Chapter Text
But you know I think I recognise your face
But I've never seen you before
–From the song "Roll with It" by Oasis
Roll with it, phrase, to adapt to a situation despite unexpected circumstances or challenges.
Maybe being on the run for so long has got to me, Harry thought, glancing over his shoulder once more. The war had ended over six months ago; however, his instincts still seemed to be on constant alert.
For the last twenty minutes, Harry had been trying to kill time in Muggle London before Snape expected him to arrive at his shop. To the Muggles around him, his junior-Auror robes appeared to be jeans and a boring jumper. He looked to be a lad in his late teens, meandering the streets past sundown all alone, perhaps lost.
If he were being followed, it was most likely by a random Muggle thug eyeing him for some easy sterling.
Harry grimaced. He still had another forty minutes to wait. Robards had been adamant when giving him his assignment: He was to arrive for the pickup at seven o'clock sharp.
Harry growled softly in frustration. He could no longer ignore the crawling sensation down his back.
Dodging honking cars and cursing traffic, Harry hurried across the street and immediately started for the Leaky Cauldron, a few streets away. As he walked, he refused to glance behind him, but he did unsheathe his wand.
Once inside the dim, yet cosy, pub, Harry rushed through, returning Tom's greeting with a quick wave and a friendly smile. He soon reached the rear of the pub's courtyard and tapped the required brick with his wand. In fond appreciation, Harry watched as the busy, vibrant view of Diagon Alley revealed itself.
Releasing a long sigh, he stepped onto the familiar cobblestoned street.
As he walked, Harry enjoyed the window dressings of the various shopfronts; many were decorated with elaborate jack-o'-lanterns, bats, and other night creatures.
Unfortunately, passers-by soon recognised him, spoiling his peaceful stroll.
With a strained smile, Harry strode towards the fork between Diagon and Knockturn. He easily identified Snape's shop, across from Gringotts and jutting out like a crooked tooth. Harry could only imagine the strings that had been sliced, diced, and julienned to purchase such a desirable location.
Coming to a stop, Harry read the bold, no-nonsense sign hanging from above: ARETE APOTHECARY. When the topic of Snape's new business venture had come up, Hermione had explained arete was a Greek word and could mean a variety of things: power, excellence, or possibly virtuousness. He had laughed at the last suggestion.
Harry peeked over his shoulder one more time before he pulled open the door.
The bell above tinkled as he entered. Strong earthy, sour, and floral odours suddenly filled his nostrils, momentarily making him dizzy. As Harry moved further inside, he unsurprisingly found Draco Malfoy hunched over the counter; he busily labelled small bottles filled with a brown sludge of some sort.
Malfoy began to look up. "Welcome to—" The overly polite smile on his face vanished once he recognised whom he was speaking to. "Potter, you're early."
Harry glanced around, taking in the neat, high rows of bottles, tins, and jars. "I…er… Since I've never been here before, I wanted a few minutes to browse."
Malfoy did not appear convinced. "Well, once you're done browsing, the laboratory is downstairs. It's locked though, so don't bother knocking." He smirked. "Oh, and for your convenience, the male enhancement section is in the back-left corner."
Harry rolled his eyes, not giving in to Malfoy's taunting flirtation. The potion Snape was brewing for the Ministry was very hush-hush. All Harry knew was it would aid Aurors who went undercover. Retrieving and delivering the first batch would be Harry's first big task as an official Auror and might be the break he needed to be allowed on more exciting missions.
Intentionally avoiding the back-left corner, Harry wandered through the rows of shelves. Besides the plethora of potion ingredients and the usual remedies for aches and illnesses, he discovered a surprising area that featured tea blends. Harry tried all the free samples and decided to buy one that tasted of peaches, chamomile, and something else he couldn't name. Supposedly, if drunk before bed, it would help a person sleep better without being addicted—something Harry could definitely use.
After pocketing his purchase, Harry checked his watch: ten more minutes to wait. He sighed as he tried to avoid Malfoy's attention. Currently, Malfoy had a wicked, playful gleam in his eye. Even though Harry didn't prefer one-night stands and knew Malfoy was a notorious bed-hopper, accepting Malfoy’s unspoken invitation was tempting.
Better to wait downstairs.
Harry thanked Malfoy, who sulked with disappointment, before walking to the cellar entrance he'd discovered during his earlier explorations. He then made his way down a flight of stone steps.
Reaching the bottom, Harry saw various doors. He guessed the large, heavy door at the end of the hallway was the one to the laboratory. Even from where he stood, Harry could feel the thrumming protections radiating from it.
As he approached, Harry thought about the password Snape likely used to seal his lab shut. Probably some arcane, almost-lost-to-time shite. Something only a person like Hermione could guess.
Harry started to think up ridiculous possibilities: "Harry Potter is my hero," he said, snickering. "Slytherins suck toads."
Maybe something Muggle and trite, like a popular book or rock band. He snorted, his mind supplying an image of Snape grooving to a chart-topping band like Oasis. "'Supersonic,'" Harry jokingly said one of their song titles. "'Wonderwall—'"
CLICK.
Noooo, he thought in absolute horror and disbelief as the door in front of him began to swing open.
An instant later, Harry felt his feet leave the floor before everything went dark.
Slowly, Severus rose from the depths of unconsciousness he didn't quite recall falling into. He instinctively stifled a groan, unsure of his present situation.
Severus frowned in puzzlement. The throbbing pain of his head and the shouting he heard weren't anything new. However, that someone was kindly holding one of his hands during it was.
"I don't care what the proper protocol is!" a man with a pleasant enough voice shouted. "I don't care if he's still technically on probation or if he was an arse to you at Hogwarts. You are going to start doing everything you can to help him now!"
The hand linked with Severus’ gave a reassuring squeeze.
Who is this person comforting me? Fighting for me? Severus wondered. He wanted—no—needed to see who this person was.
As Severus struggled to open his eyes, the grip on his hand tightened.
"He's waking up," the man said excitedly, relief in his tone.
Squinting, Severus found honest brown eyes staring down at him. The man smiled. He was near Severus' age and looked like a decent, regular bloke, one who you'd share a friendly pint with.
Severus didn't recognise him at all.
Who is this man to me?
"Sir," a Healer, standing amongst a small group of muttering Healers, implored, "we understand your concern and are doing everything we can. But you should be in bed yourself."
"I'm fine," the man insisted. "He got the brunt of it, not me. I wasn't even in the room."
Severus studied the man sitting by his bedside. Like him, the man wore a drab patient gown; although, he didn't appear injured or ill in any way. He did seem to be greatly concerned for Severus' wellbeing—a very odd and rare occurrence for Severus.
Wands drawn, the Healers stepped closer.
"No," Severus rasped, it sounding like a panicked shout in his head; he didn't want the man to be taken away. Why was it that imbeciles always travelled in packs?
The air around Severus pulsed, and suddenly, all the Healers in the room were hurled off their feet.
"What is going on in here!" Healer Hippocrates Smethwyck demanded as he marched inside. Looking unimpressed, he glared down at the scrabbling Healers and Summoned the two clipboards that had clattered onto the floor.
The last time Severus had seen Healer Smethwyck was about a week ago for a follow-up; he was the talented Healer who had saved both him and Arthur from Nagini's bite.
"Are you the healer-in-charge?" Severus' mystery man asked desperately.
"Yes. I'm Healer Smethwyck." He smiled. "And I'm already familiar with Mr Snape's file." He turned and glowered at the other Healers who paled. "You all may go."
As the other Healers scurried out, Healer Smethwyck began to cast an array of diagnostic charms on both Severus and the man beside him.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness struck Severus. He swallowed hard, trying not to sick on himself. "Why am I here? What happened?"
"A potion accident in your shop," Healer Smethwyck answered. He stopped to scribble down a few notes, then conjured a large mirror and floated it into position.
Severus stared at his reflection with confusion. No harsh features. No overly large nose. He looked to be a man in his late fifties. Instead of his usual black mop, he had short brown hair flecked with silver, thickest near his temples. His irises were now light, not dark. Strangely, he appeared average, approachable but also easily forgettable.
"Polyjuice Potion?" Severus asked.
Healer Smethwyck Vanished the mirror. "Not quite. But likely a derivative of it and, perhaps, an ageing potion. I'm hoping you can tell me."
"He can't," the man interjected. "It would first need approval by the Ministry."
Healer Smethwyck pursed his lips. "I see."
Severus frowned, feeling even more perplexed. I was brewing for the Ministry?
“You also have a concussion,” Healer Smethwyck added after further analysing the glowing, coloured blobs floating around Severus' body. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. "Tell me, Severus, what month is it?"
Suspecting why Healer Smethwyck had asked, Severus inhaled a deep breath. "June."
The unidentified man gasped, his hold on Severus going lax.
Healer Smethwyck calmly nodded. "It seems you have some memory loss as well."
"Some!" the man exclaimed, looking distraught. "He can't remember four months of his life!"
Severus furrowed his brow. St Mungo's allowed visits by family members and significant others—and Severus had no remaining family. He turned his eyes on the man. "I apologise, but are you my…lover?" His magic started to uncontrollably crackle as he waited for an answer.
"Yes," Healer Smethwyck said quickly, cancelling his spell. "Yes, he is."
Severus' chest felt as if a full caldron had been placed upon it. He'd possibly fallen in love and couldn't remember it. "What is your name?" he asked softly.
Glancing back and forth between Severus and Healer Smethwyck, the man appeared to be at a loss. "My name? Oh, it's…Liam Gallagher."
Severus’ lips twitched. His romantic interest shared the same name with the lead singer of one of his favoured bands—an amusing coincidence, to be sure.
"Unfortunately," Healer Smethwyck said to Severus, "because of potentially harmful interactions, I can't prescribe any potions. You will have to heal naturally. The reading of your magic shows it's currently more susceptible to negative emotions but safe for moderate use. Avoiding feelings, such as fear, anger, and frustration, will be vital to your healing fully. If not, there could be dire consequences for the future stability of your magic.” Briefly, his gaze focused on Liam before returning to Severus. “Understood?"
"Understood," Severus answered, wondering how he was to accomplish Healer Smethwyck's order when his natural state tended to be one of dissatisfaction.
Healer Smethwyck jotted down another note. Then, with a swish of his wand, he Banished the clipboards out the door. "Mr…Gallagher, you are cleared to leave; Severus, you may go home as well—as long as you have someone who can look after you for the next few days or until your magic has stabilised."
"I can care for him," Liam asserted.
"Very good, Mr Gallagher," Healer Smethwyck said, nodding his head in approval. "Once I have more definitive information about the potion, I'll send an owl. If you learn anything on your end, please show me the same courtesy. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen."
Healer Smethwyck gave a parting smile, then hurried out, likely to his next patient.
"Do we live together?" Severus asked cautiously, controlling the discomfiture that wanted to rise to his cheeks.
"Er…no," Liam said as he ran his fingers through his dirty-blond hair in a somewhat familiar gesture. "We still have our own places but have usually visited mine. I've never been to yours before."
"We shall stay at my home," Severus declared. Not wanting to sound like a tyrant, he added, "It'll be more comfortable for me and may hold clues about the potion."
Liam's shoulders relaxed. "Sure. Okay," he said. "That sounds good."
Pop!
They turned at the sudden sound and discovered two paper bags had appeared on the overbed table nearest Liam.
Liam quickly leant over and grabbed both by their handles. After a peek in each, he handed the one in his left hand to Severus.
As Severus rifled through the bag, he grumbled in displeasure. His robes had been foolishly laundered. If they had been left alone, he could have examined the potion residue for clues. Fortunately, his mood changed for the better when his fingers felt the familiar shape of his wand.
Not wanting to spend another second in a hospital bed, Severus Transfigured their gowns into undergarments and plain robes, then moved to stand.
Liam, following suit, also stood. He wisely didn't offer to help, which Severus appreciated—he wasn't an invalid and had dealt with far worse than a nasty bump to the head.
Severus eyed Liam's shoeless feet before he conjured them each a set of passable footwear.
As he handed over a pair, Severus noticed Liam fidgeting. "Is anything the matter?"
Liam grimaced. "I…can't find my wand."
Besides what was found between one's ears, a wand was a wizard's greatest tool. Severus could understand Liam's dismay. "Perhaps it was merely left at my shop," he suggested, being the optimistic one for once. "Is Draco still working as my assistant?"
Liam slowly nodded as he slipped on a loafer. "Yes…"
"Along with inquiring about the potion, I'll post him a note asking whether an ownerless wand is lurking somewhere."
Liam offered him a small smile. "Thanks…"
Severus gave a succinct bob of his head and strode towards the door. Liam followed, then matched his step beside him.
The busy corridors didn't allow for conversation nor did the crying child in the lift. Now, as they silently stood outside St Mungo's, Severus was loathing his clumsiness. Would it be proper to touch him, or should I keep a respectful distance? It had been years since he had last given or received any semblance of genuine physical affection.
Severus' magic began to angrily buzz at his indecision.
"S…everus?" Liam asked.
Realising what he was doing, Severus followed Healer Smethwyck's instructions and ceased his worrying. Not questioning himself any further, he intimately wrapped his arms around Liam's waist, pulled him close, then Apparated them away.
After arriving at their destination, Harry felt Snape— No. If he were to pull this off, he would have to start thinking of Snape as…Severus. Harry had felt Severus briefly sway on his feet.
With Severus still clinging to him, Harry knew it would be odd for his arms to remain at his sides, so he lifted them to return the gesture. He tried not to panic at the utter lack of space between them. Chest-to-chest and thigh-to-thigh, he inhaled a deep breath to calm himself.
Slowly, Harry’s brow rose. Actually…sharing what was essentially a hug with Severus was…pleasant.
A few seconds later, they reluctantly released each other and stepped back. Harry glanced around and found himself standing on a corner of a well-to-do street. Lush, nicely kept greenery separated each home from the other.
Startling Harry, Severus leant closer until his lips were almost brushing Harry's ear. He then quietly said, "The residence of Severus Snape is number twenty, Fern Crescent."
Harry shivered. Severus' current voice paled in comparison to the dulcet tones of his true one, but the smooth cadence was the same.
The plants in front of them seemed to shiver. Then, in the no man's land between number eighteen and the pavement, Harry watched as a lovely two-storey brick house rose and expanded from the ground like a sprouting mushroom. Severus had been clever to choose a home under a Fidelius at the end of a street; unlike with Grimmauld, there would be no questions of incorrectly numbered houses.
"I'm not sure of its current state," Severus cautioned as he walked towards the black front door. "Last I remember, I was still moving in."
With the paper bag he still held at his side, Harry followed.
Even though the house was under one of the most ancient and powerful concealment charms in the wizarding world, the door was locked. Severus rummaged through his own bag and withdrew a ring of keys. He deftly found and slid the correct key into the deadlock before grinning at the satisfying click.
While holding the door open for Harry, Severus flicked his wand, and lights inside switched on. Harry smiled in thanks and graciously entered.
From where Harry stood in the entrance hall, he could see beautifully carved stairs leading to the first floor on his right. A living room with an unlit marble fireplace was to the left, and directly ahead was a darkened hallway. There was a mix of Muggle and magical effortlessly coexisting together: On various flat surfaces, stacks of books created miniature cityscapes. A television, record player, and radio slept in a huddled group against one wall. Magical knickknacks shimmered and glowed on shelves, tempting curiosity.
It felt like a home.
Harry beamed. "It's lovely."
Like a barely there breeze, pleasure appeared on Severus’ face, then quickly vanished. "Thank you," he said before leading them straight into the living room.
Further inside, Harry spotted a stunning tawny owl preening on a perch; it had large black eyes similar to its owner's.
"Good evening, Julia," Severus said, striding to a bureau topped with parchment, quills, and jars of ink.
Julia softly chirped in hello and then resumed grooming her feathers.
As Severus lifted a quill, Harry asked, "Would it be alright if I sent a couple of letters, too? I need to inform others about what happened so that they don't worry."
"Of course." Severus floated the necessary writing materials onto the coffee table for Harry.
"Thank you."
Severus nodded and then began to compose what Harry guessed was a letter to Malfoy. Harry hoped Severus stuck to his spying habits and gave the bare minimum of information about who exactly was asking for their wand.
Harry sat down on the sofa and then hurriedly wrote a message for Ron. His second letter was more challenging; explaining his current situation to Robards in such a way that wouldn't immediately have him sacked took every ounce of Slytherin-esque acumen he had.
Their correspondence done, they handed their sealed letters to Julia. She stretched and fluttered her wings before leaping off her perch and soaring out of the room.
On a shelf, Harry noticed a photo of Dumbledore. It showed him blowing a big bubble of gum and then the dire and humorous consequences afterwards.
When Severus noticed him staring at it, he said, "I thought it only appropriate to have a picture of this home's benefactor. Dumbledore bequeathed much of his estate to me. At first, I'd refused to accept, thinking he'd done so out of guilt.
"After speaking with his portrait, he admitted to guilt being one reason, but he informed me it was also because of gratitude, which is very much in keeping with the man: Kindness and cruelty, at times so tightly woven, it was hard to tell the difference."
Harry's chest throbbed. Much like Severus himself, he thought.
Severus yawned, prompting Harry to do the same.
"I know I was unconscious for part of the day, but I feel done in," Severus admitted.
Harry nodded in agreement. "My day started at four. I wouldn't mind turning in myself."
Severus hesitated a moment. "This is a two-bedroom house; however, what would be the guest room is being used as my office… I can Transfigure a bed here in the living room, or…you may share mine."
Inside, Harry was panicking. Would sleeping downstairs be too suspicious? If he agreed to share a bed, would Severus take liberties? But, that would be unlikely; Severus was tired; they both were. And it wasn't as if Harry had never shared a bed platonically before; he'd done it tons of times with Ron and Hermione.
Decided, Harry answered: "If you're okay with it, sharing would be fine."
It seemed Harry's words didn't immediately register. Severus blinked. Then, inhaling a deep breath, he bobbed his head. "Alright, then. Follow me. And mind your step."
Severus swirled his wand around his head, and the lights downstairs went dark while those upstairs sparked to life. Using the bannister for support, Severus steadily climbed the pictureless stairway, Harry trailing close behind.
The first-floor landing led to three rooms. The doorway to the right framed a basin and bath. To the left was the larger of the bedrooms; it faced the street and was insulated with a layer of shelves filled with even more books. A wood desk sat in front of a large window. Through the centre door was Severus' bedroom. Like twin lighthouses, a pair of bedside tables with glowing lamps stood watch on either side of a neatly made queen-sized bed.
As welcoming and comfortable as Severus' bedroom appeared, Harry's mind began to race about what he should do next. Going to sleep in robes would be odd as would asking his supposed lover for pyjamas. Uncertain, Harry decided to follow Severus' lead.
Severus placed his bag on the floor next to the wardrobe; Harry proceeded to do the same on the other side. Severus removed his shoes and socks and then so, too, did Harry. But, when Severus slipped one arm from a sleeve, instead of doing the same, Harry paused mid-motion in thought. Watching as Severus grappled with his robes and exposed more and more skin, Harry wondered what Severus' real body would have looked like; he'd only ever seen him buttoned up tightly in his teaching robes. Now, with Severus just in his pants, Harry could tell their current physiques were similar, not too soft, not too fit—average.
Not wanting to be found staring, Harry renewed his effort to undress. He hurriedly freed his arms, then manoeuvred the fabric towards his shoulders. After pulling the material off his head, he glanced up to find Severus unabashedly eyeing his body.
Harry instantly felt heat rush to his face and turned away to hide his rising blush. He gulped. Sweet Merlin, I might as well have been a Chocolate Frog with the way his eyes had been eating me up.
Severus cleared his throat; then, with a flick of his wand, he sent their dirty clothes to a nearby laundry basket. As long as a counter-spell wasn't applied, the Transfigured garments could continue to be used, and like Harry, Severus didn't seem the type to let things go to waste.
As if strutting around in his pants in front of a virtual stranger were a normal pastime, Severus started for the door. "Liam, while I'm in the bathroom, you may decide which side of the bed you wish to take; I have no preference. Oh. And so I don't need to mention it later, extra towels and toiletries may be found under the sink."
When Severus resumed his exit, Harry caught himself staring at Severus' boxer-clad arse.
Harry spun around. What am I doing? he chided himself, balling his hands at his sides. Having lusty thoughts about Severus, even fleetingly, was wrong. He was here to protect Severus' magic from being permanently damaged, magic that had been put at risk because of his actions.
Sighing, Harry stared at the deceivingly comfortable-looking bed; the pillows were fluffed, the duvet soft, but he knew once Severus joined him on it, it would seem as if he were lying on a stone slab with how uneasy he’ll feel. After a short moment of consideration, Harry decided to sleep on the right-hand side since he'd placed his paper bag on that side of the room earlier.
Harry reclined on top of the duvet and closed his eyes. He needed to come to terms with the fact that he'd soon be sharing a bed with Severus in nothing but a flimsy pair of pants. Harry quietly groaned. And, let's not forget, Severus believes we're lovers. I should give Ron and Hermione a heads-up to begin planning for my impending funeral.
Severus returned about five minutes later. When he saw Harry lounging on the bed, a mask of complete blankness appeared on his face.
Harry, feeling the need to escape, rushed out of the room and into the bathroom. Once the door was shut behind him, he leant on it and exhaled in relief. Even silent and at a distance, Severus was intense.
On autopilot, Harry went through the motions of getting ready for bed. While relieving himself, he couldn't help but look down and take a peek: average, as expected. Better than below-average, he mused.
Bladder empty; teeth flossed, brushed, and minty; face washed; hair combed and miraculously behaving: Harry knew he could no longer hide from the inevitable. Reluctantly, he opened the door.
Although Severus rested snugly under the covers and had turned off his lamp, he didn't feign sleep; instead, he silently watched as Harry joined him in bed.
Side-by-side, they lay, staring at the blank ceiling. Harry's thoughts were like one bad ride on a merry-go-round: up and down, dizzying, and seemingly never-ending. Severus may think I'm angry with him if I say nothing… Should I wish him sweet dreams? No. That would likely result in him kicking me off the bed… What about a kiss? As his…boyfriend, a goodnight kiss would be expected, right?
Severus glanced over, and his eyes flickered to Harry's lips.
Acting on impulse, Harry placed an awkward peck on the corner of Severus' mouth. "Goodnight."
Severus' expression looked slightly dazed. "Sleep well, Liam."
Harry turned the knob on his lampstand, and with a loud click, the sightless safety that darkness brought wrapped around them and tucked them in for the night.
Fire and rubble… Moans of pain… Sobs… Terrified screams—
Harry started awake, his heart frantically clenching and unclenching in his chest. Once again, he'd woken with salty moisture dampening his pillow and face.
"Shh," someone soothed, their hand on his shoulder. "It was just a dream. You're here, safe…with me."
Severus, Harry's mind supplied after a moment's thought.
Any attempt at an immediate reply left Harry when Severus protectively wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him close. Trying not to let more tears spill from his eyes, Harry buried his face into Severus' bare chest. "Sorry," he said roughly.
Severus didn't say a word of reproof; instead, he began to gently rub circles on Harry's back. Harry sank into Severus' touch, his warmth and comfort intoxicating.
Eventually, with Severus' soothing presence battling Harry's past losses and present fears, Harry fell back asleep.