Oblivion & Other Temporary Fixes
by
Rating: NC-17, check warnings if you need to know more details than simply "explicit sexual content" is present in this fic.
Pairing: Harry/Susan Bones, Neville/Hermione, tiny hint of SS slash
Word Count: 16,735
Summary: It's seven years after the war and Susan Bones is tired of saving the Chosen One from his own folly, her good friends, Neville and Hermione have made a monumental decision, and a retired professor and his trusty familiar try to make ends meet.
Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings: [contains: mention of characters death (not any of the main pairings) vanilla!bed!sex, wall!sex, desperate!sex, oral, nipple play, love bites.]
Disclaimer: All the characters are Rowling's. All the smutty scenarios are mine.
"What's your name?"
"Brian. Brian Evans."
"You're cute, Brian Evans."
He ignored this. "Nice normal sounding name, innit?"
The young woman frowned. Just how pissed was this man she was chatting up?
She chose to ignore his comment.
"So what brings you to The Comet?"
"Looked like a nice normal place. I like normal."
She suppressed the urge to make a face and waved as if at someone on the dance floor behind the clearly inebriated Brian Evans.
"My friend is here. I'd best go."
"No wait!" He grabbed her arm and held her in place. "We were just getting to know each other."
She fought alarm and tried to pull her arm free.
"Yes, well, I think I've learned enough. Let me go."
He did not, although his grip did not tighten.
"I just wanted to talk. You're very pretty."
"Let me go!" She pulled on her arm, but despite his not tightening his grip, it was like pulling on a concrete piling; Brian Evans was far stronger than he looked.
"What's your name?"
"LET ME GO!"
"Here, mate. Let the lady go."
Brian turned tired green eyes to the heavyset bouncer who stood by his elbow.
"We were just talking."
"Well, it looks like the lady don't want to talk, mate. Let her go."
Brian looked unhappy. A spark like a static charge flashed from his hand around the lady's arm and she shrieked. The bouncer's mouth firmed and he reached for Brian only to be jolted back by what felt like a huge static charge. It sent him reeling onto a table of drinking men who did not take kindly to having their beer spilt and began to yell. Very soon a melee was taking place, but Brian Evans did not move, nor did he let go of the woman's arm.
"Shite."
"Please let me go!"
"This always happens."
"Let me bloody go!"
"I just want normal, you know?"
~(*)~
Susan Bones was finishing up a Reversal report when her left arm itched and she pulled down her sleeve to see her otherwise innocuous tattoo rapidly reform itself into a communique.
SURREY. SECTOR 12. PROBABLE TCO SIT.
She grit her teeth and scowled. Bloody Harry Potter.
Standing and taking her wand in hand, she Apparated directly to the given coordinates.
~(*)~
"Susan! Over here!"
She ran lightly to Justin Finch-Fletchley, one of her junior squad members and quickly noted his findings. A young red-haired Muggle lay amidst the wreckage of the bar, clutching her badly burnt arm. Every other Muggle in the place was Stupefied. Harry Potter was held at wand point by two very nervous trainee Reversers, clearly drunk and dazed.
"What's your name, honey?"
The young Muggle looked up at Susan's friendly voice and frowned at her robes, but answered anyway.
"Phoebe. Are you a sister?"
Susan was well-versed in Muggle terminology and nodded reassuringly. "Yes. Hold still, Phoebe, whilst I look at that arm."
Phoebe turned to look, as well, and Susan rapidly Stupefied her, then healed her arm and stood, leaving the unconscious girl. She waved away the trainees and moved up to Harry bloody Potter, highly recognizable despite his close-cropped haircut and lack of spectacles.
"Still looking for trouble to get into, Harry?"
His face, once a source of pride and admiration to Susan, curled into a too-familiar expression. "It finds me whether I'm looking or not."
"Spare me. I can smell that Muggle crap in your breath. What is it this time? Vodka? Cannabis? What else? I know you're on something Harry. You lost control of your magic."
"Leave me alone. You don't know anything."
"I know I'm sick of coming out here to these Muggle places and cleaning up after you, Harry. I don't care anymore that you're the bloody Chosen One or a bum on the street or if you killed a dozen dark lords. Just do everyone a favour and clean yourself up and do something useful with your life."
"Like what? Being a bloody Auror like you? Or maybe play Quidditch?"
"I don't give a ruddy shite if you become a bus conductor, Harry! You had the world offered to you - take one of the offers up and make something of yourself more than some drunken arsehole!" She turned from him, angry at the tears in her eyes and upset that he'd made her lose her temper in front of her junior squad members. She whirled back to the startled Harry and waved her wand under his nose, red sparks flying from the tip in her anger.
"And I'm not a bloody Auror, you drunk fool! I'm a Senior Field Reverser for the Ministry. I studied hard to get to the NEWT's to join the Magical Reversal Department. I worked bloody hard for the last seven years to climb through the ranks to get this position. I wasn't offered it on a silver salver. What can you say you've done these last seven years?"
With this salvo, she turned and stalked off, leaving Justin to finish the Reversal work which consisted of clearing all traces of the Wizarding world, if any, and obliviating the Stupefied Muggles around the bar. She trusted Justin, and in a line of work that involved being licensed to use dodgy charms, spells, potions and mind-altering magic, that was saying a lot.
~(*)~
Susan sighed and sank into her long, narrow, claw foot tub. Her grandmother's estate had passed to her upon her majority, the sole heir, since her parents had their own manor house and no desire to move.
She had not looked a gift horse in the mouth. The place was huge, dusty, chilly, and the rooms were full of antiques she had yet to fully categorize and place into storage, but it was hers. There were two ancient house elves, Bimmy and Chives, who cooked for her, made the bed, did the laundry and kept the lawns tidy. They'd had one small daughter, Maffy, who was myopic and prone to fits and who mostly slept in the cupboard below the stairs. She was otherwise healthy, but a subdued creature who enjoyed knitting and produced prodigious amounts of socks, jumpers and shawls if given the yarn. Susan sometimes wondered if Maffy knew her knitting needles were actually wands, belonging to her Great Grandfather Bones and Great Uncle Smythe, respectively.
The events of the day began to play back in her mind as she soaked now and she found herself fighting tears of frustration. Bloody Harry Potter! The man had everything - money, fame, looks - and he treated it all like dirt.
She was mightily sick of watching his spiral into oblivion. It had started not long after the Victory over Voldemort. Harry had saved Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger from a trap set for them by the Death Eaters... only to lose Ron and Ginny Weasley who had been captured. He'd had to make a choice and no one blamed him, but he blamed himself.
It was seven years, though, and that was quite long enough to mourn and move on. Harry apparently thought that this maxim did not apply to him. He mourned and mourned and mourned some more. When the Wizarding world refused his need for dueling, he turned to the Muggle world and had lost some of the good looks Susan remembered him for in fist fights.
To be fair, he never pulled his wand. The Aurors had never had to be called. The media had never found out, thanks partly to the fact that a few members of Dumbledore's Army were working for the Magical Reversal Department, Susan included, and true to their oath of secrecy, they kept mum about Harry's problems.
Since she had earned her promotion two years ago, though, Harry had become Susan's problem. Thanks to being in the DA and having been elevated to Senior Field Reverser, she had been assigned TCO or The Chosen One on a full time basis. Any calls related to TCO came to her. She also dealt with larger scale Reversal situations, but Harry kept her busy on at least a weekly basis.
She had learnt far more than she wanted to about Harry's personal demons and desires.
The situation today was a case in point. Before she even got there, Susan had known a woman would be involved, always a red-head and always petite and pretty. That Harry would be inebriated became a given five years ago, and other Muggle drugs came into use three years ago. It was as if when alcohol had not numbed him, he turned to other devices.
His occasional loss of control over his magic was only a very recent addition, which meant, per her private consultation with Hermione, now a Healer and also a Longbottom and ex-member of the DA, not to mention once one of Harry's closest friends and hence a safe choice to discuss the situation, that Harry was using some form of Wizarding sedative. What it might be, Hermione could only guess, she was sadly informed. Poor Hermione and Neville had never quite been forgiven by Harry for not only surviving, but finding solace in each other. Harry had barely spoken to them by the end of the war and did not attend their marriage, a situation that had hurt them both, although they professed to understand his feelings.
Well, Susan did not. The war had hurt everyone, but everyone moved on, except bloody Harry Potter. He apparently felt the entire world should stop and rearrange itself for him. Well, it was past time he learnt that he was just a man, no, not even that, a boy trapped in a man's body, and that he was just as helpless as everyone else to change fate.
Harry Potter, in Susan's opinion, needed to bloody well grow up and get over himself!
~(*)~
Severus Snape opened the envelope and lifted a brow at the Gringott's cheque made out to him for 150 galleons in exchange for an expedited bottle of NoNostroMore.
The end of Voldemort not only meant the end of the war, but also Snape's near slavery to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore's directives to the order, and the surprising appearance of Fawkes amidst the battlefield had spoken more eloquently of Snape's true allegiance than anything.
Snape had thrown himself in front of Harry as the Killing Curse was hurled at him by Voldemort. Fawkes had shrieked, startling all the combatants on the field, and intercepted the curse, immolating himself. Severus had plucked up the infant phoenix from the ashes before him and shouted to Harry to "Bloody well finish it, Boy!"
The rest was history. Years had passed. Life went on. Snape endured. People forgave or forgot or chose to ignore his background when they found they needed a difficult potion only a Potions Master could brew.
Like NoNostroMore. Highly monitored by the Ministry, NoNostroMore kept the user from suffering nightmares. Generally safe unless overused, NoNostroMore was designed for Aurors and the like, to take after particularly horrific cases, if nightmares became a problem. Like Dreamless Sleep, it was addictive and meant to only be used for two or three nights in a row. Also like Dreamless Sleep, it was prescribed only by a qualified medical professional.
Some, however, found ways around this proscription by finding places to purchase it, or brewers they knew needed money and would ask no questions.
Which led to Snape. Who scraped by with the more difficult potions orders he received each month and the pittance the Ministry paid him to make Wolfsbane that barely covered the cost of his ingredients. So a private and mysterious order like this, from one Brian Evans, could scarcely be turned down. 150 galleons would just about pay for the plumbing repairs on his house and leave enough to allow him to purchase a new pair of boots, even if they were only Muggle ones from the Oxfam down the road from his house.
~(*)~
Harry removed the contact lens and studied his reflection. He didn't look bad, he thought. Older, an experienced man. That was a good look, wasn't it? Didn't women like older men?
He ignored the scars on his face and focused on the one that, in his mind, had caused all his trouble. It was rather more noticeable now since he had tried to remove it a few years back. He had peeled the skin away and the next morning had awoken with a large oval shaped area of dark pink shiny skin on his forehead... with his old scar a stark silvery white in the middle. He had decided that he liked it at the time. Made it look deliberate, rather than an accidental mark, and for awhile he had admired it each time he saw it, but now he was sick of it.
The other scars, the results of the many fights and Muggle medical care that the Magical Reversal Department did not know about, were, in his opinion, badges of honour. He wore them more proudly than his scars earned during the war. Those he tried to ignore, although the occasional Muggle woman he picked up would ask and he always said he'd been in an accident.
They never asked anything else and he did not answer, caring only for the temporary oblivion of mindless sex. He fucked them until they screamed and he got his nuts shucked and it was all good. The Muggle birds he picked up did not care that he was Brian Evans, owner of an occult book store, or Harry bloody Potter, hero of the war against You Know Who. They only cared that he took them to a nice hotel room, that he paid for everything, and that he made sure they had at least one orgasm before having his own.
The fact it was getting harder for him to reach that orgasm he refused to think about. The girl he had just fucked earlier that night had complained about how long he had been thrusting into her, but he kept hearing women saying that what was most important was staying power, so clearly that woman was an anomaly. She didn't know a good thing when she'd had it, and Brian Evans was a good thing. He was rich and nicely muscled and could last for hours. His dick wasn't long, but it was thick and heavy and would fill a woman to the brim. He would show them a good time in clean and classy surroundings. Wasn't that what they wanted?
All he had ever wanted was to give people what they wanted and for them to be nice, to him and each other. That was a normal desire, right?
All he wanted was normal.
Harry uncorked the bottle of NoNostroMore and drank the last swallow. He had placed a new order yesterday, so a new bottle should be coming in a day or two. He could manage one night without it. He could still manage one night without sleep. It was one good thing the war had given him.
~(*)~
Snape Apparated back to Spinner's End, still gasping for breath and clutching the bag of ingredients he needed to make the NoNostroMore.
Two men, ex-students and still holding a grudge not only for their poor grades, but his being a Death Eater, had met up with him as he was leaving the Herbalist shoppe. Words had been exchanged, wands had been drawn and he had found himself on the receiving end of a Stupefy, followed by two savage kicks to the ribs and hip. They meant to hit his groin, but he'd turned just in time, despite the Stupefy and grabbed the package he'd dropped before Apparating.
It was rare, but it happened and there was little he could do. He did not contact the Aurors, although they would press charges. He did not want the publicity, especially when he had a bag full of ingredients that a few newspaper readers would recognize was for something questionable.
Moreover, a few kicks were easily healed.
Fawkes squawked in indignation and flew to his side, landing on the arm of the couch where he sat. He peeled off his robes, wincing, and revealed his bruised torso.
The phoenix made an unhappy sound and dipped its head, one tear landing on his ribs, the other on his hip bone. Soon the bruising disappeared and Severus breathed a sigh of relief.
Fawkes rubbed his head against his side and Snape stroked the bright red feathers, glad of at least one friend.
~(*)~
When the NoNostroMore arrived via postal owl, Harry was pleased. He was also planning a night out so he shrank it and tucked the bottle in his pocket, along with two fresh condoms.
~(*)~
Phoebe did not like the look of the green-eyed man, despite his easy smile and considerable charm. Her friend, Meg, was in a dither over him, but she could tell he was really more interested in her. Whilst flattering, Phoebe still did not feel comfortable and had already decided she would not go anywhere with him.
"So what do you do, Phoebe?"
"Nothing interesting, I'm afraid," she strove to sound boring, hoping Meg would pick up on her dislike. "Just an office job. Nothing I want to talk about."
"Oh, she's just being modest," Meg crowed now to her dismay. "She's a top legal assistant. Some of the biggest firms in the country have been courting her. She'll be a solicitor herself once she's done at uni."
"Is that so?" Brian's eyes gleamed and Phoebe grew still more uncomfortable. It was as if she knew this man somehow, and for some reason, she clutched at her arm, rubbing it, feeling an odd tingling, burning sensation.
He noticed this and his gaze darkened. "Something wrong with your arm?"
"No, just a bit of a twinge. I lifted a heavy box at work this afternoon," she quickly lied.
"You poor thing," he said, suddenly sliding down to sit by her in the booth. "Let me rub it for you."
"No, that's all right," she began, even as he took her arm in his hands.
Then all hell broke loose.
~(*)~
Susan's arm not only itched, but throbbed, even as she slid up her sleeve to read the message from the Field Minder.
SURREY. SECTOR 9. FIRE. DEATHS & INJURIES. MB W/TCO SIG. TCO MISSING. AURORS CALLED.
"Oh, shit, Harry," she muttered, even as she drew her wand and Apparated.
~(*)~
Justin met her before she reached the warded area. His robes were properly sombre gray tweed, but she noted his earring which he'd apparently forgotten to remove, meaning he'd been called whilst off duty. She smiled at this; she loved Justin like a brother and the fact he was elegantly bent mattered not one whit compared to his efficiency.
"TCO's gone. He may have apparated, but dashed if anyone can make heads or tails of the mare's nest he left behind. His signature is all over, but it's mixed so there may be another wizard involved. This one is bad, Chief. The Muggles think there was some sort of electrical failure. We let them clear the facility and take the injured. They think we're from the Yard."
Susan nodded. "Good work, Justin. By the way, you might want to lose the sparkly."
He started, felt at his ear and rolled his eyes, smiling at her as he pocketed it, and then sobered. "I don't know if we'll be able to keep this one from the media, boss. The Minister's parrot was here--"
"--and the press will follow," finished Susan, privately damning Percy Weasley, the aforementioned Minister's parrot as he was now known, thanks to his bright red hair and the bright green robes he wore for his office of Special Assistant to the Minister of Magic.
"So far, we told him it looks like some kids were bird-watching and accidentally used a Wheeze that caught fire. That sent him off."
"Good thinking, Justin," Susan smiled at the thought of Percy Weasley shouting at his brothers in their Diagon Alley shoppe. She had nothing against Fred or George, but their products had definitely caused a great deal of trouble over the years for various Ministry departments. Only their popularity and contributions to various charities kept them out of the direct eye of the Ministry, so she had no qualms about causing them a bit of worry in exchange.
"What's the word, boss?"
"Let the Muggles deal with their own. Tell them you concur with whatever their findings are. Obliviate or Confund as necessary. Try to iron out the signature. I'm going to look for our esteemed TCO."
~(*)~
Royal Surrey County Hospital was a large facility, but her knowledge of Muggle procedures served Susan well. She made her way to the Outpatient Department where the sister pointed her to the Burn ward where she quickly found Harry or Brian Evans as he was calling himself these days.
"Are you related?"
"I'm his mother's niece," Susan smoothly lied.
"Well, that's all right then. Visiting hours will be over in two hours."
"Thank you, sister."
Susan watched the nurse walk back to her station and turned, pulling the screens around the bed where Harry lay sleeping.
She assessed the area and found his clothes. Muggle money, burnt. Two condoms, partially melted. A shrunken bottle with some sort of liquid. She enlarged and sniffed it, but the smell only told her it wasn't cologne. It had no label, but the bottle was unique. It looked familiar, but she could not remember where she had seen one like it.
She put it in her pocket and turned to Harry who slept under a swath of bandages covering extensive burns.
"You are a bloody fool who deserves everything that happens to him," she said now, feeling a pang in her heart over the saviour of the Wizarding world, the Chosen One, the man who lived to destroy himself.
Then she aimed her wand to the chart at the foot of his bed, peeked around the screens and issued a mild Confundus to the sister in charge of the ward, and then turned to Harry and apparated them both.
~(*)~
"Healer Longbottom, please."
"I'm afraid she's off duty. May I be of help?"
"Thank you, but it wasn't work-related. I'll Floo her at home."
~(*)~
Hermione and Neville had been cuddling by their fire, so Susan's sudden intrusion was mildly embarrassing, but they had swiftly urged her through and she apologized before rapidly filling them in.
Neville shook his head as his wife rushed to their bedroom to grab her surgical kit.
"Poor Harry."
"My arse, poor Harry. The man is a menace!"
"He's unhappy is all."
"Then he should try some Pep & Cheer Potion, not drinking himself to ruin and taking Merlin knows what kind of potions."
Neville said nothing else and as Hermione hurried back into the room, kissed her gently and held out the Floo container. He was used to her being called for medical emergencies.
"I love you," she told him now, before taking a pinch of powder and throwing it onto the fire. "Bones Estate!"
~(*)~
"The burns will heal," Hermione announced a few hours later. "But something is keeping him unconscious and I don't know what it is."
"Could it be a potion? I found this in his clothes." Susan held out the bottle.
Hermione waved her wand at it. "Acclaro Argumentum!"
A fine mist appeared above the bottle and coalesced into formulae Susan could read but not understand.
"It's not a sedative, but it's related. NoNostroMore, if I'm not mistaken."
"Could it account for his state?"
"Only if he's been taking it for awhile. It's addictive, not meant to be taken more than two or three times in a month."
"Who prescribed it?"
"No one," Hermione sighed, studying the bottle. "If it had been prescribed, the chemists' label or mark would be here. No. I'd bet good money Harry bought this over the counter or via owl order."
"Is it illegal?"
"Not strictly speaking. But no reputable potion maker would brew this regularly for a customer."
"You're assuming he only bought it from one source," Susan sighed now, as well.
Hermione looked sad and she hugged her, briefly, glad of the companionship in her one woman TCO crusade.
"Well, wherever else he may have gotten some, I know where this particular batch came from, or rather who."
~(*)~
Severus was nearly asleep when he heard someone calling him.
He almost never received Floo calls, so it took him a moment to realize it wasn't a Muggle neighbour calling for assistance. He got up and hurried to the sitting room.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor, but this is an urgent matter."
He nodded, trying to place the composed face of the young blonde woman in context. She was definitely one of his ex-students, he knew, but the faces were too numerous and had blurred with time.
"Please come through."
She did and memory resolved itself.
"Susan Bones."
She smiled and he flushed a little at being caught in his night attire.
"Good evening, Professor Snape. It's good to see you again, if under difficult circumstances."
"Please. I'm no longer anyone's professor. How can I be of help, Miss Bones?"
"Sir, I'm the Senior Field Reverser for the Magical Reversal Department. I've got one particularly difficult assignment and a bottle was found that a healer from St. Mungo's insists is one of yours. I'd like to ask you about it."
He nodded, pointing to his worn couch and sitting in the chair beside it. Susan sat and waited.
"What exactly do you wish to know?"
"First of all, is this your bottle and potion?" She held out the bottle.
He took it, scowled slightly and nodded.
"May I ask if you remember making this potion?"
"You may and I do. Three days ago for an order by owl."
"Who was the order for?"
"A Mr. Brian Evans."
"Have you made any other potions for him?"
"No, just this one."
"What is the potion you made?"
Snape sighed, folding his fingers together in his lap. "NoNostroMore. It's a sleep aid that prevents the taker from having nightmares."
"Like Dreamless sleep?"
"No. Dreamless sleep erases all dreams. NoNostroMore allows a person to dream, but excises the memory of nightmares."
"Is it addictive?"
"Yes. But the dosage is controlled. No more than three uses a month. I only brewed enough for three uses."
"What happens if a person takes more than that?"
"Well, as I mentioned, it's addictive. To some people it's addictive at the first dose."
"I fail to see why that would be bad, if it only excises the memory of nightmares."
Snape sat back. "Sounds simple, but we actually need our nightmares in order to process our painful and/or shameful experiences and assist the mind in setting them into memory. We have them as frequently as dreams, but usually we only recall the ones that are particularly vivid, just as with dreams. Without undergoing nightmares, the mind begins to lose capacity for memorization. The person loses cohesiveness of thought, becomes unable to understand or make logical deductions. Then comes a loss of emotional control, and eventually, the user begins to suffer hallucinations."
"You mention a loss of emotional control. Could that manifest in magical backlash?"
"Absolutely," Snape cleared his throat. "I know of at least one particular case where the backlash was strong enough to cause an explosion. You can find the case in the St. Mungo's archive under the name Fleetweather, Samuel. The year, I believe, was 1985."
"Thank you. This has been very helpful."
"If I may inquire, Miss Bones -- is the person you found this on -- are they all right? I assume there was magical backlash."
She was impressed at his perspicacity.
"They will be or so I am assured. However, they are not conscious, which leads to my next question -- what can we expect by way of withdrawal symptoms?"
"Miss Bones, if Mr. Evans is your patient, then I can either assume you have two different and very demanding jobs, or else Mr. Evans is a high profile person who you, as Senior Field Reverser have been assigned to, meaning you must keep him out of the eyes of the press and public. There is only one person I know who fits that description and if memory serves, his mother's maiden name was Evans."
"You have me at a disadvantage, sir," she said with a slight and apologetic smile.
He sighed, unfolding his hands to stand.
"If you will allow me a few minutes, I can dress and bring what I need with me to assist you. Mr. Potter will require careful attention and quite possibly some potions you would be hard-pressed to obtain without a great deal of questions from St. Mungo's personnel or the Ministry."
~(*)~
"Mrs. Longbottom. It's a pleasure."
"Likewise, Professor. I haven't seen you since the wedding. You look well."
"I'm not a professor of anything anymore and I'm afraid my brewing duties take up a great deal of my time. I appreciate your flattery, but it is quite unnecessary; I know what I look like. Now... where is our patient?"
~(*)~
Snape ran a few diagnostic spells over the man on the bed he scarcely recognized.
"You've given him nothing?"
Hermione nodded. "Not even for pain since the Muggles pumped him full of diamorphine. His level of unconsciousness was so profound I didn't feel it was required."
"Quite right." He sighed as he put his wand into his pocket. "NoNostroMore is neither the first nor only drug he's taken to dull his pain."
"I had noticed that, as well," Hermione admitted now, slightly embarrassed.
"It is not your fault, Healer Longbottom, when a patient is recalcitrant, contrary and ignores medical advice."
"Please, Severus, if I may call you that -- call me Hermione. And Harry is not my patient. In fact, I hadn't seen him in at least five years."
He lifted a brow at this. She sighed.
"Harry never forgave Neville and I for living whilst Ron and Ginny died. He," she choked slightly and drew in a deep breath to finish. "If you recall, he didn't even come to Neville and my wedding."
"Then he is as big a fool as I had feared."
Snape scowled at the haggard-looking man on the bed, salt and pepper hair peeking through bandages which hid his trademark scar, but not the other various scars he bore and which Severus recognized as the hallmarks of brawling.
"No, even a bigger fool," he sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to Hermione and, to her surprise, bestowing a small smile on her. "It is to your credit, Hermione, that you maintain fellow-feeling for him."
She swallowed tears. "We were the closest of friends for seven years."
He nodded, then looked to Susan.
"When did the magical backlash occur, Miss Bones?"
"Going on five hours now."
"Then we have thirteen hours before we have to worry about pain, which leaves me just enough time to brew the potions he will need."
Hermione sat up, wiping at her face. "Will you require assistance? I can notify St. Mungo's I need some time off to attend to a family emergency."
"I can manage on my own."
"She should stay," Susan opined. "Even if you can handle the withdrawal, he still has the burns and the other injuries he needs a healer for."
"That's right. Primarily for the burns. The broken fingers I healed already and his other cuts and abrasions I disinfected and will heal given time."
"Very well, but I can handle the brewing," he insisted.
"But if you do that, you won't sleep, and fatigue is a sure way to make mistakes, Severus."
He nearly smiled. "Very well, Hermione. I appreciate the assistance."
"Good. That's settled." Susan snapped her fingers and two elves appeared. "This is Bimmy and Chives. Bimmy, Chives, these are guests for a few days. Please see to what they need."
"A pleasure, Mistress!" Chives assured her.
"Oh, it's been too long since the house had guests!" cried Bimmy with glee.
~(*)~
It was, as Snape had said, just enough time for them to make the potions. He started them as Hermione went home and caught some sleep, then seven hours later she arrived and took over the monitoring and stirring as he slept in a guest room.
Susan slept and watched the brewing, from time to time, looking in on Harry. He was unconscious, so she wasn't too concerned, but she had put a non-Apparation ward on the room where he slept just in case.
When Snape woke, he went to Harry's room first and ran a few diagnostic spells.
"Champing at the bit, are you?" He spoke to the sleeping figure. "Trust me, this is one time you don't want to display your vaunted impatience. Let Morpheus keep you in the peace you cannot find whilst awake."
"How is he?"
He looked to the tired Susan and shook his head.
"His body is metabolizing the Muggle drugs faster than I expected. He will be more aware within four hours."
"Is that enough time to finish the potions you were brewing?"
"It should be, but the time may be close. In the interim, a calming spell may do some good if he stirs."
"I'll do that. Thank you, sir."
He nodded and left for the kitchen where Hermione was watching his various potions brew and Bimmy was happily making breakfast.
He never told them that at his home, his familiar of eight years could easily have fixed Harry Potter's many ills in a trice, but that if he did that, the boy would never learn that his actions had consequences. Nor would he ever learn from his many mistakes.
~(*)~
It was just as Snape had indicated. Harry roused due to pain, which Susan used the calming spell for, then Hermione was able to give him the first dose of modified pain potion. He did not swallow it voluntarily, growing angry at the sight of her and necessitating Susan using Immobilus and Hermione force-feeding it to him, but eventually the potion was down and Harry was pain-free and calm once again. His eyes still narrowed whenever he saw any of them, though, particularly Snape.
Snape merely lifted a brow at him. Hermione winced and looked pained.
Susan just scowled, lifted her wand and would refresh the calming spell, which had the effect of relaxing the lines on his face and making him, for awhile, appear twenty years younger than he looked, or nearer to his own real age.
~(*)~
On the second day, Harry's anger mutated to shame, mostly due to the fact he could do nothing for himself due to his burns and bandages and Susan had needed to levitate him to the loo, then left the room as Hermione had unbandaged his buttocks and genitals, positioned him and bade him do his business, then wiped him afterward as if he was an infant and applied more ointment that Snape had made, and fresh bandages that Chives brought her.
The only saving grace was he was in too much pain from his burns to get an erection as Hermione's gentle hands smoothed ointment on him, even going so far as to retract his blistered foreskin and apply ointment there. It was necessary, she had informed him apologetically, otherwise he might lose it and he had no desire to be circumcised in such a fashion.
This happened six times that day since his bladder and bowels were being affected by both withdrawal and potions. The last two times, Susan had been taking a much needed nap, so Snape had assisted Hermione. Unlike Susan, Snape had not left the room, assisting Healer Longbottom with the ointment and even insisting she make sure to debride some dead skin before applying more to his buttocks.
Harry drank the potions Snape gave him after that without complaint, not meeting his eyes. He also did not respond when he overheard the Potions Master admonishing Susan for keeping him and his condition out of the press.
"The negative publicity might just be the kick up the arse the boy needs to straighten himself out," Snape had muttered, whilst Harry pretended to sleep.
After a few moments, he was no longer pretending, and all too soon he was dreaming.
--
That night it took the three of them taking turns to cast Calming charms on the alternately thrashing, screaming and weeping Harry.
At dawn, Snape bade the women to rest whilst he remained by Potter's bedside.
"The worst of his withdrawal is yet to come," he told them ominously.
~(*)~
On the third night, hallucinations began, and Harry alternately sang and screamed until Snape was able to brew a batch of Cogito Claro and get it down his throat. Then he simply lay atop the bed and wept.
Susan ached for him, but there was nothing to be done. He had done this to himself and would have to go through the withdrawal. He would not be alone, but no one could do it for him.
~(*)~
The fourth day the bandages were removed and the still pink burns allowed to dry. Soon Harry looked crusty all over, but Hermione assured them all this was not only normal and expected, but a very good sign. Once he peeled, just like with a sunburn, the healthy new skin would emerge.
Snape ate while Hermione and Susan gently applied hydrating salve to the sleeping Harry.
The hallucinations returned, but more Cogito Claro was given and he slept again, whimpering and crying out from his dreams.
--
That night Susan found herself unable to sleep until she had fingered herself to climax.
It was a bit disturbing to her that she had gotten aroused at the sight of the naked, but still-healing Harry Potter.
He was slight, but well-built, with a nice amount of hair covering a nicely defined chest and a modest cock amidst a nest of lush black pubes. It was this modest cock that Susan had applied salve to with trembling fingers. Hermione, working carefully on Harry's eyes and nose, had admonished her to be sure she got salve everywhere, including under his foreskin. So for the first time, Susan had touched a man's organ and learnt how it felt to slide that tender skin back and examined his very red glans. She thought it was still burnt, but an embarrassed question to Hermione had reassured her that the colour variation was normal.
Since he developed an erection as she rubbed the salve in, Hermione began to lecture in a didactic tone that helped Susan divorce her feelings of shame and focused on her natural curiousity as she learnt that Harry's unconscious response was perfectly normal and that the colours of his penis and glans changed from pink and red to red and nearly purple as he erected, which was also normal. She also learnt that Harry was rather smaller than Hermione had expected, but that it was in keeping with his average height.
Susan would not know, but since his erection looked almost painfully thick and large to her, she found herself rather glad he was not well-hung.
Not that she expected ever to find use for that particular information. Her tireless efforts to gain her current position had not left her time for dating or even much socializing.
She finally fell asleep after deciding her current fascination with Harry, and his genitalia, must be related to this.
~(*)~
The afternoon of the fifth day Susan handed a surprised Snape and Hermione cheques for their services to the ministry at breakfast.
She had gone into the Ministry in the pre-dawn hours and spoken to the head of the department who gave rapid approval for the payments, along with a commendation for securing the services of discreet professionals to handle their most famous and, also, most difficult client.
She had also discovered the incident had been filed as "Wizard-instigated Muggle Scheme, unsolved", known more commonly by the Reversers as a WIMSy. The Minister had not gotten involved, satisfied with the report and a promised follow-up. Senior Field Reverser Bones was listed as working on assignment out in the field, which was entirely true, if neglectful of details.
Hermione had been uncertain about accepting the cheque, but Susan assured her it was entirely aboveboard. She had procured their services and they deserved payment for them, simple as that. Snape had not argued, merely gotten a bit flushed, then pocketed the cheque without comment.
He had yet to leave the estate since she'd called on him for assistance, and so his cheque was for continuous service, which in Susan's opinion, he more than deserved.
--
Later that day, Susan and Hermione reapplied more salve to Harry, whilst Severus caught up on sleep. He had spent several days brewing, not just potions, but the very salves they were currently applying.
Harry had quickly grown thick and rigid under her ministrations, and that night, Susan found herself in her bed, rubbing her clit and imagining it was Harry's thick cock she was rubbing against. She stopped herself from crying out his name and fell asleep wondering just what it was that made Harry get under women's skin so damn fast. She knew he did, since she had been following, and cleaning up after, his exploits for years now.
~(*)~
The sixth day Harry sweated and raged as the last remnants of the NoNostroMore he had taken for far too long burned out of his system.
Keeping clothes on him was useless, so he remained naked atop a heavy layer of towels. Hermione occasionally would levitate him and Susan would replace the towels, handing the soiled ones to Bimmy.
After the last bout of sweats, Harry had calmed and fallen asleep. The three were resting on chairs by the bedside, exhausted, when Chives popped into the room holding a knitted afghan.
"Miss Maffy made this for Miss Susan's house guest."
Without further word, he fluffed out the afghan and gently laid it over Harry's sleeping, still nude form.
~(*)~
Later that afternoon, Susan had helped Hermione bathe Harry.
Scourgify, Hermione had informed Susan, was not what was called for after a patient had undergone a bout of such profuse perspiration. This was definitely a case where only a tub bath would do.
This time Susan learnt about not being shy and making sure the anus was free of soap before getting him out of the tub. If the soap residue had remained, Harry would have gotten a very uncomfortable rash.
Then they had dried him and laid him atop the bed and covered him once again with the soft afghan Maffy had knitted him. He looked more like the boy she remembered now, with his tousled hair and relaxed, unlined face.
--
Later that night, Susan gave up and called out his name over and over as she rubbed herself to climax. No one could hear anyway. The soundproofing charms were very good indeed; Charms having been her best subject at school.
~(*)~
The seventh day at breakfast, Snape informed them his services would probably no longer be needed.
Hermione was not so sure, but conceded the point.
"Well, I can always Floo you, if need be."
"Potter isn't likely to need further potions and you have access to the chemists at St. Mungo's," he assured her, forking up more eggs.
"It's not about Harry, Severus, but... you know what happened to me before the final battle."
The muscle in his cheek jumped as he recalled the Profundere curse she had taken directly to her lower abdomen, but he merely said, "Yes."
"Well. This is a bit sudden, I know, and in mixed company, but--"
"Do you want me to step out, Hermione?" Susan moved to stand, but Hermione touched her arm and shook her head.
"No, Susan. You're a good friend and it doesn't disturb me for you to hear."
She turned to the now-intrigued Snape.
"It's true I have access to the entire range of services at St. Mungo's, but that doesn't mean I may always wish to use them. One doesn't always wish to have one's private life on display, especially in the workplace. I would feel very awkward asking my colleagues for Conception Concoction or to cast a Fecilitatus Conceptio. I could make the concoction myself, it's true, but I know its efficacy is highly dependent on the skill of the brewer, and I was hoping to ask if you would be
willing to help. As for the spell, well, Neville could cast it, but frankly, unless it's DADA or Herbology related, even he admits his spell work is spotty at best. I always thought I would ask a friend. So... do you think you could assist me?"
Snape's mouth fell open in his shock, even as Susan beamed and supportively squeezed Hermione's other hand.
"Hermione, that's wonderful! Oh, you would make such good parents."
After a moment, Severus spoke, and his face remained even, although his tone indicated he was deeply touched.
"I would be honoured, Hermione."
~(*)~
The eighth day found Harry waking up at dawn feeling weak, weary and not a little uncertain.
Susan slept, as she had been doing, by his side in the chair. He watched her now and felt a pang of distress.
She had been watching out for him for seven years and all she'd ever gotten for her trouble was his mouthiness. He had not deserved her kindness or her discretion these last few days. Snape had the right of it, he thought. If the Daily Prophet had found out about his waywardness, perhaps the negative publicity might have shamed him into better behaviour.
Suddenly her eyes opened and he found himself staring into the bluest, most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He blinked, even as she smiled at him.
"Well, then. Good morning."
"Good morning."
"Am I speaking to Harry Potter or Brian Evans, then?"
He blushed.
"All Harry, I'm afraid."
"So Evans was your mother's name, I hear?"
"Yes."
"Who's Brian?"
Harry smiled sadly.
"It's one of Dumbledore's names, the only Muggle-type one. I figured he wouldn't mind."
She nodded then shook her head.
"I disagree, Harry. Dumbledore would definitely mind the way you've been treating yourself these last few years. It's a disgrace."
To her surprise, he nodded, turning his head from her.
"I know, and you're right. I've been using his name and I'm ashamed of it now. I've done nothing good with it. Just gotten into trouble."
"Well, that was always what you were best at," she teased now, glad to be having a sensible conversation with him.
"That and DADA."
She smiled again. "Well, now that you don't need DADA skills, maybe you can find a way to use your power for getting into trouble."
"I don't see how."
"Well, maybe you'll find a way. For now, though, I'm sure you're starved. What say some breakfast? I can have Bimmy and Chives bring some up."
He pushed aside the afghan, preparing to stand when he suddenly blushed beet red and clutched the afghan to his privates. He had been stark naked under the afghan!
Susan fought the urge to smile again. It might not be very charitable of her, but she rather enjoyed seeing Potter so uncomfortable. He had made her life hell for years, so she felt a few days of discomfort were due her.
"Oh, yeah, we had to bathe you yesterday and as you'd been sweating pretty heavily, we thought it best to leave you au naturel."
Harry nodded, still blushing.
"Well, I'll fetch you some clothes. I think Grandfather Harley was your size."
~(*)~
Severus was already working on the Conception Concoction when he heard someone calling him on his Floo.
Fawkes squawked at him as he hurried up the stairs from his basement laboratory to the sitting room, surprised to find Hermione smiling at him in his fireplace.
"Yes?"
"Severus, I normally hate to call on people at this hour, but I learnt at Susan's that you're an early riser, so I figured I'd ask if you'd care to share breakfast with us?"
He was nonplussed.
"Well, I just set some ingredients for your concoction to simmer. They will need to do so undisturbed for two hours, so while they simmer, yes, I'll be pleased to join you."
"Wonderful. Our Floo designation is Longbottom Manor."
~(*)~
Grandfather Harley had, indeed, been Harry's size and the clothes she dug up were comfortably worn in, if a bit old-fashioned.
Harry felt peculiar in tweed trousers and a boiled cotton shirt, but he thanked Susan for the clothes, since his own had been mostly burnt away. The linen underpants were, on the other hand, an extremely comfortable surprise. He decided he would buy more of them in future.
He was also surprised to discover how weak he felt after getting dressed. He wasn't able to get down to the kitchens so Susan had the food brought to his bedside and, again to his surprise, ate with him.
It was the most pleasant meal he'd had in ages, and he told her so.
"Don't you ever eat at the Burrow? I know you used to frequent it when you were at school, and I know Molly is a wonderful cook."
The hard and bitter expression on Harry's face made her regret speaking.
"No. I don't go there."
She considered this. His anger did not seem directed at the Weasleys and she decided a little discussion might well help her understand Harry's situation and perhaps help alleviate some of her own work-related pressures due to his behaviour.
"Care to talk about it, Harry? I know for a fact the Weasleys don't think ill of you. I went to Charlie's wedding last spring and Arthur and Molly both still think the world of you. They were expressing concern at how you disappeared from the Wizarding World and when I spoke to Molly, she told me you never answered their letters."
"Oh, God... Charlie..."
Susan waited and Harry finally raked his fingers through his hair and looked at her in despair.
"I hadn't seen any of them in ages and last year, Charlie showed up at my door. I... I was going out so I told him I didn't have time. He drew a wand on me and I apparated. Never saw him again. Shite."
"Well, he probably came to invite you to their wedding."
"Yeah, I figured. Shite."
"Would you have gone?"
He looked stricken. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
She drew in a breath and reminded him, "You didn't answer my question before. Care to talk about it?"
He gazed up at her, into those guileless blue eyes and felt his own water. He blinked away the tears and attempted a small smile.
"Maybe I should."
~(*)~
Severus buttered a second piece of toast and reminded himself to take an extra long walk later that day. He had not eaten so well since he was working at Hogwarts and the unaccustomed full breakfasts, along with nourishing dinners, teas and suppers he'd enjoyed the past week were sure to play havoc with his midsection, which already displayed a tendency to pudge a bit.
"The Conception Concoction should be done in four days time," he said now.
Hermione beamed and Neville blushed a little, but kept eating without comment.
"I, uh... I'm honoured to have been asked to brew it."
Neville looked up at this and smiled.
"We were always planning on asking you, Professor. That is, once we both were established in our careers and Hermione felt comfortable enough with our schedules to figure out her pregnancy and the raising of the baby or babies."
"You intrigue me, Mr. Longbottom. How many children are you planning?"
"Sir, please call me Neville, and speaking just for me, I'd be happy with just Hermione if it turns out we can't have any."
"Oh, Neville," Hermione smiled tearfully. She leaned over to kiss him, then looked to Snape. "Speaking for myself, I'd like two, possibly three. I was an only child and it's difficult. I'd like my children to have each other to lean on, but if I can only manage one, then it will be loved twice as much."
"The concoction is powerful, but it doesn't always work," Snape demurred.
They both nodded.
"We know, but we want to try."
To their delight and surprise, Severus smiled.
"In that case, I shall endeavour to make the very best batch of Conception Concoction I have ever attempted."
~(*)~
That afternoon, Severus had just finished setting the coils to capture the condensation necessary for the concoction base when his name was being called again from the Floo.
Fawkes squawked again and he snorted.
"I've never been so popular," he told the phoenix as he wiped his hands on a towel and headed for his sitting room, taking a few seconds to stroke the red-feathered head as he passed by.
Susan was at the Floo.
"Sorry to bother you, sir, but I have a question regarding the issue I needed your help with before."
"Of course, please come through."
Susan stepped in to Spinner's End, glancing around briefly, an Auror and Field Reverser's habit Snape knew, before waving her wand at the Floo to set a silencing spell on it, then getting to the point.
"Is one of the withdrawal symptoms melancholy?"
"It can be. In fact, mood swings are not unheard of. The entire process of withdrawal can take a few weeks, which is how long it takes for some chemicals to completely be purged from the system." Severus pointed her to his couch and sat in his customary chair. "Is Mr. Potter suffering depression?"
She nodded. "I spent two hours listening to him at breakfast, followed by an hour of having him cry on my shoulder until he fell asleep. I nearly called you then, but decided it wouldn't do his ego any good for you to see him like that, fragile as it seems."
"Mr. Potter's ego is far too large and imposing for me to ever consider it as fragile," Snape quipped.
She smiled, unoffended. "Your dislike of him is well known, but I'm glad to hear this is normal then. Is there anything else I can expect?"
"I don't dislike the boy. I just find him irritating," Snape admitted. He sighed. "I also do not wish him ill. Is there a particular subject that is distressing him or life in general?"
"It's the war, the Weasleys. Seeing Hermione again triggered some memories, I know. He kept saying he didn't deserve such a good friend."
"Yet he withdrew from her and the rest of his friends after the war."
"Too many memories, I think." Susan sat back. "He feels he was kept in the dark about Ron and Ginny Weasley so that he wouldn't stop trying to rescue Neville and Hermione. He feels they were sacrificed and that he could have saved them if he'd been told they'd been captured."
"Then he is a bigger fool than I credit him for." Snape sighed again, then sat up. "I will speak with the boy."
Susan was surprised. "All right. He's still at my estate and I have a confinement ward on him, but, sir -- he's not a boy anymore."
"No, he's a man who refuses to listen to others, never grew up, and whose folly has dragged you and I and Hermione into the spiral of destruction that he made of his life."
Snape did not allow her response, getting up and stepping toward his mantle where he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.
"I'll return before tea. I need to see to some potions I'm brewing around that time. Make yourself at home."
Then he threw the Floo powder into his fire and stepped through, stating, "Bones Estate."
~(*)~
Harry was just getting up when a black cloaked figure strode into the room.
"Snape!"
"I see your powers of observation remain unaffected by this sojourn of yours into illicit potions. I'm here to speak with you, Potter, and I will only say this once. Ronald and Ginevra Weasley's deaths are not your fault. They are mine."
He paused, watching Harry's face, which only revealed confusion and concern. He drew in a deep breath and continued.
"I sent word via my Order contact that their situation was futile, and it was, make no mistake. I informed them it would be folly for anyone from the Order, but most especially you, to attempt to rescue them. I told them, in fact, that they were already dead, as it were, which became true not long after the message was dispatched."
"You what?"
"Think, Potter. The Death Eaters were desperate. There had been too many losses in too short a time and they wanted to send a message to you. Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger's imminent capture was a ruse, if they got away, fine and if, somehow, they had caught you whilst warning them, all to the better, but the real prize was the two people who would hurt Harry Potter the worst: the Weasleys.
"Your fondness for Mr. Weasley was publicly known since the Triwizard Tournament, and your protectiveness toward Miss Weasley was also publicly known since that incident second year, particularly to Voldemort."
"You called him Voldemort."
"That was his name. Do not interrupt. He wanted them dead. He wanted to torture them to death and to show the results to the Wizarding World. It was intended to drive you to act rashly and fall right into his hands. I could not allow that."
Snape paused, then went on in a quieter, but no less intense voice.
"You may interview the Lestranges or Lucius Malfoy if you like. I'm sure the Head Warden at
Azkaban would not turn down Mr. Harry Potter! But they will tell you exactly what I am about to. Mister Weasley was going to be tortured daily until the full moon, when he was to be left in a pit overnight with new werewolves Fenrir was bringing. Miss Weasley was not to be so... fortunate. Voldemort intended on allowing each man and any woman so like-minded, to assault her, starting with me. He planned to take pictures of the event and plaster them across the media. I recall the term 'He Who's Whore' being used as he informed us of his intentions. Then he planned to send you pieces of her until you came to save her."
Harry stared at him, white-faced with horror. Snape stared at him intently.
"Now, Mr. Potter. Would you have preferred they suffer this fate? Or was I merciful when, unable to effect their rescue or in any other way alert the Aurors, or send a message before they were to meet their fate, I offered them poison?"
Harry paled even further. "You..."
"Mr. Weasley thanked me. Miss Weasley told me to tell you, should you ever express regret over her death, that there was no other way and that she wanted you to be happy."
"You..."
Snape closed his eyes for a moment and Harry was shocked to see a single tear drip down that unmoving cheek. He opened them again to speak, ignoring the tear as he spoke in a harsh whisper that revealed a barely-controlled anguish.
"I may be a murderer, Harry James Potter, but I have never raped nor do I ever intend to. So you may blame my squeamishness, if you prefer, for their deaths. I would not have been able to gainsay Voldemort. In fact, he spoke with great delight of how he hoped to be able to tell you in great detail of what I, in particular, as the one you hated most, had done to both your friends. He was very disappointed when they mysteriously died. I informed him that Dumbledore had instructed all Order members to carry poison in case they were captured. I received this--" he suddenly ripped open his upper buttons to display his collarbones where a bump and a crooked scar revealed an old break. "--for my candour, and for not informing him sooner so they could be thoroughly searched. Now I stand here and wait to see what I will receive from you for my candour."
~(*)~
It was just over an hour later and Susan was reading a potions periodical article about the use of potions in casting illusions when the Floo fired up and Snape stepped out. He was tousled, his expression a bit haggard, and his shirt was askew, his top buttons missing and there was a suspiciously damp spot on his shirt. He also looked exhausted.
She stood. "Is everything all right?"
Snape nodded.
"Potter is fine. I merely had a word with him about some misconceptions he had. I believe I can safely state that the air has been cleared."
Susan considered this, along with the raspy quality of his voice, but merely said, "Good. Then I'll be heading back home. Thank you for your time and assistance, sir."
"I remain, as ever, at your service, Miss Bones."
She smiled. "Will you ever call me just Susan?"
He nearly smiled himself. "I respect you far too much, Miss Bones."
"Touché."
~(*)~
Harry looked a bit withdrawn when she returned, so she left him alone with the tea tray and went down to the kitchen where Bimmy was trying to show Maffy how to make biscuits.
"You add the baking powder just so."
Maffy watched, but her eyes wandered and her fingers kept creeping back to her pocket where her "knitting needles" poked out.
"Maffy, is you paying attention?"
"Maffy wants to knit more clothes."
"Maffy needs to learn how to make biscuits for Mistress and her guest."
"Mistress's guest needs clothes," Maffy pointed out, growing excited. "Maffy could knit him some!"
Before Bimmy could say anything, Maffy popped out of the room with a snap of her fingers.
"It's a losing battle, Bimmy," Susan smiled. "Maffy will find her place to belong. Don't worry."
"Mistress is a good Mistress, but if anythings happens to Mistress... Maffy would be given socks by any other Master or Mistress. It worries me, Mistress Susan."
"I know, Bimmy, but don't worry. Honestly. I'll have a codicil added to my will if you like, so that if anything happens to me, you and Chives and Maffy won't have to worry."
Bimmy's ears perked up.
"Oh, Mistress is kind! Bimmy will make Mistress's favourite dinner!"
She rushed to the larder.
"What would Mistress's favourite dinner be?"
Susan started and looked to the entryway where a tired-looking Harry stood, swaying. She hurried to him and helped him to a chair.
"You shouldn't be up."
"I've been in bed long enough." He made a face. "You never answered my question."
She smiled. "I'm partial to cottage pie."
"Sounds good."
"Then you'll have to stay for dinner."
He considered this and looked around.
"I, uh, I know you're keeping me here. I tried to Apparate earlier."
Susan shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I was assigned to you, as you know. This incident was bad, very bad. There were deaths, Harry."
He nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I know. I remember."
She sighed. "Right now the best thing you can do is keep out of sight. We've covered as best we can, better than we even dreamed, in fact, but it won't help if you go out again and--"
"I'm not going out." Harry sat back and she was surprised to see a look of determination on his face she had not seen since their days in the DA. "In fact, I'm never doing that again. My head feels clearer than it has in years and I can't believe no one, aside from you, has had the balls to try to talk to me before it came to this. I can't believe no one has had the balls to try and stop me from making an arse of myself."
"Aside from Severus, you mean."
Harry smiled wanly. "Yeah. He's a good man... under all that grease."
"Harry!"
"Sorry, can't expect a full reform in just a few hours. Give me time."
"You're incorrigible."
"I'm also very grateful." To her surprise, he took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Susan, thank you. For everything you've done. For saving me when I didn't deserve it. For protecting my reputation, even though I definitely didn't deserve it."
"Forget it, Harry. It's my job."
"And you do it well. I just hope you'll let me repay you for some of the effort you've put in."
She shook her head. "I don't need that, Harry."
He brought her hand closer to him, in toward his chest and the look in his tired, green eyes gave her pause and made her heart feel as if it skipped a beat.
"Maybe I need it, Susan."
~(*)~
Four days later, Severus found himself on his knees before his fireplace.
Neville greeted him from the Floo in his dressing gown, and bid him come through, which Snape did with gratitude; his knees did not much appreciate making Floo calls.
"What can I do for you, Professor?"
"I thought I asked you to call me Severus, Neville?"
Neville blushed a little. "I'm sure I'll forget from time to time. Severus. There, I said it."
Snape could not help but smile. "It does take getting used to, I know. I was calling the staff by their titles the entire first year I was teaching."
Neville nodded. "I know about that. Pomona threatened to use the pruning shears on me if I didn't stop when I had to work with her four summers ago."
"Imagine addressing her that way at the Staff Christmas party."
"I'd feel a bit naff."
"Indeed. That is exactly how I felt."
Neville chuckled and then urged Snape to sit, following suit.
"So what brings you, Severus?"
"Is Hermione here?"
"She's sleeping in. She had a late night on the ward yesterday."
"Oh. Well, it's just that the Conception Concoction is done."
Neville cursed his complexion as he blushed again. "Oh."
"The preparation has to be kept simmering until you're going to use it, so I will, er, need to know..."
Neville's blush grew scarlet, even as Hermione strode into the room in a dressing gown over her nightwear.
"I thought I heard voices. Good morning, Severus."
"Hermione. Good morning. I came to inform you the Conception Concoction is done."
"Oh, excellent! And perfect timing." She beamed, then looked to Neville and said, "I'm off for three days, so there's no time like the present, right Neville?"
"Hm?" He looked up, still fighting remnants of blush, having ignored the conversation after Hermione's face-saving entry.
"I was just telling Severus that he can bring the Conception Concoction right now," she smiled.
Neville's blush flared up as if on cue. His mortification was complete when Snape chuckled slightly, as he stood. His comment in sotto voce was rich with humour and fellow-feeling.
"Not to worry, lad, I'll bring along some Virilitas with me, just in case."
--
It was only a few moments later, after Hermione had taken the Conception Concoction that Severus drew his wand and solemnly cast Fecilitatus Conceptio. Without further words and aware of the gravity of the situation, he bowed at them both and depositing a small bottle of promised Virilitas on the sitting room table, he swiftly Flooed back to Spinner's End.
~(*)~
"Hermione..."
She smiled at her so beloved husband and the look in his eyes. This more than anything was what she loved about Neville. The look he gave her each time before they made love made her feel as if she was the most beautiful, the most cherished thing he'd ever seen in his life.
"I'm ready, Neville."
He smiled shyly, still shy when it came to sexual matters despite all their time together.
"It almost feels like our first time."
"I know. Oh, Neville, please... make love to me."
"Whatever the lady wishes," he murmured, stepping up to take her hand in his, kiss it, then he hurried them back to their bedroom.
~(*)~
"Up for pizza and a movie?"
Susan smiled at Harry from her desk.
He had so far, stringently kept his word to her. In fact, he had seemed like a whole new man, forgoing his usual nightly pursuits to come over to her estate for dinner. Since it kept him out of trouble, she had no complaint.
He had asked to take her out more than once, but that felt too much like a date to Susan, and she wasn't sure what he intended with his newfound attention -- friendship or gratitude or what, so she declined. So he had brought dinner last night, introducing her to lamb vindaloo.
"Pizza?"
"Yes, a round Italian sort of cheesy bread with tomatoes and spices and sometimes meat and vegetables."
"I know what pizza is, Harry, I was just wondering what would make you want to eat one."
His face fell. "You don't like pizza?"
"Well, I always heard it was a form of snack, not a food."
"No, it's a food. If you like I can bring salad, as well."
"Oh, Harry." She sighed fondly at him. He was so enthusiastic, like a puppy.
She wondered now if he had always been this way. She'd known the kind and determined Harry in the DA. She had read about the supposedly demented and confused Harry in the Prophet and Tattler. She had first hand experience with tormented Harry these last few years. Now... she wasn't sure what to make of this Harry. But she liked him, she decided.
"All right. I'll try pizza. What movie?"
"I've got a DVD player that I got to work with a charm. I've got tons of movies. Is there anything you especially like?"
"The last movie I saw was when I was a girl. Something about a man that could fly."
"Great. I'll bring the Superman series. We'll make a night of it."
~(*)~
"Neville!"
He did not answer. Neville, for all his fumbling ways and uncertainties, had none in bed, but he still said little, preferring to concentrate on the task at hand.
At the moment, he was laying between Hermione's legs and slowly, gently, licking her quim from perineum to just shy of where he had two fingers gently rubbing alongside her clitoris. Hermione was convulsing, trying hard not to thrust her hips up into his face.
"Neville!"
He sighed with satisfaction, enjoying himself, enjoying his wife's taste and scent and still, after all this time, scarcely believing himself fortunate enough to have her for his own. He moved up now and began to gently suck her clitoris.
"NEVILLE!"
Hermione's fingers grasped his head, his hair as her hips gave two short, sharp thrusts and she screamed. Then her fingers relaxed and she fell back on the bed with a sigh of contentment, still dazed and seeing sparkles of light.
Before she fully regained her senses, Neville was above her, pushing her spread legs back. Then he was inside her, his long, heavy cock filling her wet depths and she reached for his arms to bring him closer still.
They kissed and kissed as he employed a gentle and steady rhythm that pleasured them both.
After a few moments, he began to grow a bit short of breath and she pulled back to smile up at his beloved face, which was growing sweaty with effort.
"Oh, Neville."
He smiled, too, feeling his orgasm building. She'd been far too tired to make love for the last two nights, so it was going to be, he knew, a huge one. His movements began to get short and sharp.
"Oh. Her... my... oh... nee..."
"Let go, my love."
His face squinched up tight and his body went rigid as he began to shoot his seed deep within her. It seemed to go on for ages and yet all too soon he found himself pulling free of her to lie by her side, curled on his side even as she did the same to face him.
It was her favourite part of their lovemaking, cuddling together, talking, although Neville tended to be a bit drowsy.
"I wonder if it will work."
He smiled tiredly. "It doesn't matter, Hermione. If it works, that's great. If it doesn't, we have each other. It's all we've needed so far."
She smiled tearfully, then moved in a bit to kiss him.
"Yes, and you're right. Should it not work... then it's all we'll ever need. Agreed?"
He smiled now, a sweet expression.
"That's how I felt when I married you and that hasn't changed."
~(*)~
Harry handed Susan another serviette in lieu of a proper handkerchief as she sniffed. He tried not to smile as she blew her nose on a printed rendering of a slice of pizza.
"If I'd known it would make you cry, I would have picked another sort of film."
"It's just so beautiful. Such a love story! And then he went back to his lonely life, not even having the comfort of having her know they were once a couple."
Harry smiled. "It's just a movie."
"But it could happen, Harry. I know Muggles think it's fantastical, but in the Wizarding world, well, there's the Oblivius spell and various memory charms and Pensieves and Confundus and a dozen other spells I use each day at work. It makes me wonder if a mixed Muggle and Wizard couple haven't done the same thing."
He shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it's possible, but the circumstances would have to be just right. Where the Wizard, or maybe Witch, can't let their Muggle lover know and so they Obliviate them."
"I'm sure it happens. I'm sure it's happened at least once in history."
"I'll ask Hermione. She might know. It's probably in Hogwarts, A History."
Susan smiled at this. "She's not a library, you know, Harry. You still let her do your reading? Don't you read on your own?"
He considered this. "I like books on Quidditch and picture books. I don't like history books much. Too much like studying."
Her smile grew. Some things never changed. Despite being the saviour of the Wizarding world, the slayer of Voldemort, Harry remained such a boy.
"Be glad you decided not to become an Auror then. You'd have to read dozens of books during your training period alone, and none of them are picture books."
He sighed. "Maybe I should have. I don't know."
"Why didn't you after all? I know at school it was all you seemed to want, aside from killing You Know Who."
"It's just after the war... I couldn't stand the thought of having a job where I would be fighting dark wizards and just plain nasty people, constantly. I'd had enough."
"So from one big battlefield you turned to one big dance floor?"
She had not spoken in a snide or condescending way. Her tone was only mildly teasing, since it was basically the truth. She looked at Harry now, concerned.
He looked deeply troubled.
"Harry?"
"You're right."
"Pardon?"
"I did do just that. I guess I never learn."
Susan frowned, sitting up.
"Do you mean to say you didn't intend to become a party-hearty boy?"
Harry flushed. He shook his head, a miserable expression on his face.
"Then, for Merlin's sake, why?" She was unaccountably angry now. "When I was going out to deal with you in the field, I can't say I was happy about it, but at least I thought it was what you wanted to do. Who am I to tell someone what to do with their life? Especially you, Harry. I mean, you slayed You Know Who! If you wanted to drink and carouse and party until dawn, who was I to stop you? But now you're telling me you didn't even want that?"
He hung his head.
"I don't know what I wanted, Susan. I just wanted... I wanted Ron and Ginny back. I wanted Dumbledore back. I wanted Cedric back and your aunt and the so many others that were gone. I wanted to fix things. That's what I've always wanted. There's a problem, and I just want to fix it. Sirius was jailed unjustly and had to live like a fugitive. I wanted to fix that. Peter Pettigrew hid for twelve years and got away with murder. I wanted to fix that. Voldemort was bloody killing everyone and only I could fix it. And I did."
"But the dead did not come back."
Harry drew in a wet, sniffly breath and shook his head.
Susan put her arm around him then, drew him close to her.
"They never will, either, Harry. But at least no more people will die due to You Know Who and his disciples. You did that much."
"That's not saying a lot. Only I could do it, per Dumbledore."
"Yeah, but you didn't turn your back. You did it."
"I had to."
"Yeah. So?"
He lifted his head from her shoulder to look at her and she smiled. "Harry, we all have things we have to do we don't like. We do them and go on to something else. It's time you did the same."
Those tired green eyes gazed at her for so long she wondered if she had said something wrong. Then, suddenly, he was leaning in and kissing her.
Too surprised to protest or pull away, she was surprised to discover that she rather enjoyed it. He knew how to kiss, that was for sure. The sudden awareness of how he'd come by that knowledge was what finally made her draw back.
"Harry. Stop."
He did, studying her, waiting.
"I really don't want to be girl number 499 on your list," she said quietly.
He frowned.
"Look, I like the dinners and the movie was nice, but... it doesn't have to mean anything."
He considered this. When he spoke, both expression and voice was filled with an odd sort of intensity.
"What would?"
"Pardon?"
"What would mean something to you, Susan?"
She was taken aback.
"I don't know. But I already think of you as a friend, Harry, which is more than I could have said a few weeks ago. I think, though, that you're still operating a little under the life's-a-party banner and I don't live like that. I may have this estate, but I still need my job. I don't have a vault full of galleons to fall back on, and if you had kept on living the way you were, neither would you. Besides, I'm sure you realized that all the galleons in the world couldn't bring you what you really wanted."
He nodded. "Yes. You're right."
"I'll remind you of saying that as often as I need to," she quipped now, smiling to ease the slight tension that had filled her sitting room.
"I won't forget." Harry suddenly stood and Susan looked up at him, uncertain now.
"Something wrong?"
"No. I've got some things to do. I'll see you for dinner tomorrow, if that's okay."
"Sure." She hesitated. "Are we still friends?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course! Besides, I think my house elf is in love with yours. She's been knitting him all kinds of socks."
Susan smiled. "Well, good then. I'm glad to hear it. Poor Bimmy and Chives have worried about Maffy so. I hope she and Dobby will be happy."
"Me, too. So I'll see you tomorrow then. I'll bring a happier movie, too." He smiled cheerily and reached for his wand and nodded at her. "Good night, Susan. Thanks for the company... and the advice."
Without waiting for her response, he Apparated.
~(*)~
The next day at work, Justin stepped into her office to speak out of the side of his mouth in what he fancied was an endearing manner.
"Stand by to handle TCO sit."
She stood in alarm. "What happened?"
He put up a placating hand. "Easy, boss. I'm just teasing."
"For Merlin's sake, Justin! Don't do that again!"
"I shan't. Crikey. I was just referring to his Royal Wanktitude's kerfuffle at the Office of War Reparations this afternoon."
Susan frowned. Justin's joking name for Harry aside, she had not been informed of any Harry-related incident.
"I hadn't heard."
"Well, it's in the Evening Prophet, I'd bet."
~(*)~
"So what's this I hear about you raising a ruckus at the Ministry?"
Harry shrugged slightly.
"The Prophet always makes a big deal out of things. I just had something I needed to talk to the Minister about."
Susan nodded, letting the issue go. She eyed the white paper sack Harry was placing down on the kitchen table.
"So... what's on the menu tonight then?"
"Giro's with tsatsiki and some baklava."
"Ah. Feeling Greek, are we?"
Harry's smile grew devilish.
"Well, I've nothing against certain aspects of the culture," he intoned cheekily.
Susan's brow raised, but her tone was amused.
"I see. So you're a bit bent then?"
Harry frowned. "No. Not that I mind if someone is. Why would you think that?"
"Greek," she intoned meaningfully.
"Oh! Well, no. I meant," he suddenly flushed, but manfully continued. "Sometimes, I don't mind if the lady, er, well, if she likes to, er, try things from the other side."
Susan considered this, unbothered. She was not shy about discussing sexual matters. Working as a Field Reverser, or an Auror, pretty much insured that a person get over their personal hang-ups and timidity fairly quickly.
"Well, I have heard that anal sex, if done right, can be quite pleasurable for a woman."
Harry's flush became scarlet and she frowned as he fidgeted with the paper sack.
"Er... actually, I meant that I, er, don't mind if the lady likes to, er, well..."
"Oh!" Susan considered this, then smiled. "Brave, Harry. But then, you always have been."
"I've never dated a guy. I don't know many who are bent. Not that I'd want to."
She stepped up and eyed the food as he began pulling it out of the sack.
"That's too bad, really. I know Justin could use a nice fellow."
Harry smiled, aware she was teasing.
"Maybe we should set him up with Snape."
"Severus? He's bent?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. He told me. Well, I'm sure he doesn't go around telling just anyone. It was kind of important that I know, though."
"You intrigue me. Is this the conversation you had when you were still staying here?"
Harry nodded again.
"I cannot fathom why that would be important," she admitted.
He hesitated, then asked, "Promise not to tell?"
"You have my word as a Field Reverser. We keep everyone's secrets."
"Well... see, he told me about what Voldemort had planned for Ron and Ginny. It was so I'd see that it was... it was better that they died," he drew in an unsteady breath, then plunged on. "He was right. But one of the things he told me was if they hadn't, his cover would have been blown, because Voldemort expected him to... well... to Ginny."
Susan nodded. "I understand. What a horrible situation to be in."
Harry sighed. "Anyway, he told me he wasn't sure he'd have been able to. He's pretty thoroughly bent, which is how he put it."
Susan smiled. "In that case, maybe we should get him and Justin together. Justin does rather like older men... and he's got this thing about deep voices."
"Blimey, maybe we should."
~(*)~
Snape was dozing by his fire three weeks later, wrapped in an afghan that Susan had sent him, when a familiar voice awoke him.
"Severus? Are you available?"
He shook his head and looked to his caller.
"Hermione? What is it?"
"I... we need to come through."
"Be my guest."
He shook off the afghan and stood, stretching as his Floo flared to life, only to find himself on the receiving end of a powerful hug.
He looked over Hermione's bushy brown hair to see Neville smiling.
"You did it!" she exclaimed now, pulling back from him. "I'm pregnant!"
His expression softened.
"I'm glad. Truly. My congratulations."
He extended a hand to Neville, who shook it warmly and said, "We owe you, Severus. A lot. I won't forget."
"It's due in November."
"I'm pleased for you, Hermione."
"We want you to be godfather."
"Pardon?"
He was taken aback. He did not think himself anyone's idea of a role model.
Neville took Hermione's hand in his.
"We discussed it and we'd like that very much. If you don't mind, that is."
"Well... I'm nonplussed, to say the least."
"Think about it, do," Hermione wheedled. "We'd be so pleased if you said yes."
He cleared his throat, uncomfortably.
"I suppose I ought to warn you that I'm, er... well, the more colloquial term is bent."
Neville considered this, but Hermione merely smiled.
"I know that, Severus. I don't care."
"You did?" he and Neville chorused.
She nodded. "I figured that out when I was still in school. My favourite uncle is a self-described 'charming old queer', and you are very like him. The way he talks, walks, gestures. Everything."
"I see." He tucked this information away with a tiny bit of disquiet.
"I didn't tell anyone, if that's what's troubling you, Severus. I figure that's the sort of thing that's up to you to tell or not. Which is why I didn't say anything to you, Neville. We've discussed homosexuality before, though, so I knew it wouldn't bother you anyway."
"She's right. It doesn't matter to me. A good person is a good person, regardless of who they fancy."
"I'm glad to hear it, but that wasn't what troubled me. I was just wondering if anyone else deduced this back then, too."
Hermione shook her head. "Please. If they had it would have been all over the school like wild fire. Gossip never died a quiet death at Hogwarts."
"True," he nodded now, relaxing. Then he smiled slightly. "And I'd be honoured, in that case. Thank you both for asking me."
~(*)~
It was the tamales, Susan decided.
Where Harry had found a decent Mexican restaurant in Guildford was beyond her, but between the tamales, the delicious tomato-flavoured rice, the beans and salsa and a couple bottles of Corona, complete with back to back showings of Real Women Have Curves and Y Tu Mama Tambien, she found herself taken with his charm.
"Exactly where did you get this?"
Harry looked sheepish. "Really want know?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
"I, um, used the IFS and Floo'd to New Mexico."
She blinked. "You took the International Floo to New Mexico. For tamales."
"Yes. I took a long world tour after the war. One of the places I visited was the Southwestern United States. New Mexico had the best tamales."
"I see."
She could feel herself growing angry. She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. So much for his growing up.
"Well, it was a lovely dinner and movie, but I'm getting tired and--"
"You're angry."
She did not deny it, merely sighed. "What you do is your business, Harry. But now I'd really like to get to be--"
"Why are you angry?"
She closed her eyes, recited the names of the Ancient Runes, then looked at him.
"Harry. I really have enjoyed our dinners, but... I think you've just exchanged one type of entertainment for another. You don't party-hearty with the crowd, but you spend huge amounts of money to stay in. You still don't consider the future or--"
"Hang on." Harry stood up fast, wand in hand. "Trust me?"
She nodded carefully and he took her hand in his, standing her up. He Apparated them both before Susan could say anything.
She found herself in Grimmauld Place, in the library. The place was as dark and depressing as she remembered. No wonder Harry had such dark moods.
"Here."
She turned to find Harry pulling out a wad of documents from an old roll-top desk. He thrust them at her.
She looked at them, trying to puzzle them out. They appeared to be mortgage papers and cost estimates for repairs of various kinds. The names on the documents were all different. She frowned at him.
"What?"
"You said I'm not considering the future. I can't help that I have money, Susan, but I can help what I do with it. I went to the Ministry to talk to them about my setting up a fund for the War repairs. I had to argue with them, because they only want to help people that have the money to pay them back. So I set up my own fund, with Kingsley's help. I've been spending all day here the last few weeks going through requests. Some people lost everything. Some people just need help patching their roof. I got hold of Remus and he's put together a crew of werewolves and vampires. They can't get work otherwise and a lot of them have the skills to fix things, or just a lot of strength which is an asset to a construction company. The publicity so far is good, the donations have started to come in. No one knows it's really me. I named it Black's Back Construction. Remus is running it, with Molly's help. She's hell at organizing. I figured she might like the chance of part time work to give her a break from all those grandkids. Did you know Percy and Penelope just had twins?"
He smiled at her dumbfounded look and shrugged.
"It's going to work out of here for now, at least until I can find a new place. I... I will always thank Sirius for leaving me everything, but the last few weeks working here, then visiting with you, have made me realize I'd really like to live someplace else, someplace with lots of windows like your--"
He got no further as Susan suddenly stepped up and began to snog him within an inch of his life.
--
Harry was no stranger to desperate sex, but this was different. The feeling was different, even if some of the specifics were identical.
Susan had pushed him back until he was up against the wall and her hands were not shy about what she wanted. His shirt was ripped open and he moaned against her mouth as she took his nipples between her fingers and gently tugged, tweaking them.
"God, Susan!"
She kept up this torture for a while before dipping her head down to lick at his chest. She had admired it when he was sick and now that he was well again, she finally got to taste it. It was warm and smelt pleasantly of lemon soap and Harry. She bit at a perky nipple and he clutched at her.
"Susan. I..."
Her hands did not stop, even as her lips and teeth continued to find their way along his body, nipping here and there occasionally, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough so he knew he would be thoroughly marked in the morning.
Then her hands were at his trouser placket and he heard her say something, he wasn't sure what, and he felt himself suddenly off the ground, but still pressed up against the wall. She smiled up at his dazed face.
"Why should I dirty my knees on this hard floor?" she asked, before pointing her wand to his hugely thick erection and casting *Cingere*. Then she buried her face in his crotch.
Harry tried to buck, found he couldn't, and whimpered instead as she sucked him into her mouth and worked him mercilessly with her other hand.
"Oh, Susan..."
"Merlin, but you taste wonderful."
He couldn't help it. With a scream, he began to spurt semen everywhere.
When he opened his eyes, Susan looked smug.
"That was a wonderful appetizer."
He put his head back against the wall and groaned.
"But I think I'd prefer to have the main course in bed."
~(*)~
It was, Harry thought now, like his first time. A real first time, at any rate. Not a drunken fumble with some nameless woman he could only barely remember.
No, he *knew* this woman. She was a colleague, a member of the Order, a minder and finally, a friend. Now, she was becoming his lover and his head swooned at the knowledge.
It was so very different, so much more satisfying somehow, than any of his previous encounters. The fact she was so aggressive in bed helped. He had thought he might have to curb some of his impulses, but as it stood, she gave as good as she got, and seemed to love it.
He could scarcely credit she was a virgin, but it was true, as he discovered. But not until after the hour he had spent learning her body, learning about her velvety soft skin, and how her pale pink nipples loved being sucked and lightly bitten, tweaked and teased and pinched, and how amazing the deep coral of her beautiful quim was as he licked her to two quivering orgasms.
Only then did he slip gently within her very willing body and discovered an oddly resilient internal structure deterring him that he'd never felt before in any of his previous encounters. He looked at her then, a little concerned, a little surprised, and she nodded at him, beautiful blue eyes pleading with him.
"Go on, Harry."
He groaned and thrust hard and felt something give way even as she cried out, and fought to keep from moving, gritting his teeth in his need, feeling his cock pulsing inside her, needing to come.
"It's okay now."
He nodded, sweating, as he began to thrust, and looked down on her, feeling oddly tender, hoping he would not disappoint her. He might since he badly needed to come and wasn't sure how long he would hold out. He was used to using condoms and they blunted the sensation and helped him maintain his erection, but whilst *Cingere* protected them both from disease and pregnancy, it did nothing at all to deaden the sensations and the feeling of her warm, wet, grasping quim around his painfully hard cock was making his head swim.
"*Fuck*, Susan."
"Oh, yes, Harry."
"I... I can't... can't stop it."
"It's okay. Just let go."
He groaned and let himself start the rapid, jabbing thrusts he needed in order to push himself over the edge. Suddenly he found himself growling, cock contracting and pulsing his seed deep within her.
He tried to fall to the side of her, but she did not let him, pulling him in to her embrace.
"Oh, Harry. That was... amazing."
He grunted. He didn't think it was all that amazing, since he had only lasted a couple minutes at most.
"What? It wasn't amazing for you?"
"God, Susan, my head's still spinning, but... I'm not usually so quick on the draw. I'm sorry."
"Oh, silly. If it lasted much longer I'd have gotten chafed. It was beautiful and I have no complaints."
He smiled then, grateful for her candour and forgiving nature. It was more than that, he realized suddenly. *I love her*.
Harry kissed Susan then, and thrilled at her gentle response, joyful as he felt her fingers threading through his hair possessively.
He said nothing, though. It felt a bit soon. He didn't want to scare her.
"Merlin, Harry. I think I love you."
He stared at her and she smiled, a bit sadly.
"Too soon? I tend to say what I think when I feel it's important."
"I'll keep that in mind," he told her. He didn't say "I love you, too." He had learnt his lesson with the trust fund. Susan Bones was a woman of action. Action spoke louder than words to her.
So, instead, he kissed her again. And again. And...
~(*)~
SEVEN MONTHS LATER...
"I know you would prefer Hermione, and I'm really rather honoured that you asked me in her stead, boss, but... being Maid of Honour is a bit embarrassing."
"Shut up, you. Be glad I don't have you in pink taffeta," Susan teased, tweaking Justin's nose. He winked at her, then looked across the room at the best man.
Damn, but Snape cleaned up nicely. The fit and flare of his formal robes was every gay man's wet dream. Too bad...
"Oh, go on, Justin. Go ask him to dance."
"What? Oh, no, I..."
"For Merlin's sake, Justin. Aside from the fact he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw you, and the fact he's been staring longingly, if discreetly, from behind that swan statue made of ice, I happen to know for a fact that he is as queer as a star-shaped pink galleon. So go... share a dance, a Floo ride home, and a month's worth of rousing good shags, and tell me all the details in the morning when I get back from my honeymoon."
Justin looked at her as if she'd grown another head and she added with a wave of the hand, "Go on!"
Harry stepped up as Justin moved off, ostensibly toward the somewhat reclusive Snape.
"Playing yenta, are we?"
"Oh, please. Those two belong together. I'll bet you five galleons they dance."
"You're on. Thank you, by the way, for timing our wedding so Remus could attend."
"No problem, my love. I just wish Hermione's baby hadn't decided to come early."
"It happens. Which reminds me, Molly just came in a few minutes ago. She said the baby was a boy and they're both just fine. Neville is over the moon. Hermione is still dithering over the name."
"I'm so glad! I wish we had time to drop by and see them before we take off for our honeymoon."
"Tell you what, we can Floo back in three days to visit. She'll be more up to visitors and they might have agreed on a name by then."
"Oh, Harry, you wouldn't mind?"
"No. Besides, if I didn't, Hermione might have my head... or some other part of my anatomy."
"Sorry. That's just not on. I love her like a sister, but I won't share your cock."
He smiled, putting an arm around her and pulling her to him to hold her close. He loved her so much and just this simple action filled him with contentment. He sighed satisfaction, then chuckled over her shoulder.
"Mrs. Potter?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" She looked up at her new husband, who smiled down at her.
"I owe you five galleons."
~ FIN ~
Authors notes: I know that not everyone has the same emotional response (if any) to a particular song, but I like to indicate which songs I listened to whilst writing, especially when those songs may have provided inspiration. In the case of this story, they are two:
Nickelback - Hero
Dido - Here With Me
Posted: 19 February 2007