Severus Snape knocked on the door of Harry Potter’s flat. He was getting angrier by the second. He heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and prepared to launch into a scathing diatribe. The door swung open.

“Oh, Professor Snape. Come on in.” The flat mate, Amaryll Canasta.

Snape deflated. “I was expecting Harry.” He followed her into the sitting room.

“Oh, he’s asleep.”

“I see.” Snape sat down on the sofa.

Canasta shot him a puzzled look. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for Harry to wake up.” He refrained from adding, what do you think I’m doing, you imbecile. He was trying to behave.

She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you go into his room? I’m sure he won’t mind. It’s the door on the left.” A giggle. “He’s been talking about your visit for days.”

Snape blinked. “He has?”

“Well, starting last week he’s been saying, ‘Severus will be here in six days, you know.’ ‘Severus will be here in five days.’ ‘Severus will be here—’”

He cut her off before she could run through the next four days. “I see. So you suggest that I go into his room. Just like that.”

“Well, yes.”

“No protective wards on his door?” He was getting angry again.

She laughed. “Why would there be?”

“Why would— we will have that particular discussion later, Miss Canasta.” He strode over to the door she had indicated earlier, fuming. He flung the door open and halted. Harry was lying on his side, half-curled up, hair even more tousled than normal, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. His glasses lay on the nightstand. Snape sighed, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him quietly. He sat down on the bed and touched the soft hair, brushing it off the lightning-bolt scar. He traced the scar lightly. Harry stirred under his touch.

“Sev?” He opened his eyes. “Oh. I fell asleep.”

“Apparently. I would hate to think that that is your waking condition.”

“Mm... How’d you get in?” He yawned and stretched.

“Miss Canasta let me in. But apparently I could have simply walked in had she not been here. Harry!” His rage swelled up again. “Have you completely forgotten everything you ever learned? Why are there no protection spells within a hundred yards of this place?”

Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes. He sat up. “Didn’t think we needed them.”

“Didn’t think—” He stopped and took in a deep breath. “I strongly recommend that you put up a set of wards as soon as possible. I’ll help you, if you’d like. There are still powerful Dark wizards who would like nothing better than to eliminate you.”

“Do you have wards at your place? Because I didn’t notice any.”

“They’re keyed to you.” Snape looked at his hands suddenly. Perhaps Harry wouldn’t—

“Since when?” A little pause. “I flew in for our dinner in November without any problems.”

He had. “I keyed them to you when I moved in.”

“In JUNE?” Harry grinned suddenly. “Aw, Sev, you big lug.”

Snape glared. The infuriating boy just kept grinning. He made up for it by clambering onto Snape’s lap. It hadn’t taken Harry long at all to realize how much Snape enjoyed that. He sighed and wrapped his arms around Harry, who kissed him, almost shyly. Snape opened his mouth and slid his tongue past Harry’s lips. A sudden flare of arousal raced through him and he moaned. Harry was pressing eagerly against him. He slipped his hand under Harry’s shirt and stroked the flat stomach and sculpted chest, delighting in the way the hard muscles shivered under his touch. He tugged at the shirt; Harry moved enough for Snape to strip it off him. He stared at the body revealed to his gaze. The dratted boy was smirking again. Snape hauled Harry to him for another kiss, using his free hand to caress that enticing body. He let his hand roam down and touch the bulge in Harry’s jeans. A groan. He unbuttoned the jeans; no underwear. “Good boy,” he murmured into Harry’s ear. He took the naked cock into his hand and caressed it.

“Don’t—” Harry grabbed his wrist.

He nipped at Harry’s ear. “You don’t want to come? Lying here in my lap, half-naked in my arms?” Harry groaned again. Snape ran his thumb over the leaking head, fisted the cock slowly. “With this beautiful prick poking out of your jeans?” He sped up his movements. Harry’s head fell back over Snape’s arm, exposing his pale throat. Snape sucked and bit at it eagerly. He squeezed the hot erection, pumped it, teased the head. Harry was whimpering. Snape whispered, “You’re going to come whether you like it or not. But you’ll like it.” His hand moved even more rapidly. He felt Harry tense in his arms; the cock pulsed in his hand, and the thick fluid spurted out repeatedly. Harry’s body went limp suddenly. Snape gathered the other man to him gently and kissed him, then laid him back on the bed. He pulled off his own clothes and finished undressing Harry.

“So, I suppose we’re not going out to dinner quite yet.” Harry had caught his breath.

“I’ll feed you later, Potter.” He kissed the pink mouth, nipping the soft lips. “‘Now for god’s sake hold your tongue and let me love.’”

It took Harry a second, but he came back with: “‘We die and rise the same, and prove mysterious by this love.’ Hey, I think I’m rising again.”

Eighteen-year-olds were truly marvelous creatures. Snape rolled away and pulled open the drawer to the nightstand.

“No, I’ll—” Harry said desperately.

“Well. Well, well, well.” Snape looked at the contents of the drawer. Harry buried his face in his pillow.

“Would you care to explain this particular object, Mr. Potter?”

“Glnl,” Harry said to the pillow.

He caressed the beautifully-muscled back. “What was that?” He turned Harry over. Harry brought the pillow with him. Snape pulled it off his face. He enjoyed seeing Harry blush, and this promised to be a spectacular example of the phenomenon.

“I got lonely.” Harry stared at him defiantly. “It’s your fault, you know. That I didn’t—from the summer until three weeks ago. I’m eighteen! What do you expect?”

Snape kissed him hard. “So you used this delightful implement on— yourself?” The image was astonishingly arousing.

“Well, yeah. What did you think? It’s not like I had a parade of people through here.”

Snape found that reassuring. He ran his hand over the firm chest, pinching the nipples, to placate Harry. “How intriguing.” He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Lie down across my legs.”

“In your lap again, you mean. Why?” Harry suddenly got suspicious. “Are you going to spank me?”

Snape hauled him up. “You did request discipline once.”

That quelled him. He laid down obediently, his firm arse rounded over Snape’s legs. Snape stroked it avidly, running his hands over the round cheeks and squeezing. He parted Harry’s legs and touched his balls, petted his opening. Harry moaned and tried to spread his legs even further apart. Snape bit his lip as he applied lubricant to the vibrator he’d taken from the drawer. Harry was squirming on his lap. He stilled him with a hand on that sinful arse and slid the vibrator in slowly. Harry grunted but pressed back into it. His renewed erection was pushing against Snape’s legs. The boy’s flushed face was turned to the side and his lips were parted. Snape ran his fingers over the alluring mouth. A pink tongue darted out and sucked his fingers into the wet heat.

Snape began moving the vibrator in and out slowly. “Is this what you would do to yourself?” He sped up. “Or this?” He wiggled it from side to side. Harry moaned around the fingers he was still sucking. “Or this?” And Snape turned it on. Harry muffled his yelp in the bedclothes.

The reality was even more arousing than the thought. Snape’s prick, pressed between his stomach and Harry’s side, was already leaking. “You look entirely debauched. Lying here, spread across me like a feast, that round arse with this?” a twist of the vibrator— “sticking out. Yes, quite decadent.” He pushed the vibrator in and out, shifting the angle slightly with every thrust. The movements were just erratic enough to keep Harry from coming, and they went on and on, holding him on the edge of fulfillment. Both men were moaning. Watching Harry hover on the verge of orgasm, his eyes shut, mouth still lazily sucking on Snape’s fingers, was driving Snape mad. He pulled his hand reluctantly away from the luscious mouth, put it under Harry’s hip, and urged him upwards. Then he wrapped his hand around Harry’s prick, pulling on him repeatedly as he slid the vibrator in and angled it slightly. Harry cried out when he started coming. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, with the vibrator coaxing fresh pulses out of him. Finally he fell, boneless, back onto Snape’s legs.

Breathing heavily, Snape eased the vibrator out of him. He touched Harry’s sweaty back and arse, pushed at him insistently. Obediently— Snape was fond of Harry in this compliant mood— the other man crawled off his lap and laid face down on the bed while Snape spread more lube over his erection, now almost painfully hard. When Harry spread his legs invitingly, Snape had to shut his eyes to keep from coming on the spot. Then he rolled on top of his lover and embedded himself in one stroke in the tight heat. Harry tensed under him; Snape forced himself to remain still until he felt the constricting arse relax around him. He started thrusting vigorously. Harry moaned and pushed back. Encouraged, Snape shoved in even harder, clutching at Harry’s shoulders and biting his neck. He inhaled Harry’s clean scent, like freshly-cut grass; he wanted to meld himself to that creamy, smooth skin, to the hard muscles underneath, to hold on to this one moment in which he was joined to his lover, buried inside him, fucking him...

His orgasm hit like an earthquake, shaking through him as pleasure raced along his nerves to his balls and cock and exploded out. He gave one last hard push, holding himself deep inside for as long as he could. He relaxed on top of Harry. Harry let him stay there for a few minutes, then wiggled. Snape rolled to the side, pulling his lover with him, so that they were spooned together. He kissed the back of Harry’s neck.

“You didn’t spank me.”

Snape tried to keep himself from tensing. “Did you want me to?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, Harry was probably blushing again. “I’ve never, um. Been spanked. At least, not like that.” A little pause. “Come to think of it, it didn’t do much for me when I was a kid.”

Snape felt a surge of anger go through him, as it did every time he thought of those Muggles.

“Sev? Still awake?”

“Yes.”

“So, did you want to?”

He nuzzled into the soft hair. “No.”

Harry turned in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

The boy was too damn perceptive. And always wanting to know about Snape’s feelings. “Nothing.”

“Tell me or I won’t put up those wards.” A warm kiss.

Emotional blackmail, now. He held Harry closer. “I don’t want to... Er. Bring pain to our...” He couldn’t quite say it.

Mercifully, Harry dropped the topic. “Can we eat now? We’ll have to go out, unless you want, um, bananas and mustard for dinner.”

“Appetizing though that combination may be to some members of this household, I believe I would like to take you out.” And show you off, he thought suddenly. “I understand there is a restaurant, Maeve’s Familiar, that is acceptable.” His assistant Julian had told him about it. Another smirking boy in his life.

Harry’s turn to tense. “Yes, it’s good. It’s— it’s very high-profile. Are you sure—” He didn’t finish.

“Yes. Are you?” He looked into the green eyes.

“Oh yes.” Another warm kiss from those addictive lips. “I just— you keep talking about the disadvantages for me. But—” Blushing again. He’d never tell Harry this, but it was adorable, a word Snape had never thought he would find himself even thinking. “You know, I’m kind of.... Um. Famous.”

“Oh? I can’t say I’d noticed.”

“Ha ha. Just— be prepared to have it all in the Daily Prophet before too long.”

“Good,” Snape purred. “Then everyone will know you’re mine.” He kissed Harry possessively.

“Oh god. Stop it or we’ll never get to dinner and I’ll pass out from hunger.” Harry pulled away.

“Very well. Since you insist.”

They cleaned up, changed, and emerged into the main room. Amaryll shouted from her room, “Hey Harry! Two words: silencing charm!”

Harry’s renewed blush made up for any chagrin Snape might have experienced.

They had a delicious dinner despite the fact that people kept falling silent and staring at them. The repercussions of their evening out were almost immediate. On the second and final day of Snape’s visit, the Daily Prophet that the delivery owl dropped off had an article headlined, “Unlikely Couple Spotted Out and About.” Harry read it over his morning tea with dismay.

That same morning, at the Black/Lupin residence:

“AAAAGGGGGHHHH!”

Remus Lupin raced down the stairs dripping wet, clutching a towel around his waist and his wand in his hand. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Having fully expected to find Sirius the victim of a belated Death Eater attack, or at the very least being eviscerated by a bespelled knife, he instead saw the man standing next to an overturned mug of tea holding a newspaper. He approached cautiously. “Sirius?” It might be a flashback. Sirius hadn’t had one yet, but his lover was a man of many surprises.

“Moony, it’s this— this— just LOOK at it!” Sirius shoved the paper into Remus’s face. He looked.

“Oh.” A photo of Harry and Snape dining; their images didn’t take their eyes off one another. He saw Harry reach out and take Snape’s hand into his own. “Siri, you knew about them.” The images were actually being quite discreet. Except for those stares.

“Yes, but it’s— listen to this. ‘Harry Potter is embroiled in an affair with his former teacher and ex-Death Eater Severus Snape. Sources say the two have been secretly seeing each other since Potter’s schooldays. They were first seen together publicly in early November when Snape attended one of Potter’s Quidditch matches. More recently the pair was spotted in a tête-à-tête at new hotspot Maeve’s Familiar. A source at Whiztel, Snape’s work place, says that Snape took several days off over Valentine’s Day to be with Potter. “We all thought it quite romantic,” says the co-worker, “and when he came back to work he kept smiling at people.” Some speculate that Potter may have been influenced by the lifestyle of his godfather, escaped convict Sirius Black, who cohabits with werewolf and former Hogwarts teacher Remus Lupin. Both men were pardoned for unspecified crimes after the defeat of Voldemort.’ As if we ever committed any crimes in the first place! So we’re out too.”

“Does that bother you?”

“NO. But you—” Sirius dragged his eyes away from the paper. “The world’s most secretive werewolf.”

“Not because I’m ashamed. Because it’s not anyone else’s business.” He touched Sirius’s shoulder. “Leave it, Siri. People who know Harry and Severus will know the truth.”

Sirius sighed. “Yes, but— what about this part? ‘Others claim that Snape may have initiated an inappropriate relationship with Potter when the Boy Who Lived was at Hogwarts—’ Moony, that’s— that’s disgusting. If I thought he’d done that, I’d— I’d—” He sputtered incoherently

Remus started toweling his hair dry. “Sirius, please. Calm down.” He paused. “May I get dressed now?”

Sirius pulled his eyes away from the paper again and looked at Remus. Remus enjoyed the moment when Sirius realized he was naked. “No.”

The paper fell, forgotten, to the floor.

And at the Granger/Weasley residence:

“HERM!” Ron spat his tea out.

Hermione set her toast down. Ron was always being set off by something he read in the Daily Prophet. “Honestly, I don’t know why we even subscribe—” He held up the offending page. “Oh.” She looked more closely. Snape was holding Harry’s hand and stroking his thumb over the palm. “That’s actually kind of — sweet.” She took the paper away from Ron and started reading. “Christ!”

“What?” He tried to grab the paper back.

She held it away from him. “There’s a bit in here about how Snape was abusing Harry when we were in school.”

“WHAT!” Ron looked furious. “I’ll kill him!”

“No, you idiot, they made that part up. But here’s what it says: ‘Snape may have initiated an inappropriate relationship with Potter when the Boy Who Lived was at Hogwarts. A former student in the Potions class Potter took from Snape claims that Snape “was always leering at Potter and giving him favorable treatment.”’ That’s got to be Malfoy. Twit. Oh wait, this bit’s better. ‘Other former classmates, however, were startled by these allegations. Dean Thomas’ — good for Dean. Why didn’t anyone contact us?— ‘says, “I never observed nor heard of any impropriety and I lived with Harry for seven years. I may not like Professor Snape, but I have always respected his personal and professional integrity.” Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore likewise denied that any abuse took place during Potter’s schooldays.’ Wonderful, that makes it sound like Snape’s abusing him now.” She set the paper down. “Remind me to send Dean a thank you note.”

Ron snatched the paper back. The photo of Harry was gazing at Snape. Ron recognized that look. It was the one Hermione gave Ron every once in a while, when she was completely relaxed and happy. “Oh hell. He really loves the greasy bastard.”

Hermione just smiled.

Ron resumed his reading. “Damn, they got a quote from Whippet. ‘Potter’s Quidditch coach Winifred Whippet issued this statement. “As a member of the Wimbourne Wasps, Mr. Potter is expected to uphold certain moral and ethical standards. Should he violate those standards, his contract will be terminated.” Not all the Wasps are in agreement with Whippet’s views; one teammate commented, “Whippet just doesn’t like Snape. Harry could be off shagging a different person every night and Whippet wouldn’t say a word. It’s sad that she can’t accept that he’s happy with Snape.” Another said, “As long as he shows up ready to play, he can do whatever he likes in his free time as far as I’m concerned.” The Wasps’ team lawyers stated that no investigation of the Potter-Snape affair would be conducted. Neither Potter nor Snape could be reached for comment.’ Hermione, I think we should go to the next game. Give Harry some moral support.”

Back at the Potter/Canasta flat:

“Couldn’t be reached for comment? They didn’t even try to contact me!” Harry was pacing.

“Harry.” Severus was still sitting at the kitchen table. “What upsets you about this article?”

“Aside from the photo?” Harry stared at it. Why, why, why did he look like such an idiot whenever he was around Snape? “Gee, I don’t know if it’s Whippet’s snotty answer, that revolting quote from Malfoy— don’t say it. You know it’s Malfoy. Or could it just possibly be the fact that they maligned you horribly?”

“Mm. I resent the implication that I smiled. I shall have to have a stern word with Julian.”

Harry appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. “I think I need to give a statement. Or—” he paused at Sev’s side. It was a novel experience to look down at the man. “We could give a joint statement.”

Sev put his arm around Harry’s waist. “Saying what, exactly? Yes, I’ve been planning on shagging Harry Potter senseless since he was sixteen? Or, he accosted me in my dungeon one evening and wouldn’t take no for an answer? Actually I rather like that one. It’s quite accurate.” He leaned his head against Harry’s chest.

Amaryll wandered in to the kitchen, bleary-eyed. “Morning.” She poured herself a mug of tea and loaded it with sugar. “Oh, the Prophet.” She plucked it out of Harry’s hand and perused it. “Good, they got my quote right. Cute picture.”

“Amaryll!” Harry stared at her. “You gave them a quote?”

“Yep. Guess which one.”

“My vote is for the ‘shagging a different person every night’ statement,” Sev contributed. “It has a certain flair that I have come to associate with Miss Canasta.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Amaryll said cheerily. “Don’t look at me like that, Harry. They were going to run the story anyway. Would you have liked it better if Whippet’s statement were the only one in there?” She sipped her tea. “You want my advice? Give an interview to a competitor. Don’t you have that contact at Witch Weekly?”

For a seeming bubblehead, Amaryll occasionally had truly brilliant ideas. Witch Weekly was so thrilled at the prospect of an exclusive interview that the editor even made the photographer back down when Harry and Sev refused to kiss for the camera. Harry still thought he looked like a complete sap, gaping at Snape stupidly. Snape looked just the same: reserved, stern, forbidding... “Sexy as hell,” said Amaryll, looking over his shoulder. “Yowza!”

“Watch it, Amaryll.”

“Oh, right. Why would he look twice at anyone but you?” She pinched his cheek. “I think the article came out quite nicely. I like this part: ‘Witch Weekly: Professor Snape, what attracted you to Harry? Snape: I prefer not to answer such a personal question. WW: Perhaps you could simply share a few of your thoughts about Harry. Snape: (raises eyebrow) (silence).’ Didn’t you tell him he was supposed to cooperate with the interviewer?”

Harry laughed. “He actually managed quite well. Did you see the part where he says, ‘Mr. Potter has brought me unexpected happiness’? I nearly passed out. I’m the one who came off like a babbling idiot.”

Amaryll grinned. “Why? Just because you said, ‘I am so lucky’ about fifteen times? Anyway, it’s very sweet. And this picture is totally adorable. We’d better get going. The Holyhead Harpies await us.”

Whippet always made them show up three hours before the game so she could berate them thoroughly. He was dreading facing her. She had been even more horrible than usual since the new articles about him and Snape had appeared. And he couldn’t figure out who kept blowing them up and pasting them on his locker. At least there were only three months left in the season. “Hey, Amaryll.” He really needed to tell her this. “I’m going to move out when the season’s over.”

“Mm. I’m not really surprised.” They landed and walked towards the changing rooms. “Are you going to find someplace halfway between here and Whiztel?”

He hoped not. He had another idea, but he didn’t want to share it with Amaryll quite yet. He shrugged. Then Whippet was shrieking at him again. Floris was out with the flu, it seemed. “If I had any other options, Potter, you wouldn’t be in there. Just try not to disgrace us, you revolting little Death Eater in training!” He managed not to flinch. Then he flew, he evaded the Harpies’ Beaters, he cleared his mind of everything but his pursuit of the Snitch. It was there— right there— if he could just— too late, he saw the Bludger zooming towards him. He managed to twist in mid-air and catch the Snitch, but the Bludger thwacked him soundly in the ribs. He heard one of his Chasers screaming. He never even saw the other Bludger, the one that struck his head. As he fell off his broom stick, he retained consciousness just long enough to calculate the likelihood of Whippet levitating him before he hit the ground...

Blackness.

painpainpainpainpainpainpain

Blackness.

Pain. Pain. He heard someone groaning. A cool hand touched his cheek softly. “Try to drink this.” The voice was familiar. Something nudged his lips; liquid trickled down his throat. He swallowed, coughed. Pain. Pain. The person was groaning again. “All right. All right. Just a little more.” The liquid again. He didn’t cough.

Blackness.

Pain. He opened his eyes. It was still dark. Would they ever get that person to shut up? “Harry.” The cool touch to his cheek. “Shh.” Oh, he was the groaner. “Drink this.” Liquid, a swallow.

Blackness.

Pain. He was getting really tired of this. He assessed his condition, something Madam Pomfrey had taught him to do in his sixth year in case he was injured in battle. He’d broken his right ankle, several ribs, and his right arm in two places. A severe concussion. Multiple contusions and lacerations. All healing fairly well. He was damnably thirsty. He smacked his lips dryly. The familiar voice. “Harry.”

He tried to speak, but only managed a croak.

“Here’s some water.”

He swallowed gratefully and attempted speech again. “Thanks.” He opened his eyes cautiously. It was light. Sev was sitting on the side of the bed, holding Harry’s hand. He looked very tired. “Where—”

“You’re at St. Mungo’s. It’s been three days. You had an accident while playing Quidditch, do you remember?”

He thought. “Yes. Mm. More water?” He drank again when Sev held the glass to his lips. “I don’t think it was an accident,” he whispered, and fell asleep again.

Pain. It was muted now. He opened his eyes. Sev was still there, sitting in a chair next to the bed. Sleeping in the chair. Harry was glad he was there, but he wished the man weren’t quite so self-sacrificing. As he watched, Sev woke. “Harry.”

“Have you been here the whole time?”

Sev’s eyes shifted. That meant yes. Harry sighed. “Your job?”

“Julian took over.” Sev stood and stretched. “How are you?”

Harry ran the assessment again. His injuries were almost completely healed. “Fine, but it still hurts. My head.”

Sev suddenly looked very angry. “A Bludger will do that. Miss Bell was able to deflect it slightly. Or you would have—” he broke off, looked away.

Oh. OH. “I’m sorry.” He shifted slightly. “Is it still today?”

Sev managed to smile. “No, it’s tomorrow. Do you remember the last time you woke up? That was eleven hours ago.” A little pause. “Do you feel like seeing some people?”

Who— oh. “Sirius?”

“Yes, your godfather has been chasing his tail in the waiting room for quite a while.” A gentle touch to his hand. “Weasley and Granger are out there too.”

“Sirius first, please. And Remus, if he’s here.”

A nod. A kiss fell lightly on his cheek. He heard the door open.

“Snape.” At least Sirius had acknowledged Sev’s existence.

“Black.” A little pause. “He’d like to see you too, Remus.”

Harry managed to turn his head. The three men were standing by the doorway, staring at one another. “Pissing contest later, please,” he croaked.

“Harry!” Sirius rushed over. “Oh god, I was so worried.” He stared down at him. “You don’t look as bad as I thought you would.”

“I feel okay. Tired. Hey, did someone levitate me? You know, when I was falling?”

A sudden silence.

“Well?”

Sirius stalked over to the window. “You tell him, Moony.”

Remus sighed. “Yes, but— well, there was a levitation spell and an anti-levitation spell.”

Damn. Sev was still standing by the door, face frozen.

“Who threw what?”

Sirius burst out, “We don’t fucking know! The fucking Ministry won’t fucking investigate!”

Harry winced.

“Quiet, Black, your infernal yelling is hurting him.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do around my own godson! If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Sirius!” Harry started to cough. Damn, that hurt. Sev came over and touched him carefully. The wracking spasms ceased. “What the hell is going on? Would someone please tell me?” He reached for the water again and drank. “Remus, you tell me. Sirius, Sev, shut up.”

Surprised, they obeyed.

“All right.” Remus rubbed his hand over his face. He looked exhausted. “From what we’ve been able to figure out, the Harpies basically ganged up on you. Their Beaters went after you when you spotted the Snitch. Er. We think that the Snitch was charmed to alert their Beaters when you were near it. So their Chasers led off your Beaters, and the Harpies waited until you were a bit distracted by the Snitch and— attacked. They deliberately hit the Bludgers toward your head. One of your Chasers realized what was going on and used her broom to try to deflect them.” Sev had mentioned that. Harry nodded. “She was partially successful. Er. If she hadn’t—”

By the window, Sirius was growling.

“Yes,” Harry said. “The levitation?”

“Mm. Several of your teammates cast levitation spells simultaneously. That’s what— there was an anti-levitation spell on you. We don’t know who. Well, we couldn’t exactly track down the entire crowd and make them let us do Priori Incantato. Since there were more levitation spells than anti-levitation spells, you still fell, but not as hard.”

“It was that bitch Whippet!” Sirius said. “Evil cow.”

Sev stirred. He was still at Harry’s side. “Black, I’m going to say something I never thought I would. I agree with you. At least, with your assessment of Whippet as a malevolent bovine. However, I’m not positive that she cast the anti-levitation charm.”

He looked down at Harry, stroked his cheek delicately. “On the other hand, she certainly didn’t do anything to help you.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. He fell asleep again.

Harry woke in pain. He was really, really tired of this routine. It was still light, or it was light again. He croaked. A hand fed him some water. It was a different hand. He opened his eyes. “Hermione?”

She smiled. “We sent Snape away to get some sleep.” We? He shifted slightly and saw Ron sitting beside her, looking anxious and uncomfortable.

“Thanks.”

“Here, drink some of this. It’s a painkiller Snape mixed up for you.”

He drank and instantly felt better. “Wow. He’s good.”

“Yes, convenient to be involved with a Potions Master.” She kissed his forehead. “God, Harry!”

There were tears in Hermione’s eyes. Amazing. Ron took her hand. “Yeah, Harry. Good thing you lived up to your nickname.”

“Sorry.” He seemed to be apologizing a lot. He paused. “Hey, I’m hungry.”

As if by magic— well, it probably was by magic, as Harry’s logical processes told him when they kicked in— the door opened. Sev was carrying a tray of food. Harry gingerly pulled himself up on the bed.

“Professor Snape, I thought you were sleeping.” Hermione sounded concerned.

Sev’s eyes shifted. Uh-oh.

“Sev, did you spell yourself to me?” Harry looked at the tray of food. “Potatoes!” He practically started drooling.

“What Winifred Whippet doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Sev sat on the bed, placing the tray on Harry’s lap. “Here.” He lifted a forkful of mashed potato to Harry’s lips.

Harry clamped his teeth shut. “Don’t evade the question,” he mumbled.

If Ron’s eyebrows got any higher, they were going to fly right off his forehead. Between seeing the dreaded Potions teacher hand feeding his best friend and hearing his best friend talk back to the dreaded Potions teacher, Ron was doubtless on the verge of apoplexy. Harry glanced at Hermione.

“Come on Ron, time for us to go.” She dragged Ron out.

“Right, then. Did you spell yourself to me?” Harry let Sev put the potato in his mouth. “Oh...” Buttery, creamy, smooth, potato-ey potatoes. He opened his mouth eagerly for another bite. “It’s been so long...” He’d been on Whippet’s no-carb diet for eight months now. “But you still have to answer the question,” he muttered around the mouthful of potato heaven.

Sev sighed. “Yes. I know when you’re awake, asleep, if you’re in pain, hungry— your physical condition.”

“Aren’t there any nurses around here?”

“I don’t trust them.” Another sigh. “It’s only temporary. I’ll take it off when you’re better.”

“Take it off now,” Harry ordered.

“No.”

“I said, take it off.” He groped for his wand.

Sev caught his hand. “Harry, listen to me. I need to know how you’re feeling for now. I’ll undo the spell when you’re better.”

“I’m better now. Take it off.” He was starting to get angry. He tried to take a deep breath, but that hurt his ribs.

“Harry!” Sev was becoming angry too. “Try for once to put yourself in my position. Your— the person you—”

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Harry turned his face away.

“Your lover is gravely injured and you— you want to protect him. How would you feel? Use your imagination!” Snape stood up and began pacing.

Memory overtook him. “I don’t need to! I’ve— in the last battle.”

Sev looked surprised. “Who?”

“You, you imbecile.” Harry rubbed his aching temple. “When the Death Eaters triple-cursed you with Cruciatus and Voldemort was about to finish you off with Avada Kedavra.”

“That’s not the same.” Sev seemed a little shaken.

“Why the hell not?”

“You didn’t— we weren’t—”

The rage Harry had been controlling suddenly burst out of him. “You bastard. You fucking bastard!” The glass on the bedside table shattered. Damn. He was dimly aware of footsteps running in the hallway. “How dare you assume you know what I felt!” Another cracking noise; that was a window pane.

The door burst open. “Snape! What the hell are you doing to him!” Sirius, with Remus right behind him.

“Get out, Sirius!” Harry yelled. Ron and Hermione were trying to peer in as well.

“No! I’m not leaving you alone with him!”

Harry picked up his wand. “OUT!” A wave of force pushed them all out of the room and slammed the door shut. Several more window panes cracked. “Dammit!” He glared at Sev, who was stock-still in the middle of the room. “What the hell is wrong with you!” He closed his eyes, took a careful breath, another. He opened his eyes and said more calmly, “I’ve been in love with you for almost two years. Don’t you fucking dare tell me your feelings are stronger than mine. I’ll let you leave the spell on for now. But it’s coming off when I’m out of here.” He was suddenly exhausted. One more thing. “Sorry about the glass. I got angry. God, I hate being helpless.”

Sev made a noise that sounded almost like laughter. “Helpless? Harry, you just unleashed a burst of power that would have given every wizard in the country a shock if this place weren’t so heavily shielded.” Pause. “Two years?” He took a step towards Harry.

“Yes, you idiot. What did you think that whole scene in the dungeon was about?” Walking down there on his last day at Hogwarts, talking to Snape, kissing him, being pushed away... Harry sighed.

“I thought— well. It doesn’t matter now.”

It did, but Harry was having trouble keeping his eyes open. They closed against his will. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” A whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” A kiss to his forehead.

When Harry woke again, he felt spectacularly better. It undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that at some point Sev had gotten into bed with him and was curled around him. Lupin was standing by the window.

“Remus?” He swallowed dryly.

“Harry. How are you feeling?” Remus walked over to the bed.

“Thirsty. I broke my glass.”

A chuckle. “You did indeed. You broke every glass on the floor.”

Damn. Behind him Sev stirred and stretched. Harry sat up and took the glass of juice Remus handed him. “Why are you still here? I mean, I’m glad you are, but—how long has it been, anyway?”

“Since the ‘accident’? Five days. And Sirius and I are still here because we’re concerned. Er. He’s outside.” Remus’ eyes flicked to Sev.

“Showing more brains than I ever gave him credit for,” Sev remarked. He got out of bed and put his robe back on.

“I feel much better,” Harry said. “I’d like to go back to my flat now.”

“Your flat?” Remus and Sev spoke in unison.

“Yes, my flat. You know, where I live.” He set his feet on the floor and tested out his healed ankle. No pain. “I need to get back to the team. Whippet’s probably in a snit again.”

Silence. Remus and Sev weren’t looking at him. This didn’t bode well.

Harry sighed. “I’m going to guess that either I don’t have a flat any longer, or that Whippet managed to cut me.” He stood cautiously. A little wobbly, but that was probably from not having eaten.

Remus slipped out of the room.

“She cut you,” Sev said carefully. “The official line is medical leave until the end of the season. But rumor has it that they don’t intend to re-sign you.”

“Oh, I knew that.” He took a tentative step. “Medical leave is good. They still have to pay me. And that means they’re picking up this hospital bill, too.” Another step. “Hey, I’m doing pretty well here. Can I scrounge up some clothes?” He was wearing hospital pajamas. “And a bath? And some food? And—”

Sev chuckled. “Yes, yes, and yes.”

“I want carbohydrates,” Harry said a few minutes later as he climbed into the steaming tub. “Bread, pasta, potatoes. Anything that’s not a grilled chicken breast.”

“Planning to run to seed so quickly?”

Harry looked down at himself. “I do look rather awful, don’t I?” He had lost a lot of weight. He’d caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror and had been startled by the way his cheekbones stood out and by how huge his eyes looked. He soaped his arms.

Sev was in the doorway, staring at him.

“Sev? You all right there?”

“You look beautiful.” A whisper. “Alive.”

Oh, hell. He sank down into the tub quickly so that he was completely under water. When he re-emerged, Sev had left. He drained the tub and got out. A brief moment of dizziness; he sat on the edge of the tub until it passed. A pile of clothes had appeared on the shelf. He put them on: black trousers that hung off his waist, a green shirt that was looser than he remembered. Like wearing Dudley’s hand-me-downs again. At least whoever had gotten the clothes had remembered a belt. He made his way back to the bedroom.

He laughed. Sev had taken him seriously. A plate of linguine, a jacket potato, and several thick slices of bread awaited him. Sirius and Remus were also there, giving the assortment of food rather strange looks. Harry sat down on the bed, grabbed the plate of linguine, and tucked in.

“Harry, you mentioned going back to your flat before,” Remus said.

Harry nodded, inhaling the pasta.

Sirius was clearly making an effort to control himself. “We don’t think that’s such a good idea. Not until we find out who was casting the anti-levitation spell.”

“I’ve got those wards up now.”

“Now? Now! You haven’t had wards up all along?” Sirius was incensed. Remus touched his hand lightly.

“Um. No. But they’re up now.”

“Still, we’d like for you to come home with us.”

“Or,” Remus added firmly, “to go home with Severus.” He glared at Sirius.

“Right. Or that,” his godfather muttered grudgingly.

Harry drank his pumpkin juice. He was full without even having touched the potato. He cast it a regretful look. “Does Sev want me with him?”

Sirius stared out the window. Remus smiled. “You didn’t hear them arguing over who would get to take you home?” Sirius growled.

“I want to talk to him.” Harry paused. “Sorry about the way I threw you out before.”

“Oh, that.” Yes, Sirius would understand about getting angry. “Not to worry.”

“We’ll have Severus come in, then.” Remus stood. “Come on, Siri. It’s been well-established that they don’t need you hovering over them while they talk.”

Like the changing of the guard, Remus and Sirius left and Sev came in. He looked better, more rested. “Harry.” But nervous. “I want to tell you something.”

Harry pointed to the spot next to him on the bed. Sev sat down and tentatively put his arm around Harry, who leaned into him. He felt Sev relax. “What is it?”

A kiss to the top of his head. “I want you to come to my house because I... I want you to come to my house.”

Harry chewed that one over. Oh. Oh good. “Not just because I’ll be safer there?” He shifted and climbed into Sev’s lap. The long arms wrapped around him. “You want me to— to live with you?”

“Yes. Yes.” Kisses brushed over his forehead, cheeks, and very gently, his mouth.

“Sounds good to me.” He kissed Sev back. “More than good. Marvelous. Actually I was—I was hoping to move in with you at the end of the season.”

A long, deep kiss. Harry was panting at the end of it. “So, when can we leave?”

Sev chuckled.

A knock on the door. Before Harry could get off Sev’s lap, it opened. Remus looked in. “Oh, sorry. Just wanted to say goodbye for now— no, Sirius, they’re busy. We’ll see them tomorrow. No, they’re— damn.” This as Sirius pushed Remus aside. His face darkened when he saw Harry in the circle of Sev’s arms.

“Bad dog,” remarked Sev.

Sirius growled. Harry burst out into laughter, then choked it back when Sirius glared at him. “Sorry.”

“I can see you’re doing well, Harry, so I’ll leave you with... with Snape.” As if it hurt him to say the name. The door closed abruptly.

Harry sighed. “Let’s go home.”

They had to Floo in since Harry wasn’t strong enough to Apparate. It was evening by the time they arrived, and Harry was tired again. Sev settled him in his— their— enormous bed with a plate of chocolate biscuits, then got in next to him with a stack of papers.

“Work?” Harry savored his biscuit.

“Mm, yes.” Sev was marking something on one of the papers. “I have to go in tomorrow.”

“Yes, I thought you would. What’s happening with Sirius and Remus? Why did they say they’d see us tomorrow?”

“They’re going to do some more investigating during the day and come for dinner, if that’s all right.” Sev looked at him.

Socializing with his lover and his godfather, who hated each other. And his godfather’s lover, who was also Harry’s lover’s ex-lover... His head hurt again. “Are you and Sirius going to shout at each other?”

“Please. I don’t shout. That’s your godfather’s job.”

Harry shot him a disbelieving glance.

A sigh. “I believe we’ll be able to arrange a temporary cease-fire.”

“All right, then.” Harry’s eyes were closing. He slid down in the bed. Sev rescued the plate and kissed his scar gently. “Night...”

Harry slept through until mid-morning. He spent the day walking up and down the stairs to strengthen his legs, eating, and reading through the Daily Prophets that had accumulated during his time in St. Mungo’s. He was amazed at the uproar his fall seemed to have caused. “Boy Who Lived Does It Again”; “Rumors Fly About Potter Accident”; “Some Say Accident a Murder Attempt”; and today’s paper, “Potter Recuperating at Lover’s Home”. He read that one.

“After a near-fatal fall a week ago during a match against the Holyhead Harpies, Wimbourne Wasps reserve Seeker Harry Potter has been released from St. Mungo’s and is reported to be recuperating at the home of his lover and former Hogwarts teacher”—why the hell did they keep saying that?— “Severus Snape. Rumors continue to circulate about the fall. Speculation that a new Dark wizard has Potter in his sights runs rampant, while others claim that Potter’s new relationship is to blame.” WHAT?

“According to the second group, Potter was attacked by activists angered by his affair with a former Death Eater. Yesterday Floris Thrimblemere, the Seeker for whom Potter was substituting, alleged that she was the intended target and said, ‘It’s awful that Harry was caught in the midst of a feud between me and the Harpies.’ According to Thrimblemere, certain Harpies players still resent her spectacular catch of the Snitch in a match last year that resulted in a last-second Wasps victory.

“Earlier today the Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Games and Sports issued a statement reiterating its refusal to launch an investigation, despite calls from some of Potter’s teammates and his friends. The Harpies Bludgers were each fined ten Galleons for ‘reckless play’ by the British Division of the International Association of Quidditch. Wasps Coach Winifred Whippet had no comment, but one Wasps player says, ‘she’s elated. She’s always hated Potter.’ Wasps management confirmed today that Potter will be on medical leave until the end of the season.”

Harry dropped the paper at the side of the bed. He ate another biscuit and fell asleep.

He woke with the sense that Sev was in the house. Running water. Hmm... He got up and went into the bathroom. Sev was in the shower. Harry shed his clothes quickly, put his glasses on the counter, and popped his head around the curtain. “May I join you?”

“That would be delightful,” Sev replied. He drew Harry into his arms and kissed him deeply. “Since you seem to be clean, I take it there’s another agenda for this little visit.”

“Not so little,” Harry said, pressing his erection against Sev’s leg.

“I stand corrected.” Sev ran his hands over Harry’s shoulders, down his arms, and captured his hands. He lifted them to his mouth and licked Harry’s fingers slowly. The expression of intense concentration on Sev’s face made Harry shiver. He pulled his hands away and touched the other man’s chest, stroking over the hard nipples and sliding down to the flat belly. Sev kissed him again, nipping at his lips. Harry wrapped his hand around Sev’s erection and began pumping it slowly, shifting slightly so that the stream of warm water sprayed onto his hand and the cock he was holding. As he stroked the hot erection, he rubbed the tip against his stomach. Sev moaned and bit at Harry’s ear, flicking his tongue over the earlobe.

Harry reached around and started caressing Sev’s arse. Another moan. Gently he brought his fingers between the firm cheeks; Sev spread his legs wider apart. Harry touched the opening, rubbing it lightly. The dark head dropped to his shoulder; he felt a bite at his neck. He pushed his exploring finger in a fraction, then further when he felt Sev’s prick twitch in his hand. “Yes...” A hot whisper against his throat. His finger slid completely inside. He began moving his finger in and out of the tight hole deliberately, still fisting the pulsing erection with his other hand. Sev grabbed at Harry’s hips and pulled him closer, pushing his cock against Harry’s belly. Another finger. He could feel that Sev was very close; the hands on his hips were digging into him. Gradually he increased the speed of his caresses, squeezing the prick with each stroke, and sliding his fingers in and out of Sev’s arse. He pressed on the hard little nub deliberately; Sev kissed his mouth so hard it almost hurt and came with a gasp, spurting over Harry’s hand and stomach. Harry removed his fingers carefully and wrapped his arms around his lover, who leaned on him for a moment.

“I want you,” Harry whispered. He rubbed himself against Sev’s thigh again.

“Oh, yes.” A low purr. Sev sounded both sated and aroused. “Here?” He turned and faced the wall under the soft spray.

Another moment when Harry disliked being shorter. “No, I can’t—” He pressed himself against Sev’s back to illustrate. “Let’s—” He turned off the water and pulled Sev out of the shower. He hauled the towels off the rungs and threw them on top of the fluffy bath rug.

“Very resourceful, Mr. Potter.” Sev knelt down, head resting on his crossed arms. Harry moaned at the sight of his lover, waiting to be fucked. He yanked open the medicine cabinet. A row of unlabelled jars confronted him.

“Um...”

“Second shelf, fourth from right, dark blue.” Sev said to his arms.

Right. Harry decided to work on seriously disrupting Sev’s logical thought processes. He knelt behind the other man and began stroking the rounded arse. Sev shivered under his hands. Harry bent forward and nipped at a firm cheek, working his way to the cleft. Another shiver. Harry ran his tongue down and teased Sev’s entrance, licking over it firmly, lightly, firmly again. Sev was trying to push back into the caress; Harry grabbed his hips and held him steady as he continued to lick and probe the hole.

When his lover began moaning, Harry licked down to the tight balls and drew them into his mouth delicately. A muffled cry from Sev. Still sucking the balls, Harry scooped out some lubricant and rubbed it over and into Sev’s opening, putting in two, then three fingers carefully. Sev’s panting made Harry even harder. Pulling back, Harry slicked more lube over his cock and pressed himself against the relaxed entrance. His erection sank slowly into the welcoming heat. Sev was moving under him now, trying to push back. Harry withdrew and re-entered as slowly as he could manage until he was completely inside.

A minute in which they remained still but for their labored breathing; then Harry began thrusting. He took Sev’s cock, erect once more, into his hand and stroked it in time with his movements. Having his lover under him, under his control, was astoundingly exciting. Sev had turned his head so that his cheek now rested on his arm, and Harry could see him in profile; his wet hair snaked damply over his face. Harry reached forward and brushed the strands back, trailing his fingers over the hot cheek to the parted lips, down the elegant neck, down the long curve of the spine, until he took hold of Sev’s hip and shoved in more forcefully.

“Oh...” A quiet sound from Sev. “Yes.” Harry dragged his thumb over the wet head of Sev’s cock, teasing it before he resumed his steady movements. Sev’s tight arse clutched him with every stroke. He bit his lip to force back the orgasm he felt hovering over him and pumped Sev’s erection even faster. A noise; Harry realized it was himself, moaning. He shifted slightly and pushed in again. Sev cried out. Harry repeated the action, struggling for control as he thrust in and out, over and over again. Sev tensed under him abruptly; Harry felt the hot come on his hand and the arse clenching him even more tightly. He waited, stroking the semi-erect cock leisurely, until Sev relaxed. Then he grabbed Sev’s hips and fucked him strongly, letting himself be carried away by the sensations spiraling through him. He was leaning over Sev’s back, biting at his shoulder, when he exploded with desire and ecstasy.

Blackness.

“Harry? Harry?”

He woke abruptly. He had collapsed— passed out— on Sev’s back. He rolled off cautiously. “Oh. Oh, wow. Oh, wow.”

Sev had turned to his side and was looking at him with a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A kiss. “Oh yeah. Oh, wow. Wow.” A sudden thought. “How long was I—”

“Only a minute or two.” Sev stretched. “Now I need another shower. Dammit, Potter.”

“Well, I need another shower too, you know.” He grinned.

“Control yourself, boy. Your godfather will be here soon. I don’t want him bursting in here when he hears you screaming.” Sev stood and got back into the shower.

Harry joined him. “You think you’d make me scream?” He soaped up briskly.

“Yes. I have a secret weapon.”

Harry looked down. “Oh yes you do, but I think it needs to be loaded.”

“Brat. I was talking about this.” Long fingers tickled him abruptly.

He shrieked and giggled. “All right, you win.” He rinsed off and hopped out. Sev followed. “Do I have any clothes here?” He’d worn the clothes from the hospital again that day.

Sev’s eyes shifted. Had the man been planning on keeping him naked?

“Sev?” He wrapped a towel around his waist.

“Follow me.” Sev put on a dressing gown. They walked down the hall to a room Harry hadn’t been in before. Sev opened the door.

“Holy shit!” All Harry’s possessions were there: his few pieces of furniture from the flat, his books, his broomstick— sadly battered from the fall— and Quidditch gear. Hedwig hooted at him softly. He opened the closet. All his clothes. “When did you do this?”

The eyes shifted.

“Sev, just tell me.” Harry knew his lover had no idea that he was so transparent. “I know you didn’t do it today.”

“No. Three days ago. Miss Canasta was quite helpful.” A look of mischief. “I’m sure you will be relieved to know that I took charge of the contents of your nightstand.”

Harry blushed.

“Harry. I didn’t— I wasn’t—” Sev was at an unusual loss for words. “I was hopeful.”

He grinned. “So, if I’d decided to go with Sirius, you would have—”

“Mm.” Sev considered this. “I would have held your possessions for ransom.” A leer at Harry, still in his towel, indicated the nature of the ransom.

Harry laughed. He moved into Sev’s arms and gave him a kiss. “Thank you for taking care of this. Will you remind me to pay Amaryll the rest of the rent?”

A slight tension. “I’ve already done that.”

“Oh. All right. I’ll just pay you, then.” He broke away and looked into the closet. “I think I’ll wear this.” He pulled out a blue shirt.

“You don’t need to pay me.” A hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I do.” He found a pair of black trousers. “Did you think I was going to live off you?”

“No. But I— I have a lot of money, Harry.” Quietly. “I’ve never really spent it. It would give me pleasure to share it with you.”

Oh, hell. How was he supposed to respond to that? “Share, yes. That means we pool our resources. I’m not just going to hang around the house being decorative.” He finished buttoning up the shirt.

“Pity. You do that so well.” Sev touched Harry’s cheek lightly.

Harry grinned. “All right, in my spare time I’ll lounge about. But I have to do something with my life.”

“Indeed. I know all too well the trouble you manage to get yourself into when you’re bored.” Sev looked at the clock. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. I should get dressed. I don’t want to offend your godfather’s delicate sensibilities unnecessarily.”

“Thanks.” Harry followed Sev back to their room and watched him dress. “Do you have any clothes that aren’t black?”

“Ha ha. Yes.” Pause. “I think.”

They entered the living room just as Sirius and Remus Floo’d in, coughing. A tense moment; then the house elf, Zippy, came in to motion them into the dining room. Sirius hung back and stopped Harry with a hand on his arm. “Is everything all right?”

Harry couldn’t repress his grin. “Yes.” He hugged his godfather. “Thanks for being here. I know it’s difficult.”

The blue eyes warmed. “It’s not as horrible as I thought.” Sirius lowered his voice. “I watched him in the hospital. He was... He was worried.”

Harry still felt bad about that. “I know.” His stomach rumbled. “God, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” They walked into the dining room. “Lasagna!”

They ate in relative silence. Harry decided it was better than shouting, and devoured his lasagna and garlic bread happily. Remus laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy his food quite so much. Except perhaps Sirius.”

“Mmm,” Harry said. “I missed this so much. What’s for dessert?”

Sev poured him another glass of wine. “What makes you think you get dessert?”

Harry grinned. “Wasn’t I good today?”

The dark gaze heated suddenly. “Yes...” Harry felt himself falling into those black eyes.

Sirius cleared his throat loudly. Harry pulled his attention away from Sev and blushed. He ate the last of his lasagna quickly.

After dessert— tiramisu; Harry was in heaven— the mood turned serious. They returned to the living room. Sirius stood in front of the fireplace, in report-giving mode. “To bring you up to speed, Harry, here’s what we’ve been doing. As you know, we weren’t at the match. However, I went to the pitch as soon as I could and looked around. Er, smelled around. I didn’t find traces of anyone familiar. No known Death Eaters.”

Harry nodded. Only a handful of Death Eaters continued to elude the Aurors sent after them. Even Lucius Malfoy had finally been caught and sent to Azkaban.

Remus took up the story. “I spoke with your teammates. That’s how I found out about the levitation spells. Five of them, to be exact. Your coach— former coach, I’m happy to say— apparently did nothing. But as far as I can tell, she didn’t throw the anti-levitation spell. I asked Hermione to speak with the Harpies, but she didn’t get anywhere with them. They all recognized her and refused to say anything. Which is rather interesting.”

Harry nodded. The Harpies had a reputation for being, well, harpies. They never agreed on anything and sniped at one another continuously, even during matches. “Possibly outside influence, then. Any evidence of Imperius?”

“Hermione said she couldn’t be sure, since she didn’t have much time with them before they threw her out. Er. I found out something else.” Remus looked at Sev quickly, then away. “Of the British Quidditch teams, the Harpies players suffered the most losses from Death Eater attacks. The team itself lost six players, and the current players have almost all lost family members, life partners, or close friends.”

The room was silent. Harry looked at Sev; his face was completely still. By the fireplace, Sirius was clenching his fists. Abruptly he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Harry heard him shouting incoherently, noise muffled by the door.

Remus stood and walked to the liquor cabinet. “I need a drink.” He opened the cabinet. “I’ll have the Oban, if you don’t mind, Severus.”

The shouting continued. Harry glanced at Sev, still frozen. “I’ll have one too. Um... The yelling?”

Remus sighed. “We’re working on it.” He handed Harry a drink and, after a second, gave one to Sev as well. “It’s not you. Either of you.”

Sev nodded. He was tense, stiff. Harry touched his arm tentatively. Sev gave him an unreadable stare. “Having second thoughts, Potter?”

Oh, hell. “No. Are you?”

The yelling outside had stopped. It seemed very quiet.

“Well, I— perhaps you should stay with Remus and your godfather instead.”

“Oh no. No way.” The door opened, but Harry didn’t register it. “That’s not your decision to make.”

“It is my decision. It’s my house.”

“Then I’ll go back to my flat.” Harry tried not to think about the implications of the previous statement.

“No.”

“Then I’m staying.”

“No.”

“Dammit!” Harry stood up. “I’m making this decision. For once. Just let me— just let me make my own fucking decision about my own life.” The hallway was seeming like a very appealing place. “I’m going to go shout now.”

Before he could make it out of the room, a hand caught his arm. “Harry.” A long pause.

“Sev, just tell me. Do you want me here?” His eyes were prickling. He looked away and saw Sirius and Remus standing there, frozen. Wonderful, they’d get to see this touching little scene. He foresaw more shouting.

A whisper. “You know I do.” Sev lifted his hand, touched Harry’s hair tentatively. “But I want you to be safe.”

Harry jerked away. “I want you to be safe, too. Have you thought of that? What if someone attacks you?”

“I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” Sev crossed his arms.

“God!” Listen to yourself, he wanted to scream. “Why can’t you—” He cut himself off, picked up his scotch and drank it. “All right.” He rubbed his hand over his face. He was suddenly very tired. “This is useless,” he muttered. “I’m going back to my flat tomorrow.”

He walked out into the hallway and went up the stairs. Downstairs the shouting started again. Harry hesitated, then went into the room where Sev had placed his possessions. Still dressed, he lay down on the bed. Despite the fact that he’d been sleeping in it for the past eight months, it seemed unfamiliar. He picked up his wand and set a protective ward on the door. So there, he thought childishly.

Harry woke very early in the morning. His ward was intact. He removed it and opened the door. Sev was standing there.

“It’s too early to start in again.” Harry brushed past him. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Sev followed him. “What, are you going to glue yourself to me now? That handy little ‘know everything about Harry’ spell isn’t enough?” He marched down the stairs and into the kitchen. Zippy sprang out of the pantry and instantly produced a pot of tea. “Thank you, Zippy.” Harry sat at the kitchen table with his mug.

Sev still hadn’t said a word. Harry took a careful look at him. “Did you sleep last night?”

The dark head shook. Wonderful. “Harry, I—” Sev sat down across from him. “I—”

Harry sighed. “Please. Don’t. I can’t do this.”

Sev poured himself a mug of tea. Harry saw that his hands were shaking. “Let me just say this.” A long pause. Sev was staring into his mug. He whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

Harry’s eyes felt hot. He made himself reach out and touch Sev’s trembling hand. The hand grabbed onto him tightly. Harry’s anger had drained away. “Oh, Sev. I’m not going to leave you.” The hand held him even more tightly. “But you can’t— I need—” He started over. “Last night you told me that you were a grown man and could protect yourself.” He waited. A nod. “Do you think I’m not an adult? That I can’t protect myself? It has to go both ways. Otherwise I’m just your—” he swallowed. “Just decoration. Something you’re keeping to amuse yourself with.” He was going to have bruises on his wrist from where Sev was holding him, but he didn’t care.

The dark eyes were intent on him. “I know.” Pause. Sev drank some of his tea. “I’m—I’ll try.”

Harry blinked in surprise. Was it going to be that easy? “Really?”

“Yes. Yes.” Sev’s grip relaxed slightly. “But I— I need you to help me.”

Harry felt relief flood into him. He smiled. “All right.” He stood and walked around the table to Sev’s chair, nudged him until Sev pushed away from the table. Harry sat in his lap. Long arms embraced him gratefully. “I’m staying here. And you’re going to take that spell off.”

Sev kissed the top of his head. “I already did.” A kiss to his ear. “Did you hear anything that happened after you left last night?”

“Shouting. I didn’t wait around.” He’d trusted that Remus would keep Sirius and Sev from killing each other. “Is Sirius still in one piece?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But— astonishingly enough, his ranting was... um. Helpful.”

Wow. Harry twisted slightly in Sev’s arms and looked into his face. “Sirius helped you?”

“Indirectly. He was blithering on and on about— well, at any rate. I heard him saying the kinds of things I had been saying about protecting you. Naturally, I can’t allow myself to agree with Dogboy on anything.” Sev’s tone was deliberately light.

Harry picked out the grain of truth from his lover’s words. “I see.” He kissed him lightly. “You know, I don’t think all this— the accident— is about you having been a Death Eater.”

Zippy appeared with plates of fruit and toast, then vanished silently.

“What the hell did you do to that poor elf? He never talks.” Harry bit into his toast.

Sev reached around him and retrieved a grapefruit segment. “What do you think it’s about, then?”

“Don’t know. But it just doesn’t make sense that they’d attack me and not you if that’s what it is. And really, it was a pretty piss-poor attack. The outcome was too uncertain. Perhaps I’ll Floo over to Sirius’ place today and talk with him and Remus about it while you’re at work.” He slid off Sev’s lap and returned to his chair. “Easier to eat this way.” He poured himself some more tea.

“Speaking of work...” Sev looked at his watch. “If I go in now, I can come back mid-afternoon. That will also have the advantage of shaking up Julian. I fear he may be becoming a trifle complacent.” A hint of amusement. “If he thinks I’ll go soft now that I’ve found— what was that sickening phrase in Witch Weekly?— ‘new life in the arms of the Boy Who Lived,’ he’s sadly mistaken.”

“Yes, I’d say that empirical evidence demonstrates that you’re definitely not in danger of going soft.” Harry leaned over and kissed him. “I hope you’re going to take some Pepper-Up Potion or something. God forbid you should pass out over your cauldron. See you this afternoon.”

When Harry fell out of Sirius’ fireplace a few hours later, he heard his godfather before he saw him.

“Oh yes, Moony. Just like that. Mm, perfect.”

Harry froze, crouched in the kitchen fireplace. The voice was coming from the living room.

“How’s this?”

“God, that’s... just right...” Sirius’ voice trailed away.

Harry coughed loudly and walked as heavily as he could across the kitchen to the living room. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

Sirius’ head shot up off Remus’s knee. He was sitting on the floor, Remus behind him on the couch. “Harry! Remus was just, um, brushing my hair.” Remus did have a brush in his hand. But both men were shirtless, and Sirius was nestled between Remus’ legs, arms draped over one of Remus’ thighs.

“Oh?” This could be fun.

“Yes, it’s, um, hard to—”

Remus choked back a snicker. Sirius shoved his elbow into the other man’s leg. “I mean—”

Harry took mercy on his godfather. “Relax, Sirius. I just came by to finish our talk from last night, but if it’s not a good time—”

“No, it’s fine.” Behind Sirius, Remus nodded in agreement. “So you’re not—”

“No, I’m staying with Sev,” Harry said firmly. He paused. “Did I see scones in the kitchen?” At Remus’ nod, Harry sped back into the kitchen. He returned to the main room with a mug of tea and a plate of scones. Remus was a really good cook. He sat and started eating.

“So, er. Get everything worked out?” Sirius tried to scoot away from Remus, but the other man clamped his legs around him. And started brushing his hair again.

Harry watched in amazement as his godfather’s eyes started to close in involuntary pleasure. “Wow, Sirius. That’s— that’s so Pavlovian.”

Now Remus did snicker. “Works like the proverbial charm.” He held up his free hand and Harry tossed him one of the scones.

“Anyway, to answer your question, everything is—” He couldn’t quite say ‘fine’. “Things are better. Um. Sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s all right. Remus and I have had some go-rounds in our time too.” Sirius tilted his head and looked up at Remus.

“You have?” Harry couldn’t quite imagine Remus shouting. “Um... I came to see you because I have some ideas I want to talk about.”

“Mm?” Sirius was still staring up at Remus.

“Focus, Siri.” Remus touched the other man’s cheek lightly. A not-quite caress. “Your godson wants to talk.” He leaned over and retrieved their shirts. “Get dressed. Sit on the sofa like a human being.”

Sirius obeyed. Harry was impressed. Unbidden, he went to the kitchen and returned with tea for all of them.

Remus eyed the mug. “Is this regular tea or Sirius tea?”

“Um, Sirius tea,” Harry confessed. Strong enough to peel the fur off his tongue, was how Sirius described it. Sometimes he just barked when he wanted tea.

Remus set his mug aside. “Thanks anyway.” He went to a cabinet and got out a bottle of scotch and a glass. “I’ll just start in on the good stuff.”

“Remus! It’s barely noon!”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Siri.” Remus took a deep swallow.

Harry sipped his tea. He’d started to like the powerful brew after a few visits with Sirius. “So, the attack. I think it’s a distraction.”

Remus considered this. “Do you think there will be another attack on you, or on someone else?”

“I’m not sure.” He chewed his scone thoughtfully. “But that’s one of the reasons why I didn’t want to leave Sev.” Along with not wanting to be sent home with Sirius and Remus like a naughty puppy.

Sirius twitched. Remus touched his arm briefly. “Should we start looking for people who want to take him out?”

“That’ll be a long list,” Sirius muttered.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, trying to stay calm. “It’s one thing to hate somebody; it’s quite another to try to kill him. As we all know.” That hadn’t come out quite right. “I didn’t mean about that time—” when you tried to kill him. Shit. Sirius and Remus had both gone very still. “Um. We should look for people who wouldn’t mind if I got killed as well. I just don’t think we should assume that I’m the primary target.” They relaxed a fraction with the change of subject. “You know, I could use some of that scotch now.”

Remus handed him the bottle and another glass. Harry poured himself a drink and took a swallow. “And it’s got to be someone who knows a fair amount about Quidditch. That was a fairly elaborate set-up. And it had to be someone who could get to the Harpies, so at least one woman is involved.” He thought. “That’s all I’ve come up with.”

“We really don’t have any more than that,” Remus said.

“If the fucking Ministry would get their wands out of their arses and fucking investigate we could actually fucking do something!” Sirius shot to his feet. “Honestly, it’s as if they don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. He saved them and the best they can do is issue a fucking statement.”

“Sirius, calm down.” Remus tugged on his hand, drew him down to the sofa. “They’re bureaucrats. What do you expect?”

Harry had another idea. “Ludo Bagman is still the head of the Department of Magical Games. Did you talk to him?”

Sirius growled.

“Right, I take it that’s a yes and he was his usual slippery self. Interesting.” Harry sipped his scotch. “Anything else I should know?”

Remus considered, shook his head.

“Hm. Because I’d like to know what happened after I left the room last night.”

Sirius twitched. Ah-ha!

“Sirius? Something you’d like to share?”

A growl. “What did Snape tell you?”

“Oh no. I want to hear your version.” Harry paused. “Or Remus can tell me.”

Still growling. “You tell me something. When did he start in on you?”

“What?”

“Was it when you were at school?” The blue eyes were blazing.

“No. Have you been reading the Prophet again? What’s this got to do with anything?”

Sirius jumped up. “How can you decide you want to be with— with Snape? Stay with him in his house? You come here and you’re all bruised!” Sirius picked up Harry’s hand. “What did he do to your arm? Is that what he did to make you stay with him? Is it?”

Harry looked at his wrist. Finger-shaped bruises from where Snape had held him this morning. He was exasperated. “God, Sirius. I’ve seen you with worse love bites from Remus, and not after the full moon either.”

Whoops. He’d managed to embarrass Remus, who flushed.

“Is this the kind of thing you were yelling last night?” He clamped down on his anger.

“Well, I—” Sirius seemed to be losing momentum. “I think I said some stuff about making sure you were okay. Um. I don’t know if I remember it all.” He looked at Remus, who sighed.

“Sirius said— shouted— that he would protect you if Severus wouldn’t. Then he made some remarks about you not being old enough to know what you’re doing.” Remus drank his scotch. “Then we left.”

Harry suspected that there was more to that last sentence than he was going to find out. He nodded. He was very tired of this conversation. “This has been an enlightening discussion. I’m going back to Sev’s now.” He stared at Sirius, who was gazing intently at the floor. “One more thing. According to the Prophet, I’m involved with Sev because of your influence. Just something to take under consideration. Thanks for the scotch.”

He walked into the kitchen and picked up the canister of Floo Powder.

“Wait.” Remus shut the door behind him. “Sirius is— he isn’t angry with you.”

“Really? Because it certainly seems that way.”

“He’s not.” A sigh. “He’s still... working some things out. Um, we are. Anyway.” An intent look from the amber eyes. “If you need us, we’re here.” Remus touched his shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He stepped into the emerald flames.

At Sev’s house he went up the stairs wearily. Just a short nap, then he’d work out the next step in his plan. He fell onto the bed gratefully.

When he awoke, it was early evening and Sev was sleeping next to him. Harry propped himself on his elbow and looked at his lover’s face for a moment. Even in sleep there were tense lines around his eyes and mouth. Harry crept out of bed and went down to the kitchen.

“Hello, Zippy.”

The house elf just stared at him. Very odd.

“Could you fix us a light supper, please? Anything you think Sev— Professor Snape would like.”

Zippy nodded. And stared.

“Um, okay then. Thank you. I— I’ll just go back upstairs. Perhaps we can eat in the bedroom?” The elf’s silence was unnerving. Harry stopped himself from babbling.

Another nod. Harry left quickly. Back in the bedroom, Sev was still sleeping. Harry stood next to the bed. Sev’s eyes opened abruptly and he sat straight up, reaching for his wand. Harry stepped back. “Sev?”

“Oh. Harry.” Sev relaxed.

“What— I’ve never seen anyone wake up quite so quickly.” And so defensively.

Sev stretched. “I trained myself to do it many years ago.” When he was working for Voldemort, then. “It seemed a reasonable precaution to resume, given current circumstances.” Sev stood. “Would you like some dinner?”

“Oh, I already asked Zippy to bring something here. Can I ask you a question about him? Why doesn’t he ever say anything?” Harry was extremely curious. In his admittedly limited experience, house-elves would talk your socks off if they had the chance.

“Ah. Yes.” Sev sat on the bed and looked at Harry, who sat beside him. Sev put his arm around him. “He occasionally says a few words.” Pause. “When I turned myself in, the Ministry conducted a very thorough investigation. They interrogated him.”

Harry had heard stories about the Ministry’s ‘interrogations’. He shivered. “Did they—”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t spoken about it. I rather suspect that he refused to talk and that refusal became part of his— part of him. The Ministry documents relating to my... case are still classified, so I can’t access them to find out any details.” Sev sighed. “I offered to free him, as I thought being near me might be— might cause him undue distress, but he refused.” The arm around Harry tightened. “He’s becoming rather fond of you.”

Harry grinned. “That’s nice to hear. I wouldn’t want to create friction between you and your house-elf.” He leaned in and kissed Sev’s cheek. “How was your day?” God, he sounded so domestic. Domesticated. He remembered Ron’s comment about life with Snape turning Harry into a Muggle housewife, and winced.

Sev kissed him back. “Uneventful.” Which doubtless meant that he’d only scared the piss out of half the lab workers, not all of them. “Julian botched an experimental potion and I was forced to remonstrate with him.”

Harry suddenly understood the meaning of the term schadenfreude. He tried to repress his grin. “That reminds me. May I come to Whiztel with you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Sev didn’t ask why, perhaps because Zippy knocked and entered, bringing their supper. “Thank you, Zippy.”

The following day Harry left his meeting with the Whiztel vice-president in charge of research and development feeling energized. It seemed his plan was viable, at least from this end. He walked down to the potions lab and knocked.

After a moment the door opened. Sev’s good-looking assistant, Julian Whistleton. The potion-botcher, Harry thought with satisfaction. “Oh!” Whistleton seemed disconcerted. “Mr. Potter. Did I know you were coming by?”

Not unless you’re clairvoyant. “I doubt it. May I come in?”

“Well, Severus is— he’s busy.” Whistleton began to close the door.

Harry stuck out his foot and jammed the door open. “I’m not really here to see Potions Master Snape.” Show some respect, you twit. “I’d like to inspect the facilities. For a new project I’m considering undertaking.” He looked into the room and saw that no one else was there. Right, it was the lunch break.

“I suppose—” The handsome face bore a confused expression.

“Excellent.” Harry pushed his way in. He shouldn’t have been able to do that. He took out his wand. “You don’t mind, do you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He walked around the periphery of the room slowly, checking the door and windows. No protection spells. He began to grow angry. There was a second door on the far side of the large laboratory. “This leads to Potions Master Snape’s personal laboratory?”

“Yes, but he’s—”

“Busy. I know.” He began to run an assessment on the door.

A hand grabbed his arm. “Mr. Potter, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that. Severus has his personal spells set up on that door, and—”

But the spells on the door didn’t have Sev’s particular magical identity attached to them. “Is he in there?”

“Yes, but —”

“You’ve said that.” Harry knocked on the door. No answer. He was becoming worried. He knocked again. “You’re sure he’s in there?”

“Oh yes, he’s in there.” An odd note in the cultured voice. “You’d like to join him, wouldn’t you?”

Harry turned and looked at Whistleton. Something not quite— he flung up an Impediment Curse, almost in time. Only a few of the ropes flying towards him from Whistleton’s wand made it to him. Unfortunately they wrapped around Harry’s arms, hampering his wand movement. He cast a shield charm, but his bound arms meant that the protection only covered his lower body.

“Locomotor Mortis!”

Whistleton clearly hadn’t noticed Harry’s shield charm go up. Harry reversed the spell after it bounced uselessly off his shield and watched with satisfaction as the other man’s legs locked together. He followed quickly with “Petrificus Totalus!” It was even more satisfying to see Whistleton’s tall body crash to the floor. Harry tried a severing charm to get out of his bonds, but succeeded only in slicing up his robe and trousers. He turned back to the door. It was locked and spelled. “Alohomora!” Nothing. He tried it again. Nothing.

He hated what he was about to do to a perfectly good door, but he was desperate. “Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!” The door fell into pieces. He channeled his anger and desperate worry through him and into his next spell, sending out a blast of power as he said forcefully, “Finite Incantatem!” The spells collapsed, and he stepped through into Sev’s private lab. He leapt back as the room’s sole occupant flung a binding charm at him.

“Potter, you little shit. What the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t allow himself the luxury of surprise. “Stupefy!” Floris Thrimblemere crumpled. Harry looked around wildly. No Sev. He took a deep breath. Looking at Floris’ unconscious body, he had an idea. He knelt by her and awkwardly put his wand in her hands. Then he shifted so that the wand was pointing at the ropes on his arms, holding it in place with his feet, and used the severing charm. His sleeves fell off too, but it was worth it.

Harry brought Whistleton into the smaller room and locked the door. He removed the foreign spells and put his own locking charm and protective ward on it. He did the same for the windows.

“Where is he?” Harry stared down at Whistleton. No answer. Oh. He cast a binding charm on the other man, then removed the Petrificus Totalus. “Where is he?” But Whistleton, now able to talk, refused to do so. “Where is he!” No answer.

Think, Potter. He could almost hear Sev’s voice in his brain. Try to apply at least one logical precept to the problem, Potter. Right. He was in a potions laboratory with someone who wouldn’t answer his questions. So he needed... he needed... He sprang up and began ransacking the place as neatly as possible. If Sev were— when Sev came back, he’d want his office to be tidy. He stopped his frantic search abruptly. If he were a devious Slytherin, where would he hide something he didn’t want anyone to find? Harry turned and stared at the glass-fronted display case. Sev’s diplomas, certificates, and a decorative row of bottles. Harry began opening the bottles and sniffing them. God, Sev had some nasty stuff in here. Finally he found what he was looking for. He returned to Whistleton and poured a few drops of the liquid into the man’s mouth.

“It’s Veritaserum, you asshole. Now. Where is he?”

Whistleton’s face contorted grotesquely as he resisted answering.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” the man gasped finally. “Two men took him. I don’t know their names. They came to me earlier. They knew about my mother. Snape—” He spat out the name. “Snape killed her.”

He’d think about that revelation later. “Is anyone else involved in this?”

“Ludo Bagman.” Harry wasn’t very surprised. “He brought in Thrimblemere. The stupid cow thought you were going to replace her.” Whistleton laughed. “Bagman told her the management was going to fire Whippet and hire a coach who would play you more.”

“What are they going to do to Snape?” Harry was surprised at how steady his voice was.

“Torture him. Kill him.” Whistleton smiled. “They took him an hour ago.”

Someone had told Whistleton just enough. Someone knew what Veritaserum would do to him. Someone had expected that Whistleton would be questioned, had left him to be questioned. “What about the other two men? What do they look like?”

“One’s older. Fiftyish, uses some kind of glamour over his face. He’s short and fat. The other one is younger. He uses a glamour too. About my height.” Whistleton coughed. The Veritaserum was about to wear off.

“Do you have any idea— any idea at all— where they took Snape?”

That horrific rictus again.

“Do you?”

“I think perhaps— the younger one’s house.” Whistleton’s face relaxed suddenly. He passed out.

Harry revived Floris and repeated the process with her. She confirmed what Whistleton had said and added, as Harry had begun to suspect, that she had worked with the Harpies to plan Harry’s ‘accident’. But she had nothing more to say. He tied her up and left her and Whistleton in the securely-locked and bespelled room. He had no idea who else at Whiztel was involved in this.

He Floo’d to Sirius and Remus’ house. Thankfully they were both dressed and in the kitchen, a minor miracle given their penchant for quickies at any time of day.

“Harry! What’s wrong? What happened to your clothes?” Sirius grabbed him and began patting him all over. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s Sev.” He told them what had happened while he followed them into the bedroom and watched Remus pick out some intact clothes for him. He changed hastily. “We need to find him. I don’t know why he didn’t use his token.” This had been bothering him. Sev always wore a ring that could transport him instantly to wherever Remus was, a remnant of their affair five years ago. “He must be— unconscious.” He swallowed. “Right?”

Sirius said slowly, “A middle-aged man, short and plump. Remus, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Remus handed Harry a mug of tea. “Pettigrew.”

After the final battle, no trace of Peter Pettigrew had been found. While he had been declared dead by the Ministry of Magic, Sirius and Remus continued to believe that he was alive. Harry was inclined to agree with them.

“We should have killed him when we had the chance,” Sirius muttered.

“Yes, I know,” Harry said impatiently. “We’ll kill him this time. But where are they?!” He took a deep breath and drank his tea. “Isn’t there some way we can use the token to bring him here? Or locate him?”

Remus shook his head. “Both parties have to be conscious when it’s used. I put that in as a safeguard so that, for example, whoever is holding Severus can’t bring me in now.”

Harry wasted a moment wishing that Remus weren’t possessed of intelligence and paranoia in almost equal parts. “All right. Can we track Ludo Bagman? Go back to Whiztel and— no, they probably Apparated out of there. They took down all of Sev’s wards and put up their own. Yes! That’s it! Come on!”

They Apparated into the main laboratory, now full of workers once more. Harry ignored their excited questions as he raced to Snape’s private lab, undid all his spells, and walked in.

“Christ, Harry.” Sirius turned pale. “What the hell did you do?”

Harry stared at the horribly contorted bodies. Both Floris and Whistleton had been disemboweled in a way Harry had never seen before: their entire viscera seemed to have exploded through wounds in their throats. “Not this. They were alive when I left.” But perhaps he could use this. It might work better than his other idea, to trace Sev’s kidnappers through the magical signature of the wards they’d put up. He knelt next to Floris. He pulled up her right eyelid and touched his wand to her glassy eye. “Visum Mortis.” An image sprang forth: the younger man Whistleton had described, face obscured by a glamour, holding a wand in one hand and a bottle in the other. The man stepped forward. Harry whispered, “Finite Incantatem.” He rose. “It’s Malfoy. They’ve got Sev at Malfoy Manor.”

Sirius was staring at him. “How did you— what was that? How did it tell you it was Draco?”

Harry rubbed his hand over his face. “That was the image Floris’ brain produced when I told her to show me who killed her. The Sight of Death. I knew it was Malfoy from the stance, the walk, the way he held his wand, the fucking way he held the fucking bottle.” The same way Malfoy always held his bottles in Potions class, almost negligently dangling them from the tips of his manicured fingers. “God, Sirius, I watched him like a hawk for seven years to keep him from stabbing me in the back. I know everything about him. And now—” He glanced at Remus, who was putting up another set of protective wards. “What are you doing?”

“We need to get out of here quickly. We can’t walk out of the room like this.”

Harry realized he had knelt in a pool of blood. “And we don’t want anyone to find these bodies quite yet. Right. We should Apparate to that village near the manor and then— no, we’ll need brooms. Back to your place, get the brooms, Apparate to the village, fly to the manor.”

Sirius blinked, then nodded. “I can’t believe I’m going to help Snape,” he mumbled.

“Why did Draco kill them that way?” Remus asked. “Why didn’t he use the Killing Curse?”

Excellent question. ‘Because he’s a prat’ was clearly not a sufficient answer. Harry had to shove the problem out of his head during their Apparations. When they had reached a field several miles from Malfoy Manor, he finally replied. “It’s a trap for me, isn’t it? Or a message. And— I think he killed them with potions. A message for Sev? Setting Sev up? At any rate, it’s at least another wrinkle to contend with. So much for the element of surprise.”

“Malfoy’s wards will warn him anyway, even if we— when we break them.” Sirius stared at his wand thoughtfully.

“I know a useful little spell for those wards.” Remus straddled his broomstick.

Harry was reminded of his first class with Lupin and the gum shooting up Peeves’ nose. It was an oddly reassuring memory. They flew until they felt the tell-tale crackling. As they hovered mid-air, Remus uttered what seemed to be an elaborate version of a concealment charm. At length he motioned them forward and they passed through the wards. There were seven sets of them, placed in concentric circles around the mansion. Malfoy family wards, hundreds of years old, reinforced in each generation. The last set made Harry’s hair stand on end. He gasped in relief as they landed in one of the elaborate gardens.

“If that worked,” Remus said softly, “they shouldn’t know we’re here.”

Harry nodded. He couldn’t sense anything but the repellent aura, almost a thick black taste, of Dark Magic. “Do we have a plan?”

“Three of us, three of them,” Sirius snarled. “We go in there, find them, and kill them.”

“Let’s question them first. See if anyone else is involved in this. Then kill them.” Remus’ matter-of-fact tone was much more frightening than Sirius’ angry growl. But it sounded like an excellent idea to Harry. He calculated that Sev had been a prisoner now for almost three hours. Three hours of Cruciatus, or whatever they had planned for Sev... Harry clasped his wand firmly.

“Let’s go.”

They approached the back door cautiously. Draco had put an additional set of personal wards on all the entrances to the house. Remus began to speak his concealment charm again, but Harry put a hand on his arm. He knew these wards. He extended his wand and searched for the tiny chink he’d noticed during the NEWTs, when he’d been paired with Draco for the ward-casting demonstration in the practical section of the Charms exam. Nobody else had caught the minute imperfection in Malfoy’s spell, not even Flitwick. Without quite knowing why, Harry had kept the information to himself. Now he found the crack again and carefully worked it open. He motioned to the other men and they stepped through, into the kitchen. The stench of Dark Magic was very strong; he noticed Remus’ nostrils flaring. Remus jerked his head towards the hallway. The Dark Magic emanating from that direction was so powerful that Harry felt himself almost pushed off his feet. They struggled towards it, entered the hallway, and as one opened the door that Harry’s wizard sixth sense told him was black with magic. Stairs down to the cellar. Remus stopped and sniffed.

“He’s alive,” he whispered.

Harry felt relief crash through him.

Remus continued, “They’re all down there. Bagman’s afraid. The others are—” A look of revulsion crossed his face. “They’re enjoying themselves.”

“I’ll go first,” Harry said quietly. “You two follow in a few minutes. They won’t be expecting you.” Without waiting for an answer, he crept down the stairs. He peered around the corner cautiously and saw a scarecrow figure hanging from chains affixed to the ceiling, dark head slumped forward. Sev. Standing in front of him, back to Harry, was Malfoy; as he’d told Sirius, he would recognize that arrogant pose anywhere. Pettigrew was off to the side, tying Bagman to a chair.

“Crucio!” Malfoy said gleefully. Sev’s head jerked up, his entire body tensed and arched, and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Harry leapt into the room. “Expelliarmus! Stupefy!” But Draco had put up a Shield Charm around himself, and the spells fell with a little hiss to the floor.

“Potter. So nice of you to join us.” Malfoy smirked. “Incendio!”

Harry’s trousers began blazing. He threw an extinguishing charm. At least Draco had had to release Sev from the Cruciatus Curse when he turned his attention to Harry. “Perfrincto Scutum!” He felt Draco’s shielding waver slightly. Before he could attack the weak point, he jumped to the side. Pettigrew had tried to throw Locomotor Mortis. “Expelliarmus!” Damn, Pettigrew had a Shield Charm up too. Harry yelled again. “Perfrincto Scutum!” He hadn’t meant Sirius and Remus to wait quite this long, had he? He darted behind a large sarcophagus before Draco’s Crucio hit him. The sarcophagus shuddered as the mummy inside was wracked with pain.

Harry could sense Malfoy’s shield faltering. “Stupefy!”

Malfoy’s eyes closed slightly, then snapped open again. He smiled oddly and turned away from Harry, back to Sev’s limp body. “Ava—”

“NO!” Harry sprang out from behind his shelter. He made it across the floor in three strides and threw himself at Malfoy’s ankles. Draco hadn’t been expecting a physical attack, and staggered just enough that the killing curse missed Sev and struck the stone wall with a burst of green sparks. Harry worked on dragging Malfoy to the floor. Malfoy kicked him in the face repeatedly. Suddenly Harry was struck by a horrifyingly familiar pain; Pettigrew had cast Cruciatus on him. He clutched at Draco’s ankles convulsively.

A growl. Finally! The pain ceased abruptly. Harry gasped for air. A black shape launched itself over Harry, still lying on the floor holding Draco’s feet, and bowled Malfoy over.

“Incendio!” Draco cried again. The black dog yipped in pain as his fur caught fire. Padfoot jumped off Draco and began rolling on the floor frantically. Harry heard Remus cast an extinguishing spell; Harry himself was busy smashing Draco’s wand hand into the floor. When he was satisfied that Malfoy’s wrist was broken in at least three places, he started in on the handsome face. He grabbed a double fistful of blond hair and slammed Draco’s head against the floor. Draco’s uninjured hand came up and jabbed Harry in the throat with stiff fingers. Harry fell back, coughing. “Perfrincto Scutum!” He croaked. He ‘saw’ the last remnants of Draco’s shield crumble. “Stupefy!”

He scrambled to his feet. Padfoot was holding a familiar rat in his jaws. Bagman was still tied up, offering no resistance as Remus threw another binding charm on him. Harry stepped over Malfoy and severed the chains holding Sev up. He caught his lover in his arms as he fell to the ground. “Oh god...”

Sev was convulsing. His hair was matted with blood. His clothes hung off him in tatters. Every patch of skin Harry could see was dark purple; that meant they had used Cruciatus on him for at least an hour. Sev had bitten through his lower lip. The dark eyes opened but didn’t focus; myriad blood vessels had burst, turning the whites almost completely red. Harry saw blood seeping out of one of his ears. The convulsion stopped, and the eyes slid shut again. “Oh god. Oh god.” He laid Sev down on the floor carefully; only then did he notice that both Sev’s legs were broken. “Remus!” Harry couldn’t quite keep the panic out of his voice. “Help me.”

Lupin left Bagman securely tied up. “Just a moment.” He took the rat from Padfoot’s mouth; the air around the dog shivered, and Sirius reappeared. Harry watched as they performed the Restoring Spell to bring Pettigrew into human form. Growling, Sirius stupefied him and tied him up, gagging him for good measure. The two men came to Harry’s side.

“Shit,” said Sirius. This was not helpful, Harry decided. “Remus, you know more healing spells. You get started, and Harry and I will help.” Much better.

“He had convulsions,” Harry said. “We should put him into natural sleep.” He did this quickly, sighing with relief as Sev’s labored breathing eased slightly.

Remus drew his wand over Sev’s body; red-gold streams of light ran from the tip of the wand and into Sev’s injuries. Remus paid special attention to his head and torso. “Some organ damage here. Kidney, liver, spleen. I think they kicked him for a while.” He took Sirius’ hand into his own. Harry could almost see the surge of power running from his godfather into the other man. Remus used it to splint the broken legs and send more healing pulses there. “That will help until we get him home.” He looked at Harry. “Now you.” He healed the cuts and bruises Harry didn’t even realize he had received during his bout with Malfoy. “Good thing your head’s so hard. The last thing you need is another concussion.”

“You’ll have a beautiful shiner there,” Sirius said cheerfully. A good fight always energized him. “Interrogation?” Hopefully.

“Yes.” Harry let himself become angry. “Definitely. Who first?”

“Bagman. He’s ready to crack open.” Remus walked over to him. “Talk to us, Ludo. What are you doing here? I want to hear everything.” A growl on the last word. The amber eyes were burning.

Bagman was ready to talk, just as Remus had said. He was sweating profusely and, if not for the fact that his bonds constrained him, would have been twitching wildly. As it was, he blinked rapidly as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to— you know I’ve always liked you, Harry. It wasn’t my idea. I was trying to stop them, I—”

Harry grabbed Bagman’s throat and squeezed. “Start at the beginning. Don’t stop until you get to the end. Or I’ll take you to the Forbidden Forest and leave you for Aragog.” He felt Bagman’s throat work under his hand, and released him abruptly.

“Draco Malfoy came to me one day about six months ago.” Shortly after Lucius had lost his last appeal, then. “He told me I had to help him. He forced me! I wouldn’t have—”

Harry glared.

“He’d bought all my debts. My gambling debts. I owe— almost 2600 Galleons.” Ouch. And the leprechaun gold trick would only work on gullible adolescents. “He told me he wanted me to arrange a Quidditch accident for you. So I started to work on Floris. We decided to use the Harpies once the information about your affair with Snape came out. Work the Death Eater angle. Floris cast that anti-levitation spell.”

“That’s a lie,” Harry said coldly. “She’s not— she wasn’t strong enough to cast such a powerful charm. You did it.”

Bagman looked down. Eventually he nodded.

“And what about Snape?” Sirius asked.

“I swear I didn’t know about him until they brought me here today.” A trickle of sweat ran into Bagman’s left eye and he squinted.

“You’re lying again,” Harry said abruptly. He took hold of Bagman’s fleshy throat once more. “Julian Whistleton knew about you. Give it another shot.”

“All right, all right! Yes, I knew about Snape. I knew they wanted to grab him, so they used Whistleton. They planted him in that lab. But I didn’t know they were going to—”

“Why was Pettigrew tying you up?” Sirius asked.

Bagman looked sickened. “They were going to— I saw what they did to Floris and Whistleton. They were going to do something like that to me too. Dump my body on the Harpies pitch.”

“What did they do to them? I’ve never seen that before.” Remus’ academic curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him.

Bagman hesitated. Harry flexed his fingers. “They made them drink a potion. Veritaserum Counter-Solution. If they were given Veritaserum— well, you saw. But Potter questioned them, so it must not have been right. It was supposed to work straight away.” He coughed.

Harry tightened his grasp, held Bagman’s neck for a moment, then relaxed his hand. “Who else is in this?”

“No one. I swear.” A squeeze. “I swear!”

Harry dropped his hand. He was disgusted; all his anger seemed to have dripped out of him as he listened to Bagman. He glanced over at Sirius and Remus. “I’ve had enough of this.” He returned to Sev, sat on the floor, and picked up one of the battered, purpled hands gently. “Kill them and let’s get out of here.”

“Um...” Sirius shifted slightly. “I don’t know if we can actually do that, really.”

Now was not the time for Sirius to have an attack of conscience. “All right. I can.” Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy.

“No! That’s not what I meant.” Sirius knelt beside him. “There are going to be a lot of questions if Malfoy and Bagman are found murdered. Or,” he added hastily, “if they disappear. Plus the bodies in Snape’s lab.” He ground his teeth. “We can’t even kill Pettigrew because of these witnesses.”

Harry dropped his head, looked at Sev’s face. The blood was beginning to dry and flake off. “Aurors, then.”

“Yes,” Remus said. “But Aurors we trust.”

Harry was having trouble concentrating. He forced his eyes away from Sev’s punctured lip and stared instead at Malfoy. An idea came to him, much too slowly. “Of course.”

He used a Wizard’s fire and felt the bizarre sensation of his head leaving his body. “Ron!” He looked around Ron’s little cubicle at the Ministry quickly. It was empty.

“Harry! What the hell happened to your face? Did Snape—” Ron shot to his feet.

Why did everyone think that? “No. Listen, I need your help. Get your dad and Percy and find, let’s see, five Aurors that you all trust. Really trust. Then have three of them, plus your dad, come here. Um, we’re at Malfoy Manor. We need a mediwizard too.”

“Malfoy Manor! What are—”

“Ron. Just do it. You, Percy, and the other two Aurors will go to Whiztel, to the potions lab. Let’s see— Remus Lupin will meet you there.” A touch on his shoulder let him know that Remus agreed.

“But Harry—” Ron was gaping.

“RON.” Harry resorted to the voice he hadn’t used in almost a year. His command voice. “Do it. Now.”

Ron shut his mouth and nodded. Harry doused the fire.

From there it was “housekeeping,” as Sirius said. The Aurors came with Arthur Weasley, assessed the situation, and took the prisoners to Azkaban. At Whiztel, as Harry learned later, they questioned the staff and removed the bodies. Harry couldn’t really bring himself to care. He hovered over the mediwitch who examined Sev and helped to prepare the protective bubble in which they would fly Sev home. They couldn’t Apparate with him and the Floo was clearly out of the question. Sirius helped him levitate the bubble with Sev’s shattered body and fly it during the long journey back. Upon arrival they settled Sev into his bed and released the bubble cautiously. The mediwitch had left Remus’ magic working, saying that she could do nothing more until Sev woke up, and shaking her head over Harry’s refusal to put him in St. Mungo’s. At least he was sleeping on his own.

Harry collapsed into the armchair beside the bed. Sirius stood by him awkwardly. “Sirius, you don’t need to stay.” But he really didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m staying.” Oh, thank you. “You should get some sleep. Have something to eat. Isn’t there a house-elf?”

Hell. “Yes.” Harry struggled to his feet. He was so tired his eyes wouldn’t focus. He stumbled out into the hallway and called for Zippy, who appeared in front of him within seconds. The elf’s ears were quivering. “Zippy, did you see us come in?”

A nod. The ears quivered faster. A faint squeak. “Interrogation.”

Harry felt ill. “Yes, but—please come with me.” He led Zippy back into the bedroom. Sirius was standing by the window.

Zippy stared at Sev; his huge eyes got even larger. “Master Severus.” A raspy little voice. He glanced at Harry.

“He’s going to be all right.” Trying to make himself believe it. Trying not to speculate about how long the Longbottoms had been under Cruciatus before they went mad. “He will. This wasn’t the Ministry, it was some other people. We caught them. We just need to take care of him, and he’s going to be all right.”

A small hand patted his leg so lightly it was as if he’d imagined it. Then the elf vanished. Harry fell into the chair again and went to sleep.

When he woke, he was lying in bed next to Sev, and Sirius was sleeping in the armchair. That had to be uncomfortable. It probably would have been better for Harry to stay in the chair and the taller man to take the bed, but waking up next to one another would doubtless have done in both his godfather and his lover. He snickered.

“Uhhh...” Sev!

Harry summoned his wand and ran it over Sev quickly. He was healing very well. Brain swelling reduced, legs almost completely knit together, the horrible discoloration fading. Still in deep sleep. Harry checked his watch. He’d been asleep for fifteen hours. He levered himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The shower was heaven. When he came out, Sirius was awake and rubbing his neck.

“I should have told you to sleep in one of the other rooms,” Harry hinted.

Zippy materialized.

“Christ!” Harry took a deep breath, reined in his surge of adrenaline. “He’s better, Zippy.”

The elf stared at Sev, nodded. He glanced at Harry.

“Yes, I’m starving.” Beside him Sirius was pantomiming his agreement. “Anything you want to fix would be great. Thank you. Why the hell are you doing that?” After Zippy’s departure, to his gesticulating godfather.

“Didn’t quite get the whole mute elf thing.” Sirius’ head snapped around. “Remus is here.” He was out the door in a flash.

Harry was alone. He sat down on the bed and touched Sev’s hand lightly. He desperately wanted him to wake up. He wanted him to stay in that healing sleep. He kept wondering about the Longbottoms.

At the end of four days, Harry just wanted his lover to wake up. He didn’t care if the man were a raving lunatic. All his injuries were healed, so why didn’t he wake up? Harry lay on the bed and stared at him. That day alone he’d dealt with yet another round of Ministry investigators, who always managed to show up after the fact. Next had come the managements of the Wasps and the Harpies, who were horrified that Harry might sue. He might get nice cash settlements from both teams, so those visits hadn’t been a total loss. In mid-afternoon Ron and Hermione showed up, attempting respectively to distract him with wizard chess and to comfort him with references in medical literature of people who woke suddenly after three years or more in comas. Finally there were the papers, which clamored for interviews and statements daily. He sighed and fell asleep abruptly.

He woke to a touch on his forehead. On his scar. He knew that touch. His heart started pounding wildly. He couldn’t open his eyes.

“Harry.” A hoarse whisper. The fingers brushed over his cheek. “Harry.”

He forced his hot eyes open. Sev had rolled on his side and was staring at him. The burst blood vessels had healed at last. “Sev?” He licked his lips.

“Harry. I love you.”

That settled it. The man was mad as a hatter. Harry wondered what the visiting hours at St. Mungo’s were like.

“I’ve never said it, and I was going to die without telling you.” A touch to his lips; the hand curved around his face. “I want only to lean on my elbow and stare into space feeling the one warm beautiful thing in the world breathing upon my right rib.”

“Um... That’s—” A very strange thing to say. He turned his head and kissed Sev’s fingers gently.

A smile. “It’s from a poem. I’m fond of the bit about the one warm beautiful thing in the world.” The fingers urged his face closer. Their lips met softly, pursed together, separated. And again.

Harry’s heart was pounding even harder. He lifted his shaking hand and stroked Sev’s hair. They lay there in silence for a while, exchanging light kisses. Harry would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life— all right, perhaps just the rest of the year— like that, but his stomach growled.

Sev chuckled. “Now I know I’m awake. That wasn’t in my dreams.” He sat up stiffly.

“Oh.” He stretched cautiously.

“You dreamed?” Harry got out of bed. “Are you hungry too?”

“Yes,” Sev said fervently. “Food. Now I understand how you felt about those potatoes.” He paused. “I dreamed. I think they were dreams. I’ll tell you about them later. Now I want a bath, and I want to eat, and I want to hear your side of the story.”

“Do you mind if Sirius and Remus help with that bit?” He came around to Sev’s side of the bed and helped him stand. They slowly made their way into the bathroom; Harry turned on the tap.

“Are they here?” Sev sounded surprised.

“Yes. They—” Sev would have to hear this sooner or later. “They came with me to find you. They’ve been staying here.”

“I see.” Sev shed his pajamas and slid into the steaming bath. “Very well. As long as I am dressed appropriately. I loathe pajamas.” Definitely feeling better. Harry grinned and went off to share the good news with the rest of the household. Zippy produced an actual smile and a panoply of Sev’s favorite foods. Sirius hugged Harry, and Remus exuded quiet happiness.

The bath helped restore Sev; he emerged with that delightful mint/lemon scent wafting around him and refused to get back into bed, making Harry set up some chairs around the small table in the bedroom. He ate steadily while the other three told their part of the story.

“And then we put you in a medibubble and Sirius and I flew you back here,” concluded Harry. He dug into his unjustly neglected crepes, wondering briefly if Zippy were part French. “Now you,” he said around the delicious mouthful.

“Very well.” Sev sipped his cranberry juice. He had become very snippy when Harry refused to let him have a glass of wine. “Do you remember when I told you that Julian had botched a potion?”

Harry nodded.

“He didn’t. He made exactly the kind of potion he wanted to make.” Sev’s lips tightened. “He only needed to add one ingredient to it, and he made Will-Altering Potion. He did that that morning, and slipped it into my tea.”

Remus said thoughtfully, “I remember that potion. Almost unknown, suddenly appeared a lot during Voldemort’s time.” A swift, almost unnoticeable glance at Sev. “The potion version of Imperio with a very nasty twist.”

“Indeed. It is... excruciatingly painful. Rather like having broken glass in one’s veins.” Sev looked into his glass. “Julian made me take down all my protection spells. That allowed Draco to Apparate in with Pettigrew and Bagman. I didn’t see Thrimblemere; she must have shown up later. As you know, they took me to Malfoy Manor and— well.” He drank his juice.

Sirius looked at Sev with what could almost have been sympathy. “I’m wondering why Draco did it. I always had the impression that he liked you.”

“Pettigrew went to him and told him that I had helped capture Lucius.” Matter-of-factly.

“You did?” Harry was astounded. That hadn’t come out in the news reports of Malfoy’s trial.

“Yes.” End of the subject.

“What about Harry’s fall?” Remus asked quietly.

“I believe their plan changed somewhat when my— affection for Harry became widely known. Originally they had simply meant to kill me.” Sev played with his fork for a moment. “Nicely ironic, isn’t it. They set up the attack on Harry so that it would seem the issue was that I had been a Death Eater. Yet all along they planned to kill me for betraying the Death Eaters.” He set the fork on his plate with a little clink.

A moment of silence.

“And what about Julian?” Harry had been turning over Whistleton’s accusation in his mind since he’d heard it.

“I— I’ll tell you later.” Sev’s eyes shifted to Sirius and skated away again. “I must admit I’m rather tired now.”

“Our cue to leave, I think.” Remus stood up. “Actually, we’re going home now.” He hesitated, then touched Sev’s shoulder. “Contact us if you need anything.”

Sev’s eyebrow lifted. “Us?”

Sirius looked uncomfortable. “Yes. But don’t make a habit of it.” He turned to Harry and hugged him. “See you later.” He practically dragged Remus out of the room.

Harry laughed. “Major breakthrough there, I think.” He looked at Sev. “Are you really tired, or did you just not want to answer the question?”

“I’m exhausted. I’ll answer the question tomorrow,” Sev said frankly. He stood, a bit wobbly. Harry led him to the bed and lay down next to him. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

“I’m staying,” Harry said firmly. He watched Sev’s eyes slide shut, and kissed each eyelid.

Harry spent most of the next day at the Ministry of Magic and at Whiztel. Satisfied, he returned home near dinnertime. He managed to persuade Sev that it would be cozy to eat dinner in bed, mostly by stripping down to his boxers and climbing under the covers. He finished his apple crumble with a sigh of contentment. “I need to find some way to work out.”

“I thought you were quitting the team anyway.” Sev was peeling a pear dexterously. The peel fell off in a smooth spiral.

“Yes, but I—” He blushed. “I like the way I look when I’m in shape.” Being decorative did have its advantages, after all.

A smile. “I won’t argue with that.” Sev sliced up his pear. “You have some questions for me.”

Harry blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Yes.” He set his plate aside. “Julian said you killed his mother?”

Sev bit into a pear slice, chewed and swallowed deliberately. “You’ve never asked about my time as a Death Eater.” A long pause. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Harry heard the question Sev was really asking. “Yes.” He touched Sev’s arm. “Yes.”

Another pause, as if the other man were trying to decide how to begin. “The Castellat book.” ‘Dark Potions and their Antidotes,’ the unlikely Valentine’s Day present Harry had given him. “I recognized some of the potions when I read the book. I rather suspected I would.”

Harry waited.

“I had made them. At Voldemort’s instruction. Following directions he gave me.”