Fic: Music of the Heart

[alisanne]

Just reposting this so I have it in my journal. :)

Title: Music Of the Heart
Author: alisanne
Rating: R
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Word Count: ~16,900
Beta readers: The Firedancer, SeparatriX, VL redreign, Bemused.
Archive: Originally posted as part of the 2006 From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest.
Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, het implied.
Challenge: History, history, history.


~

Music of the Heart

~

Harry couldn't remember back to a time without his older brother. As he'd grown up, Harry had always been in unofficial competition with Marcus.

What I wouldn't give to have him here, now, Harry thought, pensive.

Standing, sipping his tea and glaring out at the immaculately tended gardens, Harry couldn't help thinking back to those halcyon days. The days before Mother had died, and Father had essentially become a hermit.

Lily Evans-Potter had been a great beauty in her day, and James Potter had considered himself lucky to have snagged her. Theirs had been a love match, and by all accounts they had been blissfully happy. That had made her untimely demise from pneumonia the winter of Harry's eleventh year all the more tragic.

James Potter simply hadn't been up to much after that. Harry, set to go to Eton that autumn, had been kept home, and he'd not minded, really. His father needed him and he'd been happy to stay with him. They'd retired that year to the country estate, and so, that was the only life Harry knew.

He'd had tutors, of course, and he had always been a quick study, and so he’d managed a good, classical education in Latin, French, Mathematics, Geography, History and Greek.

Harry'd also become quite a capable horseman, hunter and shooter, as had his sister, Eleanor. Marcus, already at Eton, had been allowed to pursue an interest in the military, against tradition for the first born son of a titled family, but James simply hadn't had the heart to tell him no. James was still a relatively young man, and was not counting on dying any time soon, although any suggestion that he might want to think about remarrying was met with a blank stare.

Harry really missed Marcus. It had been years since he'd seen his brother, who had left for his military tour of India five years prior, and now the authorities weren't even sure if he was still alive.

Harry squinted. A lone horseman was coming up the path to the house. It was... McNair, Marcus' valet, who had gone to serve with him in India, riding up the front drive, and Harry gasped, reverting back to his childhood, and rushing out of the room to greet him.

He skidded to a stop when he saw Eleanor had beaten him there.

“You're too late,” she said. “You just missed his speech about how he has to report to Father before he can tell us anything.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her and grinned at his brother's man. “It's good to see you, McNair. You bring good news, I hope?”

McNair, normally a taciturn fellow, shook Harry's hand as the stable boys led his tired mount away. “Master Harry. My but you've grown!”

Harry shrugged and flushed as he continued. “I'll repeat what I told your sister,” McNair said. “I have to report to Master James, but after that I can say all that I know.”

Harry nodded. “Well, he's up in his study, shall we go?”

Eleanor sighed. “It's not as if he's ever anywhere else,” she murmured.

At Harry's look she blushed and said, “Good day to you, McNair.”

She watched as Harry led McNair away.

~

McNair fidgeted uncomfortably as James Potter perused the letter that he'd brought. It was a relief to be back at the estate that he considered home, but he felt as though it had been his responsibility to bring Marcus Potter back from India, and he had failed abjectly.

The letter declared Marcus missing, presumed dead, and McNair could see that fine tremble in the hands clutched it.

James' eyes blurred, and with effort he held in his emotions. This is like losing Lily all over again, his babbling mind supplied, and he immediately shunted that thought away. He would do his family no good if he became a blubbering idiot. He would need to be strong if they were to weather the future.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

As McNair described being separated from Marcus during a skirmish, only to be unable to find him once the melee was over, James' mind shied away from the somber words.

He is not dead, he is not dead, he is not dead...

Glancing out the window in an attempt to distract himself, he saw Eleanor ride into view, sitting astride her horse, while Harry yelled at her, and he sighed.

He still had two other children to worry about, and neither of them had any semblance of town bronze. Marcus had gone to Eton, had been quite a success there, but his other two were all but wild. Hell, Eleanor probably saw nothing wrong with the way she comported herself. James felt a sudden stab of alarm at that knowledge. What had he done?

Yes, they had been happy in the country, but now his son and daughter had no entre into polite society. How would Eleanor marry? Who would Eleanor marry?

How did things get so out of hand?, he thought. Eleanor is twenty-one, with no prospects, Harry is eighteen with no polish. He's too naive, he needs to be more worldly wise, because presently, he is ill-prepared to be head of this family, should that become necessary. Oh, Lily, what shall I do?

“Master James?” McNair had paused and was gazing at him worriedly.

James sighed. “Yes, McNair?” he replied, focusing on his eldest son's valet once again.

“My position here is forfeit, now that Master Marcus is missing, I realize that, but I still think that I could be of some use to you, sir. Perhaps I could serve Master Harry...”

James held up a hand, and the words halted. “I do not believe that Marcus is dead, McNair. I do not accept that as fact.”

McNair bowed his grizzled head briefly. “Of course, sir.”

“Good. Just as long as we're clear on that. He is not dead. I cannot...” James' voice cracked and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I shall entertain no talk of your being at fault for this, either,” he said sternly. “This is Marcus we're talking about. A more headstrong young man was never seen... Well, you know this. It is not your fault.”

McNair bowed again, hands clenched tightly together.

“I shall not tell Harry or Eleanor that he is presumed dead, since he is not, not until they show me his corpse, no matter what the Army says. We shall say that he's on a special project, and that you have returned, and that he is... missing, but being looked for.”

“Of course, sir.”

James tried to smile. “And, as Harry could certainly do with a bit of polish, you can transfer your service to him.”

“It would be my honor to be Master Harry's man, sir,” McNair replied. “And I shall be loyal to the utmost. I shall not give you cause to worry abut him, sir.”

“This shall only be until Marcus returns, of course.”

McNair nodded again. “Naturally, Master James,” he said in his soft voice. “I shall endeavor to serve Master Harry as best as I can until Master Marcus returns, as you say.”

“Thank you, McNair. You may go. Inform Harry and Eleanor that I wish to speak with them immediately, and... thank you for bringing me word of my son.”

McNair left, and James squared his shoulders and prepared to talk to his children.

~

“What do you think has happened?” Eleanor asked Harry as soon as he returned.

He shrugged. “Not sure,” he said. “Marcus might be on his way home, possibly delayed, or he could have been injured and needs time to recuperate, so he sent McNair back ahead.”

Eleanor sighed. “There has to be something wrong,” she said, plucking at her sleeve absently. “He wouldn't miss a chance to come home, not after having been gone for so long.”

Harry nodded. “You could be right. I suspect we'll find out soon enough.”

“Do you wish you'd gone away sometimes, Harry?” she asked a moment later, a wistful note in her voice.

Harry looked at her, surprised. “Sometimes,” he said. “I like it here all right, but it might be nice to explore and see the world.”

“Do you wish you had gone to Eton?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I had gone there, so that I would understand the things that Father talks about, but most of the time I'm content that I didn't.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said. “He gets this odd look on his face when he talks about it. As if not all his memories were happy...”

“Marcus used to write and tell me all the reckless things they said Father did. I wonder if I would have been as wild?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. You're not even as adventurous as Marcus. I can see you staying here forever. You would probably be happy taking lessons at the rectory for the rest of your life,” she said.

He flushed. “Well, I do enjoy books,” he said.

She smirked. “If I didn't know you better, I'd say you enjoyed the company.”

Harry's face grew redder. “Hermione and I are...”

“Just friends. I know.” Eleanor's tone softened. “You're quite the gentleman, aren't you?” she asked gently. “But, politeness will only get you so far, Harry. If you have serious intentions, you shall have to tell her.”

He looked up at her, startled. “That's not it at all,” he said. “I like Hermione all right, I just... I've just never met anyone that I particularly liked that way.”

She sighed. “I see. Well, there's not much variety here. Perhaps you should travel, see if there are girls elsewhere more to your liking.”

He shrugged.

She grinned mischievously. “Or boys, perhaps.”

“You've been talking to Hermione again!” he accused, face red.

She shrugged. “She lent me a book on Greek history and it mentioned pederasty,” she said, blushing a bit at the memory. “Quite enlightening. Perhaps you should find an older man to teach you some things...”

She sprinted for her horse as his mouth dropped opened in shock, vaulting on the animal's back as he began to chase.

As he ran after her on foot, Harry pushed what she'd said to the back of his mind.

Neither of them noticed their father watching from the window.

~

James Potter loved poring over the books. Throwing himself into the mechanics of running the Potter family investments had been his way of coping with Lily's death, and after seven years it was all he knew.

He muttered to himself as he worked, and oftentimes, when no one else was around, he would speak to Lily as if she were still there. He even imagined he could smell her scent sometimes. Those were the bad times, when he would need an entire bottle of whiskey to sleep; when he wouldn't get out of bed for a few days....

That all must end now, he told himself. The children need me. Marcus is... gone, and I have to see to their future. God help me, Lily. I hope you forgive me.

A knock on the door took him out of his brooding. “Enter,” he called out.

There were days when seeing Harry was a shock. He had Lily's eyes, and it was often painful to look at him. Eleanor had James' features, but Harry was pure Lily... James brought his mind back to the reason he'd summoned them.

“Come in children.”

The walked in, both out of breath, Eleanor's cheeks flushed and Harry's eyes bright. James hoped they would look as happy and carefree after he finished telling them what he'd decided.

“Father, you wished to speak with us?”

James closed the accounting books and smiled encouragingly, indicating the chairs in front of his desk.

As he told them about Marcus' missing status, and McNair's return to service, James watched them carefully.

They were smart, he knew they would understand the implications of this.

“So, Harry,” he said. “McNair is to be your valet, it is past time you had one, in fact.”

Harry brightened up.

He could be considered a handsome young man, James thought, eyeing his son critically. He's got Lily's bright green eyes and my dark hair, albeit messy, and his healthy muscular physique is enough to make him popular with the local girls, if only he saw that.

“Thank you, Father, but here in the country, why do I need a valet, really? Who is there to dress up for?”

Which brought James nicely to his second point.

“Whether you reside in the country or not, a young gentleman always have a good valet, which you should know.”

Harry blushed.

James sighed. “I have neglected you both,” he said, holding first Harry's and then Eleanor's eyes with his. “It is past time that you were married, my dear.”

At this, Eleanor sighed.

“And you need to know more about high society than you do, Harry. Especially if you are ever needed to run this estate.”

Harry sighed and nodded.

James took a fortifying breath.

“We are fortunate that your Aunt Petunia, who lives in France, has offered to take you both on a Grand Tour for the season, to allow you both the opportunity to acquire more knowledge about the world,” he said carefully. “I have resisted, knowing that in the past, she and I have had our differences, but I think we have come to an understanding, and this may be just the thing.”

“You are planning to send us to France?” Eleanor asked, perking up, a smile playing about her lips.

“Yes, not just France, but Naples, Venice... You desperately need a husband, my dear,” James said. “Soon, it will be too late.”

She nodded. “You're right, of course, Father,” she said. “But I confess, I am more excited about the prospect of going to Europe!”

“You must keep your priorities in order,” he said, and she nodded. “You can hardly be blamed for not making an attachment here, there are limited prospects in the country, but it is past time that we got you introduced into society and did something about it. And you, Harry. You need to go as well.”

Harry sighed. “ I don't have to get married, do I?” he asked.

James smiled. “Eventually you shall,” he chided gently, making Harry flush and look away, “but perhaps that should not be your immediate goal. You have many years to contemplate making a match, after all. You are young yet.”

James stood up behind his desk, and walked around it, hands clasped behind his back.

“In any case, Harry,” James continued, “this European tour might be just the thing to provide you some polish, and your aunt has been offering to do this for several years. She has connections in the French court, as you know, and that is often a good place to learn courtly behavior.”

“Maybe you'll like French girls, Harry,” Eleanor said, smirking. “They are supposed to be fun.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her, and as they spatted, James shook his head. He had no worries about Harry being too wild.

He could do with a bit of wildness, James thought. Harry had always seemed more cut out for the priesthood than anything else, in James' opinion. He was the exact opposite of his adventurous older brother. But, if he is to be head of the Potter family, he shall certainly have to marry. And perhaps that steadiness will serve better.

Still, there were times that James despaired of Harry bringing home a nice young lady. He seemed to get along with women quite well, it just never went any further. He'd been quite friendly with Vicar Granger's daughter, Hermione for years, but there was no romance there. The two had shared Greek studies under the watchful eye of the Vicar for years, and James knew a platonic friendship when he saw it.

James hadn't batted an eye when he'd been asked if Hermione could share in Harry's classes; Lily had made sure that he had fairly liberal views on women's education, so he'd acquiesced. He'd even hoped for some flicker of interest there, but nothing had happened.

Perhaps a change of scenery, he thought.

“Children.” James interrupted their bickering. “I shall be writing to your aunt to make the arrangements, but I am sure she will be happy to have you, as she's been requesting that this for several years.”

“When are we going?” Eleanor asked.

“In all likelihood, it shall be within the next six weeks.”

With a squeal, she clapped her hands. “I have to pack!”

The two Potter men exchanged a rueful glance as she ran out of the room.

Harry shook his head as he stood and followed her.

James sighed. It would be hard to see them go, but it was for the best. Now to write to Petunia.

~

Petunia Dursley sniffed delicately as she sipped her tea. She pointedly held her pinky finger out as she placed the bone china cup down onto the saucer, missing the smile on her maid servant's face.

“Now, Molly, hand me that letter,” she ordered.

The servant handed her the only post she had received all week, and Petunia prepared to read it.

Stuck out in the French countryside the way she was, she did not get many visitors, although she knew she had an entre into the French court, she had no real reason to be there. A long in the tooth widow had no business worrying about such frippery, she'd long ago decided.

It had probably been a good thing that her husband, Vernon, had virtually eaten and drunk himself to death the way he had. Petunia knew that she had married beneath her, but she'd refused to be upstaged by her younger sister Lily, and when a man the station of James Potter had offered for her, Petunia had quickly accepted the first man who'd offered for her. That, unfortunately, had turned out to be Vernon Dursley, a social climber of the worst sort.

Petunia had never told Lily that she'd been right to urge her not to marry the man, but she acknowledged to herself the mistake that she'd made.

They had even had a son; a son who unfortunately took after his father. He probably would have eaten them into bankruptcy had it not been for that hunting accident, in which he'd been trampled to death by horses.

Fortunately, Petunia had been left relatively well off, and as a widow, she was beyond having to worry too much about the social conventions any more.

Petunia had always wanted a daughter, so when Lily had given birth to Eleanor, she had tried, in her own awkward way, to repair the relationship with her baby sister. It had taken a few years, but Lily had been thawing, and Petunia had been on the verge of finally getting to see her niece, when Lily had died.

James had been bereft, and hadn't even opened her letters for the first few years. Recently, they had not been coming back unopened, so she presumed he was reading them, but she wasn't sure of that.

And now, finally, here was a reply from James Potter.

She took a deep breath and, opening the seal, started to read the letter. A smile crossed her face.

“Molly, prepare the guest room, we are to have visitors. And bring me more paper. I have some letters to write.”

~

“I can't believe you gave Eleanor that book,” Harry said, still chafing about what his sister had said to him several weeks before. He and his best friend, Hermione, were sitting in the rectory visiting. Their chaperone, Hermione's elderly and deaf maid, dozed in the corner.

Hermione simply smiled serenely and handed Harry a cup of tea, which he accepted.

“She was only teasing, Harry,” she said, soothing. “She doesn't know. So, when do you leave for France?” she asked.

He frowned, but decided to let it go. “Within the next week, Father says,” he replied.

“Aren't you excited? I should be thrilled to travel.”

Harry shook his head. “You and Eleanor, both,” he said. “She's over the moon at the prospect, while I'm not sure what I'm feeling. A part of me is excited, and a part of me dreads that it will be tedious.”

“It shouldn't be too bad, Harry,” Hermione said. “You shall get to see the sights, and you'll probably have one of those social instructors. What are they called?”

“They're called bear leaders,” Harry said. “They're supposed to escort young men on their travels, and instruct then in the social graces. With my luck, I'll get one that's annoying and old.”

“I bet not. He might be a good companion. And perhaps he'll be attractive,” Hermione said archly.

Harry rolled his eyes and hid his flaming face, wondering again why he had told Hermione about his interest in men. After her initial surprise, she, of course, had gone into research mode, looking up incidences of this predilection in history. By the time she'd been done, she had been able to reassure him that it was just one more facet of his personality, a part of his nature.

He still wasn't convinced that it was mere coincidence that she had given Eleanor that book.

“I shall be traveling with my aunt and sister,” he said, words muffled by his hands. “It's not as if I'll have the opportunity, even if I met someone who appealed...”

She patted his arm reassuringly. “I was teasing,” she said gently. “But, I do believe you should avail yourself of the opportunity, should it arise. You would be silly not to.”

Harry uncovered his face. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “We shall see. Enough on that topic!” he insisted, seeing her ready to launch into it again. He really needed to talk about something else before he caught on fire from embarrassment.

“I can't help but worry about leaving Father behind, you know? He shall be all alone.”

Hermione sighed. “He will be fine,” she told him. “And, this is only temporary. You'll probably be back before you know it. In addition, it's time you saw some of the world, Harry.”

“Some of the men of the world, you mean?” Harry muttered under his breath, but of course, she heard.

Hermione grinned. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “The French have quite a reputation. They might be more to your liking. You'll have to write and let me know.”

He laughed and sipped his cooling tea. “I shall endeavor to,” he said.

“See that you do!” she scolded. “I shall be living vicariously through you, remember.”

He laughed again, and they chatted well into the afternoon, their visit ending hours later on a high note.

As she watched him ride away, Hermione sighed. Her friend was certainly in for an education in the next year.

~

Harry was simply exhausted. It felt as though they had been riding for months, although it had only been days.

He was still worried about his father, and about what would be expected of him here in France. He wasn't sure if he would be actively sought by women, if he was considered a catch or not, and he wasn't sure if there would be some sort of test at the end.

McNair had reassured him that it was normal to be sore after spending several days in the saddle, and he'd even advised Harry to consider riding in the coach with his sister, but Harry couldn't abide the conversation in there.

Eleanor seemed obsessed with her new wardrobe, and she and her ladies maid were apparently willing to spend entire days discussing ribbon and fabric. Harry had been able to withstand it for a few minutes, then he'd decided he would rather put up with a sore rear.

As they rode on, he took a moment to admire the countryside. The weather was appreciably warmer than he was used to, and he contemplated removing his jacket, but, as McNair assured him they were due to arrive at his aunt's that very day, he tried to stay as formally dressed as possible.

They rounded a corner and came across an estate nestled in between two gentle hills.

It was smaller then he was used to, but it appeared charming.

He rode up to the door of the rented carriage and knocked sharply. Eleanor stuck her head out a moment later.

“What?” she demanded.

Harry pointed at the building. “We're here,” he said, and her eyes grew wide.

She pulled her head back in, and Harry could hear her fussing at her maid to help her with her hair.

He rode ahead, accompanied by McNair, and as they drew closer, they could see several figures waiting for them in front of the house.

By the time they drew up to the entrance, Harry had already picked out his aunt. She looked stern, her lips pinched together in a bit of a disapproving line. Her eyes took in his ensemble, and he was glad that he'd dressed as formally as was possible under the circumstances. He hoped Eleanor had managed to freshen up.

He pulled to a stop and dismounted, holding on to his horse's lead firmly.

She stepped forward.

“Harry Potter?” she said.

“Lady Dursley.” He bowed low, taking her hand as he did so.

“Welcome, nephew,” she said, a smile splitting her face. “Call me Aunt Petunia. It is good to finally meet you. Now, introduce me to your sister.”

As Eleanor stepped forward to be introduced, Harry sighed. Let the fun begin, he thought.

~

Severus Snape watched the pathetic interactions of the other guests, bored.

I don't know why I bother with these tedious things any more, he thought, noting arrival of some new people to the garden party.

His distant cousin, Lady Charmaine Prince, threw the most popular routs in Paris, and everyone angled to be invited. Severus, bored that afternoon, had decided to attend.

He watched with interest as a redheaded woman emerged from a carriage, followed by an attractive dark haired man and an older woman.

Interesting. New faces, he thought. He inspected them all carefully, noting the well cut clothes. They are an attractive enough couple, he thought. Newlyweds, perhaps?

His attention returned to the young man, who was even now standing in the background waiting for the two women to get themselves situated.

Engaged or newly wedded, escorting an older relative, Severus decided.

The young man was deferential, taking care that his fiancé and the older lady were well situated before they walked towards the garden.

Spotting Lady Charmaine and her cowed daughter, Severus straightened up and moved away. It didn't do to stay in one place too long at these things.

The new arrivals created a small commotion, and Severus watched with amusement as the crème of French society inspected the newcomers.

“Severus Snape! You came!” and Severus schooled his features into something approaching a pleasant expression, stifling his groan.

“Lady Charmaine. And your lovely daughter, although, are you sure that she is not your sister?”

The middle-aged matron preened, while the spotted chit flushed unbecomingly.

“You are such a flatterer, Severus,” she gushed. Severus did not miss the claw like grip she maintained on her daughter. “We are both thrilled that you made it to our humble event.”

Severus sighed and resigned himself to a conversation with the child; for the life of him he could not remember her name...

“Lady Charmaine!”

The small group spun to see the lady who had just arrived, dragging the young man and red headed woman behind her. “Thank you for inviting us, my dear!”

“My dear Petunia!”

The two women air kissed, and then Charmaine turned back to Severus.

“I would like you to meet Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Severus. Petunia, this is a distant cousin of mine, Mr. Severus Snape.”

Petunia greeted him effusively. “I am so pleased to meet you! Please be introduced to my niece, Miss Eleanor Potter,” the girl grinned at him, “and my nephew...” a crash sounded and the rest of her words were muffled.

Nephew? Severus was surprised at the frisson of pleasure that spread through him at this news. So, they are not engaged, or married? He assessed the pair with new eyes.

The name Dursley niggled at his memory, and Severus' mind raced as he tried to place her. It was a fairly common name, although he could remember several years ago, a social climber named Dursley marrying one of the Evans'. He relaxed. This was her, then, and her niece and nephew, who by extension, couldn't be too high up on the social ladder.

By the time the servants had extricated themselves from the accident,
Petunia was deep in conversation with Charmaine, leaving Severus with Eleanor, her companion, and the Charmainette, which was what Severus called the chit in his mind. He was still unable to remember her name.

Severus bowed low to Eleanor, kissing the air over her hand, and excused himself. She graciously took the hint and turned to the other girl, and Harry turned to him almost desperately.

Severus smiled.

“Severus Snape,” he said, extending his hand. “I missed your name in the commotion.”

“Call me Harry,” Harry said, clasping hands with Severus. A frisson of reaction ran up his arm at his first contact with Harry, and Severus almost snatched his hand back.

Harry's eyes flew to his, and they shared an almost perfect moment of awareness before they both stepped back.

“Harry,” Severus murmured, absurdly relieved that his voice sounded normal to his ears. He hadn't had such a physical reaction to anyone in a very long time. Not since... He clamped down on that thought.

Harry cleared his throat and smiled, saying something polite and nondescript as Severus regained control of his emotions.

Severus was vaguely aware of walking further into the gardens and away from the crowds, but his senses remained exquisitely attuned to Harry's every move. He could feel Harry's body heat radiating from him, and found himself swaying towards him on more than one occasion.

“Are you hungry?” Severus asked Harry, and at his eager nod, they diverted to the food table, filling plates and finding a relatively secluded place to eat and talk.

They had tea, and Severus made careful note of the way Harry took his; black and strong and very sweet.

As party went on around them, Harry and Severus chatted easily, Severus becoming more and more impressed by Harry's thoughtful demeanor and erudite answers.

Harry told him about coming into Paris at the advice of his father, who wished him to acquire some town polish, and Severus smiled, remembering acquiring social acumen his own youth.

He cannot be related to anyone who I went to school with, then, Severus thought, relaxing more.

When Harry almost yawned mid-answer to one of his questions however, Severus realized just how worn out his new acquaintance was.

“Do you need to rest, Harry? You did just arrive. Perhaps Lady Petunia should have allowed you and your sister to rest some more... ”

Harry shook his head. “No. I wonder if it would be possible to ride a bit? I suspect that would wake me up.”

Severus inclined his head. “Leave it to me,” he said standing up, and in a few minutes they were riding away, Severus having bullied Lady Charmaine's grooms into finding them mounts.

Severus gave Harry an impromptu tour of the grounds, having explored the surroundings extensively in the past.

He also took the opportunity to tell Harry a bit of his own history, leaving out the less savory parts.

“So, you don't normally live in France?” Harry finally asked.

Severus shook his head. “No. I maintain a small house in London, at least I did until recently... Anyway, I decided to go on a Grand Tour this year, since I have never availed myself of that opportunity in the past.”

“Perhaps we can go together?” Harry said, and Severus smiled.

“I would not be averse to that,” he said. “Shall we return to the others?” he asked, eyeing the darkening sky. “Your family is probably becoming concerned by your absence.”

Harry shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said. “They know I'm fine. I'm not like my older brother. He was always much more adventurous than I was.”

Severus fixed him with a speculative look. “I suspect, given the right incentive, you could be just as adventurous.”

Harry flushed lightly but did not answer. They rode back to the party in silence.

As they returned their borrowed horses and walked back to the gardens, Harry could see his aunt gesticulating wildly.

She turned and saw him, smiling with relief.

“Harry! There you are. I was becoming concerned. I would not like to have to explain to your father that I had lost you.”

Harry shook his head. “Severus was just showing me the estate,” he explained. “We went riding.”

She smiled speculatively. “I see. Well still, we should be going.”

Harry turned towards Severus and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Aunt,” he said.

And if, as they bade each other farewell, their hands lingered a bit too long, no one seemed to notice.

Severus was whistling as he let himself into his home later that evening.

And, as he penned a letter to Harry that night, inviting him to join his Grand Tour, an uncharacteristically pleasant expression graced his face.

~

Petunia was happy to join their tour with Severus Snape's. Another well bred gentleman on the tour would not only provide extra safety, but perhaps, one of his friends would prove to be a good suitor for Eleanor.

She had entertained hopes for Severus with Eleanor, but early in the trip she had caught a look on his face that made her realize that that was not going to happen.

She had just walked down to the lobby of their selected hotel in Calais, she had spotted Harry and Severus, seated at a table, enjoying a drink together.

Severus had been telling some story and he gently touched Harry's arm as if to emphasize a point, his hand lingering. And Harry had grinned widely at him, leaning closer as he laughed.

Watching them, Petunia felt a sense of peace steal over her. She had worried that Harry had a crush on Severus, but it looked as if that regard was returned.

“I thought you would disapprove,” a soft voice behind her said.

She turned to see Eleanor behind her. “What do you mean, child?” she prevaricated. Eleanor couldn't possibly know what was happening, could she?

Eleanor smiled. “Harry really likes Severus,” she said. “Under different circumstances, they would probably be betrothed.”

Petunia sighed. “This association cannot happen, you realize?” she said, turning back to look at them.

Eleanor nodded and then answered, realizing that Petunia wasn't looking at her. “Of course, Aunt,” she said. “Harry is now the heir. He must marry and father children. Still, I wish he could have his happiness.”

Petunia nodded.

“I would have thought you would be more disapproving, Aunt,” she said, curious.

Petunia sighed again, turning away and linking her arm with Eleanor's. “Perhaps in my youth I would have been,” she said. “But my life with Mr. Dursley was less than ideal, and in those bleak years, I came to realize that one must snatch happiness, no matter what others think.”

Eleanor grinned. “You are developing French attitudes,” she teased.

Petunia shook her head. “Perhaps. More likely it is my realization that life is too short to worry about such things. Shall we give them some more time alone and go for a walk?”

Eleanor chuckled. “Of course, Aunt,” she said agreeably. “And perhaps we shall find a ribbon to match my new blue dress.”

~

Dear Hermione,

We just crossed the Alps and are on our way to Italy. You would love the countryside here, so many new flora, not to mention the sense of history that surrounds us everyday.

I am pleased to hear that Father is well. Thank you for checking on him regularly. I know he enjoys your company.

Things with our new traveling companion, Severus, are well. He is teaching me a lot about what is expected from a young man of my age and station. He is a wonderful teacher.

I hate to admit that you were right about what we spoke of just before I left, but you were, although, I must tell you, Severus is English to the core, so you were wrong on that account.

It is my dearest wish that you might even meet him someday. I live in hope that that can be arranged.

Yours,

Harry.

~

As the trip continued, Severus and Harry grew closer, becoming almost inseparable. Just before the traveling party arrived in Venice, Eleanor asked Severus about a new dance she had heard about.

Severus laughed.

“The waltz is a very new dance,” he agreed, eyes glittering with amusement. “It is not considered appropriate for proper English ladies to know, however.”

Eleanor laughed. “You think I'm proper?” she asked, teasing. They had evolved into a very comfortable relationship during the trip.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Point,” he conceded. “Very well, but your aunt must be present, of course.”

She grinned, triumphant. “Of course,” she agreed.

And, so they gathered in the salon of their suite, which, conveniently enough, had a pianoforte.

Petunia was quite skilled on it, and they planned an afternoon's activity there.

Severus approached Eleanor, bowed before her, and positioned her arms, one on his shoulder, one supported by his hand. He placed his own hand at her waist.

“Oooh, this is scandalous,” she breathed.

Severus smirked. “I did warn you,” he said. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, and her aunt, a twinkle in her eye, started playing the pianoforte, a lilting tune issuing forth.

Harry, scowling, watched from the sidelines, leaning against the wall. I cannot possibly be jealous of my sister and Severus dancing, he argued with himself as he watched Severus trim body twirl about the room.

Severus, attuned to his every mood, swept her close to him.

“You could do well to learn this dance, Harry,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am not good at dancing,” he muttered. “I'm as likely to trample a woman's toes as anything.”

Severus stopped. “Well, we cannot have that,” he said silkily, and Eleanor shivered at the dangerous tone in his voice.

Setting her aside, Severus walked up to Harry and held out his hand. Harry looked at him for a long moment before taking it.

Leading Harry by hand over to the middle of the room that they had cleared for this purpose, Severus turned to face him, holding out his arm.

Harry stepped back. “I thought I would dancing with Eleanor,” he said, unaccountably nervous.

“I believe we should spare her feet for the moment,” Severus said, his voice curling around Harry, drawing him in.

Harry nodded, stepping closer. He was folded into Severus' slightly taller body, his arm automatically winding around Severus' waist, even as Severus positioned Harry's other arm in the appropriate way to lead him.

“Relax,” Severus breathed, and Harry almost moaned as warm breath brushed his cheek.

Petunia played, and Severus led Harry gently, whispering instructions. They got off to slow start, but soon their bodies adjusted, Harry's hips following Severus' faithfully.

Harry, thrilled to be doing it right, laughed up into Severus' eyes, but when his eyes met Severus' intense gaze, he sobered.

Eleanor and Petunia watched as they danced silently, their eyes communicating wordlessly as Severus twirled Harry around the room.

When Petunia stopped playing, they kept moving, not even aware that the music had stopped.

Eventually, Severus looked about the room, startled to see that the two women had left them alone in the sun drenched parlor.

“There's no music,” he said, eyes tracing the planes of Harry's face.

“Yes, there is,” Harry said, stepping in closer. Laying his head onto Severus' chest, tucking it under his chin, he murmured softly. “It's in my head. Can't you hear it?”

Severus laid his head on top of Harry's as they swayed in place.

“Ah, yes,” he whispered. “There it is. I hear it now.”

And Severus would later swear, as they kissed for the first time in that room, that he'd heard the music clearly.

~

Petunia decided that she needed to take a hand the next day, when she saw Harry's glowing face at breakfast.

“Did you have a good night, Harry?” Eleanor asked her brother, laughing softly at the tinge of color that flared in his cheeks at the question.

Severus, seated next to him, did not react, but a small smile was playing about his lips, and his eyes were gentle as they rested on Harry.

“That's it!” Throwing down her napkin, Petunia startled them all with her pronouncement. “This is not a honeymoon,” she said discreetly. “I know you are both... happy,” she almost smiled at the way Harry avoided her gaze, “but you have got to stop acting like lovers and start acting like...”

“Normal men?” Severus supplied, his voice low and dangerous.

Petunia tutted, leaning close so as not to be widely heard.

“Believe it or not, Severus,” she said kindly, “I am not as scandalized as you might think. I know you and my nephew have developed a tendre for each other, and while we travel that is fine, but we will soon be reaching civilization again, and you must be more circumspect.”

She fixed her gaze on Harry, who cringed. “And, Harry James Potter, I am going to have to insist that you act more in keeping with your station! Your father is a peer of the realm! You are going to have to socialize with many people on this trip, not just one...”

As she spoke, Harry turned to Severus with a smile, only to see him pale, a look of horror crossing his features.

”Severus...?”

“What did she say?” Severus growled. “Are you... You are related to James Potter?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “He's my father. Haven't I mentioned that?”

Severus' gaze turned cold, and Harry shivered involuntarily.

“You did not,” Severus said, tone arctic, and Harry backed up more.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked. “You knew my name...”

“I did not know that you were one of THOSE Potters,” Severus said, voice eerily quiet. “Well,” he pushed away from the table, “You have all had your laugh at my expense.” Severus' expression was forbidding. “Kindly stay away from me in the future. This association is over!”

He stood, bowing formally to Eleanor and Petunia, and turning on his heel, strode away briskly, coat swirling dramatically around him.

Harry turned to his aunt, almost ready to cry. “What just happened?” he asked, forlorn.

She shrugged, confused.

~

Severus slammed the door to his room, almost trembling with rage.

Potter! His new friend... Severus snorted. At least be honest with yourself, he scolded in his mind. His new love interest was a Potter. Harry was related to the bastard who had almost ruined his life.

With ruthless efficiency, Severus packed his bags, throwing things in haphazardly, mouth set in a firm line.

Again! his mind was screaming at him. A Potter has bested you again!

He ignored the other part of his mind that was howling in anguish. You knew it was too good to be true, that part of his psyche supplied, and Severus clenched his hands into fists.

A knock sounded on the door, and he heard Harry calling his name. He ignored the hurt tone that was clear in Harry's voice, even through the door.

Severus pinched his nose, trying to stave off his sudden headache.

“Severus! Let me in...”

The door flew open, and Harry almost fell inside.

“What do you want now?” Severus asked coldly.

Harry reached for him, but Severus stepped aside. “State your piece and go,” he said.

“Severus, what's wrong? What did I do?” Harry's voice was forlorn, and Severus had to steel himself against it.

“As if you didn't know?” he threw back.

“I don't!” Harry yelled, anguished. “Just tell me. Please?”

“You mean James did not boast to you of his days at Eton?” Severus growled.

Harry blinked, confused. “I... Eton? Not really,” he said. “I didn't end up going, as you know, so we never really spoke about it...”

Severus' eyes narrowed. “So, you did not know that your father was almost a murderer? No, of course he would not have told you that... Shall I tell you of your precious father, Potter? Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked.

Harry, his face pale, nodded. “Please,” he said, voice soft, but determined.

Severus gestured towards a chair, and Harry sat, nervous. Severus' face looked so... hard. Harry just knew that whatever had happened had truly hurt and damaged him.

Severus sat back in his own chair, closing his eyes and mentally going back twenty years...

”Well, what have we here?”

Severus cringed. He bent his head in a vain attempt to disappear, but that was fruitless, of course. He was a target, as were all underclassmen at Eton, but it was worse for him, given the fact that his mother was a foreigner.

“D'you smell something?” another voice asked, and Severus recognized the voice of the most notorious upperclassman bully, Sirius Black.

“I think it's the stench of a dirty foreigner.”

Severus clenched his hands into fists, but he speeded up a bit, hoping to outrun them.

“D'you think it even understands us?” the first voice asked, superiority and malice seeping into the tone. “Its father was a mongrel, after all.”

Knowing it was a mistake, Severus nonetheless could not allow that statement to go unchallenged.

With an inarticulate yell he'd rounded on James 'oh so perfect' Potter and tried to pummel him, but that had not gone well either. By the time they were done with him, Severus had been bloodied and bruised and had been taken to the hospital wing to recover.

As he'd lain in the infirmary, he'd realized he'd allowed it to happen to him. He'd actually admired James Potter, but now he hated him...

Severus was the coxswain for his crew team, and of course, it had emerged later that it had all been a part of a plan to sabotage them. It had gone too far, but the Potters and Blacks were powerful, so James and Sirius had gotten a mere slap on the wrist.

A few days later, after Severus had begged to be allowed to compete despite the doctor's recommendation, the second blow had fallen.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Severus' competing boat had been sabotaged. No one ever proven who was to blame, but when his boat had sunk, all Severus remembered seeing was James Potter's smirking face as he'd gone down.

Severus had never recovered from the bout of pneumonia that had caused. On top of his already weakened state, it had been the final blow. He'd been sent home, to his frail mother, only to return a year later, and by then, James and Sirius had already left school.

When James had married a French heiress, in a massive and pomp filled ceremony, Severus' lips had twisted to see that the new Potter wife was not even a pureblooded English lass. But by then, his own mother had taken ill, and with his father long gone, he'd been consumed with caring for her. When she'd died the following year, Severus had placed the blame squarely at the feet of James Potter.

Harry's face was wet with tears, and something twisted inside Severus to see it.

He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out over the bright piazza.

“My father was born not far from here,” he said, voice low and bitter. “I have been planning to visit the estate during this trip. Perhaps I shall do that this afternoon.”

“May I go with you...?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would prefer to be alone,” he said.

“Severus, I... I don't want to leave you,” Harry said softly behind him. “I want to be with you.”

“Really? Well, you cannot,” Severus said, spinning to face Harry. “Get out, Harry Potter. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Severus, please....”

Severus made an impatient sound. “Think about it. Your father hates me, despises me more likely, as do I him. Are you prepared to give up your family to be with me? To never see your father again?”

At the look on Harry's face, he smiled coldly. “I thought not. That is even if I were prepared to have you, which I am not certain is the case. In addition, you need to be practical. You are the heir. Your brother is gone, you will have to marry a woman of breeding and sire children. That is your job now. This thing between us cannot be.”

“But, Severus, I lo...”

“Don't you dare say that,” Severus cut him off. “You know nothing of such emotions, you spoiled brat. Get out.”

Harry stood up and started walking towards Severus. “No. I can't believe that you are willing to just let what we have go.”

Severus closed his eyes, hoping the pain in heart would not be evident in his voice. “Potter, do not push me any further. Leave.”

“How can you do this only because of who I am?” Harry asked, almost in tears. “Just because I am a Potter...”

“I can do this because it is the right thing to do,” Severus said. “In addition, your family is responsible for much of my past torment, and I cannot forgive that. Now, will you get out?”

“No! I am not my father,” Harry said forcefully. “I am Harry, and I am in love with you... No! Let me finish,” he said as Severus seemed to be about to interrupt him. “I love you, and I want us to be together. If... if you tell me that you love me, too, then we can find a way.”

“Harry...”

“Can't you just say it, Severus? Can you concede that much? Do you feel anything at all for me?”

Severus stood there and as the silence stretched between them Harry's face crumpled. “Sorry to have bothered you,” he whispered after a long moment, and spinning around, he fled, the sound of the door slamming behind him shattering Severus' heart.

Severus sank to his knees, head bowed. He remained kneeling in that position for a long time.

~

There was knocking, but Severus was disinclined to answer it. He'd not emerged from his room, nor seen another soul, for two entire days, and he saw no reason to change that now. But the annoying knocking would not stop.

Finally tired of the noise, Severus stood and walked over to the door, flinging it open. It bounced against the wall with a thud.

Eleanor Potter pushed her way into his room, followed by a determined Petunia.

“What are you...”

He was cut off by Petunia.

“Stop your babbling, Severus,” she snapped. “We are asking the questions right now.”

“How dare you...”

Eleanor rounded on him, and he took a step back at the fierce look on her face. “How dare YOU do this to my brother?” she growled.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was then interrupted by Petunia.

“He is devastated, Severus! What did you say to him?”

“I told him the truth about his precious father!” Severus roared. “What would you have had me say to him?”

“That you loved him,” Petunia said, crossing her arms. “That, even though you know it's difficult, you love him and want to have some happiness with him now.”

“I would have thought that you, of all people, would know how impossible this is,” Severus snapped. “Were you not lecturing him not a day ago about how he needed to socialize with other people? Young WOMEN perhaps?”

“He deserves some happiness, Severus,” Petunia said. “And so do you. I... I was wrong about what I said before. Having been married to an awful man from a young age, I know how that can be. If you have found love and some measure of happiness in Harry's arms, then please, enjoy it while you can.”

“Get out,” Severus snarled.

Petunia lifted her chin and shook her head. “I am not done,” she said. “You are going to listen to me.”

“Fine. Finish your moronic rambling and then LEAVE!”

“How can you hold Harry responsible for something that happened before he was born?” she raged, hand on her hips. “Think, Severus! If Harry really had been planning this as some sort of elaborate plot to embarrass you, then explain how he looks at you. How he touches you...”

“Stop,” he said, his face a mask of rage.

“You love him, and he loves you!” she yelled.

His hand clenched into a fist and with a snarl he turned back towards the table and swept the cup and tea set that had been sitting there onto the floor, shattering the fine china. He saw Eleanor jump out of the corner of his eye.

“Go. Away,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Not until you tell me what the hell you were doing sending Harry away like that.”

Eleanor gasped at the language coming from her aunt.

“I am sure you know the answer to that,” he snarked. “Since you are an expert on everything.”

She compressed her lips. “You are afraid,” she accused. “You are trying to find any excuse to push him away, aren't you?”

Pain wrenched its way through Severus. His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. With a growl, he collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands. A hesitant, gentle touch on his shoulder made him look up into Eleanor's sympathetic brown eyes.

“Please, Severus,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “He needs you. I have never seen him like this. Please just... talk to him?”

Severus took a deep breath. “I... perhaps,” he conceded. “In the meanwhile, will you both just leave? I need to be alone.”

Eleanor looked helplessly at Petunia, who sighed. Walking over to her niece she guided her out of the room.

“We shall be back if we don't see you in a few more days, Severus,” she warned.

The soft click of the door closing was the only sound in the room for several hours.

~

Severus was impeccably dressed when he showed up for breakfast two days later. His hair gleamed, pulled back into a tail, and if his eyes looked a bit bleak, no one was commenting.

He was seated and waiting when Petunia and Eleanor arrived to eat.

Looking past them, he didn't see the primary person he wished to speak with and so, fixing Petunia with a hard, obsidian gaze he asked, “Where is he?”

Eleanor darted a look at her aunt.

“He's gone,” Petunia said calmly, taking her seat and nodding at the attendant who offered her tea.

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“He was called home. Our father is ill,” Eleanor said, sitting down. “In fact, we are leaving as well, but Harry has gone on ahead.”

Severus sat back in his chair. “With not a word to me...” he said under his breath.

He was startled when Eleanor slid a sealed letter across the table towards him. He quirked an eyebrow in silent question.

“He asked that I give that to you,” she said. “If you hadn't come down for breakfast today, we would have broken into your room again to be assured that you received it.”

Hands shaking infinitesimally, Severus opened the letter and read.

Dear Severus,

I love you.

I had to say that first, because I want you to know that as you read the rest of this.

Now, with that said, our last conversation was very painful to me.

It is with regret that I acknowledge what my father and Godfather did to you at Eton, and while I wish it had not happened, it was twenty years ago. I hope that it does not shock you that Sirius was my Godfather; there is not much that he can do to make amends, I am afraid, as he is deceased.

More important to our situation, however, is the fact that I am not my father.

I had hoped that you had come to genuinely care for me. Your actions up until that fateful morning certainly seemed to indicate thusly. To find that you could so easily sever our association was certainly shocking and disheartening.

I am not sure that I can ever assuage your concerns, since I shall remain a Potter for all my life, but I would like to discuss it further. If you do not return my affections, but intended this as some sort of game, then please, read no further.

I have to return home. My father is apparently quite ill, and he is not thought to be strong enough to survive the next few weeks. I am dreading returning, knowing that the estate and family name may all fall to my care, yet, it is my duty, and I shall not turn my back on it.

I asked Eleanor to give this to you should you ask about me. They are returning soon, and I would like to extend the invitation to you to come with them so that we might speak more on this.

I realize that it will be my duty to produce an heir, should I become head of the family, but I will always love you, Severus. You are the first and only person who had ever made me feel this way.

I feel alive when I am around you, as if I have awoken from a deep sleep. I would love to see you again, but I understand if you do not want to.

Thank you for the wonderful memories that you gave me. I feel as though I not only did a Grand Tour of Europe, but of my heart as well.

Always yours,

Harry

Severus tried, but couldn't speak as he looked up at the two women who had been regarding him closely. He swallowed hard and, with a deep sigh finally managed to say something.

“How much time do I have to prepare for this trip?”

Petunia smiled. “We leave this afternoon, Severus. Shall I have one of my servants pack for you?”

~

“Master Harry, we should stop now.”

Harry looked up from his intense contemplation of the road ahead, nodding absently at McNair. They had made great speed over the intervening days. By McNair's estimate, they would be back at the Potter estate within the week.

The trip had been quiet, Harry had been very introspective, not speaking any more than necessary. Quite a change from the excited lad that had set out from home a few months before.

McNair knew love when he saw it. Having served with Marcus in the military, it was commonplace to see young men finding comfort and solace with each other. Some had seen it as a way to pass the time, other had genuinely been in love, with all that entailed.

Having seen the way Harry and Severus had looked at each other and touched each other on the trip down, McNair had quickly realized the direction things were heading. But he had also recognized genuine feeling when he'd seen it, and so had said nothing, not begrudging Harry some happiness.

When Harry had fled Severus' room in Venice, McNair had seriously considered flouting all social conventions and challenging the man to a duel, until he had glimpsed his anguished face once from the window. Realizing at once that Severus was suffering as much as Harry, he'd left well enough alone, counting on time to heal the rift.

Unfortunately, the letter recalling them had come at perhaps the worst time, and he and Harry had set out not two days later. He had studiously not noticed Harry's longing look at Severus' window as they rode past, and Harry's silence on the trip had spoken volumes about his state of mind.

McNair knew how he felt, having gotten used to watching Petunia Dursley from afar. His mind shied away from that thought and returned to the issue at hand. Harry.

McNair sighed. Perhaps he would have to broach the topic of Severus at some point.

They diverted from the main road, locating an inn, and soon were ensconced in a booth in the back of the dining hall, tucking into a hot filling stew.

McNair considered Harry carefully. He had known him from early childhood, remembering how the boy had followed Marcus around, faithfully mimicking his every move. This subdued young man across from him was not the Harry he knew.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, as Harry stared unseeingly into the roaring fire, nursing a brandy.

Harry blinked at him. “About what?” he asked, dropping his eyes from McNair's sympathetic ones.

“You and Severus Snape.”

Harry's eyes flew back to his. “You... what? Erm... I... God.”

McNair smiled. “You do not have to say anything, Master Harry. Just know this.” He leaned forward, emphasizing his point.

“I have seen a lot in my travels. I know love when I see it, and it is never to be regretted. Rejoice that you had it, even for so fleeting a time.”

Harry's face crumpled and he dropped his head to his chest.

“Oh, McNair,” he whispered. “What am I to do? He... I...” Harry gulped.

McNair smiled. “I think it will sort itself,” he said, remembering the determined look on Mistress Petunia's face as they had left. “Somehow, it will.”

~

Hermione sighed as she mopped James Potter's forehead with a cool cloth. Her mother had been drafted by the local physician to provide the day-to-day care for James, and that meant Hermione was helping as well. Not that she minded. Her heart was wrung with pity to see her best friend's father in such a state.

He tossed, restless as she tried to soothe him while her mother was downstairs preparing another poultice.

“Why did this have to happen now?” she sighed softly as she cared for him. Harry would be forced to return now, and from his letters to her, she could tell that he was at his happiest.

Perhaps Severus will return with him, she thought. I should like to meet that man that has captured Harry's heart.

James mumbled, and she soothed the damp hair off his forehead before tucking him under the covers.

He had been riding around the estate when it had happened. One moment, he was fine, and the next, his horse had stumbled, throwing him to the ground.

Foolishly, he had been riding alone, and so he had lain there for almost a full day until his riderless horse's return had alerted the servants to a possible problem. He'd been found, cold, shivering, and delirious after having spent the majority of the night in the same spot.

The local physician had declared it to be a broken bone and possible poisoning of the blood, for which he had prescribed bed rest and bloodletting.

Hermione grimaced as she recalled it. She hated bloodletting, and always excused herself when it was being performed. The leeches made her cringe when she saw them.

Fortunately, the physician thought James might be improving, and had stopped that treatment, relying on Hermione's mother and her to tend to his fevers.

It had been two and a half weeks, and he'd woken up only twice, both times calling both herself and her mother Lily. Messages had been dispatched post haste to Harry and Eleanor, as well as to Marcus' last known location, but Hermione worried that they might not make it back in time.

A clatter from the hallway made her turn, and she gasped in relief to see Harry standing there, his eyes wild.

“Hermione?” he breathed, and she smiled tremulously at him.

“Thank God, Harry!” she cried, and then he was hugging her as she cried her relief at seeing him.

Too soon, he disengaged gently and sat down next to his father on the bed, clasping his hand and rubbing it gently.

“Father?” he said softly. “Father, can you hear me?”

James' eyes fluttered, but they didn't open. Hermione placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

“He has yet to wake up, Harry,” she said. “But I think he senses your presence.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand over James' brow. “What happened?” he asked, eyes still trained on his father's pale face.

She told him, watching as he absorbed the news.

“I shouldn't have gone away,” he said when she got to the end of her story. “This was all my fault.”

“How so?”

“If I had been here, it would have been me riding the property and he would not have been out there. There are some treacherous parts of this land that he might not have known about or remembered...”

“Harry, stop that! You are not at fault for this. How could you be? You deserved to go away. In addition, you would not have met Severus had you not been traveling. Where is he, by the way? I had hoped that he would come home with you so that I might meet him...”

She gasped as his mouth trembled and then he laid his head on the bed next to James.

“God, Hermione. He and I are... well, suffice to say, he shall not be coming here.”

“Harry? What has happened?”

“Hermione I can't... Later, all right? For the moment, can we concentrate on Father?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but just then her mother bustled into the room, and the moment was lost.

Hermione compressed her lips, but her eyes said clearly that they would have a very long talk later.

~

Severus wondered if he was insane.

I have to be, he thought as he sat in the carriage along with Petunia and Eleanor. He couldn't even remember how they had coerced him into doing this.

Yes, you can, his ever helpful mind supplied.

Petunia, with a deft craftiness that he'd not initially credited her with, had appealed to his chivalry when he had waffled about accompanying them back to the Potter estate. She had waxed eloquent on their possible danger while traveling, reminding him how guilty he would feel if anything happened to them.

When he had raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the group of strapping, young servants who had made the trip with them, she had changed tactics, reminding him that since he had expressed interest in returning to England, it made sense to go together.

Then, she had said the one thing calculated to get him to accompany them. “Are you this afraid to see Harry again? And I thought that you would want to face James. Surely, you would not want to be considered cowardly, Severus?”

And so, he was on his way to England, the Potter estate, specifically.

Funnily enough, it was Eleanor who reassured him the most when his fear appeared likely to choke him. They had several long talks, through which he came to a better understanding of his Harry.

Severus couldn't have said when he started thinking of Harry as his, exactly, but he did.

Eleanor had even gone with him to visit his father's grave, tenderly placing a bouquet of pink carnations there.

From what she said, the James Potter he had known and admired from afar was very similar to the loving father she described. The man who had attacked him and then laughed as he'd struggled for his life had evidently been an aberration.

As they wound their way back through mountains, Severus had plenty of time to think over what had happened with Harry, and with James.

Back at Eton, Severus had admired James from afar, almost idolizing the upperclassman, but it had never coalesced into anything more. Certainly, after he had almost died, Severus could not think of him with anything but loathing and, he admitted to himself late at night, fear.

And now he wondered what Harry had found when he'd returned. By Severus' calculations, Harry should have made it back already. Even now he might be dealing with the estate decisions, buried in arrangements even as he had to bury his own father.

Nights were the worst for him. He ached for Harry, not that they had ever shared a bed, but Severus could still taste him on his tongue, could still smell him, the sense memory overwhelming at times.

Petunia, with some sort of innate intuition, seemed to know when he was having a restless night and would often stay up with him, telling him of her life with Mr. Dursley, or of her hopes for the future.

She also seemed to be encouraging Severus' half formed seduction plan. The trip did afford him a lot of time for introspection, and he realized that Harry had been right in one respect. They might as well enjoy each other until circumstances changed.

And so the days passed, until they were finally in England.

~

“I just wish I knew why you did that to Severus, Father,” Harry said. He was staring into the fire, his father's hand clasped in his as he sat in a chair at his bedside.

“I have to say, it puts a new light on you and Uncle Sirius, though.”

Harry rubbed at his face tiredly. Perhaps Hermione was right and he needed to bathe and rest for a bit. But this, this was important. He had to get this out, in case he didn't get a chance later.

“I love him so much, and what you did to him... well, I think it really damaged him. I thought that the feelings might fade when I came home, but they only seem to be more real now. And I know that I have to be responsible, marry someone and have children, but I can never love anyone else the way I love him. I think I know how you felt when Mother died.”

Harry looked at his father's peaceful face as he rested, and a soft smile touched his lips. James had not awoken in the many days that Harry had been home, but Hermione and her mother swore he slept more easily now that he was home.

Harry wondered if it was these conversations that he was having with him. He realized that this was probably the most he'd been able to talk to his father over all their years together.

It's a shame that it took this for me to feel as if I could tell him my deepest feelings, Harry thought ruefully.

Glancing at the clock on the mantle, Harry realized how long he had been there.

“But, I've taken up enough of your time today, Father,” he said, standing and stretching. “Sleep well. We'll talk more later.”

Brushing a kiss onto his father's forehead, Harry rose and walked out of the room, missing James' eyes fluttering open, and his hand coming up to touch his face.

~

Hermione had just put on an apron in order to cut some more herbs from the garden, when she heard hoofbeats coming up the path. She paused by a window and looked out.

Two men, on horseback, were riding hell for leather up the drive, and as she watched, they arrived at the front door.

Hermione gasped. One was the image of the picture that hung over the mantle in the main room, only that portrait did not do him justice.

She heard the doorknocker sound, and then a happy voice was raised in welcome.

She walked out into the hallway, and walked straight into a broad chest.

Strong arms circled her reflexively. “Marcus?” she gasped, and the red haired man looked down at her. Deep blue eyes stared into hers.

“Hermione, where are you.... Oh!”

Mrs. Granger clapped her hands delightedly, and Marcus blinked, stepping away from Hermione.

“Marcus! How wonderful to see you!”

As servants stuck heads out of rooms and soft excited babbling could be heard in the background, Marcus held Hermione's gaze for a long moment, only dropping it when her mother and the butler herded him away. He twisted his head to look back at her, and then was gone.

She gasped, coming to herself.

“Well,” she said to no one in particular, “It appears that Marcus is home, then.”

~

Harry heard a commotion downstairs just as he was contemplating his options. Having bathed, he felt much better now that he was in clean clothes, and he had been mentally debating between going in search of lunch versus taking a nap. The noises downstairs warranted investigation, however. Shock didn’t even begin to describe his feeling when he got to the bottom of the stairs and looked straight into his brother's face.

“Marcus?” he whispered, wondering if he was hallucinating, and then he was grabbed and hugged within an inch of his life.

Hermione, having slipped in behind the commotion, watched, tears welling up in her eyes, as the two brothers greeted each other.

After a lot of back clapping, Marcus pulled back. “Father?” he asked.

Harry sighed. “Not awake, but alive.”

Marcus inclined his head. “I want to see him. Come up with me,” he said.

As they walked up the stairs, Marcus leaned in and whispered to Harry.

“So, tell me about the gorgeous woman who was in the front hallway when I arrived.”

Harry looked puzzled for a moment. “I don't know... Oh, you mean Hermione?”

Marcus stopped. “That was the Vicar's daughter? Well, she has certainly blossomed. Reintroduce me later, yes?”

Harry, grinning, nodded, and then froze. James was sitting up in bed, eyes open when they walked in.

“Marcus?” James cried weakly, spying his eldest son immediately.

Marcus fairly flew across the room, Harry close behind him, and the three men cried and hugged. When Harry finally pulled away, James fixed him with a piercing gaze.

“So, son,” he said. “Was I dreaming or were you telling me about someone that you are in love with?”

Harry blanched as Marcus and James stared at him.

Marcus glared at him. “It's not Hermione, is it?” he demanded.

~

Hermione sighed and turned away as Harry and Marcus disappeared up the stairs. Undoing her apron, she handed it to a servant, and walked out to the front of the house.

Her heart was still fluttering at the memory of the look Marcus Potter had bestowed on her. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of more horses coming up the drive to the manor.

“Good Heavens, more people?” she muttered as she took in the coach.

The carriage pulled to a stop and a footman jumped down, lowering the step and assisting a tall, pale man with a large nose and blue-black hair out of it.

Hermione looked on as he then proceeded to help an older woman and a younger lady out. She had to look twice.

“Eleanor?” she said, feeling hysterical laughter bubbling up in her chest.

Eleanor looked over to her and smiled.

“Hermione! Where is Harry? And how is Father?”

“Harry is upstairs with him now, Eleanor,” Hermione said, eyes darting to the unfamiliar woman and the man behind her. “And, a wonderful thing has happened. Marcus has just arrived home.”

Eleanor squealed and lifted her skirts to run, then pausing as if rethinking that, she turned to her companions.

“Go on, dear,” the older lady said, and Eleanor grinned and ran.

Hermione looked inquiringly at them.

“Petunia Dursley, dear,” Petunia said, holding out a hand. “And this is a dear friend of Harry's, Severus Snape.”

Hermione' eyes flew to Severus' and she smiled. “You came!” she breathed. “Harry will be so happy!”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he observed.

Hermione giggled. “Oh, he described you perfectly! Come in, both of you. This is evidently a day for reunions.”

“Harry described me you say?” Severus stood stock still, hoping that he had heard this young woman incorrectly.

She smiled. “Hermione Granger,” she said, sticking out her had to shake.

Severus took it, too shocked not to.

Petunia stepped up and shook her hand as well. “Come, dear,” she said, glancing back at Severus' face with amusement. “I think tea is in order.”

~

Eleanor ran up the stairs, out of breath when she got to the top. She slowed as she approached the door and knocked softly.

She pushed it open when she was bade to, and walked in.

“Elle?” and she was enveloped in a hug, which she returned with enthusiasm.

“Marc!” she gasped. “Need to breathe...”

He let her go and she took a deep breath, holding on to his arms in the event that he was a mirage. “We missed you,” she said, and burst into tears.

Marcus held her close and looked ruefully over to his brother and father, shaking his head. He'd just been explaining to them how he'd actually intercepted the messenger sent out to locate him when she had come in.

James smiled fondly to see all of his children back in his home. He felt as though he was seeing clearly for the first time in years. His sharp eyes took in Marcus' fatigue, He really must have ridden hard to get here, he thought, as well as Harry's new maturity.

He vaguely remembered hearing Harry talking to him for hours on end, and, if his memory could be believed, he'd spoken of being in love with... a man?

“Severus Snape, you say?” he murmured, and Harry turned to him, paling.

“You heard that?” he asked.

James nodded. His newly perceptive eyes took in Harry's exhaustion, and reaching out a hand, he patted his arm. “I heard and remember it all. We shall discuss it later, all right?”

Harry nodded, and James sighed. That would be quite a conversation...

“Oh, Harry! Severus is here. He came back with us,” Eleanor said from her position in Marcus' arms, watching Harry as she said it.

It was as if someone had lit him up from the inside, and James sighed again. Sooner rather than later for the conversation it was, then.

“Is he downstairs?” Harry asked, and she nodded.

“Hermione is entertaining him,” she said.

Both Marcus' and Harry's eyes widened. Suddenly, Eleanor found herself free. Both Marcus and Harry started towards the door, and Eleanor turned towards her father with a questioning look.

“Father?”

“I'm fine,” he said. “Go on.”

Eleanor ran, but she was no match for her determined, and much taller, brothers. She might have caught up, had she not been accosted just outside the sitting room.

“Is your father all right, dear?” Mrs. Granger asked, and Eleanor nodded and smiled excitedly.

“He's awake!” she said, and Mrs. Granger's eyes widened.

“Excellent,” she breathed, hurrying up the stairs.

By the time she walked in, tea was being poured and everyone was comfortably ensconced with Petunia acting as hostess. Marcus had somehow managed to position himself as close as possible to Hermione's chair, and she was blushing fetchingly.

Eleanor smirked to herself. I have always liked the idea of Hermione as a sister-in-law, she thought.

Harry was perched uncertainly on the edge of a chair between Hermione and Severus, and his hesitancy all but broke her heart. She smiled encouragingly at him, and gave a nudging movement of her head towards Severus.

He blushed, and she almost rolled her eyes. What is the matter with the men in this family? she thought, a bit smugly. A pretty girl, or in Harry's case an interesting man, smiles at them and they turn to mush...

“Pardon me,” a deep voice behind her said, and she turned and looked up into the kindest brown eyes she had ever seen. Her breath stopped.

“Ah! There you are, Longbottom!” Marcus said. “Come in and meet the family. Everyone, this is Neville Longbottom. He returned with me from India.”

Petunia smiled broadly as a dazed Eleanor was helped to her seat by the quietly handsome and eminently suitable Mr. Longbottom. She knew his family history quite well, and she could almost smell the romance in the air.

Ah, weddings to plan, she crowed to herself. As she glanced at Harry and Severus, however, she sighed. They needed a nudge, and she knew just the thing.

~

Severus looked towards the door the moment Harry walked through, and it was he could do not to go over to him and gather him into his arms.

Harry looked exhausted, the dark rings under his eyes very telling of the rough few days and nights he'd had.

When Harry's eyes met his, he could feel the jolt in his entire body. Those deep green eyes looked so hurt, so wounded, and Severus' own eyes softened just a touch.

He scarcely noticed the conversation between the other people in the room, his attention fully on Harry, and so it was somewhat of a surprise to him when Petunia took charge of the proceedings.

“Well,” she said, standing up. “We have had quite a day today. I think it's about time we rested and refreshed ourselves before dinner, don't you, Eleanor? Perhaps you, as our hostess, and with Hermione's assistance, would instruct the servants as to where to put our things.”

Hermione, who had been contemplating Marcus' face, jumped slightly when she heard her name. She realized immediately that she had been conscripted to help Eleanor.

A brief stab of resentment went through her, followed by a flicker of guilt when she remembered that her friend had just gotten back from a long and tiring journey. Poor Eleanor is probably exhausted and will likely need help with the room assignments, she thought, and so she stood up.

Eleanor, herself lost in Neville's countenance, was jolted back to awareness by her aunt's discreet pat on her arm.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia, of... of course,” she stammered, having only just heard what Petunia said.

Petunia smiled at Severus as she walked by him, noting the quirk of his brow, and as she swept out of the room, Eleanor, Neville, Hermione and Marcus followed, in that order, leaving Harry standing there, looking at Severus.

“My brother has returned,” Harry said.

“So I see,” Severus responded, standing up.

“This changes things,” Harry said, eyes hopeful.

Severus smiled. “Some things,” he agreed, voice gentle.

“Thank you for accompanying my aunt and my sister on the journey back,” Harry said formally, his eyes conveying a different message.

Severus inclined his head. “It was my pleasure,” he said, his voice sending shivers up Harry's spine.

“Did you...” Harry gulped, nervous. “Did you receive my letter?” he asked.

Severus stepped closer. “I did,” he said. “And I think that we need to discuss some of the things you said.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly in relief. He'd had an irrational fear that Severus would want to leave immediately. “Good. When?”

“Perhaps after I visit your father,” Severus said, and Harry's eyes widened slightly in reaction.

“He is only just awake,” Harry said slowly, “and still weak. Perhaps later?”

Severus, working on instinct, stepped close enough to Harry that he could feel his body heat. Dropping his voice slightly, he said, “Very well. I have some things that I should like to discuss with him.”

“All right,” Harry whispered, leaning into Severus unconsciously.

Severus inhaled his scent. “You have recently bathed,” he observed.

Harry blushed and nodded. “I.. it has been a long few days. It was time.”

Severus smiled. “I should do the same,” he said.

Harry bit his tongue in an effort to resist offering to help him.

Severus' smile grew slightly wider, and Harry somehow knew that Severus was aware of his thoughts. “Perhaps...” He didn't finish the thought, but Harry understood.

Harry tilted his head, offering his lips, and Severus was incapable of resisting. Bending forward, he...

A throat cleared at the door, and they jumped apart.

Petunia, fortunately alone, was standing there smiling.

“I am glad to see you taking advantage of some privacy, but you both need to be a bit more discreet,” she scolded, her eyes twinkling. “There are servants everywhere here.”

Severus nodded, and with a last long look at Harry's mouth, he swept from the room, travelling cloak swirling around him.

Harry wondered why his lips tingled as though he'd actually been kissed.

~

Harry wasn't sure how he got through dinner. Severus, seated next to him, seemed determined to torture him with light touches on his arm and murmured comments. His deep voice wound its way enticingly inside Harry, making it difficult for him to concentrate on the conversations around him.

He knew enough to know that he was being seduced, but was helpless to stop his body's reaction. He craved Severus with an almost physical need. The dance and the kisses they had shared in France seemed a lifetime ago, and Harry ached for him.

Everyone was in a festive mood and dinner proceeded smoothly, although the smoldering looks being exchanged between the other couples didn't help Harry's mood at all.

He found himself resentful that the others could be so open in their interest, and that he and Severus had to be so discreet. By the time the final course arrived, Harry was ready to retire for port.

The ladies all left them to their amusements, and Harry hoped that by placing himself across the room from Severus instead of beside him, he would manage to cool his libido a trifle. That was a mistake however, as seeing Severus temptingly displayed did nothing for his problem.

Finally, finally, they all decided to retire, and Harry, after noting which guest room Severus had been given, went to bed.

He tossed and turned until, at about midnight, he finally got out of bed, put on his dressing gown and stealthily opened his door. He blessed having grown up in the house, as that meant he knew where the loose floorboards were, and he avoided all of them, making it to Severus' door without incident.

As he stood out in the drafty hallway, he found himself wishing he had a magical invisibility cloak or something. It would make this a lot easier, he thought.

He wondered if Severus would have locked the door, but then shrugging, decided to try it. It opened easily and he slipped inside, closing the door with a quiet snick.

The room was dark and silent, and Harry picked his way across it, hoping not to fall. He managed to find the bed eventually by running into it with his knees, only just managing to not yelp.

“Try not to hurt yourself, Harry,” a sardonic voice from the window said, and Harry gasped, turning to peer towards the voice.

Now that his eyes were becoming used to the dim light, he could just make out a dark shape standing there. “Severus?” he said.

The shape moved closer. “I should hope so,” he replied, dark humor in his voice. “Else we might need to discuss what your intentions are, wandering into strange men's rooms at night.”

Harry grinned in the darkness, and reached for Severus, his hand colliding with a warm, silk covered chest. He was pulled close and cradled, and he inhaled deeply, loving the familiar scent of Severus.

“Why are you here, Harry?” Severus asked, his lips brushing against Harry's forehead.

Harry turned his face up and kissed the underside of Severus' jaw. “I would have thought a sophisticated man like yourself would know,” he teased.

Severus, unable to resist, dipped his head and captured Harry's soft lips in a deep kiss.

Harry melted in the embrace and the kiss, allowing Severus' tongue to explore at will. A few tentative strokes of his tongue against Severus' made him moan, the vibrations making Severus pull him closer.

Finally pulling away, Severus buried his face in Harry's neck, nibbling gently on the tendons there as Harry gasped in reaction.

“We cannot do this,” Severus said against Harry's neck. “I must speak with your father first.”

“You think he'll give his permission?” Harry asked, hands roaming restlessly over silk covered muscle.

Severus bit his ear lobe sharply, and Harry yelped.

“No, brat,” Severus said. “But, if I am to take his youngest son's innocence, we should at least clear the air between us.”

“What if he says no?” Harry asked, a note of fear entering his voice.

“Then, you shall have to be very clear about the decision that you would be making in choosing to be with me.”

“I don't want to choose between you and my family,” Harry admitted.

Severus sighed. “I would not ask that of you,” he said. “But, your father still deserves to know my intentions.”

“Which are?”

“To lavish love on you, of course,” Severus said, the smirk evident in his tone.

Harry laughed. “I thought that would be my job,” he said.

“We can share it.”

“Do I have to go?” Harry asked plaintively.

Severus steeled himself against the wistful tone in Harry's voice.

“It would be advisable,” he said, pushing Harry away with one last suck on his neck. “You are entirely too tempting.”

Harry clung for a moment, and then, with a resigned sigh, allowed himself to be propelled towards the door.

Severus opened the door stealthily, and then checking in the hallway for a moment, kissed Harry's forehead and pushed him out.

As Harry crept away, Severus palmed his arousal. It is going to be a long night, he thought, closing the door softly.

~

James Potter had a good night, sleeping quite soundly until he was awoken in the morning by the physician, who'd come to check on him, pronouncing him to be on the mend. It was a good thing, too, since he had a steady stream of visitors all day.

Petunia had come to see him first thing that morning to report on the trip, as well as other things, leaving him with a lot to think about.

Next, Eleanor had stopped by, settling on to his bed and clearly telling him that she liked Marcus' friend and intended to marry him. James, thrilled that she'd actually settled on someone, had smiled through that visit.

In the midst of it, Hermione Granger had stopped by, and when Eleanor had linked hands with her and called her, “my all but sister”, he'd gotten an inkling of why Petunia had hinted that Marcus would probably be dining at the Grangers a lot in the coming weeks.

Marcus was next, accompanied by Neville Longbottom, a young man whose father James remembered from his youth. He was from a very well connected family, and James was quite pleased at his manners as he requested permission to pay his addresses to Eleanor, although he was under no illusions about who had actually made the decision.

By the end of the conversation, James knew he would be accepting an offer for his daughter in the near future.

Marcus' request to pay his respects to the Grangers was met with equanimity on James' part, prepared as he'd been by Petunia.

He was in a rather introspective mood when Harry showed up later, Severus in tow. Petunia had been quite clear about how happy Harry had been with Severus, and now James wanted to see for himself how they interacted.

“Father?”

James looked up, smiling a welcome as Harry walked, his smile wavering a bit as a tall, forbidding man walked in behind him. All at once, his own shame at his memories of how he had treated Severus all those years resurfaced, and he nodded up at Severus, words of regret trembling on his lips.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus said, all emotions firmly in check.

“Hello, Severus, I remember you.” James held out his hand and shook Severus' firmly, ignoring the slight hesitation on Severus' part.

Harry hovered a bit anxiously, until, a smile on his face, James told him to sit.

Harry sat, and Severus pulled a chair over to sit next to him, his expression cool.

His assessing eyes took in the pale skin and the fragile appearance of this man who had so hurt him years ago, and he was surprised at the feeling of pity that was steadily rising in him. This was not the James Potter he remembered, only a pale copy.

James, in the meantime, was mentally cataloguing the changes in Severus as well. Gone was the almost painfully shy youth, whose wordless adoration had so inspired Sirius' jealousy and thus caused him to hatch that awful scheme. He had been replaced by a man with determination and strength shining from his intense black eyes.

James watched as Harry unconsciously leaned close to Severus, and as Severus turned his body to face Harry's. They appeared to be communicating almost wordlessly, and James smiled as he remembered that he'd been the same with Lily.

“So, Severus,” James said. “I am pleased that you are willing to give our family a chance to redress some of the wrongs that we have done to you in the past.”

Severus inclined his head, mouth firm, but his features thawing a bit. “I find that I am no longer able to be as angry as I was back then,” he said, voice matter of fact. “Your son has a remarkable way of making such considerations as holding grudges less important.”

As Harry flushed, James smiled. “He does, doesn't he?”

Severus' quick, fond look at Harry went a long way to reassuring James of his intentions towards his son. Having been concerned about the possibility of this being some sort of revenge scheme, he dismissed that thought.

“So, do tell me about your travels, Severus,” he said.

Harry relaxed as the two other men chatted. He'd been quite nervous, given his father's recent recovery and weakened state, that Severus might upset him too much, but neither man seemed angry, in fact, both seemed to be trying to reconcile.

His mind drifted as he recalled his nocturnal visit to Severus' and how hard he'd been upon returning to his room. He wondered if Severus had relieved his body's urges as well, his hands gliding over his heated flesh...

He became entranced by watching Severus' hands as the older man got more involved in his report about their European tour, and when his father finally asked him a question, Harry flushed, his dazed eyes conveying his inattention.

James smiled, recognizing Harry's distraction.

“I feel a bit tired,” he finally said.

As Severus stood to take his leave, James fixed them both with a stern gaze.

“Severus, I am entrusting you to take care of Harry,” he said plainly. “This is not a relationship that polite society will codone or accept, as you both know; but I wish for my son to be happy, so you have my blessing. Be discreet, and be good to one another.”

Severus, shocked beyond speech at the clear benediction they had just received, simply nodded as Harry, grinning, dragged him from the room.

“Thank you, Father!” he called from the door, Severus in tow, and then they were gone.

James smiled, settling down for a nap, suddenly tired. A knock on the door disturbed him.

“Yes?” he called.

McNair walked in.

“Master James? May I speak with you about a matter of some delicacy?”

James sighed and sat up. So much for his nap.

“Of course, McNair. Come in.”

~

Hermione looked radiant as she emerged from the church, hand in hand with Marcus, who was beaming.

They stepped to the side to make room for Eleanor and Neville, both smiling happily.

As the guests all cheered and threw flowers at the couples, Harry slipped his hand into Severus' and smiled up at him.

Severus' lips quirked, but he ignored the gesture, although his hand did tighten on Harry's. James, located behind them, cleared his throat, and Harry let go of Severus quickly.

As they watched the newlyweds get into their carriages and drive away, Harry's eyes swept the gathered crowd. He smiled as he saw that McNair had managed to sidle up next to Aunt Petunia again. Apparently they had bonded on the trip to Europe, and it appeared to Harry as though they had been exchanging tender glances.

James seemed to approve, so Harry had simply wished his aunt good luck.

As the rest of the guests dispersed, James turned to his son. ”Are you both leaving now, then?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “It's time,” he said. “Severus and I will be far happier in India. We'll be free to be more... affectionate, and we will take good care of the shipping interests, Father. We promise.”

James smiled a bit sadly. It had been the perfect solution to put Harry and Severus in charge of that aspect of the family fortune. The trade was brisk, and would easily allow them to live comfortably, and together, he reminded himself, watching how Harry swayed unconsciously towards Severus.

It will certainly be safer for them, he thought.

Their coach was standing ready, their trunks already packed and loaded, so Harry hugged his father and climbed in. Severus shook James' hand warmly.

“I pledge to always care for him,” he said.

James smiled. “I know you will,” he said. “I've seen the way you look at him, and I trust you.”

As the carriage rolled away, Harry settled back into Severus' arms. “I'm so happy,” he said, burying his face in Severus' chest and inhaling his scent deeply. “But I shall miss them.”

“Understandable,” Severus said. “I would not have taken you from your family, Harry...” he began.

Harry cuddled closer. “You are my family, Severus, “ he whispered. “All that matters is that we are together. It was my choice.”

Severus smiled. “Do you remember when we fought in Venice? The question that you asked me?”

Harry's eyes grew luminous as he nodded.

Leaning forward, Severus whispered, “Of course I love you, Harry. And I always will.”

Harry gave an inarticulate cry and joy and pulled his head down for a deep kiss.

Later, as Harry slept in his arms, Severus watched the sunset through the window, smiling as he contemplated their new life together.

~Fin

Comments

[atypicalsnowman]

I have read this one before, but I never saved it. Now I can go back to reread again! Hooray!

Thank you for the repost.

[alisanne]

And thank you for the sweet comment, bb! ♥

[weed_pi]

This is such a wonderful read. *_______*

I love the setting and Snarry's growing relationship, they're just too perfect for each other. :D

[alisanne]

Aww, thank you so much for the kind comments! :)
*nods* And I totally agree. They ARE perfect for each other. :)