Thursday, December 31, 1998 ---- 3:02 p.m.

The Great Hall had been cleared of student tables, leaving only the head table, perched on its dais at the front.

Harry looked left and right, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. And no wonder. He and Severus were seated next to each other, alone at the centre of the long table, while Albus stood off to one side.

Meanwhile, the Great Hall looked like it was fairly swimming with people. Harry saw a few reporters he recognized, their pads of parchment at the ready, and almost sighed. But of course, not everyone out there was from the press. He saw the Weasleys, all of them except Percy, to one side, and Hermione with them, holding Ron's hand. And there were other old friends of his, and students too, here and there, some with their parents, and all of the teachers. When Harry spotted Bryerson, he gave the man a slight nod.

David Bryerson responded by pointing at the rounded woman next to him, and mouthing something. Eloise, it looked like.

Harry nodded at her, too, to be polite.

He felt considerably less so when he spotted Percy Weasley, looking sour-faced as he stood beside Rufus Scrimgeour. Well, it wasn't every day that the Minister wasn't going to be the centre of attention. This, obviously, would be one of those days.

Turning slightly, Harry faced Severus. "Maybe we shouldn't have done things this way."

"Nervous?"

"No, but I never thought there'd be so many people--"

"It's your day. I'd advise you to enjoy it," said Severus dryly. "And Harry, the moment the press was invited en masse like that, this whole event became something of a public property."

"Like I'm about to become a public property," muttered Harry.

Severus dropped his voice, and spoke very, very quietly. "No, you're not."

Of course not; he would always belong to Severus alone. Harry didn't let that thought dismay him. It just was.

Harry had told Albus what he'd like him to say to start the proceedings, and Albus did basically as asked, though he did embellish quite a bit. "Wizards and witches," he abruptly said, his wand pressed to his throat. "Your attention, please. As you know, the dark wizard Tom Riddle was finally vanquished the day before yesterday, in a fierce battle involving over a dozen Death Eaters. But those loyal to the cause of light held firm, no matter the sacrifice required. And there were two wizards who did more than anyone else to ensure this outcome, the greatest event of our age. Yes, two. Ladies and gentlemen, students and staff, members of the press and public, I present to you the destroyers of Voldemort: Harry James Potter and Severus Tobias Snape!"

The audience burst out into riotous clapping made louder than usual through the use of spells. Fred and George had obviously passed out fireworks beforehand, since at that same moment, the noise of shooting rockets filled the hall as starbursts exploded overhead.

But then, as the initial celebration began to taper off, Harry started to hear comments echoing through the hall.

"Two?"

"Two?"

"Snape?"

On and on the murmuring went, until Albus held up a hand to silence it. "Professor Snape and Mr Potter will explain, and take questions, if you'll be so good as to allow them. Professor Snape?"

They'd arranged all this in advance. "I defer to Mr Potter," said Severus, his voice so smooth that Harry felt better. Well, as much as he could, considering.

Harry stood up and rested his hands on the table. "As some of you know, the press hasn't always been helpful in my efforts to mobilise against Voldemort's return. I'm willing to explain how we killed him, finally, but first, I have a request. No Quick-Quotes Quills."

Another murmur went through the hall. Harry heard an "Oh, really!" that sounded a bit like Skeeter's voice.

Harry lifted his wand. He hadn't really wanted to do things this way, but Severus had insisted that a spell was worth a thousand words, and that he was well enough now, to tolerate Harry using a very mild version of their crossed powers.

"I'm afraid I must insist you honour my request. I've been burned by lies from Quick-Quotes Quills far too many times, already. Accio Quick-Quotes Quills!"

Several dozen came flying at him. Harry ducked to one side and let them sail past him and hit the wall behind. Ink spattered everywhere.

"The nerve--" Harry couldn’t be sure if that was Skeeter again, mostly because Molly Weasley's shouting drowned it out as she stepped forward, hands on hips.

"I say well done, Harry, I do! He's been treated shamefully, shamefully, by the lot of you over the years, and there are a good many of us here who won't see him maligned again!"

By then end there, her voice had gone as shrill as any Howler, but to Harry, it was a beautiful sound.

"Hear, hear!" called out Charlie, quickly echoed by Ron and then, it seemed like, everybody else in the hall. Harry grinned, feeling buoyed by that. Hmm, when he glanced at Charlie this time, he noticed that he was standing rather close to a brown-haired wizard Harry didn't know.

"Now, yeh let the boy speak!" boomed Hagrid.

The hall went silent.

Harry swallowed. This was it, then. This was it, and he was supposed to be able to think on his feet, but his tongue felt dry in his mouth. Dry, and huge. He didn't think he'd ever be able to speak again.

"What was that about Professor Snape helping you defeat You-Know-Who?"

Harry didn't know who had asked, but he was grateful for the question, since it loosened his tongue. "Voldemort," he said. "Or better yet, Tom Riddle. Let's not be afraid of his name, any longer. Let's not give him that. And as for Severus . . ." Harry glanced down, settling his hand on Severus' shoulder. "He helped me more than anyone can ever know. He--"

"Rumour going 'round that it was his wand did the deed!" shouted someone else.

"Manners of leeches," whispered Severus scathingly.

"It was his wand and his magic both," said Harry loudly, "but don't interrupt me again, please."

As if that request would do much good.

"His magic?"

"His magic?"

"What would Harry Potter need with someone else's magic?"

"I did need it, and it's a good thing for all of us that I had it. Severus and I managed to cross our powers together, which made them . . . well, they did a lot more than double. That's how I could summon so many quills at once. Used that same spell, too, to summon the Death Eaters' wands during the battle, though it didn't work on Voldemort's since his was a Horcrux. Well, one of his Horcruxes."

He'd told them too much at once, it seemed. They didn't know what to do with all of that. Questions erupted everywhere.

This time, it was Harry who held up a hand. "One at a time. And don't yell, all right?"

"How did you cross your powers?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Cambiare Podentes."

As an announcement, that fell flat.

"Is that Latin?"

"Bad Latin, maybe."

"What does it mean?"

"Power exchange," said Harry. He wished they'd ask Severus some things, too. It seemed like they were crediting only him with what they'd both accomplished. Of course, maybe that was because Severus wasn't strong enough to be standing up. The way things were set up, it did look like Harry was in charge of this deal. He abruptly sat down. "Yeah, power exchange, more or less. And Severus was a big part of it. Just as big a part as I am."

Remarkably enough, the reporters seemed to take the hint. "Can you cast with Mr Potter's powers too, then, Professor Snape?"

Severus cleared his throat, his voice a little less than his usual commanding one as he answered. "No."

That seemed to confuse people. The front row, at least, who the moment before had been looking like they'd just started to understand things.

Finally one question broke free from the mass of noise. "Then what did you get, Professor Snape, in this exchange?"

Severus glanced at Harry, as if to ask, ready?

Harry was, and he wasn't. But that wasn't Severus' burden to bear. "Me," he answered for himself, calling the word out loudly and with confidence. "He got me. I'm pledged to him in an irrevocable binding." And then, the truly hard part. "As his slave."

All the noise and confusion from before dropped away as though it had never been. For one long moment, silence reigned in the hall. Absolute, sterling silence, such as Harry had never heard before at Hogwarts.

And then, the hall exploded in the kind of noise that made fireworks seem quiet, in comparison.

"Silence!" roared Dumbledore, who until then had stood quietly to the side.

The hall fell silent once again, though murmurings persisted. In the distance, Harry saw Molly's hand fly up to cover her mouth. Then Arthur was bending down to whisper in her ear, and she started to look angry. Really angry, but it seemed to be directed at her husband, not at Severus.

All at once, Harry felt as worn as a chewed quill. He gestured for Severus to take over, and slumped a little in his chair. Suddenly flying sounded good. Anything to get away from this.

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Severus at once, his hand reaching over to cover one of Harry's, and squeeze. That surprised Harry. A lot. He knew that Severus was a private person. "If you would distribute the copies?"

Albus waved his wand, and all over the hall, bits of parchment appeared from the thin air and began to rain down on the crowd. Copies of an original Harry had never even really seen, since he'd been under the influence of the potion at the time. But he'd seen a copy earlier, when Albus had suggested this course of action, so he knew what it said.

17 June 1998. Notice of Invocation. Cambiare Podentes.

Harry James Potter of his own free will hereby forfeits his rights and citizenship in the wizarding and Muggle worlds, becoming instead chattel, a bound slave to be henceforth known as Harry James Potter.

"The original is on file at the Ministry, should anyone wish to examine it," added Albus.

Harry supposed that to mean that it wasn't misfiled, any longer.

"What's this all about?" shouted a squat lady in the second row. "The Chosen One a slave, is he?"

"Yes, he is," said Severus calmly.

"How do we know he's yours? This doesn't say that!"

Harry answered that for himself. "You know because I'm telling you so. And if that's not good enough, you can consult the witnesses to the invocation. Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley."

Oops. Maybe that last bit hadn't been a stroke of brilliance. Molly looked like she might explode. But there was Ron, rushing over to her and talking to her earnestly, he and Arthur both.

Of course, Bill and Charlie were looking thoroughly appalled. Paradoxically, that cheered Harry, since it meant that the twins had finally learned to shut their mouths.

It wasn't so wonderful, however, to see that most other people in the audience were looking horrified. McGonagall had the saddest look on her face that Harry'd ever seen there, and Trelawney, who clearly didn't remember a thing about her own prophecy, was waving her arms wildly in the air like she was about to come out with one of her usual proclamations of doom.

She must have decided against it; her arms suddenly fell back down to her sides.

Harry turned his attention back to Severus fielding questions.

"Why yours?" a man was demanding in a high-pitched, shrill voice. Kind of a womanish voice, Harry thought."Aren't you-- weren't you, one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers?"

Severus answered in a level tone. "I was a Death Eater once, yes. And then I turned spy. As for why me, there was a prophecy involved."

"He was given about as much choice as I was," added Harry. "Which means, none. We received a prophecy telling us it was going to be the only way to kill Voldemort, and that if I didn't agree, he'd kill me for sure and set up a ten-thousand year long reign."

"Prophecy?" someone snapped. "What prophecy? Who gave this prophecy?"

Harry decided he'd rather not have the reporter getting sidetracked at this point, running over to Trelawney and smothering her with questions. He didn't think she could handle that, either, though at some point she'd probably have to. A lot of last year's seventh-years were aware that it was Trelawney who had given the prophecy to Neville, after all.

Neville, who was standing at the back of the hall with an old woman who had to be his Gran, who was nodding slightly as he listened to Harry.

Well, at least it looked like Neville could probably handle the reporters all right, when the time came for it.

"A prophecy's a private thing, you know that," Harry said to the reporter who had asked. "It's not my business to be answering questions about who gave it."

"It was given to you--"

"No, it wasn't, and for now, we're going to leave it at that," Harry said firmly. "The important point is that it told us what we had to do, and we did it."

Rita Skeeter had shoved her way to the front row by then, her smile sickeningly-sweet as she posed her poisoned question. Harry couldn't help but notice that even her regular quill wrote in acid green. "And you were a student here at this school when these things were learnt, weren't you? And he, a teacher. Are we to understand that Albus Dumbledore forced you both to participate in this . . . this . . . this barbaric ritual?"

"It's not barbaric, really," said Harry. They were going to find out anyway, he thought. If information about Cambiare Podentes had been there for Severus to dig up, it would be there when the reporters went looking. So, he said it. Might as well. At least this way, he could control the way people found out. Well, sort of. "It's a spell for lovers."

Fans began appearing everywhere, the pop of magic dancing in the air, people waving them frantically about as though it was just too hot to bear, in the hall. Which was ridiculous. It was December.

"Oh, the two of you were lovers already, were you?" asked Rita, almost kindly, though her eyes still glittered, hard as diamonds.

"No, we weren't. But we are, now. We had to be, or our powers wouldn't cross and it would have meant death to Muggleborns, and half-bloods, and blood-traitors, and knowing Voldemort, anybody who sneezed wrong!" Harry swept his gaze across the audience. "Anybody in here think we should have just left him to it?"

Beside him, Severus gave a tiny shake of his head.

Remembering their conversation earlier, Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Or at least look like he was.

Skeeter wouldn't let go, saying in her smarmy voice, "You never answered as to whether the headmaster of this school forced you into this--"

"Yes, I did," said Harry sharply. "But I won't repeat myself, because I have better things to do than sit here answering bloody silly questions. And that reminds me. I'll tell you about the battle because I really would like people to believe that the war is over now, but my personal life is something else, and I'll expect you all to respect that."

They were surprisingly respectful, after that, though Harry had no doubt that some of the stories coming out of this would be much less so. He told them about the final battle and described in detail how Voldemort had died, and then told them what little he knew about Horcruxes. He said they should ask the Auror office for more information on that. The only thing he didn't explain was that using his crossed powers weakened Severus. It didn't seem a very good idea to admit that.

Besides, Harry knew that Severus wouldn’t like to be thought weak, no matter for how good a cause.

"That really is enough, now," said Albus finally. Harry was grateful for that. He hadn't quite known how to end this, and he was quickly finding out that reporters could ask questions for literally forever.

Leeches, he thought, was probably right. Couldn't they see that Severus was tired? Almost wilting with it?

Well, probably not. They'd hardly spared a glance for him, after those few questions earlier. Despite everything Harry had said, they still did seem to think they had him alone to thank for their . . . salvation, as one reporter kept putting it.

"Normally, classes would resume next Monday," continued Albus, "but in light of recent events, Hogwarts will be taking an additional week of holiday to celebrate a new birth of freedom for the wizarding world."

Harry firmed his jaw and didn't let any reaction show. He couldn't really resent the statement, or the cheer that followed it. This was a new birth of freedom for everybody else, after all. They were right to be happy.

And really . . . he was happy too, because even if he wasn't completely free, he was at least finally free from worrying about when Voldemort would kill next. About who would die.

Now, maybe, he could finally live, himself. Even if it was as a slave.

Severus' hand squeezed his again, and Harry squeezed back, appreciating the sentiment.

All at once, elves began appearing in the midst of the crowd, bearing trays of flutes already filled with sparkling champagne. They bustled about, distributing the drinks. Two more flutes appeared on the table, for Harry and Severus.

When everyone had been served, Albus lifted his glass high. "To Harry and Severus, Severus and Harry!" he called out. "To bravery, honour, valour, and sacrifice!"

"To Harry and Severus," the crowd largely echoed.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," said Severus, pushing himself to stand.

"One question, one question!"

"One more only," said Harry, feeling generous because the reporter who was asking was carrying a bag labelled The Quibbler.

"You've defeated Voldemort; what are you going to do, now?"

I'm going to Disneyworld, Harry thought, a little giddy. But years of caution had taught him to answer differently. "I'm going home. With Severus."

"A new birth of freedom" is from the Gettysburg Address, written by Abraham Lincoln

"I'm going to Disneyworld" is from a series of television commercials.

Monday, April 5, 1999 ---- 10:30 a.m.

David Bryerson hopped up onto his desk, legs dangling, as the last of the students filed out. "So, Potter. You've been rather quiet this morning. A bit tired after the Easter holiday, eh? Or at least, I always find travelling exhausting. Was Disneyworld everything you expected?"

It had been, actually. Harry had wanted to go much earlier, of course. He'd thought Disneyworld would fill that extra week of holiday Dumbledore had given everyone, but as it had turned out, Severus had still been too weak to endure magical travel back then. But by the time Easter rolled around, there was no more reason to delay the trip.

And Severus had been the one to remind Harry of it.

Harry grinned, hopping up onto a desk, too, the same as Bryerson. In some ways, he was getting on better than ever with the Defence professor. A lot of that had to do with the man treating him as an equal, ever since the final battle several months earlier. A lot more of it, though, was probably because Harry had finally got over feeling uncomfortable around the man. So what if he'd once had a ridiculous infatuation? He'd never done anything about it. Had never even wanted to, except in passing, as a way of getting back at Severus. Which showed, didn't it, that Severus was the one Harry had really wanted, all along.

Anyway, Bryerson didn't know about Harry's brief crush, and neither did Severus. Only Harry knew, and he was going to keep it that way.

It was a huge relief to Harry that now, he could talk with Bryerson and not feel at all like he was making a fool of himself. "Oh, I loved Disneyworld. But exhausted, yeah. That place is absolutely massive. Made me wish we had a pair of brooms to get around on."

Bryerson's smile grew a little warmer. "And what did Professor Snape have to say?"

"I don't think it was his favourite thing, but he was a really good sport."

Harry made a face about some of the things Severus had said while waiting in lines for rides, but really, he felt quite pleased that he could so easily talk about Severus. To Bryerson, or anyone else, because the wizarding world really didn't think badly of a wizard for preferring his own sex. Everything he'd feared, everything he'd . . . well, angsted over, had ended up turning out all right. Or better than all right, really. He'd never even been accused of being the new Dark Lord, or any such rubbish, because the only competent witnesses to the final battle were Harry and Albus, and they'd played down the real extent of Harry's twice-filled powers.

The Death Eaters who had been defeated at that battle had turned out not to be the most reliable of informants. Harry had a feeling that the Ministry was a bit annoyed by that, but they couldn't change it. The Death Eaters hadn't seen everything in detail, since they'd been busy fighting Albus, and when they'd seen the final Avadathey'd been magically bound tight, which made their perceptions "suspect," as Kingsley had explained.

Harry had been worried at first that the Ministry would insist on using Veritaserum. They didn't have the nerve to demand that of Albus, of course, and when it came to Harry . . . well, it was funny how things worked out, wasn't it? Cambiare Podentes had come to his rescue, on that one. Harry wasn't a person; he was property. That was known now, and acknowledged.

Severus had refused permission for the Ministry to use truth serum on his property. And since Severus' word was law when it came to Harry, that was that.

And so really, all anybody knew about the final battle was that crossed powers had been enough to summon wands, and put up a really good shield, and then kill Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Nobody but Severus, Albus, and Harry knew that those powers, when fully exercised, made Harry . . . well, not exactly godlike. But pretty bloody powerful.

There never had been a wave of hysteria, or anything close. Harry was respected, and held in more awe than he liked, but he wasn't really feared. Why should he be? When the reporters went digging, all they could find in history were references to Cambiare Podentes giving a wizard enough power to really defend himself well. Nobody had made the connection, as Severus had, to the fact that those individuals had been weak wizards to begin with. Not so Harry Potter, but if the reporters weren't clever enough to figure that out on their own, Harry certainly wasn't going to help them.

"So which ride did Professor Snape like best?" asked Bryerson, a little mischievously. No wonder; Harry was positive the man wouldn't ever have the nerve to ask Severus that, himself. Harry would have asked, of course, if the answer hadn't already been so glaringly obvious. Who would have thought that Severus Snape, of all people, would want to go on a pirate ride, over and over?

Harry laughed nearly every time he thought about it, but he wasn't about to have anybody else laughing at Severus. He could, but that was it.

"You know, I think he was happiest of all tramping through swamps to collect potions ingredients," Harry said, lifting his shoulders. "But that's all right, I guess."

"Good, good." Bryerson waved toward the door, where students were beginning to file in. "Why don't you have the period off, Potter? They're merely taking a test. I'm sure I can manage that without you."

The comment might have sounded casual to anyone else, but Harry had heard a few more like that from Bryerson in the past few months. Nothing snide . . . nothing he could even take offence at, really, but it was always there, kind of in the background, or maybe hovering over them.

Bryerson obviously felt a bit awkward having Harry assist these days, and no wonder. The man had been nervous to begin with, first teaching post and all, but when the new term had begun after the extended holiday Dumbledore had given everyone, he'd been faced with the prospect of Harry Potter, Destroyer of Voldemort, working as his assistant.

Bryerson clearly didn't know what to do about it. That first day back at work, he'd greeted Harry with a sincere but weakly offered, "Good show, Potter. Very good show, indeed," but after that, he barely spoke to Harry for a week, and then, it was only to say that he'd have to update that modern history he'd been teaching from, wouldn’t he?

Thinking that a hint of some sort, Harry had offered to do it, only to have Bryerson shake his head. "Oh, no, no. I'll take care of it, Potter. You've done enough . . ."

And ever since then, Bryerson had been offering Harry quite a lot of time off. Harry found it a bit annoying, in a way. He didn't want to be treated differently, after all. He just wanted a normal life. Or as normal as could be, in the circumstances.

On the other hand, ever since the final battle, Bryerson hadn't once asked Harry to mark essays. That was a big relief. Harry still didn’t know how Severus could stand reading all the muck the students wrote. He didn't care if he never saw another student essay again.

Well, if Bryerson found Harry intimidating, at least he wasn't actually afraid or anything. He just didn’t like to be teaching alongside an assistant who might be--oh hell,was--his superior, magically speaking. And Harry found he could actually understand that.

So now, as the next class began to take their seats, Harry said that he'd appreciate a bit of free time. Just before he left, though, it occurred to him that he really should ask. "And your fiancée? Eloise, was it? You spent the Easter holiday with her, I suppose?"

"Right here in Scotland at her parents' house."

"Did you do anything interesting?"

Bryerson smiled as he hopped off the desk and scooped up his lesson plan. "You might say that. We planned the wedding. We'd love to have you come, of course. You and Professor Snape."

Severus, Harry almost said, but shrugged it off. And then, because attending a wedding wasn't very life-altering, as decisions went, he went ahead and answered. "I'm sure we'd love to be there."

Actually, Severus might not love it so much, but Harry would find a way to convince him to go.

As he let himself out of the classroom, a few of the students gave him a friendly wave. Harry waved back, grinning. Part of him could still hardly believe how things had turned out. The students knew he was a slave, but they never said anything about it. Of course, maybe they didn't have the nerve. But even the other teachers didn’t refer to it any longer. Minerva had expressed some concern, in that slightly prickly way of hers, but had dropped it when Harry had insisted that he was very happy and that it was a bit late for regrets, in any case. And Hagrid had hugged him until he couldn't breathe. Probably because he'd been there when Harry had found out about the brothel. Hagrid knew now, why Harry had been so upset that day.

But he wasn't upset any longer, and maybe that was why people seemed to be pretty accepting of the things he'd explained at the press conference. It probably also helped that he didn't act at all like a slave. He did his job, and took points from Slytherin when he needed to, even if Severus occasionally scowled about it. He went to professional Quidditch matches with Ron, and even tagged along on a couple of pub crawls, and then at other times he went abroad with Severus, just as he pleased.

Of course, the press hadn't been nearly as respectful or restrained as his friends, colleagues, and students. The stories had begun right away, and had continued in a more-or-less constant stream ever since. Instead of regarding Harry with suspicion, however, the tone of the articles mostly focused on the prurient, as Severus called it with disgust. Harry had been dismayed at first. And then he'd been resigned. By now, though, he was starting to get a little bit amused.

After all, if his name had to show up in the papers almost every day, he'd rather they be writing light-hearted pieces than calling him mental or a liar. There was more speculation about his actual sex life than he'd like, though. He really didn't appreciate the round of stories that had tried to dig up information about whether Severus had been his first lover. Cho Chang had had the nerve to let herself be quoted as saying that she'd "always known Harry Potter was gay," which wasn't true at all. Well, that she'd known it wasn't true, anyway.

That article had prompted Severus to suggest an array of "potion-based solutions to her wayward tongue," but Harry had managed to laugh it off.

It was somewhat harder to laugh off the other sorts of articles that appeared. The Death Eater angle seemed to be a real favourite with the press. In those, Harry was generally credited with "saving" Severus from a life of evil, which was about the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. It was all there, in the record, for anyone to see. Severus had turned spy and started working for Dumbledore long before the latest prophecy had come along; he hadn't needed Harry to convince him to switch sides.

Most of the stories, though, looked almost designed to sell flowers and candy, or something. Reporters couldn’t seem to get enough of gushing about how well they looked together, the both of them so tall and dark and powerful. Well, that was the first time Harry had ever seen himself called tall; he rather liked that bit. And then there were the headlines exploring all the peculiarities of his relationship with Severus. Chosen One and Death Eater. The age gap. The fact that Severus had been his teacher . . . and not too kindly disposed toward him, at that. Nobody seemed willing to admit that Severus had genuinely used to dislike him, so they played that one up as though it showed all along that Severus had to pretend loyalty to "He-Who-Etc." No matter that it contradicted their stories about Harry saving Severus from a life of evil.

And then there was Witch Weekly's banner headline: Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market.

Reporters, thought Harry as he let himself into the upstairs rooms and made his way into the dungeons. Gits, most of them.

Well, at least they hadn't yet dredged up the truth about the awful hex James Potter had placed on Severus. Though they had, of course, reported that the two had been "classmates who never got on." Which was putting it mildly.

Harry grabbed a few Quidditch magazines from the front room, and went to the table to order a spot of tea. It came almost at once, but he let it brew a little longer as he flipped through an article comparing the latest models of Cleansweep and Firebolt.

He couldn't help but sigh as he turned the page, though. You wouldn't think an advert for anything would need to feature a full-page photo of Harry, but there it was, and he was smiling and nodding as though he agreed completely with what the words said: Harry Potter, Destroyer of Voldemort, recommends the EverClear Transparent Cauldron. Happy brewing, Harry!

As if he ever did any brewing.

Oh, well. It had been worth it, to get Severus a present he would really, really enjoy.

Come to think of it, though, Harry's idea about learning to like bottoming had ended up working out, too. He'd just delivered that present a day late, that was all. Harry grinned and shoved the magazine away so he could pour his tea. If anything, sex had been even more brilliant than usual, ever since the New Year had begun. Having sex just because he wanted it, without one single stray thought devoted to needing to have it . . . well, that made more difference that he would have believed.

And Severus, of course, was as skilled and considerate a lover as Harry could ever, ever have imagined. True to his word, he let Harry top. A lot. More than his fair share, maybe, but Harry made it up in really good blowjobs.

Things were good, all around, and not even the number one song on the Wizarding Wireless could dim Harry's general happiness. Actually, Celestina Warbeck's, I'll Cross My Powers if You Cross Your Heart wasn't bad, as croony romantic tunes went.

Harry finished with the Quidditch magazines as he sipped his tea, then reluctantly summoned the week's worth of newspapers that had piled up during their holiday in the States. Not just the Prophet, either. These days, he took most major papers, because as ridiculous as the coverage was, he felt like he really did need to track it. Just in case they started speculating more about his powers. He'd rather know in advance if people were starting to panic at this late date.

Still, it had been wonderful to get a break from seeing his own press. A holiday from all the feverish reporting and constant attention . . . that had been just what he'd needed. What both of them had needed, after that Order of Merlin ceremony Scrimgeour had scheduled a few weeks ago.

The ceremony itself had gone reasonably well, considering it was a Ministry function and Harry had had to make small talk with the Minister and have his photograph taken with the man. He kept trying to make out as though the victory had been his. His brilliant plan, his idea, from start to finish.

Well, Harry had demolished that idea during his acceptance speech. He'd given full credit to Severus, again, and he'd also talked in more detail about the battle plan having been Albus' brilliant idea.

He had to admit, it had felt good, really good, to explain how Albus had used the Prophet's habit of print-now-investigate-later against them. Ever since then, at least one paper had been slightly more restrained in its speculations. Harry had lost his temper, a bit, during his speech, and he'd later wondered if he'd just made everything worse, but it seemed not.

The Prophet's staff was acting like they'd had their hand slapped, publicly, and were treading more cautiously, afterwards. Though granted, their coverage of the Order of Merlin ceremony had been rather minimal. Harry didn't mind that.

He was glad, however, that the Quibbler had chosen such a good photograph to put on their cover. If there had to be one at all, that was. But there Harry had stood, in his new dress robes, Gryffindor colours, side by side with Severus, looking rather dashing in the new Slytherin dress robes Harry had bought at the same time. They'd even been holding hands, though Harry hadn't been aware of it at the time. And pinned to their chests, two gleaming Orders of Merlin, first class.

For the next week, there had been nothing but stories about them, it had seemed. Except in the Prophet, clearly sulking.

Strange, though . . . when he looked through the dailies now, the ones that had been delivered during the holiday, there wasn't as much speculation as usual about himself and Severus. Huh. Maybe interest in them had finally died down. Maybe people had just needed a postscript or something, a fitting end to the whole Voldemort story, and the Order of Merlin had provided one.

Not that Harry was out of the papers completely. There was one reference in the past week, just one, a small column about how he and Severus had gone on holiday to "destination unknown." The titbit was accompanied by a poll asking readers to guess the "romantic getaway destination of choice."

Disneyworld, he saw, hadn't made the list.

There were some bloody good ideas on it, though, thought Harry as he studied it. And time away had been so much fun, maybe he'd suggest to Severus that they go somewhere every weekend. Or almost every weekend; he supposed they really should be there at the one Quidditch match left in the season. Harry because he was supposed to award the cup, and Severus because Slytherin might actually win it.

For his part, though, Harry was thinking that Hufflepuff would pull ahead in the final match, and end up claiming the yearly prize.

The last match of the year was always a huge event, Harry knew. Maybe he'd invite Ron again. And Hermione, though the last time she'd barely paid any attention at all to the action on the pitch. Too busy talking Arithmancy with Severus. Obviously, Hermione was really enjoying the advanced studies she was undertaking.

The noise of the front door closing had Harry glancing up as Severus strode into the reading room.

"Any reason why you're having lunch alone?"

"That time already?" Harry flicked a quick Tempus. "Oh. No, I only had tea. Skiving off work, you know."

"Bryerson again, then," said Severus dryly.

"Yeah. Oh, told him how much you liked the pirate ride, by the way."

It was really interesting, how the mind bond never flagged a lie as long as Harry was teasing. Maybe the spell did read intentions, in some respects.

Severus' brows drew together. "You did not."

"Ha, count yourself lucky I didn't mention how you kept humming that pirate's-life-for-me song as you mucked about in the swamp." Then Harry relented. "Oh, all right. I didn't tell him anything, really."

"Good."

Harry tilted his head to one side as Severus sat down opposite him. "Why did you like the pirates so much, anyway? They were all right, but after the third time I thought it got a little boring."

A tiny smile began to play about Severus' mouth. "Well . . . young men do have fantasy lives, you know. I always did find the pirate a rather dashing figure. Of course, that's a romanticised image, I've no doubt. Real pirates were rather nasty creatures."

"With rotting teeth." Harry smiled brightly to show off his own healthy smile. "But, you know, that's interesting you put it like that. Did you . . . did you always know you were interested in men, then? Because . . . well, you know. It took me a while to get myself sorted."

"I knew from quite a young age, yes. And I think we both know why you needed more time than I did."

"Ha, more than most."

"You know what you want now, which is all that really matters," said Severus firmly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, seeing a neat opening there. "Hinting, are you? Well, that takes some nerve, now that I know you have this pirate fantasy you never mentioned before." Grinning, he scooted his chair around the table until he was close enough to brush Severus' robes aside and give him a bit of a rub. "What did I tell you, eh? Any more brilliant sex ideas and you're to mention them, not wait for me to figure them out."

"What are you going on about?"

Severus might be confused, but his cock had no such problems. It was stiffening as Harry palmed it through the layers of cloth.

"If you wanted a pirate all this time, all you had to do was conjure me an eye patch, and maybe a parrot, and ask me to talk in a really bad accent--"

Severus caught his hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed each of his fingers. Thoroughly. Until Harry was going weak in the knees.

"I don't want a pirate. I only want you," Severus breathed, the words sounding . . . wow, just wow. Severus really did have a voice and a half. He could make the simplest statements sound like spells. Or vows.

"I know." Harry couldn't stand the fingers thing for much longer, so he snatched his hand away and kissed Severus on the mouth. Long and deep, showing him how much he liked it. How much he liked him, really. Liked having him, liked being his. When he was finished he lingered, mouths close together, and said the rest. "I'll play pirate for you, though, you know. Or cabin boy . . . or did you want to be the cabin boy?"

Severus laughed, the sound rich with amusement. And happiness. And maybe even something else. Harry couldn't be sure, but sometimes he thought Severus might feel a little bit of love. Maybe some, at least.

But he'd never said a word about it, so Harry wasn't sure. Just as well that Severus had never said so, anyway. What on earth would Harry say in reply?

"You're delightful," Severus said now, brushing another kiss against his lips. "I do like a playful lover. Perhaps the papers have it wrong, and you aren't too young for me, after all."

"Perhaps you're not too old for me," Harry teased back. "Though after the holiday we just had, I wouldn’t be surprised if you needed significant time to recover."

"Muggle Jacuzzis really are quite the thing," said Severus, his eyes darkening in a way Harry always found sensual.

"Yeah, those bubbles hide everything." Standing up, Harry gave a tug on Severus' hand. "Come to bed? Or did you really come down here for lunch?"

"Food, drink, and air can definitely wait," said Severus, in that lilting voice that meant he was very, very happy.

Harry didn't need those crossed powers any longer--or at least he hoped he wouldn't, ever--but he still loved to know that he was pleasing Severus.

But it wasn't done for strategic reasons, now. It was all just part of being lovers.

Saturday, May 15, 1999 ---- 1:00 p.m.

"Congratulations," Harry said, shaking hands with the captain of the Hufflepuff team, as the lone reporter looking on snapped a photograph. Letting go of the student's hand, Harry passed him a golden cup embossed with the Hufflepuff crest. "A very well-played season."

Myles Rendham cradled the cup, his finger tracing the badger emblem there, before turning to his house and lifting it high. Applause broke out, mostly from the Hufflepuffs, of course. But Harry was satisfied to see that a good number of students in other houses were also clapping. He'd come to think this year that Quidditch really ought to unite the houses in something fun, rather than divide them against one another.

Smiling widely, the seventh-year set the cup back on the head table so that the headmaster could vanish it back into the display case for another year, and then returned his gaze to Harry's. "Thank you, Coach Potter. We wouldn’t have done nearly so well without all the time you spent helping us. To think, the Destroyer of Voldemort, himself, teaching us every last thing he knows about Quidditch--"

Harry appreciated the easy way the Rendham had said Voldemort. That was becoming more and more common, he'd noticed. It was as though people were finally beginning to believe that it really was all over, and that the former "Dark Lord" would hold no more power, over anyone, ever again.

Severus had yet to say the name, though he didn't say the Dark Lord much, either. Mostly, he didn't refer to Voldemort, these days. And that was fine; in some ways, his memories were probably more painful than Harry's were. Still, Harry wished that Severus would share a little more about his past with him. Reasons for joining Voldemort, and then leaving him. What he'd done, what he'd had to do, during those years when he'd served so faithfully as Dumbledore's spy.

Harry did want to know more than the vague sketch Severus had given, but he had no intention of asking. Answers would probably come, in time, and Harry could wait for Severus to give them. And if those answers never came, Harry could understand that, too. There were things he never wanted to talk about again, after all.

He just hoped that if and when Severus decided to share that part of himself, he'd be able to say Voldemort without the slightest hesitation.

Realising that Rendham was still waiting for a reply, Harry dragged his thoughts back to the present. "All the teams had me coaching them, you know. I'm glad if I helped you improve, but I don't think that had anything to do with my having battled Voldemort."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Rendham quickly, but another message was shining from his eyes. We had the Destroyer of Voldemort coaching us! All year! All year long!

Harry nearly sighed, but supposed he probably wouldn't be any different, if their positions were reversed.

"Thank you, Rendham," he said again.

The boy, clearly hearing the note of dismissal, smiled and backed away, almost like Harry was royalty. Thank Merlin he didn't stumble off the dais as he stepped down.

"Hufflepuff winning the Quidditch Cup," murmured Severus, shaking his head a little.

"Oh, quiet. I still have to change the decorations," said Harry out of the side of his mouth. One wave of his wand, and it was done. The Hufflepuff table erupted in a new chorus of cheers and yells, which was only to be expected.

Severus scowled slightly, all the same.

"Relax," laughed Harry, picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice as he took his seat, again. "It's only for a few weeks, and then they'll change again for the House Cup."

"Is that what happens every year?" drawled Severus. "I never noticed."

Harry laughed and settled in to eat his meal. A shame Ron and Hermione hadn't been able to attend the match like he'd wanted. He could probably have had them sit up at the head table. Hermione would have had a wonderful time chatting up her former teachers, and Ron would have thought the whole thing a great lark.

But they'd owled him that they were going to be away this week and next, scouting out possible honeymoon destinations in Peru and Ecuador. Hermione had sounded chirpy about the whole thing; Ron, rather resigned.

"Missing your friends?" asked Severus, his tone matter-of-fact.

Odd how he could usually know when Harry had them in mind.

"No, not so much," said Harry, pushing aside his empty plate. It vanished immediately, instead of at the end of the meal, but Harry was getting used to that. Even the elves seemed to have taken note of his new status as Destroyer of Voldemort, though if he had to be called that, Harry would have preferred people to get it right. He was one of the destroyers, not the only one. Still, at least the elves treated Harry and Severus with roughly equal reverence, something that was only occasionally true among wizards. "We see Ron and Hermione plenty, after all."

The lines around Severus' eyes wrinkled a little, and for a second, he looked almost indulgent. Then the expression vanished, to be replaced by something a good deal more calculating. "If they're going to invite us to dine with them so frequently, I absolutely insist we give them a house-elf as a wedding present. The items Ron presents as cuisine are almost always atrocious."

"Well, it's not like he learned a lot of cooking spells growing up. Cleaning, sure, but his mum pretty much took charge in the kitchen--"

"And no doubt expected that his future wife would do the same."

Harry grinned at that one. "Yeah, probably, and Hermione doesn't have the time, what with her studies. But she'd eat parchment before she'd allow an elf to serve her. You know that."

"Yes, I know that," said Severus in a tone that said he entirely disagreed with such nonsense.

Harry and Severus got to talking then, about what they could give Ron and Hermione. Not that there was any need to decide on that soon. Hermione had at least another year to go in her apprenticeship, and since Ron had been drifting from job to job for the past few months, deciding what he'd like to do, they weren't getting married anytime soon.

Harry was so caught up in the conversation that he didn't hear the headmaster approaching until the man said his name. Then he glanced behind him. "Hallo, Albus."

The man smiled at them serenely. "Hallo, Harry. Would you come up to my office when you've finished eating? There is something I'd like to ask you."

Harry almost said sure, but then he remembered. At least now, he could talk openly about the fact that there was a contract to consider. It didn't matter who heard. "Is it a life-altering decision?"

"Oh, no, no. I can't imagine so. Though Severus is entirely welcome to join us, of course. I'd like to discuss your impression of the programme this year, and determine if we need to make any changes."

Well, if the discussion was going to be about Quidditch, Severus would hardly be very interested. Unless Harry suggested changes that involved Slytherin getting more pitch time than any other house, of course. But Severus knew better than to hope for anything like that.

"I'll be up in a few minutes then," he told Albus, because a really good-looking chocolate mousse had just appeared before him. Severus had one too, but he pushed it away.

"The password is Pumpkin Pasties," said Albus in a jolly tone, before he touched his hand to his floppy hat and strolled off.

"Sure you don't want to come discuss practise schedules or such?" teased Harry, licking a bit of whipped cream off his spoon. Hmm. Snape's eyes darkened considerably, which made Harry want to tease him in an entirely different way. He gave the spoon another lick. A longer one, while he closed his eyes and murmured, "Mmmm. So good."

He felt Severus' knee knock into his, under the table, as the other man muttered, "Behave yourself."

Harry laughed and went back to eating normally, but he couldn't deny a little thrill of pleasure at the idea that he could get to Severus so easily.

Saturday, May 15, 1999 ---- 1:23 p.m.

"So then, the Defence program," said Albus briskly, just as soon as he'd finished the usual offers of tea and sweets.

"Defence," said Harry blankly. "I thought you wanted to talk about Quidditch."

"Oh, any time, certainly," said Albus. "That would be a great pleasure. But you have that well in hand, I think. Unless you yourself see a need for some changes?"

"Uh, no . . ." Actually, Harry hadn't given any thought to that. He still wasn't really used to the idea that he was in charge of things. "But Defence . . . shouldn't you be talking to Professor Bryerson?"

"Well, yes and no. His own views are important, but I would like yours, as well. Besides, he's away for the weekend."

Oh. Harry really hadn't noticed, though thinking back, he couldn't recall seeing Bryerson at the match or the lunch that had followed. Missing the Quidditch Cup ceremony struck Harry as a little less than professional, really; he had an idea that all staff were supposed to attend. But then, he couldn't really blame the man for wanting to spend time with his fiancée. He didn't get to see her during the week, and if Harry had to go a week without seeing Severus, he'd find that a bit rough.

And not because of the contract.

"So, what did you want to know about Defence, then?"

Albus studied him for a long moment. "What would be your view of Hogwarts' extending Professor Bryerson's contract by another year?"

Harry almost gaped.

"You did help me winnow the applications last year," said Albus, one finger tracing the rim of a purring teacup. "You can't be so surprised that I would ask your opinion of the teacher we did engage. Who else has worked so closely with him this year?"

There was that, but still . . . "No offence, but is it really appropriate for his assistant to be evaluating him?"

"Oh, you aren't doing that. He has formal evaluations on file, of course. But your opinion would be of much use to me." Dumbledore moved his hand away from his cup. "And so?"

"He's a good teacher," Harry said honestly. Well, if he were completely honest, he'd admit to himself that part of him wanted to make a comment that would send Bryerson packing. How could Harry do that, though? The man was soon to have a wife and baby to support, and there was no real reason he ought to find himself sacked. In fact, it would be completely unfair. It wasn't Bryerson's fault that Harry had developed that little crush on him.

And what did that crush matter, anyway? It seemed hard to believe now, almost like it had happened to someone else. Unreal, in fact. Harry wasn't ill-at-ease with Bryerson any longer, except over the way the man kind of deferred to him, at times.

"He's the best we've had since Lupin," Harry went on, his decision made. "Bryerson cares about his students learning what they need to know, and he makes a special effort to think of ways to help the Muggleborns understand everything. I think you'd do well to keep him on."

"Well, that matches my impression, I must say." Albus smiled, though the expression looked slightly odd. Like he had more to say, and wasn't sure if he should say it. And then, like he had decided to say something entirely different. "I must thank you, Harry, for the opportunity to have a Defence teacher come back for a second year."

"You have to thank Severus too," said Harry, frowning.

"And I have done so, of course."

Harry hadn't complained too much about this to Severus, obviously, but now he found he couldn't hold in his annoyance. "Well, I know you understand what happened, and everybody else should, after we explained, but I just can't believe how many times I hear it, you know, or see it in print, that I killed Voldemort. Like I was the only one involved, when I did it with Severus' powers, and even his wand, for Merlin's sake."

"And with your own powers as well, and your sacrifice. Don't discount that."

Harry didn’t, but he still had to say, "It didn’t turn out to be a such a terrible sacrifice. Not like I thought it would be, at first. I mean, it did, but it really didn't. I mean . . . bollocks. Oh, sorry. It's just, I don't think I can explain it."

"No need, no need," said Albus, rising to his feet. "I understand, Harry, because I trust Severus, too."

Harry knew he did, but he also knew that all that was beside the point. In order to see Voldemort vanquished, the headmaster would have wanted Harry to agree toCambiare Podentes even with the most untrustworthy wizard around. But then, what choice had he really had? What choice had any of them had?

A little knot of resentment settled in his stomach, the sensation familiar, though it wasn't as intense as it had been before. That knot was smaller, and perhaps less tightly wound; Harry didn't think he would explode just thinking about it.

But neither did he think that knot would ever go away. Not completely.

Harry nodded brusquely as he stood, and forced his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "About Bryerson. I'll have to talk this over with Severus, I think, but I thought I'd let you know that I'd really prefer not to be his assistant next year. Not that he's not great, but . . ." Harry swallowed. "It's just a bit weird for him, I think. Having me assist when all the students are looking at me like I should be teaching the class. Not that I think I should," he added, a little appalled when he realised how that could be taken for hinting.

Albus stopped stroking his beard. "I see no reason why you shouldn't, if that is what you'd like to do. You would be a fine Defence teacher, the finest this school has ever seen."

"I don’t want a job offered to me because I'm known as the 'Destroyer of Voldemort,'" said Harry flatly.

"Your excellent work leading Dumbledore's Army was far more on my mind."

Oh. Well, that made the whole suggestion a lot more acceptable, Harry supposed. The question was, did he want to teach the Defence courses? It would give him a more responsible position here at Hogwarts; it would make him Severus' equal, in a certain sense.

People would say he'd got the job based on what he'd done in December, of course. Harry was finding, more and more, however, that he simply didn't care what strangers had to say about him. All the intense press coverage had, perhaps, cured him of that. Or maybe growing up had done it. Or seeing how Severus had managed not to hex a single reporter, yet.

None of that meant, though, that he really wanted to teach Defence. "I don't think I'd care for that job," he said slowly. "Or at least, not right now. Maybe someday, if Bryerson doesn’t work out, or if he takes another post. For now, though . . . well, all I can say is thank you for thinking so highly of me."

Dumbledore's smile grew poignant. "Oh, my boy. You can't possibly imagine how highly I think of you. Are you certain, then? I've not forgotten your interest in Defence, your burning determination to become an Auror."

"Me neither, but that's burnt out of me," said Harry seriously. "I could be one if I wanted, you know. Severus would find a way to make it fit the spell. He's very clever, that way. Well, he's very clever, full stop. He'd even catch me up in potions, I bet, so I could re-sit my N.E.W.T. I never did fail it, you know. They wiped away my score."

"But you don't want that," said Albus quietly, obviously seeing that it was the truth.

"No. I thought I did, you know that. But maybe that was because I felt like I'd been . . . hunted, for so long. I never did have much chance to consider any career but Auror, if you think about it."

"Yes, yes. Perhaps," said Albus, stroking his beard again. "And so then, for next year?"

Harry smiled, shrugging. "You know I have to consult Severus. But I'd be very happy just coaching Quidditch for a while, while I figure out the rest. Would that be a problem, though? It's not exactly a full-time job. Oh, but you can let anyone you please live in the castle, so . . ."

Dumbledore looked vaguely amused. "Yes, but a professor's bonded can certainly share quarters, Harry. No need to earn room and board at all. And most assuredly, no reason now why we must give the appearance of your having a reason apart from Severus to reside here."

"No, I loved coaching," said Harry, something in him rebelling at the idea that he should stay home all day while Severus was earning a real living. That just didn't seem right, even if with the vault Severus had entrusted to Harry, neither one of them really had to worry about money. "And if I had more time to plan lessons and such, I could do even better with it."

"Quidditch it is, then," said Dumbledore, adding before Harry could, "conditional upon Severus' approval, of course."

Huh . . . strictly speaking, Harry knew he didn't even need Severus' approval. The contract had never said that. It had only said that he needed to consult Severus before he made any life-altering decisions.

Harry felt something open up inside him, something warm, and maybe soft. Because even as far back as the invocation, Severus really hadn't wanted to control Harry. He'd wanted just what he'd promised: to give Harry as full a life as possible. And his claim to want just that, to deliver it, even . . . it wasn't just made up of words. It was woven through his subconscious, too. Had to be, to show up in the contract, like that.

"I'll talk to him and let you know," said Harry, that warm spot inside him growing a little as he realised that for all he might not technically need to do more than consult Severus, he wanted to. All part of being lovers, really. Part of sharing a life.

And that's exactly what they were doing, Harry thought as he rode the winding staircase down. He'd told Severus once that he was pretty sure that being lovers meant more than sharing just a bed, which was sort of funny, when he thought about it.

Because back then, he hadn't even known what he was talking about. He'd just been so horrified at the idea of becoming some sort of harem boy for Severus, that he'd been grasping at straws, hoping for anything that might help him feel a little bit less like a slave.

And Severus . . . well, thinking back, Harry didn't think Severus had known what Harry had been talking about, either. What had he said in reply, when Harry claimed that being lovers was made of more than having sex? Severus had talked about Harry's place in his bed and had asked, almost snidely, if Harry had something else in mind. But then, ever since then, he'd gone out of his way--far out of his way, sometimes--to share a life instead of just a bed. He hadn't always been brilliant at it, true. But he'd been brilliant more often than not.

Mostly, it seemed to him that they were figuring things out as they went along, which meant that their life together could only get better and better, particularly now that there was no need to worry about Voldemort, any longer.

No need to worry about much at all, Harry thought. He didn't really know what Severus would think about his Quidditch idea, but he did know that one way or another, the two of them would work it out.