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“Did you get a name? Who did you get?”
Harry shook his head, keeping his wrist firmly covered. He didn’t know how to tell his friends that his soulmate was the same person who’d killed their headmaster, and so, he kept it to himself.
They asked him a few more times, but Harry always ignored the question, despite them getting more antagonistic in their attempts to find out the truth; especially Ron.
He’d been offended that Harry wouldn’t tell them who it was, wouldn’t trust them with the information, and in the end, they’d argued so badly that Ron had left for a while.
“You have no family! Even your soulmate doesn’t want you!”
The words had stung, and despite Ron’s return, Harry couldn’t shake them away. He knew that his soulmate wouldn’t want him, but…
He’d been waiting for the name to appear on his seventeenth birthday. Soulmarks only appeared when the younger of the mated pair turned seventeen, but Harry had known that he would get a name. He couldn’t have been the older one; who his age or younger could ever know what it was like to be him?
The writing on his wrist had been familiar, and for just a second, Harry had felt a flare of hope, before he could register what the name actually was, and why the writing was so familiar.
Severus Snape.
…
“I can’t let him die, Hermione,” Harry whispered, pressing hard on the wound in Severus’ neck. “Help me. Please? Help me!”
She fumbled in her bag for dittany, summoning it into her hand silently when she didn’t find it immediately. She handed him the tiny vial and then stepped back, taking comfort from Ron as they watched tears stream down Harry’s face, as he tried to save the man he both hated, and was destined to love.
“Look… at… me.”
“Don’t you dare die on me, you utter bastard,” Harry snarled. He dug into Snape’s robe pockets, looking for potions, anything that might help keep him alive. His fingers closed around a vial, and he pulled it out, holding it up to Hermione. “What do you think?”
“Blood replenisher,” she replied, quickly, nodding her head.
Harry forced the stopper off and tipped the potion down Snape’s throat, massaging to make sure that it went all the way down.
“Anti… antivenin… inside… left…” Snape said, forcing the words out.
Harry found the potion and tipped that one down the man’s throat as well. The dittany had slowed the bleeding, and Harry wrapped it with magic, a rough job but one that should last until they made it back up to the castle.
“Immobulus,” he murmured, lifting Severus. He glanced at his friends. “We need to go.”
“What about… the memories?” Hermione asked, nodding to the tiny vial Harry had placed on the floor. He summoned it into his hand and tucked it into his pocket.
“I’ll… after we get him to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, shaking his head.
He was covered in blood, tear marks stained his cheeks, his clothes were torn and barely holding in some places, but he couldn’t think about any of that until he knew that Severus was with the Matron.
She’d keep him alive.
She had to.
…
Dazed, Harry leant back against the wall of the Hospital Wing. He was sitting on the floor by Severus’ bed. Poppy had tried to get him into a bed of his own, but she was overrun and they both knew it.
Harry was okay; he would live, anyway, and honestly, that seemed like a plus after the night—after the year, really—he’d had.
He couldn’t quite believe that it was over. Or that his part was over, at least. He knew that there was still plenty of work to do; trials, rebuilding, the Ministry would need an overhaul. But none of that was Harry’s responsibility, unless he chose to make it so.
He’d done his part. He could finally stop, and breathe.
Absently, he rubbed his fingers over the name on his wrist. He wasn’t planning to stick around once he knew that Severus was going to be fine. He had no doubt that the man didn’t want anything to do with him, and given their history, Harry couldn’t actually fault him for that.
Harry just… couldn’t let him die.
It didn’t… he tried to tell himself that he would have done the same thing even if Severus wasn’t his soulmate, but he wasn’t sure that he would have done. Or… well. He wasn’t sure that he would have tried so hard, nor been so desperate.
He wasn’t sure what that said about him.
“Harry, dear, you should go and get some rest,” Poppy said, crouching down so that she wasn’t towering over him when she spoke to him.
He smiled tiredly at her. “I know. I will. I just… I’ll leave soon, I promise.”
“He’ll be okay,” she said, nodding her head to the prone figure in the bed. “You managed to get the potions in him in time, Harry. He’ll live to be his usual, snarky self.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “He will. So, go and get some sleep, before I dose you with Dreamless Sleep and put you in one of my beds.”
Harry chuckled.
“That doesn’t sound so bad right now,” he admitted, and then shook his head. He didn’t want Dreamless Sleep. There would be nightmares, he knew, but suppressing them wouldn’t help; it was just delaying the inevitable, and it would be worse when he eventually did suffer them.
She tousled his hair and then grimaced. “Maybe a quick shower, dear, before you fall into bed?”
He laughed again, and with a bigger effort than he’d ever admit, pushed himself up to his feet. He leant over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Poppy.”
She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”
He glanced at Severus—sleeping in the bed, though Harry thought that was likely magically induced now—and sighed. He wished…
Well. He wished for a lot of things.
…
“He’s your soulmate, isn’t he?” Ron asked.
Harry had showered, and then slept for thirteen hours. When he’d pulled himself out of bed, still tired, but knowing that he should probably attempt to show his face, he found Ron and Hermione curled up in the Common Room, sharing one of the small sofas.
Harry had barely sat down in one of the overstuffed armchairs nearest to them when Ron questioned him.
“Who?” Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Snape.”
“Does it matter?” Harry asked, shrugging. “Nothing will come of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ron asked, frowning slightly.
Harry tipped his head back. “Because it never mattered, Ron. Nothing was ever going to come of it, so why bother dealing with the drama of people knowing about him?”
“But… he didn’t kill Dumbledore,” Hermione pointed out, softly.
“He did,” Harry replied. “He just did it on Dumbledore’s orders. He did a lot on Dumbledore’s orders, apparently. I don’t…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s what I’m saying. Even if he hadn’t killed Dumbledore, or if he’d done it in Voldemort’s name, or if he’d been a fucking saint, none of it matters. I’m a Potter. That’s enough of a deterrent for him.”
“Told you that over tea and biscuits, did he?”
Harry rolled his eyes at Ron. “Why are you pushing this? You hate him; you’ve hated him for years.”
Ron shifted slightly in his seat. “What I said… I should never have said it. Of course you have a family. We’re your family,” he said, gesturing to himself and Hermione. “And… and anyone would be lucky to have you as a soulmate, Harry. I was being a jerk, and I never should have said it, and I’m really sorry that I did.”
Harry blinked at him, and then nodded his head. “Thanks. I… thanks.”
“And if the greasy—I mean, if Snape doesn’t want you, then it’s his loss. He should be thanking Merlin and whoever else that he even has a chance with you.”
Smiling at his friends, Harry just shook his head. “It’s… it is what it is, right? I don’t… I can be happy without him.”
“You’re not even going to… try?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
Harry shook his head again. “I’m tired of fighting, Hermione, and that’s what it would be. A fight to get him to even acknowledge that I’m not my father. I haven’t got the energy for that right now.”
Closing his eyes, Harry almost dozed off when Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, mate, you need to eat something.”
Knowing that Ron was right, Harry blinked his eyes open and forced himself to his feet. He followed his friends from the Common Room and out into the destroyed corridors of Hogwarts.
…
His invisibility cloak settled around him, Harry made his way to the Hospital Wing. It was the middle of the night, and he was quite sure that most people still in the castle would be sleeping, but he really didn’t want to deal with anyone asking him questions about where he was going, or why.
He slipped into the Wing and made his way to the far end of the room, where Snape had been put, hidden by a privacy curtain. When Harry cautiously moved the curtain, he was relieved to see that the man was still fast asleep. The wound on his neck looked better than it had, and he had more colour in his cheeks.
Clearly it hadn’t just been Poppy trying to get him to go to bed when she’d told him that Severus would be okay.
He’d wondered, but at the time, he’d been too tired to argue with her.
Harry perched himself in the chair beside the bed and let his eyes trace Severus’ face. He looked younger in sleep, without his usually permanent scowl in place. Harry spent long minutes memorising every inch of the man that he could see, down to the last potion stain on the tip of his thumb.
He swallowed hard.
It was just so fucking unfair.
He’d survived—they both had—when truly, neither of them had had the right. Both of them should have died, likely multiple times over the last few years, and yet, here they were, both alive and still separated, this time by the years of history between them, and even the history between Severus and Harry’s parents.
He rubbed his hand over his face and then stood up. There was little point in lingering there any longer. It wouldn’t change anything.
Harry had lived, and now… now he was going to enjoy that.
…
8 years later.
…
“Unca Harry!”
Harry grinned, bending slightly to lift Rose when she ran towards him, throwing her up in the air before he settled her onto his hip.
“How’s my little Rosie-Posy?”
“You’re here!” She grinned at him. “Presents?”
“Of course I brought you presents,” Harry replied. “What do you take me for? When does Uncle Harry not bring you presents, hmm?”
She giggled in his arms as he stepped into Ron and Hermione’s house, heading straight for the kitchen, where they all seemed to spend the most time. Sure enough, Ron was at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Hermione watched on from the breakfast bar.
Harry kissed her cheek as he walked past her, and grinned at Ron as he deposited Rose into her high chair.
“Presents, Unca Harry?”
“After you’ve had your pancakes, monkey,” he replied, softly, ruffling her hair with a gentle touch. He took the seat beside Hermione and nudged her gently with his arm. “How are you, darling?”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Extremely pregnant,” she replied.
“I see that,” he agreed, glancing down at her bump. He was sure she hadn’t been so big when she’d been pregnant with Rose. “Ready to be done with it?”
“More than,” she said, nodding. “Only a week to go though. Unless he comes early.”
“Or late,” Ron pointed out, and then ducked out of the way of the pen she threw at him. “I’m just saying! Rosie was four days later than your due date!”
“First pregnancies running a little late are pretty common,” Harry said, smiling at her. “Doesn’t mean that you’ll be late with this one.”
“I hope not. I really hope not. I can barely sit down with the size of the bump now, it’s ridiculous.”
“It’ll be worth every second,” Harry replied. “And I get another munchkin to spoil. Uncle Harry is winning right now.”
Hermione snorted. “All the kids love you, though. You’ve got a natural touch with them.”
“That’s because I can give them back,” Harry replied, conspiratorially.
She laughed at them, just as Ron slid a pancake onto her plate. Harry wrinkled his nose when she dolloped whipped cream on top and then added jalapenos, before she rolled it up.
“That’s… a choice.”
“I’m going to think that this is disgusting when I’m not pregnant anymore, aren’t I?”
“You definitely are, love, yes,” Harry agreed. “Anyway, I just popped by to let you know that I’m back in town, and I’ll be delighted to take Rosie if you need me too. When you got into labour, or any other time.”
“We want you at the hospital, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Bill and Fleur are going to have Rosie, and then bring her to the hospital once everything is fine.”
Harry nodded. “Whatever you guys want. I’ve gotta run to the hospital in half an hour though, so I’m going to disappear again. I’ll drop by later and bring dinner with me.”
“Are you freelancing with them again while you’re home, Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry tilted his head slightly. “I’m kinda planning on sticking around for a while this time, so… I was thinking about taking them up on their offer of a job. Be an adult for a while, you know?”
Ron snorted. “You’re the most adult-y non-adult I know, mate.”
“He is, technically, an adult, Ron.”
Just one without a job or a mortgage,” Harry said, shrugging.
“You have jobs. You just… don’t stick around in one place for very long.”
“I love that you defend me better than I defend myself,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “But it’s time that I set down some kind of roots, I reckon. Especially with you having a second sproglet. I want to be around for you more. I’ll see you both later. OH! And I promised a present for my little Rosie-girl, didn’t I?” he added, pretending that he’d forgotten.
She clapped her hands, chocolate smearing on her fingers. Harry pulled a wrapped box from his pocket and tapped it with his wand so that it would return to its original size. He ruffled her hair.
“You be a good girl for your mummy and daddy, my little love.”
He left, smiling to himself. It was nice to be home.
…
Dear Harry,
A little birdie told me that you were back in the country, and I was hoping that you might find some time to pop up to the castle for tea? I know that the others would all love to see you, as well, Minerva especially; we’ve all been following the news of you in the press, but it’s not quite the same thing, is it?
Love, Poppy
Harry dropped the letter onto the kitchen table of the rental he was staying in and ran a hand through his hair, groaning slightly.
He and Poppy had become regular pen pals over the years, but he’d avoided an actual face-to-face meeting with her since he’d left the castle. Mostly because she didn’t often leave the castle, and Hogwarts was… complicated for Harry.
And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Severus Snape was still very much in residence; hell, he was still the Headmaster. There was every chance that Harry wouldn’t even get past the gates with him in charge of the wards.
Sighing to himself, Harry flicked the kettle on and stretched himself tall, popping his back. He didn’t really have an excuse to tell her no. Leaving the letter on the table to deal with later, Harry left the kitchen for the bathroom. He needed a shower, coffee, breakfast, and maybe then he’d be able to deal with thinking up a reply.
…
Harry rocked the newborn in his arms, smiling down at him. There was already a thick thatch of red hair on his head, and he had a strong grip, his little hand clinging onto Harry’s finger.
“He’s stunning,” he murmured, glancing up at his best friends.
Hermione was still in the bed, of course, looking tired but beautiful. Ron was perched on the side of the bed, holding his wife’s hand, a broad smile on his face.
“You’ll be godfather again, of course,” Ron said, like it was obvious.
Harry smiled slightly. “My honour. Always my honour.”
Little Hugo chose that moment to open his eyes, and Harry fell completely in love. Just the same as had with Rosie, just the same as he had with Neville’s son, Frank, whom he was also the godfather.
“You’re getting quite the collection of godchildren,” Hermione said, smiling at him. “You’ll have a Quidditch team of kids before you know it.”
“The first brooms are going to cost me a bloody fortune,” Harry said, grinning back at her.
“Not before they’re six.”
“Bah,” Harry muttered. “I had one when I was a year old. They’ll be fine.”
“Didn’t your mum write in that letter that you terrorised the cat on that thing?”
“So don’t get a cat, and it’ll be fine. Rosie is nearly three. She needs a broom, Hermione.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve already bought her one, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “For Christmas.”
“Of course you have.”
…
Harry looked up at the castle for a moment, and then pressed his hand to the gate. He was a little surprised when it opened to his touch, but he slipped inside, closing it behind him, and then set off up the sloping grassy hills towards the doors.
They were already open, as though welcoming him, though Harry knew that they kept the doors open all summer, every summer.
It was still a nice thing to see.
The inside of the castle was blessedly cool, and he made his way up to towards the Hospital Wing, where Poppy had told him to meet her. Despite the fact that the students wouldn’t be arriving for another few days yet, for the new school year, she was apparently ‘up to her eyeballs in preparation’, and had planned to work through the day.
“Poppy?”
She was leaning over one of the beds, and when she stood up and turned to look at him, she broke into a large smile and raised her arms to him.
“Harry, dear!”
She swept him into a hug, and he leant into it, just for a moment, because she’d always given great hugs. Almost like what Harry would imagine a grandmother’s hug would feel like. When he pulled away, she kept her hands on his arms.
“Let me look at you!”
He smiled a little sheepishly at her, feeling a little weird. It was almost like being back in the castle had turned him back into an awkward teenager.
“Come, sit, and tell me everything,” she demanded, cheerfully, waving him into her office. “I’ve been hearing all kinds of things about your healing work, especially those new spells that you’ve developed. I want to hear all about it before Minerva demands that I share you.”
He laughed, unable to help himself. He’d missed her.
They spend an enjoyable hour or so chatting, when a knock on the door to Poppy’s office startled Harry. Expecting it to be Professor McGonagall, he turned, only to find himself face-to-face with Severus.
He looked… well, he looked good. Relaxed. Healthy.
“Harry.”
Harry blinked at the sound of his first name from those lips, and then twisted his hands together, his cheeks flaring pink. “Hi.”
“I wasn’t expecting…” Severus shook his head. He lifted the crate of vials he was holding. “The Pepper-Up restock, Poppy.”
“You’re a dear, thank you,” Poppy replied.
She got up and took the crate from him, wandering off with it to the potions storage cupboard at the other end of the Hospital Wing.
Harry looked down at his hands. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say—if he was supposed to say anything at all—and Severus was staring at him as though he couldn’t quite believe that he was there at all.
“Poppy didn’t tell me that you were coming,” Severus said, eventually. “I would have greeted you at the doors, had I known.”
Harry looked back up at him. “It’s… fine. I thought that she would have told you. I, uh. It’s good to see you. You look well.”
The corner of Severus’ mouth tilted up. “You too. I… thank you. For saving me. For not giving up. I remember only bits and pieces of that night, but… I know that you refused to let me die.”
“I… you’re welcome. It’s not like you didn’t save my life umpteen times before that, right?”
Severus snorted. Then he said, “So, healing? I was under the impression that you had aspirations of red robes and handcuffs.”
“I was tired,” Harry admitted, shrugging slightly. “Tired of fighting. Tired of being some kind of… poster boy for justice, or whatever. I only stuck around long enough to make sure that the trials went the way that they were supposed to, and then I left the country.”
“The way that they were supposed to?”
Harry grimaced. “You didn’t think that I was going to let them put you in Azkaban without a fight, did you? I had to make sure that you got your pardon before… before I left. It wouldn’t have been right.”
“An Order of Merlin, Second Class, is a bit more than making sure that they didn’t throw me into Azkaban, Harry.”
Harry swallowed. “Kingsley told you?”
“He did,” Severus confirmed. “He was quite certain that you threatened to, ah, ‘burn the whole Ministry to the ground’ if they didn’t do as you told them to do.” He arched his eyebrow. “A little dramatic, no?”
Harry shrugged. “It got them to take me seriously, I suppose. I don’t know if you met Edmond Worple? He wanted to throw anyone with a Dark Mark into Azkaban, without so much as a trial. Prick. He didn’t dare to raise a wand during the actual war, mind you. No, he hid away in his mansion, behind strong wars, but when it came to the after part, he thought that he deserved to have all of the opinions.”
“I did meet him breifly,” Severus confirmed, a look of distaste on his face. “He was… quite opinionated, you’re correct.”
“Well. He pissed me off, and I was still tired and I was being hounded by the press, and…” Harry shook his head. “It was already a bad day, and he made it worse, so I… lost my temper. Slightly.”
“Slightly,” Severus repeated, amused now. “Kingsley said that you had the man cowering beneath his desk.”
“Kingsley is a sodding gossip,” Harry replied, scowling playfully. “But… yeah. Yeah, I might have done.”
Chuckling, Severus shook his head and then sobered. “Draco was grateful that you made a point to defend him at the same time.”
Harry just nodded his head. “I know. I see him occasioanlly. I’m glad that he’s made something of himself.”
Draco was an unspeakable at the Ministry of Magic, and he’d married his soulmate, Astoria Greengrass, despite his parents attempting to betroth him to Pansy Parkinson. Whenever Harry asked after his wife, Draco seemed deliriously happy. Harry was pleased for him.
Poppy returned to the office, a small smile on her face. Harry suspected that she’d orchestrated the meeting between himself and Severus, because she was a sly lady, and that smile was almost smug.
“Well, it’s almost lunch time,” Poppy said, tapping her watch. “Shall we go and find Minerva? She’ll be very mad at me if I don’t share you with her while you’re here, Harry.”
Harry chuckled. “Did you tell anyone that I was coming, Poppy?”
“I did not. They all would have stolen you before I could get to you if I had.”
…
Harry didn’t end up leaving the castle until after dinner. He’d had lunch with Poppy and Minerva, and then gone back to the Hospital Wing with the matron to show her some of the new spells he’d developed specifically for healing. By the time they were finished, it was dinner time, and Harry couldn’t think of a reason to deny the invitation to stay.
He’d ended up in the staff room with almost the whole staff roster, and—somewhat unsurprisingly, if the looks passed between Minerva and Poppy were any indication—had found himself sitting beside Severus.
And it was… nice. Really nice. The conversation, both with just Severus and also with the whole table, flowed well, and Harry had enjoyed himself.
He got a little distracted occasionally, whenever Severus leant closer, the heat emanating off of him turning Harry’s insides to mush. Not that he’d ever admit as much out loud.
When he decided that it was time to leave, Severus insisted on walking him to the gates, despite Harry’s protests that he still knew his way out.
“I thought about contacting you a few times,” Severus said, as they left the castle behind, walking slowly towards the gates. “After I was pardoned. I…” he shook his head. “I honestly didn’t know what to say to you. Despite Poppy and Kingsley assuring me that you didn’t hate me, I wasn’t convinced.”
Harry was floored. Not only that Severus was being so… honest and open with him, but also by what he was saying. When Harry had left, it had been with the complete belief that the man wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He said as much, admitting that leaving had been as much running away as it had been what he’d needed at the time.
“You’re my soulmate,” Severus said simply, as though that explained everything.
And maybe it did.
They reached the gates, and Harry lingered, feeling like something was expected of him, but unsure what, exactly, it was.
“I wouldn’t be averse to seeing you again. Perhaps without a group of other people clamouring for your attention?”
Harry’s lips tilted up slightly. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Severus shifted slightly, and then inclined his head. “I am.”
“I’d love to.”
…
“You’re going on a date with him?” Ron asked, accepting the pint Harry offered him.
Harry nodded. “I guess so. It was… weird. Like, I wasn’t expecting him to go out of his way to be cruel or anything, not now, but I wasn’t expecting him to be so… engaged. So interested. You know?”
“You’re his soulmate,” Ron said, shrugging.
“He said the same thing,” Harry said. “I know that soulmates are a big deal, but we know people who didn’t bother with the bonds. Is it really that big of a thing?”
Ron pulled a face and then put his beer down on a table, sitting down. Harry sat down in the chair facing him.
“Our generation is showing a little less interest in soulmates, I suppose,” Ron said, after a moment. “People are still more likely to settle down with their soulmate in the end, but there seems to be a lot more ‘exploring’ first, you know? Back in my parents' day, people found their soulmates and then that was it. Snape’s older than us, so it’s no real surprise that he puts so much… importance on it, I suppose.”
Harry took a sip of his beer and then bit his lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t think it was important. It was, and it was important to Harry, but there was so much history and bitterness, particularly on Severus’ side, that it was hard to believe that his name appearing on Severus’ wrist was enough to just… erase all of that.
When he said as much, Ron said, “I mean, yeah, but… it’s been eight years, mate.”
“True enough,” Harry conceded.
“So, did you sign the contract with the hospital?”
“I signed a temporary one,” Harry replied. “Month to month, rolling contract. It was less money, but you know that I don’t particularly care about that. It felt a little too final to sign onto a permanent contract straight away.”
Ron snorted. “What about the house hunting?”
“I actually went to see one this morning, and I really liked it,” Harry said, nodding his head. “Three bedrooms, so space for when I have the kids, and quite a big garden for them to play in.”
“Big kitchen?” Ron asked, knowingly.
Harry nodded. “Massive kitchen. Study. The living room is a decent size. Three bathrooms. Yeah, I really like it.”
“Have you put an offer in on it?”
“It’s in Hogsmeade,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I started overthinking everything, and so, no, not yet. I’m still thinking about it.”
“Mate…” Ron shook his head. “Stop letting this control every single aspect of your life. You and Snape will either get together, or you won’t, but either way, make yourself happy.”
Harry blinked. “When the fuck did you turn into an adult?”
“It’s not adulting,” Ron said, shaking his head. “It’s sleep deprivation. It makes you wise.”
Harry snorted.
…
Their first date was… well it wasn’t a complete disaster. But it also wasn’t not a little bit of a disaster.
Severus had arrived five minutes late, looking harassed, and when Harry had asked him if everything was okay, he’d snapped at him. He’d apologised, but the mood had been tainted before they’d even begun, and the conversation had been stilted and awkward.
They made it through the starters and onto the mains without too much of a problem, and they were both starting to relax when a memo from the hospital landed on the table, requesting that Harry attend immediately, because an accident had led to twenty three emergency admittances, and they didn’t have enough staff to deal with it.
Full of apologies, Harry had had to leave. He left money on the table, and practically raced from the restaurant without making plans for a second date.
And now, two days later, he was sitting in the kitchen, feeling sorry for himself and wondering how much Severus hated him.
Running a hand through his hair, Harry summoned parchment and a quill. He had to at least apologise again. He wasn’t sure if he should ask for a second date; would Severus even want to see him again?
He stared down at the blank parchment for a moment, and then sighed before he picked up the quill.
Dear Severus…
…
“You offered to cook for him?”
Harry nodded. “I did. Starting to regret that now.”
He was in the supermarket with Hermione. Rose was perched cheerfully on his shoulders, Hugo sleeping in the pram he was pushing. Hermione pushed the trolley beside him.
“Why? You’re an amazing cook, Harry, and a home-cooked meal is often more intimate than eating out in a restaurant. Plus, you don’t have to deal with other people.”
“Hell is other people,” Harry agreed, nodding his head seriously. She rolled her eyes at him. He added, “I’m surprised he even agreed to another date, to be honest with you. Between his bad mood and me leaving early, it wasn’t exactly what I’d call a resounding success, Hermione.”
“It happens,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “He knows that you have a demanding job, you know that he can be a…” she paused, glancing up at Rose. “Grumpy pants. It is what it is.”
“I’m going to tell him that you called him that.”
“I’ll hex you to the moon.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ll find a way.” She dug her elbow into his ribs. “So, what are you cooking for him?”
“No idea,” Harry said. “Since I don’t actually know what he likes to eat. See why I’m regretting my life choices, now?”
“What did he order at the restaurant?”
“A fish main,” Harry replied. “Which at first made me think that I should cook fish, but then I got into my head about it, and what if it reminds him of the first disaster? So then I thought that maybe I could make lamb, but then I wondered if that was refined enough, but I mean, he eats most of his meals at Hogwarts, right? So what if I make something different, and he hates it, and—”
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted softly. “You really are in your head about all of this, aren’t you? Ron told me about the house in Hogsmeade as well. Are you… are you ready for this?”
“I… I don’t know.”
…
He decided on beef wellington, and then raspberry ripple eton mess for dessert. Relatively easy in the way of cooking, and would leave him time to be an attentive host, without being something that Severus would be eating every night at Hogwarts.
He’d barely finished setting the table when Severus arrived, exactly on time. Harry invited him inside, and Severus followed him into the kitchen, looking around with undisguised curiosity.
Harry wondered what he thought of the barely decorated rental flat. It was neat and tidy, of course, but there was very little personalisation in any of the rooms—Harry hadn’t been intending to live there for very long, so he hadn’t really seen any point in trying to make the place his own.
“How’s your day been?” Harry asked, checking on the wellington before he started working on the potatoes and vegetables.
They chatted while Harry cooked, and Harry found that he was much more relaxed when he had something else to focus on. Severus seemed to be in a better mood as well, and the conversation flowed well between them.
That continued through the main—which was a success, if Severus’ empty plate was anything to judge by—and into dessert.
“I, uh. I put an offer in on a house,” Harry said, laying his spoon in the bowl, half of the eton mess gone. “In Hogsmeade.”
Severus smiled. “That’s good. It’s nice to know that you’re planning to stay around. I wondered if you planned to travel more.”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “I’ll still travel a little, I think. I like new places, they’re fun to explore. But… yeah. I mean. I have four godchildren now… and you know, you’re here. And you don’t… hate me. So. There’s that.”
Severus tilted his head slightly, and then asked, “Should we retire to the living room? I believe that a conversation is in order.”
“I… sure? Do you want another drink?”
Severus shook his head. “Perhaps coffee, or water. I would prefer to not be inebriated while we discuss this.”
…
Harry made coffee, and then joined Severus in the living room. The older man had settled himself on the sofa, and for a moment, Harry wasn’t sure if he should join him there, or sit in the overstuffed armchair instead.
Severus patted the seat beside him, making the decision for him, and Harry had never been more grateful.
Honestly, nobody would believe that he was twenty six years old. He still acted as awkwardly as he’d been when he was seventeen and utterly clueless.
Once seated, his coffee clutched in his hand like a comfort blanket, Harry waited for Severus to speak.
Severus looked thoughtful for a moment as he regarded Harry, and then he began, “When I woke up in the Hospital Wing, Poppy told me that you’d been the one to save me, but that you’d left Hogwarts before I woke up. I wasn’t really sure what to think about any of it. I’ve told you that I have very vague memories of that night, and I remembered you demanding that I not die.”
Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it, because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Severus reached over and squeezed his hand gently before he continued.
“I realised, though you’ve told me that you weren’t sure what my own reaction to us being soulmates would be, that leaving was what you needed. Freedom, after the life you’d lived to that point, isn’t something that I would have ever wanted to deny you. And, if you’re not ready for this, for us, then thats… it’s okay, Harry.”
Swallowing hard, Harry thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it,” he admitted, quietly. “I thought… when I saw you at Hogwarts, I was surprised. I genuinely have always believed that you wouldn’t be interested in pursuing anything. Ron explained a little more about soulmarks to me a few weeks ago. I’m not saying that I don’t want a relationship with you. It’s not that. I just… I…” he shook his head. “I think that it’s just been a lot all at once, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.”
“That’s understandable. I realise that your generation is perhaps not as enamoured with the idea of soulmates,” Severus replied, his lips tilting up slightly. “You should take the time to figure out what you want. I’m… I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I’ve waited this long, and I’ll keep waiting.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait for—”
“I believe that it will be worth it,” Severus interrupted, gently. “I believe that we will be worth it.”
Harry stared at him for a long moment, and then, he sighed. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such patience, but thank you.”
Severus smiled at him.
When he left, Severus pressed a kiss high on Harry’s cheek bone and squeezed his hand. Harry watched him go and then leant back against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face.
He really needed to get his shit together.
…
He bought the house.
Harry threw himself into the renovations, spending day after day looking at wallpaper swatches and soft furnishings, knocking out walls and building new ones. Ron and Hermione dropped by often, and he spent time with his godchildren whenever he could, but having something big to focus on really helped him.
Occasionally, his thoughts would drift to Severus, and it helped, to be able to think about him almost absently while he worked on both the house, and himself.
He spent two months working on the house, and when it was done, he curled up in his new armchair in the living room, and he hugged a pillow to his chest, and he smiled.
He felt at home in a way he’d never felt before.
Like he had roots.
A place to be that was his. A place where he completely belonged.
A week after that, Harry signed a permanent contract with Saint Mungo’s, and he began making plans; plans for the future, things that he would be around for now, instead of looking around a new country, trying to find something he didn’t even know what he was searching for.
…
“I miss him.”
Ron tilted his head slightly, while Hermione smiled softly.
Harry rolled his eyes at his friends. “You needn’t look so smug about it,” he informed them, primly, before the three of them ended up giggling.
Molly and Arthur were looking after the kids for the night to give Ron and Hermione a break, and the two of them had decided to spend the evening with Harry, at his new house.
Of course, what that really meant, was that Ron wanted Harry to cook, not that Harry minded.
“You should go and see him,” Hermione prompted, once they’d calmed down. “You can take it slow, Harry, but at this point, you’re avoiding him for the sake of it.”
“I’m not… avoiding him,” Harry protested. “I just… I guess that I’m a little worried.”
“About what?” Ron asked.
“I. Uh. I think that maybe he’s going to expect me to, uh. Know what the hell I’m doing. You know. Because I’m twenty six, and should probably have had some experience by now, right?”
Hermione’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t… I assumed while you were travelling, you must’ve… no?”
Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want anyone else, I suppose. I certainly didn’t want a one night stand with a stranger. The idea of it makes my skin crawl. I just… it never happened, and then it kept on not happening, and I’ve never… so I’m a bit… concerned.”
“I think that he’ll be over the fucking moon,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Some guys can be territorial, right? And Snape… he strikes me as the possessive sort. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, mate. He’s gonna love that.”
“You really think so?”
Ron nodded emphatically. “I really do. But also. Please don’t ever tell me about sex with Snape. Because, uh. For reasons. Okay?”
Hermione hit him with a pillow.
…
The gargoyle allowed him entrance without a password, springing out of the way as though it was his right to enter. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the office door, smiling when he heard Severus’ voice calling for him to enter.
When he stepped inside the office, he looked around, spotting the differences since the last time he’d been in there. Severus had surprisingly kept quite a lot of Dumbledore’s soft furnishings, but there was definitely a change to the office to reflect its new owner.
“Harry?”
Harry looked at the desk to see that Severus had stood up, clearly not having expected Harry to have turned up in the middle of the day out of the blue. It was the first time they’d seen each other for almost three months.
“Is everything okay?”
Harry walked forwards until he was directly in front of Seevrus, and then reached out, taking Severus’ wrist in his hand. Severus didn’t pull away, so Harry pushed the robes up, until he could see his own name, in his own writing, on the alabaster skin.
He brushed his thumb over it reverently, and then looked up to meet Severus’ eyes, noting the hopeful expression on his face.
“I’m ready now. If you’ll have me?”