Chapter Text
“That might be my first ever ‘gold,’ from you,” Severus laughed. “What an honor.”
“Oh, no,” Harry answered. “You get gold a lot. You just don’t usually ask for my color after I’m all…”
“Sated?” Severus shifted onto his side to run his fingers over Harry’s skin. He was still much too thin to look entirely healthy, and he was rather battered, too. He was bruised, and scraped, and pale, and, of course, beautiful.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, arching up a little into his touch. “Mm. This is what I wanted at Shell Cottage, you know. This part. Wanted it so bad.” He sighed. “Just about drove me insane with just your hands like that. Couldn’t see you, or hear your voice, or anything.”
“Shell Cottage?” Severus asked, brushing the pad of his index finger over a particularly deep-looking bruise on his side. It was just under his floating rib, and about the size of an apple. Like he’d been punched. Who had done that?
And were they already dead?
“My safehouse,” Harry answered. “On the coast. Bill and Fleur’s place.”
“Ah.” Severus circled the mark with his finger, and Harry lifted his arm to see what he was touching. “Did someone hit you?”
“Oh, I dunno. It was chaos. Maybe?”
Severus dipped his head to kiss the spot. “May I heal it?” he asked.
“Did you give it to me?” Harry asked back.
“No.”
“Then you can heal it.”
Severus took up his wand. “Senatio,” he said, and it faded, and he moved to another, lower on his side, and then caressed the healed skin with his thumb. “You’re quite something, you know,” he mused.
“Hm?” Harry murmured.
“I thought I wanted you in Ravenclaw Tower. After you burned those wands,” Severus continued, moving to a raw patch of skin on his elbow. “Consilio.” It vanished. “I thought that was more wanting than I could bear.” He propped himself up on one arm to hover over him, and Harry stayed still and watched as he healed another bruise, and then a scattering of small burns near his navel. Sparks from his shields, maybe. Those incredible shields. “I was so… naive.”
“What are you on about?” Harry asked, reaching his arms over his head in a luxurious stretch as Severus finished with one last patch of raw, reddened skin.
“Every time I think I’ve reached the limit of my love for you,” Severus continued, pressing a kiss to his sternum, and then his chest. “The depths of my desire for you, you prove me wrong. I thought I knew you. I thought I knew your power. Your bravery, your strength, your kindness…” He glanced up at the underside of Harry’s jaw where two suck-marks were developing nicely. “I had no idea. And not just your magic, either, though that certainly shocked me. Not just your healings, or your barriers, or whatever golden cage saved me from the killing curse.” Harry tilted his head a little to look down at him. “Harry. I have never in my life seen anything like you laughing in the Dark Lord’s face.”
“You laughed, too,” Harry said, giving him an opaque look.
“Did I?” Severus asked.
“Yeah,” Harry answered, and then glanced over at Severus’ arm braced beside him. Severus followed his gaze to see a fresh red blotch in the center of his bandage. He supposed he must have irritated the wound grabbing the headboard. Or Harry’s shirt. Or his hair. Or… some other part of him. “Can I heal that?” Harry asked, reaching out to touch the dark stain. “Now that I’m not… y’know. Gone forever.”
“No,” Severus answered simply.
Harry frowned at him. “But… it’s bleeding.”
“Yes it is. And it was a gift, and I’m keeping it. And we are unbelievably late for dinner.”
“Dinner.” Harry flopped onto his back. “Fucking hell. Back to the bloody Great Hall.”
“Language.”
“Oh, right, like you don’t appreciate profanity,” Harry scoffed, but then he sighed. “How many people will be there, do you think?”
“Oh, not many, I expect,” Severus answered, running his fingertips over the jutting lines of Harry’s ribs. That would be his first project, now. Restoring Harry to full radiance. It would take many good meals, and many months, and much coaxing, he was sure, but that did not trouble him. He would relish every opportunity to give Harry the things he deserved. The food, and sleep, and love, and gifts. The protection, and affection, and devotion. The time and resources to heal, if he could provide them. And the smaller things, too. Tea in the morning, new clothes, toiletries, and books, if he wanted them. And an abundance of physical touch, of course. Whatever he wanted, and whatever he would accept. “Likely just the staff, and the Order. Maybe a few others if they had nowhere to go. Draco and Narcissa. Your friends, I should think.”
“Do I really have to go?”
Severus stilled his fingers.
Harry could probably just refuse. Just give Minerva two fingers and lock himself in the Dungeons. And Severus would let him, too, if that was what he really wanted. But it would cause trouble. People would hammer on the door. People would assume Severus was forcing him - hiding him. It would be better to present themselves now, while the euphoria of victory was still thick in the air. Who could deny Harry his uncommon lover with the blood still drying in the corridors? While the healed were still weeping in wonderment?
“No, I don’t suppose you have to do much of anything,” he began slowly. “But it is my belief that the more obvious we make our intentions now, the more fully we will be permitted to vanish from society, later.” He kissed the rib he was touching. “Which I foresee being your wish, now that you’ve started a religion.”
Harry brushed Severus’ hair back from where it was tickling him, a little furrow in his brow. “What intentions?”
“To stay together, of course,” Severus answered, and Harry frowned a little more, fingering a lock of his ink-black hair.
“Is that why you kissed me like that?” he asked after a moment. “In front of everyone? I was wondering. It seemed… out of character.”
“I hardly allow the whims of the masses to dictate my behavior, Harry,” Severus answered. “You of all people should know that. I kissed you in front of everyone because I wanted to kiss you, and everyone happened to be there. Very rude of them to intrude on my explosion of affection for you.”
“So…” Harry paused. “We’re a couple, and… you’re my… partner.”
“Oh, yes.” Severus started kissing a trail up Harry’s body, speaking against his skin. “Devoted. Faithful.” He could feel Harry’s heartbeat under his mouth, and it sped up just a little. And he liked that… rather a lot.
“And… we don’t have to hide anymore?”
“Not ever again.”
There was a silence, and when Harry spoke, Severus realized that at least part of his increased heart rate was anxiety, and he liked it a little less.
“Am I dreaming?” Harry asked. There was a little quaver in his voice, and Severus looked up to see him staring quite blankly at the ceiling.
“Just now?” he asked, wondering if he should press his trigger point for him.
“...yeah,” Harry said slowly. “Is this… y’know. Not real.”
“It is real,” Severus answered. “You are not dreaming, and neither am I. Though I understand the sentiment very well. I feel I may have even had this dream, specifically. Though as I recall, you were slightly less… singed.” He was trying for a laugh but didn’t get one. Not even a smile. Harry’s voice stayed soft and unsteady.
“If I was dreaming… that would make sense.”
“More sense than being in bed with me, now?” Severus asked, and at the expression on Harry’s face, kissed him, and took up his left arm. “Count for me, please.”
“Oh.” Harry blinked once at the ceiling, and then turned to look at him. “One, two, three, four, five,” he said, and Severus released the point, and Harry blinked again like there had been something in his eyes. “Oh. Thanks… I think I was…”
“Outside your body?” Severus asked. “Yes. But I can’t fault you too much for it. This,” he gestured between the two of them, naked on the bed. “Has always been incredibly unlikely. And yet, you have continued to return to me, again and again, despite all the terrible things I’ve done.” He leaned down to mouth at the smooth skin of Harry’s throat, and the delicate bones of his clavicle. “You have always returned. Even from death.” He bit down gently, and Harry shifted underneath him with a little sigh. “I’m your keeper, Harry. And your lover, and yes, your partner, no matter how bizarre it will seem to the outside world. Let them scoff and flail and protest to their heart’s content. You are mine, and you are not dreaming, and I plan to court you quite publicly, now that I’m able.”
“It’s a little late for courtship, isn’t it?” Harry asked, and in his tone Severus could hear the fear ebb, and a little breath of laughter replace it. That was better. “You just fucked me into next week.”
“Oh, no, it’s never too late for romance,” Severus murmured. “How do you feel about picnics?”
“Picnics,” Harry chuckled. “You are a very complicated man.”
“Mm.” Severus kissed one of the marks he’d left on his neck, and scraped his teeth over it. “So are you. Many layers.”
“Well, I - ah - suppose I’d better get dressed, then. If you’re going to be… publicly… courting me.” Harry sounded breathless, now, so Severus bit down more firmly, wanting him to squirm. Which he did. “Severus - you - aren’t making this very easy.”
“I’m obstructionist by nature,” Severus answered. “Difficult, and oppositional, and very stubborn.” He lifted his head again, and kissed him on the mouth. “And yes, we’d better get dressed, lest a search party be sent for you. I’d like you to be wearing trousers, at least. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that our relationship is… inappropriate.”
“Ha,” Harry laughed. “Oh, wait. I don’t… have any clothes. Everything I had was with Hermione when we came to the school. If she even still has her magic bag.” He frowned. “I… guess I could wear what I fought in.”
“I vanished that set, actually,” Severus answered. “They were quite damaged. But I still have a fair amount of your clothes in my closet. Don’t tell Minerva that I took them off of you while you were a student.”
“You have a student’s trousers in your closet? Disgraceful,” Harry laughed again, but then stopped laughing, and frowned again. Severus supposed mood swings were to be expected. “Do you really still have all my clothes? I thought maybe you would have - I dunno. Tossed them out. I was gone for a long time.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “I really must do a better job at expressing my absolute, wretched devotion to you, idiot boy.” He sat up. “It’s an obsession. I have every stitch of clothing I have ever stripped off of you. I have your cactus, and your snake, and your chess set, and your scars, and now I have you. A complete set, at long last. Up, now. If you don’t eat you’ll faint.”
***
The Dungeons were relatively undamaged, and as they walked them together, Harry began to doubt the extremity of his own memories. Had there really been such destruction? He felt that there had been, but the halls they passed through seemed intact. The Dungeon was just the same as it had been the night he’d crept down to Severus’ quarters under his cloak to be beaten with a belt and sucked off for the first time. Maybe his memories really were wrong. They were unclear, anyway. Fractured into unrelated images and smears of sound and sensation. The Room of Requirement, the explosion, and the trip to the shack reduced to weirdly simple pictures in his mind, painted in primary colors. Draco, on the floor, with blood running down his face. Hermione screaming at Ron, the Dementors swarming, the chilling crawl through the tunnel to the shack. And then calling and calling and calling for Severus, and waking up on a table.
So… maybe it hadn’t been that bad?
But then they reached the border between the Dungeons and the main castle, and he saw that he had not remembered incorrectly. The Dungeons were just underground, and so had been spared.
Above ground, the corridors of Hogwarts were scattered with rubble, and riddled with holes. There were piles of broken glass in every corner, and scorch-marks on every wall. It was a battlefield if it was anything at all, and Harry was immediately struck with the strangeness of the lack of carnage. No bodies, no blood, no torn bits of clothes or clots of hair. He supposed the survivors had been busy all day cleaning it up. And then he didn’t think much of anything at all as the first scream rent the quiet, and his heart stopped in his chest.
As soon as he heard the noise, Severus seized Harry around the waist and dragged him back against his body.
“It’s the portraits,” he said into Harry’s ear, holding him tight against his chest as he tried to bolt. “It’s the portraits, it’s alright. It’s the portraits.” He found Harry’s hand and pressed into his trigger point, hard, and when he stopped struggling, turned on the paintings with a slightly different tone. “USE YOUR BLOODY BRAINS!” he bellowed. “MERLIN. What are you trying to do, trigger a fatal aneurysm? Be QUIET!”
Shocked, the paintings started frantically shushing each other and flapping their hands.
“Sorry,” the portrait closest to them whispered, and around her the others followed suit, cringing and grimacing and apologizing and waving and blowing kisses. Or in the case of one painting of a jaunty farmhand, rather dramatically bursting into tears and hiding his face with a bucket.
“My god,” Severus scoffed. “Idiots.” He turned Harry around in his arms, and searched his eyes. “Any spots? Sparkles?”
“Oh…” Harry blinked hard. “No. I - I think I’m ok. Do I look ok?”
No.
“You look as blindingly lovely as always,” Severus answered, and the weeping farmhand made a strangled noise and cried harder. Severus rolled his eyes. “Look, you’re so beautiful you’re ruining the lives of inanimate objects.” Harry laughed weakly, and Severus cupped his cheek, and then turned towards a painting of a knight on a svelte-looking stallion. “Sir. Guiscard. If you please. Tell the rest of the artwork not to shout unless they want to be responsible for a fucking explosion.”
“Yes, Professor Snape!” The knight answered at once, raising his sword and giving his steed a kick. “Onward!” Severus watched him pass out of frame, and then took Harry’s hand.
“Shall we proceed?” he asked. “Or would you like a moment to bask in the first of what will surely be many hysterical crowds?”
“I hate everything you just said,” Harry answered, and looked down the corridor at the many portraits still to pass. “Can I go back for my cloak?”
“I could go ahead and call you,” Severus offered. “But it might be easier to just get it all over and done with, now. You’ve already been shocked by the foolishness once. Why waste the heart attack?”
“Yeah… ok.”
They went on, and though Harry was quite clutching his hand, there were no more surprises. The statues were mostly missing from their plinths, and Sir Guiscard seemed to have stayed well ahead of them, as all the other portraits they passed just waved or said good evening. Or dissolved into tears, of course. But no shouting.
The closer they got to the Great Hall, the more damage seemed to have been repaired. The windows were whole again, for the most part, at least, and most of the holes in the stone walls were patched. It looked almost normal, like the Dungeons had, and Harry was just getting the weird feeling that he was going to a regular dinner with his housemates when the noises coming out of the Great Hall reached him, and he stopped short. They were not normal noises. It was more like… a party. Or a… riot.
“That sounds like more than just the staff and Order,” Harry said, his eyes wide. “I… do not want to go in there.”
“Yes it does, and neither do I,” Severus answered. “But alas, we must present ourselves for scrutiny.” He squeezed Harry’s hand. “Can’t very well be worse than waltzing into the Dark Lord’s base camp, now, can it?”
Harry just laughed uncomfortably. “No… I guess not.” He took one step and then stopped again. “What if they try to make us sit at different tables?”
Severus stopped, too, and took Harry’s face in his hands. “Harry,” he said. “If they try to make us sit at separate tables, we refuse. If they try to make us sit at opposite ends of one table, we refuse. If they try to separate us at all, we refuse. I love you, and they know it, and that’s all, alright?”
Harry frowned. “Just like that?” he asked.
“Just like that,” Severus answered. “No more secrets. No more hiding. Just you, and me, and that’s all.”
“Okay,” Harry whispered.
They pushed open the doors.
“And THEN!” Hagrid bellowed over his bucket of firewhisky. “HE SAID-” He was sitting near the center of one of the house tables, holding forth over what did, indeed, appear to be the entire staff and most of the Order, plus Ron, Hermione, Charlie and Bill, Neville and his Grandmother, Aberforth, and the Malfoys. “HE SAID - ‘gonna KILL me, or are we just having a CHAT?’”
“No!” Professor Trelawney gasped, covering her mouth. “He didn’t!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Harry breathed.
“He DID!” Hagrid insisted. “And he said You Know Who’s nose was GROSS! And - and - and - and when You Know Who asked if he really wern’t afraid he said-” He held out his massive arms, and his rapt audience fell silent. “He said - ‘YUP.’”
There was a collective gasp of horror and awe, and Severus turned to look at Harry standing frozen beside him. “You didn’t say that.” Harry just grimaced.
“AND!” Hagrid continued. “He WINKED AT ME! Bloody LEGEND!!”
“LEGEND!” Ron bellowed, raising his goblet. “That’s my MATE! He takes no SHIT! Not from anyone.”
“BLOODY LEGEND,” Charlie howled, slamming his fist onto the table, and Draco collapsed into laughter against his mother’s shoulder.
“Fuck me what a mad bastard,” he wheezed. “Bollocks the size of a house.”
“They must be hammered,” Severus muttered, and Professor Sprout caught sight of them in the doorway.
“Boys!” she cried with a wave. “You’re late!!”
Everyone turned to look at them and a roar went up, along with about thirty raised glasses.
“HARRY!”
“SEVERUS!”
“OI!”
“LEGENNNND!”
“Well. Into the fray, shall we?” Severus hissed, pulling Harry forward by the hand. There were two seats open near the end of the table next to Professor Sprout, and she waved, so he aimed for those. “So sorry to be tardy,” he said, pulling out Harry’s chair for him before sitting himself. “We got a bit… sidetracked.”
“Bet you did,” Ron cackled, and Harry flushed.
“Ron!” Hermione scolded him.
“What? Look at him! He’s all covered with… uh…” he trailed off and then turned red, too, and Draco exploded in breathless giggling, and dropped his head onto the table.
“He hasn’t even had that much,” Narcissa said, frowning at her son as he shook silently beside her.
“Give Harry more than one, and he’ll be just as bad,” Severus answered, glancing at Ron refilling his goblet. “They’re quite depleted.”
Hagrid slammed his enormous cup down on the table. “Tell the story, Harry!” he demanded jovially. “Tell the story!! You had the Dark Lord on his bloody toes.” He guffawed. “Incredible! Bloody mad. MAD!”
“Oh,” Harry squeaked, shrinking back against Severus’ side. “Can I get drunk too, or is all the alcohol gone?” Five full goblets were thrust over to him, and Severus took three of them away.
“We have a meeting,” he whispered. “Just one.” Harry took the cup he was offered and looked into it.
“Can I get drunk after the meeting?”
“Oh, yes. I think you should.”
“Oi!” Bill called from between Charlie and Professor Sinistra. “Did you really tell the Dark Lord his nose was gross?”
“I heard him say it,” Narcissa answered. “Shocking.”
“What else did he say?” Aberforth asked. He seemed almost as drunk as Hagrid and Ron, and Hermione gave Harry a little grimace. She was between them, looking rather squashed, and very sober.
“Well, he said he stole the Dark Lord’s right hand man,” Narcissa began, her eyes alighting on Severus. “Which he obviously has. And he said my son looks ‘great’ with a black eye.”
“A face like that?” Charlie asked. “Of course he does.” Draco choked on a mouthful of wine and started to cough.
“Alright everyone, calm down,” Minerva said loudly, but Hagrid did not seem to hear her.
“Bloody legend,” he hiccoughed. “Thought he was a goner for sure.”
“I always knew he’d survive,” Trelawney slurred from beside him, swirling her glass like it might have omens inside it. “It was in the stars.”
“I thought he was going to DIE HORRIBLY,” Ron interjected, but Hermione shushed him, and he dropped his voice to a surly grumble. “Just diieeeeee horribly fifty times a year! I swear…”
“The stars,” Hagrid repeated, wrapping one massive arm around her. “The stars.” He started to weep, and then Sibyll did too, burying her face in his great coat.
“My goodness, you two,” Minerva scolded them. “What time did you start drinking? Noon?”
“Can we leave?” Harry whispered to Severus.
“No. You need to eat.”
“Can’t Kreacher just bring me a loaf of bread or something?”
“A loaf of bread is not a meal,” Severus answered. “Though he might send us a bottle of champagne later tonight, if you like. You can drink it with a straw. Give me your hand.” Harry did, and Severus pressed his trigger point again. “You’re alright. Just a dinner.”
“Right. Yeah. Just a dinner.”
“FINALLY!” Aberforth exclaimed as food began to appear on the large platters before them. “We were waiting ages for the bloody lovebirds. Couldn’t have made it on time, could ya?”
“So sorry,” Severus said again, his voice flat. “We’ve been apart for weeks. Priorities, you know.” Aberforth snorted and looked away, and Slughorn choked on the air, and, satisfied with their discomfort, Severus set to filling Harry’s plate. First roast chicken and new potatoes, then bread with butter, green beans almondine, and a sort of cold salad with quartered sprouts. Reaching for that, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Harry eating that sort of dish. “Any objection to sprouts?” he asked quietly, and Harry frowned at his plate and then up at Severus himself.
“No objection,” he said slowly, and Severus took up the tongs. “But… is this how it’s going to be now? You pulling out my chair, and serving me and stuff?”
Severus paused. “Do you mind it?”
“No.”
“Then yes, that’s how it’s going to be.” He gave Harry a generous serving of the salad and replaced the platter before continuing in a low voice. “You’re mine, and I plan to dote on you so flagrantly that everyone is very uncomfortable and annoyed.” His eyes flicked over the others to see Minerva, Slughorn, Mrs. Longbottom, Neville, Aberforth, Narcissa, Madam Hooch and Flitwick all watching them with varying levels of interest or disapproval. “Just… disgusted by the depth and breadth of my devotion to you.”
“Oh.” Harry followed his gaze. “Should I kiss you, then?”
“Should?” Severus asked, and Harry’s lips twitched.
“I meant can I. Can I kiss you? Just… at the table?” He blushed. Very charming. Particularly against the marks on his neck, which were still darkening.
“I think I’d rather enjoy it, actually,” Severus answered, and Harry slid one hand under his hair to tug him forward.
“I TOLD YOU,” Neville said loudly as their lips met. “You never believe me!”
“Well,” his grandmother scoffed. “Usually you’re wrong, aren’t you?”
“I’ll have you know that your grandson had the highest Herbology OWL scores in recorded history,” Professor Sprout said loftily, waving her fork, as Hagrid exploded back into weeping. “Off the scale! I thought it was a math error, at first. Phenomenal.”
“He pulled out his chair!” Hagrid said in a strangled and very loud whisper, and Trelawney embraced his elbow, sobbing something about spring and autumn and war into his clothes, and Harry pulled back with a laugh.
“This is mad,” he said.
“Mm,” Severus agreed, patting Harry’s cheek and turning towards his plate. “Eat.”
They ate, and drank, and as the bottles of wine continually refilled themselves, Ron began regaling the table with their exploits through the castle, and Harry tried hard to withhold the urge to flee from the room. He didn’t remember half of what Ron was saying. But he’d been busy, apparently. And cursing.
“And then he just yelled ‘FUCK OFF,’ and they DID! Ran head-first into the wall!” Ron slapped his hands together. “CRUNCH! And GREYBACK! Good Lord…”
“Causing mayhem all night, were you?” Severus whispered, pouring him another half-glass and then topping off his own.
“You know me,” Harry answered.
“A source of pure chaos.”
Harry gave a little hum of assent, and took a restrained sip. He did, of course, rather wish he could drink a whole bottle. But Severus was right. If he was drunk at the meeting there would probably just be another meeting. If he was going to convince McGonagall that he was in control of his own faculties, he had to be at least relatively sober. And he had to be sharp to fight with her, too, if her attitude at Severus’ door had been anything to go by.
Harry sighed, and leaned his temple against Severus’ shoulder, reveling in the surreal pleasure of being able to touch him. And in public, too. Before the tent, he’d never dared even hope for such a thing, and here he was, sitting at dinner in the Great Hall, with his head on Severus’ shoulder. He glanced at Ron gesticulating wildly with his glass and spilling wine onto the tablecloth, and then his eyes slid over to McGonagall beside him. She looked pretty disgruntled, but he couldn’t tell if it was Ron’s drunkenness or Severus’ affection that was annoying her. Probably it was both.
“And then this mad witch CLOBBERED him with a crystal ball!” Ron continued, pointing at Trelawney. She started giggling girlishly. “Right in the head! DEAD.”
“He was dead,” Harry said quietly. “Big dent in his skull. I saw it.”
“A fitting end for that fiend,” Severus answered.
“And DRACOOOO MALFOY,” Ron hooted. “Shoulda seen it. Grabbed his own mate's leg to keep him from crucioing Harry.” He raised his glass at Draco, who turned pink. “Disarmed the other one, too. Bloody brilliant. Got kicked right in the face for it.”
“See! That’s why I figured it was Draco!” Neville said. “I saw them running around together.”
“Figured what was Draco?” Ron asked.
“Oh. Um. Y’know…” Neville glanced at Severus and then looked at his plate. “Harry’s uh…”
“LOVER?” Bill supplied loudly.
Draco flushed further. “Me?” he spluttered, and then made a valiant attempt at a contemptuous sneer. “Pff. You wish, Potter!”
“I do not wish that,” Harry whispered, and Severus laughed.
“I think Draco might,” he replied under his breath. “I think everyone in the room fell in love with you at the end, there. Including the Deatheaters. Pity they were all so terribly late in realizing how blindingly attractive you are.”
Harry scoffed, but then his eye caught on something, and he gave Severus a little nudge. “Oh, look at Charlie,” he muttered, and Severus turned to see the specified Weasley looking at Draco with a rather notable glint in his eye. “Haha. Oh no.”
“Hm,” Severus said.
“Draco was really brave,” Hermione added, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from Harry and Severus. “Turning right in the middle of the battle like that. I would have been dead in that room if not for him.” Draco gave her an unsure sort of smile, and she returned it. “He saved me. Luna, too.”
“A true credit to our house!” Slughorn cut in.
“Nah he turned ages ago,” Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. “Tell your MUM how you let us out of the cellar, Draco! Tell her!” He paused. “Sorry about that body-bind curse, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Times of war,” she responded, with a polite tilt of her head.
“Oh. Um… have Harry tell how he knocked me out,” Draco countered, looking askance at his mother, and all the eyes turned back to Harry.
“Just - sorta - decided to,” he said. “That’s kind of how it works. I just decide to do stuff and it happens.”
“Makes NO BLOODY SENSE AT ALL,” Hagrid bellowed. He seemed to have recovered from his spate of weeping and had returned to raucous enthusiasm. Trelawney was still sniffling. “DO US ONE!”
“Yeah!” Bill agreed. “Decide something!”
“Magic! Magic!” Aberforth cried, and then Ron and Hagrid took up the chant, drumming on the table. “Magic! Magic! Magic!”
Harry grimaced, and Severus slammed his fork down. “Be QUIET!” he barked, and everyone fell silent at once. “Harry is not a circus animal.”
“Ooooooooh,” Draco whispered. “Harry is not a circus animal…”
“No, um… it’s ok,” Harry answered, laying his hand over Severus’ where it was white-knuckled around his cutlery. At his touch, it relaxed minutely. “I can do something, if you want. I’m tired, but I’m not that tired.” He raised his hands. “Hm. Let’s see…”
A gigantic bouquet of fragrant white flowers exploded out of his hands like a botanical firework.
“Merlin’s PANTS,” Professor Sprout yelped, slopping wine into her lap. “Are those plumeria?”
“Wow!” Neville said, leaning over the table to get a better look. “Look at those stems! Plumeria don’t even have stems like that. How did you…?”
“It’s a whole tree’s worth!” Professor Sprout continued, and then when Harry put the lot into Severus’ hands: “Aww, look.”
“What is this, a wedding?” Aberforth demanded. “Explode a killing curse again! Heal something!! Flowers…”
“I saw those in my magic,” Harry said quietly, giving Severus a furtive smile. “Overkill?” Severus’ mouth twitched, and he withdrew his wand.
“You know how much I like it when you create,” he said, conjuring a large cut-crystal vase and filling it with water. “There we are.” He set the flowers inside it and then levitated the arrangement into the very center of the table, which happened to be directly in front of Minerva’s face. Then he leaned over to whisper.
“They’re beautiful,” he began, ghosting the very tip of his nose against the shell of Harry’s ear. “And let me ask you this - have you any idea how long I’ve dreamt of sitting beside you at meals? Or… taking you to a restaurant? Or even being allowed so much as a conversation with you where other people might see?”
Harry felt his face heat. Severus had never mentioned anything like that. “No…” he said. “How long?”
“Since all those students were pestering you for an invitation to Horace’s insipid Christmas party,” Severus answered in a low murmur. “I thought of it watching you demolish a platter of chocolates, shirtless on my sofa - how desperately I wanted everyone to know that you were mine. I had you twice that night. And on the floor, too. I trust you remember.” He laid one hand on Harry’s thigh under the table. “So do as you like. I’m living my most outlandish fantasies as we speak, and I guarantee you cannot ruin it by being too affectionate.” He dropped his voice still further. “And I must confess, though I’m sure you’re quite exhausted, I have a sudden and mighty need to have you again.” A shiver ran through Harry’s body. “Mm. I imagine you’re still tingling. Can you still feel me inside you?”
Harry dropped his hands into his lap and slid one finger into his sleeve, and when Severus felt his bracelet warm, he looked down at his own.
[If you’re trying to get me hard again it’s working really well] appeared, and Severus scored his nails gently against the seam of Harry’s jeans.
“I know it is.”
Minerva glared at the flowers and leaned around them to glare at Severus, too, only to see the pair of them whispering together like newlyweds, and Harry turn bright pink.
“Well that’s certainly… bold,” Slughorn said quietly. “What do you think he’s saying?”
“I’ve no idea,” Minerva answered tersely.
Slughorn frowned and took a swig of his wine. “You know, I always was concerned with how much detention that boy was assigned. Far too much detention to be appropriate. Far too much… He never attended a single one of my parties.” He looked morosely at his plate. “Not one.”