Title: The Sensible Garden

Author: RaeWhit

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Original Character Death

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Disclaimer: The Potter Universe is the sole property of J.K.Rowling, Bloomsbury and
Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros Inc. I make no money from writing fanfiction. It is
my own private obsession.

Feedback: raewhit@earthlink.net

Beta: Jadzialove—incomparable, indefatigable, irreplaceable.

Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest Wave
XII at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm

Challenge: What if…? What if some event in the books went differently?

Summary: What if Harry had not been given the entire prophecy by Albus Dumbledore?
Years later, forever changed by that second part of the prophecy, Severus and Harry are
pulled together again, this time by a common love of flowers and gardens.

A/N: I dedicate this story to my own beautiful flower, my daughter, Amanda, whose
courage and determination , in the face of overwhelming personal loss , has provided
endless inspiration, and shored up my conviction that, yes, life does go on, love does
find a way, and joy can indeed be born out of ashes.

The Sensible Garden

" In gardens, beauty is a by-product. The main business is sex and death. " ~Sam
Llewelyn

Prologue

What if… in June of 1996…

The room was deadly silent, the only sound the ticking of the clocks in the background.

Harry finally opened his eyes to look at Dumbledore, then said in a flat, toneless voice,
"The end of the prophecy, it was something about…'neither can live…'"

"'…while the other survives,'" said Dumbledore.

Harry seemed to struggle with what to say next, but finally croaked out hoarsely, his
eyes desperate, "So…so, does that mean that…that one of us has got to kill the other
one…in the end?"

"Yes," Dumbledore simply said.

***

Severus waited until he heard the footsteps, then the definite click of the door as it
closed. He stepped out from between the two bookcases as he murmured, "Finite
Incantatem." The Disillusionment Charm shimmered away. He seated himself across
from the Headmaster at his desk, then looked up, shocked to see the tears on the old
man's face. He'd never once seen him cry before.

"It seems I've made a muddle of things," Dumbledore confessed. "As I told Harry, I
forgot what it's like to be young." He shook his head sadly.

"You couldn't have known how this would turn out," Severus tried to reassure him.

"No, I suppose not, but I might've foreseen how he'd react, given what he thought he
knew."

They were silent for a moment, then Severus said carefully, "I'm surprised, then, that
now that you've chosen to tell him of the prophecy, you didn't tell him all of it, Albus."

Dumbledore gave him a weary wave. "Ah. But you saw how he was, Severus. He
would've fled without hearing the first part, had he not been locked in the room." He
measured his Potions master, then added softly, "No, I think, given his feelings for you,
he was in no condition to hear it all."

"He'll have to know," Severus countered, even as he knew the Headmaster was right.

"He will. But for today, it was terrible enough, what he had to hear. To learn that the
two of you share this destiny will have to keep for another time."

"He hates me," Severus said bitterly.

The old man nodded. "Yes, for now he does. But a time will come when he will have to
set that aside." He paused. "As you will have some things to set aside as well."

Severus made a small noise of frustration. "I don't see how it will ever come to pass."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Which is the infuriating part of prophecies, isn't it? They tell us
'what' but now 'how'; that is for us to discern, in due time."

Severus had to ask. "When will you tell him?"

The Headmaster looked thoughtful. "I think we'll know when the time is right, Severus.
But not now. You can't deny that it would endanger both of you, were he to know too
soon." He leant back in his chair, then sighed. "He has enough to contend with at the
moment. Learning the part you are to play might make him flee the wizarding world
altogether."

"A tempting proposition," Severus muttered, then was gratified when Dumbledore
smiled.

***

Potion One : Thirteen Years Later…

Severus pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket as he stood, then wiped the sweat
from his face as he looked out over his morning's work. The rising sun had just breached
the garden wall, reflecting a gilded shower of light over the tops of the hollyhocks and
foxglove. He had them all staked up now, neat rows of sticks and ties a testament to how
he'd spent the past several hours. It was still early, however, and breakfast yet to come,
but for a moment, he was lost in the beauty of it, a palette of sundry purples and
crimsons, vivid yellows and pinks.

Picking up his canvas tool sack, he headed for the front of the house, already mentally
laying out the rest of his day as he walked. Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his
tracks, then narrowed his eyes as he grimly smiled in anticipation. He slowly lowered
the sack to the ground, taking care to not make a sound, then glided stealthily towards
the front of the garden, slowing his approach to a stop just a meter from the fence. He
stared at it for a moment. The three-railed barrier was completely entwined with three of
his most prized botanical wonders: a sumptuous rose gloxinia, set off by the lemony
lanterns of Clematis tangutica, against the back-drop of—he took another step closer as a
definite tug pulled the uppermost twining of sky-blue morning glory creeper neatly over
the top.

Galvanized to action, he stepped quickly to the edge and skewered the vandal with a
poisonous look. "Finally. Caught in the act," he hissed. He glared at the intruder, then
commanded, "Unhand my vine, if you please." When the foliage was released and
snapped back into place, he crossed his arms and considered the guilty party.

Two bright blue eyes stared back innocently. " Your vine?" the little voice asked in
wonder.

Severus put on a severe look. "Yes, I should think so, as it was I who planted it." While
his answer was being considered with equal wonderment, he studied the culprit before
him. She couldn't be more than six, a cherubic round face framed by a tangle of almost
painfully carrot-colored curls, pouting pink lips topped by an impishly up-tilted nose. In
spite of himself, Severus took in a breath at the sight of her: a blend of faerie, sprite and
pixie.
"Mum and Dad say that flowers and trees belong to everyone ," the child challenged,
meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

"Oh they do, do they? How lovely for you, then. But as they have not labored to produce
them, I'd say that's a bit presumptuous, wouldn't you think?" He didn't really expect a
suitable answer, so was surprised at the girl's reply.

"I'll give you some of my flowers, if you like." The blue eyes were entirely sincere as she
held up her hand for Severus to see the half-dozen blooms she'd no doubt just picked
from his creepers.

His mouth twitched slightly as he considered her offer. Ignoring her outstretched hand,
he asked her seriously, "Where did you come from, Madam? I'm sure your parents must
be wondering where you've got to?"

The mass of curls shook violently. "No, sir. I'm allowed to walk down the lane to the end
and back. Just so long as I stay on it." She paused and looked around her. "And I'm on
it."

Severus already suspected the answer, but asked anyway, "And your parents' names
are?"

The pixie solemnly told him, "Mum and Dad."

Severus had to bite his lip now. "Hmm, I suspected as much." He waited for a moment,
and when nothing more was forthcoming, prompted her, "You're a Weasley, unless I've
lost all my faculties, which isn't out of the realm of possibility, so what are your
parents' given names, child?"

The girl gazed up at him as she frowned, crinkling her forehead as she thought, then
laughed out loud as she finally got it. "Bill and Fleur, you mean?"

"That would be them, I imagine," Severus told her dryly. "And Bill and Fleur permit you
to wander down the lane unsupervised, I see. Do they know that you're assaulting my
morning glories, young lady?"

The frown again. "I'm not salting your morning glories. I'm picking them. Mum puts
them in water when I get home."

Severus knew he had to look away, and took the moment to flick some grass from his
sleeve. "In any case, they're not to be picked in the future, Miss…."

The little redhead smiled sweetly as she curtsied. "Winnie," she told him dutifully, then
added a little reluctantly, "Well, it's really Winifred, but they never call me that." Her
face darkened. "Please don't ever call me Fred. That's a boy's name, and Mum doesn't let
them get away with it."
"I should hope not," Severus commiserated as he watched her pretty scowl with
amusement.

She soon left that expression behind to look up at Severus inquisitively.

"What's your name, then?"

"Mr. Snape, pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Weasley," he said formally.

She let out that tinkling laugher again. "Don't call me that. I'm not old," she scolded him.

And some of us are becoming more so by the minute. "All right, Winnie, as you wish.
Now, I think you'd best get back now."

When the little hand came up to return the pilfered flowers, the regret clear on her face,
Severus relented then. "You may keep them, Winnie, as there's no putting them back
once they're picked. But in the future, if you've a yen for a blossom, simply ask me.
Some are in season to be cut, and some are not. Understood?"

When the child nodded soberly, he inclined his head towards the lane and told her,
"Good day, then."

He watched as she made her way up the lane, until she turned to give him a flower-filled
wave and a joyful, "See you, Mr. Snape. I don't think you're an ogre at all. Uncle Harry
said you might be." With that she turned and skipped on her way.

Severus shook his head as he rearranged the bruised vine. "My reputation for
intimidating small children is legend still," he murmured as he made his way to the
porch.

***

His breakfast finished, Severus took his morning tea out to the front garden and his usual
seat beneath the small bayberry tree. It provided just the right amount of shade for him to
sit there, and he found the aromatic leaves a pleasant aid to digestion. As he sat and
surveyed the riot of color that was his garden, his mind strayed back to the unusual child
he'd encountered there.

He'd known that these particular Weasleys spent just their summers on the estate at the
other end of the lane, Fleur's family being quite well-off explaining how they could
afford such an extravagance. He'd even seen them on occasion from a distance whilst in
the village for supplies, but could not recall there ever having been a child with them
then.

He couldn't help but smile as he remembered her. Bewitching , would be an apt

description, he thought to himself. It was true that he'd never cared much for children,
and the fact that he'd had the great displeasure to try and teach ones a little older,
probably had a great deal to do with this fact. He was not responsible for her in any way,
and perhaps this was why he'd managed not to send her shrieking back up the lane in
fear.

So, Harry must be visiting, then. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. He'd
seen the man on occasion, but not very recently. They'd actually arrived at a wary
understanding at the end of the war, just months after Harry had finally killed the Dark
Lord. To call it friendship would be a stretch, though. Too much water under the bridge
for both of them, although there was an undercurrent of respect on both their parts,
which neither of them had ever come even close to admitting. Probably an undercurrent
of resentment as well, at least on Harry's part. But that was irrelevant at this point
anyway.

He'd read about the man in the Prophet for several years afterward, every twist and turn
his life had taken, and had even seen him a few times at a rare social event or in Diagon
Alley. He had no idea what Harry was even up to these days, but sometimes, he did
wonder…. They'd had too colorful a past for Severus to escape this.

The last time he'd seen him, at a Ministry anniversary celebration of the defeat of the
Dark Lord, they'd even exchanged a few civil words. Harry had made a surprisingly
intelligent comment on a new potion, which Severus had researched and marketed, and
they'd chatted for a brief while about the delicate use of flowers in brewing. Severus had
been a little taken aback by the man's even having an informed opinion on such a matter,
and then had felt inexplicably distressed later in the evening after arriving home, when
he realized that he'd not even inquired about Harry's own pursuits.

He sighed as he drained his cup. The war had left him with wounds that had never fully
healed. He wondered if Harry had been more successful on that account, considering
what they'd done, what they'd ended up doing , although it was well known that they'd
not intended it. Well, enough time had gone by, so Severus imagined that he'd found
some peace and a way to live with it. Hopefully, better than he himself had….

He shook his head, and wondered why he was thinking of this now, when he had more
cultivating duties to perform, and then an afternoon of brewing to fill an order that was
due in two days time, and still had some paperwork…. He knew what it was…. It was
that child ….

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the movement of something in the sky as it broke
the stream of steady sunlight. Shading his eyes with a hand, he squinted as a great tawny
owl swooped over the garden and circled it once, lowering itself in a graceful spiral.

Severus watched as his morning-glories were abused for the second time that day, then
rose and walked to the fence where the bird was digging its talons into the tender vine.
"Mind my foliage," he muttered as he steadied the owl with one hand while he removed
the parchment scroll from a leg with the other. He turned to go back to the house, then
remembered. Reaching deep into a pocket, he withdrew a handful of sunflower seeds.
"My apologies, but this is all I have at the moment." The bird leant forward suspiciously
and, as Severus had suspected it would, gave a glare of disdain before spreading its
powerful wings and lifting off with a decidedly reproachful hoot.

Taking care not to crush the vines, Severus leant back on the railing. He studied the
creamy, heavy velum of the parchment, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
Unfurling it carefully, he discovered a smaller, lighter scroll wrapped within. He started
to read the larger one as he made his way back to his seat.

Cartwright, Fernan & Whitney, Solicitors

Alderley Edge

Cheshire

Mr. Snape,

We have been engaged by a client to solicit your expertise on his behalf. Your renown as
a foremost potions master has prompted him to secure your services for a series of six
potions. These will be required at one week intervals, due each Friday. The
specifications for each potion will be provided for you on the next five subsequent
Mondays, if you are inclined to enter into the contract. Delivery of said potions will be
to the above address. As intermediary, and at the client's request, we will then assure
delivery in a timely manner. It is the client's desire to remain anonymous throughout
these transactions. Payment in the amount of five hundred Galleons will be made upon
completion of the series. I can assure you that you will find nothing illegal in any of the
requested elements.

Find enclosed a contract delineating the above conditions. Upon signature, the contract
will immediately revert to our offices in the usual manner. Also find enclosed the
specifications for the first potions element.

Our congratulations for having been selected for this most worthwhile venture. If, for
any reason, you choose to decline, please owl your intentions immediately so that other
arrangements can be made for our client.

Respectfully yours,

David A. Whitney, Solicitor

Severus had remained standing while he read the introductory letter, but now sank,
stunned, into his chair again. The amount of money was absolutely staggering and, at the
same time, disquieting. He'd a suspicion that he was being tempted into something
unsavory. Not that he'd turned his nose up at work that bordered on the illegal when
someone had made it worth his while, but this offer was far beyond any of them. Even
though the introductory letter had made a point of addressing this concern, he couldn't
even begin to imagine what could be required of him to warrant such a healthy
compensation.
He unrolled the smaller parchment now and ran a cursory glance over its contents. There
were no surprises in it, just the slightly animated black line at the bottom, the "Sign here,
please," scrolling in continuous script across it. He finally opened the folded-in-four
piece of paper that would contain the specifications for the first installment. He quickly
scanned over the ingredients and specifications, then blew out a breath that he'd not even
been aware he'd been holding.

He sat back in his chair and tipped his head so that he was staring up at a sky etched with
white, wispy cirrus clouds. There was certainly nothing bothersome in this first part of
the contract. But his cautious nature, his inbred tendency towards suspicion, was
prickling with something nameless, an irrational urge to reject the offer for no other clear
cut reason than his wariness over the large sum of money being offered.

He sat back up and looked down at the parchments in his hands. Well, that was the
problem, when he came down to it. He wasn't so well off that he could summarily
dismiss such a tempting proposal out of hand for no good reason. Five hundred Galleons
seemed outrageous, at first glance. But it was being offered in return for his tacit
agreement to provide potions without knowledge of either the purchaser or his intended
purpose. Perhaps not such an outrageous offer, after all. It wasn't just the potions that he
was to be compensated for, he knew. He wasn't a fool, and the client no doubt
appreciated that fact.

Later that morning he sat at his desk, picked up his quill, then after a moment's
hesitation, affixed his illegible signature to the line. He stared at the place the document
had been after it predictably vanished the moment he lifted the pen from the page. He
smiled grimly as he took up 'Potion One', as he'd already named it. Time to get down to
it, he supposed, as now, work was money.

***

That same day as the sun was about to set, Severus made his way to his back garden and
greenhouse to collect what he'd need for that evening's brewing. He uprooted an entire
mayflower, roots and all, then moved on to the small glass-enclosed structure for the
Passion flower. He lovingly fingered the plant before snapping off four whole leaves.
Carefully tucking both the plant and leaves into his apron pouch, he skirted around the
house to make his way to the tree underneath which he'd been sitting that very morning.
As he pulled out his garden clippers, he thought idly that this was perhaps the most
disturbing of the three required elements. The bayberry leaves and flowers had powerful
cardiotonic properties, imbuing it with the ability to affect how the heart exchanged
sodium and potassium ions, and thus produce lethal arrhythmias if not used properly, or
in combination with other potions. The mayflower, of course, could lower blood
pressure significantly, and the Passion flower was a powerful hypnotic. It was often used
to potentiate the effects of other powerful plant substances in potions, but he saw no
danger of that in this one, considering the other two ingredients.
After carefully cleaning his cuttings of all garden residue, he began the tedious and
meticulous process of chopping, dicing, and shredding leaves and flower petals. It was
mindless work, so he soon was puzzling once again over the requested vehicle for the
potion. He'd been directed to make a tincture, a very strange request, to be honest.

He stepped to his supply cupboard and ran a finger along the top shelf until he came to
the bottle of Skyy vodka—not the most popular brand, to be sure, but the purest on the
market—exactly what was required in the concocting of an alcohol-based potion. It was
a very simple process, heating the mixture in a large glass beaker over the flame. After
the requisite brewing time, he decanted the exact amount of thirty milliliters into one of
his own signature bottles, then prepared a second identical one for his own reference
stock. He hesitated over the labeling of it, but then decided on just the date and 'Potion
One'. He finished by making his usual fastidious entry into his logbook, listing the
ingredients by type and quantity, then describing the preparation, and ended with the
name of the purchaser. Here he shrugged, and simply penned, "CF&W."

When the lab was tidied and in order, he sat back down at his desk, eyeing the tightly
stoppered glass bottle before him. He raised the small jigger of vodka he'd poured for
himself, and toasted his night's work and the Galleons it represented. "Cheers, whatever
you're for." He tossed the drink back and enjoyed the burn.

***

Friday morning, Severus sat on his porch railing and felt a moment's irritation when
Ampelos did not appear with his first whistle. The owl never strayed very far from
home, but this morning would be the worst time for it to be the first occasion. He waited
a moment, gave the low-warbling whistle again, then heard the bird as it shrieked in
reply and glided into the garden from somewhere behind the house. It touched down on
the railing and gave Severus its usual piercing look as it sidestepped its way to perch just
beside him.

He withdrew a piece of mouse jerky from his pocket and offered it to the creature as he
fondly stroked the spiky feathered head. "What have you been up to, then?" Severus
crooned as he petted him. He'd never had much time for wasting affection on animals or
familiars, but for some reason had become uncharacteristically attached to this one.
Perhaps because he'd been a gift from Albus Dumbledore shortly before his death. He
watched as the owl greedily gobbled the treat, then leant in to attach the small packet and
parchment to the submissively offered leg. "No side trips along the way, Ampelos. The
proceeds from this are going to keep you happily in mouse-jerky for quite some time,"
he told the bird dryly as he straightened. After giving clearly worded instructions as to
the recipient, he sat and watched as the bird lifted from the rail with several powerful
flaps of its broad wings. He was still watching it as it grew smaller in the sky, when a
voice from the lane startled him.

"Hullo," called out the child , he realized.

Severus pursed his lips and sighed. He dropped lithely from the railing and made his
way through a row in his garden to the fence. He slowed as he approached, then stopped
and peered over it. The face was waiting for him and immediately broke into a grin.

"Winnie," he greeted her with a nod. "I see you're up early today, and already out for
your morning constitutional," he added with mock seriousness.

The grin faded as the child considered this. "You talk funny," she told him, now serious
herself. "Can you just say words that I know?" she asked with a pout.

Severus smirked at her. "I refuse to dumb down my vocabulary, especially for a child as
intelligent as you. The word means, 'exercise', young lady, and you're the richer for my
having used it on you. Next time you will know," he finished, enjoying the perplexity on
her face as she took this in.

He gave her a moment, then seeing what she held in her hand, asked, "Where did you get
that? Are you picking from someone else's garden, now that I've forbidden you mine?"
He gave her a stern look, which he couldn't maintain when she giggled in reply.

"No, silly," she told him as she stretched out her hand for him to take the flower. "This is
from Mum's garden. Do you know that Fleur means 'flower'?"

His eyes widened a little as he realized that she'd brought him an offering. "Hmm, yes, in
fact, I do." He hesitantly reached out and took the blossom, admiring the large yellow
pompom dabbled with crimson. "It's a dahlia, and a very beautiful one at that." He
looked at the child's expectant face, and suddenly felt strangely maladroit. "Thank you,
Winnie." Something occurred to him, and his face darkened slightly. "You had your
mother's permission to pick it, did you not?" he asked gravely, holding her eyes.

She shook her head as she told him, "No, but Uncle Harry picked it for me when I told
him I wanted to bring you one. He said it was just the one for you," she added
confidently.

Severus was at once intrigued and dismayed. "He did, did he? And why was that?" he
asked reluctantly, suspecting what the girl was dying to tell him.

She giggled again. "It's called a Funny Face dahlia! And you've got a funny face!" She
put both hands up to her own and framed her cheeks as she continued to laugh.

Severus drew himself up to his full height, and glared at the shaking pixie. "Uncle Harry
told you I have a funny face?" he asked, uncertain how to react in the face of her
continued mirth.

Winnie sobered suddenly. "No, he didn't say that. He just thought you'd like the flower.
I'm the one who thought of the funny face," she confessed uncertainly.
Severus studied her. "What is so funny about my face, then, Miss Weasley?" he asked
her a little stiffly, but feeling the first traces of amusement.

"It's funny because you try to hide that you want to smile. And that makes you look
funny," she informed him, wise beyond her years , Severus thought.

At that, Severus could not help but grace her with a smile—a small one, but no less a
smile. "You're very astute for you age, I believe." At the look on her face, he quickly
added, "That means, 'smart'. It's a compliment, which is a 'gift of words', Miss Weasley,
one that I'm not in the habit of giving very often, so keep that in mind."

She smiled shyly in reply, then out of the blue asked him, "You don't like Uncle Harry,
do you?" She peered at him with curiosity.

Severus wondered at the size and age of the child, when she'd managed to bring him up
short twice in the space of a minute. He answered cautiously, looking away as he told
her, "I don't actually dislike him, Winnie. We don't know each other very well, and we
may have misunderstood each other a great deal in the past. I suspect that may be why
he doesn't like me ." He glanced back to the inquisitive eyes which now appeared
confused. "What did he tell you?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

The redheaded curls were adorable as she shook her head. "He didn't say anything, Mr.
Snape. He took a long time to pick out the flower, and just told me to tell you he said,
'Hullo.'" The girl stopped and gazed at him calmly. "I don't think he doesn't like you; it's
just that you make him sad," she said in a slow voice.

Ye gods, out of the mouths of babes, Severus thought with a slight shock, although why
he would still evoke that emotion in Harry was…unexpected…and disturbing. He
realized that the child was waiting for him to say something in reply. "Well, thank Uncle
Harry for his choice of flower, then. Tell him I said he displayed excellent judgment."
He watched as the satisfaction spread over the perfectly exquisite features. "So, it's my
turn to gift you with a flower. Would you like to come into the garden and choose your
own…within reason," he cautioned.

The child stood on her tiptoes and gazed wistfully over the rail, then sighed in obvious
disappointment. "I wish I could, but I'm not to go off the lane. So, you better just pick
one for me," she finished as she rested back on the soles of her feet. "I trust you." Her
eyes shone.

The words grabbed at Severus' heart for a brief instant. He bit his lower lip for a
moment, then gently asked her, "Very well. What color would you prefer? I daresay I
can choose something you'd like."

Without a moment's hesitation, Winnie told him, "Purple, please, it's my favorite." She
grinned as he nodded and stepped away to pace just a short distance down the very row
in which he'd been standing. He carefully reached down and used his clippers to snip the
bloom from the stalk. He watched her eyes widen with pleasure as he reached over the
rail to present it to her.

"That's a Treasure hyacinth, Winnie, fit for a queen, so regal the purple." He watched,
his pleasure almost equal to hers as she held it to her face, closed her eyes tightly, and
took in a loud whiff of its fragrance.

When she opened them, she gave him a smile of pure joy. "It's lovely, Mr. Snape. I can't
wait for Mum to see it—we don't have any of these," she said with something akin to
regret in her voice.

He waved up the lane. "Off with you now. I think they must be wondering if I've eaten
you for breakfast," he chided her, which earned him renewed giggling.

He watched as she made her way up the lane, somehow knowing that she'd turn back
and have the last word once again. He wasn't disappointed.

This time she kept the flower clutched at her chest and waved with her free hand. "Bye,
Mr. Snape. I'll tell Uncle Harry you really liked his flower—I know he'll like yours." She
turned and skipped with abandon up over the crest of the lane.

Severus finally closed the mouth that had fallen open at her words, then shook his head
at himself as he made his way to the porch and into the house. He felt suddenly deflated,
and realized in a distressing flash that he'd actually enjoyed the banter between the two
of them. He placed the dahlia in one of his large beakers, and was just on the verge of
adding water, when he stopped himself.

"Foolish sentimentality," he muttered, but cast the preserving charm nonetheless.

***

Potion Two

The following week, Severus moved through his back garden to gather ingredients for
the next installment of what he was now calling his, "CF&W contract." Once again, the
elements for the requested potion had mildly disturbed him. None of them, in and of
themselves, merited any cause for alarm. No, he'd decided, it was the fact that he didn't
know how and for whom they were being used that was the problem. He was
accustomed to knowing these things and adjusting his brews accordingly. But, as this
obviously wasn't a concern for the purchaser, he supposed he shouldn't let this concern
him either.

He'd already plucked the flowers of two whole primrose plants, and was now on his
knees in his greenhouse, working in the long flat bed at the back of the small structure.
Firmly taking hold of the dark, leathery leaves, he pushed them aside to allow his fingers
to probe in the rich, dark soil to expose its underground stalk and roots. He carefully
used his clippers to cut exactly four small rhizomes, then almost lovingly reseated the
plant and tamped the earth back down around it.

He'd just stepped outside and was removing his gloves, when he heard the shrill,
piercing cries coming from the front of the house. The child , he thought, as he dropped
his sack and took off at a run. Leaping over low plants and rows of flowers, he sprinted
towards the fence and the whimpering that had now replaced the high-pitched shrieking.
He bounded through the gate and into the lane, then stopped short at the site of her lying
flat on her back in the dusty road, her small hand still clutching a small bouquet of large
pink daisies.

"Winnie," he breathed as he knelt beside her in concern, taking in the bright red spots on
her normally pale cheeks, "what happened, child?" As he helped her to sit up, her breath
was still hitching as she struggled to regain her breath.

"Fell off the fence," she mumbled without looking at him, the bouquet now abandoned
beside her.

He sat back on his heels and frowned as he studied her. "You fell off the fence," he
restated, then asked, "My fence?" He shot a quick look at it, and verified that the vines
on this side of it were decidedly ruffled. "And explain to me exactly how you came to be
climbing my fence, Miss Weasley?" Even as he spoke, he moved forward and began to
run his hands over her arms, legs and neck in a cursory examination.

She sat there, quiescent, as he satisfied himself that she'd no serious injuries. When he
finally pulled away, and raised his eyebrow to indicate that he was still waiting, she gave
one last, pitiful sniff, and accused him, "I called and called and you didn't come." She
glared at him. "Where were you? You're always here when I come." The blue eyes were
merciless. Merlin.

He sighed as he stood and stretched down a hand. Pulling her up, he chided, "Winnie, I
was working . As I was in the greenhouse, I didn't hear you. But it was foolish of you to
try and climb the fence. What happened to 'staying on the lane'?" he asked her irritably,
watching as she dusted herself off in such a ladylike manner, that Fleur immediately
came to mind.

She looked so soulfully at him that he instantly forgave her. "I thought if I could stand
on the rail, I could see where you'd got to." She looked down dispiritedly at the small
semi-crushed bouquet. "I had something special for you today," she finished almost
mournfully as she bent to pick it up.

Severus murmured as he watched her, "Vines are very tricky to stand on, young lady.
They're a bit treacherous that way—very slippery. You could've broken your little neck,
falling backwards from that height. What ever would I have told your mother, you
bothersome child?"
Winnie wasn't fooled by his words, and seemed completely recovered as she gave him
her most brilliant smile. "Mum wouldn't be surprised. I like to climb things. Most times,
I'm very good at it." She gave the fence a reproachful look. Then she looked at Severus
again, and held out her offering of the day. "They're a little mussed, but most of them
seem all right. Do you know what they are, Mr. Snape?"

Severus bent to accept the posies. "Hmmm, let me see, now." His eyes glittered as he
toyed with her, this part of their little game now a daily ritual: her challenge followed by
his entirely fabricated puzzlement over what the flower of the day might be. Of course
he always knew, but her obvious anticipation at his perhaps being finally stumped, was
too much of a pleasure to deny either one of them.

As he buried his nose in them, he breathed a rejuvenating spell into the blossoms, and
then had to hide his smile at the wide-eyed look on the petite face. Lowering them, he
fingered the fine petals as he met her eyes. "Lilliput daisies, Miss Weasley, a variety of
echinacea, if I'm not mistaken?" He was momentarily confused by the satisfaction that
spread across her freckle-faced features.

She clapped her hands in apparent glee. "I told Uncle Harry that you'd know! He picked
them anyway. He said you might not know a flower that was so friv…." She stopped as
she struggled with the word. "…friv…friva…."

"Frivolous," Severus completed for her with a slight smirk. "You may tell your uncle
that there's nothing frivolous about them at all. They're hearty, beautiful and endowed
with many healing qualities." He murmured more to himself than to the child, "But how
like him to think so."

The child, however, had caught his tone of voice. "You and Uncle Harry like the same
kind of flowers, you know. He always likes the ones you pick." Severus found himself
fixed to the spot by a precocious glare.

"I choose ones that I think will please you, Winnie, not your Uncle Harry." He returned
the glare, suddenly ill at ease.

She smiled reassuringly. "But he and I like the same ones, Mr. Snape, so it doesn't matter
whether they're for him or me."

Ah, yes, my dear, it certainly does matter. He decided to indulge a little of his curiosity.
"You're very fond of your uncle, aren't you, Winnie? You seem to be seeing quite a bit
of him. Is he staying for the summer?" He silenced that part of his brain that was
wondering why this was even a matter of interest.

The redhead confided, "He's here a lot, but not all the time." She cocked her head to the
side as she thought. "I'm not sure where he goes when he's gone, but he's mostly at our
house this summer." She stopped, as if something had suddenly occurred to her.
"Do you know where he goes?" she asked as she fingered a spot on the back of her head.
"Not likely," he answered, as he stepped forward and removed her hand from her hair.
He lightly massaged the back of her skull, alarmed when he felt the lump there. "You've
a knot on your head, you silly child. You'd best get home and tell your mother what you
did. She needs to put some ice on it, I think," he scolded her.

The small hand came up to join his own in the curly tangle, wincing as she touched the
tender spot. As Severus withdrew his hand, she looked at him hopefully. "What about
my flower? You'll still give me one, won't you?" She looked guiltily at the fence and the
ripped vine. "I guess you might be a little cross about your…."

Severus found he had to work at remaining stern in the face of her uncertainty. "I'm not
angry about my vine , Winnie, but a little cross that you might've been seriously harmed
because of it. Promise me that you'll take more care in the future." When the head
nodded in reply, he stepped back to the gate as he told her, "Wait there a minute, then."
He wondered about the fact that it had now become part of his breakfast routine, sipping
at his tea as he ruminated over which flower to choose for his persistent morning florist.

He walked to the side of the house, picked a number of stems, then banded them
together in a bunch as he returned to the lane. The child clapped her hands once again
when she caught sight of what he held in his.

"They're daisies, too! See, I knew you liked them!" As she'd done with everything he'd
offered in the past, she took them and immediately pressed her nose into the middle.
Then, she traced a delicate little digit over the soft, brown center of one of the blooms.
"These are yellow ones, though. Is that your favorite color?"

Severus thought about this, then told her frankly, "No, I think I prefer reds and purples
as a matter of choice. But I find the yellow coreopsis to be the most striking of all its
varieties, even more so than the purple variation," he murmured, wondering to himself
that he'd never realized this before.

The little girl gave him a knowing look. "But it's still a daisy, just like the ones I brought
you." She looked wistfully up the lane, then turned back to tell him, "I guess I better go
now—Mum will be wondering."

Severus made the decision in an instant. "Come along, then. As you've seen fit to almost
knock yourself senseless, I think I'd best see you home safe and sound."

The blue eyes brimmed with delight. "Really?" She did a little jig of joy, but remained in
the same spot.

He cautioned her, "I do not skip , Miss Weasley. So I expect you to restrain yourself for
my benefit."

The curly mop bobbed in agreement. "All right, I promise. No skipping."

The two of them set off up the lane, the child now bombarding Severus with a steady
barrage of girlish chatter as they moved past his boundary fence. They'd only walked
halfway to the crest, when Severus was startled as a little hand slipped into his own. He
almost lost his stride at the sensation and shock of it, but recovered quickly, and a
downward glance at his pixie-like companion confirmed for him that this was just a
natural gesture on her part.

He lost track of what she was telling him for a moment, bemused by the picture the two
of them must make: three and a half feet of bouncing, childish enthusiasm, tethered by
the hand to six feet of reticent, jaded cynicism. Oh, and not to be left out of this already
incongruous portrait: the bunches of daisies that dangled in their free hands as they
walked. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The fence to their right merged in to a tall hedge at the crest of the lane. The Weasley
estate was at the bottom of it in front of them, but as of yet, only the top spires of the
house could be seen. As they walked, Severus talked to Winnie about the flowers in the
meadow to their left, explaining why wildflowers thrived in a non-cultivated
environment instead of a carefully tended garden. Even as he talked and warmed at her
response, he still was acutely aware of the tiny hand that held his own. It was unsettling,
but he couldn't recall ever having held a child's hand before. He'd known her little more
than a week, but had to admit that he felt something akin to…protectiveness. Her
experience with the fence had made that painfully clear, he thought, with a twinge of
alarm. He sighed as she prattled on—he didn't much like the feeling, to be perfectly
honest. He'd long ago grown attached to the comfortable notion that he was responsible
only for himself, and found that relinquishing even a small part of that haven was
distressing. As if I had any say in the matter.

At last to the bottom of the lane, the hedge gave way to reveal the estate and the expanse
of lawn that sloped gently down from it. Severus had not seen it in the four years since
the Weasleys had acquired it, and so was shocked at its transformation. The red tile roof
had been repaired, the white stucco painted, and the windows gleamed in the morning
sun. But what immediately caught his attention was the vast garden that actually left
very little lawn at all. He was taking it all in, unaware that they'd halted at the gate, when
a familiar voice and flash of movement interrupted his inspection.

"Winnie!" the figure cried as it raced through the gardens towards them. Severus
squinted in the sunlight as the woman drew near, and noticed that there was a small
group of people seated around a table on the outdoor patio. He heard her as she fussed
over the child, scolding her for being gone too long, but his attention was riveted on the
person who had stood from the table and was now casually making his way towards
them.

"Professor?"

He turned back to her. "No, Mrs. Weasley, it was no trouble at all. I felt it best to see her
home, given that she'd taken a fall." He looked down at the child who was once again
hanging her head. "We had a little talk about the fence—I don't think she'll do such a
thing again. Will you, Miss Weasley?" he asked gently.

The child looked up, then, and gave him a very correct smile. "No, sir," she replied with
a cautious look at her mother, who pursed her lips in return.

"She eez always doing zees, Professor, she has zee 'abeet for climbing everyzing. I
worry constantly," she confided as she ruffled the red hair affectionately. She shooed the
child through the gate, then hesitated, "I'm pleezed zat you walked her back. Would you
like to join us for a cup of tea?" She gestured towards the house.

Severus politely refused and was aware that Winnie had called out a, "Goodbye, Mr.
Snape," but his attention was focused on the tall man making his way down the garden.
Severus watched as he swooped the child up in his arms for a moment, then deposited
her back to the ground with a little pat on her behind, then continued on in Severus'
direction.

Severus studied him as he approached, noting that the man still walked with a
discernable limp, the personal penance for having dispatched a Dark Lord. Well, at least
the physical penance, he reminded himself grimly.

"Severus." The man nodded cordially as he leant against the gate.

Severus nodded in turn and greeted him neutrally, "Harry."

Harry appeared on the verge of saying more, when his attention was caught by the
childish shrieking from the patio. As he turned slightly at the sound, Severus took the
moment to inspect him more closely…and was shocked. He'd always been thin, but now
was painfully so, and although the green eyes were still sparkling, the skin around them
was noticeably etched with fine lines that disappeared into the hair at his temples.
Severus did a rapid calculation in his head; Harry couldn't be more than twenty-eight,
having defeated the Dark Lord when he'd just turned nineteen. But the man before him
looked far older than his years. He was still processing this revelation, when Harry
turned back to him with a smile.

"She's something, isn't she?" he asked as he jerked his head towards the sound.

Severus smirked slightly in return. "That would be an understatement," he agreed.

Harry gestured at the bouquet he still held. "I see we were on the same wavelength with
that one. You gave her coreopsis?" The smile became a grin. "I knew you were into
flowers, but I had no idea you were so far gone. She tells me your place is a virtual
botanical garden." He leant both arms on the gate now, giving Severus his full attention.

Severus was not quite certain if this was a tease or not. "It's part of my livelihood, Harry.
So, yes, I'm well stocked," he conceded, wondering why he felt suddenly defensive.
Harry seemed amused as he considered him. "Hmm, the way Winnie tells it, it's more
like the Garden of Eden. She's talked about you non-stop for a week. It's actually getting
a little annoying." But he was still smiling.

"I can't imagine why—I've given her little encouragement," Severus countered, then
relented. "She's enchanting. I see she has you wrapped around her little finger as well."
He finally smiled, and then gave in to the curiosity of the past week. "What are you up to
these days?" he asked a little reluctantly. He noted with surprise that the man's face
shuttered almost immediately.

"I'm working on a personal project, I guess. Nothing very interesting or challenging, but
it keeps me busy." He stopped to rub his chin as he considered Severus. "I've been
spending most of my days here, Flooing from London. Bill is gone a lot, and Fleur's not
been feeling well." He hesitated, then added, "She's expecting again, due in January, so
she's not very far along, but Winnie…well, she's a handful, as I'm sure you know."

Severus gave a grunt of commiseration, then told him, "That's why I walked her back;
she took a tumble from my fence, and has an egg on the back of her head. I suppose it's
the Quidditch genes, this need to have both feet off the ground at the same time."

Harry laughed as he shook his head. "You've got that right, Severus. Last week she got it
into her head to walk the ridgepole of the henhouse. She tripped, slid down the side, and
ended upside down in the hay pile, fortunately." When Severus shook his head at this, he
dryly finished, "She wasn't hurt, just covered with feathers and chicken shit. What a
mess." He smiled ruefully.

"Definitely the Weasley genes at work," Severus murmured in amusement, suddenly

aware that he was glad they had Winnie to talk about.

"Oh, definitely the Weasley genes, you're right on that one. She's like a cat with nine
lives." He stopped, and after a few moments, the silence became awkward. Harry looked
over his shoulder again at the noise coming from the rowdy group.

"I should be getting back," Severus finally said, glancing once more at the patio.

Harry stood up straight and nodded. "Are you sure you can't stop for some tea? I'm sure
Fleur would like to thank you properly. Or do you have something brewing? How's your
business these days?"

Severus reminded himself that business was very good these days, and that the fruits of
his morning labor now lay wilting in the morning sun, right where he'd dropped them not
an hour ago. "It's coming along. I have some contract work that's keeping me occupied.
In fact, I've been gone a little too long." He paused, then told Harry dryly, "You have
your work cut out for you as well, if you're keeping your eye on her." He inclined his
head in farewell, then started to turn back to the lane, when Harry's voice stopped him.
"I'm looking forward to seeing what your next pick will be, Severus. It's rather become
the high point of my day."

Certain that this time it was a tease, Severus turned back, and was startled to see that the
man was entirely sober. They studied each other for a moment, then Severus told him
softly, "Mine as well, Harry." He held his eye for a moment, then instructed as he turned
away, "Choose wisely, then."

He walked briskly up the lane until he finally reached the crest, when something
nameless compelled him to turn and look back down the road. There stood Harry, out in
the middle of it now, hands in his pockets as he watched him. Severus felt a shiver of
déjà vu, a flash of a similar scene from both their pasts. Only that time it had been in the
middle of a makeshift battlefield, and the air had been thick with magic, the distance
between them strewn with bodies, not the least of which had been the corpse of the Dark
Lord. And for a brief instant, Severus could almost taste the same bile in his mouth,
smell the burning of human flesh, and feel the stinging of smoke in his eyes.

He was struggling to take a breath, when the figure at the bottom of the lane raised a
hand, palm forward, but before Severus could even fathom whether or not to do the
same, Harry had turned and stepped beyond the hedge. Severus shook his head as if to
clear it, then turned back to the lane and treaded home.

***

The roots he'd dropped in the yard were still usable, but he'd had to pick new primrose
plants. This week's potion called for a decoction, so he chopped the hellebore he'd
harvested into small pieces, then moved to his stores for the dried ginger he always kept
on hand. After breaking it into manageable pieces, he added both roots to the water in
the cauldron, stirring occasionally as he brought the contents to a frothy simmer. He bent
to critically eye the height of his flame, then stood to fasten the lid tightly. It would need
very little intervention for the next eight hours, just a counter-clockwise stir every now
and then. Shortly before its completion, he would be required to add the shredded
primrose flowers and leaves. Once cooled, he'd then decant the concoction in the usual
manner.

He sat at his desk and made his dutiful entry in his logbook, then leant back and laced
his fingers behind his head as he considered the simmering cauldron. Once again, the
requested potion was an enigma. Hellebore certainly was a serious ingredient—in
sufficient quantity or combination with others, it was violently narcotic, even poisonous.
The primrose was almost innocuous, on the other hand. It possessed the capability to
significantly lower blood pressure, as had the mayflower in the first potion. He frowned
as he thought of this. Was he concocting potions for a hypertensive? Perhaps, but that
would not explain the other elements. And he didn't have any reason or evidence to
conclude that the potions were even intended for the same recipient. The final additive to
today's potion was not a surprise. Ginger was widely used in potions to decrease the
nausea that other ingredients might cause—that he'd been required to brew it with the
bitter hellebore only made perfect sense. His best guess—and he was well aware that
that was what he was doing—was that this was a powerful pain draught. Why the
primrose was required was still a mystery.

He propped his long legs up on his desk, and leant further back in his chair to stare at the
ceiling. Perhaps it was the making of a pain draught that made him think of Harry Potter.
He wondered idly if the man's injuries still caused him pain, and then decided that, given
the nature of the injury, this was more than likely. And living with chronic pain would
certainly explain his appearance. Not for the first time, Severus felt a brief flash of
empathy…and regret.

***

This time, Severus was ready for her. He'd already sent Ampelos on his way with the
second installment of the contract, and was currently reading the
morning's Prophet when he heard her chattering to herself as she cleared the hedge and
walked along his fence. But because he enjoyed hearing her call out for him, he kept his
seat and waited…but not for long.

"Hul- lo -ho, Mr. Snape?" He smiled as he folded his paper and tucked it in the seat
behind him. Making his way to the fence, he heard her call for him again, but reached
her before she had a chance for a third try.

He leant out, and looked down the lane at her. "Why don't you come to the gate where
we can see each other better? There are no vines for you to trample here either," he
teased her.

She skipped the short distance to stop in front of him, holding one hand behind, hiding
from view the inevitable flower. She gave him that indescribable grin that took his
breath away, then told him, "Mum said to tell you thanks for rescuing me and that I'm
not to be a bother and you can send me away if you don't have time to talk to me and not
to pester you to give me a flower and not to climb on your fence." She finally stopped,
out of breath.

He gave her a not entirely feigned look of amazement. "I'm impressed that you
remembered all of that, Winnie. You may forget it all save for the caution about my
fence. I see you're none the worse for wear for your tumble, hmmm?"

The child brought her hand up to the back of her head and tousled her curls. "Nah, I'm all
better. Dad says I have a head like a brass cauldron. I've knocked it enough times." She
giggled at this, then could no longer restrain herself. "Here," she said as she thrust the
flower up at him. "Uncle Harry didn't even have to think this time. He went for it straight
away." She held out the small nosegay of delicate stalks with tiny white-belled flowers.
She smiled slyly as she asked, "Do you know what theyare?"
Severus stood still, in shock for a moment, then recovered. "Let me see…I think they
might be…" he paused for her benefit,"…convallaria—better known as lily of the valley,
Winnie. I'm surprised that they're still in bloom," he mused as he took the flowers from
her.

"Smell them, Mr. Snape, they're wonderful," she ordered him impatiently.

He complied, closing his eyes as he did, then lowered the flowers to agree with her.
"They do have a most pleasant fragrance. Do you know that they're used to make both
perfumes and potions?"

The blue eyes grew wide. "You make potions, don't you? Uncle Harry said you were his
potions teacher at school." She frowned as she thought. "I don't think he liked potions,
though." Her eyes grew even wider. "Is that why you thought he doesn't like you, Mr.
Snape? Because he didn't like potions?" The child was gazing at him with frank curiosity
now.

Ye gods, he thought, but said outright, even if the sarcasm was completely wasted on her,
"I imagine there's a connection between the two, child, but that was a very long time
ago." He watched as she considered this, bracing himself for her next innocent
perception.

Her face dimpled as she smiled up at him. "It doesn't matter. You're friends now. I could
tell when you were talking. And he wanted to know all about what happened when I fell
off your…" she hesitated, and looked slightly chagrinned, "…fence."

Severus crossed his arms and told her seriously, "We're cordial and civil with one
another, Winnie." At her pout, he added, "That means we can treat each other in a
friendly manner—not quite the same as being friends, though."

Winnie, however, was having none of this. "But you have to be friends. He's my friend
and so are you , so that must mean that you and he are friends too," she insisted, tossing
her head in a show of sincerity. Severus couldn't help but smile at her now.

"I see your difficulty, and someday you'll understand why that's a faulty logic problem,
but for the moment, let's just agree that your uncle and I can treat each other amiably,
Miss Weasley." He didn't give her time to object, knowing that this could go on ad
infinitum. "I've been wondering, if it's not too indiscreet; might I inquire as to your age,
young lady?"

She was obviously puzzled by this question, so Severus rephrased it for her. "How old
are you, Winnie?"

Her face cleared, and she held up five fingers of one hand and the thumb of another as
she gleefully told him, "I'm six , and my birthday was in June, and we had a big party."
She stopped and looked suddenly sad. "I wish you could've come, Mr. Snape. I didn't
know you then, but you would've had a wonderful time. Everyone was there, even Uncle
Harry and his friend, and we had cake and ice-cream and a pony," she positively crowed.

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "I'm sure it was wonderful, Winnie. Perhaps next year,
when you're seven ," he teased.

She nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing in all directions. "For sure, then. You can
help Uncle Harry with his flower cake."

"Flower cake?" he asked blankly.

She nodded as she happily remembered. "He made me a cake that was all flowers. He
knows a lot about flowers, just like you do," she confided.

"Indeed," Severus murmured as he processed this new information. He'd wondered, in

fact, when and why Harry had become so well versed in floristry. As he stared at the
bunch of flowers in his hand, he felt a puzzle piece slip into place.

"Hmmm, it's about time for you to get back. We don't want your mother worrying over
which body part you may have injured, do we?" He heard her giggle as he made his way
to the side of the garden to pick his flower. It was not the one he'd chosen over breakfast
that morning, however. No, a substitution was in order, he decided, given Winnie's gift
of the day.

He breathed a sigh of relief to find that, yes, there were still some in bloom. Like the
convallaria, they were past their prime, but a few hangers-on were all that he needed. He
clipped what there was and made his way back to the gate. He was rewarded, once again,
by the pleasure that spread across her tiny but perfect features.

"These are campanulas, Winnie, more commonly known as bellflowers. Not as fragrant
as yours, but the blue of them is exquisite, don't you think?" He watched as the child
appreciatively took them from his outstretched hand.

"They're little bells too!" she exclaimed in wonder. "Like they're from the same family,
only wearing different clothes." She gave them the ritual smelling test. "Like they're
friends," she added, but her innocence was suspect as she peeped at him from above the
blossoms.

Six, but nonetheless, sharp as a tack . He gave her a solemn look. "Yes, you conniving
child, they're very similar, but they're actually from two different flower families, to be
botanically correct. Now, I think you'd best start home."

She lowered the bouquet and gave him a smile that told him she knew she'd been caught
at something. "All right, Mr. Snape. Do you want to walk—"

He shook his head and pointed her toward the lane. "Not today, Miss Weasley. I have
work that's waiting, and I've already wasted enough of my morning chatting with you.
Off with you," he instructed, and smiled as he watched her start her skipping. He leant
on the gate and followed her progress to the crest, then waved dismissively when she
turned to give him a last one of her own.

He didn't, however, immediately get down to his tasks of the morning. He took the
convallaria to his study and set it there along with his gathering collection of preserved
flowers. He sank into a chair and sat for a while studying them, then was soon deep in
remembering.

He'd, of course, missed Albus' funeral, having been persona non grata. But the year after
the end of the war, he'd visited the memorial gravesite in private. On that cool June
morning, just before dawn, he'd knelt on the ground in front of the engraved marker, and
planted for posterity his own tribute to the man. The following year he'd made the trip
again, and had been pleased to see that the bed of convallaria was thriving and in bloom.
It had been one of the old man's favorite flowers, and he'd felt no small measure of
satisfaction to know that they'd be there as his testimonial to his friend, no doubt even
long after he himself was gone. He'd returned every June since then, and the year after
the flowers had first bloomed, had been surprised and bewildered to find that someone
had planted a matching bed of campanulas along the borders of his convallaria.
Although not from the same family, they complemented each other perfectly, the blue
and white bells looking, in Winnie's words, "Like family." He'd wondered over the
years, who had done it, but had finally decided that it was most likely someone like
himself, someone who'd wanted to pay a lasting tribute to a friend, and perhaps mentor,
just as he had done.

Well, unexpectedly, he now knew who that person was. He wasn't too sure how he
should feel about it being Harry. That their honoring of the headmaster should find such
a similar expression, he found strangely fitting…and unsettling, both at the very same
time.

He grabbed his gardening apron, and headed for the greenhouse, taking pleasure at the
thought of the look on Harry's face when he found his bluff had been called.

***

Potion Three

Severus swore as he considered the two inches that remained in the bottle. The next
potion was to be a tincture once again. He grumbled as he slid it back onto the shelf—
had he not indulged himself with a personal libation after making the last one, then he
wouldn't be faced with the prospect of another trip in to the village to replenish his
depleted stock. He sighed in resignation, then donned an everyday robe and made his
way out to the lane. He stood in the middle of it for a moment, peering up to the crest to
see if his little friend might be on her way. He thought for a brief instant of postponing
his excursion, then shook his head at himself in wonder before Disapparating.
The village itself was an odd mixture of Muggle and Wizardom. The latter element had
congregated itself along the southern border of the town, just two streets actually, of
ordinary storefronts with nondescript signs adorning their windows. He walked briskly
down the half-deserted cobblestone road, and then turned into the next to the last
establishment bearing the sign, "Christian Clecker, Chemist." It was, of course, a
magical apothecary in every sense of the word, but the shelves themselves were laden
with a variety of Muggle concoctions and medical remedies that Severus was not
altogether sure were just window dressing. Muggles rarely ventured into this part of the
village, but an attempt, however feeble, had been made to keep up 'appearances.'

He stepped into the dusty shop, a bell above the door announcing his arrival. As he
wandered up the aisle to the counter, he perused the shelves with interest as he made his
way. He'd always been amused that Muggles had chosen pilling vehicles in which to
formulate their concoctions. Such a waste, he thought to himself, as the drying process
made the ingredients in which they were mixed 'inactive,' and totally useless as a result.
Why they had chosen to do it this way was beyond Severus.

The man waiting at the counter gave him a broad smile. "Ah, Severus! It's been months
since we've last seen you. I trust your owl deliveries have all been in order?" The
chemist wiped his hands on his soiled apron as he talked and watched Severus as he
examined one last item on the nearest shelf. "That's a Muggle cold remedy. You'd be
surprised at the number of wizards who've actually resorted to trying it out. A sign of the
times, I suppose. The grass is always greener, as they say. As if it could hold a candle to
my own Sneeze-Away formula," he finished with obvious disdain.

"You're joking?" Severus asked with a lifted eyebrow, finally reaching the cluttered
counter.

The man winked at him, his eyes merry. "Oh, they try it, all right. But within a day or
two they're back, and I'm happy to point out the error of their ways." He studied Severus
for a moment, then placed both hands on the counter. "But enough of that nonsense. I'm
curious as to what's got you out and about today. I daresay you're stocked just as well as
I am, probably better. What is it you need this time?" He rubbed his palms together in
relish. "Let's see if Christian Clecker is up to the task!"

Severus regarded him dourly for a moment, then stated dryly, "A bottle of the Skyy
vodka, Christian. I'm out, and I've an order for a tincture that must be brewed today."

The expectation on the man's face settled into disappointment. "Vodka, Severus? That's
it?" When Severus nodded, the man turned away from him with a sigh. "So much for a
challenge."

Severus waited while the man trudged into a back room, and heard the clanking of glass
as the man dug through his stores. He took this opportunity to rifle through the wares
displayed in front of him. His eyes widened at the jars labeled, "Luscious-Lover Lips,"
then curled his own at the packets labeled, "Ever-Hard Performance Enhancer." He was
itching to pick up the latter and examine its contents, when he heard the chemist puffing
his way back up the aisle.

As the man was wrapping his purchase, he asked Severus conversationally, "So, I hear
you've a celebrity down the lane for the summer?"

Severus gave him a dark look as counted out his Galleons. "A celebrity?" He certainly
wasn't going to say it.

The man gave him another wink. "Harry Potter's at the Weasleys', didn't you know?"

"Hmm, I might've heard that," Severus agreed noncommittally, not wishing to encourage
the man.

The man obviously needed no encouragement. "He was in here just last week, and
Cassie Foote, who buys eggs from them, told me just yesterday that he's been spending a
great deal of time there this summer." The man looked from left to right before leaning
in to almost whisper, "And he has his male friend with him, most of the time." At the
blank look on Severus' face, the man guffawed. "You know the one I mean? The Muggle
chap he took up with about five years ago. It was all over the Prophet at the time—
caused a bit of a scandal. But it was reported that they'd parted ways a few years later."
He finished counting out Severus' change and slid it across the counter to him.
"Evidently not." He smiled at Severus slyly. "What a waste of a fine young wizard, if
you ask me. He could've had any witch of his choosing, and had a fine quiver-full of
arrows, if you get my meaning." He shook his head as he leant to place the cash box
back on the shelf below. "And a Muggle , for Merlin's sake. Rather a slap to the face of
the Wizarding world, don't you think?"

Severus felt a sudden flash of irritation, which he could not contain. "I rather think that
Mr. Potter has every right to live his life as he chooses, Mr. Clecker, don't you?
Considering that we're all free to live our own as we choose, solely because of
that trifling little thing that he accomplished . You do recall what he did?"

The man flushed as he backpedaled. "Well, of course I do, Severus. I'm just saying that
he deserves better, is all."

Severus stared at him for a moment, knowing he should just close the conversation and
take his leave. But for some strange reason, he felt obligated to defend the man in his
absence. "He deserves to live his life without the rest of us making judgments about his
choices. I think he's had enough of our interference on that account." He was bristling
now and he knew it. "What Mr. Potter does, and with whom he does it, is none of my
concern or my business, Mr. Clecker. And I wouldn't think it any of yours, either."

The man opened his mouth to say something in reply, but then seemed to take into
account the look on his customer's face and closed it again. Severus wondered to himself
why he'd taken such offense at the man's gossip—it was part and parcel of what occurred
every time he visited the shop. He realized that this time it was the subject matter with
which he'd taken umbrage, and wondered, in a flash, which part of the man's discourse
had disturbed him: the discussion of Harry's private life, or the fact that he had one at all.
He was still struggling with which it was, when the man cleared his throat. Severus
looked at him in confusion.

Laying the package on the counter, he instructed the man, "Christian, now that I consider
it, I think I'll require another bottle, if you'd be so kind."

***

Severus removed his robe and slung it over his shoulder, clutching the package against
his chest as he walked. He'd chosen to take the road home, in the Muggle way, he
sneered to himself, instead of Apparating. He knew he needed time to think and clear his
mind before beginning his work of the day.

Of course, he'd known about Harry's Muggle—and not just from reading about him in
the Prophet. He'd even had a brief but disconcerting conversation with Harry himself on
the matter, one evening four years ago at a function they'd both attended. He could recall
that encounter as if it were yesterday.

"I just thought you might have seen it."

Severus looked at him, perplexed. "Yes, I did see it, Harry. But I can't imagine why you'd
think I'd have an opinion on something that is entirely a private matter."

The man gave him a rueful smile. "Well, you're the only one, then. Everyone else seems
to have something to say about it—and they don't hesitate to speak their mind."

Severus stiffened as he replied, "It's certainly none of my concern who you take up with."

A small smile played at the edge of Harry's mouth. "Well, what if I were to ask your
opinion then, hypothetically speaking, of course?"

Severus scoffed, "You never seemed to care for my opinion whilst at Hogwarts…and
afterwards. Why in the world would you care now?"

The smile was completely gone as the man told him soberly, "Probably because I think
you're the one person who'd understand…why I'd take up with a Muggle."

Severus crossed his arms and leant back against the railing. "All right, since you seem
determined to tell me. Why a Muggle, Harry?" He almost winced at the immediate relief
in the green eyes.

"Because I never have to explain anything, Severus. As he doesn't know, I don't even
have to address it," he murmured as he looked at his hands.
Harry looked up then, and their eyes connected for a moment, staring at one another.
Severus knew exactly how he felt, and wasn't about to minimize what Harry had just told
him. "I can understand your liaison, then." He watched him for a moment longer, then
said softly, "But you shouldn't ever feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone,
Harry. Your life is your own, and as for the war…. We both did what we had to do at the
time," he finished, and Harry nodded at him in reply.

The man tipped up his wine glass to finish it, then set it down on the table before he
turned to go. Looking at Severus one last time, he told him sadly, "You know, you're the
only other person I feel comfortable with, Severus…never needing to explain. Him, it's
because he's clueless, but you…when I come down to it, it's because, I don't know, we
were in that together, and I know you understand. Kind of ironic, isn't it? That you'd be
the only one…after all these years…considering how we felt about each other most of
the time." He squinted at Severus, as if trying to judge his reaction. "And I'd wager you
could say the same of me, too. Pathetic, isn't it?" He shook his head and walked away.

Severus spoke to the retreating figure, even though he knew he could not hear, "Yes,
Harry, correct on both counts."

So, he'd a reason to be indignant, when it came to invading the privacy of the Boy Who
Lived, because by extension, it implied a breaching of his own. He'd not tolerated it at
the end of the war, and he certainly wasn't about to begin to abide it now. Muggle lover
or not, Harry's business was exactly that—Harry's.

He was sweating now in the late morning sun of July. He was nearly home, and could
see the twist in the road ahead of him, just before it forked into the lane that would take
him to his own front gate. When he'd made the bend and the lane came into view, he saw
the child meandering her way down from the crest, and calculated that their paths would
intersect very soon if she kept up her current skipping pace. Energy personified. He
smiled in anticipation.

He stopped and waited for her, amused that her preoccupation with whatever she was
carrying kept his presence unknown until she was almost upon him.

"Miss Weasley," he called out as she almost passed him by. "I'd rather given up on you
this morning. Had a lie-in, did we?"

The child stopped short, and gave him her usual enthusiastic greeting. "Hullo, Mr.
Snape! Have you been to the village, then?" When he nodded, she asked with curiosity,
"Why are you walking? If I knew how to Apparate, I'd never walk," she confided as she
fell into step beside him.

He glanced down at her and made a clucking sound in reproach. "And if I'd Apparated
home, I'd have missed this glorious morning and all the beautiful things along the way.
Fastest isn't always the best way to travel, Winnie," he instructed her.
She was taking two hurried steps to his single one, trying to keep up with him. "Well,
can you slow down for me too, sir? I'm 'along the way', and I sure can't walk as fast as
you." Her voice was just as reproachful as his had been.

Chastised, Severus slowed, then casually made an observation as they walked along.
"So, what do we have this morning, Winnie? You've a bit of an armful there." He was
curious about the letter clutched in her hand. At his prompting, she handed him the large
single stalk sporting deep pink blooms along its length. "We have lots of these, Mr.
Snape, but Uncle Harry picked this one. He said each color has a name." She looked at
him expectantly as they came to a halt at his gate.

Severus admired the beauty of the blossom, and decided that whoever was tending the
garden had taken great care to produce such a specimen. "Hmmm, it's a delphinium,
Winnie, and yes, they come in many colors, each with its own name." He paused to
heighten her anticipation, but knew full well the answer, of course. The child had hid the
letter behind her back now, but her free hand was clasped in front of her in a fist as she
waited for his verdict. Severus thought it a sigh of relief that she let out when he finally
pronounced, "It's a Friendship flower, isn't it, Winnie?"

The child bounced up and down once in glee. "That's it! I knew you'd know! I don't
think there's anything you don't know about flowers, Mr. Snape." She glowed at his
success, and Severus had difficulty restraining his own satisfaction in being able to
please her so easily.

As he fingered the flower, she finally brought the parchment out from behind her back.
She offered it to him shyly, and, strangely for her, soberly and wordlessly. He cocked his
head at her in question, but then took it when she poked it forward in impatience.

He turned the envelope over in his hand and saw his name inscribed on the front of it in
a vaguely familiar script. Memories of a certain potions student's homework flashed
unbidden through his mind. He eyed the child, his lips pursed, as he slit the flap with a
fingernail. His eyes scanned the message rapidly, and without thinking, he leant back
against the fence, creepers be damned .

If he'd had any fears that this was a personal note, they were quickly set aside, while
another more distressing emotion took their place. It was a printed invitation to a party at
the Weasley estate, to be held the next weekend—a celebration of both Harry's birthday
and the Weasleys' wedding anniversary. Well, it was certainly out of the question. He'd
never even consider such a thing…that is, until he looked up and knew that this decision
was going to provoke a fight to the bitter end. He stalled for time as he carefully
replaced the pleated invitation into its envelope, then finally set it and the flower on top
of the fence before turning to the…child—no, now an impressive embodiment of
determination awaiting his response.

He gave her a tight smile. "While I'm honored to be invited, Winnie, I think both you
and I know why I was. I barely know your parents, and I can't imagine why your uncle
would want to have me there—" He stopped abruptly as she shook her head so hard that
that her little cheeks shook.

"No, no! It wasn't my idea at all." She looked suddenly sheepish as she added, "I was
going to ask if you could come, but Uncle Harry asked me first," she finished as she
nodded her head.

"Uncle Harry asked you what, 'first'?"

"He asked me if I'd like to invite you, silly!" She told him wisely, "He knows we're
friends." The blue eyes were imploring, in concert with the next words out of her mouth.
"And please, please won't you come? Even though he didn't say so, I know Uncle Harry
wanted to ask you too." Her eyes would not release his, hard as he tried to look away.
"That's what parties are for, aren't they? For your friends?" Her smile faded a little now.
"Uncle Harry doesn't have many friends, you know. Just us Weasleys." Severus had no
doubt that this was an accurate assessment on her part.

"Winnie, I…" he trailed off as he saw the slight hardening of her face. He paused, and
the two of them continued their contest of glares for a moment. She's six, Severus, but no
less a woman to contend with. Although he tried not to be, Severus was the first to look
away. He ran a sweaty hand over his face. First round to Winnie, then, but by no means
the game. He picked up the letter and flower from the fence, then turned back to meet
the eyes of a predator , he thought to himself. "I don't do things impulsively, Miss
Weasley." At the familiar look of scorn, he amended, "That means 'without thinking
them through'. Give me a while to consider, and I'll give you an answer by Friday, all
right? I do have to check my calendar for next Saturday as well," he lied without guilt.

She pouted as she relented. "All right. But you should come, Mr. Snape. I want you to
come, and so does Mum and Uncle Harry. Dad says he doesn't care who comes," she
hastened to add. She studied him for a moment, then added, "Uncle Harry smiles when I
talk about you, so see, you need to come. He doesn't smile much at all."

So much for the 'without guilt', he thought to himself. Wonderful. Severus Snape, your
presence is requested at the party herein described so that Harry Potter will have a
reason to smile. "The world's gone amuck," he dryly stated out loud, then raised a hand
to stop her question. "Never mind. Now, I think it's time for me to choose your flower. I
have something—" He was stopped for the second time that morning by her
enthusiastically nodding her head, in addition to flapping her arms in excitement.

"Oh! OH! I forgot to tell you! Mum says I can go off the lane to see your garden! Isn't
that super? I've wanted to see it so much! Oh! How could I forget that? I can't wait to
see…" she stopped as if remembering something. "Oh, that is, if it's all right with you?
Mum said I should ask you that first. Sorry," she mumbled, her pretty cheeks completely
flushed now.
For some strange reason, Severus felt relief. Perhaps because he knew that he'd most
certainly be disappointing her later in the week. He leant down, placing his hands on the
tops of his thighs, so they were at eye-level. It was extremely important that the child
understand. "I'd be honored to show you my garden, Miss Weasley. However," he
paused and lowered his voice a notch, "I must impress upon you that you must touch
nothing in the garden without my permission. Some of the plants and flowers there are
beautiful, but dangerous as well. Do you understand? I can't stress enough how very
important it is that you obey me in this." When he received an appropriately sincere nod
in reply, he finished with, "And you must never, ever¸ enter the garden when I am not
here with you. Agreed?"

The child was barely able to restrain her jumping from one foot to the other. "All right,
Mr. Snape. No touching and never come in without you. Can we go in now?"

Severus smiled outright. "Be my guest, Miss Weasley. You're my first official one, do
you know that?" The smile he received almost blinded him.

They walked at their leisure through row after row of plants and flowers, Severus telling
Winnie flower names and flower facts. She was obligingly appreciative, and fifteen
minutes into their excursion, Severus once again felt a slight shock as a little hand found
his. It seemed more natural this time, however, and after a moment, he almost forgot
they were thusly attached…but not altogether.

After another fifteen minutes of touring, Severus took her to the row where he planned
to choose his flower of the day, once again revised due to the offering that she
herself aka Harry had made. He watched as awareness crept over her by now ecstatic
features.

"They're the delphi flowers! Just like the one I brought you! And you have even more
colors than Mum does!" He watched as she stooped down, the better to see them.

"Which shall it be, Winnie? What's your pleasure today?" He stood patiently as she
prowled from one end of the row to the other, then walked to stand beside her as she
pointed to a deep crimson stalk.

"I want that one. I think Uncle Harry will like that one, too." She hazarded a sly look at
him.

Severus felt a strange sensation strum through him, a slight chagrin that he hid as he bent
to clip the stalk. He straightened and held it out to her, hoping that perhaps she'd forget
to even ask. He should've known better.

"What's its name, Mr. Snape? Uncle Harry will want to know," she said as she subjected
the flower to her smelling test.
"Its name is Intrepid, Miss Weasley," he said hesitantly, knowing that he would need to
elucidate further. "It means 'courageous and fearless and brave'." He could tell by the
look on her face that she knew he wasn't finished, and he wasn't. "A rather apropos pick,
Winnie." He hesitated again, and then informed her, "Once upon a time, your uncle
proved himself to be all of those."

***

That night, as Severus purposefully made his way through his garden, he wondered if it
was accidental that all three ingredients for this next potion required nighttime picking.
That one of them would require it was unusual, but for all three…. It was almost as
if someone had considered what might be most expedient for the potions master. Not
likely, but he had to admit that there was another reason that this concoction had given
him pause.

He thought, as he worked, that this potion made absolutely no sense at all. He pulled on
his gloves and knelt next to the small bed of plants tucked in behind his greenhouse,
situated here intentionally, precisely because they were so deadly. He carefully plucked
only one of the large rounded leaves and two of the tiny lavender flowers. The potency
of monkshood was such that he only cultivated three of them, and he couldn't even
remember the last time he'd had reason to use it. Its useful properties as a sedative and
narcotic were far outweighed by its poisonous potential.

As he moved to the side garden, he contemplated the two remaining additives. Dittany ,
he mused as he snapped off a single leaf. Why would a potion containing monkshood be
fortified with a magical enhancer? He supposed that such a tincture could serve as a
powerful liniment for topical use on painful muscles or skin. But he was totally thrown
by the last ingredient, the heavy pink blooms of dianthus. Once again, the potion was to
be fortified with a blood-pressure lowering agent, which would be completely
superfluous in a skin ointment. He frowned as he made his way back to the house,
puzzling over the problem. He knew that he was missing vital information necessary to
draw any conclusions on the use of or intent behind what he was brewing. He wondered
again over his agreement to blindly provide his services, but once again, the specter of
five hundred Galleons smoothed away his scruples.

***

It was after midnight, and Severus sat at his desk, staring at the two decanted vials of the
finished tincture. He'd made his customary entry in his logbook, and was now warily
considering the invitation that lay in front of him. Meddlesome child , he thought, with a
mixture of amusement and irritation. His first reaction had been to dismiss the whole
affair without any further thought—it was Winnie, after all, who wanted him there, but
still, he was intrigued by the picture of Harry that she'd revealed to him over the past
weeks. You make him sad…you make him smile. Add to these revelations the fact that
the two of them were now engaged in an almost pleasurable game of flower one-
upmanship. He glanced over to the table and the vase that held the evidence of this
exchange, the brilliant colors and textures still preserved by the charm. This was,
admittedly, a side of Harry that he never would've guessed. He had, of course, during the
man's school years, become regrettably acquainted with some of his more annoying
traits: stubbornness, insubordination, and hostility.

But then, thinking of when the tide had turned, he realized that he could easily summon
an image of Harry as sad and smiling . It had occurred the very first time they'd met after
Albus' death, a time when they'd, of necessity, had to set aside all that miserable past
history that the two of them had shared. It had been a rendezvous that Albus himself had
arranged and orchestrated months before Severus had had to strike the man down. And
when it finally had occurred, he'd been shocked at the change in Harry, who'd turned out
to no longer fit into the self-centered and immature category to which Severus had
relegated him. He'd discovered that the headmaster's predictions about the boy's ability
to adapt had been spot-on. He'd had to begrudgingly admit this, in fact, when faced with
the truth of it in that very first encounter, just eight months after Severus had been forced
to flee.

He scowled at the bottle of Skyy, then sighed as he summoned a glass, which he then
filled to the top. Picking it up, and after a moment's indecision, the invitation too, he
carried them both out to the porch where he fell heavily onto the top step. He knocked
the drink back, then sat and breathed in the humid fragrance of the hundreds of flowers
around him, comforted momentarily by the familiar cocoon of sweetness and moonlight.
He leant back against the rail post, closed his eyes, and then surrendered himself to
remembrance.

Severus sat and wearily looked up at him standing there, taking in the tension of his
posture, his disheveled appearance, and incidentally, the wand gripped in his hand.

"Put your wand away, Potter. If you really think you might need it, then what in the
blazes are you doing here in the first place?"

He watched as the shoulders on the thin frame sagged, then was slightly impressed
when, after pocketing his wand, the boy muttered an "Accio chair."

As he took a seat opposite him, Severus sneered at him, "Wandless, Potter? I see you
weren't asleep for your entire sixth year."

The boy stared at him, and Severus was struck by the exhaustion in his face, the
uncharacteristic dullness in his eyes that were almost…sad. In spite of himself, he sat up
straighter. "You've reviewed the headmaster's memories, obviously. I have no desire to
revisit what you've learned, but if you've any scruples, Potter, now would be the time to
address them, before we become involved with…each other, as regrettable and
distasteful as that is for both of us."
The boy waved dismissively. "I was wrong about you, well, at least on some things. I still
think you're pathetic, Snape. We both know you had to make it look like you hated me,
but I know you really do, so let's agree not to pretend that you don't."

Severus sat forward in his chair and fixed him with an intent stare. "You're right. It
wasn't all an act, Potter. You've proven to be an exasperating brat who's provoked me at
every turn." He looked away as he sat back. "You've no cause to believe this, but I've
never hated you." When there was no response, he looked back to the boy, and was
shocked to see the confusion on his face. "But we've no time for this now, you realize?
Are you able to set these things aside for what we have to do?"

The confusion cleared, and Severus was relieved at the boy's words. "He always said he
trusted you, so that's going to have to be enough now. I can't do this on my own, Snape,
and neither can you. So let's get down to it," he challenged, and the sadness was
replaced with a strange determination that Severus had to secretly admire.

Nodding at him, Severus then proceeded to outline what he knew of the remaining
Horcruxes. They laid their plans, and set up the time and place for their next meeting.
Just before the boy was about to Disapparate, Severus commented dryly, "Try to take a
little care, Potter. You look dreadful. It won't help either of us if you die from neglect."

The boy stunned him by giving him a small smile. "And you look like shit, Professor."

Severus felt his heart thump oddly at the title. He'd imagined that no one would ever
again address him as such. He was about to deliver a stinging reply, when the boy
seemed to guess his thoughts.

"You've a price on your head, I know, but remember, you're not the only one. That's
something we have in common, I guess." One more small, sad smile, and the boy was
gone.

As he opened his eyes, he remembered, a little shamefully, the emotions that had flooded
through him after Harry had Disapparated: relief, that Albus had been right about the
boy; hope, now that a plan was finally in place; and something else, something
suspiciously like warmth , knowing that he was no longer alone, that at least one person
knew, and more importantly, believed that he wasn't a loathsome murderer. It had been a
turning point for him, and he'd later learned that the same had been true of Harry. And
that was the first time, but not the last, that he'd seen sadness in the boy. It was the last
time, though, that he'd thought of him as a 'boy'. It had taken them eighteen more months
to be ready to confront the Dark Lord, and by the end of it, Harry, as a man , had not
only gained his trust, but his respect as well.

Uncle Harry smiles when I talk about you . He snorted as he considered another drink,
then gave in and summoned the bottle from the house through the open window, hoping
idly that the damned contract wouldn't require another tincture and another trip to see
Clecker. Well, yes, the work he and Harry had been required to do had bred an inevitable
closeness of sorts. They'd eventually shared things that they'd not been required to share,
no likely stemming from the fact that they were both so completely isolated from any
other human contact, one of them by choice, the other out of necessity. They were both
consumed by the same anxiety, the same zeal, the same goal, after all. He recalled, with
a small twinge of surprising fondness, the first night Harry had stepped across the line.

Severus stared at him, his lip curled upward. "So it begins, the downward spiral of
familiarity breeding contempt."

"What?" Harry asked scornfully. "You think my calling you Severus means we're
familiar? Get a grip, will you?" The man pursed his lips as he thought, then continued,
"We've been at this for over a year and, sad as it sounds, I know you better than even
Ron or Hermione. God, I'll never live this down," he smirked at Severus, "that is, if I live
through it at all."

Severus felt a flash of fear, but countered snidely, "You'll live through it, and no doubt
inflict the Wizarding world with a disgusting number of little Potters." He watched as
something unreadable flickered over the man's face before he laughed out loud.

"I think the Wizarding world will be safe on that account, Severus," he finished, but
would not meet Severus' eyes.

Puzzled, and slightly alarmed at the man's statement of this certainty, Severus told him
pointedly, "Well, I'll just have to watch your back for you then, won't I, Harry?"

The green eyes had been startled, but then a small trace of concern appeared. "Yeah, I'll
be watching yours too. No one else will, that's for sure."

He felt strangely warmed, from across the years, by this unlikely pact that the two of
them had made, to look out for each other when the end would finally come. He smirked
as he considered the double-entendre of the man's words. No little Potters, indeed. Harry
had already known that there'd be no witch in his future who would claim his affections.
The man had probably enjoyed that little repartee where only he himself had been in on
the joke. But still…he recalled that the increasing familiarity had not bred contempt at
all. No, they'd become progressively comfortable with each other in the six months that
remained before that final and horrific battle. They'd not paid it much attention, as they'd
been focused on all the intricacies of their plan and maintaining the secrecy of it.

But in hindsight, Severus now saw that by the time the end had come, they'd come to an
understanding without even discussing it: they could communicate without words; they'd
known that the end would require losses; they'd accepted the fact that each wanted the
other to survive. Bound by circumstances beyond both of them, they were in this to the
inevitable end, for better or for worse.
He sat and thought of the twenty-eight year old he'd seen just last week, and bitterly
acknowledged that the drama of the Dark Lord was still unfolding in certain hearts and
minds…and a body that was crippled beyond repair, from what he'd seen.

He picked up the invitation and stared at it for a long moment. So be it. It seemed that
the man still needed him for some final service, and Severus, still regretful, was inclined
to give it. He felt a corresponding thud in his chest as he made his decision and, with
that, knew that he was making the right one. That the child would be ecstatic was only a
bonus.

***

That Friday, the visitor at the gate presented herself earlier than usual. For the first time,
Severus felt a small measure of compassion for her mother, who had already had to deal
with the child through dressing and breakfast, for her to be here at such an hour. He
picked up the package and his tea, and made his way to the gate to let her in.

"I see you're up with the birds today, Miss Weasley. You may come in for now, but I've
a package to get off," he told her as he admitted the eager child into the garden, taking in
the flower she was trying to hide behind her back.

She smiled as she skipped alongside of him. "I got up early to have breakfast with Uncle
Harry. He had to go away for today, so we had to pick your flower before he went." She
followed Severus to the porch, and watched wide-eyed as he whistled for Ampelos.
When the owl screeched in answer and flew from the back of the house to alight on the
railing, she clapped her hands at the sight of him, to the bird's obvious distaste. It kept a
distrustful eye on her while Severus attached the small bundle. "Ooo, he's a big one, isn't
he?" She peered at him as she inched closer. "I've never seen one like him, Mr. Snape,
with feathers sticking up like that."

"He's an Asio owl, Winnie. They all have that rather distinct plumage." When she gave
him a frown, he added, "Feathers, child."

She watched as he finished his knot, then told him, "Uncle Harry's owl is just as big, but
she's all white, and I don't think she likes me much. She bit me just last week," she
complained as she examined a pudgy finger.

Severus smiled as he watched her. "Ah yes, Hedwig. She's not too fond of me either."
He held out a finger for her to see the tiny scar there, then was surprised when the urchin
hooked her small wounded finger around his own. "I was trying to save a field-mouse
from her, but she'd already bit its head off, " she almost whispered as she confided the
dirty deed.

Severus nodded in sympathy. "Hmmm, a noble attempt to spare a life, Winnie, but you'd
do best to not come between Hedwig and her dinner," he advised her seriously.
They watched as Ampelos lifted effortlessly from the banister and took flight into the
glare of the morning sun. Then, the small hand was tugging impatiently at his sleeve. He
looked down just as she held the flower du jour out for him to take.

He was taken aback by the size of the bloom. The child was once again bursting with
enthusiasm as he took it and held it up to his face. "A wonderful cutting of hydrangea,
Miss Weasley. The purple is breathtaking," he concluded as he lowered it and waited for
the punch line, which she didn't delay to deliver.

"Uncle Harry says it's the most beautiful purple to be found, if you're talking about
flowers," she challenged him.

I'm not sure I agree. However, that was the whole point, he guessed. But he had
unfinished business before picking up that particular gauntlet. "Winnie, I've the reply to
your invitation. Can I trust you to make sure your mother will receive it in one piece?"
he asked her archly as he picked up the envelope and held it out.

"Well?" the pixie demanded as she worried her lower lip with her teeth.

"Well, what?" Severus played with her, enjoying the uncertainty on her face.

"Well, what's in it?" She now stomped her foot. Severus prolonged her suspense a
moment longer, then gave in suddenly when he saw that little lip quiver.

"Well, I'm honored that you've asked me, and will be there at seven sharp next
Saturday," he confirmed for her, preparing himself for the crow that he was sure would
come.

Howl would be a more apt description. He involuntarily winced as she shrieked, "You're
coming? Really!" She jumped up and down as she spun in a circle. "You're coming
you're coming you're coming!" She danced in glee, then stopped, out of breath, to face
him. "Uncle Harry said not to be disappointed that you wouldn't come and that you were
far too busy for such foolishness and that I should just understand that and that I could
bring you some cake and flowers the next day and that he didn't really think you'd come
even if he asked." The face fell suddenly. "Oh. I won't be able to tell him until tonight,
now."

Severus was once again amazed at the child's capacity for run-on sentences. "Winnie,
even had I declined, I wouldn't consider such a celebration 'foolishness', in any case. Life
is far too serious, and one must take advantage of every opportunity to celebrate—
they're much too far and in between as it is." He wasn't sure if she'd understand the
sentiment, but it was obvious by her reply that she did.

"You never know what tomorrow will bring," she told him solemnly as she tucked the
envelope into her pinafore pocket. "That's what Uncle Harry says." She was standing
quietly as she studied him, and Severus was suddenly struck once again by the disparity
between her age and the words that came out of her mouth. Or were parroted, in this
case. But that possibility was subtly belied by the look on her face, one that certainly
seemed well beyond her age in years.

"Are you ready for your flower, then?" he asked as he mentally bent to pick up the
gauntlet that he'd ignored just a moment ago. He led her over to the front fence, on the
far side of the gate where they'd not ventured before. He drew out his clippers and cut a
cluster from the vine. He cradled it in his hands for a moment as he inspected it
critically. Satisfied, he transferred it into the two little cupped ones awaiting it.

"Wow, they're purple too," she breathed in admiration. "More purple than the hydrangea
ones." He watched as she predictably buried her face and took an audible breath.

"Yes, they're very purple , Winnie, the most beautiful purple of all flowers, in spite of
someone else's declaration that the hydrangea is superior. This is wisteria, child. Notice
how the grouping of blossoms resembles that of a cluster of grapes. Concord grapes, in
particular. Someday I'll show you those at the back of the house."

"They're both pretty purples," the child pointed out. "I think you can like both of them at
the same time, Mr. Snape, can't you? There doesn't have to be a winner, I think." She'd
cocked her head at him in question.

"Hmmm, you're the adult in this matter, Miss Weasley, it seems," he murmured, slightly
uncomfortable. When she gave him a quizzical look, he reassured her, "No, you're
perfectly correct. They're both rich, full-throated purples in their own right. Neither is
more beautiful than the other, I'm sure." He watched as her features relaxed, then swore
silently at himself.

He saw her to the gate, then waited until she was at the crest for the customary wave.
Turning back into the garden, he was suddenly struck by the realization that a party
required gifts, and in this case, two. He swore out loud this time, then sighed in
resignation.

***

Potion Four

On Monday, Severus told himself that the Weasleys were no doubt off somewhere
making preparations for the upcoming celebration. When Tuesday came and went
without the child putting in an appearance, he reasoned that the household must be in an
uproar of cleaning and decorating for the affair. But when Wednesday arrived, and he
finally heard her call him from the gate, he was irritated by the relief that caught him
unawares.

She was unusually sedate as he let her into the garden, and even her, "Hullo, Mr. Snape,"
was noticeably subdued as she held out her flower without preamble.
He considered her carefully as he took it and, for the moment, ignored it entirely.

"Why the long face, Miss Weasley? I've noticed you've left me in relative peace this
week. Have you been ill?" he asked, watching as the child intently studied her shoes.

The curls shook, but the face was still riveted to her footwear.

"Ah. I imagine you've been getting ready for the gala event?"

Now she did look up. "You mean for the party?" She scuffed her foot in the grass, then
said in a rush, "I wasn't sick, but I wasn't allowed to come and I wasn't even allowed out
into the garden and Mum says I'm lucky to be allowed out at all and it's only because she
has a million things to do that she's giving in and any other time I'd be kept in for a
month." The chin came up as she finished, and the blue eyes were definitely…troubled.

Severus gave a jerk of his head, then turned to lead the way to the porch. He sat on the
bottommost step, leant his back against the railing, then pointed and said, "Have a seat,
Winnie." He watched as she dropped down gratefully, then had to restrain a smile at the
soulful look on her face. When she started to pick at the splintered wood of the step
above her, Severus gave an audible sigh. "Whatever you've done to be kept in , young
lady, is certainly none of my affair. But you've been to see me everyday for almost four
weeks without fail. I did wonder, you know," he chided her.

She squinted at him in the sunlight for a moment, then Severus saw the determination
spread across her face.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, then mumbled, "IwasflyingUncleHarry'sbroom."

She looked away almost at once, then resumed her desecration of his porch step.

It took Severus an instant to process the words, then his mouth fell open as he realized
what she'd said. "You were on a broom?" he asked in disbelief. He watched as the
dimpled cheeks flushed. "No wonder you were disciplined. And your uncle should have
been as well," he added in disgust.

Now her little chin quivered. "That's just it, see. Uncle Harry didn't know. I took it out of
the shed on my own."

He watched as she struggled to control herself, the blue eyes suddenly filled to the brim,
and he had to resist the urge to comfort her. "Well, then, Miss Weasley, I think you've
got out of it rather well, considering what you've done. I'll not scold you, as I'm sure
your parents, as well as your uncle, have already done so."

He watched, fascinated, as two perfect tears trailed down her cheeks. "Tell me about it,
then. What happened?"

The child swiped impatiently at her cheeks with the backs of both hands, then looked up
before confessing, "I didn't go very far, just into the orchard behind the house, but I hit a
tree and fell off. The broom didn't stop, so I had to tell Uncle Harry, and he was very
cross. He loves his broom, you know," she finished mournfully.

"I seem to recall that," Severus agreed. "So, what happened then?"

The child now seemed resigned to telling the rest of it. "He used Accio to get it back, but
then he…" her voice quavered, "…he turned me over his knee and gave me a paddling."
Her eyes flashed. "That was the worst part. Even worse than when he told Mum."

He ducked his head to catch her eyes. "The worst part is that you could've been injured
or even killed, Winnie. Probably exactly what was going through your uncle's mind at
the time." He watched as she dabbed daintily at her nose, then shifted to pull out his
handkerchief for her.

Her eyes widened, but then she smiled tremulously as she took it from him. "I know,
that's what they all said. I've promised to never do it again," she assured him, then told
him a little more boldly, "But I do so much want to learn to fly, and Dad was flying at
my age, and my uncles as well. I don't see why they won't let me learn yet."

"Your Uncle Harry didn't straddle a broom until he was eleven, if I remember correctly.
You've plenty of time to learn, Madam, and you'd do best to do as you're told. Given that
you're a Weasley," he added dryly, "I don't think they'll make you wait quite that long.
But in the meantime," he warned her, "you must promise me that you'll not take such a
risk again. What you did was dangerous. And what's more, your being kept in has rather
upset my daily routine," he complained.

The eyes gazed at him seriously. "I'm sorry. I've promised," she paused, as what he'd
said hit home. "You mean you missed me?" she asked breathily, holding his eyes.

"Hmm, either you or your flowers. I'm not entirely sure which it was," he gently teased
her. When she pouted at him prettily, he conceded, "All right, perhaps I did miss your
irksome chatter on occasion." When she grinned at him suddenly in triumph, he was
dismayed at the warmth that spread through his chest.

"I missed you too," she told him sincerely, then pointed at the flower still lying across
his knees. "So, do you know that one?" she challenged.

He fingered the delicate flag of a blossom. "It's Fay iris, Winnie. A most beautiful blue,
I'd say. They come in several other colors, but this is my favorite, did you know?"

She shook her head. "No, but Uncle Harry did. He said it would be," she stated with a
certainty that he found amusing.

"He did, did he? Well, a most lucky guess on his part, then." He didn't know which was
the more disturbing: that Harry had known which he'd prefer, or that he'd ceased to be
surprised that the man was able to predict his preferences so well. Probably the latter, but
surprisingly, neither prospect really bothered him now. And that proved the most
disturbing of all.

He laid the flower on the top step, then asked her, "How are things shaping up for the
party, then? Are you helping your mother as I'm sure you should be?" He noticed that
she seemed completely recovered.

She talked non-stop for the next ten minutes. Severus was once again amazed at her
verbal skills, and could not help but smile at her animation as she talked, at the
modulation of her six-year old voice, and how very like her mother she was when it
came to conversation: articulate, showy, and ebullient. He asked her questions and she
answered readily, her answers full of detail and laced with childish enthusiasm and
impatience for the day to finally arrive. When she'd finally talked herself out, Severus
stood and stepped down to the flat stone, then shocked himself when he held out his
hand for hers.

"Come now, Winnie, time to select your flower and send you home. I don't want your
mother to worry," he told her as she took hold of his hand. He led her to the back of the
house, to a small area of bedding that he let grow mostly wild. Releasing her hand, he
stepped cautiously to the center, then bent down to cut a single bloom.

As he held it out to her, she squealed with delight, "Another daisy? But it's a blue one
this time." He watched as she brought it up to her nose.

"It's a variety of aster, child. They come in all colors, as do the buttons in the center, but
I'm fond of this particular one, as I'm sure your uncle must be as well," he murmured,
mostly to himself. But the pixie had caught his words and his tone.

"You do seem to like the same ones as he does." She gave him that solemn look that he
knew by now was a warning bell. "Have you ever talked to Uncle Harry about which
flowers he likes and which ones you like? Isn't it funny that you like the same ones?"

He did his best to affect disinterest. "We've never talked about our preferences, no. As
for liking the same ones, Winnie, remember that he's choosing flowers he thinks you will
like, as am I." He attempted to set the record straight, knowing he wasn't telling the
whole truth.

The child was not fooled, and snorted at his feeble explanation. "I don't think so, Mr.
Snape. I know he picks what he thinks you'll like, and I think you do the same thing. I'm
just the flower girl that carries them," she said with a trace of coyness that made Severus
blink. If I didn't know any better, I might think she's playing with me.

He gave her a withering look that was met with the most innocent of expressions.
Perhaps he was imagining things, but it felt strangely like manipulation, on a miniature
scale, of course, considering the perpetrator.
"Off with you, now," he told her as he took her hand once again.

***

The making of the fourth potion was put off until the next day, as it was an infusion that
was called for this time, and the shelf life of such a potion was considerably shorter than
what he'd been called upon to brew the weeks before. He supposed he needn't concern
himself with this; surely the client would have taken this into account. But it was in his
nature to maximize the efficiency of a potion whenever possible.

It was late afternoon, the sun starting to drop below the tall trees that bordered the back
of his property. Severus was mildly distracted as he moved amongst the rows of flowers
to gather his ingredients. He stopped and stared at the tall stalk of asphodel in front of
him, then slid on his gloves before pinching off several yellow blooms and just two gray,
silky leaves. I don't really know them well enough to give them anything even remotely
personal, so the champagne will do nicely. Dropping the pickings into his apron, he
moved on. As for Harry, I do know him well enough to choose something I think he
might like. He bent in and harvested several large buttercup-like flowers of verbascum,
then moved on to the side of the greenhouse. But I certainly wouldn't want him to
misconstrue it as something personal. A book, after all, can be a very intimate gift, he
worried, as he knelt beside the hyssop plant and sank back on his heels. He watched for a
moment, dazzled by the beauty of the dozens of small tortoiseshell butterflies nesting in
its indigo blossoms, then shooed them gently with his hand before reaching in to pick.

As the infusion was steeping the required hour, Severus made the fourth entry in his log.
This potion would best be classified as a mild sedative, especially as the powerful
asphodel was present in only a very small amount; verbascum was merely a mild
calming agent; whereas the sweet hyssop, although it possessed slightly sedative
properties, had no doubt been included to counter the bitter and aromatic asphodel. He
didn't waste much time worrying over the use to which this concoction would be put. In
comparison to the preceding ones, it was much less ominous.

He sat back and considered the book and bottle set out on his desk. He'd not ventured out
to the village or Diagon Alley for either of them, so to be truthful, they were not new or
even purchased with either the Weasleys or Harry in mind. However, he thought them
suitable gifts and, after all, he doubted that whatever he would choose to give was of any
real import at all. I've been invited because of Winnie, and the gifts are just a courtesy in
return for the gesture.

But he remembered the child's words, that Severus was able to bring a smile to her
uncle's face; he looked to the vase that held the brilliant flowers chosen especially for
him by Harry; he thought of their little war of blossoms and the pleasure it brought him;
and he knew then that he was only deceiving himself, that he was Harry's guest as much
as Winnie's, and that, even more disquieting, he himself wanted to go. Damn it.

***
In the spirit of his self-professed 'fastest isn't always best', Severus chose to walk that
night instead of Apparating. He strolled at a leisurely pace, the bottle tucked in the crook
of his arm, but with the book nestled in the inside pocket of his robes. He was going to
be fashionably late, and by the time the hedge ended and the estate came into view, the
sun was on the verge of setting just behind the spires of the house.

He stood for a moment at the gate to take in the spectacle. Every tree on the grounds was
bedecked with twinkling white fairy lights, and some strategically placed ones made the
color of the garden come to life. There had to be dozens of people milling about, some
congregated on the large stone patio, others spread out over the lawn and garden itself.
There was a low hum of laughter mixed with music, and Severus was pleasantly
surprised to see a real live string quartet playing from a small gazebo erected just to the
side of the house. A large group of people were seated in the chairs surrounding it, so
Severus guessed that this might be where he'd find his hosts. He made his way up
through the garden, taking note of the smattering of French in conversations as he went,
nodding at the twins as he passed them by. "Misters Weasley," he greeted them, ignoring
the sudden sobering of their faces. Some things can never be changed nor helped, not
that I expected otherwise.

Finally reaching his destination, he stopped tentatively. Bill and Fleur were the center of
attention, of course, and Molly Weasley stood to one side talking to someone who
looked familiar, but whom he could not place at the moment. He looked around casually,
but did not see either Harry or the child.

"Professor!" Fleur called out as she beckoned him with a hand.

She was a vision of loveliness, he thought, as he stepped forward. Her silver blond hair
was swept up atop her head, with ringlets and tendrils falling away at the sides to curl on
her swan-like neck. A robe of shimmering blue and green set off the turquoise of her
eyes, and before he had a moment to react, she'd grabbed him by the shoulders and
placed a peck on each of his cheeks.

"We are so pleased zat you could come! Winnie 'az talked of nothing elze for days." The
eyes sparkled at him. "And 'Arry az well. I know 'e eez looking forward to seeing you
once again. Come, you must see Bill," she commanded as she dragged him toward the
group. Now I remember why I was inclined to decline.

The group parted as Fleur pushed her way forward with Severus in tow by the arm. "Bill,
look who eez finally 'ere!"

The two men looked at each other for a moment, then Severus shifted the bottle to his
left hand as Bill extended his.

"Professor Snape. We're honored that you've come. Winnie's talked of nothing else the
entire week." He paused as he turned slightly. "Mum, look who's here."
And here it was—the one moment of the evening he'd been dreading. He swiveled his
eyes, and lifted them to meet hers. "Molly, it's been a while," he said in greeting as he
took her in, not surprised when she pursed her lips before speaking.

"Severus. Yes, it has been, hasn't it?" She stared at him steadily, and Severus was
beginning to become uncomfortable, when he recalled what he was holding in his arm.

Turning back to his hosts, he extended the bottle to Fleur. "May I extend my
congratulations on your anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Her eyes widened as she took it. "Mon Dieu alors! Zeez eez Bristol, Bill! Zee finest
champagne to be 'ad! But Professor, you shouldn't 'ave. It eez too much!"

Severus smiled at her pleasure and shook his head at her. "Nonsense, Mrs. Weasley. But
promise me that you'll save it for just the two of you," he lectured her.

Bill took the bottle from her as he told Severus, "You can count on it, Professor. Thank
you for—"

An ear-splitting shriek interrupted them, "Mr. Snaaaaaaaape!"

Severus had barely turned when a small, fast-moving body hurtled itself at him. Without
even thinking, he reached out and caught her up into his arms, then swung her around
once in a circle before depositing her back on the ground. While she beamed up at him,
Bill's voice startled him.

" Merlin. Who are you, and what have you done with Severus Snape?" he asked, his tone
not entirely in jest.

Severus looked up at Bill and caught the expression on his face. "Have you never been
swept up in her…exuberance for life, Mr. Weasley? I know I have, despite even my best
efforts to resist her. She's an endearing child. I think the two of you should be proud of
how she's turning out," he told him soberly.

Bill nodded and swallowed visibly. "I—thank you, sir, we are." He hesitated for a
moment, then added, "And we've appreciated you letting her come down there this
summer. It's given her something to look forward to, with no other children here to play
with." Ah. So, she comes to play with me.

Severus nodded just before giving into the increasing tug at his arm. "It's been my
pleasure. Mrs. Weasley, Molly." He turned and nodded at the two women before being
led away by his captor.

***

At the back of the house, Severus found himself on the posterior portion of the wrap-
around porch, Winnie skipping ahead of him as she led the way. There were fewer
people here, small clusters of two or three talking as he passed. The banisters of the
structure were twined with multicolored fairy lights and flowers, and Severus could see
them twinkling softly in the orchard that skirted the garden at the back. Someone had
taken great care in creating such an enchanting ambiance, and he couldn't help but
admire the overall effect in the dusk.

Severus slowed as Winnie bounded ahead of him and launched herself into her uncle's
lap. By the time he reached the end of the porch, Harry was already disentangling
himself and struggling to stand to his feet.

As Severus came to a stop, the man reached out a hand as he smiled. "You're right,
Winnie. He's here in the flesh. Severus, I'm glad you've come. Really." They shook
hands, and then Severus noticed the man in the chair next to the one where Harry had
been sitting. Harry caught his sideways glance, then turned slightly to rest a hand on the
man's shoulder as he said, "Graham, this is Severus Snape, a…friend of mine from my
school years." He looked up at Severus who'd already caught the caution in Harry's eyes.
"Severus, this is Graham Chal. He's come up from London for the day."

Severus hesitated for a moment, and when the man did not stand, reached down to shake
his hand. "Good evening, Mr. Chal."

"Pardon me for not getting up, Mr. Snape, but I'm a little under the weather. Harry's been
making me sit the night out, and you know how obstinate he can be," the man told him
as he let go of Severus' hand.

Severus caught Harry's amused look as he retook his seat, and said as he took the one
opposite them, "Yes, I do recall that rather irritating quirk of his."

Harry nudged his friend with an elbow as he grinned at Severus. "You both have my
permission to use first names. I haven't called him Snape in years, and I'd almost
forgotten your surname, Graham. You're lucky I even remembered," he teased. His
attention was suddenly snagged by a small fracas in the garden, and he looked away to
call, "Winnie, give Abel a turn—he's your guest, remember?"

As both Harry and Graham were focused on the quarreling children for a moment,
Severus took the time to make a rapid assessment of Harry's Muggle.

Severus was certain that the man must be younger than he looked. He was shockingly
pale, his body slight and delicate, and his skin had an unhealthy translucence to it as
well. As he moved his eyes down the slender frame, he noticed that the bony knees
seemed to almost poke through the lightweight trousers, where two frail hands rested
nervously atop them. Severus looked up to find that the man was aware of his scrutiny,
and so looked away in confusion at being caught.

Harry, too, seemed to be aware of the awkwardness of the moment. "Severus, let me get
you something to drink. You're still a brandy, aren't you?" When Severus murmured his
assent, he continued, "And give me that, Graham, I'll get you a refill while I'm at it." He
looked from one to the other, then stepped between them to make his way around to the
front of the house.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and without warning, Severus was assaulted from
within, wondering about the history this man shared with Harry, and what had happened
to bring it to a close…if that were indeed the case. He was searching for something to
say to break the silence, when Graham found it first.

"He was afraid you wouldn't really come, Severus. I'm glad you did."

Severus smiled ruefully at him. "Miss Weasley would have had me drawn and quartered
had I not," he told him. There was another pause, until Severus broke it with, "Winnie
tells me you've been here visiting this summer, off and on."

"Yeah, Harry's a real friend. I've not been well, and he's been helping me out."

Severus met his eyes. "This must be a bit overwhelming, all the…unusual phenomena,"
he risked.

Graham smiled. "I've known about the magic for a while. He's never talked much about
it, and made it very clear that was how he wanted it, which was fine with me." He gazed
at Severus, as if making a decision, then continued, "At one time, we were very close,
several years ago."

Severus was becoming more curious than he thought he had a right to be. He studied the
man for a moment, who returned the look unflinchingly, and in a strange pulse of
unspoken comprehension, Severus realized that the man now knew that he'd known.

"Ah, then you know about us?" he asked softly.

Severus shook his head. "Very little, Graham. He told me a long time ago, that the two
of you were together…and he seemed content."

The man settled back in his chair as he nodded. "We were, for a few years. But then,
things became…complicated. For both of us." He stared over Severus' shoulder into the
garden as he hesitated. "I was married and had a child. Harry had his own problems,
things he wouldn't talk about, so we decided about three years ago that it just wouldn't
work. That was tough at the time—we'd been together for a while." He paused again as
he frowned in concentration. "It wasn't just my situation that was the problem. Maybe
the strain," he hesitated, as he made a circular gesture in the air, "of all this as well. I'm
not exactly sure."

Severus kept his tongue, sensing that the man was not finished. He noticed that Graham
seemed to be trying to catch his breath, and almost leant forward in concern, when he
began to speak again.
"We still kept in touch, and even when I ended up single again," he smiled, "Harry and I
together just wasn't in the cards. I got…sick a year later, and being on my own was
becoming difficult. So Harry, you know how he is…. I don't know what I would've
done."

Yes, Severus knew exactly how Harry was. Harry and his distinct savior complex. He'd
never understood the compulsion, and had finally surmised that it was due to the man's
own formative years when he'd needed saving, when there had been no one to come to
his rescue. His thoughts were interrupted as Graham spoke again, and the timbre of his
voice made Severus wonder if the man had forgotten he was even there.

"Funny, how when all the things that seemed to keep us apart were taken away, well, we
both knew then that we didn't belong together. But when it came to me being down and
out, Harry was there for me. Not many people would do that for someone who was just
a…friend." His eyes found Severus' again, and Severus could read first the helplessness
there, then the hesitation, and finally the urgency.

"I've made my peace with the way my life is, but Harry…. I just wish he'd
find someone. He spends far too much time alone for his own good." He laughed a little
bitterly. "I try to tell him, but he just shrugs it off and tells me he's fine." His eyes were
thoughtful as he looked at Severus. "I know him well enough to know that he's not." He
eyed Severus speculatively. "You've known him for a while." It was not a question, but a
subtle challenge.

"Since he was eleven. At school."

"Ah. I thought so." When Severus raised an eyebrow, Graham grinned. "Remember, I
know him fairly well. I've never seen him as comfortable with someone as he seems to
be with you."

"There's little in our past that would bear that out," Severus told him stiffly.

Graham waved dismissively. "Whatever. Like I said, I don't really know anything about
his past. I can guess at some things, though. We were a couple for over two years." He
stopped abruptly and stared at Severus for a moment before saying softly, "He has
nightmares."

"I don't doubt it," Severus agreed, but refused to give away anything further.

"Well, I think he could stand some help with it. I mean, from someone who could
understand what I couldn't." There was a silence between the two of them now.

"He's a good man, Severus," Graham said gently.

Severus looked away to watch the children in the garden. "Yes, Graham, he is."

***
Severus sat with Graham by the side of the gazebo, pushing bits of cake around on his
plate as he watched Harry and the Weasleys at the gate, saying goodbye to guests as they
prepared to Disapparate. There had been speeches made in honor of the hosts, gift-
opening, and then the serving of desserts.

He watched as Harry slipped away from the knot of people at the gate and headed in
their general direction, stopping to speak to several guests along the way, then smiled at
the two of them as he approached.

Harry inclined his head toward Graham as he said to Severus, "Looks like someone's had
enough for the night." He knelt before the man whose head was tilted slightly to the side
as he dozed. "Graham, let's get you home to bed," he told him softly as he brushed the
hair from the man's face, then turned to Severus as Graham struggled to his feet. "You'll
stay, won't you? I'll only be gone a short while. In fact," he paused as he looked around
the garden," would you mind checking on Winnie and the others in the back? The twins
are supposed to be minding them, but I see they're out here too. I'd really appreciate it,
Severus." He looked at Severus in question.

Severus considered for a moment, then wondered at himself as he easily agreed. He

heard the sound of Disapparation as he made his way up onto the trellised porch and
around the side of the house.

He found the children swinging from the lower branches of the trees in the orchard, and
so, settled onto the porch steps. He smiled as he listened to their banter and shrieking,
and wasn't surprised at all to hear Winnie calling out instructions.

"No, Abel, not that one, it's too skinny! Try the other one right next to it!"

He was still sitting, marveling at their seemingly endless energy, when Harry dropped
down onto the step beside him and handed him a glass of wine.

"Thanks, Severus. Any problems?" he asked as he craned his neck to look between the
trees.

"No, it appears that Winnie has her little menagerie completely organized," he
commented dryly.

Harry laughed. "That's definitely the Delacour genes—she can be downright bossy, in
fact." They sat for a moment in silence, sipping their wine as they watched.

"Severus," Harry paused as he turned to him, "I'm sorry about how Molly was with you.
Bill and Fleur talked to her about you coming, but still, I guess I should've warned you,"
he said apologetically as he fingered his glass.

Severus shook his head. "I knew how she'd be Harry, as well as the twins. I didn't expect
any of them to be thrilled with my being here. It's certainly nothing that you could
control, so there's no need to apologize."
"Still, I wish it could be different, Severus. It's so unfair for them to consider you any
more responsible than me," he murmured as he looked away.

Severus disagreed. "It's more practical this way, as they've always thought you a part of
the family. Since they need to place blame on someone, it's reasonable that they've
chosen me. They're only several of many, I assure you," he finished with a trace of
bitterness, which he quickly regretted.

Harry searched his face. "It's not reasonable," he sighed in objection.

Severus snorted. "I'd learned to live with that reality, Harry, years before the demise of
Lord Voldemort. I don't lose any sleep over it, and you certainly shouldn't either.
Wizardom has chosen to believe what is easiest," he concluded matter-of-factly.

"You remember that in the beginning, I did try," Harry murmured.

"How could I forget? You were exceedingly obnoxious," Severus succinctly agreed.

Harry stood suddenly to his feet and was charging towards the orchard as he called out,
"Winifred Weasley! You get down from there this instant! What have I told you over
and over?" Severus watched as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, glaring up into
the nearest tree. "Down, now!" he commanded, then instructed the other children, "And
the rest of you, come down too. It's time for you to find your parents, all of you. Come
on, off with you!" One by one the wizard monkeys fell from the branches and scurried
off towards the front of the house, while Harry made his way back to the porch, dragging
the protesting ringleader by the hand.

"I had to climb higher, Uncle Harry! I was the Monkey Queen!" she scolded him as
Harry reached the steps and pulled her onto his lap. "We were just getting to the good
part, and you ruined it," she whinged, then her mouth opened wider into a yawn that she
couldn't suppress.

Harry rubbed his knuckles into her head so that she tried to pull away, but he held her
fast. "It's not safe for you to climb that high, Monkey Queen . I hadn't noticed that you'd
sprouted wings, and until you do, you'll stick to the lower branches. What if you fell
from a branch that high? You'd squish at the bottom!" he lectured her as he swung her
around so that she was facing him.

The child patted his cheek, then told him confidently, "You can't see the wings, Uncle
Harry, not until you need them, but I know they're there."

"Winnie," Harry growled as he frowned at her, "what I am going to do with you?"

"Miss Weasley?" Severus' tone was accusatory. "I seem to remember that you've made a
promise? Not just to your uncle and mother, but to myself as well?" He reached out and
caught her chin when she would not look at him.
"Well?" he insisted. The child stared at him for a moment, then he saw the familiar
quiver in her lower lip.

He was surprised by the sudden movement, as all at once she was climbing off her
uncle's knees to scramble onto his own.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she leant her head into his chest. "I forgot."

"'I forgot' won't be much good when we're scraping up little pieces of you from the
bottom of the tree, will it?" he asked more gently. When he felt the nod against his chest,
he prompted, "What do you have to say to your uncle, then?"

The redhead pulled back to give him a solemn look, then glanced at her uncle. "I'm
sorry, Uncle Harry. I know I promised." She looked back at Severus tentatively, who
then gave her a nod.

Harry still looked sternly at her. "Breaking a promise is a serious thing, Winnie. You're
not to be in the orchard again on your own, not until you've shown that you'll listen.
Now, off to bed with you." He tousled her curls as she rolled off Severus' lap onto the
step. She dutifully gave him a kiss, and then just as dutifully turned and planted one on
Severus' cheek. They both wished her a good night, and turned to watch until she'd gone
through the back door into the house.

Severus looked back to find Harry looking at him strangely.

"What?" he asked warily.

Harry shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "No, it's nothing." He hesitated,
then broke into a grin. "All right. It's just watching the two of you together. I've always
had the impression you didn't much care for children, Severus. The things she's told
me…what the two of you do and talk about. I thought she was probably exaggerating,
but now that I've seen the two of you together…." His eyes glittered with merriment. "I
think she was telling the truth." When Severus rolled his eyes, he added, "She worships
the ground you walk on, and," he stopped, as he leant back against the rail, "I daresay
you're a little taken with her as well."

Severus twirled the stem of his empty glass, then reclined against the rail so they were
facing each other. "You're well aware that her modus operandi is divide and conquer, are
you not? I don't think I would've been taken in by merely 'cute.' No, it was her
appreciation for nature as well as a deviousness well beyond her years that I found
captivating from the start." He added with a slight note of sarcasm, "I do believe she just
might sort into Slytherin."

"That'll be a first," Harry wryly agreed, then summoned the bottle of wine to refill their
glasses. Severus was pleasantly warm and relaxed as he settled back to look at Harry
across from him.
"So, your Graham, Harry. What is it that's wrong with him, then? He told me that he's ill,
and he certainly looks it. He hinted that this is a chronic condition?" he asked.

Harry's face fell a little as he nodded. "He has a Muggle illness, one that affects the
nervous system. It took them a while just to figure out what is was, and it wasn't good
news. It's a slow, progressive disease that will only get worse, I'm afraid." He pulled his
knees in and wrapped his arms around them, then continued, "He's already at the stage
where it's out of the question for him to live alone, so I've moved him in with me. He can
still take care of some of his own physical needs, but that's about all he can do now. He
rarely goes out, so I've made a point to bring him here several times a week this summer.
It distracts him," he explained setting his chin on his knees, not taking his eyes off of
Severus.

Severus cocked his head at him. "Progressive, you said. In what way?" He saw the
sadness in Harry's eyes as he spoke.

"He'll most likely be dead within a year, Severus. That's without intervention, and at this
point, he's decided that he wants none. I can't say that I blame him—it would only be
postponing the inevitable, and that for just a short while." He'd sat up straighter and
seemed to be waiting for Severus' reaction.

"So, how long will he be able to stay with you? I assume he'll eventually need to be at
hospital?" He noticed that the man's face shuttered almost immediately at his question,
so added, "This is none of my business."

Harry shook his head. "No, I wanted to explain to you why he was staying with me." He
glanced away for a moment and then looked back with a slight smile. "Not too sure why
I needed to do that, but I did. I didn't want you to think the two of us were still together.
Not that you'd even care," he finished, but not managing to sound flippant, if that were
his intention,

Severus had puzzled at the strange emotion he'd felt when Graham had informed him of
this very fact just hours ago. He was struck by it once again. "Indeed, why would I
care?" he asked, not only Harry but himself as well.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then remembered the question that had been asked.
"We haven't precisely decided what's to be done when he becomes…more incapacitated.
But it's something we're working on…difficult to tie up loose ends, say goodbyes. You
know," he trailed off.

Severus felt his confusion growing. To hide it, he refilled both of their glasses,
remarking that they were both on the verge of intoxication. "He's fortunate to have such
a friend. As he told me, not many would do as much as you have. But I understand your
motivations." He wondered whether he should say it, but then did so without thinking
any further. "He's worried about you as well, you know. That you don't have someone ,
is how he put it."
This put a smile on Harry's face. "Yeah, I know he is. He's been trying to fix me up with
someone ever since we split." He took a large gulp of wine, as if to summon his courage,
then asked, his smile wider, "What about you, Severus? Do you have someone?"

"Are you drunk, Potter? I believe you just asked me about my personal life," he
answered, slightly annoyed. "Oh, I deal intimately with male and female parts," he told
him obliquely and was surprised to see the immediate blush begin on Harry's face.
Fascinated, but perplexed, he sat for a moment and watched as it crept upwards, then
clarified, "Of the flower variety, Harry, pistils and stamens. I can explain if you like."

Harry laughed as he stretched his legs out on the top step, and Severus was startled as a
warm leg came to rest lightly against the side of his thigh where he sat. He was still
processing the strange sensation when Harry said softly, giving him a playful nudge with
his foot, "Oh, I know all about sex , Severus." He rested his head against the porch post
as he paused, then teased, "Of the flower variety, of course." He seemed to be enjoying
himself now. "And the other kind as well, although I think it's much more complicated.
Flowers have it easy, you know. All they need to do is unfurl their petals to the sun and
wait for the wind and the bees. None of this song and dance." He made a gesture that
included the two of them.

Severus furrowed his brow. "You and I are involved in a 'song and dance'? I think not,
Harry."

Harry smiled as he straightened and pulled his leg away. "Oh yes, we are, of a sort. I
send you a flower; you critique it, and then send one in return. I critique it, and send
Winnie along with another. I've a whole bloody vase of them now."

Severus sneered. "You've preserved them? How romantic of you."

Harry looked a little taken aback. "Well, Winnie wanted to keep them, of course," he
faltered.

"Of course," Severus replied, thinking of his own collection. "So, satisfy a curiosity for
me. When did you become such a flower enthusiast? I recall being a little surprised a
few years ago over a little discussion we had at the Ministry, but you seem even more
versed in the matter now. And I don't think you've learnt all this just from helping Fleur
with her gardens." He waited, as Harry seemed to be struggling with the answer.

The green eyes were definitely amused and calculating now. "It's part of my livelihood."
At the blank look he received in reply, he added, "I have gardens of my own. I have for
years. I don't use them for potions ingredients, but I sell them retail, quite profitably, I
might add, to both wizards and Muggles."

Severus was stunned, but managed to say, "Flowers, Harry? As a profession? What
happened to the curse-breaking endeavor?" he asked as he regained his wits.
Harry shrugged. "I've always been fond of them, you know. Growing up with the
Dursleys, I learned quite a bit, as I was the gardener-in-residence, after all. I've always
had the interest, and then that little tête-à-tête with you made me think, 'Why not?' I'd
always enjoyed it, and there's a constant demand. It's year round work for me, actually,
as I've several large greenhouses." He stopped and looked at Severus, then teased,
"What, cat got your tongue? It's no more outrageous than what you do, Severus."

Feeling strangely exposed, Severus shook his head and protested, "I'm first and foremost
a potions master, Harry, and my flowers support my trade in that respect."

Harry guffawed at this. "Right. And every potions master has two acres of gardens, I
suppose? You don't fool me, and why should you even try? It's so obvious you've a
passion for them. As do I, ' he quietly finished.

"Touché," Severus murmured softly in reply, his black eyes glittering.

"You know, Severus, you've always affected me more than you think," Harry told him as
he stretched his legs out again, but took care not to touch him. "You were a mentor, like
it or not, in those two final years, and it was only natural that I'd start to think about the
flower trade, after seeing you so obviously content with what you were doing. I didn't do
it intentionally, I think. But you know, by the time we had that conversation, in a way,
you'd already started me thinking about it several years before. I just didn't realize until
only recently that it had been you." When Severus shot him a quizzical look, he added
gently, "The convallarias, Severus. When I saw them on Dumbledore's grave, I
wondered who'd planted them, and it seemed like such a great idea, so I decided to plant
the campanulas."

"You knew it was I?" Severus asked, incredulous.

Harry gave him a rueful smile. "No, I didn't then, but when we started this flower thing
this summer, I began to wonder…so I sent the convallarias. When I saw Winnie coming
through the gate with the campanulas, well, then I knew for certain. Just as you
intended."

"Why was it important for you to know?" Severus asked. The conversation was now
beyond surreal, so he was indulging his curiosity.

"I don't know. It's just that seeing those flowers there, then planting something myself,
made me feel… still makes me feel connected to someone…who still remembers…who
still cares."

"A great many people still care, Harry."

The man considered him, then shook his head. "Not the way you or I do."

"No, I suppose not. The three of us were bound together in a way that few others would
understand," he agreed.
They sat just looking at each other for a moment, then Harry softly said, "Dumbledore
would get a kick out of it."

"I imagine he would. He loved flowers," he agreed.

"No, Severus. That you and I are sitting here together ten years after the war talking
about flowers. That's what he'd find amusing."

"He's not the only one," Severus murmured in agreement.

***

Harry had insisted on walking Severus up the lane. "It'll get me out of helping with the
clean-up. And I need to walk off some of that ." He gestured at the empty wine bottle.
"You'll be doing me a favor, Severus. If it's all right with you?"

"Very well, as long as it's not out of some misplaced concern that I can't find my way."
Severus gave in, knowing that he was in no shape to Apparate even the short distance
home.

They walked all the way to the crest in a disturbingly comfortable silence, reminding
Severus of the many hours they'd spent once upon a time in a similar fashion, in a world
that now seemed very far away.

He recalled a night just before the end had come, when he'd sat keeping watch while
Harry slept, the moon pouring in to slant across his face. He would never tell him, of
course, but he'd experienced the most confusing mixture of emotions then: regret, that
he'd so badly misjudged him (Albus had been right after all); respect, that he'd
persevered in spite of being misunderstood (mainly by the Order); protectiveness, for
someone who was indeed worthy of it (if not he himself, then who else would do it?);
finally, a small measure of affection that he'd consistently ignored and dismissed (but
then, why bother, as they'd both been likely to die).

As they tramped their way, unspeaking, Severus was assaulted by all of these anew. The
regret was the least of them, however, as he believed that he'd repaid that debt somehow
over the years, by setting aside all hostility to embrace a mutual, albeit undeclared, truce.
The respect had burgeoned tonight as he'd watched Harry with Graham and Winnie. The
later two elements were his quandary: he could not deny that he'd been alarmed, and
then quietly determined in spite of himself, on learning that Harry still suffered from
nightmares. Whether or not he'd have any chance or future inclination to offer assistance
was indeed in doubt, but his proclivity to be protective was not.

The affection, however, had caught him by surprise, a sum total of words, looks, and that
one shocking moment of touch: Harry loved flowers; Harry had preserved those that
Severus had sent; Harry thought they were doing a 'song and dance'; Harry had blushed;
Harry had touched him. All just minutes out of an entire evening of impressions and
conversation, but they'd been memorable ones, and Severus had taken note of every
single one. He was a scientist, after all, and gathering evidence was a part of his trade
that spilled over into every facet of his personality.

"Severus, can I ask you something?" Harry finally broke the silence

"You may, " he automatically corrected him.

"You can tell me to piss off, and I'd probably never ask if I were entirely sober, but have
you ever had someone ?"

"Piss off, Harry," he immediately replied.

A soft laugh. "All right, that's fair, I guess. But aren't you ever lonely? Rattling around in
that big house by yourself?"

"Piss off once again, Harry. And how do you even know that my house is large enough
to rattle around in?" he asked as they started down the other side.

"Oh, I've seen it. I've walked up a few times at night when I couldn't sleep. One night
your light was on, and I almost got up the nerve to knock on your door. But I was afraid
that you'd…."

Severus gave him a sideways glance. "Afraid that I'd what?"

Another laugh. "Tell me to piss off."

"Hmm, I might have, but now that I know that it's my gardens you're interested in, I'd be
more likely to let you in." He remembered his resolve over what Graham had told him.
"The next time you're at that impasse, give it a try. What's the worst I could say?"

"Piss off," they both said at the same time, making Harry snicker and Severus snort.

They walked on another fifty meters in silence until they came to the front gate. Severus
paused with his hand on it, and then extended the invitation. "You're welcome to take a
walk through now, if you'd like. The moon is full, so you could see the general layout, I
think."

"No, thanks, I think I'd best be getting back. Besides, I'd really like to see it during the
day, if you're still inclined to let me in." He stopped and stood quietly, just looking at
Severus in the moonlight. "Thanks for coming, Severus. I wasn't sure you would, but
really, you were the best part of my evening. And Winnie's as well," he teased.

Suddenly, Severus remembered and reached into his robe pocket to pull out what he'd
forgot until just now. He'd decided to hold it back earlier in the evening, slightly
intimidated by the lavish gifts Harry had received, and the fact that he'd not even thought
to wrap it. "This was for you, Harry. It's not much, and it's something from my library,
so it's not even new, but given our 'song and dance' of the past five weeks, I thought you
might like it." He held the small book out and was rewarded by a full-faced smile.

Harry smoothed over the cover, tilting the book to read the title out loud. "One-Hundred
Flowers and How They Got Their Names, by Diana Wells." He turned the book over to
peruse the back of the jacket, then his eyes widened. "It's a Muggle book. Where on
earth did you get such a thing?" He was flipping through the pages already.

"When it comes to things botanical, I've found that the best and most comprehensive
works are Muggle ones, " he defended himself. He snagged the book back and quickly
found a page, then reached an arm to turn Harry and himself so the moonlight was
streaming over their shoulders. "For example, did you know that the dahlia tuber with
which you gifted me was once under consideration to replace the potato in the French
court? Or that bouquets of daisies were once used for telling time, so predictable the
opening and closing of their petals?"

Harry turned slightly and smiled at him, his eyes shimmering in the light of the moon.
"No, I didn't know that. It's a great gift, Severus. I think it's my favorite, in fact. It's only
fair I have a copy, as it seems you're going to be completely obnoxious with flower
trivia." Severus was opening his mouth to make a suitable comeback, when Harry caught
his eyes for a startling moment, then leant in without warning.

Severus felt a shock go through him as Harry kissed him…warm wet lips that slowly
mouthed over his own, a tentative flick of a tongue, before pulling back and away.

Harry's eyes widened and he was immediately apologetic. "Gods, Severus, I'm sorry. I
don't know what came over me, but it must have…." He stopped as Severus pressed a
finger against his lips to make him stop.

"Shh, Harry," he told him gently, then moved his face closer as he took his fingers away.
This time Severus did more than feel the kiss; this time he executed it with urgency.
Pressing his mouth against Harry's, he pushed with his tongue, then groaned when
permission was granted. He heard the book fall onto the lane, and felt hands in his hair,
even as he found the back of a neck with his own hand. For a moment, heat exploded
between them, as each possessed and fought for dominance, Harry holding his head in
his hands, Severus holding Harry at the nape. When they both stopped to take a breath,
there was no pulling apart. After several moments of just standing close together that
way, there was one final, almost chaste kiss before Harry stepped slightly back.

They stood just inches apart, eyeing one another, and Severus was certain that the
confusion he saw in those green eyes was a mirror of his own. Harry brought a hand up
to his own lips, then reached out to touch Severus' for a moment. Letting his hand drop
to his side, he softly said as he turned, "Good night, Severus."

Severus nodded, unsmiling. "Good night, Harry." He stood and watched, knowing that
the man would turn and look back from the crest.
***

Potion Five

Severus was up at four in the morning on Sunday and, an hour later, he was perched on
his porch step, waiting for the sunrise as he sipped at his tea. Wakefulness had actually
come as a relief, as his dreams had been troubled: a jumbled collage of Molly Weasley,
Graham, and Winnie, thrown together in that bizarre fashion that only dreams manage to
achieve. But he'd dreamt of Harry as well, and as he sat and watched the first strips of
rose and orange tint the sky, he remembered the other instances when the man had been
the source of similar…well, nightmares, those had been.

The first had occurred when Harry had been a first-year, and Severus had looked
helplessly down at the pale face of the prostrate child sprawled out in front of the Mirror
of Erised, with the Sorcerer's Stone and Quirrell's mangled body just a meter away. The
only other time that the boy had actually plagued his dreams with his physical presence
had been a horrific nighttime scene where Severus was wildly fleeing as the boy pursued
him, screaming, "Coward!"

On two other occasions, Harry had provoked other dreams, but had not himself been a
participant. Severus had relived his humiliation at James Potter's hand that very night
after Harry had 'stumbled' into his Pensieve. But by far, the worst night terror had been
the night when Harry had unwillingly assisted the Dark Lord to regain his corporeal
form, and Albus Dumbledore had finally turned to his Potions master and uttered the
chilling words, "If you are ready…if you are prepared."

As unwelcome and disturbing as those instances had been, Severus now realized that his
dream of Harry just an hour ago was far more unsettling. This had been a vision of a
Harry whom he had only begun to know: warm, green eyes that seemed to see into the
depths of him; bantering conversation that bordered on frivolous, but not quite; wells of
sadness and grief that neither of them needed to explain to the other, but were
understood, nonetheless; then…finally…an intimate press of lips, soft hair and hands,
and a pounding in his chest that had brought him to an abrupt awakening.

What bothered him most of all, was that this last assault on his sleeping senses was, in
truth, a facsimile of the Harry whom he'd encountered over the past two weeks. This was
not some dream-like parody of the flesh and blood Harry Potter—this was the waking
reality that Severus had encountered on two recent occasions. It was a difficult thing to
admit to himself, but it was the truth, plain and simple: the dream mirrored how Severus
was now experiencing Harry.

As he did most times when he was agitated or preoccupied, Severus busied himself
during the cooler hours of the morning in his garden. He worked almost furiously,
moving on his knees from row to row, pulling out weeds, pinching off buds with his
fingertips, smoothing his specially concocted plant nutrient in around the stalks.
At noon, he retreated into the cool of the house to take a shower, after which he ordered
his workbench and supplies before settling in for an afternoon of brewing. As this
activity was so soothing and almost automatic, it was inevitable that his mind would,
once again, begin to wander.

No doubt he's as disturbed as I, he reasoned to himself. It was his birthday, and he's
never managed spirits well; he was exhausted by the time he walked me home; he'd just
been given a gift and was grateful; we share a common burden from a common past.

"Indeed," he muttered aloud, as he measured out a dram of poppy powder. And what was
his own excuse, he asked himself: Meeting the Weasleys again had been awkward;
Graham's gentle insistence that Harry 'needed someone', uncomfortable; learning that
Harry still had nightmares, distressing; feeling that casual brush against his leg,
electric; finding the conversation pleasurable, surprising; enjoying the wordless walk
back, comforting; watching Harry's gratitude for his gift, rewarding; registering the lips
against his own, arousing; finally, his ill-thought response in returning the kiss,
unthinkable.

The whole evening, for both of them, had been a journey with an unpredictable ending, a
flash in the pan, he thought, never to be repeated. Harry was no doubt entertaining the
same consternation as he, and Severus decided that he wouldn't even be surprised if the
game of flowers had seen its last volley. As he turned down the flame under the
cauldron, he wondered at his vague sense of disappointment, but then shut it out of his
mind and moved on.

***

Severus had not been surprised when his tormentor had failed to put in an appearance on
Sunday. He smiled when he heard her, then, the following morning, and as usual he
waited for her to call for him from the gate. He no longer even planned on what flower
to send off with her, as now, by some unwritten rule, that choice could not be made until
he'd seen what Harry had decided to send along.

"Good Monday, Winnie," he told her as her let her through the gate, then paused and
raised his eyebrows before continuing, "I see you've been up to your usual shenanigans."
When she pouted immediately and seemed about to protest, he clarified, "Tricks,
nonsense, mischief—your usual fare." When she frowned in puzzlement, he asked her,
"What have you done to your knees?" They'd stopped in the walkway and, at his
question, Winnie used the hand not hiding the flower behind her back to daintily lift the
skirt of her frock, then leant slightly forward to examine them along with her questioner.

"Oh, my knees ?" She studied them for a moment, as if surprised to see the matching
abrasions there, but Severus suspected she was stalling.

"Yes, child, your knees ," he restated for her, his tone slightly impatient.
She looked up at him then, and he could see the spark of defiance in her eyes as she
straightened and dropped her skirt. "I jumped off the back porch," she announced.

"You jumped? Why ever for?"

There was a note of pride in her response. "I wanted to see if I could make it into the
garden without using the steps," she stopped, then gave him a small smile before
confessing, "but my feet caught on the bottom one." She carefully laid her flower on the
ground, then stood and held her palms up for him to see. "And I did this too."

He clucked as he reached out to examine the scabs on the heels of her hands. "Have you
learnt your lesson, then? That certainly had to hurt," he told her as he let go of them.

She shook her head. "Nah, not too bad. I didn't even cry, but Uncle Harry made a fuss,
and Mum kept me in the rest of the morning." She chewed her lower lip. "Haven't you
ever wanted to do something like that, Mr. Snape, just to see if you could?"

Severus motioned her to the porch steps, and after they were seated on the uppermost
one, he ignored the flower placed between them to say, "No, I've never been tempted to
attempt such a foolish thing." At her crestfallen face, he relented. "This will be our little
secret, Miss Weasley. In other words, do not dare to share this with your uncle." He
glared at her, then continued after she'd enthusiastically nodded her head. "Once, when I
was just about your age," he paused to wonder why he'd lowered his voice, "I climbed
the drain spout on the side of my house and fell off. I hit the back of my head, and
received a sound thrashing from my father." He gave her a dark look. "Undoubtedly
deserved." He studied her for a moment. "Your uncle Harry tells me you've nine lives,
but you must be more careful, child. Sooner or later, you'll not get off so easily."

He reached over and firmly removed the little hand that was picking at the scab on a
knee "Well, what say you, young lady? I seem to remember a promise made…several
times," he finished dryly, watching as the hand moved on to pick at the petals of the
flower on the step in between them.

The blue eyes slid up to find his own. "Yeah, I know, but it doesn't seem like something
bad until after I do it."

"You must learn to think before you leap, Winnie. Quite literally in this case, I'm afraid."
He watched as she continued to dismantle the flower, then reached over to stop her hand.
"What have you brought me today?" he asked.

He watched as her embarrassment was replaced by the pleasure of the game. Crossing
her legs Indian-style, she reached down and picked it up with both hands to almost
reverently hold it out. Even I know what this one is," she told him as he took it by the
stem. "But like all the other flowers, this one has a special name too. Do you know it,
Mr. Snape?"
Severus bent in and fingered the hearty, pink petal furls on the outside, then traced
inward with a circular motion to expose the yellow blush of the innermost ones. He sat
up suddenly, so that he almost knocked heads with the child who'd bent in to examine
the flower with him.

Amused, he said as he lifted the flower to his face, "This is an Alchemist, Miss Weasley,
a variety of climber rose." He held it at his chin and let the fragrance waft up naturally.

He was still holding it there, when Winnie's tone of voice caught him by surprise; it was
endearingly playful, but held a note of knowledge and taunting that made him give her a
sharp look.

"Did you know, Mr. Snape, that there was a queen in France who always carried a rose?"
She looked at him triumphantly.

"Did your mother tell you this? And yes, I do indeed know." He watched her face fall a
little as she shook her head." Ah, someone's been reading his birthday gift. "And did
your uncle tell you why? Why she always carried a rose in public?"

"No, he said you'd more than likely tell me straight off. I didn't think you'd know the
answer to that one," she almost whinged in disappointment. She watched him as she
waited, then asked impatiently, "Well?"

He tapped her on the nose lightly with the rose. "Because…Miss Weasley, she had rotten
teeth, and always held a rose in front of her face when she smiled." He watched as her
eyes grew wide. "Her name was Josephine, and she was very famous, Winnie." He
frowned, then said as an afterthought, "Although, not quite as famous as the queen
before her, the one who's renowned for saying, 'Let them eat cake,'" he finished, slightly
dismayed at his unusual flight of ideas.

The girl uncrossed her legs suddenly, and leant in to grab at both of his sleeves. "Oooh,
that reminds me, I have a secret," she said in a stage whisper. "Do you promise not to
tell?"

Severus sat back and reclined against the banister. "Are you certain it's a secret that
you're permitted to share? I wouldn't want you to betray a confidence, or
a promise made ."

The pretty face contorted momentarily while she considered, but then she obviously
made up her mind. Still whispering, she told him, "Do you know that Uncle Harry and
I've had birthday cake for breakfast for two days? He said not to tell Mum, but he didn't
say anything about you, so I guess that's all right, isn't it?" she queried, slightly anxious.

Severus could not control the slight upward curl of his lips. "No, I definitely think it's
your mother whom you'd best not tell that one to. Your secret is safe with me. In fact, I
ate my take-away piece of it yesterday at breakfast as well." He winced as she shrieked
in response, then shook his head disapprovingly as she stood and jumped the four steps
into the yard. When she made the landing perfectly, and crowed with delight, he gave in
and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees as he watched her spin in circles.

When she finally stopped, swaying a little dizzily, she gave him a lopsided grin and said,
"We're all secret sweet eaters, then. That's what Uncle Harry called us." She giggled
once more, then, her features transparent, sobered as something seemed to occur to her.
"You know, Uncle Harry was so happy you came to the party." He was perplexed by the
sadness in her eyes, which was immediately explained with, "But I don't think my
grandma was very happy that you came." She looked distressed. "Uncle Harry says it's
because of something that happened before I was born. And I'm not supposed to ask her
about it because it will make her sad." She stopped and waited, unsmiling, kicking at the
edge of the bottommost step.

So, it comes down to this. An opportunity to distill the complexities of all that's
happened, all that's still resented, all that's not been understood or forgiven, and put it
in terms that a six-year-old, a precocious one, mind you, will be able to understand
enough to let it go.

He stood and stepped down to the yard, then reseated himself on the bottom step. The
child, almost intuitively, must have sensed the moment, for she stopped her fidgeting
and stood just in front of him, her clear blue eyes level with his own.

He searched her face for a moment, then nodded. "Sometimes, when you're trying to do
something good, something bad can happen. Something that you never imagined could
happen. Do you understand?" When she gave him a puzzled look, he added, "For
example, you flying your uncle's broom seemed a good thing, didn't it? But something
very bad could've happened to you that you'd not intended." He reached out and fixed
her chin with a hand. "In your case, you can make a choice so that the bad thing doesn't
happen, and you'll end up better for it." He paused. "With your skull intact," he chided
her gently. "But sometimes there isn't a choice, and the bad thing is a complete surprise,
something no one anticipated, and sometimes people are hurt or even die. This is not
easy for a child of your age to understand," he murmured, mostly to himself.

She didn't immediately reply, buy stood very still as she thought about what he'd said.
Taking a deep breath, she informed him, "My grandpa died in the war."

Severus leant back on his elbows now as he considered how best to answer. "Yes, he
did, Winnie." Then he hesitated. "Along with your Uncle Ronald, your father's youngest
brother…and many others."

She answered quickly enough that Severus knew she'd heard this many times before.
"Grandma says they were heroes," she told him gravely.

"She's correct; they were definitely that." He was, however, stunned by her next
question, delivered with her usual directness.
"Did you kill them, Mr. Snape? Because Grandma says it was your fault that they died."
There was no accusation in her face, just childlike curiosity.

Dear God. He sat up straight and pulled at his cuffs as he formed a reply in his head. I
wonder what she's been told; more specifically, I wonder what Harry's told
her. "Remember what I said about bad things happening when you're trying to do
something good?" When she nodded at him, he explained, "Your uncle and I worked
very hard to be able to defeat the Dark Lord. What we didn't know, Miss Weasley, was
that the spell we were going to use would kill other people at the same time." He was
silent now, lost in a brief remembrance of that occasion, as he had been countless times
before. It was not a lengthy replay, just those startling sixty seconds of the aftermath, in
which both he and Harry had become instantly aware of what had occurred. He shook
his head.

"It was an accident, child. Your Uncle Ronald was your Uncle Harry's very best friend,
and your grandfather a very respected colleague of my own." He was struck by the
empathy etched on her face. How could she even begin to understand what this was like,
let alone so readily forgive the loss to her family? "I'll not say more, Winnie. Your
grandmother had a very difficult time afterward. And I think just seeing me reminds her
of them."

The blue eyes were bright with tears. "All right. I think I understand that. But she's not
cross with Uncle Harry, so why's she cross with you? It really isn't fair, Mr. Snape. You
didn't mean for it to happen." Severus realized suddenly where her problem lay.

"You must not take offence for me, Miss Weasley. I can fight my own battles very well,
and I don't want you distressing your grandmother any further by coming to my
defense." His face softened as he saw her tears begin to spill over. "Sometimes when
someone you love dies, especially if it doesn't make much sense to you, it helps to have
someone to blame," he finished softly, looking away. "I think that's what your
grandmother's done." He brought the rose up to his face and inhaled once. "Uncle
Harry's been a part of your family since he was a boy, Winnie, so there was never a
question of blaming him. Well, not for very long at least. I was a great deal older, so the
decision was made that I should bear the weight of responsibility in the matter." He
paused and looked at her once again. "For everyone that died from that final curse." He
laughed, mostly to himself. "Except for the Dark Lord. Your uncle gets most of the
credit for that," he concluded, but without any trace of bitterness.

The child swiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. "So, my grandpa dying was the
bad thing, but it happened so that the Dark Lord would die. But you and Uncle Harry
didn't mean for it to happen at all," she summarized, giving him a tremulous smile.

He gave her a wan and weary look. "In a nutshell, yes. A bit more complicated, mind
you, but those are the basic facts. But even the facts," he warned her, "aren't very
comforting to those who've lost loved ones in a war. Your grandmother and ," he
emphasized, "some of your uncles have never really forgiven me, I think, for not
foreseeing the final outcome." He stood and lowered the rose to his side as he looked
down at her upturned face. "I think it best if you not tell your grandmother about our
conversation. I wouldn't want to upset her any more than I already have."

Winnie nodded absently, and he was surprised at how quickly she just let the matter
drop. "She's going back to the Burrow today. I think she and my mum need their space."

Severus restrained a smile as he thought of the two rather headstrong women actually
sharing a house for any length of time. "And where did you hear that, 'need their space'?"

She grinned in reply. "Oh, that's what Uncle Harry said when they were arguing over
where to put the new knickerbocker glory glass set. But I think I was the only one who
heard him." She was now beginning to look around the garden.

"I imagine you were," he said as he placed the rose atop the railing, for a moment pitying
Harry being trapped with the women in the house with just Winnie for reinforcements.
He was brought back to the present by the insistent tugging at his sleeve.

"Hey! I've been here a long time, I think. We'd better get my flower," she coaxed,
pulling him toward the side of the house. The wheels had started turning, of course, the
moment he'd seen the Alchemist's rose, so he led her off to the left of the yard, towards
the tall barrier hedge. Nestled against it was a row of identical dense bushes, each one
sporting blossoms of a different color. He clipped a deep pink rose from near the top of
one, and the child ooo-ed and ahh-ed at the nearly perfect, half-open bud, taking care not
to crush its delicate petals as she subjected it to the fragrance test.

Gratified by her response, he instructed her, "It's an Apothecary's rose, child. A bit larger
than the one your uncle sent. Perhaps a bit more useful for hiding the Empress' rotten
teeth, don't you think?" He was amused when the child hid her face with the rose when
she laughed in reply.

What a sharp tack she is , he thought, and not for the first time, was relieved that he
would not have to teach her at Hogwarts. He mentally wished them well, those who
would have to do so. They would need it, he smirked to himself, as he watched her trot
up the lane.

***

Thursday afternoon found Severus beginning his weekly assignment for the CF&W
contract. He'd gathered the ingredients early that same morning: elderberries, lavender,
peppermint, and belladonna leaves. Preparation time had been brief, consisting mostly of
washing and removing stems and blights, and he was now just about to begin the actual
brewing itself. He brought two fingers-breadth of water to boil in the cauldron, deftly but
unceremoniously dumped in the required elements, then lastly stirred in a pre-measured
amount of honey. He stirred for several minutes until the mixture was uniform in
consistency, then lowered the flame so that it barely simmered, fastened the lid tightly,
and quickly cleaned his tools and workspace.

He sat at his desk to bring his logbook up to date, but before making today's entry, he
thumbed thoughtfully through its pages. Today's potion was a syrup, for Merlin's
sake, the most innocuous of the five he'd prepared to date. But a new possibility
presented itself as he considered the contract thus far, and he swore at himself, that he
was just now beginning to see the possible implications of the venture as a whole.

A syrup could be used for many things, of course. But if he took into account the other
potions he'd dutifully brewed and sent off, the conclusion that he was being forced to
make was disturbing, to say the least. The syrup he was concocting could have only one
purpose, the belladonna aside, and that was its use to make something else palatable.
And that something else , he couldn't help but suspect, were the potions that he'd
furnished the four prior weeks, all of which had the potential to be harmful, although
none of them, taken alone, lethal. All of those potions had the capability to be
nauseating, to be sure, but the addition of a syrup , such as the one he was brewing now,
would cover their more noxious tastes and odors with a sweet and aromatic flavor. The
belladonna in the syrup was puzzling, but its quantity, as in the other potions, was not
harmful, only powerfully sedative in nature.

But what if these potions were to be taken together, in the space of hours? What if the
client's intent was less than savory, whether suicidal, or worse, homicidal? It could
certainly be lethal if used in that fashion. But why would someone even bother with the
subtleties, when a single potion of a different nature could accomplish either objective
without so much effort or money?

Severus couldn't help but entertain these questions, and in the end decided, in frustration,
that he was speculating, pure and simple. On the other hand, he was certain that he
would never again place himself in such a precarious position, of being the instrument of
someone whose purposes he might not condone, were he to be apprised of them. But for
now, he told himself that there was only this and one more installation to be supplied,
and he'd be glad to wash his hands of the whole affair...and be much more cautious in
the future, no matter what amount of money was dangled in front of him.

He was just finishing his notations, when he heard the child chattering at the gate. She'd
not come that morning, and Severus had worried, in spite of himself. Wiping his hands,
he moved to the screened door, then stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, then
continued out onto the porch.

He motioned with a hand for her to come through the gate, then watched wordlessly as
she and Harry made their way up the walk. She was tugging him by the hand, with the
other predictably hidden behind her back.
"Hullo, Mr. Snape, look who came with me!" She squinted up at him from the bottom of
the steps where both of them had stopped. "I told him you wouldn't mind, didn't I, Uncle
Harry?" She looked from one to the other apprehensively.

"Severus," said a Harry who didn't appear the least bit apprehensive.

"Harry," Severus replied, noting that the man also had a hand hidden behind him.

This mystery was solved as Winnie held out a napkin-wrapped package to him. "We
brought you more birthday cake," she whispered, which made both men smile. "For your
breakfast," she added in explanation.

Severus took it from her with a serious expression, then asked her, although he already
knew the answer, "So, I take it I'm to have cake in place of a flower today? Not that I'm
disappointed," he glanced at Harry, "as I'm fond of both of them, Winnie. Thank you for
thinking of me and my breakfast," he finished.

Her hands free, the girl clapped them in glee as she grinned. "No! We didn't just bring
cake, did we, Uncle Harry?" When Harry smiled down at her, she prompted, "Well, go
on, then. Give it to him! What are you waiting for?"

Severus watched her with amusement as Harry finally complied and brought his hand
out from behind him. He didn't offer it right away, but stood just holding it as he looked
for Severus' reaction.

He couldn't have been disappointed, as Severus was unable to control the surprise that
spread across his face. He involuntarily reached for it as Harry finally held it out to him,
but then eagerly took it and began a careful inspection of the rare flower. It was
exquisite, from its cream-colored petals to its golden yellow horn. He'd never seen a
cultivated one before, and decided, then and there, that pictures of it certainly were
woefully inadequate.

The child was strangely silent between them, seeming to sense that this was a moment
that required her to keep her tongue and let the adults voice their sentiments.

Severus finished by holding the flower out to the child as he said, "Do you know what
this is, Miss Weasley? It's a Stanhopea orchid. Very rare and very difficult to grow. I've
never actually seen one before." He straightened then, and looked up to find Harry
smiling a satisfied smile.

The smile became a grin when he met Severus' eyes. "I knew you'd know what it was, of
course. I was hoping to shock you a bit," he cocked his head, "and I think I did, didn't I?"

Severus wasn't admitting anything just yet. "Where on earth did you come by it? You
can't have grown it, but it seems freshly cut. I tried once, but didn't have much luck with
this species…" he trailed off as he saw the look on Harry's face.
"Oh, I did grow it, Severus. Just not here on the estate. I brought it from own
greenhouses only an hour ago. That's why we're late today, because I asked Winnie to
wait until I got back. For this one, at least, I wanted to see the look on your…" he
stopped, then inexplicably blushed as he looked away for a moment.

"Well, you've accomplished something I've not been able to do then, so congratulations
are in order. It's a fine specimen. You'll have to show me how…" It was Severus' turn to
stop suddenly, as he realized what he'd almost proposed.

Harry looked back then, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment, until
Severus finally said with a hint of sarcasm, "You're well aware, then, of the history of
orchids as a species, hmm? They've always been the 'sex flowers' of the botanical world.
You may have discovered the details in that little book where you read about Josephine's
rose?"

Harry laughed out loud. "Severus, I've been growing these for several years, and yes, I'm
well aware of their origins, and even more so, their place in the history of lust." He
shoved both hands in his pockets in a gesture of nonchalance.

Severus allowed himself a small smile and engaged in the game. "What am I to think,
then, Harry, as this flower is definitely your gift, and not Winnie's, and a gift that carries
such historically sexual overtones?" He paused and lowered his voice. "Or am I thinking
too much about a wholly innocent gift?"

Harry met his eyes levelly. "Think what you like, Severus. But I want you to know," he
reached over and traced a finger over a petal of the flower, "that I put a great deal of
thought into the choosing of it."

They stood that way for a moment, both of them admiring the orchid that Severus still
held out, while Harry continued to gently finger and instruct on its components.

The third person, whom they seemed to have forgotten, now reached the limits of being
ignored. "Hey! It's hot out here! Can we sit on the porch?"

***

They'd bypassed the porch for the much cooler sitting room, where Winnie was now
actively engaged, playing with Severus' cat and its basket of playthings. After
admonishing her to stay put and not venture outside on her own, Severus led Harry to his
lab where his potion now required his attention.

When he lifted the lid and the steam rose from the simmering cauldron, Harry's nose
twitched, and he commented, "My God. That smells almost…delicious. What on earth is
it?" He leant over to study its contents, then looked up at Severus quizzically.

"It should smell delicious. It's a syrup with an elderberry base," he informed him as he
stirred the frothing mixture.
"Ah," was Harry's only reply as he watched him fasten the lid back onto the top.

Severus shrugged. "Not my usual type of order, but this is what was requested." He
turned and gestured Harry to a seat on the other side of his desk, while he took the one
opposite him.

Harry took a drink of his tea, then cleared his throat once before saying, "Severus, I
wanted to talk to you about what happened Saturday night." He was clearly
uncomfortable

Ah. Just as I thought. Severus took a drink of his own and then waved dismissively. "We
both had a bit too much to drink, so there's no need," he informed him neutrally.
"Consider it a slip on both our parts, so there's no need to apologize," he graciously
offered.

He knew he'd missed the mark when Harry smiled at him crookedly and shook his head.
"Oh, that ." He ran a hand through his hair as he laughed. "All right then, but it's
not that …what I wanted to talk to you about." He paused, then sat back in his chair, his
eyes sparkling. "Considering the two of us, it was quite a slip , if that's what you want to
call it. A slip…" He would not let it rest. "…perhaps, but not one that I regret, now that
I've had time to think about it." He ran a finger over his lips, and Severus felt a confusing
tingle in his own. "Do you regret it?" Harry asked him, his voice lower and softer.

Severus, who'd thought about this all week and been unable to decide the answer to this
very question, now found the instantaneous answer. "No, I don't regret it," he admitted,
but felt suddenly unsure. "I'm not sure it should be repeated, however," he added gently
as he looked down into his cup.

"Hmmm, can't say I've thought that far ahead," Harry murmured as he watched him for a
moment, then seemed to take his own turn at uncertainty. "I couldn't sleep Saturday
night, partly because of that ," he paused with a smile, "but mostly because I felt sorry
about what happened with Molly and the twins. You shouldn't have been treated like
that," he said flatly.

Severus gave him a wry smile. "I've made my peace with the fact that they won't ever be
part of my adoring public ," he said snidely, but then added, "It's understandable, and all
things considered, they didn't treat me badly at all, just a little coolly. You needn't
concern yourself, I assure you. How often do our paths even cross, for that matter? Let it
go, as I told Winnie a few days ago. It's the best course of action at this point," he
finished.

Harry listened closely, but shook his head near the finish. "No, it's not all right. Well,
maybe for Molly. She's always been a tad opinionated, and, well, she's older, but that
still isn't much of an excuse," he muttered. His voice was edged with a determination
that Severus remembered. "The twins are a different story, though." He raised his cup
with a questioning glance, and waited while Severus summoned the pot and refilled it.
"When I couldn't sleep, for whatever reason," he smiled at Severus as he stressed the
word, "I ended up on the porch with them, and of course, since you were on my mind,
we talked about things." His eyes took on a far away look for a moment, and Severus
waited without prompting him.

"We've talked about it on several occasions before, but there were some things that I'd
never explained to them." He looked Severus straight in the eye. "How we'd no time to
test it; in fact, how we were afraid to give it away if we did that; how there was no clue
from the source text that there would even be a shock wave. And how it came down to
my final decision, and how neither one of us was even certain that we'd survive if we
cast it." He looked away for a moment, and Severus guessed that he was remembering.

A remembrance that Severus now felt it prudent to interrupt. "We both knew that there
would likely be repercussions, Harry, if only for the fact that it required such
a…collaboration on our parts, not to mention the very real damage that occurred," he
pointed out.

Harry nodded, and seemed to appreciate that Severus had intentionally cut short his
introspection. "Well, we talked about it until the sun came up, and now…I think they
understand. Even though I'd explained to them before, I think they'd heard so much from
Molly that they kind of ignored what I'd told them. But they get it now, Severus. An
imperfect solution for an imperfect world. I made them see that you're no more
responsible than I am." He winced slightly at his last words. "Actually, that's not letting
you off the hook much, is it?" He sighed, and then put his head in his hands.

Severus sat up straighter as concern, unbidden, coursed through him. "Stop it this
instant, Mr. Potter. You and I laid this to rest long ago, did we not? We did what we had
to do, in good faith that we were doing the right thing. I'll not have you second-guessing
and ruining my own peace in the process. Look at me," he almost hissed, and Harry's
head came up with a snap. "It's over and done with, long ago. And Molly Weasley seems
to be the only one who still finds it necessary to affix blame. If her placing it on my
shoulders keeps it off of yours, then I suggest you let her do it, if only for your own sake,
as you have to see her regularly," he huffed. Irritated, he watched as Harry's shoulders
slightly slumped. More gently, he told him, "It's not as if you came away from it free and
clear, is it?" He waved in the general direction of Harry's legs. "I noticed that your limp
is more pronounced today. Why is that?"

Harry locked his hands around his knee and pulled slightly upwards. "Oh, it's nothing I
can't bear," he said wearily. "Some days it's worse than others. It's been more
bothersome this week." He looked at Severus meaningfully. "Graham's taken a turn for
the worse. He's not been out of bed all week. Between what needs done there, and
keeping an eye on Fleur and," he sighed as he rolled his eyes, "Madam Catastrophe, I've
overdone it a bit, I'm afraid. But most times, it's just numb, not painful." He stretched the
leg out in front of him, and for the first time, Severus noticed that the thigh was slightly
smaller than the other one. Muscle wasting , he thought to himself, from nerve damage
that wasn't immediately tended to. Regrettable.
They sat in silence, finishing their tea, sharing a smile as they listened to Winnie in the
next room, as she tried to order the cat to sit up on command.

"She's something, isn't she" Harry asked distractedly.

"Hmm, yes, she is that," Severus commiserated.

***

Winnie walked with them as Severus showed Harry the layout of his gardens. It was late
enough that the sun was just starting to pitch below the trees on the higher grounds.

"It's impressive what you've got here," Harry told him enthusiastically. "My gardens are
much younger than yours, so some of the plants haven't matured enough to yield. I'll
keep in mind what you have, should I ever need anything," he teased.

Severus harrumphed. "Nothing that you can't get from any decent apothecary, so don't
you dare," he warned him as he led them towards the smaller of his greenhouses. He
took one look at the bouncing six-year-old and came to a decision. "As much as I'd like
to show you the interior, I think that will keep for another day," he said as he glanced
pointedly at the redheaded package of endless energy. "Wait here, if you will." He left
them and found his way to the back of the structure.

He returned almost immediately, to find Harry stretched out on the grass as he watched
Winnie chasing the cat in between the rows. He squinted up at Severus as he
approached, then broke out into a grin as he spied what he was carrying.

"A Pleione praecox, Severus?" he asked, his voice slightly mocking. "It's an orchid. Are
you sure you want to make such a commitment?" he teased.

Severus stared at him, then slowly smiled. "I always respond in kind, Harry. It was you
who played this card first," he told him smugly.

Harry's face fell slightly, and Severus watched, slightly chagrinned, while Harry
examined the delicate lilac petals and frilly horn. When he was finished, he looked up at
him and softly said, "So I did, play the first card, and you're only returning the favor," he
conceded as he struggled to his feet.

Severus looked from Harry's face to the pleione and back again. "Hmmm, perhaps. But
I'd hundreds of flowers to choose from, Harry, and I chose to respond with an orchid .
My choice should be no less meaningful than your own," he murmured as he caught
Harry's eye.

Harry blushed as he considered the orchid once again. Looking up, he found Severus
still watching him, who knew from the look in those eyes that Harry would have the
final word. I've seen that look before.
At the gate, with Harry's parting words, Severus knew that he'd been right.

"You know, I don't think I'm going to preserve this one. I'm going to let nature take its
course, and just see what happens." He watched Severus just long enough to see the
spark of surprise, then turned and took Winnie's hand. "See you, Severus. Enjoy your
cake."

Severus wondered at himself as he stood and waited, but found he could not move until
they turned at the crest to wave their farewell.

***

That evening as the sun set, Severus sat against the porch railing and reminisced about
that fateful night when he and Harry had come face to face with the instrument that
would prove to be the regrettable source of Molly Weasley's grief and the undoing of a
Dark Lord, the latter definitely not regrettable.

Harry appeared soundlessly in the darkened room, and Severus could not help but
admire the man's newfound skill at Apparation.

"Well?" he asked impatiently as the man shrugged out of his cloak.

"Well, I got it," Harry announced as he triumphantly slammed the book to the desk in
front of Severus.

"This is it," Severus breathed almost reverently, as he smoothed the leather cover with
his hands. "Did you encounter any difficulties?" he asked as Harry pulled a chair up
beside him.

Harry shook his head. "No. Hermione met me at the gates as planned. Then it was
simply a matter of finding where they'd stored your things." He grinned, almost
wickedly. "Nearly Headless Nick always liked me, and was only too happy to oblige.
That, and my Invisibility Cloak, kept the whole thing under wraps." The grin faded. "You
know, you have more books than a person ought to be allowed to have," he complained.
"It took me almost an hour to find it."

"An hour spent entirely among books—that must've been a novelty for you. Well, it was
an hour well-spent, then, because this is exactly what we need," he said distractedly as
he paged through the tome.

"Why this particular book, Severus? It's incredibly old; even I could figure that out."
They both lapsed into silence as Severus thumbed through the pages, frowning in
concentration, until the older wizard sat bolt upright in surprise.

"What in blazes…?" he trailed off as he flattened the opened book in front of them. He
shot Harry a look of confusion, then they both leant in to read.
The title in Latin meant nothing to Harry, but it was the writing at the top of the page
that riveted both their attentions.

In the headmaster's distinctive script, was written, 'Severus, this is what you're looking
for, I believe. Take extra care, and mind Harry. Good fortune to both of you.'

"What?" Harry demanded. "The Headmaster knew about this?"

Severus' mind was spinning; of course, he'd once mentioned this particular Dark Arts
rite to the headmaster, but after a brief discussion of its origins and possible
applications, they'd never spoken of it again. But he should've known, he should've
remembered this…. "Hmm, yes he knew. We discussed it…many, many years ago. Long
before you even came to Hogwarts. Obviously, he'd never forgotten it," he murmured as
he scanned through the rite. He held up a hand to silence him when Harry began his
questions again.

He read on, taking notes as he did, and was only dimly aware that Harry had banked the
fire and was moving about the room. His mind boggled at the sheer potential of what he
was reading, even as something deeper inside him quailed at what would be
required…of both of them. But…but, it could work, and considering the
circumstances…of which Harry knew nothing…it was startlingly fitting. He realized that
Albus had known this long ago. Of that he was certain.

He pushed back from his chair, stood and began to pace. Harry knew him well enough
to just let him alone, for the time being. Severus mentally listed and catalogued what
would be required, weighed the risks and possibilities, considered how powerful, as well
as devastating, such a cooperative rite could prove to be. He sat again and began to
write in earnest, outlining ingredients of the potion and steps to the spell. As he worked,
he felt a mixture of hope and an almost overwhelming sense of responsibility build
within him.

When he was finally finished, unaware of how much time had passed, he closed the book
and rested his forehead on it, unmoving until he felt the warmth of a cup being pressed
into his hand.

"Severus?" The voice sounded concerned.

He looked up at the man sitting across from him, and suddenly, he was afraid. Because
for the very first time since they'd begun their fragile cooperation, Severus could see an
end in sight. "We can do it," he told the man grimly. "And the fact that Dumbledore
marked this somehow," he paused as he spread his hands in a gesture of 'Who knows?',
"is proof positive that he believed that we could do it. So, Mister Potter, are you up to
the task?" His eyes glittered as he fixed Harry to the spot.

But Harry returned the look unfazed. "Show me how."

And the future, one that would exact both a terrible price and glorious victory, had been
set.

***

The next morning, Severus sent off the syrup just as the sun was about to come up.
Weighed down by that memory, of how responsible he'd felt when he and Harry had
finally been in agreement to use a Dark Arts rite against a very Dark Lord, he fervently
hoped that he wasn't now, albeit unknowingly, acting irresponsibly. It was an entirely
different circumstance, to be sure, because this time he definitely had a choice in the
matter. He was well aware, however, that there were still those who believed that
he had had a choice in that first matter…and chosen poorly.

***

Potion Six/Part One

The following Monday morning, Severus stood at the rail at the front of his garden and,
with something akin to relief, removed the parchment from the solicitor's owl. Just on
the verge of examining its contents, he heard the child's singsong voice as she appeared
at the top of the crest. He carefully folded the paper, then leant on the fence to watch as
she made her way down the lane, for the moment unaware of his presence.

She seemed lost in her six-year-old world as she half-walked, half-skipped in time to
some ditty she was singing to herself, weaving from one side of the lane to the other,
stopping here and there to look at a wildflower or pick something up from the road to
inspect it. The whole time, of course, she took care not to damage the large flower stalk
she carried, and Severus had already drawn his conclusions before she spied him and
suddenly thrust it behind her back.

"Hullo!" she called when she saw him, then set her lollygagging aside to finally reach
him at the rail. She smiled as she asked him, "Were you waiting for me, Mr. Snape?"

She was a study in pink before him, from frock to socks, from hair-ribbons to shoes, and
he thought to himself that the flower she carried today set the whole scheme off rather
nicely. "No, I'd just received my morning owl post, Miss Weasley, when you made your
presence abundantly known. So, I waited," he finished, "curious to see if your flower
would survive your descent down the lane." He jerked suddenly to the side and waved a
bee away from his hair, then looked back to find his visitor giggling.

"You're afraid of bees," she had the audacity to accuse with a smile.

"I certainly am not, but it's wise to respect and avoid things that can cause you pain," he
told her firmly with a frown, "although that seems to be a lesson you've yet to learn."

She peered up at him, and Severus could almost hear the wheels turning as she thought.
"But sometimes things hurt you, no matter what you do," she instructed him as she held
his eye while they both walked the last meter to the gate. "You just have to grin and bear
it," she went on. "That means 'make the best of it'," she told him with no small amount of
condescension.

Severus hid the smile as he let her in. "Oh ho, and from what gruesome experience in
your short but colorful life have you learnt this lesson, may I ask?" The child followed
him to the chairs beneath the bayberry tree and perched on the edge of the one opposite
his. When she didn't answer, but only nervously fingered the stalk of the flower now
fully in view, Severus prompted her, "Well?"

Her eyes riveted on the blossom, she murmured a little sadly, "That's what Uncle Harry
says. In fact…" The eyes looked up at him. "He told me that just today before he left."

Severus was startled by the flash of misery in those eyes, but before he had a chance to
respond, Winnie held the long-stemmed flower out to him. "It's only got a single flower,
but it's huge, and the blue is beautiful, don't you think?" With the up-tilt of her lips,
Severus knew the game was afoot.

He took it carefully and smoothed one of the gentian-blue petals with a finger. The
bloom itself was large and rather delicate. "Hmm, I'm surprised at this particular choice,
Winnie. Anchusa azurea is a bit rare in this country. Was this in your garden, or did your
uncle bring it from his?" he asked, and was not surprised when she nodded at the latter.
He deliberately said nothing more, enjoying watching her fidget as he stalled.

"But do you know its other name?" she persisted impatiently.

Severus laid the flower on the table between them. "Technically, it's from the same
family as the forget-me-not, but not actually considered one…technically," he repeated
when he saw her face fall. "The actual forget-me-not is a much smaller flower and grows
in bunches, but the blooms are very similar." He wondered at this sudden need to
reassure her that Harry's choice had been appropriate. Although, he mused to himself,
Harry had to have known that he'd catch the remote association, and no doubt expected
that Severus would respond with real forget-me-nots. For a moment he was secretly
amused, then slightly perplexed by his own reaction, and for not the first time, wondered
what the two of them were doing with this dance of flowers.

He led her into the cool of the house, and after he'd seated her at the table with a glass of
lemonade, she watched with admiration as he tapped the bloom with his wand and
muttered the preserving spell. He sat back in his chair and observed as she exclaimed
over the vase of flowers displayed prominently on his sideboard. When she was finally
quiet once again, Severus returned to their earlier discussion.

"So, tell me, Winnie, why your uncle needed to advise you to 'make the best of it.' Have
you suffered some disappointment or snag in your plans to become Monkey Queen?" he
teased. The blue eyes focused on him at once, and their startling soberness told Severus
that he had missed something entirely.
"Uncle Harry is sad because Graham is dying," she told him without hesitation or self-
consciousness, her eyes watching him over the rim of her glass.

Which should he address first? he thought. Graham dying or Uncle Harry's sadness
because of it? For a moment, he was tempted to mutter an oath in honor of the absent
Gryffindor, who had so nobly set this problem on his doorstep…no, in his sitting room.

He met her eyes and gave her a slight nod. "It's always difficult to lose people one's
become attached to, especially when that person has not lived a long and full life, like
Graham. He and your uncle," he paused as he searched for the words, "have been very
good friends and shared many happy times and occasions together. It's only natural that
Uncle Harry would be sad at the prospect of losing him." He shifted uncomfortably in
his chair as he watched the child take in his words.

The pixie nodded as she said, "Dying is a part of life. Everyone has to die," she
explained, and he felt his heart pound unnaturally for an instant. "But I don't understand
why Graham has to die now. He's not even as old as my dad," she complained.

"Yes, he is young, Winnie," he agreed with her. "Muggles are subject to illnesses and
diseases that wizards never have to contend with. It's unfortunate," he paused, "but in
Graham's case, I believe he's decided that he doesn't much fancy living any more. He's
been very ill for a long while, with no possibility of recovery."

The little voice quavered as she said, "I think Daphne is going to miss him, Mr. Snape."

Severus frowned. "Daphne?"

The blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "Daphne, his little girl—she's six like
me. He might not fancy living any more, but what about her? She's going to miss him
even more than Uncle Harry will." She took the handkerchief that Severus offered and
dabbed at her eyes. "She'll have her mother, and I know Uncle Harry will still see her
sometimes, but she really loves her papa too. It's not fair."

Severus stared at her for a moment, agreeing mentally that, yes, it was very unfair, and
wondered how best to console her. "Well, it's as you said, Winnie. There's no way
around it—she'll miss him terribly, I imagine, but she'll still have her mother and her
school friends, and sometimes even your uncle. No one will ever take Graham's place,
but to quote your uncle, who I'm certain put those words in your mouth, dying is a part
of life, a part that must be embraced as much as the living part. It's a shame, though, that
she's to learn that at such a young age." His eyes darkened. "Certainly not something I'd
want you to experience at your age, precocious as you are," he told her gently.

Jutting out her lower lip, she considered his words for a moment, then pushed her glass
in front of her and sat forward in her seat. "You're not going to die, are you, Mr. Snape,"
she asked as she drew designs on the side of the sweating glass, refusing to meet his
eyes.
Severus sighed, but then smiled. "I certainly hope so, Winnie. But not in the near future,
if I can help it. Wizards live much longer than Muggles, and I'm healthy and strong and
stubborn. No," he reassured her as he reached over and caught her hands, forcing her to
look up at him, "unfortunately, you're to be stuck with me for quite some time, I expect.
In fact," he added with a note of long-suffering sarcasm, "I daresay you'll be visiting me
every summer, telling me tales of your misconduct at Hogwarts, regaling me with your
feats of prowess at Quidditch, and heaven forbid, your wooing by members of the
opposite sex." He watched in relief as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth,
then dealt his final, mind-boggling card. "And I'll no doubt have to watch you marry and
produce other obnoxious redheaded children, who will visit in the summer and insist on
molesting my garden." When she giggled, he reached over and tousled her hair,
surprised by the sudden lump in his throat.

The child grabbed one of his hands and held one. "Promise?" she asked.

Ah, no. Severus squeezed her hand. "No, I'll not promise, Winnie, as tomorrow is
promised to no one, and I'd never lie to you. But the law of probability is in our favor,"
he added, then at the look on her face, he rolled his eyes. "It's most likely that things will
turn out exactly as I've described them, your ability to avoid daily disaster
notwithstanding," he cautioned her. "You'll no doubt inflict me with your presence for
years to come, you irritating child," he mocked as he withdrew his hand.

But Winnie caught it up again as he was pulling away, and, fastening him with the
sincerest of blue-eyed pledges, told him confidently, "I promise too, Mr. Snape."

***

She was there that morning longer than she usually was, and even though Severus knew
that the Weasleys had no worries about her visits to him, he finally stood and led her by
the hand to the back of the house to choose his answer to Harry's anchusa.

He used his clippers to snap a half dozen of the slender stalks, Winnie kneeling beside
him as he reaped. He explained as he worked, "These are myosotis, Winnie, real forget-
me-nots. You can see that the blooms are almost identical to those of your anchusa, but
much, much smaller, with the blue just slightly darker. Bouquets of forget-me-nots are
usually given as subtle reminders that the giver does not wish to be forgotten, even
though time and distance might separate the parties."

The child took this in without question, or so he thought, until he let her through the gate
into the lane. She stopped and faced him, her eyes studying his as she fingered the bunch
of posies; so he braced himself for the inevitable dissection on why Harry and he had
decided to exchange such a significant flower, but for the second time that morning,
found himself entirely off the mark.

Carefully pulling a stem from the center of the bouquet, she held it up to her nose for a
moment, then held it out to him. "There," she said, unsmiling, "I want you to think of me
when you look at this one. I know all the other ones make you think of Uncle Harry, but
this one is a forget-Winnie-not, all right?" A smile lit up her face when he nodded
wordlessly, then she turned and erratically made her way up the lane.

Severus saved his answer for when she turned at the crest to wave. "As if I'd ever
need anything to make me remember you, Winifred Weasley," he murmured as he
dismissed her with a shooing motion before he turned away.

***

All thoughts of Winnie and forget-me-nots were soon forgotten when Severus finally
settled down to examine the specifications for the sixth and final potion. All the scruples
and reservations he'd entertained over the first five roared to life as he considered what
was now being asked of him.

It was another decoction, this time a simmered brew of valerian, jewelweed, and once
again, dittany. There was no doubt that this potion could indeed be deadly; the amount of
valerian alone made it so, while the jewelweed itself possessed powerful sedative and
narcotic properties. These two elements together would raise the eyebrows of any
potions master worth his salt, but it was the staggering quantity of dittany that truly
raised his hackles.

He made his way to his desk and logbook to verify what he already knew: dittany had
been called for in the third week when he'd made the tincture of aconite and dianthus,
but he'd assumed its use then to be that of a magical enhancer, its usual purpose in
standard potions. But the amount called for in this decoction was almost ludicrous, and
Severus knew the reason for it instantly; dittany in large amounts did not merely
enhance, but shrouded the signature of the other ingredients in the potion.

He closed the book with a snap and leant back in his chair to consider what he was being
asked to do: brew a deadly concoction of two potentially lethal ingredients, then hide
their presence with an overwhelming amount of dittany. It wasn't lost on him, either, that
this potion had been left as the last one. The originator of the contract had to have known
that there might be questions, and that perhaps any potions master with a conscience
might balk at being asked to concoct such a thing.

He opened the log again and carefully reviewed what he'd done week after week. There
were other points at which he might have asked questions, to be sure. Why was he
waffling now, and not when he'd been asked to prepare using aconite, or hellebore, or
indeed, asphodel? It was the damn dittany, he decided, that placed this philter in a class
all of its own, and it came down to intent , he realized, something that he'd decided from
the outset to studiously ignore. Closing the book slowly, he considered his options: he
could finally demand satisfaction from CF&W on the use of the potions, and make that a
condition for completion of this one; he could refuse to complete the contract full stop;
he could swallow his reservations and finish what he'd started. In two of those scenarios,
he would no doubt forfeit the payment due him, and that rankled. He'd done five weeks
of painstaking work and he deserved to be compensated as promised. On the other hand,
he'd signed a contract in which he'd, albeit uneasily, agreed to respect the anonymity of
the client, and CF&W had assured him that the transactions would be completely legal
and legitimate.

He sighed in frustration as he kicked his feet up onto the desk and stared at the ceiling.
He was just guessing, after all. Used in small enough amounts, he supposed none of the
potions, including this last one, need be deadly. But his instincts in such matters
whispered something very different in the back of his mind….

In the end, he decided to finish what he'd started, if only because he'd already planned
out how each of those five hundred Galleons would be spent. As he slipped the logbook
into its slot, though, he decided that he'd make it perfectly clear to the solicitors not to
seek out his services again for this particular client. And he considered it a fitting ending
to the whole affair, that he'd have to visit Clecker the very next day—even his well-
stocked stores did not contain sufficient powdered dittany for this bloody decoction.

***

Severus sat on his porch later that evening and watched the storm clouds roll in from the
south. He supposed that it was Winnie's childish proclamations on death and his own
compromise of the afternoon that begat his disgruntlement and resultant reverie on the
nature of responsibility. Although he knew from his Death Eater years that authority
could be delegated, he'd also learned early on that responsibility clung tenaciously to
the responsible party like a second skin. Not that he'd been entirely responsible for what
had happened in that final battle. No, he and Harry had supposedly shared equally
in that matter. He took a sip of his wine and remembered that evening, the night when it
had been made perfectly clear that they were to be partners stepping into unknown
territory together; he wondered how Harry saw it these days, what he really thought of
that act that they'd finally decided they had no other choice but to commit.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was deserted that night, save for the three men who
sat around the table there. Arthur Weasley looked from Severus to Harry and then back
again, disbelief etched on his care-worn face as he played with the handle of his teacup.

"I don't know what to say. It's a shock, to say the least, Harry," he admitted as he studied
Severus warily. "I understand your reasons for secrecy, but still, you might have come to
me a little sooner with this. Surely the Order—"

Severus cut him off. "Arthur, in case you've not understood the first time—both our lives
were on the line here, in addition to our being able to find and destroy the bloody things
without tipping our hand. What's done is done, and we've no time to debate it now. I'm
sure the other members of the Order will agree with you in due time, but for now, there
are more pressing concerns to be discussed." He shot Harry a dark and disgusted look.
"The time for confrontation is near. Don't ask me how I know this, but that information
you may share with the Order. He'll be making a move on the school within a week, as
I've already alerted him that Harry Potter has agreed to return to Hogwarts to teach this
September.

The man sat up straighter and stared at Harry. "Harry? Is this true? I can't imagine the
Board of Governors approving when you didn't even finish—"

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said quietly, "stop and listen for a moment, all right? It's a ploy,
that's all. All I had to do was tell Scrimgeour that I wanted a temporary post, and the
Ministry stepped in and took care of it. They know I'm trying to draw him out, but they
can't step up and approve anything officially, since they can't be seen as putting
students' lives in danger. But at least the Auror Department's been alerted, and we
wanted the Order to know as well. You would've found out by morning, as Kingsley is
bound to know by now."

"But Harry," the man objected, distressed, "why this mad rush all of a sudden? We
should take time to plan, perhaps find a location that wouldn't—"

Harry held up a hand to stop him. "Sir, with all respect, we've waited long enough.
Every day that goes by, more people die, and now," he said, his voice hardened, "now
we've leveled the playing field. The Horcruxes are gone, so it'll be just he and I." He sat
back in his chair and cocked his head at Severus. "I know you aren't in agreement with
me on this next part, Severus, but shall you tell him or shall I?"

Severus glared at him, then softened slightly as he noted Arthur's shock at Harry's use of
his first name. He himself had long ago grown accustomed to this. "Arthur, I see
absolutely no good reason why you should be given this information in advance. In fact,
Harry and I have discussed this at length, and if it were to be known what we're actually
contem—"

"Severus," Harry muttered, "damn it! We've agreed on this already, haven't we? After all
the crap I've had to put up with from you over the past eighteen months, this is the one
thing I've asked of you, and it's a small thing, so shut up and live with it!"

He gave Severus a withering look, then turned to Arthur and said with exasperation,
"Criminy, I should get an Order of Merlin just for putting up with him. Look, Mr.
Weasley, Severus and I have been working on something that we think might work, you
know, to kill Voldemort when the time comes, but it's going to be dangerous." He
ignored Severus' snort. "I just wanted you to know about it in advance in case something
happens to me, because I don't want Severus to be blamed for things if I'm not around.
He's going to have a hard enough time explaining…er, other things." He paused and
looked at Severus for a moment before continuing, "We've hit on a rite that we think
could really work. It's something that will take both of us working together to pull it off,
but I wanted to make sure that you'd stand up for Severus if something goes wrong. Not
that it will, but there's always that possibility. So, do you get what I'm saying, Mr.
Weasley? He's the one who found it, but he didn't talk me into anything. I'm going into
this with my eyes wide open. We're partners in this, so I want you to promise me that
you'll make sure everyone knows that, just in case."

Arthur stroked his chin, his eyes calculating as he thought. "All right. I understand,
Harry. I'm to be your witness if things don't work out as planned." He frowned at
Severus. "Are you very sure, Harry? Many wizards wiser than yourself have their own
doubts about your associate here," he finished, still holding Severus' eyes.

"Yeah, well, Dumbledore left some very convincing memories that cleared that up for
me. If the time comes, you'll find them in my school trunk—Hermione has it. And Mr.
Weasley? The rite Severus found was one that Dumbledore had already marked out for
us to use; that part's for certain." Harry looked at the still-scowling man beside him, and
gave him a slight smile. "Now that that's out of the way, do you think you can just
explain it to him? Or do I need to do that as well?"

Severus shook his head. "Not if we want to stay on schedule. I'll do it, as we agreed," he
emphasized snidely, then turned slightly to better face Arthur Weasley.

"It's an ancient rite, Arthur, one that I found long ago in a Dark Arts text which
belonged to Nicolas Flamel. The headmaster had given it to me, and at the time I only
glanced through it, although we did discuss this particular rite soon after. But I'd
shelved it and forgotten about it until Mr. Potter and I were tracking down the last
Horcrux. I'd begun to think about the future and Mr. Potter's unenviable task at hand,
when the rite came to mind again." He paused and looked at Harry before continuing.
"When we found the book and the rite, we were shocked to find a personal note from
Albus in the margin. I've no idea when he might've written it, but it was clear that he was
weighing in on the matter."

Arthur's eyes had widened, and now he asked, "So, this rite you're going to use is the one
that Albus pointed out? That would certainly make me sit up and take notice."

Severus nodded. "It took a little longer for me to be convinced that it would work, but I
eventually concluded that it very well could. It's very old, and," he paused to examine his
fingernails, preparing himself for the objection which he was certain was to come, "it's
completely untried. That is why it's promising as well as unnerving. Although we can
predict the outcome, we cannot be entirely sure it will work, or if there will be other
repercussions from its use." He stopped and looked off into space for a moment, wishing
desperately that they could better predict the outcome, then continued with a grimace
after Harry had cleared his throat several times.

"As I said, it's never been done, Arthur. It's a triad of a potion, an incanted spell, and a
curse. The potion took me months to arrange: several of the ingredients were very rare,
and the preparation required meticulous planning and careful timing. When taken, it
binds the participants' magical cores." At the look on Arthur's face, he hastened to add,
"But only temporarily—in fact, only for the duration of the single casting of a single
spell." He sat immobile and watched the emotions flicker across the older man's face,
waiting for the inevitable protest.

"You're binding your magical cores?" Arthur asked, incredulous, his eyes on Harry.
"Harry, I must tell you that I'm not sure you should do this. Binding one's magic to
another's is an extremely serious matter. In fact, the Ministry has strictly forbidden it
without their express consent and—"

"Too late, Mr. Weasley," Harry interrupted quietly but firmly. "That part of it's already
done." His eyes flickered briefly to Severus. "Yesterday, to be exact. The incantation will
happen right before we need to use the spell." He faltered momentarily at the look on
Arthur's face, then seemed to gain new resolve to finish. "The incantation will be like
removing the safety from a Muggle gun, Mr. Weasley, and allow our bound magical
cores to deliver the Killing Curse together."

"And with the delivery of the Curse," Severus took up the recitation, "the binding will be
instantly severed. It's a one shot chance, Arthur. Therein lies the danger, if you will."

When Arthur gave him a puzzled look, Severus explained, "The power of the Curse will
be greatly increased, certainly exponentially. Harry and I may indeed suffer some
personal damage, but we've decided that to be an acceptable risk." He leant forward in
his chair to command Arthur's complete attention. "No, the danger, Arthur, is the
possibility we might fail. And if we've just struck the Dark Lord with a Killing Curse ten
times magnified, and he still stands…" His eyes glittered as he gave the man time to
come to the conclusion he then announced. "…well, then, Merlin help us all." He sat
back, lost in his own thoughts in the silence of the kitchen.

Arthur shook his head slowly. "There has to be another way, surely. Harry, I know this is
something you feel you must do, but the Order has been working on some scenarios that
you should consider. You're very young, Harry, and untried, and it shouldn't fall on your
shoulders alone."

Harry glanced at Severus briefly, then said hesitantly, "Mr. Weasley, there's a reason
that it has to be me. There's a prophecy, you see, one that the headmaster told me about
after the fight in the Department of Mysteries, and Severus—"

"No, Harry," Severus interjected. "I don't think that's wise, at least not for now."

Harry looked as if he were about to object, then closed his mouth suddenly, while Arthur
looked at both of them in confusion.

"A prophecy about you?" he asked Harry intently.

Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment as he suffered under Severus' glare. "Yeah, a
prophecy, but I guess that's something that can keep for now. Sorry." He shrugged and
looked away.
Severus stood and waited while the other two followed suit. Gesturing Harry towards the
Floo, he turned to Arthur and said in parting, "You'll know all of it soon, Arthur. For
now, there are some things that must remain untold, for safety's sake." With a curt nod,
he followed Harry into the fireplace.

Severus tipped his wine glass and watched the last few drops collect on the rim before
they then dripped to the ground. It was fully dark now, the crescent moon barely visible
through the patchy cloud cover that moved across the sky. He shuddered as he
sometimes did when he saw a sickle moon; although he didn't put stock in presages or
portents, the sight of it hanging in the sky that night sent an inexplicable frisson of fear
down his spine. It had been his witness that night on the Tower…and in that fateful
clearing…and ever since, when he'd see it, he'd bid it move on and let him be.

***

Tuesday dawned gray and drizzly, so Severus, under the weather himself due to the
quantity of wine he'd had the night before, spent most of the morning preparing the two
ingredients that he had on hand. Near the noon hour, he could feel the temperature rising
as the sun burned through low-lying mist and fog that covered the valley.

He wasn't surprised that Winnie had failed to appear, given the rain, but now decided
that he'd walk at least to the fork in the lane, on the off-chance that he'd see her coming
over the crest on her way to see him.

He walked slowly, his shirt already clinging to his back in the high humidity, then
paused as he reached the fork and peered up the lane. For a moment, he considered
going further, perhaps even to the crest to see if she had started out from the estate. Then
he caught himself, and in half self-disgust, turned in to the road towards the village; he'd
almost rearranged his day of business around the possibility of seeing his six-year-old
neighbor. Harry's right: she's bewitched us both. He walked for a short distance, then
decided that today, at least, fastest would be best, given the oppressive heat. He
Apparated to just in front of Clecker's shop.

The bell announced his arrival as usual, but Severus saw, as he made his way to the
counter, that Clecker was occupied with two other patrons. He gave them a sideways
glance as he stationed himself at the far end of the counter to wait; he recognized both of
them as members of the local wizarding population, although he could not recall their
names. As he examined the fresh herb cuttings laid out on the counter, he couldn't help
but overhear bits and pieces of their animated conversation.

"Well, it's not surprising," Clecker was saying. "The last time they were here, she was
into everything. I damn near lost a crate of Billywigs when she undid the latch."

There was some murmuring that Severus could not make out, then he heard the
conclusion of one of the other men's sentences. "…found her, and hadn't even known she
was out…a terrible shock…hysterical…Healer gave strict orders…" The voice dropped
low enough that Severus could no longer hear, but now his curiosity had been whetted,
so he inched a little closer in their direction.

"A premature death, especially that…" he heard Clecker say, but the rest was obscured
by the interruption of the previous speaker.

"Nothing to be done…very sad business. It was Harry Potter what went for the
Healer…too late, but turns out the mother needed some attention, so…" The voice again
became indecipherable.

It was not premonition now, but cold, hard fear that sliced through Severus' chest, as he
abandoned all semblance of eavesdropping, and walked, heavy-footed, to the end of the
counter.

The group of men looked up at him as he approached, then Clecker greeted him,
"Severus, we were just talking—"

"What's happened?" Severus asked without preamble.

The men looked at each other, then Clecker continued, "You know the Weasleys who
have the estate over the hill from you, don't you? I think they keep to themselves, but—"

"Yes, I know them," he interrupted curtly. "What's happened?"

A round of glances again, then one of the other men told him, "An accident this
morning, seems the little girl took a fall from a tree. She'd been dead for some time when
they found her. I heard that they didn't even know that she'd—" The voice droned on, but
Severus was no longer listening.

He was aware of the undercurrent of a voice that went on and on, but a sound was
roaring in his ears as his mouth became suddenly dry and his heart pounded in his chest.
He stood there, his hand clenched on the counter, then a silence that stretched out
brought him back to himself.

"Severus?" Clecker asked with concern. "Are you all right?"

He looked at the man, barely able to focus on his face. "I'm fine, Christian." He
swallowed once, then gestured at the other two men. "If you don't mind, I've an order for
Clecker."

***

The twenty-five gram package of dittany secured under his arm, Severus stood outside
the shop and took a deep breath before Disapparating. He didn't go directly home,
however. He made one stop, at the Muggle establishment where he procured for himself
several bottles of vintage Dalmore.
He stood just inside his gate, almost blinded by the afternoon sun. He looked around his
garden, considered the work that he'd intended to do in it today, then grimly made his
way into the house. Throwing the package onto his work table, he turned to summon a
glass from the sideboard, then froze when confronted by the preserved bouquet propped
up in the flask. He walked over and set the bottles down beside it, unable to pull his eyes
away for a moment. He drank in the colors—the blues of the delphinium and hydrangea,
the white of the convallarias, the orange of the perfect dahlia—perfect in their altered
state, but nonetheless…dead and gone. He poured himself a drink and began to pace the
length of the room.

He was filled with an irrational desire to Apparate directly to the estate—indeed he was
on the verge of doing so several times, but restrained himself. He didn't understand
exactly why he felt the urge to go; no lurid details, nor his presence there would change
anything. He understood suddenly that it was the need to be with others who were in a
similar state, grief , he supposed, but he also knew that he would not be welcome there
just now. The entire Weasley clan was no doubt present, or at least on their way. No, he
had no place on those premises at the moment, regrettably. But Harry was certain to be
there, and he had to admit to himself that this was whom he really wanted to see. Given
the emotions that he himself was experiencing, he couldn't even begin to imagine what
the man must be going through…the one who'd been largely charged with her care and
entertainment.

He spent the day attempting to work in his lab, then quickly abandoned this as
impossible, and retreated to his gardens. But here, too, he found that he could
accomplish nothing but walk up and down between the rows, driven by a nervous energy
that seemed inexhaustible. Everywhere he looked, he saw her, skipping from flower to
flower, the sun reflecting off her fiery ringlets; he heard her chatter her musical
excitement at each new discovery; he felt the pudgy fingers grasp his own as she pulled
him along. Finally, he could bear none of it any longer, and fled to the house and the, as
of yet, untouched bottle of Dalmore awaiting him there. He brought it and two glasses
and installed himself on the porch; he knew with a certainty that he'd eventually have a
drinking partner.

***

He decided that food was unthinkable, so stayed where he was as the sun began to drop
below the tree line. He watched and waited, so was instantly aware when he saw the man
come over the crest of the lane. He didn't stand when Harry finally made his way
through the gate, but watched him as he slowly walked up the path, shoulders slumped,
cheeks hollowed, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy as he squinted up at Severus.

"Ah, so you've heard then." He stayed where he stood at the bottom of the steps.

"Yes, I was at Clecker's," Severus simply said as he gestured him towards the other seat
on the porch." He watched as Harry wearily made his way up the steps to drop into the
seat.
Severus set his glass on the rail, then angled his chair so he was facing the other one.
Without a word, he poured a glass and held it out to the man. "Drink. You look like you
could use it," he commanded as he held it out. He watched as Harry sniffed it, then
downed its contents in a single backward toss of his head. Severus refilled it instantly,
then rested back in his chair and looked out over the garden.

"When you're ready," Severus said quietly, "I'd really like to know."

Harry sat forward and put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. Without
looking up, he began, misery apparent in every word. "I was the first one up, or so I
thought," he said softly, "so I went down to start breakfast." Severus heard him take a
deep breath before continuing. "Fleur came down next, and asked me where Winnie
was." He paused and looked up at Severus then. "That was the first we were aware she
wasn't in the house. It'd been so early, I'd assumed she was still asleep…." Severus leant
over and refilled his empty glass, and then his own. "She knows she's not allowed out of
the house until we're up, so it never occurred to me that she'd be out on her own."

He stopped, fingering his glass, lost in his thoughts. Severus didn't prompt him, but
waited patiently for him to begin again. Harry's voice was muffled, almost strangled as
he recommenced, "I found her in the orchard. The storm must've knocked the
hummingbird feeder down, and she'd climbed a tree she knew she'd been forbidden to
climb; that's the only reason I can think for why she would've gone up there. The feeder
was at the foot of the tree." He stopped, and the look on his face made Severus brace
himself for what was coming. Harry looked away as he said, "She must've lost her
footing and fallen, but her neck caught in a fork in the trunk. She was just hanging there,
Severus, and I knew…." he trailed off. They sat for a while in silence, then Harry
finished, "She'd been dead about two hours, at least that's what the Healer said. I knew it
was hopeless, but I summoned one anyway." He shrugged his shoulders and downed the
rest of his drink, then sat back in his chair, his eyes glazed over with tears, or alcohol, or
both.

Severus felt as if he couldn't take a breath, so for a short time was speechless. But he
knew he must rally himself, because the man sitting across from him had a well-
documented history of assuming guilt for whatever mischance might befall those around
him. He could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was already well down that
particular path. But before he spoke, he wondered to himself, Who is at fault here?
Anyone at all? I've known the child less than six weeks, and even in that short time, have
been witness to her proclivity for disaster. Being responsible for her must've been a
nightmare. And Harry and Fleur have been on watch twenty-four hours a day. But still,
a six-year-old cannot be responsible for herself , he thought. Or can she? She certainly
understood right from wrong, obedience from disobedience. Even at six, part of the
responsibility for her safety had to have been her own. But when he pictured her in his
mind's eye, he saw a helpless child, impulsive and reckless, stubborn and determined,
who'd perhaps not been disciplined as she should have been for her misbehavior. All
water under the bridge, at this point, he reasoned. But none of them could've foreseen
such terrible and unjust consequences, no matter who was responsible.
Severus stood and leant against the porch rail, facing the man who had his face in his
hands. "Harry, do you remember that conversation you and I had in the kitchen at
Grimmauld Place? The night Molly was there?" When there was no response, he said
more forcefully, "Harry?"

The man looked up at him then, his face streaked with tears. "Yeah, I remember,
Severus. Not something I'd ever forget."

Severus nodded. "And what did I tell you then, about responsibility?"

Harry rubbed his forehead with his fingers, then laid his hand in his lap as he cocked his
head to one side. "That those responsible have to consider every possible outcome and
take every reasonable precaution when they set out to do something." He recited the
words as if they were etched in his memory, just as Severus had hoped they might be.

Severus nodded again in approval. "Exactly. Although those circumstances were very
different, it's much the same thing now. Winnie was a handful, but it's apparent that you
and Fleur did everything you could to protect and instruct her. The child herself told me
more than once of her misdeeds and how she'd been disciplined. She certainly was old
enough to understand staying inside and keeping out of trees that were out of bounds.
She was impulsive, yes, but also very intelligent, and young as she was, she made a
choice to disobey, setting herself outside the protection you'd forged for her. Short of
warding her room, I don't see what might've prevented her.

"I should have warded her room," Harry muttered, gripping the side of his chair.

"Hmm, perhaps, but I think that would've been a bit like caging a bird. And you'd no
reason to believe she'd attempt something like this, at a time when she was usually safely
tucked in her bed." He watched as Harry mulled this over, then almost absentmindedly
added, "On both occasions—the one we were partner to and this tragedy—there was no
negligence, just an outcome that could not be anticipated, and hence, not prepared for.
Let it go," he advised gently, "you and Fleur both, whatever influence you have on her,
use it, because you must both let it go. You couldn't have known." But Severus knew
that this would not be so easily done by either of them.

"It's a wonder her magic couldn't save her," Harry mused. "I remember how mine
surfaced when I was her age."

Severus shook his head. "But it would've been wild and unintentional magic, untamed,
and she wouldn't have had any idea of how to even focus it."

He turned and watched as the sun set, thinking to himself how he'd sat there the night
before and watched it, blissfully unaware of the horrible event that would shake them all
by the same time the next evening. When he turned back, Harry's head had sagged onto
his chest, and Severus wasn't surprised to see that the man had fallen off to sleep. He left
him there and walked down into the garden; some of the flowers had already closed their
blossoms for the night, while others remained unfurled, their colors deepening in the
twilight dusk. He idly wondered which flower he would've chosen today, in the game of
flowers, but then quickly put the thought aside when the mere speculation of it conjured
up images of the pixie with her hand behind her back.

It was dark when he finally rounded the house from the opposite side. Harry still slept
there, but stirred slightly at the sound of Severus' footfalls on the steps.

He knelt before the slumbering man, and took a moment to search his face before
awakening him. In the low light of the cursed crescent moon, he could make out the
prominent cheekbones and long feathery dark lashes that lay in half-circles. Without
premeditation, Severus reached out and carefully brushed the hair from the forehead to
display the scar. He traced it with his fingertip, then withdrew his hand when the eyes
opened suddenly. He watched the expression in them as they cycled from merciful
forgetfulness to harsh realization.

"Oh, God," Harry groaned, "just for a moment there, I forgot." The eyes closed again,
and Severus waited, still on one knee in front of him. When they next opened, he could
tell that Harry was fully awake.

Severus stood and waited as Harry struggled to his feet, then moved suddenly to grab his
shoulders when he seemed to sway and lose his footing.

"What were we drinking? I think I've had a bit much," Harry murmured, slightly
embarrassed as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

Severus dropped his hands as he told him, "Dalmore, and it wouldn't take much of
anything, so far as you're concerned, if I remember rightly," he said dryly as he took a
step back.

"Sorry, that's twice in less than two weeks that you've seen me this way," he said as he
smoothed his hair away from his face with his hands. "I'd better get back; they'll be
wondering about me." He took an unsteady step towards the steps, and Severus made a
split-second decision and reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. When
Harry turned sluggishly to look at him, Severus gave him a small shake of his head.

"You're in no condition to Apparate. I'll Side-Along you to your front gate," he told him
firmly.

"Oh, I wasn't going to Apparate, Severus." He gave him a small, sad smile. "'Fastest isn't
always best,' or so I've been told," he added, then at the look of surprise on Severus' face,
he said, "She worshipped you, Severus. Told me everything the two of you talked about,
down to the word, I expect. Do you know," he confided with a trace of amusement in his
voice now, "I sometimes thought she was trying to match-make the two of us. Did you
catch on to that as well?"
Severus smiled as he remembered. "Oh, she was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop
on that account." His smile faded when he saw that Harry had closed his eyes, and was
once again swaying. "Well, I'll walk you, then." Placing one arm around his shoulders,
and another grasping his forearm, he led the man carefully down the steps. Once in the
garden, he kept hold of him to steer him in the direction of the lane.

They'd just cleared the gate when Harry said, "The funeral's on Thursday. Everyone will
be here by then. They've decided to bury her here instead of the Weasley family plot.
Fleur insisted, I think, because Winnie loved it here. Molly's upset, but it's not her
decision, and Bill's backing Fleur on this." They walked on in silence for a ways, then
Harry stopped and faced him. "Fleur wants you to be there, Severus, and you know that
Winnie would too. Will you come?"

Severus shook his head. "I think this is one time I should stay away, Harry. It'll be a day
of high emotion, and my presence there would only be unsettling. I know Winnie would
understand."

Harry was instantly angry, and blurted out, "This is one time they should consider what
Fleur and Winnie would want. I'm so damned sick of this, Severus." And before Severus
had time to react, Harry stumbled forward and ended with his forehead on Severus chest,
his arms gripping his shoulders.

Severus stood stock still for a moment, then, as he felt the man shaking and sobbing
against him, wrapped his arms around him, cradling the back of his head with a hand. It
lasted only a few minutes, but when Severus felt Harry raise his head to nuzzle at his
neck, he released him and pushed him gently but firmly away.

"No, Harry, I've got you drunk, which I don't think is a bad thing tonight. But you're
grief-stricken too." He lifted the chin with his hand, and forced Harry to look at him. His
face softened as he took in the tear-streaked face. "Not a rejection, you understand? But
you're not thinking clearly, nor am I, for that matter." When Harry nodded miserably and
wiped his nose on his bare arm, Severus pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to him
as he said wryly, "Here. Now, let's get you home, shall we?"

The made their way slowly to the crest and then down the other side, Severus
maintaining a firm grip on Harry's arm to keep him from stumbling. When at last they
were at the gate, Severus asked him, "Can you make your way in on your own?"

Harry nodded, reached up a hand to touch Severus' face for a brief instant, then turned
and picked his way through the garden rows. Severus watched from outside the fence,
until he saw someone exit the estate and escort him up the steps and into the house.

***

He decided, on his return, that sleep would be hard in coming. So he settled back down
on the porch with what was left of the bottle of Dalmore. He watched as the moon
inched slowly across the sky, and soon was thinking about responsibility once again. He
thought it strange that, in the past several weeks since he'd seen Harry after so many
years, he was slowly reliving the events that had tied them so unwillingly together. He
thought of Molly Weasley and how distraught she must be tonight, at this new tragedy
that had struck her already tragedy-ridden family. He poured himself his final drink, then
sat back and closed his eyes, visualizing that night at Grimmauld Place just after the
Dark Lord had been destroyed, that night when Molly had first accused him…of being
responsible for it all….

Severus and Harry sat side by side at the table, facing Molly Weasley and Kingsley
Shaklebolt. The woman was crying, a handkerchief at her face. Severus was still in
shock, but was vaguely aware that the boy beside him was trembling.

"So," Kingsley began, "this was something you'd both planned out together? Arthur
hinted at it, but wouldn't be more specific." He paused, then asked, "What went wrong?"

Harry shook his head and muttered, "We had no idea this would happen, sir. Had we
known…" he stopped and shook his head again, looking away from the table.

"Kingsley," Severus cut in, "the Dark Lord is dead. There is that to be said. But what we
used had never been tried before. There are reasons for this that are complicated, but
that is the way it had to be. We could not risk the Dark Lord being forewarned, not to
mention that this was a rite that could only be used once between two consenting
wizards."

Harry nodded, then reached a hand across the table to the weeping woman. "God, Mrs.
Weasley, you have to believe that we'd never have done this had we known what was
going to happen. There was so much at risk—Mr. Weasley knew, and in a way, the
Headmaster did too. Severus sorted it out, but we both decided it was the only way."

Molly's head came up at last, and her eyes glared accusingly across the table, as she
focused on Severus. "You! You found this rite! You've admitted it, Severus. You were the
adult here! You should've never taken on such a thing, something so dangerous that it'd
never been attempted. You—you're the one responsible, not Harry!" She laid her head
on arms on the table and sobbed openly.

Severus felt the boy fidget beside him. "Mrs. Weasley, please, you have to believe me.
This was as much my decision as it was Severus'. Mr. Weasley understood that. We
couldn't wait any longer, and we knew that this rite was what we had to do." He shot a
glance at Severus, who gave him a resigned nod. "There was a prophecy, Mrs. Weasley,
that I had to be the one to kill him. I didn't know how to do that, but Dumbledore did.
He'd shown the rite to Severus years ago." He swallowed with difficulty, then added,
"And Severus had to be the one to help me. Only him."

The woman raised her head and looked at both of them blearily. "My husband and son
are dead, and many others, because you believed in some prophecy?" she almost
screeched as she finished. "I don't care about prophecies! I don't care about the Dark
Lord! All I care about is my Arthur and Ronald, and they're both gone, because neither
of you was responsible enough to think through what you were doing! And I don't care
what you say, Severus, you should've known better!" She laid her head back onto her
arms and cried, while Kingsley stared at them from across the table.

"What do you mean, 'Severus had to be the one to help you. Only him.'?" Kingsley asked
Harry as he looked at Severus suspiciously.

Severus gave Harry a dark look, then answered him gravely, "Because, Kingsley, I was
'the power that the Dark Lord knew not.'"

Severus sobered, mentally of course, because his body was far from it. He sat and
thought of his past experience with death: faces flashed through his mind, of those he'd
watched die, and of those he had killed. Few of them had been even close to what could
be called friends; most of them had been enemies. Many of them fell somewhere in
between—victims in a war where so many had died. Most had fallen for no better reason
than to make a statement, or to spread fear and paralysis. So much death…so little
meaning…so much senselessness.

He stood and staggered his way into the house, used the loo with difficulty, then finally
slipped beneath the sheet. He rolled onto his side and stared into the darkness. He
thought about Albus and why he'd given himself for the greater good. He thought of all
those who'd lain on that battlefield, bereft of life once the mist had finally cleared. So
much wasted…so much sacrificed…and for what? To combat the megalomania of a
madman.

But the meaninglessness of it all, the sheer waste and senselessness of all the death he
had seen over the years, paled beside the small and senseless death of this one little
child…this child whom hardly anyone knew, but for Severus, it was her small,
insignificant passing that finally brought him to his knees.

For the first time in years and years, Severus Snape wept.

***

Potion Six/Part Two

Severus was up early the next morning, having passed a mostly sleepless night. After
downing a Hangover Potion, he threw himself into his work: the formulation of the final
potion.

He'd cut the valerian the day before, so he set to chopping it into pieces, skillfully
beating out a rhythmic tattoo with his knife against the stone surface. He glanced to the
side at the jewelweed rootstalk that would require a similar preparation. He sighed; he
supposed it was fortunate to have something with which to occupy his mind. From time
to time, he frowned when he caught himself listening for the child as he worked.

He'd made quick work of the jewelweed, and was just undoing the string on the package
of dittany, when all his ruminations of the evening before bore a sudden but clarifying
fruit.

He dropped the package to the table as if he'd been scalded. He took a step backwards,
leant against his bookshelf, and tried to control the trembling in his hands. How could he
have been so blind? Responsibility…hadn't he just lectured Harry the evening before?
What had been the words that Harry had remembered so well…consider every possible
outcome…take every reasonable precaution. So, what the hell did he think he was doing
here?

Responsibility.

He and Harry both had been responsible long ago, and so far as Winnie was concerned,
he supposed someone should be responsible. But in both those instances, there had been
no reason to suspect, no reason to act otherwise, but now…with this…. He knew full
well that someone should be asking questions about these potions. The solicitors
certainly hadn't, so that left…him. And he'd stifled his reservations, week after week,
telling himself that it was really none of his concern.

He pushed himself away from the bookshelf, then moved quickly to rewrap the dittany
and secure the other roots in a preserving jar, all the while controlling a rage that was
building and now demanded action. He stormed to his bedroom to pull out his potions
master robes. No, he thought as he donned them, it stops here…now…with me. Someone
has to be responsible, and I can't count on it being anyone else but myself, the five
hundred Galleons be damned. I should have done this weeks ago, and I can only hope
that I haven't waited much too long. He grabbed his logbook and contract copy from the
desk, hurried to the lane, and with one last, futile look up toward the crest, Disapparated.

***

He'd been to Alderley Edge before, so it was just a matter of asking directions to the
solicitor's once he arrived. It looked like a common residence, tucked in at the far end of
an isolated gravel path, but the shield-like shop banner gently swinging in the wind
proclaimed it "Cartwright, Fernan & Whitney, Solicitors." He'd let himself in through
the gate, marched purposefully to the door to announce himself with a knock, when he
noticed the small placard set into the door itself: "Clients please enter without
knocking."

He found himself in a small but pleasant reception area, manned by a receptionist behind
a large mahogany desk. She looked up at his entry and gave him a welcoming smile as
she stood to greet him.
"Good morning, sir. How may I help you?" she asked solicitously.

Severus walked slowly to the desk, taking in the plush accoutrements and the dark pine
paneling that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. He took his time with his
inspection, then his eyes returned to the young woman waiting patiently before him.

Expressionless, he told her, "I'm here to see Mr. Whitney."

The woman frowned, then sat and peered at the open appointment calendar in front of
her. "I don't see where Mr. Whitney has an appointment at this hour, Mr.…" She looked
up at him inquisitively.

"Snape," he told her curtly. "And I don't have an appointment," he confirmed as he leant
in closer, his hands on the desk. "But you may inform Mr. Whitney that he'll see me
now, or I'm certain that someone at the Ministry will be interested in what I have to say.
His choice," he said as he stood and folded his arms in front of him, never taking his
eyes off of her.

The woman hesitated only a moment. "Well, let me see if he's available, Mr. Snape," she
said doubtfully as she stood, then made her way to paneled door. She rapped once, and
after a nervous glance at Severus, disappeared inside and closed the door.

Severus had been waiting for less than a minute, when the door reopened and the
receptionist returned with a tall, middle-aged gentleman behind her. He gave Severus a
measuring look, then gestured towards his office. "Shall we take this inside, Mr. Snape?
Millie, hold my calls until we're finished, will you?"

Severus followed him into the spacious office, which matched the décor of the outer
area. He stood and took in the three walls of bookcases and single wall, which sported a
fireplace. When the man pointed him to the seat in front of the desk, Severus took it and
sat back to examine his employer. The man had a strong-featured face with a short, well-
trimmed auburn beard. His bright blue eyes were critically assessing Severus, even as
Severus was doing the same.

"Well," the man began, "we meet at last, Mr. Snape. I'm a little surprised to see you at
this point, I must admit. Is there a problem? Mille hinted that there might be," he said as
he scrutinized Severus carefully.

Severus had the sudden intuition that the man knew exactly why he was there. There was
a certain, guarded caution in his expression and choice of words that made him
suspicious. "Let's dispense with the game, Whitney. We both know why I'm here. It's to
my own discredit, I'll admit, that I've not come sooner. Are you actually aware of what
your client has been asking of me? And for that matter, do you know him well enough to
have made that guarantee that 'nothing illegal would be requested'?" He was reading
from the contract, which he'd taken from his cloak pocket and unrolled as he sat. He
dropped it to his lap and looked at the man as he raised an eyebrow.
The man's face had shuttered at Severus' mention of his client. He picked up a quill,
which he idly fingered as he considered Severus before answering. "I know him well
enough to know that he wouldn't be requesting anything overtly illegal, Mr. Snape. As
for seeing the actual potions requested, no. I haven't seen them, and even if I had, I'm
afraid it wouldn't have done me much good. I was hopeless at potions, you see." He gave
Severus a slight smile

"Pity for you then, Whitney. Because I believe he's led you down the primrose path on
this one. Most of the requests have been questionable, and with this last one, it's over the
top, I'm afraid. As I said, I should've come sooner, but I didn't, for reasons that are none
of your business." Severus sat forward in his chair and fixed the man with a stare.
"However, I'm here to tell you that I'll not be completing the contract. I understand that
I'm forfeiting payment; all the same, I expect those potions which have not been utilized
or delivered to your client to be returned to me at once. I've no desire to be party to his
questionable purpose and activities. Are we understood, then?" he asked, his voice low
and intense.

The man was looking at him in shock, and his face flushed suddenly as he stood. "I'm
afraid return of the potions is impossible," he said as he wrung his hands. "And my client
is going to be very upset over this. I can't guarantee that he will not pursue legal action
against you. My understanding is that the series will be useless unless all six potions
have been produced. You're really leaving him in a difficult position, Mr. Snape, one, I
might add, that I find unconscionable, given that you are a potions master and a
professional who chose to enter into a legally binding contract."

Severus decided to ignore the barb for the moment. He sat back and pursed his lips, as he
considered that there might be a way to get what he'd wanted all along. "How did your
client come to choose me, Whitney? Surely not on your recommendation?"

The man looked panicked for a moment, then retook his seat behind his desk as he
regrouped. Composed, he looked at Severus and told him cautiously, "You have a
reputation, I'm sure you're aware. It wasn't difficult for my client to settle on you for his
choice, and I'm certain he checked references." He picked up his quill again, stroked the
length of it several times as he waited, then made one final plea. "Please, Mr. Snape.
Won't you reconsider? This is a client in whom I have every confidence. If he's
requested such a series, it would be for a very good reason. Please."

It was what Severus had been waiting to hear. The solicitor seemed to hold this client in
high regard, so Severus offered his ultimatum in return. He stood, took his time in
rolling the parchment and returning it to his pocket, then looked down at the man
waiting anxiously for his decision. "Whitney, your client may have been aware of my
professional reputation, but perhaps he's not aware of how decidedly nasty I can be when
provoked. Here is what I will do. I will postpone the preparation of the sixth potion."
When the man opened his mouth to object, Severus held up a hand to silence him. "Here
is what you will do, sir. You will immediately inform your client that he has forty-eight
hours from this moment to apply to me in person. I will consider what he has to say and
make my decision accordingly. If he fails to appear, consider the contract null and void.
And rest assured," he concluded, freezing the man in place with an icy glare, "that if I
hear anything that raises my suspicions that any one of those potions has been used to
harm anyone , your client included, then it will be you whom I'll hold accountable."

Whitney had dropped his quill onto the blotter, and stood to voice his objection. "Forty-
eight hours may not be long enough, but I'll try, Mr. Snape. I urge you again to
reconsider. My client will be very unhappy at this development, I assure you."

Severus gave him a nod and told him before he turned to go, "As am I."

***

Severus was well into the second bottle of Dalmore when Harry appeared that evening,
this time Apparating directly into the garden. He took his time to examine several shrubs
and flowers before making his way over to the porch. He stood at the bottom of the steps
as he had the evening before, but this time was clear-eyed and collected. He watched
with concern as Severus drained his drink, then shook his head when Severus asked,
"Care to join me?"

"No, I think I'll take a pass, well, at least on the spirits," he said as he climbed the steps
and then perched on the rail besides Severus' chair. "I paid the price this morning, I'll
have you know, and no Hangover Potion, either. And besides, I need my head on straight
for tomorrow," he confided as he looked out over the garden.

Severus gave a grunt of commiseration, then asked him, "How are they all faring? I can
only imagine how difficult this must be." He watched as Harry swiveled to straddle the
porch rail before answering.

"Things have settled down. Everyone's arrived. Bill being there has finally got Fleur
under control. Sad, of course. Molly's the only one who's still sort of on the edge.
Everything makes her cry, and then that starts Fleur off all over again." He sighed. "I can
see why funerals are a good thing, Severus. It's like drawing a line in the sand, and
saying that it's time to get on with things." He paused, then told him, "Molly started
saying something about Winnie being out, how I was supposed to be watching her," he
paused as he took an audible breath, "and Fleur just about took her head off. And then
Bill and the twins too." He gave Severus a shaky smile. "I think Molly has this thing for
making sure all the loose ends are tied up. Saying that something just happened isn't
enough for her. She has to have a reason, you know, for everything that happens. I
understand, though," he murmured as he picked at a spot on his jeans.

"People like that are never responsible themselves," Severus told him as he poured
himself another glass, once again gesturing an offer in Harry's direction.

Harry straightened against the rail-post, balancing himself by lacing his hands behind it
at his neck. "No thanks. Last night was fine, but…" He stopped and looked down at him
with a sheepish smile. "Not only have you seen me drunk twice in the past two weeks,
but have had to bear two attempts at kissing you, rather sloppily, I'm afraid."

Severus gave him an amused look. "So, I'm to write both of those occasions off to your
being under the influence. Strange, but the first time I don't think you were all that
intoxicated, just a trifle tipsy, as was I." He enjoyed the confusion on the young man's
face.

"Alcohol makes me drop my inhibitions, I guess," Harry confessed, flushing slightly.

"Hmm, inhibitions, by definition, are mechanisms in place that block a true desire or
impulse," Severus instructed him, suddenly aware that he'd not be telling Harry any of
this, if all of his were intact.

Harry stared down at him for a moment, then laughed out loud. "I believe we've moved
on to the next step in the 'song and dance', Severus. I'm much more interested in what
happens when the inhibitions are in place, you see. No explaining that away, blaming it
on spirits and such," he finished, waving his hand at the Dalmore.

"Pity," Severus lamented thickly. "I was just considering how to take advantage of the
inhibition-less state."

"No, Severus, you forget that mine are intact tonight. And I'd never take advantage of
your 'inhibition-less' state," he paused, then added softly, "as you refused to take
advantage of mine. Much too important to muddle up." His eyes sparkled, but he did not
smile.

"Honorable of you, Harry. I may or may not remember to thank you tomorrow." He set
the half-full bottle on the floor, stood and stretched, and then took a few steps closer to
the rail to look out over the garden. "Funny, but I found myself mentally choosing a
flower for you today. Odd, that. Because I usually waited to see what you would choose
first. I'm going to miss it, actually," he said, a trace of regret in his voice.

He was startled when Harry gently prodded his arm with his foot. He looked up to find
the green eyes glittering, awaiting his reaction. Hmm, inhibitions shot to hell¸ he thought,
as he casually rested his hand on Harry's knee. But that was all there was, and the two of
them were content to watch the sunset this way, and at some point, Severus sat back in
his chair and propped his legs atop Harry's on the rail. They sat until the sun was almost
beneath the horizon, when Harry gently lifted Severus' legs from his and slid from his
perch.

"I'd better get back. Severus, I wanted to ask you a favor, but I'm not sure you'll be up to
it," he said uncertainly as he looked at the figure slumped in the chair.

Sighing, Severus sat up straighter. "Assuming that it's not something that will require me
to be entirely sober in the next half-hour, I think I could manage it. In fact, I was
meaning to ask if there was anything I could do. I didn't think there would be." He was
much more alert now.

Harry shoved a hand in his pocket to retrieve a small folded note-card. His eyes were in
earnest as he made his request. "I was wondering—and I'll certainly understand if you
don't feel comfortable with it—you see, I'll need to be here most of tomorrow. I can't
leave Ginny and the twins to deal with all the details, and Fleur and Bill are so
distracted, and of course Molly can't be trusted at this point, so I was wondering who—"

"Harry," Severus growled, "would you stop your insufferable dithering and simply ask?"

Harry closed his mouth to stop himself, then said quietly, "I was wondering if you might
look in on Graham for me around noon? The funeral's at four, and afterwards I'll be able
to pop back for a while, but I can't leave him that long…the way he is now." He looked
down at the piece of paper in his hands. "You won't have to do much. Maybe get him
some tea and biscuits." He gave Severus a shrug. "I've taken to using magic to see to his
physical care, just so you know. He may need freshening up." He bit his lip and looked
anxiously up again. "I've the address here if you think you're up for it."

"Give it over," Severus commanded. He looked down at the card and read,
"Macclesfield. You're in Cheshire?"

Harry nodded and then smiled down at him. "You'll know the house straight off—it's the
one surrounded by gardens with two greenhouses on either side—you won't be able to
miss it." The smile faded. "You're sure? I didn't know anyone else to ask on such short
notice."

Severus waved away his uncertainty. "Graham…noon…tea…biscuits…cleaning. I think

I can manage. And I know my way around Cheshire very well. I take it Graham won't be
surprised to see me?"

Harry looked down at his feet in embarrassment, then looked up as if he'd been caught at
something. "I told him I thought you'd do it, so no, he won't be surprised to see you. But
you'll have to spell the door open; he's bedfast now, Severus, so I lock him in when I
leave."

Severus made a sound of understanding, then said, "You've quite a lot on your plate,
haven't you?"

"Well, nothing I can't handle, I guess." They both looked up at the sound of an owl
hooting from the fence. It was a mournful sound and for a moment they listened, then
Harry turned and said, "Well, I'm off then…and I really am sorry you won't be there
tomorrow. It just isn't right, but we've been through all that. I just wanted to tell you
again." He took a tentative step to leave, but then turned once again. "I probably won't
see you tomorrow—the wake starts after supper, but maybe on Friday…" He didn't
finish, but didn't look away. "Severus, it's none of my business," he pointed to the bottle,
"but maybe you should lay off a bit."

Severus' eyes flicked from Harry's to the bottle and then back again. "Piss off, Harry."
He waved him towards the steps. "I'll be fine. You had your night of drunken stupor, and
I'm entitled to mine. Go on, off with you. Please give my regards to all the Weasleys,
even Molly if she'll have them. The funeral's at four, you say?" When Harry nodded in
reply, Severus finished, "I'll be there in spirit, then."

He was not surprised that Harry chose to walk home again, and watched him till he
reached the crest, where he turned and raised his hand once before disappearing down
the other side.

Severus scowled to himself as he reached for the bottle again. He detested funerals and
had gone to great lengths to avoid them for most of his life. The only other one he'd
wanted to attend, he would've been arrested or even killed on sight, had he put in an
appearance. For the second time, he found himself wanting to attend one where he
would not be welcome… and he decided that he bloody well wasn't going to miss it.
Harry was right—Winnie would've wanted him there, and so he would be.

***

Severus stood in the lane and looked over the grounds before going through the gate.
Harry had not exaggerated—his gardens certainly rivaled Severus' own, and he couldn't
help but feel slightly envious of the two greenhouses perched on either side.

He murmured a quiet, "Alohomora," and found himself in the large entranceway, then
made his way towards the back of the house, where he found Graham tucked into a large
bed in the small solarium off the kitchen.

"Severus." The man waved weakly. "Right on time—Harry said you'd be here around
noon. Any trouble finding the place?" Severus exchanged the customary niceties while
he struggled to hide his shock at the man's appearance. He was much thinner and paler
since Severus had last seen him, his skin now a pasty gray color, his cheeks sunken in,
both changes which only served to set off the startling blue eyes even more. The room
itself was uncomfortably warm, but Severus noted that Graham had several blankets
tucked in around him.

He stood at the foot of the bed. "I won't ask you the usual drivel—how you are, what
you've been up to," he finally said.

Graham laughed. "Thank God for that then, because I'd only tell you the truth, which
isn't pretty. I'm too weak to stand or walk, you know, and the paralysis has started in the
past two weeks. Can't control my legs from the knees down, although I can feel
everything." He reached down and rubbed at his knees. "Part of the bloody disease."
Severus felt suddenly awkward as he asked, "So which shall we do first? Get you
cleaned up, or have a bit of something to eat?"

Graham grimaced. "Let's do the tidying up first. I've a show I like to watch coming on in
a half-hour," he told him as he gestured at the telly, "and I can watch it while I'm eating
that way."

"Harry said you're all right with the magic, then?" he asked as he pulled the comforters
from the top of the bed.

"Sure am. He'd be stupid not to use it, considering what he has to do for me, so don't be
shy," he said as he struggled to pull himself up straighter in the bed.

A quarter-hour later, Severus had levitated the man, put on a fresh draw sheet, used a
cleansing spell, and had dressed him in fresh pajamas. Graham was now propped up on
several pillows, a tray on his lap, munching at a carrot muffin while Severus prepared a
pot of tea.

Just as Severus carried the tea tray in, Graham flicked the remote in the direction of the
telly. He glanced at the tea and grinned. "Good, you've some for yourself, I see. Can you
stay for a while?"

Severus nodded, then fixed them both steaming cups, then sat in the chair next to the
bed. His attention was immediately caught by the music that was introducing the
television show.

Graham seemed amused by his fascination, looking from Severus to the telly and then
back again. "I don't suppose you watch much, do you? Harry said you might think it a
novelty."

Severus pulled his eyes away for a moment to answer, "No, I've seen them, you
understand, but I've never sat down to actually watch. What is this, then? You say you
like this particular one?" He looked back at the vivid colors flashing across the screen.

Graham flicked the remote so that the sub-titles now showed, and then lowered the
volume. "Harry and I both got hooked on this one. It's called 'Deadliest Catch,' and it's
about the fishing crews in the Bering Sea that go out for Alaskan King crab and opilio—
that's Snow crab. It's a man's show." He grinned at Severus. "I think every kid dreams of
going out on a boat like this at some time in his life."

When Severus only grunted a noncommittal answer, Graham raised the sound again, and
for the next hour, the two of them were immersed in the world of man versus sea versus
opilio crab. When the credits began to roll, Graham glanced over at Severus and grinned
at the look of faint disappointment on the man's face. "Could be addicting, don't you
think?" he teased.
"Hmmm, yes, I have to admit I'm rather curious as to whether his leg is actually broken,"
he admitted. He turned to Graham who was watching him with open delight.

"Aha. Wait till I tell Harry. We had a little wager on whether or not you'd like it." He
smiled at Severus' questioning look. "Seems he does know you better than I do. He
thought you'd be mesmerized, Severus." He couldn't restrain the laugh.

Severus frowned. "I think mesmerized a bit of an exaggeration, but I must confess I
found it interesting." He gave in then and smiled in return.

Graham pointed and clicked the telly off, then turned with difficulty to face him. "So,
from what I hear, you and Harry are getting on quite well these days." At the look on
Severus' face, he quickly added, "Oh, not that he's said anything, just that the two of you
have spent some time together…had some talks…among other things," he finished
quietly as he held Severus' eyes.

"Yes, well, it seems that most of our talking, and other things, has occurred while one or
the other of us has been intoxicated, so I'm not sure that counts in the book you're trying
to write," he replied testily.

"Hey, in my experience, a little alcohol just helps things along. But you know, he didn't
talk to me about your world for years, and now that he suddenly is, it's funny that you
come up so often. I'd say there's something there," he mused.

"Given your agenda for Harry to have someone , I'm not surprised that you'd say so,"
Severus told him sincerely, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation

"Given that I probably have six months tops before I leave him on his own, I think I'm
allowed to have an agenda, don't you? And I'm not stupid, you know. I think I know
Harry better than anyone else, and I can read him fairly well. Believe me, he's definitely
happier now that the two of you are speaking again."

"I'm confused, because there wasn't a time when we weren't speaking. We were a little
out of touch, but it wasn't intentional," Severus countered.

"Whatever," Graham said dismissively, apparently fatigued. "I'm just happy that he has
someone else to talk to and spend time with. If that's all it turns out to be, it'll still be a
good thing. Forget I said anything." He slumped back down into the pillows, and
Severus felt instantly guilty for not being entirely honest with the man…a man who was
in a race with the clock, and who only wanted to see Harry happy.

He was beset by a sudden urge to right the wrong. He leant forward in his chair and
gently touched the man's arm. When the eyes opened, he told him, "Graham, you're
right—I think both Harry and I have been pleasantly surprised by each other. As to
whether or not anything will come of it, I'll make no promises. But there is definitely,"
he bit his lip, then ground out the words, "an attraction, I think on both our parts. There,"
he said as he stood and tucked the coverlets in around the man, "is that what you wanted
to hear?" he asked dryly.

Graham smiled wanly, barely able to keep his eyes open. "Yeah, that'll do. Thanks for
everything, Severus." And with that, the man was suddenly asleep. Severus stayed a
moment, looking down sadly at this big-hearted man who was wasting away to nothing.
He rather thought that six months was being optimistic.

***

Severus carried the two empty bottles in from the porch where he'd left them, then
walked to the sideboard and considered the remaining one. He picked it up and ran his
hand over the label, then set it back in its place. No, he thought to himself, not today.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon planning his potions work for the rest of the
week. He sighed heavily as he moved the package of dittany to a top shelf—he hadn't
heard from the client in question, but then he really wasn't surprised. Still, it rankled, that
he'd have to forfeit the five hundred Galleons, when he'd already devoted so much time
and so many supplies to the effort, only to have nothing in return. But it had been his
choice, and he was at peace with his decision now.

At quarter of four, he moved to his room to change. Unearthing the dress robes, he tried
to remember when he'd last worn them. It had to have been at the last Leaving Feast he'd
attended, at the end of Harry's fifth year. He muttered a freshening charm, which
smoothed out the wrinkles, then slipped the deep green, satiny fabric over his head and
fastened the buttons. For the first time in he didn't know how long, he looked at himself
in the mirror to adjust the sleeves and the cowl that draped off his shoulders. His thick
black hair, he was slightly surprised to note, was now faintly threaded with silver
strands, and for a moment he was taken slightly aback. He debated tying it back, but then
decided to just let it hang. This was how Winnie had seen him, and it didn't seem
appropriate to do it any differently on this day… her day.

He had one last thing to do before leaving. Rummaging in his desk, he found the length
of velvet ribbon he knew was pushed to the back of a drawer. Carefully lifting the
preserved bouquet from its flask, he wound the ribbon around the stalks to fix them
firmly together. He thought for a moment, then scoffed at the idea of fashioning at bow
with the ends. He stood looking at it when he was finished, and for a moment was
transported to the happy occasions when each flower had been given. Her face was
there, just on the edges of his consciousness, along with her voice, her endearing
mannerisms, her sheer joie de vivre. A glance at the clock told him he had only five
minutes to spare, so he moved to the porch and Apparated quickly.

He stood now at the top of his property, high above the greenhouse in the back garden,
just inside the line of pines that separated his land from the Weasley estate. The earth fell
off in front of him, a gentle rolling of meadow that ended at the edge of the orchard at
the back of their house. Severus could look down on them all gathered there, standing at
the edge of the stand of fruit trees. The bright sunlight reflected off the predominately
red-haired group that had assembled under the trees. There must have been at least thirty
people, all told, but even still, Severus spotted Harry instantly, standing to the back of
the crowd that faced the small white coffin suspended above its final resting place. There
was a low murmuring of voices that ceased abruptly as a wizard towards the front called
for their attention.

The group now had their backs to Severus, and he could only see the face of the wizard
speaking. Eulogizing , he thought to himself. How does one eulogize a six-year-old, and
not just any six-year-old, but Winifred Weasley, the most extraordinary six-year-old the
Wizarding world had ever seen? Well, that was his estimation, of course, but although
he could not hear the man's actual words, he hoped he wasn't spouting off the usual
nonsense. Premature death…life not lived…unfair…will be missed. No, he hoped that he
would be mentioning that Winifred Weasley had been remarkable for her age, that she'd
wanted to fly a broom before her time, that she'd loved purple and blue, and that she'd
been the self-declared and undisputed Monkey Queen. And although he thought it
unlikely, he wished someone would make mention of the fact that, in six short weeks,
she'd softened and won the heart of the most unlikely of admirers, evidenced by the fact
that two entire bottles of Dalmore had been drunk in her honor in the space of twenty-
four hours, and even more amazing, that one had been entirely ignored today on her
account.

He stood there with the bouquet down at his side; he listened as the group began to sing
something in unison, and was chagrinned when he couldn't identify what it was to sing
along with them. The crowd was quiet for a moment, then he made out the sound of
women weeping as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. He watched as, one
by one, the mourners stepped over and placed a flower atop it, then turned to make their
way into the house.

Harry was the last, which was not surprising. Severus saw him walk to a nearby tree and
pick up something from the ground. He gave a start of recognition when he saw that it
was Winnie's preserved bouquet of the flowers, which Severus had given her. Harry
walked and then stood still for a moment, head bowed, in front of the grave. He leant in
stiffly to lay it atop the mound of flowers already there, then turned to make his own
way into the house. But he stopped suddenly, and swung back, lifting his hand to shield
his eyes as he squinted in the sunlight in Severus' direction.

Severus stepped reflexively back into the tree line, but he was obviously too late, or
perhaps Harry was only guessing, for he lifted his arm in a one-handed salute, then
turned away again to go into the house with the others.

Severus stood there until the sun had dropped below the rim of the orchard. The lights
were on in the estate, and although Severus could hear the sounds of the people within as
they dined, no one had ventured onto the back porch as of yet.
He looked around carefully, choosing his spot, then Apparated to the far side of the tree
nearest the gravesite. He held his breath for a moment as he made sure he was alone,
then stepped out from the tree, only to be startled to see that there was one mourner who
had remained.

Fleur was seated on a stone bench on the far side of the grave, where a standing flower
arrangement had hidden her from his view. He froze where he was, considering
Disapparating away, when she looked up and saw him.

She stood a little shakily, and said tentatively, "Professor? Ez zat you?" she asked,
motioning him to join her where they would remain partially hidden from the house.

Casting a furtive glance at the back porch, Severus made his way over, skirting the foot
of the grave to stand beside her. "My apologies, Mrs. Weasley, I thought that everyone
had gone. I won't disturb you further; I just wanted—"

Fleur sank back onto the bench and patted the spot beside her. "Mais non, seet. Please. I
wanted to speak to you anyway." Severus sat uneasily on the edge and waited. "Eet was
a shame zat you could not come. I wanted you to come, and Winnie would've wanted eet
too. So, here you are. Eet eez a good zing, really." She reached over and snagged one of
his hands and held it in her own, and for a moment neither of them spoke, as they looked
at the tragic sight before them. "Winnie would've loved eet, non? All zee flowers? She
loved zee flowers, just like me." She dabbed at her face with her handkerchief. "Zat is
one of zee reasons zee two of you were such good friends, non? Zee flower love," she
trailed off.

Severus was groping for what to say in reply, when he was startled by her melodious
laughter. She reached across him and took the bouquet that he'd forgotten he was
holding. "Zee utter half of zee bouquets, Professor. Winnie was so pleased you saved
zem. You see what Harry has placed zere?" She pointed to the top of the coffin. There
sat the flowers that Severus had given the child, gathered into a bunch and held by a
ribbon, much as Severus had done. He stared it for a moment, then looked back at Fleur
who was watching him. "Eet eez ze flower game, non? My Winnie loved zees game. Do
you know what she told me just last week, Professor?" When Severus shook his head,
she leant in and softly said. "I said somezing to her about her 'flower game', and she
corrected me and said, 'Nan, maman, eet eez Uncle 'Arry and Mr. Snape's flower game. I
am only zee delivery girl.'" She gazed at Severus for a moment, then tapped his cheek
lightly with a fingertip. "She was very wise, my Winnie, don't you zink, Professor?" She
stood, then bent to place a kiss on each of his cheeks. "I must go in now. I know you
have some zings to say to Winnie. Eet was so good of you to come. Eet would not have
been right if you hadn't." She straightened and looked down at him. "I knew you would."

"You have my heartfelt sympathies, Madame," he had a chance to murmur before she
was on her way to the house. He watched as she disappeared through the door, then sat
for a moment considering the small coffin. He stood and moved to the head of the bier,
then bent and placed the bouquet beside its sister one. He thought of how they
represented six weeks of encounters and conversations that had charmed his thoughts
and affections; he remembered wistfully how she'd believed for the best in him; he
recalled her glee at seeing Harry and him together, first at the party, and then on that day
when they'd brought him cake. Drawing himself up to his full height, he placed his hand
over his heart and pledged, "I shall miss you, Winifred Weasley. It was my great fortune
and privilege to have known you." He turned and took a few steps, then Disapparated
away.

***

Severus had retuned home, tried to eat but couldn't, had made several trips to the
sideboard, and even had once unscrewed the top from the bottle, but in the end decided
that he couldn't. Not that he didn't crave the forgetfulness and mellow edge that the
Dalmore could give him; no, it didn't seem right, not on this one final night, which
rightfully belonged to Winnie alone.

He sat on his porch as the sun was setting, his mood growing darker and darker. Just a
short distance away, there was a group of people who were celebrating her life, telling
stories about her, ones that Severus hadn't even known. He realized that there was a great
deal of her past that he didn't know, and now that she'd been taken, would no doubt
never know. He felt almost obscenely cheated, deprived of those stories, and jealous of
those who were hearing them, and robbed of the future ones that now she'd never have a
chance to create.

He stood and paced the porch, cursing his isolation on this night when his heart was so
full of so many things. The intensity of it drove him into the gardens, and he prowled
them under the moon as it arose, stooping to pull weeds here and there, tripping over
bushes and shrubs with no care that he might damage them. He made a quick foray into
his greenhouse, then slammed the door with such force that the small panes in it
shattered. He murmured a hasty, " Reparo," before returning to the porch, well aware
that his rage was demanding an outlet.

He sat and considered, then again refused the almost overwhelming urge to summon the
Dalmore. He struggled to remove his boots, then opened his robes and undid the top
buttons of his shirt. The moon was high in the sky now, its light shimmering down onto
the vivid colors of the garden. His breath caught as he took in the blanket of golds and
greens and reds and blues. They were so beautiful in this cool light of the August moon;
they were glorious, in the prime of their flower lives. They'd survived the summer's heat
and the thrashing of the heavy downpour of just three days ago; not a one of them had
succumbed to the unforgiving ravages of weather. They stood upright and proud,
unaware that death lay just around the corner…for all of them.

And suddenly…the outrageousness of it spurred Severus to action. How dare they thrive
and grow and bloom, whilst the most beautiful flower of them all was lying entombed in
a pine box, just over the crest of the hill?
In six strides he was to the fence, just as his fury reached its peak. He released it in a
frightening onslaught of hands ripping at the foliage on the rail. He pulled with all his
might and reveled in the sound of the vines being ripped from their supports. They
snapped and twanged as he dragged them loose from the fence. He felt them dig into the
flesh of his fingers and palms, but that only incensed him further. He became entangled
in what he'd pulled free, and let out a howl of frustration. Dragging it off, he threw it to
the side and attacked once more . To the fire heap, morning glories, for one lovelier than
you is dead and gone. To the mulch pile, he recited to the clematis as he wrenched its
reluctant tentacles from the wire, you deserve no better than she. To the lane gutter,
gloxinia, for why should you flourish when all hope of her future has been lost? He
labored on, methodically pulling vine after vine from the fence, following it to the roots,
which he mercilessly ripped from the ground. His hands were on fire now, and he was
vaguely aware of the blood dripping down his forearms. But he didn't pause; he didn't
falter; he continued his premature harvesting, his breath ragged and sweat pouring into
his eyes.

He was suddenly aware that he was not alone at his task. Another pair of hands now
joined his from the other side of the lane; he didn't stop to question or wonder, but
gratefully accepted the assistance of this willing nighttime wanderer. They worked on
until it was finally finished, every shred of the vines pulled from the three rails of the
fence. He stood back to admire his handiwork, now able to see into the lane from his
garden for the first time in years. As if in a dream, he saw Harry standing there, his shirt-
sleeves rolled up, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Severus sank to his knees in the garden, then sat back on his heels. He watched, numb,
as Harry made his way to the gate, then stepped over the rows to sit down beside him.
The two of them stayed there, their breathing returning to normal, neither of them
speaking for a long while.

Severus' explanation was simple. "They were alive, and she's dead," were his only
words. He felt a warm hand rub a circle on his back.

"I know," Harry said. "I know."

***

Severus wasn't surprised at how comforting it was to feel someone's arm around his
shoulders. They sat there for a while, wordless, until Harry asked him in a low voice,
"Are you all right?"

Severus nodded as he stared straight ahead. "I am."

Harry stood and reached down a hand to help him up. "Good. Let's go in and get you
cleaned off."
As they walked toward the porch, Harry said, "I saw you, Severus. It meant the world to
Fleur that you came."

"I had no choice in the matter," Severus told him truthfully as they climbed the steps.
"Winnie would've never forgiven me. Nor I myself."

They stood together at the large kitchen sink, washing blood and dirt from their arms.
When they'd finished, they returned to the porch and sat side by side on the top step.
Severus hadn't offered Harry a drink, and if Harry had noticed it, he didn't comment.

"So, things went all right with Graham, I heard," Harry said conversationally.

Severus gave him a sideways glance. "It didn't actually tax my abilities. I was there and
gone in little over an hour," he informed him.

"Ah, yes, so I heard. An hour of which was spent on the quest for opilio crab," Harry
teased.

Severus sniffed. "I simply sat with him to help pass the time," he groused.

"It's on every Thursday. You're welcome anytime." He gave a small laugh.

Severus twisted to see him better. "So, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be
rather busy minding the wake," he commented.

Harry twisted his hands nervously in front of him, then made a small sound of agreement
before he said, "Oh, I didn't plan to come tonight, that's true." He turned to face Severus,
his face resigned. "But I've been given an ultimatum, you see. To present myself to my
potions maker or forfeit the final installment of his contract." He winced as Severus'
mouth dropped open in shock.

Standing to his feet, Severus hauled Harry up by the back of his shirt. Dropping his
hand, he searched Harry's face, then scowled. "In the house, Potter. Now! "

***

Harry had glanced longingly at the sideboard, but Severus had ignored him and got them
both cups of tea. They now sat on either end of the settee, but their proximity was
deceptive, and the silence ominous.

"If you needed such a thing, you should've come to me, instead of jerking me around for
weeks. What were you thinking, Harry? Had you hit on someone else besides me, you
might this very moment be in front of the Wizengamot! I deserve an answer, so tell me
the whole of it, from beginning to end." The tension in the air was unmistakable as
Severus fixed him with a forbidding glare. "I'd come to the conclusion that there was
either a suicide or a homicide in the making, so enlighten me."
Harry pulled at his lower lip as he considered Severus, and this apparent weighing of his
response was what finally provided Severus with the connection.

"Graham," he breathed out, looking at Harry. "This has something to do with Graham,
doesn't it?"

Something akin to relief spread over Harry's face. He looked down at the cup in his
hands, then leant forward to place it on the table. When he looked back at Severus, his
face appeared grim with resolve.

"You have to remember that at the beginning of this, I hadn't seen you in years. Believe
me, that's been weird—that just after I secure your services for this, we end up in each
other's back gardens. And then, even more than that…well, Winnie's doing, of course."
He toyed with the teaspoon he still held, then continued, not looking at Severus.
"Graham and I have known for some time how badly his illness will end. In Britain,
helping someone kill themselves is a crime—has been for a long while." He turned,
tucked his feet up under him, and looked at Severus intently now.

"He can't do it himself. I can't expect you to understand this. But it's a complicated
story—he's legally divorced, but still has a good relationship with Chloe, his ex, and
their daughter, Daphne. Anything he might do on his own—even the vaguest appearance
of suicide—and they'd lose the sizable amount of money he intends for them from his
life insurance policy. There are clauses in those agreements that make the whole thing
null and void if it's suicide. And it's not very easy to do it without leaving some sort of
clue that they'll find, especially given Muggle forensic technology."

Severus found he was listening with interest now. He saw that the man certainly had a
dilemma, and having met Graham, whom he liked, he was inclined to be sympathetic.
"He could wait to die," he suggested.

Harry glowered at him. "You don't even know what you're saying. This could go on for
months; it's an agonizingly slow and painful way to die. With no hope of remission, only
a day by day, downward spiral of paralysis and loss of dignity. He doesn't want to die
that way, and I can't say I blame him." He took a moment to compose himself. "We were
lovers for years, Severus," he told him quietly." I can't just stand by and not do what I
can to help him." He was pleading now. "Once you love someone, do you ever really
stop? Even if you decide you shouldn't be together?" He rested back on the cushions.
"That's when I came up with the potions idea. I spent a great deal of time working the
whole thing out, so that in the end, I'll have a cocktail of drugs…that will kill
him…humanely…but won't be traceable," he said, then softly added, "And you're the
only one I felt I could trust, so far as workmanship was concerned."

Severus was still not convinced. "There are spells you could use," he tried again. "As far
as being traceable, the Killing Curse…" he stopped at the look on Harry's face. Not the
smartest nor kindest thing to say, Severus. "Ah, no, I see your problem. Forget that I
suggested it."
Harry shook his head in wonderment. "Yeah, I should hope so. Besides, Graham won't
agree to anything that I'm not comfortable with. The potions would take about two hours
total, and the way I have them formulated, Graham will just…fade away. And when they
do the post—and they will—it will just look like the ALS reached his diaphragm and he
stopped breathing. A little more rapid of a progression than they'd expect, but not
unheard of," he finished hopefully, watching for Severus' reaction.

Severus' reaction…was something that Harry couldn't have even guessed at. He was
wondering at what it would be like to be cherished to the point that someone would take
such care and precautions to ease his passing, not to mention to ensure that his loved
ones would be provided for. He felt a momentary pang of irrational jealousy, that
Graham inspired such devotion in Harry, but then quickly brushed it aside as he
contemplated his reply.

"I still would've preferred that you'd come to me first. There were several points along
the way that I almost did what I finally did this week. However," he cautioned as he
gave Harry a warning look, "you're not out of the woods yet. Knowing its purpose, I
insist on reviewing each of the potions and their cumulative effect." He saw Harry let out
a breath. "And in addition, I'll want to speak to you and Graham together. I've no
problem with what you're both trying to do here, Harry, but since I am
ultimately responsible for what my potions are used for, I think you can understand why
I want to be absolutely sure that we're all agreed. When were you intending on doing
this?"

Harry reached over and took up his tea, and Severus noted with surprise that his hand
was shaking. "Well, the original plan was to do it the week after we received the sixth
potion, but with this unexpected…" He waved in the direction of the estate. "We've had
to put it off. There are people that Graham will want to see," he murmured, "and with all
that's happened this week, we've not got around to that." He looked at Severus
sheepishly now. "And we're still missing the final potion."

Severus leant his head back on the settee and thought for a moment. "The potion's not a
problem. It's the second week of August. Do you think you'll have things in order for,
let's say, the last week of August? That will give you two weeks."

Severus was alarmed to see tears glistening in the man's eyes, but his voice betrayed
nothing. "That'll work. Graham would prefer to do it before Daphne starts school, so the
timing would be perfect." He paused, then said half to himself, "I can't believe you're
willing to do this."

"I'm not a complete misanthrope, Harry, although I can understand why you'd think I
might be," he chided. He waited a moment, then stood and gestured to the porch. "Shall
we? After the day we've endured, I'd like to see the stars, wouldn't you?"

***
A murmured " Nox " as they stepped onto the porch left them in total darkness, the only
illumination coming from a pitch-black sky studded with stars and the luminescent
quarter moon. They sat down again on the uppermost step, and for a while they were
silent, as they watched the sky and listened to the sounds of the humid summer night.

Severus finally broke it with, "What are the Weasleys' plans now? Will Fleur be staying
on?"

"No, she's going to spend the rest of the summer with her parents. Bill will be back to
London for good by the end of September," Harry told him as he stretched his legs out in
front of him. "I'm going to be helping her pack next week after the rest of the Weasleys
have gone." He shifted to lean against the banister. "She's asked me keep an eye out on
the house, you know, not let the gardens go to seed." He laced his hands behind his head.
"Not really much to do until late mid-September, then I'll be doing some cutting back,
taking in some bulbs, pruning some of the perennials."

"I can understand how it might be hard for her to stay now. Perhaps they'll sell?" Severus
asked quietly.

"Nah, I don't think so. Winnie wasn't the only one who loved it here—Fleur did too.
That's one of the reasons they buried her here. There'll be here next summer, with the
new baby," he added. "And Fleur, if I know her, will want to be here in April to start up
the gardens."

"Ah, that's good, then. I was just getting used to the idea of neighbors."

"Severus," Harry snickered, "you've been neighbors for four years."

"Well," Severus admitted, "this is really the first year that counts."

"Why didn't you, you know, the first couple of years…" His voice lifted at the end,
signaling the question.

"Harry, these were Weasleys, you understand? I had no way of knowing how I'd be
received there. And the few times I saw them in the village, we exchanged greetings but
nothing more." He laughed softly to himself. "But I don't think anyone bothered to take
Winnie into account."

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and smiled. "She was a force to contend with,
wasn't she?" He nudged Severus' leg with the toe of his trainer when the other man
looked at him in amusement. "When she put her mind to it?"

Severus shook his head as he patted Harry's leg. "She was irresistible."

They talked on into the night, about nothing and about everything: of the Weasleys,
especially Winnie and Fleur and Molly; of Graham, Chloe and Daphne; of the changing
of seasons and flowers and potions; and then, of course, of the hand that fortune had
dealt the both of them on that day ten years ago. They talked easily and frankly, and for
the second time in the recent past, Severus found that the simple act of conversing could
be a pleasurable thing. Who would've ever known that he'd be capable of such a thing,
and especially with Harry? He guessed that Albus might have known—he recalled the
old man telling him, on more than one occasion, that he and Harry were more alike than
either of them could ever imagine. He realized that his mind had wandered when Harry
repeated a question a little more loudly for the second time.

"Severus, are you nodding off on me?" he heard Harry ask.

"Hmm, no just woolgathering. It's been a long day, for both of us. Time to call it a
night?"

The two of them stood and took the stairs down to pick their way through the rows of the
garden. Severus opened the gate and stood aside for Harry to exit first, then followed
him and closed it behind him. When he turned back, he stumbled on the vines still lying
in the lane. Harry caught him by the arm and helped him to right himself, laughing as
Severus muttered, "Fuck it."

Harry didn't remove his arm, though, just stood there facing him, his eyes glittering in
the moonlight. "You know," he said, "I was angry when I started out to see you tonight."
He nodded at Severus. "I was furious—at everyone, I suppose—at Winnie, and Graham,
even you, for some reason. Just at life in general, I guess." He let out a breath. "When I
saw what you were doing here, I understood right away—you were as angry as I was . I
ran the rest of the way and just dug in there with you." He smiled, a little winsomely. "It
felt good." His smile spread. "But I doubt Winnie would've approved. I thought you'd
been drinking." He cocked his head to the side. "But you hadn't, had you?" He took a
small step closer.

Severus was acutely aware of the heat of the hand, which still gripped his arm. He stared
back at Harry as he said, "No, not a drop, it wouldn't have been right."

Harry's smiled faded. "You're stone-cold sober, then?" He took one more step.

"I am." Severus was standing stock still, with nowhere to go, his back up against the
fence.

Harry brought his other hand up and rested it on Severus' shoulder. "All your inhibitions
intact, I take it?" His eyes had dropped to stare at Severus' lips.

"Every single one," Severus murmured, finally inspired to move to reach up and draw
the man closer.

"Mine too," Harry mumbled, his face just inches away from Severus'.
Severus slid his hand behind Harry's neck, then pushed his fingers up into the hair at the
back of his head. "No excuses for this, then." He angled his face head slightly, and was
now close enough to feel Harry's rapid breath on his lips.

"Not a one," whispered Harry as he raised his hands to Severus' face and used his hips to
push him flush against the rail.

For a moment, it was just a kiss, with all the requisite elements in attendance. There was
a pressing, then a parting of mouths, then the flirtation of hesitant tongues as they
explored. But then it became extremely personal, as the kiss fused them together, a point
of contact that seemed to radiate a heat all of its own. Severus moved his hands down to
Harry's back and pulled sharply, crushing them together. He was the first to make a
sound, moaning into the warm mouth as he felt Harry slip a knee between his thighs with
an upward thrust.

They pulled their mouths apart to concentrate on the press of their bodies, Harry pushing
upwards with his knee, Severus pulling at Harry's hips to pin him in place as they rubbed
against each other. Severus threw his head back as Harry buried his face in the crook of
his neck, and for the next several moments, their gasping became just one more sound of
the night, mingling with the noise of crickets and mourning doves.

"Severus," Harry eventually groaned into his neck. "No, not like this, not tonight." He
dropped his hands to Severus' waist and gently held him there as he shifted slightly
away. Severus stilled suddenly, but kept Harry in the circle of his arms, turning his head
so that they rested cheek to cheek now. He could feel the pounding of both their hearts
as they leant against the fence, comfortable with their arms around each other.

"You're right, not tonight," he said into the hair by his face. He knew what this was, this
race to passion, where before there had only been innuendo. He pulled away to look at
Harry, but still held him close. "It's only natural to want to feel how alive you are on a
day like today, considering how very fragile and transient life really is. But…"

He paused long enough that Harry prompted him, speaking the word against his lips.
"But?"

"But I think we'd both regret having the first memory of…being together, like this,
linked to other memories of today." He gave Harry a questioning look.

Harry nodded. "I think that's what stopped me. Not that Winnie wouldn't have
approved." He gave Severus a wistful smile, then leant in to rest his head on Severus'
shoulder. They stood, arms wrapped around one another, until Harry pulled away and
stood looking at Severus gravely. "Just a postponement," he cautioned as he took another
step backward into the lane.

Severus smiled as he stepped across the gutter. "Just a postponement," he promised.

They walked several meters up the lane, where Harry stopped and foraged with his foot,
kicking the flower vines from the road. Their wilted blossoms of blue and yellow and
rose shone in the moonlight.

"It's a shame, Severus. They were so beautiful," Harry lamented.

"Yes," Severus paused and gave him a small, sad smile, "she was."

***

Potion Six/Part Three

It wasn't until the following Tuesday that Severus finally set himself to the task of
brewing the final potion. He'd spent the days since the funeral in a daze marked by
lethargy and lack of purpose, working for short spans of time in the garden and
greenhouse, never really able to focus on one particular activity for very long.

Just as the sun was setting, he was returning from having re-harvested fresh valerian and
jewelweed, when the creaking of the garden gate alerted him that he had a visitor.
Rounding the side of the house, he saw Harry standing there, bent over as he examined
the hosta that bordered the walkway.

"Hullo, Severus," he greeted him as he straightened. "These are really hearty. What're
you using on them?" he asked. "Something's eating at Fleur's—she said the same thing
happened last summer…hasn't been able to hit on anything to stop it."

"Slugs," Severus told him in a word, then shifted the sack on his shoulder. "A rather
resistant species of them, but I've found the correct repellant. Too late for this season,
though." He hesitated, then added, "I'll make sure she has some for next year."

Harry smiled. "How neighborly of you, Severus. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Severus stared him at for a moment. "Piss off, Harry. Are you coming in?" he asked as
he turned and started up the steps.

"Yeah, I guess so," Severus heard from behind him.

He nodded toward the sideboard as he headed for his workroom. "Help yourself. I'll
abstain until I have this on the fire." He'd moved to the sink and begun the task of
cleaning the clumps of dirt from the roots, when he sensed Harry standing beside him.
Giving him a sideways glance, he asked, "So, how are things shaping up there?"

Harry set his drink on the shelf above the sink, then began rolling up his sleeves. "Her
parents are back, and Molly's finally gone, thank God." He reached into the sink and
snagged some the jewelweed from the corner and started to scrub at it with his fingers.
"Take care not to damage the first layer, or you'll make yourself sick," Severus
admonished after watching him out of the corner of his eye. "When is she leaving?"

"Tomorrow—she's all packed and ready to go. She's spent all evening writing out lists
and timetables for me to follow for the next three months." He threw the root he'd been
working on into the strainer and grabbed another. "They're all out sitting at the gravesite,
so I thought I'd take the chance and stop by." Something in his voice made Severus turn
slightly to look at him.

"You wanted to check and make sure I hadn't changed my mind?" he asked, but it wasn't
really a question at all.

Harry had finished with the jewelweed and was drying his hands with a towel. "No, I
didn't think you'd change your mind. You said something about wanting to talk to
Graham and me together, so I was wondering if tomorrow would be good." He was
leaning with his back against the sink now, watching as Severus finished up with the
valerian.

Severus didn't answer until he'd closed the tap and deposited the roots into the strainer.
Taking the towel from Harry, he turned and leant back, standing just beside him.
"Tomorrow," he mused thoughtfully. "You've told him, then, that I know?"

Harry retrieved his glass from above the sink, and faced Severus now. "Actually, I told
him that very first night. See," he said as his face colored slightly, "Graham always
thought you should know." He looked into his drink. "Especially after he'd met you.
Seems he was a better judge of your character than I."

Severus snorted. "No, his faith in me was based on his not knowing my character, Harry.
You had a bit more information to go on, hence your reservation." He sobered suddenly.
"But in this case, he was right—you should've come to me first, to give me a choice." He
shook his head at Harry. "Not everyone would agree to do what I'm doing, on ethical
grounds, you understand." He slung the towel over his shoulder as he made his way to
the sideboard, all the while aware that Harry was working at a response. He poured
himself a stingy inch of Dalmore, then turned back, just in time to raise his hand to stave
off Harry's protest. He then waved it in the direction of the waiting cauldron, and an
incoherent word had the fire beneath it lit in an instant.

Severus motioned to Harry to move the strainer of roots to the work table, then took up
his stance on the other side of it and waited while Harry dumped the damp cuttings onto
its surface. The silence lengthened as he painstakingly blotted the moisture with the
towel. Drying his hands again, he finally looked up to find Harry watching him carefully
from the other side of the table, apprehension apparent on his face.

"Relax," he told him as he pulled the large ceramic bowl from the shelf below, "I haven't
changed my mind. And you—" He shot him a sharp look. "You look like you're about to
drop." He selected a knife from the block, then, after critically appraising its edge, set
himself to chopping the valerian first. Keeping his eye on his work, he said casually,
"You know, I have one concern in all of this." He swept the first batch of valerian into
the bowl. "Graham, naturally, is thinking about Graham. Of course, he's concerned for
his wife and child, but mostly he's thinking about himself, which is as it should be." He
gave Harry a piercing look before taking up the next rootstalk. "Harry is thinking about
Graham too. How could he not? This is someone with whom he's shared a past, a
relationship which, although it did not work out, by your own words, has been sustained
over the years by a mutual affection and love for each other. So, naturally, you wish to
do what's best for him."

Severus cupped the chopped root with the side of his hand and drew it toward the edge
of the table, then used his other hand to scoop it into the bowl. He pulled the two
remaining jewelweed roots from the corner, held them up to examine them, then
murmured, "Nice work, Potter." He allowed himself the barest trace of a smile.

As he chopped through the first one, he commented, "However, it hasn't escaped my

attention that there's one potential problem, which no one has taken into account." He
moved on to the last stalk, the clicking of his knife on the tile surface the only sound in
the room for the few moments until he finished. Balancing the bowl just under the lip of
the table, he brushed the jewelweed in with the valerian. With a sudden, unexpected
movement, he slammed the bowl down onto the table top, causing Harry to noticeably
startle and look up at him in surprise.

Gripping both sides of the bowl, Severus leant forward across it and asked him quietly
but intently, "Tell me, then, who is thinking about Harry in all of this?" At the look on
Harry's face, he finished, "Ah, I thought so." He hefted the bowl and paced to the
cauldron, then dumped its contents into the now simmering liquid.

Harry walked to the other side of the cauldron and watched as Severus stirred in the pre-
measured dittany. The two of them stood there in silence, until the roots floated to the
top of the mixture as the decoction began to boil. Severus carefully lowered the flame,
then fitted the lid tightly before looking up again.

Harry shifted uncomfortably when he met Severus' eyes. "How long do you have—"

Severus waved a hand in interruption. "Every two hours until daybreak, the standard
method for a decoction, not that I'd expect you to recall that detail," he scoffed.

Harry rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "Look, I can stay and help. You can take one
shift, and I'll take the next. They won't need me—"

"No!" Severus almost hissed in reply. "You'll have no hand in this—I wouldn't have
even let you touch the jewelweed, had I thought about it. It's bad enough that you're
going to have to give it to him. Besides, I can tell you haven't been sleeping." He reached
across and pulled Harry's hand from his face, then searched his eyes for a long moment
until he finally found his answer. Removing Harry's glass from his hand, he turned and
picked up his own and returned to the sideboard to refill them both. Gesturing with a jerk
of his head, he made his way to the settee, then handed Harry his glass once he'd settled
on the opposite end.

"Severus," Harry started as he shifted to face him, "I have to do this—don't you
understand? It's the one thing I can do for him now, the last thing he'll ask of me. And
really, I…I…" he faltered, "I'm all right with it, really," he implored, but Severus was
not convinced.

Severus' eyes softened as he watched him struggle. "I've no doubt you believe that now.
But what about afterward? What about when he's gone and you begin to wonder, as you
inevitably will? You've not handled that too well in the past. We both know this," he
pushed. "Need I remind you?"

"No," Harry replied dully. "But that was different, Severus. I wasn't expecting what
happened, but this… It's all planned out—what needs to happen and how it will. It's
completely different this time."

Severus shook his head, then sighed. "You forget how easily I can enter your mind—
after all these years, it's as easy as the first time." When Harry looked up at him, startled,
he continued, "Yes, just now, over the cauldron, your defenses were all but non-
existent."

Harry sat up straighter, his eyes flashing, then closed the distance between them in a
single swift move. He grabbed Severus by the shoulder and shook him. "You had no
right! Why would you do that! God, I can't believe you—you could ask me anything and
I'd tell you!"

Severus reached up and stilled his hand, but held onto it. "But I did ask, if you
remember, who was thinking of Harry in all of this, and you had no answer, at least not
one you wished to share with me. So," he paused as he finished his drink, "since I'm to
be intimately involved in this 'rescue,' I found my answer in the most expedient way.
And even had you tried to give it, I don't believe you would've given me a truthful one,
because of your own denial." He paused, then lowered his voice to say," I saw the truth
of your agitation there."

"I've never lied to you, and I never will," Harry said through gritted teeth, trying now to
withdraw his hand. Severus not only would not release it, but used it to pull him closer.
He leant to the side to place his glass on the table, then purposefully held out his hand to
Harry, who eyed him warily for a moment, then reluctantly handed over his drink.
Severus took it, then immediately captured Harry's hand with his own, exerting a gentle
pulling pressure, so that they ended up face to face, just inches apart. Harry stared at him
for a moment, then shook his head slightly as he looked away.

Severus told him softly, " All your life , you've struggled with guilt, some of it deserved,
but," he stressed as he squeezed both hands, "for the most part, over things that were
none of your doing." He pulled back a bit to duck his head to catch Harry's eyes. "I didn't
learn this just now, Harry, I've suspected it all along. You remember how much time we
spent together? I knew it even then, but we were occupied with more pressing concerns,
and to be honest…" His voice dropped in pitch. "…I didn't care enough to be concerned.
But now…" He angled his face and spoke the words close to Harry's ear. "…now I am
the one. The one who is thinking about Harry in all of this." He felt the tension leave
Harry's hands and arms, so he smoothed his palms up over his shoulders, then pulled the
unresisting man in close against his chest, using a hand to tuck the top of the head in
under his chin. He settled them both comfortably in the settee, absentmindedly stroking
Harry's hair as he spoke.

Severus waved a hand in interruption. "Every two hours until daybreak, the standard
method for a decoction, not that I'd expect you to recall that detail," he scoffed.

Harry rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "Look, I can stay and help. You can take one
shift, and I'll take the next. They won't need me—"

"No!" Severus almost hissed in reply. "You'll have no hand in this—I wouldn't have
even let you touch the jewelweed, had I thought about it. It's bad enough that you're
going to have to give it to him. Besides, I can tell you haven't been sleeping." He reached
across and pulled Harry's hand from his face, then searched his eyes for a long moment
until he finally found his answer. Removing Harry's glass from his hand, he turned and
picked up his own and returned to the sideboard to refill them both. Gesturing with a jerk
of his head, he made his way to the settee, then handed Harry his glass once he'd settled
on the opposite end.

"Severus," Harry started as he shifted to face him, "I have to do this—don't you
understand? It's the one thing I can do for him now, the last thing he'll ask of me. And
really, I…I…" he faltered, "I'm all right with it, really," he implored, but Severus was
not convinced.

Severus' eyes softened as he watched him struggle. "I've no doubt you believe that now.
But what about afterward? What about when he's gone and you begin to wonder, as you
inevitably will? You've not handled that too well in the past. We both know this," he
pushed. "Need I remind you?"

"No," Harry replied dully. "But that was different, Severus. I wasn't expecting what
happened, but this… It's all planned out—what needs to happen and how it will. It's
completely different this time."

Severus shook his head, then sighed. "You forget how easily I can enter your mind—
after all these years, it's as easy as the first time." When Harry looked up at him, startled,
he continued, "Yes, just now, over the cauldron, your defenses were all but non-
existent."
Harry sat up straighter, his eyes flashing, then closed the distance between them in a
single swift move. He grabbed Severus by the shoulder and shook him. "You had no
right! Why would you do that! God, I can't believe you—you could ask me anything and
I'd tell you!"

Severus reached up and stilled his hand, but held onto it. "But I did ask, if you
remember, who was thinking of Harry in all of this, and you had no answer, at least not
one you wished to share with me. So," he paused as he finished his drink, "since I'm to
be intimately involved in this 'rescue,' I found my answer in the most expedient way.
And even had you tried to give it, I don't believe you would've given me a truthful one,
because of your own denial." He paused, then lowered his voice to say," I saw the truth
of your agitation there."

"I've never lied to you, and I never will," Harry said through gritted teeth, trying now to
withdraw his hand. Severus not only would not release it, but used it to pull him closer.
He leant to the side to place his glass on the table, then purposefully held out his hand to
Harry, who eyed him warily for a moment, then reluctantly handed over his drink.
Severus took it, then immediately captured Harry's hand with his own, exerting a gentle
pulling pressure, so that they ended up face to face, just inches apart. Harry stared at him
for a moment, then shook his head slightly as he looked away.

Severus told him softly, " All your life , you've struggled with guilt, some of it deserved,
but," he stressed as he squeezed both hands, "for the most part, over things that were
none of your doing." He pulled back a bit to duck his head to catch Harry's eyes. "I didn't
learn this just now, Harry, I've suspected it all along. You remember how much time we
spent together? I knew it even then, but we were occupied with more pressing concerns,
and to be honest…" His voice dropped in pitch. "…I didn't care enough to be concerned.
But now…" He angled his face and spoke the words close to Harry's ear. "…now I am
the one. The one who is thinking about Harry in all of this." He felt the tension leave
Harry's hands and arms, so he smoothed his palms up over his shoulders, then pulled the
unresisting man in close against his chest, using a hand to tuck the top of the head in
under his chin. He settled them both comfortably in the settee, absentmindedly stroking
Harry's hair as he spoke.

"You know, I've seen them all. Your parents, Diggory, Black…"

"Please, Severus, don't…" Harry whispered against him.

"…Albus, Draco, Arthur, Ronald…" He felt Harry struggle against him, but he was
determined to finish. "…now Winnie, and soon…Graham. All of their faces are there,
just below the surface of your consciousness." He tipped Harry's head up at an
uncomfortable angle so he could look him in the face. "Where will it end? Because
you're not invincible, despite what the rest of the Wizarding world might think.
I know you, you forget, better than anyone else, and adding one more name to this list of
people…."
Harry stared up at him, his eyes suddenly filled with tears. "You're right, okay, I admit it.
But now's not the time, Severus." He buried his face back in Severus' chest. His next
words were muffled. "Whatever my problems with it, I have to do what's best for
Graham now. I'll sort it out later if I have to."

Severus rubbed his back distractedly for a moment, then murmured into his hair, "Oh,
I've no doubt that you'll have to, but in the meantime, we'll do what's best for Graham, I
promise." He felt Harry relax completely against him and, given the man's exhaustion,
wasn't surprised when, within minutes, he could sense that he was close to sleep. He felt
it safe to add, then, "And what's best for you."

***

Two hours later, Severus slid carefully from underneath his burden and lowered him
gently onto the settee, then summoned a sheet from his bedchamber to cover him. He
tended to the potion, then returned to the sitting room to take the chair opposite his
sleeping guest.

He sat and thought as he watched Harry sleep. It was amazing how young he looked,
sprawled out with his limbs askew, his face unlined and peaceful. He wondered how best
to help him, and thought, with no small amount of irony, that had Harry been a Muggle,
he'd no doubt be a candidate for psychotherapy, given his tragedy-ridden past. Such
treatment was not unheard of in Wizardom, although he could understand why Harry
had never sought out such help—his life had been enough of an open book, and he was
certain that Harry would never willingly seek out such an intrusive resolution. But
Severus had no doubt that Harry was on a collision course with disaster, if something or
someone did not intervene, and soon.

It was after the third stirring, as Severus was once again sitting watching his sleeper,
when the beginnings of an answer finally came to him. He sat, rooted to the spot, as he
thought it through. And because he'd be responsible , Severus thought about every
possibility, considered every variation, then easily came to a reasoned decision. He felt
relief flood through him, and although he knew it was the best scenario given the
circumstances, he suspected that Harry would not be so easily convinced.

He was pulled from his musings by Harry moving restlessly on the settee, sending the
sheet to the floor as he thrashed about. Severus was at his side in an instant, bending
down to tuck the sheet back in around him.

"Mmm, should check on Winnie," Harry mumbled in his sleep as Severus brushed his
hair from his cheek.

"Shhh, no need. Go back to sleep. Everything's taken care of," he murmured.

***
Severus was sitting once again in the chair opposite the settee, listening as the beginning
of birdsong heralded the morning, even though the sky visible through the workshop
window on the side of the house still showed the black sky of night. The decoction was
finished and cooling on the burner—he'd wait until it was ready to be decanted before
he'd awaken Harry, who, he realized, hadn't changed in the years since they'd last come
to a verbal impasse. He was perplexed once again by Harry's loyalty to Graham—more
accurately, by his own reaction to that loyalty.

It stirred up old memories of protectiveness that he'd felt years ago, but had never
forgotten. And oddly, it had occurred after the brewing of another potion…well, not just
any potion, he conceded. It had been the first time the two of them had ever done such a
thing together, and at the time, Severus had assumed it would be their last. But Harry's
presence tonight, helping him, standing and watching him work, had dredged up that
picture of the two of them from so long ago…a brewing, a prophecy, then the almost
overwhelming slam of connection that had taken both of them so unawares. It had been
temporary, of course, but at the time, no less distressing….

Harry stood uncertainly, watching from the doorway, then cautiously stepped in, as if he
were walking onto holy ground. "All right, I'm here, just tell me what to do."

Severus turned from the sink where he was reconstituting dry ingredients. "Take the
small brass cauldron and coat it liberally with the coriander oil." He refocused his
attention on his work, then added from over his shoulder, "And take care not to get any
of it on the outside, unless you want to clean up after the explosion."

Harry moved to the table and picked up the phial, then commented petulantly, "We'd
probably both be better off if I didn't do a thing."

Severus leant back against the sink as he dried his hands, considering Harry who was
now sniffing the contents of the phial. "Didn't I teach you to never smell an ingredient
that way? If it were noxious, you'd have already harmed yourself," he said in disgust as
he moved to take the phial from him. "If you must smell something, then hold the phial in
front of you, and fan the fumes toward your face with your hand." He demonstrated it for
him, then thrust it back into his hands. "And as for us being better off if I were to do it
all, you're absolutely correct on that account. However," he paused meaningfully,
stopping Harry's retort to come, "the rite requires that the two of us brew this together.
It begins here," he said neutrally, "the symbolism of two becoming one, and it's as much
a part of the rite as the potion or the incantation, so you'd best take it seriously." He
stood and watched as Harry thought about this, then turned away again as the man
began the task of coating the cauldron.

They worked in relative silence for the next hour, chopping and dicing ingredients,
adding them one by one to the cauldron, the only sound Severus' murmured instructions
as they moved through the preparation. When at last he'd fitted the lid on the simmering
concoction, he gestured Harry towards his desk in the corner.
When they were both seated on either side of it, Severus turned the old volume so Harry
could see it as he jabbed a finger at the top of the page.

"Before we go on, there are several things you must know, about the potion itself as well
as how it will affect us…and one other thing that will directly impact our use of it."
When Harry gave him a suspicious look, he sneered at him. "Now is not the time to grow
scruples, so I intend for you to be fully informed before we go any further."

Harry squinted at the page in front of him, then looked up and said, "All right, so
enlighten me."

Severus stared at him until Harry became uncomfortable, then told him quietly, "In the
end, it will require both your consent and unreserved acceptance. Can you do that?
Because if you can't, all of this will have been for nothing." At the look on Harry's face,
he added, "All of it—the Horcruxes, the potion, the rite itself, all will be useless if you
are not completely resolved…to what we must do…and what will happen." He searched
Harry's face. "Can you do it?" he asked again.

Harry looked from Severus' face to the page and then back again. "That depends," he
said cautiously.

"Good," Severus affirmed as he sat back in his chair. "I see that your Slytherin bent
towards caution has finally asserted itself." At the look of surprise on Harry's face, he
said mockingly, "Oh, come now, I've known about the Hat since your first year.
Although, I think it was prudent to place you in Gryffindor, all things considered."

He ignored Harry's muttering under his breath, then leant forward once again to
continue. "The first part is simple—as this is a Dark Arts spell, neither of us should be
the least bit surprised. Spells of this magnitude often fall in this category." He gave
Harry a cool look, then pronounced, "It's a Blood Spell, incorporating Sex Magic, as
well." He watched and waited as Harry's face first registered shock, then the inevitable
objection.

"That's illegal!" he shot at Severus.

"Don't be stupid, of course it's illegal! Did you have any doubt from the start on that
account, not to mention binding our magical cores? It's all illegal, idiot. It's a Dark Arts
Spell. Were you expecting a Ministry seal of approval?" he scoffed. "The elements that
make it illegal are the ones that will make it powerful and effective."

Harry was pulling at his lower lip, betraying his anxiety, not to mention his now
dwindling outrage. "All right, the blood's not so bad, but the sex? I'm not going to have
sex with you, and that's final!" he spat out, his knuckles white on the edge of the table.

Severus couldn't help himself, then, and despite the gravity of the circumstances,
laughed out loud. "Oh, that's priceless, Harry, and I'll file that preference away in the
back of my mind, should the occasion of our having sex together ever present itself in
our questionable future." He paused for a moment, enjoying the man's discomfiture.
"No, all that's required is blood and semen from the two of us. Warm, you understand,
but no restrictions on how it's obtained." He sat back, the amusement still glittering in
his eyes. "You're permitted to toss off in private. And believe me, the prospect of a sexual
encounter between the two of us would be just as distasteful to me."

He saw Harry's mouth twitch at the corners, and suddenly admired his 'ability to adapt,'
as Albus had called it. He only hoped he'd not strained it too badly, given what was yet
to come.

"All right, that's not so bad." Harry's eyes slid up to meet his. "That's it?"

"No, unfortunately, that's not it," Severus said shortly, looking away as he swallowed
visibly. He stood and went to a cupboard, then returned and placed the object on the
desk between them.

Harry scooted his chair back in alarm, then looked up at him in question. "A Pensieve?
But why? The Headmaster's already given me—"

"He's not given you this," Severus interrupted him, "although, Merlin only knows I
wanted him to. No, he left this for me to unveil to you. Mind you, this has nothing to do
with the preparation of the potion. But remember what I said about determination and
acceptance?" When Harry nodded warily, he continued, "This will go a long way to
fortify that commitment. Because what we're about to do is not just some plan that we've
hit on by ourselves, and more importantly, it will show you that this is not on your
shoulders alone, nor has it ever been. Had it been my call, I would've had you see this
long ago, but I deferred to the Headmaster's wisdom."

Standing to his feet, he stared at Harry until he did the same. Raising the tip of his wand
to his temple, he drew out the long, silvery strand, then flicked it once and watched as it
drifted down into the pearly liquid, then used his wand to stir it once.

"Be my guest," he said dryly, then watched as Harry bent over the vessel to break the
surface with his face, then sighed before doing the same.

Then suddenly they were both standing in the Headmaster's office, watching an eerily
familiar scene, as Dumbledore stirred a Pensieve while a noticeably less care-worn
Severus sat in front of it. The figure of Sybil Trelawney rose spookily from the surface of
the swirling liquid, then rotated as the unearthly voice began to speak.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Born to those who have thrice defied him

Born as the seventh month dies…

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,

But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

And either must die at the hand of the other

For neither can live while the other survives…

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord

Will be born as the seventh month dies…

The one with the knowledge to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Born to twice betray the Dark Lord

Born as the new moon of the first month arose…

And the Dark Lord has marked him as a servant,

But he will serve another master, he will aid another warrior…

And neither he with power, nor he with knowledge, can vanquish the Dark Lord alone

For only as one can they defeat him, and neither can live while he survives…

The one with the knowledge to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches

Born as the new moon of the first month arose…"

Dumbledore broke the silence. "Severus, I know it's a bit much to take in all at once. I
would've shown you earlier…but as Voldemort's return was not imminent, I delayed. But
now, with him regaining corporeal form, I felt it was rather past due," he finished on an
apologetic note.

The seated Severus, his face drained of color, now came to life. "Past due?! You've
known this for years, and didn't think to warn me? Past due! Not only are the boy and I
to be paired in some sort of scheme to kill him, but there is the little detail that if we
fail—"

Severus heard Harry gasp, as he grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, sending them,
soaring, upwards and out of the Pensieve.

"What? Why did you do that? What didn't you want me to hear? You losing it?" Harry
fell back into his chair, his legs refusing to hold him up any longer.
Severus gave him a withering look. "Precisely. Just remember your own initial reaction
in Albus' office, just after the debacle in the Department of Mysteries, and you'll have
mine, in a nutshell."

Harry sat forward and rested his forehead on the edge of the table. "That second part,
that's you, isn't it? I'm not stupid, I got that part, but pardon me, I only heard it once,
and with no advance warning," he said accusingly as he finally looked up. "So tell me,
'in a nutshell,' what's it mean? Besides the obvious fact that we're together in this
somehow?"

Severus steepled his fingers in front of his chest, then answered succinctly, "It means,
Harry, that your power, as the marked one,, and my knowledge, in this case the finding
and execution of the potion and rite, are both essential to vanquish the Dark Lord. It's
obvious from the prophecy that we are the two players. It's quite clear, it should be
noted, that neither of us could do this on our own, but only as a single entity focused
against him." He paused, then added more softly, "And if we fail, then neither of us will
live." He watched as this registered on Harry's face. "I've believed since the time Albus
first showed you, that it might've been comforting to learn that you weren't on your
own…and perhaps, too, that if you were to die, you would not die alone. But the fact that
it was me, and no one else, would've, no likely, made it less of a comfort."

He stopped and watched as Harry, eyes downcast, processed this new relationship. He
felt a momentary twinge of anxiety as the moments stretched into minutes. When the man
finally looked up, Severus could already read his reaction in his eyes.

"You've had to live with this all these years, and never let on to anyone." His expression
softened. "I see why the Headmaster didn't tell me—I could've never accepted it at the
time." He gave Severus a small smile. "I don't know how you were expecting me to react
now, but it makes all of this…" He gestured to the room around them."…make so much
more sense. We're doing exactly what the prophecy said we would, or should… Wow, it
really messes with your mind, doesn't' it?"

Severus didn't even try to tamp down the approval in his own eyes. "Yes, it does that."
He watched as Harry was lost in his thoughts again, thinking to himself that, damn it,
Albus had been right all along. He was filled with a deep longing to be able to tell the
man so.

"Well, shall we get on with it, then?" Harry asked, a new determination and confidence
in his voice. Their eyes met and locked, and for the first time in their long years of
conflict, Severus suddenly experienced the sense of their being finally on the same side.

Severus hesitated, then said, "There is one more thing." When Harry rolled his eyes,
Severus sighed, "Yes, I know, and this is rather anticlimactic. But hear me out. Seeing
Albus' handwriting in the margin certainly lent credence to the possibility that this was
the right path to choose. It was its name, however, that was the clincher for me."
When Harry looked at him, clueless, he explained patiently, "Roughly translated, it
means 'one time only,' as you already know. What you don't know, as I was not at liberty
to explain the nuance, is that this does not just mean that the duration of the bonding is
for one spell only; it also means that this spell was designed, and can only be brewed,
successfully, once. By one pair of wizards, in all of time, in all of history. It's been sitting
in that dusty volume for centuries, just waiting for its makers…you and I. And that, Mr.
Potter, is how I knew we were on the right path—this spell is our destiny."

Harry stared at him for a moment, then Severus had to smile when the man only shook
his head as he said, his voice strangely subdued, "Well, it's good for us that you can read
Latin." But Severus was certain that he could read relief in the green eyes.

They returned to finish the brewing, and there was only mild awkwardness when Harry
handed the warm phial to Severus. They waited the requisite two hours, then tipped their
glasses in a mock toast before they both downed the potion.

They sat together in the low light of the sitting room, both of them anxiously awaiting its
effects.

"How do you feel?" Severus asked him with curiosity. "Anything at all?"

Harry gave him a rueful grin. "Closer, would be the word, I guess."

"Protective?" Severus elucidated for him, for that was precisely what he was feeling..

"Yes, I think that's it. Weird isn't it, when we've always been at each other's throats."

"So it seemed." Severus did not argue with him, thinking that now was not the time to
explain diversionary tactics to him, and besides, Harry was partially correct. "Since our
magical cores are now bound together as one, it's only natural that each of us would
want to protect that part of ourselves that now resides in the other. Survival instincts."

They were both slightly dismayed when, at the end of the evening, they discovered that
Harry could not leave…more precisely, he felt he could not leave. Severus registered for
the first time that they were now truly bound to each other, and the only resolution
would be the dead body of a Dark Lord or the death of both of them.

And in the most bizarre circumstances of Severus' relatively young life, he and Harry
shared a chaste bed that night, and several more after that,, unable to even bear
inhabiting separate rooms. But this wasn't the most disturbing thing; even though
Severus knew the reason why, it was the fact that it felt so natural, and that both of them
had accepted it without question—this was the most unsettling part, along with the fact
that Harry seemed to trust him so implicitly, counting on his judgment that the effects
would disappear when the spell was finally cast. He shuddered to think of the unpleasant
sequelae if they didn't.

***
He watched as Harry's eyelids fluttered in that stage of sleep just before awakening. And
even though the man was now ten years older, Severus saw, in the posture of his
shoulders as he lay back on the pillow, in the line of his jaw, in the set of his lips, the
same obstinate determination, which Severus had been forced to face those many years
ago, a willfulness as much a part of Harry as his much more celebrated scar.

Given his stubbornness, it wasn't surprising that Harry had long ago proved that he could
take care of himself, but even so, Severus realized that he still harbored a perhaps
residual urge to make sure that Harry remained safe…body, mind and soul. He
wondered at it, as he dozed off, when this had started to happen again, then, just on the
verge of sleep, admitted to himself that it had never really stopped.

***

"Severus?"

Severus awoke instantly to find Harry looking down at him. From the looks of him, he'd
only just awakened as well. He could tell by the light in the room that dawn was almost
upon them. "You slept?" he asked as he stretched his legs out.

Harry stood directly in front of him, hands in his pockets, a slight smile on his face.
"Yes, I did, thanks to you." He nudged Severus' foot with a bare one of his own. "As did
you, at least for a while." He glanced backward towards the cauldron.

Severus struggled to his feet, then yawned as he made his way over to the work area.
"It's just about ready to decant. Would you like to take it with you, or shall I send it on to
Whitney?"

Harry padded alongside him and stood and watched while he measured the thickened
decoction into the phial. "Hmm, you'd better send it on to Whitney. That way he'll know
you should be paid now." He was silent until Severus finished, then followed him over
to watch as he made his entries into his logbook. When Severus snapped it shut, he was
surprised when Harry, perched on the edge of the desk, gently took it from him and set it
aside.

"I always have, you know," Harry confided.

Severus looked up at him, puzzled. "Have what?"

Harry reached out a hand and brushed his thumb across Severus' cheek. "Felt safe with
you." Severus could not hold back the look of consternation. Harry nodded, saying,
"You talk in your sleep."

***

Potion Six/Part Four

That same afternoon, Severus Apparated to Macclesfield for his meeting with Harry and
Graham. He stopped for a moment just inside the gate to admire the Chinese jasmine
trailing off an arched trellis, and had closed his eyes to inhale its pungent sweetness,
when he heard the front door to the house open and close.

He turned and watched as a woman made her way down the walkway towards him. She
looked to be Harry and Graham's age, garbed in scruffy jeans and a tee shirt with a logo
on it that Severus could not make out as she approached. She slowed when she saw him,
then her eyes lit up as she seemed to recognize him.

"Hullo." She stopped a meter away, then glanced up at the jasmine. "It's lovely, isn't it?
Always makes me feel like I'm stepping into a bit of heaven." She studied him, then
quickly reached out her hand. "I'm Chloe, Graham's ex. You must be Severus. They said
you'd be stopping by." She squinted against the sun, then broke into a smile when
Severus reached out and shook her hand.

"Yes, I am. Very pleased to meet you—Graham's spoken of you," seemed the polite
thing to say, and wasn't exactly a lie, either.

The woman laughed. "I imagine he has—he was just telling me about your visit last
week. So nice of you to fill in." She looked away. "I should be doing more to help Harry,
I know. But with my job and Daphne…"

Severus shook his head. "You must have your hands full, and it was only that one time,
in any case." There was an awkward pause where neither of them spoke, both of them
watching a humming bird hovering at the top of the arbor.

Chloe's face brightened…a forced look, Severus thought to himself.

"Well, I'm off. Have to be at work by three. Try and make those two behave—a helpless
cause. They're in there watching telly poker and getting sozzled." She smiled genuinely
now. "Wish I had the day off so I could join them," she confessed as she stepped to the
gate. "Nice meeting you—I'm sure I'll see you again."

"I imagine so," Severus said, then could only see her head over the fence as she made
her way down the lane.

Considering what Chloe had just told him, he decided not to knock; he let himself in and
walked toward the back of the house and the voices coming from the solarium. He stood
in the doorway and watched them for a moment, Graham propped up on his pillows,
Harry sprawled out in the chair beside the bed, his bare feet propped up on the edge.
Both men were intent on the telly, muttering instructions and colorful metaphors as they
watched. Chloe had been right, he surmised, seeing the collection of lager bottles strewn
on the floor around the bed.
Severus cleared his throat and both men looked towards the doorway, their faces
breaking into matching grins when they saw him.

"Severus, my man!" Graham waved him in with the hand clutching the bottle. "Right on
time. I'm taking Harry to the bank, here. I'm up five quid, and he's about to lose his
trousers."

Harry stood and reached out a hand to shake Severus'. As he guided him to a chair
beside his own, he murmured so that only they could hear, "It's not as bad as it looks—I
figured it would do him some good, lighten things up a bit."

Shaking his head at the offer of a bottle, Severus sat for a while, watching with them, but
not really able to make any sense of it. He did manage to gather that Graham and Harry
were in this for a game of stakes, something being kept track of on a pad of paper that
lay on the bed where they both made notes from time to time.

Harry shot Severus a pleading look several times, from which he understood that Harry
was asking him to follow his lead and wait a little longer. In response, he settled back in
his chair and closed his eyes, and must've been almost asleep, when the sound of sudden
silence awakened him. He sat up straight to rub at his eyes, then felt Harry brush against
his knees as he stood and walked to the kitchen.

"How about I'll get us some tea?" Harry called out, already in the hallway.

Severus looked over to find Graham watching him. "Don't worry, neither one of us is
really drunk." He smiled suddenly. "Too bad it's not Thursday—we could watch the
crabbers," he teased, then rested back on the pillows, his exhaustion now apparent. Not
looking at Severus, he added quietly, "But you'll be here next Thursday, so you can catch
it then." He did look at Severus then, who found he had nothing to say in reply.

Once Harry had come in with the tray, the two of them hauled Graham up in the bed so
that he was in a sitting position. Severus took the chair on the opposite side, and waited
while Harry passed cups around for all of them. They sat for a few moments in a
comfortable silence, which Harry finally broke.

"You wanted to talk to us together, Severus," he reminded him, glancing pointedly at

Graham. "We figure we know what it is, and we're both okay with that. It makes sense
that you'd want to be…as sure as we both are."

Severus nodded. "It's not a matter of distrust, of either of you. But for my own reasons, I
want to be absolutely certain that we all understand each other. So," he paused as he set
his cup aside, "Graham, I'd like you to clearly state for me your intentions in all of this."
He gave the man his complete attention.

Graham seemed to hesitate for a moment, then told him, "I want to die, Severus. Not in
six months, not in a year, but now. I don't want Chloe and Daphne to watch me waste
away. I don't want to suffer and struggle anymore. And I want them to be provided for."
He stared into his teacup for a moment, then looked up, first at Harry, then back to
Severus. "I'm not choosing to die," he instructed him, "just choosing when…and how.
The dying part is not too far down the road anyway. And it's not that I'm a coward. I
just…" he stopped, then took a deep breath, "want to do it with a bit of dignity, and spare
the people I love any more grief. There'll be enough of that as it is." He didn't look away,
and Severus could read the desperate entreaty in his eyes.

He watched as Harry reached over and patted Graham's hand. Severus sat forward when
Harry sat back, and asked Graham softly, "And this is your own un-coerced decision?
No one has talked you into this? You do this of your own free will?" He saw Harry
bristle, and curtly chided him, "No offence nor insinuation. Just questions to which I
require direct answers." He looked back to Graham.

The man nodded in assent. "I'd been thinking and talking about it for months before
Harry," he paused as his eyes slid to Harry's face, "came clean. That was the first I knew
about what he was. Because he realized he could help me. So, the answer to all of those
is yes. If anything, I've had to constantly reassure Harry that this is the way I want it to
happen." He handed his empty cup to Severus, then kept his eyes trained on him. "I'm at
peace with it, Severus," he insisted gently.

Severus tilted his chin up as he studied him, seeing the truth and, more importantly,
acceptance in Graham's eyes. He gave him a barely perceptible nod, then focused his
attention on Harry. "And you. You're not doing this under duress? You're not ignoring
your conscience? Your past relationship with Graham isn't exerting undue influence on
you to do something that's against your better judgment? This is important, Harry, that
you know yourself in this," he stressed.

Harry looked at him steadily. "I want to do this. I did all my thinking months ago, and
it's the only way. Like he said, we're just helping it along, and I'll do anything in my
power to have him…die the way he wants." He squeezed Graham's hand as he looked
down at him and smiled. "You'd do the same for me." He looked up to give Severus a
challenging look.

Severus returned the look, unsmiling. Clever misdirection, that. Not the direct answers
that I required, but answered nonetheless. So, now what? Now that I know that this will
be one more notch in your belt of guilt?

Aloud, he commented dryly, "All right, since you both seem to be on the same page,
then I'll move on to the more mundane details of what we'll be doing…next Thursday, I
think Graham told me?" He waited until they looked at each other, then nodded at him in
reply. "I want both of you to know exactly what to expect, with each element of the
prescription, how you'll feel with each part of it, Graham, so there are no surprises."

The next half hour was filled mostly with the low drone of Severus' voice as he led them,
step by step, through the process of potions and bodily reactions. By the time he was
finished, he felt oddly detached, in striking contrast to the brightness of Graham's eyes
and the pallor of Harry's face. The three of them sat in silence when he'd finally finished,
until he asked, "Any questions?" The two men looked at each other, and Severus could
see the anxiety and question in Harry's eyes as he searched Graham's. It dissipated
instantly when Graham reached up a hand to smooth Harry's cheek, and said without
looking at Severus, "No, none at all. It's perfect."

The telly was turned back on, and the next hour spent with Severus watching Harry and
Graham as they wagered with the players. They tried to pull Severus in, but he waved
them off with a smile. He found himself watching them, fascinated by their ease with
one another, and despite his best efforts not to do so, ended by picturing them in his
mind as a couple, intimate with one another. They were so well-matched, in age,
physical size, and even disposition… He stood abruptly, thinking to himself that enough
was enough, and for some reason he felt the need to get away and leave the two of them
to themselves, even though he knew …

Graham caught his eye as he stood, and Severus was puzzled for a moment as the man
gave him a small shake of his head, then pointed the remote at the telly to shut the set
off. When Harry looked at him in surprise, he made a shooing motion with his hand,
then said, "Don't get your back up over it, but I'd like to talk to Severus for a
minute…alone." He didn't offer anything further as Harry stood to his feet, glancing
nervously from Graham to Severus and back again.

"Why?" Harry simply asked, finally fixing his attention on Graham. "What do you have
to say that I shouldn't hear? Graham—"

Graham gave an exaggerated sigh. "I told you, it's nothing. But since I'm the one dying
here, maybe you should give me a break, and just let me have my way? Just something I
want to clear up, okay? Not to worry," he assured him.

Harry gave the two of them a wary once-over, then shrugged as he turned to leave. "I'll
be in small greenhouse if you want me." Severus stood waiting, as he and Graham
listened to Harry let himself out the back door.

Graham ran a hand through his hair, then motioned for Severus to sit. "Look, he's not
lying on purpose. You know that."

Severus perched on the end of the bed, then folded his hands in his lap. "I know."

Graham relaxed visibly. "Good. I'm glad you can see it. But at this point, I don't know
what to do. I've tried to talk to him, but he's set on helping me. It's my fault, I guess,
because I didn't realize at first…all the things from his past."

"Talking won't help, Graham, as he's got a blind spot about it. I've tried to discuss it with
him as well." He picked at a thread on the coverlet. "And at this stage of things, I don't
think there's any way he could back down and live with himself." He looked up at the
man. "He's thinking of what's best for you," he said, watching the concern on Graham's
face deepen. They sat for a moment, neither of them speaking, then Severus could tell
that Graham was struggling with how to word what he was about to say.

"Severus, surely in your world, there must be other…ways, you know, to do this and
have it look as natural as this thing with the potions?" he asked him apprehensively.

Severus gave him a guarded look. "Have you talked with Harry about this?" he asked
cautiously, taking care to conceal his surprise.

The flush on Graham's face gave him away before he even opened his mouth to answer.
"Yeah, we did, a little." He played with the coverlet in front of him with his hands, then
sighed. "He said it wasn't something he could do. So, I didn't press him. But I'm really
worried now. The closer we get, the more it seems like something isn't right. I know,
with what happened with Winnie, he's not himself, but still…." He looked up at Severus
and waited, but when Severus just sat and offered nothing, he seemed to give in to say,
"Is it something that maybe you could do?"

Severus stiffened, and even though he'd considered this very solution during the night,
the real prospect of putting it into action was another thing altogether. "I'm not certain
that Harry would agree to it, Graham. He's very keen on being the one to help you," he
explained.

Graham made a noise of frustration. "I've thought of that. And I'm willing to go ahead
with what we've planned. But what I really wanted was a back-up plan." When Severus
cocked his head in question, he continued, "If we see he's going to fall apart, I want
something to fall back on. Not just for me, you understand, but for him, especially." He
voice became hard now. "If you or I see that happening, then we're going to stop it right
there." Severus stared at him until he added, "And move to the back-up plan. Can you do
it? I know I've really no right to ask such a thing of you, but I'm trying to look out for
Harry here. Can you do it if he starts to unravel? It's the only way I can go on with this.
Please, Severus?" His voice was quietly desperate now, his eyes large and bright. "I
know you care for him, just as much as I do. And besides, you're going to have to be the
one to put him back together in the end. So…" He stopped, not looking away.

Severus sat completely immobile, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. The
magnitude of what he was about to commit himself to was enough to take his breath
away, but what Graham had said made perfect sense, not to mention demonstrating no
small measure of insight into Harry's character. It was a solution he imagined he could
live with, if it came down to it, and besides, it might not even prove necessary.

Taking a deep breath, he said to Graham, "It's called the Killing Curse, and if it's what
Harry was thinking, he told you the truth: he could never do it." He sat still for a
moment, then said, "As for myself, though…"

***
He didn't comprehend exactly why, but on Thursday when the by now familiar owl from
Cartwright, Fernan, and Whitney arrived, Severus took no pleasure in the notice that five
hundred Galleons had been deposited into his Gringotts account. He thought to himself,
as he tucked the parchment into his accounts book, that providing potions was one thing,
but accepting payment if another service was required, might make him feel entirely
different about the money. He knew this was not rational—he would've spent his time
and supplies no matter what the outcome proved to be, but still, it did not sit well. He
sighed over how complicated his simple life had become in the space of two short
months. Not that I'd wish to change any of it , he realized. Winnie, Harry, Graham,
Fleur…people who now regularly intruded into his thoughts, while at the beginning of
the summer, his only companions had been Ampelos and the overfed cat with no name,
now weaving in between his ankles. Then he remembered with a start that Winnie had
been outraged at this last oversight, and had taken to calling the straggly thing Chouette.

He bent down and picked up the creature, cradling it in an arm as he scratched it under
the chin. "What do you say, Chouette, shall we find some lunch now?"

***

After some toast and cheese for himself, and a bowl of cream for the persistent feline,
Severus chose to sit under the cool of the bayberry before beginning his afternoon's work
in the greenhouse. His thoughts soon strayed to his conversation with Graham, and the
unhappy promise that he'd so unwillingly made. He realized that the turmoil within
recalled a similar conversation and decision of many years ago, but that one had been so
much more heart-wrenching…so much more difficult to come to accept, at the time.
Graham was an acquaintance, but this had been a friend…

"Severus," Dumbledore implored him. "It may not even prove necessary, but in the event
that it does… Surely you can see the wisdom of it? You don't want to see Draco a
murderer any more than I."

"He's made his bed," Severus retorted coldly, "and now he should lie in it. The
Unbreakable Vow requires me to act only if he were to fail. It does not constrain me to
step in and do what he may well be able to do himself."

Dumbledore was quick to answer. "No, it does not, but it would guarantee your place in
Voldemort's eyes. There are any number of reasons you could concoct as to why it was
you and not Draco." When Severus only glowered at him in reply, he added, "This way,
the game will still remain in our control, with you advantageously placed. Besides, my
death is a given here, whatever you choose to do." He held Severus' eyes with the force
of his own, and for a moment a battle of wills ensued until Severus heaved a huge sigh
and lowered his gaze.

"You're correct, of course," he muttered miserably.

"And in due time, the world will know the truth," the old man attempted to console him.
"If I live that long," he grumbled as he looked back up at him.

"Oh, you must see that you do, Severus. You have a much greater task than killing me on
your horizon."

Severus winced at the words, then pursed his lips as he asked him shrewdly, "I'm asking
again, Albus, when are you going to tell Potter? Time is running out on that account.
Merlin forbid something should happen to you without his having been told."

Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes belied any mirth. "As we discussed before, many times,
I think that's best held back until it's absolutely necessary. I think we must wait and see
what young Draco manages to do." He sat back in his chair and waited.

Severus' objection was immediate and heated. "But you're running out of time,
regardless of what Draco 'manages to do.'"

"Do you really think, considering what you may have to do, that young Harry should
hear it now? What will he think if you have to step in and do what I've asked? If
anything, his suspicion and dislike of you will increase. He'll despair." He shook his
head, then leant forward and lowered his voice. "I think it will be you, Severus, who
must tell him, at some future date. Most likely long after I'm gone." He studiously made
a point of not meeting Severus' eyes. "By that time, he will have adapted. He'll know by
then the true role you will have played." Now he did look up to stare at him. "I've made
certain that he'll have that information shortly after my death."

Severus let out a breath of frustration. "You can't know how he'll react. You give him far
too much credit. From what I've seen, he listens to no one but himself."

Dumbledore sat back, and this time the smile did reach his eyes. "He's very adaptable,
Severus. And resilient. It may take him some time, but his honor will win out, despite his
mistrust of you. It won't be easy, but he'll seek you out as I'll instruct him to do. And from
then on, it will be your choice when to tell him the whole truth of the prophecy. And I
have as much confidence in your judgment as I do in his ability to set things aside for the
greater good."

"You trust too damn much," Snape muttered. "He's only a boy."

"And you're apparently a Death Eater, Severus. People are not always as they seem,
hmmm?"

Severus was startled out of his reverie by a high-pitched squeaking nearby. He craned
his neck and spied the cat making off around the side of the house with something small,
furry, and vigorously protesting still dangling from its mouth.

He sat back and watched as the afternoon breeze gently bent the flower stalks. It was
true—in both circumstances, his intervention had been uncertain at the outset. But he
had a feeling of déjà-vu, an intuition that what Graham had asked of him, as a back-up
plan , would turn out exactly as it had on that tower years ago: Severus acting in
someone else's stead, for the greater good. He wondered idly about his own welfare, and
the fact that, both times, it had been so easily assumed that he could do what was
required without any harm to his own sensitivities. Well, he supposed they'd been
correct. When logic proved her case, Severus usually had no difficulty accepting the
verdict.

***

It was just after lunch on Saturday when Severus heard the sound of Harry whistling as
he came through the gate. He sat back on his heels, then called, "I'm in the side garden,"
then returned to the bed of anemones where he was weeding. A fall flower, they'd not
yet bloomed, but needed regular cutting back to keep them from invading their
neighbors.

"Anemones," he heard Harry say from beside him, casting a shadow from where he'd
stopped.

Brushing off his hands, Severus stood and turned, noticing at once that Harry held a
small bouquet of flowers. Unable to hold back a smile, he said wryly, "I'm touched. You
brought flowers for my cat."

Harry laughed as he held it out. "I figured you'd catch on. Yeah, it's catmint—for both of
you. This is the faassenii variety, not all that common." They stood with their heads
together, examining the pale pink tubular blossoms.

"Hmm, quite rare. I'm surprised at the size of it." He smirked at Harry. "On behalf of my
cat, then, I thank you for your thoughtfulness," he mocked, then lowered the bundle to
his side. "So, I'm surprised to see you. Wasn't there something planned for today with
Graham's family?" They both walked slowly towards the front of the house.

"Yeah, there is. I got him to Chloe's mum's house a little while ago. His brother and his
family are there as well. I thought I'd leave him on his own for today. Seeing how it's the
last time…" He didn't finish. When they reached the porch steps, Severus turned and was
about to invite him in when Harry said suddenly, "I've some errands to run in Diagon
Alley, and I was wondering, well, if you'd like to come along?"

Severus looked at him blankly. "Diagon Alley? Now? With you?" he asked bemusedly.

Harry gave him a slow smile. "Diagon Alley. Now. With me, yes. Why not? I've a hunch
you don't get out much, and I figured it'd be fun. I'd like to hit that apothecary in
Knockturn Alley. It's a little seedy, I know, but there're some things I'd like to get there. I
thought maybe you might need a few things as well." He grinned at the expression on
Severus' face. "What? Afraid to be seen with me, Severus?" he teased, watching as
Severus tried to find an excuse.
Severus pursed his lips, then exhaled loudly. "No, I'm not. Although, maybe you should
be," he said testily.

"Yeah, right, guess again. To hell with them. C'mon, Severus, we could both do with a
little distraction," he persisted, as he reached out and brushed some stray hairs from
Severus' face.

It was the touching that did it, Severus thought to himself as he showered. Well, Harry
was right, though. There were a few things that he needed, and the past two weeks had
been rather intense for both of them. And to be honest, he couldn't even recall the last
time he'd been to London, so he was well past due. But he also was aware that the two of
them together might turn a head or two.

Harry's right—to hell with them," he thought as he dressed. I've lived my whole life not
giving a damn what people think, so I'm not about to start now.

***

Severus was slightly intrigued when Harry insisted that the first stop he needed to make
was the apothecary in Knockturn Alley. He was more than a little alarmed when Harry
and the shopkeeper greeted each other by first names.

"Why not Slug and Jiggers, Harry?" he asked, suspiciously watching the man behind the
counter as he rooted in box labeled with a large 'P.'

Harry shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I've been coming here for years. He mixes up
something special for the ache in my leg. No one else has ever been able to come up
with anything that works as well." He paid for his package and they turned to leave.

"It still bothers you a great deal, then. I know that you limp, but the fact that you still
have pain is unfortunate," Severus sighed.

Harry gave him a sideways glance. "How about your shoulder? It still bothers you?"

Severus gave him an annoyed look. "From time to time. When it rains, when it's cold,
when I overuse it," he confessed as they turned in to Diagon Alley.

Harry nudged him with his elbow. "Well, we're a matched set, then."

"Curse wounds," Severus muttered. "We're lucky to be alive, but you'll let me look at
that—perhaps I can improve on what he's done. You could've come to me, you know."

"No, I don't think so. Not at the time," Harry told him candidly, and Severus found that
he could not disagree. They hadn't ended their association on the best of terms; he
realized that he himself had been responsible for closing that door, no matter that it had
been done for good reason.
***

As they walked the Alley, stopping in a shop here and there, Severus was aware that he
had indeed been correct. People were looking at the two of them. He watched out of the
corner of his eye: it started each time, no doubt, with Harry being recognized, then as
Severus was examined, shock would steal over their features as they realized the identity
of Harry's companion. There was murmuring and muttering in some cases, but Severus
was never actually able to hear the words themselves.

"Does it bother you?" Harry asked him, amused, as they sat lunching at an outside table.

"No, not at all," Severus said dismissively. "My good reputation was ruined long ago.
Why should I care if I damage it further by being seen with riffraff like you, hmm?" He
arched an eyebrow.

Harry snickered. "Yeah, my feelings exactly."

They were quiet for a moment as they ate, then Harry broke the silence with, "So,
yesterday, what did you and Graham have to talk about?" He was carefully examining
his plate.

Severus took a moment to think, then laughed out loud.

Harry looked up at him startled. "What's so funny about that?"

Severus shook his head as he swiped his mouth with a napkin. "Just that Graham was
certain you'd have to know."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You both know me disturbingly well. So what did you say to
that?"

Severus shrugged and said matter-of-factly, "That I'd tell you to mind your own
business, and that I'd long ago learned how to handle your overbearing inquisitiveness."

Harry scoffed, "You've never handled me."

"Not that you were aware, no, but handled nonetheless" When Harry continued to scowl
at him, he sighed and said, "He wanted to make sure I wouldn't develop last-minute
reservations," then he added in complete truthfulness, "and he's very concerned about
you. It seems he and I are on the same page in that respect."

"I'll be fine," Harry murmured without looking at him.

"Good," Severus concluded. "Precisely what we talked about."

They'd finished eating, then went on to their last stop of the day, Obscurus Books.
Severus never needed a whit of encouragement to spend time in any establishment
packed from floor to ceiling with books. In fact, he could feel his heart begin to beat a
little faster the moment they set foot in the door. They wandered off in different
directions, and spent the better part of an hour perusing the 'new books' shelves, as well
as the 'slightly used' tables, then met up unexpectedly in the gardening section.

Harry smiled at the stack of books in Severus' arms. "I see you found something." He
leant in to peer at the titles, then pointed with a triumphant finger. "I have that…and
that…and that as well. You can borrow them if you like, unless you prefer to have your
own." Severus considered, then ended by replacing two of the volumes on the shelves.

He eyed Harry's smaller stack, then smirked. "I have all of those." He paused, his face
impassive, as Harry looked at him expectantly. He pointedly made him wait for a
moment. "Oh, all right. You may borrow them… if you promise not to turn down
corners to mark your place."

Harry guffawed, then re-shelved all but one of his choices. As they moved toward the
counter, Harry told him, "The real reason I wanted to come in today is that I've a book
on order. I haven't heard from them, so I wanted to make sure there wasn't a problem."

They stepped up to the counter together, just as a head popped up from behind it.

"Harry Potter!" exclaimed the portly, bald-headed shopkeeper, wreathed in smiles.

"What a surprise! I was just telling the missus that your book arrived yesterday; we were
just about to send it by owl, but here you are! I shouldn't be surprised, now, should I?"
The man gave him a conspiratorial wink. "You're Harry Potter, after all!"

"Oh, yeah," Harry agreed, an innocent expression on his face. "It's my spot on
Divination skills again." He looked at Severus as he bit his lip. "So, it's in then? Any
trouble this time?"

The man shook his head, returning from retrieving a small, thin volume from the shelf
behind him. "No, just the usual—currency exchange delay." He slid the book towards
Harry, gave Severus a wary once-over, then turned momentarily to answer the question
of another patron.

Severus frowned as he read the title. "Edible Flowers by Rosalind Creasy?" he asked,
incredulous.

"Yep." Harry was openly amused. "Don't look so skeptical, Severus. It's all the rage in
the Muggle world. You'd be amazed what you can do with most of the stuff that you're
growing—pansies, nasturtiums, lavender, glads, hibiscus…" He was grinning outright
now.

"You're serious." Severus was still flabbergasted as he read the cover.

"Of course I am. Why are you so surprised? Really, it's not much different than you
using them in potions," he said confidently.
"Oh yes it is. Potion-making is a serious endeavor," Severus protested.

"And eating isn't?" Harry teased.

Severus was flustered. "But flowers , Harry…."

Harry gave him a self-satisfied look. "You'll see. You'll change your tune after you
sample some of my cuisine."

"I can hardly wait," Severus murmured as he thumbed through the volume.

"Now you're mocking me," Harry said as he watched him leafing through the pages.

"Of course I am. You're talking about cooking a flower meal for me. It's a made-for-
mockery proposal." He closed the book, set it on the counter, then turned to Harry, still
skeptical.

"Oh ho! I'll remind you of this conversation when you're begging me to whip up my
chrysanthemum soup," Harry laughed.

"Hmm, I can't picture myself ever begging you for anything," Severus said in a low
voice, thinking to himself how long it had been since he'd heard Harry laugh
spontaneously.

Harry leant in as he took a step closer. "Did I just hear you say that you'll never beg me
for anything, Severus?" The green eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief…and heat ,
Severus realized. "We'll see about that," Harry murmured. "I think you may have to eat
those words at some point, along with the flowers…and other things." And before
Severus could even think to react, Harry slid his hand up behind his neck and pulled him
forward for a rather passionate kiss…one that Severus had no hope of resisting when he
felt the warm tongue push between his lips. He was vaguely aware of bringing his hands
up to hold Harry's head in place, then the kiss deepened and lengthened until he seemed
to lose all track of time. And the fact that they were doing this in a very public place.

"Severus," Harry mumbled into his mouth. "We'd better go."

Severus pulled away, dazed, then took a cursory look around them. "Oh, I believe you're
right. Pay for your book, then."

Harry shook his head. "Already on my account. Let's get out of here."

They pushed their way through the small but silent group of patrons who were standing
in a semi-circle around them. Harry grabbed at his hand and pulled him into the street,
and they Apparated away together, Harry laughing in Severus' ear.

***
They arrived, gasping, in Severus' front garden. And it seemed that, without further
discussion, their course had already been set. It proved to be an explosive encounter, one
without the usual stops along the way. No slow, simmering build-up, no murmured
endearments or encouragement, no preparatory foreplay. No, Severus would later think
to himself, they'd already done all of that, starting with the very first time they'd laid
eyes on each other again, the day he'd walked Winnie home. Of course, neither of them
had been aware of it at the time…of where they'd end up.

With each flower exchanged, with each gentle, unsophisticated nudge from Winnie, the
coals had been banked. With each time they'd met, from the party to that last encounter
at Graham's, with each touch of a hand or nudge a foot, with each kiss stolen in the lane,
the fire had been stoked. Severus thought of how much of his past weeks had been spent
thinking about Harry, and he suspected Harry was no different than he. It had all been
foreplay, Severus later realized; it was, as Harry had so aptly named it, their own
personal song and dance , as ritualistic and predictable as it most likely was for everyone
else on the planet. A subtle but relentless two-step of rapprochement that could only
logically end with a precipitous exit from Diagon Alley straight to Severus' bed.

They stood in the garden for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, catching their
breath as the sun beat down on them, the soft wind mingling their hair in their faces.
Then Harry was tugging Severus impatiently up the steps. Buttons were unbuttoned and
trousers unfastened as they stumbled their way to the bedchamber, clothing left where it
fell, till they were both completely naked by the side of the bed.

Harry glanced quickly around the room, spied the lube on the bedside table, murmured
an "Accio", then tossed it to Severus as he clambered up onto the mattress. Throwing
himself onto his back, he bunched a pillow under his hips, then let his knees fall open.
At the sight of him, Severus groaned as he climbed on and positioned himself in front of
him. Liberally dousing himself with lube, he gently slid Harry's legs atop each of his
shoulders, then leant forward to kiss him, this time slow and unhurried. Harry pushed
him away after a moment with a sound of impatience, unable to wait any longer.

"Severus, please ," he panted. "I'm dying here." His eyes were glazed as he pulled on
Severus' shoulders. He must've seen the question in Severus' eyes, because he said, "No
more detours. Now!" It was a command, so Severus obeyed instantly.

With one smooth thrust, he was inside him. The air was cut with a groan and a moan
from each of them, and Severus stilled now, reveling in the tightness and heat
surrounding his cock. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them and
pulled back to plunge again. Harry's eyes were wide open, watching him with an
expression of sensuous lust and arousal that inspired Severus to thrust again…and
again…and again.

The warmth of the room and the heat of their bodies had them both dripping with sweat,
an exquisite recipe for sliding against one another, the backs of Harry's legs against the
skin of Severus' shoulders, the skin of Severus' forearms against the sides of Harry's
chest. They moved together, one pushing, one pulling, until Severus wasn't sure who
was doing whom. Harry may've been on the bottom, but, for a split second, Severus felt
like he was the one being fucked , not the other way round, as Harry pushed with his hips
to pick up the pace, forcing Severus to follow his lead.

He reached between them and found Harry's cock, stroking it erratically, his hand
slippery with sweat. And in half a dozen pulls, Harry was arching off the bed as he came
with a garbled cry and a spurt between them. Severus' head fell to his chest as he let
himself completely go, rutting Harry hard as he felt himself peak and then plummet over
the edge. He was dimly aware of firm hands holding onto his shoulders as he came, a
primal noise without sound roaring from deep inside of him. His cock twitched
rhythmically as it emptied, then, suddenly, Severus' strength was gone, and he canted
forward, his chest sliding against Harry's as he collapsed, spent, disoriented, but
cocooned by an unfamiliar sense of well-being.

He felt Harry's hands in his hair, threading his fingers through it slowly and
methodically. He lay still, enjoying the rare sensations, of Harry's tenderness and his
own vulnerability. For a moment, he could hear the separate sounds of their heartbeats,
slightly out of sync, then beating in time together, and it seemed as if there were only
one.

As his mind returned, he lifted himself up, an elbow on either side of Harry's face. He
searched the drowsy eyes, then leant in to kiss him, properly this time: taking his time,

drawing his tongue over the lips, tracing his teeth, sucking his way from the mouth to his
neck, and then back again. He finished by kissing him on the forehead, rolling onto the
bed next to him, then reaching over to pull Harry onto his side, draping an arm across his
shoulders. They lay that way for a long while, both of them on the edge of
consciousness, when suddenly Harry's eyes flew open, startled.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he struggled to sit up.

Severus came up on an elbow to watch him as leapt from the bed. "What?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Graham! I should've been back hours ago." He turned in
confusion, searching the floor for his clothing.

Severus rolled to the side of the bed and sat up, then reached out and pulled Harry to
him. "Harry, he's fine. He's with Chloe, remember? I'm sure you're late, but they'll
understand." He smoothed a hand over the almost hairless chest, then reached up to tap
Harry on the chin. "Shower. Now. In there." He pointed towards the bathroom.

Harry looked down at him and smiled. "You're right." He walked around the bed, then
stopped and looked behind him. "You coming?"

Severus shook his head and said sincerely, "Not if we mean to get you on your way."
***

He watched, amused, as Harry sorted out his clothes and pulled them on, then ran his
fingers through his wet hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

The two of them had walked out onto the porch, when Harry spied the book in Severus'
hand and grinned. "How about I leave that here—give you time to look through it and
pick out something you like."

Severus tossed the book on a chair, then in one smooth, swift move, pulled Harry close.
After a brief kiss, he told him, "Leave it here and who knows what might happen to it,"
he murmured before pulling away.

Harry smiled as he said, "I'll have to take my chances then." His smile faded, then, as he
reached up a hand to touch Severus' face. "I don't know when I'll see you again. Monday
we have people coming in, then Tuesday and Wednesday we have Daphne. So, it might
not be until Thursday." He took a step back, holding Severus' eyes, then softly asked,
"What a day, huh?"

Severus dropped his hands to his sides. "Yes, what a day." They studied each other for a
moment, until Severus said, "Go, you're late as it is. If I don't see you sooner, it'll be
noon on Thursday?"

Harry nodded soberly. "Right, noon on Thursday." But just before he Disapparated, he
grinned suddenly and said, "God, that was good."

***

Severus didn't shower right away, but returned to his interrupted task in the garden,
working quickly and without stopping for dinner in order to finish it before the sun went
down.

Before he went in for the night, he sat on the porch steps with a glass of Dalmore and
watched as the last of the light disappeared, lost in his thoughts. The moon was full at
last, streaming down over the garden to highlight and deepen the hues of color of the
rows, now at their tallest height of the season. Usually on nights light this, he'd sit and
plan out his tasks for the day to come, but tonight he found himself thinking of the
people he'd met and reconnected with this summer: Winnie and Graham, the Weasleys
and Harry, of course. There had been heartache and upheaval, and, he suspected, more of
both of those to come. But he couldn't say that he would've changed much of it. He
closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, comforted by the fragrance of the lemon verbena that
bordered the porch, and the scent of Harry, still lingering on his skin.

***

Graham/Part One
Thursday arrived, one of those rare August days when the sky was cloudless and the air
devoid of humidity. Severus wasn't surprised that he hadn't seen Harry since the
weekend; he knew that this was a time when Graham would be seeing friends and
family, tying up loose ends, and saying goodbye, in a very real sense. He wondered if,
after what was about to happen, any of them would think to question the timing of that
last occasion when they'd seen him. More likely than not, most would just think it
serendipity, that they'd managed to have one last visit with him so close to the end.

He took his time walking from the gate to the house, admiring Harry's handiwork. The
gardens were laid out very differently than Severus': while he tended to pay very close
attention to the blooming cycle in arranging his rows, Harry seemed to have sacrificed
this to coordination of stalk length and contrast of color. Neither was more correct or
advantageous in and of itself, but illustrated, in Severus' estimation, that one of them was
prone to scientific planning, the other to achieving a more aesthetic effect. He didn't
think it at the time, but one day would arrive at the realization that, when it came to
growing flowers, the combination of their complementary talents could produce the most
beautiful of gardens.

He let himself quietly into the house, then made his way towards the sound of the
television in the solarium. He paused in the doorway at the picture the two of them
made: Graham was asleep, his head slumped sideways on the pillow; Harry sat in a chair
pulled up flush against the bed, his own head resting so that their two heads were almost
together. The poignant intimacy of the scene made him wonder once again about their
relationship. What had it been that made them decide, after so long together, that they
were incompatible, but still left them as friends, devoted to the end, so willing to
sacrifice what would be most expedient for the sake of the other?

He retraced his steps down the short hallway to the kitchen, where he saw that Harry had
everything in readiness there, the six potions lined up neatly on the countertop. He'd bent
down and was carefully examining them for the correctness of order, when he heard a
step behind him, then an arm slid around his waist.

"Hey, I didn't hear you come in," Harry said as Severus turned to him.

Severus noticed immediately the dark circles under his eyes, despite Harry's smile and
wide-awake look. "I've just arrived." He searched his eyes. "The two of you were up all
night, weren't you?"

Harry moved to the stove and lit the fire under the kettle. "Yeah, most of it. Watched
some movies, talked a lot," he paused as he turned to face Severus again, then added
quietly, "said our goodbyes. It was good," he finished with a small shrug.

Severus gave him a knowing look. "Good," he repeated, at a loss at what to say further.

Harry reached around him to take cups from the cupboard. "I'll just get you and me some
tea. I don't think Graham should have any, though." He gave Severus a questioning look.
Severus shook his head. "Probably shouldn't. Is he awake?" he asked.

Harry was measuring tea into the cups. "Yeah, why don't you go in and say hullo, and I'll
bring this in straight away." He turned to sort out spoons from the drawer.

Severus watched him for a moment, then agreed and turned to make his way down the
hallway. Graham was propped up on the pillows now, and waved the remote at Severus
in greeting.

"Hullo, Severus. Right on time—your programme's just about to come on," he greeted
him cheerfully.

"Ah, the fishing one," he said as he took the seat on the far side of the bed. He watched
as Graham flipped through the channels, then muted the sound. "And how did your visits
turn out? Harry said your daughter was coming for a few days."

Graham's eyes lit up. "Yep, she was here Tuesday and Wednesday. Near wore Harry out,
she did. She can be a handful." He grinned at Severus. "He's really great with her—I
think it's because he's part six-year-old himself."

"Hmm, you're probably right on that one. Partners in crime, no doubt. I'm sure you were
the adult in all of that."

Graham's face softened. "It was great having her here, but really, she ran Harry ragged."
He paused, then added. "I'm worried about her, you know, how she's going to handle
this, but…" he trailed off as he thought, "Harry's promised to check in on her, take her
for the weekend now and then. Chloe will be glad for the break." They both sat and
watched the muted action on the screen for a while, until Graham softly said, "Are you
ready for this?" His voice was laced with concern.

Severus looked at him with surprise. "I was about to ask you the very same thing, and
here you are asking me. I am. What about you?"

Graham hunched his shoulders in a small shrug as he gave him a lopsided smile. "As
ready as I'll ever be." The smiled faded. "Yeah, I'm more than ready."

They were interrupted by Harry making an entrance as he balanced a tray, loaded with
two cups of steaming tea and a small potions bottle. Severus stood and took one for
himself, then watched Harry out of the corner of his eye as the man brought it to a shaky
landing on the bedside table. He took up his seat beside Graham, then before taking up
his own cup, he unstoppered the bottle and handed it to him.

"Sip or chug?" Graham asked as he took it from him.

"Chug," Severus and Harry both answered at the same time. Graham gave both of them a
startled look, then tipped the phial and downed its contents in a single gulp. He made
face, then shuddered involuntarily. "God, that's nasty," he commented as he licked his
lips, then shuddered again.

"I could've put something in it to make it taste better," Harry offered apologetically, "but
then you would've had more of it to drink." He leant forward to take the bottle, and
Severus could tell by the way he was worrying his lower lip that he was apprehensive,
his eyes bright with concern.

Graham waved the concern away. "Nah, it wasn't that bad. Hey, look, the crabbers are
up." Pointing the remote, he clicked the volume on.

They watched for the next fifteen moments, making small talk about the escapades of the
Cornelia Marie and the Maverick. From time to time, Severus cast furtive glances at
Graham, his eyes finally connecting with Harry's who was doing the same. Five minutes
later, Harry stood uncertainly and looked down at Graham.

"Are you all right?"

Graham hadn't heard him, it appeared, in the process of dissolving into laughter. "Did
you hear what he just said? 'I just hope I can get back to dock without turning this sucker
into a giant popsicle.'" He looked up Harry and caught his expression. "Captain Rick, he
just said…" He stopped, then sighed, "Oh. Well, my chest feels a little funny, like my
heart's skipping beats."

Harry shot a desperate look at Severus, who commented, "Exactly what I'd expect you to
feel. Any nausea?" In the whole process to come, this was Severus' chief worry.

"Some. But nothing I can't handle for now." He raised the sound on the set while Harry
trudged his way into the kitchen, then returned shortly with the second potion. He sat
and removed the stopper, but Severus noted with alarm that Harry's hands shook as he
held it over. Graham's next words signaled that he had seen this as well.

"Harry…" Graham said firmly. "I'm fine, stop worrying." He muted the sound for a
moment as he focused his full attention on a Harry who was obviously not fine, the color
gone from his face now, expect for two bright spots of pink in the center of his cheeks.
"Don't make me worry about you, all right?"

Harry nodded, and Severus, who could read him well, saw that he was miserable, and
thought to himself that this did not bode well, especially at this stage of things. Graham
had noticed too, and just before he brought the phial up to his lips, he gave Severus a
meaningful look.

He downed the contents a little more slowly than he had the first time, then made a small
gagging sound as he finished. "That was…was there ginger in there somewhere?" he
asked hoarsely as he drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
"A little," Harry confessed. "To keep your stomach settled." He was watching anxiously
as Graham rested back in the bed, a fine line of perspiration beading above his upper lip.
"Oh God," Harry barely whispered as sat back, his eyes fixed on Graham, but Severus
heard him.

They turned their attention back to the picture on the set, continuing to watch until
Graham murmured, "I'm getting woozy, and my stomach's turning somersaults." The
remote dropped from his hand as he closed his eyes, and his normally pale face was now
a pasty gray, his breath slightly more shallow and rapid.

Harry was watching him anxiously, Severus noticed, then when Graham hiccoughed
several times, Harry whispered across the bed, "Do you think maybe we should split the
syrup, give him half now, then the rest later? This isn't going to work if he can't keep it
down. God, what are we going to do?" He inched his chair closer to the bed, took
Graham's hand in his, then reached up with the other and tucked the blanket in around
his shoulders.

Severus was about to reply, when Graham suddenly opened his eyes and looked at
Harry. He studied him for a moment, reached up a hand to touch his cheek, then glanced
at Severus with a grim resolve in his eyes, a new determination in the lines around his
mouth. Looking back to Harry, he said, "I'm really sick to my stomach. Do you think
you could pop down to the corner shop for some of that Jamaican ginger beer I like? I
think that might help a bit."

Harry sat back in his chair. "Graham, Severus and I have something that will—"

"I'd really like to have the ginger beer," Graham interrupted, his voice oddly calm and
insistent.

Harry cocked his head. "Well, I suppose I could. It'll only take me a few minutes to
Apparate and—"

Graham cut in again. "Don't Apparate. I was hoping you'd walk."

"Walk? Why? That would take me a good fifteen minutes down—"

"And fifteen minutes back. I know," Graham finished for him quietly.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then argued, "It doesn't make sense for me to walk.
We're on a schedule here of—"

"Harry," Graham said softly but intently, struggling up on his elbows, "I'm asking you to
walk. Fifteen minutes each way." He had caught Harry's eyes and held them, now sitting
almost upright. "Please don't argue, not now. Just this one thing is all I'm asking.
Severus'll take care of me. Please , Harry."
Harry looked perplexed as he searched his face, then something very akin to horror stole
over his features. "Graham, no. Severus," he almost pleaded, "I won't have it! We all
agreed on this, it's all planned out, and I don't see why we should—"

Severus knew it was time for him to weigh in, however subtly, on the matter. "If Graham
wants ginger beer, then I think he should have it. It's his day," he said, then had to look
away.

Graham had muted the sound once again, and the three of them sat in complete silence,
the only sound the ticking of the pendulum clock in the hallway. Severus watched the
stand-off between the two of them, a battle without words, then sighed inwardly as he
saw Harry relent, the only sign a brief closing of his eyes in defeat.

Harry stood sluggishly to his feet, casting a sad, reproachful look at Severus, then
shoved his hands in his pockets as he said, "Whatever you want, Graham. This isabout
you, after all, not me." He looked from the figure in the bed to Severus, then back again.
"Are you sure?" He seemed entirely resigned as he asked.

Graham held out his arms. "Yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Harry moved to perch on the side of the bed, then gathered the emaciated form into his
arms. He buried his face in the crook of Graham's neck for a moment, then pulled back
to study his face with a shaky smile. When they kissed, Severus had to look away. He
knew he had just witnessed something extraordinary, and was suddenly filled with
admiration for both of them.

When he next looked up, Harry was standing at the door. "See you in a few," he
murmured, with eyes only for Graham.

Graham, exhaustion etched on his face, gave him an encouraging smile. "See you."

The two of them sat and listened to Harry's footsteps down the hall, then heard the faint
but distinct click as he latched the door behind him on the way out.

Graham rolled his head on the pillow to look at Severus. "Well, he knows."

Severus inclined his head. "Yes, he does. I'm rather surprised he didn't resist a bit more,"
he admitted.

The man laughed softly. "Maybe this way it won't be as bad for you. That he knew…and
left anyway. But you saw him…he wasn't doing so well."

"No, I think you're right," Severus said as he nodded.

"So, we have a half-hour tops…"

"Just about. Unfortunately, since there's been a change of plans, there's one more potion
you'll have to stomach." When Graham looked puzzled, Severus reached into his trouser
pocket to withdraw the small phial. "It's concentrated dittany. You'll need to have it to
cover the tracks of the aconite in your system. Harry said your Muggle authorities are
quite adept at tracing things like that, so…." He unstoppered the bottle, then asked him,
"Will you be able to keep it down?"

Graham reached over and took it from him. "Sure. I told a bit of a white lie, you know,
to get him out of here." He downed the phial, much as he had the first one, then tossed it
back to Severus. "We have some time, don't we? There are some things I'd like to talk to
you about…questions I'd like to ask. So, how much time…?"

Severus sat forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.
"What we're going to do will take seconds. So, we have about twenty-five minutes to
talk, if you like." He paused as he thought of something. "Do you really think he'll go for
the ginger beer?" he asked, curious.

Graham smiled as he shook his head. "Nah, he's probably in one of the greenhouses. But
I know Harry. He'll be checking his watch."

Severus reached back and grabbed the arms of his chair, then lifted slightly to drag it
closer to the bed. "So, what would you like to know?

***

Severus bent down and kissed Graham gently on the lips. "It's time. No regrets?"

Graham took a shaky breath and smiled up at him. "No, none at all. I'm ready."

Severus moved to stand at the foot of the bed. They considered each other for a moment
more, then Severus instructed softly and firmly, "Close your eyes, Graham."

When he saw that the man had obeyed, he closed his own eyes briefly to still the
pounding of his heart, then opened them again to focus on the figure before him. Taking
out his wand, he raised it as his mouth began to form the two words that he'd never
expected to have to utter ever again.

***

Severus sat angled in the window seat of the solarium, looking out on the gardens,
basking in the warmth of the sun as he admired the expertise of the caretaker. The roses,
in particular, had caught his attention, painstakingly tied up, their rows neatly weeded
and the dead growth cut away. Even though the windowpanes stood between himself
and the bushes, he could almost smell the fragrance from the blossoms which stood in
full bloom at midday.
He heard the quiet snick of the latch right on cue, then the halting footsteps as Harry
padded his way down the hall. He didn't turn, though, when he heard them stop in the
doorway, and since he wasn't altogether certain what to expect, he waited for Harry to
speak first. There was a long pause before he finally did, though.

"You should've told me, Severus," Harry said at last, his voice strangely lacking in
reproach, Severus thought to himself, as he swiveled to face him.

He was leaning against the doorjamb, but not in a gesture of casualness, but rather as if
he were taking strength from its support. Harry bit at his lower lip as he waited for an
answer, and, it turned out, Graham had been wrong. Dangling from his hand was a dark
amber bottle, which Severus guessed must be the requested ginger beer.

Severus shook his head. "No, I promised Graham. We only talked about it as a back-up
plan , is what Graham called it." He remained seated where he was, watching Harry's
face carefully as he straightened and then walked slowly to the window. He stood there
staring down at him, then when Severus patted the cushion beside him, lowered himself
to sit so that he was looking out on the garden, much as Severus had been doing. Severus
turned back to look with him.

"I can almost smell the Brompton stalks," Severus said, half to himself as he eyed the
rows of purple-topped plants.

"Hmm, I'll have to give you the two-penny tour someday," Harry murmured, "before
they're gone." He pointed to the other side of the garden. "I've the dwarf mixed over by
the rocks, but they don't seem to be doing as well." He paused, then asked, "What made
him change his mind?"

Severus refocused his attention on Harry. "We only talked about it last week. That's why
he wanted to speak to me." Harry's eyes shifted from the garden to Severus' face. "His
only concern was for you, and he wanted to do it your way—he appreciated all the
thought and energy and love you put into planning it."

"Well, whatever I did, it wasn't enough," Harry said, but with no note of challenge in his
voice.

Severus shook his head. "That wasn't it at all. He'd a suspicion that you weren't handling
this well." He pursed his lips at the expression on Harry's face. "Don't look at me like
that. He came to that conclusion on his own. As for…what he asked of me, I didn't bring
that up either. He seemed to know." He watched as the green eyes gave Harry away.
"Ah, I see. He hinted that you'd spoken of it. In any case, he wanted to go through with
the potions, unless you seemed overly distressed," he told him, then added gently,
"which you were, you can't deny this, Harry. And we'd only got to the second potion."
"I let him down, then," Harry mumbled as he tried to look away, but Severus was having
none of it. He caught Harry's chin with his hand and held him there, forcing him to look
at him.

"No, you didn't let him down, and he was worried that you'd think that—it was one of
the last things he spoke of. Think about it. Had we continued on with the potions…him
watching you every step of the way…worrying about you…trying to reassure you that
he was all right… He couldn't be all right—we were killing him, with his permission, of
course. No, if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that you wouldn't want his last
hours to be spent worrying over what he was putting you through. I know you well
enough to be absolutely certain that's not what you'd want for him. Harry? " he gently
insisted, requiring acknowledgment that he'd been heard and understood.

Harry moved backwards to lean against the window, effectively removing himself from
Severus' grasp, as he drew his legs up to sit cross-legged in the seat, staring down at his
hands cupped in his lap. The set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw were the only
signs that he was struggling to control himself, but from what, Severus was not sure. It
could've been grief…it could've been anger. But when Harry lifted his eyes, Severus was
reminded that he wasn't too well acquainted with Harry Potter the man. He'd been half-
expecting the boyish tirade that the Harry he'd known years ago would've delivered, so
was slightly taken aback by the response that was forthcoming.

"I don't know what the two of you talked about—last week, or even today. But for all of
it…thanks, Severus. You're right, of course, I wouldn't have wanted anythingthat
would've made things harder for him." He lifted a hand to brush at his eyes, although
Severus did not see tears there. "Funny how things work out," he mused, giving Severus
a tremulous smile. "After all these years of rarely crossing paths, then just when the two
of us needed you, you were there."

"Not the best of circumstances, and not ones I'd have chosen," Severus sighed.

Harry looked at him with concern now. "Are you all right?" He shivered as he seemed to
think about something. "I couldn't have done it, that's for sure. But still, even for you…."
He was worrying his lower lip again, his eyes full of question.

Severus had to look away as told him truthfully, "I'd actually thought of this when you
and I talked last week, while making the last potion. It's not something I would've
volunteered to do. But as it was Graham who brought it up…no, I've no problem with it.
I was more concerned with your reaction." He looked back up at him then.

Harry nodded solemnly. "That makes sense. But not to worry, Severus. Like Graham
said, this was his choice, not ours."

They stared at each other, then Harry got to his knees on the seat, and in two awkward
movements, had his arms around Severus, who pulled him in tightly. They sat that way,
entwined, the sunlight spilling over them, until Severus finally said, "Come, let's say a
last goodbye."

***

"I'd still rather stay and help you with this." Severus again made the protest.

Harry sat at the small kitchen table, leafing through the notes that he and Graham had
made together. "No," he said as he shook his head, "I know exactly what I have to do, all
the people I have to call, in what order. This is the easy part. And besides, the authorities
might want to know who you are, why you're here, and then ask for ID. That would be
interesting," he remarked dryly, glancing up at Severus in the doorway.

"Hmm, I see your point." Severus watched him as he looked through the list. "Harry,
stop a minute and come here."

Harry gave him a distracted look as he stuck the pencil behind his ear. Pushing back the
chair, he stood and crossed to the doorway, then leant in and wrapped his arms around
Severus, who raised his hands to massage away the stiffness in Harry's shoulders as he
said, "Do what you have to do. But you're not staying here tonight. I know you'd planned
to go to the estate, but I want you to come to me. Not negotiable, understood?" He pulled
back to look Harry in the eyes, and saw the instant gratitude there.

"Okay, I will. But it'll be late, so don't stay up." He was engulfed in Severus' arms once
again, so his next words were a muffled, "Thanks. I wasn't looking forward to the night
alone."

"So you won't be," Severus said next to his ear.

***

Graham/Part Two

Severus wasn't surprised that the afternoon had worn him out. He'd not even considered
working when he returned, and as he hadn't an appetite either, he installed himself on his
porch with a cup of white tea and piece of fruit to settle his queasiness.

It wasn't one thing in particular that bothered him, although he supposed that killing a
man should've been at the top of the list, if he had one. No, it was more the culmination
of over two weeks of heightened emotions, not all of them bad ones, however. Shock
and grief had been tempered by anticipation and relief, and even regret and resignation
had been strangely mingled with satisfaction and pleasure.

He wasn't so jaded, however, that using the Killing Curse had left him unaffected. It was
just that he'd dealt with those thoughts and musings earlier in the day…in the morning
hours before he'd gone to Harry's. Despite what one might assume about a man with
'Death Eater' on his curriculum vitae, Severus had only killed three times, before setting
off that morning. The first time he'd been fueled by fear, the second by a well-
orchestrated directive, and the third by the certainty that fate had chosen him. So, with
the very real possibility that Graham might change his mind and give him a signal,
Severus had sat in the darkness just before dawn, and mentally prepared himself,
summoning the images and motivation, then distilling them to a small point of focus that
he could call upon, if it proved necessary…and it had.

He thought, too, about Harry and himself, and the new twists and turns their song and
dance had taken. He wasn't all that surprised, to be honest, just a little amazed at the
speed with which they'd moved from flowers to friendship to fucking. But he'd suspected
from the first time he'd seen him this summer that they were going to end
up somewhere . And now that they were here…he had no idea of what was to come, and
given Harry's state of mind, he doubted that he did either.

He was slouched against the railing as he peeled an apple, when Harry finally Apparated
into the garden, well after sunset. He stood as Harry hailed him with a wave, then
watched as he picked his way carefully between the rows in the dark.

Severus noted with concern that Harry was limping badly, and had to hold himself back
from moving to help him up the steps. When he'd made it on his own, Harry dropped to
the porch and leant up against the railing, angling himself to face Severus.

"What a circus," he began, his voice pitched a little higher than it usually was. "Thanks
for waiting up for me."

"Hmmm, everything taken care of, then?" Severus asked him as he held out a slice of
apple on the knife-edge, to which Harry shook his head.

"Yeah, at least everything I could do." He brought both hands up to his head and pressed
his temples before continuing, "You're not going to believe this, but after all that, there's
not even going to be an autopsy. When the coroner got there, they asked a lot of
questions about Graham, looked him over, then when they heard that Dr. Turnquist had
been round to see him on Tuesday, they rang him up and talked it over. So, it turns out
that he told them that he wasn't surprised at all, that Graham was in the last stages of
ALS, and that sometimes people just wear out before it does them in. I was in a bit of a
spot when they finally told me, you know, that the doctor had agreed to sign off on it.
Hard not react to that. So, that whole time, we could've done anything we wanted, and
they wouldn't have been any the wiser, but you know, with our luck…" he rattled on,
barely taking a breath.

"Harry," Severus tried to stop him in vain. He listened as Harry went on and on,
describing everything in minute detail, nervously winding a lock of hair round his finger
as he picked up the cadence, speaking so rapidly that Severus had to listen carefully.

"…who to call next, but I figured it should be Chloe. She was shocked, of course, and
came straight away, but I had a dickens of a time convincing her not to bring Daphne. I
think it's best for her to remember him the way he was—God, he looked awful, don't you
think?" He didn't wait for a reply, but pushed on at breakneck speed. "So I called the
undertaker, and then there was this huge decision of when they were to come, because
Chloe was on her way and I wasn't sure if Rob—that's Graham's brother—would want to
come as well. I didn't figure that he would, since he sort of disowned Graham when, you
know, he and I were together and that was the first the family had an inkling that he was
gay, but I thought I'd best call him and…."

Severus set the apple aside, and listened to Harry with growing concern. He frowned,
then stood and motioned toward the inside of the house. Harry took his cue without
missing a beat, continuing to ramble as he followed Severus into the workroom.

"'…why should I come now? I just saw him Monday.' Yeah, what a berk he is, but that
was fine with me. So, waiting for Chloe, I rang up St. Michael's—Graham didn't go
much, but he was one of their parishioners, so the service will be on Saturday. I have
Whitney to thank for speeding things up. Then Chloe got there, and I almost fell apart at
that—she did still love him, you know—remember what I said, how you never really
stop? She sat with him for a while, and I went up and got his good suit—oh shit, do you
think I shouldn't have left her alone? I thought she might want…" he rambled on, his
cheeks flushed, his voice beginning to crack in places.

"Harry," Severus said firmly. "Stop." He leant against the sink and crossed his arms,
watching as Harry paced the length of the room, gesturing wildly with his arms as he
talked.

"… the flowers, of course. It'll give me something to do, although God knows I have
other things. Do you think you could help?" he asked without even giving Severus the
slightest glance, then barreled on. "Chloe'll be arranging the actual service, and he's to be
buried not far from the church, but after that we'll have the wake at my place—most of
our friends were here, or close by. God, I hope there isn't a row between them and
Graham's family. Chloe's not a problem, but Rob's an ass—do you think I should try and
talk to him? Nah, probably not a good idea, but maybe—"

"Harry." This time Severus stepped into his path and took a firm hold of his arm, then
was taken aback when Harry shook it off, almost violently, and continued to pace, his
speech almost a babble now. He didn't even sound like himself, Severus noticed, and he
listened for several more minutes before making one last try.

"Harry," he snapped as he stood in Harry's path, but Harry only stepped around him after
a split second of panic in his eyes.

"So, I'm not sure which to do—it's not a matter of money, and I could get someone in to
do it for me. That's not right, though, this is my last party for Graham—I remember the
last one I had for his birthday. Were you there? I really went all out, even though he still
didn't know about my magic, and I had to do all Muggle…." His words were becoming
slurred, his sentences beginning not to make sense at all.
Severus walked to the sideboard and picked up a glass, then resignedly made his way to
the sink, filled it halfway from the tap, then turned back to Harry. He watched him for a
moment longer, then moved to intercept him.

"Potter!" he shouted, placing himself directly in his path. This time Harry halted mid-
sentence, momentarily confused as he looked up at the obstacle in his way.

Severus seized the moment to toss the glass-full of water in Harry's face. He was
rewarded by a gasp and two arms that flailed up to push him away, the green eyes huge
with shock and indignation. They struggled briefly, Harry batting ineffectively at him
with his hands, mumbling incoherently, as Severus latched onto his shoulders, exerting a
gentle, insistent pressure.

"Harry, Harry, settle now," he said in a half-whisper as he pulled him in close, pressing
his cheek against Harry's wet one as he locked his wrists behind his waist to hold him in
place. "Shh, Harry, it's all right, it's all right," he kept on murmuring, until he felt the
rigid body begin to relax against him. He slid his arms up, then, as Harry started to
tremble, and held him with the flat of his palms smoothing his shoulders.

He could feel the wild pounding of Harry's heart against his chest, so he continued to
talk softy to him, until he felt the thumping suddenly alter its rhythm, then slow, the
gasping at his ear lessening as Harry suddenly leant in against him.

They stood silent for a moment, then Severus, still holding tight, quietly said, "Harry,
when you were at Hogwarts, where did you go when you needed peace, when you
needed to get away, to be by yourself, somewhere no one could find you, hmm?"

He was beginning to think Harry hadn't heard him, when he mumbled thickly, "Room of
Requirement."

"Ah. And what would be there?"

A pause, but now Harry brought his arms up and draped them over Severus' shoulders.
"Empty room with a fireplace. Overstuffed chairs, iced-cold pumpkin juice."

"Hmm…close your eyes." He waited for a moment, then gently instructed, "Much like
you do with Occlumency, clear you mind. Take a deep breath." When Harry complied,
he encouraged, "That's it. Slowly, slowly." Another pause. "Picture the room, Harry.
That's it." He could feel Harry relaxing even more. "Do you see yourself sitting in the
chair?" At the nod against his cheek, he murmured, "Good. Stretch your legs out, feel the
warmth of the fire. Relax. Close your eyes—no one knows you're here…no one can find
you. You're alone…no worries for the moment."

Harry's breathing was completely normal now, a warm tickle at Severus' ear. They stood
that way for a long time, Severus slowly rubbing the muscles of Harry's back, then
gently massaging his shoulders. He closed his eyes briefly in relief, when Harry angled
his face and kissed him gently on the neck before pulling away to look at him.

The flushed cheeks were pale now, but the eyes were calm and steady as Harry said,
"Thanks, Severus." He dropped his arms to his sides and waited as Severus took two
steps back to the sideboard, watching as the Dalmore was poured, accepting it without a
word when Severus handed it to him.

"Drink," Severus commanded, the concern gone from his face but not his voice.

Harry drank it down, shuddering after he swallowed. Without a word, Severus took the
empty glass and set it aside, then took Harry by the hand and led him, unresisting,
through the sitting room to the bedchamber.

" Lumos, " he muttered, then turned to Harry. "You need to sleep. You were up all last
night, and given your day, it's no wonder…." He didn't finish as Harry acquiesced and
began to tug off his tee shirt.

He remained clothed himself, but, all the same, lay back on the bed and spelled off the
light when Harry sat on the edge to unlace his shoes. When he felt the dip in the bed, he
reached out and pulled Harry to him, slipping an arm beneath his neck, his chest to
Harry's back, the other arm draped over his hip.

Harry reached up and pulled Severus' arm around his waist and held it there, stroking
lightly with his fingertips. "I almost didn't make it here," he confessed softly.

Severus made a face in the dark. "I can only imagine." He didn't really want to
encourage Harry to talk again, so said nothing more. He felt, more than heard, the man
yawn.

"Yeah, I was in overdrive most of the day—probably sheer adrenalin. Then when
everything was done, I couldn't stop. I made some lists, did a lot of walking in the
gardens, then when the sun went down, I sort of panicked, I think."

This time Severus did hear a distinct yawn, so he asked him, "Drank an unhealthy
amount of tea, did you."

"Yeah, coffee too. I was really buzzed, but then, with the house getting dark, I knew I
had to get out of there, and remembered, all of a sudden, where I was supposed to be. So
I dropped everything—God, the place is a mess—and Apparated. Lucky I didn't splinch
myself."

Severus smiled into Harry's neck. "At your age and with your ability, I think not.
Apparation is almost instinctual for you. I seem to recall that you caught on remarkably
fast, once you'd overcome the usual difficulties."
"I'm glad I had somewhere to go," Harry said, ignoring the compliment. "If I'd have
stayed there…."

"I would've come looking for you," Severus countered. "But you managed very well on
you own, so enough talking. Now, sleep," he growled the warning.

"Severus? One more thing? I've been wondering…all day…"

Severus waited, although he knew what Harry was about to ask.

"Did Graham…was Graham scared? You know…once I'd gone?" he asked, his voice
slightly strange.

"No," Severus reassured him immediately, sensing that any hesitation might be
misconstrued. "He wasn't at all, and no, there was no last message for you. He said that
the two of you'd said everything that needed to be said." He felt a slight relaxing of
Harry against him.

"Oh," he breathed out, and Severus could tell he was disappointed. Even though it was a
half truth, Severus added, "The only other thing he said was that if you insisted on being
difficult, I was to tell you, 'Don't be an ass.'" Of course, there was more, but Severus
knew that the timing was not right.

Harry gave a soft laugh. "Sounds like Graham. Well, I won't be, then." He stopped
stroking Severus' arm and just held on to the hand with his own. As the silence
lengthened, Severus knew that they were done talking for the night.

They lay like this until Severus could tell by his breathing that Harry was finally asleep.
He pulled away gently, then quietly made his way through the darkened house. Armed
with a drink, he let himself out onto the porch, then settled on the top step with a sigh.

Of course, he'd expected Harry to have some sort of grief reaction—not necessarily
tears, though. He'd only seen the man cry twice, and the last time had been on the lane
just in front of him, the night Winnie had died. He himself had cried too, he
remembered, as he had shared in that grief. But Graham was different…a merciful
death… Severus would shed no tears for him; in truth, any grief that he felt now was for
Harry himself.

But what he had just witnessed had shaken him, not because of its intensity, for it
certainly was not out of the realm of the expected, but because he'd experienced it with
Harry one time before… He downed another glass, then leant against the post and closed
his eyes, knowing that it was fitting that this should be the night to remember the last of
it…that night when Harry's grief had manifested itself in a similar fashion….but unlike
this time, there had been weeping…

***
The two of them had made their way stealthily across the grounds. Despite Arthur
Weasley's wishes to the contrary, it appeared that it was all to be decided on the castle
grounds, more accurately, in the forbidden forest that bordered it to the east.

Hostilities had begun shortly after the sun went down; following what little plan had
been laid by the Order earlier in the day, Harry and Severus now crept along the edge of
the forest, staying in the shadows and close together as they wove their way in between
trees and shrubs, treading carefully to keep their position covert.

At last, they were standing just inside a copse of trees that bordered a small clearing not
too far into the forest itself.

"I don't like it," Severus complained as he placed a restraining arm on Harry's, halting
their forward movement. "There's only one way in and one way out. Not much of a
tactical advantage."

Harry shook his arm off, then said as he watched the action in clearing, "Well, that's the
whole point, isn't it? What we're going to do doesn't depend on any of that."

They watched, mesmerized for a moment by the sight of the central conflict. The small
area was teeming with Aurors and Death Eaters, the air thick with the light of curses,
the smell of burning flesh, and an eye watering smoke that hovered just above the
ground.

Well, at least the moon was cooperating, Severus thought to himself. It was a gibbous
crescent moon of early September, and although they would need to see each other at
the very beginning, in the end, low visibility would serve them best. He watched as the
battle raged, as wizards and witches on both sides fell, but he knew, as did Harry, that
these momentary losses and gains were truly irrelevant. No, it would all be decided by
the three men appointed—no, commanded— by destiny to put in an appearance…now,
this night…at this moment in time. He felt a sudden chill at the thought of what was
about to transpire.

"What're we waiting for," Harry urged him in a whisper. "Let's get on with this, shall
we?" Severus turned to the man standing so close that their shoulders were touching.

He gave him an assessing look, then nodded. "All right. You remember? Stay close to the
ground and wait for me to get into position. Do you think that for once in your life—"
His words were cut short as Harry suddenly threw his arms around his neck and gave
him a short but fierce embrace. When he pulled back, Severus stared at him.

"Aw, don't read too much into that," Harry said sarcastically. "Just for luck, Severus."

"Wonderful, had I known that was all we needed, I might've saved myself the
considerable trouble of the past year and a half," he parried in reply, but the jest was
not in earnest. Nodding to the ground, he began to move further in along the circle of
trees. He glanced back and didn't see Harry at all. Good, he thought to himself.

He moved slowly through the forest, concentrating on staying silent and out of sight,
from time to time looking in the general vicinity where he knew Harry was inching along
on his belly. When he was at last in position, he took a moment to fix the scene in his
mind.

There were fewer players now, but still a great deal of fighting, evidenced by the sounds
of shouted curses and shrieking from skirmishes all over the clearing. But once Severus
saw the Dark Lord, his attention was riveted on him alone. He realized he had to
readjust his location, so moved again for another fifteen meters through the trees. The
entire time, though, he did not take his eyes from the man. It was as if Lord Voldemort
were the center of the universe, with Severus and Harry meant to orbit around him as
they moved to take their places. Well, not for long, Severus promised himself, his
resolution hardening.

When he was finally abreast of him, Severus stepped suddenly from the cover of the
trees. He shot a glance toward Harry's location, then shouted above the noises of the
night, "Now, Harry!" His attention was then split, as he watched Harry stand to his feet
from the ground just twenty meters away, at the same time as he registered the Dark
Lord turning to look in the direction of his voice. Because of the darkness of the night,
Severus could not see his face, but watched carefully for any movement of his arm. This
was something that they'd counted on, that the arrogance of the man would prevent him
from ending things precipitously. No, he'd want to play a little bit, they'd reasoned,
especially as he wouldn't feel particularly threatened by either one of them for now…due
to the fact that he most likely believed that some of his Horcruxes remained intact.

But still speed was of the essence, Severus knew. They had practiced this part of it
countless times, so he moved quickly to the final sequence, as they had planned and
rehearsed over and over. Raising his wand and pointing it upwards, never taking his
eyes from the Dark Lord, Severus shot off a spark that streaked to the sky, hovered there
for an instant, then exploded into an umbrella of red streamers. The moment he saw it,
he mentally began the countdown, praying that Harry was doing the same.
'Five…four…three…two… one…' Out loud he murmured, as no one actually needed to
hear the words but himself, " Nos in unum iungite."

For a moment he felt nothing, and as he waited, he noticed with alarm that the Dark
Lord had turned and spotted Harry. Then Severus felt it arrive: his ears closed, and the
sounds of the battle became noticeably muted, even as he felt the warm pulse of
connection establish itself. Of course, he thought to himself, it's exactly what is needed;
we only need to hear each other. He felt a strange and unexpected confidence then, that
they would now be able to accomplish what they'd set out to do.

'Harry…' he said in his mind.

The reply was immediate. 'Severus…this is so…I can hear you…'

'I know…no time, Harry…on your count….'

There was a pause, then Severus heard Harry's voice, almost dreamlike,
'Five…four…three…two…one…'

Severus raised his arm again, and could sense, but not see, Harry's doing the same, at
the exact moment that the Dark Lord was lifting his own.

But now they used their real voices to shout in unison, "Avada Kedavra!"

He watched as the streak of green light issued from his wand, and saw its twin from
Harry's shoot in from the left at the very same time. Just meters from their target, the
two tracers met and joined as one; the melded beam burned brilliantly for a brief
instant, arched heavenward to a streaking apex, and then stopped suddenly in the sky,
before plummeting earthward at terrifying speed to strike its waiting target on the
ground.

The Dark Lord was swallowed by an explosion of dazzling greenness, then Severus saw
nothing more. There was a whooshing of air and a cracking like thunder, then a
frightening pulse and shock of heat and wind that picked Severus up and threw him
backward. He felt his feet leave the ground and the sensation of being powerless, but he
only had one moment to think, 'It's done,' before a brief instant of pain, and then
consciousness was gone as blackness took him

***

Severus came sluggishly to his senses, his first awareness the throbbing pain in his
shoulder and the realization that the clearing was now eerily silent, save for someone
calling his name, over and over. He lay there, stunned, listening to his name, knowing
that he should know who was calling, but couldn't quite place the voice.

He rolled onto his side, letting out a sudden gasp at the pain that shot from his shoulder
to his fingers. More carefully, and slowly, he used his other arm to push himself up into
a sitting position, then was suddenly nauseous when he became upright. He took a
moment to allow his equilibrium to adjust, then struggled first to his knees, then at last
to his feet. He staggered and swayed, almost falling as the pain and wooziness struck
him once again full force, but he managed to keep his feet, then rotated slowly in place
to locate the voice still calling for him.

"Severus…Severus…Severus…."

He located the sound instantly, and turned to see Harry standing twenty meters away.
"Harry!" he cried.
The man turned his head and caught sight of him then. "Severus!" He raised a hand in
reply but did not make a move towards him.

They stared at each other across the short distance, and suddenly Severus was aware of
the carnage around them. He and Harry were the only ones standing, in fact. The
ground between them and across the rest of the clearing was strewn with bodies, none of
them moving. He took his time as he looked, his lips becoming a thin line as the extent of
the damage became apparent. He noted that the earth around the body of the Dark Lord
was still smoking, giving off a foul stench that permeated the nighttime air.

"Severus…Severus…." The anguish in the voice spurred Severus to action. Holding his
wounded shoulder with his good hand, he slowly crisscrossed his way, stepping and
stumbling over the bodies and limbs that lay in his path. Just as he reached Harry, the
man let out a cry of pain as his legs gave out.

Severus carefully sank to the ground in front of him, steadied himself on his knees then
reached out to touch Harry's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

The green eyes were wild with something, the lips quivering, the voice tremulous.
"Something's wrong with my leg," Harry mumbled as he grabbed Severus arm and held
on to it. "What happened? Severus? Did you see…?" He looked around them, and
Severus followed his gaze. "Everyone's dead, aren't they. They're all dead." He answered
his own question.

"It would appear so," Severus muttered as he tried to estimate the number of bodies that
lay there. As he inspected the gruesome scene, he discovered that there was a strange
pattern in which the bodies lay—nothing littered the ground within a neat, thirty-meter
circle of the Dark Lord, but then they lay scattered in a large, irregular ellipse around
him, most of them on their backs, their unseeing eyes staring skyward. He did a quick
mental calculation as he looked, and estimated there had to be at least thirty.

Harry was becoming more and more distraught, asking over and over, "What happened?
What did we do? Oh God, Severus, what did we do?"

Severus' attention was caught by a body close by, one of the few lying prone, the arms
flung straight out to the sides, one leg grotesquely bent back on itself, the other angled
out unnaturally from the hip. He drew in a sharp breath when he spied the long, red hair
fluttering in the wind. Harry was immediately drawn to the sound, so Severus tried to
turn both of them away, saying, "No, Harry." But he was too late; Harry had seen and,
pushing Severus' away, was trying to stand.

"No, no, no!" he wailed as he struggled to his feet. Severus made a half-hearted attempt
to restrain him, but then gave in, knowing that this would only provoke Harry further. By
the time he managed to get to his own feet, Harry was already there, standing over his
friend. Severus limped cautiously to his side, now beginning to be alarmed that the
danger to themselves was increasing with every moment they delayed.
Harry had wrapped his arms around himself, quietly weeping as he looked at the body
before him. Severus stood and waited, carefully and methodically scanning their
surroundings. As he looked, he mentally catalogued the identities of those he recognized
lying there: the Death Eaters had been unmasked, so he named them easily; he saw two
students who, he realized with a shock, must be seventh-years by now; he grimly took
note of the slender but broken form of the Malfoy heir. Well, not at all surprising, he
thought to himself with sadness. Several Order members, including Hestia Jones and
Alicia Spinnet, lay grouped together with others whom Severus did not know at all. But
he knew the redheaded man lying with them…he closed his eyes for a moment as
emotion finally caught up with his senses. He was startled by Harry clutching at his arm,
now weeping openly.

"What're we going to do? What happened, what did we do, what did we do?" Harry
repeated the questions over and over, with each moment becoming more hysterical, at
the same time as he tried to move to another cluster of bodies, but Severus held him
back.

"Harry, listen to me! We can't stay here—there's no telling who else is in the woods," he
tried to reason with him, but Harry still insistently pulled at him, unable to walk on his
own, repeating the questions over and over, his words now indecipherable as he sobbed
without restraint. Severus felt a brief flash of pity, then quickly set it aside. They were in
danger here. "Harry, stop it this instant! Potter, stop! We must go now!"

But Harry hadn't seemed to even hear him at all, now trying to shake himself from
Severus' grasp, determined to set off on his own. Losing the strength in his fingers,
Severus let him go, then grabbed the front of his robes again and shook him roughly,
and before Harry had time to react, Severus delivered a one-handed slap to his cheek.

"Potter! Stop it now or I swear to God I'll stun you!" he bellowed in his most menacing
tone. When Harry stilled immediately, Severus took hold of his robes again to pull him in
so that their faces were close together. "Harry, I don't know what happened, but there's
nothing we can do here now. We are not safe," he emphasized, "Hold on to me, all
right? I'm getting us out of here."

Severus had to bark his name again, "Harry!", but this time the man shook his head,
seeming to regain some of his senses and obeyed, wrapping his arms around Severus
neck in a gesture of abandon that Severus found more disturbing than his weeping had
been. He'd never seen such weakness and vulnerability in his young partner before. But,
given the circumstances….

As for himself, Severus would think later that he'd been able to be so decisive in the
immediate aftermath precisely because he was in shock, and hadn't even begun to
process what they were seeing…what had happened…what they had done….

***
Severus sat angled on the settee in the study at Grimmauld Place, studying the face of
the young slumbering hero, whose feet were propped up in Severus' lap. His face was
deceptively peaceful at the moment, the rise and fall of his chest steady and even.
Severus winced as he adjusted the sling holding his injured arm in against his torso.

They'd Apparated to just outside Order Headquarters, then were let in by a frantic
Hermione Granger, who'd been left in the house as the rear guard. A Healer had been
summoned immediately, and Harry examined first, at Severus' insistence. Although there
were no outward signs of injury, the Healer was scandalized when Harry staunchly
refused to be moved to St. Mungo's. After obtaining Harry's promise that he'd report
there at the earliest possible moment, the Healer had moved on to Severus, quickly
reducing the dislocated shoulder, then placing the sling and swathe.

Harry had balked at the Calming Draught until Severus leant in and gripped his chin,
forcing Harry to look at him as he murmured, "Drink it now, or I'll pour it down your
throat myself." He'd not released him until Harry had reluctantly agreed.

So, they sat waiting now, the Granger girl hovering somewhere in the background. She'd
seemed to know what Severus needed, however, and had appeared at his side with a
generous glass of firewhisky. He admired that she'd managed to hold back the questions
that he knew must be there.

As he sat there in the silence, Severus wondered to himself what had happened.
Whatever they had done, it was clear to him that the shock wave—which had thrown him
backward and perhaps caused Harry's injury as well—had proven lethal to everyone
else in the clearing. That the two of them had survived, he was certain, had to do with
them being the casters and the measure of protection this must've afforded them.
Considering the loss of life, Severus idly wondered if they mightn't have been better off
dead.

He heard the sounds of people arriving through the Floo in the kitchen, then Kingsley
Shacklebolt was standing in the doorway, a thunderous expression on his face.

"Molly's here," was all he said.

So it begins, Severus thought….

***

There had been some, in the end, who'd understood, just as Severus had, that they'd done
the only thing they could've done. The rite had been their destiny; it had practically had
the names inscribed on it: Harry Potter and Severus Snape vs. Lord Voldemort. But most
had not seen it that way at all; many had felt that Severus, at least, should've been able to
find another way, given his supposed standing in the Death Eater ranks and the fact that
he'd been 'the more fully qualified wizard.' It'd not been clearly understood, although an
attempt had been made to decipher it, why everyone in the clearing with them had died
except for themselves. Severus suspected that the shockwave had somehow been seeded
with the deadly power of the Killing Curse, and, just as he'd told Harry, they'd been
protected only because they themselves had cast the rite. It'd been their being bound
together that had saved them at the time. An unexpected benefit, it would seem

There was a subtle change in the light, alerting Severus that the sun was about to peek up
above the horizon. He sat hunched over on the middle of the step, thinking to himself
that Harry might've been the vanquisher, with Severus' help, of course, but he had
suffered as much as any of the victims had. ' Some shall be pardon'd, and some
punishéd ,' he thought, but in Harry's case he'd been both.

He didn't turn when he heard the creak of the screened door. "You're up already?"

"Four hours is about all I can manage at one go," Harry said. Severus glanced back, then
made a move to make room on the top step, when two hands rested lightly on his
shoulders to stop him. "Hang on," Harry simply said.

There was a scuffling noise as Harry knelt behind him, then sat, sliding a leg around
either side of him where he sat.

"You'll get splinters in your bare behind," Severus told him dryly as Harry pulled
himself in against his back, wrapping his arms around his chest. It was a pleasant
closeness, in contrast to the memory he'd just relived, so Severus relaxed slightly against
him.

"I'll take my chances," Harry told him. "What're you doing out here? Are you usually up
this early?" he asked softly as he started to move his hands over Severus' chest.

"I do like to see the sunrise," Severus murmured, distracted by Harry undoing the
buttons on his shirt. He leant back a little more, enjoying the feel of the body pressing
against him. "You seem to have recovered," he remarked, then gasped when his shirt
was pulled aside, and the hands began to move leisurely over his bare skin.

"I'm better," Harry breathed into the hair by his ear, resting his chin on Severus'
shoulder, his hands continuing to explore as they both stared out over the garden.

"Good," was all that Severus could manage, then groaned a, "Harry," as his nipples were
now being slowly teased and tweaked. Harry pulled slightly back with his forearms so
their bodies were flush together, and as Severus felt the naked hard length pressing into
his back, he felt his own cock twitch in answer.

When the hands moved down to fumble at the buttons of his fly, Severus grabbed on to
the legs on either side of him and just held on. Harry had fixed on a spot on the side of
his neck and was suckling, none too gently and rather noisily, but Severus found it
exquisitely erotic, and couldn't help but squirm a bit in the embrace. He moaned as his
cock was suddenly free of his trousers and a firm, garden-calloused hand took hold of
him.

Severus found he couldn't move at all now, not that he wanted to; Harry had hooked his
ankles over the top of his calves, one hand holding him securely around the waist, the
other starting to stroke his cock with slow, even strokes, his thumb circling and brushing
over the head each time he reached the tip of it. Severus watched the hand in fascination
for a moment and felt a swirl of spreading fire engulf his loins.

There was nothing for Severus to do, nothing for him to touch, save for Harry's thighs,
so he held on and let Harry have his way, throwing his head to the side as Harry latched
on to him with his teeth, not at all painfully, but not entirely playfully either.

They rocked together, Severus pushing into the hand as it pumped him, Harry pushing
his cock against Severus' back. They were both making low guttural noises as their
arousal neared its peak, Severus' chest heaving, Harry gasping ragged encouragement at
his ear.

Suddenly Harry stopped, grasping Severus' cock firmly at the base as he squeezed
around it, but before Severus could mewl out a plea or protest, he began again, stroking
him faster and faster.

It was enough, though—Severus was undone then, and he came, spurting up onto his
chest, dripping down to his knees, over Harry's hand that continued to milk him, as
Severus cried out and arched backward into him, propelling them both back on the porch
several inches, Harry's backside be damned.

Harry continued to hold him, strong arms around his middle, as Severus let his own fall
to his sides so that he dangled like a rag doll. They sat like this, glued to one another, as
Severus recovered, just as the sun came up above the trees at the top of the crest.

They sat in silence and watched it, Severus still held in the awkward embrace. It wasn't
the most beautiful sunrise Severus had ever seen, but it had just become one of the most
memorable, the hues of color now enriched by the tactile sensation of skin and the scent
of sex.

Harry gently slid his arms from around him and lay back onto the wood of the porch, his
long legs bent so that his feet rested on the steps. Severus glanced at him over his
shoulder, then smiled as he carefully turned, pivoting to end up on his knees, Harry's
legs still on either side.

Harry watched him, eyes brightened with lust, as Severus leant in to lick a line down his
belly, then moaned when he cupped his balls with both hands, sighing audibly when
Severus sat back on his haunches as he fingered the soft skin of them, at the same time
as he eyed Harry's still unsatisfied erection with an amused look in his eyes.
"I'll be more than willing to take care of this," he paused as he gave Harry a gentle
squeeze, "but unlike you, I abhor splinters. So…." He leant in and gave Harry's cock one
firm, continuous lick along the length of it. He stood to his feet and extended a hand,
then hefted Harry up so that they were almost standing on each other's toes.

Severus took advantage of the moment, reaching out to take hold of Harry's shoulders as
he angled his chin to suck at his lower lip with his own. It was a kiss full of tongue,
pulling and pushing with their mouths, until Harry took a step back to grab Severus by
the hand and coax him towards the door with a smile.

They fell onto the bed, a jumble of arms and legs as Harry divested Severus of the
remainder of his clothing. The sun was completely up now, its rays splintered into
vertical shafts of light by the wooden shutters that had been partially pulled.

Severus rolled Harry to his back and pinned his wrists to the bed, then straddled his legs,
and was just starting to slide down his body, when Harry surprised him by twisting to his
side, taking Severus with him, then gently tugged on his shoulders to bring him up in the
bed so that they were face to face.

"No," Harry whispered against his lips, his voice thick with want, then pulled away to
look at him intently. He rose up on an elbow and reached across to the nightstand to snag
the lube. Settling back in the bed, he flipped the top off with his thumb, then gave
Severus a nudge with his shoulder. "Roll over," he instructed him.

Severus gave him a mild look of surprise, which Harry countered with an unflinching
one of his own, accompanied this time by not just a nudge of his shoulder, but with a
definite, firm push of a thigh. Severus rolled to his back, his head to the side, staring at
Harry, who returned the look, smiling slyly as he pushed and nudged again, his intention
now unmistakable. Severus half-turned in the bed as he obeyed, then seemed to think
better of it and tried to roll back against the insistent pressure.

"Severus," Harry murmured huskily, "please…." He ran his hand up between Severus'
thighs, even as he continued to try and push the man over with his other arm.

Severus gave him one more searching look, then sighed as he complied. "Since you
asked so nicely…" He rolled onto his side, then moaned when Harry pressed his
shoulders into the bed as he covered him from behind, rubbing his cock against the swell
of his arse. Harry undulated against him, then Severus let out a small gasp as he felt the
slippery finger enter. "Just take it slow," he ground out, "it's been a long time since…."
He buried his face into the pillow, then turned his head to the side to exhale when Harry
slipped another finger in; he arched up into the burn of it, then began to push back when
Harry's stretching rhythm was too slow…too slow. It was not his usual position, to be
sure, he mused to himself, but he had to admit that… There was no more thinking as
Harry made that first, confident thrust into him…words failed him as the pleasure of it
eclipsed all rational thought.
He clenched his fists in the sheets to hold himself in place as Harry rutted into him, so
forcefully that Severus' lungs seemed to empty with each press of their bodies. He was
so effectively pinned that he couldn't even add a whit to the rhythm of Harry's hips
slamming up against him. He was effectively nailed to the bed, acutely aware of his own
arousal now exquisitely trapped beneath him, stroked by the sliding motion, up and
down on the ever-increasingly damp tangle of bedding.

Harry's breath was rasping at his ear for the second time that night, making a grunt of
effort with each thrust that he made, his hands fastened on Severus' shoulders, his
fingernails digging deeply into the soft, slippery flesh there. Severus angled his head and
buried his face in the pillow, and felt Harry tuck his own face against the arch of his
neck. They were scotched together, face to neck, hands to shoulders, chest to back, balls
to buttocks, and Severus reveled in the feel of it, this strange, foreign sensation of
yielding to being taken by someone else, unable to direct, helpless to control, and how
utterly and wildly sensual it all was, being ridden on the sheets, holding on for dear life
now as Harry drove into him faster and harder.

Then the hands slid from his shoulders to across his chest, pulling Severus up and away
from the bed, as Harry gave out one long, muffled cry into the skin of his back, as his
hips slowed and jerked through the cadence of his climax. Severus let go of the sheets
and rose up on his elbows, then used the position to finally push back as he felt the
warmth of fluid that came with Harry's final strokes. Then suddenly, Severus felt the full
weight of Harry as he relaxed, which neatly collapsed them both face down on the bed.
They lay there, layered, until Severus signaled with a subtle shrug that Harry was
crushing him. Harry slithered off to the side, and settled on his back, then turned his
head to look at Severus, who was still prone beside him.

Harry's eyes were already drooping with sleep as he lifted a lazy hand to tuck Severus'
hair behind his ear. "Think I can sleep a bit more." Severus watched as he closed his
eyes, then waited until Harry was asleep before sliding to the end of the bed to stand. He
stepped to the window and pulled a slat of the shutter aside to look out over the sunlit
garden, serenaded by the sound of mourning doves as they greeted the dawn.

He walked to the side of the bed to draw up the sheet over the slumbering form, then
leant down to whisper at his ear, "Not my usual, but exquisite." He gently traced a finger
along Harry's cheek, then brought it up to his mouth and sucked at the salty, sweaty taste
of him. Smiling, he decided to forgo the shower, and slipped back into the bed beside
him.

***

Graham/Part Three

They'd slept in surprisingly late that morning, almost until noon, in fact; Severus couldn't
recall when he'd ever done such a thing, even considering the many nights he'd spent
awake on his porch, the possibility of sleep driven away by one reason or another.
"I can't remember the last time I got eight hours," Harry commented as Severus pushed a
cup in front of him. Looking up at him as he took it, he added, "Thanks, Severus." From
the look on his face and the warmth in his eyes, Severus knew Harry wasn't just thanking
him for the tea.

"You needed it," Severus told him as he picked up the first section of the Prophet .

He already had the paper in front of his face when he heard Harry laugh softly and reply,
"Yeah, you're right. I did." Severus smiled as he turned to page two.

They both read as they ate, wordlessly exchanging sections when they were done with
their respective ones. When they were both finished, Severus sat back in his chair and
waited, watching as Harry summoned his sack from the settee and removed a potions jar.

Standing to his feet, Harry caught Severus' eye as he unfastened his trousers and let them
fall to the floor. Severus' eyes widened in spite of himself.

"Severus…" Harry teased, smiling as he bent his knee with difficulty and rested it on the
chair. "I should've done this last night, but I sort of forgot…" He unscrewed the lid from
the jar and dipped his fingers in to scoop out a generous amount of the viscous white
cream, then moved his shirt slightly to massage it into the skin of his thigh. Severus
watched, fascinated, as the fingers worked the potion in, massaging and kneading the
atrophied muscle, the deft and practiced motion of Harry's wrist and hand telling Severus
that this application was no doubt part of a morning ritual. He noticed something else as
well.

"Do you never wear underwear, Harry? I've noticed on at least two occasions…." He
watched Harry's balls as they swung back and forth in time to the rhythmic therapy, then
felt the sudden rush of blood to his cock at this guileless display.

Harry continued his auto-massage, then his eyes sparkled as he seemed to guess at
Severus' reaction. "No," he told him frankly, amused, "I never do. Just one more thing to
put on in the morning, and one more thing…" he paused, stopping to stoop for his
trousers. Pulling them up, he met Severus' eyes again as he pushed his own growing
erection to the side to button the fly. "…to take off when you want them off." He
straightened with a grin, making a face as shifted himself in his jeans.

Severus swallowed, willing himself to resist a little rearrangement of his own. "Leave a
dollop of that with me, if you will. I'll see if I can reproduce it, maybe improve on it in
the process," he instructed, then did fix himself more comfortably while Harry made the
quick trip to his lab and back again.

"Well," Harry said, "I'd best be off then." He was looking at Severus uncertainly and,
suddenly, there was awkwardness, where before there had been none at all. Severus
realized that they were at an 'in between' stage; although they'd been entirely
comfortable waking up in each other's arms, saying goodbye presented a new dilemma.
They certainly weren't at the stage where a passionate embrace and parting kiss would be
appropriate, but neither did a simple, 'Goodbye, have a nice day,' seem to be either.

He should've known that Harry would solve it for both of them. Skirting the table, Harry
leant down and planted a kiss on the top of his head, then tilted his chin up with his
hand. "All right if I come back again tonight?"

Severus removed the hand from his chin to place a kiss on the palm of it, then looked up
at him. "Whenever you need to." He released him and stood to his feet, then asked as he
pushed in his chair, "You mentioned needing help with the flowers?"

Harry gave him a blank look, then looked sheepish. "Did I? Gods, I was a mess, wasn't
I? I don't even remember asking." He thought for a moment, then shook his head, "No,
I'll be fine. I'm only doing a few small arrangements, and I have all day, but thanks
anyway. Chloe and Rob will be there this afternoon…have to finalize some things for
tomorrow, for the service and the wake." He hesitated, then asked, "The funeral's at St.
Michael's at two…you don't have to come, but I wanted to ask in case you wanted to."
He was studying the edge of his tee-shirt intently as he fingered it.

Severus measured him, wondering at the hesitation in Harry's voice. "Do you want me to
come?" he simply asked.

Harry looked up shyly. "Well, yeah, I guess I do. But if I had to choose, I'd rather have
you at the wake. Strength in numbers," he mumbled, looking away once again.

Severus shook his head. "You don't have to choose at all, then. I'll be there for both of
them. For both you and Graham."

The relief in Harry's eyes was instantaneous. He reached over and pulled Severus into a
firm embrace, then pulled back to kiss him thoroughly before breaking away. "Thanks,
that'll be great," he breathed. Then after one more leisurely, heated kiss, he was gone,
calling over his shoulder, "See you tonight."

Hmm, so much for the 'in between' stage, Severus thought to himself with amusement.

***

Harry hadn't spent the night, though. It happened that some out-of-town friends had
needed a place to stay, so he'd dropped in briefly to alert Severus that he'd be remaining
in Macclesfield with them.

So, Severus had passed the evening examining the sample of Harry's potion, and by the
next morning had devised a rudimentary formula for it. He was now on his hands and
knees in a small bed of perennials at the back of the house, gathering violas and saffron
for his own attempt at a counterfeit. He pinched off the orange stigmas of the crocuses,
then stood and carefully folded them into a length of parchment. They'd have to dry for
several days before he could grind and use them.
That afternoon, he dressed in his most unobtrusive attire: plain, black silk trousers and a
close-fitting, black shirt without a collar. He had nothing that even remotely resembled a
Muggle suit, but Harry had assured him that this would be completely appropriate.

He found St. Michael's easily, timing his arrival to just several minutes before two. Even
so, he was surprised at the number of people arriving as late as he was. He hung to the
back of the group as they entered the church together, then stood and watched as they
made their way towards the front to seat themselves with the others already gathered
there. As his eyes adjusted to the lower light, he surmised that there were about fifty, all
told. He was struck with how small the interior actually was, given the size of the
exterior Victorian Gothic structure.

He walked quietly to the last row of mourners, then seated himself in the one just
behind, his eyes taking in the large, stained glass window that rose up beyond the choir
loft. A musical instrument was playing something soft and soothing in the background.
He'd never been in a Muggle church before, let alone at a funeral, and he took his time to
survey his surroundings.

He caught sight of the back of Harry's head in the very first row on the left, third seat
from the aisle. There appeared to be an empty seat between him and Chloe, but then
Severus realized that the child must have been sitting between them. Then he noticed the
coffin that stood in the middle of the transept. He stared at it for a long while, thinking to
himself how odd it was that Graham lay within it—just two days ago, he'd talked with
man, and shared an intensely personal experience with him. He reflected on it, this
separation of the essence of a person from what now remained. He knew with a certainty
that whatever he'd known and thought of as Grahamhad nothing to do with the contents
of the flower-covered bier that sat there.

He was startled as the music suddenly stopped, and the small group of attendees rose to
their feet.

I know that my Redeemer liveth…

Severus saw that people seemed to know the words to the song, although a few read
from books in their hands, books that he now saw were sticking out of racks on the back
of each chair. He wasn't inspired to participate, however.

… whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.

He felt strangely lulled by the lilting tune, the odd mixture of voices, the childish tones
from the choir. He heard the words of greeting after the vicar took his place.

Grant him entrance into the land of light and joy.

As they sat, Severus remembered that Albus had held very strong opinions on the matter,
the fact that death was not an ending at all, just a portal to the next adventure….
He watched as the vicar made his way up several steps to a lectern, then began to read.

The Lord is good unto them that wait for him…

Severus pursed his lips when he heard the words, for Graham hadn't actually waited, had
he? And given what was about to befall him, and how he'd wanted to spare his family,
who could find fault with what he'd done…with what Severus had done as well…?

The choir was singing again, and now Severus could see the top of a child's head in
between Harry and Chloe, as she became restless in her seat. Harry rested his arm across
the back of her chair, then leant in to whisper something. Severus watched his silhouette
for a moment, then closed his eyes to listen to the soloist.

O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint.

If thou wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss,

O Lord, who may abide it?

There you have it, Severus thought to himself. Who among any of them sitting there
could claim to be blameless? He thought of his own life and the things he'd done and the
things he regretted, and concluded soberly that if Graham were to be held accountable
for this last choice he'd made, then the soloist was right—who would have a leg to stand
on?

He was brought back to the ceremony by the motion of a man rising in the front row,
inching his way to the end of the aisle, then walking to stand to one side of the coffin. As
he started to speak, Severus realized that this must be Graham's brother, as the family
resemblance was striking. Ah, the eulogy . He listened to the first couple of sentences,
then decided that, yes, Harry had been right; the man was an ass.

The vicar resumed his place by the coffin, then by some prearranged signal, several men
stood from amidst the mourners to move to take up their positions alongside the bier.
Severus assumed that it was all about to be over, and was relieved for Harry's sake; he
could tell by the sounds and movement in the front row that the child would not tolerate
much more of this.

… giving light to those who sat in darkness and in the shadows of death…

The choir sang as the coffin was escorted down the long aisle towards the narthex. Harry
walked with Chloe and the child, just behind it, but caught Severus' eye as they passed,
and gave him a nod of his head.

Severus was one of the last to leave the church; the mourners were milling around as a
procession of vehicles queuing up in front was being loaded up with passengers, one by
one. He spotted Harry making his way slowly towards the steps, holding fast to the hand
of the little girl at his side. Severus' face softened as he saw her: smaller in stature than
Winnie, but just as fair, with two blond ponytails tied up in blue ribbons. He noted that
one had come untied. As they drew closer, Severus descended the steps just as they
arrived.

"Severus," Harry said as he smiled, "I'd like you to meet Daphne, Graham's daughter."

Severus stared down at her for a moment, then bent his knees to hunch down atnv her
level. Solemn blue eyes met his, and he felt a sudden lump in his throat. "Hello,
Daphne." When the child didn't reply, he added, "I'm sorry about your father."

The child nodded now, still not smiling, and asked him, "Did you know him?"

Severus shot a glance up at Harry, then looked back to say, "Yes, I did, and I liked him
very much."

She seemed to consider this, then looked up at Harry, then back to Severus. "Me too,"
was all she had to say.

As Severus stood, Harry pulled gently on one of the child's pigtails, then rolled his eyes
when she suddenly wrapped her arms around one of his legs, causing him to stagger
slightly. "Severus, I've asked a friend if you can ride with them." He pointed to a tall,
blond-haired man a little distance away. "It's not far—about ten minutes, then they'll
bring you on to the house. Is that all right?" he asked, and Severus caught the
apprehension in his voice.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," he answered, then after one look full of warmth, Harry led his
charge off to the waiting car.

***

Severus thought to himself that this part of the Muggle burial wasn't much different than
the wizarding tradition. At least this is what he thought until the vicar started to speak.

Taking dirt from an urn, he began… We commend to Almighty God our brother
Graham; and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to
dust. The Lord bless him…

Severus became lost in what had just been said, wondering to himself why these
particular words were included—they certainly weren't comforting ones, to be reminded
that one was dust, and would end up that way once again. But then, the ceremony at the
church had been comforting, otherwise. He looked around at the faces of the mourners:
some of them grief-stricken, some of them distracted, some of them…impatient, he
thought. He was struck by the sudden inspiration that perhaps the words were meant as a
cautionary tale for the living: you're alive, you're breathing, it's not your time to be dust
again, but you started out that way and one day soon, you'll end there again, just as
Graham has. So, take advantage of life; live it to its fullest. Carpe diem .
…lift up His countenance upon him and give him peace. Amen.

Severus didn't hear the rest of it. He wasn't a believer, after all, and he didn't
understand…but he echoed the prayer silently, nonetheless… give him peace.

***

Graham/Part Four

They were amongst the last to arrive, Severus realized, as he stood and looked over the
hedge along the lane. It was nearly four by now, and the sun had moved behind the
clouds, which had been threatening all day. There were people in the garden, drinks in
hand, wandering the rows as they talked, most of them oblivious to the colorful and
carefully tended maze through which they walked. Severus stayed for a moment and
surveyed the house, and was struck by a disconcerting jolt of déjà vu: the vulnerable and
innocent garden being invaded by partygoers; the sounds of clinking china and glass; the
undercurrent of voices and laughter; the strains of music underlying it all. And
himself…standing outside the perimeter looking in, only this time he felt no
apprehension at all. That time, just six weeks ago, they had come together to celebrate a
birthday and anniversary, whereas this time they'd all been drawn here to commemorate
a life lived and premature death.

Births and birthdays…Welcoming and Leaving Feasts…marriages and

anniversaries…pinnacles of achievement…retirement and death. Each of them part of
the cycle of life that was common to all of them…cycles that began and ended at a
universal point. Every individual here was on a circle of his own, sometimes fortunately
overlapping or, in some cases, regrettably transecting the circles that cycled alongside
of them. How fitting, Severus thought to himself, to mark these occasions by coming
together to acknowledge what had been shared along the way. Because, in the economy
of life, no man traveled alone, even he himself, he soberly concluded.

Harry's spacious sitting room and dining area had been prepared beforehand. The
furniture had been pushed along the walls, and smaller chairs had been arranged in
clusters around the room. Severus scanned the space as he entered, and was not surprised
to see that he really didn't know anyone there, although he saw Chloe, with Daphne in
hand, talking to an elderly couple in a corner. He sauntered his way down the narrow
hallway to the kitchen, where he found Harry filling drink orders from a makeshift
sideboard set up there. He waited his turn, watching as Harry chatted easily with two
men who then turned to leave.

There was a subtle shift in Harry's expression when he saw him, a slipping away of
cheerfulness to reveal something a little darker but definitely warmer. "Severus," he
sighed as he threw the towel across his shoulder, taking a step forward to almost shyly
wind his arms around Severus' waist. "God, I've needed to do this all day," he mumbled
by Severus' ear. He pulled back to look, but did not release him just yet. "I think it went
well, the ceremony, don't you think?"
Severus hands were massaging Harry's stiff shoulders, something, he realized, he'd been
doing quite a bit of late. "I'm no expert on these things, but I think Graham would've
been pleased," he said as he kneaded the knotted muscles.

Harry rolled his head from side to side as he warmed to what Severus was doing. He let
out a little snort of amusement. "Yeah, you know what he would've liked best? Me
trying to keep Daphne in her seat. She's never been one to sit still for long—we took her
to a kids flick not too long ago," he paused as he looked wistful, then he smiled at
Severus. "But we had to leave halfway into it. So different from Winnie," he added,
"although I don't think she'd ever even been to the cinema; she would've loved it. Some
fairytale animated story about a monster," he finished as he dropped his head against
Severus' chest. The sound of someone clearing their throat made them both look up.
Severus made as if to pull away, but Harry held him fast, planting a kiss on his forehead
before turning to the doorway.

"Hullo, Rob, I'm glad you decided to come. It'd mean a great deal to Graham. So, what
can I get you?" Harry asked as he moved to the counter, the façade of cheerfulness back
in place once again.

Severus studied the scowling man leaning against the doorjamb. He appeared to be
several years older than Graham, but had the same shade of blue in his eyes, the same
pale coloring and straight sandy hair. There the resemblance ended, marred by the set of
the thin, unpleasant lips and the unmistakable insolence that he seemed to effortlessly
radiate. Severus leant back against the cupboard and crossed his arms to observe the
encounter.

"Wasn't my idea, get that straight—Trixie wanted to come—said it wouldn't look right if
we didn't," he said in a disgusted tone, then added, "Gimme a beer, whatever you have, I
don't care." He watched Severus suspiciously as Harry popped the top before handing
him a bottle, then made certain they heard him as he turned to go without so much as a
thank you. "Feckin' queers."

Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry, "Obnoxious little bugger, isn't he?"

Harry shrugged and laughed, a little bitterly, "Oh yeah, paragon of tolerance, that one.
I'd only met him once before last Saturday. He wasn't all that nice to Graham even then.
You'd think knowing the circumstances, he would've…." He ran a hand through his hair,
then said distractedly as he poured Severus' drink, "I don't know, kind of let it go .
But no-oh , from what Graham told me, he stayed right in character. Arsehole."

Severus wandered back into the sitting room when several more guests arrived to put
Harry back to work. He'd always been a people-watcher, especially when he was
amongst a crowd of strangers. He'd found a free space of wall and leant against it, and
was surreptitiously studying Rob Chal and his wife, when a voice at his at his ear startled
him.
"Mr. Snape?" asked the familiar voice.

Severus turned to see the surprised face of someone whom he did know. "Mr. Whitney,
we meet again," he greeted him, nodding.

The man was clearly trying to process Severus' presence there. "I…I…well, yes, I must
say I'm surprised to see you here," he ventured tentatively, then quickly added,
"Although, of course, I realized that you and Mr. Potter must've come to some
agreement…." He stopped, then shook his head. Neither the time nor the place."

Severus shrugged. "He and I were able to find a solution that was acceptable to both of
us. Not to worry, Mr. Whitney, as it's over and done with." And you have no idea what a
world of heartache it's turned out to be. He said nothing more, watching with interest, as
the man seemed to be having difficulty with what to say next.

"So, with your business concluded," Whitney began, then stopped. "That is, I know that
you and Mr. Potter have known each other in the past, but I didn't think…." He halted
once again and cleared his throat as he tugged at his tie.

Severus gave him a sardonic smile. "Mark the day…a solicitor at a loss for words," he
said dryly, enjoying the man's discomfiture. "I think what you're trying to say is that
you're surprised to see me here, because you assumed, given the contract, that Mr. Potter
would do what he could to avoid me, personally, that is. My potions expertise, sought
from a distance, being an entirely different matter?"

The auburn-haired man flushed suddenly, and Severus knew he'd found the mark, but
Whitney denied it, of course. "No, no, not at all, I remember reading years ago that you'd
had some sort of falling-out after the war ended. That's all, really." He fiddled with the
stir rod in his glass, then blew out a breath before he said, "I just assumed you were here
for Harry, but of course, you might've known Graham…."

Severus gave a slight harrumph of disbelief. "Not likely. Your assumption is correct, I'm
here as Mr. Potter's friend. And you? Did you also know Graham?" He was wondering
once again just how innocent the solicitor had been in Harry's clever scheme of assisted-
suicide.

But the man seemed sincere when he answered, "No, not really. I met with him here a
little over a year ago, at Mr. Potter's request. He needed some legal advice, setting his
affairs in order, updating his will, those sorts of things. But not since then, I'm afraid."
He trailed off towards the end, and Severus finally believed that the man had not been an
accomplice after all. Whitney added, a little lower, "I was more than happy to step in and
help Mr. Potter expedite the matter of the death certificate—it can sometimes take up to
a week for the normal process."

Harry had come into the room and was now perched on the arm of a chair, sipping from
a drink as he listened in on a story that someone was telling about Graham.
Both Severus and Whitney watched him for a moment, not really close enough to hear
what was being said.

"I don't know if you've any influence, Mr. Snape, but he doesn't look like he's taking
care of himself." When Severus looked at him, mildly surprised, the man smiled ruefully
as he added, "I've grown fond of him over the years, watched him grow up like the rest
of Wizardom. He's had a hard time of it, hasn't he, especially recently?"

"Yes, he has," Severus murmured as he inspected Harry sitting there. Whitney, of

course, had hit the very nail on the head. "He's very stubborn, as you probably know, so
any caution to 'take care of himself,' as you've said, usually falls on deaf ears."

Whitney was studying Severus shrewdly, then seemed to decide to take the plunge.
"Well, he must consider you a friend to have you here, and I imagine if he'll listen to
anyone, it'd be you, from what I've seen of your powers of persuasion." His eyes
twinkled at the look on Severus' face. "Do your best, sir, for all of us who hold him
dear." With a parting pat on the arm, the solicitor turned and made his way to say
goodbye to his host.

The circle of chairs around Harry and his friends had grown and widened as others
joined the impromptu eulogies being recited. Severus thought to himself that his was
what wakes were for, actually: colorful and poignant anecdotes from people who
had really known the person, to varying degrees. He pulled up a chair of his own and sat
toward the back of the group, just in time to hear the question directed at Harry himself.
"So, how did the two of you meet, Harry? I've heard several different versions from
Graham, and I'd say he was hiding something." There was a chorus of encouragement
that made Harry smile.

"Ah, yes, well, Graham didn't think the way we met was very…manly," he paused as the
others laughed, "but it's one of those things, looking back, that I wouldn't change for the
world." He reached up and rubbed at his forehead before continuing, and Severus could
read from the gesture that Harry was becoming tired.

"Well, you know we're both booklovers, and I was at Foyles that day to pick up a book
I'd ordered, and I ended up in the Jane Austen section," he paused, as someone said, "Oh
no! Not another bloody queer Jane Austen story." There was laughter all around until
Harry held up a hand, then said as they quieted, "Yes, Charles, a bloodyJane Austen
story. I was standing there reading the back cover of 'Emma,' when I sensed him. I
looked up, and there he was." Harry had a far-away look in his eyes. "And I was
smitten." There was snickering and catcalls, and Harry waited for them to die down
before he went on.

"So, he's looking at me with that look , you know the one I mean? Those smoldering,
baby-blues, and I can see he's been looking at a copy of 'Mansfield Park,' and I smile a
little, cause I'd just finished that not too long before." He took a sip of his drink, then set
it aside. "So he walks around to my side of the shelves, and takes the book out of my
hand, and that's when it started… you know, the song and dance. " He paused and
looked around the room as if looking for someone, then when he saw Severus sitting at
the edge of the group, his eyes sparkled with mirth for a moment before he took up the
story again.

"He says to me, 'Have you read it yet?' And I tell him no, but I was thinking of buying it,
did he recommend it. He hands it back to me, making sure to touch my hand, and says,
'It's funny, Emma gets a little annoying, but I think you'll like it.' The whole time he's
looking at me with this smile, and I'm intrigued, so I tell him, 'And you, I think you'll
like that one as well—social climbing, secret passions, sexual scandal.' I'm teasing to see
how he'll react, so he leans a little closer when he stretches to put the book back.

"'I've already read it,' he says, practically in my ear, 'and it's all right, but you know my
favorite?' God, he was sexy as hell, wasn't he?" There was a murmur of agreement from
his listeners, and Severus realized that others in the room had moved closer to hear as
well. Harry looked around at them all, then, encouraged by their rapt attention, he forged
ahead. "I almost dropped the book when he did that—I have this ear thing, I guess." He
ignored the comments around him and playfully punched the man beside him, who'd
turned and tried to blow a breath in his ear. "I say, 'No, but it's a short list, so I suppose I
could run through and eventually hit it.' And just then he leans against me, against me , I
mean really leans against me, and drags a book from the corner of the display. It's Pride
and Prejudice, of course, well, you'll understand if you've read it." Severus could tell
from the reactions in the group that some had and some hadn't, but someone grew
impatient and made a shushing noise so that Harry could go on.

"So he's picked it up, and now he's got his leg pressed against mine as he's rifling
through the pages. And without missing a beat, he asks me, 'Who's your favorite
character then? All hot and heavy for the mouth-watering Elizabeth Bennett? Hmm?'
And I'm standing there, sort of shocked, but in a good way, mind you," he admonished,
then bit his lower lip as the laughter started up again. "You see why Graham made up
stories rather than tell this one. Who'd ever believe it?" There were cries for him to go
on, so he did, with, "And before I get to say a word, he says, 'Or are you like me? I sort
of salivate in all the right places for a certain Mr. Darcy. Noble brow, lace at his neck,
well-endowed…and I'm not talking about Pemberley, if you get my meaning…'" At this,
the circle of friends dissolved into raucous laughter once again, and Severus, hearing the
story for the first time, couldn't help but smile. He could just imagine Graham delivering
that last line.

When it was quiet again, Harry gave a sly smile that hinted that the tale wasn't quite
finished. "So, when he says that, I can't help myself—I sort of sidestep away so I can see
his face, and he's just standing there, this half-smile, his eyes looking a little unsure at
that point, until I say, 'Hmm, Mr. Darcy, huh? Yeah, I actually think of him sometimes
when I wank.'" There were hoots and howls, and Harry blushed as he laughed with them,
then he came to the end of his story. "He asked me to join him for a drink at the Pillars,
and I did, and then I asked him if he'd like to come home with me to see my…books," he
finished lamely, then was drowned out by another round of laughter, and this time,
applause as well.

Severus watched the scene, thinking to himself that this was a part of Harry's life of
which he'd not had the faintest inkling, a side of Harry that he'd never seen before:
lighthearted in the company of friends, boyishly flirtatious with a complete stranger,
almost downright frivolous behavior that he was suddenly grateful that Harry had had
the occasion to experience, for once in his life. He felt a rush of warmth and affection for
the man whom they were here memorializing.

"Hey, everyone on the planet, gay or straight, is on the lookout for their own personal
Mr. Darcy," Charles broke in.

Harry sat, pensively, then said, a little more softly, to just those sitting close beside him,
but loud enough for Severus to hear, "You're right, they are. Tall, dark and…" he paused
as he looked up and caught Severus' eyes, then held them as he listed the man's
attributes, "brooding. Intelligent and aloof, but underneath he's principled and loyal,
passionate and protective. Spare with his words, but when he speaks, people sit up and
listen. And if someone he cares about is in trouble, he's works his magic in the
background, not giving a damn if he gets any credit for it, as long as they're protected
and taken care of. Yeah, who wouldn't fall in love with someone like that?" he mused, a
slight smile at the corners of his mouth as he watched the expression on Severus' face.

"Isn't any such creature, he's a myth, an urban legend," Charles said as shook his head.

Still looking at Severus, Harry disagreed. "Oh, I think you're wrong on that one.
Remember, art usually imitates life. And if you do find him, you'd be a fool to let him
go…." They stared at each other, until Severus, disconcerted, was the first to look away.
He was almost overtaken by a sudden and irrational urge to kick away the chairs that
separated them, to pull Harry up out of his seat and devour him, body, soul and spirit,
right there in that very moment. Undone by beautiful words , not to mention that look ,
Severus thought to himself as he studied his hands on his knees. When he finally glanced
up again, the moment was gone, Harry off to say goodbye to guests who were just now
starting to leave.

But sitting against the wall, his chair tipped back, was Graham's brother. He met
Severus' eyes and shot him a murderous look, which Severus returned with a withering
glare until the man turned to his wife to mutter something under his breath. I hope you
heard all of it, you arrogant ass, not that you'd even begin to understand the depth of
what these two men felt for each other.

Over the next hour, the crowed thinned little by little, and Severus was glad for it; he
could tell by the set of Harry's shoulders and the way that he walked, his limp more
pronounced, that he was running out of fuel. Severus watched as he played the gracious
host, then decided to occupy himself by having a look at Harry's greenhouses.
It was after seven when Severus returned from taking his stroll in the front gardens.
Letting himself back into the house, he saw that the sitting room was almost empty, only
one small group of mostly older people remaining. They were of varying ages, very few
children, and Severus guessed that these were family members of either Chloe or
Graham.

As he picked up a canapé from the serving table, the sound of raised voices pulled him
toward the kitchen. He stood uncertainly at the end of the hallway to listen, not sure if it
would be wise to intrude. He caught the sound of Rob's voice, slurred and belligerent,
then Harry's softer replies, and the distinct sound of Chloe's more soprano voice,
interjecting at intervals. He took a few more cautious steps toward the room, and then
the conversation became intelligible.

"…buggering idiots, all of you! Don't care what you say, we all know what did him in. It
was that queer disease, I knew straight away, the minute I saw him on Saturday, and how
the lot of you could sit out there and tell stories…." His voice degenerated into
incoherent mumbles, and Severus instantly understood that the man had had too much to
drink.

"Rob, it's just not true," Chloe's voice broke in, her exasperation apparent. "You were
told two years ago what it was, and that's the truth of it. And this is Graham'swake, for
God's sake, so I'll thank you shut it or get out!"

"Chloe, he's been drinking, he's not himself…" Harry feebly interrupted.

"S'what if I have? He was my feckin' brother, so I have every right, which is more'n I
can say for you, you little pouf—you're the one what probably gave it to him!"

There was the sound of a 'thump,' then Chloe's indignant voice shrilled out, "Rob, don't
you dare…'"

It was enough for Severus—he was down the hall in a flash, then stood in the doorway
as he quickly assessed the situation. Harry was standing with his arms braced backwards
against the sink, a red-faced Rob poised directly in front of him. Chloe, standing to the
side, had turned at the sound of Severus' footsteps.

"A problem?" Severus intoned icily, as he leant against the doorjamb. All eyes were on
him now. He caught the relief in Chloe's, the alarm in Harry's, and the fury in Rob's,
which he wasn't altogether certain could be written off to intoxication.

"Ahhh, feck off, mind your own business, another bloody queer," Rob told him, spittle
flying as he stumbled over the words, then turned back to Harry.

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my little niece, keep your
filthy pervert hands off her." At the same time that Chloe gave a cry of protest, the man
shoved Harry against the sink with the flat of his hand, the half open cabinet underneath
making the 'thumping' noise once again.

Severus caught the look in his eyes as Harry shook his head at him slightly in warning.
"Rob, listen, now's not the time, why don't you go out there and sit—" His words were
cut short when the man gave him another vicious jab in the chest, provoking a cry from
Chloe as she tried to insert herself in between the two men.

"Rob, I mean it! Stop it, you're making—"

Severus had seen and heard enough, and acted instantly and decisively. Hauling the man
away from Harry, he spun him around and plastered him up against the fridge with a
painful 'crack!' A knee at his groin, Severus pinned the stunned man by the neck with his
forearm. Inches away from his face, he hissed in a voice that made the man decide to
stop his struggling. "Mr. Chal, if you ever ," he paused, as he pressed against Rob's neck
with his arm, making the man's eyes bulge in fear, and his face redden even more, "if
you ever," he repeated, "touch him again, I'll kill you. Don't believe for a moment that I'd
even hesitate, and only you and I would know." He stopped again, then he lowered his
voice to an almost seductive murmur. "And if you ever make even the remotest
insinuation that he's acted in anything but an entirely appropriate manner with your
niece, I'll find you. Do you understand? I will find you and you'll be sorry I did, if you
live to tell it." He paused again, his eyes locked on the bloodshot ones in front of him.
The man tried to look away, but Severus pulled his attention back with a jerk of his arm.
"Do you understand me?" He eased off of the man's neck slightly to allow him to
answer.

A frantic nod, then a gasping, "Yes, I understand."

Severus released him immediately, but did not step away just yet. "You owe both of
them an apology," he instructed him with disgust in his voice, and now he did take a step
backward.

Rob's hands came up to his throat, rubbing at his neck as he watched Severus fearfully.
When he turned toward the door, Severus barred the way with his arm, making the man
startle and stop in his tracks.

"Well?" Severus prompted him imperiously.

The man gave Harry and Chloe a reluctant, "I'm sorry," in a mumble.

Severus was not satisfied. "With conviction, if you please."

"I'm sorry," he said a little louder, in a tone that clearly was not apologetic, but Severus
knew that this was the best he could hope for. He grabbed the man by the chin, and leant
down and told him pedantically, "Now, go back out there and take a seat with your
pretty little wife, chat a few moments, then suggest that it's time for you to be on your
way." He dropped his arm from the doorway, but did not move aside, forcing Rob to
squeeze by him, a wary but decidedly less belligerent look on his face as he made his
escape.

"Oh my God, Severus…" Harry said, his voice tremulous, half in awe, half in disbelief.

Chloe's reaction, however, was more emphatic and certain. "Well. Drunk or not, he's a
pig and an ass, and you , sir," she said as she stepped over and stood on her tiptoes to
lightly kiss Severus on the lips, "are my hero." She gave him a fond pat on the cheek and
graced him with a brilliant smile. Turning to Harry, she began to straighten his shirt for
him, saying, "You're much too patient with him. Here, let me see, did he hurt you?" She
was fumbling with the buttons on Harry's shirt when he grabbed her hands to stop her.

"I'm fine, Chloe. And it's not like I ever have to see him again, so I could afford to let it
go." He ducked his head to catch her eyes, and suddenly her bravado was spent, as she
gave in to huge, wracking sobs, which wrenched her tiny frame.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close, murmuring soothingly at her
ear while he rubbed at her back. "Sssh, it's all right, it's all right, it's been a tough day for
all of us." He shot a desperate look at Severus, who suddenly felt useless and redundant
in the face of all this unbridled emotion.

He snagged a beer from the cooler on the floor, then cast a look out to the sitting room,
just in time to see Rob and his wife making their way to the front of the house. Taking
one last look at the two of them in the kitchen, Severus suddenly felt drained and
adrift—he was sick of this day…sick of this week…sick of the entire summer at this
point, if he were to be entirely honest. He experienced a wild urge to flee, and so did
what he usually did when overcome with such a notion: he fled to a garden.

***

He stepped through the kitchen, pushed open the screened door, then exited onto the
back porch of the house. His destination, of course, was the garden below. It was
beautiful in the low light of the last of the summer sun—unlike his own gardens, Harry
had seeded the walkways in between the rows with a verdant groundcover. The contrast
of the literally hundreds of colors with the crisscrossing of green nearly took his breath
away as he looked down on it. Such beauty…but on this day, especially, Severus was
reminded that beauty was only one of the several faces of a garden. There was sex there,
too, an inexorable cycle of pollination that insured its survival. And there was death as
well…petals and leaves which were fated to fall and spoil, to nourish the soil and
prepare the plant for the next year of new growth.

We're all cycling , he thought to himself. Plants, animals, insects and people. Even
planets and stars…the whole cosmos was in a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth,
yielding stunning moments of beauty and treasure, reaping agonizing hyphens of loss
and sorrow, whirling round on a wheel of privilege and doom like a dervish.
The apportionment of these yin and yang elements rarely seemed equable, however,
considering what he'd seen of life thus far and, being an educated man, imagined that
most thinking men would see things the same way that he did.

Lost in his thoughts, gazing out on the showy white and crimson-eyed hibiscus bushes
which bordered the back of the garden, Severus was pulled from his reverie by the
sensation of movement to the right of him. Turning his head sharply, he had to squint
slightly to see her there in the darker light of the overhung veranda.

She sat tucked into the corner of a bench swing that Severus had not even been aware
was there. It hung suspended from the ceiling of the structure by two strong chains
which fastened into its arms, the seat and back covered by plush, red padded cushions.

She sat so still that, at first, Severus thought she must have been asleep, but as his eyes
adjusted, he saw that she was watching him, and realized that he didn't recall having seen
her in at least the past two hours. Perhaps she had been asleep, he surmised, but then,
spying the open kitchen window behind the swing, or eavesdropping in on a little
conversation.

He shot one last wistful glance out over the garden, then turned and walked to stand in
front of her on the swing. She followed his approach, but did not speak a word, nor grace
him with a smile. Both of the hair ribbons had been tied, Severus noted, but her dress
seemed a little worse for the wear, wrinkled and crumpled and stained with something
yellow on the front. As their mutual inspection of each other continued, Severus was the
first to crack.

"Miss…" he stopped. The circumstances seemed to call for her first name. "May I call
you Daphne?" A sober nod. "May I sit?" he asked her politely. When she patted the
cushion beside her, he carefully lowered himself into the seat, looking up at the chains
when the swing creaked slightly beneath his weight.

They sat there, not speaking, until she asked him, "Is everyone gone?"

"I think they are by now."

She seemed to consider this, then asked, "Can you make it swing." Unfolding her legs
and dangling them over the edge, she explained, "I can't make it go."

"Ah." He gently pushed off with the balls of his feet, setting the swing in a slow back
and forth motion. He heard her sigh in contentment beside him, then with her next
question was reminded that small packages could be deceiving.

"Why was Uncle Rob so cross?" He cast a sideways glance at her, then was mercilessly
pinned by the two bright blue eyes.

"I imagine he's sad about his brother," he ventured cautiously, keeping his eyes on her
face.
"No, I don't think he is. I don't think he liked my papa."

Severus counted one…then two…then three arcs of the swing before he answered. "It's
complicated," he said truthfully.

"He doesn't like Uncle Harry either," she pointed out, her fingers playing with the button
on the cushion between them.

"No, he doesn't," Severus had no choice but to agree.

"Why?" she persisted.

Why indeed. "You'll understand when you're older. Just now, I think it'd be a bit much
for you to understand why adults act the way they do."

She pondered this for a moment, staring down at her lap, then looked up at him to say,
"Will I be cross when I understand?"

Not if you're anything like your father. "Do you like your Uncle Harry?" He chose
another tactic now.

Without hesitation, she replied, "I love Uncle Harry."

"Well then," he told her confidently with a smile, "you won't be cross. Uncle Harry is
very fond of you."

For the first time, Severus saw the child smile. It lit up her eyes, and he was suddenly
reminded of that other blue-eyed child who'd stolen his heart during a conversation very
similar to this one.

"It's sad my papa died, but Uncle Rob isn't sad," she informed him, turning slightly in
her seat towards him.

Severus shrugged, glad that he didn't have to fully explain. "People show their sadness in
different ways, child." He watched as she frowned, her forehead wrinkled in
concentration.

"Are you sad, then?" She was still toying with the button, but watching him out of the
corner of her eye.

"I only met your father just this summer," he paused, watching her closely, "But yes, I'm
sad too…sad for everyone who will miss him, mostly, including you."

The blue eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm very sad, but Uncle Harry says papa is
happy now, so I should be happy for him too," she said in a quivering voice, and Severus
could tell she was trying hard not to cry.
And although she was only six-years old, Severus was filled with respect. "You're very
brave, Daphne," he told her quietly.

The eyes flashed up to meet his, then studied him for a long moment. Slowly, and
without asking for permission, the child turned and pulled her legs up onto the seat, then
climbed ungracefully into Severus' lap. He supposed he did give permission when he
settled her sideways into the curve of his arm, then allowed her to rest her head against
his chest. She primly pulled her frock down over her knees, her legs sprawled onto the
seat beside them. Once she had herself all arranged and was still, Severus sighed and laid
his cheek against the top of her head.

He watched the sun set behind the verge, aware of the gentle motion of her chest as she
breathed in sleep, the only sound the rhythmic creaking of the swing on its circuit.

He found that all his existential anguish of just a few moments ago was suddenly
silenced by this poignant and sensible experience of life itself.

***

"Severus." He was instantly awake, although by the looks of the sunset, he knew he
couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes at most.

"Hmmm?" He acknowledged Harry's presence, not wanting to disturb the sleeping child.
Harry stepped away, and he heard him softly call to Chloe that he'd found them.

He heard the door open, then the soft sound of the latch as it was closed with care. He
watched as Chloe pulled up a chair to face the swing; Harry leant against the porch rail
and crossed his arms. They continued to stare at him until Severus lifted his face from
the child's head. Chloe seemed mildly incredulous for some reason.

"She loves to swing. I know she's six, but she still has an old hobbyhorse that she rocks
on at home. Must be something about the motion…comforting, I guess," Chloe said
softly.

"She's always out here on that thing," Harry added, smiling at Severus. "I should've
known," he finished.

Without thinking, Severus had started to stroke the child's head. "She should be in bed
by now," he murmured.

Chloe was smiling now too. "Harry's told me how fond Winnie was of you, Severus.
You seem to have a way with children." She leant forward in her chair, resting her
elbows on her knees as she watched them, the tension of earlier now gone from her face.

Harry snorted as he started to laugh. "No, Chloe, he had a way with Winnie, not children
in general. Severus was my teacher, you remember? I can definitely say that most
children were terrified of him, or even worse. He'd enter a room and anyone under the
age of sixteen would clear out in ten seconds flat. He was our worst nightmare," he
finished with a gleeful grin at Severus.

Chloe's eyes widened slightly. "That's right, I forgot. What did you teach again?" she
asked as she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Harry straightened suddenly and coughed, but Severus gave him a disdainful look and
said without missing a beat, "Science."

Chloe seemed surprised. "Science?" She shot a glance at Harry, then said, "Well, that
explains Harry, then. He certainly seems to have a knack for it."

"Thanks, Chloe," Harry began to speak, but Severus interrupted.

" Harry ," he started emphatically, injecting all the scorn possible that could be injected
into a single word, "I'll have you know, was the epitome of a teacher's worst
nightmare—distractible beyond belief, frequently tardy, cheeky—and that was just in his
first year. Add to that, sullen, disrespectful, lackadaisical, and insubordinate. He was a
thorn in my side, without a doubt one of the greatest challenges of my entire teaching
career." He stared at Harry as he said it, and if he might've been expecting a reaction, he
was sorely disappointed when Harry threw his head back and laughed out loud. Severus
watched him, not at all amused at first, but when the man continued to laugh, and Chloe
was obviously struggling not to do the same, he finally gave in and rolled his eyes.

When they were finally quiet again, Chloe smiled warmly at Severus and said, "Well,
Severus, you must've done something right. I'd say he turned out rather well." She raised
an eyebrow at him, inclining her head in Harry's direction.

Severus followed the direction of her nod, and considered the man standing there. His
face softened, and his eyes glittered as he told her, still looking at Harry, "Yes, he did, in
spite of me ."

***

It hadn't taken too much effort to persuade Chloe to leave the cleaning up to the two of
them. Severus had carried the sleeping child straight through the house, out across the
garden, then helped the young woman strap her into her seat. He and Harry had stood
and watched her drive away, then had returned to set the house to rights, unfettered by a
Muggle presence. Wands flicked chairs into piles, trash into bins, levitated dishes to the
kitchen and set them to washing. In just a little over a half-hour, they were done. Severus
stood in the darkened sitting room, waiting while Harry warded the house from top to
bottom.

He watched as Harry's silhouette treaded wearily down the steps from the upper floor.
Groping in the dark, Harry found him, and without another word, Severus pulled him
into an embrace, and murmured, "Hold on," then Side-Alonged them both away.
***

"Severus," Harry said softly, moving closer to him in the bed. He traced a line from
Severus' forehead with a fingertip, down his nose to his lips, then laughed when Severus
sucked it in and would not let go.

Releasing his mouthful, Severus asked him, "What?"

"You wouldn't really, would you? Kill Rob?" he asked a little anxiously.

Severus smiled wryly in the dark. "No, of course not. But I meant the last part—about
hurting him if he gives you any more grief," he said seriously. "As Chloe so aptly put it,
the man is an animal, and animals understand fear, if nothing else."

"Hmm," was Harry's only comment as he pressed closer. They lay together for a while,
the room darkened by clouds, which covered the moon.

"I enjoyed your little recitation today…of how the two of you met," Severus told him as
he smoothed Harry's cheek with his fingers. "It made me realize how little I really know
of how you've spent the past ten years. You and he seem to have been very well-
matched," he murmured, half to himself, half to Harry beside him.

"Yeah, I guess we were," Harry answered, leaning in to his touch. He poised his hand on
Severus' hip, then slowly dragged it down, tracing the curve of his thigh.

"I have wondered, you know," Severus said, distracted by the hand that had just found
his cock, "what happened between the two of you," he finished in an almost groan as
Harry moved his hand behinds Severus' balls to finger them firmly.

"Some other time," Harry said, his lips against Severus'. "Let's just say for now, I was
waiting for Mr. Darcy." Any other words were now impossible, as their lips were
otherwise occupied.

***

Harry/Part One

Severus would later think to himself that September, usually a time of intense harvesting
so far as gardening was concerned, would forever stand out in his mind as the month
when he'd lost sight of the forest for the trees.

It was natural, he'd reasoned, that there would be a delay in their return to the everyday
rhythms of life. Not only was there the grief with which they both had to contend, there
was also this small matter of how their own relationship had changed precisely during
the course of it, strangely enough. Distracted by both of these adjustments, Severus, at
least temporarily, underestimated the cumulative effect of Harry's grief, and yes, he
would later discover, sense of culpability.
Following Graham's funeral, they were thankfully restricted to the inside of Severus'
house by a steady downpour, which continued, unabated, well into the next week. They
did little more than eat, sleep and read, punctuated by enthusiastic sexual interludes, very
few of which actually took place in the bedchamber. Severus was finding Harry both a
passionate and innovative lover; he wasn't surprised in the least by the former, and was,
in fact, delighted by the latter. They were both recovering from a particularly heated
session, which had started in the sitting room and ended on Severus' workbench, when
Severus made the observation.

"Sex is an art form, I think," he commented as he repaired the mortar and pestle, broken
when it'd been swept to the floor.

He heard Harry snort softly from where he stood beside him. "Yeah, I guess you could
say that." Severus shot him a questioning look as he set the implements back on the
table. "It'd be titled something like, 'Fucking: Variations on a Theme.'" He laughed, his
eyes glittering as he stalked closer. "What's next, then? Is there something you've never
tried…something that you'd like to?"

Severus smiled slowly as he caught his eye and held it. "Strange that you should ask. I
have a detailed list, in fact…"

***

When the skies finally cleared, Harry left the next morning. Both of them had gardens
that required their full attention now, September being the month when many of the
potions ingredients, in particular, were ready for reaping, then required processing for
storage. Harry was doubly stressed on this account, having his own garden to tend to
before he could even entertain the thought of seeing to Fleur's. Severus did not see him
much over the next two weeks, his own days filled from sun-up to sundown with
backbreaking work outside, then hours in his work room as he set the stores by. He
assumed that Harry was doing much of the same—he didn't see him every day, as
sometimes Harry stayed in Cheshire if he was in the middle of something or other. But
they shared a meal here, a conversation there, and a heated fuck or two, always
spontaneous and satisfying.

He did notice, however, that on the nights Harry stayed to sleep, he didn't really do much
of it at all. He was beginning to suspect that this was the man's usual pattern, much as
he'd told Severus that first night that he'd stayed: exhaustion had him dropping quickly
off to sleep, sometimes so suddenly that Severus would find himself in the middle of a
story or recitation of his day, only to find that his audience had drifted off without
warning. But he didn't stay asleep for long, at most three or four hours, then Severus
would awaken to find him gone: sitting out on the porch; reading in the sitting room;
wandering in the gardens; once, even working in Severus' small greenhouse. He didn't
comment on these occasions; he'd engage Harry in conversation for a while, then gently
but firmly take him back to bed. He'd revert to his earlier discovery, that sex would put
Harry back to sleep for hours, but often with the unpleasant side-effect of leaving
Severus awake for what remained of the night.

He didn't even like to consider what Harry did on the nights he spent alone in Cheshire,
but by the end of the third week, when he himself was beginning to feel the strain of too
many sleep-deprived nights, he decided that enough was enough.

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head, "I can't, Severus, besides, it doesn't really help
in the long run. I've tried Sleeping Draughts before, and believe me, I'm better off
without them." He picked at the hole in the knee of his fraying jeans.

Severus sighed. "Well, something has to be done. I don't see how you manage at all. This
has been three weeks, and I'm feeling it during the day, so I can't imagine how you're
handling it." It was not an accusation, just a crude statement of fact. "God knows you
should be tired enough," he murmured as he watched Harry biting his lower lip again,
which made him wonder…. He thought to himself that the circles under Harry's eyes
were more pronounced than ever, his usually pale complexion even paler.

"I've always been this way, Severus. Not something that can be fixed… I stopped trying
ages ago. I manage," he finished feebly.

"Barely," was Severus own acerbic reply, but he did not press the matter…for now.

***

On Monday, Severus and Harry were engaged in their ritualistic battle over the sections
of the Prophet , when they heard a familiar voice calling from the warded gate to the
lane.

"Severus!" a woman's voice called out, then after a short pause, "Severus!" they heard
her call a second time.

Their eyes met across the table, then Harry breathed out, "Molly." When he sat stock
still, Severus pushed back his chair and strode to the door, unwarding the fence and gate
as he went.

"They're unwarded," he called to the woman as he gestured her forward with a hand,
then watched as she shut the gate carefully behind her, her eyes wide as she took in his
garden as she walked up the path to the porch.

When she stopped at the bottom of the steps, Severus gave her a polite nod. "Molly."

She squinted up at him. "Severus." She took her time and carefully scanned the porch
and the front of the house, before glancing back at him to say, "I'm looking for Harry,
and I…" She paused, as if unwilling to say the words. "I thought you might know where
he is."
Severus studied her, unsmiling, as he pondered his predicament. Surely Harry could hear
from the house, and why in blazes wasn't he out here? He hesitated long enough that
Molly must've taken this as a sign that more of an explanation was needed.

"I've been owling him for the past two weeks, but they return from Cheshire undelivered.
I was worried, so I thought I'd stop by and check on the estate myself," she explained,
then stopped at the sound of the door opening behind Severus, who was still trying to
process 'undelivered' when Harry stepped up beside him and spoke.

"Molly," he said, and Severus knew him well enough to read the resignation in his voice.
"Come up and we'll bring our tea out—you look like you could use a cup. Have you had
breakfast?" Harry asked solicitously.

She hesitated for a moment, then hiked up her robes with one hand and used the other to
hold on to the rail as she climbed. Harry pointed her to a chair, at the same time shooting
Severus a puzzling plea with his eyes, which Severus interpreted as a request to bring
them tea from the kitchen. He held his ground, though, determined to hear Harry's
explanation. Molly saved him the trouble with her next words.

"Where in Merlin's beard have you been? I certainly didn't know how to find you in
Cheshire," she said stridently, still looking at Severus with suspicion.

Harry dropped to a chair beside here. "I must've missed them, Molly—haven't been in
Cheshire all that much. I've been at the estate most of the time and, well, here as well."

Molly's mouth dropped open. "At the estate? Doing what, Harry? I can't see where the
gardens have been touched in weeks, and the grape arbor is all but ruined. I thought you
promised Fleur that you'd get them in weeks ago," she scolded.

Harry shook his head, glancing nervously from Severus to Molly, rather like a mouse
caught in a trap, Severus thought to himself. Doing what indeed, Harry?

"I…I've been packing up Winnie's room—I promised Bill I would, so that Fleur won't
have to do it in the spring," he faltered, then added, his voice harder, "and I took that tree
down." When they both looked at him, startled, he rushed on, "It had to come down—
surely you can see that? I couldn't stand looking at it, and I'm sure Fleur wouldn't want
to either. It was a job and a half, I can tell you," he muttered, and now Severus couldn't
help but interrupt.

"You took it down by yourself? Are you daft? A tree that size—"

Harry cut him off. "It's down," he grimly confirmed, "and it was something I had to do
on my own; if you can't understand that, then there's nothing else I can say," he finished,
looking down at his hands.
Molly was speechless for a moment, but her face softened slightly. "Of course, Harry
dear, I can understand perfectly, but I can't see where it's wise for you to stay there all
alone. And you have so many other things to do, with your own gardens and Graham."

Harry looked up at her, then took a deep breath before he said, "I haven't been staying
there, Molly. In fact," he took another breath, then added, "Severus has been kind
enough to let me stay here." He watched her with trepidation as the realization of
something struck her full force.

Before she could open her mouth to reply, Severus instructed quietly, "Harry, tell her."

Harry's eyes widened at his words, then his shoulders slumped as he confessed, "Molly,
Severus and I are…well, the two of us are… you see, we've become…"

"Not that, Harry," Severus cut him short, then rolled his eyes so that only Harry could
see. " Graham , Harry. She doesn't know, so tell her about Graham. "

"Oh." Severus watched as Harry finally caught on. "Oh…yes, um, Molly, it's Graham,
you see, he died three weeks ago." After the predictable gasp of shock, there ensued a
detailed conversation of Graham's death, funeral, and wake, peppered with questions and
cluckings of sympathy from Molly as she listened.

Severus had left them to it, retreating to finally fetch the requested tea, and was now
back to the porch, leaning against the railing.

Molly was chiding Harry. "You should've let us know, dear. What a thing to go through
on your own, with no friends or family there to help you. Why in the world didn't you
pop in or owl us? The twins will be upset, as will Fleur. She was very fond of Graham,
but then I imagine it would've been too much for her now, poor thing."

Severus bided his time, knowing that the shoe had to drop eventually. Molly might be
emotional and motherly, but she certainly wasn't naïve or stupid. He didn't have long to
wait, once the story of Graham came to a close.

"Well," she concluded as she smoothed her robes in her lap, "I can certainly understand
why you didn't want to stay in that house, so…." Her eyes narrowed as she seemed to
remember. "You're staying here? But why, Harry? I'm sure that Bill and Fleur wouldn't
mind a bit, and besides…you and Severus could hardly be …." She didn't finish the
thought, perhaps stilled by the look on Harry's face.

"Severus and I what, Molly?" he asked as he sat up straighter, the challenge clear in his
voice as he glared at her, with what Severus found to be an excess of hostility, given the
little that Molly had said.

Her face flushed slightly, she elaborated, "I was only saying that you and Severus could
hardly be comfortable with your staying here, given what happened in the past, you
know…. You could come and stay at the Burrow with me, Harry. You've always loved it
there, and you look like you could use some regular meals and a familiar place to lay
your head at night. You look positively peaked, dear," she patronized, shooting a dark
look at Severus as she spoke

"You see, Molly," Harry began, his voice deadly calm, "it seems Severus and I are
the only ones who are comfortable with our past, so it makes perfect sense to me…." He
stopped, looking down at his hands, which were now balled up into fists in his lap.
Severus watched as he struggled with his composure, and could tell by the flexing of the
tendon in his jaw, that he controlling himself with difficulty.

"Harry," Severus murmured in warning, "it's not necessary. Think."

Harry looked up at him then, his eyes flashing with anger and…determination that
would not be denied, Severus realized with dismay, so he closed his own briefly, then
opened them to see that Harry was waiting for him. "As you wish," he told him softly,
then moved to take a seat beside him.

Molly's eyes widened when Harry reached over and took hold of Severus' hand. Harry
nodded curtly, then confirmed, "I'm staying here because Severus and I are together,
Molly. I don't know what I would've done without him—with what happened with both
Winnie and Graham. I can't ask you to understand, because I know what you think, but if
you care about me, you won't give me grief over this. Not now. I've had enough, and
Severus has too, come to think of it." He gave Severus' hand a gentle squeeze, which
was immediately returned.

She was twisting her robes in her lap, groping for what to say. Severus suspected that
whatever it turned out to be would only infuriate Harry further. He wasn't disappointed
when she said with a nervous laugh, "Harry, dear, I can see why you'd think you had
nowhere else to turn, what with us being so upset over Winnie, but surely you're not
thinking clearly…you're distraught, and I'm so sorry you had to cope with this all on
your own. But now, I think it'd be best if you just pack up your things—the twins will
help you, I know they will, and you can stay—"

Harry let go of Severus hand and was on his feet in an instant, glaring down at her.
"Would you just listen to yourself? You haven't heard a word I've said, like always,
because it's not what you want to hear! Did you hear what I said? I'm staying here with
Severus, and do you want to know the truth? We get up, we eat breakfast together,
Christ, we even read the Prophet together, then I go my way for the day and he goes his,
then in the evening I come back and we go to bed together too… and you know what
else? We fuck each other, sometimes more than once in the same night—imagine that."
He lowered his voice, then leant in close to her face. "And if you can't accept that, and
him , then that's it, Molly. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, so think about
that some. Maybe you'll come to your senses." He stood and stared down at her for a
moment, then added softly, "But I'm not holding my breath on that one. I've held it for
far too long, so far as you're concerned." With one last look at her, and one slightly
apologetic one for Severus, he turned on his heels and marched into the house, slamming
the screened door behind him.

The sun was beginning to break through the clouds now, and Severus took a moment to
look out over his garden, idly remarking that the Croftway Pinks, his favorite variety of
bee balm, were bent over from the recent drenching rains, and would need to be staked
up before the day was over. He turned a neutral eye back to the woman dabbing gingerly
at her nose with a handkerchief, but he felt strangely unmoved in the face of her
emotion.

"He's not himself," he told her, but not in apology. No, she'd been tiptoed around for far
too long, he thought to himself.

She flashed a look of disbelief his way. "He's distressed, it's understandable. But
to think that he'd talk to me that way…." She stood shakily to her feet. "Well, please tell
him that he knows where to find me. I'm sure he'll come to his senses," she dared to say.

In the face of such self-absorption, Severus felt that he was exercising admirable
restraint when he told her, "Hmm, it depends on which senses you mean." He returned
the stare unflinchingly, then nodded before he said, "And now, if you'll excuse me,
Molly, I believe I possess the remedy for his distress. A good fucking to clear both our
palates." He left her to find her own way out of the garden.

But Harry, waiting inside, would find that Severus' words had been deeply in earnest.

***

So it was that Severus found himself in bed at ten in the morning, a slumbering Harry
beside him. He thought of all that had happened, all that had been said on the porch just
an hour ago. He supposed it was inevitable that Molly would know…but dear God, the
way Harry had told her. It was so unlike him to fly off the handle in that fashion…and
with so little provocation. But that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Molly had provoked the
man for years, but he'd never responded in kind…until today. And if Severus were to be
honest, he was more concerned about Harry's activities of the preceding weeks, and the
fact that, while he'd not exactly lied, he'd hadn't been altogether truthful either. He'd
spent those weeks just over the hill, occupied by a solitary mission that, although
understandable, bordered on obsessively secretive, when there had been no reason at all
for him to be so.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, then turned to look down at Harry's face, peaceful in
sleep. After all these years, just when I let you in, you shut me out. "Don't, Harry," he
murmured softly, then left him to sleep as long as his dreams would allow him.

***
Severus worked in his greenhouse while Harry slept on, then returned to the house
several hours later to find him puttering in the kitchen.

His eyes were immediately caught by the large beaker of cut flowers in the center of the
table: a multicolored bundle of nemesias, a carnival of shades from buttercup to salmon
to fuschia jumbled together in a small clutch, well past their prime. "Past their picking
time, but they're still beautiful," he commented as he took a seat.

Harry was now hidden behind the flowers. "Do you never bring cut ones in?"

Severus was spooning sugar into his cup as he shook his head. "Not usually." He reached
out to touch a flower, which immediately shed some silky petals. He slid the vase to one
side to see Harry better. "I'd rather see flowers stay right where they're rooted. In their
natural habitat." When Harry nodded enthusiastically, Severus sighed, and said without
preamble, "I have a proposition to make."

Harry's lips curled slightly as he looked up. "Hope it's as…interesting as the last one," he
said as he dunked his tea bag and slid down slightly in his seat.

Severus sat up straighter in his chair as he felt Harry's bare foot slide up his calf and
along his thigh. Slipping his hands into his lap, he grabbed the foot and began to rub the
arch of it with a thumb, making Harry moan with pleasure.

"No," he told him as he worked at the foot, "not that kind of proposition, although I'm
considering my options for the rest of the week." He smiled as he watched Harry's mouth
go slack with pleasure, then, continuing to knead the foot, he said calmly, "No, this is a
business proposition."

Harry opened his eyes wider, but didn't pull his foot away. "A business proposition?"

Severus nodded, moving his hands down over the ball of the foot, finding the pressure
point there. "Hear me out. We're both behind—you more than I, it would seem, so what I
propose is that we pull in together for the next week or so." He moved down to the toes,
only to have Harry abruptly pull his foot away and substitute it with the other one.

"Not the toes—I'm ticklish," he muttered, then sighed when Severus started all over
again. He pursed his lips as he considered Severus' offer. "You don't seriously need my
help, do you? Really, I'm fine, nothing that working the weekend won't fix. Besides, I've
never needed help before—"

Severus dug his fingers into the flesh of the arch to make him stop. "I am behind, so will
you help me or not? As for you…I believe Molly's correct this time—two gardens to
keep, even under the best of circumstances would be difficult. So, I'm offering: my
assistance in exchange for yours."

Harry slid his foot to the floor, but remained slumped in his chair, chewing at his lower
lip for a moment before he softly said, "You mean to keep an eye on me?"
Severus shrugged; he wasn't going to deny the obvious. "That as well." They stared at
each other across the table.

"All right, but it's hardly even—three days work here compared to, " Harry paused as he
considered, "at least two weeks to get me up to speed."

Severus drummed his fingers on the tabletop, then leant back in his chair as if coming to
a decision. "Fine. I'll take it out in trade then… propositionally speaking. "

Harry sat up straight, then laughed out loud, his eyes amused. "Wow. You drive a hard
bargain. However will I stand it?" He reached his hand across to shake Severus'. "Deal,"
he finished as they shook on it.

***

It had a familiar feel to it, Severus thought, a few days later as Harry and he worked side
by side in his garden. The air was becoming crisper, the days ever shorter, conveying a
subtle sense of urgency as they brought in bulbs and mulched rose bushes, relocated
plants to the greenhouse and pruned back shrubs to their barest. They would finish up
that day, just as planned. Severus was carrying crates of bulbs to the root cellar to shelter
them from the freezes to come, when his attention was drawn to Harry kneeling in the
midst of the marigold bed, where he'd been busy bagging seeds for the next season. He'd
stopped gathering, though, and was sitting motionless, so Severus set his crate down to
detour in his direction.

"Something wrong?" he asked, then had to add, "Harry?" when it didn't appear that he'd
been heard.

Harry startled slightly, then looked up at him and smiled. "No, not at all, just about
done." He swiveled to look around them. "I can't believe we did it this fast," he said
rather wistfully.

"Hmm, we work well as a team," Severus commented. "Not surprising, considering our
past," he added absent-mindedly.

Harry let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, when it counted, we did." Something passed between
them then, a brief, electric jolt of understanding. Severus sighed, then lowered himself to
sit in the grass beside him.

He picked at the straw in the mulch, then said without looking at Harry, "You know, at
the time, I thought you'd end up doing something very different with your life…someone
with such superior magical ability…" he trailed off, then looked carefully for Harry's
reaction.

Harry seemed instantly surprised, then grinned at him as he said, "Why Severus, I think
you just told me I'm not a miserable magical failure."
Severus shook his head in mock disgust. "How could you even think such a thing? I
pictured you as a curse-breaker, or even back at Hogwarts teaching Defense Against the
Dark Arts—you did such a fine job with that little vigilante group of yours," he added
wryly.

Harry seemed even more astonished now. "I didn't realize you even knew," he said
slowly, his eyes bright with the question.

"Oh yes, I knew everything about you. Albus made certain of that, to my great
displeasure at times."

Harry seemed bemused by this statement for a moment, then confessed, "Well, I was put
off magic a bit after the war." He reflected as he paused. "I always loved gardening—
one of the only good things the Dursleys did for me, come to think of it. And then, there
was you, Severus. When I found out what you were doing, with flowers and potions, it
made me consider doing something along the same lines. Partially your fault, I guess,"
he credited him.

And although Severus had heard this from Harry before, he considered it fully now for
the first time. "I hadn't realized you were so impressionable."

Harry didn't hesitate. "Only when it came to you."

Severus looked away. "I had no idea," he admitted, slightly uncomfortable for some
reason.

"You were my hero, by the end of it, even after you told me to piss off," Harry teased.

Severus bristled at the reference. "If you remember correctly, that isn't exactly what
happened," he scolded.

"Same thing, though," Harry corrected him.

Severus ignored this last. "So, the gardening started when you were a boy, when you had
no idea of what you were. And now, as a man, you chose to return to something that
requires little use of magic. There's a certain…logic in that, I suppose," he concluded,
shooting the man a curious glance.

It rolled so easily off Harry's tongue, that Severus knew that he'd thought of this before.
"Oh, I don't know," he said casually, then held out a handful of the spiky marigold seeds.
"Look at these, Severus. The sun and the soil and the rain made them, not me. All I'll do
is put them in the ground and tamp a little earth on top…and forget about them…and
next spring, the plants will grow, then sprout beautiful flowers, with no help from me at
all." He gave Severus a look, wise beyond his years. "That's about as magical as it gets, I
think."
A kindred spirit right under my nose. "Well said, Harry, well said," he said approvingly.
And because it was such a unique experience, to hear a deeply held conviction of his
soul voiced by another, Severus leant in and fixed the face between his hands, then
sealed his approval with a long, lingering kiss.

***

Harry/Part Two

Severus frowned as the wind picked up, then cast another worried looked at the
thunderclouds moving in from the west. He stood and directed the spray from the hose
over the mulch that he'd just laid down, working quickly to keep it in place, eddies of the
stuff already being blown upward by the coming storm. A fitting end to a miserable
week.

They'd worked steadily for the past five days, and he'd been hopeful that today would be
the last. He looked out over the back garden and orchards and his work of the past week;
the arbor was now bare, the ruined vines and grapes vanished to the woods beyond; the
ground had been cleared of rotted fruit, the trees relieved of what was still harvestable;
shrubs had been pruned, rose bushes mulched; trellises had been dismantled for storage
or fortified where they stood. All was in readiness for the fallow season. Well, at least
this part of the estate was, as the front gardens had been Harry's domain. They'd been
almost on schedule until noontime, when Severus had rounded the corner of the house to
collect Harry for lunch, and found him nowhere in sight.

He'd sighed when he'd discovered him missing, not for the first time in the past several
days—he knew what he was up to, and had already voiced his opinion on the matter. He
entered the house by the front door, then made his way up the staircase.

He could hear Harry's voice coming from the room at the end of the hall, but the words
were unintelligible. Severus didn't try to hide the sounds of his footsteps, and by the time
he'd reached the door, the voice had become silent.

He stopped in the doorway, and when Harry looked up, he told him, "Time for lunch."
He didn't say a word about Harry's desertion of the more pressing matter of the garden,
but Harry was certain to know what he was thinking. They'd had this conversation
several times this week already, heated words, in fact, which had taken Severus slightly
by surprise.

"Oh, right," Harry mumbled, embarrassed as he stood and tucked the storybook into the
crate he'd been packing. He shot Severus a slightly defiant look. "Just doing this a little
at a time. I don't have too much more to do." He followed Severus along the hall and
down the steps.

"It can wait—what's outside cannot," Severus answered without looking back, but noted
that this time Harry did not defend himself at all. But they'd passed an uncomfortable
lunch where neither of them had had much to say, and it was almost with relief that
they'd returned to finish up that afternoon. Severus thought that both of them would be
glad to see the work done here, where tempers had become short, and resentment had
flared on both their parts. He wasn't exactly certain why, but he supposed it had a bit to
do with Winnie, and a great deal more to do with Harry's increasing exhaustion and
disorganization because of it.

The first of the rain started as Severus was warding the shed in the orchard, and by the
time he reached the front of the house, it was coming down in a wind-driven slant that
was whipping his hair into his face. Spying Harry at the far end of the garden, he shouted
above the wind, "Harry!" At his second call, Harry looked up from where he worked.
Severus made a beckoning motion with his hand, but Harry only shook his head and
pointed exaggeratedly at the row where he was working. Severus replied with an
emphatic shake of his own head, and signaled again for him to stop, but this time, Harry
only gave him a dismissive wave, then knelt back down and returned to his work.

The sky had darkened the already low light of late afternoon. Thankfully there was no
thunder or lightning, but the wind itself was impressive. Severus shivered as he felt the
cold rain seep through the back of his shirt and his sleeves. "Damned fool," he muttered
to himself as he picked his way carefully between the rows in Harry's direction. By the
time he reached him, his shoes were soaked through, and there were little rivulets of
water streaming down across the rows from the upward ground, making the earth muddy
and treacherous.

Severus stood looking down at him for a moment: Harry's long hair had come loose
from its tie at the back, and was plastered in clumps on his cheeks and neck; he was
kneeling in the dirt, frantically plunging through the mud with his hands, pulling bulbs
out and tossing them into the crate beside him. His clothes clung wetly to his slender
frame, but Harry seemed oblivious to everything but the task he was desperately trying
to complete. Severus knew his concern would be that the exposed bulbs would be ruined
by this downpour so late in the season, given the nighttime temperatures of October.

Severus stuck out a foot and prodded him gently on the arm, but Harry ignored him and
continued to work, not even pausing to look up or answer.

Severus squatted beside him. "Harry. Stop," he commanded without touching him.

Without slowing his pace, Harry told him, "I can't. I have to finish this. They'll be a total
loss if I don't." He impatiently tugged on a bulb still tethered to a root, then tossed it to
the side in irritation when it split in two.

"It's only four rows. An acceptable loss," Severus tried.

Now Harry did stop to look at him, incredulous. "An acceptable loss? I don't think so,"
he said with derision, then pushed his hair from his face, leaving a muddy streak across
his cheek. "It's bad enough I botched the grapes and apples, I'm not about to lose these
too." His eyes were full of challenge, but when he turned back to the row, Severus
reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

"And I'm telling you you're going to catch your death of it out here, and for what? Take
what you've got, set it on the porch, and we'll come back tomorrow and see what can be
done. But for now, this is insane. Leave it and come home," he finished as he stood,
accenting his suggestion with a firm squeeze to his shoulder.

Harry shook him off, almost violently, and the sudden movement made him slip so that
he was now sitting on his behind in the row. He glared up at Severus as he once again
made an attempt to push the hair from his face, pale with cold and his lips trembling.
"This is my business, Severus, my responsibility, so if you want to go, fine, but I'm
staying and finishing and that's that! " His voice shook with outrage. Struggling to his
knees, he almost shouted, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a child, I'm a man—I've
been making decisions for years without your help, so…." His eyes were angry, but now
a note of uncertainty had crept into his tone. There was a brief staring match, which
Severus finally decided had gone on long enough.

He pursed his lips as he considered the bedraggled figure before him, then placed both
hands on his knees as he leant down to say with disgust, "Then, act like one ."

Without a backward glance, Severus Disapparated to home and dry clothing.

***

Severus had showered and was sitting in his robe, drinking a cup of warmed chocolate
when Harry came through the door over an hour later. He was a mess, no doubt about it,
a soaked, shivering picture of sodden clothing and mud-matted hair, but his expression
radiated repentance as he gazed at Severus from where he stood.

Setting his cup aside, Severus got up and walked to stand in front of him. Scrutinizing
him with an impassive eye, he told him, "I'd suggest a shower, a very hot one, but I
wouldn't dream of telling you what to do." Harry seemed to catch the sarcasm, given the
sudden flush in his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he simply said, holding Severus' eyes.

Severus quirked his lips. "Pathetic is more like it, now get on with it ."

He followed Harry into the bedchamber, and sat on the edge of the bed to watch as he
stripped off his water-logged clothes. When Harry winced with pain as he shucked the
wet jeans from his leg, he gave Severus a warning glance.

"Don't even say it," he grumbled as he gingerly picked them up and tossed them to the
hamper.

"Say what?" Severus asked with a less than innocent smile.

After a warmed-over dinner, during which Severus marveled over the absence of tension
between them for the first time in days, he gave Harry a gentle shove in the direction of
the bedchamber, noting as he followed that the man was limping badly.

Almost childlike, although Severus was acutely aware of the man that Harry was, Harry
stood and let Severus untie the belt to his robe and slip it off his shoulders. He removed
his own, then climbed into the bed, holding the coverlet up while Harry clambered in
beside him.

A murmured, "Nox," and the two of them settled without a word into the position they
both favored for sleeping, Harry's back pulled snug against Severus' chest, legs tangled
together with Severus' arm around Harry's waist, their fingers laced together. The heat of
their bodies mixed, the rhythm of their breathing synched together, and soon the shared
warmth and peaceable posing had them both drifting off to sleep, fatigued by the effort
and emotion of their wet and draining day.

***

Severus swore silently when the dip in the bed awakened him, not three hours later. He
lay there, wondering what Harry would do with himself, given that, due to the sound of
the rain on the roof, flight to porch or garden was out of the question. He almost let
himself drop back to sleep, but knew that, especially on this night, Harry needed to be
got back to bed sometime soon.

He found him perusing the bookshelves in his workroom. Harry turned to him,
something in his hand and a question on his face. He held it out for Severus to see.

"Ah, the forget-Winnie-not," he said as he took the preserved blossom. He spun the stem
between his fingers, admiring the bright blue and perfect petals. He handed it back to
Harry as he explained, "Part of the bunch I sent on to you, but Winnie picked this one
out just as she was leaving. I'm rather glad I thought to preserve it at the time." He gave
Harry a crooked smile, then softly added, "She told me she wanted me to remember her
when I look at it." The two of them were silent, heads bent in together as they examined
the intricate flower.

After securing them both a stingy glass of Dalmore, they sat side by side on the settee,
their feet propped up on the small table in front of them. Severus had without fanfare just
lit the first fire of the season, and they watched it crackling in the grate. Harry was the
first to break the comfortable quiet of the room.

"Have you ever thought how strange this is?" he asked.

Severus twisted slightly to better see him, but didn't have a doubt about what Harry was
asking. He thought for a moment, studying him, until Harry was prompted by his silence
to turn to him too. "Yes, I have, on more than one occasion, but especially after that little
incident with the orchids," he said with a spark in his eyes.
Harry smiled. "That was a gamble I took, but it turns out I was right, so…" he paused,
then cocked his head as he asked, "No, what I really meant was how fast this all
happened." He gestured to the room around them. "We went from the flower thing to me
spending nights in less than a month." He waited, then when Severus hesitated, Harry
prodded further. "You have to admit, after all those years, being so out of touch, hardly
ever seeing each other…." He left it open-ended, clearly wanting to hear what Severus
would have to say.

Severus opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it, and abruptly shut it.
When he hesitated even longer, Harry, who'd swung his legs up onto the settee, poked at
him with a foot.

"What? What were you going to say?" he asked, curious. When Severus felt the flush
creeping into his cheeks, Harry seemed even more intrigued. "Come on, it can't be that
bad," he teased, prodding him again with his toes.

Severus gave a longsuffering sigh of resignation, then confessed, "We may have been
out of touch, but I'd thought of you often…over the years." He watched as Harry
digested this, a smile slowly spreading over his features.

"You did? Could've had me fooled," he taunted. "You made things perfectly clear, you
remember?"

Severus was studying his fingernails, and refused to look at him as he answered, "You
know exactly why that was necessary. You were willful and stubborn, and anything less
wouldn't have deterred you."

Harry sobered suddenly. "I was trying to do the right thing. You didn't deserve—"

Severus cut him short, finally looking up at him. "It was my choice to make, nonetheless,
and we both know you would've persisted, had I not forced you to back down. Noble
Gryffindor," he muttered, but not without affection.

Harry was determined to have the last word, though. "I thought about you as well…I…I
missed you, after all the time we'd spent together. And besides, my stubbornness wasn't
always a bad thing," he almost whinged.

Severus took his turn now to tease, capturing Harry's foot with a hand to stop its next
assault. "No, it wasn't. But it did make me want to stun you, Obliviate you, or torture you
into submission, on occasion."

Harry laughed as he pulled his foot away to protect his toes. "Don't make promises you
can't keep, Severus."

Swinging Harry's legs over the edge of the couch, Severus stood and pulled him up so
they were standing close together, face to face. "Hmm, speaking of promises, I believe
it's time for me to collect for services rendered." And with that, he gave him a
meaningful push in the direction of the bedchamber.

***

Severus had every intention of 'collecting' what was due him, but first things first, he
thought, as he watched Harry limp eagerly in the appointed direction.

They were both nude on the bed, Harry flat on his back, his cheeks flushed with
predictable anticipation, but he gave a groan when Severus, after straddling his hips,
murmured an, "Accio Harry's potion."

"I want you as pain-free as possible," he told him as he popped the lid, then poured a line
of it down the midline of Harry's thigh. He spread it liberally, gently bending Harry's
knee to get to the back of his leg, then used firm, broad strokes as he worked the lotion
into the skin, ignoring Harry's feeble protests that "It's enough let's get on with it I want
you, Severus." Making just a tsking noise in response, Severus took his time, massaging
the muscle, pressing with his thumbs, watching Harry's face and shoulders relax as the
potion and physical therapy took effect.

When he was finally done, he muttered a Cleansing Spell for his hands, then
repositioned himself, a thigh on either side of Harry's waist. "So…I think for tonight,
we'll try something new," he said suggestively, as he leant down, placing his elbows
alongside Harry's head. He fastened his eyes on the full, inviting lips, took the upper one
in his mouth and sucked at it greedily, then paid the same attention to the lower one. He
sat back up, ignoring Harry's attempt to thrust into his groin with his hips.

When Severus only shook his head, but sucked at a finger, Harry asked impatiently, "All
right. I'm game. So…." His voice caught as Severus trailed the wet finger down his
chest, circling his nipples, then moved lower and stopped just short of his cock.

Reaching up, Severus stuck out his tongue, then ran his finger slowly over its surface,
watching Harry the entire time, as he went on to lick the length of it, from knuckle to the
tip, then plunged it into his mouth, pulling it out slowly, then repeated the motion several
times, until Harry made a small appreciative sound from the back of his throat.

Severus stopped then, lightly resting his hands on Harry's thighs. He smiled seductively,
as he quietly asked, "Do you like rimming, Harry? Hmm?"

The green eyes seemed to dilate at the mere suggestion. "Ho, well, yeah, I mean, I've
only ever…" he paused, fascinated by Severus' reprisal of the sucking finger ritual. "One
time…with Graham," he breathed out at last.

"Hmm," Severus said with his mouth full, then audibly popped the finger out. His eyes
glittered as he asked, "And what were you, then, Harry? The rimmer…or the
rimmee…or did you have the pleasure of both?" He sat still now, enjoying the look of
sheer lust on Harry's face.

"I was the…well, Graham wouldn't , so I was the rimmer, I guess." He snorted softly.
"But he wasn't complaining by the end," he added.

"Hmm, no, I imagine not," Severus commiserated, then moved suddenly to capture one
of Harry's hands, examined the fingers, then chose the middle one to subject to his
sucking technique. After giving it his full attention, he released it and smiled a
blindingly innocent smile, as he asked, "So, since you were denied
the… complete experience that time, I think we'll address that oversight now…." He
stopped, as he threw a leg to the side, then moved to the top of the bed to snag the
pillows.

"Up," he instructed with a nod at Harry's hips, then bunched them under the obediently
raised behind. He stared solemnly into Harry's eyes as he gently but intently spread the
man's knees apart, then sat back to savor the sight before him, feeling the streak of
arousal that went straight from this picture of submission to his already rigidly interested
cock.

He knelt in then, just after telling Harry, "This position is best, you see, as it leaves my
hands free…for other things." He pulled Harry sharply down so that his buttocks rested
on the very edge of the pillows. Just before he buried his face in the tantalizing flesh, he
looked up to see Harry watching him, his mouth hanging open, his breath already rapid
and shallow.

Their eyes connected, then Harry groaned, "Oh God…."

Severus smirked, "Yes, I think we'll hear that name again…."

He stationed himself comfortably, then reached up a finger to lightly trace the soft, pink
pucker of muscle. When Harry jerked suddenly, he pulled it away and blew a hot breath,
then flicked just the tip of his tongue over him. He was rewarded with a moan, so he
stroked it more thoroughly, long promising trails up and down, circling swirls that
moved ever inward.

Harry was becoming, as Severus had so helpfully pointed out he would, more and more
vocal.

"Ooooh, God, this is…aaaahhh..uuuunnnhh," he half-panted, half-moaned, obviously

unable to control the twitching of his legs at either side of Severus' head.

Severus had to raise up to take a look at him, and what he saw almost made him come
without even a touch to himself: Harry, raised up on his elbows, thighs spread as wide as
he could spread them, head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes scrunched tightly
shut. God, he's beautiful like this , he thought, before refocusing himself on the
delectable treat to come.

Both hands full of balls, gently rolling them with his fingers, Severus moved in for the
piece de resistance, circling once, then poised his tongue in the center, stiffening the tip
for the first push inward. Gently, but insistently, he burrowed forward, gratified by the
spontaneous scream of pleasure from above him, Harry's hips now pushing down at him,
making his intrusion even easier.

Resting his hands in the crook of each thigh, he held Harry to the pillows as he
plundered him; infuriatingly slow thrusts, in and out; devilish swirls around the rim;
hook-like darts to either side. He pressed his face flush with his skin, breathing audibly
through his nose, making slurping sounds as he veritably feasted on the orifice. Harry
was now completely, but so satisfactorily, incoherent, in one breath babbling nonsense,
in the next, crooning out a string of obscenities and endearments. And, oh yes, there was
frequent mention of the deity….

When Severus could tell that Harry was near the point of sobbing, he paced himself,
slowing his licks and sucks, at the same time reaching up to smooth the inside of Harry's
thighs. He finished with one last circling of the now bright red eyelet, then sat back on
his heels to survey his handiwork: Harry, completely undone, an arm now thrown across
his face, his thighs quivering almost uncontrollably.

And now, Severus wanted…oh how he wanted. He was on fire, filled with a desire to
truly fuck the man into oblivion… Moving forward, he murmured, "Harry," then after a
brief instant of positioning, and hearing Harry's, "God, yes," he jutted forward and
penetrated him in one single, forceful thrust of his hips.

He stopped and shuddered once with the effort of control, then pulled back to rut again,
this time pushing so hard, that Harry slid from the pillows, his head almost connecting
with the board at the top of the bed.

Severus was resting on his elbows, Harry's legs atop his shoulders, his arms linked
around Severus' neck. Severus plunged as Harry pulled, over and over, the bed rocking,
knocking into the wall, creating a strange counterpoint of the mundane and the erotic:
thumping wood, slapping flesh, creaking springs, ragged breaths.

Severus came hard, and the moment he did, he threw his head back and let out a cry, a
fierce mixture of release and pent-up passion. He felt Harry's hands slip from his neck to
his waist, holding him in place as Severus arched through those last few exaggerated
strokes of his climax, then he was done in, and he fell as his arms and legs betrayed him,
vaguely aware of Harry releasing him as he slid to the bed next to him.

He sensed rather than saw Harry roll onto his side to face him, then felt a gentle hand
tracing the outline of his lips, before it moved on to brush his sweaty hair from his face.
He opened his eyes to find Harry's just inches away, sparkling with…he wasn't exactly
sure, but he appeared to be pleased with both his performance and Severus'.

"God, Severus," were the first words out of his mouth, tinged with awe.

Severus smiled lazily. "Told you so," he said, but not in the least bit smug. He reached
over and pulled Harry closer, gracing him with a rather chaste kiss, considering the
activities of the night.

He felt Harry's hand in his hair again. "Sorry, I shot spunk in your hair," he murmured.

Severus opened an eye, then closed it. "S'all right, it's organic," he mumbled, and Harry
laughed out loud, his breath in Severus' face.

"So…that was how many, this proposition?" Harry asked, his voice husky.

Severus was puzzled for a moment, then snickered softly when he got it. "Five, I think.
Or maybe six…no, it was proposition number five," he said with amusement.

Harry nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, so his words were slightly muffled as
he asked, "So, how many more to go?"

Severus smiled into his hair. "That's for me to know, and you to discover."

***

The rain had finally stopped, but one foot out the door told him it was too damp and cold
to sit on the porch. He lay curled up on the settee, gazing moodily into the dying fire.
The irony was not lost on him, that he was wide-awake in the middle of the night, while
Harry lay snoring softly in the bed.

Stubborn , he thought to himself, picturing Harry on his knees in the rain, his face
smeared with mud. This was not a new revelation, to be sure; he'd watched it grow in the
boy at Hogwarts, then been exasperated by it time and again during their months of
uneasy alliance. That Harry would defend it by citing his desire to do what was right
wasn't surprising at all. In fact, Severus had known that this was exactly how Harry
would justify this sometimes flaw in his character.

It'd had them at odds before, Harry's staunch refusal to listen to reason and do what was
sensible. His infernal insistence on doing what was right , no matter the personal cost or
practicality, had caused Severus no end of frustration

He realized that Harry's bullheadedness just after the war had been born out of a desire
to do the right thing , and just as likely, a mutual attraction they'd never addressed with
each other. But that time, Severus had known that the boy had been wrong, if only
because what he wanted to achieve was impossible and impractical.
And, if he were honest, Severus had to admit, as well, that he himself had been
determined to do the right thing, if only for Harry's sake. He smiled, as he remembered
how Harry had stubbornly insisted, how he'd selflessly, but recklessly and willfully, tried
to sacrifice his future for the sake of Severus'.

His most memorable, up until today's, collision with this steely resolve had happened
just after the Wizengamot hearing investigating the events surrounding the defeat of
Lord Voldemort; they had both been cleared of the 'collateral' deaths that had occurred,
but Severus, 'with prejudice.' Harry had been furious, Severus cynically philosophical.

Severus had sat, bemused, when Harry had made his objections abundantly clear after
the findings and conclusions had been announced, then hastily exited by a side door, and
secreted himself behind a colonnade to outwait the melee of the departing crowd. He
hadn't waited long, though, when he heard the cries of "Mister Potter!" from the
journalists gathered in the front foyer, punctuated by the flashes from cameras as the
Hero of the Wizarding world made his way out of the Audience Room. The noise was
deafening for a few moments, then suddenly died down as the object of their pursuit
presented himself and began to speak. At first, Severus could not hear him clearly, so he
stole along the walkway in between the columns and the inner stone walls. He took up a
stance toward the back of the space and leant against a pillar to listen, his arms crossed
in front of him.

"I'm not answering any questions. I'm going to say what I have to say, and I'm counting
on you to tell it to the rest of the Wizarding world, accurately for once. You owe me
this." When he paused, there was murmuring from the ranks of journalists, many of them
now lowering their quills and parchments, shifting uncomfortably where they stood.
Severus felt an unexpected surge of admiration for the flush-faced young man.

Harry held up a hand, and the room quieted even more. "The Wizengamot has decided
that the only thing I'm responsible for is the death of Voldemort. They've recognized that
Severus Snape helped me with this. I'll repeat again what I told them over and over—this
was a joint venture, one that neither of us could've completed without the other." There
was some faint murmuring from the crowd now. Harry raised his voice. "As we were
equal in that action, so we should be equal in sharing the responsibility for the others
who died as a result of it." The voices in the room were suddenly silent. "They've cleared
Professor Snape 'with prejudice.' They've seen and heard all the evidence that makes the
two of us equally responsible, and still they insist that somehow he acted dishonorably,
that he could've chosen some other path."

Severus seethed inwardly, then pushed himself from the wall with the palms of his hands,
taking a few steps forward to stand at the edge of the crowd. Harry had raised his voice
in self-righteous indignation.

"If Severus Snape is only cleared 'with prejudice,' then so am I. No matter what the
Wizengamot says, if my partner in this suffers any consequences, then so must I. There
wasn't one detail that the two of us were not agreed upon. We made those decisions
together."

Severus slowly pushed into the crowd, oblivious to the cameras flashing in his face as he
moved forward. His unflinching attention was focused on the slight figure at the front of
the room, who was still talking, unaware of Severus' approach.

"Do you understand what 'with prejudice' really means? It means he'll never be able to
teach at Hogwarts again; he won't be permitted to fill any Ministry position, elected or
appointed. And if this is what's to be done with him, then I deserve no better."

Severus was nearly to the front now, the crowd standing to the side as he advanced.

"So the Ministry has to decide—they can make heroes out of both of us, or I swear that
I'll never—" He stopped when Severus stood directly in front of him.

"Potter," Severus said in a quiet, deadly tone. "A word. Now," he ground out the last as
a command. When Harry only stared at him in confusion, Severus gestured to the empty
Audience Room behind them.

As the chatter in the room increased by several notches, Severus swept forward, leaving
a befuddled Harry to follow in his wake. Severus glared away the two Aurors who tried
to follow them into the chamber, then closed the double doors with a resounding 'clack'
against the renewed strobing of flash cameras. He stood for a moment facing the doors,
composing himself, then rounded suddenly on the room's only other occupant.

As he turned, he opened his mouth to deliver a blistering commentary, but was brought
up short by the figure who'd planted himself just an arms-length away: hands at his hips;
green eyes glittering with purpose; chin tilted upwards. He met Severus' eyes fearlessly,
his posture confident, his demeanor full of challenge.

Severus wavered for just a moment, struck by the difference between the defiance of that
sixth-year Gryffindor he'd last encountered at Hogwarts and the self-assurance and
determination of this formidable person standing before him. It occurred to him then:
not once in his life had anyone ever taken such a public stand in his defense.
Dumbledore had taken his part quietly when the need had arisen, but this was the very
first time that anyone had so actively and passionately stood up on his behalf.

It was infinitesimal; it was fleeting; it was unpremeditated. But Severus recognized it for
what it was, and felt it nonetheless—gratitude. And then, just as quickly as it had come,
it vanished, overtaken by an emotion he now knew he had to display to divert Harry from
his ridiculous mission.

To his credit, Severus was able to stare the hands from Harry's hips, and even cause him
to glance down at his feet, then took advantage of this moment of weakness to begin his
assault. As soon as Harry raised his head to look up, Severus pushed him forcefully with
a hand to his chest, causing him to stumble backward.

Harry tripped on the leg of a chair, which was angled into the aisle, caught himself, then
stammered as he straightened, "What? What's the matter with—" His eyes widened as
Severus reached forward and snagged him by his tie-knot.

Severus gave him no time to react. "I'm going to make this short and simple, Potter. So
simple, in fact, that we'll never need to touch on this again. Are we understood?" He
gave a slight forward jerk on the tie. "You will, from this moment forward, cease this
vendetta on my behalf. You will accept the Wizengamot's judgment, so far as it concerns
myself. You will keep your opinions on the matter to yourself. You will not refuse or
question their decision to find you blameless. These are simple instructions, which even
you should have no difficulty comprehending." He eased his grasp on the tie, but kept his
eyes fixed on Harry's, watching for capitulation. He wasn't surprised, however, when he
read objection there instead.

Severus released him then and took a step backward. "You have your whole future ahead
of you, Mr. Potter. You've been proclaimed a hero, and rightly so. As for me," he
paused, playing with the lapel of his robe, picking up the black lock of hair that lay
there, then studying the ends of it, he continued, "I have no desire to return to Hogwarts,
in any case, nor any designs on a Ministry position, elected or otherwise." He looked up
and saw the words of protest forming on Harry's lips. Raising a hand, he quelled it with,
"But if you persist on declaring our mutual innocence, I will be forced to inform them of
the real nature of our activities."

"What're you talking about, Severus? That's exactly what I want them to know!" Harry
protested hotly.

"Hmm, but what I will have to tell them will be something altogether different. How I
persuaded an impressionable, defenseless and frightened boy into using an untried Dark
Arts spell. How easily I convinced you to overlook your natural reservations about such
a spell…."

Harry interrupted, indignant. "That's not true! You know it isn't, Severus! Why would
you…?"

Severus stared at him, putting all of his powers of persuasion behind the blackness of his
eyes. "Oh, they'll believe me all right, Mr. Potter, for that's exactly what they'd like to
believe."

Harry gaped at him, dumbfounded. "But why? It's not true and you know it!" His hands
were trembling now, his face screwed up in perplexity.

"It's exactly what I'll do if you insist on following some misguided agenda to clear my
sterling reputation. You can count on it, Mr. Potter. Now, which shall it be?" He paused
and glared at the man. "Leave things as they now stand—the truth as told by both of us
for the record…or force me to take the steps I've just set out for you?"

Harry was suddenly calm, his voice quiet but desperate. "We were partners in this. We
decided this together. Hell, you didn't even think you'd survive, and yet here we are, both
of us with a chance to set the record straight." His voice broke on the note of pleading at
the end.

Severus gave him a wry smile as he shook his head. "Yes, here we are, both of us intact.
But as of this moment, the partnership is dissolved, and you…you have your whole life
ahead of you, so go on and live it. Don't ruin your prospects by associating yourself with
some wild and unpopular quest to clear my already-sullied name." He looked away, then
finished quietly. "There's a certain justice in things turning out this way, but you're far
too young to understand. The Wizarding world won't be happy unless someone is
responsible, you see."

He heard Harry gasp. "This is some sort of self-sacrificing thing you think you have to
do, isn't it, Severus? For me?"

Severus let out a bitter laugh. "Think what you will, but I'm not as charitable as all that.
But," he cautioned as he fixed Harry with a look, "it's not negotiable. I will further
discredit myself if you force my hand. So," he concluded, then paused to swallow hard,
"give me your word that you'll do what I've…" He bit back the word 'ordered'.
"…suggested. Otherwise, you'll be the instrument of only worsening my situation." He
schooled his features into an impassive mask, even as he watched the emotions flicker
across Harry's face: outrage, disbelief, chagrin, then, at long last, Severus saw it arrive:
resignation. Harry looked to the side for a moment, thinking, then looked back up to
meet his eyes.

"All right, since I don't seem to have any choice here. But just so you know, it's not fair,
and the Headmaster wouldn't have liked it. He'd have wanted me to stand up for you—
I'm sure of it," Harry said flatly. When Severus looked away and had nothing to say in
reply, Harry brushed past him, purposely jostling him with his shoulder. Severus heard
him stop at the door, then the words, "See you around, Severus."

When he heard the snick of the door as it shut, Severus said without turning. "Have a
good life, Mr. Potter, and that's what the Headmaster would've wanted."

Severus had meant it as an 'adieu,' to leave Harry to build a life free of the entanglements
that such a crusade, or any continued association, for that matter, would have brought
him. Ah, but the best laid plans….

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the first thing he saw
was Harry's muddy trainers sitting just inside the door.
Not only had it not been an 'adieu,' but here they were, the two of them, not just
entangled by events, but personally pursuing a relationship with one another. And
strangely, Severus was suddenly grateful, that it had only been a 'goodbye' and not an
'adieu' after all.

***

Harry/Part Three

They agreed on a break of two days after having finished most of what had needed to be
done at the Weasley estate. Severus was determined that Harry would do little else
besides eat and sleep, and an occasional sexual romp whenever the mood struck. So,
they did exactly that, although they did spend Sunday afternoon in Severus' small
greenhouse, repotting the plants they'd brought in the week before. But even that
endeavor seemed to tax Harry's ability to concentrate, and Severus found he had to
carefully monitor what the man was doing, after he had to gently remind him that the
bergamot required an acidic medium, rather the basic one that Harry had absent-
mindedly chosen.

They read in the evenings in front of the fire, but several times when he looked up,
Severus caught Harry staring moodily off into space. He seemed increasingly withdrawn
and laconic, so Severus decided to try and draw him out.

"Tell me about you and Graham. I know how you met, but I've been curious, especially
since I've seen the two of you together." When Harry looked at him, startled, Severus
explained. "It's obvious you loved each other, so what was it? Why did you decide to
part ways after so long together? It's none of my business, of course…."

Harry reluctantly closed the book that Severus knew he'd not been really reading, then
turned to Severus on the settee. "Remember that time when I told you I didn't have to
explain things to him?" When Severus nodded, he went on. "There was a downside to
that, I suppose. There were things that…still bothered me, you know, things I could
never talk to him about. Not his fault, that. And I had to hide my magic as well. At first
that didn't matter that much to me, but as time went on…."

This made perfect sense to Severus—he'd wondered how Harry had managed to balance
these two contrasting sides of his nature. And as Harry had recently told him, he'd
initially welcomed a hiatus from the Wizarding world, but it was bound to become a
problem, Severus realized, for deep down in his core, Harry was intensely magical.

Harry sighed and hugged the book to his chest, staring into the fire as he continued.
"That's my prepared speech, the one I gave to the Weasleys. It stands to reason, and it's
really the truth, just not all of it." He shot Severus a sideways glance, then confessed,
"Not even the most important part."
"You told him eventually. I'm wondering why you didn't just do it sooner. He seemed to
cope with it fairly well," Severus commented.

Harry shook his head. "No, I was the problem, not him. I was worried about what might
happen to him once he knew." He was watching Severus anxiously.

Severus cocked his head, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand. Happen in what way?"

Harry shrugged. "That's just it, I wasn't sure. It was just a feeling I had, that once he
knew, once I had to introduce him to my world, something bad would happen." He
swallowed visibly, then muttered, almost under his breath, "Seems to be something that's
followed me around most of my life."

Severus was completely floored. "You were afraid that he'd be in danger? From what,
Harry, or more likely, whom? I can't imagine what could've happened to him, especially
as you were a couple and constantly together, but even still, the whole idea is ludicrous."

Harry eyes flashed. "I didn't say it made sense! I loved him, Severus, and it came down
to one of two choices: I could keep him in the dark, as I had been, and be miserable; or I
could tell him and then worry all the time, and in that case, maybe for good reason." He
tugged at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger, then added, "In the end, I decided
that neither was fair to him—he deserved to have someone who didn't hold anything
back, and he didn't deserve to be thrown into a world where he might be at risk because
of who I am. It was that simple."

"What did you tell him at the time, then?" Severus gently asked.

Now Harry looked downright miserable, and Severus could only guess at what he was
about to hear. He suspected some of it, and with Harry's words, found that he'd been
correct.

"Some of it truth, some of it white lies. That there were things in my past that I finally
realized I had to deal with. That it wasn't fair for him to have to put up with my
temper…my mood-swings. That I felt guilty about him leaving Chloe for me, that he
should go back and raise his daughter because she missed him. Not all of it lies, but not
the real reason I wanted to leave."

"So, there was no real falling out then?" Severus mused out loud.

Harry gave him a rueful grin. "You met him, Severus. How could anyone find fault with
him?"

Severus reached over and pulled Harry along the length of the settee, then leant back
with the man in his arms. "Oh, I think that sometimes the most agreeable of people can't
manage to get along, then there are curmudgeons and pig-headed prats who do. It doesn't
always make sense." He felt Harry laugh against him, so waited for a moment before he
added, "I'm glad you told me. But surely, finally telling Graham and seeing that nothing
happened must've put those fears to rest?"

Harry stilled suddenly, then Severus barely heard him as he whispered. "He's dead,
Severus, and don't tell me it had nothing to do with me, because I already know that. But
he's still dead."

"You're right, I won't tell you, as you already know. So remind yourself of that." He felt
the nod against his chest.

***

"We had an agreement, Harry," Severus told him flatly as he set the Prophet aside, not
surprised that, with the words out of his mouth, Harry wouldn't look at him.

"Yeah, I know, and we still do. It's just that I want to get the house stuff done first—pack
up some of Graham's things , put the solarium back in order, and there're several hours
of work that only I can do in the hothouse—it's time to do some delicate grafting on my
hybrids." He was picking at the edge of the worn table where a splinter had lifted up.

Severus calmly rolled the Prophet , then reached over and lightly rapped Harry's hand to
make him stop. Now with his undivided attention, Severus argued, "So, I'll start in on the
gardens myself—we'll be done that much faster."

Harry shook his head. "The extra two days will give the ground a chance to dry out a bit
more—some of the bulbs are already lost, but that's my fault for not going when I was
supposed to. This way we'll be able to sort out what to keep and what to pitch, and the
mulch will be just right," he countered.

Severus narrowed his eyes, then, against his better judgment, capitulated. "On one
condition then. Promise me you'll return here for the night. I've no right to ask it, but I'm
only thinking…." Somehow, he could not bring himself to say the words, but Harry had
caught his meaning anyway.

His eyes lit up, as he completed the thought, "Of what's best for me, and you worry
about me," he said softly.

Severus pursed his lips. "Well, you said it, not me." Am I that transparent?

He was completely disarmed when Harry gave him a brilliant smile. "Yeah, you are."

Severus leant across the table and grabbed Harry's wrist in a flash. "Then don't give me
reason to worry. One of us not sleeping is enough," he dryly said, waiting until Harry
nodded to release his arm.

Severus smiled, as he heard Harry mutter from behind the paper, "Still thinks he's a
bloody professor."
***

After two solid weeks spent entirely in each other's company, Severus found it strange to
be on his own for so many hours on end. He grumbled to himself that this could not be
healthy, that, after years of living alone, he now missed a person who'd been staying
with him for little over a month.

But he rediscovered his usual quotidian rhythm after an hour or so, moving along the
rows of the mostly bare garden, rearranging mulch, picking out rocks and tossing them
to the hedge, and bustling in his greenhouse, where he collected some ingredients for his
afternoon of brewing.

He stood at his workbench and looked around with satisfaction: the sink gleaming, the
cauldron bubbling over the fire, his notes laid out neatly on his desk. It felt good to
return to something familiar, something comforting, something where the outcome was a
known entity.

Nothing much in the house had changed: an extra teacup on the table, one of Harry's
shirts draped over the back of the settee, the bottle of lube on the sideboard…well,
there were a few changes, he supposed. But if he were truthful, the greatest changes
were the ones inside of himself. He anticipated…he pleasured…and was pleasured in
return…he was sociable…and today he'd come to the startling revelation that he cared .
He remembered what Harry had told him, that once one loved someone, they never
really stopped. He'd felt protective of Harry before, and it only stood to reason, if he
followed that line of thinking, that he'd never really stopped that either.

Now, as for love…. He had to admit to himself that he had no idea of how that would
even feel, and he'd been completely honest with Graham on this very subject, he
remembered. Love was an entirely different animal, and he wasn't altogether certain that
he'd ever experience it…at this late stage in his life.

"Time to stir the potion, Severus," the portrait on the wall informed him. He gladly
cleared his mind, and returned to his task of the afternoon.

***

Harry had spent his two days in Cheshire. Severus' questions about what he'd
accomplished were vaguely answered, but he could tell that Harry had been bothered by
whatever he was doing there. He was inclined to let it go and not press for details, as
he'd be making the trip with Harry for the remainder of the week.

They'd arranged for Severus to come at noon, as Chloe was coming to collect Daphne,
who'd be spending the morning with Harry. Severus was glad for this, hoping that the
child's presence might cheer the man a little—he'd been especially withdrawn and
moody the night before, and Severus had finally given up his efforts to distract him, with
either conversation or physical attention. He had the distinct impression
that something was gathering on the horizon, but he wasn't exactly sure what, and this
had been confirmed by Harry before he'd left this morning.

"Look, the house is in kind of a mess, just so you know," Harry told him as he turned to
leave.

Severus made a face. "Why would I care?" he asked, perplexed.

Harry seemed about to say something, then gave Severus a sober look. "Just don't want
you to overreact," he said, then was out the door before Severus had a chance to respond
or overreact , he thought to himself, as he watched Harry Disapparate.

***

As Severus let himself in the gate, he wasn't surprised to see that the gardens were
noticeably neglected—he'd expected this to be the case. He was halfway up the
walkway, when he noticed a figure sitting on the stoop.

Chloe jumped up when she saw him, shooting a glance backward at the porch, as she put
a finger to her lips and gestured for him to follow her around the side of the house.
Severus frowned and raised an eyebrow, but she'd turned so quickly that he really didn't
have any other choice but to follow.

Pulling him to the side of a large azalea bush, she stuck her hands in her jumper pockets,
then gave the house one more nervous look before she said, "Severus, what's going on? I
brought Daphne at nine, but things were such a mess I couldn't leave her. He's a wreck ,
Severus," she chided him. "The house is wreck . And he didn't even seem to remember I
was bringing her by. And he was so, well, out of it, that I made an excuse, said we could
only stay for a little while, then we left at half-past nine." She peered at Severus. "I've
been ringing him for weeks, leaving messages, and finally got him on Monday." Her
face was creased with concern as she asked again, this time firmly and calmly, "Severus,
tell me what's wrong—he's my friend, and I care about him."

He looked down at the diminutive woman, considered the expression on her face, then
the scene of her defending Harry in the kitchen flashed through his mind. He sighed.
"He's not himself, Chloe, that's for certain. I think it's just the strain of the past six
weeks, and some other personal losses, finally coming home to roost." He picked at the
waxy leaves of the shrub as he told her, "He's been staying with me most of the time, but
he's been here this week on his own. Probably not a good idea."

Her eyes softened as she listened, then she nodded in agreement. "No, I don't think it
was. Are you going to be able to help him sort it out? If you need some help, I have a
few names," she offered, her eyes bright with sincerity.

Severus' refusal was immediate. "I'm trying to help him with things, but I doubt he'd
agree to see anyone—he's stubborn, as I'm sure you know," he added dryly.
Chloe looked unsure as she said, "I don't know, Severus. I've known him for years, and
this is definitely not Harry." She paused, then patted him on the arm. "I'll ring him up,
from time to time, but for the moment, I can't let him have Daphne until I'm certain he's
all there, if you know what I mean?"

"I'm sure they'll both be disappointed, but I understand," he murmured, wondering how
Harry would process this news.

She fixed him with a commanding look as she turned to go. "Just take care of him, you
hear? I'll be in touch."

They parted at the walkway, and Severus, as usual, let himself into the house, then
stopped dead in his tracks. Chloe had been wrong, he thought. It wasn't just a wreck, it
was a disaster . He hardly recognized it, from the neat, orderly rooms that he'd last seen
here.

In the sitting room, all the furniture had been pushed to the center and covered with
sheeting; the pictures had been taken down from the walls, and stood propped up in a
corner. There were packing crates everywhere, the bookshelves emptied, half of their
contents piled on a table, half stacked inside the boxes; there was packing paper and
sealing tape littering the floor; it was chaos, and it certainly didn't fit any description of
the activities in which Harry was supposed to be engaged at the moment. He stepped
down the hall to see the kitchen in similar condition, then ventured further to find Harry
in the solarium, packing up items from under the telly.

He looked up, startled, when Severus had to clear his throat to attract his attention, his
face clouding over as he stood to his feet. Severus had seen this expression on Harry's
face before…long, long ago when he'd been caught at something, but he'd been a snot-
nosed student then, who might've had a reason to be secretive, but now…. Severus felt a
rush of confusion, so he waited for Harry to speak first.

Harry tossed what he was holding into a nearby box, as he said, not looking at Severus,
"I should've told you," he simply mumbled.

Severus bit back the instant and reflexive, 'yes you should've,' recognizing that he was
dealing with the irrational here, and if there was one thing he was skilled at, it was
dealing with the irrational elements of existence. He looked Harry over from top to
bottom, then turned and took his time to walk to the window. He stood looking out on
the changed face of the garden in the back for a moment, then folded his lanky form into
the seat. Harry was still standing where he'd left him, watching him now, a little
fearfully.

"Come and sit," was all he said, his voice calm and neutral, but his eyes intently fixed on
Harry. He watched as he shuffled his way around boxes, the defeat clear by the set of his
shoulders. He didn't sit, though, just stood next to Severus' knee, looking out over the
garden.
Severus took a moment to look out with him, and they both watched as a squirrel
skittered its way along a wire, draped from a pole to the exterior of the house.

Turning his head at last, Severus quietly asked, "Why?"

Harry dragged his eyes from the window to look at him, and Severus could see that they
were already brimming with tears. "Because I've decided to rent it out for the
winter…probably sell sometime in the spring," he said thickly.

Severus had purposely made his question vague, intending for Harry to misunderstand.
He knew it was critical to underscore what the true issue was here. So, as alarmed as he
was at what Harry had just told him, he filed it away for a moment, then asked again,
"No, not that. Why did you feel you had to hide this from me?"

Harry's face crumpled a bit, and Severus had to fight the immediate urge to reach out and
pull him in. Instead, he ferreted in his pocket, leant forward to extend the handkerchief,
then looked out of the window again, giving Harry time to compose himself.

After a minute or two, sensing Harry as he sat beside him, he turned in his seat and
reclined against the side of the window seat. When he saw that Harry was studying him,
his only response was a slight incline of his head to indicate that he was still waiting for
an answer.

"I didn't want to have this conversation," Harry finally said, a slight edge in his voice.

"Ah, but we haven't had one yet," Severus generously pointed out.

Harry huffed, "You know what I mean."

Severus shrugged, "Yes, I do, but right now I'm only interested in why you'd hesitate to
tell me anything. Surely you don't think I'd interfere with decisions that are yours alone
to make?" he asked solicitously.

Harry narrowed his eyes and said warily, "Of course you would, Severus. How is it that I
already feel like I have to defend myself? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, a
conversation where I'd have to—"

"Listen to the voice of reason?" Severus cut him off abruptly.

"See, that's what I meant," Harry sighed in exasperation, as he threw himself back in the
seat. "I didn't want to have to discuss it."

Severus was desperately in earnest now. "But you will, Harry, because this is what
friends…" he paused, then knew he had to say it, "what lovers do for each other. They
speak their mind when the one they care for is about to make a very grave mistake." He
waited a moment, then leant across the seat to pry Harry's hand from his knee. "When
have I ever , in our recent acquaintance, talked condescendingly to you, or treated you as
anything but an equal? You have no cause to be suspicious of anything I'd have to say,
because I'd only have your best interests at heart."

Harry was looking down at their intertwined fingers, then looked up, his eyes full of
misery as he softly said, "You're right. I just…I'm so damned tired, and I just wanted to
do this and have it done with. Pack up this part of my life and move on," he finished
dully.

Severus now broached this part of the question that he'd put off. "Why? Why would you
do this? This is your life, Harry, your home, something you've worked very hard to
build, a livelihood in which you're skilled, and one that I know with a certainty you
enjoy, almost passionately. So, why? Why would you throw it all away?"

"A few failures…plenty of memories…things I'd like to forget, I guess," Harry muttered.

Severus nodded wisely. "And you think that by ridding yourself of the tangible evidence
of it, those things will just disappear? Not likely," he said, restraining the tinge of
sarcasm he was tempted to inject into the observation.

Harry bit his lower lip, then said, "Yeah, that was the plan, but when you put it like that,
it sounds a little stupid."

Severus ignored this self-disparagement for the moment. "What will you do, and where
would you go? Surely not back to Grimmauld Place?"

"No, never there. I don't really have to work, so I figured in the meantime I could just
stay at the estate—Bill and Fleur would be happy to have someone there for the winter."

Severus considered this for a moment, then squeezed Harry's hand as he gently said, "I
think you need to work, but perhaps some time without responsibilities would free you
to suss out some of these questions. As for the estate, I think it's a fine idea." When
Harry looked up at him, surprised, he held up a hand of caution. "However, I'd advise
you to put off making any permanent decisions about your property here. As you've said,
you certainly don't need the income, were you to rent it out. You may find that you feel
completely different about it, come the spring, and if you are still inclined to sell it, then
at least you'll be making that decision with your wits about you."

This provoked a small smile, and Severus inwardly sighed with relief, as Harry said,
"Yeah, that's me, witless. You're right, right about all of it." He gave Severus a dour
look. "I don't know what got into me, I just knew I had to make a change, is all."

Severus couldn't help it then, so he gently tugged on the hand so that Harry came to him.
Wrapping his arms around him, he murmured at his ear, "You'll work it out—you always
have, and you won't be alone in this, I promise…remember, I live straight up the lane."
They sat for a moment, Harry's head on his shoulder. Severus had one last thing to say.
"Remember this, Harry, you can talk to me—don't make me work for it, even though I
probably deserve it."

Harry disentangled himself to pull back to look him full in the face. "I'm so used to not
having anyone to talk to about things, but all I can promise is that I'll try. A hard habit to
break," he admitted.

Severus smiled at him then. "Don't I know it."

***

They spent the remainder of the week working in Harry's gardens, doing much the same
tasks as they had in Severus and Fleur's. By unspoken agreement, they left the interior of
the house untouched, except for packing up the belongings that Harry would be taking
with him.

On Friday afternoon, they stood just inside the gate, as they were ready to leave, looking
out over the now winterized rows of Harry's neatly laid out garden.

"I'll need to come back once more, probably Sunday," Harry said, then rolled his eyes at
the look on Severus' face. "I'll be fine, but I have to secure the orchid hothouse—there
are some plants in there that'll have to go to the Weasleys. Won't take me more than a
few hours, at most."

Severus stared at him. "Why not do it now? I'll help."

Harry declined. "Nah, I'm tired, and I know you are too. It's been a long week—we
deserve a day off."

"All right, then, as it's only a few hours," Severus agreed cautiously. "But stay out of the
house."

"No reason not to," Harry replied. After one last look at the garden, they caught each
other's eye, then Disapparated.

***

Saturday passed uneventfully, Harry working in the greenhouse, Severus brewing in his
workshop. The fall months were a busy time for Severus, concocting potions from the
last available fresh ingredients. During the winter and early spring, most of his work, by
necessity, had to be done from dried and preserved stores, anything fresh requiring a
special 'by-post' order.

They sat together quietly in the evening, Severus immersed in the Thompson and
Morgan seed catalog that had come that day, Harry working distractedly with a flower
origami kit he'd received for his birthday.
"Look, Severus, know what it is?" Harry asked, holding his creation out on the palm of
his hand.

Severus felt a flash of admiration, as his eyes took in the yellow and orange florets with
a bright blue tongue at the center. " Strelitzia," he murmured as he slid closer on the
settee, "a bird of paradise." He carefully took the fragile structure and examined Harry's
craftsmanship. "Very nicely done," he praised him as he handed it back, then watched as
Harry placed it carefully on the table with the growing garden of paper posies arranged
there.

Not long after, they retired for the night, Harry wanting to get an early start for Cheshire.
They were almost asleep when Harry's voice startled Severus.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"Before this summer…would you say you were happy?"

Severus was barely conscious. "Happy?"

"Yeah, happy. Were you happy with your life?"

"Harry, what a time to…" he sighed, then there was a long silence, but he finally
answered, "Happy might be a stretch, but perhaps content is the word…" he trailed off.
"Why?"

He was just on the verge of sleep, so barely registered the words, "Just wondering how
you felt now."

"Sleepy," was all Severus managed to say before he drifted off.

***

Waking in the middle of the night was by now almost a ritual for Severus. He made his
customary trip to the loo, then barely gave Harry on the settee a second look as he
passed him for the sideboard. Pouring them both a small glass of local vintage, he
returned and held it out to Harry, who refused it with a shake of his head.

"No thanks," he said in a monotone, intent on the table in front of him.

Severus' eyes widened in disbelief when he saw what had Harry's attention. He sat on the
arm of the settee, the wine forgotten, as he watched Harry pick up an origami flower,
study it for a moment, then crush it in his hand before tossing it into the fire.
Almost mesmerized, he sat motionless as Harry threw one after another into the grate,
then came suddenly to his senses, and leant down to touch him lightly on the arm.
"Harry, you might regret this in the morning."

Harry shook his arm off to toss the next one in. "Maybe, maybe not. They're just paper,"
he scoffed. Severus watched as the magnolia, then the pansy, and at last the fuchsia
made the flames dance a little more brightly. But when Harry picked up the bird of
paradise, Severus reached out to touch him again.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have that one," he said awkwardly. Harry paused for a
moment, looked him in the eye, then held out his upraised palm with the delicate flower
balanced precariously atop it. Just as Severus was about to take it with his fingertips,
Harry closed his hand, the paper crinkling with finality.

At the look on Severus' face, Harry was instantly chagrinned. "Oh God, I'm sorry,
Severus." He opened his hand and looked at the ball of paper. "Just like a real flower,
isn't it? Here today, gone tomorrow." He shrugged and pitched it into the hearth. "I'll
make another one," he muttered as he pulled his papers from the table, then laughed
softly, "Harry the destroyer, instrument of origami death."

Severus stared him, disturbed. "Strange, I've always thought of you as a creator." When
Harry ignored him, busy folding, Severus stood and said, "Drink the wine, or take a
Sleeping Draught, and come to bed. We can do something to relax," he added.

Harry didn't look up at him, moving on from orange to yellow. "No, thanks, not this
time." Severus remained where he was, watching him, until Harry finally looked up at
him. "Go to bed, Severus. I appreciate the offer, but I'm thinking about things," he said
firmly, holding his eyes until Severus read the plea behind them.

Severus lay in the bed, listening to the sound of rustling paper from the sitting room. He
stared at the ceiling, then finally rolled over, thinking to himself that the bed was rather
large and cold without Harry in it.

***

When he awoke, Severus had the niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right in
the house. Still half-asleep, he sat on the edge of the bed, finally registering that Harry
wasn't in it. Odd, as Severus was always up well before him, and usually had the kettle
on and the Prophet half-read, before Harry put in a semi-stuporous appearance. He'd no
doubt fallen asleep on the settee, he thought, and would be sore and stiff and…cranky.

But he found he was wrong. The house was empty, and from the looks of the kitchen,
Harry'd not even taken time for tea or breakfast. There was, however, a scribbled note on
the table. "Gone to Cheshire. Don't worry. H." And perched just beside it was a brightly
folded bird of paradise, larger and more intricate than its predecessor. Severus smiled
slightly as he picked it up, turning it to admire the sharply faceted edges, then stepped to
the bookcase to place it carefully on the shelf.

He tried not to think of how deeply Harry's presence in the house had affected his daily
routine, but breakfast alone made that an unsuccessful endeavor. It felt strange to have
the paper all to himself, uninterrupted by chatter and pokes and prods from beneath the
table. Not that Harry'd been there every morning, but this time he'd expected him to be,
and his absence without warning was…irritating. My God, look at you, Severus. What
did Harry just ask you last night? Were you happy? Happy may not have been the word,
but he'd not lied—he'd been content with his life, and now, here he
was discontented over one little, solitary breakfast.

The morning flew by, Severus sitting down to plan his next several weeks of brewing,
answering letters and requests, sending his monthly order to Clecker, and rounded out by
a tallying of business income and expenditures. It was well past noon by the time he
finished, and he took his tea to the porch, thinking to himself that Harry was now
overdue. But he took the man's instruction to heart, and refused to worry—he knew how
easily one could underestimate how long a task would take, especially something as
painstaking as grafting hybrids and preparing fragile flowers and plants for transport.

By three o'clock, however, he couldn't help but stand in the doorway of the greenhouse,
listening for the sound of Harry's, "Hullo?" Now he was irritated. By his reckoning, the
man had been gone for eight hours at least, possibly more, as he didn't know precisely
when he'd left.

By five, Severus was furious. Not only at Harry, but at himself as well. He shouldn't
have let him go alone, he railed inwardly; God only knew what he was up to, despite his
promise that he'd not enter the house. He was certain, now, that Harry was no doubt
engrossed, once again, in his frenzy of packing, and if what Severus had seen during the
night before was any indication of his mental state, then he assumed that Harry had lost
all track of time and the fact that he'd been expected hours ago.

By seven, he was philosophical. What was the worst that could've happened? Harry
would eventually come to his senses, and would return, apologetic, as he had in the past.
He was worried for no reason at all—Harry was an adult, he reminded himself, and
Severus was neither his nursemaid nor his keeper, and, in fact, Harry should not have to
answer to Severus at all, concerning his whereabouts and the hours he kept. But still, a
small voice inside him whispered, You know he's not himself. If he were, you wouldn't be
worried.

By eight, he was almost paralyzed by indecision. He should go to Cheshire directly—

but no…. Harry wasn't a child. But then, what could he possibly be doing at this hour?
He might be in trouble…he might be morosely obsessing over the past, unable to pull
himself away from the prison of his overly active imagination. Severus had seen more
than enough evidence of that in the past several weeks. Then again…he might even be
sitting there watching the telly… Severus fumed and fretted, alternating from anger at
the position he'd been put in, to frantic certainty that something was amiss.

He compromised a short while later and, even though he knew it was most likely futile,
he Apparated to the estate, thinking that perhaps Harry had taken it into his head to
finish up what needed yet to be done there. The house was completely dark, but he
walked a circuit around it, then when there was no sign of him there, he Disapparated,
desperately hoping that he'd find Harry'd returned while he was briefly gone.

The sun had set long ago, so Severus trudged to the sideboard, picked up a glass, thought
for a moment, then placed it back on the shelf and took the bottle. He settled himself into
a chair on the porch, refusing to think of what he'd do in the event that Harry didn't show
at all. He vacillated, the pendulum swinging from fuck him to I'll go to Cheshire if he's
not here by ten . But most of all, he seethed at the position in which he found himself, he
who'd long ago made himself master of his fate and emotions, was now pathetically torn
between action and inaction, swinging from outrage at Harry's inconsideration, to worry
of what might've become of him.

***

Severus, well into the bottle, wasn't certain what time it was when he saw him come over
the crest of the lane. But he was sober enough to realize that it was relief, sheer and
unadulterated, that spread through his chest as he slid from his chair and made his way
down the steps and along the path, to wait for him at the gate. He wasn't altogether sure
he'd let him in, but he realized that that would be insincere posturing on his part, given
what he really wanted to do to him…shake him soundly, then take him off to bed, and
sleep would not be the first order of the night, either.

He stood and watched as the figure ambled down the lane, puzzled for a moment over
what was off, when he realized, with a thud in his chest, that this couldn't be
Harry…there was no limp. He took a step backward and re-warded the gate, and then
drew his wand.

The man was almost there, then stopped when he saw Severus watching his approach.

"Mr. Snape?" a familiar voice inquired.

Severus blew out a breath, pocketed his wand, then unwarded the gate again. "Whitney?
What in God's name…?"

"It's Harry," the man interrupted. "May I come in?"

***

"I had a dickens of a time finding you. I knew you lived near the Weasley estate, but I
set off in the wrong direction."
Severus sat at his table, head in his hands, dimly aware that the solicitor had just pushed
a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked up then, watching as Whitney poured one for
himself as well.

"He's fine," the man reassured him again. "Well, perhaps fine isn't a good choice of
words, but he's unharmed, is what I meant to say. Just a few surface scratches."

Severus waved at him wearily as he picked up his cup. "Start at the beginning. Tell me
all of it."

Whitney looked at him speculatively. "You know he was in Cheshire at the house
today?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, but he was long overdue. I expected him back this afternoon." He
reached over and dragged the sugar bowl towards him. "I should've gone…" he bit out,
"but…I didn't, for reasons I won't bother you with. Go on."

"I was called by the Macclesfield police around five. They'd been alerted by a neighbor,
who'd heard a ruckus on the premises, and knowing that Harry was often away, they
assumed that the place was being vandalized. So, the police responded, and found…."
He paused, then shook his head. "This is difficult. They found Harry in one of the
greenhouses. At first they thought he was a victim, given the damage—nearly all the
glass broken out of it—but then they talked with him a bit, and realized he was
disoriented, when he admitted that he'd done the damage himself."

Severus stared at him, dumfounded. "He did what? How?" he asked, perplexed and
alarmed.

Whitney leant back and withdrew a wand from his pocket. Severus recognized it at
once—holly, eleven inches. "The best I can gather is that he went a little berserk. The
police are still baffled as to how the damage actually occurred, but I knew immediately
what he must've done—they've entrusted me with his belongings, and this was among
them." He slid it across the table to Severus. "I'll give it to you for safekeeping."

Severus' eyes focused on where it lay, then looked back up at the man, who took this as
encouragement to move on. "Because he was injured, not to mention his mental state,
they took him on to Regency Hospital, where he finally gave them my name and
number, and, of course, I went straight away." At the look on Severus' face, he added,
"Not all my clientele is magical, you know. So, I have a cell phone. And as Harry had a
phone as well, we usually communicated that way."

"You talked to him?" Severus asked impatiently.

"Briefly. Enough to ascertain that he'd no intentions to harm himself, but as he refused to
talk to the mental health person there, they weren't convinced. The only way I could
manage his release was by making other arrangements for him."
"St. Mungo's," Severus said, as Whitney had already told him that Harry was there.

"Yes, I know a Healer there, a woman whom I'd tried to get Harry to agree to see years
ago. I popped over, gave her the barest of details, and she returned with me to the
Regency," he stopped, then said gently, "Severus." Severus head came up with the use of
his name. "You've not asked me why I came to you straight away. It's because I watched
the two of you at Graham's wake…Harry's little story about how they met, and I must
say that it was obvious, well, to me at least, that the two of you were very fond of each
other."

Severus inclined his head. "I won't deny the truth of it, my behavior of today
notwithstanding." He massaged his temples, then said without looking up, "So, this
Healer secured his release?"

"Yes, she talked to Harry for quite a while, then spoke with the attending, and satisfied
him that it would be safe for Harry to be released into our care for transfer to a private
facility."

Severus looked up at him now. "You have a car as well?"

Whitney shrugged. "Of course, but we Side-Alonged him, Severus, once we were clear
to do so." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You can appreciate, I'm sure,
that, considering who Harry is, there could be no question of him remaining there. Had I
not done what I did, the Ministry would've eventually discovered the fiasco, and Merlin
only knows what sort of brouhaha might've ensued. I wanted especially to keep the press
out of this, so secrecy was required."

"The Ministry doesn't know?" Severus queried, disbelief in his voice.

Whitney gave him a grim smile. "Only the Minister and a few others who, like me, have
reasons for keeping this quiet. For now, he's in Healer Booth's own private ward, under
an alias, and those few who will know who he is are accustomed to protecting the
privacy of their patients." He hesitated, then said gently, "I've told the Healer that you
are a person of importance to Harry. I hope that was all right, but he really has no one
else, does he?"

Severus said sadly, "No, no there isn't…perhaps some of the Weasleys."

"Ah, I did tell her that. But Harry told her he'd been with you for the past weeks, so she
asked if you would come round to see her tomorrow evening at seven? If not…"

"No, that's fine, of course I'll go," Severus assured him. "This…Healer, you have
confidence in her ability?"

"I do," Whitney said firmly. "She's been a fan of Harry's for years, so I filled her in on a
few things…back then, when I first tried to get him to go."
"Pity he didn't," Severus said shortly, then had to abruptly stop, suddenly awash with
regret. Regret for both of them, he thought, that there had been no one to listen to either
of them, once the war had been over, not that either one of them had tried to find a
sympathetic ear. Who could've even begun to understand?

"What happened, Severus? I know what road he was on, have for a long while. But what
brought it to a head?" Whitney asked him, urgently.

"Life," Severus told him soberly. "Life and everything it brings. Guilt is part of it, I'm
sure… But for Harry, I think, it's death. Not that he's afraid of it, because I know that
he's not," he murmured, now speaking mostly to himself. "No, I think it's that when
death does comes, it's always he who's left behind."

***

Harry/Part Four

Had it not been for the alcohol, Severus knew he wouldn't have even slept at all. As it
was, he only managed several hours in one of those fitful slumberings of drunkenness,
not quite awake, but not asleep either, as he was aware of the passage of time with each
strike of chimes on the hour.

He finally gave in and got up just as the sun was coming up, fighting not to hold his head
in his hands as he stumbled to his lab for a liberal dose of Hangover Potion.

He forced himself to down a small breakfast, which he wasn't altogether sure would stay
where he'd put it, then sat at his table, mulling over how to fill the interminable hours
until it would be time to put in his appearance at St. Mungo's. He wondered if Harry was
awake, if they'd required him to take the Sleeping Draught that he'd always refused.
Well, hopefully they'd had greater powers of persuasion than Severus had.

His insides clenched as he thought of Harry there: alone, no doubt castigating himself
over his behavior of the day before, and probably worrying over Severus' reaction. As
well he should , he thought to himself, irritated. But his annoyance was gone, in an
instant of painful self-revelation, as he realized that he was far from angry, and had long
ago moved on to precisely what Harry had told him not to do: worry. It was perfectly
possible that Harry wasn't thinking of him at all, broken as he was. Severus winced at the
word…broken.

After a tour of the bundled-up gardens and a quick check on the temperature of his
greenhouse, Severus finally gave in and decided to do what had been on his mind to do
since the evening before. After warding the house and the perimeter, he stepped into the
lane, gave one rote glance up towards the crest, then Apparated to Cheshire. He'd fought
this very urge all day yesterday, and couldn't help but think that had he given in then, he
might, at this very moment, be reading his Prophetwith Harry still tucked safely into
bed.
Arriving just inside the garden, Severus stopped dead in his tracks, in one fluid motion
of his head taking in the sum total of the devastation. Both greenhouses were a total loss,
although it was obvious that the one to the right of the house must've been where Harry
had finally finished, as some of the windows near the top were still intact.

Glass crunched ominously underfoot as Severus trod his way to this second structure,
then stopped just short of the stoop to look in. The small building yawed slightly to the
left, resembling the intact skeleton of an animal picked clean by some ravenous predator.
But it was the damage inside that took Severus' breath away and had him closing his
eyes for a moment, before stepping inside the gap where the doorway had been.

The neat rows of flowers and plants looked as if something had been detonated in their
midst; clay pots were overturned and fragmented; dark earth smattered the still partially-
intact foundation stones; flower petals of all colors and shapes were strewn over the
interior, what little remained of it; overlying it all was a sparkling coat of shattered
window-paning, sprinkled with dead leaves carried in by the autumn wind.

It would've been a heartbreaking sight for anyone who was fond of flowers, but for
Severus it was doubly so, as he knew the gentle heart of the person who had perpetrated
such a crime against nature. This was the world that Harry loved and cherished, one he'd
cultivated and cared for, one he'd then, purposefully and methodically, by the looks of it,
destroyed beyond all hope of repair.

He stood for quite a while, shocked beyond belief: whatever he'd imagined, this was
infinitely worse. Most chilling of all, Severus thought, as he kicked aside some debris,
was that this was, in fact, a reflection of Harry's inner turmoil.

Severus mourned as he turned to peer between the twisted, leaded frames to where the
other greenhouse stood. Unlike this one, it was barely still standing. He felt a fleeting
and irrational urge to permanently put it out of its misery, then turned sadly away again.
As he did, his eye was caught by the sight of Harry's small hothouse in the side garden.
He sucked in a breath of surprise, for the building stood there, intact, as the one lone
survivor of a meaningless rampage.

He stood before it and gazed at it in wonder. Then, without thinking, he shucked off his
cloak and rolled up his sleeves. The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges, then he
stepped inside and closed it behind him. The sun, high in the sky, struck the hundreds of
panes, scattering prisms of colors over the living color within in. He took a deep breath
and inhaled the redolent blending of exotic perfumes given off by the tropical specimens
standing proudly in their pots. This is Harry, he thought, a small, glittering gem which
has survived the storm on either side of it, its contents invaluable and worthy of
salvage. He didn't stop to wonder if its preservation had been intentional or incidental.
But he was suddenly filled with resolve, that what lived here, what had survived what its
neighbors had not, would be carefully tended and nurtured, as would Harry himself, and
he would do everything in his power to bring both of these to pass.
He worked furiously through the morning, packing pots into crates, carefully planting
the tender hybrid seedlings into starter cups, gathering specialty soil and plant food,
wrapping the most fragile of flowers in dampened butter muslin. Almost as an
afterthought, he moved to the partially destroyed greenhouse, picking out panes that had
not been cracked or broken

In the end, it had taken him almost a dozen trips to transport his fragile cargo; supplies
were easily shrunk, but flowers, with a magic all their own, as Harry had intimated, were
not so easily moved over such a great distance. He managed it, nonetheless, with most of
his unforgiving travelers surviving the hardship of Appraration.

A hastily eaten lunch later, Severus was now back in his own greenhouse. After a
scribbled out blueprint, he set to work, and by the end of the afternoon had a makeshift
tropical hothouse of his own, connected by a small doorway to the side of his own larger
structure, constructed of the spare panes he had retrieved and ones he'd already had on
hand. It wasn't nearly as large or well-constructed as Harry's, but it was architecturally
sound and botanically correct. And, after all, what did a flower know, as long as it was
fed and watered, with warm, rich soil in which to sink its roots, and moisture-laden air to
pull in through its pores?

His last task was to transfer the hybrids from their starter cups to larger vessels. As he
worked, he was filled with admiration for what Harry had done…what he himself had
never really had the patience to do, in fact. Some of them he recognized: various shades
of epidendrum, the jungle beauty of miltonia, the vibrant blue of the vandias. But there
were others which he knew were Harry's own creations, and he anticipated the day when
Harry himself could explain how he'd wrought such tropical wonders. He told himself
firmly that this would occur before these flowers and plants needed specialized care of
which he would be at a loss even to guess.

As he stood outside at last and surveyed his handiwork of the day, he finally crystallized
in his mind what he'd suspected when he'd first seen Harry's hothouse: the survival and
recovery of the fragile flowers within were intertwined with their creator's. And by
caring for one, whether it was Harry or his orchids, Severus would be caring for the
other as well.

***

In a day already rife with unpleasant surprises, Severus found an unexpected one when
he presented himself at St. Mungo's that evening at the appointed time. It appeared that
'cleared with prejudice' meant that he required an 'escort' while anywhere on the
premises. It rankled, being shadowed by an apple-cheeked wizard who looked like a
fifth-year, as they made their way up lifts and down corridors and through doorways.
They finally reached a reception area, unmarked, but manned by a competent looking
wizard who stood as they approached, then said, "Mr. Snape? You're expected." Then,
giving the escort a dismissive nod, he led Severus through a small atrium where there
were people sitting, some reading, some softly talking, down a hallway to the door at the
end.

Knocking once, the man opened it and announced, "He's here." Then stepping aside, he
motioned with a smile for Severus to enter.

It was a small, tastefully decorated office, one wall lined with books, the other with
plants, which briefly caught his interest. There was a faux window behind the person
seated at the desk, showing, appropriately, the sunset of an autumn evening. He studied
the woman as he took the designated chair, watching as she pulled files from a drawer.
She was disturbingly young, he thought, as he examined her—most likely late thirties,
close-cropped, mousy hair that framed a rather plain, unremarkable face…that was, until
she looked up and he saw her eyes…richly hazel, they sparkled with intelligence and
warmth, and perhaps there was humor there as well, he decided. Most unusual, he
noticed as she stood, she was dressed in casual attire, a pair of Muggle jeans, neatly
creased, and a light green jumper with a scarlet Caerphilly Catapults logo on the pocket.

Reaching across the desk as she extended her hand, she greeted him, "Lynn Booth, Staff
Healer, and you're Severus Snape, or you wouldn't have got past Dennis," she grinned at
him. Motioning him to chair at one side of the desk, she startled Severus by dragging her
own from behind it and rolling it so that they were both seated facing each other, just a
half-meter between them. "All right if we use first names, then? Like to keep this as
informal as I can."

Severus was surprised, but acquiesced, "Fine with me," he commented neutrally as his
eyes took in the framed parchments on the wall behind her, then observed, "Muggle
university?"

She smiled. "Of course, in addition to my Healer training here. When it comes to
understanding the human psyche, Muggles are light-years ahead of us, I've found. Does
that bother you?" she asked.

He shrugged noncommittally. "I have no expertise in this area, so no." He paused, then
asked what was foremost in his mind. "How is he?"

She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. "He's lucid. I met with him last evening,
then again this morning only briefly. This afternoon we spent several hours together."
She reached over to pick a file up from the top of a pile. "Harry's told me a great deal
about you."

"I didn't realize there was that much to tell," Severus said.

She opened the folder and said without looking up, "He knows you well enough to know
that by now you're no longer angry." She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes.

"He was correct," was all he said.

She licked the tip of a finger, then began paging through the papers. "But he wasn't
certain you'd come, although he hoped you would."

Severus didn't hesitate. "Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks."

She'd found what she was looking for, pulled a sheet out and closed the file and laid the
paper atop it. "Well, I've gathered from my talks with him, and both of your Ministry
files, that your involvement is going to be invaluable and necessary." She sat and waited
for his reaction.

"We still have Ministry files?" he asked, perplexed.

She nodded. "Both of you do, of course. Mostly historical stuff from the war years. I'm
well aware of the stressors in his life, all of them ," she emphasized. "But what I need
from you, Severus, is to be brought up to speed on the most recent ones—the Weasley
child and Graham Chal."

Suddenly Severus was uncomfortable. "I'm not certain that's appropriate. These are
personal things that perhaps it's not my place to discuss."

She handed him the sheet of paper she'd ferreted out. "This is a signed release. Harry's
given his permission for you to speak freely on his behalf." Severus studied it for a
moment, then handed it back to her.

"It's been a trying summer for him," he started.

She immediately responded, "A difficult time for you, as well."

Severus was uncomfortable now. "Nothing in comparison to Harry," he muttered.

"Ah. He said you'd do that—minimize your own pain," she rejoined, watching him
closely.

"I'm here because of Harry," he said, exasperated, "not myself."

She smiled soothingly. "Of course you are. But I believe, Severus, that what helps one of
you will help the other—part of the economy of healing," she stated as she slid the sheet
back into the file. "So, let's begin with your account of the summer, especially anything
significant in Harry's responses or grieving that you found unusual or remarkable."

They spent the next half hour systematically working their way through the weeks since
Winnie's death, Severus carefully editing out the more personal encounters of their
private relationship, ending with yesterday morning, and Harry's note.

Severus sat, staring at his hands in his lap. He lost track of time, then the silence intruded
into his thoughts to make him look up. The Healer was watching him thoughtfully,
waiting patiently, and Severus had a definite feeling he knew exactly what she was
waiting for, although he was determined not to give it up freely.

But when she finally spoke, Severus was relieved to discover that she'd chosen another
tack. "Harry's problem isn't all that unique, Severus. He's carrying a load of guilt that's
never been addressed." Her golden eyes flashed. "I don't understand why, to be honest.
Many of these things happened while he was still at school, and he should've received
some sort of counseling help, either from the headmaster or his head of house." She
shook her head, a scowl on her face. "This was neglect on their part, although I'm sure
they had their reasons. And I take it you and he weren't on the best of terms then?" When
Severus glumly shook his head, she continued, "So what happened in the war, and then
this summer, was just heaped onto that pile. It's called survivor's guilt, as I'm sure you
know, not at all unusual, considering what he's gone through. And you, how have you
handled these things?"

"I've managed," he muttered. "But then, I've always been more pragmatic than Harry."

"I see. Well, good for you, then. For Harry, it'll be a matter of helping him work back
through these memories, teaching him how to recognize false guilt and answer it. Not all
that complicated, Severus. It's a damn shame I'm doing it at this stage of things." She
shook her head in disgust. "David Whitney told me that he'd spoken with you, about his
coming to me some years ago about Harry. It would've spared him so much if I could've
seen him then." She held out her palms. "But here we are now, so we'll do the best that
we can, although…" she paused as she considered Severus. "There is something else that
I've not quite put my finger on yet, but we'll see how things go."

He couldn't hold it in any longer. "May I see him tonight?"

Her eyes lit up, but she shook her head. "No, unfortunately he's asleep."

Severus was dumbfounded. "Asleep? At this hour?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"With a nonnegotiable Sleeping Draught." She grinned.

"Well, you must be better at it than I was," he sighed.

She looked thoughtful. "Not necessarily. He's had a shake-up, Severus, and it's
frightened him a bit, so he's a tad more pliable. He really does want to get well. He's not
despaired of life; on the contrary, I think that just recently, despite the losses of the
summer, he's hit on something that makes him very much want to live. But he's afraid,
for some reason," she said softly, carefully watching him.

Ah, postponed but not forgotten , Severus thought as he watched her warily, wishing
desperately that he could know what Harry had already told her. "We've become very
close," he cautiously admitted, uncertainty in his tone.
She snorted softly, "An understatement, if you ask me." Then she grinned, and Severus
realized that she knew all of it.

"Oh, all right, we're lovers," he finally confessed, feeling the heat in his face. "I didn't
want to betray something he'd not told you, but I see he already has," he finished lamely.

She reached over with her hand, the grin still in place, "Hullo, Severus, I'm Lynn."

He returned a wry smile of his own as he shook her hand again, this time with sincerity.
"Pleased to meet you, Lynn."

It was if a wall had dropped from between the two of them. "I'm very keen on Harry.
And he has excellent chances of working things out, especially with someone who cares
for him. Some of it will be difficult—the guilt will be the easiest to deal with." She sat
back in her chair and chewed on the end of her quill as she thought, then looked up at
him. "It's almost as if he's afraid to live, afraid to be happy. You've no idea what this
might be, where this is coming from," she asked urgently.

Severus considered for a moment, then shook his head sadly. "No, and I must confess
I'm surprised at the fear. He's handled so much of that in the past, and admirably, I might
add. I can't begin to imagine," he trailed off as he wracked his brains for an answer.

She stood, signaling the end of the interview. "Well, I'll tackle what I know first off,
then. The rest will sort itself out, I hope." Her eyes were full of concern as she met
Severus'. "I can't keep him here for long—maybe until the end of next week."

"So soon?" Severus asked doubtfully.

She nodded. "Keeping Harry here is rather like trying to grow a wildflower in a
hothouse. He'll wilt at the confinement. Besides, I think he'll make better progress with
other things," she paused, then smiled again, "and you to distract him. Will he have
someplace to go? I don't want him back in Cheshire," she warned.

Severus smiled at the metaphor she'd made. Suddenly, for the first time in weeks, he felt
optimistic. "Definitely not back to Cheshire," he agreed. "He can stay with me or at the
Weasley estate—it's just up the lane." He wasn't altogether sure where Harry would
choose to stay, but in either case, he'd be close by, a comforting thought.

As she walked him to the door, she asked him, "Would you be able to come again next
Monday at the same time? I think by then I'd like to have a session with the two of you
together. If something changes, I'll owl you, all right?"

Severus murmured his assent, then just at the door, he stopped as he remembered.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew what he'd brought. Handing it to her, he asked,
"Could you see that he gets this?"
She took the preserved forget-me-not carefully, then smiled as she examined the
perfectly formed flower, before looking up at him. "I'll give it to him myself, Severus.
Would you like to leave a note with it?"

Severus didn't even have to think. "No," he said soberly as he looked at her, "it's note
enough."

***

Severus threw himself into his work in the week that followed, continuing his
preservation of the last of the fresh garden ingredients, then began the arduous and time-
consuming task of brewing the basic formulations that he'd need for his winter business.
On Wednesday afternoon, he paid a visit to Foyles in London and procured a specialty
book on orchid care and cultivation, then spent his evenings poring over it, making
copious notes. The exotic blooms in his new hothouse were thriving under his care, and
Severus was determined to keep them healthy and happy until they were returned to their
rightful owner.

On Saturday, he'd just finished in the hothouse, and was sitting in the middle of a row on
the ground, holding a protesting and squirming Chouette whilst he tried to remove burrs
from her coat. He was startled by the voice calling from the lane.

"Severus?" He froze at the sound of it. "Severus!" she called again.

He considered just sitting where he was and letting her go on her way, but decided he
was being childish, so he stood and released the happy feline, then brushed the straw
from his trousers as he made his way to the gate.

She was standing in the lane, held back from the fence by the wards still in place.
Severus felt inclined to leave them as they were for the moment.

"Molly, " he said, "what a surprise," he said snidely, suddenly angry at the woman for
her conduct the last time she'd been here, obstinately taking offense for Harry, who'd so
desperately needed the support of those around him, and this woman, despite her own
sizable grief, had been too short-sighted and small-hearted to see beyond her own.

She seemed to read the tone of his voice, and appeared instantly subdued. "Severus, I
was looking for Harry again—"

Severus cut her off, "He's not here this time."

She tried to take a step closer, but encountered the wards, making her eyes grow wide. "I
know he isn't. Bill was in to see his solicitor yesterday, and when he told him that Harry
was minding the estate, well…" she stopped, obviously anxious. "You know where he
is! I've just been there to see him, and the Healer told me I'd have to see you , that
Harry'd left it up to you to talk with anyone who inquired. Please, Severus, I'm frantic
with worry! Is he all right? What's happened?" She was close to tears, but Severus was
unmoved.

"He's physically fine, but exhausted. As for anything else, he'll be out next week. I'll tell
him you called," he said shortly as he turned from the gate, but he was stopped by the
sound of her crying, and the realization that if he didn't deal with her then and there, then
Harry certainly would have to in the near future. He sighed as he turned and unwarded
the gate, then opened it to let her in.

This time she accepted his frosty offer of tea, and then the two of them sat
uncomfortably across from each other at the table in the kitchen.

"Severus," she began weakly, "he's like a son to me. And once my Ronald was gone,
even more so. I suppose he even filled his shoes for a while. He's left it up to you, so
please, please tell me what's happened to him?" She'd stopped crying, but Severus could
see the threat of a renewed bout on the horizon, her pale blue eyes bright with tears as
she pleaded with him.

"The last time you were here, Molly, you seemed far more preoccupied by
what you needed, than you were for his welfare. So, I'm not telling you anything other
than what I've told you. He's been stressed by the events of the summer, as I know you
have as well. He's taking a much-needed rest, and that's all I feel at liberty to divulge,"
he finished flatly but firmly.

She twisted her napkin as he spoke, then sat and stared at him when she realized that this
was all he was going to say. "But Severus, he'll need someone to take care of him,
someplace to go when he's out, so…." She stopped as she bit her lower lip, then added
hesitantly, "Would you just tell him that he'd be welcome at the Burrow?"

Severus leant forward and fixed her with icy look. "Do you remember what he told you,
Molly? About him and me?"

Her eyes darted to the side then back again. "Of course I do, I'm not a total dullard. I just
thought he'd need someone to watch after him, someone who cares about him…" She
caught Severus' eyes and held them. "I only want him to be happy."

Severus narrowed his eyes, then said calmly but intensely, "Are you sure about that?
Will you still be able to say that if I'm a part of what makes him happy?"

She looked down at her hands, her face suddenly flushing, but when she looked up the
blue eyes were clear as she placed the napkin to the side of her cup. "I've forgiven you,
Severus," she said faintly. "I never thought I'd see the day I'd say it, but it's true."

Severus felt a moment of outrage, then sobered as he remembered Arthur Weasley's face
on that last day of the war, just before he and Harry had set out. The man had shaken his
hand firmly, then pulled him into a short but firm embrace, then wished him god speed.
"You've forgiven me," he said softly in resignation, now not only for Harry's sake, but
for the memory of the man who'd finally decided to grant him the benefit of the doubt.

She nodded, then couldn't help herself and took up the napkin again to twist. Severus
wondered idly if this was part of a ritual to comfort herself, then realized she was
speaking. "The night Bill came, the twins were there, and I guess I…overreacted, and
told them about the last time I was here." She had the good grace to hang her head.
"They all spoke their minds, you see, and then George was very serious in what he said,"
she paused, as she smiled shyly at him. "George is seldom serious, as you know, so
when he is, I sit up and take notice."

Severus was intrigued in spite of himself as she went on. "He said that you and Harry
knew that what you were going to do could most likely kill you both, and that if I chose
to blame you for anything at all, then I'd have to blame Harry as well. Harry spoke to
Fred and him about it over the summer," she added softly. "Is that true, then, that you
both knew that you might be killed?" When Severus nodded mutely, she asked another
question, "And that in the end, my Arthur gave you his blessing?"

Severus couldn't help but give her a small smile in return, "Yes, in his way, he did."

She sat up straight, then finished with a nod, "Then if he did, how can I not? He was
always the smarter of the two of us. It's just that I needed someone to blame, Severus.
Someone I could make suffer, if that makes any sense. The Dark Lord was beyond my
reach, or I would've killed him myself, but you…you were still there…" she said quietly
at the end. "I was wrong. About you, and especially for putting Harry in the position I
did. I…I apologize, Severus. You have every reason to mistrust that now, but I mean to
work at it. Habits don't die overnight, but I'm trying, I really am." There were fresh tears
running down her cheeks, and as the napkin was now hopelessly useless, Severus handed
her his from across the table.

"It's a start, Molly, and if there's anyone who understands that old habits die hard, it is I,"
he faltered, then found it strange that it would be to her that he would say it. "I
care very deeply for Harry, so I'm having to break some old habits of my own," he
confessed.

"Well, then," she said brightly as she stood. "At least we're on the same page on that
account." She withdrew a letter from her pocket. "Will you give that to him for me? I've
tried to make amends the best way I know how."

Severus took the envelope with Harry's name inscribed on the front, then told her
truthfully, "If you trust me to give it when I deem the time is right?"

She smiled at him, then said hesitantly. "I'll trust you, Severus."

***
Severus pocketed the strange currency, thinking to himself that he'd have no idea if he
were being swindled or not. He'd walked up and down this street in Muggle London for
a quarter hour, searching for the establishment that Whitney had recommended. With the
package under his arm, he found a quiet, deserted alley, then full of relief and a sense of
accomplishment, he Disapparated.

He spent his weekend working, dividing his time between his plants and the by now
daily schedule of brewing. But by Saturday evening, he was restless and feeling isolated
from the rest of humanity as a whole. He found it odd—this had been his routine for
years on end, and he'd never minded the solitude before. Part of this business of caring
for someone, he supposed, this subtle undercurrent that was always there…that someone
was missing. He wasn't altogether sure that he liked it, but it was much too late. He
heard Harry's voice in his head, Once you start, do you ever really stop?

On Monday, he tried to follow his usual routine, but several times found himself so
distracted that he missed a plant in his clipping and, later in the day, almost unheard of
for him, a step in a potion. He had to laugh at himself as he dressed after dinner—he felt
at ease enough with the Healer, but here he was, unsettled by a meeting with the Boy
Who Lived. But his smile faded as he studied himself in the mirror. No, he wasn't just
the Boy Who Lived anymore, and that, Severus knew, was his problem.

This time she was waiting for him in the reception area, sparing Severus the
embarrassing ordeal of the escort. He didn't ask about Harry, as they were moving
through public places, as Severus had learnt long ago that walls and even windows had
ears in unpredictable places.

They were in the ward and almost to her office, when Severus felt a moment of irrational
paralysis. He stopped her with his hand. "One moment. Is there anything I should
say…or not say? How should I…?" He stopped at the smile that spread across her face.

Patting him on the arm, she drew him along the corridor as she told him, "Severus, this is
the same Harry as always. No special treatment."

Then they were suddenly in her office, and Severus stopped in the doorway just as Harry
looked up and saw him, a shy smile at the corners of his mouth. "Severus," he breathed
out.

No able to pull his eyes away, Severus missed on his first attempt to close the door
behind him. "Harry," was all he could manage at first, feeling a strange mixture of
warmth and relief spread through him. "You look well," he simply said, then added,
mostly to himself, "I see that they're force-feeding you Sleeping Draughts."

Harry laughed, and Severus found he was glad to have the busyness of taking his chair to
hide this confusing reaction he was experiencing. "Yeah ,well, but not for long. They're
going to spring me on Friday."
They were seated around a small, oval table, which had been set up for the session. The
Healer was chatting as she served them tea, and Severus took this time to study Harry
more closely…Harry who hadn't taken his eyes off him yet. He certainly did look better
than the last time Severus had seen him: the dark circles under his eyes were gone, and
Severus could've sworn that his face was a little fuller, the cheeks not as sunken. But it'd
only been a week, and he still looked fragile and frail as he sat there, although his eyes
had regained much of their usual luster.

They made small talk for a while, Severus answering Harry's questions about his
brewing, the Healer chiming in with some personal anecdotes of her own. Severus
watched her out of the corner of his eye, then was brought up short by the realization
that this was part of what this session was for, her being able to see how he and Harry
interacted. He smiled at Harry across the table as she talked, and there it was, that
familiar connection that they'd always had, but just recently rediscovered, not even
needing words for them to understand each other.

I've missed you.

As have I.

I want to come home.

So you shall.

Severus?" He started as her voice intruded into his thoughts. "I was just saying that we'll
begin by having Harry tell you what we've been doing over the past week."

For the first time, Harry looked away. He seemed to think for a moment, folded his
hands in front of him on the tabletop, then said as he looked at Severus again, "It's kind
of embarrassing, because it's stuff that I've known in my head, but like Lynn's told me,
that doesn't always solve the problem, you know, knowing that something's true. You
have to believe it in your heart, and I guess I really haven't," he confessed.

Lynn took control now. "Harry and I've talked a great deal about the people in his life
that he's lost—many of them very significant figures. He's learned a very valuable lesson
in the past week: how to tell the difference between true guilt and false guilt. And that
even when there is true guilt, there is a healthy way to face and get past it." She paused
and looked at Harry first, then at Severus again.

"Part of retraining how he thinks of these things will be repeating the truth when those
old ugly demons rear their heads. That's where you'll play a part, Severus. Harry's going
to tell you the truth now, the truth that you'll probably have occasion to remind him of,
perhaps more than once. It's perfectly normal, in fact. These are lies that he's told himself
over and over all his life, and they won't die without a fight." She nodded at Harry
encouragingly. "Let's start at the beginning, then."
Harry sat back in his chair, took a deep breath, then looked up, his eyes focusing on
Severus'. "My parents loved me, and when my life was in danger, they did what any
parent would do. It's not my fault they died—it was their right to protect me, but there
was only one person responsible for them dying, and he's dead now too," he finished, his
eyes calm, his voice steady.

Severus nodded as he told him, unsmiling, "They wanted you to live, Harry."

"I know," Harry said. He glanced at the Healer, then began again. "Cedric's the next one.
He made his own choice that night—he wanted to win as much as I did, so that's what
put him in danger, not me. It's not my fault he died. The only one responsible for him
dying is dead now," he said, and Severus caught the similarity of the words.

"Sirius was a little harder," he confessed as he looked at Severus again. "Because I was
doing something I shouldn't have. But in the end, he made his own decision, just like me.
He knew the risks of going out like he did, and he made a choice. It's not my fault he
died. The only one responsible for him dying is dead now too." Severus studied his eyes
carefully, and although the words were similar, there was nothing rote about Harry's
delivery of them.

Harry took a deep breath again, then said softly, "This is the easiest one, Severus,
because the only guilt I ever really felt had to do with how wrong I turned out to be. The
headmaster, out of everyone I've known in my life, had control of his own destiny. He
chose to die willingly. I'm not responsible for him dying, and neither are you. The only
one responsible for him dying is dead now ," he said firmly, fixing Severus with eyes full
of emotion.

Severus swallowed visibly, and found he could not speak, so merely inclined his head in
grateful acknowledgment.

Harry stood now and stretched. Severus watched him, and for the first time in months
noticed the lack of tension in his slender form. Harry reached down and pulled a piece of
parchment from the cuff of his jeans. Spreading it out on the table, he looked at it for a
moment, then straightened, but did not take his seat.

"These are all the people who died when we cast the Killing Curse. Some meant more to
me than others, that's true. But the important thing is that what we did was something
we had to do. We were fated, Severus," he paused, then added with a wry smile, "by
Sybil Trelawney, no less." He stopped again to roll his eyes, and both Severus and the
Healer smiled when he did. "Anyway, it was clear this is what we were meant to do—
there's never really been any doubt about that between the two of us." When the Healer
audibly cleared her throat, Harry smiled at her and amended, "All right, the three of us,
then. It's a shame so many had to die, but sometimes fighting for what's right means
there'll have to be sacrifices. I used to think that I'd have rather been one of them, but not
anymore. We both played our part, Severus. It's not our fault that people died in the
process. The only one responsible for them dying is dead now too. And that death, I
have never regretted."

He sat down again, then laced his hands together in front of him. Severus saw the first
signs of tension. "Winnie." He shook his head sadly. "This was the hardest one of all,
because it just doesn't make any damn sense to me. But talking with Lynn this week, I
remembered what you reminded me of the night she died. I did everything in my power
to keep her safe, and God only knows how much I loved her. She was a child, and
despite everything we all did, she tried something unexpected, and childish , and now
she's dead. I bear part of that responsibility, along with every adult who's ever watched
over a child, but I had only her best interests at heart. I didn't do anything wrong, but
she's still dead. And for whatever part I might've played, things I might've done
differently, I've forgiven myself. Inexplicable, senseless tragedy, but I've let it go now,"
he stressed this last phrase, and Severus could read the truth in his voice.

"How am I doing?" Harry shot a glance at the Healer.

She reached over and rubbed his forearm. "Spectacular. One more to go and you're
done."

Harry refilled his cup, took a swallow, then refocused on the last of his list. This time,
however, Severus noticed that he stared at his hands as he talked. "Graham's the last—I
really shouldn't feel guilty at all. He had a Muggle disease which had nothing to do with
my…our…" He shot a look at Severus. "With our parting ways. His disease killed him,
not me. No one's responsible for his death—no one at all—what happened to him was
just part of life, I guess," he finished softly, and for the first time in the lengthy litany of
deaths, Severus was certain that Harry was not finished here, that there was something
else, although Severus could not imagine what, which still would not release Harry's
conscience in the matter.

He glanced at Lynn, and was startled to see that she was eyeing him, and not Harry. He
quickly looked away, confused. He wondered, with a flash of fear, what Harry had told
her about Graham's death. He was certain that Harry wouldn't have told her the truth of
it, but was puzzled why Harry would still feel responsible, given that his part in it had
been botched and abandoned.

The Healer was silent for a moment, watching Harry as he sat, motionless, staring off
into space. She looked at Severus and, catching the perplexity on his face, gave him an
almost imperceptible shake of her head. "Well done, Harry. It's not easy, resurrecting all
of that on demand. And I'm sure Severus can appreciate that." She glanced at her watch,
then gave Severus a meaningful look. "I've someone I need to check on, past due,
actually—will the two of you be all right if I'm gone for a moment?"

Severus and Harry looked at each other, then Harry said, "Sure, no problem."
When the door quietly closed, their eyes met. Severus searched them for a split second,
then made his decision quickly. He was up and around the table just as Harry stood to
his feet. There was a frantic tangle of arms and hands as they found each other, both of
them making small, poorly-controlled noises of satisfaction as they mouthed their way
over each other's faces, tasting lips and tongues, throats and ears, while their hands
roamed as far as their upright positions would allow.

They finally ended, stilled against each other, foreheads pressed together as their breath
returned to normal. They did not speak, as there was really no need for words. Severus
slid both of his hands into Harry's hair and held his face in place for one last long,
soulful kiss, sweeping his mouth with his tongue, tracing his lips, then angling Harry's
head slightly forward to plant a kiss on his forehead.

They'd just stepped away from each other when Lynn returned, with a brief rap on the
door before she entered. She took one look at the two of them standing there, then broke
into a smile as her eyes sparkled. "Excellent," was all she had to say.

They talked a while longer, then Lynn dismissed Harry off to bed. "It's almost eight-
thirty, and I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning. We've still plenty to
do, if I'm going to have you out by Friday," she admonished him when he protested.

Severus remembered his parcel then, so slid it across the table. "Something for you to
occupy your mind," he murmured, suddenly unsure of its reception.

Harry feigned doubt as he slid it the rest of the way toward him, then lifted just the edge
of the bag to peer inside. His eyes lit up as he saw what lay within, then without
warning, he seemed distressed for the first time that evening, as his eyes filled suddenly
with tears. When he saw Severus' reaction, though, he held up a hand and shook his
head. "No, no, Severus, don't…I…it's just…I know what you had to do to get this." He
pulled out the package of origami paper for Lynn to see. "There's a story behind this, I'm
sure," he teased, as he brushed at an eye with his hand.

Severus was satisfied then that his instincts had been correct. "Ah, but not one I'm
telling," he told him with a gratified smile.

***

Lynn cocked her head at him in question. "Did you notice, Severus, when he was talking
about Graham?"

She was sharp, he had to give her that. "Yes, he seemed…stuck by something."

"And you've no idea what?"

He thought for a moment. It was something to do with Graham, but what, was the
question. They'd done what Graham wanted, hadn't they, provided him with a dignified
and peaceful passing from this life to whatever lay beyond?
And then it struck him—he'd told Harry that it'd been peaceful, but Harry had not
witnessed it at all . He'd had to take Severus' word on it, but perhaps that had not been
enough. His head fell forward on his chest as he closed his eyes and thought of how
simply this could all be remedied, but it would depend on Lynn's cooperation, so….

"I do have an idea of what it might be," he told her soberly, then cautiously added, "I
believe I may be able to address what remains, but you have to take me at my word
when I say that this must be between just Harry and myself, not even you can know. Do
you trust me with him? It's a great deal to ask, considering all that you've done thus far."
He sat still, watching as the wheels turned in her head, then saw something in her eyes,
which made him believe that she'd perhaps partially guessed what was afoot.

She stared at him, her face slightly shocked, then nodded, "You'll need to come again,
then, on Wednesday. I'll not tell him, though, as I don't want him distracted by what we
still have to do between now and then."

He stood and shook her outstretched hand. "Wednesday it is. Just he and I, then, in this
room," he hesitated, then said, "And I'll need a Pensieve."

***

There had been little that Severus could do to prepare for Wednesday. After all, it was
all there, tucked away in his head. No, the only unknown here would be Harry's reaction
to what he'd see, and Severus was hopeful that this would be relief, delayed but finally
bestowed.

He sat in the small office, the Pensieve in place on the table before him, waiting while
the Healer went to collect Harry from his room. She'd told Severus that the last two days
had been productive ones, spent talking with Harry about what he wanted to do once he
was released, how he would cope with guilt when it was certain to recur. Severus had
been correct—his appetite had improved, and now the strength of the Sleeping Draught
was being reduced. Everything was in readiness for him to be delivered into Severus'
care and keeping at the end of the week.

He turned when he heard the door open, watching as Lynn entered first, with Harry in
her wake. He stood and took in Harry's astonishment at seeing him, pleased when his
expression quickly changed from surprise to almost glee.

"Severus! I didn't know…" He stopped, looking at Lynn. "Did you know that he'd be
here?" When she nodded and gestured him towards the chair beside Severus, his face
was puzzled, but he did as he'd been told, lightly squeezing Severus' shoulder as he sat.

"Harry, there's something that Severus and I feel you should see. He's not told me what it
is, and has asked that it be kept between the two of you. I'm inclined to trust him on this,
so do you have any objections to what he'd like to do?" she asked, already at the door, a
stack of files tucked in at her waist.
"No, not at all," Harry said slowly, then turned to Severus with a question in his eyes.

"Wonderful," she said as she opened the door, then paused to direct the question at
Severus. "How long will you need?"

Severus rubbed his chin, then said, "An hour should do it."

He felt Harry's arm around his neck, pulling him close the moment the door snicked
shut. Severus shifted slightly in his seat, but before he could fully turn, Harry had caught
him by the chin, and soundly but thoroughly kissed him. For a moment, they seemed
suspended, hovering in the space that separated their chairs, connected only by this
intimate press of lips and insistent quest of tongues.

Harry was the first to pull away, breathless. "God, I've missed you…"

Severus straightened and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Hmm, the house is different
without you there," he murmured as he took in the look on Harry's face, cheeks aflame,
green eyes bright with lust.

This earned him a soft laugh. "Ha, then you miss me too."

Severus only smiled in reply, then gestured at the Pensieve. "We should take a look at
this." Before Harry could ask, he told him, "I intended for you to see this someday, but
after listening to you on Monday, I think it's time." He pushed back his chair, motioning
for Harry to do the same. "Remember when you asked how Graham was that day?"
When Harry nodded, he said, "I was completely sincere and truthful with you then, but
the way you spoke of his death made me think that this might settle your questions once
and for all."

Harry hesitated long enough that Severus knew what he needed to add. "Not the…end,
of course. It's not necessary for you to—"

"No, no, Severus, I…" Harry stopped him, his hand on Severus' arm. "Wait." He was
looking tentatively at him, seeming to struggle with his next words. "It's not what you
think, really, it's just…" He chewed at his lower lip. "I did believe what you told me. The
thing that's bothered me isn't what Graham was like, even though I'm curious about that.
It's just that…" He flushed at his inability to make himself clear, then suddenly blurted
out, "It's what I made you have to do." He looked away, then added softly, "You had to
kill a man because I was falling apart. That's what bothers me," he finished quietly.
Severus' eyes widened at his words.

"Harry, I've made my peace with it, so should you," he told him gently.

The eyes found him again, then Harry calmly asked, "All right, but if we're looking at
this, then that's what I need to see, if you show me anything. That part especially," he
firmly insisted.
Severus looked at him doubtfully for a moment, then seeing the determination in his
face, gave in with a grave nod. "As you wish."

Closing his eyes, Severus touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew the
silvery strand, then flicked his wrist over the Pensieve. They both stood, side by side,
watching as it drifted downward, then just as it cleared the edges of the wide-brimmed
basin, Severus stirred the smoky surface.

"Ready?" he asked, as he linked his arm through Harry's.

"Yeah, let's go." Then leant in together, then were caught up in the free-fall of the
memory.

Graham rolled his head on the pillow to look at Severus. "Well, he knows."

Severus inclined his head. "Yes, he does. I'm rather surprised he didn't resist a bit
more," he admitted.

The man laughed softly. "Maybe this way it won't be as bad for you. That he knew…and
left anyway. But you saw him…he wasn't doing so well."

"No, I think you're right," Severus said as he nodded.

"So, we have a half-hour tops…"

"Just about. Unfortunately, since there's been a change of plans, there's one more potion
you'll have to stomach." When Graham looked puzzled, Severus reached into his trouser
pocket to withdraw the small phial. "It's concentrated dittany. You'll need to have it to
cover the tracks of the aconite in your system. Harry said your Muggle authorities are
quite adept at tracing things like that, so…" He unstopped the bottle, then asked him,
"Will you be able to keep it down?"

Graham reached over and took it from him. "Sure. I told a bit of a white lie, you know,
to get him out of here." He downed the phial, much as he had the first one, then tossed it
back to Severus. "We have some time, don't we? There are some things I'd like to talk to
you about…questions I'd like to ask. So how much time…?"

Severus sat forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.
"What we're going to do will take seconds. So, we have about twenty-five minutes to talk,
if you like." He paused as he thought of something. "Do you really think he'll go for the
ginger beer?" he asked, curious.

Graham smiled as he shook his head. "Nah, he's probably in one of the greenhouses. But
I know Harry. He'll be checking his watch."

Severus reached back and grabbed the arms of his chair, then lifted slightly to drag it
closer to the bed. "So, what would you like know?
Graham cocked his head. "How do you do it, this curse thing? I mean, not actually how ,
but what do you have to do, you know, to be able to do…kill someone? What do you
have to think about?" When Severus hesitated, Graham added hastily, "See, I don't want
you to lose any sleep over this, because you're really doing me a big favor here."

Severus regarded him soberly, then said, "I've already had my sleepless night, Graham,
and perhaps will have another one. No matter, as I've made my peace with it—as you
said, I'm only entering into this at your request." He paused, then added delicately, "As
for how a person readies himself, you understand that in most cases there's little
premeditation, unlike these circumstances, where I've had the luxury to prepare."

"So, how'd you do that," Graham asked curiously.

Severus' lips became a grim line. "I sat and considered the alternative, a little of what
we both just witnessed in Harry. I summoned all my memories of his distressing past, of
his anguish, of the guilt with which he wrestles, and I mixed all of that with my intense
desire to protect him from adding anything further, to spare him a new guilt, not a new
emotion for me, you understand, given our past. I distilled all of that to a nexus deep
inside of me, and it's that , Graham, which will be my focus when I cast the Killing
Curse. For many, the focus they draw upon is fear, or rage, even hatred, but in this
case…it will be something much more paradoxical, almost positive, strangely
enough...protectiveness." He sat still and watched as Graham thought about this.

"That makes sense," was all he said, his voice tinged with awe. "I feel all right with
asking you, now that I know what's behind it and all. And I'd do anything to keep Harry
from being hurt."

They sat in silence for a moment, then Graham, who had closed his eyes, opened them
suddenly. "God, don't let me drift off like that! How much time?" he asked anxiously.

Severus glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes to go."

Graham sighed with relief. "Good, next up," he laughed nervously. "You and Harry…."

Severus gave him a wary glance. "Harry and I…what?" He feigned innocence.

"Aw, c'mon, Severus, I'm about to die, and I deserve some answers. I'm a gay man,
remember, and I read Harry fairly well. I can tell that something's up. So…." When
Severus only gave him an enigmatic smile, he swore softly, then said, "The two of you
are fucking, aren't you?"

Severus sat upright in shock, then at the gleeful look on Graham's face, he gave the man
a withering look, then admitted, "Only once…so far."

Graham laughed as he sank back against the pillows. "Well, thank God for that—I can
die happy now." He grinned at the bemusement on Severus' face. "It's important to me—
not much I can do for him, so it means a great deal to know that he's got someone."
Severus said cautiously, "We're only just getting reacquainted; it's been years since
we—"

He was interrupted by the man's snort. "Reacquainted, huh? You let everyone fuck you
in the 'reacquainting' stage?"

"For your information, I did the fucking" he said dryly, then smiled when the man
guffawed.

"That's a novelty—Harry being the bottom for once." His eyes widened at the look on
Severus' face. "Oh ho, I wish I could hang around to see how this turns out."

Severus watched him, only mildly distressed, glad for these last moments of mirth, but
then, Graham's eyes became weary and serious all at once.

"That can't be all there is. You have to take care of him. Promise me," he said quietly,
watching Severus intently.

Severus shook his head. "I can't promise any such thing. He's a man, as you pointed out,
who will make his own choices, as will I."

"But you care about him, don't you?"

Severus thought for a moment, then admitted the obvious, "Yes, I do, but as for where it
will end up…."

"He loves you, Severus, I'm sure of it," Graham said gently, his blue eyes shimmering.
"And I'm no genie with a crystal ball…ha! Get it? Genie with a crystal ball…never mind,
but what I'm saying is, I think you might love him, only you just don't know it. You show
all the signs," he finished, his voice faint from effort.

Severus stared at him, disconcerted, but when he opened his mouth to reply, thought
better of what he was about to say. He studied the man, lying gray upon the pillows, then
his face softened as he said, "I've never loved anyone, save my mother, and even that
was complicated. I'm not too certain I'm even capable of such a thing."

Graham searched his face, then smiled knowingly, "But I think you do, so that answers
the second part, of whether you're able, no matter what you say. I'm satisfied," he
finished, then closed his eyes again. Severus glanced at his watch again, then was
startled when Graham said, "Promise me…you'll take care of him, Severus."

He didn't hesitate this time. "I promise."

Graham smiled as he opened his eyes. "Good, love'll come with the caring, if it's not
already there, but I think it is…." He seemed to refocus on the present moment. "What
time?"
Severus didn't need to look. He stood and pushed his chair aside, then bent down and
kissed Graham gently on the lips. "It's time. No regrets?"

Graham took a shaky breath and smiled up at him. "No, none at all. I'm ready."

Severus moved to stand at the foot of the bed. They considered each other for a moment
more, then Severus instructed softly and firmly," Close your eyes, Graham."

When he saw that the man had obeyed, he closed his own eyes briefly to still the
pounding of his heart, then opened them again to focus on the figure before him. Raising
his wand, he gave it one gentle flick forward.

"Avada Kedavra," he murmured. There was an instantaneous flash of brilliant green,

which faded just as suddenly, then Severus lowered his wand to his side, studying the
frail and peaceful form in front of him. Only the stillness of his chest bore witness to
what had just happened.

Severus pocketed his wand, with only a slight tremor in his hand. He moved to the side
of the bed, rearranged the coverlet, plumped the pillows behind the head, then ended by
posing Graham's hands naturally at his waist. He straightened and stared down,
considering the shell of what had only just moments before been pure and sweet
consciousness.

"I promise," he whispered, then turned and made his way to window seat.

Harry sat in Severus' lap, facing forward, his legs straddling Severus in the chair. He
wept softly, but not bitterly, his head on Severus' shoulder, the only other sound Severus'
murmured words of comfort. When he finally quieted, Severus made the observation.

"Mothers have the greatest privilege in creation, Harry. They're there when a soul comes
into the world, but in this case, it was I who was privileged…I was there when that kind-
hearted soul slipped out of it, and I have not a single regret, and neither should you," he
said as he pulled back, nudging the head off his shoulder so he could look him in the
face. "Are you convinced now? As neither of us suffered, then neither should you, all
right?"

Harry's eyes were red-rimmed, but at last, serene and satisfied. "All right."

***

Flowers/Part One

"You're certain?" Severus asked him.

Harry was quick to reassure him, "Yes, I am. We never really discussed my living there.
It just sort of happened, didn't it? And it was good for me, but not really fair to you. You
have your business to run, your work to do, so it's not right for me to be underfoot all the
time, distracting you." He smirked as he shot a look at Lynn. "I'll come in the evenings
for that, if you like. For distracting you, I mean?"

Severus glowered at him. "Oh, by all means, why don't you just come out and say it,
then?"

Harry gave him a mischievous grin. "Sure. I'll come down in the evenings so we can
fuck. How's that?"

"Typical," Severus murmured as he leant in and covered his forehead with a hand.

The Healer laughed out loud. "Sex is healthy, Severus. It goes a long way to mend the
spirit, so you have my whole-hearted approval, not that the two of you need any
encouragement."

Severus pulled his hand away, then a slow smile spread across his face as he scrutinized
her. "This is another of your areas of expertise, I take it?"

When she flushed a pretty pink and ducked her head, both Severus and Harry took their
turns to sit back and laugh.

***

They were sitting across the table from one another, having just finished a hastily
cobbled together lunch. The few belongings that Harry had accumulated there had
already been gathered and were waiting just inside the doorway.

"Severus," Harry began tentatively, eyeing Severus as he stirred his tea, "listen, I know
what you'll say, but I need to pop over to Cheshire for a few things." He held up his hand
to stop Severus' objection. "I know, it's not a great idea, but I need my clothes, and
there're some books and stuff I want. I was wondering if you have time to go with me?
I'll just be in and out, promise." The tea was forgotten as he watched Severus' face.

"Certainly I'll go, but I'm not sure that you should. Seeing the greenhouses may not
be…perhaps if you tell me what you need?"

Harry stared at him. "You've been there, haven't you?" he asked, shocked, and then
Severus realized that they'd not really touched on this before.

Ah, well, no time like the present. "That first day, Monday last," he mused, then frowned
at Harry as he said, "I was on the verge of going several times on Sunday when you were
late. But after what Whitney told me, well, I just had to go and see for myself, for some
reason." His face cleared as he asked again, "Are you positive you're prepared to see it
so soon?"

He was startled when Harry shrugged and met his eyes, as he echoed Severus' own
thoughts, "No time like the present; best to get it over with and move on."
***

They were inside the house, admirably having made their way through the gate to the
front door without Harry casting even one stray glance to either side. They'd climbed the
steps to the upper floor, then set to work, Severus packing what Harry threw to the bed
from his wardrobe and drawers.

Severus was levitating a box marked "Harry/winter clothes" along the hallway, and was
just about to send it down the stairway, when the silence from the room where Harry was
packing made him pause. Lowering the box to rest by the newel post, he retraced his
steps, already certain of what he'd find.

He walked to the window to stand beside him, then placed his hand on the middle of
Harry's back. The two of them looked down on the less battered of the two greenhouses,
now completely barren of its paning, thanks to Severus' salvage operation. Neither of
them spoke for a moment, then Harry craned his neck to see further to the side.

"Will you look at that? The hothouse…it's not damaged at all," he said disbelievingly.
He gave Severus a sad smile. "Lot of good that is, though. Two weeks…everything's
dead. Probably a good thing…I don't have the energy for it anyway." And with that
pronouncement, Severus decided to hold his tongue on the matter for the moment. Harry
stepped away from the window, then sank down onto the bed. "Wow, I can see why the
Brants called the police—must've made a hell of a ruckus," he said quietly as he studied
his hands, but when he looked up at Severus, his eyes were remarkably calm. It was this
composure that spurred Severus to ask the question.

He stood just in front of him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not much to tell. I don't remember most of it," Harry said frankly.

Severus sat beside him. "What started it?"

"Hmm, I was in the other greenhouse," he paused as he thought. "Yeah, the other one.
There was a celosia I wanted to bring, but I fumbled and dropped it. Smashed the pot to
smithereens. I'd bent down to pick it up, then when I stood, I knocked my head on the
stand—sent the whole lot down. I just stood there, looking at the mess, thinking how
long it'd take to repot them all, when I just…snapped. I cleared the whole table
then…just walked along it with my arm out…I remember how that sounded, each pot as
it hit the floor. Then I took my wand out and started blasting away…." He turned
sideways on the bed to look at Severus. "The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the
floor—the other greenhouse, I think—and there were people there then, pulling me up,
asking me questions, and a stretcher. All that's sort of muddled, though." When he began
to tug at his lower lip, Severus reached over and pulled his hand away and held it.

"I regret that I wasn't here," he murmured in apology.

Harry squeezed his hand, then said, "Maybe it's a good thing you weren't. Look at where
I've ended up, you know, all the good things that've been sorted out in my head." He
smiled at Severus now, who wasn't entirely sure that he would've chosen this particular
way to have Harry's head sorted out.

They were just about ready to shrink their cargo, when Harry managed to stun Severus
with the suggestion.

"The telly?" Severus asked doubtfully. "Whatever for? How would you even begin to get
it to work?"

Harry grinned. "Trust me." Severus watched in mute astonishment as Harry miniaturized
it, then proceeded to pack small boxes from the stand where it had stood. When he was
finally finished, he gave Severus a satisfied look. "Believe me, you're going to be glad
some day."

Severus, still slightly bemused, commented dryly, "Promises, promises."

***

Severus sat in the sitting room, listening to the indecipherable words from the kitchen,
Harry's having listened to his 'messages' and Chloe's repeated and increasingly frantic
pleas for Harry to contact her, making him insist firmly that he had to let her know that
he was all right.

Severus considered how changed the interior of the house was now; he remembered the
first time he'd come, when he and Graham had spent that pleasurable hour
together. Perhaps Harry is correct; the telly might not be a bad thing if he were able to
conjure it into working . He remembered the day when he'd watched Graham and Harry
at their poker game; he pictured Graham's last day in the house, his final hour of life; he
heard the sound of Harry's voice as he lauded the inestimable Mr. Darcy; he felt the
weight of the child against his chest, the comforting creak and sway of the swing; he saw
the beauty and glory of the back garden in the five o'clock sun; he smelled the scented
mélange of blossoms wafting up at dusk.

A house could almost be a living, breathing organism, he realized. So much invested in

it to make it grow, so many hours spent to give it character and personality, so many
years experiencing it as a member of the family, in fact. And for the first time, Severus
contemplated the possibility that Harry's decision to sell might be a good one.

He'd had a life here, built a relationship with someone he'd loved, then had watched it
fall apart. He'd experienced devotion to his work as well, a passion for his day-to-day
livelihood that few people were ever fortunate enough to find, and he'd destroyed it with
his very own hands. Severus soberly came to the conclusion that Harry's first inclination
to sell might be the best one, all things considered.
A voice at his elbow startled him. "All set? You weren't dozing off, were you?"

Severus looked up in surprise at the tease in Harry's voice, then felt a surge of relief at
the steadiness in the clear green eyes. He'd had serious misgivings over what a visit to
Cheshire might evoke in Harry, but his manner was devoid of any distress, his demeanor
reminiscent of the man he'd so casually greeted on that day in July, when the notion of
the summer's tragedy would've been unimaginable, the fact of their present relationship
almost laughable. Yet, here they were….

Severus smiled as he shook his head. "No, eyes wide open."

***

The wards had been set to recognize Harry months ago, but nonetheless, Severus
awakened well past midnight, aware that he was somewhere on the property. He found
him sitting on the porch railing, facing out towards the barren garden, and for a moment
he stood silently behind him, studying his dark silhouette, before stepping forward to rest
his hand on a shoulder. Harry didn't turn, but reached up a hand to place atop Severus'.

"Sorry it's so late," Harry told him. "I fell asleep too early, and well, now I'm up."

Severus brushed Harry's hair away from his neck, then leant down to bury his face in the
crook of it, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Harry. "So am I," he murmured as he
exerted a gentle pressure with his tongue, so that Harry let out a low moan as he rolled
his head to the side, giving Severus better access to this hidden pleasure point, one that
Severus had been delighted to discover.

He moved his hands across the front of Harry's chest, but when he felt him relax back
against him, he placed them firmly on Harry's shoulders as he said at his ear, "Come to
bed now."

Harry stood beside the bed and let Severus undress him, but once under the coverlet, he
surprised Severus by pushing him onto his back, then began an almost leisurely
exploration of Severus neck with his mouth, tonguing him languidly, inching down his
chest and belly. There was a deliberate slowness to it, Harry taking his time, returning to
skin already awakened by his hands and mouth over and over, building a smoldering fire
in Severus, which soon had him writhing on the bed under Harry.

When he finally felt his cock surrounded by the teasing, wet warmth of him, he arched
upward with a grunt of satisfaction, his hands twisting in Harry's hair as the mouth
moved on and off him. But even here, Harry seemed determined to make this last as long
as was within his power, slowing when he sensed Severus was close, then picking up the
pace when he sensed him regaining any semblance of control.

It was ecstasy, it was torture, and Severus was content to lie back and simply endure the
peaks and valleys, gasping through the spikes of hot sensation, listening to the sound of
his own heartbeat in his ears as it gently receded. Time and again, he weathered it, Harry
relentless and tireless. But at last, his need for orgasm made him do what Harry had
months ago predicted he'd do: he begged.

"Potter," he ground out between his teeth, "finish it." He almost wailed in
disappointment when he felt Harry release him.

"You always do that, call me 'Potter' in bed, when you really want me to do something,"
Harry laughed softly.

Severus groaned and tried to cant his hips upward, but Harry held him firmly to the bed.
" Harry , would you please just shut up and suck? Please?" he growled low, from the
back of his throat.

Harry laughed again and quickly complied, and within four intensely applied deep
throatings, Severus was holding Harry's face to him, emptying himself upward into the
mouth that still held him fast.

He lay back on the bed, still breathing heavily, his loins bathed with a warm, not
unpleasant aching, when Harry decided that he'd had enough time to recover.

And this time, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to obey when Harry told
him huskily from beside him, "Roll over." He really didn't stop to think at all, just made
a move to his side, then understood Harry's urgency when he felt himself pushed none
too gently the rest of the way over. He felt Harry nudge his legs apart with a thigh, then
tuck himself in close behind him, the heat and hardness of his cock already pushing
insistently at his crack.

He felt the hand slide in between his cheeks, slick with lube, then groaned when they
slipped inside him, lingering only moments to briefly stretch him. Then Harry's arm was
across his chest, pulling up, as he used the other to slide himself home, penetrating
Severus in one smooth upward thrust. He couldn't help but cry out at the suddenness of
it, but not with pain, but more with the startling fullness of it. Severus would find that,
now that Harry was where he wanted to be, he would take just as much time to tease and
frustrate himself, as he had just done with Severus moments before.

There was a gentleness to it, a sweetness, although Severus wasn't very well acquainted
with the word, but it came to mind through the haze of sensation and motion, as Harry
moved in and out of him, stroking upward, pulling backward, his bottom arm crooked
under Severus, the fingers splayed across his chest, his upper hand resting lightly on
Severus' hip.

Harry was deliberately holding back, Severus could tell, and although another time he
might've been tempted to push back and pick the pace up, he read in Harry's restraint the
desire to do something other than just fuck to a climax. So Severus threw his own head
back and gave himself over to the considerable pleasure of it. It was something that he
honestly could say he'd never before experienced, this slow measured dance, this
coupling of slick bodies completely attuned to each other, with absolutely no thought,
for the moment, of the finish line.

When Harry finally came, there was little warning, almost as if what he'd sought for had
been found, and this last brief surge of warmth coating Severus' insides was just the seal
of it. Harry held on a little more tightly, and shuddered, more than pulsed, through it, the
only sound he made, a low, sighing, "Severus." He kept his arms wrapped around
Severus, and didn't pull out until he was completely soft, and even then still did not pull
away, only nudged his leg back between Severus'.

Severus could feel Harry's breath at his ear as he softly murmured, "Did you like it?"

"Mmmm," was the only sound Severus made as he relaxed into the warmth behind him.

There was nothing more until a moment later, when Harry said sleepily behind him,
"There's fucking, and then there's lovemaking. That was making love, Severus."

Severus lay awake long after Harry had fallen asleep, pondering those words, making
love. It had been different from their usually frenetic rutting, he had to admit, then
thought, just as he was about to fall off to sleep, that variety was the spice of many
things, sex included. They both slept soundly through the night, neither of them
awakening until well past sunrise.

***

The routine they settled into now was different than that of September and most of
October. Harry had a stable residence now, with tasks to keep him occupied during the
day, and Severus certainly had his hands full, with his mornings spent brewing, and his
afternoons tending Harry's still secretly held orchids.

In the evenings, more often than not, Harry would put in an appearance, sometimes to
share a meal, but just as often to spend the later hours in front of the fire, playing chess
together, or reading on their own. Sometimes he didn't come at all, and Severus would
walk through the silent and darkened house when it was time for bed, not disappointed,
but experiencing a vague notion of incompleteness.

On occasion, he'd come in the night, and it was those times when Severus would feel
most vulnerable. By the time he fell off to sleep, he would have made his peace with the
fact that this would be a Harry-less night. So, awakening to find he'd been wrong, his
inner defenses still dulled by sleep, he'd be suddenly overtaken by unexpected relief and
satisfaction, that Harry was there and slipping into bed beside him.

On those nights, sometimes all they did was sleep, each comforted by the warmth and
closeness of the other. Sometimes there was fucking, sometimes there was what Harry
had called 'making love,' but not a day passed, now, when they did not see each other,
whether that coming together was planned or spontaneous.

Yet it wasn't until mid November that Severus was faced with the reality that this Harry
who regularly shared his bed was fundamentally changed from the Harry he'd always
known. He'd caught glimpses of it ever since that very first day he returned from St.
Mungo's: a detachment in his manner when Severus tried to draw him into 'flower talk';
the slight hesitation in his eyes before he smiled when Severus would catch him
watching him in the evenings; a lack of animation in his voice when they talked about
something Harry was usually passionate about; a failure to tease and cajole when the
opportunity presented itself. But still, he seemed happy enough, although the spark of
what was quintessentially Harry seemed to be missing, on occasion. Severus was hard
pressed to put his finger on what this was, until that Saturday when Harry found Severus'
orchid book on the shelf.

"Arditti's 'Orchard Biology'? I didn't know you had this. Severus?" Harry turned to him,
book in hand, shooting him a puzzled look.

Severus set his cup down. Ah, well…. "A recent acquisition," he told him truthfully.

A smile played across Harry's face. "Hmm, not your usual amateur book. Don't tell me—
I've inspired you to dabble with them?" he asked as he leafed through the pages, his eyes
suddenly widening when he caught sight of Severus' notations in the margins. "Hey,
you're really getting into this, aren't you?" He paused as he stopped to read one of the
more lengthy passages, then looked up at him again. "Vitamin requirements?"

"That, among other things," Severus told him as he stood to his feet. "You may as well
see it, then," he said as he tossed Harry his jumper from the back of the chair.

He ignored Harry's, "See what?" as he led him out of the house and around the side to
the greenhouse. The large glass structure jutted into the garden, obscuring the view of
the attached hothouse off the rear of it.

He motioned with his hand when Harry trailed behind him. "In through here," he said as
he held the door open. They stepped inside and paused for a moment.

"Not warm enough—" Harry began, but stopped when Severus waved him along one of
the aisles to the side. They walked, single file, through the narrow connector, then
Severus opened the insulated door at the end of it. He stood to the side and waited while
Harry entered, then stepped in behind him and quickly closed the door.

He watched as Harry took it all in, the neat tables arrayed with vivid, respiring life, the
air thick with the scent of botanical exotica. A look of wonder spread over Harry's face
as he stood, rooted to the spot, then exhaled loudly as he moved to a flat of multiple-
flowered blooms, their delicate, rich burgundy petals dipped in the palest of pinks.
"Cambria," he breathed out, almost worshipful. "I was working on something like this
before…" he didn't finish, but glanced up in confusion, then took his time to gaze around
him, finally moving to walk from table to table. When he reached the far end of the
hothouse, he bent in to examine the last specimen, then slowly turned to stand facing
Severus, and Severus knew then that at least the first part of his explanation would be
unnecessary.

Their eyes met and held. "How…why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked softly as he
started back down the aisle toward him. He glanced to the side, and seemed not to be
able to stop himself, pausing to lean down to examine another flat. When he
straightened, Severus was beside him. "I can't begin to imagine how you moved them,
and all the work you've put in since…." Severus knew Harry well enough to know what
was making his eyes bright.

"You saw the hothouse was intact. I would've told you then and there, but remember
what you said…that it was probably for the best. So, I decided to wait until the time was
right," Severus told him, trying to understand the misery in Harry's eyes.

Harry smiled at him. "Well, you've done very well for yourself then, considering no
experience and only a book to go by. A good one, though," he added thoughtfully. "I'm
glad you did—it would've been a shame to lose them that way—abandoned and
neglected." He looked away, and for the first time Severus noticed that he'd lost the color
in his face, strangely, given the temperature in the conservatory. Then with his next
words, Severus knew that he'd been terribly misunderstood.

"I'll give you the names of my contacts—I'm sure they'll want to stay on with you,
especially when they see what you've done," Harry finished wistfully, still unable to
keep from looking around him at the healthy, thriving plants.

"I'm not at all interested in selling them," Severus told him hesitantly, then when Harry
looked at him, drawn by the intensity in his voice, he added, "My only intention was to
keep them safe, and try not to damage them until they could be returned to your care."

"Ah, I see." Harry's voice held a tinge of amazement as he studied Severus' face, then his
jaw tightened as his eyes clouded over. "You've done so much work here, I can tell. And
really, Severus…." He took a breath as if to summon his courage. "Well, they're all
yours now. I think I'm out of the flower trade, possibly for good, I don't know.
Something I haven't worked out yet," he muttered as he dropped his eyes.

To cover his consternation, Severus took his time to lean back against the opposite table
and cross his arms in front of him. "I can see now why you might want to sell the house,
but this is entirely different. This is your life's work . Your passion. You cannot so easily
turn your back on it, Harry, they're your children, in a sense," he told him forcefully.

Harry's only answer was a small shrug and a few emotionless words. But Severus gave
him credit for looking up at him as he said, "Not anymore. It's great what you've done,
but it's up to you now. Keep on with it or sell them off, I'd given them up for dead weeks
ago." And with one last look around him and a brush of his hand to Severus' face, he
passed him by and let himself quietly out of the enclosure.

***

Flowers/Part Two

There were moments, though, of familiar levity mixed into the lump of this changed
personality. Severus was intrigued when Harry invited him to spend the next Saturday
evening at the estate, telling him that he had something he wanted him to see, but
whatever it turned out to be, Severus was certain that it would be worthwhile, given the
mischievous glint in Harry's eyes.

Severus stood in the spacious and airy sitting room at the estate, eyes doubtful as he
examined the eyesore, then stepped closer to examine the contraption. "You did it
then—found a way to make it work?" He recognized the telly, but had no idea what else
was entailed, eyeing the black cords, which snaked out from behind it, connecting it to a
suspicious-looking box beside it.

Harry lovingly patted the latter item. "Not going to tell you what it cost, but hey, I have
the money, so why not?" He gave Severus an impish smile. "Besides, it'll only work for
watching discs and tapes, no possibility of picking up a signal with it." When Severus
still looked at him blankly, Harry gave an exaggerated sigh. "It's a Power Pac. A long-
life, heavy-duty battery. A way to give the set power to run, for about sixteen hours, to
be exact, then it'll need to be recharged." He grinned now, giving Severus a playful
shove towards the settee. "Come on, you're going to love it. I have a film all picked out
for us."

Severus slumped back into the cushions as he watched Harry fiddle with the telly. "Pity
it's not the crabber one," he murmured.

Harry swiveled to look at him in surprise, suppressing a snicker. "Well, will wonders
never cease? I do believe you've just admitted liking a telly programme," he teased.
"And actually, I think that could be arranged, so don't get your boxers in a twist. I have
my sources, you know," he said cryptically as he joined Severus on the settee.

"Ready?" he asked almost gleefully as he pointed the remote.

"Would it stop you if I said no?" he grumbled, as Harry poked him playfully in the ribs.

***

Severus found himself entranced, increasingly annoyed with Harry's running

commentary on the film, which he finally silenced by reaching over to clap a hand over
his mouth in frustration. There'd been one brief break in the viewing, and Severus had
sat, impatiently drumming his fingers on the armrest, while Harry followed the
instructions of "Change to Disc Two."

Hours later, as the final credits rolled upwards, Severus leant down and murmured into
the ear of the head in his lap, "Harry, it's finished." He shifted his legs and stretched
them out as Harry sat up groggily and rubbed at his eyes.

"So, did you fall asleep too?" Harry asked him as he yawned, then stood to turn off the
television.

Severus snorted in disbelief, "Not likely, and I can't believe you did." He watched as
Harry refilled their brandy snifters, then turned back to him with a smile.

"So, what did you think?" he asked curiously.

Severus looked at him through the glass as he drank, then pronounced, "I can see the
appeal of the film version—it certainly put flesh on the spirit of the era; however," he
paused as fingered his lower lip with a thumb, "I think the characters lose a great deal of
their depth in such a telling—Elizabeth's intelligence, Jane's sensitivity, even Mr.
Darcy's inner dilemmas. The film only scratches the surface of how these characters are
drawn out in the novel itself. A shame, but I suppose this is the way with films."

Harry gaped at him. "You've actually read 'Pride and Prejudice'?"

Severus gave him a withering look as he sat back, secretly amused. "As you said, what
gay man hasn't? Of course I've read it," he confirmed.

Harry was looking at him doubtfully. "I've never seen it on your shelves." He smiled
slowly. "Unless you've hidden poor Jane in the back somewhere?"

"I don't own it. And I'll have you know I've read all of Austen's works. While I was at
Hogwarts," he confided. Then at the look of incredulity on Harry's face, he gave in and
said, "Albus had them. He was the one who encouraged me to read them. Part of every
Death Eater spy's education, I assumed," he said sarcastically. When Harry laughed in
response, he asked, "So, this actor, he's a passable Mr. Darcy, in your opinion?"

Harry set his glass on the floor beside him, then moved down the settee, sliding his arm
along the top to end behind Severus' head. Leaning in, his eyes were those warm, green
pools that always made Severus' heart beat a little strangely. "I used to think so, until just
recently…" And just before he kissed him, he said breathily, close to Severus' cheek,
"…when I met the real Mr. Darcy."

They were both wide awake, shirts unbuttoned, when Harry pulled away to ask him, "It's
late—can you stay?"

Severus didn't have to even think to answer, "I can't leave," he growled as he pulled him
back roughly.
***

Later the next week, they were spending a quiet evening in front of Severus' fire, Harry
reading, while Severus chewed at a fingernail as he frowned in concentration, from time
to time scribbling on the parchment beside him.

"That can't be correct," he muttered under his breath as he made a scratch-out.

He flipped irritably from page to page, aware that Harry was watching him, amused.
"I've done this already," he huffed as he crossed through another line, then let out a sigh
of exasperation as a loose sheet slid to the floor.

Harry reached down to pick it up, then gave it a casual glance as he handed it over.
"Having trouble?" he asked, obviously curious by now.

"It's nothing. Just a slight nutritional problem," Severus murmured, as he resituated the
orchid text on his lap, then bent in over the parchment again.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then held out his hand. "May I?" When Severus looked
up, startled, Harry clarified, "See what you're working on?"

Severus pursed his lips, then gave in reluctantly. "Nitrate formula for the hybrid grafts.
What I have isn't working at all," he confessed as he handed the parchment over.

Harry studied the paper for a moment, flicking a finger against his lower lip, brows knit
together, until he looked up with a sly smile. "That won't work," he said, then when
Severus gave him a look of disgust, he laughed. "Here's what you need to do."

Capturing the quill from Severus' hand, he made another scratch-out, while shooting
Severus an intentional look of condescension, then easily scrawled a formula beside it,
not even needing to consult the dog-eared text.

Severus had leant over to watch him as he wrote, and before Harry had even finished, he
grumbled, "That can't be correct either. The text clearly states—"

"It's right, Severus," Harry insisted as he pushed the parchment under his nose.

"But it doesn't make sense, considering—"

Harry interrupted him again, "It may not make sense, but it's what works. Believe me,
I've done this dozens of times. Sod the bloody book," he told him sagely. He waited
patiently as Severus scrutinized his work once more. "You've seen my orchids, so…"

"Hmmm, there is that," Severus capitulated. "So, you lower the pH a bit, while at the
same time you…" he trailed off as he consulted the text once more, then looked up at
Harry to say, "All right, I've got nothing to lose, and you're the expert, after all."
Harry punched him lightly on the arm, then scoffed, "Took you long enough. You'll
see—it'll work." He gave him fond pat on the shoulder, then sat back to resume his
reading.

Severus didn't return to his problem right away, but sat, staring at Harry thoughtfully for
several moments, deep in introspection.

***

He supposed he should have thought his life had taken an odd turn, when he'd frittered
away that entire evening with Mr. Darcy et al. But as Severus made his way down Half
Moon Lane in London, he realized that his destination today represented an even
stranger one, an escapade innocently proposed by Harry the night before.

"I rang Chloe up while I was in town today," Harry told him.

Severus looked up from his potion, but continued stirring widdershins. "Oh?"

Harry leant against the sink to watch him, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Yeah, I
promised her I'd call once I was settled, let her know how things were going. She's doing
as well as can be expected, but Daphne's got her worried, so…." He stepped closer to the
cauldron to peer over the edge, then took a hasty step back as he made a face. "I'm going
in to London tomorrow afternoon—take her to the zoo for an hour, then hit this
children's book store I know." He hesitated, then asked, almost timidly, "Would you like
to come?"

Severus cast him a baleful look without a skip in his stirring. "Let me think, wild animals
and children…ah, no." He watched as Harry's face fell, then relented with a sigh. "The
zoo, no, the bookstore, yes."

Harry's face lightened. "Fantastic."

So here he was, making his way down Half Moon Lane, looking for, of all things, the
bright blue bookstore at number twenty-five, named Tales On Moon Lane. Does it get
any more precious than that, he'd thought the night before when Harry'd given him
directions to the shop.

He realized he shouldn't have worried about missing it, when he spotted the cheery
single storefront from a block away. Letting himself in, the door tinkling his arrival, he
was immediately charmed by the waxed hardwood floors, book shelves arranged at knee
height, and the happy occupation of children sitting, here and there, lost in reading or
poring over picture books.

A pretty, blond young woman smiled at him from the counter. "Looking for something
in particular?" she asked pleasantly.
He shook his head, then pointed at Harry, sitting near the back of the shop. "No, I've
found him." Stepping around two children lying prone, a colorful book between them, he
threaded his way between shelves and bright displays, then dropped into the chair beside
Harry. "You look done in," he addressed the slouching figure.

"Hmm, thank God for bookstores—I think the candy floss wound her up a bit, but she's
manageable now." He nodded toward the loft, where Severus could make out a petite
ponytailed figure leaning against a shelf, her legs crossed with a book in her lap.

"It's a marvelous place for children," Severus observed.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I found it a while ago, Christmas shopping." When Severus gave
him a quizzical look, he explained, "For Winnie—wizarding children miss out with the
books they get."

They sat for a while, contentedly watching parents and children perusing the
bookshelves, then Harry glanced at his watch and said, "Well, Chloe'll be here any
minute for dinner—you like Italian, don't you?" When Severus made a noncommittal
sound, Harry softly raised his voice and called, "Daphne?"

The child's head came up at her name, then, spotting Harry, she stood and made her way
down the stairs, the book tucked under her arm. Almost to the back of the shop, she
stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide in surprise when she saw Severus sitting there.

"You didn't tell her I'd be coming?" he asked, as he considered her hesitation.

"Hmm, yes I did," Harry replied.

Severus returned the child's sober look, then mumbled out of the side of his mouth to
Harry, "It seems she's afraid of me. You didn't tell her foolish stories about me being an
ogre, did you?"

Harry laughed. "Winnie told you?" He sat up straight and beckoned to the child, who
still held her ground, several meters away. "See, I told Winnie, knowing the minute she
heard the word 'ogre,' she'd be down the lane in a flash." He laughed again as he
remembered. "I think she was a bit disappointed you weren't."

Severus forgot Daphne for the time being and turned to him. "I've wondered about her
coming when she did. You'd been there half the summer, and I'd not seen hide nor hair
of her, and then one day, there she was."

"Well, I'd been thinking about walking down myself, but I figured I'd send the advance
guard to feel you out," he admitted, slightly embarrassed.

Severus gave Daphne an encouraging smile as he answered, "For shame, Harry, putting
an innocent child in harm's way as you did." He spoke gently to Daphne then, "Hello,
Daphne. Do you remember me? We swung on the swing together?"
The child toed at an imaginary spot on the floor, then looked suddenly up at him, her
eyes bright with decision. Bounding forward in three short skips, she pushed between his
knees as she climbed up, dragging the book up to poke it at his chest. "Read," she
commanded in her six-year old voice.

As Severus repositioned her on his lap to open the book, Harry gave a soft snort, "Oh
right, I can tell she's terrified." Eyeing the two of them, he added fondly, "Ogre."

***

They had a rather nice meal at the restaurant that Harry had chosen for the four of them,
and were now at dessert, some frozen Italian concoction with a name Severus could not
recall. He'd just put a forkful in his mouth, when his eye was caught by an elderly couple
at a nearby table, the two of them whispering and smiling as they looked towards their
table. He realized then what an attractive cameo Harry and Chloe made, with the
beautiful child chatting between them. He smiled around his mouthful, as he thought
how deceptive appearances could be. If they only knew, that Harry was really his ….

Severus sat bolt upright, stunned, almost choking on his dessert. When had he even
begun to think such a thing? It was ludicrous, he thought to himself, struggling to hide
his reaction to this disturbing realization. He saw that Harry was eyeing him with
concern, so he only gave an imperceptible shake of his head, but his heart skipped a beat
as his stomach churned.

He mechanically finished his plate, his mind still grappling with the unthinkable: as
outrageous a thought as it was, he did think of Harry as his. Solitary bachelor,
unattached middle-aged man, wizard of considerable power, master of his fate, lord of
his emotions, now held captive, for the first time in his life, by the green-eyed, winsome
wonder sitting across from him, blithely unaware of his status of being possessed by
anyone.

And it wasn't just a passing prurient attraction, Severus knew, without even having to
stop and think of it. It was something much, much more, something that resonated in his
very soul, and if he were honest, it had been there for a long while, long before their
trysting of the past summer.

He was abruptly brought back to the present by a flurry of activity, as the bill was
presented, and Severus realized that he'd not thought through to payment for his meal.

Harry gave him a sly look as he leant across and murmured in his ear, "This is on me,
but I'll take it out in trade later tonight." Severus was able to manage a sardonic smile in
return, his mind still boggled by that startling flash of self-knowledge.

"Harry, I almost forgot," Chloe said as she reached beneath the table for her bag. "I
stopped by the Education Office, and picked these up for you." She laid three, shiny
books on the table between them, then opened one as she explained, "This one has a very
well-respected biology programme, and the other two do as well. I checked with the
registrar, and she said there's still time, if you wanted to start after the hols."

Severus watched in astonishment as Harry picked one of them up, darting a glance in his
direction as he did. "Thanks. I'll look them over. I appreciate you going to the trouble—
like I said, I'm not entirely certain what I'll do." Then to cover the moment, he turned to
Daphne, and teased, "Had enough tiramisu, young lady? Any more and you'll pop your
buttons." He tugged on a ponytail, eliciting a giggle from the child.

As they said their goodbyes for the evening, the irony was not lost on Severus: just as
he'd harshly pushed Harry away years ago, when the young man had formed an
unrealistic attachment, now Severus was faced with the prospect of Harry's leaving, on
the very cusp of his own awareness that he desperately wanted him to stay.

***

Severus swore for the third time, when the grafted stem failed to stay in place. He'd been
at this for an hour that afternoon, and had very little to show for it. Arditti made it look
deceptively easy, he thought, but in actuality, he was developing an even greater
appreciation for Harry's skills, especially taking into account the hundreds of times he
must've completed this very task.

"Severus?" he heard from the greenhouse.

"In the bloody orchid room," he called back, gritting his teeth as he attempted to keep the
fragile stem in place. As deft as he was with his fingers, it slipped from the stalk, and he
cursed again. He stood and reached around to rub at his back, then bent in to begin
again, hearing the quiet click of the door, as Harry let himself in.

He didn't glance up but was aware that Harry was standing there watching him, as he
worked awkwardly, fumbling with the fragile filament used to secure the graft in place.
It was painstaking work, looping the tenuous thread around the stem and stalk. He was
just on the verge of asking Harry to please step out of his light, when a pair of hands
reached in and gently took hold of his.

"May I?" Harry asked softly.

Severus laid the grafting down, then stood and stepped aside. "By all means. I'm only
mucking it up," he complained.

Harry's mouth twitched as he stepped into Severus' place. "Well, there's a bit of trick I've
learned." Severus watched as he took a new plant and cutting. "See, the problem's in
how you make the cut on the stalk. You're cutting the whole slice off, when what you
really want to do is not cut all the way through. Leave it attached at the end, like so."

Severus watched as Harry cut a neat slice in the stalk, but left a connecting tab at the
bottom. "That's not in the book," he informed him archly.
Harry did smile this time. "No, it's not. But I learned from doing." Picking up the stem to
be grafted, he slid it in along the stalk, this time held in place by the uncut portion he'd
left at the bottom. "Filament," he directed Severus, who handed him the dampened
thread.

Severus observed how expertly Harry wrapped the fragile graft, fixing the stem snugly
to the stalk, noticing how Harry bit his lower lip as he concentrated, his hands steady, his
movements sure and practiced. When he was finally finished, he stood as he laid the new
hybrid aside, giving Severus a satisfied grin as his eyes shone with pleasure. "See, that
wasn't so hard," he teased.

"Hmmm, because you knew something I didn't," Severus said tersely as he examined
Harry's work.

Harry's voice was tentative as he asked, "Look, I have some time. Do you need some
help here? You look like you've quite a few yet to do," he said, almost a little too
casually.

"If you have time," Severus murmured, "I won't argue." He made room at the table for
the two of them, then found another cutting tool for Harry to use.

They worked side by side, talking flower talk as they worked for the next hour. Just as
they were about to finish up, Severus was struck by a sudden inspiration. "As long as
you're here, would you mind taking a look at this compost I've formulated. It's by
the book ," he couldn't help but sarcastically emphasize, "but there's something not right,
given the streaking in the leaves."

And so, the afternoon was wiled away, Severus hitting on problem after problem,
question after question, watching with fascination as Harry addressed all of them with an
easy knowledge and craftsmanship. He wasn't surprised that, by the end of it, Harry had
almost become the old Harry, laughing at Severus' mistakes and miscalculations, ably
solving each dilemma without a pinch of arrogance, exhibiting only a quiet confidence.

They were finishing up, Harry carefully seating the last of the new hybrids in its pot,
almost lovingly tamping the soil mixture they'd just formulated together in around the
fragile roots. The picture that he made, his face smudged with dirt, damp hair tucked
behind his ears, the way he moved as he cleared then cleaned the work table, gave
Severus pause as he stood there, leaning against the stack of crates, his arms crossed.

"You're not making sense," he softly said as Harry turned toward him, brushing dirt from
his hands.

Their eyes met, then Harry looked away as he untied his canvas apron. "What do you
mean?" His voice belied the question mark.
"You're so gifted at this, and it's clear you enjoy it. We've been at this over three hours,
at something that would've taken me days to do," Severus stressed. "So why? It's none of
my business what you choose to do, but I'd like to understand, Harry."

"I need a change," Harry said as he hung the apron over the edge of the crates where
Severus stood, then looked at him beseechingly. "And this is part of it."

Severus reached out and pulled Harry to him, inhaling the earthy scent of him. "I'd think
you would've had enough of that," he cautioned at his ear. "But remember what the
Healer said—you're not in this alone. If you don't want to talk to me about it, then at
least talk with Whitney."

Harry mumbled an, "I know," into his neck, as he relaxed against him. "Don't worry. I
won't go off half-cocked again," he promised. He gave Severus a doubtful look. "I didn't
know you liked Whitney."

"He's my new best friend," he told him with a rueful smile, thinking to himself that he'd
consider anyone with Harry's best interests at heart an ally.

Besides, your going off half-cocked isn't what I'm worrying about, Severus thought to
himself, but aloud he said, "If that was half-cocked, then I shudder to think what full-
cocked would be."

Harry laughed as he pulled away to look at him, then cast a furtive look around them.
"We better take this in the house, don't you think? Flowers are such innocents," he teased
as he pulled Severus toward the door.

***

They were spending that Sunday evening at Severus', as the telly battery had been
completely run down by their cinematic experience of the night before, Severus having
insisted on watching the entire, intriguing fantasy trilogy, which Harry had not intended
for them to view in a single night. But Severus had been unstoppable once they'd started,
and was now devouring the books from which the films had been made. Harry was
perusing the university catalogues that Chloe had given him, and the fact that he'd
brought them at all made Severus think that Harry would now broach the dreaded topic
with him.

Harry stood beside the sideboard as Severus decanted a Mersault Chardonnay for their
evening libation, when his attention was caught by the book lying sideways on the shelf.

"Hey, I forgot all about this," he said as he pulled it down. He didn't open it, just gave
the back cover a cursory glance before replacing it on the shelf.

Severus handed him his glass, then took the book down again. "Ah, the edible flower
adventure," he opined with deliberate drama. "I do remember someone promising me the
delights of the poppy stew," he lamented as he placed the book on the sideboard. "Well,
are you going to produce or not? Although, at the time, I saw such an event as a threat
more than a promise." He gave Harry a challenging look.

Harry retuned one of disgust. "Chrysanthemum, not poppy. God, you'd have us drugged
into oblivion. Good thing I'd be doing the cooking," he mocked him.

"So, when am I to be thus afflicted? I'd like to know so I can dose myself with a
Stomach Draught beforehand."

"Too late," Harry said, his voice slightly flat. "I'll cook something else. Besides, the
season for fresh flowers is over, and that's what I'd need." He seemed puzzled when he
looked up and spied Severus staring at something on the shelf behind him, then ducked
his head slightly when Severus reach up to retrieve it.

Severus fingered the white parchment envelope, studying the front of it, as if trying to
make a decision. He fanned himself with it for a moment, then held it out to Harry. "This
is for you." When Harry frowned, he explained while Harry was still reading the
inscription. "She left it that first week when you were in hospital, so I told her I'd make
sure you got it at some point, but wouldn't promise her when." He could now tell that
Harry had identified the sender, by the sullen look that stole across his features.

"She came here ?" he asked, seemingly annoyed as he slit the envelope open.

"She did. Very upset that she'd been turned away at St. Mungo's."

Harry pulled the letter out, but didn't unfold it. "Not sure I want to read this, not after the
way she was…." He frowned at Severus. "Sorry she turned up here…not fair to you," he
mumbled as he began to slip the letter back into the envelope.

"Perhaps you should read it," Severus said quietly, making Harry look up at him in
surprise.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously. "What has she done now?"

Motioning towards the sitting room, Severus answered neutrally, "Nothing that I know
of, and the fact that she's stayed away should give you a clue of what might be in there."

They sat on opposite ends of the settee, facing each other, Harry still looking a little
doubtful as he opened the letter, then with one quick glance at Severus, began to read.

His eyes moved rapidly down the page, then he murmured, "I don't believe this," and
continued to read, then finally dropped his hands in his lap, and stared at Severus in
disbelief.

"She actually apologized to you?" he asked, his eyes wary.

Severus thought back to the scene of that day. "She did, and not just for what happened
here." He lowered his voice as he gave Harry a meaningful look. "She told me she's
finally come to terms with what happened in the war, and that's she's forgiven me."

Harry snorted. " Forgiven you? Well, that's good of her. After all these years, how very
big of her," he sneered as he shook his head.

"It was a huge step for her, and I couldn't help but think how difficult it must've been for
here, to set aside years of…thinking the way she did, to come to the point that she has,"
he said thoughtfully, watching the struggle of expressions on Harry's face.

"So that's it?" Harry asked him, shocked. "Everything's right as rain now? How can you
be sure that it'll stick, after all these years?"

Severus shrugged philosophically. "I can't, but as hard as it might be to believe,

people can change if they set their mind to it."

"Hmm, time'll tell," Harry mumbled as he twisted at a lock of his hair, alerting Severus
that he was deep in thought. Then he braced himself for what he suspected was coming,
when Harry finally looked up at him.

His face calm and determined, he seemed to choose his words carefully. "I've been doing
a great deal of thinking over the past month, about what I need to do." He paused as he
took a deep breath. "I told you I need a change, and what I think I'm going to do is move
to London and go to university," he finished the last in a rush of words.

At the look on Severus' face, he added before he could be interrupted, "You just said
it— people can change . And I need to. It's nothing to do with you. It's me, Severus." It
must've been the darkening of Severus' expression that made him move to sit beside him,
taking both of Severus' hands in his own.

Severus was startled to see tears in Harry's eyes. "What is it?" he asked with concern.

Harry smiled, and just shook his head as he turned his face away to compose himself
before looking back. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?" he asked softly.

Severus reached out and tipped up his chin with a hand. "You know I will."

Harry's smile faded, then he asked solemnly, "After the trial, that conversation we had,
remember? When you told me to back off? How you didn't want my help because it
might hurt my future? Was that the only reason?" He sat and stared, then when Severus
didn't answer right away, he squeezed his hands and prompted him gently. "Severus?"

Ah, time for the truth at last. Severus had looked down at their hands, then when he felt
Harry's tighten on his own, he looked back up to say, "No, you know that wasn't all of
it," he murmured, watching the glint of satisfaction spark in Harry's eyes.
"Say it, then," Harry breathed. "I need to hear it." He'd moved his face closer to Severus',
but still hovered far enough away that he could read what was in Severus' eyes as he said
the words.

"There was an…attachment," Severus paused, knowing he could not get away with just
that word, "…an affection, even an attraction between the two of us that I felt would be
unhealthy, especially for you." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
"You were so young, had lived so very little, and you deserved to go out and experience
all that you'd missed. Not be saddled with someone like me, find your Mr. Darcy…" he
paused as Harry's lips found his, stopping his confession with confusing gentleness and
hunger.

When they pulled apart, Harry's eyes shimmered as he chided him, "I should've had
some say in that."

Severus shook his head as he idly fingered through the hair at Harry's temple. "Probably
true, but I knew what you would say."

Harry captured the hand at his face and held it, still gazing at Severus with intensity.
"And what changed, then, last summer?" he asked.

"Hmm, perhaps I realized that you'd experienced all the vagaries of youth…."

Harry smiled. "So, once I was jaded, you didn't feel so guilty about, you know, the two
of us getting together?"

Severus stared at him. "It wasn't premeditated, but yes, in a sense, I suppose that's true."
He was bewildered, then, by the resolve that flashed immediately in Harry's eyes.

"Listen to me. You made a choice all those years ago, because you wanted what was best
for me, right?" When Severus nodded numbly, Harry leant in and fixed him with his
eyes. "I'm telling the truth here too. I do need a change, and you're going to have to trust
me now. I'm trying to do what's best for you here." When Severus shook his head in
denial, Harry caught his face between his hands, then said it again. "Please, you have to
let me do what I have to do. I don't know where it'll end up, but all I can say is I'd never
do anything to hurt you. Please, Severus?"

Then how can you go? But aloud he only said, his voice husky with restraint, "I don't
understand, nor do I agree, but do what you must."

***

He honored Harry's request, and didn't ask , but it galled him, and his manner must've
have been proportionately cool, because Harry said his goodbye shortly after eleven,
giving Severus an anxious look after the passionless kiss he received at the door.
There was a brief but bitter dialogue after Harry had gone, between Severus' voice of
reason and the side of him that wanted to slam Harry against a wall and explain to him in
great detail how he was about to ruin his life. On the one hand, Harry was an adult and,
despite his recent break with reality, had shown an admirable sense of responsibility, not
only for himself, but for others. He'd managed a business, studied a craft, cared for an ill
person and a child, and was, to boot, well-read and reasonably knowledgeable, about
people and life in general.

Well, if all of that were true, why on God's green earth would he throw everything he's
worked for away? Why would he want to turn his back on something he loves, to pursue
something uncertain and unknown? And why…why would he turn his back on a man
whom he obviously cares for, and whom he has to know cares for him as well?

He knew, with a certainty, that this decision to make such a drastic change had to be
rooted in the irrational, given what Harry was so willing to sacrifice…all that he loved
and had worked so hard to build. And then, to say the outrageous: that he was doing
what was best for Severus.

Severus felt paralyzed over what to say to him. Harry could be infuriatingly stubborn,
once he'd made up his mind. He'd listen, Severus knew, but the words wouldn't get
beyond the barriers he'd erected in his mind as justification for his choices. He sighed as
he poured another Dalmore, thinking to himself that he'd have to find a way.

He was setting the bottle on the shelf, when his eye was caught by Harry's book, still
lying there on the edge of the sideboard. The edible flower meal, hmmm. He picked it up,
leafed to the table of contents, then turned to the introduction. He started to read as he
ambled in the direction of the settee, then sat and read it in its entirety.

Setting the book in his lap, he felt the faintest twinge of hope, the barest whisper of an
answer. Harry might not be capable of hearing what Severus had to say to him, but there
was another language to consider, one in which both of them were fluent, one that Harry
would be certain to recognize. The question was, of course, would he truly listen, and
more importantly, would he succumb to its reasoning? All that Severus knew was that he
had to try. But it was bloody difficult, he groused to himself, when he didn't even know
what Harry's problem was.

***

Flowers/Part Three

The Healer looked at him doubtfully. "You're serious? A Muggle university?"

Severus pointed toward her wall. "You did it," he reminded her.
She made a face of impatience. "Well, yes I did, but that was completely different. I was
preparing for my place in the wizarding world, not running away with my tail between
my legs."

He leant forward in his chair. "You think he's making a mistake?"

Her expression became more guarded. "I'd say he's throwing the baby out with the bath
water," she said, then at the look on Severus face, she explained, "Yes, I think he might
be. Especially this giving up his flower trade." She frowned, stroking the side of her face
as she thought.

"You know what's hung him up, don't you?" Severus risked, then knew immediately that
he'd struck a chord, when she sighed in resignation.

She cautioned him. "It's not mine to tell, but yes, I think I do." There ensued an intense
staring match, until she said in exasperation. "It's not guilt—he's come a long way in
setting that aside. No, this is something else, something much more…irrational, if you
can believe it. He and I touched briefly on it while he was here. But…." She bit her lip as
she seemed to struggle with her next words. "Hypothetically speaking, you understand,
sometimes a person who's experienced major loss, especially important people, comes to
believe that they are the cause of it. Like a bad talisman. Not that they've done anything
wrong or anything over which to experience guilt, just that their presence in these loved
one's lives has brought bad luck, to put it simply." She nodded grimly as the horrified
expression on Severus' face.

"This…person, hypothetically speaking, believes he makes people die?" he asked,

stunned.

She sat forward in her chair. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it, and most people, when faced with
it in those terms, realize how ridiculous it is." She sat back, looking gravely at Severus.
"But that doesn't always solve the problem, unfortunately. Look at Harry's experiences,
how many people he's lost, and in all of them he's a common denominator. Saying the
words to himself, that he's not to blame, isn't always enough, especially when he finds
himself at a crossroad."

"A new relationship," Severus stated flatly.

She nodded. "His choice is whether or not to risk that person, which is skewed thinking,
but I believe that's the heart of it." She considered Severus with empathy, then asked him
gently, "What will you do?"

"Find a new way to make him see the truth," he murmured.

***

Severus spent the rest of Monday moving methodically though the motions of brewing,
but his mind was actively engaged elsewhere. He stopped at one point to consider the
calendar and the remaining weeks of December; he set the ladle to self-stirring so he
could reference the edible flower book and jot a quick list of ingredients; he stepped to
the window and critically eyed his greenhouse, mentally ticking off flowers and where to
place them.

By the time his brewing was completed and the potions expertly bottled and stopped, he
was ready to sit down at his desk and begin his work in earnest. First was a tersely
worded note to Whitney, requesting a meeting on the following afternoon, then a
reorganization of the list of supplies he would need, flowers included. Lastly, he slipped
his account book down from the shelf to study the state of his finances, before deciding
on the amount he would withdraw from Gringotts the next morning. He smiled, thinking
to himself that Graham would be pleased at how a portion of those five hundred
Galleons was to be spent.

He knew what he had to do now: slip past the watchful dragons of Harry's mind to reach
his heart. And that, he knew, was where the truth needed to be heard and experienced.
Words alone wouldn't do it, but the language of flowers just might.

***

Of course, being Severus, he had to have one final word on the subject, before throwing
himself wholeheartedly into the flower caper.

He hadn't been surprised that Harry had left off putting in an appearance to the very end
of the evening, but he'd known somehow that he'd eventually come. He set his book
aside, watching as Harry came to stand in front of him, his back to the fire.

No remorse in his voice, just a slight twang of regret. "I wasn't certain if I should come,"
Harry said, holding Severus' eyes with his own.

Severus ignored what he'd said, and told him, "I have one more thing to say on the
matter, and then no more," he promised. "You were born to have your hands in the
dirt. You know this. I've never seen such a natural talent. So, face whatever it is you have
to face, and be done with it." His voice softened as he saw the shock of confusion on
Harry's face. "Can you honestly tell me there's anything else you'd rather do?"

"No," was the barely audible reply, but the green eyes told Severus that, as he'd
suspected, words were useless, at least at this stage of things.

"As for your not being certain if you should come," Severus said as he stood to his feet
and took Harry's hand. "I was waiting for you. I have a proposition for us to explore," he
said as he pulled the man toward the bedchamber. Harry laughed as he followed.

***

Whitney's eyes grew wide at the pile of pound notes Severus had placed on his desk. "I'll
help in any way I can. Flowers, you say, in quantity?" he asked, slightly perplexed.
" Wholesale is the word, I believe," Severus confirmed. "I've heard of a Muggle market
in London where such a transaction could be carried out."

"Well, I think that must be the Columbia Road Flower market—happens every Sunday
on London's East End. This time of year the outdoor stalls aren't as numerous, but there
are the garden shops that operate year round. What do you need?"

Severus rubbed at his chin. "You to accompany me this coming Sunday. I'll place the
orders, and leave you to arrange payment. The following Sunday, I'll need a lorry and a
man or two to pick the orders up and deliver them."

Whitney seemed amazed. "Deliver them where? To your place?"

Severus nodded, then indicated the stack of money. "I believe that will adequately cover
it. If it's not, then…."

"Oh, I'm sure that will be more than enough," the solicitor interrupted him. "And you say
this has to do with Harry? I don't understand," he confessed, slightly apologetic.

Severus decided to motivate the man with a bit of the truth. "He's on the verge of making
a very serious mistake, Whitney, and I'm trying to convince him otherwise. I know this
is probably not something you usually do in the scope of your practice, but I've seen
evidence that you've his best interests at heart," he finished, his voice strangely intent
with the effort to keep it emotionless. "So, I'm asking you, please, to help me to do this."

"What's he done?" Whitney asked seriously, his blue eyes filled with concern now.

"Nothing yet," Severus told him grimly, "but he's about to ruin his life by running away
from everything he holds dear."

Whitney sat back in his chair and stared at Severus for a long moment. Standing to his
feet, he reached down and halved the pile of pound notes, then extended his hand for
Severus to take them. "I won't pretend that I know what you're doing, but count me in
anyway. This will more than pay for the flowers. As for the lorry and the men, that one's
on me." At the look of surprise on Severus' face as he stood, he told him frankly, "You
know I've wanted to help him for years, so this is finally my time to do it." He reached
across the desk to shake Severus' hand. "Next Sunday, be here at seven. I'll take you on
from here. Agreed?"

Severus shook his hand firmly and with feeling. "Agreed."

***

Oddly enough, it was Harry who dispensed with the last major hurdle to be surmounted
in Severus' plan.

"Severus?" Harry nudged him with the ever-irritating foot.

"Mind your foot, if you know what's good for it," Severus threatened as he looked away
from the telly.

"Christmas is in less than two weeks," Harry said cautiously, wisely removing his foot
out of range of Severus' hand.

Severus gave him a blank look. "As it's mid December, I do believe you're correct." He
glanced back to the film.

The audacious foot prodded him again, and this time, Severus captured it without even
looking to the side. "What? Why do you insist on torturing me this way? You put in the
disc, we start the film, then you keep up this infernal chatter, a word at a time, drip by
drip, and I end up missing the—" he stopped as Harry pointed the remote and stopped
the action.

"I asked you about Christmas," Harry accused, trying to pull his foot away
unsuccessfully.

"You did, and I answered," he said levelly as he began to roll Harry's sock off, which
spurred a renewed attempt to withdraw the foot.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Mr. Literal Man. All right, what I wanted to know is what
are your plans for the hols? I didn't figure you had any, so I was wondering…" he
stopped as Severus began to massage the arch of his foot.

"Your assumption is correct, I have none," Severus said as he held back the smile,
watching Harry's mouth go slack with pleasure.

Harry tried and succeeded in refocusing his eyes. "Well, I usually go to the Weasleys,"
he admitted, and Severus heart seemed to stop, until he added, "But this year, it goes
without saying I'm not going, so I was wondering…if maybe we could spend it
together?"

Severus inwardly sighed with relief, then managed a noncommittal reply. "Fine with me.
But be fair warned, I don't do any of the usual Yule things—no tree, plum pudding, God-
forbid, Christmas crackers, and," he added pointedly, "no presents, either."

Harry made a feeble protest. "No presents? Aw, c'mon, Severus, that's half the fun.
You'll just have to—" His words slurred into a groan as Severus worked the ball of his
foot, then Harry slouched further down on the settee, throwing his other leg over the
back of it, giving Severus a most tantalizing view.

"I'll just have to what?" Severus asked softly as he watched Harry's growing erection.

Harry mumbled, inching his behind closer, "Watch the film later."
Severus smiled as slid to the floor and knelt beside the settee. "The film can wait, this
cannot."

***

The following Sunday, Severus and Whitney made the rounds of the shops of the
Columbia Road market. It was in full swing by the time they arrived at eight, and despite
Whitney's warning, there were still a fair number of outside stalls, but it was to the
indoor shops that they took their business.

They visited a half-dozen, and Severus began in each of them by rounding the aisles,
critically eyeing the products, then ended by proceeding to the counter to place his
sizable orders. "Achimenes, a dozen…argostemma…clivia…helenium…lillium, in
orange, please…." He dictated varieties and colors and quantities as they moved from
shop to shop. "Papavers, two dozen…dianthus…astilbe…sedum, in red, please…." He
moved down narrow walkways, blinking up at the potted specimens there, vaguely
aware of Whitney murmuring in the background as he made arrangements for the
following Sunday. "Thunbergia…cymbidium…godetia, a dozen…romulea…ah, yes,
narcissus in yellow, orange, pink, and do you have them in cream? Yes, that as well…."
He finished by purchasing some plastic sheeting, directing a, "Don't ask," at Whitney's
raised eyebrow.

It was nearly eleven when they finished and Apparated back to Alderley Edge and
Whitney's office. The solicitor poured them both a whisky, then as they clinked their
glasses together, he toasted, "To success, whatever it is in this case." Severus smiled into
his drink. He was feeling increasingly optimistic, and the morning spent amongst the
flowers had a great deal to do with this, he suspected.

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously when Whitney returned even more of the pound notes
to him. "No, really, you had much more than you needed." As Severus stuffed them
inside his cloak, the man told him, "Now, you can expect the blokes with the lorry in
early afternoon. I'll give them explicit directions, but, Severus, be careful, they'll be
Muggles. And give them each a ten-pound note as a gratuity when they've finished
unloading."

Severus gave him a wry grin. "I figured they'd be Muggles, David , but I appreciate the
warning." He sobered suddenly, then stretched out his hand. "Your assistance has been
invaluable. My deepest gratitude," he mumbled awkwardly.

Whitney grabbed his forearm as he gave his a second shake. "You have mine as well,
Severus. Not just for Harry, but for what you did, years ago. I've never forgotten." The
blue eyes sparkled with sincerity. "Let me know how things turn out, and Happy
Christmas to you both."
Severus was on his way to the Apparation point, when he realized, with a start, that
Whitney had been the first ever to personally thank him for his role in the war. Not that
it changed anything, but for some reason, he lifted his head a little higher as he walked.

***

Severus would've never admitted that he subscribed to the silly notion that fate could
smile down on him, but it certainly seemed as if it were, that Wednesday evening when
Harry tried to finagle him into his plans for Sunday.

"Why won't you go?" Harry asked, facing him in the bed.

"Harry," he growled as he pulled him close. "As much as I appreciate your concern for
my Scrooge-like temperament, I've no intention of spending my Sunday waltzing
through Muggle shops with the three of you just two days before Christmas. I'm not a
fool; I know what it's like this time of year. Go on and have your fun. Bring back some
mistletoe and we'll try it out on Monday," he murmured against Harry's lips, just before
he kissed him for practice.

"Scrooge is right, that's what you are," Harry whispered back, "but you're mine for the
rest of the hols, don't forget that."

Severus smiled as he rolled Harry onto his back, then nudged his legs apart with a thigh
as he summoned the lube. "Oh, I won't," he promised as he slid into the tight heat of
him, and then coherent conversation was forgotten.

***

Severus lay, completely relaxed, thinking while Harry snored lightly beside him.
Everything was proceeding nicely, and with Harry out of the way on Sunday, he would
be free to work his magic in the greenhouse. He smiled as he thought of Whitney—the
man had evidently been able to contact Chloe and engage her to take Harry off for the
day. He wondered what the solicitor had told her, but it really didn't matter, he supposed.
He knew that, like Whitney, she'd do anything in her power to help, so long as it was for
Harry's well-being.

The only unknown, in fact, was something that Severus had yet to decide how to handle:
addressing the subject of Harry's magical thinking , that his presence in Severus' life
could somehow create disaster. His plan at present was to introduce the topic just when
Harry's defenses would be at their weakest, more than likely while he was still disarmed
by the flower meal and what Severus fondly thought of as dessert. But he decided that,
given how amazingly well everything else had turned out, he'd leave this decision to the
time at hand and see how it played out.

As Christmas Eve drew nearer, he found that his optimism was increasing a bit more
each day. It was perplexing, to be honest, as Severus was naturally inclined to be
pessimistic, but in these circumstances, he reasoned, perhaps it was because he refused
to envision anything other than outright success. A dangerous way to think, but what
other choice do I really have?

***

Severus paced anxiously in the front garden, muttering oaths and curse words as he
glanced up the lane every few minutes. It was well past two, and he couldn't imagine
where in the blazes his expected cargo had got to. He calculated that the lorry would've
been completely loaded by ten at the latest, and the journey itself taken a little over two
hours, adding on a short time for a stop for lunch. He fretted as he walked, already
envisioning the scenario of the lorry arriving after Harry returned. He'd just decided that
heads would roll, were that to occur, when he heard the sound of an engine downshifting
as it made the turn into the lane from the road to the village.

Letting out another curse, this time in relief, he stood at the rail and watched as the
vehicle approached, finally slowing to a stop in the lane just outside the gate.

A man lowered the window, then spat into the lane before he asked, "You Snape?"

Severus restrained his natural sarcasm with difficulty, considering that the man still had
his property on the lorry. "I am. You're a bit late, aren't you?" he asked shortly.

The man ignored the question, looking along the fence with a frown on his face. "Well,
cor, where're we supposed to offload this? I don't see another gate."

"There isn't one," Severus told him as he opened the only one in question. "You'll just
need to bring it here into the garden." He watched as the man turned off the engine, and
he and his companion jumped out of the truck and started around the back. Severus was
overcome with curiosity, so he followed and stood to the side as they opened the tail
latch.

The cargo area was stacked, half-full from floor to ceiling, with crates wrapped in green
floral waxing. Even so, Severus could still smell the flower scents as the men carried the
first crate into the garden. The driver looked at him doubtfully.

"Look here, it's none of my affair, but you just want us to stack 'em here? Outside? Be
more'n happy to tote 'em back to the greenhouse for you. They won't last too long, if you
don't get 'em inside," he offered.

Severus shook his head, but his tone was a bit more civil now, considering the man's
generous offer. "No, just here will do nicely. I'll have help getting them back," he
assured the man, who looked curiously at the house, then shrugged and trekked back to
the lorry for the next load.

He finally sent the men on their way, remembering the gratuity only when they hesitated
in the lane before climbing back into the lorry. He waited until he saw them turn in to the
road to the village, then, after one cautious glance in both directions down the lane, he
carefully levitated the crates to the relative warmth of the greenhouse.

He stood and looked in satisfaction on the work he'd done thus far. The everyday,
commonplace plants had been relegated to shelving along the walls to the side, leaving
the remainder of the floor and walls free for his planned construction. At the far end, the
plastic sheeting had been draped from the ceiling to the floor in graceful folds, ready for
Severus' magical enhancements. Before he began to work, he placed a Warming Spell on
the entire structure, then, shedding his cloak, Severus rolled up his sleeves, and started in
earnest to create his sensible garden.

***

Harry had indeed found mistletoe, and had made a grand production of hanging it in the
doorway to Severus' bedchamber. They had just finished trying it out, to both their
mutual satisfaction, when Harry pulled away and asked him, "So, what did you do all
day, Scrooge?"

Severus pulled him into the room and shoved him gently to the bed. "Worked in the
greenhouse a bit, rearranging, attempting to be creative," he told him truthfully, as he
stood and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Harry was pulling his shoes off without untying them. "You'd have done better by going
with me. We saw the most gorgeous Christmas flowers—poinsettias, flowering cacti,
even Aztec lilies—I was thinking of you, wishing you could've seen them," he chided as
he stood to undo his trousers.

Severus already had his off and waited while Harry slipped out of his. Stepping in, he
batted Harry's hands away from his shirt. Unbuttoning it for him, Severus gave him a
small smile as he said, "Ah, well. You'll just have to compensate me for my loss."

"Oh, I will," Harry promised him meaningfully, his eyes sparkling as he sat back on the
bed, looking up at him as he pulled Severus' hips toward him.

***

Flowers/Part Four

Christmas Eve day dawned unseasonably warm, almost autumn-like, in place of the
expected early winter chill. A gentle breeze was whipping up loose leaves in the
gardens, as Severus walked back from an early morning check to make certain that all
was well in the greenhouse.

After a mostly silent breakfast, broken only by Severus' usual haranguing on Ministry
politics, Harry apologized again as he stood and pushed in his chair.
"I'll be back by seven," he promised. "What're you up to, then? Anything I can pick up
for you while I'm out?" He pulled his jumper over his head, then waited for Severus to
lower the paper.

Severus dropped it just enough to peer irritably over the edge. "No, I may have to pay
Clecker a visit, but that's all." He paused until Harry turned to go, then strategically
added, "Don't be late. I'm cooking."

Harry turned back, surprised. "You're cooking? So, you usually do," he teased. "What?
Not your usual stew and biscuits, then?" he asked, his eyes merry.

"Hmmm, no, I thought I'd do something decidedly un-humbug, so you won't feel cheated
of your customary Christmas turkey," he mocked, setting the Prophet aside.

"You're making a turkey?" Harry queried, seemingly stunned.

Severus smirked at him. "Of course not. I'm not that far gone, but I've risen to the
occasion admirably, I think." He watched, amused, as Harry's eyes scanned the kitchen
for clues.

"Give it up, and go. You'll know soon enough. Grace the Weasleys and Granger with my
regards," he instructed, then picked up the paper again in dismissal. He waited until he
heard Harry Disapparate, then walked to the door to visually verify that he'd gone.

***

The first order of his day was a return visit to the greenhouse, where almost everything
was in readiness, except for the final touches: a few minor adjustments to his
Transfigured masterpiece in the corner, some rearranging and magical misting of well-
placed flowers, a final check on the floating candles, then the placement of the satiny
centerpiece and its contents. He stood at the door and rehearsed with a " Lumos ,"
experiencing a glow of satisfaction, as he critically inspected the ethereal and enchanting
display.

He trudged his way back to the house, hefting the basket of flowers he'd need for the
remainder of his preparations. He hadn't lied, though, and did make a quick trip in to
Clecker's, mystifying the curious apothecary with his purchase of a large reel of soft, red
ribbon and a smaller one of fine, blue flexible threading. On impulse, he visited the
Muggle shop for a few bottles of celebratory wine, and after a brief hesitation, a thin
package of brightly colored paper with a matching holiday card tucked inside.

By noon, he was muttering to himself as he worked the lavender sugar into the sticky
dough, then at last added the bright purple flowers and leaves when it became stiff. Once
in the oven, he set a pot to simmer with the chicken, then turned to the most time-
consuming task: the flower canapés. After trimming crusts from the bread, he spread the
small squares with a mixture of white cheese and flower parts: it was a colorful
concoction, he had to admit, the bright petals of nasturtiums, borage, and calendula, set
off by those of pansies, violas, and pineapple sage. Once the tray was completed, he
sprinkled a sparse dusting of parsley and mint over the top of all of them.

By two, he was finishing the wild violet salad: a small bowel for each of them,
containing a handful of baby mesclun greens and butter lettuce, and, of course, the violet
leaves, tendrils and flowers. After placing a Chilling Spell on both the canapés and salad,
he cleared the table for what would be the most delicate operation.

He sat at the table looking at his supplies: whole flowers, ribbon and threading. He knew
he could save a considerable amount of time by resorting to magic, but something inside
himself resisted the notion. Of all he'd done in the past two days, this part was by far and
above the most personal, and it seemed somehow very important that he do this with his
physical hands.

He began by cutting two equal lengths of velvet, red ribbon, tying the ends of each piece
together to form circles, then experimentally tried one on, making certain that it could
slip easily over his head to lie around his neck. He took the first circlet up and began the
painstaking task of attaching each flower, weaving the tender stem to the ribbon with
flexible threading, seating each blossom so that there were no gaps in the lei, paying
especial attention to the juxtaposition of color, placing reds beside the blues, orange
beside the pinks, yellows beside the purples. He bent in over his work, biting his lip in
concentration, as he plaited roses with poppies, dianthus with pleiones, asters with
godetias, taking care to work in their fragile leaves, here and there, to give the lei both
strength and a unifying green.

The fragrance of the flowers, as some of their petals were unavoidably bruised, was
almost intoxicating. As he worked, Severus thought about what he was doing and why,
and by the time he was finally finished and sat back to look at the two stunning leis, he
knew that he'd woven a part of himself into each of them: affection for a lover, passion
for his well-being, and an intense hope that he'd stay close by. He suspected that, at least
on his part, affection wasn't an entirely accurate choice of word.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, illuminating the brilliant flowers
where they lay, causing Severus to stare at them in wonder. Perhaps it was this startling
and breathtaking sight of them, so artlessly beautiful; perhaps it was the smell of them,
invading his senses; perhaps it was the silky feel of the petals on his fingertips; but more
likely, it was all that they represented, a microcosm of life and sex, fragility and strength,
drama and death, which had Severus finally admitting to himself, I love him.

***

Just after seven, Severus had just adjusted his lei around his neck, fluffing his thick,
black hair out of the back of it, when Harry stepped through the door. Tossing his sack to
the floor, he made for the kitchen, then stopped suddenly in surprise.
"Whoa. Candles and…" he paused, as he saw the lei around Severus' neck, then darted
his eyes to the table, where a simple glass bowl stood in the center, a single, pale yellow
gardenia floating on the surface. He was speechless for a moment, as he gaped at the
table, then looked up, wonder in his eyes. "What's this?"

Stepping around the table, Severus picked up the lei hung on the back of Harry's chair.
Easing it over the man's head, gently moving his hair out of the way, he looked into the
still-startled eyes as he said, "It's your edible flower meal. The first and last that I'll ever
make, I assure you." He turned, pulling Harry with him, as he elaborated on the repast.
"There's chrysanthemum soup, flower canapés, wild violet salad, and lavender
shortbread. And to top it all off, a rather spectacular white Chablis," he summarized.

Harry still stared at the table. "I can't believe…" he stopped, obviously at a loss for
words. Severus observed as the color drained from his face, and was just on the verge of
speaking, when Harry gave him one, last look of confusion, before turning on heel to
streak back through the sitting room and out the door.

Severus stood and watched, stock still, noting that Harry had stopped at the fence and
was leaning on the gate, facing the lane. He looked ruefully at the table, knowing that the
time for talking was now , and that his pretty meal was, in all likelihood, destined not to
be eaten. He gave it a brief glance, muttered a, "Thank God," then set off after Harry.

***

Severus shrugged his cloak on, then snagged Harry's from the hook before joining him at
the rail. Without a word, he draped it over the man's shoulders, taking care to not crush
the lei, then stood beside him at the gate. Neither of them spoke for quite a while,
watching as the moon filtered through the trees to highlight the rough of the lane.

"I'd be a fool to leave," Harry said softly. "You made a flower meal, for crying out loud.
Who in their right mind could leave someone like that behind?" It was a rhetorical
question, so Severus didn't answer, but asked a question of his own instead.

"I think the issue here is why you believe it necessary to leave at all. Do you even
know?" he asked neutrally.

Harry took a moment before answering, "I know it doesn't make sense, but…everyone
dies." His voice was oddly subdued.

Severus knew this was not the time to belabor the obvious, so he turned to Harry as he
said, "I regret that you've such a familiarity with death. Would that it could've been
otherwise."

Harry finally turned to face him. "I know it doesn't make sense," he paused as he
grimaced. "Already said that, but what I meant was, it seems like everyone I care about
dies. Like I'm this bad luck charm. Does that make sense?"
Severus decided to meet Harry head on. "As if your caring for them makes them die?" he
asked, taking care to keep his tone completely bland.

Harry shook his head in disgust. "See, when you say it, it sounds as stupid as it should."
He placed a hand on Severus' shoulder as he searched his eyes. "Just seems to follow me
around, death does. Anyone I care about, or who cares about me, ends up dead. I'm
afraid, Severus. I don't want anything to happen to you," he finished, the need to be
understood urgently underlined in his voice.

Severus looked away, then rested his arms on the fence. "It's a faulty logic problem." He
could sense Harry still watching him, but the hand fell from his shoulder.

"A…what?" Harry asked, the confusion clear in his voice.

Severus turned, then leant against the rail as he said, "You've got it backwards, is all.
Think about it." When Harry cocked his head at him, perplexed, Severus reached out and
touched his cheek. "A famous Muggle once wrote, 'Man is born to trouble, as surely as
the sparks fly upward.' It's part of the human condition, dying is. Unfortunately for you,
you've had to weather more than your fair share of it." He pushed off from the rail,
taking Harry by the arm to lead him to the porch. As they walked, Severus said calmly,
"But as much of a super wizarding hero as you are, you still don't have the power to
make people die simply by loving them, or by their loving you. It's ludicrous."

Harry made a feeble protest. "I know , I told you it doesn't make sense, but I'm still…
afraid, especially this time," he mumbled as they sat on the bottom step.

Severus studied him in the moonlight, until the force of his glance made Harry look up at
him. "If you consider it closely, what you're afraid of is something rather selfish," he
informed him quietly. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Severus put two fingertips
across his lips to silence him. "Loving doesn't make another person die," he chided
gently, then leant in and stared into Harry's eyes, "but loving them will make you hurt if
they do die." He pulled back, watching the flash of comprehension with satisfaction.
"You're afraid to love, to continue to love, because you can't bear anymore pain. It's as
simple as that," he concluded, wondering how Harry would answer, sensing that this was
the most critical of moments.

Harry's eyes darted away, then flashed back quickly. "No, I don't think that's… wait , I
can see where…I'm not sure if…" he finally stopped, becoming completely still as his
eyes widened, almost as if he were in shock. Severus knew it was time for the final
thrust.

"Do you love me?" Severus asked soberly.

The eyes softened. "You know I do."

Severus' eyes glittered as he felt the warmth spread through his chest. Even though he'd
known the answer, hearing the confirmation of it aloud had to be one of the most
remarkable moments of his life. "Loving someone may mean that you'll feel pain—it's
part of the cycle of life, love and loss. In a sense, only the things that are painful to lose
are worth loving in the first place. Embrace it, Harry," he told him gently.

His voice became sterner as he warned, "Let's be crystal clear on this—leave if you
must, but be perfectly honest about what it is that you fear, what it is that will make you
leave. You can no longer say that it's me whom you wish to spare, but yourself." He
didn't look away, almost holding his breath as he waited, almost able to hear the sounds
of the gears turning in Harry's head as he thought, his green eyes almost wild with
emotion as he tried to process what Severus had just said.

He watched as Harry's chest started to heave, his eyes filling with tears, barely able to
choke out the words, "Oh God, what did I almost do?"

Severus reached out and wrapped him in his arms, holding him while he cried, not caring
that the leis were suffering in the intimate crush. He inhaled the sweet perfume of the
blossoms round their necks, and closed his eyes, visualizing the incense as if it were
rising from an altar, where he was about to willingly sacrifice a part of himself, for the
sake of a truth whose time had come.

"Harry," he spoke into wet skin of his wet cheek, "I've recently felt great pain, because I
care," he paused, then amended, "love someone." He faltered, then said, "And I wouldn't
have it any other way. If you leave, I may be miserable."

He felt Harry still entirely, then seconds later he pulled away, looking at Severus with a
tremulous smile. "You're already miserable."

***

Harry stood and gazed sadly down at the flower meal, the flowers atop the canapés
wilted, the chrysanthemum blossoms in the tureen now gelled on the surface. Severus
successfully restrained a smile as he said, "There's always the salad and shortbread," he
suggested.

"I don't think I could eat, sorry," Harry said with an apologetic smile. "After all the
trouble you took, it's a shame." He reached out and used a finger to spin the gardenia in
the bowl.

Severus removed his cloak and motioned for Harry to do the same. Taking him by the
hand, he pulled him towards the door as he said, "There's always dessert, hmmm?"

He led him down the steps, around the side of the house, then, when Harry saw they
were heading for the greenhouse, Severus ignored his, "Dessert? In the greenhouse?"
When they stepped into the darkened structure, Severus murmured an incomprehensible
incantation, then when he heard the trickling of water, he muttered, " Lumos ." He
moved to the side, allowing Harry to enter, then felt a thrill at the look on the startled
face, as he took in the spectacle before him: hundreds of flowers adorned the interior,
some spilling out of hanging baskets, some grouped naturally in arrangements on the
floor, some attached to trellising along the walls. Dozens of floating candles spread a
low, golden light, deepening the colors, creating an ambiance of warmth and earthiness,
dancing on the small but steady stream of the waterfall at the back, seeming to give a
palpable body to the exotic fragrance permeating the air. In the middle of it all, spread
out over the floor, was a green, satiny coverlet strewn with carefully selected blossoms.

Harry took another tentative step forward, and this time, Severus was gratified to see that
his cheeks were flushed a rosy pink. He seemed to have forgotten Severus as he ventured
further in, almost in a daze, as he looked around in wonder, stopping here and there to
fondle a flower or lift a blossom to his face to smell. When he'd finally made the full
circuit of the room, he was back where he'd started, standing in front of Severus once
again. His eyes were glassy, his lips quivering as he stammered, "How did you ever
manage such a thing? You did this for me? Not knowing if I…." He shook his head as
Severus leant in and brushed his lips with a kiss.

"Shhh, not now. There's more," he promised, as he led Harry to the edge of the coverlet.
Turning, he held his eyes as he reached up and, one by one, undid the buttons on Harry's
shirt, then encouraged him to shrug out of it, carefully holding the lei up as he did. He
repeated the process with Harry's trousers, bending down to help him out of his shoes.
When Harry was naked in front of him at last, except for the lei, Severus gave him a
solemn nod, then softly said, "Undress me."

Harry gave him a slow smile, but before beginning, he allowed his eyes to drift over the
interior again, clearly in awe of this bit of paradise in which they stood. He took his
time, much as Severus had, trailing his hands along his chest, in between each of the
buttons as he went. He paid careful attention to the lei, holding it up as Severus divested
himself of his shirt, then moved in to stand almost flush against him, as he undid the
placket of Severus' trousers, intentionally palming Severus' cock before slipping them
down and off. Harry was completely relaxed now, his head tilted to the side as he
unclothed his partner, never once breaking the sultry bond of their eyes. They stood just
inches apart when he was finally finished, facing each other, clad only in the flower leis.

Severus smiled as Harry closed his eyes, leaning forward, his lips partially opened.
"No," he murmured, then when Harry startled slightly and opened his eyes again,
Severus took him by the hand and stepped backward onto the coverlet. He positioned
them in the center, then slowly sank to his knees, taking Harry down with him.

They knelt on the soft, smooth green duvet, facing each other, close together, equally
matched in height, so that they were still eye to eye, lei to lei, cock to cock. Severus took
his moment too, then, to take in his surroundings, and truly appreciate the beautiful work
of art he'd labored so willingly to create. But looking back to Harry, he decided that the
most beautiful part of the masterpiece was kneeling just an arm's reach away. "Well,
what do you think?" he quietly asked.

Harry only had eyes for Severus now. "It's all so…beautiful doesn't even begin to
describe it. This is dessert, huh?" he asked, his voice husky as he let his eyes drop down
to Severus' cock.

Severus only smiled, then said softly, "That'll be the cherry on the top. This is the
dessert. Listen well," he cautioned, then when Harry's eyes snapped up to his face, he
began, his voice tinged with uncharacteristic emotion.

"The garden is a living, breathing, sensing being, Harry, a part of the universe with as
much right to be here as you and I do. It's a sensible thing, being alive, you see, which
means we have a variety of ways to experience it, and who's to say the garden doesn't
experience us in the same way?"

He gestured to the room around them. "You see it."

He reached over, and with both of his thumbs traced a circle around Harry's eyes as he
said, "Seeds and stalks, color and structure, fullness and fruit." He smiled, as Harry
shivered when he took his hands away.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, then after Harry obeyed, Severus reached behind him to
pick up a fragrant magnolia stem, then held it out just a hairsbreadth beneath Harry's
nose. "Breathe in," he murmured.

When Harry complied and took several deep breaths, Severus waited a moment, then
told him, "You smell it." Removing the flower, he leant in, and blew a breath close to
Harry's face, and was instantly rewarded by a soft laugh.

"Magnolia first, then you , Severus. You've had chocolate today," he accused.

"Hmm, you're right," Severus said as he set the magnolia on the coverlet, then turned to
the side to pick up a coral dianthus. Pinching off a petal, he feathered it across Harry's
lips until he opened them. Slipping it inside, he directed him, "Chew." He smirked at the
moment's hesitation, then waited patiently until Harry finally finished and swallowed.

"You taste it." Taking care not to otherwise touch him, Severus poised his face close to
Harry's, then slowly advanced his tongue to lick once at his lower lip. Harry gasped,
opening his mouth, leaning forward to try to grasp at him. Severus found he couldn't
help but close his own eyes then, as their tongues danced together, their lips meeting
briefly, until he withdrew, provoking a groan of loss from Harry.

"Dianthus," Harry moaned, "and you again."

Severus made a sound of approval, then took up the long-stemmed hollyhock. He

paused, taking a moment to savor the sight of Harry, eyes still closed, breathing a little
more rapidly, a flush now spreading across his chest and up his neck. He trailed the
flower down the side of Harry's neck as he began again.

"You feel it." He swept it in a slow, crossways arc, ending at the jut of Harry's hip, then
let it drift, inch by inch, to the root of his fully aroused cock, then dragged it
purposefully along the length of it, causing it to twitch in response. And with this,
Severus could tell that Harry was anticipating what was to come, so he didn't delay any
longer. Using just one hand, he fingered the slit, circled the head once with his thumb,
then grasped the shaft firmly. He saw Harry's mouth drop open as he made a mewl of
pleasure, as Severus stroked him twice: two long, slow pulls that he abandoned with
regret, Harry pushing into his hand with each of them.

"Don't know the flower, but I'd know that hand anywhere," Harry mumbled in
complaint, and Severus smiled as he noted that Harry was trembling slightly.

"I should hope so," Severus murmured, as he sat back on his heels. "The last one is more
difficult to demonstrate, because it requires a garden in its natural habitat."

Harry had evidently been keeping track. "You hear it," he said, before Severus could.

Severus smiled. "How?"

Harry sighed as he thought, chewing that infernal lower lip. "It's a collective sound, I
think. The way the garden is with the wind rustling through the plants, the buzz of bees,
the sound of rain in the rows," he paused, then surprised Severus with the next. "And it
breathes, just like you and I do. Takes in carbon dioxide, lets off oxygen, just to be able
to make flowers. I think on a quiet day, if you sit back and close your eyes," he stopped,
as he smiled, "you can almost hear all that respiration."

"Very good, I'm impressed," Severus told him. For this last demonstration, he rose to his
knees again, reaching out with both hands to run his fingers through Harry's hair at either
side, then gently pulled Harry's head toward him, to rest it against his heart. There was a
moment of fumbling, as Harry tried to keep his balance, but then he stilled, when he
realized where Severus had placed him, and as he listened, Severus allowed himself the
luxury of stroking the head against his chest.

"I know that sound," Harry whispered. "I've fallen asleep to it often enough."

Severus let him listen for a moment longer, then reluctantly pushed him away as he
softly said, "Open your eyes."

Almost as if awakening from a dream, Harry obeyed, his eyes glistening as he gazed at
Severus. "Thank you," he murmured.

Severus inclined his head. "There's one more sense that I…I'd intended to use to make
my point, but now, our talk on the porch has perhaps made it unnecessary."
"Tell me, Severus." Harry's face was glowing, and Severus felt a sudden streak of desire.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "There's sixth sense to the garden. It
weaves itself into your soul, fixes you forever in its grasp, as it wraps its vines around
what's inside of you, piercing your very heart with its thorns. It becomes a part of you,
filling your thoughts with its beauty, infecting your spirit with its essence." He paused,
then added delicately, "And although you may turn your back on it, you'll never, ever be
free of it, because it's a part of you, as much as your own mind and spirit are." His voice
lowered and softened. "What I meant to ask you was, knowing this and…" he stopped,
summoning the courage to say, "…loving me, so you say, then how could you even
consider leaving us both behind?"

Severus wasn't surprised, but was gratified to hear the words, "I can't."

He reached across the expanse between them, resting his hands on Harry's shoulders,
then lightly traced his fingertips down the skin of his arms. "I want to…" He stopped and
began again. "I want us…to be sensible … to make love with that sixth sense." For a
moment longer, they knelt there, immobile, not able to look away from each other. There
was something hauntingly familiar in his soul, reminding Severus of that brief
connection they'd experienced long ago on a battlefield, only this time, there was no
spell, no spoken incantation to conjure it…and yet, here it was again, pulsing quietly
between them, more magical than ever, but then, not even magical at all.

The flower foreplay came to an abrupt and almost violent ending, as they came together
suddenly, Severus not sure which one of them was the first to move. They tumbled to the
coverlet, entwined together, a moving tangle of arms and legs, hands and necks, crushing
flowers beneath them, rolling from side to side, flipping from top to bottom, as they
struggled and submitted themselves to each other.

Frantic kisses were given and received, with the flowers from the leis pressed into their
faces, petals finding their way into their mouths, as they fed hungrily on each other. In
the backdrop, the waterfall trickled its approval, the reflection of vibrant hues from the
candles playing off their sweaty skin as they moved against one another.

They felt the texture of slippery skin, tasted the salt of it, heard the sound of sucking and
moans and grunts, reveled in the smells of their unique arousals, basked in the beauty of
the other, eyes heavy-lidded with lust, lips swollen from discovery, mouths stretched
wide open in wonder, murmuring approval, gasping in pleasure.

They saw…they smelled…they tasted…they felt…they heard…they experienced each

other as they never had before, their coupling almost agonizingly erotic, given their
newly-heightened awareness. The crescendo of passion sharply accelerated and dragged
them upwards, from the moment when Severus gave that first penetrating thrust. His
eyes half-open, Severus felt as if they were the center of universe, surrounded as they
were, by the sensible garden, but also acting as a part of it.
Draped over Harry's back, Severus was aware that they both cried out when they came,
within seconds of each other. They shared a shuddering orgasm, melded perfectly to one
another, then, still locked together, covered in sweat and petals, they collapsed in a heap,
but still…still they did not let go, but lay pressed, as one, against the satiny floor, one
breathing organism, one beating heart between the two of them.

***

They awoke several hours later, still swaddled together in the coverlet. They didn't speak
for a while, lulled by the comforting sound of the water, the humid fragrance hanging in
the air, the colors of flowers reflected in their eyes and on their skin.

"So…what happens now?" Harry asked him, coming up on an elbow.

Severus thought for a moment. "Oh, I don't know," he confessed, then turned onto his
side. "I have a vague idea, and I think you do, as well."

"I do?" Harry repeated his words.

"Yes, you hinted at it during the summer," Severus confided, then gave in and explained
when Harry rolled his eyes. "Relationships are like flowers, in a way. Well, more
accurately, you handle a relationship as you might handle a flower," he clarified, then
went on, "You see a flower, and you have two choices, really. You can cut it and
preserve it at the peak of its beauty, then from time to time, pull it out and enjoy it again.
But it's the memory of it that you're savoring, not the true beauty of it, right?"

"Right. Go on," Harry said warily.

Severus nodded, then elucidated further. "Or…you see a flower and admire its beauty,
and…then you just let it be. Let it grow wild, let it grow free, in fact, and wait and see
what happens. It may turn out how you'd expect. But whenever you look at it, you'll be
experiencing the true, living reality of it, not a memory," he finished softly, watching
Harry's eyes widen as he understood." Severus smiled. "One is dead, but certain. The
other a gamble, but alive."

"That was…poetry, Severus," Harry mumbled as he pulled Severus over for a kiss.

***

Severus was up early on Christmas morning, well before Harry. He stood and watched
him sleep for a moment, arms and legs askew in the bed. It's true, I was content, but
this…this is indescribable. Carefully tucking the coverlet in around him, he tousled his
hair before setting off for the kitchen.

Armed with a mug of tea, Severus stood out on the porch to watch the sun as it put in its
appearance. It was a winter sunrise with very little color to it, just the gradual lightening
of the sky, from black to gray to white, without fanfare. He descended the steps, then set
off for the fence, his feet making a crunching sound on the frost-covered leaves as he
walked. He glanced up the lane to the crest, as he always did, then his attention was
caught by the sound in the trees to his left. He ducked his head to see the lower branches,
then his eyes saddened as he spied the lane beneath it. Ah well, part of the cycle of life, I
suppose, but still…it's a sad thing.

Returning to the house, he was faced with the evidence of his failed attempt to impress
Harry with his culinary prowess. Making short work of the mess with his wand, he
settled at the table with yesterday's Prophet , as he hadn't really been able to finish it the
day before, distracted as he'd been, by Harry and the day ahead of him. He was nearly
done, when Harry shuffled into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He squeezed Severus' shoulder as he passed on his way to the kettle. "Good morning."

Severus reached up to brush his hand with his fingers. "Good morning, Harry."

Harry walked to stand across the table from him, then jerked his head towards the sitting
room. "Sit by the fire?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.

Severus sat on the settee and watched, while Harry banked the logs in the grate. He
stepped to the door where he'd dropped his bag the night before, then shot Severus a grin
as he sat on the floor in front of him. I knew it . No presents, indeed.

Harry seemed almost apologetic, but Severus thought he lacked sincerity as he said, "I
know we said no presents, but I'd planned this for weeks, so…" He stopped as he rooted
in the bottom of his bag, then gleefully held out the rectangular package.

Severus sighed in mock resignation as he reached to take it. "I expected as much, given
your Gryffindor—" he faltered, when he saw the bow on top, in the center of which the
forget-Winnie-not had been fastened. "No." He shook his head. "I sincerely meant for
you to have it."

Harry poked the package at him again. "So, we'll both have it, then. Just how Winnie'd
want it," he insisted.

Severus took it then, carefully dissecting the blossom from the ribbon, then neatly sliced
through the wrapping with a fingernail. He was puzzled as he examined the two thin,
book-like boxes, then his eyes grew big as he read from the first one, "Deadliest Catch-
The Entire First Season." The second one was labeled in Harry's distinctive script,
"Deadliest Catch-The Entire Second Season (bootlegged)." He gave Harry a dubious
look. "Bootlegged?" he asked suspiciously.

Harry gave him a sheepish grin. "Just means I had to do something slightly illegal to get
that one." He sat with a satisfied look on his face, as Severus took his time to read the
back of the first box. "So…it's all right, then?"
Severus took his time to read the entire synopsis on the back, then set it aside as he said
with a glint in his eyes, "I'm watching tonight, as long as your battery lasts, so be fair-
warned."

"Fine with me—it's a date," Harry told him, obviously pleased with his reaction. He
withdrew one more item from his sack, holding out a large red envelope. "This is your
real present." He watched anxiously as Severus took it, and slit open the flap.

"Thompson and Morgan Flower of the Month Club," Severus murmured as he read the
card. "Oh," he breathed out, as he realized what it was. "A new flower on the tenth of
every month. Intriguing concept, and they'll be delivered to Clecker for me." He was lost
in the brochure, reading through the month-by-month descriptions of his year-long
present, when he realized that Harry was sitting, silent, watching him. Setting the
booklet atop the boxes, he slid to the floor to lean against the settee. "Thank you, Harry.
I may just have to revise my opinion on Yule gifts," he smiled as reached out and tapped
Harry on the cheek.

Harry grinned. "Happy Christmas."

Severus murmured, "Happy Christmas," as he reached behind him under the settee, then
brandished the expertly wrapped package, planting it neatly in Harry's lap.

Harry made a small 'O' with his mouth, then muttered fondly, "Hypocrite," as he tore at
the wrapping. He turned the book over in his hands, perused the back of it, then turned to
the title page. "Wow, I've heard of this, North of England Orchid Society. Serious flower
people, and look at all that's in here: suppliers, nurseries, references, art…" his voice
faded, as he became immersed in the book, until Severus stuck the envelope under his
nose, causing him to look up in surprise. "What?"

"This is the other part," Severus explained, taking the book from Harry's hands to free
them. "Go on, open it. This is your real present," he teased.

Harry didn't spare the envelope any more than he had the wrapping. Pulling the folded
packet out, he squinted as he read through the first page, frowned in confusion at the
second, then looked up at Severus in shock when he reached the third. "I'm entered in an
orchid show?" he asked, incredulous.

Severus restrained the urge to laugh out loud. "Of course you are. Every Society member
worth his salt will be entering an orchid—it's the most important show of the season," he
informed him with authority.

"But…I'm not a member," Harry protested, looking down to leaf through the packet.

Severus did laugh then. "Oh, but you are now," he said conspiratorially.
Harry was staring at him, as several thoughts must have occurred to him at once. "But
how could you've known that I…? Wait. What if I'd gone to…?" He stopped, narrowing
his eyes at Severus, but they shone with happiness. "What will I show?" he asked, still
flummoxed.

"I've no doubt you'll work something out—you do have three months," Severus told him
confidently, then was immediately assaulted by arms thrown around him, the force of
which moved the settee back several inches.

"Thanks," Harry said as he pulled away. "I can't wait to get started," he confessed as he
settled to sit beside Severus.

They sat, side by side, toasting in front of the fire, Severus finally regaling Harry with
the whole history of how the sensible garden had come to life. Harry laughed at the
thought of Severus in Columbia Road, then was almost in tears as Severus described for
him, step by step, how he'd transformed the greenhouse.

"It's a shame it can't stay that way," Harry said softly.

Severus was, at heart, more realistic. "For a while it can, but then it must be back to
business," he said.

Harry was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah, you're right, back to business.
Something I have to think about." He gave Severus a sideways glance. "I'm going to
have to look for a place to start up again. Don't want to overstay my welcome at the
Weasleys."

Staring into the fire, Severus was deep in thought. Not given naturally to impulse, he
would later realize that the impulsivity that he gave in to then was, in fact, one of the
best and most inspired decisions of his metered, well planned-out existence.

Standing to his feet, he reached down a hand to a startled Harry, and commanded,
"Come for a walk with me." Handing him his cloak from the hook, he fastened his own,
then headed out the door and down the porch steps. Harry followed him just a step
behind, but caught up to him at the gate. Severus held it open for him, then after a
puzzled glance, Harry shrugged and went through it.

Severus put his arm around him, directing him down the lane a short distance. "Stop
here," he directed, exerting a gentle pressure with his arm. "Look," he said softly,
pointing at the dead bird in the lane.

"Oh, a mourning dove," Harry remarked. "How sad. I wonder what happened."

Severus made a commiserating noise, then simply said, "Life." He motioned to the tree
just in front of them. "See there, that's its mate." The two of them stood and watched the
honey-colored pigeon, listening as it mournfully called to its mate lying in the lane.
"Did you know," Severus asked softly, "that they mate for life? Monogamous birds, a
rarity in nature, but so they are. They remain together, season after season, sometimes
staying in the same locale, sometimes reconvening elsewhere. But they stay together to
the end." His voice subtly changed, causing Harry to turn his head to look at him. "No
wedding vows, no promises made, no foolish proclamations of devotion and heartfelt
love. No, none of that, but all the same, when one dies, the other is almost comfortless.
That one will stay there for days, mourning, I suppose." He maneuvered the two of them
to the far side of the lane for a different vantage point, and now they could see the dove
in the tree, its dark plumage below its eye, fittingly shaped like a tear drop.

Severus turned to Harry now. "I'm a bit like that dove, Harry. No binding ceremony, no
petty words to try to live up to, no sugary words to sweeten what I am. But I think you
know my heart in this, and much like the dove, I'll give all that I have to give,
unreservedly and permanently," he finished, not in a question, but in invitation. His
black, glittering eyes were waiting, watching as Harry's opened wider, his mouth falling
slightly open.

"Severus," he finally managed to choke out, then placed a palm on Severus' chest as he
took a step closer, the green of his eyes narrowing as they dilated with emotion. "I think
you just asked me to stay…" His voice was low as he completed the staggering proposal,
"…to live, here with you..." He reached up his arms and draped them over Severus'
shoulders, bringing their faces together.

"Don't make me say it," Severus growled.

"Oh, but I will," Harry leant his forehead against Severus'. "Say it, Severus."

He should've known that it would come down to this, he thought, but then decided that it
was a small point to concede, considering what he was gaining. "Oh all right. Will you
stay, then, until one of us lies dead in the lane?"

Harry spoke the words against his lips, but Severus could hear the smile in them. "I
will."

***

Epilogue

Severus stood at the kitchen window, looking out over the thin layer of snow covering
the garden, watching with interest as something wild flushed a deer out of the tree line. It
darted erratically through the rows, then zigzagged back into the forest, just beyond the
frosted greenhouse. A black speck in the sky caught his attention, then, as it grew larger,
he announced, "Owl post."
It was a game they played regularly, and today it was Harry's turn to claim the victory.
He was already waiting on the porch, when Severus, delayed by the practicality of
throwing on his cloak, stepped up beside him.

"Cheater," he accused.

"Hey, rules don't include staying warm," Harry laughed as he hugged himself.

The owl swooped in over the house, for a moment out of sight, then angled in from the
left, circling gracefully to alight on the porch rail. Harry crooned to it as he disengaged
the large, green and white envelope from its leg, then looked at Severus guiltily. "Owl
treat?" he asked sheepishly.

Withdrawing a piece of jerky from his pocket, Severus dryly remarked as he handed it
over, "You forfeit for lack of treat."

Harry snorted as he gave Severus the letter. "Yeah, right." He craned his neck to see the
envelope, now that he'd handed it over. "What is it?"

Severus broke into a smile. "Spring seed catalog. This will keep me occupied for—" He
stopped at the sound of the second owl, as it screeched in from the opposite direction.
"That's odd timing. But you don't get points for this one," he complained, as he handed
over another piece of jerky.

Harry removed the small white parchment roll, then sent the bird on its way with a treat
and a pat. He shivered, then jerked his head towards the door. "Let's go in."

As Severus removed his cloak, Harry sank to the settee as he slit the envelope open. "It's
from Molly," he commented with a frown. Severus leant against the mantel, soaking in
the warmth of the fire, waiting impatiently as Harry rapidly scanned the parchment, then
straightened in concern when Harry said disbelievingly, "No."

"What?" Severus asked, then when Harry didn't answer but continued to read, took two
quick strides to sit beside him. "What?" he repeated.

Harry dropped the letter to his lap, then gave Severus a weak smile. "It's a girl. Arrived
at 4:45 this morning. Mother and baby both in excellent condition." He let out a nervous
laugh, then croaked out, "Belle Harriet Weasley. God, I can't believe they did that." At
the look of horror on his face, Severus smiled.

"It's a perfectly fine name. In fact, it's beautiful," he concluded, knowing that his literal
translation would be unappreciated. "Why the face?"

Harry shook his head. "It's just…Harriet. It's an awful name for a baby, don't you think?"

Severus' eyes were assessing. "It's fitting, and speaks volumes of their regard for you."
His voice softened. "And no doubt, Winnie would've approved as well."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry agreed, then picked the letter up again to finish it. When he
dropped it to his lap this time, however, he shot Severus a disgusted look.

"What now?" Severus asked wearily.

Harry looked at the letter again, then fixed Severus with a stare. "Molly says to tell you
she hopes you don't mind sharing your birthday with a Weasley. Severus?" he accused,
obviously demanding an answer.

"Ah. I'd forgotten. January ninth," he confessed, then muttered to himself, "How in
blazes did she know?"

They exchanged a glance, then both of them said at the same time, "Minerva."

"Interfering old biddy," Severus complained, but Harry was having none of it.

"Why didn't you tell me? You gave me a gift for mine, but now I'm deprived of the same
pleasure," he chided. He pursed his lips, glaring rather effectively, Severus thought. But
then the look in his eyes became almost predatory, as he repeated, "Pleasure…." Tossing
the letter to the side, he stood to his feet, then reached down to haul Severus up by his
arm. "Since you've left me unprepared, I'll have to resort to what's on hand."

Severus had little time to object as Harry tugged him toward the bedchamber. "What's on
hand?" he asked, bemused, as they went.

Harry gave him a sly smile over his shoulder, dragging him onward. "I have an
interesting proposition for you."

***

The voice at his ear pulled him gently from sleep. "Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm leaving now—it's almost eight, and Chloe'll be there at nine."

"Hmmm," he repeated. "Good. Your fault I was up half the night." He heard Harry
snicker, then was vaguely aware of the kiss planted on the back of his neck. The warmth
of the room on that August day soon lulled him back to sleep.

Severus was weeding between the bright crimson gazanias when he heard her call from
the lane.

"Hulloooo, Mr. Snape!"

He stood slowly, wiping the dirt from his hands, then matter-of-factly made his usual
circuit through the rows to the gate. Leaning his forearms atop it, a familiar sight
awaited him just beyond.

"Winnie?" he asked, slightly puzzled to see her there. "Winnie," he said again, this time
not in question, but in benediction instead. There she stood, garbed in that same pink
frock, ribbons and matching socks, that he'd last seen her wearing almost a year ago.

She gazed up at him solemnly, her bright blue eyes twinkling, her freckled cheeks
dimpled by the smile she was obviously trying to restrain. "Have you missed me?" she
asked, curiously. Severus felt a small thrill when he spied the usual hand hidden behind
her back.

He nodded, then opened the gate to step out into the lane. "More than you'll ever know,
child." The two of them stood there for a moment, smiling at each other, then Severus
felt it proper to add, "Your Uncle Harry has as well."

This earned him a grin, then a girlish giggle. "Silly. I know he lives here now," she told
him knowingly.

Severus bent down, hands on his knees, putting them at eye-level. "Oh, you do, do you,
you meddlesome child," he teased, not at all bewildered by the lump in his throat.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Even so, I think you should still play the flower game," she
lectured him. "It was fun, wasn't it?" When Severus nodded, she told him, "I play the
flower game with my grandpa now. But it's not the same," she confessed, looking back
toward the crest a little guiltily. "He doesn't know as much about flowers as you or
Uncle Harry." She gave him another dazzling smile.

Severus reached out to touch her face, but she took a step backward, instead pulling the
hand out from behind her back. "Here, this is for you. I picked it myself this time. Do you
know what it is?" She eyed him anxiously as he reached out to take it.

He delayed as long as he could, somehow knowing that when he finally made his guess
this time, the game would be truly over. "Hmm, let me see," he stalled, as he examined
the lush rose of the orchid, then was genuinely puzzled as he inspected it more closely.
Shooting Winnie a glance, he admitted, "It's a disa, of course, but not a hybrid I've seen
before."

Winnie grinned as she clapped her hands. "See! I knew you'd know it!" Severus smiled
as she displayed her customary appreciation for his skill at the flower game.

"I don't suppose you can come into the garden to select one for yourself?" he asked.

Her smile faded, but her face was childishly serene as she told him, "Nah, I can't. I'm not
allowed off the lane, you see." For some strange reason, this made perfect sense to
Severus. He took a step backward, still holding the orchid cradled in both of his hands.
Winnie looked wistfully up the lane once again. "I've gotta go. You and Uncle Harry
love each other now, so don't be mean, all right?"

Severus shook his head as he promised. "Never mean. And you, Miss Weasley, I don't
suppose you need me to scold you anymore—I imagine you're well taken care of."

She was walking backwards in the lane now. "The best." She blew him a kiss, then
turned, and started skipping up the road.

Severus was rooted to the spot, knowing that he dare not move until she waved from the
crest. But she stopped sooner, halfway up the hill, to call out, "You still have my forget-
Winnie-not, Mr. Snape?"

"Safe and sound," he raised his voice to answer. Seemingly satisfied, she turned and
leisurely made her way to the crest. Severus saw her only in silhouette, when she turned
one final time to wave, then lifted his own in a farewell salute.

He was awakened slowly, gradually pulled to consciousness by the sound of childish

chatter in the garden. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, he realized, after a brief moment
of confusion, that it was Daphne's voice he was hearing, the new seven-year-old in his
life.

He rolled lazily to his side, then his eyes widened when he saw it: lying on the middle of
Harry's pillow was a perfect, pink disa. He slid cautiously to the edge of the bed, taking
care not to disturb the flower, then, almost reverently, he picked it up to examine the
stunning blossom. In honor of the little girl who'd not lived to see seven, he brought it to
his face, then inhaled deeply. "Enchanting," he murmured.

Dressed and out on the porch, he stood, unannounced for now, and watched the three of
them. The garden was in full bloom again, nourished by the fallen petals and leaves of
the summer before. He could just make out the top of Daphne's head, where she stood
amongst the dahlias, talking non-stop to a laughing Harry. The redheaded baby,
snuggled against him in the backpack, was peeking out over the top, peering
inquisitively at the colors of the rows.

But for Severus, the most beautiful sight in the garden was Harry himself: ruggedly-
tanned, his black hair blowing in the breeze, still slender, but today the picture of health
and contentment. Severus supposed that the fact that Harry was a perennial part of his
garden was what gave him the greatest pleasure of all.

Ah, they've spotted me now.

"Mr. Snape!" Daphne called out as she raced through a row, then stopped abruptly at the
bottom step. She looked up at him mischievously, then brought a hand from around her
back.
"Look! It's for you! Do you know what it is?" she asked anxiously, her blue eyes
sparkling, the ponytails jiggling with her barely contained excitement.

Severus looked over the top of her head, then smiled at the green eyes that sparkled back
at him. Leaning down, he peered at the bright yellow dahlia. "Hmmm, let me think…"

FIN