Wednesday, December 9, 1998 ---- 6:59 a.m.

Severus didn't sleep well. In fact, when he first woke up, he couldn't remember sleeping at all. But then snatches of dreams drifted through his mind, and he knew he must have.

Those dreams, though . . . Severus suddenly felt as though the dungeons were chillier than usual. He rubbed his forearms up and down as the fragments of his dreams became clearer memories. Harry, gritting his teeth as Severus made love to him. Harry, turning his face away and grunting, but not with pleasure.

Of course, Harry hadn't looked like that the night before. Not at all. If he had, Severus might not have been able to continue. Then again, he might have, considering how long he'd desired to sink his cock balls-deep into Harry's sweet arse.

But no, Harry hadn't gritted his teeth or even looked as though he was wishing himself someplace else. But neither had he looked as though he was enjoying matters a great deal. He hadn't even come, not until afterwards, when Severus had more or less insisted.

Severus sighed, then was jolted abruptly out of his thoughts as Harry sat up beside him.

Bit early for the other man to be waking up. "Did you sleep well?" he heard himself ask. The question came out stiffly, probably because Severus had been trying not to sound too solicitous. He didn't want to treat Harry "like a girl," certainly.

Though it would have been pleasant, he supposed, not to have to hide the fact that he cared.

"Yeah, fine." Harry blinked a few times, then stretched.

To Severus' eye, the motion looked a little awkward, like there were parts of Harry that were a bit sore. No surprise there. Severus had been as careful as possible the night before, but it wasn't as though Harry were accustomed to bottoming.

"Would you like--"

"No."

Harry might at least let him finish the question, thought Severus, somewhat annoyed. So be it, then. Severus personally didn't find there was much satisfaction in suffering for the sake of it--not even minor twinges of pain, such as Harry might be experiencing. But then, Severus wasn't a reckless Gryffindor, was he?

It came to him like a splash of cold water, then, that it was likely a good thing that Harry had that plunge-ahead-without-pausing-to-think attitude. Otherwise, he might never have been willing to bottom for Severus.

Now Severus was more annoyed than before. How could he not be, when he'd just found himself undeniably satisfied with the fact that his lover was a dratted Gryffindor?

"You look a lot more grumpy than you should." Harry tilted his face to one side as he stared at Severus. "Something wrong?"

Severus looked away. No point in mentioning the houses business. Part of him couldn't even believe he was thinking about such things, when other things were so much more important.

Like the fact that Harry hadn't really liked what they'd done together. "I expect you know exactly what's wrong."

Harry shrugged. "It'll get better. I mean, for me. It actually wasn't so bad when I pretended it was just frottage going on."

Oh, wonderful. So Harry had been wishing himself somewhere else, in a manner of speaking. "Your confidence is nauseating."

"You're really in a bad mood."

"Of course," said Severus smoothly, turning to meet Harry's eyes again. His tone got nastier as he kept talking. "It's so encouraging to hear you describe in detail how you managed to endure my touch!"

"I love your touch and you know it," said Harry levelly.

Severus felt his heart thud painfully at hearing that word, that one word, coming from Harry's lips.

"It's just, you know, that one kind of touching that isn't my favourite, and if you expected it to be, already, then you need to yank your head out of your arse."

It's your arse that concerns me, Severus almost said, but he decided at the last instant that this conversation had the potential to go badly wrong if he wasn't careful.

Harry, it seemed, was determined to get them on the right path as well. "It will get better, Severus," he said, running his fingers along Severus' forearm. The contact sent tingles racing through Severus' skin. "It will."

Severus didn't know how the other man could be so certain, but he thought better than to voice any doubts. Any more doubts, that was. "Yes," he replied after a pause. "I'll see to it."

Harry shook his head. "Just do what you want,what comes naturally. If I feel like you're straining over it, it'll make me self-conscious, and that won't help. I bet I need to relax, you know? And you, too."

Severus didn't like the idea of seeing to his own desires, with little regard for his partner. Which wasn't quite what Harry had meant, he knew, but still . . .

No point in putting more pressure onto Harry, though. "As you wish," said Severus tightly, the irony so palpable that he could practically taste it. A coppery flavour, actually. Or was that coming from the way he was biting the inside of his cheek?

"Come on. Breakfast, then."

Harry sounded disgustingly cheery. Severus almost grimaced, but managed a neutral expression instead. He was certain that Harry saw through it, but with that same disgusting cheerfulness, the other man jumped to his feet and announced that he was in the mood for fried bangers.

Friday, December 11, 1998 ---- 8:55 p.m.

"It's good to be less nervous," said Harry, kicking off his shoes as he leaned back on the settee. "Now that we've done it a few times, I feel really fine about everything. Not that I didn't appreciate the dinner out we just had--" Harry rubbed his stomach. "But you don't need to keep acting like you have to make it up to me, you know. I'm fine. Really."

Severus didn't smile. He hadn't been aware of doing that, but now, hearing things from Harry's perspective . . . yes, perhaps the other man was right. Severus glanced away, a sense of failure washing over him. He wasn't an ideal partner by any means, but the bedroom had been the one area where he'd been certain he wouldn't be found wanting. It was a bitter potion to swallow, this realisation that all his efforts weren't worth much.

Severus sighed. He'd always prided himself on being able to satisfy his partner. Even when he was with a prostitute, he made certain that the other man enjoyed the encounter. And Harry mattered to him more than any prostitute ever could, but Harry was the one man Severus couldn't seem to please no matter how he tried.

It was a bitter potion, indeed.

Of course, Severus wasn't daft enough to think that Harry was getting no pleasure at all when he and Severus made love. He came readily enough when Severus sucked him off, or fondled his cock and balls afterwards. He just didn't come while he was bottoming, no matter how Severus tried. He generally wasn't even hard enough to get close to climaxing.

Perhaps it was too much to expect that he could be. That he would. Ever.

Oblivious to Severus' mood, Harry was rubbing his hands together. "I liked the way my Incendio now is turning my wand into a flamethrower. Well, when I think about wanting that much power. Hmm, though I somehow have the feeling that it's going to take more than fire for me to win the final battle."

"Doubtless," said Severus. He'd given up trying to guess what their crossed powers might produce next, though whenever they went to the Room of Requirement to test Harry's magic, he found himself thinking that it was a good thing that Harry seemed able to control his spell-casting. One didn't want Incendio to emerge any stronger than one had in mind, certainly. The same went for the myriad of other spells that Harry seemed able to amplify, these days.

Severus couldn't say he was getting used to the spells of weakness that would wash over him whenever Harry drew power from him, but he did know to expect them.

"So, let's do it again."

Severus glanced up. He'd lost track of the conversation, something that seldom happened to him. Or perhaps it was merely Harry's slightly impulsive way of speaking. "Come again?"

"Let's go have sex," said Harry, nodding like a man more determined than amorous. "I really think I'm getting the hang of it."

Severus didn't think so, but he didn't want to argue. Not about that. Not again.

Because really, they didn't have any choice but to keep having sex, did they? Not now that they knew the truth. Harry bottoming for Severus was adding to their crossed powers.

If only he could learn to enjoy it, really enjoy it . . .

Severus sighed. He was doing his best, but he was beginning to wonder if that was going to be enough.

Friday, December 18, 1998 ---- 5:38 p.m.

"So, that's it then." Harry felt so tired that he wanted to wilt. "The first term, finally over. I never want to see another essay, again. I've never longed for a holiday so much, before."

Severus sat down beside him. "You must have felt that way as a student, too."

"Ha. At least then, I only had to write one essay for Defence, not correct hundreds of them. And besides . . ." Harry shook his head, his voice trailing off.

"Besides?"

"What do you think?" Harry stiffened as he sat there. "You were usually in the castle during Christmas, I think. Didn't you ever notice that I was here, too? That I wasn't wanted at home? That's what the holidays mean to me."

"You're wanted at home, now."

Something about Severus' tone--kind of soft, for him, Harry thought--seemed to reach inside Harry and make him feel better. Strangely, it also made him feel sort of uncomfortable. Probably because Severus couldn't really mean it, not the way it sounded. He'd been strong-armed into invoking, the same as Harry had been, and now they were in it for life, and what was was, but Severus didn't really want him the way that had sounded. "Yeah, I know what you want me for," he joked.

"I didn't mean that."

A level tone, that time. So level, in fact, that it made Harry stop and think. If Severus hadn't meant sex, then . . . Well, it wasn't too hard to figure out what he did mean, Harry supposed. He'd sort of known it, already. He did have a home here, now. A real home, with somebody who . . . well, "cared about him" was probably going a little too far. But Severus was willing to be pretty damned decent about the whole slavery thing. And he did like Harry, these days. Some, at least.

It was more than Harry had ever had at the Dursleys'. Huh . . . more than he'd really ever expected to have, he guessed. Harry shifted uneasily on the couch, wondering if he was really as pathetic as that thought made him out to be.

"I'm glad Bryerson's gone off to visit his fiancée," he suddenly announced. "Otherwise he might have piled tonnes more work on me. I swear, with him talking about how he's going to have me start planning lessons now and again, I ought to be getting paid more. Oh . . . er . . ."

"Not going to demand a rise out of the Governors, then?"

Severus sounded quietly amused, which made Harry feel sheepish, considering his true financial situation. He lounged back on the settee more, in an effort to appear nonchalant. "Dunno. It just struck me that I'm lucky to be getting paid at all. I mean, I do know that it's your money, really. I never forget that. I think I'm afraid to."

"Not surprising, considering what happened on your birthday," said Severus, crossing his long legs, the motion as suave as Harry's had been awkward. That wasn't what Harry noticed, though. Well, not the only thing. It was how Severus ended up looking afterwards, with his trousers outlining his lean, strong thighs.

Harry stared, a little surprised to feel his groin stirring in response. He hadn't found Severus' legs attractive before, had he? Hair, yes. Eyes, yes. Voice . . . God, yes. But now, looking at the man's legs made him think of just one thing.

Cock.

A large, tasty cock.

Harry licked his lips, a sudden jolt coursing through his lower body. Not just in his own cock, either. His arse felt sort of . . . hard to pin the feeling down. Almost like it might like to be filled.

Well, Harry had found the whole fingers business a little satisfying, once. A long time ago, it seemed like. He hadn't thought about it in forever, hadn't even been able to remember it.

He could remember it now, though. The feeling of being filled down there, and liking it. The stroke of a finger across his prostate . . .

"I did the best I could, regarding the money."

"Huh?" Harry glanced up, his face feeling hot as it came to him that he'd probably been staring at Severus' crotch for a while. It didn't seem like Severus had noticed, though.

"I did the very best I could about the money."

"Oh. Yeah, I know that." Harry shrugged. "I didn't mean to sound like it bothered me."

"The spell might take it amiss if you did ask for a rise, but I can broach the matter with Albus if you feel taken advantage of."

Harry shook his head. "No, no. I'm just pretty sick of doing Bryerson's scut work. He's not nearly as bad as a lot of the Defence teachers we've had here, but when it comes to correcting papers, I don't think he does his fair share."

Severus shrugged, his lips a straight line. Harry thought he saw a smile lurking somewhere deep in the man's expression, though. In the lines around his eyes, maybe. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What? You're thinking something. I can tell."

Another shrug, but by then, there was definitely a hint of a smile playing about Severus' lips. "Since you ask . . . I was thinking that if I were allowed an assistant, I'd give him as much correcting as he could competently manage. All of it, if possible."

All of it? Harry shuddered, thinking about the mountains of parchments the Defence students turned in. "Yeah, you probably would, but that's abuse of authority."

"Nonsense. You're his assistant. You're there to assist him. "

"I'm not just his assistant. I have a whole nother job--"

"Nother isn't a word."

"Ha, ha. Who cares? Everybody says it." Harry stood up, tired of the argument. Really, it wasn't even worth discussing. "I guess Bryerson's not as bad as all that. At least the students are learning loads this year. And if I'm sick of marking all the essays he assigns, at least I get a nice long break, now. So . . . want to join me for a warm bath?"

"At this hour?"

"Since when do you complain about getting naked with me?"

"Ah. That sort of bath."

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat as he chanced another glance at Severus' crotch. He might not have gone on, except that when he thought about the cock beneath the fabric, another little zing of something seemed to course through the lower half of his body. "'Cause . . . er, I was thinking that maybe we could try fingers again. In the water . . . well, I have good memories of the bath, you know. And . . ." Damn it, he wasn't shy with Severus any longer, so why could he feel himself colouring? It was ridiculous. "Er . . .with me bottoming for you every night, it seems like I don't need to be stretched as much beforehand, you know? And you haven't been doing that as thoroughly as you were at first."

"Because you were only tolerating it."

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. "Well, now I think I might be able to like it. Maybe a little. I'm feeling . . ." Harry smiled, then. No need to be embarrassed. He could tell Severus things like this. Actually, Severus was the only person he could talk to this way, and not just because the contract would rear its ugly head if Harry went around describing his arse to anyone else. "Is there a word? Kind of, I don't know. It's like being hungry, I guess. Except, in a different place."

"In your cock?"

"There, too."

"Ah." Severus stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming. "That sounds like good tidings. And yes, a bath might be just the way to begin our holiday."

Good tidings . . . Harry smiled. He'd been wondering for a while what he could get Severus for Christmas. He'd put off buying a present, mostly because he'd done so spectacularly badly on the last gifts he'd tried to choose for the man. But this . . . this would be a present Severus would definitely like, if Harry could get to the point where he really enjoyed bottoming. If Harry could come while bottoming.

And somehow, Harry didn't think Severus would mind getting his Christmas present early. Not in this case.

Harry led the way, opening the taps before he began to shuck off his clothes. Severus' huge tub took an age to fill, even with magic to help the water pour out at a fast rate.

"Would you prefer slick water or slick fingers?" asked Severus softly, coming up to embrace Harry from behind.

"Hmm . . . slick water, I think." Like at the invocation . . . though since Severus didn't insist on any Frictionate, it seemed like the water wasn't going to become as slick as all that.

"As you like." Letting go of Harry, Severus upended a small vial of purplish fluid into the water, which immediately frothed as though he'd added bubble bath. That only lasted a moment, though, and the water went back to its usual appearance. "Shall we?"

Going back to fingers didn't work out as Harry had hoped, though. Sure, he was able to enjoy it more, as he sat crossways on Severus' lap, angling his arse to give the man's hand good access. That stroke of a fingertip across his prostate made him gasp, now. And it definitely made his cock swell and twitch. Severus nestled it in his hand, squeezing it lightly, encouraging Harry's erection along.

Harry did get hard, but he didn't come. Not then, in the bath, and not later, either, in bed with Severus, the man's cock gliding smoothly in and out of him, caressing his prostate with every stroke. The sensation of it was maddening, now. Harry got very hard. He got desperate, actually. He wanted to come, and not just mentally any longer. His body wanted it.

But he couldn't quite get there.

It was worse than frustrating; it was ridiculous. Severus' hand on him was nothing short of passionate, urging him towards orgasm, and he did know how to excite Harry. He had right from the first, but with all the sex they'd been having lately, he was more skilled at arousing Harry than ever.

But somehow, with the man's cock riding him--even though Harry kind of liked it, this time--he just couldn't come.

Not until afterwards, when Severus took Harry into his mouth and finished him.

It was becoming a pattern, Harry thought, flushed and sated, panting as he lay there. Satisfying in one way, but disappointing in another. He couldn't come while he was bottoming. Not even when he wanted to.

Perhaps it wasn't going to be such a merry Christmas, after all.

Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 3:44 p.m.

"I think that's enough for today," said Severus, pushing up from the chair he'd been sitting in since lunch.

Harry lowered his wand, giving the other man a doubtful look. "But you've had me practicing from noon until five, at least, every other day this holiday. Are you getting more tired than usual, today?" He frowned. "Though I don't think my power has increased any in the last week. If you're knackered even so, maybe something else is going on--"

"For Merlin's sake," Severus mildly interrupted. "It's Christmas Eve, Harry."

"Oh, is it?" Harry scratched his head a little. He'd lost track of the days, but that was probably because he never had much liked to think about Christmas. For him, it had usually meant watching the other students walk off, giggling and laughing as they headed toward the train that would take them home. And before that, it had meant watching Dudley greedily devour sweets and cakes even as his grubby hands reached out to rip open presents. Oh, and the word more. Dudley always wanted more than he got. Harry never asked for more. He knew better. Before the age of five, he'd come to accept that he was never going to get presents he'd much like, and some years, not any presents at all.

Of course, this year was bound to be different. Harry was sure Severus would get him something. Most likely, something very nice. He'd even wondered, time to time, what it might be. But old habits died hard, and mostly Harry had avoided thinking about this being Yule season.

"Wish we could have gone away," he said now. Castle holidays had been better than time spent with the Dursleys, but they had also always been a reminder that he didn't have anyone who cared about him. Well, friends. But that wasn't the same. "Paris again, something like that."

"With the Dark Lord so active? You don't really want to be away from Hogwarts."

"Well, no, but . . ." Harry bit back his sigh. "Would've been good, that's all."

"We'll be free to travel widely, once the Dark Lord is vanquished."

Harry grinned, because that brought out a thought that always improved his mood. "We're going to Florida. Don't forget."

"I doubt that's possible," said Severus in a sardonic voice. "You remind me of it often enough."

"Have to have something to look forward to," quipped Harry. Uh-oh. Severus' expression fell a bit, then, like he'd taken that as some kind of insult. Or complaint, maybe. "Look, I just mean-- well, you know. I don't blame you for things not being better. Not that they're bad, exactly. They're just-- maybe I never have liked Christmas that much, all right?"

"Perhaps this one will be better."

"'Course it will." Harry meant that, but he was still actually pretty worried that his own gift for Severus would fall flat.

The best part of Christmas was supposed to be the giving, not the getting; Harry knew that. But growing up as he had, he'd never had much of a chance to experience the joy of giving. Year after year, Harry and Dudley would both offer up the little baubles and trinkets they'd made at school. And without fail, Harry's would be given a cursory glance, only to be tossed in the bin the next day, while Dudley's effort would be fawned over and praised for hours, while Dudley didn't even pay attention, he was so engrossed in his new things, and in demanding even more.

Severus wasn't such an inconsiderate arse as to reject Harry's gift, of course. His other gifts had turned out less than brilliantly, after all, and Severus had never said a word. Getting Severus a book that the man himself had reviewed in scathing terms, and sweets he found disgusting! But he hadn't tossed them, even so. He'd brought the chocolates to the staff lounge to share, no matter that he'd never done any such thing before, and as for the book, it was still sitting there on his shelves.

But maybe that was worse. Harry would have to find out from someone else if his latest gift fell just as flat. It was probably good that Severus was trying to have a care for his feelings, Harry thought, but there was such a thing as being too careful.

Severus took some Floo powder from the mantle. "Why don't we dress for dinner?"

Well, at least that got his mind off presents. In fact, Harry's lips twitched. "As opposed to dining in the nude? You know, that has some real possibilities. Er . . . as long as, you know, tonight we could go back to doing . . . but no, you like me bottoming best of all, so I guess we'd better keep on with that--"

"Is it too much to ask for a hint of Christmas spirit?"

"You're known for that yourself, are you?"

"This Christmas is going to be different," said Severus firmly.

Harry nodded, making a conscious effort to more into the right frame of mind. "Are we dressing for dinner because there's a staff party in the Great Hall, something like that?"

"Perhaps I'd simply like to celebrate the Yule season with you. Properly."

Something about the look on the other man's face wasn't quite right. Severus was hiding something. Harry wasn't sure what, but there was definitely something. "We're dining alone, though?" he asked, fishing.

"Why shouldn't we?"

Definitely not an answer, thought Harry. Well, maybe they were going into Hogsmeade for dinner, to one of the expensive restaurants Severus was acquainted with. Though why Severus wanted to keep it such a secret was a mystery to Harry. On the other hand, he felt . . . well, appreciated, maybe. He hadn't felt that way too many times in his life, and he liked the feeling.

"I'll dress up then," he said. "Sure. What do you suggest?"

"A shower."

Harry looked down at himself. It was true that his powers hadn't really increased much lately. They'd surged right after he'd begun bottoming for Severus, but since then . . . zilch. For all that, though, whenever he spent several hours drawing on their crossed powers, he looked a right mess, afterwards. He was hot and sweaty.

A table abruptly materialized in front of him, with an electric fan sitting on top.

Harry choked back a laugh. "I wasn't thinking of that. It won't even work here!"

"Perhaps we've exhausted the room."

He had a point, there. Early on during the holiday, Severus had suggested that Harry begin to focus on casting spells for which an appreciable increase in power would make a real difference. Incendio, for instance. And Reducio.

Harry still didn't think his spells were anywhere near strong enough to wound Voldemort, let alone kill him, but they certainly made the Room of Requirement work overtime. Extra stones appeared every time Harry's blasting curse destroyed the ones making up the hearth. And when his Incendio made brick or stone glow red hot and begin to melt, the room provided a localized little snowfall to cool them off.

Reducio was the worst, though. When Harry made something shrink and shrink and shrink, magnifying glasses would begin to pop up all over the room. And then microscopes, which all by itself should have told him that the room knew things about technology. Well, of course it did. Harry had known those things, first.

And if Harry made something shrink still further, Harry would begin to hear house-elves congregating outside, their high voices somehow penetrating the wards around the room. Can Ruddy help you, sir? Can Ruddy be finding something for you, sir? they would ask, along with Dobby's plaintive, Harry Potter is needing Dobby, Mr Harry Potter, sir?

Harry didn't want all that, but the room was convinced that he did.

At any rate, he did need a shower. But he'd meant something else. "Should I wear dress robes, or something a bit less formal?"

After all, he didn't know where Severus was planning to take him.

"Dress robes will do nicely. It is Christmas Eve, after all."

But you want me to dress up because we're going out, Harry thought. Anyone who sees us will just think we're colleagues out for a meal together, but I'll know the truth. You wanted to make my Christmas something special . . .

"Dress robes it is," said Harry, feeling better about everything. So much better, in fact, that his cock seemed to stretch and yawn, down there. Like it was waking up. Which gave Harry a good idea. "Um, how about, you know, I can bottom for you tonight, but we shower together, now? And let's spell the stall big enough to lie down in. Wet, soapy frottage . . ." He flashed Severus what he hoped was a naughty grin.

"You're incorrigible."

"But you like me that way." Another grin. "Better than being so shy I couldn't even say cock out loud. You know, I like the way that feels on my tongue. Cock. Cock. Big, long cock--"

Severus leaned down slightly, coming so close that Harry could smell the man. "Too much more of that and you'll have more than words on your tongue."

Harry stepped into the Floo, shaking his head. "Promises, promises."

Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 4:18 p.m.

They'd showered together as Harry had suggested, soaping each other all over and leaning up against the wall furthest from the showerhead, their bodies slick with soap as warm water rained down beside them. In the end, they hadn't managed to spell the stall any larger. No time for that. Harry's cock was too demanding, jutting out with need. He pushed Severus more firmly against the wall and facing him, began thrusting his cock up against Severus' thigh, his hands grasping the other man's shoulders, rutting, really. No other word for it.

When he came, it was the strongest release he'd had in a while. Couple of weeks, at least.

Harry sighed with pleasure. He loved frottage. It had felt good. Really good. Too bad they couldn't do that more often, instead of--

Harry clamped down on that thought before it could run its course. So what if bottoming wasn't his favourite thing? It's not like he was afraid of it, any longer, or dreading it. He didn't even dislike it, really.

He just didn't like it very much. He never came, not so long as Severus was inside him. But Severus was a considerate lover who always took care of him afterwards, so things could be worse, right? A lot worse.

Really, if he had to be a slave, Severus was about as good a master as he could have wished for.

And wasn't that a surreal thought?

Harry stretched and stepped back from the other man, who was obviously still hard and aching. "What about you, eh?" He started to drop to his knees, but Severus' hand reached out to grasp his elbow and pull him back to his feet.

"I think I'll wait."

"Wait? Why?" Harry laughed, but then it occurred to him that maybe Severus had reservations at that fancy restaurant they'd be going to. "Oh, all right. I guess you don't want us to be late, eh?"

He shot Severus a look of triumph, wanting him to know that Harry had figured it all out.

Instead of looking grudgingly amused, however, Severus began scowling slightly. "Those bloody-- so you know, do you?"

"Well, not where, exactly--"

"You don't know where what?"

It wasn't like Severus to be the least bit inarticulate, so that had Harry taking another step back. "Where we're going to dinner," he said, almost sheepishly. What had made him think it would be such a good move to ruin Severus' surprise? By then, he could have kicked himself. "Look, I don't know where, so it's still a surprise, right?"

"Where would we be going to dinner, Harry?" asked Severus as he pushed off the wall and reached for a towel. All at once, his voice sounded almost sly. Like he was hiding something again, and having a great time of it, as well. "Most establishments in Hogsmeade would be closed for Christmas Eve, and I'd hesitate to go any farther from the castle than that, considering last Sunday's events."

Yeah, good point. Five attacks on houses all over England, Scotland, and Wales, all carried out at exactly the same time. The Muggle press had called the attacks fire-bombings and had claimed all the owners were away at the time. The Wizarding press knew better. All the houses had been the homes of witches married to Muggle men. With half-blood children. And of those children, at least one was always a son.

It was like Voldemort was trying to send a message targeted specifically at Severus Snape.

It had Harry pretty worried, actually. Had Voldemort figured out what was going on? Did he know that Snape was helping Harry train? Did he know about Cambiare Podentes? Had that damned certificate in the Ministry of Magic finally come to someone's attention? Somebody who had connections with Voldemort, who'd know better than to run straight to the press with news like that?

Or was Voldemort merely reacting to the fact that one of his minions wasn't answering his calls, any longer?

Either way, Harry definitely didn't want to wander too far afield. Even a trip to London seemed foolish.

Though he didn't want to go there, anyway.

"Well, why the dress robes, then?" Harry took the towel Severus was offering, and gave his dripping hair a thorough rub-down. "What's the point?"

"There has to be a point?"

"Usually, yeah." Harry tried to peer closely at Severus, but without his glasses he couldn't quite make out the finer nuances in the other man's expression.

"I'm not allowed to treat Christmas Eve with my lover as a cause for special celebration?"

"You're apparently not allowed to answer a single question," said Harry dryly. "I know you're up to something. Come on, give. What is it? And why didn't you want a blowjob, if we aren't rushing off because of a reservation?"

"You'll find out." With that, Severus turned to leave the bathroom, but he slapped Harry lightly on the arse on his way out.

Harry stood there speechless for a moment, but then went upstairs to hunt up the dress robes Severus had bought him, all those months ago in Strasgard.

Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 5:29 p.m.

The robes were a deep, stark black with an edging of emerald green silk. Well, of course they were. Severus had chosen them.

Of course, Harry had bought plenty of clothes since then. He might have brought home touristy things from every city they'd visited, back when they'd been able to travel, but he'd also picked out things to wear. Nothing formal, though. He didn't know anything about choosing that kind of clothing. And he also didn't think he'd need it. Well, maybe if there were another Yule Ball, at some point. Staff would have to go, right?

But how often did those come along? Harry didn't know. When he thought about it, a little shiver of something went through him, because he'd just realised that he'd sort of like to dance with Severus, and that wasn't on. Having dinner together was one thing, but dancing in public? The students would have a fit--

Or perhaps not, a thought crept into his mind. The Muggle-born ones, sure, some of them. Not ones like Hermione. The wizard-born ones might even take it in stride, particularly since Severus and I have been seen around together some, by now. Nobody really thinks I hate him now, I don't think . . .

He didn't even hate the dress robes, Slytherin colours or no, though he still did remember the awful feeling of standing like a doll to be dressed while Severus chose everything.

Pretty good choice he'd made, though. Really, when Harry looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that the green matched his eyes and the black matched his hair, which was a bit messy at the moment, considering that robes like this called for a man to be well-groomed.

Grabbing his wand, Harry started spelling his hair to stay down. Those sorts of spells used to be absolutely worthless, but he'd discovered a couple of weeks ago that if he cast them using just a tiny touch of crossed powers, they worked well enough.

A moment after he was done, Severus appeared in the mirror behind him, an odd look on his face. "Your hair, again?"

Oh, right. He always knew when Harry was accessing their crossed powers, always. That twinge of weakness, sometimes enough to make him stumble a bit, other times enough to make him want to sit down, depending on what Harry was doing, told him every time.

Part of being a slave, Harry supposed. He wasn't supposed to lie to Severus, and he certainly wasn't supposed to sneak around siphoning off magical power from Severus without his knowledge. Harry was used to that, by now. He might not have been, if Severus had turned out to be a domineering horse's arse, but as things stood, Harry could handle the other man knowing when Harry was dipping into the well of their crossed powers.

"Yeah," Harry finally answered, his voice a little rough. Trying to leave thoughts of death and destruction behind, he turned around to take a good look at the other man. Severus' dress robes were as black as Harry's, but made out of some fabric that looked smoother. Shinier. And they were edged in a very muted grey, which somehow made the man's hair look sleeker--and more black--than usual. "You look good," Harry admitted, his voice still rasping, although for a different reason, now. Severus looked more than good. Which was strange, because at the same time, Harry could tell that the other man wasn't what you'd call handsome. But he was . . .compelling-looking, and that somehow seemed to make him a lot more attractive than mere handsomeness ever could.

Moving closer, Harry put his arms up, wrapping them around the back of Severus' neck, and drew his head down to whisper against his lips. "Look at us both, all dressed up with nowhere to go. I think I'd rather celebrate the season with fewer clothes on--"

"You're not satisfied? After that shower?"

Their lips met, Harry doing the kissing. "Of course I'm not. You didn't come, and if I've learned anything from you, it's that a man isn't truly satisfied until his lover feels the same--"

An irritating noise interrupted him. A demanding noise. Like someone knocking . . . no, banging, on a door. But the noise was faint, so it had to be coming from the dungeons.

Severus quickly unwound himself from Harry's embrace. "Perhaps I should answer that."

"Who could it be, anyway?" asked Harry, hands smoothing down his hair. Habit, of course. It was still stuck firmly to his scalp, but Harry was used to fixing his hair all the time. Or trying to, anyway. "Albus would floo in if something awful had happened, and I never heard of a house elf knocking--"

Severus' eyes gleamed a little as he drawled, "If I answer it, I dare say I'll know who it is."

"Fine, whatever." By then, Harry felt annoyed that their evening had been interrupted. "You answer it and get rid of whoever, and then we'll pick up where we left off--"

"Yes, by all means. I'll tell whomever to . . . what, exactly, would you like me to say?"

He didn't have to sound so amused about everything, Harry thought. So Harry was a young man who liked sex a lot? Not a reason to make fun of him. Then again, knowing Severus, he was probably just delighted and this was his way of showing it. "Get lost," said Harry, deciding he might as well laugh, too. "Yeah, tell whomever to get good and lost. Unless it's Albus, in which case you can say that we know he's not a voyeur, so he won't be wanting to stick around, will he--"

Severus actually laughed out loud. "I think I'll do just that."

"Sure you will."

"Oh, I will. Believe me."

Severus strode away, his robes billowing as he walked through the magic doorway that would whisk him downstairs, but Harry wasn't worried about what he'd say. It was probably just some teacher or other at the door, there to ask Severus if he'd brew a special potion, something like that. The quickest way to get back to Harry would be to agree, so Severus would, simple as that.

Only, it wasn't another teacher at all.

The knocking sound stopped abruptly, a voice replacing it. Hermione's voice. "You're looking rather festive this evening, Professor Snape."

"Why thank you, Miss Granger," Severus answered. "Harry just asked me to give you a message. He says that you're both to--"

Before even half of that was said out loud, Harry was careening through the connecting doorway and running as fast as he could to reach the front door of Severus' quarters. He actually skidded to a halt, almost colliding into Severus, who was standing opposite Ron and Hermione both. Harry arrived just in time to hear the end of Severus' sentence.

" . . . wait just a moment and he'll be down."

"I did not!" exclaimed Harry, only to realise a second later that Severus hadn't told them to get out, after all. A second after that, everything was clear to him. Of course Severus hadn't told Ron and Hermione that. He'd obviously invited them over. So that was what he'd been hiding earlier, the source of his secret amusement when Harry had been annoyed at their arrival!

For a few seconds, Harry was shocked simply speechless. Severus had invited Ron and Hermione to dinner? Severus Snape?

Sure, he hadn't objected when Harry's friends had visited, and he hadn't acted particularly upset about Harry being close to Hermione, lately, but that was probably just because the contract was so specific. Severus didn't like Harry telling people about their sex life, and Harry couldn't, now.

Besides, Severus knew perfectly well now that Harry had never been interested in Hermione. Not that way. So perhaps he'd realised he had no reason for jealousy--

Harry's thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt when he heard himself thinking that word. Jealousy? Was that why Severus had been so ill-tempered, so completely unreasonable, telling Harry not to even speak to Hermione, that time?

No, no, couldn't be, he thought. To be jealous you had to be in . . . er, no. Not going there. Maybe to be jealous you just had to be involved. That much he could believe. And of course, now that he knew how much Severus had wanted him, even back then, Harry could believe there'd been an element of pure sexual jealousy in his attitude. So yes, perhaps jealousy wasn't going too far, after all.

But now he wasn't jealous any longer, and he'd invited Ron and Hermione over for Christmas Eve dinner.

"You didn't say for us to wait?" asked Ron, raising an eyebrow as he went back to the confusing way Harry had greeted them both.

"Oh, of course he didn't," said Hermione in a slightly superior tone. "Harry didn't even know we were coming, right? Surprise!"

"Surprise!" echoed Ron, a half-second later.

"I'm surprised, all right," murmured Harry, flicking a glance in Severus' direction. "Didn't have a single clue."

"Is that why you look a bit white?"

"Er, yes," Harry answered Ron, latching onto the explanation. Grateful for it, really. "You could have knocked me over with a feather. I thought it was somebody else knocking, you see."

"Bothersome students are always asking me for help in potions," said Severus in a deep, smooth voice as he ushered their guests in. "Harry had told me in no uncertain terms to tell whomever was at the door to 'get lost,' I believe the phrase was. He apparently thought I was going to do just that. I can't imagine why, of course . . ."

Ron looked gobsmacked. As well he should, since Severus had just more-or-less admitted that he'd given into an urge to tease Harry. The Severus he knew wouldn't ever have engaged in such playful behaviour.

Right then and there, Harry knew that his friends were there so they could see how well Harry and Severus got on, these days. So they could see Harry and Severus together. As . . .

A couple.

He almost gulped, even though Ron and Hermione already knew everything. Well, most everything. His letters to them had gotten cheerier lately, though of course he couldn't really tell them anything of an intimate nature. Not that he'd have written things like that down, anyway.

Hermione began frowning. "Harry, you didn't. You wanted him to tell a student in need to get lost?"

Easy for her to ask that, Harry thought. She'd never had to deal with the constant demands of hundreds of students. Not that they usually had the nerve to bother Severus outside of his office or classroom, but still . . . it was the principle that mattered. "It's Christmas Eve," he said, shrugging. And then, thinking that he should really let them know that things were going very well, after all their help, and the way they'd worried with him, he added, "Even teachers are entitled to a personal life, you know. Sometimes we want to be alone."

Ron's cheeks went a shade more pink than usual. "You wanted to be alone, eh, tonight, then--"

"Well, I didn't know you'd been invited," said Harry, reasonably. "I thought it was Christmas Eve for the two of us, and I didn't want a student barging in, demanding to know the difference between lacewings and faery wings. But I'm very happy to see the two of you. I've been wondering for hours why Severus suggested dress robes."

"Seems a bit fancy for dinner for four," said Ron, grumbling a little.

"Oh, hush, Ron. It's Christmas Eve."

"My sentiments exactly, Miss Granger," said Snape.

For some reason, that made her cheeks go pink, too. "Hermione, I think. We're all adults, now. And friends."

Ron looked uncertain about that last part, but then he nodded, looking like a man who was bracing himself for a put-down.

Severus didn't offer any. "Severus, then," he merely said. "Please do have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

"Let Severus pick a wine," Harry advised, almost dropping into a chair. On second thought, he decided to sit on the settee. "He knows some really good ones. Though I guess maybe I'm not the best judge of what's good, since it seems all the ones I like most are supposed to be dessert wines."

Severus smiled, but not in any way that Ron or Hermione would notice. The whole effect was very subtle. Just a slight wrinkling of the skin around his eyes, really. Harry wondered when he'd got quite so good at reading Severus' moods.

"I'd like a firewhiskey," Ron announced.

"If you wish, though you won't be able to taste your food, afterwards."

"Oh. Wine, then, I guess," Ron said. He'd sat down, but he still hadn't really looked directly at Severus, Harry noticed. Once, Harry would have assumed that meant that Ron was upset about Harry and Severus being lovers. Now, Harry could see what the real problem was. Ron wasn't all that fond of Snape, and while he was willing to be social for Harry's sake, he had no idea at all what to say to the man. That probably explained the demand for such a strong drink, come to think of it.

"So what are we having?" asked Ron, flailing his arms a little, like he'd had trouble even coming up with the question.

"No idea. I didn't plan this party. Severus?"

The other man bent down and picked up the tray that had appeared on a low table by the Floo, then turned around. "Roast goose with all the trimmings, and Christmas cake for dessert. So I thought a Pinot Noir, one from Burgundy, would be the ideal wine with dinner. For now, though, perhaps a small glass of champagne so we can have a toast."

Harry had a bizarre urge to ask if toast really went with goose, but somehow managed to quell it. He wasn't sure what was making him want to behave in such an immature manner. Or maybe he was. With Ron and Hermione here, it sort of felt like student days again, and as students, they'd never be having dinner with Snape.

Severus, he mentally corrected himself, wishing he could give himself a kick for good measure.

"Toast sounds good--" Harry cleared his throat and started over. "A toast, I mean."

God, he was going to end up as nervous as Ron if this kept up. And there he'd been trying so hard to show them that he wasn't nervous, that he was perfectly at ease with Severus. That things really were fine. That wasn't just something he wrote in his letters to make the two of them feel better; it was true.

That was why he'd sat on the settee. So Severus could sit next to him, and they'd look like . . . well, not like a couple, exactly. But not like adversaries at all, either.

Severus opened the champagne with a soft spell, and poured sparkling amber liquid into the slender flutes on the tray. Then he did sit down next to Harry, just as if he'd understood Harry's unspoken message. "So then," he said, passing round the glasses and lifting his own, "to a Merry Christmas for all."

Hermione glanced quickly at Harry. "To harmony."

Ron's whole hand was wrapped around the stem of his flute, and he lifted it so abruptly that the champagne almost sloshed out. "To . . . er, to the Cannons going all the way to the finals."

Hermione made an impatient noise and rolled her eyes.

Harry, though, understood why Ron hadn't said anything more profound that that. Of course he understood. He used to feel just the same way around Severus. When you believed, really believed, that anything you said was going to be thought stupid, it made you say things that pretty much were. "To the Cannons," Harry echoed, nodding, clinking his glass with each of them.

The champagne was fruity and bubbly, and long before the alcohol could begin to affect him, Harry felt himself relaxing. How could he not? He'd felt like he was drinking happiness. Ron and Hermione, here with him, and Severus arranging it all? That was probably the best Christmas present he could have imagined.

They started talking about this and that, but the conversation soon split into two camps, with Hermione facing Severus and asking him detailed questions about how runes could affect potions, while Ron wanted to talk with Harry about Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup, and what it was like to live in the castle as a staff member, and such.

The more champagne Harry drank, the more relaxed and happy he felt. His brief nervousness had washed completely out of him, by then. It had just been the strangeness of the situation, he supposed. Severus was such a loner that he never invited people in.

But this, now . . . this was . . . well, touching was the only word Harry could think of, for it. Severus had said, even before the invocation, that he'd known Harry had social needs. That he would meet all of Harry's needs. And that's exactly what he was doing.

It made Harry wish they were alone so he could thank Severus properly.

But that could wait. In the meantime, Harry picked up the champagne bottle and poured himself and Ron another full glass. It was a bit flat by then, but that didn't matter. He was still drinking happiness.

Ron drank half his glass, then said in a very low voice, "He doesn't mind?"

Harry blinked, his mind feeling a little bit mushy. "Mind? Er, he's the one who invited you, you know--"

An even lower voice. "No, mind you making yourself at home like that."

Oh. Yeah, Ron and Hermione had only ever visited Harry in the upstairs rooms, so they had no way to really understand how it all worked. "This is my home," he said, waving a hand to indicate all of it. A few drops of champagne spilled over the top of his glass. "I live here, down here, don't you know . . . the upstairs rooms are kind of like a big closet where I keep stuff. Oh, and like an office for me, if I need to be alone so I can get things done." Suddenly, he was tired of dancing around issues with them. So what if the contract said he couldn't discuss intimacies? There were ways around it, just like there were ways around the mind bond. "And I think you know I don't sleep up there. I always sleep with Severus."

Hermione turned her face to look at him, her eyes glowing a warm colour.

Only then did Harry realised that he'd raised his voice a bit, there near the end.

"I think your friends are aware," murmured Severus, looking a bit . . . well, not stunned. More like he didn't know what to think. "Ah. Is that the dinner bell I hear?"

It wasn't, of course. The elves didn't do things like ring bells to announce meals. Now Hermione's eyebrows were going up, up, up, until her fringe completely hid them. Oh, right. She didn't know.

"Severus had a Muggle father," he explained as he pushed up from the settee. More of a lurch, really. Whoa. That champagne must have been stronger than he'd thought. Well, it was good to have a party with Severus and his friends, both. "So he knows more than you might think about Muggle things."

Harry could tell that Hermione very much wanted to dive into that subject, but one hard glance from Severus silenced her questions. Just in case things got tense, though, Harry drank a couple more glasses of wine straight away. That way, he might not notice as much. Or let it bother him.

Besides, the Pinot Noir was pretty tasty stuff.

In fact, the whole meal was excellent. Harry might not have noticed that, if not for the raptures that kept passing over Ron's face. "Mmm, ah," he said after a particularly succulent bite of goose. "I'd forgotten how good elf cooking is. You don't know how lucky you are, mate--"

He abruptly stopped, a dull red flush spreading upwards from his neck.

Harry had enough alcohol in him by then to let very little disturb him. Certainly not that. "Yes, I am lucky," he said, picking up his glass and drinking again. "I mean, no secrets among friends, right? For a Podentes enslavement, things aren't too bad. Wait, that came out wrong. I meant, things aren't bad here, right? You can see that. It's just like . . . normal life."

Hermione began worrying her lips with her teeth. "I'm glad you seem happy, Harry, but . . . "

She didn't say the rest, but she didn't have to. Harry knew.

"But it's not really normal? Yeah, I know what you mean." Harry leaned close, his sleeve dragging through the gravy on his plate. But it didn't matter; he was more concerned with making Hermione understand. "You know what, though? It's more normal than anything I ever had before. You think getting a toothpick for Christmas is normal, Hermione? Or being locked in without enough food, and bars over the windows? This deal, the conditions of it, that précis . . . well, it all might sound awfully strange to someone else. But Severus and I know how to make it work. And it works pretty damned well."

"Good, good," said Hermione, leaning back in her chair as though to assure Harry she'd accepted what he'd said.

"So let's have another round to celebrate! It's Christmas Eve!" Drawing out his wand, Harry tapped the table and asked for Frangelico. That would go well enough with . . . er, he couldn't remember. Whatever the dessert plan was.

Severus' wand was out as well. He cast a quick cleaning charm over Harry's sleeve, then said in a low voice, "Perhaps you've had enough?"

Harry didn't bother lowering his voice. "No, the night's young!"

Ron made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. "Er, mate . . . I saw you laid pretty low in hospital, you know. If Severus thinks you ought to quit now, then . . . er, maybe you ought, you know? He is your . . . well, you know."

"Yeah, but he doesn't boss me around like that. Well, not much." Harry peered at his friends. "He thinks I'm an adult. Able to make my own decisions. Well, except for running off or something, but I don't want to do that any longer. Let's toast to that!"

Severus gave a little sigh, but raised his glass. Ron and Hermione followed suit, after only a moment's more hesitation. "To being an adult!" Harry cried.

"To responsible drinking." That was Hermione. Prat.

"To . . . er, the Cannons, again."

"To hangover potions," said Severus in a very dry voice.

Ha. Harry could do him one better than that. Before anyone had a chance to clink glasses, he grinned widely and said, "To fucking over Podentes!"

"Harry!" That was Hermione gasping, but not over his language. "Is it wise to challenge the contract like that?"

"Wise, schmize." Harry laughed. "Won't matter unless Severus disapproves--"

"Yes, well I disapprove. Don't say anything like that, ever again."

Harry turned to look at Severus, who had gone a little bit white. Oh. Maybe that had been a foolish thing to say. He'd just wanted his friends to understand that between him and Severus, it wasn't Podentes that controlled everything. They really had a relationship. Harry was a slave, but he wasn't living like one, and wouldn't ever.

"Er . . . sorry," he said, putting down his glass. Meaningless gesture; he'd already drained it. "I won't say that again."

Severus tapped the table to make a Christmas cake appear. A wizarding Christmas cake. Instead of little figures of Father Christmas in his sleigh atop it, there was a tall, elegant figure of Merlin, tapping little boxes with his wand. They wrapped themselves in gaily coloured papers and tied themselves with ribbon, at his command.

"Oh, how charming," said Hermione.

"That?" Ron gave a little shrug. "We have one of those ever year. Every bakery in Diagon Alley churns them out, this time of year."

"Well, some of us haven't had a wizarding Christmas cake before," retorted Hermione.

"Like me," added Harry.

Hermione looked scandalised. "Not once in all those years you stayed at Hogwarts?"

"It's a tradition reserved for family dinners," said Severus quietly.

Hermione went silent, in that way she had when she was falling into thought.

Ron blundered ahead, as usual. "Family?"

"I don't know what else you can call it. Let's speak plainly, shall we? Harry may be my slave, but he's also bonded to me. For life. And you two are the only real family he's had since James and Lily."

"Yes, exactly. That's right, we are," said Hermione emphatically. "So I suppose we'll be seeing much more of you in the future, Prof-- er, Severus."

"Yes, I suppose."

Severus made that sound a bit put-upon, but Harry didn't think he really meant it. Well, not in a bad way, at least. Actually, the whole thing made him want to kiss Severus.

The only thing was, Harry wasn't sure he would stay awake through it. It was all he could do not to stretch and yawn.

"I'd planned to end the evening with the traditional posset," said Severus, standing up, "but I think we'll have to leave that for another time."

Hermione took the hint at once, and stood up as well. "It's been a lovely evening, Severus. Thank you so much for inviting us. I'll have to return the favour and have both of you over to dinner, sometime soon."

"That will have to wait until the Dark Lord no longer poses a threat."

"Oh yes, of course. I understand."

Severus took Hermione's arm and walking her from the room, spoke in a lower voice. Harry stumbled a little as he got up to follow so he could hear what was going on.

"Did you take my advice about moving and protecting all knowledge of your new abode?"

"Oh, yes. It's well warded now. Thank you."

Severus' nostrils flared. "You're a target twice over, Hermione. A Muggle-born, and also Harry Potter's friend. And him, a blood traitor, also Harry's friend, living with a Muggle-born? I think either one of you would be quite a prize for the Dark Lord, so keep to the precautions I outlined."

"Yes, Professor, we will. Oh! I mean, Severus."

"Yes, thank you," echoed Ron, who obviously knew about these precautions. "The Burrow's been warded too, just as you suggested. And our flat, yes. Nothing's foolproof in this day and age but . . . thank you, yes."

With that, they were telling Harry good-night. Hermione kissed him on the cheek; Ron slapped him on the back. And then they were gone.

Harry flopped onto his back on the settee and kicked off his shoes. "Wow. That was some dinner. I'm stuffed. And you, the sly one, asking them over without telling me."

"I wanted to see the look on your face."

"Yeah, well I bet it was a good one." Yawning, Harry rolled over onto his side and dragged a cushion under his head. "Mmm. Comfy here. But thanks for the Christmas present, Severus. That was the best one ever, the best I ever got, the . . ." A long yawn finished out his statement.

"I do actually have another for you. I'd planned to give it to you tonight."

Harry was so tired he could barely sit up, but he managed to sort of push into a half-sitting position. "Eh, another present? Tonight? Tomorrow's Christmas, y'know."

"Yes, I know," said Snape dryly. "You're in no shape for it tonight, anyway. Pity. Well, let's get your teeth brushed and get you to bed."

"Mmmm. Bed."

Severus started to pull him off the settee, but Harry brushed his hands away. "I can do it. I'm not drunk, you know. I'm just--"

"Potted."

"Relaxed," laughed Harry.

So relaxed, in fact, that he almost fell asleep over the sink. He made it to bed all right, though, and snuggled up against Severus. "Is it past midnight?"

"No." Severus reached to the side. "Drink this, and then go to sleep."

"I already brushed my teeth."

"Fine. Have a pounding headache Christmas morning, then."

Harry took the vial and downed it. "Tastes like liquid rock."

"And to think, I made a special effort to mute the flavour, just for you."

Harry handed the vial back and settled back down. "Did you really?"

"No, of course not. I didn't know you'd get drunk at our party."

"I'm not drunk."

"Of course not," said Severus again, his voice that time soothing. "Harry, let's just get some sleep. And tomorrow, you'll enjoy your Christmas. I promise."

No, no, he can't promise, Harry thought, the words running slowly through him, like treacle. He's not supposed to promise, except he does. A lot, though not usually like that, in those words . . .

"'Night, Severus," whispered Harry, moving closer and throwing a leg over the other man. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Friday, December 25, 1998 ---- 10:05 a.m.

Harry rolled over in bed. Again.

Severus quietly cast Tempus, his lips quirking when he saw the time. At this rate, Harry would miss Christmas entirely. Besides, Severus had been in this chair for over an hour, watching Harry sleep. He couldn't wait any longer.

Severus went over to sit on the edge of the bed instead, his hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him awake. "Come on, time to get up. You want your presents, don't you?"

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, but it didn't sound very excited. But then, he wasn't properly awake yet. He was still halfway locked in dreams. And of course, most of his memories of Christmases past were bad memories. Or at least, they weren't happy ones.

Enough of this, Severus decided, raising his wand again. He cast a very mild tickling charm, smiling a little as Harry began to twitch and rock in his sleep.

He woke up laughing, finally, and Severus cancelled the spell. "Feeling all right, are you?"

"A bit itchy."

"That'll fade in a moment. I meant, no sign of hangover?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Please. I didn't drink that much. Anyway, are you always like this on Christmas? Waking people up with tickling spells?"

Only with you, thought Severus. He didn't have to answer, though, because Harry had gone on to another thought. "Did you say something about presents?"

"Oh, there might be one or two waiting for you."

"Yeah, well, this time let's be sure that you give them to me before I open them."

A wise precaution, though Severus regretted the necessity.

"And of course, there are some other things for you. From me."

Harry grinned. "Sounds great. I promise I won't ask for more."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing." Harry sat up in bed, shaking himself all over rather like a dog after a bath. His hair flew out in every direction. Severus reached out a smooth it down, a little bit perturbed at the utterly . . . tender feeling that stole over him as he carded his fingers through the black, unruly strands.

"Hey, didn't I go to bed in my clothes?"

And Harry had the nerve to claim he hadn't been drunk. Well, best not to argue and ruin their Christmas morning. Their first, together.

"You didn't look comfortable, so after you were sound asleep, I spelled them off." And freshened your breath, he didn't add.

"Oh. Thanks. I guess maybe I was a little out of it."

Naked, Harry padded over to the bathroom. Severus heard the shower running, and almost joined him in it, but he knew how that might end up. One thing would lead to another and before it was all over, Harry would be on his knees, giving Severus a long, luscious blowjob. And Severus didn't want to spend himself that way.

Not today.