s hold, he turned their hands just enough to see the mark forming on his skin. As it gained shape, the silver threads traced it and there was a tug in his chest, the mark glowing gold briefly, and then all the magic disappeared, leaving a silvery-white mark on his wrist.

Snape released his hands, allowing him to pull his hands back and examine the mark. It was simple, a circle inside which sat a Nordic symbol he recognized from his work called an eihwaz which was an angled vertical line with a short line on its top and bottom, angled down and up respectively.

A few small pops made him jump and look up from his wrist, finding a thin book and a scroll settling on the table in front of him. Snape had taken his book and scroll from the air, and was skimming the scroll before he rerolled it, looking at Harry.

“Be sure to review the schedule and read the book carefully to know the rules, expectations, and stages of courtship. We will discuss any confusion or concerns before our first date,” Snape told him.

Date.

The word echoed in Harry’s head.

He was going to be dating Snape.

“I will owl you,” Snape said and Harry looked up as the man got to his feet. “Have a pleasant evening…Harry.”

Harry was sure his brain short-circuited and he could do nothing but nod dumbly. Snape inclined his head and walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone. His heart was pounding in his ears and his thoughts were a blur, except one.

I’m dating Severus Snape.

Chapter Text

Stage 1: Initiating the Bond – Date 1

"In Stage 1 of your courtship—Initiating the Bond—three intentional engagements will be arranged between both parties. In this time spent together, parties will get to know each other on a personal, but still platonic level while also allowing your magic to recognize each other and establish basic compatibility. There is to be no intimate or sexual behaviour. Instead, you are allowing the foundations of your bond to form and prepare you to move forward together. Use these engagements to learn about your partner and be yourself to build a bond based on honesty and more than sexual or physical intimacy.

Such approved engagements can include—"

“Harry, could you approve this acquisition?”

Harry threw the courtship book closed and shoved it under a stack of files, turning to face Luna in his office door. He sighed at her knowing smile.

“Are congratulations appropriate?” she asked, holding the file she had to her chest as she leaned against the door frame.

“Just for the fact I got a match at all,” Harry replied. “Doesn’t seem likely it’ll be more than that.”

Luna’s smile turned soft. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry said, ignoring his own despondency that hadn’t quite disappeared in the two days since his Match Meeting. “Maybe you and Draco took the last of the program’s magic.”

Luna laughed at the teasing. “I would be more than happy to give some of it to you, though, I don’t think so. Ginny and Daphne seem to be doing well.”

Harry just chuckled in response.

“Don’t give up yet,” Luna said encouragingly. “We’ve seen many unlikely matches turn into something wonderful. Draco and I are proof of that, as are Neville and Blaise.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said with a small sigh. “You two and them just seem so much less unlikely than my match at this point. Makes you guys seem destined, honestly.”

“Nothing so easy,” Luna assured. “When you can and want to talk about it, talk to us or Neville and Blaise. Maybe we can help.”

Harry gave her an appreciative smile and nodded. It wasn’t a bad idea. “Anyway, you said something about an acquisition?”

Luna handed him the file she held and they went through the acquisition report together, a cursed necklace which Luna confirmed, half-jokingly, was not the necklace from his sixth year. Once he signed off on the acquisition, Luna also handed him a request for him to send his curse breaking team to investigate a mausoleum in Austria. He approved the job and was about to head to the Artifact Room—he really needed to make some progress on that bloody plague doctor mask—when a piece of parchment folded in the shape of a bird fluttered its way through his door, settling on his desk.

He didn’t know how he knew who the letter was from without opening it, but he did and he hesitated, even considered ignoring it. He even turned away and started to leave his office only to stop and look over his shoulder, chewing his lip. He’d agreed to the courtship, had agreed to honestly try and even if it was only to give magic to the world rather than find someone for himself, he had to keep his promise. So, he sighed and stepped back into his office, closing the door behind him.

Leaning against it, he held out his hand and the paper bird flew into his palm. He still hesitated before unfolding the origami letter, but eventually convinced himself to do so and read Snape’s—should he switch to ‘Severus’? He wasn’t sure he could use the man’s given name even under pain of death—missive that had his heart racing and not in the way he’d expected a match’s message would one day cause.

Harry—

What kind of effort was it taking Snape to use his first name?

As our first official engagement must take place within eight days of the bond activating—

What? Harry shot a panicked look at the still hidden book and the scroll he had yet to open.

—I believe it would be beneficial for us to meet outside the courtship schedule in order to discuss the schedule, rules, and stages. I do not wish to proceed if there is any confusion or concerns.

Would you be available to accompany me to lunch tomorrow?

If he hadn’t been alone, Harry would’ve been embarrassed by the involuntary squeak that escaped him.

Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Severus Snape

Harry let his hand with the letter drop and his head fell back against the door.

How was he supposed to do this?

Harry’s scone was in pieces by the time Snape—no, he hadn’t figured out the name issue yet—returned to their table next to the shop window with his own tea and small bowl of soup despite the other man being gone for maybe three and a half minutes. His leg was bouncing under the table as he watched Snape sit across from him, gently placing his tea on the table.

“You are certain that is adequate sustenance?” Snape asked, looking at Harry’s tea and destroyed scone skeptically as he unfolded his napkin to place on his lap.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s…it’s fine,” Harry said, popping a torn piece of scone into his mouth, fighting past its dryness. “I don’t eat much during the day when I’m at work.”

Snape’s skeptical expression remained, but he didn’t push the topic further. They were uncomfortably quiet for a while as Snape had a few bites of his soup and Harry continued tearing apart his scone, glancing between it and the window next to him. He felt Snape’s eyes on him every couple minutes, but he avoided returning the gaze, far too anxious.

“So,” Snape said eventually, the breaking of their silence making Harry jump. He turned away from the window, watching Snape dab his mouth and then pick up his teacup. “Is there anything concerning or confusing you about the courtship?”

Even though discussing the courtship was the entire point of them meeting for lunch, Harry was still caught off guard by the question. His leg began to bounce even more violently, enough that he was sure it had to be shaking his entire body.

“Um, I don’t…I’m not sure I…” Harry blew out a breath as Snape raised an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t read the book.”

He cringed when Snape’s expression became clearly annoyed. He brushed the crumbs off his hands and pushed his scone aside, leaning on his forearms on the table and staring at his fingers twisting together.

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t…I’ve been busy…with work,” Harry lied, unwilling to admit he’d just been incapable of reading more when it was in relation to Snape and while knowing it was all operating far more transactional than he’d expected. He glanced at Snape who was no longer irritated-looking, but was watching him questioningly. “See, there’s this mask, a plague doctor mask, and we’ve had it for, has to be three months, and it’s my project since I’m the cursed artifact person, but I haven’t been able to figure it out. I’ve brought in others, of course, but the mask doesn’t seem to…like them, but it likes me enough to let me touch it and examine it for some periods of time. Only, I can’t find anything. There’s miniscule runes on it, but as soon as I find one, its curse activates.”

“How did it come to you?” Snape asked curiously.

“Estate sale in France.”

“What is its curse?”

“It’s different for me since it ‘likes’ me. For me, it just dims my vision as though I’m wearing the mask. For everyone else, they pass out and their hearts slow until we get them out of the room.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, prepared to continue, only to flush and drop his eyes back to his hands. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t be talking about work when we’re supposed to be…”

“This is not an official courtship engagement so we are not yet constrained by its rules,” Snape told him. “I assumed we could benefit from a casual meeting due to our limited situation.”

Harry winced again at the reminder of Snape being his only match and that fact having forced them into their courtship. He wondered who Snape could be with if it weren’t for him. Likely people the man would far prefer over Harry.

“Would you be more comfortable if we continued to discuss work?” Snape wondered, sipping his tea.

“Maybe, but I know we should talk about the courtship,” Harry said and Snape inclined his head, placing his tea back down.

“Very well,” Snape said. “While I understand you’ve not yet read the book or reviewed the schedule, I assume?”

Harry shook his head.

“Is there anything we should discuss from what you do know of these courtships?”

Harry thought. “Um, the announcement…when does that happen?”

“At the earliest, at the start of the third stage which begins on the eighth date and, typically, after approximately two months. At the latest, the announcement must be made by the twenty-seventh date which is approximately around the ninth month,” Snape explained.

“I think we should wait until then,” Harry said, his stomach twisting at the idea of the world knowing about his match so soon.

“Oh?”

Harry looked at Snape curiously. He thought the man’s voice had seemed to tighten and he wasn’t sure what to make of the expression that wasn’t the blankness Harry was used to seeing. He didn’t know how to read any other emotion in Snape aside from stoicism or anger, so he didn’t know what he was causing the other man to feel.

“Just…because of who I am,” Harry attempted to justify, feeling the need to explain in the face of Snape’s foreign reaction. “Everyone will lose their minds when they find out I’m in a courtship and whoever I’m…courting, so…you…will be bombarded and I don’t think either of us want that to be an issue throughout this entire…thing.”

He cringed internally at his awkwardness. It wasn’t a complete lie. They would be harassed when the world found out and he didn’t want to subject anyone to that, even Snape. However, Snape didn’t need to know that Harry just didn’t know how to tell anyone either who he’d been matched with. He was still wrestling with it let alone announcing it to wizarding Britain.

Snape continued staring at him with that odd look before finally giving a small nod. “Very well. Anything else?”

“Um, you said the first…date has to happen in a certain time?” Harry said, nearly choking on the word, and Snape nodded again, taking another sip of his tea. “Are they all like that?”

“Some are quite strict in when they must occur, but most are flexible,” Snape replied. “On average, each stage occurs over the course of a month, but some can take less or more time. It truly depends on the couple. As long as certain scheduled milestones are met, the rest is flexible.”

Harry gave a slow nod, processing, but said nothing.

“I apologize, but I must return to work,” Snape said suddenly.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry said, shaken out of his spiralling thoughts. “I should get back too.”

“Before we do, perhaps we should arrange the first date.”

Harry’s throat tightened and he felt himself blanch, his heart pounding hard. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Do you have a preference?”

Harry shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Would you prefer a Muggle or magical establishment?”

“Muggle,” Harry answered quickly. Anything to avoid anyone recognizing him.

“Very well. I will arrange our first engagement, if you are agreeable?”

“Sure, probably best since I haven’t read the book.”

“Agreed. Do make sure you do that,” Snape said, giving him a brief, but pointed stare.

Harry nodded. “I will.” Maybe.

“I will owl you with the details,” Snape said as he rose from his chair. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Harry.”

Thrown by yet another use of his name, Harry blinked and watched Snape incline his head at him before circling their table.

“Yeah, you too,” he said quietly, turning to watch Snape leave before looking back at his tea, frowning at the long-cold liquid. He didn’t know what Snape was feeling and he was just as lost about himself, quite frankly.

“Hey, Harry, you there?”

Harry watched a few pieces of ash flutter above him. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Can I come through?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The fire whooshed behind him and more ash floated through the air, Harry’s eyes following one particularly large piece.

“Oh, uh…” Ron’s face came into view above him, upside down but clearly confused. “Hey, mate.”

“Hi,” Harry said dully, trying to find his piece of ash again.

“You’ve got your first date today, yeah?” Ron asked, making Harry’s heart pound instantly.

“Sure do.”

“But you’re lying on the floor instead?”

“Sure am.”

“Nervous?”

“Among other things I’m not sure even have names.”

Ron hummed and disappeared briefly from Harry’s line of sight before reappearing in his periphery, sitting next to him with arms wrapped around bent legs.

“Your match,” Ron said, tone gentle. “It’s Snape, isn’t it?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he snapped his head to the side so fast he was sure he pulled something in his neck. “How…how do you…”

Ron snorted quietly. “Come on. I know I can be thick, but I’ve been with Hermione for seven years so I can’t be that thick and it’s not too hard to figure out if you just think about it a little.”

Harry felt his heart race, a chill fell over his body, and he knew his eyes had to have grown wild. “Does that mean…does Hermione…”

“Funnily enough, no, I don’t think she’s figured it out yet. I think she’s waiting for you to tell us,” Ron said, giving him a curious look as his head tilted slightly. “But you haven’t told us.”

Harry turned back to the ceiling with a frown. “No, I haven’t.”

“Because you’re…embarrassed? That it’s Snape?”

“No…yes…I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel except that…” he trailed off, his forehead furrowing, “it’s Snape.”

“And?” Ron questioned and Harry looked at him again. “At one point it was Zabini. At another, it was Malfoy. More recently it was Greengrass.”

“One, Ginny and Daphne are only halfway through their courtship—”

“Yet, she’s already ‘Daphne’ and not Greengrass,” Ron interrupted.

“Two, all of them are different,” Harry continued as though Ron hadn’t spoken. “No matter the pasts any of us had with any of them, it’s nothing like what I’ve got with Snape.”

“True, but you’ve gotten past all that, haven’t you?”

Harry sighed, rolling his head back to the ceiling. “More we’ve just never talked about it.”

Ron echoed his sigh and moved, Harry’s periphery seeing the redhead lower until Ron’s body was laid out next to him just in the opposite direction.

“It makes sense that it’s Snape, you know?”

Harry frowned again, deeper. “What?”

“No one else can match your power. I’m not sure anyone else can understand certain things the way he can. I think only he can handle and understand your anger and stubbornness and loneliness. Don’t think we don’t know you feel it.”

A pang hit Harry’s heart.

“I thought the program would solve that,” he murmured.

“It still could.”

“How? It’s Snape.”

“It is, just like it was Zabini, Malfoy, and Greengrass,” Ron said. “I assume you agreed on something to enter the courtship.”

Harry was brought back to their Match Meeting. “We said we’d actually try.”

“So, try. Get to know the bloke.”

Harry was quiet as a thought drifted through his mind, an impossible thought but a possible fear at the same time. “What if I end up liking him?” he asked quietly, nearly whispering.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Ron responded.

“Yeah, because in what world would he ever choose me?”

“Based on my experience, I think he could surprise you.”

Harry just stared at the ceiling until he felt Ron move and his eyes flickered to the gentle smile of his now-upright friend.

“If he agreed to try honestly, he must not think liking you outside of work is so impossible. Forget about the program. Treat it like you’re just meeting someone new and getting to know them. See where it goes,” Ron said, nudging his thigh. “Go on your date and try to just have fun.”

Harry gazed at Ron thoughtfully for a long while before nodding. Ron left a few minutes later, promising not to tell anyone Snape’s identity. With a few deep breaths and their conversation repeating in his mind, Harry also left and Apparated away to Muggle London, appearing in an alley just next to his destination. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he spotted Snape already standing outside the establishment, a tearoom called Sunset which Snape had promised was more than a traditional English tearoom.

Swallowing hard through the nerves threatening to make him tremble, Harry walked up to Snape.

“Good evening,” Snape greeted evenly. “Are you well?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good, thanks,” Harry said, stilted. “You?”

“I am quite well,” Snape said and gestured to the building. “Shall we?”

Harry nodded and stepped through the door Snape held open for him. It appeared similar to other tearooms he’d been to with Draco and Luna, and, occasionally, Ron and Hermione. There were little tables with white, yellow, and soft orange tablecloths, teacups and saucers, and mini vases with tiny fire-orange—or sunset orange—flowers. Little crystal-like chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft, warm light tinted orange from its coloured glass in the otherwise dim room. In a corner sat shelves that were filled with tealeaf and teabag tins, dozens and dozens of flavours. In another corner, gentle jazz music was being played live by four sitting musicians.

Harry was guided to an empty table and the both of them removed their coats, hanging them on hooks that were on the walls by each table. They sat and, within a couple minutes, a young woman approached, holding what seemed to be several different menus.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Sunset,” the girl—Lucy, as her nametag announced—greeted with a friendly smile. “Are we ordering this evening or creating your own?”

“We will be creating our own,” Snape responded and Harry looked at the large, laminated page Lucy handed him curiously. “A food menu as well, thank you.”

“Of course. I will come back to take your order in a few minutes.” Lucy gave them another smile and walked away, placing the other menus she held in a wooden holder.

Harry looked back at the page he held. It was filled with writing, names of what seemed to be all manner of herbs and spices next to which were short lists and descriptions of flavours and effects. He looked across at Snape questioningly.

“Sunset offers the opportunity to create your own tea blend,” Snape explained. “You simply choose your ingredients, they make a sample for you to try, and, if you like it, they will make a larger supply for you to take home. They also serve hot entrées.” He held up the menu he had been examining.

Harry blinked in surprise. That sounded…wonderfully calm and casual.

“I thought giving ourselves something to focus on while still allowing for conversation might ease some of our discomfort,” Snape added.

Considering Harry already felt himself relax slightly, he could attest to Snape’s apparently correct assumption. So, he gave a smile—a sincere one to which Snape inclined his head—and nodded, returning to his ingredient list.

Lucy returned while he was still deciding on his blend, taking their food orders, a shepherd’s pie for Harry and a mushroom, leek, and clam chowder for Snape. They were quiet as they perused their ingredient menus except when Harry asked if he could make two separate blends, receiving an easy, “Certainly” in response. He wanted a blend to pair with his meal and enjoy during the date, but also a blend that could help with migraines and sleep, issues he’d suffered since the war. Lucy came back to take their blend orders and they were left in another silence, this one regaining tension.

They were given a brief reprieve when Lucy returned once again about ten minutes later to deliver their food and tea. Entrées were placed in front of him while a ceramic platter with little orange flowers and a traditional teapot with the same pattern was placed in the center of the table. Steam was escaping from the spout and even through the lid, and two tea infusers lay on the platter. A small lazy Susan was placed next to the teapot, holding milk, sugar, and other tea additives. They thanked her and she left, leaving them in uncomfortable silence once more.

Harry dug into his shepherd’s pie, which was astonishingly good for what he’d expect from a tearoom, while Snape poured the boiling water over his tea infuser before starting in on his chowder. Still, they said nothing, only glancing at each other periodically. They’d had their tea and entrées for nearly ten minutes, and Harry was in the middle of finally pouring himself water when the silence was broken.

“Have you made any progress on your cursed mask?” Snape asked politely.

Harry’s movements stuttered, having not expected the question, and he nearly spilled the scalding water. He glanced at Snape who was watching him calmly and finished filling his teacup, carefully putting the teapot down.

“No, not really,” Harry replied. “I must’ve done something it didn’t like, though, because now if I get too close, I get cuts on my arms and the room goes dark with what looks like stars appearing everywhere.”

“Given it is the mask of a plague doctor, the cutting could be a form of bloodletting,” Snape suggested.

Harry nodded. “That’s what I thought, but I don’t know what triggered it or how to stop it. I can’t get close enough to examine it anymore.”

“Have you tried to find who the mask belonged to?”

“Absolutely, but not many plague doctors are known,” Harry said with a sigh. “Going to be where I go now since I can’t touch the mask. Just hope…”

“Is there something wrong?” Snape asked when he trailed off.

“No, just…I guess we shouldn’t be talking about work again since this is an official…date,” Harry said, pulling his tea infuser out of the still steaming water.

Snape hummed and Harry looked at him again, the man giving him a thoughtful gaze over his tea.

“You have read the courtship book, yes?” Snape asked.

“Mostly,” Harry replied and, again, it wasn’t a complete lie. He had read the first chapter and then skimmed the rest.

“What is the first stage about?”

“Um, getting to know each other,” Harry said, adding just a single sugar cube to his tea, “but we already do…know each other.”

“Do we?” Snape returned lightly and Harry paused briefly, made to think. “I do not believe I truly know you. What we know is what we allowed each other to see in those years at Hogwarts and now, in these last five years, it’s been simply professionalism.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Harry agreed, stirring his tea.

“Work is where we are currently comfortable so let us start there.”

Harry frowned, confused. “Um, okay?”

“Tell me,” Snape began, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs, fingers remaining wrapped loosely around his teacup. “Ancient artifacts and curse breaking, what made you choose such a career? While you certainly had skill in some areas as a student, you did not show interest or skill in spellwork outside that which would keep you alive.”

Harry knew that was true and he sipped his tea—which was remarkable—as he thought about his response. “After everything…the things Voldemort used as horcruxes, the Deathly Hallows, the magic I saw, everything I learned about…it all became…darkly fascinating. Plus, I wasn’t fighting…mostly. People can be mad about their hexes.”

“Indeed.”

Harry thought the man’s hum sounded almost amused and he tilted his head at the man.

“What about you?” Harry asked, feeling bolder. “I never would have expected you to come to the Ministry.”

“I think we can agree Kingsley’s Ministry is far superior to what came before,” Snape said and Harry nodded his fervent agreement. “I had no interest in returning to teach, it had never been my choice.”

Harry tapped his teacup as he held it up, elbows propped on the table, and remembered the memories he’d seen, the moments that had led to Snape’s place at Hogwarts.

“Kingsley, of course, knew of my expertise and was in need of a Potions Master,” Snape continued. “It is difficult to say ‘no’ when unlimited funding for experimentation is offered.”

Harry’s lips tilted into a half-smile. “And the Black Market?”

“I could only imagine what was going to start circulating with the end of the war and who better to intervene than someone who once operated within the system?”

Harry surprised himself by chuckling very lightly. “Fair enough.”

Their conversation continued to flow fairly comfortably from there, mostly because they never strayed too far from the work topic. Harry talked about his certifications, his department’s projects, and how he decided to create the department at all while explaining his choice of running the department with Bill and Luna. Snape talked about his experiments and research, and about his harvest trips. They talked about, with some amusement that they both tried to hide, how they’d felt when they’d learned that, not only were they both employed at the Ministry, but also that they would end up working together. They skirted discussing their past, managing to reminisce on their first project together solely through a professional lens. The evening ended with both admitting how much they’d come to enjoy working at the Ministry in spite of the issues they once had respectively with the institution.

By the time they wound down, silently agreeing the night had come to an end, Harry became aware of the warm tingling in his left wrist which he realized was their magic mingling just as they had been, growing the bond between them. He was far more relaxed than when the date had started and he had to admit it had been a good idea to just talk about work. It was the context in which they were actually comfortable with each other while still providing plenty of space to learn about each other.

Harry was pulling his jacket and scarf back on when Snape returned from the small counter at the back of the room near the shelves of tea. Together they thanked Lucy and stepped out into the dark street, lit only by the nearby streetlight which reflected off the light snow that had begun to fall. Harry wrapped his scarf a little tighter as a light, but chilly wind picked up around them.

“Your tea.”

Harry found Snape holding out a small drawstring, burlap-style pouch and he took it, feeling the two tins inside with his tea blends.

“Thank you,” Harry said genuinely. “This was…surprisingly nice.”

“I am glad and have to agree,” Snape said, voice unusually soft.

Harry shifted awkwardly, unsure how they were meant to transition from date one to date two.

“We will owl to arrange our next engagement,” Snape said as though reading Harry’s mind and he nodded, grateful for the direction. “I hope your tea helps.”

Harry was confused for a minute until he realized Snape must have understood the purpose of his second blend based on the ingredients he’d chosen.

“Thanks, me too,” Harry said, unsure how he felt about Snape knowing he suffered from migraines and insomnia. “I can let you know…if it works…if you want.”

“That would be…acceptable.”

Harry was glad he wasn’t the only one suddenly feeling awkward after what had been a pretty comfortable evening.

“Have a good night, Harry.”

Harry blinked at his name. “Yeah, you too…Severus.”

The man inclined his head and turned to walk away. Harry watched him for a while before finally making himself go down the alley to Apparate home. Inside, he unwrapped his scarf and opened his jacket before he paused, staring at his pouch of tea with a strange twisting in his stomach that was nothing like the twisting he’d been feeling since the Match Meeting.

Huh.

Chapter Text

Stage 1: Initiating the Bond – Date 2

“So, he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s been matched with you? What kind of bollocks is that?”

Harry turned away from the playing children—his godson Teddy, Bill and Fleur’s Victoire who was being babysat by Ron and Hermione, and Ron and Hermione’s Rose—to look at Draco.

“It’s fair,” Harry said even as he felt a little guilty blaming Severus for not yet revealing the man’s identity. “You know how the people I date get treated. Him being my match will probably make it worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Draco agreed reluctantly.

“You can still tell us,” Hermione said eagerly. “We wouldn’t tell anyone, certainly not the Prophet.”

“I know you wouldn’t, but you know how it goes. They always seem to find out somehow. Just trying to head it off as long as I can,” Harry said, quickly looking away from Ron when he caught his friend’s pointed stare. He took a bite of a smoked salmon tea sandwich to avoid having to say anything else and sipped his tea, the drink making him think back to the other evening with a strange warmth growing in his core.

“You seem like you enjoyed your first date though,” Neville said.

“I did.” Harry nodded. “It was surprisingly nice.”

“But you still don’t think it’ll work,” Luna said knowingly.

“It was one good date. That doesn’t mean anything,” Harry protested lightly.

“You’d be surprised,” Blaise said and Harry looked at him, the Italian cradling his and Neville’s sleeping two-year-old, Milo.

Despite the success of the Magic Replenishment Program in helping erase Voldemort’s destruction, it was still a long process and had been doing very little in terms of facilitating the birth of new witches and wizards. Their population had virtually come to a halt, leading the Ministry to come up with a solution. When they realized heterosexual matches from the program were able to pass on their newly created magic to any children they had, the Ministry came up with a way to allow the same to happen for same-sex couples. For female couples, an egg was retrieved from both and fertilized with a donor sperm and then either one of the partners could decide to carry or they could choose a surrogate, and the resulting child would be biologically of both partners and inherit the new magic. It was much the same for male couples except with each contributing sperm to fertilize a donor egg that was then carried by a surrogate, this child also inheriting the created magic.

Like the rest of the program, the child initiative had also been successful, leading to far more magical children being born. Milo was one of those children, a perfect blend of Neville and Blaise with only the slightest hint of the woman that had carried him, and was the holder of the new magic Neville and Blaise had created through their courtship. In many ways, the children being born of matches were becoming a new type of witch and wizard, bearing magic that had only just begun to exist and was a different magic from every couple.

“How did you two do it?” Harry asked, looking between Neville and Blaise. “Was there a point where you realized it was going to work?”

“Yeah, on the Commitment Date.” Neville chuckled. “It had been a good year, but I was sure it wouldn’t go beyond the courtship.”

“Same,” Blaise agreed, “but then we were talking, both saying and agreeing that that would be it, and I realized I didn’t want it to be.”

Harry watched Blaise and Neville smile at each other, a hint of wistfulness touching him. “But how did you do it? With your past and knowing it wouldn’t result in anything but the ritual?”

Neville hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I made myself realize I didn’t really know Blaise and thought the courtship could at least do that.”

“I just wanted access to his greenhouse,” Blaise joked, gaining laughs from all of them when Neville shoved him playfully, careful not to wake Milo. “No, I also realized I didn’t know Nev like I thought, but I also wanted to prove that I’d changed from who I’d been. A courtship is a good place for that since it lets you admit things about yourself to someone that can understand because they’re admitting things too. It makes you realize everyone’s just a person, not all those mystery things we believed when we were kids, and I wanted to see a person, be a person.”

Harry was briefly interrupted from responding by Teddy coming over and patting his leg. Harry picked the boy up, settling his godson on his lap. The little head came to rest against his chest and he brushed a hand through the sandy hair before wrapping his arms around the small body.

“Feeling tired?” Harry asked quietly and Teddy nodded against his chest. “We’ll go home soon, promise.”

Holding Teddy close, Harry turned back to his friends, finding Blaise had left with Milo, and Victoire and Rose had also come to join them, held by Ron and Hermione.

“Did it ever bother you that you wouldn’t be getting more out of your courtship?” Harry wondered, looking at Neville. “Before you did, obviously.”

“I know this isn’t an option for you, but I knew there were other matches I could try,” Neville replied. “Plus, is it so bad to get a friend out of it?”

Harry tapped Teddy’s leg with his thumb, thinking.

“A friend you’ve shagged,” Draco chimed in.

“Hush, darling,” Luna said airily.

“Yes, dear,” Draco said, kissing her cheek while everyone laughed.

A little while later with sleepy children in tow, everyone departed Neville’s and Blaise’s to head home. Teddy woke up enough to take a quick bath during which he was far calmer than normal during baths and didn’t protest at all throughout his entire bedtime routine. The playdate had clearly exhausted the little boy.

Once dressed in his cozy pajamas covered in jumping frogs, they returned to the sitting room downstairs where they settled on the sofa and Harry turned on the record player. As the music started, his fireplace came alive, flames forming the shapes of animals and people that danced and jumped and frolicked.

They settled, Teddy sinking down to lay across the sofa with his head on Harry’s thigh while Harry ran his fingers methodically through the soft hair, allowing his thoughts to drift aimlessly. They’d been watching the fire for a few minutes, with Teddy periodically quietly pointing out the figures that excited even his sleepy mind, when an owl flew in the window, closed but charmed to allow post through at any time. It dropped the package it held which floated gently into Harry’s hand and flew right back out.

“What’s that, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked, turning his head on Harry’s leg to look up at him.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, sliding the envelope with his name on it out from under the strings. Giving it a quick scan for hexes and realizing he recognized the writing, he handed it to Teddy. “Want to open it for me while I read the letter?”

Teddy smiled widely and rolled onto his back, enthusiastically tearing at the simple brown paper despite clearly still being tired. Ruffling Teddy’s hair, Harry opened Severus’ letter.

Dear Harry,

I wanted to thank you for our pleasant evening. It was…unexpected, I think we can agree. While the courtship does require a gift following the first date—

Harry cursed silently. He’d known about that, he had, but it had completely slipped his mind with Teddy’s weeklong stay beginning.

—I also wish to give this to you. I hope it might aid you with your ongoing project.

Strange though it may be, I find myself looking forward to our next engagement.

Enjoy your weekend.

Severus Snape

“Look, Uncle Harry, a book.”

Warmed by Severus’ letter, he put it aside and looked down at his godson. Teddy turned the book he held so Harry could see the cover. It was worn, ragged and a brown that matched the paper that had covered it, with a title in elegant yet fading script that appeared to be handwritten.

Journal de Nostredame

Harry blinked, dumbfounded.

“Who is it from, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked.

“Someone I’ve…met recently,” Harry told him, still in awe.

“Will they be your friend?” Teddy asked with that childlike innocence. “Friends give gifts.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, mind filled with thoughts of Severus. “I think they could be.”

“Following your first official engagement, both parties should send each other a gift that reflects the connection made. It should show that you listened to what they were saying and appreciate their sharing.”

Harry chewed his lip as he stared at the small gold and black marble with a furrowed brow. For as rare as the little nugget was, it somehow didn’t feel like it would measure up to what Severus gave him. Questioning his choice every second, Harry carefully placed the gilded obsidian into the velvet cushion and covered it with the box’s lid, tying a simple black ribbon around it. Secure, he turned to his letter.

Dear Severus,

I hope I’m not too late for this. I apologize for the delay, but I had my godson with me this past week and he’s six so…I assume that’s self-explanatory.

I also appreciated our first date. I did honestly enjoy myself, unexpectedly, as you said. And your gift is remarkable. How did you ever find the journal of Nostradamus? It was lost after his death.

I hope you can find use from my gift as well. I remember you mentioning one of your experiments needs gilded obsidian that’s infused with fairy’s blood. I promise any curses have been removed. It’s safe.

Might I suggest dinner for our next date? I know a place.

Have a good day at work.

Harry

He tapped the letter with his wand and watched it fold easily into a little bird. Satisfied, he stuck the gift to the bottom of the bird, casting a Featherlight Charm on the box, and sent it out his office door to join with all the other missives and memos flying around. With it sent off, Harry turned to his stack of files and other documents. He sighed wearily and pulled the first from the top, grabbing a waiting Muggle fountain pen—yes, he would avoid quills whenever possible. He loved his job, he did, but the amount of paperwork was not something he would have taken on voluntarily if not part of that loved job.

He made his way through a few reports and reviews, and was in the middle of Bill’s project proposal, his feet propped on his desk, when a paper bird came to perch on the top of the paper stack he held. His head tilted to the side and his lips twitched when the bird copied him, its little head cocking as well and its paper wings rustling as they fluttered, imitating a real bird. Dropping Bill’s proposal to lay on his legs, Harry took the bird and unfolded it to read the letter.

Mr. Potter, have you given me an artifact from your archive of cursed objects? I certainly appreciate the thought, but do not get yourself in trouble on my behalf.

Do not concern yourself with the arbitrary timelines of courtship gifts. They are inconsequential and should not take precedent over such a task as caring for a loved one, particularly a child.

As for the journal…I have retained valuable contacts. I hope it will prove valuable to you.

I also wish you a pleasant day of work, though, if you are sending gifts, are you truly working?

Dinner sounds acceptable though you have managed to make even a simple suggestion sound ominous.

Severus Snape

Harry hardly noticed that he was smiling as he reached for a blank piece of parchment to scrawl his amused response.

Severus,

Trouble? Who could I get in trouble with? My department, my rules. And, I told you, it’s not cursed anymore, promise. I’m good at my job, thank you.

But what about you? ‘Valuable contacts’? Did you get that journal illegally? It will be helpful, definitely. I’d been considering the mask could be Nostradamus’, but I don’t want to see you in trouble for this either.

I am working plenty today, I’ll have you know. You’re also sending letters. Can you say the same, Professor?

I promise it’s a nice place. Nothing ominous to worry about.

Harry

Magically creating a bird out of the letter again, he sent it off to fly through the Ministry. He resumed reading and annotating Bill’s proposal even as half his mind remained on Severus’ letter and the surprising ease that seemed to already exist in their communication after only a single date. They’d been civil prior to the courtship, perfectly capable of interacting politely, but there was a different tone in their letters. They were still hovering in the work topic, not yet expanding anywhere more personal quite yet, but their letters were more friendly than professional, a quick but still subtle change from prior to their date.

It was surprising, but also…nice.

He was absorbed in Bill’s proposal again by the time another paper bird arrived, landing on his knee. He smiled again and opened Severus’ response.

Harry,

Thank you for reassuring me that your Gryffindor nature has not disappeared completely. You had me concerned that you were perhaps not the Harry Potter I knew at all.

Harry chuckled at the obvious sarcasm, the man’s drawl heavy even in writing.

Nothing illegal has taken place, I assure you. What do you take me for, a reformed criminal?

Harry blinked, surprised at the comment, but also amused at the clear joke. That was the closest either of them had gotten to bringing up the past, aside from his own brief mention of the horcruxes and Hallows when explaining his career path.

I am glad it will be helpful to you. From what you’ve told me, I also believe it could be the mask of Nostradamus. A fascinating find, if it is.

You know perfectly well I am in the middle of experiments, thus I am currently completing research and calculations to include the obsidian you have so generously gifted me. Thank you again, truly.

I look forward to seeing this establishment of yours. Did you have a date in mind? We must complete the first three dates before February 15^th.

Severus Snape

Harry quickly grabbed another paper to respond.

Severus,

I’m glad the obsidian was a good choice.

I hope you like Greek.

I am away for the next week once Teddy goes back to Andromeda. I’ll be in Wales with Luna.

How does February 1^st work for you?

Harry

He sent the letter off and had only gotten through another page of Bill’s proposal when Severus’ reply appeared.

February 1^st it is.

Severus

Harry chewed his lamb slowly, eyes darting around the restaurant, landing anywhere but on Severus sitting across from him. The comfortability they’d found during that first date and in their letters had all but disappeared once they’d been sat for their second date at Harry’s chosen restaurant in Manchester. He wasn’t sure what had brought the awkwardness back, if it was because they hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and had only sent those few letters that one day or if it was because they knew, despite it only being date two, they couldn’t hide behind work forever. They had to talk about things eventually…soon.

He’d kept what Blaise and Neville had said in mind, held to the idea of the courtship being a way to get to know Severus, but sitting there, it seemed far easier in theory. It was hard to give up his long-held hope of finding happiness with someone, but it was still Snape and he just knew, no matter how much they got to know each other, that happiness could never exist between them. It was hard to accept that loneliness deep inside him.

“So, how was your visit to Wales?” Severus eventually asked, perfectly polite, borderline professional as though they were merely acquaintances.

“It was good,” Harry replied. “We returned a painting to a gallery that we’ve done a lot of breaking for, we went to a conference that debuted some new translations of the Asiatic Twilight Scrolls, and acquired a cursed dragon claw which Bill is thrilled about because it means Charlie will be consulting.”

“That does sound productive and fascinating,” Severus said, sipping his wine. “The Asiatic Twilight Scrolls, what are they?”

“They’re these scrolls from around 800 B.C., and they, from what’s been translated, seem to contain instructions on how to use twilight with this old set of runes that appear to be from a completely unique runic system that doesn’t exist anywhere else,” Harry explained. “They don’t know the purpose of such magic yet, but they’re making progress.”

“Intriguing,” Severus mused.

Harry nodded, taking a drink of his own wine. “What about you? Have you been able to use the obsidian yet?”

“Not quite yet. I want to be certain of my calculations and hypotheses first.”

“What is it for?”

Harry looked at him curiously when Severus seemed to hesitate.

“Fairy’s blood is a powerful healing agent, but is caustic in its raw form. Gilded obsidian purifies it and nullifies such effects, leaving just its healing properties. It is particularly effective when dealing with scar tissue as it can aid in removing harsh scar tissue and rebuilds the tissue more seamlessly as it can mimic the natural pattern of knitted flesh.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to Severus’ neck, still always covered with high necklines. He knew what lay beneath and his eyebrows pulled together as he dropped his gaze to his orzo, poking at it with his fork, memories fluttering through his mind.

“Harry?”

He glanced up at Severus who was watching him with his own frown.

“Have I upset you?”

“No, sorry, it’s just…” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “Guess we’ve got to talk about all that.”

“Not if it distresses you,” Severus replied. “All that happened before does not have to be a part of getting to know each other in this way.”

“But it does, doesn’t it?” Harry said, looking back at the man. “I mean, everything that happened, what we were all that time, everything that came before…it’s a part of us, made us who we are and who we are to each other. It all brought us here.”

Severus didn’t respond, continuing to just watch Harry with an expression he couldn’t read.

“If this entire courtship is about honesty and pure intention, we can’t just ignore all of that,” Harry continued. “But I don’t know if I can, if we can and still be…okay.”

“Okay with each other or do you wonder if I will be okay with you considering our past, what I was like?”

Harry looked across at Severus, unsure how to respond, unsure if the man was right or not.

“There is a lot between us, a lot we both hold, and you are correct. We cannot hide these parts of ourselves if we wish this courtship to be successful,” Severus said, fingers tapping his wineglass lightly. “Perhaps we start slow.”

“Meaning?”

“Tell me something about yourself that is a part of you because of anything that’s happened,” Severus said, sitting back and holding his wine, much as he had during their first date. “It can be good or bad and you can tell me as much or as little as you wish about the cause.”

Harry cut himself a piece of lamb to chew as he thought, Severus still watching him patiently while eating his fish dish. There were so many things that were now a part of him because of the tragedies that had infected his first seventeen years of life. So many he didn’t feel ready to admit, wondered if he ever would, given he’d never found anyone willing to truly listen or able to understand outside his friends. Though, Ron was right; their understanding only extended so far. He glanced at Severus thoughtfully before letting his eyes drift just over the man’s shoulder.

“I really like being outside and I like the cold,” he finally said, vision growing distant as he thought, spinning his wineglass absently. “I’ve spent a lot of my life inside, locked away. Even after that year away when we were always outside…Hermione hates it now, but there’s something freeing and calming about it for me.”

He chose to leave out what he so often did if he was outside at night gazing up at stars. No one knew about that.

He came back to their table, seeing the gentle look on Severus’ face before his eyes flickered down to the man’s meal and he grinned. “I also cannot stand fish anymore.”

Severus’ short chuckle surprised Harry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man laugh, even a short one like that. It was…nice. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again.

“I will be sure to remember that,” Severus said and Harry smiled, amused.

“What about you?”

There was a pause again, both of them turning serious again as Severus sipped his wine and then clasped his hands, pressing them to his lips as he considered what he wanted to share.

“I find I dislike silence,” Severus said slowly, the answering surprising Harry considering this was a man who had once demanded silence at every moment. “Complete silence is…suffocating and I can hear everything I could not stop.”

Harry knew the sounds that echoed in that silence. He wondered what screams Severus heard in his silences. He could only imagine the sounds Severus had heard in castles and manors when everything else was silent, the sounds he had to listen to and do nothing about.

“I always have music playing or your Misters Finnigan-Thomas’ newscast on the radio or a film on in the background at home.”

Harry couldn’t help the way his eyebrow rose and Severus gave him a deadpanned look.

“I am a Halfblood who grew up mostly Muggle,” Severus drawled. “Yes, I have a television and occasionally watch films.”

Harry snickered into his wine, the weight of the moment lifting slightly.

“Perhaps my dislike of silence is part of the reason I chose the Ministry,” Severus said thoughtfully. “There is always some kind of noise, someone coming to talk to you or to someone nearby.”

“There is!” Harry jumped in. “The other day, I was finally going through Nostradamus’ journal and found this one page full of runes that I have to translate, and people would not leave me alone! Particularly…do you know Balder in Misuse?”

“I do,” Severus said, nodding. “Unfortunate name.”

“But accurate,” Harry pointed out, thinking of the man’s head that he swore was somehow shinier than Kingsley’s, and gained an incline of agreement from Severus, the man smirking. “Man’s a complete moron, in any case! He came to me four times trying to convince me the Korean writing on the—I don’t even know what it was anymore—but he was trying to convince me that Korean was some set of ancient runes that he needed me to translate.”

Severus was chuckling again by the time he finished and he decided he really liked the sound.

“He had me brought before Kingsley to explain an apparently ‘dark’ potion I’d had delivered only for Kingsley to tell him it was water,” Severus said and Harry burst into his own laughter.

“How the hell did he think water was dark?”

“It came from a special spring in Africa and was labelled in Sanskrit that he also mistook for ancient runes,” Severus said dryly.

While the heaviness of their revelations remained, hovering over them ominously, they eased through the rest of dinner with simpler topics, keeping to work once again. Like the first date, Harry felt the warmth in his wrist of his magic settling in the tattoo for Severus’ to reach and tangle with. A tingly pulse emanated from the mark periodically, their bond gaining strength in desirous want to facilitate a new magic’s creation.

The meal ended and they stepped outside in the dark street. Harry’s eyes were immediately pulled to the sky, a clear evening allowing for glittering stars to dot the inky blackness.

“May you find comfort in your stars tonight,” Severus said next to him and he looked at the man, finding the dark eyes also turned upwards. “A fine thing to turn to for they will always rise and guide us even when we do not see our own way.”

Harry felt his face soften as he gazed at the man, a man he wondered if anyone truly saw. “Give it a try,” he said and Severus looked at him questioningly. “You might find you hear something else in their silence.”

Something flashed in Severus’ dark eyes and something in his face changed. Harry really wished he could read the man. They stared at each other for a long while and then the moment, whatever it was, ended as Severus gave the smallest bow.

“Until next time,” he said softly. “Have a lovely evening, Harry.”

“Have a good night, Severus,” Harry murmured and, after a slightly longer moment than was necessary, Severus walked away, disappearing into the dark.

Harry Apparated home, but instead of heading inside, he sat on his porch steps and gazed up. He watched the twinkling lights, finding those he loved, and he thought of Severus, of a man he wondered if anyone had ever really known. He gazed and wondered…

What did the stars say to Severus?

Chapter Text

Stage 1: Initiating the Bond – Date 3

Dear Severus,

I know we haven’t talked about our third date yet, but I know it has to be before the 15^th. I’m probably showing how thick I can be, but it’s only just occurred to me that it’s Valentine’s Day on Monday, the day before we have to be done Stage 1.

This might seem ridiculous, but—

“Hey, Harry, I think you’re gonna want to join the team on this one.”

Harry looked up at Bill. “Why, what’s up?”

“We got the list of artifacts from the cathedral we’re appraising,” Bill said and he handed Harry a scroll.

Harry skimmed the list and descriptions, all fairly standard items for a Spanish cathedral, particularly one that specialized in alchemy even to that day, and nothing crazy in terms of potential curses or hexes. He wasn’t sure what Bill thought would be of such interest. It all was interesting, but nothing that couldn’t wait for his examination in the Artifact Room. Then he found the listed item near the bottom that he just knew was what Bill thought he’d want to see.

Bill was right.

He swung back to his letter, quickly scrawling the rest.

—can we avoid being in the public? The 14^th is a pain for me.

Sorry for my sudden rush. Work!

Harry

He tapped the letter to form a bird and send it off, jumping to his feet before it had even taken shape.

“Let’s go,” he said to Bill and they left his office before the letter, it fluttering through the door behind them to make its way to Severus.

Harry followed Bill to the waiting team—Luna, Keena, and Bastian from Acquisitions and Elijah, Pip, Selena, and Illiana with Bill from Breaking—and they all headed to the Portkey Departure and Arrival Room. He shared one of the three Portkeys with Bill and Illiana, all nine of them swiftly pulled away to Spain. They were deposited behind the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela and were guided inside an entrance not visible or accessible to Muggles by the Archbishop Catella which brought them under the cathedral where the cathedral’s alchemical and archival practices took place.

Inside, Harry took the thin, silver device that hooked over the top of his ear, wrapped firmly around the back of his ear against his skull, and had a flat piece that sat against the tragus, its tiny rune glowing a soft blue in a rolling pattern. He watched as everyone fit theirs, including the Archbishop. The little magical device had been an invention between him and Luna in response to the language barriers they all encountered when travelling to other countries for requests, investigations, appraisals, acquisitions, and breaking. The little rune facilitated auditory translation, allowing everyone to speak their native language but have it automatically translated to each other’s native languages, allowing for seamless communication.

“Señor Potter,” Archbishop Catella greeted, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand warmly. “We were not expecting you this visit.”

“Sí, I apologize, Su Excelencia,” Harry replied with a small bow of respect.

“Nonsense, my friend,” Archbishop Catella said with a wave of his hand, torchlight catching his large ring. “It is always a pleasure to have your skill and company grace our cathedral.”

Harry smiled gratefully and motioned for the rest of the team to disperse, watching them follow the alchemist bishops that led them to various areas before turning back to Archbishop Catella.

“What has brought you with your team today, Señor?” he asked, the long bell-sleeves of his robes concealing his hands as he folded them together.

“I saw a mirror on your list?” Harry said questioningly and Archbishop Catella gave him a knowing smile.

“I thought that particular item might be of interest to you,” he said and gestured for Harry to walk with him, making their way through the corridors and large alcoves.

“What can you tell me about it?” Harry asked as they walked.

“It was created here, all the way back in thirteen sixty-six by one of the most remarkable alchemists to emerge from our teachings,” Archbishop Catella told him. “He desperately wanted to create something thought to be a myth, but struggled to discover all that was required. So, he enchanted a mirror to reflect one’s desires, believing it would show him what he needed as this was his greatest desire. I believe you encountered that which he created and you know of who I speak.”

Harry looked at the Archbishop curiously.

“Nicolas Flamel, Señor.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Sí, he created the mirror in order to create the Philosopher’s Stone and he succeeded. It was returned to us shortly before his death.”

“Why have you called for us for the mirror?” Harry asked as they came to a stop outside an alcove that was covered by a sheet. “While I certainly understand its dangers, it is enchanted, not cursed.”

“So we believed as well. We have kept it down here to avoid its enchantments and exposing our visitors to them, and it had not been looked upon since you, presumably. However, when I instructed my priests to inventory a new shipment of artifacts to discover any cursed items, I failed to warn them of the mirror which they came to believe was a new acquisition. When they looked upon it, it was not their greatest desires that they saw. We do not know what happened or when it could have occurred, but it is no longer the same mirror and is something far more dangerous.”

Archbishop Catella pulled aside the sheet covering the alcove, revealing a single large rectangle with sharp spires on top reaching for the low ceiling, also covered in a white sheet. A couple of small torches on the wall behind the large item was the only source of light, bathing the otherwise dark alcove in a warm, flickering firelight. Harry gave the sheet-covered mirror a long look before turning back to the Archbishop.

“I will take care of it,” Harry promised. “If it is possible, would you like it returned to the cathedral?”

“I would, to honor Señor Nicolas,” Archbishop said with a nod.

“I will do everything I can to do so,” Harry told him.

“I know you will, my friend.”

Archbishop Catella left him then, the sheet falling behind Harry and concealing him within the alcove. He stared at the hidden mirror for a long while, strangely apprehensive with the ghosts of memories drifting on the outskirts of his thoughts. He reached out, fingers curling around a handful of the sheet, and, with a quiet exhale, he pulled. The sheet fell to the floor, fluttering down the gold behind it, and Harry gazed at the Mirror of Erised, an odd rolling in his stomach.

He avoided his reflection, taking in the intricate details around the frame and reading the backwards inscription that had once been so confusing. He remembered finding it all those years ago, remembered what he’d seen, what he’d felt.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

The words were like a whisper around him, a soft, distant reminder, and Severus drifted through his mind, making him frown to himself slightly. The words and thoughts faded away and he finally dropped his eyes to himself. He didn’t realize how stiffly he was holding himself as he stared into his own eyes, waiting.

For several long, silent seconds, nothing happened; no one joined him in the mirror. Then his reflection changed, disappearing to be replaced by scenes that appeared in a swirling black mist. As the scenes played and he comprehended what he was watching, his heart began to beat painfully while muffled voices and screams echoed in his ears.

A cupboard door slammed repeatedly, making him flinch.

A face crumbled beneath his hands.

Hermione lay in a bed, stiff and unblinking.

A werewolf stalked towards him and Sirius disappeared into the sky.

Red eyes pierced him.

There was fear in normally comforting blue eyes as they gazed at him.

Dumbledore lay lifeless on the ground and a black cloak disappeared into the forest.

Ron was walking away and Hermione was screaming and then his hands were drenched in blood as he gazed into fading black eyes. He was stuck staring into those eyes, remembering those moments, and his heart squeezed, fighting to pound. He could hardly breathe.

That horrible moment in the shack eventually disappeared and his reflection returned, only he was surrounded by his friends, all the couples he knew laughing and smiling and embracing. He was never joined, left to stand there among them…alone. His chest was aching. Everything was spinning around him. Chills were falling over him. His heart was being slowly stripped. His throat burned as he choked on breaths.

“Harry?”

And it all stopped, leaving behind a racing heart.

In the mirror, Luna still stood behind him, but it was only her and she was looking at him. He turned around to face her, noticing the questioning and well-concealed worry.

“Everyone’s ready to go,” she told him. “Is this coming with us?”

Harry glanced back at the mirror. When he immediately saw dying black eyes and gushing blood, he flicked his wrist and the sheet that had pooled on the floor flew back up to drape over the mirror.

“Yeah, it is,” Harry confirmed. “Do not take that sheet off.”

Luna nodded and Harry helped her levitate the mirror out of the alcove. From there, she took it back herself and he watched for a long while, struggling to escape the mirror’s abyss he’d been pulled into.

Harry glared at the paper butterfly fluttering towards him and didn’t even blink when it burst into flames, ash raining down on the snow at his feet.

“I do hope that was not a letter of mine.”

Harry turned his head at the voice, finding Severus standing there in his black long-coat and deep green scarf, holding two paper cups with plastic lids.

“It was a butterfly and pink,” Harry said shortly. “I think you’re safe.”

Severus just gave him a steady, curious look.

“There’s a reason I hate being out on Valentine’s Day,” Harry told him. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I thought we might have our third date,” Severus said and he held out one of the cups. “Walk with me?”

Harry smiled involuntarily and stood from the bench he’d been sitting on, reaching out to take the offered drink, smelling the coffee. They left the Ministry’s courtyard and followed the brick alleyway that brought them up to Muggle London, passing through the enchanted wall that separated the magical and Muggle worlds, not unlike the Leaky Cauldron’s wall to Diagon Alley. They were quiet as they walked, making their way to the nearby Victoria Embankment Gardens, strolling along the paths through the snow-covered flowerbeds and alongside the Thames on their left.

They remained quiet, walking and sipping their coffees. Harry tried to be in the moment, felt Severus glancing at him, but his mind had remained trapped in the Mirror of Erised since he’d gazed into it four days earlier.

“Harry,” Severus said suddenly and Harry looked at him, slightly startled. “I hope I am not being too forward, but are you alright?”

“What?”

“You’ve not been answering my letters. Your last was quite rushed which I understand due to work. However, you’ve not answered a letter since and you seem quite distracted. You are very quiet.”

Harry winced, looking down at the coffee cup in his hand. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…work.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Harry sighed. “We can’t just keep talking about work on every date.”

“We’ve plenty of time to have more personal conversations though, as this is clearly upsetting you, it would seem to be personal,” Severus replied.

Harry stopped walking and gazed at Severus as the man paused next to him. He tapped his cup before running a hand through his hair and moving to sit on a nearby bench, Severus joining him silently. Harry stared out at the little of the Thames he could see over the hedges, thoughts spinning and memories flashing.

“We went to Spain and we found…there was this mirror, it’s a mirror I’ve seen before, but it didn’t…” Harry trailed off, struggling to put it all into words. “It showed me all these moments from when I was afraid…all those times in the cupboard, the graveyard, Ron leaving…you in that shack…”

“All perfectly reasonable moments to feel fear.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess…I guess I just realized there’s a lot of things I’ve never said to you.”

“Such as?”

“Thank you,” Harry said, turning to Severus, “and I’m sorry.”

Severus frowned at him. “Whatever could you be apologizing for?”

Harry turned on the bench to face Severus fully. “I don’t know, for leaving you there even though I was supposed to, that that was the point? For hating you and never seeing you as a damn person even though that was also the point? For everything that happened, for what your life was? For what we’ve been to each other and me not knowing how to do this because of all that? For everything being so unfair.”

A silence followed his rant and he dropped his eyes to his coffee, frowning at it.

“Harry,” Severus said gently and Harry raised his eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. Everything happened as it was meant to. You weren’t meant to know. Our lives were what they were. As you have said, everything that happened, what we have been to each other, is a part of us and has brought us here. You are not the only one who is uncertain.”

Harry shifted to fold a leg across the bench and prop an elbow on the back, his cheek on his fist and his coffee in his lap. “How are we supposed to do this with our past and the fact we’ve kind of been forced into this?”

Severus seemed to think for a minute. “It is…unfortunate that choices are limited and it is true we have a complicated past. However, we both agreed to try so we must both believe there is something to be found.”

Harry gazed at Severus, thinking about what he may have thought he could find. Initially, he knew, he’d hoped to find that love so many he knew had found, but he knew that wasn’t possible, so what was there to find?

“May I ask you something…personal?”

“I mean, personal is what we’re supposed to be doing, right?” Harry said with a lopsided smile.

Severus didn’t return the smile, looking at him solemnly. “You mentioned a cupboard.”

Harry sighed and nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. Severus’ face tightened further and Harry just waited.

“Were you…” Severus didn’t seem to be able to say it so Harry took pity, smiling softly.

“Nothing like you were,” he said, remembering that bruised and bloodied little boy he’d seen in the dark of memories. “Neglected with the occasional swung frying pan. The cupboard was where I lived for a long time and where they would…put me when I was…in the way.”

“So, when you said you spent a lot of your life locked away…”

Harry just nodded.

Severus looked almost stricken now. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to, not back then. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference, not then,” Harry told him.

“I feel I must apologize.”

Harry shook his head. “If I don’t have to apologize, then neither do you. It was all how it was supposed to be. We know now, that’s all that matters. We are who we are because of it all, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Severus said and, clearing his throat, rose smoothly from the bench. “Shall we resume our walk?”

Harry smiled and took Severus’ offered hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet. A warmth travelled up his arm and spread through his body, remaining even when Severus released him and they continued walking through the Gardens.

As they walked, Harry had expected them to immediately revert to talking about work as they had their previous dates, and while they did a little with Harry describing more of their Spain acquisitions and Severus explaining his continued research into fairy’s blood, they also discussed the personal topics they’d touched on. They revealed a few good moments from their otherwise harsh childhoods and even reminisced on some of their more notable interactions during their Hogwarts years, managing to laugh at their snarky fights and more absurd conflicts. When Severus revealed how often he just sat in his rooms with his face in his hands after a fight with Harry, Harry couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the sheer frustration he must have caused the man.

After nearly two hours, they finally returned to the Ministry, each having work to get back to.

“Hey,” Harry said, stopping them in the courtyard before they entered the Ministry. Severus looked at him curiously. “Thank you for this and for listening.”

Severus inclined his head before giving him a long, strange look. Harry cocked his head to the side questioningly, waiting.

“That day in the shack, I was also afraid.”

Harry blinked at the sudden return to the start of their date. “Well, yeah, you were dying.”

“No, I expected to die. I did not fear it,” Severus said. “When I asked you to look at me, it was so I could see her, but I did not. I saw you and I was afraid to die knowing that was the only time I could see you. I was afraid it would all go wrong, that, by seeing you and not her, I’d done it all wrong. I was afraid that I was sending Harry to die, not Lily’s son.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was afraid I had failed by not seeing you. I’d vowed to protect Lily’s son and that became the need for you to die, but then I saw you and how could I send you to die when I didn’t know you? I knew Lily’s son, but I didn’t know Harry. I was afraid that I would never know the one who truly walked into that forest, I would never know who I had condemned to death. I was afraid I had sent someone I could have cared for to die and you would never know it was supposed to be her son, not you.”

“You cared,” Harry said, thinking he understood at least some of what Severus was trying to confess. “In your own way, you cared. And, yeah, it was me that died in that forest, but it was also me that walked out. You needed me to just be her son or James’ son and it worked. It’s because I faced Voldemort as me that I survived because it all had to be my choice in the end. You kept Lily’s son alive so it would be me at the end. Does that make sense?”

“I am…unsure,” Severus said and Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all have your way with words,” he teased and Severus smirked lightly. “In any case, it was not the only time you got to see me. You’re seeing me now.”

“Yes,” Severus said quietly, staring into Harry’s eyes. “I believe I am.”

Harry smiled, his wrist tingling and that odd warmth washing over him again.

Chapter Text

Stage 2: Wants & Expectations – Date 4

“As you come to the end of Stage 1 and your foundation has been laid, it is time to begin considering each other as possible romantic partners. It is important to be clear and express what you want and expect from a partner while also acknowledging what your partner wants and expects of you.

Thus, you enter Stage 2 in which four intentional engagements will occur. Two of these engagements will be for each partner to have the opportunity to express what they want and expect in a partner and a relationship. The other two engagements are for each partner to respond, showing that they not only acknowledge and respect their partner’s wants and expectations, but also that they are willing to meet such needs.

As in Stage 1, there is to be no intimate or sexual behaviour, though hand holding and friendly embraces are allowed.”

Two weeks later found Harry helping Hermione prepare the meal for Ron’s birthday dinner that evening, easily chopping up a variety of vegetables with his wandless magic while he chatted with her, Ginny, and Daphne. Though, it wasn’t so much a conversation as it was an interrogation.

“Why won’t you tell us who it is?” Ginny asked as Harry, once again, refused to reveal Severus’ identity despite his friends’ begging.

“He doesn’t want anyone to know yet, I’ve told you that,” Harry repeated for what felt like the dozenth time and it remained a complete lie…well, maybe. He didn’t actually know if Severus wanted people to know about them, but he had a hard time believing the man would want the world to know he’d been paired with Harry Potter when there were far more respectable people to be connected to. He’d been honest with Ron before his first date: in what world would Severus Snape choose Harry Potter?

“You’ve got a choice in this too, you know,” Ginny told him.

“Carrots, please,” Hermione chimed in and Harry levitated his finely diced carrots over to her at the island.

“I do, but I also don’t want anyone to know,” Harry said, biting into a stick of celery.

“Why not?” Ginny said, voice remarkably close to a whine.

“Because I’d like to actually get to know the man before you and the whole of Britain decide to share your opinions,” Harry replied with a hint of frustration. Not a complete lie, he realized. He did want to get to know Severus, even just as a friend, without the judgmental light of the wizarding world pouring down on them.

“Are you?” Daphne asked, looking at him curiously with a soft smile. She was such a soft, calm mirror to Ginny yet it worked so well. They were truly wonderful together despite only being seven months through their own courtship. “Getting to know him?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry said, thinking back on their first three dates and letters.

“What are you worried about with us at least?” Ginny asked, getting his attention back on her. “It’s not like he or the whole thing was your choice.”

Harry couldn’t help his small glare. “Thanks for that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ginny said with a small huff. “I only meant we won’t judge because he wasn’t your choice.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Harry said dryly.

“We didn’t judge Luna for Draco.”

Harry gave her a deadpanned look. “You did actually.”

Ginny pursed her lips though Harry wasn’t sure if it was because she was annoyed or trying not to laugh and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine, we did a little, but there can’t be anyone more surprising than Draco Malfoy.”

Harry just took another bite of celery, unwilling to respond to that at all.

“Can you at least tell us how the first month went?”

A knock at the door saved Harry, at least for the moment, and he nearly let out a deep breath of relief.

“Could you get that, Harry?” Hermione requested as she plucked some fresh herbs that were sat on the window sill behind the sink.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, jumping quickly to his feet and grinning at Ginny’s scowl as he walked to the door. Opening it, he was immediately accosted by a little blue-haired boy wrapping his small arms around Harry’s hips.

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy exclaimed, craning his head back to gaze up at Harry. “We’re here for Uncle Ron’s birthday!”

“Are you?” Harry said with exaggerated surprise and Teddy nodded vigorously, his chin hitting the most unfortunate of spots and making Harry wince. “He will be so excited that you came. Go on and find Rose. I think she’s in her room.”

“Rosie!” Teddy cried, just barely managing to kick off his trainers and allow Harry to remove his coat before taking off to find Rose.

Harry chuckled at his godson and turned back to Andromeda, stepping aside to let her in and hanging up Teddy’s coat. “How are you, Andy?”

“I’m very good, thank you,” she said, removing her own winter cloak and smiling at Harry’s kiss to her cheek. “And you? I hear you have received your match and are in a courtship.”

“He sure is!” Ginny said loudly from the kitchen before Harry could say anything, making him roll his eyes. “And he was just about to tell us all about the first month!”

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, amused, and her lips twitched. “Is that so?”

Harry sighed and gave her an exasperated look. “Apparently.”

Andromeda laughed lightly and followed Harry into the kitchen, taking seats at the table with Ginny and Daphne, Harry continuing with his assigned vegetables.

“Now, tell us,” Ginny said, staring intently at Harry and leaning towards him across the table. “How was the first month?”

“It was…good,” Harry said slowly, unsure what to make of the warmth that seemed to infuse him whenever he thought of his time spent with Severus the past month. It had been a frequent feeling since they’d started their courtship. There was something mildly familiar about it, as though it were a branch of something he’d felt before, but he couldn’t identify it, had no idea how to even begin trying.

“Good?” Ginny repeated and Harry looked up at her apparent anger or disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Harry’s eyes darted between Ginny’s seemingly furious expression and Daphne’s amused one. “Um, yes?”

Which was apparently not correct as Ginny’s eyes flashed.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Details!” Ginny demanded. “What is he like? What did you talk about?”

“I am not telling you that,” Harry said quickly and Ginny huffed.

“Well, do you like him then?”

“I never disliked him,” Harry said, just barely skirting the line of it being a lie.

“But do you like him?” Ginny stressed.

“We’ve been…getting along,” Harry said and rolled his eyes at Ginny’s glower. “It’s been a month, Gin. We’ve seen each other a total of three times and sent a few letters.”

“Okay, fine,” Ginny conceded with a heavy sigh. “Could you like him?”

“I haven’t exactly thought that far ahead yet,” Harry confessed and it was true.

To even deal with the fact that he’d been matched with Severus Snape, he’d had to take Ron’s, Neville’s, and Blaise’s advice and just focus on getting to know a man he didn’t actually know despite their past together. He’d pushed aside his desire to find love in his courtship to avoid drowning in the loneliness that came with knowing that wasn’t possible. Why would he bother wondering if he could like Severus when, ultimately, it wouldn’t mean anything?

“Men, honestly!” Ginny said, annoyed, and sitting back in her chair heavily while Daphne laughed next to her. “How you even manage to have relationships is beyond me.”

“Oi!” Harry protested with a glare. He’d had relationships, thank you. They just hadn’t typically ended well. “It’s complicated, okay? We’re just…going with it and figuring it out.”

“Are you ready for Stage Two?” Daphne asked, running her fingers through Ginny’s long hair and tucking the fiery strands behind an ear.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Harry shrugged.

“Harry, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you know what you want?” Hermione asked and he turned to her, levitating over his chopped celery. “Not from him exactly, but from the courtship?”

Harry paused as he thought. He knew what he wanted in a partner in general and he had known what he wanted from the courtship, but now that that wasn’t possible, what did he want? What could he say to Severus? He couldn’t go in and say he wanted love for life. Severus, he was sure, could never want him in that way and he didn’t even know if he could want Severus that way either.

“Hey, mind if I steal Harry?”

Ron’s voice and hand landing on Harry’s shoulder startled him out of his thoughts.

“Welcome home, darling,” Hermione greeted, leaning across the island to get a light kiss from Ron.

“I want a drink with my best mate before everyone else gets here,” Ron added.

“Ron, he was telling us about his courtship!” Ginny argued.

“I really wasn’t,” Harry said and quickly got to his feet to follow Ron to the back porch, taking the Muggle beer Ron held out to him.

They stood quietly for a while, sipping their drinks and leaning on the porch’s railing, gazing out at the backyard. Harry absently spotted a few of Rose’s toys and the Muggle jungle gym with its slide and swings.

“You could talk to them if you told them who your match is,” Ron said eventually into their silence.

Harry blew out a slightly annoyed breath. “I don’t even want to talk to you.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, it’s just…it’s Snape,” Harry said, picking at the label on his glass bottle.

“Except it’s not, is it?” Ron said and Harry glanced at him. “He’s not who you thought.”

Harry’s gaze moved back out to the yard. “No.”

“So I don’t think it being Snape is the problem. I think the problem is that you don’t think Snape could possibly want you because, I dunno, not because he hates you because he clearly doesn’t,” Ron said, sounding more like he was thinking out loud than actually talking to Harry. “Because you think he’s better than you? Because you hate the Saviour side of yourself so he must too?”

Harry frowned down at his beer bottle, a pang in his heart at just how well Ron knew him. “If he doesn’t, he will, the second it invades his life. Is any of that so insane to think?”

“No,” Ron said, shaking his head, “and I know you’ve had some crap luck with blokes and the whole Saviour thing, but I think you should give Snape some credit.”

“Why?”

“He wanted something going into the courtship just like you. Ever think he’s convinced himself of the same things you have?”

“No…” Harry murmured quietly.

“Start considering it, mate, and think about it this way,” Ron told him and Harry looked at his friend again. “You’re about to find out exactly what Severus Snape wants, something no other human being has ever known, and maybe you’re exactly what he wants.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Ron arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to be what he wants?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he what you want?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I don’t know, but what does it matter when he’ll never want more than the courtship?”

“It matters because you don’t actually know that for sure, do you?”

Harry didn’t respond, eyebrows pulling together as he was forced to think and eyes drifting back out to the yard.

“Look, if it doesn’t lead anywhere or work out, that’s fine, but I also don’t want you to dismiss him just because it’s Snape,” Ron said, shrugging in Harry’s periphery.

Harry looked at Ron again, curiously. “Why are you so okay with this? With him?”

“Because I’ve seen enough unlikely matches make people I care about ridiculously happy,” Ron told him bluntly, smiling at Harry. “Because I’m not a dumb kid anymore and I just want you to be happy. It’s all any of us want for you.”

“How are you, Harry?” Severus asked as their server left with their orders, sitting back in his chair and sipping his wine.

Harry folded his arms on the table, leaning on them slightly. “I’m good. It was Ron’s birthday this past Tuesday so everyone got together last weekend for it.”

“And how are your friends?”

Harry was temporarily surprised, never expecting Severus would ask about Ron and Hermione. “They’re good, really good. Ron works with George at the shop and, of course, Hermione’s on the Wizengamot, writing and passing all manner of legislature. Rose is turning five in a few months and is already a genius like her mother.”

Severus hummed in what almost sounded like pleased approval.

“What about you?” Harry returned. “We haven’t had much chance to talk in the last few weeks. You’ve been busy?”

“I have.” Severus nodded. “The new Aurors are beginning training next week so we have been brewing copious amounts of potions, both the ones they must learn to use in the field and the medical ones for when they inevitably blow themselves up.”

Harry laughed, snickering into his wine.

“My raid team and I are also in the midst of arranging a raid of an underground Black Market site for next month.”

“A general raid or are you after something specific?” Harry asked, interested.

“Mostly general though Delaney is sure we will find Archangel Glass being sold.”

“Archangel Glass?” Harry repeated. “What’s that?”

“A dangerous and very illegal mixture of unicorn blood and human blood that is solidified and broken into shards that are typically then ground into a fine powder,” Severus explained. “It is marketed as an ingredient to add to any healing potions to make them stronger or Dreamless Sleep to reduce its addictive qualities, but, when exposed to heat, it releases poisonous fumes that cause a comatose state and then death within seventy-two hours.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised you do field work like that.”

“And I am surprised you do not.”

“Fair,” Harry conceded, chuckling, “but I do go into the field. I go to appraisals and investigations pretty often or I go with Bill and the Breaking team. Sometimes I’m requested specifically. I go to conferences.”

“Conferences are not field work,” Severus argued and Harry shrugged, grinning behind his glass. “Why did you decide against a job with more field work? It was known you’d likely end up at the Ministry, but everyone anticipated you would be an Auror.”

“Me included,” Harry agreed, “but then it all ended. It was all over and I didn’t want there to be more. I think I’ve mentioned I didn’t want to fight anymore. Sure, I have to sometimes, but it’s not all I do. I like my job and I’m good at it when, at one point, I was convinced I wasn’t good at anything except fighting. I think a part of it became proving to myself more than anyone that I wasn’t just the soldier I’d been since I was eleven.”

Severus gave him a soft look. “I’m not sure that was ever all you were.”

Harry smiled, appreciative. “I do enjoy field work, though, and I’d honestly love to investigate one of those sites. I know you’ve brought us plenty over the years from your raids, but I’d love to see what else they have that your team wouldn’t necessarily recognize.”

“Perhaps we could arrange for you to accompany me next month,” Severus offered.

“That would be brilliant!” Harry exclaimed, gaining a small smile from Severus just as their food arrived.

They settled in, mostly quiet except for commenting on their own and each other’s meals, both even offering the other a taste. It was comfortable, their magic and growing bond tingling in Harry’s wrist while the warmth he couldn’t name, but seemed to always feel with Severus filled him. He was doing his best to take all his friends’ advice, using the courtship as a way to get to know Severus and now, per Ron, not dismiss the man. He still didn’t think it was likely he could like Severus in that way or Severus him outside what was necessary to make the courtship successful, but he wouldn’t completely dismiss the possibility either.

He gazed at Severus thoughtfully as he ate, thinking about his conversation with Ron.

“I just want you to be happy.”

Could Severus make him happy? He wasn’t sure they’d been ‘together’ long enough to know for sure just yet, but he had been feeling something similarly positive during each of their dates, even their last one when they’d discussed difficult topics. Could that feeling, whatever it was, evolve into happiness or even love? And could Severus ever feel anything remotely similar for him?

“You are staring.”

Harry blinked, realizing he was, indeed, staring and blushed. Severus’ eyebrow was raised and Harry dropped his eyes to his dish.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Just, um…” Harry trailed off, thinking of what to say. “We’re in Stage Two now, huh?” He looked up when Severus chuckled.

“You are endearingly awkward,” Severus said, taking a sip of his wine while still smiling humourously. It was said fairly quietly, almost as though the man wasn’t positive he’d wanted Harry to hear it or not.

“Um, thanks?” Harry said, unsure if he should be offended or not, and gained another laugh from Severus.

“Yes, we have entered the second stage,” Severus said. “I hope you do not mind that I wished to go first. I struggle with such openness and would very much like to just get through it.”

“No, not at all,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Let’s be honest. I’m a bit of an idiot, especially with stuff like this, so probably best I get an example to learn from.”

“While I would never pass on an opportunity to call you an idiot,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I can assure you, you will certainly have an advantage over me in this part of this stage. As such, I do ask that you bear with me as speaking of such things so…plainly is…unfamiliar to me.”

“If it helps, just think of how much of a fool I’ll sound like. You’ve experienced years of my inability to speak and I can guarantee it won’t suddenly get better. Probably be worse, honestly,” Harry quipped.

Severus’ tilted lips were almost appreciative, as though Harry’s minor self-deprecation had made him feel better.

“Regardless, I am sure you have had far more and better experience than I in such matters as these.”

The comment made Harry stop, understanding what Severus was subtly saying. Knowing what he did of the man’s life, he could only imagine Severus’ experiences with sharing his thoughts and feelings and wants. He felt his gaze soften as he watched Severus gather the eloquent words he would likely use to express himself while gently swirling the remaining wine in his glass.

“May I?” Severus requested and Harry nodded. Severus’ eyes dropped away from him as though he couldn’t find the courage to continue if he was looking at Harry. “I am an intensely private man and am not prone to public displays nor grand gestures.”

Harry wanted to jump in and argue that dying for a kid he’d loathed was a pretty grand gesture, but held back, knowing an interruption or quip would do no good for a man that struggled with being vulnerable. So, he just waited for Severus to continue.

“However, this does not necessarily translate to my private life,” Severus said, eyes darting to Harry briefly before dropping to his wine again. The man looked like he was in pain as he fought to continue and Harry was tempted to tell him he didn’t have to, he didn’t have to admit these things, but he couldn’t; it was the rules of the courtship. “A…kind…touch has been…uncommon in my life and I have found myself…hoping to make up for such…loss.”

Harry’s heart squeezed with sympathy and understanding.

“I also have not had the luxury of boundaries and would…like for a…partner to respect those I have developed,” Severus continued, each word seeming to physically hurt.

Harry could only imagine the lines others had crossed with Severus. He’d seen what the Marauders had done which he was sure paled in comparison to an abusive father and Voldemort. His heart was squeezed a little harder.

“I would wish for…honesty and sincerity,” Severus said. “I have lived a life of denial and lies, and I do not wish to live in that again.”

Harry could understand that. A life in the dark could make anyone crave light. He also realized then that Severus was saying what he would like and what he wished for, not what he wanted or expected as though he couldn’t make himself be so direct. Harry felt a strange urge to reach out and lay his hand over Severus’.

“Further, I am…difficult and I would hope for…someone that does not…flee at conflict. I am aware I respond poorly to many situations, I have tried to work on such reactions in past years, but I hope for someone that can…not respond in kind, but…handle my acerbity.”

Harry considered the man, lips curving into a lopsided smile.

“I mean, I survived you being my professor when you hated me, I was a prat, and I purposely tried to antagonize you while we were both being tormented by a psychopath, so I think I’ve got a good advantage here for that one,” Harry teased, smile turning into a grin when Severus slowly raised his eyes to him, eyebrow raised and lips twitching.

Eventually, Severus’ mouth curved into a smirk. “You’ve certainly the experience.”

Harry laughed loudly and they eased easily into lighter conversation, reliving more of their Hogwarts interactions with heavy amusement while all Severus had admitted sat just in the back of Harry’s mind.

It never occurred to him that he’d responded as though they could actually be together and not just for the courtship.

Chapter Text

Stage 2: Wants & Expectations – Date 5

“Harry!” George greeted as Harry entered the, quite frankly, obnoxiously coloured and loud shop, hopping down from a ladder and coming over to give Harry a hug. “How’s it going? What brings you by?”

“Looking for Ron actually,” Harry told him. “He here today?”

“Sure is.” George nodded and walked over to the spiral staircase. “Ron! Harry’s here!”

There was a lot of thumping followed by sounds of something shattering and a curse which made Harry raise an eyebrow, Ron appearing on the stairs a few seconds later.

“The hell just happened?” George asked.

“Fred made me trip and I knocked over a couple of the Talking Mirrors,” Ron replied. “I fixed them, it’s fine,” he added when George pinned him with a hard look.

George rolled his eyes and jogged up the stairs with a quiet, “Excuse me.”

Harry watched with a smile, amused. A few years earlier, to help George with his seemingly unending grief over losing Fred, Harry and Luna had developed a new enchantment that they placed on the portrait of Fred that hung in the shop. It had brought the portrait to ‘life’, making it, not only like every other magical portrait, but also allowing Fred to ‘leave’ his portrait every now and then for limited periods of time. While outside his portrait, it was as though Fred was a ghost, but capable of interacting with the world in limited ways, and he frequently used his time to play pranks on his brothers and torment them. It would, of course, never be the same as having Fred back, but it had certainly helped George and that was all Harry had wanted, making the complex magic creation well worth it.

“What’s up, mate?” Ron asked, walking up to him. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I’m the head of the department, I can do what I want,” Harry pointed out and Ron shrugged with amused agreement. “I’m also on lunch. Free to join me? Something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ron agreed. “George?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” George called back. “Good to see you, Harry!”

“You too!”

“Let’s go,” Ron said and they stepped out into Diagon Alley, bustling with people. The memories of what the place had once looked like in those final years of the war were getting, thankfully, further away. With its busyness and liveliness, it was hard to imagine it had once been dark and abandoned.

They walked around the corner and up a street to the still relatively new chippy, the Muggle influences of its Muggleborn-couple owners obvious. Despite its Muggle nature, it had been quite popular in the wizarding town.

“Ron! Good to see you!” one of the owners, Sammy, greeted with a wide smile as they entered the shop. “It’s Thursday. You don’t usually come in on Thursdays.”

“Getting lunch with my best mate today,” Ron told her, gesturing to Harry who gave a little wave and smile when Sammy’s eyes flickered to him.

“Oh, Mr. Potter! A pleasure, as always.”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Harry’s fine, really.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter,” Sammy said and Harry just shook his head to himself. “Your usual table is open,” she added, pointing to her right.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Ron said and led the way to a table tucked in a corner next to a window.

Sitting, Harry perused the small menu, immediately skipping past all the fish, while Ron tapped his choices with his wand, placing his order. Harry decided quickly on a water and a chicken-mushroom pie, placing his menu with Ron’s in the holder against the window. Their drinks appeared almost instantly and they chatted casually as they waited for their food, discussing work and Rose and friends. It didn’t take long for their food to float over to them and settle on the table.

“So,” Ron said as they started eating. “What’s up?”

Harry chewed slowly, hesitating slightly. “I need your help with something.”

Ron looked at him curiously. “With what?”

Harry couldn’t help but just give Ron a pointed look in response.

“Ah, I see,” Ron said, mouth curving into a lopsided grin. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to anyone about that, including me?”

Harry glared, irrationally angry at the light teasing. “Forget it.” He pushed away from the table and stood, fully intending to walk out.

“Oh, come on, mate,” Ron said, chuckling, and Harry turned back to him, still glaring. “Sit down. Let me help.”

Harry stared at him for a while before huffing and returning to his seat, dropping heavily into it. He said nothing and sat back with his arms crossed, scowling at Ron.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, you know that,” Ron said, popping a chip into his mouth while pointing at Harry’s meal. “Eat, would you? I know you still don’t eat enough when you’re working.”

Harry sighed, knowing Ron was right on both things. Touched by his friend’s care, he tucked back into the table and took another bite of his pie.

“So, what’s going on? How can I help?” Ron asked sincerely, eating a couple more chips.

“We had our fourth date last week and he went first for saying what he wants,” Harry explained. “Except he didn’t? Not really?”

“Didn’t what?”

“Say what he wants,” Harry clarified.

Ron cocked his head to the side, interested and curious. “What did he say?”

Harry hesitated, unsure he wanted or should be sharing the man’s vulnerabilities that had been so clearly difficult for him to express.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Ron promised at his hesitation.

“He just said things about being a private person in public and liking honesty and being difficult,” Harry told him, keeping the personal confessions vague. “You should have seen him, Ron. It was like it was actually painful for him to say these things and now I have to respond to what he wants, but how do I do that when he didn’t say what he wants from me?”

“I think he did,” Ron said, tearing off a piece of his battered fish and dipping it in his malt vinegar.

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Ron replied, leaning forward on his elbows on the table. “He told you he’s different in private essentially. I think he just wants to be a thought to someone and be seen as that person even though he doesn’t like to show that person.”

Harry’s frown deepened, even more confused. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Show him you’ve thought about him, that you know he’s not just what everyone else thinks. You know how people still feel about him. You know what he’s been through. Show him who he is and what he can do doesn’t mean he deserves what he’s gotten up to now,” Ron told him. “Anytime someone’s thought about him, it’s because they wanted something from him or they wanted to hurt him. I think he just wants something different from a partner, from you. He wants to be able to be himself with you. Show him he can be.” Ron ended with a shrug, popping a chunk of vinegar-drenched fish into his mouth.

Harry was quiet for a while, gazing at Ron as he contemplated his friend’s words, the redhead waiting patiently for him to process. “Honestly, who are you?” he joked eventually.

Ron just laughed. “Look,” he said as his laughter eased, “I told you Snape makes sense for you. You’re similar, but in a complementary way. There’s probably a ton he didn’t say because what he did say was already so hard and he doesn’t expect much because why would he after what his life has been? That’s probably why he didn’t say anything directly, but think about it. I bet, whatever you want, he does, too, in his own way.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek and tapped his pie with his fork, mind running.

They finished their lunch, returning to their earlier conversation about work even as the back of Harry’s mind pieced together ideas for his next date with Severus. They parted outside the shop, Ron giving him more encouragement. It was still surprising him just how understanding Ron had been through the whole thing. They bid goodbye and Harry returned to the Ministry where, as he waited for the lift, he had an idea which had him heading to the fifth floor instead of the Department of Mysteries.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans to avoid fidgeting, hoping he was making the right decision. He stepped off the lift on the fifth floor, standing just in front of it for a few seconds as he chewed his cheek, second-guessing himself. Eventually, he blew out a breath and walked away from the lift, heading down the corridor and around the corner where it opened to a large area. There were a few doors on the left wall and a few scattered doorways that were branching corridors, a chandelier hanging over the open area. Before he could decide whether to check the labs or the man’s office, a young woman with long, curly hair sitting in a messy bun on top of her head came from a right-hand corridor, a stack of files in her arms with one open on top that she was reading.

“Delaney,” Harry greeted as she started in the opposite direction from him and she spun around.

“Mr. Potter!” she said in surprise. “We weren’t expecting anyone from your department today, were we?”

“No, nothing scheduled. I’ve just got something to run by Snape,” Harry told her.

“Of course. He’s in his lab,” Delaney replied, gesturing vaguely to the right-hand doorways. “You know where it is.”

Harry smiled and nodded, letting the raid leader continue on her way while he headed down another right-hand corridor. At the end was a closed door and, next to it, a narrow hall that curved, spiralling to the left. He followed the narrow, stone path, coming to the archway at the end. He heard bubbling and chopping with the softest music in the background, and he stepped through, peeking around until he found Severus and he paused, watching.

Severus’ movements were so smooth, fluid as though they were natural and not learned over thirty years. The man was so focused, eyes gliding between each task as he prepped ingredients, stirred the bubbling cauldron in complex patterns, and somehow kept time. Despite the intense focus, there was a calm in the pale face, on display due to the long hair sitting at the base of the neck, held back with a black hairband. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his faded Dark Mark uncharacteristically visible. Harry had a feeling seeing the man like this was a rare occurrence and he felt his mouth curve into a small smile.

“Harry.”

He blinked, realizing Severus had noticed him. “Uh, yeah, hi.” He frowned slightly as he watched Severus casually, but swiftly roll down his left sleeve, concealing the Dark Mark. The action tugged at something inside Harry.

“What are you doing here?” Severus asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Harry assured him. “I wanted to ask you…I know I’ve been slow about arranging my follow-up date—”

Severus’ face seemed to tighten and he looked away from Harry, down at the ingredient he’d been slicing. “You do not have to—”

“No, I do and I want to,” Harry interrupted quickly.

Not a lie.

Huh.

Severus’ eyes rose to him again, almost questioningly.

“So, I wanted to see if you would want to come to my place tonight for dinner,” Harry offered. “I’ll cook.”

“You cook?”

Harry felt he should be offended by the disbelief, but something about it amused him instead and he chuckled. “Yes, I cook and pretty well, thank you. I’ve had a lot of experience.”

“You are twenty-four and spent six years at a boarding school prior to that,” Severus said pointedly.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I learned young.”

Severus’ brow furrowed and he looked like he wanted to say more, but Harry jumped in, not willing to dive into the Dursleys that deeply.

“So? Come over tonight?”

Severus gazed at him for a while before nodding. “That sounds…acceptable.”

“Great,” Harry said with a smile. “Six?”

Severus’ lips tilting up made Harry feel that warmth again. “Six.”

There was a strange bundle of nerves in his gut as Harry walked to his front door to answer the knock. He tugged at his open sage green linen shirt to ensure it was laying nicely over his white undershirt and fiddled with the rolled sleeves, an outfit put together with Hermione’s help. Apparently, the soft green made his tanned skin look golden and the emerald in his eyes sparkle. Why any of that was important, he didn’t know, but he’d let Hermione have her way.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door and stared.

He wasn’t sure what made him stop and stare. Truthfully, Severus wasn’t dressed too different from earlier that day only with his hair loose and his long-coat on that Harry had seen on their last dates. Nothing was overly different from how he’d been seeing Severus for the past month and a half, yet something had made him stop, something was making him warm and tingly.

“You seem surprised to see me,” Severus said and Harry realized a small frown was passing over the man’s face. “Have I mistaken something or have you changed your mind?”

“No!” Harry said, louder than he intended and Severus arched an eyebrow. “Sorry, no, nothing like that. Come in, please. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Severus inclined his head and Harry stepped aside to let him in, watching the removal of the coat reveal the white shirt underneath, its sleeves rolled down unlike earlier. A part of Harry, an unexplainable part, wished they were back up at the man’s elbows.

“Wine?” Harry asked as they entered the combined kitchen and dining room, hurrying over to the stove to check on the simmering pan.

“Please,” Severus said and Harry waved his hand to open the waiting wine bottle which floated up to pour into two wineglasses, one floating carefully over to Severus who took it from the air. “Thank you.”

Harry flashed the man a smile as he tasted his mushroom sauce.

“Is there anything I can assist you with?” Severus asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised you can cook because, honestly, what can’t you do at this point?” Harry said with a lighthearted grumble. He glanced up, finding Severus’ eyebrow was raised again, this time in clear amusement. “Anyway, no, thank you, I’ve got it. Sit, relax.”

Severus nodded and took a seat at the small table, placing his wine down. They didn’t speak as Harry finished up the food though he felt Severus’ eyes on him. It was only a few minutes later that he was dishing up the breaded chicken with thick mushroom sauce, white rice, and salad. He brought them over to the table, his wine following behind him, and slid the plates onto the table.

“This looks quite delicious,” Severus said.

“You seem surprised,” Harry said with a grin. “I told you I can cook.”

“I admit I remained skeptical,” Severus confessed and Harry laughed. “Given your brewing skills, I believe such skepticism is warranted.”

“Fair enough, I suppose, though my brewing has gotten better,” Harry told him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it should still be good.”

Severus hummed and proceeded to take a bite, Harry watching in anticipation. Harry fiddled with his fork, chewing his own bite slowly as he waited for Severus’ verdict.

“You appear to have vastly undersold your abilities,” Severus said, looking across the table at him. “This is remarkable.”

Harry smiled, feeling himself flush at the praise.

“I am curious about just how you gained such skill,” Severus said, taking another bite as he tried to keep his curiosity casual.

“I told you, I learned young,” Harry said vaguely with another shrug.

“You did which carries less than pleasant implications, particularly given other revelations regarding your childhood,” Severus said.

Harry sighed. “Yeah. A lot can be said about my childhood, but that’s not what this date is about. I want this to be about you like it should be.”

Severus appeared uncomfortable suddenly, prodding lightly at his rice. “While I understand it is part of the courtship, it is truly not necessary.”

Harry gazed thoughtfully at the man who was now avoiding his eyes. “I dunno,” he said gently. “I think it is.”

Severus’ eyes rose, meeting his with a questioning suspicion and hesitancy. Harry just gave him a small smile and they continued eating in silence. There was still a tension in the quiet between them—they were still discovering how to actually be with each other as they progressed further into their courtship, after all—but it wasn’t as heavy as the first month. In fact, subtly observing the man, Harry was sure some of the tension was a result of Severus’ confessions during their last date and his anxiety over Harry’s potential response.

Harry let himself watch Severus as he had earlier that day at the Ministry, forcing himself not to look away when the dark eyes caught his periodically. Each time, Severus looked puzzled as though he didn’t understand why Harry was looking at him. Harry, on the other hand, knew exactly why he was looking. He wanted to see the man that was kept hidden, the man Ron had told him to find because that was what Severus wanted: to be seen, to be found. He could understand. Ron, as was apparently becoming usual, was right. He and Severus weren’t too different so maybe they wanted the same things which left two not-so-simple questions.

Could they give each other those things?

And did they want to?

“That was delicious, Harry, thank you,” Severus praised once they’d finished and Harry wandlessly sent the dishes to the sink.

Harry smiled at him. “I’ll admit, I had a hard time thinking of what to do for this date. I didn’t know what you wanted because you didn’t really say what you want.”

Severus dropped his eyes to where his hand was sitting around the base of his wineglass, a furrow in his brow and lips downturned ever so slightly.

“But I think I know,” Harry continued, “and there’s something I want to show you.”

Severus looked at him with a frown and Harry held out a hand, catching the book that flew gently into his grasp. Severus’ eyes flickered between Harry and the book questioningly. Harry looked at the book, a bittersweet fondness flowing through him.

“No one knows I went back for this,” Harry said. “After what I did to Draco, I got rid of it, but after everything was over and I knew the truth about you, I went back for it.”

He held it out across the table and Severus took it, eyes darting back to him quickly once he read the title.

“My Potions textbook?”

Harry nodded. “Once I knew, I wanted to see it again, read through it with what I knew now. Everything was different, even a book, and, with our last date, the things you told me, I think I know what you want.”

Severus gazed at him stiffly, but with something else behind the dark eyes. Harry thought that it could be something resembling tentative and curious hope. He would have to seriously thank Ron for helping him through his obliviousness.

“You want to be seen, but not for what you can do for people because they’ve never wanted anything good. Whenever you’ve been seen, it’s been so people can hurt you. Other than those moments, you don’t think people have thought about you because why would they?” Harry said, voice soft, a part of him worried about being horribly wrong or scaring Severus away because neither of them were used to such words. “Thing is, I’ve thought about you. Even when I hated you, I thought about you. In so many ways, you’ve always been in front of me and for a long time I was like everyone else. I thought and saw what you wanted me to, but that’s not what I see anymore. I think I see you, the you that you think’s been lost. It hasn’t been; I see it. You showed it to me; that day in the shack, in your memories, in this book, in every moment we’ve had together, you’ve showed me. You don’t want the world to see you. You just want one person to, you want to be a thought to one person, and you are…to me and you have been longer than I ever realized.”

There was a long silence as Severus gazed at the old annotated copy of Advanced Potion-Making, Harry’s speech echoing around them. Eventually, he lowered the book and moved his gaze to Harry.

“You are something else, Mr. Potter.”

Harry’s mouth curved into a lopsided grin, relief and warmth washing over him. “I try.”

“I’m not so sure you do,” Severus said, his own deep voice mirroring Harry’s gentle tone. “I think it is a natural talent.”

Harry’s grin softened. “Yeah, well…” he paused for a minute, that warmth rolling through him in strong waves. “You’ve got something, too, and I’m really enjoying getting to see it.”

“Except, like you said,” Severus replied, “you’ve seen it longer than we ever knew.”

“Doesn’t mean there’s not more to see,” Harry pointed out, “and if that’s what you want, I think I can do that.”

Severus’ head tilted to the side, staring at Harry with a strangely curious fascination. “Few have ever wanted to before.”

“I’m not everyone else,” Harry told him simply.

“Oh, that you have made abundantly clear for years,” Severus drawled, picking up his wine for another sip.

Harry chuckled. “Gotta keep things interesting.”

“As if you could ever be anything else.”

The way Severus said it, Harry wasn’t so sure it was meant to be an insult, making him reply, “Is that so bad?”

Severus gazed at him searchingly over his wineglass. “No, no, I don’t think so,” he murmured.

Chapter Text

Stage 2: Wants & Expectations – Date 6

Harry gazed at the blue hydrangeas, leaning on his desk to reach out and lightly touch the soft petals all while wondering if Severus was looking at the blue salvias he had sent to sit on the man’s office desk. It had taken him forever to find the right flowers with the right meaning to send to Severus, wanting to reinforce the sentiments he’d expressed a few days earlier, but not with anything ‘useful’. Everything in Severus’ life had been about ‘use’ and it wasn’t what Harry wanted Severus to think he saw. So, he’d found salvias, meaning ‘I think of you’, but with absolutely no magical use because, like the flowers, Severus wasn’t there to be used; he deserved to just be seen and noticed for who he was. Harry unknowingly smiled at his hydrangeas.

“Thank you for understanding,” they said.

“Harry, time for the meeting. Oh, how beautiful.”

Harry turned to his office door, finding Luna and Bill, both holding files and paper stacks.

“Things are going well with your match, I assume?” Bill said, he and Luna smiling gently at him.

Harry glanced back at the flowers, this time feeling his lips curve up. “Yeah, it is actually.”

“Well, congratulations, but come on or we’ll be late,” Bill told them.

Harry nodded and left the department with Bill and Luna, the three of them heading to the meeting rooms on the second floor. Ministry workers from across the departments were rushing and milling around, ducking into meeting rooms as most departments were having their quarterly meetings that day, Harry’s department among them. He, Bill, and Luna filed into one of the largest rooms, his department, Severus’ department, and the entirety of the Department of Mysteries shoved together to be managed simultaneously for such meetings.

Harry weaved through the dozens of people chatting and grabbing seats with Bill and Luna, making a beeline for a back table that was still empty. He slid into a seat as far back as possible, Bill and Luna sitting to his left, both turning their chairs to face the front. Harry sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched everyone quickly filling the room. He hated the quarterly meetings; they always took so much longer than was necessary and were filled with irritating ‘reminders’ about policies and regulations, all before each department had to outline current ongoing projects, provide reviews of their last three months of Ministry-mandated work, explain future prospects, and bid for budget allowances.

Annoying and pointless.

He had a mask and mirror he could be working on.

When Delaney and a few others from Severus’ department filled the seats at their table, Harry watched as they immediately began conversing with Bill and Luna before glancing around only for the chair next to him to be filled before he could even find the man he’d started looking for.

“You look extra excited to be here,” Harry teased Severus quietly, watching the man mirror him by crossing his arms while also crossing his legs.

Severus huffed, clearly irritated. “And you are?”

“Absolutely not,” Harry replied, “but the department is equally mine, Bill’s, and Luna’s so I’ve got them to do the majority of this kind of stuff.”

“Remind me what you do again,” Severus said dryly.

“Jerk,” Harry muttered even as he chuckled lightly, looking sidelong at Severus and seeing the amused smirk.

When Fynnch Whitcroft and Oli Kristolin entered the room and stood at the front, everyone quieted down and waited for the meeting to start. The meeting started with the usual speech about the meeting’s purpose and goal followed by an overview of departmental expectations within the Ministry before the recitation of departmental policies and regulations. It didn’t take long for Harry to be bored out of his mind, at least until, next to him, Severus began to make sarcastic comments under his breath about the individuals that had made each repetition of each policy necessary. Jabs at intelligence and inability to think and sheer lack of common sense had Harry struggling to keep silent, even raising his hand in mock thoughtfulness to his mouth to cover his grin that was not appropriate for the moment.

Even when the opening section ended, and Whitcroft and Kristolin began grilling each department, Severus’ comments continued, instead commenting on the uselessness of departments, the lack of produced work, and the ridiculous uses of given budgets. The string of insults and dry sarcasm only ceased when it was their departments’ turns to submit reports and budget bids. As Bill and Luna spoke for their department with Harry jumping in where he was needed, Severus’ arm came to rest casually along the back of Harry’s chair. It was a casual movement, obviously just a way for Severus to be more comfortable as he waited for the obnoxiously long meeting to conclude, but something about it made Harry’s heart beat just a little faster and that tingly warmth that was becoming so familiar to swirl inside him.

They didn’t acknowledge it, first because Harry was still helping Bill and Luna with their department presentation, but then because, Harry assumed, they didn’t know how. No one knew they’d been matched and Harry still wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible so they couldn’t exactly openly discuss such things. Though, remaining silent didn’t mean others didn’t notice. At one point, both Bill and Luna had looked back at them. Their raised eyebrows and shared glance made it clear they’d noticed the arm placement. Harry had avoided looking directly at them, pretending to be so focused on Whitcroft that he didn’t notice them or Severus’ arm despite that arm being all he was aware of.

Eventually, the meeting finally ended and Severus’ arm fell away as they stood, leaving the room with everyone else. Out in the corridor, Harry made to go right only for his hand to be gently grasped and he was pulled to the left, out of the path of the majority of the others leaving. He was led a short distance down the corridor before Severus stopped and turned to him. Harry glanced down at their hands which Severus released quickly.

“My apologies,” Severus said, a tightness in his voice.

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said easily and, surprisingly, sincerely. It had been fine, possibly even more than.

Interesting.

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement of Harry’s dismissal of his apology. “I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They are lovely.”

“Yours too,” Harry replied, smiling as he thought of the hydrangeas on his desk. “I guess it’s my turn now.”

Severus gave him a searching look. “You eased the experience for me and I will endeavour to do the same for you.”

Harry smiled again, knowing the man meant it. “In that case, what do you think about doing something different for our next date?”

Severus looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and mild suspicion.

Harry took a deep breath and opened the door, forcing himself not to freeze like the last time he’d had Severus on the other side. It was difficult, though, not to stare as they’d dressed up slightly for the venue which had Severus in well-fitted black trousers, a torso-hugging light grey knit high-neck shirt visible under the open long-coat due to the mild weather, and his hair had been pulled back again, like that day in his lab nearly three weeks earlier.

He’d never considered Severus attractive, had never even thought about the two things in conjunction with each other. He knew what he’d thought as a kid, but he’d been a kid and in the middle of a war; attraction to anyone, let alone his professor, had been virtually impossible. Then Severus had been a colleague, again not someone he would necessarily apply attractive and like adjectives to because theirs was a professional relationship. Such things weren’t noticed in a professional relationship, but now…now there were things to be noticed. Things like the lean muscle obviously beneath the form-fitting shirt or the sleek hair that emphasized the angular face when pulled back or the soft gleam in the dark eyes that once seemed soulless or the long fingers, and none of that was even to mention the voice, so deep and smooth.

“You are staring again.”

Harry blinked and shook himself at the voice, focusing his eyes to actually look at the man in front of him. “Right, sorry.”

“No need,” Severus said, dismissing his apology similarly to how Harry had after the quarterly meeting. “It is a habit in which I also find myself partaking as of late.”

It took far too many seconds for Harry to comprehend what was being implied and he felt himself heat.

“Shall we?” Severus suggested before Harry could say anything. “Might I get the privilege of knowing where we are going this evening?”

Pushing the moment aside, Harry grabbed his own long-coat, shrugging it on as he stepped outside and magically closed the door absently behind him, locking it.

“I don’t think you understand what a surprise is,” Harry said with a small grin.

“I am merely curious,” Severus defended. “Our engagements have been fairly standard thus far.”

“Which is why I want this to be a surprise,” Harry told him. “So, trust me to Apparate us?”

“Only because then I can blame you if we spend this date at the hospital having our limbs reattached.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious, really,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly and Severus chuckled. He shook his head, amused, and held out his arm. “Ready to go?”

Severus gave a small smile and took Harry’s offered arm. Holding tight to Severus, Harry spun them sharply and took them away, landing them in an alleyway seconds later. Harry glanced around, ensuring they were in the right place, before turning to Severus with a teasing grin.

“Well, how’d I do?” Harry asked. “Make it in one piece?”

“It would appear so,” Severus drawled. “Congratulations.”

Harry snorted. “Jerk.” It was then he realized he was holding Severus’ hand and quickly released the man, flushing. “Um, right, let’s, uh, let’s go.”

He led the way out of the alley, stepping onto the sidewalk as Muggles passed, groups of friends laughing and dressed up as they headed to a pub to start off their weekend. Severus joined him within moments.

“So, where are we going?”

Harry pointed across the street at the blue brick shop that stood out next to the black shops on either side of it, ‘Spinning Web Gallery’ in golden calligraphy on the frosted window.

“An art gallery?”

Harry nodded. “But it’s not just an art gallery. Think art meets magical runes. Come on, it’ll be easier if I show you.”

With a smile, Harry led them across the street and into the gallery. It was like most galleries, open with white walls covered in various sized paintings and a dark grey marble floor while a few modern-style lights hung from the ceiling with a crystal chandelier in the centre. It was completely empty of people as well which had Harry receiving a questioning glance from Severus. He made to explain only for a beautiful black woman with a head of tight afro-style curls and wearing a long dress of various bright colours in an abstract pattern to hurry over to them, smiling widely and her hazel eyes sparkling.

“Harry!” she greeted, pulling Harry into a hug that he eagerly returned. “I am so happy you came. And you must be Harry’s match.”

“Severus,” the man said, shaking her hand. “Pleasure.”

“The way he talked about you, it is all mine,” she said, giving Severus a large smile that morphed into a sly one as she looked at Harry.

“Ari,” Harry muttered, flushing when Severus arched an eyebrow at the two of them.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, waving Harry off. “Anyway, I am Ariadne Medina, the owner and artist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Severus replied.

“I was so excited when Harry wrote wanting to book an evening for a date,” Ariadne said. “Normally, I would take you through the first few pieces and explain, but Harry has requested he do that so I will leave you alone. If you need anything, just shout. Oh, and I’ve left something for you by ‘Choice’. Enjoy.”

Ariadne wiggled her fingers in a little wave as she smiled at them again before she walked away, disappearing through an archway that Harry knew led to her studio. Harry’s eyes slid to the left once she was gone, finding the mentioned painting and smiling at the wineglasses he saw waiting on the long, narrow table against the wall next to the painting. He raised his hand and the glasses immediately floated over to him. Turning back to Severus, he held out one of the glasses.

“Did you book out an entire gallery so we would be the only ones here?” Severus asked, an air of disbelief around the words.

“I did,” Harry nodded, “but that’s the way this place works.”

“Meaning?”

Harry levitated his wine casually so he could remove his jacket which he sent to hang on the hooks he knew were just inside the archway, doing the same with Severus’ coat when the man mirrored him in removing it.

“By all accounts, this is a Muggle art gallery,” Harry told him. “However, if you know, then you know it is actually magical. It’s the kind of place where if you don’t know about it, then you don’t know.”

Severus frowned at him. “You are not making sense.”

“Here, let me show you,” Harry said and led them to the painting their wine had been beside.

It was a watercolour of the back of a woman standing at a forked road, her hair dancing in the wind as she contemplated the paths, both of which disappeared far into the distance. The paths themselves were identical, but the sky at the horizon where the paths disappeared were different. On the left, the sky was orange and pink while on the right it was blue and purple, the two horizons mixing together in the centre. Harry raised his hand and pressed two fingers to the tiny bracelet on the woman’s right wrist, bleeding a little magic into the painting, and pulled back at the painting began to move.

The woman’s hair and dress fluttered on the wind that brushed the grass and flowers on either side of the roads. She lifted her hand as thin, wispy threads of gold began to leave the bracelet on her wrist, twirling around her before dancing down the left path. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, smiling through the hair partially concealing her face, before turning back and heading down the left path, following the guiding magic. As she approached the horizon, the golden strands gathered together over her, sparkling, before they dissipated, only for the woman to return to the forefront and the painting stilled again.

“That was…”

“Brilliant, right?” Harry said with a grin. “Ari puts runes into all her pieces and, if you know and can work with runes, you can make the paintings move. They use your magic to determine what to do or what happens so it’s different for everyone. This is why the place has to be booked out, so Muggles don’t see and so multiple people’s magic don’t mix and confuse the runes.”

“Fascinating,” Severus said and they began to stroll slowly through the gallery. “How did you discover this gallery and her work?”

“It was part of my runes and artifacts certification,” Harry explained. “I had to spend a few weeks seeing the different ways runes have been used in areas like art, architecture, and historical preservation. I was placed here for a couple weeks to see Ari’s work. We got close.”

They came to a stop in front of another painting, this one a pair of hands held out with shackles around the wrists. Cracks were visible in the shackles as though they were ready to shatter. Beneath the painting was a small plaque with ‘Break Free’ inscribed on it. Like the previous painting, Harry found the rune and raised his hand to touch it, pushing his magic out. They watched as the cracks in the shackles glowed gold and began morphing, forming the shape of a lightning bolt on each shackle. The gold changed to a lime green and the shackles fell from the wrists, the lightning bolt cracks extending to the edges so the restraints fell apart, all just as the green pulsed brightly. When it disappeared, the painting had returned to its original state.

Harry smiled at the painting and turned to Severus. “Do you want to try?”

Severus gave a small nod.

“All you have to do is touch the rune and let some of your magic go into it,” Harry told him.

Severus nodded again and Harry watched the man follow his instructions, reaching out to touch the rune for a few seconds. He watched curiously as the painting changed again. Lime green flowed through the shackles’ cracks before extending up the left arm, the glittering green threads slithering around until they formed a familiar shape: the Dark Mark. Harry tilted his head slightly as he watched, a pang hitting his heart. After a few seconds, the green mark faded and the cracks in the shackles grew larger, deeper, but when the green glow pulsed and disappeared, the shackles remained around the wrists before the painting returned to normal. Harry frowned slightly, unsure how he felt about what he’d seen.

“Shall we continue?” Severus offered quietly, clearly wanting to pass by the moment.

Harry nodded, erasing his frown, and they resumed walking in a comfortable silence, glancing at paintings as they passed. They murmured comments to each other about paintings as they sipped their wine and walked close enough that their arms kept brushing, the light touching of their fingers sending bursts of tingling warmth through Harry’s body.

When they stopped at a painting called ‘Discovery’ where, for Harry, it depicted a whirlwind of white envelopes beneath a pink umbrella, Harry laughed as he explained the assault Privet Drive had experienced by the hundreds of owls attempting to deliver his Hogwarts letter and the subsequent island visit by Hagrid. They were both chuckling even when, for Severus, it depicted a pink camellia-type flower blooming and drifting down the canvas as though on a gentle breeze, clearly a depiction of the moment Severus had met Lily, discovering she was a witch.

They left the painting, sobering as they came to another called ‘Lost and Found’.

It was a sideview of a door with two black silhouettes leaning against either side, one with their head tilted up and one with their head bowed. Harry touched the rune on the side of the door and they watched it glow gold, the threads they’d seen several times now stretching out from the rune and dancing around each figure. They morphed, both becoming men, one with messy hair and one with long straight hair, and they moved, heads looking straight ahead before they turned to face the door. Gazing at the door, they both placed a palm against it and the golden threads dancing around them glowed brightly beneath their palms, merging together ever so slightly. As it did, the magical strands left the painting and began twirling around their hands not holding their wine. Curiously, Harry felt compelled to raise his hand, palm towards Severus, only to find Severus’ hand had risen as well, their palms nearly touching. Just like the painting, the golden magic glowed brightly between their palms and the warm tingling in Harry’s body increased while his heart pounded a little harder.

When the magic finally disappeared, Harry almost didn’t notice, gaze locked on their hands before sliding up to meet Severus’ dark ones that gazed back at him. They stared at each other for a long while, something in the air between them heavy, but remaining unspoken. Then, it was as though Harry came back to himself and he realized they were still just standing there. He flushed and dropped his hand, clearing his throat as his eyes darted around.

“Right, um,” Harry said awkwardly, searching for something to say to get through the moment. “They’re all based on emotions and experiences, obviously, since that’s how magic works…it’s based in emotion.”

“Yes, it is,” Severus murmured.

“Um, let…let me show you my favourite. It’s always part of the gallery,” Harry said, needing to move on, and he led Severus to a painting labelled ‘See Me’ that hung on one of the short, free-standing walls in the middle of the open space, taking a large drink of his wine.

It was, again, the back of a black silhouette facing what seemed to be mirrors that repeated again and again, getting smaller. The reflection was blurred and became nothing more than a pool of colours by the last. Severus came to stand next to him, arms brushing again. Harry swallowed against the warmth the touch continued to cause and reached out to touch the rune that sat in the centre of the silhouette’s back, on its chest in the reflections. Like the others, the rune glowed and gold threads slithered out of it, dancing over the reflections which blurred even more, moving like gentle waves of colour.

“So,” Severus said quietly. “Will you tell me?”

“Guess that’s the whole point of tonight, huh?” Harry replied with a half-smile, continuing to watch the painting and trying not to react when their pinkies touched, seemingly purposefully. He sighed and finished off his last gulp of wine, keeping his eyes on the painting. “I think I want what anyone wants in another person. Someone to listen, someone to understand, someone to care, someone to just…be there.”

Severus said nothing, just waiting for Harry to continue, though their fingers did brush each other again, nearly making Harry’s breath hitch.

“Thing is, in general, I’m not sure I’ll get what I want.”

“Which is?” Severus asked softly.

Harry paused, tapping his empty wineglass as his heart squeezed lightly, but painfully. “To be happy.”

It was quiet following Harry’s admission, but fingers soon threaded through his and he looked down, surprised, before meeting Severus’ eyes questioningly, finding them watching him gently.

“And how does one make Harry Potter happy?”

Harry looked down at their joined hands again. “I’ve not meant a lot to many people and I’ve got a lot of issues from the war and everything else so I don’t expect to matter, but I…I want to. I’d like to matter to someone.” He chewed his cheek. “I’ve been a lot of things, but I really just want to be Harry. I just want to be seen as Harry. I want someone to see me.”

“Is that all?”

Harry’s eyes slid back up to Severus at the quiet question, unthinkingly turning to face the man completely when his hand was tugged ever so lightly, nearly bringing their chests together. Warmth was washing through Harry, his wrist was tingling, and his heart was pounding.

“I think I can manage that,” Severus murmured, dark eyes gazing deep into Harry’s green.

Harry’s head tilted slightly, something flowing through him. “It’s seemed to be pretty difficult for most people.”

They were nearly whispering at this point, still gazing at each other.

“I am not most people,” Severus said.

Harry’s head tilted further. “No, you’re not.”

Harry absently levitated his wineglass to free his hand, lifting it to tuck the loose strand of hair behind Severus’ ear without thinking.

“I like your hair like this,” he muttered.

Severus’ head mirrored Harry’s tilt as he also levitated his glass, raising his hand and curling his fingers against Harry’s cheek, thumb lightly brushing across his cheekbone. They stood like that, gazing at each other longer than Harry knew. Everything ceased to exist around them as they shared…something. Harry didn’t know what it was, what was happening, but there was something…it was something.

It was a moment, something that was theirs.

It was…something.

Chapter Text

Stage 2: Wants & Expectations – Date 7

Harry groaned as he threw his arm across the bed, every muscle being used protesting as he felt around blindly until his fingers smacked the end table. He hooked his fingers in the handle and pulled, the drawer sliding open, and he dropped his hand into the open drawer, once again feeling around blindly. When he finally felt the glass, he fumbled until he managed to catch the vial awkwardly between two fingers and pulled it from the drawer, his hand falling heavily onto his chest for a couple long minutes as deep exhaustion radiated through his muscles.

“Today of all days,” he mumbled to himself.

He dragged the arm he’d had draped over his eyes off to pull the stopper from the vial and tipped the potion into his mouth, grimacing. He dropped the vial, cringing when it bounced off the bed and clattered on the floor. He dropped his arm back over his eyes and took slow, deep breaths as he waited for the potion to kick in despite knowing it probably wouldn’t, as usual.

He laid there in the dark and silence though he could swear he could hear the air thrumming. Even his own heart beating and blood flowing seemed to echo in his ears, making the pain in his head continue to increase.

When the clock downstairs began to loudly ring out eleven o’clock, Harry groaned again and tears sprung to his eyes. He lifted his arm just enough to wave his hand and stop the dong of the clock, giving him mild relief as the ghost of the sounded continued resonating in his skull. He was free of the noise for only a few minutes, as, within seconds it seemed like, voices were suddenly calling up the stairs and knocks were rattling the front door

“Harry?” Ron called loudly from downstairs, multiple others voices surrounding his. “You here, mate?”

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy shouted in the way only a child could.

Harry cringed again at the loud voices. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I’m here! I’m coming!” He groaned as his own voice bounced around his head.

Footsteps and voices filled his downstairs, floating up to him as though there were no walls or doors or distance of any kind separating him from the noise. Harry grit his teeth and flung an arm out again to dig in his still-open end table, finding another potion. He was just popping the cork out when there was a light knock on his bedroom door.

“Yeah?” Harry said, his voice gravelly. Even with his eyes closed and an arm over them, the light that streamed into the room made him hiss and wince.

“Hey, you okay?” Ron asked, his voice low.

Harry quickly threw back the second potion. “Yeah, just a headache.”

“We both know it’s not,” Ron argued gently and knowingly. “When did it start?”

Harry sighed. Ron had always been good at knowing when something was wrong, like when a migraine attack was coming on. “Last night.”

“Gonna be okay?”

“Teddy’s birthday so I’m gonna have to be,” Harry said, forcing himself not to mumble incoherently. “I took two potions. I’ll manage.”

“Don’t you have a date with Snape tonight?” Ron asked and Harry groaned again, rubbing his eyes aggressively.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled and finally pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He felt the concerned and exasperated stare Ron was sending him, but he ignored it as he pushed through the body stiffness and head pain that was just waiting to worsen. “Alright, let’s go. Got a godson to celebrate.”

“Harry—”

“I’m fine, really,” Harry interrupted, fighting not to react as he passed Ron to step into the corridor where he was assaulted by light and the noise of all his guests downstairs.

“Bloody hell,” Ron huffed beside him from the bedroom doorway. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Because I won’t let him think I forgot about him or don’t care about him or that I’m not there for him,” Harry snapped, immediately regretting his loud, sharp tone.

“What are you talking about?” Ron frowned. “No one would ever think that, especially not Teddy.”

“I just…I can’t…” Harry said, hands curling into fists. “I won’t waste people’s time, not after everything they’ve been through.”

“And what about what you went through?” Ron argued. “I think that deserves a little bit of leeway too.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry replied shortly. “Let’s go.”

Still feeling Ron’s eyes boring into his back, Harry took a deep breath and headed downstairs, the noise growing louder and louder, making him grind his teeth. He stepped off the staircase into the long foyer with the front door to his right and the arched opening to the sitting room to his left. He could see people milling around through the archway and loud conversations drifted out to him. He took a few breaths, gathering the strength he knew he was going to need to put in believable effort and make it through the day, hearing Ron stepping down the stairs behind him. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to join his friends in the sitting room, immediately hit with enthusiastic greetings.

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy cried and Harry caught the now-seven-year-old that threw himself at Harry, making him grunt at the impact and effort of holding his growing godson, legs around his torso and arms around his neck. “It’s my birthday!”

Harry’s eyes fluttered at the pain of Teddy’s voice slamming against his skull, but he quickly masked the reaction with a smile, turning to his godson. “Is it? No, that can’t be right.”

“How come?” Teddy asked, cocking his head innocently and making Harry’s lips twitch.

“Because you’re my little Teddy, but if it’s your birthday, then that means you’re becoming an old man,” Harry told him with false lament.

Teddy giggled. “I’m not old, Uncle Harry! I’m only seven!”

“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said in dramatic realization. “Guess I’ve got little Teddy for a while longer yet.”

“I’ll stay little for you forever if you want me to,” Teddy said with such sincerity, it made Harry’s heart hurt temporarily.

Harry smiled lovingly, brushing his fingers through the blue hair. “Not forever. Just for now.” He kissed the boy’s forehead. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

He let Teddy slide back to the floor, watching him run to Rose and Victoire, and the three instantly took off to race around the house. Harry closed his eyes briefly and took another deep breath as the sound-induced pain radiated through his skull again, everyone’s voices echoing while simultaneously sounding muffled. He flinched when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder and his eyes opened to look at Seamus.

“Let’s get this party goin’, yeah?”

Harry forced himself to smile and nodded.

The day passed in a blur of cooking and conversation while chasing children, all of it engulfed in exhaustion and pain that was quickly morphing into agony. He fought through the constant mingling, the singing, and the presents even as he struggled to remain focused the longer the day lasted. It happened a few times that he found everything tunneling, surrounded by the thrumming waves of pain that seemed to vibrate the air around him and make his skin prickle, each time being dragged back by a concerned Ron.

It was late afternoon when the party started to calm down, everyone arranged around the sitting room with drinks and cake while the kids played on the floor and Harry moved around the connected, open concept kitchen, cleaning. He was washing the dishes without magic, the warm water feeling oddly good, even just on his hands, and keeping him busy enough that he didn’t have to try and participate in the conversations happening a few meters away. He glanced up from the soapy sink absently and saw Teddy’s plate of half-eaten cake on the edge of the rug where he was sat with Rose, Victoire, and Milo. Rolling his neck as pain travelled up and down his spine, bouncing around his head with each pass, he crooked his finger in the water to summon Teddy’s dish, watching it float slowly towards him.

It was a little over halfway when pain suddenly tore through his head and his knees buckled. He gasped, catching himself on the counter only for Teddy’s plate to crash to the floor and the water in the sink to explode upwards, falling all over the counter, floor, and Harry. He vaguely heard surprised shouts and calls of his name, but couldn’t respond, threading his fingers into his hair and clenching them. Bursts of magic during migraine attacks weren’t common, but they happened and he either lost control completely or had no magic at all until the attack was over.

“Bloody hell, what happened?” he heard Draco say.

“Harry?” Hermione called questioningly.

“Uncle Harry? Are you okay?” Teddy asked.

The quiet worry in the little voice had Harry looking up at his godson standing next to him, hands twisting together. Harry’s heart restricted at the look on his godson’s face; he’d never wanted to ever see any kind of fear in Teddy.

“I’m okay, Teddy,” Harry assured. “I just have a bit of a headache.”

“Uncle Harry just needs a nap,” Ron said, kneeling next to Harry and giving Teddy a comforting smile. “Maybe we’ll call it a night, yeah?” he added to all the adults that had come to crowd around the island and Harry.

There was hesitation, but, eventually, there were quiet agreements and everyone began to slowly move. Children were gathered and quiet ‘goodbyes’ were said as the Floo flared and the front door opened. Teddy hugged Harry as Andromeda came over.

“Thank you, Uncle Harry,” he murmured into Harry’s ear. “I hope you feel better.”

“Happy birthday, Teddy,” Harry said quietly, holding Teddy tightly, “and I’ll be okay, promise.”

Teddy squeezed him and left with Andromeda, leaving Harry and Ron alone. Harry dropped his head into his hands.

“I ruined his birthday,” he muttered.

“What? No, you didn’t, that’s ridiculous,” Ron protested. “You need to go to bed. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”

Harry started to shake his head, but stopped at the pain it caused and the nausea he felt. “I can’t. I’ve got my date with Severus.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ron said and Harry dropped a hand, rolling his head on his other to look at his friend, seeing his incredulous expression. “Mate, you gotta cancel.”

“I can’t,” Harry repeated. “He’ll think I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Harry—”

“I’ve already disappointed Teddy, I can’t disappoint Severus too,” Harry interrupted bitterly.

“I think you need to give the man a little credit,” Ron told him. “Remember who we’re talking about here.”

“I am!” Harry shouted, wincing at his own volume. “It’s the man that hated me, died for me, and is now forced into a courtship with me. I need to be worth all of that.”

“Harry, you know none of that is true,” Ron said firmly. “You’re in the middle of a serious migraine. Snape will understand.”

“He won’t. He won’t.” Harry made the mistake of shaking his head again and leaned away from Ron as his stomach rolled violently.

“Alright, come on,” Ron said with a sigh, gently grabbing Harry’s arm and slowly pulling him to his feet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“No.” Harry groaned. Upstairs seemed impossibly far. “Sofa.”

“Sofa it is,” Ron agreed and Harry was dragged around the island, across the open space, and guided down onto the sofa. He brought his hands to press against his eyes, vaguely hearing and feeling Ron around him. He shivered when magic washed over him, feeling his hair dry and his clothes change into soft pajamas, before a light blanket fell over him. “Sorry. I’m just gonna clean up a little and then I’ll go.”

“Severus…I can’t…” Harry struggled to speak as the pain began pulsing on both sides of his head, a harsh, radiating pulse worse than anything he’d been feeling all day.

“I’m gonna write him and tell him you have to reschedule.”

Harry tried to protest, but only managed to release a whimper as the pain intensified.

“He’ll understand, mate, promise. Just relax.”

Harry couldn’t respond even if he wanted to, the pain completely debilitating now. Ron’s movements were muffled by the rushing in his ears, but he managed to hear all the drapes get pulled over the windows, the shattered plate get repaired, and the faucet run.

“Hey,” Ron said quietly. “I’ve put a glass of water and a Pain Reliever on the table. I know they don’t always help, but it’s there. I also wrote Snape.”

Harry let out an upset, frustrated sound.

“I know, but you need to rest until this passes,” Ron told him sympathetically. “I’ll come by in a few hours to see how you’re doing.”

Harry just grunted his acknowledgement.

“Try to get some sleep,” Ron said.

Harry listened to his friend’s footsteps leave the room, just barely hearing the front door open and close. He was left in complete silence though, like earlier, it was as though the silence had a deafening heartbeat, pulsing in time with the agony in his head. Taking a shuddery breath, Harry rolled stiffly onto his side to face the back of the sofa, pulled the blanket up to his nose, and tried to sleep, riding the throbbing waves of pain.

Harry rolled over swiftly and heaved, sick all over the floor. He groaned and whimpered as his skull throbbed, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Easy,” a deep, familiar voice murmured, a hand touching his shoulder as he rolled onto his back. “Here. Sip.”

Glass was held to his lower lip and tilted, cool water trickling into his mouth. Grateful for the hydration, but confused that he apparently had company, Harry forced his eyes open. The sitting room was completely dark and his vision was blurred, but he was still able to spot the figure sitting very near him on the coffee table.

“Severus?” he questioned, the name barely more than a mumble. “What are you doing here?”

“Ronald owled me,” Severus said, keeping his voice low and gentle. There was too much pain and confusion for Harry to even realize Severus had used Ron’s first name. “He said you were unwell and needed to reschedule our date.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, guilt-ridden. “I didn’t want to cancel or cause any trouble. I just needed to rest a little.”

“You are no trouble and I’d say you need more than a little rest,” Severus replied. “Am I correct to assume you suffer from migraines?”

“Yeah, since…since the—”

“Ssh, you do not have to explain, not right now,” Severus said softly. “Do potions help? Have you had any?”

“Sometimes, but not this time,” Harry told him. “I had two this morning.”

“Very well. You rest. I am going to brew a potion that may help.”

“Wait, what?” Harry said, his body jerking making pain shoot through his head. “You’re…what are you doing here?”

“I am going to help you.”

“Why?”

“You asked me to.”

Harry squinted at Severus and frowned at the easy, soft response, not understanding through his pained, fuzzy brain.

“Rest,” Severus murmured. “I will not be far.”

Harry was extraordinarily confused, but could do nothing about it as he was wracked by more throbbing pain splitting his skull and he whimpered once more. A light touch brushing across his cheek was accompanied by a soft, comforting shushing and he just barely felt the tingling in his wrist.

He didn’t hear Severus leave or anything that the man was doing, stuck drowning in the all-encompassing waves of pain. He curled back up on the sofa, all sense of time evaporating, leaving him with absolutely no idea how long he laid there on the edge of sleep while Severus did whatever he was doing. Behind the agony, his confusion over Severus’ presence remained, accompanied by shame for his weakness and guilt for taking Severus’ time after cancelling on the man. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid: being a problem. He’d always been a problem.

Every now and then, Severus would return and help him sip some water before touching him lightly and leaving to continue whatever tasks he’d given himself. Every time, Harry found himself leaning unconsciously into the touch, a warmth filling him and strong enough for him to notice even through the pain.

“Do you think you can try a potion?” Severus asked quietly during one of these check-ins.

Harry just moaned, speech impossible in the pain. Instead of the glass of water he’d come to expect, a ceramic mug was held to his lips and he allowed the contents to be poured into his mouth. It wasn’t great, fairly bitter, but it wasn’t the worst potion he’d ever taken. Severus also followed it up quickly with the water. He sank into the pillow, breathing slowly and deeply.

“It will likely not stop the attack, but it should ease it slightly,” Severus told him.

Harry didn’t say anything, just waiting to see what the potion would do. Eventually, he noticed a change. Instead of pulsing pain, it began to roll instead, more like the prodrome pain he’d experienced earlier in the day. It wasn’t exactly less painful, but it felt less debilitating compared to the throbbing that had sent the pain shooting through his spine and made his head feel like it would explode. He breathed out in mild relief.

“Thank you,” he whispered heartfully.

“Of course,” Severus whispered back. “Just rest now. The potion should help you sleep.”

Fingers brushed his cheek and, between the touch and the potion, he was able to slowly drift off, sinking just below the ongoing waves of pain.

“Thank you for helping him, sir.”

“’Severus’ is fine and it was no trouble.”

The quiet voices helped pull Harry to consciousness. He groaned at the heaviness in his head and body, a deep exhaustion and drained feeling that was sapping his strength and energy. He vaguely heard more muffled conversation and then the sound of his Floo activating. He forced his eyes to slowly slide open and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to clear the heavy haze from his mind. He was still on the sofa in the sitting room which had lightened with the morning, but was still shielded by the closed drapes. A mostly-drunk glass of water was on the coffee table. His eyebrows furrowed when he spotted a black long-coat draped over a nearby chair that also had a blanket bunched beside the arm as though it had been used and left.

When he heard quiet sounds in the kitchen, he pushed himself up with a wince and looked over the back of the sofa. He was surprised—and confused—to see Severus. The man was wearing another shirt similar to the one he’d worn to the gallery a couple weeks earlier, only this one was a deep forest green and its sleeves were rolled up, stopping just before the bottom of the Dark Mark so it remained hidden. He was at the island, preparing what seemed to be plates of food and teacups.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry blinked, having not expected the man to speak and feeling like he hadn’t spoken himself in days. He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of its dryness. “Um, better. Tired. Sore,” he managed to say shortly.

“Typical after a migraine,” Severus said and he left the kitchen, coming to join Harry with a couple teacups in his hands and a couple plates floating behind him. He placed one of the teacups on the coffee table and took one of the plates from the air, holding it out to Harry. Harry sat up further, wincing as he moved to lean against the arm of the sofa, and slowly took the plate, seeing the buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and strawberries. He stared at the food for several seconds, a fog still over his mind, and his periphery caught Severus sitting in the chair with the coat and the blanket.

“Did you stay here all night?” Harry asked bluntly, glancing at the blanket that had been moved to hang over the sofa arm.

“I did,” Severus said casually, gazing at Harry as he bit into a strawberry.

Harry frowned, even more confused. “Why?”

“You required care and you had to cancel our date,” Severus said as though it were the simplest thing.

Which it wasn’t. It was anything but simple in Harry’s brain.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said, guilt making a sharp return. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t ask Ron to do that.”

“I am aware and you’ve no reason to apologize,” Severus replied, sipping from his teacup. “You were unwell. Though, I admit I was surprised to receive word from the Mr. Weasley as I was unaware anyone knew of my identity in your courtship. I was under the impression you did not wish anyone to know.”

“I didn’t. I don’t. He figured it out on his own pretty much right away, before our first date even,” Harry told him, taking a bite of toast and nearly moaning. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “And I really do need to apologize. I…I was fine. I just needed to sleep a little. He shouldn’t have made you cancel our date.”

“Harry, you were in the middle of a severe migraine attack when I arrived. You could not have made it through our date,” Severus said with a small frown.

“I would’ve been fine,” Harry argued weakly, taking another small bite of toast as he gazed at the breakfast.

“Harry,” Severus said and Harry looked up at the man, heart squeezing at the frown on the man’s face, seeing nothing but annoyance…disappointment. “Why would you have put yourself through a date when you knew what was happening?”

Harry dropped his eyes back to his plate, poking at his eggs. “I disappoint people a lot. I have issues and when people have to deal with them, most decide they don’t want to. They decide I’m not worth the trouble and it’s fair, I’m not, really. Plus, I’d already wrecked Teddy’s birthday and I didn’t want to wreck our date too. It’s bad enough we’ve been forced into this. I just don’t want to waste your time.”

“You are not a waste of time and you cannot control when you fall ill. You’ve wrecked nothing,” Severus told him.

Harry almost thought he could hear sincerity, but figured it was just his hazy brain making things up. “You had to cancel whatever you had planned last minute and then you were here when you could’ve been doing something else.”

“There was nothing else that required my attention. You needed help and I was willing to give it. You are not a waste of time,” Severus repeated, the sincerity still there. “Besides, I enjoyed this date as much as the others.”

Harry looked up at Severus again, eyebrows furrowed. “You can’t possibly think this was a date. I was unconscious for the majority of it and you had to take care of me like a child.”

“Or like a partner. Harry, whether we had much in the way of choice in this courtship or not, a partner is what I am striving to be, as are you as we agreed to be honest and truly try to make the courtship successful,” Severus said and Harry was convinced the sincerity he’d thought his brain had created was actually real. Severus meant what he was saying, but…how? How could he possibly mean these things? “How long have you suffered from migraines?”

Harry gazed at Severus for several seconds, feeling more confused than anything. “Since the war,” he eventually answered. “The first time I got one, I was terrified. I thought I’d failed, that Voldemort was still alive and in my head. Obviously not true, but I was convinced, but turns out the horcrux and everything else that happened just caused some damage that causes migraines at random times. Mostly when I’m stressed or not sleeping, which is a fun combination considering I also struggle to sleep, but they can happen randomly too, like this one.”

“No potions help?”

“Headache Relievers and Pain Relievers do sometimes, but not often.” Harry shrugged. “Have to just wait them out.”

They fell quiet, then, Harry devouring the breakfast Severus had made. As both of them finished, Severus took the dishes to the kitchen and began to wash them without magic. Harry watched him from the sofa for a few minutes before grabbing his teacup and, wrapping the throw blanket around his shoulders, rose to his feet. He winced at the continuing stiffness in his body, shuffling over to the kitchen. He slid onto one of the island seats with a small huff of exhaustion and watched Severus, sipping his tea.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly after several minutes and Severus looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry this wasn’t the date you’d planned.”

“It could have been,” Severus replied, a hint of teasing in his tone that made Harry’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “Regardless, I think it ended up being better than what I’d planned.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Harry scoffed, propping his elbows on the island and holding his teacup in front of his mouth.

“A date where I am meant to acknowledge your wants and demonstrate my willingness to meet those needs, your wants which include wanting to simply be worthy of someone’s time and attention, and be taken care of?” Severus said and, drying his hands on a dish towel, he moved to stand in front of Harry and rested his hands on the island, leaning towards Harry who gazed back at him with his beating heart getting just slightly faster. “I believe I got to not only take care of you, but also show you that you are worth my time and attention. A very successful date, in my opinion.”

Harry swallowed thickly, eyes locked on Severus’ dark ones.

“I am sure you’ve had many not appreciate your struggles such as these migraines, but they make you no less worthy. You are worth any trouble you believe they bring,” Severus continued, his voice dropping. “You’ve always been worth the trouble.”

Harry just stared at Severus over his teacup, heart beating hard. He had no response; there was nothing he could possibly say. His wrist tingled as they gazed at each other and he was filled with that swirling warmth again, feeling something ease deep within him.

Chapter Text

Stage 3: Flirtation – Date 8

“Coming into Stage 3, you have spent significant time getting to know and understand each other while determining compatibility in terms of meeting wants and needs. You should be considering each other as viable romantic partners and, as such, you must introduce each other to the more personal, private sides of your lives.

In the first two of four total intentional engagements for this stage, each partner will invite the other into a special part of their life in an effort to both reveal a piece of yourself and show your desire to have your partner become a part of your life. A true partnership is only possible if your lives are truly shared.”

Harry put his fountain pen between his teeth as he picked up the codex, his brow furrowing as he compared the codex to the runes in Nostradamus’ journal and his notebook of translations. His eyes darted between the writings, holding the codex next to Nostradamus’ journal while balancing his notebook on his leg, ankle propped on his other knee.

“Wha’ the hu…” he muttered unintelligibly to himself around his pen, shaking the hair out of his eyes as the light breeze brushed around him, fluttering his hair.

“Where was this focus when you were a student?”

Harry’s eyes flickered up over the codex at the voice, finding Severus standing in front of him, his long-coat unbuttoned, flapping just slightly in the wind, and coffees in his hands. Harry narrowed his eyes at the small smirk he could see on the man’s lips and dropped the codex to his lap, taking the pen from his mouth.

“On the psychopath trying to kill me,” he replied deadpanned and Severus gave a short, small chuckle.

Severus moved to sit next to him on the bench and held out one of the cups he held. “Fair enough.”

Harry gave a lopsided smile as he took the offered coffee, taking a quick sip.

“What are you working on?” Severus asked casually.

Taking another drink, Harry held up Nostradamus’ journal from where it had been stacked on the codex and his notebook. “I’ve managed to match a couple of the runes on the mask to runes on multiple pages of Nostradamus’ journal so I’ve been working on translating for weeks now.”

“Based on your expression when I arrived, I assume the task has proven challenging?” Severus said, leaning back on the bench to drape his arm along the back behind Harry while crossing his legs and holding his coffee in his lap as he looked at Harry curiously.

“Very.” Harry nodded. “Between the wear and the fact that he seemed to use some runes that I’ve never seen before, I’m often getting stuck. Meaning, it’s been weeks since I’ve worked with the actual mask.”

“It is still not allowing you near?”

“No. Honestly, if it wasn’t a mask, I’d think it was pouting or throwing a tantrum.” Harry huffed to himself before turning to face Severus better. “What about you? How’s work? Making more progress than me, I hope.”

“I am. I have begun experiment trials utilizing the fairy’s blood you gifted me,” Severus told him with a nod.

Harry gaped at him. “And you’re sitting out here with me?”

“I wished to see you.”

Harry blinked at the blunt reply. “Oh.”

Severus chuckled. “Indeed. Additionally, the potion is simmering for a few hours so I thought I would find you to see how you have been since our last date and there are a couple things I wished to talk to you about.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said, moving his work to the bench beside him and turning to Severus, bringing his leg up to fold across the bench and propping his elbow on the back of the bench. His heart quickened briefly when he realized his movements had them nearly touching, making him think of their last couple interactions that had resulted in various warm touches. He cleared his throat to himself. “What’s up?”

“First, how are you?”

“I’m fine, really,” Harry said, touched by the sincere care in the question. “They suck, but it’s just migraines.”

“Chronic pain of any kind can be difficult to live with,” Severus replied gently. “I know.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to Severus’ covered neck with the tiniest of frowns, wanting to ask.

“Regardless,” he said instead. “I’m alright, promise. I was good as new the next day. Thank you again for being there though. I’m usually alone during them. Ron will pop in if he knows, sometimes Hermione or Luna or even Bill, but often no one knows so I deal with it myself.”

“I am glad you recovered and I was glad to help,” Severus replied. “I have truthfully never enjoyed seeing you in pain and it was more difficult than I expected to witness it again. It was comforting to be able to do something about it this time.”

Harry smiled at him. “It might not have seemed like it back then, but I think you were always able to do something. You were always there in some way.”

Harry’s heart fluttered and his breath caught at the way Severus gazed at him, dark eyes sinking into his, and the man’s hand lifted from the bench to brush the hair that the wind had disturbed out of his eyes, the long fingers caressing his cheek on the way back down.

“You give me far too much credit,” Severus murmured.

Harry smiled again. Severus was just so unaware of the impact he’d had on Harry and something about it was endearing.

“So, what else did you want to talk about?” Harry asked, not wanting to make Severus uncomfortable by pushing that particular topic further.

“The raid my department has been arranging that you wished to participate in,” Severus told him. “Are you available on the twenty-ninth?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed quickly. He’d been looking forward to such field work.

“I recommend also bringing Bill or another team member with combat experience,” Severus continued explaining. “Delaney is anticipating a couple sellers she’s been tracking may become violent due to their available product and temperament.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sure. Bill would be thrilled to come.”

“Lastly, I also believed we should discuss the next stage of our courtship.”

“Right!” Harry said, earning a raised eyebrow at his exuberance. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that too. I was hoping that I could go first. Not only do I need to make up for the last date—”

“I have told you, there is no need. I—”

“Don’t care,” Harry interrupted with a grin when Severus scowled at him half-heartedly. “I have to do something to make up for it. Plus, there’s this…thing happening on a specific day and I want to show you…share it with you.”

“Intriguing,” Severus said, taking a drink of his coffee. “I have no protests to you going first except for your insistence that I require thanks or repayment for taking care of you.”

“I know, it’s a problem of mine, but let me, please?” Harry said, his voice just slightly pleading which gained him narrowed eyes and a sigh.

“Very well,” Severus acquiesced, clearly reluctant to encourage Harry ‘repaying’ him.

“Excellent. Dress for being outside at night,” Harry told him.

Severus sent him a curious and suspicious look. “I hope you know I am only relenting because I very much wish to see what you have deemed worth sharing with me.”

Harry couldn’t help but have a passing thought that it seemed like everything was going to be worth sharing with this particular man.

“You said nothing about international travel,” Severus grumbled as Harry carefully packed the two bags he’d prepared for their date. “How long do you intend us to be gone?”

“Just a few hours,” Harry said, “but there’s a pretty big time difference.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed at him. “Where are you bringing us?”

Harry grinned. “You’ll see.”

Harry found he was feeling both excited and anxious. He was excited to show this event to Severus and also just be with the man. It seemed he wanted more and more to spend time with Severus, looking forward to each moment more since their gallery date and especially since the last despite it only occurring a few days earlier. Some part of him wanted nothing more than to be with Severus, talking, bantering, and feeling that warmth that he was certain had nothing to do with the bond between them growing a new magic.

He was also nervous though. It wasn’t just the event he wanted to share with Severus, it was also them and the idea of doing so was anxiety-inducing. He didn’t want to make Severus uncomfortable and this was something no one knew he did. It was something he’d done in the early days following the war during all those nights that were even more sleepless than they were now, one of the only comforts he’d been able to find amongst all that haunted him. He’d held onto them, especially as he’d learned more through their association with runes, but he’d still kept them to himself, never wanting to share what he’d found because, for once, something was his and he wasn’t sure anyone would really understand.

Until now.

He glanced over at Severus, the man patiently waiting for him to finish and take them away. Even though a part of him was worried about sharing this part of his life with anyone, in some ways especially Severus because of their past, Severus’ past, something was telling him Severus was the one to share it with.

He smiled to himself and turned back to the bag he was packing, threading the straps through the buckles to close the top. Satisfied, he held one out to Severus who took it questioningly.

“Right,” Harry said, glancing at the clock on the wall to confirm the time and grabbed the crushed, deformed brass candle holder sat on his dining table. “Time to go.”

He led the way outside, passing them through his wards so the Portkey would work. He checked the time again on his watch and held out the candle holder, smiling when Severus took it. Less than a minute later, they were tugged away, spinning across the world. Seconds later, their feet hit the ground and, despite his frequent use of Portkeys, Harry still stumbled and would have fallen had Severus’ arm not caught him around the chest.

“Considering your skill on a broom and the battlefield, I am surprised balance remains a skill you’ve yet to master,” Severus said dryly as he steadied Harry who rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got no explanation so shut up,” Harry retorted and Severus chuckled.

“Now, where are we and why is it pitch black?” Severus asked, gazing around and Harry did the same as the man pulled his wand, lighting it. They were standing in the middle of a large, open expanse of land, nothing around except grass and likely trees, hills, and mountains in the distance they couldn’t see through the dark.

“Rural northern New Zealand,” Harry answered, “and it’s dark because it’s about three in the morning here,” he added, pulling his bag off his back and crouching to dig through it.

“What on earth could possibly be in rural New Zealand?” Severus wondered.

“I’ll explain, but it has little to do with New Zealand itself,” Harry told him and began pulling things out of his bag. “Mind resizing these and setting them out?”

He handed the shrunken beach-type chairs to Severus who quickly did as requested while Harry resized a blanket that he spread across the grass next to the chairs. He also pulled out and enlarged the lantern he’d brought. They would need light at some point and he didn’t want them having to rely on their wands. He gestured at Severus’ bag and watched the man wave his wand at it, the contents floating out, enlarging, and settling on the blanket, leaving their arrangement of food and drink ready.

“Anything else?” Severus asked.

Harry shook his head and moved to sit at the top of the blanket near the chairs while Severus sat in the chair closest to him. “All set.”

“Meaning you can now tell me why you brought me to rural New Zealand in the middle of the night,” Severus said, extinguishing his wand as Harry wandlessly lit the lantern on the ground between the chairs and the blanket.

“We are going to watch a meteor shower,” Harry said simply.

“I was unaware you had interest in astronomy,” Severus said with slight surprise.

“As an independent subject or to study, I don’t really,” Harry replied. “I’ve learned a lot, though, as a result of runic associations. I…like the stars.”

“You told me to look at the stars after our second date,” Severus recalled and Harry nodded.

“It wasn’t just something to say. I look at the stars a lot,” Harry said, getting closer to his private admission and his nerves growing at the idea of doing so.

“I see,” Severus said, looking at him curiously. “Very well. Tell me about this meteor shower.”

“It’s the Eta Aquarid meteor shower,” Harry explained. “It happens every year and is connected to the Aquarius constellation because it looks like the meteors come from the star Eta Aquarii. It typically peaks in a couple weeks, but with us starting Stage Three, I thought it could be a good date.”

“I am certain it will be remarkable,” Severus said and Harry smiled at the instant faith. “This is something you’ve come to enjoy through your work?”

“Yes and no,” Harry replied. “I learned about this shower through work, but I’ve done a lot of stargazing before that.”

Severus hummed in response, clearly wanting to ask for more, but allowing Harry to set the pace of the conversation.

“We’re not here just for the meteor shower,” Harry admitted eventually. “There’s something else I want to share with you.”

Severus said nothing, gazing at him curiously again. Harry turned away from Severus, looking down at the blanket beneath his feet as he twisted his hands together where they were wrapped around his legs.

“I don’t sleep very well, but it was worse right after the war for quite a while,” Harry began. “I would be awake for hours. I just couldn’t stop seeing everything that happened, everyone that was gone. I couldn’t stay inside because I would feel like I was trapped…somewhere and I’d hear…everything…everyone. So, I started going outside and I would just sit there all night.”

Harry turned his head upwards, gazing at the twinkling stars that were astonishingly bright in the clear, dark sky. He could feel Severus’ gentle eyes on him.

“I watched the stars. They made me feel better somehow,” he continued. “Then, one night, a really bad night, I saw Sirius, the star, and I so badly wanted to talk to someone, I needed to, and I can only talk to my friends so much. Ron and Hermione are amazing, we went through so much together, and they understand a lot, but they can’t understand everything. So, I talked to Sirius.”

His eyes found Sirius quickly and his mouth curved into a small bittersweet smile, remembering both that night and his godfather.

“It was just Sirius for a while and, this didn’t help me sleep, but it helped me get through the nights. He helped me deal with a lot of what was happening at the time and everything I was struggling with. Eventually, I started talking to Remus and my parents too. There’s something I’ve never told anyone about that day going into the forest,” Harry said, eyes locked on Sirius even as they teared ever so slightly as he remembered. “I used the Resurrection Stone and they were all there. I talked to them. They were with me and, talking to them now, talking to the stars, it feels like they’re still here with me, like I’m still talking to them in that forest.”

He paused, clenching his hands together and still feeling Severus watching him.

“No one knows that I talk to them, that I talk to the stars, but I wanted to share them with you,” he said, voice growing quiet as he came to the things causing him anxiety. “I know your history with them is hard and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable bringing them up and I don’t expect you to talk to them or anything, but this is something I do. It might be silly, but I just—”

He was interrupted by Severus sitting next to him, arms pressed together. He jumped at the unexpected touch and his head dropped, eyes finding the man now beside him. The dark eyes were shining with things Harry couldn’t identify, but they held him and he couldn’t look away.

“It is not silly at all and my history has no bearing on this, on them. They are your family, they are a part of you,” Severus told him softly. “They are a comfort to you and I am glad you found such comfort.”

They gazed deep into each other’s eyes, Harry swallowing thickly at the warmth that was beginning to simmer below his skin, wrapping around his heart. His breath caught in his chest.

“Show them to me,” Severus murmured after several long moments where they just gazed at each other and Harry felt his heart squeeze, not with pain or fear, but with…he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was made the warmth wash through him like a strong ocean wave, threatening to overwhelm him.

Pushing through the sensations Severus was causing him to feel, he smiled at the soft request and nodded, turning back to the sky. He pointed out Sirius, tracing the constellation from the bright Dog Star to show Canis Major. They had to turn to find Lupus, the wolf constellation, which he traced again, connecting the stars.

“There’s no specific deer or stag constellation or star, but Cassiopeia is often referred to as the elk, sometimes a stag, so I use it for James,” Harry explained, pointing at the few stars that made Cassiopeia. “For Lily, there was a lily constellation called Lilium back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but the stars are part of the Aries constellation now, so I talk to Aries for Mum. She’s not too far from Dad, see?” He pointed out Aries and then pointed at Cassiopeia again, the constellations separated by Andromeda.

“Always watching over you,” Severus said quietly.

Harry looked away from Aries, back at Severus. “Just like you.”

Their eyes locked again and everything that had been there before returned. Harry wished he could name any of the things he was seeing in Severus’ eyes or feeling within himself. There was something between them and he could feel it getting stronger every time they were together, becoming something always sitting in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t wait to experience again. Something about Severus drew him in and all he wanted was to give into whatever was developing between them.

He didn’t even realize they were leaning towards each other, sharing the same air even as their eyes remained on each other. A cool wind picked up around them, hair being blown into both of their eyes. He reached up without thinking to tuck the thin strands behind Severus’ ear, hand drifting down the side of Severus’ face and neck, fingers dancing over the coat collar. At the same time, Severus’ hand came up and, like at the gallery, his fingers curled against Harry’s cheek, thumb brushing over the skin lightly. They seemed to drift closer and Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from moving, finally flickering away from the dark eyes to the thin lips that were parted ever so slightly. Swallowing, his eyes drifted back up to Severus’, finding the man’s eyes rising as well from where they’d apparently also fallen to Harry’s mouth.

There was no clear thought. Harry wasn’t sure what he was thinking or anticipating or wanting. The moment was just building, heavy around them…

And then they broke it, clearing throats as they pulled away, hands dropping and eyes darting around.

Harry stared out at the horizon he couldn’t see. He couldn’t explain what had just happened nor why he seemed to be breathing heavier or why his heart was pounding so hard. He couldn’t explain what had just built between them, what they had interrupted. He couldn’t even explain why they’d interrupted it.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the atmosphere around them growing more awkward, before Harry eventually stuttered out the suggestion to eat as, glancing at his watch, he found it was dinnertime back in England. Severus just gave a short nod and they started picking at the small spread of food they’d brought, still silent until Severus offered a topic of conversation, asking about the association between runes and astronomy. Harry explained runes and stars and constellations while they ate, the conversation and mood lightening slightly. He found his heart, still beating hard, also flipped when he noticed Severus glancing up at the sky in the direction of his family’s constellations periodically.

A couple hours passed and the start of the meteor shower approached. Harry laid on the blanket, gazing at the star-filled inky black sky, heart skipping when Severus laid next to him, their arms pressed together again and hands next to each other.

“This is one of my favourite showers,” Harry said as they settled.

“Why is that?”

“It looks like it comes from Aquarius. She’s associated with authenticity and eccentricity and humanitarianism and a lust for life. It all makes me think of them,” Harry explained. “She’s also the one that gives life which they did for me, whether birthing me or saving me. They gave me the life I have, gave their own for me. I guess I just think of them during this shower. I imagine it’s all of them back together, running and dancing across the sky, the way I imagine they would if they were here.”

“You were worth saving,” Severus said quietly and Harry turned his head, surprised at the soft, sincere comment. “Yours is a remarkable life that made it all worth it and I thank you for letting me be a part of this, a part of you.”

“I think you’ve always been a part of me,” Harry murmured.

They stared at each other for a long time, the deep, intense, interrupted moment from before building between them once again. A quick flash of light in his periphery had Harry turning back to the sky, breaking the moment again, just as it was filled with soaring slashes of light that sliced across the darkness. They were silent as they watched the meteors, but Harry found himself extremely aware of Severus next to him, feeling every millimeter they were touching and the warmth coming from the man. Harry’s heart raced when Severus’ hand next to his moved suddenly but slowly, fingers tentatively reaching out before threading through his and pressing their palms firmly together.

“Thank you for sharing them with me,” Severus whispered.

Harry turned to him again. “Thank you for letting me.”

His hand was squeezed and he lost himself in the dark eyes that left the sky to hold his, the darkness above them alight with meteors that looked like the magic and unidentifiable feelings he could feel growing between them.

Chapter Text

Stage 3: Flirtation – Date 9

“You’re on the floor again.”

Harry jolted in surprise at the voice and his eyes opened, finding Ron standing above him, upside down. He furrowed his forehead at his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Seeing if you’re ready to go.”

Harry frowned. “Go where?”

Ron arched an eyebrow. “Quidditch, mate,” he said. “The boys are heading to the field now, but you’re here laying on your floor.”

Harry sighed at the reminder of what had been planned for that day, having completely forgotten in the days following his meteor shower date with Severus. He’d felt completely off-balance since the moments they’d shared that night. He moved his eyes to the ceiling just past Ron’s face. “Sure am.”

“Did something happen?” Ron asked curiously.

“No,” Harry said shortly and Ron stared down at him pointedly.

“Did something almost happen?”

“…no?” It came out far slower and more like a question than Harry intended, making Ron huff lightly.

“Right,” Ron said and Harry tracked him with mild confusion as the redhead moved to sit next to him before laying back, feet at Harry’s head. “What’s up?”

Harry chewed his lip as he stared at the ceiling and picked at a fingernail, debating what to say and how to start. “We started Stage Three and I went first so I brought him to watch this thing with me—”

“The meteor shower,” Ron interrupted knowingly and Harry frowned up at the ceiling at the response. “I’d thought the stars would be what you shared with him.”

Harry quickly pushed himself onto his elbows at the comment, frowning deeply at Ron in sheer confusion. “How do you know?”

“That you talk to the stars?” Ron clarified, lifting his head to look at Harry who nodded at his friend. He’d be so sure no one knew what he did with the stars. “You lived at the Burrow for almost a year after the war, mate, and we shared my room. You think I never noticed that you didn’t sleep and sat at the window or went outside instead?”

Harry was stunned. “How do you know I…talk?”

“I heard you one night. I went out to get you because it was cold and you’d been out there for hours. I heard you talking to Sirius, though, so I left you alone,” Ron explained. “Just made sure my room was warm when you came back.”

“You…you never said anything,” Harry said quietly.

Ron pushed himself up onto his own palms so they could look at each other. “It’s not for me, it’s for you,” he said gently. “Your entire life has belonged to someone else in some way. You deserved to have this one thing that helped you be yours alone, something you shared only if you wanted. We’re your family, definitely, but they’re your real family and they can help you in ways we can’t, but they’re also not here. You’ve not had your family like Hermione or I have. You deserve to have them in any way you can without anyone or anything else stepping in.”

Harry’s eyes burned and he let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling, fighting the tears. He couldn’t help but suddenly think about how close he’d come to losing Ron in the war and, if he had, where would he be now? They’d always believed it was Hermione they couldn’t have survived without, but he was coming to realize it was Ron, at least for him. It was Ron that apparently knew him and was not only understanding everything he’d feared no one could ever understand, but was also supporting everything without question. What could he have possibly done to deserve—

“Enough of that,” Ron interrupted, lifting a foot whose shoe had apparently been removed and gently pushing on Harry’s chest, making him lay back down. “Tell me what happened.”

“Right.” Harry swallowed thickly and rubbed his eyes aggressively to end the burn. “I, uh, I’d told him about it, talking to them in the stars, and he asked me to show them to him. I did and we were talking and then we…weren’t. We, uh…I think we almost…”

“Kissed?” Ron offered lightly.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, “but we didn’t. Whatever it was, we…we pulled away and acted like it hadn’t happened. I’m still not sure that’s even what almost happened.”

“I think that’s absolutely what almost happened,” Ron said, sounding amused. “Did you want to kiss him?”

“No!” Harry said quickly only to frown at his own response and as Ron chuckled.

“Okay,” Ron said, drawing the word out with even more clear amusement. “Do you like him?”

“I…don’t know,” Harry admitted uncertainly.

“It’s been three months, mate, you’re allowed to like him by now,” Ron told him. “Would be good for the courtship if you did actually.”

“I know, but…”

He heard Ron sigh and felt his friend move next to him, eyes finding Ron as the redhead sat up and gazed at him.

“You don’t want to like him because you still don’t think he’ll like you outside the courtship,” Ron said knowingly, “but you need to give yourself and him more credit. I know you’ll never do that for yourself, though, so at least do it for him. You’ve found he’s not the same as he was so maybe who you think could never like you is actually the old him. I don’t think they’re the same person.”

“Say that’s all true and he could like me,” Harry said skeptically. “How could I ever be enough for him?”

Ron sighed again. “And here’s where your own credit would really help. I can’t tell you that, but he can and will. You just have to pay attention.”

Harry said nothing, unsure how to respond or what to think. He just couldn’t see or even consider what Ron apparently could.

“Come on, let’s go,” Ron said eventually when it was clear Harry had no response.

Harry nodded, suddenly grateful for the distraction of a Quidditch game. He readied himself quickly, grabbing his broom and other light gear, and left with Ron, the two of them Apparating to the public Quidditch pitch where Draco, Seamus, Dean, George, Lee, and Blaise were already waiting. Getting together to play matches was a monthly occurrence for them, a way for them to spend time together and get away from, first their shared war trauma and then their busy adult lives. Often others like Ginny or Bill or even Fleur joined.

They all split into two teams and quickly started playing. Harry and Draco soared around looking for the Snitch, watching Seamus and Lee battle Blaise and George for the Quaffle while Ron and Dean defended their hoops. Harry cheered anytime Seamus or Lee got a goal and laughed with everyone else at Seamus’ frequent hilarious commentary that had followed from his time as Hogwarts’ commentator.

Harry was greatly enjoying himself as he always did and it remained an effective distraction for at least the majority of the match. However, he eventually found his thoughts drifting back to Severus as he searched for the Snitch. He thought about their last date, how they’d held hands and the way they’d looked at each other. He thought of how he’d felt, how he had been continuously feeling throughout their entire courtship so far, that warmth in his core and the squeezing of his heart. He thought of just how often he thought of Severus now, how often he wanted to be with the man.

It hit him pretty hard, the realization, and he flew over to Ron at their hoops while Seamus and Lee were across the pitch fighting for the Quaffle.

“Hey, Ron.”

Ron turned to him. “Yeah, mate.”

Harry chewed his cheek before voicing his admission. “I think I like him.”

Ron smiled widely at him. “Good, because he likes you too. Now, go get the Snitch.”

Harry looked up at the grey sky as something small hit the top of his head only to flinch when another drop fell directly into his eye. His hand flew up to rub at the new irritation just as the door he stood before opened and he dropped his head to look at Severus out of his other eye. Severus raised an eyebrow at him.

“Rain,” he said simply, pointing to the sky. “Almost makes me miss my glasses.”

Severus chuckled and stepped aside to allow Harry entrance to the townhouse. “I emphatically do not. You look far more grown without them.”

Harry smiled, instantly touched by the subtle compliment. “The rain won’t ruin your plans, I hope. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“We will be outside for some of the time, but we will be mostly sheltered. I hope that is acceptable,” Severus told him.

“Of course. It’s just water and, despite the fact that I do forget it more often than I should, we are wizards,” Harry said with a chuckle.

“You are remarkably clueless sometimes,” Severus teased with a smirk.

“Oi!” Harry protested even as he grinned, amused.

“Yet another endearing quality of yours,” Severus said.

Harry flushed. “Got a couple of those, do I?”

“More than one person has any right to have,” Severus said with a deadpanned yet fond expression.

Harry felt himself grow hot and cleared his throat. “So, um, what’re we doing?”

Severus opened a nearby closet. “I am afraid it is nothing as exciting as your meteor shower. You may find it mundane or possibly even distasteful.”

“I won’t,” Harry assured. “I’d never think that about something you care about.”

Severus turned from the closet and handed Harry one of the two baskets he now held, filled with a few different items. Harry looked at him questioningly.

“Harvesting ingredients?” he guessed.

“I promise I am not just using you for free labour,” Severus said and Harry laughed lightly. “While, yes, harvesting is a part of my job, there is more to it for me and that is what I wish to share with you.”

“Well, something you don’t know is that I like gardening so let’s go,” Harry said, smiling at the man.

Severus gave him a searching look, clearly wondering if Harry was telling the truth. “If you are sure.”

“Hey, even if I wasn’t, it’s important to you and a part of your life, and the whole point of these first stages of the courtship are to get to know each other,” Harry told him. “Show me.”

“Very well,” Severus said. “Come.”

Harry followed the man through the house and to a back door which, stepping through, brought them to an enchanted backyard that wouldn’t exist without magic. It was huge, dozens of types of plants and flowers along the edges with a few large bushels dotting the open space and a few different small trees. At the very back was a large glass greenhouse.

They started across the yard, a light drizzle trickling down on them.

“So, harvesting isn’t something you enjoy because you’ve had to do it for potions?” Harry said, encouraging Severus to begin sharing.

“My mother, actually, though I suppose they became symbiotic interests,” Severus replied and Harry looked at the man, surprised. He’d truly never expected to hear anything about Eileen or Tobias. “There was little my mother was able or, in many cases, willing to do against my father, even for me. However, this was the one thing she did and it became one of the only things we ever did together. I was rarely the focus of anything positive from either of my parents. I am certain my mother had hoped having a child would protect her from my father, but I was, instead, another source of his ire, causing her to resent me.”

Harry reached out without thinking and laced their fingers together. Severus looked at him in surprise and Harry tried to give him a comforting look, earning himself a gentle squeeze that made him smile.

“My mother was able to start growing a few small plants in the kitchen window that she passed as Muggle herbs. She taught me different plants and their uses, how to tend them, and how to harvest them,” Severus said and, releasing Harry’s hand, held open the greenhouse door, allowing Harry to enter ahead of him. Tables and the floor were covered in pots of various plants, and far-reaching vines and ivy crawled along the walls and ceiling, dangling above them. “Tending that tiny garden with her were some of the only moments in which we and that house were not shrouded in abject misery. I suppose it remained a comfort throughout the years.”

Harry gazed around the large greenhouse. “This place is brilliant.”

“I understand this is a part of my work and may be of little interest, especially for a date—”

Harry turned to him. “This is clearly more than just work. You didn’t judge me for talking to my parents in the stars.”

Severus gave him a small frown. “How could I begrudge you their love for you or yours for them?”

“Exactly. How could I begrudge you the same thing?” Harry returned with a gentle smile. “Your mother loved you and this was the one way she showed you that in a harsh situation.”

Severus just looked at him, appearing curious about Harry’s understanding.

Harry reached into his basket and pulled out the available gloves, sliding them on. “Show me what she taught you.”

Severus gave him another searching look before nodding. Harry watched the man swiftly pull his hair back into a hairband and roll his sleeves up to sit just below the Dark Mark before gesturing for Harry to head into the greenhouse to a large pot on one of the long tables.

Harry was sure he’d never paid such close attention to anything related to Herbology as he did during those three and a half hours they spent in that greenhouse. With Severus nearly pressed to his side and back, Harry listened intently to the man’s low voice explaining how to harvest each plant they visited with long, gentle fingers demonstrating. They circled the greenhouse slowly, filling their baskets and electricity sparking through Harry with every touch between them, warmed by every moment their eyes met.

They were harvesting seeds from flowers that apparently liked to tease their tenders by closing their pod around the seed when someone attempted to retrieve it and was doing so repeatedly to Harry, making Severus laugh. The flower would open and flutter its petals, emitting a high-pitched noise that sounded a lot like laughter, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh along with the flower and Severus, thrilled to see such content and happiness in the man. He eventually managed to retrieve the seed and was about to place is carefully into his basket when a vine suddenly reached out from the wall and touched his hand almost curiously, pulling back and fluttering. He watched as it moved again and wrapped gently around his exposed forearm, its leaves and closed buds fluttering again as though it was happy or excited.

“I see the Eye of the Beholder Ivy has found you.”

Harry looked at Severus who had risen from where he’d been crouched on the floor harvesting another plant, and was coming over to Harry and the vine still wrapped happily around his arm. Severus took the seed Harry still held and put it in Harry’s basket before removing his own gloves, looking closely at the vine on Harry’s arm as he did so.

“What is it doing?” Harry asked, looking back at the vine.

“Feeling what you feel,” Severus told him. “When it senses two people, it wants to feel how they feel about each other and themselves. Its flowers will bloom in two sets of two colours that tell how they feel about each other and about themselves. It is meant to be quite beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen its flowers?” Harry asked, looking at him in surprise.

Severus shook his head, raising his hand when another vine began wrapping around it. “I have never harvested with anyone since my mother died.”

Harry was stunned by the admission and its implications, but didn’t get to question it as the vine fluttered around his arm again. He looked back at the vine, watching the buds shudder and then slowly begin to open, revealing rose-like flowers that were a swirl of blush pink and deep red, and lavender and dark blue. Harry gazed at the flowers, entranced and wondering what the colours meant especially when he saw what he thought was disbelief in Severus’ face. After a few minutes, the ivy began to retreat, pulling away from Harry and leaving a single lavender and blue flower in his palm while Severus was left with a pink and red one. The vine seemed to caress him as it pulled away, returning to crawl along the wall, and Harry carefully put his flower in his basket. He’d have to try and find out what its colours meant.

“I believe that is enough for today,” Severus said, voice sounding tight, and Harry saw him also put his colourful flower in his own basket. Severus gathered his tools and they went to the doorway where Harry finally realized it was pouring rain outside, now hearing it pounding on the greenhouse roof. “An umbrella charm?” the man suggested

“Not just yet,” Harry said and, sending Severus a grin, he placed his full basket on the floor and jogged out into the rain. His hair quickly became drenched, falling flat against his head. Rain ran down his face and neck, trickling down his chest as his shirt absorbed the water. He wasn’t sure why, but as he spun in the rain, he felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry turned to Severus. “Sometimes you just need to stand in the rain, don’t you?”

“I can’t say I have ever done so voluntarily.”

Harry walked closer and held out a hand. “Dance in the rain with me?”

“Harry…”

“Come on, you can remind me we’re wizards after.”

Severus eventually reached out to take Harry’s hand and Harry smiled, pulling to drag Severus into the rain that quickly drenched the man. Strands came loose from the hairband and water dripped from them. Rain ran in rivulets down Severus’ face and soaked into the shirt’s high neck. The blueish-grey shirt grew darker and began to cling to the torso beneath, begging to be stared at, which Harry did, blatantly, until Severus tugged on his hand and he found himself spinning. He couldn’t help but laugh giddily as he was twirled, turning his face up to the falling rain. As he was spun again, he was tugged and he found himself being pulled to Severus’ chest. Severus’ face came towards him and his heartbeat sped up, thinking of their night under the stars, and felt his breath catch when lips pressed softly to his damp cheek before the man pulled back to meet his eyes.

“You’re a fool, Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured.

“What can I say?” Harry said. “I’m really enjoying spending time with you.”

“Likewise. Perhaps I am also a fool.”

Harry laughed. “Probably, but that’s okay. It looks good on you.”

Severus smiled and stroked his cheek. “Beautiful fool,” he whispered.

Despite the continuing rain, they just stood and stared, the world falling away to leave them to each other for just those moments. Harry was sure the magic he felt growing in his wrist charged the air and rain around them, and he couldn’t, in that moment, fathom an end.

Chapter Text

Stage 3: Flirtation – Date 10

“In the second part of Stage Three, each partner will have an engagement in which they express what they have come to like about the other. You may demonstrate these things or simply express yourself verbally, as long as you make it clear what you like or admire or are attracted to. This is a key moment in your courtship as you must reflect on what you have learned about your partner and what you appreciate about them. This is where you reflect on the direction and progress of your courtship.

Please note that intimate touches such as kissing is allowed at this stage, but nothing more and no sexual activity is permitted.”

“Thanks for this, Neville,” Harry said as he took the book and glass sphere from his friend, briefly examining his lavender and blue flower inside.

“Of course,” Neville said and Harry looked back at him when he heard the strange, subtle tightness in the other man’s voice, finding Neville’s lips pressed together and his eyes flickering between Harry and the flower. “You’re okay, right? Everything’s okay?”

Based on the reaction from the Herbologist, Harry could only imagine what his coloured flower meant, making him sigh quietly.

“I’m fine, promise,” Harry told him.

Neville didn’t look convinced. “You know we all love you, right? You don’t…you don’t owe us or anyone else anything.”

Harry’s stomach twisted slightly, getting an idea of what his flower could have told both Neville and Severus.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replied. “I’m fine, really, Nev.”

“Right,” Neville said, still clearly skeptical. “Um, I’m glad your courtship is going well.”

Harry looked at him curiously and his former housemate just gestured to the flower in his hand, making him realize Neville was likely referring to the second colour on its petals.

“Yeah, it is,” Harry confirmed. “Thanks again for this.”

“Anytime.”

They bid goodbye, though Neville seemed hesitant to leave, and Harry closed his door before turning to go to his little joint study and library. He sat at his dark wood table, moving aside some files and documents to place the book from Neville before holding up the glass sphere to look at it. Turning it slowly back and forth, he gazed at the flower inside, forever preserved. The light from the drop light above him would catch the rounded glass in particular ways every now and then, making the flower seem like it was glowing as the blue and lavender colours blended together.

He eventually put the sphere down at the top of his desk and opened Neville’s book to the page that had been marked. At the top of the page, ‘Eye of the Beholder Ivy’ was written in large, bold font followed by a few paragraphs explaining its etymology, its natural origins, a brief overview of rearing needs, and an explanation of how it acts. Below the paragraphs were a couple of columns made of dozens of bullet points that continued across the next couple of pages, each with a colour and short phrase.

Harry began to skim the first page of the list, not needing to go far before he came across the ‘blue’ entry. There were a few blues, various shades with various meanings, and he glanced at his flower again to match its colour to the little circles next to the entries. Finding his blue matched more closely to navy blue, he read the short explanation and sighed.

Navy blue: represents a feeling of unworthiness

No wonder Neville had been concerned.

His stomach twisted again as he read the entry a second time, chewing his lip. Apparently, this ivy was accurate. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel relieved or not.

Pushing through the light shining on his deep-seated emotions, he continued through the list, finding the ‘scarlet red’ entry which made him frown even more. In the neighbouring column, he found the ‘cherry blossom pink’ entry which helped to ease the heaviness that had fallen over him.

Cherry blossom pink: represents a feeling of affection

Smiling as he thought of Severus, warmth replacing the heavy cold, he had just found the entry for ‘lavender’ when the ringing of his Floo interrupted him. Leaving the book and his flower on his study desk, Harry walked to his sitting room and found Draco’s name on the metal plaque on the front of the mantle above the fireplace. He waved his hand at the fireplace to open the call.

“Hey, Draco, what’s up?”

“Are you free?” Draco asked, voice coming through the flames. “I could use some help with restock. Everyone else is busy.”

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be right over,” Harry replied and, with a quick ‘thanks’, closed the Floo as the call ended.

Walking to the front door, he grabbed his spring jacket from the hook it was hanging on and left his house, pulling on his jacket as he crossed his wards to the Apparation point. He spun sharply, travelling to Muggle London where he passed through the Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley. He made his way through the busy town, turning down a quiet alley to Draco’s shop.

While Luna had joined Harry at the Ministry, Draco had studied wandlore a couple of years after the war and eventually opened a small shop for specialty, custom wands that helped amplify an individual’s magic, ensuring even those who had naturally weaker magic or had lost power due to Voldemort could continue to function magically. He’d told Harry once that he’d felt like he had to do something to make up for all he’d done, having unintentionally and indirectly helped Voldemort break their world’s magic, and had eventually decided he would help people be able to use whatever existing magic they still had. He hadn’t thought it fair he still had so much magic and others virtually none after all he’d done.

Harry pushed the door open, absently noting the ‘Closed’ sign. Inside, he was in a small, but open space, a counter to his left with a closed door behind it, a few wooden shelves to his right, a spiral iron staircase in the back-left corner partially concealed by the small shelves, and a pile of about a dozen cardboard and wooden boxes across the space from the front door. Draco was temporarily absent, descending the staircase moments later.

“Hey, thanks for helping me out with this,” Draco said, approaching Harry at the front of the shop.

“No problem,” Harry said, pulling off his light jacket and tossing it on the front counter, absently pulling down his three-quarter raglan sleeve that had rolled up. “Probably best I don’t spend the entire weekend at home.”

Draco looked at him curiously as they both grabbed a box from the pile and moved to the shelves to replenish the stock. His shop didn’t have a large stock since he operated purely by reserved consultations, just enough wood types, core materials, and other items or substances to grab from for an order or to bring a customer through to test for compatibility.

“Something happen?” Draco asked casually.

“No, not really,” Harry said, shaking his head as he opened his box to see large vials and Draco gestured for him to go to the other side of the shelves. “I have been meaning to talk to you actually.”

“About me and Luna?” Draco guessed and Harry looked at him questioningly over his shoulder just as he was about to round the shelves. Draco gave a half-smile. “Luna said you might want to because of your courtship.”

Harry sighed, continuing on to find the correct shelf for his vials. “She knows who it is, doesn’t she?”

Draco snorted. “Of course she does.”

“And she told you?”

“No, but I figured it out,” Draco told him. “Anyone else know?”

“Just Ron. He figured it out right away too,” Harry said, ending his levitation to place his box back on the floor in front of the correct shelf.

“Not Hermione?”

“Apparently not. Not that she’s said anyway.”

“Hm, surprising,” Draco mused. “So, what do you want to know?”

Harry paused for several minutes, considering what it was he wanted to know as he carefully pulled the vials of various core materials out of the box and balanced them in the empty shelf holes. “When you were matched with Luna, you didn’t like her, right?”

“No, not at all. It took a while to fully escape my father,” Draco admitted.

While he had known how Draco had initially felt, the response still made Harry frown. “Why did you agree to the courtship if you didn’t like her?”

“Honestly? For me and my father. I wanted to prove he was wrong and I was better than what I’d been up to that point. I’d fully intended to, at the end of the courtship, go to my father and tell him what I’d done.”

“Did you?”

“I did, but it was to tell him I’d fallen in love with her instead of telling him I’d courted her to spite him,” Draco said, tone a strange mixture of false annoyance and amusement. “Sure, that’s how it started, but I realized that just made me more like him, doing something just to prove someone else was wrong, that I’m better. I eventually realized I did want to prove I was better, but not better than him. I wanted to be better than me and better for her.”

Harry sent his empty box to sit in front of the counter, stepping out from the shelves to carefully summon another box. “When did you realize you were falling for her?” he asked, glancing at Draco on the other side of his shelf.

“At the memorial gala, so about seven months in. I’m sure it had been happening far longer than that, I just didn’t want to admit it,” Draco explained, pointing at the shelf next to him when Harry opened his newest box to reveal wood samples. “I’d stepped out, went outside to get drunk because I figured no one cared I was there. I was sure no one would even notice I was gone, but then she came out and found me. She said she’d been looking for me and wanted to dance. When I told her that she didn’t have to be stuck to me, that she could spend the night with all of you, she sat on the ground, in her dress and everything, and just stayed there. She said she’d made it through the war with friends while I’d made it through alone and she wanted me to know I didn’t have to stay alone. I just couldn’t believe she’d noticed I was gone or any of that and she cared. I was gone after that.”

Harry smiled lightly, remembering that fourth memorial gala when he’d witnessed Draco and Luna dancing for the first time. He remembered how happy Luna had been and how nervous Draco had seemed. He supposed Draco’s story explained why; he’d been falling in love.

“When you started liking her, did you ever wonder if you were good enough for her?” Harry wondered, placing the wooden squares in the small, metal holders.

Draco gave him a deadpanned stare. “Do you remember how I treated her? Do you remember what happened to her in my house? You think I didn’t hear what the Death Eaters did to her and I did nothing? Of course I didn’t think I was good enough for her. How could I be?”

Harry winced, his stomach twisting again as memories of that final year of the war flashed through his mind.

“I get why you’d feel the same way about Severus, but I can guarantee he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you either,” Draco continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s sudden, but brief trauma revival. Harry blinked away the memories and turned to Draco, frowning slightly in confusion. “The one thing I learned from being with Luna is we don’t get to decide if we’re enough for someone. You don’t get to decide you’re not enough for him, but you get to decide he’s enough for you.”

Harry said nothing, unsure how to comprehend what Draco was telling him.

Draco sighed, turning to face Harry fully. “Look, I know your past with Severus is way messier and more complicated than mine with Luna, but that past isn’t everything. We all did terrible things, did what we thought was right or what we thought we had to, but none of that defines us, not to those who think we’re worth more than what war made us.”

Harry dropped his eyes to the wood square he was holding, tapping a thumb on its surface. “How did you get through your courtship when you were falling for her, but you didn’t think she’d ever feel the same?”

“I decided to be better for her whether she’d want me or not. She made me want to be better,” Draco said with a shrug, turning back to the shelf he was stocking. “In a lot of ways, I guess the courtship was still for me more than anything.”

Harry raised his eyes to Draco again just as the blonde stopped stocking and, propping an elbow on the shelf, turned to Harry, gazing at Harry understandingly and knowingly.

“Thing is,” Draco said, “with you two, because of what you’ve been through, because of the things you had to do, because of what you still live with even now, you’ll never think you’re good enough for each other or anyone, but, like I said, you don’t get to make that choice.”

Harry held out the glass of wine to Severus who took it with quiet thanks and dropped onto the sofa next to the man, pulling one leg up to fold across the cushions as he faced Severus. His knee brushed Severus’ hip, the light touch immediately igniting the spark that occurred with any contact between them.

“Your cooking skills continue to surprise me,” Severus praised, holding his glass on his crossed legs. “Dinner was remarkable.”

“It was just pasta,” Harry dismissed, sipping his wine.

“And you make something simple delicious,” Severus argued good-naturedly.

Harry gave a small smile. “Well, thank you.”

“I confess I remain curious how you acquired such skill, particularly given your comment that you learned young,” Severus said, casual tone a direct contrast to the topic and expression.

Harry sighed, propping his elbow on the back of the sofa and leaning his head against his fist as he gazed at Severus. “Is that really what you want to talk about on a date?”

“I spent years believing the worst of you in spite of what I saw in our Occlumency lessons, blinding myself to what should have been obvious,” Severus replied, frowning at himself. “I do not want to continue under any of my imposed misconceptions.”

“I’ve told you my relatives weren’t kind to me, that I was neglected,” Harry told him, gently swirling his wine. “Is that not enough? I don’t blame you or hold anything from Hogwarts against you.”

“Harry,” Severus said softly. “Tell me.”

Harry gazed at the other man, tapping his finger against his wineglass. He sighed again, giving into whatever it was Severus needed from him. “Let’s just say I cooked more than I ate growing up. Food was used as a common punishment, among other things.”

Severus looked stricken and Harry dropped his arm from the sofa to reach out, grasping Severus’ hand.

“Hey, I survived them, just like you survived your father,” Harry assured. “They’re not important anymore. They took enough of our lives. Don’t let them take this.”

“I should have known. I should have—”

Harry shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t know. Even if you had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I had to stay there and we had to be what we were or we never would have won,” he said. “If you’d known, maybe we wouldn’t be here. You’ve said it yourself, everything happened the way it was meant to.” He threaded his and Severus’ fingers together.

“I added to your pain,” Severus whispered.

“And I added to yours, no matter how indirectly,” Harry replied, his mind quickly going to his study. He levitated his half-drunk wine to the coffee table before waving his hand to summon the flower from the Eye of the Beholder Ivy. The glass sphere floated into the room from his study and settled in his hand. He gazed at it for a moment. “I looked up what the colours mean. Yours was red and pink: shame and affection. Since I’m supposed to tell you what I like or admire about you for this date, this seems like a good place to start.”

He sent his flower to sit on the coffee table with his wine and looked back at Severus.

“I can imagine everything you are ashamed of,” Harry said gently, “but you shouldn’t because there are so many things I admire about you, so many things from even before this.”

Severus looked at him skeptically, tension in his body obvious.

“Even as a kid, even when I hated you, I admired your intelligence. You were clearly a genius at everything. I admired your strength and power. I admired your passion. That first class, I wrote down your speech. I had to remember the words because you were so passionate about them. And then you gave me your memories and I learned the truth,” Harry told him, flooding himself with warmth as he thought of all these things. “And I admired your devotion…to Lily, to Dumbledore, to me. You gave us all a level of devotion we never appreciated, devotion we didn’t deserve. But, above all, I admired your bravery, your ability to stand between Voldemort and Dumbledore despite the danger, the ability to choose to give up your life for me when I’d done nothing but make you miserable and believing you’d be forgotten. I never would have forgiven myself if you’d died, but I also never would have forgotten you. I’ve never forgotten what you did. You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever know.”

“I…I only turned on Voldemort because he targeted Lily. I likely would have remained a Death Eater had he not done so,” Severus protested quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. You did change. We all make mistakes and bad decisions, and we often only realize or change when we’re confronted directly by them. What matters is that you did change and you tried to make things right. Admitting you were wrong and trying to do what’s right when no one believed in you or trusted you is brave,” Harry replied earnestly. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are, of what you’ve done, because you’ve at least tried to be better, regardless of the reason, which is more than most people can say.”

Severus’ skepticism was fading into tentative astonishment, making Harry smile ever so slightly, softly.

“Luckily for me, you survived—”

“Because of you,” Severus interrupted quietly, squeezing their joined hands and making Harry’s smile grow with that affection symbolized in Severus’ flower.

“You survived,” Harry continued, “and we’re here which has let me discover what I like about you. I didn’t have to settle with just distant admiration.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“I like your wit and sarcasm. You make me laugh. I like when you tie your hair back. I like your passion. That one became more than admiration. I like your hands. I like that you don’t believe me because it means I can keep repeating it until you do. I really like your voice. I like how well you understand what I need,” Harry listed, watching the wonder sparkle behind the darkness of Severus’ eyes. “And I like the way you look at me. I like the way you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?” Severus murmured, eyes locked together.

“Seen,” Harry murmured back, feeling like he was sinking while warmth swirled inside him. “Like I’m worth something.”

“You are worth everything,” Severus whispered with an emphasis Harry didn’t think could exist in a whisper. “You know what the lavender means?”

Harry glanced over at his flower, immediately understanding what Severus was referring to. “Beauty.”

Fingers curled around his chin and pulled his gaze back to Severus. “You are worthy and you are beautiful.”

“So are you,” Harry breathed.

And as Severus’ lips pressed against his, Harry’s eyes fell shut and the magic buzzing in his wrist leaked out, twirling and dancing around them while warming the air.

Chapter Text

Stage 3: Flirtation – Date 11

“We kissed.”

Harry resolutely kept his gaze on Rose as she and Teddy ran around the yard, laughing and shouting giddily, but his periphery still caught the way Ron’s left eye opened and the ginger head turned to him.

“Oh?” the redhead responded lightly.

“He said I was beautiful.”

“Okay,” Ron said, just as light and slow.

“He’s asked me to his place tonight for his second Stage Three date.”

“Right.” Ron was sounding more bemused now.

“Our new magic released a bit.”

“Really? Already?” Ron said, sounding surprised. “That’s extraordinarily early.”

Harry finally turned to his friend with a small frown. How was that what Ron thought was the thing to focus on?

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you want me to say, mate?” he asked. “Nothing you’ve told me seems like a bad thing, but apparently I’m wrong.”

Harry looked back out at the kids, forehead furrowed in his frown. “I like him.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem.”

Harry turned a small glare that was also half pleading on his friend. “Ron, I like him.”

“Yeah, I know, and he clearly likes you, so…”

“For how long?” Harry muttered, gazing out at the yard with his eyes low on the grass. “He’ll remember he was forced into this and has other matches. My life, who I am, will invade his life and he won’t want to deal with it. People will find out and harass him. He’ll remember and realize…”

“Realize what?”

“That he was wrong. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron sit up straighter and forward, feeling the eyes on him.

“What is that?”

Harry looked at Ron, frowning in confusion at the question. “What do you mean?”

“The way you’ve been talking about yourself, that you’re not ‘worth the trouble’,” Ron said, his own eyes narrowing as his gaze turned searching. “What is that?”

Harry dropped his eyes to his hands, folded together in his lap. He didn’t know what to say. How did he explain what Ron must know, that the world had been through so much because of him and he couldn’t be that burden again? He’d been nothing but trouble and inconvenience and even danger to everyone that had ever met him. Surely Ron remembered everything he’d been through because of Harry and could understand all Harry had done to Severus.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered. “That fucking war.”

Harry’s eyebrows jumped. Ron swore, certainly, but not often like that. 

He glanced over at Ron, finding his friend had slumped back in his chair and was shaking his head.

“Well, am I wrong?” he said when Ron didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

“Yes!” Ron said loudly, head whipping around to him. “One hundred percent yes, you prat!”

“You can’t possibly believe that, after everything you—“

“You shut up and listen to me,” Ron interrupted sharply, stunning Harry with his aggression. “You were a kid. We were kids. You didn’t cause anything. Everything we went through was because you were our friend, because we chose to be your friend. We chose. We could have not been your friend and I did a damn good impression of not wanting to be a few times, yet what happened each time?”

Harry just looked at him, at a complete loss for words in the face of Ron’s speech.

“I. Came. Back,” Ron said firmly. “I chose to come back. We chose to stand with you, to fight with you, to die with you. Not for you or because of you…with you and we did all of it because you were worth it.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “But…Severus—“

“I told you to shut up,” Ron snapped. “Snape made choices. The things he did, the things he went through were because of the choices he made. You didn’t cause him trouble beyond being a tosser of a student, but, let’s be honest, he was a git of a teacher that quite frankly deserved it.”

Harry couldn’t help the way his lips twitched.

“He did what we all did. He fought, he killed, he died, and now he’s entered this courtship with you, and you know why?” Ron continued, not giving Harry a chance to respond. “Because he decided you were worth the fight, worth the risk, because you are damn well worth it. You don’t and you haven’t been a problem, not like you think, and even if you were, we all decided you were worth it anyway.”

Harry swallowed thickly again, chest tight with Ron’s vehemence. “What if it’s only about the magic?”

“So what if it is? You’ll have found out who Snape really is and found out you’re worth something to him,” Ron replied, tone less harsh now. “If you get anything from this, he’ll at least have taught you that you’re worth everything that happened.”

Ron sat back in his chair then, looking back out at Rose and Teddy, and Harry followed suit, contemplating his friend’s impassioned, if a little aggressive, speech. It was hard to comprehend, trauma- and abuse-induced worthlessness and burdensome existence not so easily explained away. Yet, between Severus’ words the previous night and now Ron’s, a few cracks were left in the glass barrier erected around him by his various tormentors and reinforced by his own mind.

“So, you kissed, huh?”

Harry’s lips twitched again at the teasing and humour evident in Ron’s voice.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Uncle Harry!”

“Daddy!”

Harry didn’t know what he expected that evening when Severus opened the door, if they would kiss again or pretend it hadn’t happened. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to kiss again. He’d enjoyed the kiss, certainly—it had reinforced that he did like Severus—and it had seemed like Severus had also enjoyed it—he’d initiated it, after all—but he didn’t know for sure how Severus was feeling. So, he didn’t know what to expect, thus he was surprised by the kiss bestowed on his cheek and the magic that buzzed and twirled the air around them again, just like the previous night.

“Ron said it’s really early for our magic to be releasing,” Harry said as he was invited inside.

“He is correct.” Severus nodded. “The new magic does not typically make an appearance until the ninth month approximately. Given who we are, however, I’m not sure we should be too surprised.”

Harry chuckled lightly. “True.”

“I am surprised Ronald knows such a thing given your insistence on secrecy,” Severus said, guiding the way to the kitchen.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s tone.

“Yeah, well, he’s helping make sure I don’t completely bugger everything up like I usually do,” he said as he approached the counter that Severus circled to enter the kitchen.

Severus gazed at him intently. “Impossible.”

Harry had no idea what Severus was referring to, leaving him puzzled when Severus said no more and turned to begin pulling out food and tools though Harry thought he could see the smallest upturn of Severus’ lips.

“Want any help?” Harry asked after a few minutes.

Severus looked up from where he was chopping an onion. “No, thank you. You have cooked for us a couple of times now so I would like to return the favour. However, I admit it surprises me that you enjoy cooking.”

“I didn’t always,” Harry told him, sliding onto one of the breakfast bar stools to continue watching Severus, absently noting that Severus’ sleeves were, once again, rolled to just below the Dark Mark. “I hated cooking for the Dursleys and didn’t really feel anything when cooking for myself.”

“What changed?” Severus asked, waving his hand at the pile of potatoes to make them begin peeling themselves.

“Teddy,” Harry replied easily. “He got old enough to help out and he wanted to so I started cooking with him. Whenever I have him, we cook together and I started to actually like doing it.”

“He made it an enjoyable activity compared to your experience with your relatives,” Severus said and Harry nodded.

“What about you?” Harry wondered, leaning on the breakfast bar. “You’ve never really said if you like cooking or not. Did you ever cook with your mother?”

“I have never cooked with anyone,” Severus admitted, voice tight, and Harry gazed at him, saddened by the man’s lonely life.

“I never had either before Teddy,” Harry said, hoping to ease any discomfort his question had caused. “Would you want to cook with your own child? Actually, do you want kids?”

Perhaps it was early for such a conversation and it was probably a pointless one given what Harry could only assume was the unrequitedness of his feelings, but, somehow, they’d found their way to the topic.

“Perhaps,” Severus answered vaguely. “With the right person.”

Harry sighed silently to himself. Definitely unrequited. Severus wanted someone else, one of his other matches. He wasn’t the ‘right’ person. He never was.

They were quiet after that, silent as Severus continued preparing the lamb dish and Harry watched. Harry was sipping from the wine Severus had poured him while the man was stirring a glaze of some kind for the lamb when Harry noticed Severus’ left sleeve slide down. Severus pushed it back to just below the mark only for it to slide back down a minute later. Severus pushed it up and then it fell. The process repeated a few more times before Severus huffed and shoved the sleeve to his elbow, revealing the mark.

Severus froze almost immediately and Harry’s eyes stayed on the mark, taking in its faded, but still detailed look. It was more of a mid-grey now, but was still just as clear as when it had been the deep, active black. He was staring at it when it began to disappear as Severus clearly realized what he’d done and made it hide it again. The intention tugged at Harry and he quickly left his seat to hurry around the counter, placing a hand on Severus’ without thinking to stop the motion.

“Don’t do that,” Harry said softly. “Don’t hide it.”

“I’ve no wish to make you uncomfortable or remind you of—“

“Of what?” Harry interrupted, looking up from Severus’ arm to meet the dark eyes that had taken on a guarded look. “Of how you had such a horrible life that this was your only option? Of how you gave up everything for a world that didn’t care? Of how you are the reason we won? Of how you saved my life over and over again?”

“I know well what I’ve done and caused, Harry,” Severus said, a defeated sigh in his voice. “You’ve no need to placate me.”

“Good because I’m not,” Harry said. “You don’t deserve to hide. While I was getting people hurt and killed, while I was causing nothing but trouble, while I was being an absolute idiot, you were trying to fix it. You were trying to keep me and everyone else alive. Don’t be ashamed of being one of the only ones to actually try and do better.”

Severus gave him a long, piercing look. “You blame yourself.”

“Of course I do!” Harry exploded, unable to handle anyone else pretending the blame wasn’t deserved. “Everything was about me, was because of me! I was given a war and I dragged everyone else into it! Everything everyone went through was because of me. Ron was away from his family for a year. Hermione was tortured. They almost died. They lost their families. The Weasleys were torn apart. Hermione’s parents are gone forever. They lost so much because of me and I have the gall to be broken? To waste everyone’s time and sacrifices?”

“And what about you?” Severus returned, making Harry blink at the gentle yet sharp retort. “Who did you lose? Your parents. Your godfather. Lupin. Those same Weasleys. So many friends. Mentors. Your childhood. Your life. Your very self. I remember what you looked like at my trial. It was not the Harry Potter I’d known for seven years. You can’t disregard what you went through and what you lost.”

“I had to,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “They didn’t.”

He was surprised when Severus was suddenly kissing him, showing his confusion when the man pulled back and gazed at him.

“You’re a fool,” Severus said quietly and Harry frowned. “A self-sacrificing fool.”

“What am I supposed to do, destroy everyone’s lives again? Destroy your life all over again?”

“You do not have to keep giving yourself up,” Severus told him. “No one expects you to. No one wants you to. You’ve already done so.”

Harry swallowed, his chest heavy and his throat tight, as Severus sighed quietly.

“So much of what you’ve said these last few months makes sense now,” Severus said, lifting his other hand to very briefly rub his brow. “You feel you have to make up for the war and have to prove you are worth everything we all went through.”

Harry’s eyes closed at the blunt delivery of his dark thoughts.

“Except you’ve forgotten something,” Severus said and Harry’s eyes opened warily. “You also went through all of it so to whom do you prove that you are worth everything you yourself went through? Who will you believe?”

The question made him pause, made his chest ache even more.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Then believe me,” Severus murmured and pressed their lips together again. “If you do not believe I should hide, then you certainly should not, not when you are the light we all fought for. Do not hide your light.”

Harry sighed. “I hope you and Ron never tag team against me. I’ll have no chance.”

Severus chuckled. “I will have to keep that in mind when I inevitably have to convince you of your worth and meaning, and all the good you have brought to every life you have touched.”

Harry couldn’t help but flush even as he quickly returned Severus’ kiss again.

“Now, I propose we eat and then I will lavish you with all the remarkable qualities I have come to find so attractive and endearing.”

“You didn’t just do that?” Harry said, feeling like Severus’ impassioned mini-speech was more than enough.

“That was simply something you should already know as it is something all of your friends would also tell you,” Severus replied lightly. “I have far more.”

Harry finally took his hand from Severus’ arm to take the plate the man grabbed from the counter and held up to him. Their fingers brushed, making Harry’s wrist buzz and more excitable warm magic swirl around them. Their growing magic was becoming so active. Harry wondered what it would be like in a few more months when it was even more developed.

They sat and ate, returning to lighter, more casual conversation such as Severus’ ongoing experiments with the fairy’s blood and gilded obsidian, and discussed the raid they would be conducting together with their teams in just a few days. When they finished eating, Harry quickly gathered their dishes to bring to the sink to wash.

“That is not necessary, particularly on a date,” Severus protested.

“I just want to help,” Harry told him.

“Might I remind you, we are wizards, and—“ Severus was suddenly on his feet and grabbing Harry’s arm, spinning him around until he was against the man’s chest, “—I believe I told you, you do not need to prove your worth to anyone.”

“Maybe not to everyone, but I do to you,” Harry replied.

“I promise you don’t,” Severus murmured before leaning in for a firm kiss that made Harry completely forget he was holding plates. One slipped from his grasp and would have smashed on the floor had the tiniest part of him not been aware, making his magic react and catch the plate, freezing it in the air. Their new magic buzzed almost violently around them as Severus pulled away. “Gods, the power in you.”

“It’s your magic too,” Harry said, thinking he was talking about the magic dancing energetically around them.

“It is not just your magic to which I am referring,” Severus told him. “There is a power, a strength in you to rival anyone, there always has been. There is a light in you that draws everyone in, that you give to everyone by seeing the good in even those who don’t deserve it. It is the rest of us who are not worthy of your light, the light that somehow survived the darkest parts of this world.”

Harry was stunned by Severus’ words, sparing just enough attention to wandlessly and silently send the dishes to the sink, eyes locked on Severus. The cracks Ron had made in his barriers were growing.

“You have walked through and you see through the shadows that fell stronger people,” Severus continued, “and you come through all the brighter.”

Harry swallowed thickly, watching and growing warm as Severus threaded their fingers together.

“You have become a remarkable, gorgeous young man that proved me wrong on everything I believed you were,” Severus said and Harry laughed lightly. “You can turn anyone into a hopeless fool with your heart and they would be powerless to mind. To earn such a thing from you, to have your eyes on me and not shy away from the scars and stains, to gain that unwavering loyalty…it is more than any one person deserves or can handle, but it is a wonder to hold.”

Harry couldn’t help but surge forward, the ache in his chest transforming into some other kind of pressure, and he pulled Severus into a bruising kiss, fingers detangling to instead frame Severus’ face, sliding into the long, pulled-back hair and pulling strands free. Severus’ hands landed on his waist, slipping to his lower back and pulling him flush against the taller, leaner body. After several moments, Harry pulled back and gazed at the swollen lips before meeting the burning black eyes.

“You deserve it,” he whispered, Draco’s words echoing in his head. “You deserve me.”

“Gods, I hope so,” Severus breathed and pulled him back in for another searing kiss.

Chapter Text

Stage 4: Demonstration – Date 12

“As you enter Stage Four, it is time to focus on yourself within this relationship. These first few months have been about your partner, getting to know them, what they need, and what they can offer. Now, it is time to showcase what you are bringing to the relationship. In this stage, each partner will have one engagement in which they demonstrate a skill, ability, or trait that they feel is an important one to bring to the relationship. The third engagement in this stage will be a joint endeavour in which both partners will demonstrate a skill, ability, or trait that is shared between the two of you and mutually benefits the development of this relationship.”

Harry let out a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in exhaustion and residual pain.

“Hey, you okay, boss?” Bill asked from where he was sat at the desk with Pip, the other Breaking team member that was joining the raid.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Harry said, dropping his hand and opening his eyes to scowl at Bill who just grinned. “I’m fine. Had a migraine last night and still in the postdrome.”

Bill winced sympathetically. “Maybe you should sit this one out today?”

Harry shook his head, wincing himself at the pain it caused. “No, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got you and Pip to watch my back.”

“’Course we will, boss,” Pip said, snickering with Bill as Harry scowled again.

“Anyway, this is still Snape’s raid, we’ve just been invited, so his team is still the lead on this. You do what he, Delaney, or anyone else on their team tells you,” Harry told them, gaining nods of understanding. “There is a potential conflict that could happen, but we are there to find any artifacts that Snape’s team might miss. We’re not there to fight so don’t go looking for one. Only respond if absolutely necessary. Got it?”

“Got it, boss,” Bill and Pip chorused with wide grins.

Harry huffed in good-natured exasperation. “Let’s go.”

With Bill and Pip laughing, Harry led them from their department and up to the Department of Magical Transportation where they were meeting Severus’ team. They walked into the department foyer, finding a group of seven and Severus. Severus was speaking with Adelaide Murton, an old Slytherin classmate of Harry’s and a lead in the department, while Delaney was briefing the team on the raid. The three of them stepped up to the back of the team, nodding greetings to those that noticed them.

“Ah, our guest raiders,” Delaney announced when she noticed them and the rest of the team turned briefly to greet them. “As you all know, Severus has invited Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Donnelly from Artifacts and Spellwork to accompany us on this raid. They will be collecting artifacts while we go after the Archangel Glass and Richter. Is there anything else you are wanting, Mr. Potter?”

“Not at all. It’s your mission. Just tell us what you need from us,” Harry replied, crossing his arms casually across his chest.

Delaney nodded with a smile. “They have combat training and experience, but it is our job to take the lead on any conflict and protect them where necessary. You all have your assignments.” The team nodded. “Severus, are we ready?”

Severus turned from Adelaide and joined the team, standing next to Delaney. “You will each receive two Portkeys. One will bring you to your assigned location outside the market and one will be a direct line to St. Mungo’s should you or anyone else need one. Remain in contact with your assigned partner at all times. I trust you have all applied the Communication Charm, courtesy of Mr. Potter and his department.”

The team nodded as did Harry, Bill, and Pip. The charm had been another invention by Harry and Luna, a spell that could be applied temporarily to one’s hand or wrist and used to communicate with anyone connected to the charm’s active thread. It had been inspired by Muggle devices and was meant to fill the void of field communication as sending a Patronus was not always possible.

Severus nodded in satisfaction and began handing out Portkeys, one a rusty fork and one a button. When Severus got to him and their hands brushed, Harry couldn’t help but meet the man’s eyes, his heart speeding up and his stomach flipping as they gazed at each other. His lips curved up into a small smile inadvertently and he saw Severus’ twitch. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself at Severus and kiss the man senseless.

They hadn’t actually seen each other since their last date three days earlier except very briefly the previous evening, but any part of Harry’s mind that hadn’t been consumed with work couldn’t stop thinking about Severus and how they’d kissed that night. It felt like something had shifted between them and Harry desperately hoped Severus felt it too because it was becoming harder to stick to his resolve to not become more invested than what the courtship required. After all, while it certainly seemed like Ron was right and Severus did like him to some extent, there was no way to know it wasn’t just because of circumstance.

It could have been hours that passed by the time their contact broke and Severus moved on to continue handing out Portkeys though Harry was sure it had actually only been seconds. He took a surreptitious deep breath to calm his beating heart and focused on swapping a button on his robe with the emergency Portkey button, keeping it disguised but on hand.

Severus finished distributing the Portkeys just a moment later and Harry forced himself to focus on the raid, adjusting the satchel on his shoulder and walking with everyone else to the Portkey Departure Room. With final instructions from Delaney and Harry double-checking the threads were correctly in place between all the Communication Charms, the Portkeys were activated and they were all whisked away from the Ministry.

Within seconds, Harry was landing on the pavement of a dark, deserted street lined with dark, seemingly empty houses and flats. He managed to stumble only a step or two, placing his rusty fork into his satchel for later as he looked around. Despite being empty, it was an ordinary-looking English street. Across the street from him and breaking up the row of townhouses was a large opening to a dark alleyway with a metal arch over the top, any letters that once adorned it long faded. It looked like there was nothing to see, but Harry knew the market was down that alley, hidden by strong Concealment Charms.

When Severus suddenly appeared next to him, Harry jumped. He was on the same communication thread as Severus—along with Bill, Pip, and a couple others from Severus’ team—but he hadn’t been told he’d be entering or roaming the market with anyone. He looked at Severus questioningly, ignoring the flipping of his stomach again. He needed to focus.

“I wanted to ensure you were well before we proceed,” Severus said and Harry knew he was talking about the previous night. “I truly am sorry I could not be with you through the night.”

Harry gave the man a soft smile. They’d planned to have lunch together the previous day, but Harry had been forced to cancel as his migraine flared up and he went home early in hopes of recovering before the raid. Severus had stopped in on him briefly, but had been unable to stay, needing to finalize everything for the raid with Delaney, plans that had taken well into the night.

“You don’t need to be sorry. This was more important,” Harry told him, hurrying to continue when he saw protestation spark in Severus’ eyes. “You needed to help Delaney. You’ve been planning this raid for months and I wouldn’t have wanted you to put it aside for me. There was nothing you could do for me. I managed and Luna also popped in for a little while. I was okay and I am okay.”

Severus’ gaze was searching, but he soon nodded. “I will be disguised, but I will be nearby should you find trouble.”

At Severus’ mention of a disguise, Harry made a realization. “Won’t everyone recognize me?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Are you using me as bait?”

Severus looked at him, lips twitching. “Perhaps a little.”

Harry scowled.

“They will not be able to resist trying to sell to Britain’s Saviour.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

Severus chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. “My apologies.”

Harry rolled his eyes half-heartedly.

“Shall we make the evening interesting?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “It won’t be interesting enough as it is?”

Severus smirked. “If I find the trouble of the evening, you get to go first for this stage’s date. If you find the trouble, I go first. Deal?”

Harry pursed his lips, hiding his amusement. “Deal.”

“Be natural, but be careful,” Severus said, kissing Harry again. “I’ll not be far.”

Merlin, Severus was the best kiss he’d ever had.

He mentally shook himself and forced himself to look away from Severus’ lips, particularly as they shimmered and changed as the man took a step back. Glamour in place that had him with short brown hair, blue eyes, darker skin, and a round face, Severus crossed the street and Harry quickly followed, both passing through the charmed archway. Severus disappeared quickly into the small crowd, and amongst the stalls and stations set along either side of the alley.

It was set up like a regular street market, sellers with their stalls on either side and patrons wandering to find anything that caught their attention. The only differences were the dim lighting, the sketchy and suspicious appearances of nearly everyone, and the darker deals clearly occurring in the shadows and alcoves.

Harry began strolling casually down the alley, looking curiously at the stalls he passed and trying to spot anything that could be worth acquiring. He heard whispers and murmurs increase around him as he continued on, more and more people coming to recognize him. He ignored the attention while remaining on guard for any potential attacks coming from behind. He didn’t have to do much acting as he walked past the stalls, legitimately interested in the available products and items. He even noticed when sellers realized who he was and fought to pull him in, even shooing and shoving customers aside to try and get to him.

He’d managed to find a couple of fascinating items—a cursed Victorian-era grimoire that was wrapped in a protective brown paper and a set of runic focus stones that he knew would be perfect with Bill’s research once cleared of hexes—and was placing the grimoire in his bag when a sharp residual migraine pain lanced through his skull. He rubbed his temple with a grimace.

“In need of a remedy for that headache, Mr. Potter?”

Harry turned at the deep, gravelly voice, finding a man who looked to be in his forties with dark skin, dark eyes, wiry facial hair, and black hair that was even longer than Lucius Malfoy’s. His dark features made him look like an ominous shadow, compounded by his all-black attire, which made the harsh, thick scar that stretched over his right eye, keeping it closed, and across his nose seem to glow an angry red. It wasn’t a new scar, but it was brutal enough that it looked fresh.

On the stall the man sat behind, there was a single long row of potions, vials of all different sizes and shapes, and filled with various colours.

“I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage, as usual,” Harry said stiffly, stepping up to the stall. “I don’t believe I know who you are.”

“No one someone of your caliber should concern themselves with,” the man replied and Harry fought not to roll his eyes. “Now, how can I serve the saviour? I can guarantee a remedy for any malady, only the best for someone such as yourself.” He stood and swept an arm over his potion supply.

Harry stared at the man, unwilling to break the contact until his periphery caught a red glint behind the man. His eyes very briefly flickered to the item and his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly before moving his eyes back to the man.

“Actually, I’m more interested in that,” he said, gesturing to the item.

The man looked over his shoulder to find what Harry was gesturing to, flashing Harry a sinister smirk as he took the blood red stone from the little shelf. He held it up to Harry, balanced on fingertips.

“Not surprising you’d like this,” the man said. “You’ve seen one before, after all, haven’t you? A Philosopher’s Stone?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, hating that the world knew everything he’d been through at Hogwarts. Sure they knew because of him as he’d given multiple interviews after the war to preserve the reputations of the professors that had done nothing but try to protect them all in impossible circumstances and of Hogwarts itself as a still stellar institution despite Voldemort, but he still hated that everyone knew everything.

“How would you like to live forever?” the man asked, a taunt in his tone, and Harry gave him a hard stare.

“I’ve no such desire,” he replied. “I’ve seen what that desire does to a person.”

The man hummed. “Suppose immortality isn’t something you need to worry about. A legacy such as yours will live forever all on its own.”

Harry didn’t respond, just staring at the man.

“I suppose you deserve honesty in any case,” the man said as though he was relenting. “This is a different kind of Philosopher’s Stone, not quite the same as you’ve seen before.”

Harry had already known that, could tell from the strange flecks of glittering black. He was also certain he could see very thin and light runes inscribed on the surface, only visible when caught in light just the right way.

“I think it could be just what you need,” the man mumbled, something foreboding in his voice, and held the red stone out to Harry.

Harry stared for a long while, debating the risk. He knew it was something dangerous and he knew better than to trust the man, but he also wanted the stone. It was a mysterious find that he desperately wanted to study. So, he reached out and took the stone, hiding his startled reaction when he found it to be icy to the touch.

“How much?” Harry asked tightly.

“On the house for our beloved saviour.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, especially as the man’s smirk grew.

“It has been a pleasure,” the man said, a hiss in his voice. “Mr. Potter.”

Harry was tense as he turned from the seller and slowly walked away. He was examining the stone, people passing around him, when a rune made of black lines that were as thin as a single strand of hair became visible on the stone and he found himself in a strange bubble. Everything was muted and colour had been drained from his vision, except for the red of the stone. Everything moved around him in slow motion.

Then the stone pulsed a bright red, turned black, and magic exploded around him. He looked around and frowned. His magic hadn’t seemed to do any damage and no one seemed to notice. He looked back at the stone, frown deepening when he found thin rivers of blood red tracing around the stone. He moved his thumb to touch one of the rivers curiously only for his finger to become warm and wet, making him aware of the same sensation across the rest of his palm. He moved the stone to his left hand and looked at his right, finding blood smeared and trickling down his fingers and across his palm. The same sensations bloomed on his left hand and he quickly spotted the blood being left on his skin.

Concerned and confused, Harry pulled a charmed pouch from his bag and dropped the stone into it. As soon as the stone was no longer in contact with his skin, the bubble around him disappeared, and there was a pop before hands were on his arms and he was being spun around. The loud grunt made him look into the eyes that were still in place of Severus’ usual dark ones.

“Seems you found the trouble so I believe I win,” Severus said and Harry made to argue only to be interrupted.

“I’d know that mangled throat anywhere,” the man from the stall drawled. “Severus Snape, the greatest traitor to ever exist.”

Harry bristled, but his eyes darted to Severus’ throat where his glamour had failed, revealing the horrible scarring from Nagini’s attack except it wasn’t scarring. It was torn open, ragged and bloody as though Nagini had inflicted the wound all over again, only not as deep. His eyes flew back to Severus’ in horrified confusion, flashes of those horrible moments in the Shrieking Shack in his head and making his stomach twist.

“Isadore Richter,” Severus said, eyes locked with Harry. “Got a little more fight left in you, Mr. Potter?” he asked and Harry saw the wand slide into Severus’ hand.

Harry smirked, pulling his own wand. “Just as much as that day.”

They spun simultaneously, coming back to back just as spells flew towards them and fights erupted throughout the alleyway market. Apparently, the sellers had finally become aware of a Ministry raid in progress, and had decided to both fight back and create a distraction to allow them to disappear. Stalls swirled and packed themselves up with pops and cracks and even puffs of smoke while sellers and patrons also spun away from the battles.

It occurred to Harry absently as they remained back to back that he and Severus had never actually fought alongside each other like this. They’d always been on the other end of each other’s wand and, when fighting on the same side, it had never been together. Severus had always fought from the shadows and Harry in the unwanted spotlight, and by the time they could have fought together, it was too late.

The realization made their easy symbiotic fighting all the more surprising. They complemented each other, seemed to have an unconscious sense about the other. They fought back to back, but still managed to assist with what was happening behind them. Spells were guided to targets not in front of them, shields were erected against spells not aimed at them, and dodges and ducks were coordinated without words.

It wasn’t a long battle, but it did end with Severus grabbing Harry’s arm to pull him out of the path of a Cruciatus. The curse grazed Severus’ shoulder and Harry felt the violent tremour that wracked the man’s body, but it didn’t stop Severus from swinging with Harry to both cast strong Stunners at Richter who could do nothing as they hit him hard in the chest, throwing him backwards into his stall. Harry’s and Severus’ arms were held out parallel to each other and they were chest to chest, Severus’ hand still around Harry’s bicep. They were breathing hard.

Harry eventually dropped his arm and turned to look at Severus, his eyes immediately falling to the torn throat. He frowned, concerned, and brought his other hand up to flutter his fingers over the wound, a dark, dusty shack filling with blood flashing over what was directly before him.

Long fingers wrapped around his, pulling them gently from the bloody neck. He moved his eyes to meet Severus’, still glamoured but slowly turning black as the glamour lost its power.

“I am alright,” Severus murmured, his features shimmering and changing. “I am alive. I am here.”

“Yeah, you are.”

And Harry leaned in to kiss Severus hard, needing to erase the memory, but, at the same time, forgetting they were in public.

Britain’s Saviour Officially Taken? Who is His Mystery Kiss?

Concealed by a glamour mid-dispersion, the new suitor of Harry Potter’s is still in question, a mystery we here at the Daily Prophet are committed to investigating. We have been receiving owls every day since we announced this stunning revelation, all from individuals claiming to be the mystery man in the photo, but none have yet to be confirmed. Harry Potter has also been unavailable for comm—

“Bloody hell, leave me alone!” Harry shouted, swinging the Prophet through the air at the owl that was circling his head, a letter in its beak. It squawked indignantly at his assault and dropped its letter, soaring back out through the charmed window. He growled when the letter that had fallen to the floor flew up into the air in front of him and opened itself, the letter unfolding.

“Harry, my saviour, my love! Do not lower yourself to the filth you found in that terrible alley! Let me show you the perfection and devotion you deserve! Please, my love, come to me and I will—”

“Don’t want to know! Go to absolute hell!”

The letter burst into flames, Harry glaring at it. He waved a hand aggressively at his fireplace without looking at the panel when it started ringing.

“What?” he snapped.

“Bad time?”

“Severus!” Harry said in surprise, spinning around to the fireplace where Severus’ face was in the coals. “Is everything alright?”

“I should be asking you that,” Severus returned and Harry frowned. “I was expecting you an hour ago.”

Harry’s eyes flew to the clock over the mantle and they widened. “I didn’t even realize! I’m so sorry, I’ll be right there.”

Severus nodded and disappeared from the fireplace. Harry cursed to himself as he rushed around to be presentable for their date. He crumpled up the Prophet and tossed it in the fireplace, incinerating it with a quick, absent Incendio. He quickly changed and ran his fingers through his hair, mussed from his unintentional and disturbed nap. He hurried back to the sitting room and swiftly Flooed to Severus’ townhouse.

“There you are,” Severus said, rising from the sofa.

Harry took a quick moment to take in and admire that Severus’ hair was pulled back at the base of his neck and his sleeves were rolled up, the Dark Mark on display.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry hurried to say. “I’ve lost track of everything. I’ve just been really busy with work and I’m constantly fielding the Prophet and owls and—”

He was interrupted by Severus taking his chin and kissing him, responding quickly. It was brief, Severus pulling back and gazing into his eyes. The man’s brow furrowed in what seemed to be concern as he adjusted his hold to bring his thumb up to brush across Harry’s undereye.

“You’ve not been sleeping,” Severus said quietly.

“I’ve just been busy,” Harry told him, not wanting Severus to know that every time he closed his eyes he was back in the Shrieking Shack covered in blood that wasn’t his and watching dark eyes empty. “Trying to figure out that stone from the market.”

Severus gave him a piercing, searching stare and Harry kissed him again quickly, trying to deter interrogation. Severus didn’t need to know he was that broken, didn’t need to be burdened by it.

“I’m fine, promise,” Harry assured.

Severus hummed, apparently deciding to let it go. “I take it you were ‘fielding’ when I called just now?”

Harry scowled. “You’ve seen the Prophet. They won’t leave it alone, like always. I was stupid, I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m just glad they don’t know it’s you in that picture.”

Severus hummed again, but it was different and Harry watched bemused as the man turned, walking away. Harry followed quickly, confused about what just happened.

“And the owls?” Severus asked, sounding curious but not quite as comfortable as he had been.

“People know I’m gay and the world managed not to disintegrate too badly when I came out, but there are still plenty of women that think they’ll be the one to make me change my mind, especially whenever I’m in a new relationship,” Harry explained, wanting to address Severus’ change of mood, but not knowing how. “And then there’s the men that want to prove they’re better than whoever I’m with and are ‘good enough’ for me because of ‘how good they give it’. I’ve heard way too much about what people think.”

“Should I be worried?” Severus asked lightly, stopping them outside a closed doorway and spinning to pull Harry into a dizzying kiss.

Harry blinked dumbly when they parted. “Never, but especially not if you keep doing that.”

Severus chuckled, some of the ease returning, and reached behind him to open the door. Harry was guided inside where he found a small lab, two cauldrons set on stations, one over a low flame and one empty.

Harry looked at Severus curiously. “What’s all this?”

“This date is for me to showcase a skill I can offer,” Severus said, rounding the brewing stations and gesturing for Harry to sit opposite him on a stool. “I am unsure I have more or better to offer than my brewing skills.”

“Considering I have yet to learn of something you can’t do, I beg to differ,” Harry said, deadpanned.

Severus gave him an amused look. “In any case, I realized you’ve never seen me brew as I was not one for demonstration in my tenure as a failed professor nor would you have paid much attention had I done so.”

Harry shrugged and nodded in agreement. Neither statement could be disputed if they were being honest.

“Additionally, this is a potion I have created for you so I felt it would be ideal for the purpose of this date.”

Harry gazed at him, dumbfounded, watching him begin to work with ingredients and the cauldron on the fire. “You made a potion for me? Like, invented?”

“More improved, but yes,” Severus replied casually. “It should help with your migraines.”

Harry was speechless, watching Severus in stunned silence.

“It is truly not such a big deal,” Severus dismissed. “I do not wish for you to continue to have to suffer and potion-making is my job, after all.”

“Except this wasn’t,” Harry argued. “You took your own time to do this…for me.”

Severus just shrugged a shoulder, continuing to deftly slice some ingredient with ease. Harry just watched, comprehending that Severus had taken his own personal time to create a potion for him, had thought about him beyond the courtship to create a potion. A pressure, warm and firm, grew in his chest and his wrist buzzed gently. He’d felt the pressure before, but he had yet to figure out what it was, what it meant.

“So, have you learned anything about the stone?” Severus asked, preventing Harry from contemplating his feelings.

“Not much, honestly,” Harry replied, leaning forward to rest on his arms on the tabletop. “I can’t touch it without it doing whatever it does, so I’ve mostly been in Research, hoping to find even something similar.”

Severus nodded and they discussed the strange stone a little longer, trading theories, before they settled into periodic casual chatter as Harry watched Severus brew. The fluidity of Severus’ movements was hypnotic and Harry was completely unaware when his eyes fluttered shut, his chin held in his palm. He wasn’t aware he was asleep; thus, he wasn’t aware that he wasn’t back in that shack with dying eyes.

“Feed, Nagini.”

The hiss and sounds of a body crashing to the wooden floor echoed around him, deafening.

“Take them.”

His hands were covered in blood. It was running in rivers down his arms and dripping thickly off his fingers. It was warm and sticky, and flooding the dirty floor below his knees, soaking into his torn jeans.

“Look at me.”

Dark eyes grew dull and dim until they were empty.

“No, no, no, please, no! Please come back! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please…please…”

A scream rang out around him, shaking the shack, resonating painfully in his chest, and making the blood drip faster, ripples disturbing the small pool on the floor. The world spun around him in time with the screams, the blood rising up to wrap around him in a tornado of dripping, flowing, thick rivulets.

“Harry!”

Ron and Hermione were trying to pull him away, were trying to get him to leave, and he knew he had to, but he couldn’t; he couldn’t leave those eyes empty, couldn’t leave them to drown in the blood.

“Harry!”

It wasn’t until the screaming stopped when his eyes popped open that Harry realized the screams had been coming from him as he slept.

“Harry, look at me.”

The request made him flinch, but then a hand came to rest gently on his cheek, and he lifted his head to look into dark eyes that were shining and not at all empty. He slowly realized he was on a sofa, though he didn’t know how or when he’d gotten there, and Severus was beneath him. Apparently, they’d fallen asleep on the sofa together.

“It was just a dream,” Severus said softly.

Reminded of what he’d just woken up from, Harry shook his head and pushed himself up from Severus’ chest. Severus followed, watching him closely.

“It wasn’t,” Harry whispered, pained. “We…we were there. You were…I…I left you there.”

“This is why you haven’t been sleeping,” Severus murmured and Harry moved his eyes back to Severus’. “You’ve been dreaming of the shack.”

Harry’s gaze dropped to Severus’ neck, uncharacteristically exposed. The man had changed into a regular Henley, to be more comfortable presumably, and it didn’t have the high neckline Severus typically wore, allowing him to see the rough, thick scarring that was slightly pinker from having to be re-healed only a few days earlier.

“Since seeing your neck at the raid, I can’t…” Harry swallowed thickly and reached up a hand to trace his fingers over the leathery tissue. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I just keep seeing you die and I’m begging you to come back, but…you go and I can’t…I can’t do anything.”

Just like at the raid, Severus gently wrapped his fingers around Harry’s hand at his neck and gazed deep into Harry’s eyes.

“I came back. You brought me back,” Severus told him, voice soft. “I’m here. I’m here with you.”

“I’ll make it worth it,” Harry promised, deep in Severus’ gaze. “I swear.”

“You already have.”

Chapter Text

Stage 4: Demonstration – Date 13

“It’s someone from the Ministry, Ron!”

Harry had barely stepped into the house, hadn’t even closed the door behind him, when he was stopped by Ron and Hermione’s voices, their conversation nearly making him turn around and leave. He didn’t, though, instead closing the door quietly with a sigh so he could listen.

“That doesn’t mean you should interrogate him over dinner,” Ron replied pointedly. “This has been in the paper every day for nearly a week. He’s probably being interrogated enough.”

“I just don’t understand why he’d be afraid to even just tell us his match is someone from the Ministry—"

“I don’t think he’s afraid.”

“—I mean, if it’s someone from the Ministry, well, we know a lot of them—"

“That’s probably why he hasn’t said anything.”

“—but it can’t be just anyone. Matches have to share equal levels of magic, but there’s not many that would share Harry’s power.”

“No, there’s not, but, Hermione, shouldn’t this be up to Harry to tell us when he’s ready?”

“Yes, of course. You’re right.”

It was quiet, then, and Harry nearly announced himself, but then Hermione continued.

“Oh, what about all those things he’s asked Neville and Blaise?”

“Hermione,” Ron groaned.

“He must have known his match before now! All that stuff about Neville and Blaise having a past, he must have a past with his match too, and it must be a pretty intense past for Harry to be so convinced it won’t work out beyond the courtship.”

“You know Harry will hate you for doing this.”

“Come on, Ron, aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know who it is?”

“Sure.”

Hermione was clearly too lost in her own musings or she would’ve caught onto Ron’s vague, unconvincing response that had a tone that clearly indicated he knew something.

“And why doesn’t he want us to know? He’s obviously worried about how we’ll react, but why? Who does he think we won’t accept when we’ve been fine with all the matches, when we were fine with Draco Malfoy?”

“‘Mione, come on, leave it alone.”

“Someone he has a past with, someone we all also know or he wouldn’t be so worried, someone powerful, someone from the Ministry, but he doesn’t work with everyone. What was this raid for?”

“Black market.”

Ron. Harry groaned to himself.

It was quiet again and Harry could almost see the intense concentration on Hermione’s face as her mind raced through the possibilities. It was a look he’d seen dozens of times over the years. He loved Hermione, he did, and he admired her brilliance, but sometimes he wished she just…wasn’t. He jumped when a loud, high-pitched screech came from the kitchen.

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, obviously also startled.

“Harry’s match is Severus Snape?”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly in resignation. “Bollocks,” he muttered.

Rubbing his brow with a sigh, Harry finally moved away from the door and walked into the kitchen. Ron and Hermione were at the kitchen table, and when he cleared his throat, their heads flew in his direction.

“Hey, mate,” Ron greeted with a lopsided smile while Hermione jumped to her feet and ran over to Harry.

“Severus Snape?” she repeated. “How could you not tell us?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding as Ron. “Ron figured it out right away.”

“Oi!”

Harry smirked as Hermione rounded on Ron furiously.

“You knew?” she demanded. “Harry, sit down right now!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and moved to sit next to Ron, both across from Hermione who began to rant at them for keeping secrets, for not telling her it was Severus Snape, and Merlin knew what else.

“Traitor,” Ron grumbled to him.

“Says you,” Harry retorted. “You didn’t exactly deter her.”

“As if I could have and you know that,” Ron said and Harry shrugged in agreement. “Drink?”

“Merlin, yes,” Harry said dramatically, watching Hermione pace and gesture wildly while not taking in a word she was saying. He took the Muggle beer that Ron summoned, taking a quick sip.

“Are you two listening to me?”

“Yes, Hermione,” they chorused dutifully together. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but continued her chastising rant.

“So, how are you doing with the Prophet and the raid photo?” Ron asked.

“It’s done nothing but reinforce why I didn’t want anyone to know,” Harry said, huffing as he thought of the reporters constantly trying to catch him at work and the letters from rabid individuals that managed to slip through his reinforced wards. “It’s exactly like every other relationship I’ve been in.”

“Is it?” Ron returned curiously. “How’s Snape handling it? I have a hard time believing he’d be reacting like all the other blokes.”

“He won’t want to deal with it, I know it. He’s private and has barely managed to get to a point where he’s not being harassed constantly over the war. They don’t know it’s him, thank Merlin, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.”

“You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

Harry turned to look at Ron. “What?”

“That you’re glad they don’t know it’s him,” Ron clarified.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Um, I might have.”

“Oh, mate.” Ron shook his head, taking a sip of his beer.

Harry frowned. “What? It’s not like he wants anyone to know either. He won’t want the public to know he’s been forced to court me.”

Ron gave him a sidelong look with an arched eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Harry’s frown deepened.

Ron shrugged and turned back to watching Hermione. “From what I can tell from the last four-plus months, you might want to rethink that.”

Harry was curled up on the sofa watching the crumpled Daily Prophet burn in the otherwise empty fireplace when a knock at the door startled him. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He walked to the door with a frown only for it to deepen and a surprised blink to join when he discovered his visitor.

“Severus,” he said dumbly. “What are you doing here?”

“You have been avoiding me,” Severus said bluntly. “Might I come in?”

A part of Harry wanted to say no, but he stood aside anyway to let the man inside. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“No?” Severus retorted lightly. “I’ve not seen or spoken to you in over a week.”

Harry sighed wearily, leading the way to the kitchen. “I’ve been busy with work. Tea?”

“Please,” Severus agreed, sitting at the table. “And how is your work going if it’s kept you so busy?”

“I’ve not learned what the stone is, if that’s what you mean,” Harry told him, making their tea manually. “It hurts others if I’m touching it and they’re in the room with me, but only some people and only if I’m touching it. Bill has and nothing has happened.”

“Very strange.”

“Yep, so, see? Busy,” Harry said, staring at the kettle as he waited for it to boil.

“Perhaps,” Severus said, sounding completely unconvinced, “but I know it’s more than that. Something is bothering you and it has been since that photo appeared in the Prophet.”

“The press is irritating, what can I tell you?”

“Except you have handled them your whole life,” Severus pointed out. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Harry,” Severus said, tone turning tight. “I understand you are ashamed—"

Harry blinked at the kettle. “Ashamed?”

“—of me being your match, but I—"

“I’m not ashamed of you, I’m ashamed of me!” Harry interrupted loudly, spinning from the kettle to face Severus. “You think I’m ashamed of this? The only thing I’m ashamed of is that you didn’t get a choice!”

Severus looked taken aback at Harry’s outburst, cocking his head to the side in obvious confusion. “You haven’t wanted anyone to know.”

“Because of me, not you!” Harry yelled. “You think I don’t want everyone to know I’m actually happy for once? If everyone knows, they will destroy you!”

Severus’ eyebrow rose in disbelief. “You think I cannot handle public opinion?”

“You shouldn’t have to! Not again!” Harry argued. “You’ve said I don’t have to prove myself to anyone, but you are the one person I do have to!”

Severus frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Everything you did, everything you’ve given up, and now how far you’ve come…” Harry turned and dropped his head back to the kettle. “My life, who I am…I’ll ruin you.”

The silence that followed was long and unexpected. Harry had figured Severus would argue, as he seemed to want to do, or would agree and suggest they find a way to end the courtship. The silence he didn’t know what to do with so he kept his head bowed and his eyes closed. He had no idea how much time passed before the kettle he hadn’t realized had been whistling was removed from the element.

“Here I figured I would be the one to say that,” Severus said, a very light tease in his tone, and Harry finally looked up to see the man next to him, gazing softly at him. “I believe it likely the former Death Eater will be seen as the cause of ruination.”

“Severus,” Harry said, nearly pleading. “You’ve seen what they’re doing to someone they don’t even know the identity of. I don’t want you to go through what they’ll do to you because of me.”

“What if I want to for you?”

Harry’s eyebrows came together, his forehead creasing deeply. “Why would you?”

“Because I believe I am also happy for the first time in my life,” Severus replied easily and gently.

Harry stared at him in wonder, his frown disappearing into widening eyes. “Really?”

“Am I happy with the most powerful, gorgeous, absurdly kind, and endearingly foolish man in Britain?” Severus returned lightly. “What a ridiculous question.”

Harry laughed lightly and let himself be drawn into a kiss that made their magic bounce briefly around them.

“Now, I would very much like my offered tea,” Severus said when they parted.

Harry laughed again, moving back to lean against the other half of his U-shaped kitchen and crossing his arms as he watched Severus wistfully. He would hold onto Severus’ happiness, no matter how brief, so he’d have something to remember when it ended.

“You know,” he said when Severus turned and handed him a cup of tea, “if you were hoping for a date, I’ll have to disappoint. I’ve not thought about or planned anything.”

Severus chuckled, leaning opposite Harry. “Given your own repertoire of skills, I am sure we could come up with something.”

“Like what?” Harry wondered, his mood of self-deprecation creeping back in. “What exactly do I bring to this except for a load of issues, personal and public, and a distinct lack of choice?”

Severus considered him over his teacup. “A terribly short-sighted view and low opinion of yourself, for one thing.”

Harry gave him a deadpanned look. “I’m not wrong.”

“You are, actually, emphatically incorrect,” Severus retorted, firm but still gentle. He placed his tea aside and, stepping closer to Harry, also took his tea and put it on the counter behind Harry despite Harry’s quiet protestations. “What do you bring?”

“I was drinking that,” Harry pointed out even as Severus framed him with his arms, hands gripping the counter.

“What you bring is the ability to make others desire to be better. You bring the ability to see flaws in yourself, even ones that do not exist, yet you do not see them in others, even when they are deserved.”

“Oh, I see them,” Harry jumped in with a grin. “You’re a sarcastic bastard that’s too brilliant for your own good and who tormented me for six years because of a grudge.”

Severus’ lips twitched and amusement shined in his eyes as he raised a hand to cover Harry’s mouth.

“Hush,” Severus said and Harry snickered under the hand, but let it remain. “You bring a sense of peace. And there is one ability in particular that is quite promising.”

Harry reached up to pull the man’s hand from his mouth, their fingers quickly tangling.

“My ability to out-stubborn you?” he quipped, even as his heart beat hard in the face of all Severus was so heartfully saying. He swallowed thickly when Severus gazed at him, eyes soul-consuming in all the best ways.

“You have an ability to let people be who they are without fear,” Severus said, voice soft and low. “What do you bring? So much, but simply a place for me to exist with someone who is more than just tolerant of that existence.”

Stomach flipping and heart pounding, Harry couldn’t help but steal a kiss as his response. Severus knew exactly what to say all the time, said things Harry never could have imagined he’d ever hear. As Harry leaned forward to kiss Severus, he almost felt like he was falling. Only, he didn’t know where he would be falling to or how.

“Okay,” Harry said when they parted, “how do we make a date out of that?”

Severus stepped back and detangled their hands. He casually began to roll up his sleeves. “We combine it with one of your practical skills.”

Harry watched as, with no hesitation, the Dark Mark was revealed before looking back at Severus. “Like?”

“Cooking.”

Harry blinked. “Cooking?”

Severus nodded. “You are truly remarkable at it. It is nearly dinner time. Cook for us.”

“I’ve done that already,” Harry argued. “Shouldn’t I be doing something you haven’t seen or don’t know about?”

“And there is the combination,” Severus replied, rolling up his other sleeve. “I’ve told you I have never cooked with anyone. Quite frankly, there is little I’ve done with another person. So, let us cook together.”

Harry watched the long black hair get pulled back into a hairband, leaving Severus how he’d expressed he liked the man: hair back, sleeves rolled, and a casual, form-fitting grey knit shirt with a neck that wasn’t quite as high as usual.

And Severus looked…comfortable.

“Allow me to be someone who has, honestly, always wished to do something as domestic as cook with a partner,” Severus requested.

Harry swallowed again at what Severus wanted before leaning in for another kiss, lips still brushing when they parted and he whispered, “Okay.”

Severus smiled, lips curving against Harry’s before pressing together briefly once more.

They started cooking, then, deciding on korma when Harry decided to take it further and have them make something Severus had never made before, allowing Harry to teach it to Severus.

Harry had never cooked with another adult and especially not one he was coming to like as much as Severus. it was more enjoyable than he’d expected, especially as Severus constantly found a way to touch him: an arm around his waist, bringing him flush with Severus’ chest; a brush of his arm or back or neck; a kiss whenever possible. Their conversation was a mix of teasing and casual catch-up and intimate comments. They moved smoothly and at ease with each other, not unlike when they duelled at the raid.

By the time they reached the end and the korma was on to simmer for just a few minutes to melt all the flavours together, Harry was sat on the counter with Severus between his legs, hands on his waist, and locked in a never-ending kiss. His own hands were laced behind Severus’ neck, occasionally releasing so he could cup the man’s cheek. Their magic was rushing around them, making his entire body buzz even as he grew warm with the stirrings of arousal he had yet to acknowledge.

“How much can we do?” Harry asked in the quick moment they took to breathe.

Severus chuckled. “You’ve really not read the book, have you?”

“Not in its entirety, no. I read the stage overviews,” Harry admitted, stealing quick kisses between sentences. “I don’t read.”

“Given your career choice, that is patently untrue,” Severus pointed out.

Harry hummed, their kisses growing lighter. “What can we do?”

“This,” Severus told him with a quick peck. “Nothing more until Stage Five.”

“Well, that is unfair,” Harry protested, holding back a groan when Severus pulled him into a hard, deep kiss. “Especially when you do that.”

Severus chuckled, finally pulling back, and Harry knew he looked dazed as he gazed at Severus. Severus lifted a hand to curl under Harry’s chin, brushing his thumb over Harry’s lower lip, before quickly kissing him again and standing straight.

“I believe dinner is ready,” he announced, clearly wanting them to slow down so they could follow the courtship rules.

Harry sighed petulantly to himself, suddenly desperate to say to hell with the rules.

“Taste test first,” Harry said, resigning himself to being unable to break the rules and unwilling to make Severus do so. He leaned over to open a drawer and grabbed a spoon. He scooped up a little of the korma and held it out to Severus.

“Delicious,” Severus praised, swallowing the small bite. “As is everything you make.”

Harry shrugged, eating a quick spoonful himself. “You made it too.”

“I had an excellent teacher.”

Harry smirked, looking at the man out the corner of his eye mischievously. “Better than the one I had.”

He laughed as Severus rolled his eyes and turned his head, kissing him hard. They dished up and sat at the table to eat, everything between them calming and settling into far more casual conversation again. They cleaned up together once they finished eating and moved into the sitting room where they settled on the sofa. Harry lit the fire, blocking the unwanted heat given it was midway through May, and turned on the music to make the flames come alive as he did for Teddy. Only these flames became two figures that danced in time with the music, holding each other close.

They curled up together as they watched and listened, growing contently quiet themselves. Severus was propped in the corner of the sofa with Harry’s back to his chest. Their left legs were bent and resting against the back of the sofa while Severus’ right was planted on the floor and Harry’s was folded, knee propped on Severus’ thigh. Their right hands were threaded together on Harry’s abdomen while Severus’ left was draped casually over their knees. Harry was lightly tracing the Dark Mark, a touch that had first made Severus tense, but was accepted now.

“Severus?” he said quietly, unsure how long the silence had stretched.

Severus just hummed in response, sounding almost like he’d been close to sleep, the sound above Harry’s head, but rumbling in the chest beneath him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced Severus so comfortable before.

“Thank you,” Harry said, eyes following his finger as it danced over the Dark Mark, chest full of the emotions it inspired, but not the emotions anyone else could ever understand. “For never giving up on me. For never letting me give up on myself.”

The hand laced with his squeezed and lips pressed themselves to the top of his head.

He felt himself begin to fall again.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Stage 4: Demonstration – Date 14

Harry was deep in the journal he was reading as he moved slowly through the Research Library and Archives’ aisles of shelves when his arm was grabbed and he was tugged down an aisle. He was pressed against the shelves and now-familiar lips descended on his before he could even react to his capture. He hummed, smiling into the kiss and at Severus as they parted.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

Severus leaned in to kiss him again. “Hello,” he murmured against Harry’s lips before taking a small step back. “What are you working on?” He glanced down at the books in Harry’s arms.

“The stone is turning out to be alchemical in some way,” Harry told him. “So, reading up on my alchemists and alchemical curses. What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I cannot simply wish to see you?”

Harry chuckled. “You can, but we also had breakfast this morning just a few hours ago.”

While their last date had been nearly two weeks earlier, they’d met for several non-courtship-mandated dates since, drawn to each other’s company more than ever.

“What can I say?” Severus said lightly. “Even at a distance, you are distracting. You make brewing dangerous.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” Severus murmured and pulled Harry into another kiss. “However, I admit I am here for another reason.”

“Of course you are,” Harry said, amused, adjusting his grip on the small stack of books and journals in his arms. “What’s up?”

“The conference I was to attend this weekend has been rescheduled so I thought we might have our next date on Friday, finish up Stage Four,” Severus told him.

Harry gave him a disappointed, apologetic look, wanting nothing more than to finish Stage Four so things could…progress. “I can’t. It’s Ron and Hermione’s anniversary. They’re gone for the weekend and I agreed to babysit Rose.”

Severus gazed at him thoughtfully, casually putting his hands into his trouser pockets. “Perhaps I could join you one evening.”

Harry looked at him, surprised. “You’d want to do that?”

Severus shrugged.

“Doesn’t this date have to be one where we share a skill or something?”

“Caring for a child is a skill,” Severus replied easily, “and one we both should demonstrate as I am certain you want children and I have expressed a willingness to consider them. We can demonstrate that we each have that skill by babysitting the young Miss Weasley together.”

Harry was stunned. “Why would you want to do that?”

Severus tilted his head as though puzzled by Harry’s question. “Because they matter to you.”

Harry’s heart stuttered and his stomach flipped. He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Friday then. Come home with me after work?”

Severus smiled and kissed him. “I look forward to it.”

“Thanks for doing this, Harry,” Hermione said, all of them watching Rose shriek excitedly and run to wrap herself around Harry’s leg.

“It’s no problem, you know that,” Harry dismissed, dropping a hand on top of Rose’s red hair. “There’s something you should know though.”

“What’s up?” Ron asked.

“Um, it’s Severus. He’s…he’s here,” Harry said awkwardly, uncertain. “He offered to help with Rose and make it our date. I just want to make sure you’re…you’re okay with it…with him and Rose.”

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other while Harry anxiously chewed his lip.

“Of course it’s okay,” Hermione told him. “That’s so sweet of him.”

Harry smiled down at Rose, his heart and stomach fluttering.

“Just don’t be doing anything around the kid, yeah?” Ron teased with a wink.

Hermione swatted his arm and Harry flushed.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbled. “We’re only in Stage Four anyway.”

Ron snickered and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Ron and Hermione hugged Rose again before bidding ‘goodbye’ and disappearing into the fireplace.

“Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry,” Rose chanted, tugging on Harry’s hand and he looked down at her. “What are we gonna do for our sleepover?”

“Anything you want, but there’s someone that wants to meet you first, okay?”

“Will they play with us?” Rose asked.

“Maybe,” Harry said, a part of him instantly certain Rose was about to be disappointed. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Rose nodded enthusiastically and Harry led her to his office where Severus was waiting, perusing the bookshelf. He cleared his throat lightly, making Severus turn to them.

“Rose, this is my friend, Severus,” Harry introduced. “Severus, my goddaughter, Rose.”

Severus walked over and, shockingly, knelt in front of Rose. “It is very nice to meet you, young lady.”

Rose giggled. “Do you want to play hide and seek with us?”

Harry blanched at Rose’s immediate imposition. “Rose, I don’t think he wants to play right now.”

“On the contrary,” Severus interrupted gently. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

Harry was nearly gaping as Severus arched an eyebrow at him and Rose cheered. He was forced to shake himself when Rose made to take off and he tightened his hold on her hand.

“Put your backpack in Teddy’s room first, please,” Harry told her, referring to the bag Rose always brought when staying with him.

“Okay!”

Harry released her and Rose ran off. He listened to her little stomping up the stairs and turned back to Severus who was back to standing.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing hide and seek,” Severus said nonchalantly, walking to the door. “What are you doing?”

Harry stared dumbly at the door for a long while, eventually following Severus’ path to the front door where he found Severus kneeling next to Rose again, the two whispering to each other.

“Uncle Harry!” Rose exclaimed when she spotted him and Severus turned to him with a smirk. “Let’s play!”

“Yes, Uncle Harry,” Severus said, rising smoothly. “Let’s play.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man, suddenly suspicious, especially as Severus smirked at him again. He led them outside and around the house to the property’s forest, leading the way to the clearing he always brought Rose and Teddy to for playing. The trees were less dense with many large enough to hide in and all climbable. There were also little hills and rocky outcroppings. It gave plenty of hiding places while being thin enough that the kids couldn’t get lost. Plus, he had wards up that kept them from being able to wander further into the forest.

Rose took off into the trees, beginning their game immediately, and Harry virtually forgot about his shock as they played, though each time he saw or heard Severus and Rose together, it returned briefly. They’d been playing for a while when Harry was reminded they’d been whispering before and he remembered his suspicion.

He was the seeker, heading for a large tree he knew Rose was behind, having seen her crinkly red hair betray her by dancing on the light breeze. He snuck up to the tree and jumped around it, fully prepared for Rose’s giddy shriek of surprise, only to instead hear her giggle and to be faced with a familiar glowing blue doe. He was so entranced that he was taken by surprise by the hand grabbing his arm and spinning him around as a foot swept his out from under him. He hit the ground with a soft grunt and weight settled on top of him as he was caught up into a firm kiss.

Severus broke the kiss after several moments and pulled back to smirk down at Harry. “Got you, Mr. Potter.”

“I don’t think you remember how this game works,” Harry said, smiling and breathless from the kiss. “I was supposed to be getting you.”

“Haven’t you already?” Severus retorted softly and Harry suddenly felt they weren’t talking about the game anymore.

“I don’t know, have I?” Harry returned just as softly and Severus leaned down to kiss him again, Harry’s hands coming up to cradle the man’s face.

“Look, Uncle Harry, look!” Rose suddenly shouted gleefully. “I can fly!”

Harry broke their kiss with a frown, following Severus’ gaze when the man tilted his head back to look up. There above them was Rose, gliding in wide circles with her arms outstretched as she laughed. Harry couldn’t help but smile at her pure joy, watching her slowly spiral down until she was back on the ground where she dashed over and leapt onto Severus’ back as the man was tucking his wand away, arms around his neck and chin on his shoulder. Harry’s eyes widened slightly, certain it would be too much for Severus.

“Was I a good die-per-son, Sev’rus?” Rose asked innocently.

“’Diversion’,” Severus corrected easily, “and you were an excellent diversion.”

“Diversion?” Harry repeated, confused.

“Sev’rus came up with a new game called Spy,” Rose told him. “We had to watch you and catch you without you knowing because good spies are never caught.”

“Oh, really?” Harry said, giving Severus a pointed stare. “You changed games without telling me?”

“Uh huh,” Rose said, nodding. “Sev’rus said he wanted to catch you like he used to so we couldn’t tell you because you didn’t used to know when he was trying to catch you.”

“Oh, I knew,” Harry said with a grin. “See, Severus wasn’t a very good spy when it came to me. I always knew he was there.”

Severus’ eyes flashed with amusement. “Because you were always getting into trouble so where else would I have been?”

“You got into trouble, Uncle Harry?” Rose said, aghast and eyes wide at the idea of her beloved godfather being a troublemaker.

“A few times,” Harry said vaguely.

Severus snorted and, with Rose still on his back, leaned down for one more kiss, making Rose squeal happily.

“Now, I am feeling quite hungry,” Severus said. “What do you think, Little Miss? Are you ready for some dinner?”

Rose nodded excitedly against Severus’ shoulder. “Uncle Harry’s food is the best!”

“What about your mum’s?” Harry asked.

Rose shook her head seriously. “Even better than Mummy’s food!”

“I would have to agree with Miss Rose,” Severus said, looking down at Harry. “I’ve not had anything better.”

“Don’t tell Hermione,” Harry joked and Severus chuckled as he rose to his feet.

Rose seemed to have no desire to get off of Severus, so he hitched her more securely on his back and reached out to help Harry to his own feet. They walked back to the house with Rose talking a mile a minute about every meal Harry had ever made her and how good it all was.

Inside, they all headed to the kitchen, though Rose took a quick detour upstairs. As Severus sat at the table and Harry moved into the kitchen, he turned to Severus and gazed at the man. He was about to say something, about to ask the question on his mind, but then Rose came running in and climbed into the chair next to Severus. She deposited a book and a plastic, coloured case on the table, what Harry knew was her magical colouring storybook. The whole thing was a complete story, but only appeared when she coloured each page’s picture, her colouring choices impacting the revealed story.

Harry turned to start making dinner as Rose began to ramble to Severus which he bore patiently and kindly, even showing interest in what she was colouring.

Harry couldn’t help but watch them as he cooked. Severus was turned and leaning towards Rose, giving her his undivided attention. Every now and then, Rose would hold up two colours and Severus would pick. They spoke quietly, Severus responding to anything Rose said or asked with apparent ease. When Rose finished colouring her page, she held up the book and asked Severus to read the next words that had appeared, which he did.

Harry was in awe of the man being revealed to him.

“Go wash up, Rose,” Harry said as he began dishing up the spaghetti and meatballs.

Rose did so, hopping off the chair and dashing to the bathroom. Harry’s eyes slid back to Severus as she disappeared, watching Severus sip his tea and clean up Rose’s colouring to put aside.

“What is that look for?” Severus asked.

“You,” Harry said and Severus looked at him questioningly. “I’m just…surprised. I mean, you hated kids before.”

“I hated a lot of things before, but I also hated nothing except myself,” Severus replied, voice slightly tight.

“And me,” Harry quipped, not wanting to dampen the mood.

“You were a complicated matter,” Severus drawled and Harry laughed lightly.

Rose returned before more could be said and Harry served dinner. Harry and Severus talked vaguely about work as Rose ate until Rose asked about Harry getting into trouble where they told one of the milder tales of Harry’s Hogwarts escapades. After eating, they moved to settle in the sitting room to relax as Rose would be going to bed in a little over an hour. Harry turned on the television so Rose could watch a single episode of Jakers, summoning her colouring book so it could also help her settle while he and Severus sat on the sofa, talking quietly.

When the episode was over, he switched off the television for the record player and lit the fireplace. He sent Rose to change into her pyjamas, excusing himself to clean up in the kitchen. When he finished and headed back to the sitting room, he paused in the doorway and stared in amazement. Severus had moved to the floor, back against the sofa, and Rose was sitting in front of him, watching the fire creatures dance with the music as Severus gently brushed her hair.

Warmth spread through Harry as he watched.

“All done,” Severus announced about fifteen minutes later. “I believe it is now bedtime for you, Little Miss.”

Harry cleared his throat, finding it oddly tight. “He’s right. Come on, Rose. We’ll read a story before you go to sleep.”

“Can Sev’rus read to me?” Rose asked, turning to look at Severus over her shoulder.

Harry gave Severus an apologetic look, unsure what to say, sure the man was getting annoyed by Rose’s demands and attention, only for the man to surprise him again.

“Of course I can,” Severus agreed. “Come.”

He rose and pulled Rose up, both walking past Harry to head upstairs, Severus casting Harry a small smile. Harry followed, moving through Teddy’s room to sit at the small desk while Severus sat on the edge of the bed and Rose crawled under the blanket after handing Severus a book from Teddy’s bookcase. It was a magical tale about a little witch, a talking kneazle, and a magical flower that saves the witch’s village.

Harry watched, enthralled, Severus’ smooth, low voice washing over him just as it was Rose. Except, with Rose, it was lulling her to sleep, while with him, it was making him grow warm and his stomach flutter. As he stared and listened, he felt like he was falling again, still unsure where he was falling to.

Rose was nearly asleep by the story’s end and Severus left for Harry to tuck her in. Turning the lights out, closing the drapes, and quietly shutting the door, Harry headed downstairs. He found Severus back in the sitting room, sipping tea and casually reading the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry sat on the sofa, pressed against Severus.

“Thank you,” Harry said eventually. “For being so good with her.”

“Like I said, I hated a lot of things before, but I never hated children for being children,” Severus told him. “Rose is a wonderful little girl.”

Harry smiled at the fire where unicorns were still galloping in time to the music.

“I suppose I should go,” Severus said, leaning over to place his tea and paper on the side table before standing.

Harry’s hand darted out to grab Severus’. “Stay.”

Severus gazed at him hesitantly.

“Stay,” Harry repeated, tugging on Severus’ hand. “Please.”

Severus slowly sunk back onto the sofa, eyes locked, and Harry shifted, swinging his leg over so he could straddle Severus’ lap. The man’s hands landed on his hips almost immediately and Harry framed Severus’ face with his own hands, leaning in for a soft, brief, but deep kiss.

“Stay,” he said again, whispered against Severus’ lips. “Stay.” He wasn’t sure he knew exactly what he was asking for anymore.

One of Severus’ arms wrapped around his lower back and pulled Harry in, kissing him hard. Their tongues tangled and Harry moaned, fingers sliding into Severus’ hair and heat building low. He forced himself not to move his hips, knowing they couldn’t do more than kiss, no matter how desperate and ready he felt to do more. Severus apparently had the same thought as his hands moved back to Harry’s hips and squeezed, pushing him back minutely as he finally pulled away from their kiss.

“We must slow down,” Severus said, voice low as he breathed hard.

Harry groaned, head falling back. “Stupid rules.”

Severus chuckled. “I know following them goes against your nature.”

Harry looked back at Severus, deadpanned and unimpressed. Severus just laughed again and gave him a quick kiss. They shifted and rearranged, laying across the sofa wrapped around each other. They talked quietly, kissing occasionally and fingers dancing over arms, backs, and chests. Harry wasn’t aware when he started to drift off, only aware when Severus shook him gently.

“Go to bed, Harry,” Severus murmured. “It’s late.”

Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes. When he stood, Severus did as well and walked towards the fireplace.

“Sleep well,” Severus said.

Harry reached out to grasp Severus’ hand again. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me. Sleep with me.”

“Harry, we can’t.”

“No, not that,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Just sleep. I just want you to stay.”

“I should stay on the sofa.”

“I wouldn’t,” Harry told him. “I have and it will not do you any favours.”

“Harry…”

“Come on,” Harry insisted gently. “Just sleep.”

Severus was a clear mix of hesitant want as he let Harry slowly lead him upstairs. They changed into pyjamas, enlarging a pair of Harry’s slightly for Severus, and they slipped into the bed. It was tense, the air heavy between them, and Harry wondered if he should have just let Severus go home. He banished the thought from his head and, taking a chance, he rolled over to lay across Severus’ chest, arm resting across the man’s torso. Severus froze for a moment, but his arm soon came to drape down along his back. They remained silent, melting into each other as their breathing synched, and they were soon asleep.

Given Harry rarely, if ever, woke with another person in his bed, he almost didn’t notice that Severus was no longer next to him. It also didn’t help that he was barely awake given it was still dark. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes aggressively until they were a little freer of sleep, and left the bed. He checked in on Rose quickly—still asleep—before heading downstairs to search for Severus, a tiny part of him trying to convince him that Severus had left, that something had gone wrong and he’d sent the man running. Maybe he shouldn’t have insisted the man stay. Maybe he shouldn’t have insisted they share the bed. Maybe he’d made Severus uncomfortable.

He searched his office, the kitchen, even knocked on the bathroom door and looked in the spare room that was mostly storage and, sometimes, a playroom for Teddy, but found nothing. When the sitting room was also empty, he felt his heart begin to sink at the thought of Severus leaving, certain he’d screwed it all up after all. He turned to leave the room, to return despondently to bed, and his eyes slid over the window where he spotted just the ends of Severus’ black hair caught in a breeze. Relief flowing through him that Severus hadn’t left, Harry hurried out the front door, finding Severus sitting on the porch steps, a steaming cup in hand and gazing out at the dark property. Severus seemed content, in his own world, and Harry was loath to interrupt the man’s moment.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Severus said, startling Harry slightly.

“You didn’t. I don’t think you did anyway,” Harry told him, moving to sit on the opposite side of the steps, leaning against the support pillar to face Severus. “The sun’s not even up yet. Can’t sleep?”

“No, not that. I am often up early. I choose to be,” Severus replied, sipping his tea. “I suppose I have the opposite struggle to you. I have my moments of insomnia and nightmares, certainly, but I mostly sleep fine. Except I don’t want to. I don’t want to sleep too much and miss it all. I like watching the sunrise.”

Harry tilted his head curiously. “Something you always liked?”

“No, only since the war. Though, I suppose there was little opportunity in my life prior to know if it was something I enjoyed,” Severus mused. “Locked away in the dungeons, stuck in Order and Death Eater meetings that often last far past, and I am unsure the sun ever rose over Spinner’s End.”

Harry just gazed at Severus, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t see the sunrise after the war, after it was all over,” Severus said, voice low and tone pained. “I nearly didn’t see another sunrise at all.”

Harry stared at Severus for a long moment. “You’re different.”

Severus looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way!” Harry hurried to say, making Severus laugh lightly. “I just mean, you say things, you tell me things I never thought you would.”

Severus gazed back out at the land that was beginning to lighten ever so slightly with the sun that was on the verge of appearing.

“The person I was caused it all to happen. I did nothing but cause pain, to myself and everyone around me,” Severus explained. “I like to think that person died in the shack.”

“I don’t,” Harry said quickly and Severus looked at him again. “I know you didn’t like that person much. I didn’t either, honestly, but that person is the reason you survived, the reason I survived.”

“I sent you to die,” Severus pointed out dully.

Harry shrugged. “Someone had to. By the time I saw your memories, I knew what I was. Hermione did too. I think we’d known for a long time, but I didn’t want to admit it or accept it. You made me accept it. Who you were made me be strong enough to do what I had to, but who you were also made sure I walked out of that forest.”

Severus stared at him, searching and curious. “You are also different.”

Harry hummed with a small smile. “I hope so,” he said. “The person you were is how we can be here right now and I can know who you are now, and I really like this person.”

Severus smiled before turning back to the horizon where the sun was finally making its appearance without responding. As it rose, casting soft orange rays across the world, Harry felt like he was seeing it for the first time. He glanced at Severus, the man watching the sunrise with subtle awe and appreciation, and Harry found himself missing the rest of the sunrise, Severus a brighter spot he just couldn’t look away from.

Chapter Text

Stage 5: Intimacy – Date 15

“As you enter Stage Five and approach the halfway point of your courtship, it is time to deepen the intimacy between the two of you and you will do so through your vulnerabilities. Each of you will have fears and worries about continuing to grow close, fears that come from things that make you vulnerable with each other. Each partner must trust in each other to safely express these concerns so you can continue in this courtship with clarity and acceptance. This stage will subsist of four intentional engagements, two in which each partner expresses their vulnerabilities and two in which each partner responds to ease and accept their partner’s vulnerabilities.

While this stage is primarily about deepening emotional intimacy, your physical intimacy may progress as well. Light sexual activities are permissible though there is to be no nudity or sexual intercourse.

Note that Stage Five must conclude by the halfway mark so Stage Six can commence on either the 182^nd or 183^rd day, the 6^th month mark, of your courtship.”

Harry huffed as he buttoned the shirt, adjusting it in the mirror. “Why are we talking about me when you’re the one getting married in a week?”

“Because me getting married was news two years ago,” Draco called back through the dressing room curtain from the waiting area.

“Well, what about Ginny and Daphne then?” Harry said, pulling the tie around his neck. “They’re about to finish their courtship. That’s new.”

“Oh, come on, we all know they’re staying together, that’s not interesting,” Draco dismissed with disinterest and Harry rolled his eyes. “You, however, are very interesting. We all know about Severus now, you’re nearly six months in, and you’ve barely told us anything, so tell us how it’s going.”

Harry paused in shrugging on the classy, fancy dress robe as what Draco said registered and he spun, yanking the curtain aside to poke his head out to the waiting area. Draco was lounging on one of the sofas while Ron was on the podium with the seamstress and Blaise was absent.

“What do you mean you all know about Severus?” Harry demanded, eyes darting between each of his friends.

Blaise suddenly poked his head out from the change room next to Harry. “I know too.”

Harry gaped. “What? How?”

Blaise gave him a deadpanned look. “Because I can think. It’s really not that hard to figure out, mate,” he said, retreating back into his dressing room.

Harry groaned and stepped back into his own dressing room to finish getting dressed.

“So, tell us!” Draco begged loudly.

“You might as well,” Ron jumped in. “You know Draco’s not gonna leave it alone.”

Harry sighed heavily and, adjusting his cuffs, stepped out of the change room. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“How is he?” Blaise asked suggestively, also stepping out of his dressing room with a mischievous grin.

Harry spluttered as the others laughed. “We’re not there yet and, even if we were, I am not telling you about my sex life with Severus Snape.”

“Shame,” Draco muttered, a wistful tone. “Would really like to know if any of the Slytherin fantasies were even close.”

Harry blinked at the blonde dumbly, watching him hop off the sofa and walk over to Blaise, fiddling with Blaise’s robes. “Slytherin fanta…you’re not even gay!”

Draco shrugged, stepping back to run a critical eye over Blaise’s robes. “Teenagers at a boarding school with the youngest professor on staff as our Head of House, gender be damned. I was also ‘promised’ to Pansy and almost anyone was better than her. For that, thank Merlin Voldemort broke the world.”

Harry buried his face in his hands briefly.

“Harry, your turn, mate,” Ron said and Harry walked over to the pedestal Ron was stepping down from. Harry stood on the pedestal, facing the semi-circle of mirrors, and the seamstress waved her wand, checking measurements and stitching with the enchanted tools.

“Is he a good kisser at least? We know you’ve done that considering that photo in the Prophet,” Draco continued, gesturing for Ron to come closer to also examine the newest and likely final fit of Ron’s robes.

Harry scowled at him in the mirrors. “I’m not telling you that.”

“Aw, come on,” Draco whined only for Blaise to swat at him from behind.

“All jokes aside, you don’t have to tell us anything specific, but how are things going?” Blaise asked. “Feeling any different about the whole thing?”

“Dunno, is there a way I should be feeling?” Harry said stiffly.

“Into him, for one thing, which I know you are,” Ron replied, flopping onto the sofa despite Draco’s disapproving look at the treatment of the expensive dress robes.

“And I’d say he’s definitely into you if that photo is telling at all,” Draco added, returning to sit on the sofa with Ron.

“Think it could be more than the courtship?” Blaise asked, walking back into his dressing room to look at himself in the mirror, but keeping the curtain open.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, trying to be casual as he watched the seamstress work on the cuff of his outstretched arm. “Probably not. I think he’s got another match he’d prefer.”

“What makes you say that?” Ron asked.

“Just some of the things he’s said,” Harry said vaguely, watching with absent amusement in the mirror as Ron swatted Draco’s hands away when the blonde reached over to start tugging at Ron’s robes yet again, gaining a scowl from Draco. “I’m not the right person. Not what he wants.”

“You’re a bloody idiot,” Ron grumbled and Harry frowned at the three again in the mirror.

“What?”

“Rose told me about Friday,” Ron said, looking at him pointedly through the mirrors.

“She’s four, Ron,” Harry replied dryly.

“Yeah, and the daughter of Hermione Granger,” Ron retorted with a laugh. “Apparently she noticed how much happier you were and asked Snape if he was the one that made you happy. Apparently, he said he hoped so.”

There was a pause. Harry saw Draco and Blaise look between him and Ron with wide eyes and hanging jaws.

“Bloody hell, Severus Snape is in love with you,” Draco said, dramatically awed.

“He is not,” Harry argued immediately, his stomach flipping. “Look, we like each other, we like spending time together, and we’re attracted to each other, but none of that means love or it being more than the courtship. I’m sure he would much rather be with someone his age, someone he didn’t hate for seven plus years, and someone that won’t drag him into the light of the public.”

“You really are an idiot,” Draco said, shaking his head, and Harry gave him a small glare as the blonde took his own dress robes from the second seamstress and walked into a dressing room.

“He wants someone else, I’m sure,” Harry insisted.

“Do you?” Ron said bluntly.

Harry just looked at his friends in the mirror, brought up short for a response.

“I gotta be honest with you, mate,” Ron said, tone making Harry turn to physically look at his friend. “You’ve got six months to see what’s in front of you because, if Snape walks away at the end of this, it won’t be because he wanted to.”

Harry took the paper coffee cup from Severus with a quiet ‘thanks’. Sipping through the plastic lid, he fell into step with Severus, continuing their slow, casual stroll along the South Bank beneath a bright half-moon and their path lit by the intricate streetlamps. They’d had a lovely dinner at a nearby intimate restaurant and had decided to take an evening walk. They were contently quiet as they resumed their walk and Harry was looking out at the river when a warm hand pressed against his. He looked down as their fingers threaded together and he smiled, feeling the magic that wrapped gently around their hands, making his skin tingle and his wrist buzz.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Severus said eventually.

“Have I?” Harry said, looking down at his coffee cup. He knew he had been, but…

“Something on your mind?” Severus asked, his casual tone sounding a little forced.

Harry took a slow sip of his coffee, gazing down the street as he considered what to say. He didn’t want to offend Severus, didn’t want to make the man think he didn’t trust him. He did trust Severus; he didn’t trust himself to not be too much.

“Harry?”

His hand was squeezed and he immediately felt guilty for his reticence.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just…nervous.”

“About what?”

He shrugged, taking another drink. He looked at Severus questioningly when the man suddenly stopped, tugging gently on his hand to stop and turn him around. Severus gazed at him, appearing concerned as his eyes searched Harry.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Harry slowly lowered his coffee, looking down at it as his finger tapped the side. He sighed.

“I guess I’m…worried…about this stage,” Harry said reluctantly. “I don’t…I don’t want to have to admit these things to you.”

He looked at their hands when Severus pulled away and frowned at the man.

“You don’t trust me,” Severus said stiffly, face going blank.

Harry frowned, his heart squeezing as he realized he was causing exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. “What? No, I do, I just—”

“Don’t wish to confide in me,” Severus interrupted sharply.

“That’s not—” Harry shook his head. “I have told you things these last few months.”

“Not wholly voluntarily. Typically as a result of circumstance,” Severus pointed out and Harry hated that the man was right.

“Come on, that’s not fair. Like you want to tell me your deep, dark, personal fears?” Harry scoffed defensively. “This has nothing to do with trust.”

“Then what is it?” Severus snapped, his own defensive anger rising. “I was under the impression we were…progressing—”

“We are, but—” Harry attempted.

“—yet you still do not wish anyone to know about us—”

“Because we aren’t their business.”

“—and you hesitate to grow closer—”

“I want to, but—” Harry tried again, hating that his hesitations were being pointed out, only for Severus to continue over him.

“I understand nothing about this has been ideal given your lack of choice—”

Harry’s stomach clenched at the mention of his failure to be matched with anyone other than Severus, forcing Severus into their courtship. “Severus, that’s not—”

“—and I can imagine what you had been and are expecting, physically and emotionally,” Severus’ face was tight and his stance taut, as though he was prepared to turn and leave, making hurt bloom in Harry’s chest, “and I regret I will not be able to provide what you wanted from this or that I am expecting more than you want—”

Harry’s eyes widened as he realized what Severus was implying. “Severus, stop!” he said loudly, finally interrupting the man. “That…that’s not it! I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me! That I’m about to prove I’m a waste of time and you’ll change your mind!”

“I’ll change…” Severus trailed off, eyebrows furrowing, before frustrated realization blanketed his face. “How many times will we have this argument? Why are you so convinced this isn’t what I want?”

Harry ran his free hand through his hair as he let out a sharp, unamused laugh of disbelief, spinning to walk away a few steps. “Because how could it be?” He turned back to Severus, jabbing his finger into his own chest. “You didn’t choose this, choose me! You can’t tell me I have anything to offer, anything to make this or me worth it!”

“Damn it, Harry, I told you that you have nothing to prove!” Severus snapped, close to shouting now. “How could you possibly think my opinion of you would change over a few fears after everything we have been through since we met?”

“Because of what we went through, what you went through!” Harry shouted back. “Because I know there’s something better out there for you!”

“How could you think there could be something…someone better than you? You know what the public thinks of me,” Severus said, incredulous.

“Yeah, and being with me won’t fix that! They’ll tear you apart!”

“Maybe I’ll deserve it!” Severus retorted sharply, hardly waiting for Harry to finish. “Maybe it is how I prove myself to you!”

Harry was brought up short, his eyebrows drawing together as he stared at Severus. “Why would you—”

“I was supposed to die,” Severus interrupted, pain entering his voice. “I was supposed to disappear, but then I didn’t and I was suddenly in a world I didn’t recognize, a world that didn’t want me in it.”

Harry just stared, swallowing thickly as he listened, unsure what to say and unwilling to interrupt.

“So, I tried to hide, tried to erase what I’d been. I left the places that had only ever caused me torment, I confronted my issues to ease my anger and hatred, but at what point does everything I’ve tried to fix revert?” Severus questioned bitterly. “At what point does it become clear that I am still the man that joined the Death Eaters with hardly a second thought? That passed on a prophecy with no care for the consequences? That tormented students as my outlet? That hated you simply because I could? At what point is it made clear that, for all my efforts, I never escaped those dungeons, those halls, those circles?”

Harry’s heart pounded hard against his ribs, making his chest ache. “Severus—”

“I know what I did to you, to everyone you’ve ever loved,” Severus continued. “There are a lot of years between us to pretend didn’t happen.”

“I don’t pretend they didn’t happen, I just know why they did,” Harry told him.

“And when does that stop being enough?”

Harry gazed at him, once again without a response in his and Severus’ obvious pain.

“When do I accept I will never be seen? I will never be accepted because even with a Ministry and magic mandated courtship, the world will never accept me, a Death Eater, a murderer, one of your tormentors, with you,” Severus said, hurt. “You fear you are wasting my time, are not worth my time? Bloody hell, I am twenty years older than you, Harry, and you can waste my life no more than I myself have. It is I who am taking away from you for how could I ever be worth you?”

Harry just stared for a long while, seeing the way the black eyes shone with the guard that had been raised to protect against yet another rejection. Harry felt himself deflate slightly.

“Someone told me that we decide if someone is enough for us and I’ve decided you are enough for me,” Harry told him.

“Then why am I not afforded the same?” Severus retorted gently, but still with pain in his voice.

“Because you don’t know,” Harry said, thinking about all his past relationships that had gone down in flames because none of them had been able to handle either him or the public. “Because you can’t know.”

“Except I do,” Severus insisted firmly. “I’ve just told you everything I fear. Has your opinion of me or this changed?”

Harry frowned. “No, of course not.”

“Then trust mine to also not change,” Severus said, stepping towards Harry to close the space Harry had put between them, “because I can guarantee nothing you tell me will do anything but make my respect, my admiration, and my fondness for you grow.”

Harry looked at Severus warily. “You can’t know that.”

“I know,” Severus said, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Trust me, I know.”

When Severus reached out and grasped Harry’s hand, tugging gently, Harry went willingly into the embrace despite still feeling undeserving of Severus’ affections. Their magic swirled lightly around them as they hugged, holding each other closely. Harry could almost convince himself they could be more.

“Thought this was supposed to be my date?” Harry teased eventually, attempting to lighten the mood.

Severus hummed in light amusement, pulling back just slightly to meet Harry’s eyes while keeping one hand on Harry’s lower back to keep them pressed together.

“That is because I let you believe it was your date,” Severus said haughtily. “Must do whatever I need to keep Harry Potter happy.”

Harry laughed, lifting his coffee cup to take a drink again finally. “Jerk.”

Severus smirked and leaned in for a kiss. When they parted, Harry looked at Severus contemplatively as an idea suddenly crossed his mind in response to all Severus had admitted to him, gaining a questioning look from the man.

“What is it?”

“Come to Draco and Luna’s wedding with me,” Harry said bluntly and Severus stared at him, taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, I’ll be busy as a groomsman, but come with me,” Harry told him, shrugging a shoulder. “Be my plus one.”

“All of your friends will find out,” Severus said as though needing to remind Harry of this, clearly unable to believe Harry was willing to let them be seen together.

“Yeah, they will,” Harry agreed, putting on an air of thoughtfulness. “About time, don’t you think?”

Severus gazed at him in subtle astonishment, making Harry smile, before pulling Harry back into a deep kiss that Harry couldn’t help but laugh into, feeling Severus’ tentative joy and appreciation.