Archive of Our Own ^beta

As in-laws went, Harry Potter had hit the mother lode.

For starters, they were practically his parents already – more like parents, anyway, than any other adults in his life. The Dursleys were out of that race at the starting line, and his own parents had died while he was still wearing nappies.

But that wasn’t all – Molly and Arthur Weasley were genuinely good people. They’d managed to produce a brood of fairly spectacular children who loved being together yet lived their own not-terribly-ordinary lives as well. And as flighty and emotional as Molly could be, and as naively exuberant about Muggle life as Arthur was, when it came down to their family and what was right, they were as bad arse serious as they came.

And Molly would always have a special place in his heart for taking out Bellatrix Lestrange.

Marrying Ginny Weasley had been rather pre-ordained. He didn’t even recall a formal proposal, or engagement, just – well, just wedding plans. Plans that he’d fallen into as easily and as readily as Ginny and her parents and Ron and Hermione had. And just like that, he was twenty-four and married and living with Ginny in a quaint and comfortable cottage just outside of Godric’s Hollow.

And lo and behold, Molly and Arthur let them be. There was very little interference, but plenty of offers to help out with the children as they came along. Yes, it was expected that they show up at the Burrow every Sunday like clockwork for dinner with the family. There was never any question about it – of course they went. The children grew, Harry – worried about the dangers of his job and the prospect of leaving his children fatherless – left the MLE to become the Ministry’s Muggle Liaison, Ginny took the sports beat at The Daily Prophet, the children grew and went off to Hogwarts and suddenly –

Well, not exactly suddenly.

They’d been drifting for years, really. When Lily was a toddler Ginny had gently suggested – without rancor or venom – that Harry might not be as straight as he thought he was, but he’d called her idea ridiculous and brought her flowers and had gone to the Muggle library to read up on how to bring the romance back to his marriage. She’d brought it up again a few weeks after James left for Hogwarts where they’d met Ernie McMillian and his husband on Platform 9 ¾, sending off their daughter.

And Harry had laughed and told her she was imagining things – no, he hadn’t looked at them longingly – just curiously. They’d talked about the children, and Hogwarts, and so what if he’d got his hair cut like Ernie’s husband just after? It was a nice haircut – perfectly respectable.

It crumbled from there. Ginny, stalwart, logical, suggested a divorce, or at least a trial separation. She pointed out he wasn’t happy – that he wasn’t free to explore who he really was – but he was happy and didn’t want to explore who he really was, and he convinced her to stay the course until Lily left for Hogwarts. Besides, he argued – it would just destroy her parents, who were already reeling from Bill and Fleur’s move back to France that year to teach at Beauxbatons.

And she did. She stayed the course until Lily left for Hogwarts.

Then moved out the next day.

Well then.

Needless to say, Molly and Arthur were devastated. Percy and his family had just left for a three-year stint in New Zealand at the Ministry’s foreign office in Christchurch, Bill and Fleur were still in France, Charlie remained with the dragons in Romania and Ron and George were about to buy out Zonko’s in Hogsmeade. Sunday dinners at the Burrow had already become one-table affairs, especially during the school year.

Then, as bitter icing on the already fallen cake, Ginny whipped herself back in shape in no time flat and promptly signed on as Chaser with an American Quidditch team.

Harry couldn’t stand to see Arthur and Molly so downcast. He’d been honest with them, at least on his part. He explained that Ginny thought he might be gay, or at least not quite straight, but that he’d been faithful and there was no one else, never had been, and wasn’t likely to be what with his busy schedule and the children to look after and what felt like a very full and complete life already. He thought Ginny’s interest in a married male/female Chaser pair on her team should be Ginny’s news to deliver and tried not to judge her on how fast she’d gone from married to him to a participant in a polyamorous relationship.

Molly and Arthur gamely kept up the Sunday dinners, though on a good day, there were only six or eight people at the table. Hermione pitched in to help Ron and George in her after-hours at the new shop in Hogsmeade, and managed a peek at Rose and her friends on Hogsmeade weekends. Charlie popped in for a quick visit most months, and Bill and Fleur brought the family for the weekend on school breaks, but sometimes it was only Harry, George and Angelina or Harry, Ron and Hermione at the table with Molly and Arthur.

So one weekend, the first time he found himself alone with Molly and Arthur on a Sunday afternoon, he helped them put up all the leftovers then told them to dig out some Muggle clothes because they were going to London.

He wasn’t the Liaison to the Muggle Ministry for nothing.

They Flooed to the Ministry Atrium, popped up through the phone booth onto the deserted street and hoofed it to the tube station. They popped up again at Waterloo station and after a wait of only thirty minutes once Harry flashed his Muggle Ministry priority pass, they were stepping into their capsule on the London Eye.

To say the outing was a success was the grossest of understatements. Soon, Harry was playing London tour guide to Molly and Arthur several times a month. Museums, theatre, restaurants, parks, attractions, transportation– they loved it all. And Harry loved that they loved it, loved that the outings distracted them from the empty chairs at their dinner table. His position at the Ministry gave him a number of perks when it came to Muggle London that he was happy to cash in for his ex in-laws, but the one thing that seemed to be in short supply when it came to his life was time.

Time to do something other than go to work, that is, and accompany Molly and Arthur all over London.

He had a life of his own – children (at Hogwarts), an ex-wife (in America), best friends (busy with the shop in Hogsmeade), other friends (busy with their own children and jobs) and neighbors (Ginny knew them, anyway). Well, he wanted a life of his own. He wanted to do more than just look at men on the tube or at the theatre, more than just shop for the kind of clothes you’d wear on a date or to a club, and definitely do more in Soho than people watch with Molly and Arthur.

But even when he had some unexpected down time, he had no idea how to go about dating. And his problem wasn’t only that he was a man looking for other men. The only person – male or female – he’d ever asked out was Cho Chang.

Help came from an unexpected source one Sunday in early Spring, more than a year after Ginny moved out, when he Flooed over to the Burrow for dinner and found Charlie Weasley setting the kitchen table.

“Harry!” Charlie greeted him with a proper Weasley hug. “Mum and Dad have been telling me about your adventures in London.” He gave Harry the once over, then the twice-over. “People watching in Soho, eh? Muggle musical theatre? A bit of dancing?”

Harry glanced at Molly, but she was humming merrily to herself, stirring the potatoes.

“Something you want to tell me, Harry?” whispered Charlie, raising his eyebrows.

Harry grinned. “Surprise?” he whispered back.

Charlie grinned back. “Honestly – yes. Kind of had you pegged as straight. Married to my sister and all that.”

“Charlie – check the rolls, please,” Molly called and the next hour was filled with getting dinner on the table, eating it, and Charlie filling in the spaces between Arthur and Molly’s stories about London with tales of his own adventures on the dragon preserve. And while Harry would never have dared make his excuses and leave before half the afternoon was gone, Charlie announced he had plans to meet up with an old friend then stepped into the Floo with a “Don’t wait up for me, Mum!” called back as an afterthought.

Harry stayed long enough to wash the dishes with Molly, and then helped Arthur rearrange the furniture in the sitting room to fit a coffee table Ginny had shipped to them from the States. It was a horrible thing, made from what appeared to be a mouldy lobster crate and some foam buoys with a mummified lobster inside, but Molly and Arthur loved it. He admired it with them, happy Ginny wasn’t sending him home décor, and finally stepped into the Floo to head home and attack the paperwork he’d brought home with him on Friday.

He was certainly not expecting Charlie Weasley to be waiting for him in his living room, lounging on the sofa paging through the one gay magazine he owned – a magazine he swore he’d left in his bedside table drawer - and drinking one of Harry’s favourite craft beers.

“You and Ginny split up more than a year ago, Harry – surely you’ve something more interesting than this?” Charlie brandished the magazine and patted the sofa beside him. “Sit – we need to talk.”

“I need a beer for this, don’t I?” Harry asked, making his way directly for the kitchen as Charlie laughed behind him.

Merlin, he’d always liked Charlie, though he didn’t know him as well as the other Weasleys as he was seldom around for family get-togethers. But he was genuine and friendly and interesting as hell. He’d accepted Harry as one of the fold from the first time he’d met him all those years ago and had always treated him like a Weasley and a brother.

But now – oh Merlin help him.

Harry sat gingerly on the end of the sofa and it took only two beers and very little encouragement to tell Charlie much more than he’d admitted to anyone else – that yes, he was interested in men, attracted to men, intrigued by men – but no, he hadn’t quite worked out how to actually do anything about it.

“So, you’ve never kissed a bloke, then?” Charlie asked.

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t about to admit that his kissing experience was limited to Cho Chang and Ginny. Fortunately for both of them, Ginny had known her way around kissing and Harry was a quick leaner.

“Danced with a bloke, then?” Charlie persisted.

Harry shook his head again. “I’m a horrible dancer,” he said glumly. “Ginny finally gave up on me and danced with Neville at Ministry functions – his wife doesn’t much like to dance, either.”

Charlie stood up and tossed Harry the magazine. “This will have to do until next weekend – I really do have to meet an old friend tonight – but I have an idea he might be the one to help you work things out.”

“No – really – I’m not….” Harry began, looking alarmed. But Charlie just laughed again.

“Harry – no. Not that. I mean show you around. Take you to where the gay wizards hang out, maybe teach you to dance properly – not some stuffy waltz at a Ministry do. He owes me a favor – he’ll be the perfect one to help you work out if you really are gay.”

“Oh, I’m gay,” muttered Harry. He glanced at the magazine in his hand and traced a finger along a muscular thigh. “I just don’t know how to go about getting started.”

“He’ll help,” Charlie said confidently. At Harry’s still half-dejected, half-confused look, he added with a wink, “He helped me.”

“You?” Harry raised his head. “When? How old is this chap, anyway?”

Charlie grabbed the magazine back, rolled it up, and used it to swat Harry on the head. “I’m not that old,” he said. “But yeah – he’s older than me. But what of it? He’s a great dancer and he knows everyone. He’ll take care of you, Harry. I promise. Next Saturday night then, yeah?”

Harry didn’t much trust the look on Charlie’s face – it was a mischievous look, as if he was up to something. But when Harry thought about it rationally, he could continue to spend all of his free time with Molly and Arthur or start to develop his own social life – a social life that involved something more romantic than helping Molly mash potatoes for Sunday dinner and sitting beside Arthur in a dark theatre explaining how the mechanism that operated the curtains worked.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright – you’re coming too though, right?”

Charlie arched a bushy red eyebrow. “Hmm. Might be interesting – but no. I don’t think so. I’ve only got the week off and you’d do much better with someone who isn’t your brother-in-law.” He stood and made his way over to the Floo, flashing Harry a final grin. “I’ll check to make sure he’s available Saturday - have your Floo open.”

“Wait – who is this bloke, anyway?” Harry asked as Charlie grabbed a handful of Floo power.

“Oh, didn’t I say?” Charlie said as he stepped forward. “It’s Snape - Severus Snape.”

His words were nearly inaudible as the flames turned green and he spun in place then disappeared with a crackle and a whoosh. The flames died back down and Harry was left sitting on the sofa staring into the empty fireplace, mouth open in what could have been a pantomime of horror but was actually his body’s actual reaction to what he’d just heard.

Snape?

Alright. He forced himself to take several deep breaths. Then several more. Then another.

Snape?

He ordered himself to breathe, then sucked in a big breath and blew it out his mouth as he let his body sag and his head drop back onto the sofa cushions.

This had to be a joke. Charlie was not on his way to see Snape and ask him to help introduce Harry to gay life in London. He absolutely was not.

Besides – Snape wasn’t gay. Snape was – what? Sure – he was most likely still single – Harry couldn’t imagine that he could have married without the Prophet and the entire Wizarding world taking notice. What was he doing now anyway? He’d gone back to Hogwarts as Headmaster after he recovered from his injuries, but had retired the year James started. Harry and Ron had joked at the time that he’d left so he didn’t have to deal with James. And as much as they joked, Harry imagined there was a grain of truth to it. He’s had a hard enough time dealing with Harry Potter – dealing with another James Potter might break him.

He took a cautious mental step back to consider the idea of Severus Snape as gay mentor.

Snape had loved his mother. His mother! A woman! He’d idolized her. Had protected her child for years – for her.

And then – well, then Harry had killed Voldemort.

And everything had changed for Harry. And for Snape.

Snape’s survival was no less surprising than Harry’s. His memories – conveniently floating in Dumbledore’s Pensieve in the Headmaster’s office where Harry had left them – were enough to clear his name, but Harry’s word on top of it sealed the deal. They had an awkward meeting – a parting of the ways, really, at Christmastime when N.E.W.T.s were finally held and Harry left Hogwarts at last to join the Aurors.

The ensuing years were full – Auror training, casework, marriage and children, a career change.

Where the hell had Snape gone after Hogwarts, anyway? If Harry had to imagine his post-Hogwarts life, he’d picture him editing some stuffy potions journal or writing textbooks or bent over a cauldron breathing in toxic potions fumes.

Harry chided himself for being childish. He didn’t recall the last time he’d seen Snape, or the last time he’d read something about him in the paper, or even the last time someone had mentioned him in passing. He’d been busy. Life was busy. He shouldn’t feel guilty for not knowing what Snape was up to, especially since Charlie had just thrown this at him so unexpectedly. In all likelihood, Snape didn’t know what he was up to, either – though he was definitely about to get an earful. He tried to put the matter aside and get his work done and managed to make it to bedtime before he thought about Snape again.

Thinking about Snape at bedtime was not a good idea unless one had a large quantity of Dreamless Sleep potion available.

On Monday, and again on Tuesday, he considered dropping in on Ron and Hermione after work but didn’t follow through. He thought he could explain his predicament and enlist their help, but he didn’t even know where he’d start. Then, on Wednesday, Arthur stopped by his office to announce that he’d scored some sought-after theatre tickets for Saturday.

“Saturday?” repeated Harry dumbly, surprised that Arthur had managed the Muggle ticketing system on his own. He forced a smile. “Look, Arthur, that sounds really nice but I have – I mean – Charlie – well….”

“Oh – Charlie told us all about it!” reassured Arthur. “And I bought four tickets! Molly isn’t particularly excited about this one so she’s offered to stay home so Charlie can come and bring Severus too. I do hope Charlie brought something decent to wear – I told him quite sternly that he can’t wear dungarees to the Savoy!”

“Four tickets.” Harry made an effort to close his mouth. “So Charlie and Severus…?”

“I don’t know why Charlie’s pressured you into helping Severus,” Arthur said, giving Harry a stern look as if he himself were planning to wear dungarees to the Savoy. “You’re too good, Harry – too accommodating. If Severus wants to sell to Muggles, he should go through the normal channels to get the permits, not shortcut right to the top through his friendship with your brother-in-law.”

“Right – normal channels.” Harry nodded his head vigorously. Obviously, Arthur knew a bit about what Severus Snape was doing these days, certainly more than he himself knew. Severus was selling something. Probably potions. Unless Charlie has just made this up to sidetrack Arthur.

“Though I must say he hasn’t asked the Ministry for any favours that I know of before this one,” Arthur added, more to himself than to Harry. “He’s been pretty quiet since he left Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t even know Charlie and Snape were friends,” Harry ventured. “Isn’t Snape a lot older than Charlie?”

“Well yes – yes – I suppose he is,” Arthur answered. “But I suppose they got to know each other just after the war – the preserve supplied ingredients to Hogwarts for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T level potions classes and Charlie had to clear the orders with the headmaster. Eggshells and scales, though I know Charlie was always excited about the occasional heartstring from one of the dragons killed off in the mating battles. Severus used to come ‘round to the Burrow with Charlie now and again for dinner when Charlie was in town. Quiet one, Severus is – I never thought he and Charlie had much in common but they get along well enough.” He paused, then gave Harry a cautious look. “You’re actually more Charlie’s age than Severus is, Harry. And you have quite a bit in common – Charlie’s rather an ace on a broom, too, you know.”

“Nearly as good as Ginny,” Harry acknowledged. “But Snape’s decent on a broom– he refereed one of our Quidditch matches once….” He trailed off. What was he doing defending Severus Snape’s broom skills, anyway?

“I’d say he’s better off the broom than on,” Arthur said with a scowl and Harry was reminded of how Snape had blasted off George’s ear. And while everyone acknowledged that Snape could have killed George and that the ear was small sacrifice for saving his life, it was still a sore spot in more than the obvious way.

“Right – I suppose I don’t know Snape very well,” Harry conceded, hoping that was cue enough for Arthur to fill him in.

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” Arthur smiled nostalgically. “You weren’t predisposed to like him much, what with the role Albus laid out for him. And after the war, you had other things on your mind.” He winked at Harry, then looked embarrassed, as if he’d momentarily forgotten that Harry was no longer married to Ginny and memories of those sweet days locked in her embrace didn’t take him back to a happier place.

“He was a git,” Harry said, though without malice. “But he saved my life – more than once. He made it clear after the war that he’d done his part and didn’t want me hanging around. I assumed he’d be at Hogwarts when Jamie started but he’d moved on by then.”

“I just don’t understand how he’s managed to make a regenerative burn cream that doesn’t use any magical ingredients,” Arthur mused. “Well, I suppose you’ll hear all about it at dinner. You and Charlie will be ready for a rousing round of musical theatre after Severus pitches this new concoction to you.”

“Snape will, too, once I tell him he’ll have to go through the usual channels,” Harry said, though he had to pretend to be gleeful about it. He certainly wasn’t a Percy when it came down to Ministry policy, which could be both ridiculous and archaic.

“He can be quite persuasive, Harry,” Arthur warned him with a smile. “Severus is a clever man, and accustomed to getting his way.”

“I’ve dealt with all sorts in this job – and at the MLE, Arthur,” Harry reminded him. “I’m not exactly new at this.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and, as he wandered out of the office – Harry heard him greet Zanders in the corridor – Harry considered that eyebrow and the last thing he’d said to Arthur.

I’m not exactly new at this.

Did Arthur think he was interested in Snape?

And then a thought occurred to him. He tried to recall details of the conversation they’d just had. Maybe Arthur didn’t think he was interested in Snape. Maybe he thought he was interested in Charlie. Or maybe he thought he was interested in Snape and was trying to pitch Charlie to him as a better alternative.

Ugh. Charlie was his brother, for Merlin’s sake. Did Arthur really think he’d be interested in him like that? Or that Charlie could think of him – Harry – as anything but a brother?

No – Charlie wasn’t his type at all. At least he didn’t think he was. Harry looked. Of course he looked. Looked at all sorts of blokes but couldn’t quite get over the fact that the great majority of gay men weren’t wizards. And while he had no prejudices against a Muggle, he didn’t want to give up the Wizarding world he loved, or have to hide his true identify from his partner’s friends and family.

It would be easier to be with a wizard. Easier and more satisfying, in the end.

On Thursday, Harry finally dropped in the new Hogsmeade joke shop after work. The bell jangled noisily as he pushed open the door.

“Hey Harry,” Ron called out from somewhere in the back of the topsy-turvy store where he was undoubtedly stocking shelves. “Give me a minute, will you? You can go say hullo to Hermione– she’s in the office.”

He made his way behind the counter and through a door and found Hermione at the desk going over the ledgers. She looked up at him with a tired smile as he plopped into a chair and scooted it closer to the desk.

“Hullo, Harry,” she said. “You’ve got something on your mind, don’t you? Arthur and Molly again? Honestly, Harry – that car! Do you really think it was wise? She tried putting a knut in a parking meter the other day – why don’t you rent them a cheap apartment near the tube station so they can just Apparate or Floo in instead of taking the car? It would be cheaper in the long run than maintaining that car and paying all her parking fines!”

“They like the car,” he protested mildly. “Tinkering with it gives Arthur something to do on the weekends.”

Hermione shook her head and sighed. “When they’re all alone and bored without the family around,” she said, filling in what he hadn’t said. “Look, Harry – it’s really not your problem, is it? You’ve already got that mail service sending them picture postcards from Ginny from the States every week. You take them to museums and brunch and the theatre and football games. You bought them a car! You set up an EU Floo connection so Bill and Fleur can visit more often. Honestly – they don’t need all that to make them happy.”

“But it distracts them,” Harry countered. He really did not want to have this conversation with Hermione. Or anyone. “They’re bored.”

“What aren’t you saying, Harry?” she asked. “That they’re bored because we’re not stopping by all the time as we did in the old days?” She’d dropped her pencil, crossed her arms and waited, looking resigned.

“No – not exactly.” He looked back toward the shop but Ron apparently wasn’t going to come in and save his arse this time so he fumbled forward. “You know – everyone is so scattered now…and busy.”

“My parents have friends,” Hermione stated. “I phone them a couple times a week, and we visit at least once a month. But not every Sunday, Harry. They have a life that doesn’t involve me.”

“But you’re only you,” Harry protested. “I mean, you’re an only child. Your parents are used to not having kids around, but Molly and Arthur….”

“We see them at least once a month, and more often in the summer when the kids are home from Hogwarts,” Hermione said. She looked both exasperated with him and rather fond as well. “Molly and Arthur need friends, Harry. Friends their own age – who share their interests.”

“I like spending time with them,” Harry murmured.

Hermione reached across for his hands. “So do I,” she said quietly. “But not all my time, Harry. Molly and Arthur need friends but so do you – and yes, I know you have friends already – but honestly, you need some new friends.” She squeezed his hand and held his eyes. “Single friends, Harry.”

“Snape.”

He had no idea how the word had traveled from his brain to his lips then out his mouth, but it had.

“Snape?” Hermione looked at him sharply. “You’re joking.” She leaned in closer and stared into his eyes. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

“I hope so,” he said, checking behind him for Ron again and this time finding him standing in the doorway staring at them.

“Snape? What’s going on with Snape?” Ron asked, glancing from Harry to Hermione then back at Harry again. “Wait - he’s not coming back to Hogwarts, is he?” He dropped his head back and it thunked against the doorframe. “Can you imagine the drop in sales with Snape as Headmaster? He’d ban everything - everything!”

“No.” Hermione was still staring at Harry even as she answered Ron. “That’s not it at all. I was just telling Harry he needed some friends - single friends – and he thought of Snape.”

Ron gaped. “You thought of Snape? Snape? Not – say – I don’t know – um – Ernie McMillian? ” he exclaimed.

“Ernie is married and has a daughter at Hogwarts and six-year old twins,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“I didn’t think of Snape – Charlie did,” Harry attempted to explain. “He wants Snape to – I don’t know – show me around, I guess. Show me how to meet other gay wizards and take me to places they hang out, I suppose, and teach me to dance.”

“Why would Charlie want Snape to do that?” Ron asked. “Snape’s not even gay – he’s….”

Hermione and Harry both stared at him as his voice trailed off.

“Oh, do go on, Ron. He’s what?” Hermione asked, holding back a smile.

“You don’t know that he’s gay,” Ron pointed out. “Besides – he was in love with Harry’s mother.”

“And Harry was in love with your sister,” Hermione countered.

“Look – I only came by to see what you knew about Snape,” Harry explained. “Charlie set this up for Saturday, but your dad had theatre tickets, and now we’re all going – well, your mum is staying home but I’m going with your dad, Charlie and Snape. Charlie told your dad we were getting together with Snape because he wants me to fast track some potion he’s developed so he can sell it to Muggles. Honestly, I lost track of him when he retired from Hogwarts. I thought you might know what he’s been up to.”

“Well, his name comes up from time to time,” Hermione answered after a long pause.

“His name comes up from time to time in the Minister of Magic’s office?” Harry put his hands on the desk and leaned toward her and Ron dropped into the chair beside him. “Why? Why does his name come up, Hermione?”

“Alright – he’s one of our consultants,” she admitted. “But he insisted on us keeping it quiet, so don’t you dare let on that you know. I could lose my job over something like this.”

“Consultants?” Harry knew all about Ministry consultants – his department had a few of them – specialists on call when something came up in the Muggle world that was unusual enough that their regular team couldn’t handle it. “What’s his specialty, then? Besides the obvious.”

Hermione was a horrible liar and always had been. She had a penchant for the truth, whole and unadulterated, and she’d always resort to clamming up and saying nothing rather than tell a lie. Now, her mouth set itself in a line and she shrugged. “No real specialty that I know of,” she said.

“Wait a minute – what’s the obvious, then?” asked Ron, turning to Harry. “Potions or Dark Arts?”

“I was thinking Dark Arts,” Harry answered with a frown. “But you’re right – he’s probably the best in the country at Potions, too.”

“And what about Hogwarts?” added Ron. “I expect he’d know just about everything about Hogwarts.”

“And Dumbledore and Voldemort, too,” Harry mused.

“And poisons,” mumbled Ron, no doubt thinking of his own experience with a bezoar down his throat. “And detentions. And flying.”

“Plus his dad was a Muggle, so he knows a lot about the Muggle world.”

“Will you two just stop?” Hermione interrupted. “Alright – he’s a super consultant. There. I told you. We use him all the time. He knows quite a bit about several key areas of interest to our office – modern Muggle warfare, infectious diseases, world geography and cultures, and yes, most of the other things you mentioned, though we haven’t yet had to ask him about the most effective detentions.” She rolled her eyes at Ron and he grinned and winked.

“Well, what else does he do?” Harry asked, hoping Snape would keep his interest in infectious diseases to himself when he met him on Saturday. “Other than consult with the Ministry?”

“I don’t know – introduce gay wizards to gay nightlife?”

“You know what I mean,” Harry shot back, but he was grinning now, and she smiled back.

“You’ll find out Saturday, won’t you? If he really does have a potion he wants to sell to Muggles, then I suppose he’s brewing when he’s not raking in his exorbitant hourly rate from the Ministry.”

“Where does he live?” Ron asked. “I’ve never seen him in Hogsmeade – I don’t think I’ve seen him since the ten-year memorial service.”

“No idea,” Hermione answered. She closed the ledger and stood. “Why don’t we go to the Three Broomsticks for dinner? I think we’ve worn out the topic of Severus Snape – we can catch up on everything else.”

It turned out they hadn’t worn out the topic of Snape. Ron did several spot-on impressions over dinner that had Harry laughing in his butterbeer and reminded them of the Snape boggart dressed as Neville’s grandmother. By the time he got back to his cottage, Harry was in a much better mood than he’d been in weeks. Maybe Hermione was right – perhaps he did need to be around people his own age instead of spending most of his free time with Molly and Arthur. He very much doubted that either Arthur or Molly would have found Ron’s “Bottle Fame, Brew Glory” impression amusing at all.

Relieved as he’d been to have some younger companionship, by Friday he felt slightly guilty for not having checked in on Molly and Arthur all week. It bothered him enough that he Flooed to the Burrow after dinner. He found them at their kitchen table organising the postcards Ginny had been sending for the past six months.

It had taken Harry several weeks and not a small number of galleons to find and hire a service to send those cards. Ginny had thought it a fabulous idea and had gladly provided a sample of her handwriting and Harry had provided two dozen greetings, which he encouraged the service to embellish and mix up as they kept an eye on her team’s schedule and roster and posted the post cards from the appropriate city as she traveled around the country.

“Did you get another one today?” he asked as he dropped a kiss on Molly’s cheek and looked over her shoulder at a card showing the famous Hollywood sign.

“Regular as clockwork,” Arthur said. “Quite a geography lesson, these cards are.”

Harry flipped the card over.

“Back in LA for a week and visited the Hollywood Walk of Fame with Ozzie – he’s our new reserve Keeper. We just traded our second reserve Seeker and our first reserve Chaser for him – and he’s as good as the Sasquatches promised. Easy on the eyes, too. It should be a winning season for the Eagles. Hope you’re all well – kiss the kids when you see them and don’t let Harry get into too much trouble. Love Ginny.”

“I’m sure she’s exaggerating,” Molly said as Harry read the card. “Ozzie is such a silly name – I can’t imagine he’d be a looker, can you?”

He scanned the post card again. Well, “Kiss the kids when you see them” was definitely a line from the list he’d provided, as was, “Don’t let Harry get into trouble,” but he hadn’t suggested that Ginny be given any romantic entanglements on the team – Merlin knew she had enough of those already. But the service was definitely taking its job seriously – they’d obviously been following the press for the team and the person who’d issued this particular card had picked up on the new reserve Keeper’s sex appeal.

“It’s fine, Molly. Ginny is sure to notice nice-looking men, isn’t she?”

“Well, perhaps,” she conceded with a fond smile. “Now that she doesn’t have your handsome face to see every day, anyway.”

“What? This old thing?” he laughed.

“That old thing is quite attractive,” Molly insisted. “And one of these days – in a year or two or three, when the children are a bit older and Ginny gets the travel bug out of her system and comes home, you’ll find someone special, Harry. Lots of people make a second go at it after a divorce. It just takes time to get your footing, especially when you have the kind of career that you have, and all the responsibility of the children while Ginny’s away. Fortunately, Arthur and I understand your priorities and are happy when you can fit us in your schedule around your more important commitments.”

Harry smiled noncommittally. Well then. Good to know that they were doing him a favor by fitting themselves in around his more important activities, like engineering an entire communication campaign from their daughter who was too busy with her new life to remember to send her own parents a note by international owl post. Or taking them on an international trip to New Orleans for a four-day weekend to see a Quidditch double-header and get a taste of the Big Easy. At least he felt less guilty for having neglected them all week, and Flooed home a short time later and got ready for bed an hour earlier than he usually turned in. He lay awake for some time, wondering if shaking up his life like this was really a good idea after all, and finally decided that meeting up with Charlie and Snape could just be a night out with friends and didn’t have to give him heartburn and insomnia.

Well, meeting up with Snape, as it turned out.

Because when his Floo flared up at precisely six o’clock in the evening on Saturday, exactly the time they’d settled on once plans had changed to accommodate Arthur’s theatre tickets, Charlie Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

Harry was sitting on his bed putting on his shoes when he heard the Floo flare up, and he walked into the living room at the same moment that Severus Snape stepped out and dusted off his jacket. Harry looked expectantly around Snape toward the fireplace, but it remained quiet and Charlie did not spin out.

“Charlie will meet us at the Covent Garden tube station at seven forty-five with his father,” Snape announced. His voice was much as Harry remembered it, though with a slightly softer timbre, which could be from practice or his injuries from Nagini. He’d glanced around the room, but now his eyes returned to Harry and he looked at him appraisingly. “Are you ready? We have dinner reservations in fifteen minutes.”

Harry lifted his jacket off the back of a chair and put it on. “Ready,” he said, thinking it extremely odd that after a decade long absence, they were moving directly on to dinner without even a proper greeting. What would he say, anyway? Why hullo, Snape. I almost didn’t recognize you in Muggle clothes and with your hair….like that.

Like that meant a tousled Muggle haircut reminiscent of the Beatles in their later days. Or – to be honest – reminiscent of Harry’s own hair when he bothered to apply the gel that made it look like it was supposed to be tousled and messy, not just doing it on its own. He hadn’t bothered with the gel tonight and was oddly thankful they weren’t sporting the same hairdo.

Snape held out his arm, indicating they would be Apparating to their destination, and Harry took it without comment.

I don’t really know this man and didn’t bother to ask where we’re going he thought as the familiar squeeze and crack of Apparition carried them away. Some Auror I’d make.

Dinner was more of an interview than a social event. He was strangely thankful that the fare was basic and the menu in English, though he hadn’t even thought about either before sitting down. He barely had time to study the menu and order before Snape had extracted a Muggle pen and notebook and started in on the questions.

“I suggest we dispense with any titles and address each other as Potter and Snape. And now that we’ve settled that, I’d like to go over the notes I took during my conversation with Charlie regarding your situation. So – you’ve never dated anyone other than your ex-wife?”

“Not since Hogwarts,” Harry acknowledged, not bothering to point out that they hadn’t really settled anything.

Snape made a little tic in the notebook. Harry strained his neck a bit to see what Snape was writing but Snape glared at him and Harry quickly looked back at his menu.

“And never another man.”

“You mean since Hogwarts?” asked Harry.

Snape arched an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting you dated men at Hogwarts?” He looked and sounded doubtful.

“Well no – not a man, of course. It would have been a boy, not a man.”

“Would have been?” Snape pressed.

“If I’d dated a bloke, which I didn’t,” he explained.

“Of course.”

Another tic on the notebook.

“So, one girlfriend. And only one lover?”

“Look – she wasn’t my lover. We didn’t do anything until we were married – she was too afraid she’d be as fertile as her mum and start spitting out babies right away.”

Oh sweet Morgana! Where were his filters? How did Snape do this to him?

The eyebrow again. “You didn’t do anything,” Snape echoed. “Anything?”

Harry sighed. “We didn’t have sex.” He lowered his voice. “Alright – we didn’t have intercourse. We fooled around.”

“And only ever with your ex-wife. You had no other lovers before her and none since – and before you protest again, by lover I mean someone with whom you’ve made love. Lover does not necessarily have the illicit feel you obviously attribute to the word.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Yes, only with Ginny.”

“Excellent.” Snape made another mark in the notebook. He seemed oddly pleased with Harry’s complete lack of experience. “So – if I were to expand the definition of ‘make love’ to include kissing, groping, fondling or other activities done while fully clothed and perhaps pressed against a corridor or alley wall?”

“Just Ginny,” Harry forced out. Was Snape trying to humiliate him by pressing the point until it left a bruise the size of Hagrid’s fist on his ego?

Snape stared at him, probably trying to ascertain how Harry felt about that admission.

“And you are convinced you are interested in men?” He was rolling the pen between his fingers, playing with it idly while waiting for Harry to respond.

“Yes. I’m – I’m sure. Quite sure.”

“How?”

“How?”

“How are you sure?”

“How am I sure I’m interested in men?” Harry had never been to a psychologist or a mind healer, but he imagined this was the type of conversation he’d have with one. He glanced at Snape and noted that he looked completely at ease, patiently awaiting his response. “I don’t know – I like looking at them. I fantasize about them. I’m with them in my dreams. Isn’t that enough?”

Snape made a note in his notepad. “Typically, yes.” He pushed the notebook to the side as the waiter brought their salads and waited for him to leave before speaking again. “Your lack of physical experience is far from typical, however.” He let the statement hang, arranged his serviette in his lap and set about eating his salad.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Harry couldn’t bear it any longer.

“You want to know why I don’t have any experience. I’ve been divorced a year already.”

Snape made a show of swallowing, then quirked an eyebrow. “Well, go ahead. Enlighten me,” he said. There was a tiny trace of sarcasm there, but not enough to convince Harry he was actually dining with Severus Snape.

“I don’t know where to start,” Harry admitted glumly.

“Or…?” prodded Snape.

“Or how to start?” Wasn’t Snape supposed to help him get started and not conduct a psychoanalysis session disguised as a meal?

“Try again,” Snape prodded. “Or…?”

“You know, this isn’t what I signed up for,” Harry said, slipping into his stern father voice. “Charlie said you could help me get started – figure out where to go to meet gay wizards – introduce me to the – whatever it’s called.”

“The scene?” Did Snape only speak in questions?

“Right – the scene. Bars, I guess. Clubs. Right?”

Snape gave a noncommittal one-shouldered shrug. He took a long sip of wine, staring at Harry over the glass as he drank. He replaced the glass and wiped his lip with his serviette and spread it in his lap again. Harry stared, transfixed by Snape acting – well, human. And polite.

“Charlie asked me if I would help you. He told me you were interested in meeting other gay wizards. I made the logical leap that you were looking for sexual gratification, among other things. If you are looking for social engagement, dancing, public or near-public sex….oh, thank you.”

The waiter had just appeared at the table with their entrees and was looking from Harry to Severus with obvious interest. Severus didn’t appear the least bit concerned that he’d been caught discussing public sex.

“Actually,” Harry clarified, “I’m looking for companionship.”

Severus, for a reason that mystified Harry, had started in on his steamed broccoli first and paused with a forkful halfway to his mouth.

“But you have companionship,” Severus stated flatly. “You work in an office with two assistants just outside your door. You spend at least three nights a week out with your in-laws or enjoying time with them at the Burrow. You see your friends less than you once did, yet you do see them – you had an entertaining dinner with them this week, in fact. You correspond with each of your children at least twice a week – you must spend several hours writing letters. Honestly, I don’t see how you can make room for more companionship in your schedule, Potter. Are you completely sure you’re not just looking for sex? An occasional grope in an alley or in a stall in the loo? A shag in a discreet hotel?”

Harry didn’t know what to respond to first, the intrusion into his personal life or the insinuation that he was just looking for casual sex. He looked at his plate, ignored the broccoli, which seemed to be the vegetable of the day, and took a large bite of garlic smashed potatoes. He took two more bites, chewing and swallowing more aggressively than smashed potatoes warranted, before looking up at Snape to find the other man watching him eat with what looked like curious interest.

“Alright – I’ll play along,” Harry said. He decided to pursue the intrusion into his personal life first. “Of course I have two assistants just outside my door – all Ministry department heads do. Charlie told you about Molly and Arthur, and it’s an easy guess that I write to my kids frequently and that I see my friends less often than I did when we were younger. That’s how life usually goes. But how do you know about my ‘entertaining’ dinner with Ron and Hermione?”

“At the Three Broomsticks,” Snape added casually. He took another bite of broccoli, then cut a strip off his steak and cut it into very precise bite-sized pieces.

Harry watched Snape transfer a bite of steak to his mouth. “How do you know that?” he asked.

Snape swallowed then pointed at him with his fork, lowering his voice and enunciating every word carefully “Because, Mr. Potter, I. Was. There.”

Harry kept his jaw from dropping by force of will. No. They’d have seen him. They’d have noticed. Someone had seen them – word had gotten back to Snape. “No you weren’t – you weren’t there.” Harry forced another overlarge forkful of smashed potatoes into his mouth and eyed Snape bravely, speaking before he’d swallowed completely. “We’d have noticed.”

“I was already there when you burst in with your friends –I was seated alone at a table for two behind a group of eight celebrating a birthday.”

Well shit. There had been a large group there – with Happy Birthday balloons. At least Snape had been too far away to overhear their conversation.

“You may tell Mr. Weasley that he needs practice perfecting my ‘Brew Fame and Bottle Glory’ speech,” Snape added with a smile. He seemed oddly pleased that his infamous first year Potions introduction was still being quoted by students long gone from Hogwarts.

Harry stared. The Severus Snape seated across from him was certainly not at all what he’d expected. He was sharp in all the right places, mild where Harry had expected him to be severe, attractive in a way Harry would never have noticed even ten years ago. The lack of bitterness and anger was both engaging and off-putting. Is this what he’d find when he foraged into the unknown? That everything he’d ever known about everything was turned inside out and upside down?

“Right. I’ll tell him,” Harry said, covering a smile by taking a bite of chicken. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “But how did you know what Ron was doing?”

“The waitress told me,” Snape answered. “She’s always amused by how many former students get together and parrot – or parody – that speech. But it was the first time she’d heard it with the Boy Who Lived as its audience.” He took another sip of wine, looking thoughtful. “It was a good speech, wasn’t it? You do know I gave it every year?”

Harry, a bit off balance by Snape’s unusual reaction to being mimicked in a public place, nodded slowly. “Right. It was a good speech. It certainly made a lasting impression.”

“As was intended. Now – back to our original conversation.” Snape was slowly making his way through his steak and ate another bite before continuing. “You’d like to meet other gay wizards. As you aren’t interested in sex, then you must….”

“I never said I wasn’t interested in sex,” Harry interrupted, keeping his voice very low. He absolutely needed to make this point very clear or Snape would probably pair him up with a ninety-seven-year-old wizard who needed help typing his shoes. “I’m interested in sex. But not only sex. I want a relationship, too.”

“Of course. You want a companion – someone to accompany you on adventures, to travel with you. To share your responsibilities, to help parent your children.”

Harry began shaking his head at the word adventures.

“No – stop. That’s not it at all.”

Snape picked up his wine glass again and drank from it, once more staring at Harry over the rim as he drank.

“Perhaps what you need is a matchmaker,” he said after a pause long enough for Harry to pick up his own wine glass and nearly drain it.

“I don’t need a matchmaker,” Harry countered automatically. “And look – yeah. I’m looking for a partner and companion. I don’t want just to date and have sex – really.” He said it earnestly, as if he had to convince Snape he was sincere. “But I’m not looking to have adventures, and I don’t want the kind of relationship where we’re totally devoted to each other at the expense of our own already-established lives. And no – my kids don’t need another dad. They’ve got two parents already, and some good role models at Hogwarts.”

Snape was regarding him with an odd expression on his face – as if Harry had surprised him and he didn’t quite believe him. “I don’t need you to find me my Mr. Forever. I just need a little bit of help – working things out. Like where they are – the gay wizards, I mean.”

Snape looked down at his plate and forked a bite of meat.

“And…?”

Harry glared at Snape without answering while Snape ate several more bites. “Are we playing this game again?” he asked at last.

“Apparently. Pudding?”

“No. Thank you.”

Snape signaled the waiter.

“Fine,” Harry said with a sigh. Snape appeared perfectly happy to just end the conversation there. “Where they are. And how to ask someone out. And anything else I should know about dating men and – yeah – fine. Having sex. With men.”

There. He’d said it. He looked expectantly at Snape, who responded by leveling a long, appraising stare at him, then checking his watch.

“We’ll be late – We’re to meet Charlie and Arthur at 7:45.”

Without even acknowledging Harry’s grand admission, Snape finished paying the bill, waving away Harry’s offer to split it, then stood up and made his way out of the restaurant. Harry watched him leave, considering heading to the loo and Apparating directly home, but then remembered Arthur and Charlie and the theatre tickets and resignedly rose and followed Snape out the door.

Oddly, that was the last personal interaction he had with Snape for the rest of the evening.

He sat between Arthur and Charlie at the show, a musical about a small Canadian town that had taken in several thousand stranded travelers on 9/11. Snape disappeared during intermission, but returned when the lights dimmed and rose to applaud with the rest of the crowd during the curtain call. Snape and Charlie walked ahead as they left the theatre after the show, while Harry and Arthur discussed their favourite numbers. They parted outside the theatre, each making his way to a safe place to Apparate home. Snape bade everyone goodnight, but seemed oblivious when Charlie pulled Arthur aside, giving Harry and Snape privacy to arrange a follow-up. Finally, Arthur and Charlie left together, Arthur calling out “See you at dinner tomorrow, Harry,” as they ducked around a corner.

As Harry undressed and dropped into bed that evening, he gave it up as a lesson learned. Charlie was a great brother and an entertaining friend, but he wouldn’t be taking advice on his love life from him in future.

Harry was puttering around in the kitchen the next morning, cleaning up the breakfast dishes before leaving for the Burrow, when the Floo flared. Probably Molly or Arthur, wanting to go to brunch because once again, he’d be the only one at the Burrow for dinner.

He had his hands in the dishwater when a voice in the doorway nearly made him jump out of his jeans.

“When will you be ready to begin?”

Snape. Of course it was Snape. Snape inside his cottage, dressed in black jeans and a dark green button down, casually leaning against the doorframe in his kitchen, apparently perfectly content to stand there and watch while Harry finished his chores.

“I’m sorry, did we have an appointment?” Harry asked as casually as he was able, turning to face Snape while he dried his hands.

“No. It would be impossible for this first lesson to hit home if I’d made formal plans with you.”

Harry hung the towel on the oven door handle and took a fortifying breath before straightening to face Snape, man to man. “This first lesson? What lesson? Look Snape, I have to leave in twenty minutes. If you still want to help me out we’re going to have to do it a different day.”

“We start today,” Snape insisted. He followed Harry when he left the kitchen and headed to his bedroom to change his shirt.

Harry stopped in his doorway and turned to face Snape. “Are you always this intrusive?” he asked. “Charlie said you could help me out – he didn’t mention that you’d be in charge of my schedule from now on.”

“The goal is for you to be in charge of your own schedule,” Snape replied easily. He was the epitome of calm, completely unflustered, patient and absolutely in charge.

“I am in charge of my schedule,” Harry insisted. He glanced at his watch again. “Snape, I really need to get ready. Molly and Arthur are expecting me ….”

He stopped speaking as the “aha” moment washed over him.

“Oh.”

“I’ll wait here while you let them know your plans have changed.”

“I can’t do that –She’s made dinner. What if I’m the only one coming today?”

“Is their happiness your responsibility?” Snape stared hard at Harry and, while his voice was soft, Harry felt as exposed as he had all those years ago during Occlumency lessons. “If no one comes to dinner today, why would you alone feel responsible if Molly and Arthur are disappointed?”

“I – ” Harry began, but closed his mouth and disappeared into his bedroom.

Snape turned around and wandered back to the sitting room. Harry heard the creak of the armchair as he settled down on it and soon after, the telltale sound of magazine pages being turned. Damn it! Had he left that magazine out there again?

Harry thought he should be livid – livid that Snape had come here with a plan in place to disrupt his morning. Livid that he had the balls to make himself comfortable and just assume Harry would man up and do what he was told.

Harry was livid. Well, if not livid, then definitely angry. No – he was upset. Definitely…put out.

So why the hell did he want to comply, then? Why was he absolutely sure that within sixty seconds he’d be out there Floo-calling Molly and Arthur to make his excuses?

“I’m humoring you this time,” he huffed as he dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace less than a minute later. “But only this time – I’m busy on Sundays – try to remember that from now on.”

It was nice bluster but he could almost feel the self-satisfaction oozing from Snape.

“I remembered it today,” Snape said from behind his magazine as Harry tossed in some Floo powder and stuck his head in the fire. “I’m helping you free up some time.”

A few minutes later, Harry pulled his head out of the fireplace and got to his feet.

“Well, that was awkward,” he said. “Molly already had the table set.”

“Excellent.” Snape tossed the magazine onto the coffee table. Cripes - it was the same one Charlie had been reading the week before when Harry found him sitting in that same place. “Fortunately, she’s a grown woman and has had many greater disappointments in her life. She’ll survive this one too.” He motioned at the armchair. “Sit. We need to talk.”

“You’re right. We do need to talk.” Harry dropped into the chair, determined to turn this around and be more than a passive participant in whatever this odd reaquaintance was. “Look – I’d like to be on the same page as you, if that’s even possible. I have no idea what you’re actually going to do for me – I just wanted some help figuring out how to start dating again – where to go to meet gay wizards, what to wear, that kind of thing. Maybe a few introductions. I didn’t ask for a life coach.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t actually asked for anything at all – this whole thing had been Charlie’s doing.

“After Charlie told me what he thought you needed, I, too, thought I’d be spending a weekend helping to jump start your new life as a gay wizard looking for fun and romance,” Snape said. “But that would be a futile effort. With the state of your life now, you’d never carry through.” He shook his head. “Potter, it took me no more than ten minutes yesterday to determine that you aren’t the least bit ready for a lifestyle change of this magnitude, despite your stated attraction to persons of the same gender. Are you quite certain you are ready to pursue a romantic relationship when what you really need is a single friend or two?

“Am I really that hopeless?” Harry asked. “Can’t we just stick to the original plan?”

“On a Sunday morning? Most certainly not,” Snape scoffed. “Everyone is home sleeping off hangovers.” He looked pointedly at Harry, as if to emphasize that Harry was not among that particular group. “I have a better idea.”

And for the second time in as many days, Harry found himself taking hold of Snape’s arm and side-along Apparating with him to parts unknown.

Moments later, they stepped out of a dismal and dirty alleyway onto a busy London street. Snape turned to the right and Harry walked beside him for a half block to a busy café.

“Morning, Sev,” the host greeted as they walked in. He smiled pleasantly as his eyes slid over to Harry. “Two by the window?”

“Two by the window,” Snape confirmed, and the host led the way to what was, naturally, Snape’s usual booth.

“Brunch menus, boys.” The hostess dropped menus on the table. “Coffee coming for you, Sev.” He turned toward Harry. “And for you?”

“Same.” He picked up his menu. “This is one of Molly and Arthur’s favorite things to do on slow Sundays,” he said as he studied the menu. “Brunch.”

“Shame we didn’t ask them along, then,” Snape said drolly. “So – the host. What did you notice about him?”

Harry looked up from his perusal of the menu. “The host? He recognized you, obviously. You’re a regular here.”

Snape stared at him. “You do realize I asked you about the host, not about me.”

“What do you want to know about him? He was slender, younger than me. His hair was in a ponytail. I think he was wearing jeans.” Harry shrugged. “Was there something else?”

“Are you absolutely certain you’re gay?” Snape asked.

“Pretty sure,” he said with a shrug. “Why?”

“The host – one more time. Slender, young, ponytail, jeans.”

“Maybe he wasn’t wearing jeans? Maybe khakis?”

“How can you have any doubt that he was wearing jeans?” Snape exclaimed. “They were practically painted on his thighs, Harry! The man was dripping sex!”

Harry craned his neck to get another look at the man who’d seated them and taken their drink orders. “Well, to be fair, I was walking behind you staring at your arse, not his.”

“Oh, quick on the draw, are we?” Snape was still staring at him, but now with interest, and Harry felt a bit like a specimen under a microscope.

“What? You’ve got a surprisingly nice arse,” Harry said with a shrug.

“My arse is merely passable,” Snape clarified. “But his arse is spectacular.”

Harry shrugged again. “Maybe I noticed yours because I was surprised you had one,” he suggested. “You know, after seeing you in nothing but robes all those years.”

The waiter arrived with their coffee and took their orders. Forewarned, Harry studied him as he flirted with Snape.

“That one likes you,” Harry said, without prompting, as the waiter stuck the order book in his apron pocket and left for the kitchen. “Seriously – he’d have leaned down and licked your eyeballs if you’d have suggested it.”

“My eyeballs.” Harry couldn’t interpret the odd look on Snape’s face. “Licked my eyeballs,” he repeated. “Is that the first thing that came to your mind when imagining what I might ask the waiter to do?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry admitted. Seriously? Lick your eyeballs? He gave himself a mental dope slap. Where had that come from, anyway? He looked at Snape with a hint of desperation. “I told you I have no idea how to do this.”

“You have no idea how to hold an intelligible conversation with another person?”

“Of course I can – with another person. Just not you, apparently.”

Snape laughed. Harry stared, trying to reconcile the reality of Snape laughing with every pre-existing idea he had about Severus Snape. None of those included laugher. Of any sort – well, except for a certain maniacal glee when a most despised student missed an important Quidditch match to serve detention with him.

“Harry, if nothing else you’re providing a most amusing diversion from my usual weekend activities.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “What? This is more entertaining than going out dancing? Meeting new friends?” He emphasised the word “friends” suggestively.

Snape looked amused. “Perhaps.” He looked contemplative as he sipped his coffee. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been up to since I left Hogwarts?”

The question surprised Harry, but he was becoming accustomed to these conversational detours with Snape. He paused as he took a drink of coffee. “I’ll admit that I had no idea until Charlie started this all up,” he said, putting his cup down and warming his hands around it. “So I asked around a bit – Arthur has the idea you’re developing potions privately – Charlie told him we were getting together so you could ask me to fast-track one of your potions to sell to Muggles.”

Snape shrugged noncommittally, then slid his mug to the side as the waiter returned for warm-ups. Harry nodded as the waiter offered him the same.

“I do a bit of potions development, true, and I do have a potion I’m preparing to sell on the Muggle market, but it’s not ready quite yet. Can you actually make that happen?”

Harry smiled. “I can,” he said. “And when the time comes, I’ll be happy to help you cut through some of the red tape.”

“That would be – appreciated.”

“So – is that all? A bit of potions work?”

“You said you asked around. Anyone besides Arthur?”

Harry shrugged. “I heard you do some consulting.”

“Ah – you do have friends in high places – I’d forgotten. Yes – a bit. The Ministry is often out of its depth when it comes to things like Muggle technology, geography, culture and diseases.”

“She only told me because Ron and I were getting ridiculous with our guessing,” Harry explained. “Ron thought you’d be a great consultant on detentions.”

And there it was – Snape laughed again. It wasn’t a snort of disbelief or disdain but rather an amused, good-natured laugh.

“I consult on Potions frequently, and the Dark Arts as needed. Fortunately, that last one isn’t as necessary as it once was.”

“So what you’re getting at is that you don’t spend all your time at pubs and clubs, checking out waiters and ogling their arses, or grinding around on the dance floor?”

Snape let out an amused sort of sigh.

“I admit I did my fair share of grinding on the dance floor when I was much younger than you are now – and a bit more after Voldemort was gone.” He said the name casually, without flinching or making a sour face. Most of the Weasleys still weren’t able to say the name without lowering their voices and glancing around to see who was listening. “But when I go out now – and I assure you that you see London with Molly and Arthur much more frequently than I see the inside of a club – I choose a different type of venue. One that appeals less to the younger crowd and more to people who don’t like to shout over the music to be heard.”

“Do you look for wizards or Muggles?” Harry asked. He already knew he’d like Snape’s clubs more than the sort he’d imagined when he started thinking seriously about meeting men, but he really did feel committed to dating wizards instead of Muggles.

“It’s never mattered to me,” Snape answered. “I’ve never gone looking for anything long-term.”

“Oh.” Harry felt an unexpected rush of disappointment. He’d begun to think that Snape really could help him – they certainly seemed to have no trouble getting along, and this brunch was a lot more interesting than any he’d ever had with Molly and Arthur. “Well – do you know where wizards go? There have to be others like me – who want to meet another gay wizard for something more … long-term.”

“Of course I know. It’s all based on the establishment’s name. If it has anything to do with magic, they’ll be there. And yes – I know this seems rather obvious, but wizards don’t always have Muggle technology available. Do you have any idea how many gay wizards there are in the UK?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Five?”

Snape snorted, and Harry grinned. “Five?”

“You, me, Charlie, Ernie McMillian and his husband. A Gryffindor from Percy’s class – I can’t remember his name.”

“Sound reasoning. You know of five so there are five.”

“Wait – maybe Gilderoy Lockhart too?”

“Most certainly Gilderoy Lockhart,” Snape agreed. “There may be hope for you yet, Harry.”

The waiter appeared again with their food, and Harry happily eyed his Eggs Benedict. “Arthur calls these Benedictine Eggs. Molly doesn’t like the Hollandaise sauce – she usually orders quiche. I took her to a cooking class a couple months ago so she could learn how to make it herself.” He looked up at Snape, who was staring at him in silence. “What?”

“Surely you have something more interesting to discuss than Molly and Arthur’s brunch preferences. You have children – tell me about them.”

“You want to hear about my children?” Harry replied, surprised.

“Yes. I already know their names – you obviously didn’t bother buying a baby name book.”

“Nope.” Harry speared a bite of eggs and chewed contemplatively for a moment. “We had no problem with names. Well, Ginny balked a bit with Al – she was fine with Albus, but thought Severus a little too – oh, I don’t know – severe? – for a middle name. But she came around in the end.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that morning,” Severus said. “I came into the Great Hall for breakfast and Minerva pushed the Prophet in front of me. She didn’t have to ask me to page to the birth announcements – your progeny’s birth merited front page placement.”

“And they ran that photograph of the surviving Order of the Phoenix members – the one where we’re standing in the Great Hall over the spot where – well, you know the one.”

“I do.” Snape ate a spear of asparagus. “So – your children?”

“Oh. Right. They’re great. Well, they’re a pain in the arse half the time but the other half they’re great. I loved being a dad – well, still do, but it’s pretty much hands off now except for the summers, what with all of them at Hogwarts.”

“Are they are all foolish Gryffindors, then?”

“Not all of them – Albus is a Slytherin. He and Scorpius Malfoy are mates. Not sure how you missed that notice in the Prophet.”

“A Slytherin.” Snape considered his last spear of asparagus. “Well, that was likely an unexpected turn.”

Harry shook his head. “We knew – or at least suspected. No surprise either that James and Lily went to Gryffindor.” He laughed. “I think it’s a bit like Sirius and Remus – when you’re the younger brother and your older brother is such a ridiculous Gryffindor, you develop survival techniques.” He ran a finger around the rim of his coffee mug idly. “Did you know Regulus?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “I did. But you won’t distract me today with stories of old friends. We were discussing your children. How did they react to your divorce? You’ve been through your first Christmas already – how was that?”

“Two, actually – well, two since Ginny moved out. We didn’t tell the children until that first Christmas and by summer the divorce was finalized. They aren’t happy, though honestly, it hasn’t been much of a change for them at all. We all went to the Burrow together for Christmas and Ginny came in from the States and was staying there with her parents. The kids stayed with them for a week, then came home with me. James sulked at first, and Lily cried a bit, but Al told them it could be worse – I could be dead.”

“Al is pragmatic. But they came around?”

Harry nodded. He pushed his plate aside. “They came around.”

“And do they know - ?”

Harry shook his head quickly. “No. Not planning to until – well, until I have to.” He smiled weakly. “They have some friends at Hogwarts with same-sex parents.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “That’s not my worry. They just resist either of us moving on – finding someone new. I honestly think it will be easier for them if I don’t bring home a woman – they’ll see that as me trying to replace their mum.”

Snape frowned and, when he spoke, he was back to business again, and smoothly changed the subject.

“Earlier, I asked you how many gay wizards there are in Great Britain. The answer is really a matter of mathematics. As many as ten percent, though much of the Wizarding world is so focused on lineage and heirs that quite a few of these wizards take wives despite their orientation.”

“That’s not why – ”

“I didn’t say that it was.” Snape seemed to consider before continuing. “Though I’d suggest in your case, the desire for a family of your own may have been the overriding factor.”

“Family is important.” Harry was tracing a finger around the rim of his mug again.

“So – will you agree to an experiment?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “An experiment? What kind of experiment?”

“I’ll select two dates for you – I’ll make the arrangements myself and – ”

“Blind dates.” This did not sound like a good idea, not least of all because Snape had called it an experiment.

“Yes – you won’t know the dates I choose for you. As you prefer not to date a Muggle, I’ll choose from my magical acquaintances only. You agree to meet for dinner, and whatever I arrange after – a movie, the theatre, a concert.”

“Alright – if I agree to this – and I’m not saying I am yet – what then?”

“We meet again – perhaps here, perhaps somewhere else of our choosing. We talk about your dates. And then I give you a choice – a second date with one of the two wizards you’ve already met, or a third blind date. And after that, Potter, you’re on your own. So make good use of the time you have with these men. I do promise that they’ll both know to navigate the London gay scene, as you called it, if that’s something you still want to do.”

“You know these men personally – you can vouch for them? They’ll be discreet? No tell-all interviews with The Prophet?”

“They’ll be discreet. And as it will be nearly impossible to find anyone who doesn’t recognize you and your name, they may be a bit star-struck to be in your presence, but they won’t ask for your autograph and will most likely realise you’re as boring and ordinary as the rest of us before the night is over.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Harry said. But in all honesty, it actually sounded like a good plan. Two dates – his first dates with men and he didn’t have to do a blasted thing to actually make them happen. Shape would take care of all the things that had made him a nervous wreck when he even thought about them these past months – introducing himself, fumbling around for conversation, maybe asking if he could buy the man a drink. “But you’ll give me the details in advance, right? Let me know where we’re going, who’s supposed to pay for what. What to wear. What to talk about. What not to talk about. Do I let on that I’ve never dated a bloke before? And wait – I thought I told you I didn’t need a matchmaker.”

Severus eyed him, clearly assessing the challenge ahead of him.

“Potter,” he answered. “You really don’t know what you need.”

Harry had a relatively normal week, considering that he was on edge most of the time waiting to hear from Snape about his first date. Snape had said he’d have something set up for the Saturday after next, but would give him plenty of notice and meet with him to go over the details. He tried to go about his schedule normally. He wrote long letters to the children and sent them all Honeydukes chocolate, which he picked up in Hogsmeade when he dropped in on Ron and George on Wednesday after work.

“So, you blew off Mum and Dad at last!” George exclaimed when he opened the door for Harry, who had knocked on the window of the closed shop. “She was in tears. Said she didn’t know what to do with her little Harry-kins gone from the fold.”

“Ron already told me she was on top of the world that all four of you showed up,” Harry answered, grinning at George and looking around for Ron.

“He’s in the office. Hermione has him redoing the ledgers – he’s got them in a mess again.”

Ron was indeed in the office, intently bent over the ledgers.

“Just put down that on Wednesday, you’ll come off worst in a fight.”

Ron grimaced. “Hey, Harry,” he said, then dropped his pencil and stretched his long arms over his head. “Compared to this, Divination was fun.”

“So, I agreed to go on two blind dates. Snape’s setting them up,” Harry said without preamble. “Am I insane?”

“To let Snape play matchmaker? Yep.” Ron was clutching the pencil again, eyes on the ledger and not on Harry.

“And I thought it was a good plan,” Harry said.

“Nope.” Ron erased a series of numbers and rewrote them. “Merlin, Harry. A blind date? TWO blind dates? Set up by a man who knew you when you were a kid and who probably used to stay up nights dreaming up new detentions for you?”

“He’s not like that,” Harry said. “I mean – he’s different. Or I am. Hell, we both are. He’s really calm. He laughs in all those places where you’d expect the old Snape to snarl or hurl sarcasm at you. Or hex you. And oddly enough, he thinks I should try making some new friends first, too.”

Ron grinned as he erased another set of numbers. “I’ll be sure to tell Hermione that when I get home. She likes to be right. Might put her in a good mood for the rest of the week.”

“You going to be here long?”

Ron sighed. “I promised her I’d sort this out tonight. I’m nowhere close.”

“What’s Hermione up to, then?

“Book club week,” Ron said. “Go ahead and drop by – that group will suck you right in. Make you discuss magical realism, whatever the hell that is.” He scratched his back. “Luna will be there,” he added.

“You know, I might actually enjoy going to book club meetings that include Luna,” Harry mused. “But thanks but no thanks. I’d rather pop over to Hogwarts and help Neville shovel dragon dung.”

“Harry, if you’re so bored – we could use some extra help around here….”

Harry backed away. “Um – better be going. Forgot to feed the cat this morning.”

“You don’t have a cat,” Ron reminded him, but Harry was already out the door.

On Friday, Harry had Molly and Arthur over for dinner. They did this at least once a month – take away night at Harry’s. He’d pick up something on the way home from work and have it ready by seven when they Flooed in. But he came home, take-away bags in hand, to find an owl from Arthur apologising for canceling – Charlie had invited them to the preserve for the weekend at the last minute and they knew Harry would want them to go and have a good time.

He also found Severus Snape sitting on his sofa drinking a glass of red wine.

He’d eyed Snape sideways when he Apparated in, electing not to comment even as he panicked inside, wondering how he’d manage dinner with Molly and Arthur with Snape on his sofa. He’d headed directly for the owl, removed the letter, and read it with Snape watching him.

“You – you have something to do with this,” Harry said. “You and Charlie.”

Snape acted as if he hadn’t spoken. “Thai – good. I prefer it more spicy but it will do.”

“How do you now it’s not spicy?” Harry shot back. “It could be – it could be so spicy it would fry your eyeballs.”

“Eyeballs again,” commented Snape as he stood and followed Harry into the kitchen, bringing his wine with him. “You must have a thing for eyeballs.”

Harry spread the food on the counter and got out plates. “Help yourself,” he said. He grabbed a beer for himself and filled his plate, not waiting for Snape to go first. It was his house after all, and the second time Snape had showed up without being invited. He sat in his normal place at the breakfast table and tucked in.

“You have a date next Saturday,” Snape announced as he sat down across from Harry. “Dinner at The Lemon Grass – I thought you might like it. Dancing after – it’s nineties night at the Magic Hat.”

“I don’t dance,” Harry reminded him, shoveling up more rice with his chopsticks. “I’m really, really bad at it. How about a movie?”

“Dancing.” Snape didn’t seem at all concerned. “I’ll teach you tonight.”

“You’ll teach me tonight?” Harry really wished he could eat a meal with Snape without a dozen detours. “In one night? After a lifetime of stumbling over my own feet?”

“Yes.” Snape deftly picked up a piece of fried tofu with his chopsticks. “You have a floor, you undoubtedly have some source of music. You have arms and legs. And a partner.” He popped the tofu in his mouth and ate it. “And, I might add, no other plans. You’re been stood up, Potter.”

“Ha! Only because you made it happen.” A glob of rice fell off Harry’s chopsticks as he gaped at Snape. “You’re good, aren’t you? Maybe this will work out after all.”

“Of course it will work out. I promised Charlie – I owed him a favor.”

“Don’t even tell me if whatever he got for you from the preserve was illegal.”

Snape raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word.

“Oh great. I’m right, aren’t I? What was it? Fresh eggshell membrane? It was, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t – no – he wouldn’t have cracked one early. Not Charlie. Which means he – oh hell, Snape! You know how fucking dangerous it is to get that close to a dragon whose brood has just hatched?”

“Take it up with your insane brother-in-law,” Snape said, his voice perfectly calm though it contained just a hint of amusement. “I didn’t ask him – just told him if he ever came across any to think of me.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“No, you didn’t. Finish up. You’re going to need your energy.”

Snape wasn’t exaggerating.

Harry didn’t have a desk job – not exactly. He’d accepted the position of Head of the Muggle/Magical Relations office six years ago, leaving behind a job he loved but that demanded too much unpredictable away-from-home time and more risk than he was willing to continue taking as his children grew. He went to a lot of meetings in his current position. He traveled, but the travel was easy and the schedule predictable. He no longer sprinted across fields and down alleys and didn’t have to pass a physical fitness test every six months. He’d definitely lost strength, and yes, some endurance, but he wasn’t out of shape. Not by non-Auror standards, anyway.

No matter. Three hours of dancing about killed him.

The Wizarding wireless was fairly useless when it came to Muggle music from the nineties, but James and Al had rigged up a passable system using a Muggle radio in the attic away from the majority of the magical interference, and had installed speakers in the sitting room. The boys were more nimble in the attic space above the upstairs bedrooms, but Harry managed to climb the narrow ladder, wand in hand with a Lumos ready, and adjusted the tuner to BBC Radio 2 as Severus directed.

“Sounds of the ‘90s – how convenient,” Harry commented as they walked into the sitting room to the top of the hour call sign.

“We need to clear a space,” Snape announced as the next song started. Harry didn’t recognize it. He’d not spent any time at all in the nineties listening to the radio what with dodging curses and trying not to get himself and his friends killed.

He stood back while Snape swept his wand around the room. The furniture obligingly rearranged itself, easily doubling the open floor space.

“Are you comfortable in what you’re wearing?” Snape asked.

Harry glanced down – he was still wearing his work clothes – he’d left his robes at the office knowing he’d be ducking into a Muggle restaurant for take-away after work. Most days, he’d have been in his pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt by now.

“Sure – this is fine. I’m not going to be doing cartwheels or anything.”

He wasn’t completely comfortable with the smile that glanced over Snape’s face. To say it was sinister was an exaggeration, so he settled on challenging, though that wasn’t quite it either.

The next three hours left him exhausted and barely able to move but were probably the most enjoyable three hours he’d spent with another person since his divorce. And by the end of it all, he was beginning to think about Snape as Severus.

It didn’t start well. Snape made him close his eyes to tune out his surroundings and stand there by himself in the middle of the room feeling the music.

He felt ridiculous and couldn’t begin to concentrate on the music. What was Snape even doing? Standing there staring at him? Paging through a magazine? Poking in his medicine chest?” He opened his eyes a crack to find Snape standing a few feet away, arms crossed in front of him, staring.

“Oh for the love of Merlin,” Snape muttered, rolling his eyes. “Here.”

He walked up behind Harry, pulled him against him, and whispered “Nox.”

The lights went out, which seemed to make the music louder.

“Relax. You feel like you’ve got rigor mortis.” His hands smoothed slowly down Harry’s arms from shoulders to elbows. He was oddly warm for a presence Harry had always thought of as icy cold, and not that much taller than Harry. The hands moved to his shoulders and the thumbs pressed In with just exactly the right amount of force on the pressure points that bothered him when he’d been bent over reports all day. They rubbed firmly into his flesh and he nearly groaned with pleasure. A new song had started – something slower, but not terribly slow. Harry realised at that point that Snape was moving with the music, and he – Harry – was moving with Snape.

Maybe that was the secret – he couldn’t follow the music but he could follow his dance partner – at least if he was deliciously pressed knee to shoulder against him.

When had that happened? And had he just described their position as delicious?

Snape’s hands had left his shoulders and were resting on his hips now. Pressure on one side, then the other, and he was effectively guiding Harry, who suddenly found himself across the room from where they’d started. How the hell had that happened without him moving his feet? Was this some sort of magical dance instruction?

“As effective as this manner of dancing may be, it’s not common to dance for extended periods of time in this position,” Snape said, his voice rumbling just over Harry’s ear. “And it’s probably a bit too intimate for a first date.”

“Oh – sorry.” Harry pulled away and turned around. “It’s just – well, I never actually liked dancing before.”

“No need to apologize.” Snape moved over to the speakers and adjusted their angle by a degree or two. “It’s time to move on to the next step – feeling the music through the air instead of through me. You may not know your partner well enough to plaster yourself against him after a two-hour dinner.”

“Right – because we’ve had two two-hour dinners,” Harry said, following Snape back to the centre of the floor.

And once again, he was standing there alone, music swelling around him, and once again, all he could think about was Snape. Was he standing there with arms crossed again, wondering what in blazes was wrong with Harry Potter? Was he adjusting the speakers by one degree at a time, looking for the perfect angle? Was he riffling through Harry’s wallet, looking for stray sickles?

“You’re helpless, Potter – turn off your brain and just feel it.”

“I can’t just turn off my brain,” Harry snapped back. “That would be – well, it would be dangerous!”

Merlin’s pointy shoes, that laugh! Snape was laughing again!

“Come here.”

Snape had stopped laughing, but his eyes showed his continued mirth. He held out a hand and left it there, outstretched, until Harry reached out and took it. Snape pulled, he stumbled, and they were facing each other, not-quite touching. The song had changed again, to something more like a ballad, and the bass wasn’t throbbing through him so aggressively.

“You have some options with your arms with songs of this tempo,” Snape explained quietly. “You can place them on your partner’s waist, or hips, or around his waist, or even on or around his shoulders. It all depends on the degree of intimacy desired. The first time you slow dance with your partner, you might try placing your hands lightly on his sides.”

Snape demonstrated by placing his hands just above Harry’s hips. They were a little low to be considered on his sides, but he wasn’t about to argue the point with Snape. When they were in a position that Snape considered acceptable, Snape began to move him about the dance floor slowly, in time with the music. Harry knew Snape was leading, but he didn’t at all feel like he was being led.

“I don’t think my brain is telling my feet what to do,” he said as they turned and Harry caught sight of himself in the mirror beside the door. “Is that the secret, then? Not thinking about it?”

“That’s most of it,” Snape responded. His lips were level with Harry’s ear, and his voice was barely audible over the music.

“What’s the rest of it, then?” Harry asked after a few moments. He really wasn’t thinking about what they were doing and, for the first time in his entire life, he was enjoying dancing.

“Hmm.” Snape’s breath ghosted over his ear pleasantly. “That – and a good instructor. Your leadership skills do not carry over to the dance floor, Potter – here, you’re a better follower.”

Harry chuckled. Had Snape just acknowledged that he was a good leader? “So you’re saying I could have saved myself a lot of pain and humiliation if I’d have just let Ginny lead?”

Snape just hummed and made a show of deliberately leading Harry into a sudden dip as the song ended and another began, this one of the sort that seemed to require hopping and waving of arms.

Really, Harry thought, there was no sense in holding back and feeling awkward. He’d just been dipped by Severus Snape and he’s survived that without dying of embarrassment. There were only two people in the room, and if his fumbling attempts at dancing and rhythm made Snape laugh again, he’d at least have that to buoy him if he ever revisited this night in a Pensieve.

Over the course of the next three songs, Snape laughed only when Harry hopped up on the hearth and used the fireplace brush as a guitar.

“You’re holding it left-handed,” he said when he’d stopped laughing. He showed Harry the proper position. “And if you’re going to play air guitar, you really don’t need a prop.”

There were tricks he taught Harry.

Look your partner in the eye and ignore your feet.

You don’t think about walking – so don’t think about dancing. Let the music think for you, Potter. Let the music move you.

Dancing – even this kind of dancing – is no different than making love. It’s about seduction, and baring your soul.

They were words spoken into the vibrating air around them. Words whispered into his ear while their bodies were close together as a ballad played out. Words Harry somehow took to heart, because he found himself dancing, and not thinking at all about dancing.

“You’re a great teacher, Severus,” he said as they collapsed onto the sofa nearly three hours later. “You’re going to be there next Saturday, right? In case I need a last-minute refresher?”

Snape didn’t answer, and Harry rolled his head sideways on the sofa back toward him and caught Severus’ dark, unreadable eyes staring at him.

“You’ll be fine on your own. You won’t need me there,” Severus answered.

“If you say so,” Harry said, but now – at this moment – he couldn’t imagine dancing without him. He shook the feeling away.

“I’m going on a date. An actual date,” he said. “Are you sure I’m ready for this?”

When Severus didn’t respond – again – Harry once again turned his head and once again found Severus looking at him with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m sure,” Severus answered. “I think you’ll find it’s not all that different from an ordinary Friday night.”

Severus refused to give him any more information about his date on Saturday other than the time to be dressed and ready for inspection.

“Inspection?” asked Hermione on Tuesday evening. They’d met at the Burrow for dinner for Arthur’s birthday, and had volunteered to do the dishes while the others let Arthur entertain them with the Muggle magic tricks that George and Ron had given him for his birthday. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to find a rabbit in a top hat,” Ron had said when George showed him how that particular trick was done, but not surprisingly, Arthur had been delighted with the gift.

“Yeah – I’m supposed to get dressed for dinner at a moderately priced Thai restaurant in London and dancing at a club that caters to a slightly more mature clientele. His words, of course. I take that to mean someplace that’s not all guys in skin-tight clothes bumping and grinding.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you get dressed and then what? Snape shows up and tells you to change your clothes? Picks out a different tie for you?”

“Tie? Really? Do you think I need a tie?”

She laughed and passed him another plate. He was sitting on the counter and he held the plate out while the rag he’d spelled wiped it dry. “No – not really. Open collar for sure – with a decent jacket. I don’t think you need spandex and sequins. What did he tell you about your date?”

“Nothing. Not yet anyway – he’s saving that for Saturday after inspection but before I head out. All I know is that it’s someone he actually knows. Someone who’s gay and isn’t going to be all ga-ga and ask me for my autograph. And someone who will definitely not be dressed in spandex and sequins.”

“Slytherin, then?” Hermione teased, passing him a handful of silverware.

“I’d not thought about that – about what house they’d be from,” Harry said as the towel ran itself between the tines of a fork.

“Good god, Harry – it doesn’t matter, does it? We’ve been out of Hogwarts for twenty years. So – someone who’s willing to go out with you, whom Snape knows, and hopefully someone Snape thinks you’ll enjoy meeting.”

“You’d think so – but honestly, Hermione. How many single gay wizards can he possibly know?”

“Well, I’d say at least three,” Hermione surmised. “And if he’s really trying to help you get started, he’ll be setting you up with someone tolerable. And if you don’t especially connect with him romantically, maybe he could still help you meet other people.”

“Yeah – maybe,” Harry agreed. He turned over the glass he was holding so the rag could dry off the bottom. “I just hope I pass his inspection.”

“You’re more worried about Snape’s inspection than the date.”

“Am not,” he protested. He sent the towel over to tickle her ear and she swatted it away with a laugh.

“Harry, it’s fine. Just imagine you’re going out with Ginny. Then sex it up. A more colorful shirt. Tighter pants. Show off your arse a bit.”

Harry gaped at her. “Hermione? Is that you?”

“Just common sense,” she said with a grin. She lowered her voice. “If it were me looking to start all over at my age – and mind you, it’s not and I have no plans on doing so, so don’t panic and tell Ron to start romancing me again – but if it were me, I’d buy new clothes and show off what assets I still have.”

“You have plenty of assets,” he assured her, deliberately letting his eyes stray down to her chest.

She grabbed the dishcloth and snapped it at him, and they had an impromptu tug-of-war that ended up with both of them covered with dishwater.

But he took her advice to heart, and went out shopping in London on Thursday, forcing himself to bravely enter a specialty shop whose window displays looked promising – promising in that he could easily imagine Severus shopping here for the sort of clothing he wore now. He left an hour later with clothes that he would never have tried on had the salesclerk not encouraged him, feeling reasonably confident that somewhere in the mix was something Snape would approve. The clerk had assured Harry that he could put together a look for virtually anywhere from the selections, though Harry doubted he could show up at a Ministry function in cropped trousers. Wizards rarely even showed their ankles in bathing suits.

He didn’t want Snape to know he’d gone shopping for a new wardrobe, so he had everything laundered and hung it all in his closet, mixed in with his standard repertoire of khaki and blue trousers and solid-coloured knit shirts, the clothes he wore for virtually any occasion that didn’t involve work at the Ministry, Quidditch or a family camping adventure.

Severus arrived at precisely six-thirty on Saturday, an hour before Harry was to meet his date. Harry was waiting nervously on the sofa, dressed in the snug trousers and indigo shirt the clerk had most admired. He’d hesitated over the shoes before choosing a well-loved pair of leather boots he’d owned for years, and added a new black blazer to top it all off.

When the Floo flared, Harry stood and faced it nervously, and a moment later Snape stepped out and casually dusted off his jacket before looking up at Harry.

Harry stared at Severus, who stared back, and Harry couldn’t recall which one of them cracked a smile first, but the appearance of Severus Snape in his living room, wearing the same shirt in the exact shade of indigo blue that he was currently wearing, definitely calmed any misgivings he had about his choice of wardrobe.

But damn, how did Severus wear it so well?

Severus approached him and, without comment, unbuttoned the cuffs of Harry’s sleeves and folded them up just below his elbow to match his own. He stepped back and sighed, then without permission or apology, untucked Harry’s shirt and deftly tucked it back in using the method the store clerk had shown him and that Harry had promptly forgotten. Unfortunately – or not – this involved a partial tuck behind the placket of his trousers. Snape behaved professionally, but Harry squirmed nonetheless.

“You do realise you’ve got your hand down my trousers,” Harry managed as he inhaled and stood straighter, trying not to think about Severus’ fingers sliding beneath the waistband.

“If you bought these clothes where I believe you did, Claude would have shown you the proper French tuck,” Severus countered.

“That doesn’t seem very sturdy,” Harry observed as Severus finished and he examined the result. “Won’t it come out while we’re dancing?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Probably.” He rested two fingers on Harry’s shoulder and motioned for him to turn.

Harry obliged, and Severus hummed.

“What does that mean? Do I look alright? Do I need a belt?”

“No belt. It’s – fine, you’re fine. Good fit. Trousers are of a good quality – they should hold up to the workout you’ll give them on the dance floor tonight.”

“I paid enough for them – they’d better hold up,” Harry replied. “So, do I pass inspection? Are you going to tell me my date’s name and what he looks like so I don’t have to wander about the restaurant asking everyone if they’re looking for Harry Potter?”

Severus reached into his trouser pocket and extracted a photograph, which he silently passed to Harry. He allowed Harry a few seconds to study it.

“Linus Wood. Older brother of Oliver Wood, whom you of course remember. Linus is a bit older than you, but he’s currently single, had a brief marriage and two children after Hogwarts – twin girls - both of them grown now and playing Quidditch on the continent. Linus is a trainer with the Tornadoes. He’s had one long-term relationship, which ended when his partner of six years went back to his wife. His goals are similar to yours – he’d like more than sex, though he’s not opposed to sex on a mutually agreeable basis. His sexual tastes are likely pretty vanilla. I would expect a great deal of cuddling and a shocking lack of blindfolds and plugs.”

Harry had been staring at the photograph, but he jerked his head up to stare at Snape.

“You asked him that? You talked about sex when you asked him to go on a date with me?”

Snape’s mouth quirked as if he wanted to smile. “Just holding up my end of the agreement,” he answered.

“You didn’t even,” Harry said, grinning. He shrugged. “Cuddling is fine,” he added, though it took every ounce of determination in him not to ask more about blindfolds and plugs.

“How do you know him?” Harry asked, still studying the photograph.

“Oliver Wood has Ludo Bagman’s old position at the Ministry – Head of Magical Games and Sports. They consult with me from time to time, and I’ve attended a few Tornadoes games as his guest. I know Linus only casually but did complete a thorough background check and interview to vet him before arranging tonight’s date. You won’t be disappointed. He meets all your criteria.”

“All my criteria,” repeated Harry, staring at the photo again. It seemed so – so clinical. So engineered. But no matter – he was dressed, inspected, and ready to go out for dinner and dancing with someone other than Ginny Weasley, someone Severus Snape had carefully chosen based on what Harry said he wanted. And who would know what Harry wanted better than Harry? How could it go wrong?

And it didn’t. It definitely didn’t go wrong.

On the surface, it was a great first date. They met outside the restaurant. They connected easily. Linus was friendly, good-looking and not overly awed by Harry’s fame. He’d been in Charlie Weasley’s class at Hogwarts, though in Hufflepuff. They chatted over dinner, split the bill after each tried to take it from the waiter, and set out on foot to the club. It wasn’t at all as awkward as Harry had feared it would be, and they walked closer to each other than friends would typically walk. It was an easy camaraderie, no different when it came down to it than going out to dinner with good friends you hadn’t seen in a long while.

The club was bigger than Harry had imagined it would be, and more crowded, but featured the same kind of music Harry had danced to with Severus in his cottage. Linus liked to dance – of course he did. Severus had more or less choreographed the entire date, hadn’t he? – and he wasn’t over-demanding. They rested more often than he and Severus had, working in a few drinks as the evening progressed. Linus knew a fair number of people there, too, and Harry was introduced to at least a dozen men. At least half of these glanced at his forehead as soon as they were introduced. Ah. So that’s how he’d recognize wizards in Muggle venues from now on. For his part, he found himself staring at a familiar face at the bar while he waited for drinks – Aiden O’Donnell, a Gryffindor in the year below him. Aiden looked visibly shocked to see him and Harry tried to act as casual and unconcerned as possible. It was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Besides, while the bar was predominantly gay, there were plenty of heterosexual couples here too – when you looked for them, they began popping right out.

In one interesting turn, they were dancing in a group with two other couples Linus knew when the song turned over into something much slower. It wasn’t the first slow song of the evening by far, but it was the first time he found himself dancing with someone beside Linus. It seemed like something they did often enough, though Harry had no idea if other people switched up too, and his partner was Scott, who was originally from Australia and worked at Gringotts.

Scott held him a bit tightly for his comfort, and his hands wandered a bit low so that his fingertips were on his bum, but he didn’t grind or rock against him. Harry chanced a glance at Linus. He was dancing with Arturo, and they were dancing much as Harry and Severus had the weekend before. He shifted, hoping Scott would get the message and get his nose out of Harry’s neck.

“You smell excellent,” Scott murmured in that accent that Harry did find attractive. “I could just eat you up.”

Then he licked Harry’s neck.

Well then. That was – unwelcome. Interesting, yes, but decidedly unwelcome. Harry made a face, which Linus caught, and rolled his eyes at Scott. The song ended an interminable minute later, and Harry and Linus moved off the dance floor together.

“He licked my neck,” Harry said. “He said he could just eat me up.”

Linus shook his head, almost fondly. “You’ll get used to it, Harry. There are all kinds out here. This place is really tame, but still, the majority here aren’t the settling down kind.”

“Right.”

It hadn’t spoiled his evening – they’d had a really good time, in fact. Around midnight, Linus led him back to the alcove behind the rubbish bins where they’d Apparated in.

“Look, I have my rules from Snape – you’re busy next weekend but might want to see me again if I’m willing after that. Well – I’m willing. I had a good time tonight.”

And he leaned in and kissed Harry.

Harry’s back was to the outer brick wall of the club, but Linus didn’t press him up against it. A dry press of lips, a hint of pressure, and Harry, who’d learned from the best – Ginny had had plenty of kissing practice before he was in the picture – responded with a bit of pressure as he returned the kiss, parting his lips just slightly.

He was kissing a man. In an alley. Behind a mostly gay club in London. Linus tasted good. He smelled of aftershave and beer. His skin was pleasantly rough against Harry’s face.

Linus pulled back.

“Owl me, then,” he said with a smile, then leaned in and kissed Harry again before pulling away and stepping back.

Harry smiled. It must have done the trick because Linus smiled, too, then looked both directions and Apparated away.

Harry touched his lips.

Still there. Still exactly where they’d always been. No different after that kiss than any other kiss he’d every had – from Cho (once) or Ginny (a zillion times).

He was just shy of forty and he’d now kissed three people.

Three.

He ranked it number two of the three first kisses, better than Cho but not as spine-tingling as Ginny. Of course, that kiss with Ginny had happened in the Gryffindor common room after the spectacular Quidditch game that he’d spent in detention with Severus.

No. Snape. That was long before Snape was Severus, wasn’t it?

Still, it was a good kiss. A promising kiss. He wouldn’t mind kissing Linus again. Maybe the spark would come later. Maybe it didn’t have to be fireworks and starlight after a single date.

He smiled, resting a hand against the bricks. He’d kissed a bloke. In an alley. Behind bins. He couldn’t wait to tell Hermione.

Harry didn’t see Snape again until the following Friday, when he showed up to prep him for his date the next night. In all honesty, he’d been somewhat surprised not to find him waiting in his cottage when he returned from his date with Linus. But the cottage had been silent and empty, and he’d gone straight to bed as he had to be at the Weasleys’ in time for Sunday dinner.

He didn’t feel irrevocably changed when he woke up on Sunday morning, though he did allow himself to relive the most pleasant memories from the night before, especially that goodbye kiss in the alley. There was something dangerous, too, about the dance with Scott, though it was more comfortable to imagine it had been Linus dancing too close and burying his nose in the juncture between shoulder and neck. But as he curled in bed after waking, talking himself into getting out of bed and hitting the shower, he imagined with sudden clarity the feeling of someone else – not Linus and not Scott but who, he didn’t know – nuzzling his neck and pressing dangerously close as they moved about the crowded dance floor.

Fantasy.

He was fantasising.

He immediately jumped out of bed and made for the bathroom. He kept the water on the cold side to discourage long showers and stray thoughts and left for the Burrow an hour early.

Molly and Arthur asked about his weekend, so he told them he’d gone to London with friends, then immediately felt guilty and asked them if they’d like to have dinner with him in Diagon Alley at the new Italian place everyone was talking about. The wizard owner had a small franchise in Muggle London, and Harry had done the investigative work to be sure the wizarding and Muggle institutions were separate and clear with no overlapping staff or other personnel.

Molly and Arthur immediately accepted his invitation, and he felt not quite as guilty as they described their quiet night at home last night looking through photo albums. “So many of the twins,” Molly said with a wan smile. “I didn’t realise we were doing it at the time, of course – but I suppose they were just bigger than life.”

He was glad he’d asked them to dinner – Molly didn’t talk about the twins unless she was feeling particularly low.

He didn’t manage to get Hermione aside that day so he dropped in on her and Ron at home on Tuesday, where they were dealing with an unexpected owl from Hogwarts.

“She was caught out after curfew!” Hermione explained to Harry, who’d popped into their kitchen to find them arguing at the kitchen table.

“Rose?” Harry looked from one face to the other. “Are you sure they said Rose?”

“That’s what I said!” Hermione exclaimed. “But Ron keeps reminding me that I broke curfew myself a dozen times before I was her age.” She glared fondly at him. “That was different! That was because of you, Harry!”

Harry sat beside her. “Exactly. I take full responsibility,” he said, winking at Ron. “So why did she break curfew, then?”

Ron laughed. “She hid in the library after dinner and they found her there at midnight, still working on her Transfiguration essay.”

“You’re upset because your daughter got caught out late studying and earned a detention?” Harry asked, barely keeping the grin off his face.

“It’s her first ever,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “For the library! She wasn’t even fighting a troll!”

“It’s fine – she’s fine. She’ll have to decide for herself if breaking rules is worth the consequences if you’re caught,” Harry said. “So – ” He glanced at Ron. “Look, I’m going to tell Hermione about how my date Saturday ended so if you stay, you’re going to hear about the first bloke I kissed.”

Ron pretended to cringe. “He was a Slytherin, wasn’t he? Pale skin? Shifty eyes?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hufflepuff. Eight years older than me. You might know of him, Ron – the equipment manager for the Torna – ”

“Oh! Linus Wood – Oliver’s brother. Harry! Wow – did he offer you tickets?”

Harry laughed. “No – didn’t ask for my autograph either. He’s a nice chap. He’s divorced too – he has twin daughters – they both play for teams on the continent. He introduced me to a few other people at the club.”

“So – what about this kiss?” Hermione leaned in, Rose’s predicament forgotten for the moment.

Harry shrugged. “We had a good time. He talked about his kids a lot – asked quite a few questions about mine, too. We walked out to the alley together – to the Apparition point behind the bins. Before he left he told me he’d like to see me again, and he kissed me goodnight.”

“I bet it was weird, wasn’t it?” asked Ron. “Kissing a bloke, I mean. I bet he had chapped lips from being outside all the time, and he probably smelled like the locker room.”

“Ron, sometimes I wonder where your brain is,” Hermione said, fondly exasperated. “Is it even remotely possible that he showered before he met Harry and that his lips were perfectly fine?”

“Dry,” Harry said, because that’s the first thing that came to his mind. “But nice. I wouldn’t mind more of that.”

“More kissing?” asked Hermione. “Or more kissing him?”

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? One that Harry thought about the rest of the week. He’d liked Linus. He’d go out with Linus again. They’d had fun – but Severus had another date lined up, and he was far less nervous this time with this one successful blind date under his belt and that pesky first kiss out of the way.

On Thursday morning, a strange owl delivered a letter from Severus with the basic information about his Saturday date. Severus would drop by to prep him on Friday, but it might help Harry to know now that they’d be eating at a London brewery and taproom and making their own plans following dinner – there’d be music there, or they could venture out somewhere else after. The atmosphere was casual, the crowd was younger and more diverse, and he definitely wouldn’t need a blazer.

He stopped at Gringotts just after work to exchange some galleons for pounds and made it to the restaurant to meet Molly and Arthur just on time. He’d arranged prime seats on the inside balcony overlooking the main dining room below, and they chatted comfortably over drinks and starters while they waited for their meals to arrive.

Arthur was relating a story about a lift malfunction at the Ministry that left the Minister of Magic, eight children on a school excursion, their teacher and a prisoner and his guard being transported to trial all stuck in a six foot by six foot area, and Harry was idly glancing around the restaurant as he spoke. As Arthur described the children quizzing the prisoner on his alleged crimes, Harry caught sight of a familiar indigo shirt at a table below. The man was facing the wall and Harry couldn’t see his face, but the black hair and thin, pale arms and wrists left no doubt that Severus Snape was also dining here tonight.

Harry shifted his attention back to Arthur as their salads arrived but chanced a glance now and then at Severus’ table. He was sitting opposite a man Harry didn’t recognize – a younger man who, like Severus, was dressed in Muggle clothing. The two seemed engaged in a serious conversation. They were nearly finished with their meal, lingering over coffee and a shared dessert.

Did two men even do that? Share a dessert? That was something he and Ginny might have done, something he’d seen Molly and Arthur do several times as well.

Unless –

Molly exclaimed over the size of the plate of pasta that the waiter slid in front of her, and Harry tore his gaze away from the tables below. It really was a big plate but she and Arthur had learned to love restaurant leftovers nearly as much as they loved eating at restaurants.

“What’s got your attention down there, Harry?” Arthur asked ten minutes later as Harry watched Severus’ friend – his extremely good-looking friend, it turned out – place his hands over Severus’ and lean in to tell him something quite earnestly.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry forced his attention back to the table. “Saw someone down there I thought I knew but I don’t think it’s him.”

“Where?” Molly was scanning the tables below now, and her face lit up. “Is that Severus Snape? In the blue shirt?”

“Is it?” asked Harry, trying to sound surprised.

“Where, Molls?” Now Arthur was in on the game.

“Right there – in the blue shirt. See?”

“You mean across from Luke what’s-his-name, from Magical Transportation?”

“Luke What’s-his-name?” Harry repeated. “Who’s that?”

“The man at the table with Severus,” Arthur replied. “Can’t think of his last name but they brought him in last year to learn the ropes in Transportation so he can take over when Mellancraft retires. That will make him the youngest department head ever.”

“Wait – he’s younger than me?” asked Harry, who until that moment had thought he was the youngest department head ever.

“Oh, I don’t know, really,” Arthur said. “But if he’s older, it’s not by much. He’s from Canada so he didn’t come out of Hogwarts, Harry.”

Harry looked down again. The two were standing up now, and Severus put his hand on the small of the other man’s back briefly as they maneuvered through the crowded floor.

“Oh – maybe Snape consults for that department, too,” he suggested.

Molly was watching them, and she smiled indulgently at Harry. “They don’t look much like business associates to me,” she suggested.

“Right – sure. Whatever. Dessert?”

And while the distraction worked, and they didn’t talk anymore about Snape, Harry couldn’t help wonder about what he’d seen down there. Severus on a date? On a Thursday night? With a man twenty years younger? A very nice-looking man.

What had Snape told him about his romantic encounters? That he didn’t want or need anything long-term? Was this dinner simply a prelude to a night together?

On a Thursday?

“What are you doing Saturday evening, Harry? Molly and I were hoping to go to the movie theatre again.”

“Saturday?” Harry fumbled a bit. “Well, actually, I have plans again.” He forced a laugh. “Old friends – turns out I’ve ignored them long enough after the divorce and they’re not having it anymore.”

He hated lying to them, but he just wasn’t ready to explain that he had three weekends of dates lined up courtesy of the man they’d just seen leave the restaurant with his much younger – friend.

Arthur and Molly exchanged a disappointed look.

“How about I pick up tickets for you – you’ll just have to show them to get in. You can manage the concessions on your own now, can’t you?”

He had misgivings that night about turning Arthur and Molly loose in a Muggle cinema so he bought four tickets in the hopes of convincing Hermione and Ron to go with them. He hunted down Hermione in her office on Friday and gave her all four tickets, and she reluctantly agreed on the condition that he tell Molly and Arthur that he was dating again.

“You’re not doing you or them any favors,” she chided. “If they’re disappointed it’s because you’ve gone overboard – you’ve been over-compensating since Ginny moved out. If you’re still dating this summer when the kids are home, they’ll work it out, and don’t think it won’t get back to Molly and Arthur then.”

She was right – she was always right – but the summer holiday was still more than two months away. What was the big hurry?

He talked her into letting him wait to tell them until after these three dates were over.

“I might not even want to see anyone after this,” he reasoned. “It seems like a lot of work.”

“A lot of work for a lot of reward,” Hermione reminded him gently. “There’s a lot more than dancing and kissing to look forward to in a relationship, Harry.”

“I didn’t just hear that.”

Hermione sighed. “Men. You’re all the same,” she said. “I was talking about long-term companionship. Traveling together. Sharing responsibilities. I know you must be lonely at home.”

Harry dropped a kiss on her cheek and grinned back at her as he moved to leave. “Sure you were – but thanks for helping out on Saturday. I’m sure the film will be great.”

Hermione glanced at the tickets and sighed.

“Fantasy Island? I hope that’s not what it sounds like, Harry.”

“It’s not,” he reassured her. “It’s far, far worse.”

He left her guessing – and scowling – and returned to his office to find his plans for leaving early shattered because of a minor crisis involving the Lithuanian Minister of Magic and a British royal who was fortunately far enough down the line of succession to not create an international incident. But with the damage control, he didn’t stumble out of his Floo until after six-thirty, with only fifteen minutes to eat and get ready for Snape’s arrival.

Of course, Snape was sitting on his sofa, leafing through a book.

No – not a book.

Leafing through Harry and Ginny’s wedding album.

Snape closed the album thoughtfully and placed it on the centre of the coffee table as Harry steadied himself.

“You said seven o’clock.”

“Did I? It’s always been six-thirty.”

Snape didn’t seem at all concerned that he’d got the time wrong, nor did he offer an apology for arriving early or hunting down that wedding album. Where had that thing been, anyway? Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened it, or where Ginny had stored it when the children got old enough to destroy things.

“You did.” Harry threw his hands up in a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Well, make yourself comfortable – maybe you can dig up my birth certificate if I leave you alone long enough while I change clothes. Do we need to clear the floor again?”

“Not tonight. I’ve set up in the kitchen.”

“Right. Of course.” I’ve set up in the kitchen. How long had Snape been here, anyway?

“Oh – and Potter? I’ve laid out what you should wear tomorrow. Go ahead and try it on now so we can see if it will do.”

Harry snapped his mouth shut and counted to ten slowly while he walked to his room. And yes – just as Snape had said – clothes were laid out neatly on his bed. Jeans – one of the pairs he’d just bought – the slimmer, tighter pair of course. The shirt, surprisingly, wasn’t new. It was a solid green t-shirt he’d worn only once because Ron and George had whistled at him and called him a sex kitten. When that shirt was washed, he’d shoved it in the very back of his closet.

Where Snape had found it five years later.

He pulled off his robes and trousers and pulled on the jeans. They weren’t really tight – just very close-fitting. Just enough room for his thighs and arse and not a millimeter more. The shirt fit just as he remembered it – you could clearly see the peaks of his nipples through it. He glanced in the mirror, unsure of the message he’d be sending out in these clothes. He looked – alright, actually. Younger than he normally looked. Not totally foolish, at least. He figured he’d really only stand out to those who knew him – to those who were accustomed to seeing him in sensible clothing. Khakis and loose-fitting jeans and polos and Hogwarts Quidditch t-shirts.

Dad clothes. Not exactly the image he was looking for.

Snape had also unearthed a black leather jacket Harry hadn’t worn in a decade – one he’d purchased right after Hogwarts with his first paycheck. There was no way it would fit him now – but Snape had obviously noticed that and had done some sort of expansion charm on it. Harry put it on over the green shirt. It was a nice retro look – and he didn’t even know if that was good or not. At least it covered up his nipples.

“Now I know where you found the wedding album,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “Back of the closet with the jacket and shirt. Wait – what ….?”

His kitchen table was covered with glasses and bottles. Totally covered. There must have been a dozen amber bottles and twice as many glasses. The glasses resembled mini brandy snifters and two glasses were grouped beside each bottle.

“Beer tasting,” Severus supplied when Harry’s words failed him. “Your date tomorrow is quite the connoisseur. You’ll want to know something about the variety of beer on offer.”

“I already know about craft beer. I drink it all the time.”

“One label. One variety. You’ll be branching out tomorrow and you’ll feel more secure if you know a bit more going in.”

“But I like pale ale,” Harry protested.

“You’re accustomed to it. It’s a safe order because you know what you’ll be getting. Humor me, Harry. You’ll thank me later.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

Severus slid a basket with warm pretzels and beer cheese toward him. “Best not to drink on an empty stomach.”

Harry helped himself while Severus opened the first beer and poured about half of it into two glasses. He showed Harry the label and spouted off something about alcohol content and IBUs, which turned out to be international bitterness units. Then he added something about yeast, and something about fermenting, then slid one of the glasses over to Harry.

It was only a half a step from horrible. Harry managed not to make a disgusted face, but just barely. Severus watched him closely.

“Some get better with exposure to them,” Severus said. “Obviously, you aren’t a fan of IPAs. They tend to be bitter and aren’t generally favoured by beginners.”

An hour and a half into the evening, Harry had learned that he had a definite preference for sours and found stouts tolerable. He knew a couple new acronyms, could differentiate a lager from an ale, and was pleasantly buzzed.

“You’re a lightweight, Potter,” Snape said, as Harry downed the bottom half of a 4-oz Kolsch. “The idea is to work out what you like tonight so you have a couple good options in your pocket tomorrow and don’t have to make your way through the entire tap to determine it. You want to be sober enough to enjoy the evening.”

“Might enjoy it buzzed, too,” Harry suggested. “This is nice. The beer tastes better this way, too.”

Severus laughed. “Two beers, Harry. Order the Kolsch first then go experimental and have the grapefruit sour. You won’t want the sour first – the Kolsch won’t taste as good if you do.”

“Kolsch then grapefruit sour. Got it. So, do you know wine too?”

Severus looked at him sharply. “Would you have preferred a wine bar?”

“I don’t know – maybe. Probably not – beer is fine. What else do you know? Besides fashion, dancing, beer, wine and all the things the Ministry consults you on?”

“You wouldn’t find much of what I know very useful,” Snape replied. “But I also know mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms.” Harry considered all he knew about mushrooms for a few seconds. “Alright – sure. You can teach me about mushrooms sometime, then. You never know – I might want to go out with a mushroom hunter.”

Snape finished the last ounce of the bitter IPA Harry couldn’t stomach. “If you ever do feel inclined to learn about mushrooms, or go out with a mushroom hunter” – he emphasised the last two words and looked pointedly at Harry, “please contact me before you go about making a salad. Quite a few of them are potently lethal.”

Harry grinned. “Of course. I’ll have you tramping through the woods at our cabin, helping me avoid poisoning my date.”

“You have a cabin in the woods?” Severus asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“What? Didn’t peg me for the outdoors type?” Harry asked, grinning. “It’s not too far from here – Ginny and I bought it years ago, when the kids were small. There’s a small lake and lots of quiet, though there’s still plenty for the kids to do.”

“I imagine. Such as trample rare mushrooms.”

Harry laughed. “Is there anything you don’t know? Children, maybe?”

Snape pointed his wand at the table and banished the glasses. “Oh, I know quite a bit about children, Harry. Particularly school-aged children.” He gave Harry another pointed look. “But in answer to your question – families. I know very little about how a functional family – functions.”

He left it at that and banished the beer bottles, then turned to Harry. “I haven’t told you who you’ll be meeting tomorrow,” he said.

Harry smiled. Odd - he’d almost forgotten about the date tomorrow. “No, you haven’t.”

Severus walked back into the sitting room toward the Floo, and Harry followed, curious.

“Another acquaintance of mine – well, a friend this time, if you must know. He’s recently come off a relationship – a casual one – but he wants something more solid, as I understand. He’s younger than you by a year or two. Works at the Ministry – office of Magical Transportation. He’s being groomed to take over the office when – ”

“When old Mellancraft retires,” Harry supplied slowly.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“You don’t know him,” Severus said, eying Harry cautiously. “He went to school in Canada. He told me he’s never met you – has seen you at the Ministry and knows who you are but….”

“You haven’t told me his name,” Harry reminded Severus. “But are you sure it’s a good idea since he’s just broken up with … someone? I’m not really looking for a rebound relationship – Merlin knows I waited long enough after Ginny.”

“As I said, it wasn’t a serious relationship,” Severus said. “His name is Luke – Luke Vallejos.”

“Luke. Luke Vallejos,” repeated Harry slowly, watching Severus’ face as he said the name. But if Severus felt anything about the man, it wasn’t betrayed in his expression. “Alright.” He swallowed uncomfortably but quickly schooled his features. “Sounds like fun. Why not give him a go?”

Snape looked at Harry oddly, but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll need your decision by Wednesday – providing both parties are willing to go out with you again, you’ll have your choice of a second date with one of them, or another blind date with all the arrangements made for you.”

“Right,” Harry agreed. “So – Wednesday. If you come by after work, I can bring home take-away.”

“Actually, I thought you might want to come to my home,” Severus said. “You’ve hosted me on several occasions and I will return the favour.”

“Won’t you need to approve my clothes?” Harry asked, a bit cheekily.

“What you wear to meet me to discuss your third date is up to you. And you’re on your own for date number three as well. I hope you’ve learned enough by now to make appropriate decisions.” He gave Harry the once over. “That isn’t a shirt you wear often. How do you feel in it?”

Harry looked down at the plain shirt. It was tighter than most shirts he wore, but honestly, he hadn’t thought about it or felt uncomfortable since he’d put it on.

“It’s fine – I feel, I don’t know – normal? Haven’t thought about it.”

Snape smiled enigmatically. “Clothes don’t make the man, Harry. The man makes the clothes.”

And with that he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stepped through, clearly stating, “Barley Flats,” before he disappeared.

Barley Flats.

So that was Snape’s address – or the wizarding version of it, anyway.

He dropped onto the sofa and lifted his feet onto the coffee table.

What was Snape playing at?

What he’d witnessed in the restaurant the night before seemed to fit Snape’s description of Luke Vallejos very well, but Snape had neglected to tell Harry that he – Severus himself – was Vallejos’ ex.

But why would Severus ask his ex to go out with Harry? Did Severus have to talk him into it because he couldn’t find anyone else? Was that what last night’s dinner was about? It seemed obvious that Luke didn’t want things to end, and that Severus was obviously still fond of him, too.

But Severus didn’t want anything long-term – he’d told Harry that already – so he’d probably cut Luke off before things got too serious.

And passed him along to Harry.

This was just weird.

He got up and made his way into his bedroom to change. The pleasant buzz was evolving into a rather unpleasant headache. Was dating really worth all this effort? He could just keep having Snape over instead – or take him mushroom hunting at the cabin. That seemed like a lot less effort, especially with Snape doing all the work and making all the choices for him.

But then he recalled the way Luke had looked at Severus the other night – the way he’d taken hold of his hands, looked at him so intently. Merlin – to have someone’s focus solely on him like that. To have each other’s backs all the time. To know they’d be there when you needed them.

That was something worth all the work.

Harry called it an early night and got ready for bed. Right now, his every thought was filled with one thing and one thing only – what the hell was Severus Snape up to?

With one blind date under his belt, Harry should have been less nervous and more confident facing the second one. He tried to convince himself that Luke Vallejos wasn’t the man he’d seen at the restaurant with Severus – that Arthur had his name wrong. That the man waiting for him outside the pub would be someone who hadn’t been gazing at Severus like a lovesick puppy two nights before. He was half tempted to pick out his own clothes – maybe his comfortable jeans – the ones that hung off his arse so badly that Lily joked he could fit a second bum in there with his. He’d pair it with his Slytherin Quidditch Dad t-shirt – the one he wore so often it was nearly worn through under the arm. Who was he trying to fool with these form-fitting clothes and jacket from another life?

But –

Did he trust Severus or didn’t he?

Hadn’t he delivered on the first date with Linus? A man who fit all of Harry’s check list items – serious about a relationship, nice, fun to be around, a good kisser. That last one hadn’t been something he’d told Severus was important though it kind of went without saying.

And suddenly, he was wondering if Linus and Severus had a past, too. If they’d kissed each other – slept together. Is that how Severus qualified dates for Harry? Went through his own little black book and picked out the ones he thought Harry might like? Ones he trusted enough to get Harry started off on the right foot, anyway?

And wasn’t it odd he gave Severus the benefit of the doubt? Trusted that he was actually trying to do his best for Harry instead of play some colossal joke on him?

He slept well enough considering the non-stop thoughts pulsing through his brain but had trouble with his hair after he showered the next morning, so he popped over to the Burrow for a haircut. Molly had been cutting it for him for more than twenty years, and she was happy to sharpen her scissors and trim it up for him when it became too unruly.

“I was wondering when you’d decide that mop had to go,” Molly said as she got to work. “I’ll do it for you this time – but I really think you ought to consider growing it out. The additional weight might pull it down and give it some structure.

He looked at her sharply. Structure? Since when had Molly worried about his hair having structure?

She grinned at him, and her careworn but comfortably familiar face lit up. “Oh, I picked that up from Maurice at the shop. Charlie treated me to a cut and style in London while he was visiting. I’ve already scheduled another appointment, though it’s really an extravagant expense.”

“No it’s not – it’s great. If you enjoy it, go every week,” Harry said, imagining Maurice shuddering with creative anticipation as he contemplated Molly’s untamed and untreated fiery red hair. He sat quietly while she trimmed his hair, thinking about what she’d said and wondering if he’d seen her after she had her new do and had simply not noticed. “Do you really think I should try growing it out?”

“You could always try a lengthening charm to try it out for a while,” she suggested. “Though eventually you’ll have to grow it out naturally or you’ll damage your follicles.” She carefully trimmed over one ear. “But yes – I think it would look good on you.”

He weighed the wisdom of taking grooming advice from Molly Weasley as opposed to Severus Snape. He imagined himself with hair like Dumbledore’s and a beard to match and couldn’t help but smile. Maybe – well, maybe it was time for a change in his hairstyle to go along with those new clothes and his new social life – the same clothes and the same social life he would leave in the closet for the time being when it came to his in-laws.

He’d have to ask Snape what he thought about growing his hair out. Severus’ hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it before so he’d obviously made a conscious decision to change it after he left Hogwarts.

Why? To break with his past? Or perhaps to blend in better in the Muggle world?

Saturday dragged by slowly and Harry was seriously tired of thinking about his upcoming date by the time he Apparated to the back of a narrow alley across from the brew pub. The restaurant was a lively place – a dozen or more people were standing outside in small groups, waiting to get in. He spotted Luke immediately, though surprisingly, he wasn’t alone.

The two women standing with him might have been Muggles, but Harry had been fooled before. Muggles or witches, they were in their twenties and almost certainly interested in Luke.

Luke looked up and saw him crossing the street and smiled broadly and waved.

“Harry,” he greeted him, not offering his hand but bending in to kiss him on one cheek, then the other, a gesture Harry had learned himself in dealing with some of the foreign ministries. Harry nodded at the girls, who were staring at him somewhat reverently, and he realised right away they weren’t Muggles.

“Harry Potter,” one of them said, so quietly it was almost as if she’d mouthed the words.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a smile. “Have we met before?”

She took a small step backwards, blushing. “No – my aunt – you went to school with my aunt. Daphne Greengrass. She – she talked about you.”

Luke looked mildly alarmed, and Harry defused the situation as best he could. He may not have been accustomed to meeting men outside pubs for a date, but he was definitely experienced at handling admirers.

“Daphne Greengrass – of course. Tell her hullo from me next time you see her, would you?”

“Your son,” she began, then stopped again. The other young woman looked on curiously, but with no spark of recognition.

Ah.

“You must be Scorpius’ cousin, then,” he said. This kind of meeting wasn’t uncommon in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, but it felt very odd here in front of the Muggle establishment, when he hadn’t even exchanged two words with his date.

She brightened. “I am. I’ve met Al – at Aunt Astoria’s last summer. He’s a great kid.”

“Thank you – I think so too,” he answered, glancing at Luke, who looked amused.

“Harry and I have a date to get to,” he said, nodding at the women, and putting his hand on the small of Harry’s back much as Harry had seen Severus do to Luke on Thursday night.

“Nice meeting you,” Harry said politely, nodding at the women and turning to walk into the restaurant with Luke.

Oh fuck.

So much for not telling the kids.

He tried not to obsess about it as they sat together at the bar, drinking matching Kolschs. Harry had ordered first, and Luke had looked surprised, but held up two fingers to the barkeep. Oh, Severus was tricky, wasn’t he? - steering him to the very beer Luke preferred. But the meeting outside was obviously on his mind, try as he might to focus on the very attractive, friendly man beside him. Frankly, the man oozed sex appeal but Harry simply couldn’t get his brain to focus on his date rather than the prospect of the owl Scorpius Malfoy was almost certainly going to receive tomorrow.

At first, Luke tried to talk about anything except for the Greengrass girl – beer, their jobs, people they knew in common at work, but after a while, he just gave it up.

“Alright – we either talk about what happened out there or we talk about Severus,” Luke said with a resigned sigh, though his eyes still sparkled with humour.

“Am I that obvious?” Harry asked. He reached for his empty pint glass and looked for the barkeep.

“I’ll get the second round. Same?”

“Sure.” So much for the grapefruit sour and sticking to two beers, Harry thought, but why worry? So far not much else had gone to plan, either.

“My son’s best friend is Scorpius Malfoy,” Harry explained. “And that was Scorpius’ cousin. I wasn’t planning to tell my kids I was dating again until this summer, assuming I still am, then. Dating, I mean.”

“That would be the son named after Severus, wouldn’t it?” Luke asked, smiling over the top of his beer as he lifted it.

Harry shifted. It would be an innocent enough question if he didn’t know that Luke and Severus had been more than friends. But he did know – or thought he knew – so it was rather awkward trying to explain it.

“That’s the one,” he said, opting to answer the stated question and ignore the implied one. “So – I probably need to tell them, before they hear it from Scorpius.”

“There’s almost no chance they’ll hear it tonight, is there?” Luke asked.

“No – owl post in the morning, I’d think,” Harry conceded. “The girls are still here.” He nodded toward the booth where the girls were sitting. “They don’t look like they’re rushing home to write letters.”

“Then stop worrying about it – do you really think your kids will be surprised you’re dating again – you’ve been divorced more than a year, right?”

Harry nodded and stared into his beer. Well, this was awkward, wasn’t it? How much had Severus told Luke? He sighed. “But I haven’t told them I’m gay.”

Luke shrugged, unimpressed. “They’re kids. Don’t they know other kids with gay parents?”

“Actually, they do,” he admitted.

“And is this going to embarrass them?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think so – only if it hits the papers and becomes fodder for the gossip column. They don’t like when I’m in the spotlight.” He laughed. “You know – to them I’m just an ordinary dad. They don’t always understand it when others look at me differently.” He glanced at Luke and shrugged. “It’s one of the reasons I love them so much.”

Luke lifted his glass and clinked it against Harry’s. “To being ordinary,” he toasted.

Harry drank to that.

They carried their drinks to a booth as soon as one cleared and ordered dinner.

“So – you and Severus....” Harry began before he lost his nerve.

Luke settled back on his bench. “Go on.”

“Well – I saw you the other night – at Mama Rubino’s. Together.”

Luke’s eyes widened but he smiled. “One of my conditions to consenting to a blind date,” he said. “You probably wouldn’t be surprised to find out Severus and I used to go out.”

Harry shook his head. Though he’d suspected it, hearing Luke admit it made that uncomfortable feeling inside him take root a bit more deeply. “I thought so after I saw you. I was having dinner with my in-laws – well, my ex-in-laws – and Arthur recognized you. He knew your first name, anyway, from the Ministry, and when Severus told me yesterday who I’d be meeting tonight, I knew to expect to find you here. I – well, I just wonder why.”

He looked at Luke earnestly, and this time Luke laughed out loud.

“I have half a mind to bundle you up and take you home and keep you,” he said. “You’re so – ” He mentally searched for a word.

“Naïve? Inexperienced? Boring?” Harry suggested with a smile.

“New,” Luke said. “Not jaded by the whole experience. Fresh. Unspoiled.”

“I sound like produce,” Harry said.

They laughed, and Luke rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “You might find it hard to believe, but not everyone is willing to date the Boy-Who-Lived,” he began, speaking carefully. “Everyone knows who you are – and everyone knows you were married for a long time and have three kids. There was never any talk of you and anyone else – never any rumours about you liking blokes. So imagine Severus’ job – he needs to find dates for you – wizards. Severus is clever – brilliant, really. And he knows that the kind of wizard who’d fall over backward to date Harry Potter most likely has some sort of ulterior motive. Harry? You with me?”

Harry was staring at a spot somewhere over Luke’s shoulder. There was nothing there of interest – but his mind was trying to process what Luke had just told him and was tying itself in knots.

“Oh – sorry. Yes. Still here. Just – well, surprised? Never really thought about it, I guess.”

Luke smiled sympathetically. “No, I imagine it’s difficult to get outside the bubble, so to speak, when you’ve been living in it for so many years.”

“Bubble?”

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you? You’re an ordinary bloke living a rather ordinary life – you have a good Ministry position, of course, and that’s not so ordinary – but besides that, you have kids at Hogwarts, you stay out of the papers, you don’t make waves. Well – if you do, I don’t hear about it, so you’re doing alright with that.”

“Boring,” Harry said, attention back on Luke. “You’re saying I’m boring.”

“That only matters if you’re bored with your life yourself,” Luke pointed out. “If you feel you’re missing something by being exactly who you are.”

Harry shrugged. “My marriage ended at the same time that my youngest left for Hogwarts,” he explained. “That’s a lot of empty house and free time all at once.”

“Which you’d like to fill.”

“Yeah. I would.” Harry nodded. Their food had arrived as they talked, and they chatted over the meal as they ate. Harry ordered the grapefruit sour, and Luke finished off with a farmhouse ale.

“I think I should explain something to you,” Luke said as they finished their beers. “I already told you that Severus and I used to date – I was pretty crazy about him, in fact. He broke it off a month ago when it became obvious that I wanted more from the relationship than he did. He gets so absorbed in things – in his work, in his current Ministry project.” He laughed. “In whatever experiment he has going.”

Harry smiled – he thought he understood that in a man like Severus.

“I don’t have much family to speak of, and I’m ready to settle in.” He shrugged. “He’s not – well, not in my definition of settling in. Living together, I mean. Sharing a life – traveling together, seeing the world. He told me he was too old for me – he said I deserved more than he could give me. And less than a month later, he was after me to go out with you. And in a way I was honoured – he trusted me to do it right. To not try to take advantage of your fame or your inexperience.” He laughed again, almost ruefully. “He assured me it was just a favour – that I wouldn’t be your type. He’s pretty convinced you’re going to like the older men, but he thought it important that you get a good sampling early on.”

“A good sampling of two?” asked Harry. And why did Severus think he’d like older men, anyway?

“For starters,” Luke added. “He said what you did after this was up to you but he’d start with the cream of the crop and let you work your way down.” He took a long drink of his beer. “It’s nice to know that he thinks I’m the cream of the crop, though,” he joked.

Harry laughed out loud. “That sounds just like him,” he said. “You know he promised me a third date, don’t you? My choice of one of the first two or a third blind date.”

“He thinks you’ll go for Wood,” Luke confided. “You know – older bloke, good chemistry, the Quidditch thing.”

“What didn’t he tell you?” Harry asked, amused. “I haven’t even told him how that date went. Was he hiding in the rubbish bin in the alley spying on us?”

Luke grinned. “I highly doubt it. No – I was the one who suggested Wood, Harry. He vetoed everyone else we came up with.” He contemplated his beer for a long moment. “He told me a bit about his history with you. He really doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He’d have to answer to Charlie for that, I suppose,” Harry mused, wondering just what Severus had told him. When Luke looked confused, Harry explained. “My ex-wife’s brother. He was the one who decided I was spending way too much time with my in-laws and not getting on with a life of my own. He said Snape owed him a favour, and he called it in.”

“You’re being awfully understanding about this whole thing,” Luke noted. “You’re on a blind date with Snape’s ex. Severus set you up with his ex, Harry. A recent ex, for that matter.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry said, giving Luke a deliberate once-over. “You look fine to me.”

Luke chuckled. “I forget how new you are to this, Harry. The problem isn’t what you see – it’s what you don’t see – all the baggage. Past relationships. Carrying a torch for someone else. Regrets. All of it.”

Harry shrugged. “I was married for fifteen years. And before that – well, yeah.” He didn’t really want to go there. “Plenty of my own baggage here.”

Luke eyed him speculatively. “Harry, don’t look too hard for what you want – for what suits you. Sometimes you miss what’s right under your nose when you go looking all over the world.”

They stayed at the pub and listened to the local band for a bit, and when Luke pulled him out to dance, Harry didn’t resist. He let himself have a good time and felt much more comfortable dancing than he had even the weekend before. Chalk that one up to Severus, he thought as the music slowed and Luke pulled him in closer.

It was nice. He loved the closeness, the feel of another body pressed up against his own, the gentle movement in tandem as they swayed nearly in place. He’d missed this since he and Ginny had started drifting – the feeling that there was someone there who always had your back.

“Well, if I’ve kept you from thinking about how your kids are going to react to your news, I’ll call it a successful evening,” Luke said as they left the club and walked to the Apparition point in the alley.

“Oh great – now you remind me,” Harry said with an exaggerated moan.

“Take my advice, Harry,” Luke said as they ducked behind the bins. “Let it ride out or you’ll be running around doing preemptive damage control forever. Let them hear it through the rumour mill then go visit them and explain that you’re going on with your life – that you had a date with a friend at a pub and you’ll let them know when you’ve met someone you’ve decided to be serious about.”

“You don’t have kids, do you?” asked Harry.

Luke shook his head then said wryly, “I’d probably have mentioned it by now if I had.”

Harry grinned. “Well, for a chap with no kids you give pretty good dad advice.” He held out his hand, then pulled it back. “I’m not really sure how to do this –”

Luke leaned in and pressed his lips against Harry’s.

“This wasn’t anything like I thought it would be,” he said. “You’re ordinary, Harry Potter. Just an ordinary wizard who wants what everyone else wants.”

And with that, he stepped and turned and Disapparated, leaving Harry staring at the rubbish bins.

What in blazes was that all about?

Really? He was just ordinary? Ordinary as in nothing special? Ordinary as in ordinary-looking?

He told himself he was thinking too much – reading too much into the casual statement. No use staying in this smelly alley when he had a warm soft bed waiting for him at the cottage. He thought about that very bed with deliberation and Apparated home.

The fallout from the chance meeting of Scorpius Malfoy’s cousin the night before rolled in for several days.

The first owls – from two of his three children – appeared on Sunday evening after he arrived home from the Burrow. There’d been a small crowd there for a change – Ron and Hermione and George and Angelina had all come, and Teddy and Victoire had even made an appearance. It was a jovial dinner, reminiscent of the old days, and Harry was in a good mood when he Flooed home.

He set about getting out his writing supplies – quill and ink and wax to seal the scrolls – and had just settled down at the table to pen his Sunday night letters to the children when two owls began tapping on the window in unison. He stared out at James’ owl, Boris and Lily’s owl, Bogey.

“And so it starts,” he said aloud as he opened the window. The two owls hopped onto the table and waited for him to remove their respective scrolls before staring at him reproachfully. “You two,” he said, rolling his eyes and opening the owl treat jar. They helped themselves to a generous serving of owl treats before flying back out the window to the tree just outside.

“Well, could be worse,” he told himself as he opened the first scroll. “Could have been howlers.”

Jamie’s letter was somewhat surprising.

Dear Dad –

Scorpius’ cousin wrote to him about seeing you in Muggle London on a date with some hot bloke from the Ministry last night. She said you were wearing clothes you practically poured yourself into. Merlin, Dad. You’re forty years old! I know you’re trying to get back in the action after Mum but please dress your age! And yeah – I do realise she said you were with a bloke but at least if you stick with blokes you won’t be surprising us with any more brothers and sisters, right? Really Dad – it’s fine – whatever you want as long as you ACT YOUR AGE and DRESS APPROPRIATELY. Seriously – I don’t care if you date Hagrid but next time you go clothes shopping, take Aunt Hermione with you and let her pick out the clothes.

Also – I got detention for fighting with Al about this. I’m sure he’ll tell you in his letter.

Love,

Jamie

Harry dropped the scroll onto the table and glanced out the window. Still only two owls – no sign of Al’s tiny owl, Bertie Bott.

He broke open the seal on Lily’s letter and smoothed it out on the table. Her letters were always entertaining and she’d stayed true to form, writing in her careful, childish cursive.

Dear Dad:

Al let us read the letter from Scorpius’ cousin – the one you met yesterday ON YOUR DATE. You didn’t tell us you were dating so I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen until you tell us yourself. And I’m not giving up my room at home so don’t even think about giving it to him. He probably doesn’t even like unicorns. Al and Jamie can move back in together if we need more room. And don’t tell them I told you, but they both got detention because Al said you were just doing this to get laid and Jamie punched him in the nose. I swear – sometimes that boy forgets he has a wand, Dad! And I’m not sure what getting laid means, and they won’t tell me, so I’m going to ask Professor Longbottom. I also don’t know what liquid sex is. Should I ask him that, too?

Bye Daddy,

Your Lils

Harry dropped Lily’s letter and looked out the window again. Still no owl from Al. Of course, Al would be extra strategic about it – he’d let Harry chew on Jamie and Lily’s letters for a while, fret about the absence of Al’s, worry that Al was embarrassed or humiliated. Of course, Al probably hadn’t counted on Lily sharing the details about the fight.

Thirty minutes later, Al’s owl finally arrived.

Dad:

Oh, the humiliation! The pain! The embarrassment! Imagine sitting in your common room working on a Transfiguration essay when your best friend runs in the room holding up a letter and announces that your dad – your forty-year old dad with the boring Ministry job – was seen at a Muggle brew pub last night drinking beer and dancing with Luke Vallejos – Severus Snape’s ex-boyfriend. Dad, as humiliating as it is to read about your own father looking like “liquid sex” and “nearly bursting out of his arse-hugging jeans,” I can give you a first-time offender’s pass on that but DAD, are you even THINKING? If you need to get laid (and you need to talk to James about his anger issues, by the way), don’t go after Headmaster Snape’s discarded toys. It’s pathetic.

If Mum embarrasses us like this I’m moving to Australia.

Cheers,

Al

Well then.

Damage control indeed.

He hadn’t told Molly and Arthur yet – Hermione had agreed to let him wait until after the third date – but he might have to before word got back from Hogwarts through one of the grandchildren. In the meantime, he’d practice with a letter to the kids.

He laid out three fresh pieces of parchment, three quills and three ink bottles, then cast a duplicating charm and began to write. The other quills dutifully dipped themselves in ink and duplicated the letter.

Dear Jamie, Al and Lily:

Thank you all for your unexpected letters. It makes a dad’s heart swell to know that his children love him and are thinking about him even when they’re away at school.

As you’re all obviously aware, I had a date last night. Your mum and I have been apart for more than a year now, and it gets lonely here at the cottage without anyone yelling, trying to ride their broom indoors or stomping down the stairs chasing their siblings. Yes, I know you’ll be home for the summer, but I have several months of peace and quiet ahead of me before then and can’t tolerate it any longer.

So your Uncle Charlie volunteered to help me meet some people – some wizards, actually – and he had a friend arrange a date or two for me. That friend also gave me a couple dance lessons, so don’t worry – I didn’t make a fool of myself. My photograph won’t be on the front page of the Daily Prophet, either, so you won’t have to hide in a cupboard, cringing in embarrassment.

I’ll let you know if things with anyone get serious, and you three, as you should certainly know by now, will remain my top priority in life until you’re on your own, and even then, I’ll probably tell you before I decide to settle down and get married again.

I’ll be contacting your heads of house about the detention, Al and Jamie, and Lily, please ask your head of house that question you mentioned instead of Professor Longbottom.

And I promise not to meddle in your love lives when you start dating if you promise not to meddle in mine.

I miss you all and can’t wait for the summer holidays –

Dad

He reread the letter then called the children’s owls back in, affixed an identical letter to each and sent them on their way.

He had a nice hour break to relax with the paper and try not to think about his younger son thinking he wanted to “get laid,” his daughter wanting to ask Neville about “liquid sex,” and his older son suggesting he’d be alright with him dating Hagrid. But his peace and quiet was inevitably disrupted by a flare-up of green flames in the fireplace and the sudden appearance of Ron Weasley in his sitting room.

Ron stared at Harry for what felt like five minutes but was actually a very long ten seconds.

“Nope. Not liquid sex. Not at all.” He walked around to the side of the sofa and stared down at Harry’s side. “And there’s plenty of room in those jeans, Harry. I have no idea what the kids are all talking about.”

Harry summoned two beers from the kitchen. Ron grabbed one out of the air as it approached and popped the tab. He plopped down on a chair facing the sofa and propped his feet up on the ottoman.

“I might have been wearing tight jeans last night,” Harry began after a fortifying drink. “And that t-shirt you and George thought made me look like a sex kitten.”

Ron, who’d had his beer lifted to his mouth, sputtered.

“Hermione wanted me to remind you that you promised to tell my parents about revamping your social life – her words, not mine, by the way,” Ron said when he’d recovered. “I can’t imagine any of the grandkids owling them about it, unless they’re just wanting to stir things up, but word will get back eventually. How did your kids react?”

Harry grinned. “Not a single one seemed upset or worried that I’d been out with another man. But let’s see….” He picked up the letters from the table and glanced over them again. “Jamie wants me to act my age. Lils wants to make sure I don’t give away her room and Al warned me not to go after Snape’s discarded toys if I need to get laid.”

Ron gaped. “Wow. Al’s harsh. And he’s what – fourteen?”

“Yep.” Harry let out a frustrated breath.

“And what did he mean – Snape’s discarded toys?”

“Turns out Snape set me up with his most recent ex – the second in command at Magical Transportation. Luke Vallejos.”

“Why did they break up?” asked Ron.

“Luke wanted to settle down – Snape wasn’t interested.”

“And because you want to settle down….”

“I never told you that,” Harry said. “Maybe I just want to get laid, like Al said.”

“You don’t just want to get laid,” Ron countered. “If you’d just wanted to get laid, you’d have been out looking months ago. Face it, Harry. You’re lonely. So – did you like him? This Luke?”

“Sure. He’s handsome and friendly and personable and a great dancer, but I couldn’t get past two things – that he just broke up with Snape, and that Scorpius Malfoy’s niece recognized me outside the brew pub.”

Ron laughed. He finished his beer and tossed the empty can to Harry. “Go see Mum and Dad. Just get it over with. And Harry?”

Harry tossed the empty can back to him. “What?”

“That film, mate.”

“Not good?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “Not good. You owe us one.” He threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped in.

Harry stared after him. He really didn’t want to go to the Burrow to face Molly and Arthur today. Surely it could wait until after work tomorrow?

But tomorrow came and went. Work was busy with the incident of the flying broom spotted over the Tower Bridge, and he didn’t get home until after seven. He had a meeting with the boys’ heads of house on Tuesday after work, and dropped in on Neville afterward.

“Harry! Here to do damage control?”

“Does anyone here not know?” Harry asked.

“Nope.” Neville grinned warmly. “So – didn’t know you liked blokes, Harry. Been keeping that one under your hat?”

Harry shrugged. “Just trying them out, I guess. I’ve been interested – but it’s only ever been Ginny before this.”

“Look, Harry, you could date Hagrid for all I care – but shouldn’t you stay away from Snape’s exes?”

Harry laughed. “Neville – Snape was the one who set us up. Yes – seriously. He also set me up with Oliver Wood’s older brother. Charlie Weasley said Snape owed him a favour and called it in – apparently, Snape was the one who showed Charlie around when he decided he might like blokes, too.”

“Sorry, mate. I just can’t quite wrap my head around that one,” Neville said.

“And by the way – you’re the second one that mentioned me dating Hagrid. Just so you know – no. Hard no.”

Wednesday arrived and he knew what he wanted to tell Severus about date number three but was unsure how to go about it. Luke was absolutely out of the picture. Linus – well, he liked Linus. Linus was good. Too good actually. Too nice, too Gryffindor, too traditionally handsome. Their lives didn’t just intersect in a few interesting places – their lives ran parallel. Hell – Linus had even mentioned visiting his ex-in-laws not once, but twice. Linus wanted to get past dating and settle down again, which sounded a lot like what Harry thought he wanted too.

And honestly, that part hadn’t changed so much. He still wasn’t terribly interested in spending a large chunk of his free time going to pubs and bars and clubs and restaurants with a continuing assortment of men when he could, say, be spending the weekend at the cottage poking around in the woods for – say – mushrooms.

He’d had the revelation Tuesday night. He couldn’t sleep – he’d awoken from a dream just as a pair of mystery lips had descended toward his in a dark alley and he’d caught a whiff of scrambled eggs and knew it was Hagrid with a bit of his breakfast still in his beard. Sleep had eluded him for a long time after that. As he tossed and turned, he’d thought about what he was going to tell Severus the next evening, and as he thought back over the past weeks, he realised with near-horrifying clarity that he’d had not two but six dates – one with Linus, one with Luke and four separate dates with Severus.

Dinner before the theatre with Charlie and Arthur with that ridiculous notebook of his.

Brunch at the diner where Severus had called him out for not checking out the waiter in the tight jeans.

Dancing lessons in his flat – the first time he’d called Snape Severus, feeling the music through another’s body, letting someone else lead.

Friday night beer tasting, the pleasant buzz, teasing about mushrooms and cabins in the woods.

The only thing more memorable about the date with Luke was the chance meeting with Scorpius Malfoy’s cousin. The only thing better about the date with Linus was the kiss at the end.

But – Severus Snape? Was he really interested in Severus? That way?

He’d never hear the end of it. He pictured Severus in a corner at the Burrow under a notice-me-not charm, reading a mushroom-identification book he’d squirreled away under his robes before they left their cottage.

Their cottage. He didn’t even know where Snape lived yet. He might live in a London high-rise for all he knew, or a flat in Soho, or a rambling estate in Yorkshire.

He wished he had some Dreamless Sleep potion, then realised one benefit of settling down with a Potions Master.

He finally drifted off well past midnight, a half-formed plan in his mind, content, at least, that all these thoughts of Severus had at least pushed stray thoughts of kissing Hagrid far from his troubled mind.

Barley Flats turned out to be a small but neat cottage in East Anglia. There wasn’t any barley to speak of that Harry could see, but he knew there were a lot of farms in the area, and surely barley was grown somewhere close by. Harry stepped out into a rather plain room with a lot of books and a couple comfortable chairs but no Severus Snape anywhere to be seen.

He followed his nose, and a few muffled sounds, into the kitchen, where he found Severus at the cooker poking at what appeared to be stew and dumplings.

“Wine’s on the counter,” he said without turning. “Pour for both of us. Dinner’s nearly ready.”

Harry didn’t recognise the wine by name, but it smelled good and didn’t look to be pretentious. He guessed and filled each glass halfway. The kitchen was old and a bit draughty, but clean and tidy, and the smell from the cooker made up for any deficits the room might have.

“Through there,” Snape instructed, nodding toward a door leading off to another room. “I’ll bring this in.”

Harry picked up both glasses and carried them into a small dining room. The plain wooden table was set for two, and Harry put the glasses down and took the chair further from the door. He glanced around the room with interest – another plain room with simple, older furniture, including another bookshelf full of what looked to be very old textbooks.

“You survived your second date, then?” Severus asked. As conversation starters went, it was fairly lame as the answer was obvious.

“Barely,” Harry answered. “The night itself was fine but the aftershocks were unexpected.”

“Aftershocks?” Severus asked, deadpan. He didn’t show surprise, curiosity or even real interest. It was as if he were a scientist observing an experiment. It was all – forced. Better yet – practiced.

“Don’t even pretend you didn’t talk to Luke after our date,” Harry said. He gave Severus a mock glare and tried the stew. Good. Simple but really, really good. He took another bite.

“Who’s pretending?” Severus smiled. “Yes, I spoke with Luke on Sunday. He told me about your chance meeting with Eliza Greengrass.”

Harry looked up sharply.

“Eliza Greengrass?” he repeated. “She never introduced herself by name to us. She just told me she was Daphne Greengrass’ niece – and I realised she was Scorpius Malfoy’s cousin.”

“Oh – right. I believe she introduced herself to Luke before your arrival.”

“No….” Harry took a moment to think about it. Yes, the girls were standing there with Luke before he arrived but from all appearances, the girls had zeroed in on Luke, who was waiting alone, and had chatted him up.

“Of course she did. How else would he know her name?” Severus said. “But meeting her was hardly an aftershock as it happened before you went.”

Ideas were churning through Harry’s brain. Fifteen years as an Auror had certainly given him a good nose for smelling something rotten. But he filed it away for now - more evidence was certainly needed and he had an entire evening ahead of him.

“Well – just as I expected, she wrote to Scorpius on Sunday and told him about meeting me there. And she provided a lot of details – where we were, what I was wearing, who I was with. That sort of thing.”

“Surely you rushed to Hogwarts and pre-empted the news?” Severus said from behind his wine glass, which had paused in front of his face in a position Harry had seen several times – behind beer, or coffee, or whatever drink they were sharing at the time.

“That was my first plan,” Harry answered. “But Luke suggested that the kids might be able to handle this without me doing pre-emptive damage control. That maybe it wouldn’t shatter their world as much as I thought it would. He reminded me that I’ve been on my own for more than a year now. And he’s right – we’ve already been through two Christmases and a summer.”

“So you didn’t go,” Severus said. Harry could tell now that he was having to work a bit to keep the emotion out of his voice and his eyes. Was he pleased? Surprised?

“I didn’t go. I waited for the owls.”

“And?”

Harry laughed. “Are we playing this game again?” he asked, grinning. He forked a dumpling and sampled it. It wasn’t the most perfect dumpling he’d ever had but it was good. He liked this. Ordinary food in an ordinary house with an – No. He looked over at Severus. He could never think of Severus Snape as ordinary, despite the deceptive surroundings.

“Yes. Go on.” Severus was holding the wine glass halfway to his mouth again – or perhaps halfway back to the table.

“The kids all had something to say about it,” he said. “Though not a single one seemed put out that I was out with a man. Instead, I got an earful about dressing appropriately for my age and was warned not to give away Lily’s bedroom. And Al – ”

He braked to a stop. Whoa. Best not go down that road.

But Snape, clever Severus, was already on it.

“Al? Al is friends with Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius is Draco Malfoy’s son. And Draco Malfoy is on Oversight Board of the International Floo Network.”

Ah. So that’s how Scorpius knew about Luke Vallejo’s relationship with Severus!

“Alright – I wasn’t necessarily going to go there, but you’re already three steps ahead of me. Yeah – Al said that if I wanted to get laid, I should stay away from your exes.”

“Al thinks this is about sex and doesn’t think it wise to date my cast-offs.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Headmaster Snape’s discarded toys, actually,” he said.

Severus stared at him.

Harry shrugged. “His words, not mine.”

“Probably not exactly his words, I’d wager,” Severus said, his tone mild. “There are quite a few creative minds in Slytherin House.”

“They think very highly of you. You probably know that – but Al has a special place in that house because of his name. It’s not at all what I intended, but it’s certainly helped him settle into Hogwarts.”

“If their perception is that an attractive man much younger than I that I’m no longer seeing was my toy, perhaps they aren’t as far from the truth as I’d like them to be,” Severus commented thoughtfully.

“Why don’t we leave Slytherin House for now and talk about the other elephant in the room,” Harry suggested. He’d managed to eat a good portion of his stew already, so he sipped his wine and watched Severus eat.

“The fact that I set you up on a blind date with my ex-boyfriend,” Severus said after an entire minute had gone by where neither did anything other than chew and look at the other.

“That would be it,” Harry said with a smile. “Look – I’ll be honest. I knew as soon as you told me his name – well, beforehand, actually. I was having dinner at Mama Rubino’s Thursday night with Molly and Arthur and saw you two there. Arthur recognized Luke from the Ministry – he’s always having to work with that department on banned magic carpets and bewitched Muggle brooms.”

“And flying cars,” Severus added flatly.

“Yeah – those too.” Harry smiled. “Anyway – so when you told me my date’s name, and that he’d recently come off a relationship, I put two and two together. And yes, Luke confirmed it, and yes, I know he’s already told you that so don’t look surprised. He also told me that he suggested Linus – good choice, by the way – and that you had a bit of trouble finding dates for me.”

“Acceptable dates,” Severus corrected. “There is no shortage of men who’d agree to go out with Harry Potter. I imagine some straight men would give it a shot.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I appreciate the trouble you took with it,” Harry said. “And for the record, no straight guys, and Hagrid is a hard no.”

Snape stared, eyes wide, and Harry laughed, because his expression was so horrified that Harry wished he had a photograph of it to come back to when he needed a laugh – photos were so much less trouble than diving into a Pensieve.

“Forget that – it will give you nightmares. I know,” said Harry. “Look, Luke was great. But I can’t see him again for – well, lots of reasons. And Linus was perfect. You couldn’t possibly have come up with anyone who met my wish list better. But the problem is that he’s too perfect. No – the problem is that I didn’t really know what I wanted, and maybe I still don’t. Linus and I would probably slide right in together and we’d be so bored. There’s nothing there that I don’t already have, see? It would be like settling down with Ron, except with sex now and then.”

“I admit I expected this,” Severus said, his face once again unreadable, as if he’d schooled his features into a neutral look and spelled it in place. “Do you still want my help arranging another date?”

Harry placed his fork on nearly empty plate and scooted his wine glass back into position so that he was staring across at Severus with nothing obstructing his view. He watched as Severus finished his wine and positioned his wine glass similarly to Harry’s.

“Actually, I want to date a mushroom hunter,” Harry said. “And I’m going to need some instruction. What are you doing Saturday?”

“It’s a bit early for mushrooms,” Severus said slowly. “This time of year, there are only a few varieties out – ”

“Bring a book, then,” Harry said. “With pictures.”

They stared at each other for a very long time, until a fond smile appeared on Severus’ face, and touched his eyes, and Harry’s smile nearly split his face in two.

“This is not what I planned,” Severus said, hiding behind that infernal wine glass again. “There are those who’ll think you’re another of the former Headmaster’s toys. I’ll expect howlers from at least two of your children.”

“What you planned,” said Harry, “was to force my hand, so to speak. You wanted me to see that I was effectively dating my in-laws. I’m pretty sure you set up that chance meeting with Eliza Greengrass – thinking I’d rush to Hogwarts and tell the kids. Once I got over that hurdle, and telling Molly and Arthur, you figured the momentum would keep me going after that. But honestly, Severus – the time I spent with you was even better than the actual dates. When I finally realised that last night – that I’d been on six dates, not two, I figured it was time to call a spade a spade.”

“They were not dates,” Severus said. “They were trial runs – by the third, I was almost convinced you’d work out.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I have no idea how you’ll do with wine – or mushrooms.”

“Well, we can knock wine off that list tonight,” Harry said, holding up his empty glass.

Harry helped Severus clear up, then Severus produced several bottles of wine and even more glasses. It was oddly formal, sitting around the table learning about wines and sipping whatever Severus placed in front of him. But somehow it didn’t feel terribly educational, and they slid sideways into a discussion of adaptive Muggle technology, and from there to the burn potion, which Severus actually was developing, and from the burn potion to Harry’s interest in wand woods.

“It started after we bought the cabin property,” Harry told Severus. “We had Neville and Hannah over one weekend, and he identified some of the trees and bushes. It became something of a hobby for the kids and me – to learn the names of all the varieties on the property. I noticed that we had nearly all the common wand woods.” He shrugged. “I supply Ollivander with about half of what he needs. He says I have an eye for the best branches. He even supplies me with woodlice for the bowtruckles.”

At ten o’clock, Harry, head pleasantly light from the wine, helped carry the glasses back to the kitchen.

“I should Floo home,” he said. “I’ve got work tomorrow. “But we’re on for Saturday, right?”

“Mushrooms,” Severus said. “And since we seem to need a pretense to see each other, you can instruct me on wand woods after that.”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Turns out, I’m not too old to learn new things.”

“Well, you managed to dress yourself well enough without my help,” Severus said. He was leaning back against the counter, and he regarded Harry appreciatively.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that for years,” Harry replied. He’d worn jeans and a new long-sleeved t-shirt, with the black jacket. “But it’s nice having something to get dressed for – or someone.”

“Oh, don’t get dressed on my account,” Severus said, and Harry laughed, and Severus smiled, and just like that, Severus reached out and took hold of Harry’s wrist and pulled him forward.

Kissing Severus Snape was nothing like kissing Ginny, and not much like kissing Linus Wood, either. Severus slowly pulled Harry forward, watching him with that odd quirk on his lips as their faces grew closer. He dropped Harry’s wrist so that when their lips touched it was their only point of contact.

Over time, throughout his marriage, Harry hadn’t thought much about kissing at all. It wasn’t like this – had never been like this. This – this was careful, deliberate, measured communication. This was fine-tuned control, the perfect pressure to the precise nerve endings that connected his mouth to his groin to his heart to his head. It was like dancing, following the lead, trusting your partner to bring you back up after the dip. Reacting, not thinking. Feeling the next move, not planning it.

Severus’ fingers touched his cheek at the exact moment he parted his lips. They ghosted over his skin, knuckles grazing just below his chin and he was leaning into Severus now and how had their bodies managed to align so perfectly? Why were his hands tangled up in Severus’ hair? How had he gone from half-buzzed and languid to aroused and needy in the space of a minute?

“And you wondered if I was really gay,” Harry said into Severus’ neck a few minutes later as they held each other tightly, rocking against each other slowly in a pantomime of dance.

Severus chuckled, and the laughter reverberated through Harry’s body. “This is probably not at all wise,” he said.

“Reckless impetuous Gryffindor, remember?”

Severus kissed him again.

“How could I ever forget?”

Dear Ginny:

I thought it fair to let you know that I’m discontinuing the post card service and won’t be accompanying your parents on any more trips to the States to visit you or to see you play. They’re fairly competent with international Floo travel now and are capable of making their own travel arrangements. About a month ago, I introduced them to Oliver Wood’s parents. The Woods’ granddaughters recently signed on with the Spokane Sasquatches, and your parents are planning on attending a series of games with their new friends in the States later this summer. They’ll likely want to stay at your place to save some money so you might want to tell them about your living arrangements sooner rather than later.

The children are fine – which you undoubtedly already know from your correspondence with them. They’re looking forward to their trip to visit you this summer. (You do know about that, don’t you?) Don’t believe anything they tell you about what I’m up to of late – just be satisfied that you were right– I do like men – one man in particular– and have discovered why I was so horrible at dancing. I’m not horrible at it anymore, and I also like sex quite a bit more than I did when we were married. We were young and inexperienced and maybe that was half the problem. If you haven’t already done so, might I recommend that you find a partner who’s a bit older than you are and who’s got inventive ideas about where to have sex, and how to have it, and what interesting household items to bring to the bedroom that might not normally be found there – like chocolate sauce, or Muggle handcuffs or a length of rope or some common garden vegetables or even a long silk scarf.

Harry dropped the letter and stared at Severus.

“I really can’t trust you in my house, can I?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You said you’d be home at six-thirty. I arrived at six-thirty.”

“I am not sending this to Ginny.”

“You said you’re having trouble finding the right words to tell her. You said you needed help. I helped.” Severus took the letter from Harry, rolled it up, and tied a length of ribbon around it. “There – all ready to go.”

“I didn’t sign it, Severus.”

“I think she’ll know who wrote it.”

Harry laughed. “Right – I’d say which you undoubtedly already know from your correspondence with them. That sounds like me all right.”

“Well, as she undoubtedly already knows that you’re seeing me, she’ll just think your vocabulary has improved from being around me.”

“No, what’s really improved from being around you is my sex life.”

“As I clearly stated in the letter.”

“Git.” Harry pushed the letter aside and sat on the coffee table between Severus’ knees. “So – when do you have to leave for Prague?”

“I’ve got an eight a.m. pass for a Floo connection through Lisbon. How do you plan to spend the weekend in my absence?”

“Helping Ron and George man the shop – first Hogsmeade weekend since the grand opening.”

Severus shuddered.

“I know – you’d rather be in Prague at an infectious diseases conference.”

“You could still go with me.”

Now Harry shuddered.

“I think that would be worse than telling Molly and Arthur I was dating you.”

“Oh, they took it far better than Al did. I truly believe he thought you weren’t worthy of me.”

Harry laughed. “Al thinks I’m unworthy and James thinks you’re unworthy. Lily, however, is just thrilled you love unicorns.”

“I love unicorns because they supply a plethora of magical ingredients, not because they’re adorable,” Severus clarified.

He yawned and eyed Harry with a predatory gaze.

“Well, as we only have a few hours, I’d suggest we dispense with dinner and dancing and get right to the bedroom,” Severus said, pulling Harry toward him.

Harry grinned and climbed into his lap – in the past few weeks he’d enjoyed a lot of tutelage from Snape on a lot more than wine and beer and dancing. He pressed Severus into the back of the sofa and worked his hands under his arse as he kissed down his neck to his collarbone. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, unbuttoning the top button of Severus’ shirt and kissing even lower. “Might have to go visit Hagrid while you’re gone….”

Severus chuckled and pushed Harry away. He stood and pulled Harry up by his wrist. “Speaking of - I’ve already laid out a few items….”

“You’ve got to stop doing this,” Harry complained, following him into the bedroom then stopping at the door and staring at what was laid out on the bed. “Oh.” He swallowed. “Very – uh – interesting?” His voice squeaked a bit. “Where in the hell did you get one so big?”

The door magically swung shut behind him, and the slam was followed by a shriek, a moan, the creak of bedsprings and a deep, throaty chuckle.

A few minutes later, Severus Snape’s post owl appeared in the window, summoned by its master before Harry Potter arrived home. It flew to the coffee table, extended a taloned foot to pick up the ribboned scroll, then flew off through the window on a trip across the ocean to deliver this very important missive to a lovely red-headed woman on the other side of the pond. As he flew off, a muffled voice could be heard through the closed door.

“Hey – where did you get those? Those were Ginny’s – no – they won’t fit – oh fuck. Fuck … fuck … fuck ….Severus….”

The owl flew on, unconcerned that Ginny Weasley’s red silk honeymoon knickers were now stretched tautly across her ex-husband’s crotch while he received a thorough buggering from her former Headmaster.

Fin