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Harry slammed the door behind him as he stormed out of the cottage he shared with Severus. 

Three years. 

The two of them had been together for three years, and the git was still treating him like a child. He was twenty seven, for Merlin’s sake, he wasn’t a sodding teenager anymore. 

He heard Severus calling his name, but Harry ignored him, continuing down the dirt road that led away from their home, to where he would be outside of the anti-Apparition wards. 

He was tired of the arguments, he was tired of walking on eggshells around the prickly man when he was in a bad mood, and he was tired of giving Severus all of the love he could, only to feel like he wasn’t receiving anything in return. 

It seemed like the two of them were forever rehashing the same arguments. Many of them had ended much the same way as this one, with Harry storming out of the house. 

He knew that he shouldn’t keep running away from his problems, but sometimes, he just needed some space. As much as he wasn’t a child anymore, Severus had a way of making him feel like one. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever be able to live together, and to love each other, without the same old arguments springing up, whenever things started going well. 

When he heard footsteps behind him, Harry’s wand slipped into his hand from its holster instinctively. While logically, he knew that nobody could get past the wards that they didn’t want there, the war had left its mark on all of them. 

“You cannot keep running away like a child when things get a little bit difficult, Potter,” Severus growled. 

Harry whipped around to face him, glaring at him hard. “Go away, Severus.” 

Despite knowing that it was Severus, Harry kept his wand in his hand. Severus wasn’t above hexing him—he’d done it before, and though he hadn’t done it since they’d started dating, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was the time that his control would snap. 

In three years, the two of them had hurt each other time and time again with their words, but neither of them had raised a wand to the other. 

But then, this had been one of the worst arguments they’d ever had. 

“You’re going to come back to the house, so that we can discuss this like adults,” Severus demanded, as he stalked closer, and then passed Harry, blocking the direction Harry had been walking. 

Harry, while knowing that the sentiment behind what Severus had said was sensible, felt a wave of unadulterated rage inside of him at the condescending tone in which the words had been delivered. 

“No,” he replied, flatly. “Now move, before I hex you out of the way.” 

Truly, he didn’t want to hurt Severus, but at that moment, all he wanted was to be away from him. 

“You complain that I treat you like a child, and then you act like one. Potter, get back to the house!” 

“Fuck you.” 

Harry waved his wand, causing a huge gust of wind to sweep Severus completely off his feet and out of the way of Harry’s path. The wind settled him gently back on his feet as Harry stalked through the boundary of the wards, and Apparated away. 

Severus stared after him, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Perhaps, this time, he had pushed Harry too far. When it became obvious that Harry wasn’t coming back anytime soon, Severus turned around and slowly walked back to the cottage. 

He felt… empty. Had he really just chased away the only man that he had ever truly loved? 

… 

Harry appeared outside the Burrow, still seething with anger. He hoped that there was someone home, if only so he could vent for an hour, before he returned to the cottage, and the consequences of what he had just done. 

Or, as the case may be, to pack his bags. 

Severus would be livid, he knew, and as angry as Harry was, he hoped that he hadn’t just ruined any chances of them sorting things out. Of living the life he wanted, with the only man he’d ever loved. 

With the only person he wanted to love. 

Pushing open the back door, he wasn’t surprised to hear his name, though he was slightly confused that nobody had appeared to greet him. 

“Harry’s dating who ?” the voice screeched, and Harry winced. 

Apparently. Ginny was home. She had been away for almost four years, touring the world, finding herself, or so she had said. Harry had been sad when she’d left, when she told him not to wait for her. 

At the time, he’d been still stuck in the mindset that he needed the wife, kids, and the white picket fence to be happy. 

It hadn’t taken him long, with the help of Hermione and, surprisingly, Ron, to realise that his infatuation with Ginny had been just that. An infatuation. 

He hadn’t truly been in love with her; he’d been in love with the idea of her, and the life that she represented to him. The family that she brought with her. 

The Weasley’s had been quick to reassure Harry that he didn’t have to marry into the family to be one of them. 

Harry followed the voices to the living room, and then stood in the doorframe, feeling a little awkward. 

“Hey,” he greeted, flushing a little when the crowd of people all spun around to face him. 

Ron, Hermione, Bill, George and Charlie all grinned when they saw him, and Molly quickly rushed over to hug him tightly, the same way that she always did. 

Harry relaxed into the hug; Molly honestly gave the best hugs. He wondered if it was just an inherent talent of a mother, or if it was just something that was specific to her. 

Ginny gasped when she saw him. 

“Harry!” she greeted, practically bouncing over to him as Molly released him. “Ron just played the most ridiculous joke on me! He told me that you’re dating Snape! That you’re even living with him!” 

“Not a joke, Ginny, I’ve already told you,” Ron muttered, frowning as he shook his head at his sister. 

“He’s right, Ginny,” Harry replied. “Though it doesn’t really matter now. I’m pretty sure I just ballsed it all up. 

Walking around her, despite her looking like she was about to wind her arms around his neck, Harry stepped over to Ron and Hermione, who were looking concerned. 

“Are you two up for going out for a drink?” he asked quietly, not wanting the whole family to invite themselves alone, as they were prone to do. 

Unfortunately, Ginny had followed behind him. 

“That’s a great idea! We’ll all go out and celebrate me being home,” she said, a fake smile on her lips. 

Harry gritted his teeth together, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about that smile though. 

“I’ll meet you back here later then,” he muttered, smiling at his best friends. 

“We’ll come with you now, and meet everyone at the bar in a bit,” Hermione offered, to which his smile became a shade more real. 

His gratitude for her was never ending. 

As they said their goodbyes, Harry didn’t miss the calculating look on Ginny’s face, and from the look on Hermione’s, neither did she. 

… 

Harry opened the door to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and let his friends go in before him. Closing and warding the door shut, as he always did, he followed them into the kitchen, to find Kreacher had already greeted them. 

“Master Harry,” Kreacher murmured respectfully. “It’s been too long since you visited.” 

“Sorry, Kreacher,” Harry murmured. “You know that you’re always welcome to come and see me, wherever I am.” 

The smile on the old elf’s face made Harry chuckle. It was still a little odd sometimes, how different the elf was now, when once upon a time, he had been the nastiest creature Harry had ever had the displeasure of meeting. 

Harry took the offered butterbeer with a ‘thank you’, and then sat down, explaining to his friends what had happened with Severus. 

As Ron raged on Harry’s behalf—something that normally happened, when Harry and Severus had an argument—and Hermione looked slightly amused by her boyfriend, while simultaneously telling Harry off, Harry finally relaxed. 

It was nice to know that, no matter the situation, some things never changed. Ron and Hermione had been with him through everything, and it was comforting to know that they were consistent. 

Kreacher popped back into the kitchen, holding a letter in his hands. 

“Master Harry, sir, you has a letter just delivered,” he said, handing over the envelope. 

Harry took it, and saw his own name scrawled across the front of it in familiar writing. His heart sank. He slid his finger beneath the flap and opened it, pulling out the parchment that had been stuffed inside. 

Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, he read the short letter. 

Harry, 

I didn’t want to say this in a letter, but you are not here, and this needs to be said. We don’t seem to work, do we? I wish that we had, truly I do, but we don’t, and we can’t. We’re too different,a dn as much as I hate to bring it up, you’re too young for me. 

I’ll forward your things onto the Burrow. Please don’t contact me. I would prefer a clean break. 

Severus

Harry threw the offending parchment into Hermione’s waiting hands, as tears poured down his face. How could he? 

… 

The club was absolutely packed with people, and Severus forced his way through the crowds, scowling when he finally made it to the bar. 

Why Harry had asked him to meet him there, of all places, Severus couldn’t fathom. It certainly wasn’t like they would be able to talk, loud as the place was. 

He ordered a firewhisky, and perched on a stool in the corner. He would wait for Harry to find him, rather than attempt to search him out in such a crowd. 

… 

Harry was absolutely hammered. Absolutely, unequivocally, rolling drunk. He had decided, in all of his wisdom, that this had been just what he needed to get over a broken heart. 

Hermione had tried to convince him otherwise. She was convinced that there was something wrong about the letter, but all Harry could see were the words, ‘ you’re too young for me’. 

Ginny pulled him out onto the crowded dance floor, and he followed willingly, desiring anything that could make him forget the pain that he was feeling, if only for a few seconds. 

He never noticed the man watching him from the bar with dark eyes, a hurt expression on his face. 

… 

Severus watched on as the little Weasley chit pulled his Harry—his clearly very drunk Harry—to the dance floor. He watched as she ground herself against him. He watched as she pulled Harry’s face to her own, and he watched as Harry kissed her back. 

He watched and he watched, and he watched. 

Until he couldn’t watch any longer. 

… 

Hermione saw Severus as he left the bar, and she quickly scanned the crowd for any sight of Harry. When she found him, it was to see Ginny wrapped around him, the two of them lip locked. 

Nudging Ron, she pointed at the two of them, and he nodded, making his way through the crowd towards them. 

Hermione followed the Potions Master instead, unsure of what to say to him to make him feel better, but knowing that she had to at least try. 

There was still something about the letter he’d sent Harry that didn’t sit right with her, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. 

“Severus, please wait,” she called, as she spotted him outside.  

His steps faltered just before he reached the Apparition point, and she caught up with him. 

“Whatever stupid reasons you’re about to try and give me for his display in there, Miss Granger, save your breath.” 

She arched her eyebrow at him. “You know that he’s only in that state because of that letter you sent him, right?” 

She waited for him to answer, because she knew that the man loved Harry. She knew that the two of them could be so happy together, if only they would get out of their own way and choose to be happy. 

They were honestly as bad as each other when it came to relationships.  

When Severus frowned at her, she added, “He’s trying to find a way to fix his broken heart. I’m sure that he’ll be absolutely mortified by it when he sobers up in the morning.” 

“I didn’t send him a letter, Miss Granger, so I have no idea what you’re talking about. It was Harry who sent me a letter, asking me to meet him here.” 

Severus pulled a folded sheet of parchment from his pocket, and handed it over to her. She flipped it open, only to find Harry’s messy scrawl looking back at her. It was, indeed, an invitation with both the name of the club, and a time of 10pm. 

The exact time that Ginny had pulled Harry to the middle of the dance floor 

She shook her head. 

“I know what’s going on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Will you please come to mine and Ron’s house, in the morning, around eleven?” 

He hesitated for a moment, before nodding. She smiled at him, and he Apparated away. 

Raising a hand to rub her now aching head, she wondered how on earth she was going to explain this to Ron, without him hitting the roof and hexing his little sister. 

… 

Harry woke up with an aching head, and a sick feeling that he knew had nothing to do with the alcohol that he had consumed the night before. 

What on earth had he been thinking, getting so drunk? 

He had no idea what had happened. He only knew where he was, because he had stayed in this room plenty of times before. 

Climbing out of bed with a groan, he left the spare room, and, after a brief stop at the bathroom, walked down the stairs to Ron and Hermione’s kitchen. 

Hermione pushed a cup of coffee at him almost the moment he sat down at the table, and he smiled pitifully at her, before he downed the whole cup in one. 

With a chuckle, she poured him another, as Ron pushed a potion vial at him. 

“Hangover cure,” he answered, when Harry looked at it questioningly. 

Harry pulled a face, but obediently drank the whole thing, sighing in relief as his headache cleared almost immediately. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, before looking at them both. 

They were both watching him with serious expressions, and he almost didn’t want to know. Almost. 

“What did I do?” 

“You mean apart from snogging Ginny right in front of Severus? Nothing much,” Ron replied. 

Hermione hit his arm, as the words sunk into Harry’s brain. 

“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t actually think it’s possible to get any more stupid than I feel right now. What did… What did Severus say?” 

… 

Eleven o clock, on the dot, found Severus knocking on the door of Ron and Hermione’s, wondering what on earth he was doing there. Surely Harry wouldn’t want to see him? 

He didn’t even know if he wanted to see Harry. He couldn’t get the image of Ginevra wrapped around him out of his head. 

Hermione answered the door, and waved him inside with a small smile. He walked through to the kitchen, only to find it empty. 

“Harry’s outside with Ron, he needed some air. I’ll give them a shout,” Hermione said, opening up the back door, and calling for her husband, and best friend. 

She made a fresh pot of tea, and Harry and Ron coffee, since neither of them liked tea, and placed them all on the table. 

“Did he know that I was coming?” Severus asked, as she served him tea. 

“No. He’s about to find out though.” 

… 

Harry walked back into the kitchen, a step behind Ron, and stopped dead in the doorway when he saw Severus was sitting at the table. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “I mean. I… Why are you here?” 

“Miss Granger invited me,” Severus replied quietly. “She says that there’s something we both need to know about, and I’d like to take a look at the letter you received yesterday.” 

Harry took the parchment from his pocket, and took a few steps to the table, to hand it over to Severus. He slumped down into the last empty seat. 

His heart was aching as he watched the man he loved, and his eyes itched with unshed tears. How could that man sit there looking so unaffected? Did he not care about Harry at all? 

“I didn’t send you this.” 

“I know. Hermione told me that much. I didn’t send you a letter, either.” 

“Miss Granger? Last night, you appeared to know what was going on. Would you care to explain?” 

Hermione flushed slightly, glancing awkwardly between Harry and Ron. 

“It was Ginny,” Ron said, his tone flat. 

As Hermione had expected, when they had left the club with Harry the previous night, and had gotten him tucked into bed in the spare room, Hermione had explained to Ron what was going on, and he’d hit the roof. 

It had taken her over an hour to calm him down enough that he didn’t Apparate straight over to the Burrow, to hex her. 

Harry looked down with a scowl. Severus merely raised an eyebrow. 

“I see. Well. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be taking my leave now, I believe, but thank you for the tea, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley.” 

Harry let his tears fall from his eyes when Severus left the room without so much as glancing in Harry’s direction. No matter if he’d sent the letter or not, they were really over. 

They heard the door open, and then there was a pause. 

“Harry? Are you coming home with me, or not? I think we need to talk.” 

… 

Harry curled up in his usual chair in the conservatory. Severus sat in the chair facing him. It was so familiar, and yet not, because Harry didn’t know what was going to happen. 

“I saw you. You had your tongue down her throat, Harry. Do you know how much that hurt?” Severus asked. 

There was no malice in his tone, only pain, and Harry winced. 

“You broke up with me, by letter, and threw my biggest insecurity at me at the same time. Or… no you didn’t, I know you didn’t, but at the time, I thought that you did. I was hurting, and I just wanted the pain to go away, so I drank way too much.” Harry shook his head. “When Ron pulled her away from me, all I felt was disgust at myself. You aren’t the only one.” 

“Harry…” 

Harry sighed, but carried on, not letting Severus interrupt him. More tears were threatening to fall, but he did his best to hold them back. 

“I don’t know how to live without you anymore, Severus, but I don’t know how to live with you, either. You treat me like I’m still your student sometimes, like I’m still the same reckless teenager that I was when I was sixteen. 

“I love you, Severus, I really do, more than anything in the world, but I hate the way you treat me sometimes.” 

Severus opened his mouth to interrupt again, but Harry shook his head. 

“No, let me finish. I give you every part of me. I give you my heart, my body, my soul, it’s all yours, but I feel like I get nothing in return. In three years, I’ve told you countless times that I love you, and you’ve never said it back. Not even when we’re having sex, or when you’re drunk. 

“The reason I wasn’t surprised by the letter was because I’ve been waiting for it. Perhaps not in a letter, sure, but I’ve been waiting for you to decide that you’ve had enough of me.” 

Severus stared at Harry for a long moment, almost like he was seeing him for the first time. He thought back on their three years, and he realised that Harry was right. 

No matter that he’d thought the words countless times, he’d never actually said them out loud. 

“Harry, I… I apologise for the way that I’ve been treating you. In a way, I suppose it’s to protect myself, because when you leave, I keep telling myself it won’t hurt as much. The way I treat you like a teenager… I suppose that it could come across that way, but it's not intentional. I worry about you, constantly.” 

Severus paused, and then shook his head. 

“Every time you leave, Harry, be it to go shopping, or to go and see your friends, or for work… I worry about you. I’m terrified that you’re going to get hurt. Harry, I… I do love you, of course I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. If nothing else, that’s true. “

Harry gazed into Severus’ eyes, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. And… Harry thought that he knew the man well enough to know that he was. In those beautiful obsidian eyes that he loved so much, all he could see reflected back at him was love, fondness, and a lot of worry. 

He got up from his chair and crossed the small observatory to perch himself on Severus’ knee. 

“You really love me?” 

“I couldn’t love you more,” Severus replied softly. “I can say it in ten different languages, and I’ll mean it every time.” 

He wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him close. Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Go on then,” he murmured, a teasing note in his tone as he let his head rest against Severus’ neck. 

“I love you. Je T'aime. Ik hou van je. Ich liebe dich. Ti amo. Eu te amo—”

“Alright, alright, bloody show off,” Harry grumbled, making Severus chuckle. 

“No more silliness?” Severus asked, after a few moments. “From either of us?” 

Harry shook his head. “No. I’ll stop running away, if you try and remember that I am, in fact, a fully grown wizard who can take care of himself?” 

Severus pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. “Deal.” 

Soon after, Harry dozed off in Severus’ lap, the stress of the few days, and the lingering effects of his hangover leaving him exhausted. 

… 

“You know,” Severus murmured, later that evening, after they’d eaten and showered together, and enjoyed re-committing themselves to one another. “I love you isn’t the only thing I can say in another language.” 

“Oh?” Harry asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Mi vuoi sposare?” 

“And that means…?” 

“Why don’t you go and figure it out?” Severus suggested, with a cheeky smile that made Harry chuckle. 

“Will it be worth my while?” Harry asked, even as he was pushing himself to his feet. 

“Oh, I think you’ll think so.” 

… 

Twenty three minutes later, Severus found himself with an armful of a happy Harry. 

“Yes, yes, and a million times, yes!” 

Harry peppered his face with kisses, before their lips joined in a searing kiss that took both of their breath away. 

Severus smiled at Harry, brushing the hair from his face. “I suppose, tomorrow, that we should go and buy a ring, hmm?” 

Green eyes bright with happiness, Harry nodded. 

“You know, you won’t be able to call me Potter soon. It’ll be… Snape-Potter?” 

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to call you My Harry, instead.” 

“I can live with that.”