alisanne: (Snarry Tender)
[personal profile] alisanne
Title: Through The Years
Author: [personal profile] alisanne
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Summary: Harry's birthdays change through the years, yet one thing is constant.
Word Count: 1720
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for [community profile] snape_potter's Harry's birthday celebration! Happy birthday, Harry! <3
Beta(s): [personal profile] sevfan and[personal profile] emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


Through the Years


“It’s my birthday,” Harry says, watching the still, pale figure under the sheets. “My twentieth.”

Snape doesn’t respond, not that Harry expects him to. He’s been in a coma for two years; the Healers have given up on him, but not Harry.

“I’m supposed to be going over to the Burrow later to celebrate,” Harry continues. “I think Molly feels guilty for some reason, like she needs to make up for all those birthdays I missed when I was growing up with the Dursleys. Which is silly; it wasn’t her fault.”

Sighing, Harry leans back in the chair. “Hey, I finished Auror training this past week, by the way. They’re starting us out slow, I think. So far all I’ve had to do is break ups few pub fights. Still, it’s been fun.”

Behind him the door opens, and Harry looks, smiling at the mediwitch.

“Everything all right in here?” she asks.

Harry nods. “We’re fine.” When she leaves, he turns back towards Snape. “Oh, I’ve some other news, too. Ron and Hermione are getting married!”

Snape’s chest rises and falls, and for a moment Harry watches him breathe. “What else… oh, remember I mentioned last month how Ginny and I decided to break things off? Well, she was right, I do like men better. I’ve even been on a few dates, although nothing serious.

“I saw in your memories where you were exploring your sexuality, too, so it looks like we’ve something in common. Anyway, I wish you were awake.” Harry chuckles. “Although I’m not sure you’d welcome me showing up asking for romance advice. What would you say, I wonder?”

“H…happy…birthday, P…Pot—” Snape’s mouth is moving, the words barely discernible, but Harry hears them clearly.

“Shit,” Harry whispers, jumping up and leaning over the bed. He stares at Snape, blinking when he sees Snape’s eyes are cracking open. “Shit! Oh shit, he’s waking up! Help!”

The mediwitch from earlier runs in, looking around. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“He’s talking!” Harry says, pointing to Snape.

“Oh, Mr Potter,” the mediwitch sighs. “That’s imposs—”

Auror Potter,” Snape croaks.

“Merlin, Circe, and Morgana! I need a Healer immediately,” the mediwitch shouts, and Harry is shoved out of the way as people boil into the room.

Once the excitement fades, and Snape has been propped up in bed, his eyes find Harry. “Don’t…you have…a party…to attend?” he says.

“I sent a message about you waking up. We’ve postponed the party.”

Snape’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Why?” Harry repeats.

Snape’s throat works, his expression denoting frustration. “Why…visit? Why…tell me…things?”

Harry shrugs. “I thought we could be friends.”

Snape says nothing more, but he looks thoughtful as Harry leaves.


“Happy birthday!”

Smiling, Harry thanks his friends for the ‘surprise’ (Hermione, kind soul she is, warned him ahead of time, fearing an incident akin to the one at the Ministry the previous month, where someone had snuck up on him. They were still repairing the south corridor) and circulates, chatting with people and sipping his ale.

Luna’s the one who sees he’s not completely happy. “Twenty-one is still young, Harry,” she says, tucking her hand in his arm and walking with him. “You’ll find your knight one day.” She tilts her head. “Or your Prince, perhaps?” Kissing his cheek, she skips away, and Harry stares after her. Sometimes her perception is startling.

Snape, only recently back on his feet and operating his new potion business, does come, but only briefly. He slips in when the party’s at its height, drops a small box on the gift table, and before Harry can reach him to say hello, he’s gone.

After the party’s over, and everyone’s gone, Harry sits in his kitchen with a cup of tea, staring at the box. He’s not surprised when he opens it to find pictures of his mother and Snape, smiling and waving. When does surprise him are the tears that fall as he looks through them.

When he’s done, his eyes are red, but his heart is full.

He owls Snape a thank you just after midnight.


“Come in!” Harry says, opening the door to let Ginny and Dean inside. “Where are the kids?”

“Mum agreed to watch them. Happy birthday!” Ginny kisses his cheek, which Dean thrusts a wrapped gift at him.

“Sorry about the wrapping. The baby wanted to help.” Dean rolls his eyes.

Harry laughs. “I’m sure it’s wonderful nevertheless.”

The party’s in full swing when Severus arrives, of course. Harry’s used to this by now, after the past few years of burgeoning friendship, Severus’ habits are no surprise. What is surprising, however, is that he stays, mingles, actually speaks to people.

And when party guests begin to leave, he lingers until he’s the last.

“Tea?” Harry offers.

“That would be acceptable.”

In companionable silence, they sit in Harry’s kitchen, while Harry opens presents. They laugh over some gifts (Harry has no idea why Luna gave him handcuffs with the note ‘for when you need them, and blushes when Severus teases him mercilessly) and share some others, like the expensive chocolates Narcissa Malfoy sent.

When Harry gets to the last one, a small, black box, Severus leans forward.

Inside, nestled in velvet, lies a tiny silver cauldron. Harry looks up at Severus.

“It is traditional in wizarding families to gift the eldest child with silver on their twenty-fifth birthday to signify long life and happiness.” Severus’ eyes bore into Harry’s.

“Is that all it signifies?” Harry asks.

Severus smiles faintly. “I continue to underestimate your intelligence, to my detriment. If the gift is in the shape of the gifter's primary source of income, it can indicate a desire to initiate…courting.”

Fingers trembling, Harry touches the cauldron. “What do you want it to indicate?”

Severus rests his hand atop Harry’s. “I believe you know.”

Harry stares at Severus. “Yes,” he whispers.

Severus raises an eyebrow. “Yes to—?”

Harry smiles. “Yes.”

Neither he nor Severus sleep until well past midnight.


“Happy birthday.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, burrowing his face deeper into Severus’ neck.

“We’re going to have to get out of bed eventually,” Severus whispers.

Harry groans. “Why?”

“Well, since several hundred people are likely to show up here to celebrate your fiftieth birthday, it could be embarrassing for them to find us lounging in bed.”

Harry hums, then sits straight up in bed. “You invited people over?”

Severus rolls onto his back and smirks up at Harry. “Fifty is a special year.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, which is why I was hoping we could spend it in bed celebrating privately.”

“As if your friends and Weasley family would allow it to pass unremarked and uncelebrated?” Severus raises an eyebrow. “Have you met Molly Weasley?”

“Ugh!” Shoulders sagging, Harry groans. “Damn. And I’d hoped we could manage to not get dressed at all all day.”

Severus laughs softly. “Then say thank you.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Thank you?”

“Close enough.” Severus pulls Harry back down. “I may have intimated to Molly that we had private plans for today. Your official birthday party shall be on Saturday.”

“You,” Harry breathes, “are brilliant!”

“I have my moments,” Severus murmurs. He slides his hand down Harry’s flank until he’s cupping his bum. “Now, shall we see if we can equal our best record for numbers of hours for which we can pleasure each other?”

“I’m fifty!” Harry protests.

“And I’m over seventy,” Severus reminds him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Laughing, Harry kisses Severus. “Nothing, it seems. Think we’ll still be doing this when I’m seventy?”

“We will if I can help it.”


“Happy seventy-fifth, mate.” Ron grins. “What are your celebratory plans this year?”

Harry smiles. “You know, the usual.”

“So…Severus plans to risk you away on a romantic holiday again?” Hermione asks. “Where this time?”

“Greece,” Harry says. “We’ll be gone a week.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you have the energy for such things anymore.”

“Hermione!” Ron coughs. “We have…energy.”

Harry hides a grin. “I’m sure you do. Excuse me, I should check on Severus.” He leaves them arguing (some things never change, even after decades), going in search of his husband.

Locating Severus on the back porch, Harry leans on the door frame, watching him regale the kids with stories. “…and then he said, ‘There’s no need to call me, sir, Professor.’”

“Ooh!” asks Amelia, one of Bill and Fleur’s granddaughters. “What did you do?”

Severus’ eyes meets Harry’s over everyone’s head. “I was impressed, but he got detention nevertheless.”

Laughing, Harry steps forward. “Right, that’s enough of that. Who’s for cake?”

As the kids (Harry’s long since lost count of how many of his friends’ children and grandchildren there are, although he does know all their names) squeal and race inside, he goes to help Severus up.

“I don’t need help,” Severus huffs.

“Oh, I know,” Harry replies, tucking his hand in the crook of Severus’ arm. “I just like touching you.”

Severus snorts. “Like that, is it? Do I need to pack some stamina potion for our trip?”

Chuckling, Harry rests his head on Severus’ shoulder. “If you like, although we haven’t needed it yet. Oh, and speaking of, Ron and Hermione were asking how we manage to still be so…energetic at our ages.”

Severus smirks. “What did you say?”

Harry grins. “I managed not to comment.”

“Smart man.”

“I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two over the past few decades with you.” Harry sighs. “We should get inside. Sounds like the natives are getting restless.”

Severus shifts his hand downward, giving Harry’s arse a tender, proprietary pat. “They’re not the only ones. When did you say we’re leaving?”

“Once the cake’s cut.” Harry kisses Severus’ cheek. “Then we’re off to the real celebration.”

“Lovely.” Severus starts for the house, dragging Harry with him. “Then let’s get on with it. After all, I want to say a proper happy birthday while it’s still your birthday.”

Harry looks into his eyes, sees the image of what Severus plans for them later, and sighs. “Happy birthday to me,” he says.


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