Auror Harry Potter set his rucksack on the large bed with a weary sigh. The huge four-poster bed dominated the luxurious room, the windows looking out over the rugged landscape of Cornwall, just as Hermione had promised. Ironic that he should be spending the first holiday he'd ever taken in a Muggle castle-turned-hotel, Harry thought bitterly, hiding from everything that he'd come to hold dear. Camelot Castle, indeed, Harry shook his head at his best friend's sense of irony, especially when she knew how he hated the media comparisons between him and Merlin.

Shedding his jumper, Harry lifted his arms, stretching the muscles in his back as he tried to ease the ache from yesterday's disastrous mission. The media was in a frenzy after someone in the Ministry had let slip his co-workers' nickname for him. The Auror Who Wouldn't Kill. Not even Kingsley could squash this one. Despite the fact that everything had worked out in the end, everyone was convinced that Harry's refusal to cast an Unforgivable had almost gotten him, and two victims, killed. Coincidentally, Ginny's engagement announcement was also scheduled to appear in today's Prophet and Harry was sure it had been elevated to a front page spot by the outcry over his 'dereliction of duty', implying she had abandoned him as well.

Jerking down the zip on his jeans, Harry angrily shucked them and left them in a heap on the floor. Ginny hadn't done anything wrong and Harry hated to see her name dragged down with his, which he was sure it would be. Why did everything come down to someone else's idea of what his life should be? The whole wizarding world was full of expectations for him, grandiose and exacting expectations. All Harry had wanted was to survive Auror training and resume his relationship with Ginny. How happy they'd both been when she'd followed him into Auror training five years ago, becoming one of the top recruits in her class. They'd partnered on several tough cases since then and worked well together; it was too bad their personal relationship hadn't worked out as well. Not that it was Ginny's fault, or his, if Harry would admit it to himself.

Walking into the spacious rock and marble bathroom, Harry paused as he ran a critical eye over his reflection in the sparkling mirrors. He'd filled out a bit since Hogwarts, at least he was now taller than Hermione, and the rigors of Auror training had toned the muscles in his chest, even if it was still smooth and hairless. His thighs were muscular, sculpted now in a way that Quidditch had never done.

Despite those few good points, Harry still saw a scrawny, unattractive kid staring back at him from the mirror. The Muggle contacts he wore helped only marginally with his looks and Harry turned away with a sigh, bending to open the taps. He watched as clear, steaming water flowed into the bathtub, his mind flashing back to the Prefects' Bath he'd learned of in his fourth year.

Shaking his head, Harry stepped into the water, groaning as the sore muscles and bruises reminded him of their presence. Harry had taken a beating in the duel with four would-be Dark wizards as they had attempted to kidnap the grandchildren of one of the Wizengamot. One of them had almost gotten around him and had started to cast the Killing Curse at the terrified children when Harry had let loose the magic he'd always kept under tight control. The burst of raw magical power had been so strong, that it diverted the deadly curse and stunned the assailants. It was better to be thought a coward, Harry reasoned, sliding down into the water, than a freak, or worse, the next Dark Lord! His enforced vacation was the Minister's way of both rewarding him and hiding him from sight.

Harry consciously tightened and relaxed each muscle group in his body from his toes to his neck until he sagged in the water. The heat seeped into sore tissues, soothing them and washing away the tension. Laying his head back, Harry wished he could calm his churning thoughts as easily. The accusations hurled at him were only half wrong, it wasn't that he refused to cast an Unforgivable; Harry just wasn't capable of doing one. The shrill, insane laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange resonated through his mind as he thought of the one time he had tried, and Harry shuddered despite the warmth of the water.

The real truth of the matter was a secret that Harry had harbored for a long time and his enforced absence was an attempt to make sure it stayed a secret. Harry sighed again, closing his eyes and trying to relax as he cleared his mind of his recent memories. The hum of magic that pulsed through him like the blood that flowed through his veins was an extraordinary gift, Harry knew. He could trace so many of the milestones of his life that his magic had enabled: producing a corporeal Patronus at thirteen, summoning his Firebolt during the first task of the TriWizard tournament at fourteen, and pushing into a heavily Occluded mind accidentally at fifteen. These had all been hints of how incredibly powerful his magic would become as he matured. Ron and Hermione were the only two people who actually knew the strength of Harry's true abilities, although he thought that Albus Dumbledore had suspected it. Harry had felt obligated to sit down with Kingsley Shacklebolt before he'd entered into Auror training and had been pleasantly surprised by the Minister's support. All three had been incredibly supportive and protective of his secret.

The only other person who had glimpsed the power of Harry's magic was Severus Snape. Harry swallowed hard at that last image of Snape, the life gushing out of him while Harry leaned over him, helpless. For Harry that night had been an epiphany where the world shifted on its axis. He'd truly gone from being a boy to being a man when it turned out that the man who had loathed him for almost seven years had turned out to be the one who had cared most about Harry's welfare. Snape had been the only one to stand up to Dumbledore about Albus using Harry as a pawn; he objected to Harry being used as a weapon to fulfill a destiny; and had outright challenged Dumbledore's opinion of Harry's fate. And Harry had left that man lying in that filthy place to die….

Hot moisture pricked his eyes as Harry relived the anguish he'd felt when he returned to the Shrieking Shack on the night of the final battle, intent on giving Snape a hero's burial. The empty room, with its dried pool of blood had mocked him and launched what Hermione called his 'Snape Obsession'. Nevertheless, she had worked beside him in the months following the battle to clear Snape's name and secure for him the medal that Harry knew Snape had coveted in life, as a tribute to an incredibly brave man. Ron had laughed at them, insisting that the sly bastard was still alive, that he'd been too cunning not to anticipate every possibility. The Greasy Git had always been a paranoid Slytherin bastard, after all.

An impossible hope had blossomed in Harry, one that had become entrenched over the years. Like his realization about Severus Snape's character, Harry had undergone a fundamental change at the thought that Snape might still be alive. It had given him a direction, a goal to strive for the in the aftermath of having accomplished his fated goal at seventeen. Harry had made sure that Snape's property was secured and maintained, even as he quietly investigated every reported sighting of his former professor. But every lead had led only to frustration for Harry; Hermione had started to tell him that his search was turning into an unhealthy obsession.

Eyes closed, head back against the tiles, Harry groaned as the image of a tall, slender figure rose in his mind, with long dark hair hanging lank alongside his face and the hooked nose a predominant feature in the sallow face. The difference in this Snape was the dark eyes once, filled with animosity were now heated with desire and the entirety of their intensity was focused at Harry. Harry's cock twitched and he moaned, bringing his hand up to wrap around it. Somewhere along the way, Severus Snape had become his wanking fantasy. It had been subtle; a gradual change that nevertheless took Harry by surprise when he realized that while he thoroughly enjoyed kissing Ginny, it had not excited him enough to want to do anything else with her. There was none of the heart-pounding, cock-hardening desire that he saw when Ron and Hermione kissed, no urge to sweep Ginny, or any other woman, off her feet either.

Not until he realized he was fantasizing about a dark-haired, dark-eyed, very male lover, and just who that man was. Harry tightened his grip, adding a twist at the end as he envisioned those eyes focused intently on him, slender fingers brushing along his skin, and the wet heat of a tongue lapping at his prick. It took only a few hard strokes before he climaxed with a hiss. Gods, Harry thought as he grabbed a flannel from the artfully folded stack near the tub, how pathetic was he with his stupid crush on a man like Snape, who would laugh in his face at his impertinence! Scrubbing himself hard, Harry tried to wash away the feeling that he wasn't good enough for anyone to love; he didn't bother to spell the cooling water warm again.

Toweling off, Harry paused for a second when he caught sight of his reflection. His hair had been cut short and spelled a chestnut brown, his eyes changed to a dark blue. Muggle contacts and a touch of make-up covering the faint lightning bolt scar on his forehead seemed to transform him into a stranger. Maybe Harry could pretend he really was Brian Collins, a successful businessman from London enjoying a holiday in Cornwall. Having never been on holiday before, Harry wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be doing — his life had never had an excessive amount of leisure time in it.

A glance at the clock had Harry hurrying to dress. Hermione had made all the arrangements for him, telling him only that he had to dress for tea and the Concierge at the hotel would take care of everything else. A wave of his hand had his clothing unpacked, unwrinkled, and in the wardrobe instantly. Hermione had unnecessarily reminded him about using too much magic in a Muggle setting, but Harry didn't think anyone would be able to tell with his room being at the top of the East tower. He had little interest in clothing, suffering through the shopping trip with Ginny and Hermione, who had picked out a wardrobe for him. Choosing a charcoal grey suit, Harry threw on a crisp white shirt and knotted a blue tie absently, not bothering to look in the mirror as he headed out the door to the lift.

The restaurant was elegant, filled with light diffused through the room by the windows that lined the outside walls and the artfully draped tables. Harry was shown to a table overlooking the ruins of Tintagel Castle and the headlands. A waiter silently materialized at his elbow with a menu and Harry stared at the printed words. He ended up ordering a traditional tea, hoping he had the appetite to eat it. The waiter left as silently as he'd arrived, and Harry was left to stare out across the rugged landscape, wondering how his life had come to this.

"Mr. Collins?"

The smooth, cultured voice brought his head up and for an instant Harry saw lank black hair and a hooked nose in a sallow face. Blinking, Harry refocused on the man standing next to the table. Tall and slender, the man's dark brown hair brushed the high collar of the old fashioned, dove gray shirt and Harry found himself smiling up into the brown eyes as he recognized the suit as a duplicate of his own.

"Yes?"

"I am Stuart McGregor, the senior Concierge of Camelot Castle, and I wanted to stop by to welcome you."

Dutifully, Harry stood and grasped the hand extended towards him, the polite words of greeting died on his lips as a jolt of something — awareness, arousal, and pure magic — shot up his arm. Harry froze, he'd never felt anything like this before and he slowly raised his eyes from those slender fingers wrapped around his. There was not a flicker in the refined mask of the man whose hand Harry still held. McGregor looked down at where their hands were joined and Harry hastily dropped his as he stepped back.

"Thank you, Mr. McGregor," Harry gestured at the table, ignoring the slight tremble in his hand. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Severus Snape sat gracefully into the chair the guest indicated, berating himself for not immediately refusing the invitation as he had meant to. The jolt of sexual awareness he had felt initially had been overwhelmed by the burst of compatible magical energy that shot up his arm and infused him with a completeness that Severus hadn't felt in five years. The young man sitting opposite him started to say something, only to be interrupted as the waiter arrived with the tea and all its accoutrements. Severus took the opportunity to study him, discounting immediately the hair and eyes, to examine the profile and mannerisms, the quiet politeness with which the young wizard treated the waiting staff.

It hit Severus like a Bludger when the young man carefully poured the tea into a cup and handed it to him cautiously. The eyes might be blue at the moment, the face a combination of earnest concentration, but they were both pure Lily Evans. Even his depleted magical core knew the touch of an incredibly powerful wizard, magic he was familiar enough with to identify it as Harry Potter's. Severus' first reaction was to excuse himself and walk out, not stopping until he was on the other side of England and safe, except that this Harry Potter was sharing his tea. The man graciously offering Severus first choice of the wonderful food in front of them with a shy smile and a deference the Potter he had known at Hogwarts would never have shown Severus Snape.

Instinct kept him in place — the same instinct that had served him well through two wars and an almost fatal attack by a deadly snake with the soul of a Dark Lord. Accepting that this was somehow fated, Severus silently chose several different items, before sitting back to watch the young wizard do the same. Potter could only be twenty-three if Severus' calculations were correct, but he looked pale and drawn, the dark circles under his eyes bespoke of burdens the young man still carried. No doubt Potter had gone into the Auror service as Minerva had been determined he would, something Albus had always feared was contrary to the younger Harry's forgiving nature. Magic seemed to radiate off Potter, something that even Severus could still sense, and he found himself wanting to touch Potter, almost compulsively.

Severus blew across the steaming surface of his tea. "I understand from your reservation, Mr. Collins, that you are an avid hiker and love the sea."

The unnaturally blue eyes blinked at him and Severus suppressed a smirk. Obviously, Granger had made the reservations for him.

"Oh, uh, yes," Potter recovered quickly. "I love hiking the, uh, cliffs and the trails down to the water."

"Excellent." Severus seized the moment. "Then you will have to accompany me tomorrow afternoon to hike down and watch the sunset from the beach."

Looking as though he wanted to bite his tongue, Potter hesitantly agreed and they settled into the general conversation of new acquaintances. Harry Potter, it seemed, was more intelligent than Severus had ever given him credit for and surprisingly well read, able to hold-up his end of the conversation about several newly released books and current world affairs. An hour passed before Severus pushed his chair back and stood, one hand going automatically to check the collar of his shirt. With deliberation, Severus brought his hand up and extended it. Potter paused for an instant before extending his own, which told Severus that the young wizard had felt the same jolt he had. Grasping Potter's hand between both of his, Severus mouthed the appropriate platitudes, as his hand greedily absorbed the intoxicating flow of powerful magic. They stood for a long moment before Severus reluctantly dropped his hands, bowed his head formally and walked away.

The walk to his cottage along the pathway that skirted the edge of the headlands usually relaxed him with its views of the wild beauty of the Cornish coast, but this evening Severus was too preoccupied. The baby he'd sworn to protect on a hellish night so many years ago had grown into a handsome and very powerful wizard. Lily would have been incredibly proud of her child, Severus knew, as his feet followed the well-worn path. How would Potter react if he found out who Severus was? The boy had tried to help him that night in the Shrieking Shack, had come to Severus of his own accord after the attack. Perhaps he would be even more favorably minded towards Severus after the memories he had shared that night.

Fishing his key out of his jacket pocket, Severus unlocked the door to the small cottage that came with his position. Turning on the lights, he shed his jacket, fingers going automatically to the buttons on his waistcoat. The past five years hadn't been easy and Severus had gone through his bleakest period when he realized that fighting the effects of Nagini's magically enhanced venom had depleted his magical core. The anti-venom that he'd created, had worked as it should, but it hadn't been formulated to counteract the Dark magic in the poison that came from the serpent being a Horcrux.

Once he had healed sufficiently, Severus was little better than a Squib and had been forced to revert to the Muggle ways of his childhood. Taking the large cache of Galleons and Muggle cash he'd set aside for this type of emergency, Severus had fled to Cornwall. It was an escape plan that Albus had set up for him when the headmaster had asked Severus to kill him, knowing what the reaction of the wizarding world was likely to be. The plan gave Severus a new identity and a letter of recommendation to a distant Squib cousin of Dumbledore's who happened to be the hiring manager at Camelot Castle.

It had been a challenge for Severus to change himself from the embittered, battle-weary wizard to a polite, professional man. And while Severus still didn't suffer fools gladly, he was exceedingly intelligent and had become an expert in the history of the area, making him the most sought after staff member in a surprisingly short period of time. His cool demeanor and solid work ethic had both discouraged inquiries into his personal life and elevated him to department head in three short years. Now Severus managed a staff of four and was at least settled in his life, if not exactly content. The loneliness of his adult life had not dissipated, and Severus still felt the loss of Albus keenly at times.

Severus groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against his erection. The powerful magic still lingered within him, arousing and enticing, just like Potter himself. It reminded him of the torturous Occlumency lessons of the boy's fifth year when Severus had first noticed the alluring pull of Potter's magic. Those sessions had left him hard and aching, just as he was now and Severus had been more than happy to find an excuse to terminate them. Inconvenient dreams of brilliant green eyes and unruly black hair had plagued Severus' final years at Hogwarts, and he still occasionally awoke, panting and sticky, with the boy's image in his mind's eye.

Moving through the small sitting room to his bedroom, Severus carefully removed his trousers and pants and headed into the shower. Adjusting the water temperature with one hand, Severus stroked his prick with the other, stepping into the warm spray. Severus tilted his head back, allowing the water to flow through his hair and stream over his shoulders, sliding down his chest. His hand moved up and down his cock, squeezing and twisting, the foreskin sliding down to expose the purpling head. Hissing as water splashed on his sensitive skin, Severus conjured the image of Harry Potter standing in front of him, wet, slick, and hard; Severus sighed as he pulsed over his hand. At least this fantasy Potter was the same age as the one at the hotel.

Harry did up the zip on his favorite jeans, slid his feet into his trainers, and eyed his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The chestnut hair smoothed down nicely and Harry thought that with the blue eyes, he was passably pleasant to look at. His fingers still tingled every time he thought of Stuart McGregor's closing around his; the spark of arousal had shocked him. Harry had never felt anything like it before, not with Ginny or Cho before her. It had left Harry harder than he'd ever been before and he'd been thoroughly disgusted by his body's reaction to a complete stranger.

Yet here he was, Harry thought, setting out in the late afternoon to view a sunset from the cliffs with this man, this stranger, as he pocketed his key and patted his wand to make sure it was secure. It had been hard enough to wrap his mind around the fact that Snape aroused him, and Harry had deluded himself to believe he wasn't really gay, just in… er… lust with his former professor. Of all people, it had been Ginny who told him that many magical people had one true love, and it didn't matter whether they were the same sex or the opposite sex, that their magic would bring them together. It was the reason many young witches and wizards seemed promiscuous, when in reality they were just searching for that one person whose magic made theirs sing.

Slipping on the sunglasses Hermione said made him look wicked, Harry walked out the front door of the hotel and looked around determinedly for a brown haired man with brown eyes. McGregor seemed to materialize at his shoulder, dressed almost as casually as Harry.

"Excellent, Mr. Collins, you're right on time," the man said briskly. "Let us start on our great adventure, shall we?"

Harry blinked at the phrasing, thrown back into a memory of Albus Dumbledore, but he didn't falter as he set off down a gravel path after the Concierge. Trying to keep his eyes off the enticing arse in front of him, Harry noted the sturdy boots and black jeans that accented the long legs… Harry angrily wrenched his eyes from McGregor's backside to the scenery around him and concentrated on the breathtaking view. The graveled pathway sloped down forming a gently winding angle towards a small patch of beach nestled between dark rocks, the waves breaking a short distance out to slide softly onto the sand. Heavy gray clouds were moving slowly towards them, darkening the sea to navy as they passed overhead.

In a surprisingly amicable silence, Harry followed closely behind Stuart McGregor as the man led the way back up the side of the rocky hill. Harry had been surprised that McGregor hadn't tried to touch him again, especially after their parting handshake last night at dinner. The jolt of awareness between them had been almost frightening in its intensity, almost like Harry's magic was flowing between them. Shaking his head to clear it of thoughts, Harry caught a furtive hand movement from the older man. Looking upward, Harry could see a fawn feasting on Cornish heather, its mother standing nervously beside it as the sun began to drop below the horizon. The sky grew fiery in between the darkening clouds and Harry stopped to admire the scene.

The jagged rocks darkened as the clouds moved steadily over them and Harry climbed up on to one of them at the trail's edge. An outcropping in front of him was already shadowed, the water pounding against it as the tide swelled and Harry was transported back to that disastrous night of his sixth year when the Headmaster had Apparated them to a wild coastline in the dead of night. Sadness infused him as Harry was suddenly swamped by the memory of that black cave and his part in the tortuous last night of Albus Dumbledore. Remembered panic made his heart pound as he recalled holding the elderly wizard and Harry had no conscious memory of how his sixteen-year-old self had managed to Side-along Apparate both of them back to Hogsmeade that night.

The wind whipped around him, rain hitting his face as Harry struggled with the old guilt as his eyes lost focus.

"Collins!" A deep voice snapped. "I have no desire to get drenched because you're too idiotic to come in out of the rain!"

Harry's head snapped around at the annoyed tone. Standing on the path below him was Severus Snape, dark hair swirling around his face, dark eyes flashing. Startled, Harry stepped forward, his foot hitting a loose stone and he started to slide. Strong hands reached out to grab his arms, pulling Harry against a lean chest and he found himself clinging back in a way that was embarrassing for an Auror. They were so close, pressed against each other and the new surge of feeling made Harry's breath hitch.

"My cottage is just over the crest," Stuart McGregor said hoarsely, his brown eyes shadowed in the fading light. "We can wait out the rain."

Tilting his head, Harry looked up as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. With a groan, McGregor leaned down the last inch to brush his lips over Harry's. Fire ignited in his very core and Harry found himself kissing the man for all he was worth. A wild, desperate hunger consumed him, almost frightening in its intensity. Hyperaware of the man he clung to, Harry felt one hand cup the back of his head as the other arm banded around his waist. Magic swirled around them, pulsing through him, and Harry tried to get even closer, wanting, needing, something….

McGregor pushed him to arms length, but before Harry could protest, his hand was grabbed and McGregor led him up the rocky pathway. His body hard and aching Harry stumbled after his guide, clasping the slender fingers as if they were his only lifeline. Harry didn't have any concept of time as the darkness closed around them and the rest of the world seemed to disappear, leaving just Harry and this man who had awakened his body in a way no one else ever had.

Then, they were out of the wind and McGregor was back kissing him as nimble fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. Following the example, Harry lost himself in the kiss, even as his own fingers clumsily pulled at the damp clothing McGregor was wearing. Somehow, they were both naked and Harry pressed down into the thick duvet of a large bed. Cool fingers stroked over his skin and Harry reached up to thread his fingers into the dark brown hair. Tugging urgently, he brought McGregor's mouth down so that he could contribute the one thing he knew how to do: kiss.

Hands and fingers continued to stroke him as Harry felt the older man settle on top of him. His hips jerked as smooth skin pressed against him and Harry felt the slide of a cock against his. His senses were enflamed, his head spinning as Harry felt McGregor's lips leave his and trail down his body. Curling his fingers into the bedding, Harry could only hold on as his body experienced things it never had before… the hot, wet swipe of a tongue, the stroke of a hand not his own, and the slick slide of an oiled finger.

"Have you ever done this before?" McGregor's voice was deep, breathless as he leaned over Harry.

Harry thrashed, his head moving back and forth.

"Do you want this?" The slick fingers moved slowly in and out. "Do you want me?"

"Oh, gods, yes!" Harry pushed himself against the fingers that had suddenly stilled with the question. "Please!"

With a low chuckle, McGregor continued, those long fingers brushing against something that sent a wave of pleasure through Harry. Practically sobbing as his body hovered at the edge of something Harry had no name for, he welcomed the stinging he felt as McGregor pressed his cock into him. The burning and stretched feeling gave Harry a point he could refocus on, but it only lasted a moment and even with his knees pressed to his chest, the incredible sensations were back. Rocking closer and closer to the edge, Harry forced his eyes open, feeling his magic swirling between them as he found McGregor's eyes and held them as his body stiffened, his world dissolving into a white-hot flash, then oblivion.

Awareness returned gradually to Severus. He was warm and sated, his body still humming with the wild magic that had infused his core as he had felt Harry stiffen and come apart in his arms. His own climax had been the most intense of his life, rendering him senseless for several long minutes. His lips twitched as Severus remembered the young man's innate shyness coupled with his incredible responsiveness, two traits that were uniquely Harry Potter. Warmth permeated his chest as he remembered the boy's admission and gift of his virginity. The unfathomable compatibility of Harry's magic had enhanced the entire experience, and Severus began to wonder if this significant fact might have a more far-reaching application.

Sliding his hand out, Severus encountered only warm sheets. He rolled over, pushing himself up onto an elbow as his eyes quickly spotted Harry silhouetted against the large window that looked out over the sea. A sinking feeling made his stomach clench.

"Regrets already?" Severus strove to keep any bitterness from his voice.

"No," Harry didn't hesitate, still staring out the window, "no regrets at all. That was the most incredible thing I have ever experienced."

Harry seemed completely unaware of his lack of clothing and it bothered Severus that he refused to look at him. "I hear a hesitation in your voice."

"No, it's not like that. It's just, well, there's this man…."

Severus stiffened, and he couldn't keep the chill from coloring his tone. "You fantasized that I was someone else?"

"Not at all — I knew exactly who I was in bed with! It's just that I wished you had been him, you see, that he could want me like you did. You are like him, and I've even pictured him when I've looked at you, but it doesn't matter. If he is truly alive, I am the last person he would ever want."

Severus blinked at the pain he heard in the low voice and it didn't take a genius to figure out what, or rather whom, Harry was talking about. Amazed that he could still feel such an emotion, Severus allowed hope to blossom in his chest.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, you are an imbecile!"

Harry's head whipped around so fast that Severus winced as Harry's body turned at a slower rate. He took a step towards the bed before stopping and Severus held his tongue as he waited for Harry's reaction.

"You… you knew who I was all the time?"

Severus nodded slowly. "Since tea yesterday, yes. You have taken on more of your mother's looks as you have matured and the strength of your magic confirmed it."

The young man's posture stiffened and Severus wished he could see the face covered in shadow.

"You played me? For what, revenge?"

Harry's voice rose, but Severus could hear the hurt more than any anger, and he sat up swiftly, grasping the chilled hand.

"I do have some honor left, Potter!" Severus snapped. "It was this, this feel of perfect compatibility that prompted me to invite you this afternoon."

"I… but, how… Snape? … Where have you been?"

The young man began to shake and Severus tugged his hand gently until Harry crawled onto the bed. Pulling back the bedding, Severus covered them and slowly drew Harry back against him, cautiously enfolding the stiff man in his arms. The instantaneous flow of magic made his breath hitch and the stunned look in those normally brilliant eyes changed to a frown.

"I don't feel your magic," Harry seemed to press closer, his magic infusing Severus, reigniting a spark that had only flickered within him for the past five years.

"I have no magic," Severus ground out through gritted teeth, the very words causing his chest to ache. "I've not been able to perform the simplest Summoning Charm since I escaped the Shrieking Shack after the Final Battle."

"What? Why?" Harry relaxed slightly, finally looking up to meet Severus' eyes.

His hands itched to cup that face, with its mixture of intense, conflicting emotions, and Severus wondered how he would survive the rejection if he laid bare his soul to this man. Just the emotional journey back to that night was wrenching, but Severus knew that without taking the risk, he would gain nothing. Harry needed to trust him.

Slowly, Severus began speaking, the darkness, and horror of that night coloring his voice. Describing what happened after Harry and his friends had left the Shack, how Poppy had found him just in time. Hogwarts castle had been a silent conspirator as the mediwitch moved him into her own rooms and struggled to heal him, even as the magical element of the venom had leeched his magical core of its power. Ultimately, Poppy had been successful, with the antivenin Severus had stored and the potions he'd been able to assist with as he regained his strength, but not before his magic was lost to him, one final behest of the Dark Lord.

Capitalizing on the assumption that he had died and Severus' own ignorance of the Chosen One's intercession on his behalf, he had used the escape plan that Albus had prepared for him. Only Poppy Pomfrey knew that he was alive and how to contact him, although he always suspected Minerva McGonagall had her suspicions. The deception of his old professor and trusted colleague was one of the hardest things Severus had had to do that final year, but he had needed Minerva's hatred to be real, for the safety of the children at Hogwarts. Sadness filled him, and Severus purposely turned his dissertation back to the facts of his escape. It would not do to wallow in emotion he could little afford, and had no way to rectify. No, the young Auror was used to dealing in facts and Severus relayed those about his journey to Cornwall, gathering his frayed emotions as he did.

Sometime during the course of his monologue, Severus had rolled on to his back, with Harry's head nestled on his shoulder, his hand resting over Severus' heart. Letting his voice trail off after explaining his current career choice and before he became bogged down in sentimental rubbish over living his life without magic, Severus concentrated on the sheer strength of the power radiating off the lithe form stretched out beside him. His arm seemed to tighten around Harry without conscious thought, as Severus closed his eyes and basked in the feel of magic coursing through him.

"Sev… Severus?"

He almost smiled at the way Harry stumbled over his name, like some exotic phrase, before rubbing a muscled thigh reassuringly. This young man was refreshingly reticent — nothing like the cheeky, impertinent brat Severus had thought he was during his early years at Hogwarts. It had been Minerva who had reconciled the brash front the teenager put forth with the reserved young man underneath during a heated moment of discussion after one of his first attempts to teach the boy Occlumency. That, coupled with the insight into Harry's home life, had allowed Severus to finally see Lily's son.

"Yes, Harry?" Severus couldn't help the smirk that erupted to cover the smile.

"This…" Harry waved his hand vaguely over Severus' chest. "This connection… between us. Is it that our magic is just uncommonly compatible or is it… the connection of the One that everyone has told me about?"

His heart seized as the import of Harry's words struck him. Could it be? The sheer irony of the situation was immense; to find the son of his first crush was actually his one true love boggled the mind. Harry apparently took his incredulous look wrong as he smacked Severus on the chest.

"Stop that! Any man who would believe in a prophecy that Trelawney spouted has to believe in the premise of a true love!"

Severus reached up and tilted Harry's chin so that he could see the awful blue eyes. "Perhaps if you had sounded convinced yourself, I might have agreed with you. But I have little experience with love myself and as such, I have no idea, truly."

Harry looked up into the brown eyes, wishing they were the inscrutable black he had fantasized about for so long. "I know that I tried my hardest to fall in love with Ginny, but nothing felt like this."

Pressing his hand gently against Severus' chest, Harry was amazed at the instant spark of awareness and arousal which was rapidly becoming familiar. This time, though, there was something different, the wisp of a deep, rich magic reaching out to him. Harry gasped, his eyes jerking up to meet Severus' in the gathering shadows, taking in the incredulous expression there.

"Is that… you?" Harry was on his knees, both hands splayed across the lightly muscled chest.

Severus nodded slowly, and Harry laid his cheek over the older man's heart, feeling the weak flutter of magic until it disappeared. Sitting back on his heels, Harry waved his hand, silently lighting several candles that were scattered around the room. The sudden influx of light caught an expression on Severus' face that as a student at Hogwarts he would have dismissed as contempt, but as an adult, Harry recognized it as pain.

"Severus?"

A haunted look flickered through those eyes and Severus glanced away for a moment, before meeting his eyes. "That was the first magic I have felt since I left Hogwarts."

A spark of hope lodged in Harry's chest and his mind worked frantically. "Where is your wand?"

A frown wrinkled Severus' brow and Harry held his breath, afraid that the older man had snapped his wand when he realized he no longer had a need for it. Slowly, as if it pained him, Severus twisted around to reach into the drawer of the bedside table and withdrew a slender, dark wand. Harry tried not to sigh in relief; Severus had kept his wand close, perhaps dreaming of the day he would regain his magic. Ignoring the slight tremor in the hand that extended the wand towards him, Harry shook his head at the silent man.

"No, I just want to try something, Severus, if you are willing." And trust me, Harry thought, wondering if this was happening too fast for both of them, but unwilling to let go of the idea that he was formulating.

Moving off the bed, Harry turned and extended his hand toward Severus. The other man's face seemed to tighten before it settled into a neutral mask and those eyes shuttered. Although they had this strong connection between them, the tie that their magic seemed to recognize, Harry knew that Severus wouldn't want to be made a fool of, any more than Harry wanted to give him false hope if this trick didn't work. Severus hesitantly moved in front of him and Harry turned him around, sliding up behind him to press as much of his skin against Severus as he could. Wrapping his hand around Severus' wand hand, Harry willed the magic he could feel dancing between them to sink into his former teacher.

"Can you feel me, Severus?" Harry asked quietly. "Can you feel my magic leaping through your skin and seeping into you?"

"Yes."

"Cast a spell, Severus, see if my magic revitalizes yours."

Harry could feel Severus stiffen, his breath freezing in his chest until he felt the wand lifted in Severus' hand.

"Lumos!"

The wand tip blinked several times before lighting up and Harry felt Severus gasp.

"Nox! Wingardium Leviosa!"

A pillow on the bed trembled before sluggishly lifting, titling at a drunken angle as it hovered over the bed for a moment and then fell. Severus stood stiffly in the circle of Harry's arms for several moments before he began to tremble. Guiding him down to sit on the bed, Harry kept his arms around Severus as he sat beside him, the man staring at his wand as his fingers caressed the length of dark wood.

"It is rather cruel to give me a taste of something that I have lost, Potter, when we both know that it is but a fleeting moment. Even if we… determine that we are compatible, I cannot spend the day in your arms, as tempting as that might sound at this moment, in order to perform elementary magic."

Severus' voice was soft and without any inflection, Harry wincing at the implication that he would do this only to take it away again. The idea that was half formed in his mind began to take shape in bits and pieces, and Harry just knew it had to work. If the Muggles could do it successfully, why couldn't they duplicate it with magic?

"I have no intention of taking anything away from you. In fact, I think I may have an idea on how you can retain it."

Severus turned his head to give Harry a dubious look. One eyebrow arched in the old, familiar way and Harry wanted to roll his eyes. The history they shared ran the gamut of loathing and distrust to grudging respect, and now to this new awareness between them. It was crucial that they get to a level where they could communicate without misunderstanding, but that would take time and effort, Harry knew.

"Are you still in contact with Madam Pomfrey?" Harry's fingers caressed the warm skin hungrily.

"Yes, however, she has not been able to assist me, nor is there a potion that will restore one's magical abilities." Severus set the wand down carefully, pulling out of Harry's reach. "I have tried everything I can think of over the years, until I realized that it would be best to accept my… loss and proceed with living."

A sense of sorrow settled in the pit of Harry's stomach as Severus moved away from him and he wasn't sure whether it was from the loss of contact or in sympathy. He stood, reaching out again with an open hand.

"Severus, I have an idea that might work…."

Severus' head whipped around and Harry almost fell back at the foul look on the older man's face. "I don't need pity or false hope, Potter, and I certainly don't need to be mollycoddled by the likes of…."

"I have no intention of mollycoddling you, you prat!" Harry spat back, no longer the schoolboy who had to take the verbal abuse. "I am thinking of a transplant — of giving you some of my magical core to replenish yours — but if you would rather resort to nastiness…."

Harry halted his tirade as he watched the emotions play across the usually stoic face. Now that Harry knew this was the man he'd fantasized about for so long, he wanted to see those dark eyes back to their true shade.

"I would prefer that you not tempt me with a half-thought-out idea or bogus promise, Mr. Potter," Severus said tightly. "It serves no purpose to believe in the impossible when I have just got used to life without magic."

Shifting closer, Harry leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees, resting his forearms on his thighs. "One of the Aurors I work with found out last autumn that his little sister had a life-threatening disorder of the blood. He's a Muggleborn and his parents don't really understand our world, but he couldn't turn them down when they asked him to have his blood tested. Of course he proved to be a match for the girl, so the Muggle doctors took bone marrow from him and transplanted it into her."

Harry looked up to make sure Severus was listening, despite the set, closed look on his face. "The procedure was a success, but afterwards, Archie discovered that his sister had been a Squib and the influx of innate magic in his bone marrow actually allowed her to do very simple magic."

A frown creased Severus' forehead as he listened to Harry, but at least he appeared to be listening. Harry rushed on, feeling ridiculously nervous. A snarky 'Gryffindor whelp!' reverberated in his mind.

"So, I believe that it is worth a try to see if Madam Pomfrey might be able to do the same with our magical cores. I think you just demonstrated how compatible your magic is to mine and Merlin knows, I certainly have enough to give you some!" Harry paused, sucking in a breath. "It could regenerate your magic like Archie's bone marrow regenerated his sister's blood AND her magic!"

Several emotions contoured Severus' face as Harry watched anxiously. The thought had just come to him, but he was sure, based on what had happened with Archie, that magic could be transplanted. Harry expected Severus to be skeptical, apprehensive even as that lean face settled into a grimace of disdain.

"You are suggesting that I would submit my body to the brutality of a Muggle doctor and be willingly injected with your magic!" Severus stood up abruptly, arms crossed angrily over his chest. "And what price would I pay for this gift you so offhandedly presume to bestow — indentured servitude?"

The older man's tone was a surprise and Harry had pushed himself to his feet when Severus did, only to stagger back as the venomous words slapped him in the face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was telling him what an idiot he was to have thought Severus Snape could have changed over the years, that this was still the same man who had hated his father and loathed him. A great sadness welled up in his chest, making it painfully tight as he realized that Severus was summarily rejecting him as well as the offer he'd made. Anger exploded in him as Severus continued to stare at him contemptuously.

Harry took a step closer, his vision narrowed to the eyes that seemed to be trying to bore into his, and something died — hope perhaps — inside him. Without a thought, Harry angrily snapped his fingers and he was dressed, his clothes dry. The slight widening of Severus' eyes made him feel smug, until Harry remembered that the man didn't want any part of his magic or him, and the realization cut through him again. He took a step closer, crowding the naked man.

"I'd thought to give you a part of something I have an over-abundance of." Harry couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I offered because I thought you might want it, but I seem to have made a gross misjudgement. It just seemed to me that this," Harry ignored the tremor in his hand as he reached to press it to Severus' bare chest, allowing the feel of the now familiar tingling welcome him one last time, "misled me into believing there was validity in the old legend of the One True Love."

Straightening, Harry stepped away, pleased that his training kept his own face impassive despite the emotions swirling inside him. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr. McGregor."

Silently, Harry Apparated away.

Blinking, Severus stared into the empty space that had held Harry just an instant before, his hand moving to rest against the warm flesh of his chest. The jolt of magic had brought him back to his senses, but not before he'd seen the hurt and anguish in Harry's eyes. Slowly turning towards the bathroom, Severus silently berated himself for allowing old prejudices and fears to sharpen his tongue on the one person who least deserved it. The distrust and incredulity that had slammed into him had been spawned by another time, another generation, and truly had nothing to do with Harry.

Harry Potter had not orchestrated this situation, nor was he responsible for what Severus had suffered. It had just been a shock to have a powerful wizard offer to give his magic to anyone in such a casual way. The sharing of magic was an incredibly intimate situation and had been used in the past to enslave less powerful witches and wizards. He shuddered as he remembered the Dark Lord and his version of magic sharing. The gifting of magic was unheard of in the wizarding world, except in the distant past when Merlin was said to have gifted magic to the Lady of the Lake, who had then overpowered and imprisoned him.

No, Harry's offer had been genuine and without subterfuge, Severus knew, and he'd thrown it back in the man's face. Severus grimly went through the process of cleaning up and pulling on dry clothes. The rumpled bed mocked him as he did and Severus left it as a reminder of his own stupidity. Somehow, Severus needed to right the wrong and thank Harry for the generosity of his offer. He didn't anticipate it being made again, but Severus had to make his apologies and perhaps salvage enough to convince Harry that they should explore the One True Love bond they seemed to share.

Stepping out into the wind-driven rain, Severus turned up the collar of his jacket and began the trek back to the castle, hoping against hope that Harry was even still there. While he had learned to live without magic, some instinct told him that without Harry, he would wither and die. Severus would have plenty of time to think of what to say as he trudged through the night, Camelot Castle a beacon of light in the darkness.

Harry sat on the floor, his legs having given out on him the instant he Apparated back into his tower room at Camelot Castle. His eyes prickled hotly as Harry buried his face in his hands, wondering again why his life was so messed up.

Freakish and abnormal!

Even all these years later, the remembered disgust of Uncle Vernon's tone could make Harry flinch, but is seemed his uncle had been more right than he knew. Why did it always have to be on the brink of something good, that Harry found it ripped from his grasp? And it wasn't like Harry hadn't ever been rejected before, but never in an acid tone of voice laced with such incredulity. It was as if Severus Snape could not believe the sheer audacity of Harry's suggestion that he pollute even his depleted magic with that of a Potter. A sob caught painfully in his chest, but Harry refused to let it out, concentrating on the pain until his whole body ached, but it didn't derail his thoughts.

It didn't really matter anymore, Harry admitted grimly. After this latest fiasco at the Ministry his career was over. He knew as soon as the furor died down he would be submitting his resignation and now, there was nothing keeping him from disappearing. The hope that Harry had once held of finding that one person who was meant to be with him had died a premature death, and there was no reason to continue looking. After this evening, he doubted that he'd ever be able to find anyone who could make him feel like Severus had.

Standing abruptly, Harry lurched towards the bed, stopping long enough to kick off the muddy shoes that would soil the fine sheets, before getting in. Knowing he couldn't leave without Kingsley or Hermione tracking him, Harry was without any other options. He didn't bother turning on a light as he crawled under the bedding curling up in a fetal position as the emotions raged through him like the angry storm that lashed at the windows of the tower room.

So lost was he in his misery, Harry didn't hear the scrap of a key in the lock, or the door opening.

"Harry?"

Engrossed in the internal dialogue, the soft voice didn't even startle him. Dully, Harry lifted his head, taking in the tall slender figure that stood beside the bed. A flash of lightning illuminated the wet hair plastered to the man's head, his large nose thrown in harsh silhouette against his pale face. This man more closely resembled the Snape of his youth than the giving lover he'd spent the afternoon with. The man who'd summarily rejected Harry….

"I believe you may have misunderstood…."

The look on his face must have reflected Harry's internal turmoil as Severus shifted and cleared his throat as Harry continued to stare up at him.

"Or more likely, I may have phrased my response inappropriately as it was self-derisive in nature and came out harsher than I had intended."

Frowning, Harry attempted to process the words through his emotion-addled brain. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Harry waved his hand out of habit, lighting the candles scattered about the room. Severus held himself stiffly at the side of the bed, his eyes fixed on Harry, with his clothing drenched and dripping, but the sight made a spark of hope ignite within him.

"I heard a resounding rejection of everything I proposed and…" Harry found he couldn't finish, couldn't voice the and me.

Severus' emotions played across the face that had always been so impassive or curled into a sneer when he was younger.

"My surprise at you offering to submit to a brutally invasive Muggle procedure in order to gift me with something as precious as your magic stunned me. As I said, I didn't intend to come across so harshly to you in my disbelief, as that was certainly not directed towards you."

Throwing back the bedding, Harry tried to replay the scene in his mind, but could not get past his own remembered pain and rejection.

"I could not fathom how anyone could willingly offer me magic as…."

"Amazing?" Harry supplied helpfully as he slid across the bed, the knot of pain in his chest loosening at the quiet undercurrent of sorrow in Severus' voice.

"…if it were something they did routinely, instead of the unimaginable gift it would be."

Severus finished dryly, his heart leaping as he watched Harry move towards him. The tremble that began in his very core Severus put down to the thorough soaking he'd received on his harried journey through the storm. Slowly, Severus lifted his hand, steeling himself for rejection as Harry stopped and studied it for a moment, before carefully enclosing in it his warm one. The instant flow of magic soothed and reassured him as Severus tugged Harry up and into his arms.

The embrace had a desperate, hopeful feel to it and they stood there for several long minutes wrapped tightly in each other's arms, Harry's face buried in his neck. The trembling increased as Severus realized that this was Harry's forgiveness wrapped around him, and how closely he'd come to losing this young man.

"Severus!" Harry lifted his head, warm lips feathering his chilled jaw. "You're chilled to the bone!"

Harry pulled back and Severus' body protested the loss, but had to settle for the hand clasped around his. Following Harry towards the bathroom, Severus was startled when his clothes vanished. A sheepish grin made the equally naked Auror appear years younger as he reached his free hand into the glass shower enclosure to turn on the water. Severus allowed himself to be pulled into the shower and be maneuvered under the hot spray.

Gasping at the sudden change in temperature as the water cascaded over him, warming him. The turbulent whirl of emotions inside him settled as Harry continued to touch him.

"Close your eyes."

Harry's voice was husky in his ear and Severus complied without hesitation. Gentle fingers slid into his hair, the faint scent of sandalwood enveloped him, and Severus could feel the rich lather slide down his shoulders. Harry massaged his scalp, before tilting Severus' head back to rinse off his hair. It was more comforting than arousing; a promise in the hands that were taking care of him and Severus felt a smile curve his lips. As Harry continued to slowly wash him, for the first time in his adult life, Severus felt cherished and it made him vaguely uncomfortable.

"Severus?"

Opening his eyes, Severus found that Harry stood in front of him with a concerned look on his face, his hands still soaping Severus' chest. Wrapping his arms around the young man, Severus turned them so that the water fell over them both, and cupped the back of Harry's head.

"I am not accustomed to anyone taking care of me in any manner, but especially someone who is doing it solely for my benefit. It may take some getting used to."

Harry flashed him a brilliant smile, lighting up his face and Severus' whole being as he did. A horrid thought struck him as Harry pressed closer.

Severus stilled him with the hand he had splayed across Harry's lower back. "Please tell me that you are not… saving me."

The grin that had started to fade was replaced with a look that Severus could only term as tender.

"I am saving you, Severus, but for the first time in my life," Harry met his eyes, "I am doing it for my own utterly selfish reasons."

Severus let his head slowly descend the scant distance that separated their lips and kissed Harry with all the unspoken feelings that burned in his chest. Their magic had a joyful feel as he attempted to express his appreciation of the tenderness Harry had shown him, the forgiveness for his angry outburst that had caused both of them so much pain. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but a slow kiss of promise and apology, of determination and of hope. They both sighed as the kiss was broken, and Severus leaned his forehead against Harry's.

"Come, we need to finish before we drain the hotel of hot water." Severus straightened up, just as his stomach gave a rumble of hunger.

"Perhaps I should have some food brought up."

The lopsided smile on Harry's face was entirely too alluring for Severus' battered emotions, and he simply nodded.

"Then perhaps we can notify Poppy that you shall be paying her a visit. I would imagine including Miss Granger would be in order as well," he carefully washed Harry's back, "I assume you still have that infernal cloak?"

Several hours later, Severus lay in his own bed, the wind buffeting the outside of the cottage, and Harry wrapped firmly in his arms. They had shared a tea at the hotel as Harry packed his few belongings and then Apparated them back to the cottage. It had taken little conversation to agree on a course of action and Harry's Patronus had galloped away an hour ago, summoning Granger, Weasley, and Poppy Pomfrey to tea the following afternoon in a nearby town. Neither of them knew whether this treatment would work, but Harry was determined to try, to give Severus back the magic he'd sacrificed to the fight against the Dark Lord.

All Severus knew as he closed his eyes was that despite everything he had endured, he had ended up with this young man in his arms, and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that.

Harry led the way through the small tea room in nearby Devon the next afternoon, feeling more content than he could ever remember. The Strand Tea Room was a wizarding gathering point in this coastal town and Harry had been particularly careful with his appearance and Severus'. He didn't need the interruptions that being Harry Potter would bring, nor did they need anyone recognizing Severus at this stage. Having found the person he had been seeking all these years, Harry vowed to protect Severus with everything he had, until he could convince the man that not only was Harry capable of loving him, that Severus was capable of being loved.

Seated at the corner table in the back, Ron Weasley actually caught sight of them first as he sat facing the door like any good Auror. He rose to greet Harry with a one-armed hug, leaning in close to whisper gleefully.

"I can't believe you found the git!"

Releasing Harry, Ron stepped around him and Harry glanced back to see the apprehensive look on Severus' face, as if afraid that Ron would embrace him as well. Instead, the red-head extended his hand silently and Severus took it with minimal hesitation. Then Hermione was in his arms, hugging him fiercely, as Madam Pomfrey gasped behind her. Stepping to the side, Harry watched as the older woman moved slowly towards Severus, who was dressed in black trousers and jumper. Ron moved to Hermione's other side, arm slung casually around her waist and they all watched with amusement as the older woman batted away the hand Severus extended to give him a fierce hug.

"Miss Granger." Severus nodded to Hermione when the mediwitch had finished with him, twin spots of color heating his cheeks.

"You are looking much better than the last time I saw you, sir." Hermione smiled warmly and Harry saw her eyes watch as Severus came to stand at his shoulder. "We've already ordered tea, if you'll take a seat."

Harry suffered through Poppy patting him on the cheek with misty eyes as she moved past him to slide into the dark bench on the opposite side of the table. Hermione and Ron followed her, leaving Harry and Severus to sit in the chairs across from them. A cat meowed as Harry scooted the chair in and he glanced down quickly to make sure he hadn't stepped on it, but he didn't see any cat.

"Strange," Harry muttered as he leaned towards Severus, "did you see a cat?"

Hermione laughed. "It's the resident ghost, Harry! No one has ever seen it and only a few ever hear it — in fact, legend has it that to hear the Strand cat ensures success for the lucky person."

A smile spread across Harry's face and he noticed that Severus relaxed slightly in beside him, but didn't respond as a woman arrived with a tray full of tea and food. Cakes, scones, pots of jam and clotted cream, and plates of sandwiches were placed in front of them along with two pots of tea. There was a quiet exchange of pleasantries as the waitress helped them pour tea and pass around the milk.

"I haven't a clue how this all happened, but it is nice to see a smile on your face, mate," Ron was the first to speak.

Hermione colored as all eyes shifted to rest on her and she waved a dainty sandwich. "My parents stayed at the Camelot several months ago and raved about it. They might have mentioned a man that reminded me of someone who I thought might appeal to Harry, er, Brian. Who, I might add, was sorely in need of some kind of a love life!"

It was Harry's turn to blush, especially when Severus smirked at Hermione's words, and he was tempted to kick his lover in the shins. A brush of slender fingers as they reached for the clotted cream, conveyed an apology.

"I am pleased to see both of you looking so well," Madam Pomfrey interjected quietly as she blew across her milky tea. "I have worried as it has been a long time between letters."

Her tone held gentle admonishment and Harry hid his smile behind his cup of tea as Severus shifted uncomfortably. Ron looked insufferably smug to have his theory proven right, but Harry noticed that his eyes had taken in the small gestures between them that told his best mate that Harry had found more than their old professor in the man beside him. Swallowing, Harry set his cup down on the table and silently cast Muffliato. Severus looked at him sharply and Harry was pleased that he was able to tell when Harry used his magic. He cleared his throat quietly.

"Madam…" The mediwitch looked at him sharply. "Poppy", he started again. "Severus and I have found out that our magic is compatible…."

Hermione gasped and Ron looked up from his plate.

"…and we would like to see if you can perform a magical core transplant."

The silence lasted about two seconds before an explosion of voices assaulted his ears and Harry winced, leaning towards Severus. With an abrupt motion of her hand, Poppy silenced the other two, her face stern.

"Do you know the inherent dangers in the procedure you are talking about, Mr. Potter?" she told him grimly. "It is one of the most invasive magical operations and almost never used as it rivals the brutality of Muggle surgery, not to mention the possible side effects!"

"Harry! A magical core transfer hasn't been successfully completed in decades! The donor has as much of a risk of losing his magic entirely as the recipient has of rejecting the transfer or dying of an allergic reaction!" Hermione added her voice, leaning over the table.

"There have been stability problems in the recipient unless there is a deep bond in place. I just don't think this is a very good idea, Severus!" Poppy Pomfrey's voice cut through the babble of other voices as it rose in concern.

Severus, who had been silent through Harry's speech leaned forward and reached to cover the mediwitch's hand. "Poppy, after Harry and I had prolonged physical contact…" Ron snorted "…yesterday, I cast two different spells for the first time in five years." Turning his head, Severus met Harry's eyes. "Besides that, I believe there is already a True Love bond between us."

The voices exploded again around them, but Harry ignored them, holding Severus' eyes. He'd be glad when they could once again be the dark, fathoms-deep eyes he had dreamt of for so long and was thrilled to see the corners of those thin lips curve upwards. Whatever the difficulties, Harry knew that, this time, he was not alone.

"…and it will be an extremely painful procedure, I can assure you!"

"Pain is something that both Harry and I are intimately familiar with, Poppy." Severus' eyes remained locked on his. "At least this pain will be purely physical in nature."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity as Harry and Severus began to merge their lives together. Severus had given his notice to his superior at Camelot Castle and had been amazed at her reluctance to let him go. Feeling rather bemused, Severus had accepted the glowing reference letter he received on his final day, along with the formal tea his co-workers had prepared for him. Harry Apparated back to the cottage each evening to spend his nights with Severus and had helped him pack his meager possessions. It was with a touch of sadness that Severus left the small cottage, knowing that he had found peace within its walls during a particularly turbulent time.

Harry had a rougher time at it at the Ministry of Magic, as his immediate supervisor refused to accept his resignation. His temper getting the best of him, Harry had marched into the Minister of Magic's office and threatened to give Luna Lovegood an exclusive interview on how the Ministry treated their employees. Kingsley apparently knew Harry too well, demanding the true reason for his sudden decision, which had led to them Apparating to Harry's flat unexpectedly and sending Severus' heart into palpitation. After an over-exuberant greeting which he had been less than enthused about, Severus listened silently as Harry explained what had happened and their plans. Surprising Severus with his immediate support, Kingsley had promised to clear Severus' name from the list of those missing after the war, restore his property and Gringotts vault, and formally present him with the Order of Merlin, First Class, which Harry and Hermione had fought so hard for.

It was Kingsley's quiet offer to assist Poppy Pomfrey with the magical transfer that astounded Severus the most. Kingsley had argued that he was a more powerful wizard than either Ron or Hermione and would be more likely to help contain Harry's magic if something went wrong. The Minister's obvious affection for Harry was expected, but Severus had been caught off guard by the genuine respect he was shown by his former Order colleague. Severus had nodded his agreement, unable to articulate a verbal answer.

Their discussion had stayed with Severus that afternoon as he settled into Harry's flat. While he had appreciated Kingsley's candor about the public's reaction if the true strength of Harry's magical power became known, it had also been a relief. Knowing that Harry was powerful was one thing, but being reassured that this transfer would not put Harry's magic at risk had been a welcome gift. Poppy was guardedly optimistic now, after examining them both in agonizing detail, but Kingsley was a much better judge of the sheer strength of Harry's magic.

Preparations were underway for the magical transfer — Severus tended to think of it in terms of a ritual, instead of a medical procedure — with both he and Hermione Granger researching the technical aspect of it, including the possible ill effects. Severus worked with Hermione to brew a potion that would heal Harry's magic if needed in the makeshift lab they had set up and a second potion to help him if it looked like his magical core was going to reject the donated magic. They both hoped that neither potion would be necessary, but Severus needed to keep busy doing something or he'd go spare. Minerva McGonagall had been brought in on their plans as Poppy felt they required Hogwarts' protective charms, as both he and Harry would be open and vulnerable to any kind of attack while their defenses were lowered to make the transfer.

After much discussion and deliberation, the type that Albus had always engaged in that grated so on Severus' nerves; they had chosen the Summer solstice to perform the magical procedure. The students were departing the day before and it would leave just the staff to contend with. Poppy had put both of them on a special diet that was supposed to enhance their magical abilities, but Severus found that most of the food was less appetizing than his potions. Harry had stoically eaten the odd dishes of flowers, greens, and grains for about a week, before hauling Severus out to a dinner of Beef Wellington, Yorkshire pudding, and something decadently chocolate for afters.

Once his commitment to the Ministry was discharged, Harry had dragged Severus through the countryside looking for a house that suited them. With a long-suffering air, Severus allowed himself to be led through a number of residences, large and small, watching with satisfaction the delight on Harry's face as they explored together. Although he would have chosen a different venue, it was definitely one way to learn the true nature of this young man. Harry was unfailingly polite, to Muggle and wizard kind alike. It did not matter whether they were looking at a quaint cottage nestled in Pembroke or the elegant manor house in Wiltshire; they were together and learning to function as partners.

It was a learning experience for both of them, and they decided that the house in Wilshire would serve their needs the best. The last two weeks before the transfer was spent moving into the large house. It had been built by a pureblood family whose fortunes had changed in the aftermath of the first war and despite having sat empty for quite some time, it was immaculate. The mystery was solved when a small group of house-elves had emerged from the shadows the first day he and Harry took possession. Severus had been mildly disgusted as he watched the diminutive creatures fawn over his blushing lover, startled to find a hint of jealousy in himself over the adoration.

They spent the last night before the Solstice in their new home and Severus could feel Harry tremble slightly as they pressed against each other. Severus didn't want to rehash the concerns and fears that had been discussed to death in the preceding six weeks; their fate was in other hands now. Threading his fingers into the tousled hair at the nape of Harry's neck, Severus kissed him. What started as tangible reassurance caught fire and Severus devoured the sweetness of Harry's acquiescence as he gave himself completely to Severus. It had been Severus' plan to slowly worship Harry's body, but as he slid into the velvety heat of his soon-to-be-bondmate, Harry clenched around him and snapped the thin control Severus had. Rising to his knees, Severus pressed Harry's knees up to his chest and began to pound into him.

"Oh, yes! Fuck me, Severus, harder!"

Harry's gasping breath pushed Severus on, and as the young man shouted his climax, Severus felt his own explode through him. The world grayed around him as he shuddered, pouring his release into Harry. Collapsing beside Harry, Severus drew him close and buried his nose in the damp, tousled hair.

"I… I love you, Severus."

A smile slowly curved his lips. "And I, you, my Harry."

Harry tried to relax as he lay in the bed Poppy had indicated in the far corner of the hospital wing. The bed seemed much smaller than it had when he was a student frequenting the mediwitch's domain. Beside him, Severus grunted as he tried to get comfortable in his own. A gentle hand rested on his head where Harry knew Hermione stood, just as Ron stood at his feet, waiting to cast the protective spell over them when Poppy opened up his magical core. Kingsley stood to his left, back to the door, with Poppy on the other side of Severus, closest to the windows.

Harry's eyes caressed Severus' sharp profile, delighting as he always did in the fact that he'd found this man and that he was here, with Harry. The feeling of contentment he'd experienced in the past six weeks was without compare, not that the journey to this day had been without conflict. They had had a number of misunderstandings, several disagreements, and one screaming, red-in-the-face row that Harry vowed never to repeat. And in each of the instances, it had merely taken one of them to reach his hand out to the other; the incredible feeling of magic flowing between them was calming and reassuring. It was arousing as well, Harry had discovered, which led to completely different ways of relieving tension.

"All right, gentlemen, we are ready to begin." Poppy's voice was brisk and professional.

Severus turned his head, an unreadable look on his face, and Harry flashed him a reassuring smile. They both knew what was to come: Kingsley was going to cast the spell to complete the True Love to bond their magic and lessen the chance of the transplanted magic being rejected. Then Poppy would cast a series of spells to expose both their cores and transfer magic from Harry to Severus. Ron and Hermione had already cast a protective shield around them and would hold it throughout the procedure. Kingsley would stand by to help if something went wrong, particularly to contain any of Harry's magic if it became a problem.

Kingsley stepped closer, nodding to both of them before beginning an incantation in his deep voice, his wand making delicate swirls and lines just above their bodies. Heat erupted in the center of Harry's chest, making him gasp despite his struggle to stay silent. Severus' hand found his and squeezed gently as the heat began to pulse through his body. Harry took a deep breath as he felt his magic find Severus through their clasped hands and the heat become just a pleasant warmth as it flowed between them. A sense of peace seemed to settle over Harry as a golden light pulsed once around them before seeming to be absorbed into their bodies.

When Kingsley stepped away with a bow, Poppy moved to where she stood between the two beds, forcing Harry to let go of Severus' hand. With a gentle hand, she patted first Severus' and then Harry's shoulders, before moving the sheets down to expose their bare chests. With a grimly determined expression, the mediwitch closed her eyes as she began to cast the spell that would expose Harry's magical core. Concentrating on clearing his mind and focusing on willing his body to allow the invasion, Harry still wasn't prepared for the explosion of fire that seared his chest and enveloped his whole torso. Poppy's admonishment of the procedure being painful didn't even begin to describe the agony he was in and only the desire to give Severus back his magic prevented him from screaming at her to stop.

It was all Harry could do to stay still, his vision darkening until all he could see was Poppy's wand above his chest. A Bludger-sized ball of pure white light seemed to be pulled from his chest and Harry could feel it separate from his core with a sharp ripping sensation. As the darkness overtook him, the last thing Harry saw was the ball floating over to Severus' chest and his lover's body jerk as it disappeared into his skin.

The waters that Harry floated on were warm but turbulent, rocking him back and forth, making his stomach churn with each motion. Something cool was pressed to his lips and a gentle hand supported his head as Harry drank, struggling to open his eyes. His body was sore and heavy with the feeling of being pinned down that caused Harry to panic.

"Hush, Harry, you're fine." The calming voice had a familiar lilt to it. "Severus is beside you and you're both safe at Hogwarts."

Forcing his eyes open, Harry could just make out the lined face and familiar bun of Minerva McGonagall, dressed in the blue and green tartan robes she had always favored. The weight pinning him to the bed turned out to be Severus, who was pressed tightly against his side. Raising a shaky hand, Harry moved a strand of hair out of his lover's face and tucked it behind Severus' ear.

"How long?" Harry forced the words out of his tight throat, his memory going over those last moments of the transplant.

"You've both been unconscious for about eighteen hours," the headmistress told him quietly. "I sent everyone else to bed after Poppy assured me that you were both just suffering from exhaustion."

"And Severus?" Harry couldn't help the touch of anxiety that colored his voice, his hand now stroking the stubbled cheek.

"He lost consciousness just after he received your magic, but Poppy says his body seems to be assimilating it well, with no signs of rejection, and his magic was showing a steady increase."

Almost as if he knew he was the topic of conversation, Severus shifted, groaning low in his throat. Harry turned toward him as Severus' eyes fluttered open.

"Harry?" Severus tried to sit up.

"I'm right here." Harry pushed himself into a sitting position, noticing that the bed had been enlarged to fit them both.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked hoarsely.

"I'm fine, just a bit sore, I think."

Taking the glass of water from Professor McGonagall, Harry held it while Severus took several sips, before sinking back onto the pillow. Handing the glass back, Harry lay back down beside his bondmate, propping himself up on one elbow. He could feel his own magic pulsing in his chest, almost as if it were still agitated about the abuse it had suffered. But it was there and seemed just as strong as before.

"Severus? How do you feel?"

The dark eyes met his. A frown creased Severus' forehead for a moment and Harry knew the man's vision had turned inward. Looking back up, Severus seemed almost surprised.

"I feel… alive, almost as if something inside me has awakened after a long sleep."

Harry smiled as anticipation filled him. "Summon your wand, Severus."

The dark eyes held his for several heartbeats more, before Severus looked at the nightstand a meter away. Raising a trembling hand, Severus closed his eyes for a moment in concentration, before speaking in a firm voice, "Accio wand!"

Without hesitation, the dark wood rose into the air and flew to Severus' hand with a resounding slam. McGonagall snorted softly, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and while elation filled Harry, it was the look of incredible joy on Severus' face that brought him to tears. Throwing himself across Severus' chest, their hearts beating against each other, Harry let all his fears bubble away and all his hope for a future come together as he was held tightly.

"It's all right, my Harry, let it out. We have a lifetime of magic ahead of us," Severus whispered huskily in his ear, and Harry pretended not to notice the way his voice broke.

Harry ducked as an apple flew out of the bowl on the side table and straight down the stairs towards Severus' lab. Following it, Harry peered around the corner to find Severus sectioning the fruit with quick, efficient movements of his pocket knife. A small platinum cauldron was simmering on a stand at the far end of the room, with Severus watching it intently. Harry leaned a shoulder against the wall, glad that the impromptu Quidditch game with Ron and his former Auror colleagues had ended early, thanks to a sudden thunderstorm over the Burrow.

"I thought the male pregnancy potion had to brew for another six hours, Severus." Harry watched Severus start guiltily. "Aren't you the one who told me a watched potion never brews?"

"I was merely assuring myself that the simmering state was not adding to the potency of the potion," Severus told him with a smirk, arching an eyebrow. "Unless you would rather carry twins on the first try?"

Grinning, Harry shrugged his shoulders before extending a hand towards his husband. In the five years since the bonding and transplant, Severus had regained all his magical ability and more. Their relationship had thrived, Severus doing research on medicinal potions and Harry throwing himself into causes he felt passionate about, until he'd decided to open an orphanage for wizarding children. Now they were ready to start a family of their own.

"It will sort itself out, I'm sure, as everything in our lives has," Harry told him, eyeing Severus with hunger. "I do think we need to practice the motions one more time, so we can be sure we're doing it right."

Severus let out a long-suffering sigh before taking Harry's hand and tugging him into his arms. "Must I show you how to do everything?" Severus muttered as he pressed against Harry.

With a smile, Harry nodded and allowed Severus to Apparate them both upstairs.