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There was a reason Severus’s mood had worsened significantly. He had reverted to his wartime self if his colleagues were to be believed—his expression sporting constant scowls, emitting irritation at the mere presence of students and colleagues alike. If Severus had had the wherewithal to pause and ponder their accusations, he would have arrived at the same conclusion. As it currently stood, however, he couldn’t care less.
Potter was returning to Hogwarts.
His only consolation, as feeble as it was, was the fact that the man was scheduled to stay only for a fortnight. And yet, recalling that Potter was capable of creating insufferable chaos even in such a short time caused his sour mood to plunge deeper.
There was a long-standing joke between him and Minerva that whoever the Aurors sent to oversee the exams had either drawn the short straw or required further education. Severus believed the Auror Corps lacked capable people in general. Nevertheless, as his thoughts once again strayed to Potter, he had to concede that the man had proven to be very skilled, especially once he was free of the fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul.
Severus shuddered in revulsion. It was best not to dwell on such things any longer.
Naturally, he had tried to confront Minerva, voicing his apprehension about having Potter, of all people, stationed here, but she had waved his concerns away. Apparently, Potter had been caught in some sort of crossfire—the reports remained deliberately vague about the specifics—and Robards had considered it necessary to remove Potter from active duty.
Despite the fact that the Healers at St. Mungo’s had found absolutely nothing amiss in their diagnoses, Potter being Potter, was handed this job anyway. Soon, he'd arrive to oversee the NEWTs and OWLs—an arrangement speedily approved by the Board of Governors, no less.
What a joy.
And now, Severus was forced to suffer the man’s presence for two weeks. He wasn’t entirely certain how he was supposed to bear it; it would be pure torment, surely. Because the brat—fine, the young man—was to live in the castle for the entire duration of exams.
When Potter would arrive the following day, the countdown of Severus’s dwindling patience—not to mention his resolve to not commit murder—would begin. He would once again be forced to endure something that he had thought was long behind him.
Severus did not need this. He'd felt Potter’s eyes on him throughout almost the entire introductory meeting. The new faculty members who weren't familiar with Potter were charmed by his presence, enchanted by his kindness, and humbled by his prowess.
But not Severus. He'd realised something was wrong the moment Potter didn’t wither under his death glare. It almost seemed as though Potter had regained his composure the instant their eyes met.
Severus was baffled. He had even failed to register that Potter was agitated until the moment he seemed fine.
He brushed it aside with a mental shake of his head. They weren’t at war anymore; he was overanalysing the situation. Potter was an adult, a grown man; there was no reason for him to be cowed by his old professor. On the contrary, the man might have perceived his short stay as a return to a more familiar status quo. Severus certainly understood the appeal of a sense of normalcy, no matter what passed as ‘normal’ in Potter’s world.
By the end of the day, Severus’s firm composure was shaken. Potter’s agitation had returned. And then, their eyes connected, and it once again disappeared, leaving Severus to believe he had imagined the entire matter. He was at a complete loss.
The next morning, Potter seated himself next to Severus.
“Good morning,” the man said jovially.
Not one to be accused of being rude in front of a celebrity, Severus replied evenly, “Good morning.”
“How have you been?”
Severus looked at him as though he were something vile stuck to the sole of his shoe. “Small talk, Potter?”
“Maybe,” he grinned, “or maybe I’m just genuinely curious. You look good. I’m glad life has been kind to you.”
“It might have had something to do with your absence,” Severus mumbled, and to his surprise, Potter laughed.
“God, I missed you.”
Severus was astonished by the truth in Potter’s words. He hoped to mask it by pouring more tea into his cup, but Potter reached for a muffin at the same time and their hands brushed.
Potter gasped, and Severus hissed at the intense contact. If he had felt uncomfortable before, he was stunned now. He had touched people before, of course—usually unwillingly, and perhaps not as often as was the norm for others—but never before had he felt such a profound connection as he did in that moment with Potter.
He was quite certain it would no longer be considered rude to leave. Excusing himself, he hastened to get the fuck out of the Great Hall.
Out of Potter’s presence.
Perhaps he had become an unwitting participant in a joke shared by the entire school. It was also entirely possible that Potter was simply bored and was using him as a test subject for whatever tricks he had decided to unleash upon him just to observe his reactions. Whatever it was, Severus would put a firm stop to it. He refused to be subjected to games of any sort.
Unwilling to push his luck, he opted to dine in his rooms. The peace and quiet ensured he enjoyed his dinner, even partaking in the dessert. But once he had finished, a certain disquiet settled in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t feeling agitated, exactly, but neither could he shake the notion that something wasn’t quite right. The only thing he could state with absolute certainty was that it was connected to Potter’s presence.
He had been proven right once again. Poppy had reached out to him earlier that morning through the Floo Network for consultation, as Potter had been found collapsed in front of his own chambers. No matter how sarcastic he wanted to be and downplay the situation, he couldn’t help but feel concerned for the man. Severus wasn’t blind or deaf to Potter’s escapades in the Auror department; despite his constant complaints, he was well aware of Potter’s qualities.
He halted his steps minutely on his way to the infirmary as he recalled the reason for Potter’s presence at the castle. What if the curse that struck him had delayed side effects?
Quickening his pace, he reached the infirmary in record time. Potter was lying motionless on the bed, his face ashen—Severus swore he had never seen him so pale—when the man’s chest suddenly rose, and colour gradually returned to his skin.
“I have never seen anything like this,” Poppy whispered as Potter’s breathing stabilised in front of their eyes.
Severus frowned. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t recall any curse that would… But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Severus hadn’t the faintest inkling of how Potter was affected or what symptoms he suffered from. Nothing.
Potter opened his eyes. “What happened?” he asked, his voice raw.
“We were hoping you would tell us, Harry,” Poppy said, pulling out her wand and running basic diagnostic spells.
Severus read the resulting colours and arrived at the same conclusion as the mediwitch as he noted her frown. There was physically nothing wrong with Potter.
And hadn’t St. Mungo’s said the same?
“I… I don’t remember,” he replied slowly as he struggled to recall the circumstances. “I remember feeling… agitated. I was contemplating going to see you, actually,” Potter said, looking up at him. “I was just about to… no, I think I warded my rooms and… that’s it, that’s all I remember.”
“Have you ever lost consciousness from a magical overload before?” Severus asked.
Potter looked at him in disbelief. “Magical overload? I can ward my room in my sleep. I have no clue what happened, but I think I would recognise a core depletion.”
“Are you a certified Healer, Potter? Or perhaps an expert in magical anatomy? No? I didn’t think so.” Severus sneered slightly, just to drive his point home. “Overloading your magical core leads to a deep-seated exhaustion. I assume you have been feeling fatigued lately? Of course you have,” he added at Potter’s nod. “It takes a while before your core fully recharges. There is a means of establishing your current level, if you’ll indulge me?”
Severus extended his hand, fearing for a moment that the intense feeling would return once they touched. The instant the tips of his fingers settled on Potter’s chest, he immediately felt a connection that usually took a while to establish. He refused to be distracted by it, though. Ignoring Potter’s hiss, Severus said, “Aura Revelio!”
Potter glowed white for a heartbeat or two. Severus blinked. Potter’s core was operating at maximum capacity; no depletion of any kind was visible.
“So, judging by your expression, either my core is stable, and there’s nothing wrong with it, or I’ve become a Squib. I’d like an answer, please.”
“There is nothing wrong with your magical core, Harry,” Pomfrey said, looking just as bewildered.
“Wonderful,” Potter replied, beaming. “So there’s no reason for me to stay here.”
“As loath as I am to admit it, I have no reason to keep you.”
Severus wasn’t as easily convinced though. “You may feel all right now, Potter, but there’s still the matter of your collapse. I would like you to report to my chambers every morning and before you retire for the night, to ensure this is not repeated.”
“Thank you, Severus.”
He only raised an eyebrow in reply before turning on his heel and heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. He simply could not fathom what else could cause someone as powerful and skilled as Potter to collapse in front of his chambers after performing a simple warding charm. He would have bet his life on the fact that the man’s magical core had been depleted.
Potter arrived at breakfast shortly after, once again sitting next to him. Why the sudden need… but had it been sudden? Potter had said he missed him, and had clearly meant it. And what of that intense sensation between them whenever they touched?
He felt a gentle pressure on his forearm and turned.
“Could you please pass me that muffin?” Potter asked, grinning.
Severus used his free hand to pick one up, handing it to Potter, expecting the hand that was on his arm to move, to reach for the offering. But it didn’t. Potter took it with his other hand. As their fingers brushed, Severus felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Inner peace.
Severus felt it only for that one fleeting moment when their touch completed the circuit. The sensation disappeared the instant Potter took the muffin from him. And even though the man’s arm continued resting on his for a little while longer—not as unwelcome as Severus had expected. He now had another piece of the puzzle to consider. The fact that the pieces seemed unrelated didn’t faze him. Yet.
He resumed his duties as usual, with Potter still at the back of his mind. The students seemed more distracted than ever—Potter being the cause, naturally. The gossip, the flirting—it all gave Severus a headache.
Securing the last order for the day in an envelope, he glanced up as Potter entered his office.
“Do you need any help?” the man asked by way of greeting.
“No, I should be finished shortly.”
Potter only smiled, taking a seat out of Severus’s way, but somehow Severus was still keenly conscious of his presence.
Only once he put his quill down did he glance up. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Potter said, “But I think you may be onto something. I feel… well, actually, I felt jittery as though the only thing that would actually help me would be to destroy the entire castle.” Potter grinned, but Severus didn’t find it as funny.
“Are you still feeling overwhelmed?”
“A little. Though not to the degree I was before.”
Frowning, Severus rested his hip against his desk, looking at the floor. It seemed something was helping Potter manage whatever ailed him, but how to get to the bottom of it…
“When do you feel yourself improving? Have you noticed any consistent trigger?”
Potter furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard. “I don’t know. There are so many things to focus on, not to mention it’s more difficult for me to concentrate once I do start feeling jittery.” The man crossed the distance, once again laying his hand on Severus’s arm. “But I want you to know that I do appreciate your help.”
Severus nodded, mildly uncomfortable in Potter’s proximity. Now that there were no distractions, he distinctly noticed that Potter had filled out quite nicely. Realising suddenly that he had to look up a little to meet the man's eyes, Severus couldn’t help the shiver traversing down his spine. To his surprise, Potter whimpered.
Grasping the hand on his arm in concern, Severus asked, “Are you all right?”
Potter’s eyes were wide, his breathing quickened, and Severus wondered if he would faint right there. He helped the man into his chair, kneeling beside him to take his pulse. Erratic.
“I… I…”
“Shush.” Severus stood up, gazing into the green eyes. Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Severus, please.”
He froze. “Are you hurt?” A headshake. “You might have caught something,” he added, moving to check his cabinet for any potion he could give the man. Nevertheless, he found it futile; he was still none the wiser about the full impact of the curse. There was no way to predict if a general remedy would even help at all.
“No, no, thank you. I feel… much better, actually. Maybe I should go—”
“Sit down!” he barked. Noticing Potter’s wide-eyed stare, he took a calming breath. “Potter, there’s obviously something wrong with you. If you won’t cooperate, there’s no guarantee you will make it out alive. Now, let’s pretend this is connected to the curse you suffered during the Auror raid. What can you tell me about it?”
Potter fidgeted before saying, “I don’t remember much, just that I’ve been hit.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “What can you tell me about the individual who cast the curse, then?”
“He was… obsessed with magic. You know that after defeating Voldemort, I experienced a sudden surge in magic?”
Severus nodded, remembering the article in the Daily Prophet. Many had automatically condemned their own hero, calling for explanation and reassurance that they didn't have a rising Dark Lord among them.
“There were a few people who couldn't understand that I suddenly didn't grow a dark side.” Severus heard Potter's contempt at the stupid assumptions. “This guy was the most prominent voice in the crowd. He would find fault even with my most innocent statements and wouldn't listen to any reason.” Potter grimaced. “A week ago, he managed to sneak into the Ministry, taking all of us by surprise. Our security is shit,” Potter spat. “He'd already cast the spell when my colleagues stunned him. The damage was already done. I was shipped to St. Mungo's, but they couldn't find anything.”
So not a raid. Severus gathered the impression that Potter was attacked in the line of duty. Being caught unawares due to a lack of security was… somewhat idiotic.
“Did they check your core for any inconsistencies?”
Potter blinked, replying slowly, “I don't think so.”
Severus harrumphed. A bunch of idiotic imbeciles. He sighed. Nothing new there.
“I will attempt to summarise your symptoms, and you will tell me if anything is missing.” At Potter's nod, he continued, “Your magic is taking a toll on you. No matter how ardent your defence, that warding spell overwhelmed your magical core.”
“That… would explain why I'm tired after casting simple spells,” Potter admitted reluctantly.
“Indeed,” Severus drawled. “Nevertheless, your recovery was remarkable,” he added, frowning. “And if that man was adamant in eliminating your magic that you seem to have in abundance… it is entirely possible that whatever spell he hit you with is the cause of your current state. That I can understand. Your recovery, on the other hand…”
“So, I'm leaking magic every time I cast a spell?” Potter asked, horrified.
“I don't believe it is limited solely to spell-casting.”
“Bloody wonderful,” Potter sighed theatrically. “Wait, if my magic is constantly leaking, why am I not a Squib yet?”
“That is the baffling part, I'm afraid. And until we find the solution or discover the curse’s original intent, I strongly suggest you refrain from casting any spells for the foreseeable future, wandless magic included.”
Potter rubbed his hand on his face in a defeated gesture. “All right.”
“I still want you to report to me twice a day and anytime you feel you can't manage on your own.”
Potter held his gaze, his green eyes burning into him. “I will, thank you.”
Unnerved by the eye contact, Severus cleared his throat. “You may go.”
Once again, Potter touched him on the arm. “Thank you.”
Severus only nodded. He wasn't used to being shown such sincere gratitude, least of all when he stood to gain nothing by it. Every time he had helped in the past, it was either to follow orders or set the grounds for a quid pro quo. This was different.
Once Potter left, Severus couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something wrong. Potter should have stayed with him, he should have—
Severus shook his head at the ridiculousness of his thoughts. He had absolutely no right to Potter.
Severus had just put on a crisp white shirt when Potter arrived at his chambers. Fixing his cuff, he'd barely opened the door when Potter barged in. Severus managed to jump aside in time, ready to berate the man. But then he noticed the frenzy in his green eyes.
Standing still, he pondered his next actions—pull out his wand or run as fast as he could. Luckily, the choice was taken from him as he watched Potter relax and shuffle his feet.
“I'm sorry. It's already getting more manageable, but,” he said, then did a couple of jumps. “I want to do magic, but I also know now that I'd faint from it.” Potter looked at him pleadingly. “How do I stop this?”
Severus knew it was simply a rhetorical question, and he left it unanswered. Nonetheless, there was one thing that Severus found intriguing.
“You’re already feeling better?”
Potter blinked. “Actually, yes. Still… still not completely good, but this is a level of discomfort I can live with.”
“Did you run down to the dungeons?” Severus asked, hoping that he might have discovered a short-term means for Potter to deal with the curse.
“I hurried down if you consider that running.”
“And you just jumped as well. Perhaps you need to exercise more to keep it at a manageable level.”
Potter beamed. “I can do that! I love working out! The Healers told me not to exercise so I wouldn’t agitate my body to possibly speed up the effects of the curse in case it was dormant or something.” His smile turned soft, and he laid his hand on Severus’s arm. “Thank you.”
Severus nodded, experiencing a strange sense of…
“Oh, let me help you with this.”
And just like that, Potter raised his other hand to fix the cuff Severus hadn’t gotten to yet. Unable to say anything as his brain froze from the gesture, Severus simply bore Potter’s meticulous attention.
“There,” the man said, letting go of his sleeve and fixating on his chest instead. “You look good in this.”
To Severus’s utter surprise, Potter’s hand stroked his chest down to his abdomen, only for it to rest on his side. Then he traced the lapel of his shirt with a finger of his free hand. Severus should say something, anything… Didn’t Potter realise what he was doing?
“Potter?” he whispered, despite wanting to sound stern.
“Hm?” The man met his gaze, smiling, one hand still resting on Severus’s waist, where he could feel it burning into him through the thin material of the shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Hm? What does it look like I’m doing?”
Was the man completely blind? “Potter, have you eaten anything strange lately, or drank something that had an odd taste to it?”
But instead of replying, Potter slowly slid his free hand to the nape of Severus’s neck, his fingers carding gently through Severus’s hair. He shivered.
“No, not that I recall,” Potter replied evenly. “Your hair is very silky.”
Severus gulped. “And how do you feel right now?” he rasped, because he was feeling out of sorts himself. This couldn’t have been the curse in effect, surely? But then, curses simply did not change their intended course. What the fuck was happening to Potter?
Potter took a step closer until their bodies were almost touching. He tilted Severus’s head to give himself free access to his neck. Taking a long whiff, Potter moaned and traced a wet line with his tongue from the bottom of Severus’s neck to his jaw in one broad lick.
A jolt of intense arousal zapped through Severus, making him jerk in Potter’s hold, and moan aloud to his utter mortification. The worst part, however, was that Severus forgot why this was a problem in the first place. He was safe, wasn’t he? As far as he was aware, curses didn’t just transfer to another person—
Pushing Potter away from him was one of the hardest things he had ever done.
Whatever this was, it had begun to affect him too, and he couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how—
They were both panting harshly. Whatever curse Potter had been struck with was not one Severus had ever seen before. None of the curses that he was familiar with had a lust component to them. Not while leaving the victim sane.
Severus waited until Potter looked at him. He expected to see a horrified expression on the man’s face. But when their gazes locked, there was only genuine confusion in the green stare.
“What happened?” Potter asked, frowning. At least the man was once again in possession of his full faculties.
“You were touching me.”
“And?” Potter’s frown deepened. Perhaps Severus was too hasty in his previous conclusion.
“What do you mean by ‘and’?” Severus asked in disbelief. Didn’t Potter realise that he was behaving oddly in his presence?
“Well, as in, and what’s your point?”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Potter,” he began slowly, as if talking to a simpleton, “we do not touch each other on a regular basis.”
“I… don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“You’re talking gibberish. Why are you talking gibberish?”
Severus straightened, his eyes narrowing. “I want you to answer either a yes or a no, Potter. Can you do that for me?”
“Er, sure.”
“You are here at Hogwarts to supervise fifth-year and seventh-year exams.”
“Yes.”
Severus nodded. “You have problems with performing magic.”
Potter tilted his head, frowning. “Yes.”
“You have just touched me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware that until a couple of days ago, we had not seen each other since you had graduated?”
“Yes.”
“Do you find it odd that you are constantly touching me?”
“No.”
No. That must have been a symptom. Every other normal person would have found this alarming.
“Do you feel better after you touch me?”
“Oh, yes.”
Severus cocked his head to the side. “Do you find my presence comforting?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to touch me again?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware that we are not friends, let alone lovers?”
Potter blinked. “What?”
Time to rephrase. “Do you believe we are friends?”
“Yes.”
Odd. “Do you believe we are,” Severus had a little trouble getting the phrase past his lips, “lovers?”
“Yes.”
Bloody fuck.
What kind of a curse was able to cause a depletion of a magical core as well as affect the mind? Not to mention, Potter was no ordinary wizard. He was immune to the Imperius Curse, so whatever this was, it was strong.
And it could cause more harm than good. Severus had to work fast if he wished to avoid any embarrassment… well, Potter’s, certainly, but mainly his own. There was nothing more humiliating than being constantly propositioned by the Wizarding World’s hero, only for the said hero to come to his senses later, and realise how love-struck he was acting around someone he—together with the entire wizarding world—hated. Potter would move on eventually, but Severus had nowhere else to go. He refused to bear any gossip or jokes about how desirable he was deemed only when his partner was under the influence of a curse.
Severus sighed. “Potter, do you think you could refrain from touching me in public?”
“Why?” he asked, moving closer until he once again could card his hand through Severus’s hair, pushing the strands he liberated behind his ear. Severus closed his eyes at the intimate gesture, sadness engulfing him.
“Because I’m a private man,” he replied in the end, his tone soft. “I don’t like to advertise any forms of intimacy, especially in public.”
“All right.” Potter smiled, his thumb stroking his cheek, and Severus found himself leaning into it. If Potter’s mind was indeed trifled with, he might not remember any of this later. And even if he did… Severus was too touch-starved to resist. He’d deal with the repercussions later.
“Thank you. I’ll look into the possible curses and let you know if I find anything.”
“Lovely,” Potter said and leaned close.
Surely, he wouldn’t—
But there it was—a gentle press of lips against his. Severus’s breathing stuttered on exhale. Potter was already pulling back when Severus fought the urge to press him close and steal more of the touch that he'd barely known before.
“See you in the evening, Severus.”
Potter smiled at him again and left.
Suddenly, Severus felt the emptiness of his rooms more keenly than ever.
“I don’t understand why you insist on having your rooms in the dungeons and taking Dumbledore’s old office. Isn’t that a long way to walk constantly?” Potter asked as a way of greeting, immediately making himself at home in Severus's office.
“I am less active than I used to be as a teacher. The walk keeps me sane.”
“Fair. How was your day?”
How was his day—such a basic, utterly useless question and yet, it spoke of domesticity that Severus could only dream of.
“Uneventful. Yours?”
Potter smiled. “I think I managed to impress a seventh-year.”
“That shouldn’t have been too hard,” Severus remarked, unable to help himself as he slid into his sarcastic self. He tensed, waiting for Potter’s reaction.
The man laughed. “You’d think so. But it’s difficult to leave a positive impression on a teenager who thinks they’re the best in the world.”
Severus huffed. “Indeed.”
Potter then rose from his seat and walked up to him with an infectious smile. Severus was watching him partly in wariness, partly in anticipation. He had already stopped wondering what Potter would do under a foreign influence.
“I missed you,” he said, proceeding to sit in Severus’s lap.
Severus, for his part, was wound tight. The effects of the curse seemed to be escalating quickly. By the end of the week, Potter could—
He stopped thinking as soon as he felt warm lips on his. But this time, Potter didn’t pull back right away. This time, his lips were kneading Severus’s, demanding, urgent. Severus allowed himself to be swept away in the moment, yielding, enjoying himself. He had never been kissed like this—with pleasure, with heat.
He moaned when he felt Potter’s tongue slip inside his mouth. Pulling the man close, Severus clung to him like a lifeline. This couldn’t have just been a kiss. It was too intense, too perfect. Then, Potter’s mouth moved downwards, over his Adam’s apple, to the side of his neck, nibbling there, and Severus found himself accommodating the man’s ministrations. He had never felt more sexy, never felt more lov—
Severus pushed Potter back, breathing heavily. This was a charade—it wasn’t real. None of this was real. And yet, he still couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to look up the curse and set Potter free.
He wasn’t a nice man.
Potter deserved better.
The war he waged within himself was slowly becoming harder to ignore; he should discover the curse’s origin. He could selfishly keep Potter tied to him. He should find the cure so that Potter could live his life. But Potter didn’t seem to understand that he was being forced into this. As Severus considered his options, a thought intruded into his consciousness—what if Severus accidentally stumbled upon a cure? Potter would hate him once he was again in full possession of his faculties.
Fuck, he wished he were a nicer man.
But then his scientific mind took over. If this was the curse’s intention, if Potter was brainwashed into this, what exactly was this?
“Potter, what is it that you want from me?”
“You, silly,” Potter said, leaning close again. Fuck, yes…
No!
Keeping Potter at a distance with a hand on his chest, Severus asked, “But what exactly? What is your goal?”
Potter smirked, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his glasses. Despite Severus's restrictions, he still managed to lean closer to whisper in Severus's ear, “To have you.”
Severus lost the battle of fighting his arousal. “Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want to… have me?”
“Why are you speaking gibberish again?”
The reminder of the curse standing between them was akin to a cold shower. The curse seemed to be blocking everything that clashed with Potter's reality, including the fact that he wasn’t aware there were inconsistencies in his behaviour.
The solution was surprisingly easy. If the curse was blocking Potter’s ability to understand him, then that was Severus’s primary focus to discover the root of the problem and, subsequently, the solution.
“Why don't we pick this up in the morning?” Severus asked casually. “It's Saturday, no supervision. We can have a day to ourselves.”
“Sounds wonderful!”
Potter got up from his lap, unbothered by how very close they had come to having sex. What kind of a bloody curse was this?
“See you tomorrow, Severus.”
As the door closed, Severus sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly. He could only guess as to what would drive him mad quicker: the curse, Potter, or Severus himself.
Having slept poorly, Severus decided to stop tossing and turning in his bed and check his private stores. Perhaps he could benefit from restocking it. He couldn’t be bothered to get dressed and threw on only a robe over his nightshirt. The castle would still be sleeping on the weekend. Not to mention, he wouldn't spend too long there—it would be just a routine check, nothing more.
At first glance, he could see that his supply was more than satisfactory. He sighed. What was he supposed to do to take his mind off Potter? He spotted a vial of the Draught of Peace and wondered if perhaps brewing Felix Felicis might help him solve the puzzle that was Potter’s condition—
All of a sudden, he felt a warm body pressing against his back, one arm wrapping around his chest, the other around his waist, ending with a kiss on his neck.
“Hello, Severus.”
Potter’s voice was rough from sleep, making Severus shiver. Instinctively, he covered the arm around his torso with his hand, feeling himself relax, pressing back, yielding to Potter’s touch and presence. He should have tensed, he should have pulled back, but he couldn’t. He remained standing there, within Potter’s embrace, relishing the artificial feeling of having a lover, a partner, someone who loved him back.
His breathing stuttered.
Things were progressing quickly. If he allowed this to go on for much longer, Potter would jump him without restraint in two or three days. And then… and then…
Part of him wished he could be the anchor to Potter’s curse. The sheer satisfaction of being needed, of being the one Potter went to every day to get himself under control and functioning. The other part of him dreaded the outcome, the aftermath of the curse running its course. Being discarded, shunned, or accused of taking advantage… Severus couldn’t afford being the villain again.
Currently however, his main concern was his own sanity. Judging by his own reactions, he had already grown accustomed to Potter’s touches, his presence, his scent. Once Potter abandoned him again to his lonely life, Severus would suffer, having finally known what closeness felt like. He wasn’t entirely sure he could go back to a solitary life like that.
He sighed. Potter was going to ruin him either way, it seemed.
“Are you done?” Potter asked, his voice husky.
Merlin, help him. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Your chambers are nearby, aren’t they?”
His hand on Potter’s arm tightened its grip. “Yes.”
Potter pressed closer, and Severus could feel something hard poking his backside. When it clicked, his breath hitched.
“Why don’t you show me?” Potter whispered, his lips stroking along the skin on his neck. The hand on Severus’s waist slid beneath the folds of his robes to touch his stomach through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. “It would be a pleasure to take all of this off you.”
Severus was panting harshly. Potter’s touch was burning. He wanted to ask for more, to surrender to Potter’s suggestions.
But asking for more meant the end.
With difficulty, Severus extracted himself from Potter’s arms, already feeling the loss of the warm contact.
“Let’s,” Severus began, forcing his breathing to calm down, “take this to my rooms. I can have breakfast delivered.”
“Tempting,” Potter said, smiling, pressing his lips to Severus’s. “I accept.”
The moment Potter stepped away from him, Severus noticed the change in the other man's posture as he experienced a shift in reality due to the curse consuming him. All of his advances were involuntary, likely forgotten instantly. Severus curled his hands into fists, clenching his teeth. He was only a means to an end…
He stopped short. He was a means to an end. Forcing the jolt of pain firmly behind his walls, he focused on the matter at hand. Was he the means to end the curse or Potter?
Determined, Severus grabbed Potter by his hand and led him to his rooms. As promised, he asked a house-elf to deliver breakfast for two. There was only one way to find out.
Once they finished breakfast, Potter looked at him as though he were the only interesting thing on the menu, and he gulped.
“I want you to copy exactly what I’m doing.”
Severus lifted his left hand, spreading his fingers, letting his hand hover in the air, palm towards Potter. The man copied him, a question and curiosity in his eyes.
“Now, I want you to allow your magic to flow into your fingertips. Do not force yourself to connect them with mine.”
But as soon as he released his own magic, it felt as if it was seeking out Potter’s, as though the man’s magic attracted his own like a magnet. They both gasped as their fingertips connected, and once again, heat entered Potter’s gaze.
Severus had his answer.
If it were the curse distorting Potter’s reality, it would fight against Severus’s magic, which only wanted to help, wanted to reach into Potter’s core, and needed Potter’s consent to respond. No, it was the man’s magic, blocking Potter’s consciousness from surfacing, because his magic needed Severus’s to fight the curse.
Jerking his hand away from the sensual touch, he pondered the meaning behind this. The solution was simple; let Potter have him, do whatever he needed to do in order to finish the curse.
The only problem was that Severus didn’t think he could survive this. There was still the matter of Potter’s lack of consent as his magic took over. And together with the devastating aftermath, Severus’s unorthodox methods would be exposed once Potter realised what had happened. Best-case scenario, Potter wouldn’t retaliate in exchange for Severus helping him heal. Worst-case scenario, Severus would be branded a rapist and lose not only Potter and his artificial affection, but also his job, and any reputation he had managed to build for himself after the war.
One look at Potter, however, decided it for him. The man had his whole life before him; there was no way Severus would tie Potter’s life to his own, not if there was something he could do about it. Perhaps Potter would consent to having his memories erased afterwards in order to lead a peaceful life.
Severus stood up and extended his hand. “I’m yours to do with as you please.”
Potter smiled as he rose and clasped Severus’s hand in the warmth of his own. Severus couldn’t quite contain the shiver coursing through his body at the touch. He led Potter to his chambers as if he were heading to the guillotine. As Potter plastered himself against his back again, Severus closed his eyes and prayed to all the deities for Potter not to hate him more than he already did.
Potter, and perhaps he should call him Harry, considering what they were about to do, took off Severus’s robes, leaving him clad only in the thin nightshirt. Once Harry removed even that and left him standing there in his ugly, naked glory, Severus waited for the verdict that would surely come—too skinny, too gangly, too ugly.
There were hands on his pale skin, sure as if they were doing this every day, stroking him from his shoulders down to his chest, embracing him as though Harry wanted this…
But then he recalled that Harry did want this—his magic ensured his full compliance. He still didn’t fully understand why it chose him of all people, but if there was even a slim chance that it would cure Harry…
His thoughts came to a full stop when a hand curled around his erection.
“I want to fuck you.”
Severus shuddered, partly in anticipation, partly in fear. He had no experience in sex, had never been close to anyone enough to feel he could trust them, and expose himself fully. What if he found it horrible?
What if he liked it?
But despite his reservations and his inexperience, he let Harry drag him to the bed, to push him down onto the mattress. He scooted to the centre and lay down on his stomach. He was worried that he might bolt if he were forced to watch Harry. It was better, easier for him, to bear this looking away.
There was a hand on his buttocks, stroking, kneading, patting gently. It spiked his desire. He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t be enjoying himself. This was his first time as well as last; he shouldn’t be—
But then Harry spread his arsecheeks wide and dived at his arse, licking and stabbing, eliciting a surprised cry from him, followed by harsh pants. Gone was his resolve not to participate and simply take it. Pushing his arse back, he eagerly chased more of the pleasure coursing through his body. He had never felt anything like it. The closest comparison he could find was the opposite of Cruciatus…
The tongue was inside him then, and he keened. Till his death, he would deny that sound ever leaving his lips. But when Harry began to fuck him with it, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please,” he whispered, hoping Harry didn’t hear him.
“Yes?” The man’s voice was choked.
“Fuck,” he whined. “Harry…”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Harry chanted, and Severus felt a slick finger pushing inside him.
Oh, dear Lord, have mercy on him. He had no dignity left as his arse kept thrusting against that intruder. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop the noises he was making, either. He had placed himself completely in Harry’s capable hands.
As Harry prepared him, stretching him wide, his free hand stroked Severus’s flanks and arse, as if he couldn’t help it and craved the touch to stay focused. This was all so intimate that Severus had no idea how he was just supposed to return to his cold and lonely life.
The fingers were suddenly gone, and Severus heard rustling behind him. Under normal circumstances, he would have tensed, but to his utter mortification, he spread his legs wide and tilted his pelvis upwards as though it was the most natural thing to do. He fisted the sheets in anticipation of what was to come.
His buttocks were stroked in reverence as soft, wet sounds filled the air, and Severus’s cheeks burned as his imagination took over. He refused to look, he didn’t want to see… and then something slick and blunt was at his entrance.
He had a death grip on the sheets as he held his breath, bracing himself.
“Breathe.”
The command expanded his lungs, and he was forced to inhale sharply. The moment he breathed out, Harry pushed in.
He couldn’t stop the groan that sneaked into his exhale, nor could he force his body to obey him as his back arched, his arse pushing back to take the entire cock in him.
“Fuck,” Harry whispered, his breath hitching as he buried himself up to the hilt inside Severus. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Severus panted harshly, adjusting to the hard length filling him, stretching him beyond what he thought possible. He felt… owned. As if Potter marked him as his and he was forbidden from ever letting anyone else in. That was fine with Severus. It wasn’t as if he ever intended to have sex again.
Harry began to move. At the first thrust inside, Severus moaned, his body slumping into the mattress as pleasure coursed through him, engulfing him, forcing him to yield. Harry leaned over him, his body covering Severus’s as he moved leisurely inside him. Severus clawed at the sheets, moaning at the contact, at the arousal gripping his body, hyperaware of Harry’s breath on his neck, of Harry’s cock in his arse.
“That’s it, Severus, let me fuck you.”
He did, moaning constantly, the pleasure unbearable at times. It didn’t stop him from tilting his hips in a silent plea for more. He didn’t stop his body from enjoying the way Harry made him feel. He welcomed Harry inside his body.
Inside his heart.
His walls down now, the years of denial came crushing down on him—Harry protecting him after the Battle, the man’s constant kindness, his fight to keep Severus’s reputation intact, his easy smile, hoping they could form some sort of friendship. And Severus kept his distance, ignored him, forced himself to look the other way. For what good could ever come out of this?
But despite his precautions, hiding behind his walls, they were still here, in a more intimate setting than Severus could have ever hoped to imagine. He could never come out of this alive. He had considered the year he became Headmaster to be the most devastating, the loneliest year to date.
And while he barely survived it, he was certain it was nothing compared to being left alone after the most intimate act with the person he—
Harry’s loud groan snapped him out of his reverie. The man grabbed him tighter, as if he was afraid Severus would bolt, stroking his body as though he would never have another chance, his mouth moving in gentle circles on his neck and shoulder. Harry’s thrusts sped up, and Severus found himself being thrust into his orgasm, crying out from the intensity as he clamped down on Harry’s cock, coming untouched in spurt after spurt of come.
Harry dug his fingers into his hip as he fucked him without any finesse, freezing suddenly. Severus swore he could feel the cock inside him expand, before it coated his inner walls in Harry’s essence. Severus hoped Harry wouldn’t clean them; he wanted to keep the man’s presence with him for longer.
Withdrawing carefully, Harry fell to the side. Severus whimpered at the loss, feeling Harry’s come slide down his thigh. To his surprise, he didn’t feel used. He was satiated in a way he would never achieve on his own. He lay there savouring the feeling, for he knew it wouldn’t last long.
Then the mattress dipped, and there was a rustle of clothes. He couldn’t look at Harry. Unsure whether the curse was gone and Harry’s magic had finally settled, unsure if Harry returned to reality or not, Severus couldn’t face the disgust or horror on his face. Focusing on returning his breathing to normal, Severus lay on the bed, unmoving.
He was such a coward.
At the sound of the door being shut, Severus couldn’t stop a lone tear from falling.
Harry didn’t return in the evening, nor did he show up the next morning. Why would he, when he was pushed into something he would have never willingly engaged in otherwise? Severus’s stomach clenched in dread. Harry was kind, yes, but would he still be once he had realised what he was forced into? Even his kindness had to be limited.
Severus hadn’t left his chambers, struggling to distract himself and failing spectacularly. His only consolation was the fact that he had to suffer through one last week of exams before Harry would leave. Unless the man realised the curse was lifted and didn't want to remain at Hogwarts, replaced by another Auror.
He shook his head. No, Harry was a man of his word. If he had agreed to stay, then he would. Leaving prematurely would only raise questions that Severus was sure the man preferred not to answer.
Come Monday, Severus could no longer remain hidden. He took special care in dressing himself—doing up every button with a measured breath, adjusting his cuffs with meticulous precision. Hiding every inch of skin beneath clothes, every painful emotion behind his mental walls. He took a deliberate step outside the confines of his chambers. After that, muscle memory kicked in, and he found himself striding into the Great Hall as his formidable self once more.
“Severus,” Minerva greeted him with a smile. “Busy weekend?”
He nodded, pouring tea into his cup. He wasn’t hungry.
“I heard you managed to find a cure for the curse.” His eyelid twitched. “I’m grateful you’re still looking out for him,” she added fondly.
He nodded again, breathing through the lump in his throat.
Suddenly, his body tensed before he consciously realised what was happening. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up as Harry entered the Great Hall, with Hagrid at his side, the two engaging in an animated conversation. Severus realised that he was reacting to Harry’s magic, all too familiar now, after—
Harry looked up at him. Severus wasn’t fast enough in looking away.
His hand trembled as he put the cup down.
Horror. Harry was looking at him with horror.
Severus couldn’t take a proper breath until he vanished through the side door, closing it behind him. Perhaps he needed a different tactic. Instead of erasing Harry’s memories, he should remove his own.
Erase the only experience in his life where he felt like he mattered to someone.
No, he wouldn't do that.
Work. Perhaps he should sort through boring correspondence to ease his anxiety. Once he was in his office, he picked up the pile that he had been postponing for far too long and dived into it. It wasn’t unusual for him to miss lunch, so he was relieved to see a plate of sandwiches next to him. It did ease the knot in his stomach slightly as he realised he didn’t need to give yet another appearance.
He missed dinner as well. He sighed, rubbing his temples, wishing he were a simple teacher so he could afford to skip the entire week. But as a Headmaster, he couldn’t afford to disappear without due cause. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t look at Harry. Hopefully, that would help.
The next morning, he poured himself some tea again. He eyed the plain porridge nearby, but the thought of consuming any food made his stomach protest. Except at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was protesting because he was hungry or from the possibility of seeing Harry.
“Severus, are you all right?” Minerva asked in concern.
“Yes, you needn't worry.”
“See, now that does make me worry. You’re not usually this withdrawn towards the end of the school year. On edge, yes—constantly. Withdrawn? No. You’re hurting.”
He took a sip, forcing his hand to remain still. There was no need to deny anything. He would either slip while trying to defend himself or make her worry even more.
His body tensed as he realised that Harry was nearby, his magic preceding his own awareness. He had to leave. Preferably with some dignity. He felt Harry’s gaze on him and, with the sheer force of will, refused to look up.
“Severus?” He heard Minerva’s gentle voice. Then he felt her hand on his arm and lost it. He jerked away from her touch so violently that he tipped over the teacup, spilling its contents everywhere.
With the damage already done, he gritted out, “Excuse me,” and once again fled through the side door.
He didn’t stop, walking all the way to his office, snapping the password at the gargoyle, wanting to curse the slowly revolving staircase. Once he was safely inside the office, he cast the most private spell he knew, blocking the portraits from intruding and slumped into his chair in defeat.
He heard the knock on the door, but lacked the strength to respond, watching a spot on the nearby wall, unseeing.
The knock came again. Not trusting his voice, he waved his hand, and the latch popped open. He sat up straight in the high-winged chair.
In came the last person he expected to visit.
“May I come in?” Harry asked timidly.
He nodded.
Harry sat in the chair opposite him in silence. Severus couldn’t look at him and preferred to watch the sunlight dancing on his inkpot, casting a colourful pattern on his desk.
“I,” Harry croaked, clearing his throat. “I don’t know how to apologise.”
Severus looked at him and noticed something glittering at the corner of his eye. It took him a moment to realise it was an unshed tear.
Apologise for what?
“What are you talking about?” Severus whispered. He couldn’t speak any louder; his voice would tremble.
“I… I can’t…” Harry seemed genuinely unable to voice the issue troubling him. “I’m sorry!” he blurted in the end, desperation seeping into his apology. “I know a simple sorry won’t ever erase what I have done to you,” his voice cracked. “I'm taking full responsibility for my actions and if you want to hold me accountable—”
Severus’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
“—I will bow down to anything that you deem a fit punishment—”
“Potter!”
“I RAPED YOU!” he shouted in despair. “I fucking raped you,” he sobbed.
Seeing him so distraught, Severus moved before he'd registered that he had wanted to do so. Crouching next to Harry, he could only place his hand on his thigh.
“You didn’t.”
Harry huffed. “Of course, I did. I couldn’t stop, I needed you so badly.” Severus felt a jolt of arousal at the words. “I didn’t check with you, I kept forcing you, coming onto you, why didn’t I check with you…” Harry felt genuinely confused and more than upset about the entire situation.
“My best guess is that your magic was protecting you from the curse,” Severus began in a calming tone. Harry looked at him in anguish, and Severus suddenly realised that the expression of horror on Harry’s face was about what he believed he’d done, not with whom he’d done it.
“If the curse was aimed at reducing your powers and your magic fought back…” Severus began to explain, “I can’t even fathom how powerful your magical core has to be. Your magic fought against being destroyed, and for some reason, it had found a grounding point in me. Every time you were in my presence, every time you touched me, our magic connected, mine anchored yours.” He had Harry’s full attention, so he rose from his crouched position, perching his hip against his desk.
“That’s why even a simple spell had such a profound effect on you; your magic couldn’t have protected you and functioned properly at the same time. The longer the curse was in effect, the more desperate your magic was to… have me.” Harry flinched. Severus closed his eyes briefly. “Sexual magic is very powerful,” he said softly. “You needed to take my magic to stabilise your core and expel the curse.”
Harry was quietly absorbing all that he said.
“I see. That doesn’t change what I did, though,” he replied with a determined expression. “I stand by what I said.”
“Listen to me carefully, I will only say this once,” Severus began, “You did not rape me. I…” He looked away in shame. “I went along quite willingly.”
“You didn’t seem willing from where I was standing.”
“My reservations lay elsewhere.”
“You can say it, you know. You didn’t want me because both of my parents fucked you up, and I remind you of them both.” His blunt tone snapped Severus out of any melancholy.
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Why did he have to run his mouth like that? “You should leave, Potter. I do not intend to—”
“You called me Harry.”
Severus gritted his teeth. “I’m certain I did not.”
“Yes, you did. When I… when I ate you out.”
He couldn’t stop the shiver. Harry noticed.
“You let me do this,” Harry said, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised.
“I did not have a choice.”
Harry tilted his head. “So you agree it was rape, then.”
Fuck, he was good. Severus crossed his arms against his chest. “You should go.”
Harry rose from his seat to stand before him. “You wanted me.”
“No.”
Harry put his hand on Severus’s arm. He trembled again, and Harry smiled. “You still want me.”
“I assure you, I—”
“Please,” Harry said, his eyes begging as well, “I want to kiss you so much, but I don't want to presume… you have to believe me that I would have checked for consent, that I do check for consent—”
He didn’t know what made him lean forward and kiss Harry. He was supposed to console him, not torture himself further. Then the lips on his became urgent, unrelenting, and Severus moaned, responding in kind, once again surrendering. He felt powerless against Harry Potter.
“I wanted you so much, you can’t imagine,” Harry panted once they broke for air. “Whenever I saw you, all I wanted was to have you. I didn’t even stop to think about it. It was there, humming.”
“Your magic,” Severus said, nodding. “You must… you must still be feeling the effects.”
“No,” Harry said, “no, this is all me now.”
Severus snorted. “Please, don’t make me laugh.”
“First of all, I would love to hear you laugh. And second, why the bloody hell do you think that my magic sought out yours of all people?” But before he could reply, Harry continued, “Because I’ve had a crush on you for some years now.”
Severus retreated behind his desk. “You’re mistaken. You might not be fully recovered yet, perhaps the cure is not a cure at all, and I should be looking further in—”
“I am cured!” Harry snapped, brandishing his wand and performing a complex spell to perfection. Severus couldn’t help but soak up the residue of Harry’s magic greedily. “I am cured, and I want you! That’s why my magic—”
“Your magic chose mine because I was a virgin!” Severus snapped, regretting it in an instant, looking away. “Sexual magic is more potent if at least one party is pure. I was simply a convenient vessel. Whatever… attraction you still feel must be a residue from… our connection. You should return to normal in a couple of days,” he finished blandly. There. He couldn’t sink any lower.
Harry was quiet. Severus couldn’t bear raising his eyes to look at him. Sighing, he said, “I think it’s best that you leave.”
He didn’t hear any shuffling of retreating footsteps and had to grit his teeth in frustration. Was there no end to his humiliation?
“Is there anything at all,” Harry said slowly, “that would convince you that I want you? That my feelings are not the result of a curse gone wrong?”
No. “Your absence,” Severus replied after a while. “Once your duties finish at Hogwarts, keep your distance from me for a week,” he continued reluctantly. “Your magic should stabilise without being exposed to mine. You will come to your senses then.”
Harry leaned over the desk. “Do you promise?” he asked urgently. “Do you promise that this time is sufficient for any lingering side effects to disappear? That after this time passes, I am my own man, of a clear mind and free will?”
A day apart would be more than enough for that. “Yes.”
He didn’t expect Harry to return. In fact, he was certain that Harry would do everything in his power to ensure their paths never crossed again.
“I’ll be back, then. After that, no more excuses, Severus.”
He slumped into his chair after the door clicked shut behind the man. Of course, there would be no more excuses—there would be no need for them because Harry would never return.
Once Harry left, something inside Severus disappeared. Knowing he would not run into him around any corner anymore, knowing he wouldn't be observed without his knowledge, jumped unexpectedly, or touched innocently—it all left a void inside him. He knew this day would come; he'd even expected it to hurt unbearably. What he did not anticipate was this hollow sense, this apathy towards life.
The year as Headmaster under the Dark Lord’s reign—when he was alone, working behind the scenes—at least then he had a purpose, a reason for all that he was working towards. Whereas now…
“Severus, what happened between you and Harry?”
Ah, it seemed Minerva grew tired of walking on eggshells around him.
“I cured him, and he returned to his life. That’s all.”
“That is not all,” she replied sternly. “You are wasting away. I can see how absent-minded you are most of the time. Whatever happened—”
“Is none of your concern,” he snapped as he left the High Table. He didn’t need a reminder of how pathetic his life was, how much losing Harry had cost him.
Once again, he immersed himself in his duties. At the rate he was going, he could look forward to a summer of potion experimenting. He couldn’t recall the last time he could brew unrestricted with no duties hanging over his head.
The day Harry was supposed to come had arrived. Despite his best resolve, Severus harboured a tiny hope that perhaps Harry wasn’t under the influence, just like he claimed. Severus got dressed with more care than he would usually put into his appearance, berating himself constantly for his hopeful ideations.
At the end of the day, when Potter had failed to show, he went to sleep completely mentally exhausted. Another lone tear slid down his cheek as he slept with his fist pressed tightly to his chest.
On the last day of school, after all the students had gone home, Severus finished all of the pending requests on his table. After having completed all of his tasks, he wasn’t going to leave on such a negative note, he mentally went through ingredients he might want to procure on his way home.
He was about to grab the Floo powder from the mantel when he heard a knock on his door.
“Enter,” he said, frowning. He sincerely hoped there was no emergency that he would have to tend to.
He couldn’t mask the surprise on his face when he saw Harry standing in the doorway.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
“No,” Severus replied, “What are you doing here?”
Harry licked his lips. “You made me a promise.”
Heat consumed Severus’s body to the point he had to grab his desk to remain upright. “You can’t…”
Harry closed the door and walked the distance to Severus, behind his desk, to stand directly in front of him.
“I think you know by now I do.” Harry raised his hand and cupped Severus’s face. “I need your final answer. I kept my distance. I’ve waited until you couldn’t give me any other bullshit excuse to stall.” His thumb stroked Severus’s lips. “Do you want me, Severus? Not just in bed, but also to date you, to spend time with you, to be there for you,” he paused. “To come home to you.”
He gripped Harry’s hand tightly, afraid that Harry would disappear on him. “Harry…” He closed his eyes at the domestic visual his brain insisted on conjuring for him.
“Severus,” Harry whispered, nuzzling a space behind his ear, “I’ve wanted you for so long. I thought that if I had managed to prove myself to you somehow, I could attract your attention, show you who I really am… but you know, don’t you? Because you’ve already placed yourself in my hands, because you know I will take care of you. Tell me,” he paused, tilting Severus’s face to his. “Do you want me, too?”
How could he remain in denial? “Yes. Please, I… more than anything.”
He was kissed passionately, pulled against Harry’s strong body, melting in his embrace. He supposed he would never fully know whether Harry’s magic chose him because of Harry’s desire for him or if he really was simply the best solution to Harry’s cursed problem. All that he cared about was that he had found the kindest, the most sincere person to fall in love with and as long as he didn’t fuck it up, he would finally have someone to share his life with.