snarry, yay
Title:: Thank You, Draco Malfoy
Rating: R
Pairings: Harry/Severus, Draco/OC, Past!Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria
Summary: Two former classmates, both widowers, both fathers, trying to make their way in life. Harry finds what he wants, and in the end, who does he have to thank?
Warnings: Character death as indicated by summary. Some use of canon, but only what I found useful. Epilogue children in this fic are James, Albus Severus, and Scorpius.
A/N: I have so much else I need to be working and yet... and yet... a Snarry. Oh well you can all enjoy :p



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"Come on, kiddo," Harry Potter said to his eight-year-old son, Albus Severus. It was Al's birthday and as per request, Harry had taken him to Diagon Alley to have a bit of a shopping spree. Of course Harry knew the boy was mainly interested in conning his uncles, Fred and George, into letting him pocket various items from the joke shop.

It was well known but never discussed that Albus Severus was the twins' favourite, and when the other children were not round, the twins let him have the run of the shop. Harry thought perhaps it was because Albus' mother, the twins' baby sister, had died from complications of labour giving birth to Al.

Harry and Ginny had another son as well, James, but James never seemed to be that affected by the death of his mother. He was nearly five years older than his brother and had always been too adult for his own good.

James, at the present moment, was away at Hogwarts, finishing up his third year.

Although the death of Ginny had caused him immense pain, Harry realised that he mightn't have stayed married to her if he had lived. It sounded cold, but it was true. Not long after she died, it hit the papers that the former Potion's Master and former Headmaster of Hogwarts had not, in fact, died the day Voldemort fell. He had survived which answered so many questions as to why there had never been a portrait of him.

When Harry learnt that news he was struck with an almost violent wave of emotions. Anger first, for all of Snape's past treatment of him and for the fact that he had deceived Harry, although that had been the point. Then came frustration; if Harry had known Snape loved his mum, he might've had a better understanding of the man.

Then came the sorrow because Harry thought that perhaps Snape really wasn't so different from him. Sorrow was followed by a sudden interest in where Snape was and what he was doing. The Prophet had mentioned that although alive, Snape had all-but disappeared from Wizarding Britain.

Curiosity festered which turned into deep-night fantasies and it was then Harry had his revelation. It all came at him in a rush. From his sixth year as a Hogwarts student, he should have known. He was gay. His interest then had been Malfoy, oddly enough, which he had projected onto Ginny but he could recall several snogging sessions in dark corners where he wasn't thinking about her as her lips were on him.

That didn't mean he hadn't loved Ginny, but it meant he had been ignoring what he truly desired for many, many years. He came out to Ron and Hermione within the month; neither seemed particularly surprised. Next came the twins. George clapped Harry on the back and said, "Bout time, mate. We were beginning to wonder if you liked it in the closet."

Then, of course, came a few awkward set-ups and blind dates and by the end of those disasters, Albus was seven and Harry was convinced he wasn't meant to date. Of course that didn't stop him from, every now and again, thinking about Snape and where he'd got to.

Harry, who was now a professional Quidditch player, travelled round the world and every time he hit a new city he hoped he might run into the older man, but he never did. He wanted to write but he damn well wasn't brave enough. So eventually he gave up.

On this particular day, Albus Severus' birthday, Harry and Al walked into the joke shop and spotted the twins behind the counter. They looked over at Harry and Al and grinned.

"Thought you might be in today," Fred called.

Harry noticed that although Fred and George acknowledged them, they were looking at something else. Harry walked forward as Al wandered off and noticed that the something was actually a someone. A boy, about Al's age with white blonde hair and a pointed face.

No mistaking it. Scorpius Malfoy. The small boy was bent over a small magazine, apparently engrossed in it, seemingly unaware of the Weasley twins watching him. Harry felt a pang of sadness for the boy right then. It was in the Prophet the week before that his mother, Astoria Malfoy, had been killed in a freak Muggle accident.

The sources had reported that Astoria was in Muggle London by accident, and while attempting to find her way back to the Wizarding section, she wandered into the busy street and was fatally struck by a large lorry. Draco had yet to make any kind of public statement and had yet to be seen at all by any Wizard.

Harry approached the twins at the counter. "Malfoy?" he whispered.

The twins nodded. "Been in here about twenty minutes," George said.

"Where's his father?" Harry asked.

"Don't ask us," Fred chimed in. "Came in alone."

"Damn, I bet Malfoy's beside himself. I doubt he'd let his kid out of his sight after what happened to his wife," Harry said. Harry then fell silent as Albus made his way over to Scorpius.

Although Harry knew of Malfoy's goings on after the war, their children had never met and Harry had never really spoken about Malfoy to his kids. He watched as Al leaned his head in and whispered something to the Malfoy boy.

Scorpius looked back at Fred and George before saying, "Well they've been watching me since I came in here, like I'm a thief." He spat the word thief the way Harry had once heard Draco spit the word 'mudblood'.

"They're just prara- prara-" Al stuttered.

"Paranoid?" Scorpius offered.

"Yeah," Al said and pulled his tongue at the twins and his father.

Fred and George sniggered a little but said nothing. Al turned his attention back to Scorpius. "Can I read that with you?"

Scorpius gave a sharp nod and both boys sank to the floor, heads bent in together, reading.

"Oh man we've got to have a photo of that," Fred hissed to Harry and George. "It's like some freaky version of the past."

"Twilight Zone," George sang quietly.

"Oh let them be, they're just boys. They probably have no idea who the other one is," Harry said.

Just as the words left his mouth, Harry heard Scorpius say, "Oh ew, you're a Potter?"

"Yeah, so?" Al said.

"Father wouldn't like me sharing with you," Scorpius said with a shrug.

"Oh," Al said with a frown. He looked up at Harry who merely smiled at Al. "So?"

Scorpius stared at Al for a moment, grinned a little and gestured back to the magazine. They began speaking in low whispers that the adults couldn't hear.

Harry sighed. "I should probably go find Malfoy."

"Oh let the git suffer," Fred said, waving his hand. "He deserves it."

"Not right now, he doesn't," Harry said morosely. "His wife just died."

"Ever the hero," George said, rolling his eyes.

"Just watch them, okay," Harry said, "and make sure the Malfoy kid doesn't go anywhere."

"We'll do what we can, mate," Fred said.

Harry decided to take an extra measure of precaution and walked up to the boys. "Hi boys," Harry said.

"Hi," Al said. "Um this is my dad."

"Harry Potter?" Scorpius said, wrinkling his pointy nose just a little.

Harry nodded. He wanted to be stern with them, to make sure they didn't leave but if he knew the Malfoys, he knew the boy would respond far better to rewards than threats. "Scorpius, do you know where your dad is?"

The boy shook his head. "He told me not to come in here, so when he was at Flourish and Blott's I slipped away. I expect he's looking for me."

"Well I'm going to step out for a second but if you both promise not to go anywhere, I'll let you pick out anything you want to take with you."

"Anything?" Scorpius asked with narrowed eyes.

"Anything," Harry said.

"What if Father won't approve?"

"Then it can be our secret," Harry said with a wink.

"Oy!" Fred shouted at Harry but quieted when Harry shot him a scathing look.

"And mind the twins. They'll be the ones to tell me whether or not you behaved and deserve to take something home with you. I won't be long."

The boys nodded and began to whisper furiously about what they might like to have if they behaved. Harry shot the twins a last warning look before heading out of the shop. He hadn't gone far when he laid eyes on a very frazzled, very frantic Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked very much the same as he had in school, his hair still kept short and his face was still a near mirror of Lucius'. Right now, however, his usually neatly combed hair was a bit fly-away and his pale cheeks were flushed. From where Harry was standing, he could also see that Draco's hands were trembling as he popped his head into every shop he passed.

Taking a breath, knowing he hadn't spoken a word to Draco Malfoy in years, Harry approached. "Malfoy," Harry said carefully.

Draco's eyes snapped onto Harry and he glowered. "I have no time for you, Potter," he sneered with panic instead of venom.

"Well I think I found something that may belong to you," Harry said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Scorpius," Draco breathed.

Harry nodded. "In the joke shop."

Draco groaned. "I told him-" he started and shook his head. "Stupid. I should have looked there first."

"Well it's hard to think straight when they do stupid stuff like disappearing," Harry said as he led the way.

"Oh what would you know about it, Potter?" Draco demanded.

Harry turned to look at Draco for a moment. "My wife is gone too, you know. I remember all-too well what it felt like, that desperate fear that you'll lose the only other beings that matter to you."

Draco licked his lips but said nothing as he followed Harry down the street to the joke shop. Draco put his hand in the door, his face scowling, but Harry stopped him before he went in.

"Go easy on him. He just lost his mum, he's probably not thinking straight."

Draco nodded, his chin trembling just slightly. "I don't know if I want to hex him or hug him."

"I'd go with the latter," Harry said with a small grin. "Save the hexing for a few years down the road as a nice reminder of what he put you through today. Plus I also promised the boys that if they behaved they could have something from the shop."

"And the Weasels agreed?" Draco asked.

"I'm part owner; I funded them," Harry said with a laugh. "I just sort of figured that it'd keep them here better than threats."

"I hate to say that I'm glad you know my son so well-" Draco started.

"I just said what I might've said to you at that age," Harry said with a laugh and then stepped aside to let Draco in.

When the pair entered, Scorpius and Albus were browsing the shelves. Scorpius laid eyes on his father and immediately bowed his head, blushing furiously.

Harry could see Draco's jaw working and suddenly, to his surprise, he leapt forward, grabbed Scorpius and crushed him into a hug. "If you ever do that to me again, you will be very sorry."

"Yes father," Scorpius said as he endured the fierce hug.

A few moments later, the twins still staring gob smacked, Draco released his son. "I suppose I owe you one for keeping him here," he bit.

Harry waved his hand. "Don't think on it. The least I could do."

"Father, Mr Potter says I can take something with me," Scorpius simpered.

Harry snorted as Draco glared down at his son. "As though you deserve something," he muttered, "but I suppose as Mr Potter is a Gryffindor and will no doubt keep his word despite my protests, I guess you might have something."

Scorpius grinned and rushed off to pick what he wanted. Al, who had already picked up his prize, was standing beside Harry, staring at Draco. Draco looked down at Al, seemingly unnerved a bit and then looked at Harry.

"Oh, this is my son, Albus Severus," Harry said.

"Severus?" Draco questioned and Harry immediately flushed.

"Long story," Harry said. "Al, this is Mr Malfoy, Scorpius' dad."

"Scorpius and I have the same birthday," Al chirped with a lopsided smile.

Harry's eyebrows rose and he looked back at Draco. "Is that what brought you to the world of the living?"

Draco shrugged. "Suppose so, Potter. Same for you, I take it?"

"Is Scorpius having a birthday party?" Albus interrupted. "I didn't ask, but I am. He could come to mine if he wants."

Draco shifted uncomfortably and Harry looked down at his son. "Why don't you go and see if Fred and George need any help and I'll be along in a second."

"Oh yeah, I know an Adult-Only Conversation when I hear one," Al groaned and sauntered off towards counter where Scorpius was talking animatedly with George about some joke product he was holding.

"Listen, Malfoy," Harry began.

"Scorpius doesn't have friends," Draco said. "It's on purpose, I assure you. Despite his standoffish demeanour, he's actually irritatingly cheerful. Probably going to end up Hufflepuff," Draco sneered.

"I think at this point it doesn't exactly matter, does it?" Harry offered.

Draco shrugged. "I reckon not."

"Is it slightly disillusioning that you and I are standing here having an amicable conversation?" Harry asked suddenly.

Draco snorted. "Only slightly. Except that my world has been completely turned inside out in the last ten years so perhaps not."

Harry nodded. "Look, Scorpius is more than welcome to come over. I don't suspect you want him fraternising with Weasleys-"

"No I don't," Draco said sternly.

"But maybe he could come over tomorrow night. The boys can play and be boys. I could get them a cake or something. You might come too. I have unending amounts of brandy and scotch."

Draco's eyes shifted back and forth. His mouth formed a tight line and just when Harry thought he was going to bark out a 'no' he said, "As long as your hideous friends don't make an appearance."

"They won't," Harry assured him. "Just us."

"I hope you're not thinking this is a date, Potter," Draco breathed after a second. "I only like women, despite the rumours."

Harry snorted. "You aren't exactly my type, Malfoy."

"Who is your type, if they aren't breasted, redheaded Weasleys?" Draco asked. Harry almost didn't stop himself from saying, 'tall, dark, brooding ones with black eyes,' but Draco didn't fail to notice Harry's cheeks redden and he looked at Harry's son. "Albus Severus," he whispered. "I see. Well, tomorrow night then, Potter?"

Harry almost wanted to cancel, but Draco was already telling Scorpius about the offer and Scorpius looked more excited than Harry had when Harry had finally been told he was a wizard. Albus was also jumping excitedly and the only confused faces were those of Fred and George.

As Draco and Scorpius passed by Harry to exit, Harry said, "I'll owl you tonight with the address."

Draco merely nodded and he and his son exited the shop. When the door clicked shut, the twins were immediately on Harry.

"Have you lost your mind?" Fred gasped.

"Is this some sort of mid-life crisis?" George demanded.

"I mean, mate, we accept and love the queerness," Fred said. "Honestly, we can hardly judge there, but Malfoy?"

"It's not a date," Harry said, silencing their chatter. "Malfoy's straight, and my tastes lie elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" George crowed. "We've been trying to set you up for ages! You have no idea what you want, do you?"

"I just hope it's not Malfoy," Fred said.

Harry, who was blushing furiously by this point, sighed. "I had a fleeting fancy for Malfoy back when I was sixteen. Didn't last long, believe me. I do know what I want," Harry said sternly, "but neither of you will be much help in that department." Both twins looked at Harry sceptically so Harry said, "Just trust me, none of you will have to do with either of the elder Malfoys at any family gatherings. Can't make the same promise for the littlest one as Al seems to like him."

"Well he seems mildly more agreeable than his father," George admitted.

"We should go," Harry said. "Al!"

The boy came tearing out of the back room with the box the twins had loaded up for him. Harry glowered at the box and Al grinned. "It's my birthday!"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said with a sour look at Fred and George. "See you tonight for the party."

"See you," Fred said.

"Have fun, kid!" George called after them. "Don't share with your brother!"

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Harry spent a good portion of their afternoon shopping lost in thought. He was getting ready for a birthday dinner with Draco Malfoy and his son. That was odd, to say the least. Harry spent the bulk of his time thinking, wondering, if maybe he did fancy Malfoy.

Malfoy wasn't exactly a playboy with this skinny body, and ferrety, pointed features. Not to mention his hair was so white it would probably glow in the dark. But he wasn't entirely without charm either. Harry did, at one point, fancy him.

But as he pondered on it, he realised that he did not fancy Malfoy. It wasn't even that Malfoy was totally straight, or at one time was aligned with a madman desperate to kill Harry and take over the world. It was just that Harry had eyes for one other man, and said man had all-but disappeared from the world.

Harry paid for his last items, pulled Albus along out of the store and they walked home. Albus was all a chatter about Scorpius coming over and was pestering his father for more play-dates and slumber parties and even, Merlin forbid, shared holidays.

That was something he wasn't quite sure he could fathom just yet. Harry sent Albus off to play outside while he prepared the birthday dinner. He had pre-ordered a small cake and set that aside on the counter.

A few hours later, dinner was finished, Albus was washed up and dressed and there was a knock at the door. The bespectacled boy jumped up from his spot in the lounge and cried, "I'm up, I'll get it."

Harry watched with a half-smile as Al swung the door wide open and said, "Finally! Come in. Want to go play in my room?"

Scorpius looked up at his father, who nodded, and with a small grin very reminiscent of Draco's, he followed Albus down the hall. The two older men exchanged a small smirk when they heard Al's door slam shut.

Harry waved his wand at the still open front door and then said to Draco, "Beer?"

Hours passed. Dinner went off without a hitch. Conversation was strained but not entirely unpleasant. There was a small exchange of gifts between the Potters and Malfoys, something that made Harry's head spin a little, and then he and Draco were left alone while the boys went out back to mess with Fred and George's fireworks.

"Mind if I smoke?" Draco asked from his seat on the garden deck.

Harry shrugged. "No." He sat silent until Draco had lit up and took a puff. "That'll kill you though, you know."

"Rumour has it," Draco snarked. "Then again, if I can survive the wrath of Lord Voldemort, I think I can survive a bit of tobacco every now and again."

"Cheers to that, then," Harry said, lifting his glass of brandy.

Draco snorted. "So Potter, here we are. Expected this at all?"

"Not in the slightest," Harry admitted. "Still not quite sure how I feel about it."

Draco stretched his legs out in front of him and tapped his feet together a few times before crossing his legs at the ankles. "Do you enjoy your job, Potter? Being a Quidditch star?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly a star, Malfoy."

"Your modesty, if it's genuine, is nauseating," Draco sneered. "Even if you were rubbish, you'd still be the star of the team. Harry bleeding Potter. But you are good. So how is it?"

"Same as being on the House team at Hogwarts," Harry admitted. "You don't think about doing advertisements or camera shoots or fans or autographs when you're out there. You don't think that you're rapidly approaching thirty, a widower and a father. It's just you, the broom, the snitch and the wind."

"So poetic," Draco snorted. "Sometimes I wonder how it would be if I could buy my way in with a few new, shiny broomsticks."

"You weren't that bad, Malfoy."

"Not that bad isn't good enough to go pro," Draco said.

"What do you do?" Harry asked. He realised then he had no idea what Draco did for a living.

Draco was silent for some time. Eventually he said, "I work at the Ministry." Well that was hardly a surprise to Harry until Draco continued and said, "As the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department."

Harry looked sharply at Draco. "You're having me on?"

"No," Draco said with a small sigh. "The only credit I'll ever give Weasel Sr is that it is a comfortable position. I see now why he never wanted to get any higher. After doing this ten years I wouldn't want to give it up for one of those higher positions like Magical Law Enforcement. I don't have Kingsley breathing down my neck about everything. I don't have anyone breathing down my neck about anything. It's comfortable there."

Harry shook his head and wondered if any of the Weasleys knew. Arthur was retired but still, he had friends there. Then he wondered why no one had ever said anything. He was sure the Weasleys would have a field day with that information.

Eventually Harry said, "I suppose we all found our niches."

"Never expected to be a twenty-eight year old widower and single father, though," Draco said softly.

"Neither did I," Harry amended.

Draco crushed out his cigarette and pulled out another one. "People didn't think I loved her, Astoria," he said after lighting up. "The marriage was arranged."

"Did you love her?" Harry asked.

Draco didn't answer but Harry swore he saw a slight nod. "People don't think my parents love each other." He fell silent a moment. "They don't show it, but they worship each other." Draco let out a long stream of smoke from his mouth and nose. "I loved her. We didn't have enough time together."

Harry nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Why are you still alone, Potter?" Draco asked. "I know about the whole gay thing, and it's been eight years since the Weaselette died. Why are you still alone?"

"Being a couple stopped being so important to me when my sons were born," Harry said with a shrug. He meant it. He also knew no one would ever understand him. Well maybe one someone, but even with him he wasn't quite sure. They weren't ever given the chance to go beyond furious hatred.

Draco finished his cigarette in silence, crushed it out and then put his hands behind his head. "What a fucked up pair we make, eh Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a grin, but it no longer seemed so bad.

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"Weird. It's been a year," Harry said as he poured Draco a brandy. The boys were outside trying out their new brooms Harry had gotten them.

Draco was irritated at first, about the brooms, until Harry had explained it had been a promotional gift from a sponsor. Draco snorted but went ahead and let Scorpius have one. It had been the same as last year, dinner, cake, drinks and presents.

Only this year they had spent weekends, holidays, Christmas and even just random days of the week together. Sometimes it was just Scorpius over, sometimes it was Draco and Scorpius. Sometimes Harry and Al went over there and often it was just Al. Draco had taken to watching the young boy when Harry was away for matches.

Harry often found himself wondering if he was falling for Draco, but every time he wondered, he was struck with an image of Snape. He was terrified to admit it to Draco, although he was pretty sure Draco knew, or at least suspected due to the blush Harry got every time Snape was ever brought up. Luckily it wasn't that often.

Tonight found the men in their customary chairs on the garden deck, watching the silhouettes of their sons zooming through the air on their new brooms.

Draco was leaning back, not smoking as he had recently given it up, and he was watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Potter," he said slowly, "do you fancy me?"

Harry almost choked on his brandy. "What? Do I what?"

"Fancy me," Draco said. "Do you want to shag me?"

His tone was so matter-of-fact that Harry wasn't sure how to respond. Eventually he cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, Malfoy, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but no."

Draco snorted. "I wasn't propositioning you. I was asking because I wanted to tell you something but I found myself... concerned... that your feelings might be hurt."

Harry almost wanted to tease Draco about his concern, but instead he said, "What is it, then?"

"I'm seeing someone."

A huge grin spread across Harry's face. "That's great! Who is she?"

"Her name is Lucy Sourais. She went to Beauxbatons but she was a year behind us. Met her on holiday when I took Scorpius to my cottage in France."

"You have a cottage in France?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "Hadn't thought of it in years. Astoria and I honeymooned there. Anyhow I met Lucy and she and I have been going on six months, long distance. But I've asked her to move here and she's said yes. She adores Scorpius."

"What about your parents?" Harry wondered.

"She's pureblood, so they're pleased," Draco said. "And she's pretty."

Harry laughed a little. "So it all works out."

Draco nodded. He sipped his brandy and then said, "So what about you?"

"I've already told you, Malfoy, I'm just not interested," Harry said wearily.

"I thought I might not be ever again. Losing Astoria hurt so badly and I was terrified of ever feeling that pain again," Draco said earnestly. "Then I met Lucy and I realised how stupid I was being." Draco fell silent and then said, "Are you going to tell me about your feelings for Snape or am I going to have to hex it out of you?"

Harry sputtered and coughed and desperately tried to come up with words of outrage and excuses. But eventually he shook his head and said, "How'd you figure it out?"

"Because you're besotted," Draco said, "every time I mention the git's name. I was half-expecting you to ask me about him. You know he and I were close."

"Do you talk to him still?" All of a sudden Harry's heart was racing and his palms were sweating. He had never dared to hope anyone he knew still spoke to Snape.

"Took you bloody long enough," Draco grumbled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope.

Harry took it from Draco and opened it to find a bit of parchment with an address written on it, and a key. "What's this?"

"My cottage." Draco paused for a moment, staring at Harry. "If you two weren't so goddamn stubborn, you might have gotten over this years ago."

"I don't understand-" Harry began but Draco cut him off.

"Hatred is always a cover-up, Potter. Surely by now you've figured that out. Hate covers all manner of things; anger, betrayal, sadness, guilt and love. Think about it."

Harry bit his lip, his mind racing too fast for coherent thought. "Are you saying that Snape-"

"I'm saying you should bloody go to my French cottage and leave Albus with me and figure it out."

"He lives there, doesn't he?" Harry asked but Draco refused to answer that question. Harry sighed and raked his hand back through his hair. "I can't just show up and say, Hey there Snape. Remember me, the son of your enemy? So I've been thinking, you're sexy and I'm pretty sure I like it when you're a total bastard. Want to shag?"

"Why not?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"We don't even really know each other."

"Yes, you do. In a weird way, you do. In a weird way, he understands you. He can't stop talking about you, ever, and even when he's insulting you there's this look in his eye..." Draco trailed off and shook his head. "Just don't let him push you away. He nearly died that night, and he's got you to thank for his life.

"How the hell is that?" Harry demanded. "I still have no idea how the man survived."

"Fawkes," Draco said. "And you know how Fawkes found him?"

Harry shook his head. "Not me. I didn't-"

"Fawkes followed the need for someone to live. And bloody hell, Harry, he wanted to die looking into your eyes. How disgustingly romantic is that?"

"My mum-" Harry began.

"Tell me you can spot his biggest lie, Harry. Tell me."

"I was so young," Harry protested. "He couldn't have!"

"He wasn't a dirty old man, if that's what you mean," Draco said. "He just knew that something was there. So quit being an idiot and say you'll go."

Harry felt like he was falling into nothingness as he nodded and said, "Okay, I'll go."

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The gates surrounding the cottage were tall, covered in green vines and opened by way of a rusted door that creaked loudly. The key barely fit and it was a struggle just to get inside the property. When Harry entered he found himself nearly smothered in overgrown, lush green trees, shrubs and hanging vines.

He walked the canopied path towards the door to the small cottage and entered into a small, stone kitchen with concrete floors. It was hardly how Harry had imagined the cottage to be. It was, after all, Malfoy’s. The kitchen was quite small, run on electricity but Harry could feel magic surrounding the place. He set his bags on the small, scrubbed table and peered first into the fridge, finding it fully stocked.

He then walked through a small room that looked to be a sort of pseudo-library, the walls packed from floor to ceiling with books. From there led into a carpeted hallway and two bedrooms, both lavishly decorated with their own bathrooms. The was a small toilet at the end of the hall enclosed in a small cupboard that looked to be shared between the occupants of each bedroom.

It was cozy, he decided, though not at all how he pictured Malfoy honeymooning. He went back into the kitchen, put his things into the larger of the two rooms and decided on a shower. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now that he was here. He was off for the rest of the season, James was safely at Hogwarts, Albus safely at the Malfoy’s and he had absolutely no idea how to get in touch with Snape.

Of course he suspected that Draco had alerted Snape to his presence, or at least hinted at it, but Harry was overcome with such anxiety he wasn’t sure he could seek the man out. What would he say, after all? Snape was much older, much crueler, and Harry didn’t really know the man all that well.

Then again, he had once thought those things about Malfoy and now they were almost closer than he, Hermione and Ron had been. It was so odd.

Shaking his head out of these thoughts, he dressed, left his hair wet and messy and went into the kitchen. There were fresh peaches and a bowl of cherries on the counter. Harry vaguely wondered who put them there but he didn’t wonder on it too long. The cottage property was so gorgeous and Harry couldn’t resist the urge to take a walk.

Grabbing a peach, he toed on his shoes and went out the front door. There was a curve in the path that led round the side of the house and he could see off in the near distance, a cherry orchard.

"Ah," he said aloud to himself as he realised where the fruit had come from. He headed for it, the sun shining down on the back of his neck and he felt warm and comfortable. He wasn’t really paying attention to much as he munched on the sweet, white peach and ambled along the path.

It led him into the grove of trees and he headed straight back. It wasn’t long before he reached the corner of a fence. The property wasn’t as big as it looked.

With a sigh, Harry turned to go back when he heard a deep growl. He looked to his right and found himself facing two quite fierce looking dogs. They were black, a breed he recognised as Rottweiler, and they certainly didn’t look friendly.

They had chains round their necks but Harry realised a step forward in any direction and he would be within biting range. He reached for his wand and then remembered he’d left it back at the cottage.

"Oh fuck me," Harry said. He knew the dogs must’ve been asleep when he passed them and he wondered if that if perhaps he just walked by quietly, they’d leave him alone.

No such luck. Harry took one step forward and they lunged against their chains, jaws snapping. Harry groaned again just before he heard a very familiar, groin-tingling voice say, "Achtung! " He recognised the language as being German and the voice belonging to Severus Snape.

Harry felt his face heat up instantly as Severus Snape came into view. He was wearing very typical, plain black robes that still managed to look rather ominous. He pointed a long, thin finger at the dogs and spat, "Platz!" The dogs cowed and settled down onto their stomachs. "Braver Hunds."

Snape fixed his black eyes on Harry, lifted an eyebrow and said, "Why am I always saving your sorry arse?"

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Harry’s hands were shaking ridiculously as he poured hot water into the two cups of tea. He took the tray and set it in the middle of the table and handed one cup to Snape. "So," Harry said with a long breath.

"Articulate as ever, Mr Potter," Snape said as he delicately sipped on the dark brew. "What brings you to Mr Malfoy’s cottage?"

"I er..." Harry stumbled. "He offered it to me."

"Hmm," Snape hummed. "He had mentioned you two had become a bit friendly. I think he’s gone quite mad."

"I’ve wondered that myself," Harry said with a small grin. "He’s actually taking care of my son."

Snape sneered. "Albus Severus. Yes, Draco did mention him."

"I thought you might be flattered."

"Me? Flattered? My name along with the surname Potter?"

"Ah. Point," Harry said. "Well it was meant with good intentions."

"As are all your idiotic ideas," Snape said. He sipped his tea again and helped himself to one of the white cherries that were still sitting in the bowl.

"Did you pick those?" Harry asked suddenly.

Snape looked at Harry for a moment. "Yes. I do live here, you know."

"Here?" Harry choked. "In this cottage?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I offered part of my property to Mr Malfoy," Snape said. "I live on the other side of the grove in another house. I would hardly live here, Mr Potter."

"Ah," Harry said. "I suppose I should have asked your permission, then."

Snape sniffed a little and looked out the window. "I think it’s going to rain."

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Harry had been there a week and had only seen Snape twice. After their first, awkward tea, Snape disappeared and didn’t show himself again until that Friday when he came with a small sack of fresh bread and some cheeses for Harry. He left it on the table with barely a word and went back outside.

Harry watched him walk down the path towards his own house wondering why Snape was bothering at all. Then Harry remembered what Draco had said and he was reminded he was dealing with Severus Snape.

He wanted to die looking into your eyes, Draco had said.

Harry went to the fridge, took out fish and vegetables and as he cooked, he came up with a plan.

It was just seven o’clock when Harry got back from the small market. There was a wicker picnic basket which he piled the fish, vegetables, bread, cheese and wine. He slipped on a jumper over his muggle jeans and shirt and headed down the path.

Harry had never ventured beyond those cherry trees for fear of both the dogs and of offending Snape. But he had to be brave.

As he rounded the corner, he saw a large pen with several Rottweiler puppies that were running and playing with each other. The two older dogs that had nearly eaten him alive were also behind a fence, lazily staring at him through the wire.

Harry cleared his throat and ventured up to the larger and much more agreeable cottage of Snape’s. He saw a light on so he walked to the door and pushed the bell. It was several moments before the door opened and Harry found himself face to face with Snape again.

"Can I help you?" Snape asked.

"Peckish?" Harry asked by way of answer and without invite, pushed past Snape into the foyer.

Snape made an impatient noise and shut the door after Harry. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I’ve made all this food and I thought I might share," Harry said with one of his famously annoying grins.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "What sort of food?"

"Fish and vegetables. Plus some wine, bread and cheese. All those French things, you know."

Snape pulled a face and Harry thought he was about to be rejected but Snape said, "Kitchen’s this way." He snatched the basket out of Harry’s hands and began to grumble about Harry probably not knowing how to serve out a dinner properly.

Snape gestured rather curtly to the table where Harry said, a bit dumbfounded, and watched Snape dish out the food and wine.

Before long they were eating in a tense but almost amicable silence. "So," Harry said, deciding to break the ice, "do I get passing marks on the food?"

"Why do you insist on reminding me I had the misfortune of being your professor?" he grumbled.

Harry shrugged and said, "That’s not an answer to my question."

Snape snorted with some amusement and said, "Perhaps an A. Under more dire, maybe starving circumstances it could be considered E. Likely your food will never receive an O."

"I doubt I’ll ever have the fortune of earning an O in any of your grade books, Severus," Harry said with a small smile.

"Wouldn’t be too sure of that yet, Mr Potter," Snape said so softly Harry wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

He wanted to ask Snape to repeat himself but didn’t have that kind of courage with the man. Yet. "So why France?" he asked instead.

"Why not?" Snape retorted. "It’s not England but it’s just as good."

"Don’t you miss it?" Harry asked.

"What’s there to miss?" Snape asked harshly. "A country full of wizards who hate me for killing Albus Dumbledore, and for that killing they must view me as a hero? I hardly think so, Mr Potter."

"You never even tried. You could have given m... could have given them the chance," Harry amended with a flush, "to see the real reasons why." Harry paused and then said, "Draco knew the truth."

"Draco is in very much the same position as I am. He may like where he works now, Potter, but don’t think it wasn’t a huge blow to his ego that no one trusted him enough to give him a job in any department he wanted to go into." Snape sighed and said, "I’d hardly expect you to understand, Mr Quidditch Star."

Harry growled with annoyance. "I’m tired of everyone saying that! I work very hard for my place on the team, Snape. It’s not like someone handed me a badge on a silver platter and said Oh Mr Potter, here you go, join our team Mr Potter. If Draco wanted to, he could try out. If he’s any good he could get a spot just as I did."

"Are you really so stupid as to think any Quidditch team would befoul themselves with a Malfoy?" Snape sneered.

Harry hung his head. Snape was right on that account. Quidditch was a sport but it was also publicized and that mattered. "You’re right. I’m sorry." Harry sighed and then looked back up at Snape. "Malfoy and I don’t talk a lot about work, but he did tell me he was happy there."

"He is," Snape acquiesced.

Harry’s eyes widened. "So why make me feel bad about it!" Harry shouted.

Snape smirked for a moment and then went expressionless again. "I was merely trying to make you see that while some undesirables have settled, others have not, and we are the ones who find ourselves living in places like France, instead of the places we once called home."

Harry felt a bit sad for this, but only a bit. "So what do you do, Snape?"

"I breed and train dogs," he replied easily.

Harry almost choked on his wine. "You do what?"

"Those two dogs who nearly mauled you, those were my first. Amadeus and Wolfgang started the litter. There have been three since then. I’m getting ready to retire them."

"What are the dogs for?" Harry asked with wide eyes. It was definitely not what he had expected Snape to be doing.

"Whatever said person might need them for. I’ve had offers from both Wizard and muggle alike. It’s quite a profitable trade if one knows how to manage."

"Wow," was all Harry could think to say. "So it’s just you and the dogs here?"

"Yes, unless Mr Malfoy and any of his guests pay visit," he said.

"You haven’t found that special someone?" Harry asked almost mockingly. Almost.

Snape snorted. "Are you meaning to imply that I might ever have a special someone?"

Harry shrugged. "Just you and dogs can’t be all that much fun."

"I find them agreeable. Much more agreeable than people." Snape paused and then amended. "Most people."

Harry felt a rush go straight to his groin and he blanched. "May I take that as a compliment?"

"Perhaps," Snape said and Harry could swear he was being seductive. That didn’t exactly help Harry’s problem that would be all-too visible in his muggle attire, and that was the reason Harry didn’t offer to get up and help with the dishes.

Snape made no comment and by the time he finished clearing up the mess, Harry had composed himself and was able to accept Snape’s offer of a brandy. They took their snifters outside to sit on the front porch in a comfortable swing.

They were quite snug next to each other and Harry noticed that Snape still smelled of spices, although far less unpleasant than when he was a Potion’s Master.

"Did you just sniff me?" Snape asked suddenly.

Harry was glad for dusk, as it concealed his blush of horror. "I just... you still smell like spices."

"Still smell?" Snape asked.

"At school you smelled like spices," Harry said softly, "but also of other less pleasant things."

Snape let out a breathy chuckle and said, "I grow things here as well, but potions no longer interest me as they once used to."

"Oh," Harry said and shifted his weight a bit more into Snape.

If Snape noticed, he made no mention of it. They sat there for some time, watching the sky darken, sipping their brandy and after a while Harry noticed their breathing had synced.

"You knew I was coming here, didn’t you?" Harry asked. The brandy was making him a bit braver than normal.

Snape shrugged and then said, "Draco may have mentioned it."

"Did you leave all that stuff for me? The food and the fruits?"

"So what if I did?" Snape asked sharply.

Harry turned his head towards Snape and then kissed his cheek suddenly. "Thank you."

Snape swallowed so loudly Harry could hear it. He cleared his throat and then said, "It wouldn’t do to have you starve to death on my property."

Harry smiled a little. "Draco also mentioned something else."

"Did he?" Snape asked, stiffening a little.

"He said... he said that when you thought you were dying, you wanted to look into my eyes. Not my mum’s."

"I never said I was looking into your mum’s eyes," Snape said gruffly.

"So does that mean..."

"Potter," Snape breathed.

"He told me that Fawkes found you out of my desperation to keep you alive." Harry’s voice broke for a second and he turned to Snape, feeling desperate. "He told me you’re alive because of me. Snape, I... I mean, tell me you don’t think I saved your life!"

Snape stared at Harry with a small frown for some time. His hand absently ran over the small scars on his throat. "What Draco told you is true," he said slowly.

Harry abandoned all pretense and grabbed Snape by the front of his black robes. "Tell me, Snape, please, that you don’t see me as a hero."

Snape closed his fingers round Harry’s wrists. Harry’s grip relaxed slightly and Snape brought one hand up to touch Harry’s cheek. "Don't fear, Potter, I shall never lower myself to think of you as my hero." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Harry let out a breath, tightened his grip on Snape’s robes and kissed him. Snape stiffened but only for a second and then he was kissing back, furiously, almost angrily. In the background Harry heard the shattering of their brandy glasses as they hit the ground, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that Snape was lifting Harry by his shirt and pulling him through the doors, into the cottage and down a small hallway. Harry could barely see in the dim light of what had to be Snape’s bedroom.

Snape shoved Harry backwards onto the soft bed and before Harry even knew what was going on, he was naked. He looked up blearily, as Snape had removed his glasses, and he saw the figure of Snape standing over him wearing nothing but his wand.

"Oh god," Harry groaned as he felt Snape’s skin suddenly on top of him. Snape’s hands were everywhere, tugging, clawing, caressing. Snape’s mouth was following the tail of his hands and it was bringing Harry to a point of ecstasy that Harry had never been before.

When Snape reached that spot, he dipped his tongue in and Harry cried out, "Oh my god!"

Snape smirked and moved back up to Harry’s face. "I can be, if you would like."

Harry, flushed and half-coherent, fixed bleary eyes on Snape’s face. "I want..." he gasped as Snape began to toy with him a bit. "But I’ve never... since Ginny... I..."

Snape’s hands stilled and he fixed dark eyes on Harry. "Ginny? Your wife?"

"She died," Harry said softly. "I like men, Snape. Don’t stop, please."

Snape licked his lips. "Are you certain? How long ago?"

"Nine years ago," Harry said. "Snape, I really don’t want to talk about her."

Snape stroked his fingers down Harry’s cheeks gently. "Do you really want this, Potter? Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?"

Harry felt frustrated, sexually and mentally. Before Snape knew what was coming, Harry flipped Snape onto his back and pressed him to the bed. Harry captured Snape’s mouth forcefully and then said, "Eight bloody years, Snape. Eight bloody years I’ve been desperate to find you and fuck you into the floor. Eight years I’ve known that I’m both gay and fucking in love with you. So deal with it."

Snape stared at Harry for only a fraction of a second before he flipped their positions once more and claimed Harry as his.

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Neither of them could sleep and eventually they found themselves sitting up in Snape’s bed, staring at each other in the dim lamp light.

Eventually, Snape spoke. "Did you mean what you said?"

"What part?" Harry asked. "I don’t really think you’re a god."

Snape shook his head. "After all of that."

Harry looked down at his hands. "I know it sounded ridiculous. I mean, how can I possibly be in love with someone I spent so many years hating? But whatever the case, yes, I meant it. I don’t expect you to reciprocate-" but Harry’s mouth was suddenly occupied by Snape’s. When the older man finally pulled away, Harry smiled softly. "That’s what Draco was talking about, wasn’t he?"

"What do you mean?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"He said we were both stubborn bastards that could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble years ago."

Snape shrugged and looked away. "I might have, whilst heavily inebriated, mind, mentioned something to him. Once. About having a fancy for you. Or maybe something... more than a fancy."

Harry could barely suppress a grin and he reached over and grabbed Snape’s hand. "So now what?"

"That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it," Snape said softly.

"Can we make it work?" Harry asked. Then he stopped and said, "Do you want to make it work?"

"Yes," Snape said slowly.

"But?" Harry pressed.

"I cannot go back to England."

Harry let out a breath of relief. "Not really a problem, you know. I’m hardly ever there. You do realise, however, that I travel. A lot."

"I do hope you aren’t under the impression that I’m in any way concerned with time alone," Snape said. "You do recall who I am, do you not?"

Harry laughed a little. "Right." And then his face fell. "Severus Snape. I have... children, you know. Two of them."

"I was quite aware," Snape said.

"And that’s okay by you?"

"Are you concerned about my reaction to them or their reaction to me?" Snape asked.

"My children were half-raised by Fred and George Weasley. Do you think they would have a problem with you?"

Snape snorted. "Lovely. I can just imagine the state of this cottage when your boys are through with it."

"They are also quite well behaved," Harry said. He sighed again and fell back against his pillows. "Can we make this work?"

Snape nearly pounced on Harry and kissed him quiet. "Potter, I do believe that if together we can conquer death and a Dark Lord, and survive the Headmastership of Albus Dumbledore, we can conquer the trials of a relationship, even one involving children and travelling."

Harry grinned and kissed Snape gently. "You know, I never thought I’d ever owe Draco Malfoy anything."

"Nor did I, Mr Potter. But I suppose for this, for you, I’m willing to give him my thanks."