Once upon a time, in a magical world, far, far away, there was a statue of a hero, gilded and encrusted with precious gems. Through the most unlikely of friendships with a swallow, the beautiful exterior of the hero was dismantled, at his request, and distributed to those in need. Finally picked bare, it was forgotten, and counted as common. The swallow himself was worn out by the time his work was done, ready for nothing but the dung hill.
And although all the rest of the world saw only two empty husks picked clean, the swallow and the statue were beautiful in each other's eyes. In the end, that was all that mattered.
Severus first noticed near the end of the week. There were so many people who came and went—tourists, he supposed—that he didn't really pay much attention until they triggered his 'over five-days' radar.
The man always sat on the same bench, the one set slightly apart, so he rarely had to share it. Sitting hunched over his paper bag of bread bits, he was feeding the pigeons, and an impressive number of them had fanned out in a circle around him, pecking at the tidbits as he tossed them.
There was something else about him that caught Severus' attention. The color of his hair, the set of his shoulders, the way he sat slouched on the bench, the injured leg posed awkwardly to the side. And by the time Severus moved to a nearer bench, to satisfy a curiosity (remarkable in and of itself these days, as his mantra now was to 'live and let live'), he already had a suspicion, which was confirmed when the man lifted his face to the sun.
It was Harry Potter—one of a kind scar, unmistakable green eyes, telltale prominent cheekbones. Severus had spent enough of his life staring at that face to recognize it at once, even though the scar was half-hidden by hair, the eyes noticeably lack-luster, and the distinctive features marred by ill-health, it would seem.
Of course, too, he was finally influenced by the fact that, for the past two days, he'd looked up and found the man staring at him from across the square. Even though Severus' identity was hidden by a more than adequate glamour charm, the fact of those eyes on him made Severus feel the skin at the back of his neck bristle. He was suddenly glad for the glamour, more of a habit now than a necessity, fed by his natural paranoia.
On the sixth day, more out of curiosity than anything else, Severus binned his apple core and casually sauntered in Harry's direction.
Harry gave Severus a sideways glance when he sat beside him on the bench, then after a moment's hesitation, held out his sack of bread bits.
"No, thank you, I've already eaten," Severus said dryly.
The man laughed, a slightly musical sound that Severus remembered. He watched as the pigeons continued their advance and retreat, en masse, with each tidbit that was thrown out.
"You're here every day," Harry said, not in question.
"Most days, as are you," Severus conceded.
"I go to other places sometimes. Try to spread the bread around a bit, but Victoria Park is my favorite." He squinted up at the sky. "It'll be turning cold soon. Need to fatten them up."
Severus knew all the answers, but decided to forage for them anyway. "They're fortunate to have such a champion."
A slightly bitter laugh. Then Severus scarcely heard the words, "Yeah, right."
Curious at what he would say, Severus asked him, "You have your days free, then. A nightshift worker?"
Harry shook his head. "Nah, don't work. Disabled." He pointed to the cane resting nearby. And though Severus hadn't asked, Harry added, "On the job injury."
"Ah."
Severus was ready when Harry asked him, still throwing bread out. "What's your story, then? You on hols, or work at night…?"
Severus struggled with his reply. "I'm on the dole for now. A bit down on my luck, the past few years or so," he paused, wondering why he felt the need to explain. "When I'm out of work, I come here. I like the outdoors, watching people…" he trailed off.
"Me too," Harry simply said, turning his sack upside down to empty the last of the crumbs.
Severus stood, just about to turn away, when the voice pulled him back.
"By the way, I'm Harry. See you around." He stared at Severus, unsmiling.
Severus knew it was imperative that he lie. "Stephen. I'll look for you." With a nod, Severus turned again, taking care not to disturb Harry's birds.
***
Several days of mindless chitchat later, during which they touched on passersby, pigeon control, and the perfunctory commentary on the weather, their conversation then took its inevitable turn toward the more personal.
If truth were to be told, this was what had finally driven Severus from his own solitary bench: curiosity. He'd not seen Harry since…well, Severus didn't even like to think of it. He read the Prophet, from time to time, and was well aware that Harry had practically dropped of the face off the earth, well, at least the wizarding one. He suspected that a select few still knew his whereabouts.
"So, why can't you keep a job? You seem smart enough," Harry observed.
"I did have a…trade, but I…" For some reason, Severus wanted to keep outright falsehoods to a minimum. "I was suspected of…misconduct. So I was…let go." He turned his face to the side, confused that he should feel shame, when he knew there should be none.
Harry asked him candidly, "Were you? Guilty, I mean?"
Severus ground his teeth together. "No, but…well, it's complicated."
The man turned back to his pigeons. "But this keeps you from getting a job? Because people believe it?"
"Yes," Severus said tiredly. "And it was all I knew how to do…this trade. But now, I take what I can get—mostly unskilled labor." He didn't know why, but he felt it important to add, "It's the lack of purpose I find hard. There was a time when…I was a man with…" He almost said 'a mission,' but at the last moment, substituted, "…goals." He closed his mouth abruptly, suddenly annoyed at how much he'd revealed to a total stranger.
But no, not a total stranger. Harry and he'd shared that in common, he supposed, once upon a time. A direction…a purpose…a mission.
"It's not the same thing for me, but I think I know how that feels." Harry's eyes darted at him, then he looked down at his feet. "I was on the job…top of the world, some would say. Got the job done, too, but ended up with this." He gestured at his sadly twisted leg.
"What type of injury," Severus asked softly.
Harry explained, "Electrical accident." Severus couldn’t help but admire the ingenuous half-truth, even though Harry had left out the 'curse' part of it.
***
They'd been talking for several weeks, afternoon by afternoon, moving from British politics, to places they'd traveled, to places they'd like to see, all the while skirting around the less safe topics of who they were and where they'd come from, but at last, by unspoken agreement, they arrived at that point in an acquaintance when it seemed only natural to ask.
"No family at all?" Severus asked, wishing he hadn't, when he saw the look on Harry's face.
Harry grimaced, then Severus watched in fascination as the mask of indifference slipped into place. "None. My parents died in a car crash when I was just a baby, so I was raised by an aunt, who wasn't overly fond of the idea. Sent off to boarding school when I was eleven, where I didn't make many friends—haven't kept in touch with the few that I had. You know how it is, life gets in the way, people move on…."
Severus felt an irrational and fleeting outrage—that the man had ended up much the same way as he'd begun—alone. Not dissimilar from his own path, now that he thought of it.
"You?" He heard Harry's voice, as if from a distance.
Severus shook his head. "My parents are gone as well. I was raised at school, just as you were, as I had no other family. And my work—there was not much opportunity for friendship." He swallowed and shot Harry a glance, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing with this little charade. "In fact," Severus felt he had to confess, "I'm not certain I've ever had someone I could call a friend." He hesitated, then knew he had to pay his respects. "There was one, but he was more of a mentor than a friend."
"Well," Harry smiled. "Three weeks of talking on the bench. That has to be halfway to a friendship, don't you think?"
Severus gave him a wan smile. "Winter's coming."
***
"I'm curious about your scar," Severus said cautiously, as he sipped at the tea that Harry'd brought in a carry-away sack. "It's unusual."
Harry brought his hand up to finger the scar self-consciously, then looked soberly at Severus. "From the accident."
"Must've been a serious one," Severus commented.
Harry stared at him for a moment longer, and Severus felt a flash of inexplicable fear. But then Harry set down his tea. "It was, in fact, there were…fatalities." He stopped.
"Surely you've been compensated," Severus insisted.
The man shrugged. "Oh, no money worries. But money isn't everything." His eyes became distressed, when he realized what he'd said. "God, I'm sorry. I'm sure if I had to worry about it, then it'd be important," he finished apologetically.
Severus gave him a dismissive wave. "No need, I understand. You were due to be compensated for what you've lost." He paused purposefully. "The use of your leg."
But Harry had lost so, so much more. Severus wondered if Harry would address it.
Harry gave him a winsome smile. "Yeah, my leg." He chewed on a fingertip, his eyes far away. "You know, it wasn't just my leg." He shook his head, then gave Severus a look full of misery. "I guess a part of me died with it," he muttered, "and it's been bloody difficulty, adjusting to the…loss." Severus grimly noted the flash of something dark in Harry's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. He wondered how he'd have dealt with it himself, had he lost his magic….
***
They'd been talking about schooling, when Harry asked him, "So, this mentor you mentioned—was he a teacher, or someone you worked with?"
Severus was stumped, but considering the old man's impact on his life, he decided to choose neither. "He was both, actually, a patient and kind man, very wise—most of what I learned of any value, I owe to him. Not just my work, you understand, but about what's important in life, qualities that I would've liked to develop, things I would've liked to set my sights on." He paused and saw that Harry was scrutinizing him intently. And because Severus had never admitted it to anyone, it seemed almost ludicrous that it would be to Harry, but he felt a strange compulsion to say it. "I was with him when he was killed. It was a horrible experience, one that I often dream about." He hung his head for a moment, then looked up to stare at Harry. "I would've done anything to change that day, but I was helpless." He swallowed and looked away for a moment. "There were so many things I wished I'd taken the time to say to him."
The man's green eyes seemed to overflow with empathy. "I know 'helpless'. But if this man was as wise as you say he was, then I imagine he knew…." He reached out and patted Severus on the arm. "I've only known you for what, six weeks? And if I can tell how fond you were of him, then I'm sure he knew it too."
Severus was almost overwhelmed by the irony of it—Harry comforting him about Dumbledore's death, when Harry himself had been devastated by it at the time. But this feeling was overtaken by the more disturbing one of guilt, evoked by Harry's next words.
"I knew someone like that at school. He was the headmaster, and since I was an orphan of sorts, he took me under his wing." Harry gave him a sad smile. "He died when I was almost ready to leave, but I still miss him sometimes. Like you, there are things I wish I'd said. But you never think about time being short…."
Severus' face softened. "Ah, well, it's as you said. He most likely knew."
***
Severus did have work some nights, off and on, never anything of substance, never lasting long. But even on those nights when he worked, he'd come home and sleep the morning through, then be up by noon, making his way to Victoria Park to meet this man, whom he now found an intriguing companion. He'd noticed that, although they talked about personal things, Harry was always reluctant to go into detail, something for which Severus was grateful, for obvious reasons. There was a pervasive comfort in knowing that one was understood, that no specifics were needed, no graphic pictures needed to be painted, for them to share this unlikely bond of common disappointments and tragedies.
It was the first week of November, and Severus groused to himself as he watched Harry chat with the pretty brunette perched on the end of his bench. She'd been there when he'd arrived an hour ago, and there she still sat, animatedly talking with an equally engaged Harry. He refused to plumb the depths of his disgruntlement, however, and contented himself with slumping down on his bench, collar pulled up against the chill, determined to wait her out.
He could hear the sound of their voices, but refused to sink to eavesdropping, although, he was more curious than he had a right to be, he realized with chagrin. When at last she stood, and made her way across the square, Severus studiously sat, playing with the worn padding of his gloves. He was startled when Harry's voice spoke from just a few feet away.
"Stephen?"
He glanced up, attempting to feign surprise. "Harry, I didn't want to intrude…."
Harry limped the last few steps to his bench, then sank down beside him. "Oh, God, I wish you had. She was talking my ear off, and I kept hoping you'd come to my rescue."
It wasn't long before they were deep in conversation, as they usually were. This time, however, the conversation took an unexpected turn, and Severus found he was alarmed, in spite of himself.
"I mean, it's a fair question, isn't it?" Harry asked him. "You get up everyday, you eat, you make yourself get dressed and go out, and for what?" He shook his head. "So, I've wondered, if I just didn't do it one day, who would notice?" He frowned at the look on Severus' face. "C'mon, you can't tell me you've never thought like that." He looked at Severus intently, his eyes radiating challenge.
Severus was not about to lie now, not when he'd been scrupulously honest for over two months. Well, at least when it'd come down to the most important things. "I've thought about it," he began cautiously, "but I don't believe I have it in me to truly despair." He gave Harry a stern glance. "What you're suggesting sounds like despair to me, and that's just a stone's throw from doing yourself in."
Something unreadable passed over Harry's face, then he leant in closer. "You can tell me, in all honesty, given what you've been through, that you've never despaired?" he asked, mildly incredulous.
"Perhaps I've come close," Severus murmured as he looked away briefly, then found he had to look back at the sound of Harry's voice.
"Hmm, thought so." Harry's eyes brightened then. "I didn't say I'd do it, just that it crosses my mind every once in a while." He looked up at the sky. "Days when the sun doesn't come out, days when I don't speak a word to a living soul." He smiled at Severus then. "Days like today, when a conversation with a pretty girl makes me realize how alone I am."
Severus smiled, then, despite what he knew, asked anyway. "She was pretty, so did you get her name and number."
Harry snorted, "No, I did not."
He was about to retort something appropriate, when Harry surprised him by placing a hand atop his, where it lay between them on the bench. Severus didn't pull it away, but looked up at Harry in surprise.
"Not interested in women. I'm queer, as I'm sure you know by now." Harry turned their hands so he could lace their fingers together, then smiled when Severus did not resist. "None of my business, but you are as well."
Of course, Severus had known this about Harry—all of the wizarding world had, long before Harry's climactic resolution of the question of evil. But still, Severus was astounded, not only by the fact that Harry had touched him (he couldn't remember the last time someone had), but by Harry's easy assumption that the two of them would know this about each other.
"I don't understand," he said, not entirely sincere. He ignored Harry's self-confession, and addressed the second part of his statement. "How…when did you know?" he asked, perplexed.
Harry gave him a knowing look. "Oh, I don't know, sometime on that very first day. I was a pathetic, crippled loner on a park bench, on a beautiful day, and you singled me out to come and sit by." He shrugged. "Was I wrong?"
Severus answered directly, "No," knowing that this single word accounted for the fact that he had singled Harry out, but not for the reasons that Harry thought. The fact that the man was gay had been the last thing from his mind, and the fact that Harry would guess this about him, even further.
But now, sitting here, having not pulled his fingers away, he found he had no strength to do it. It was a tangible token of the months they'd spent here in the park, talking about the hands that life had dealt them, the dreams they'd watched crumble, the people they'd lost, and then today, the despair that they'd managed to keep at arm's length. It felt good to be anchored physically to someone, if only for a moment or two, but then Severus had to shiver, as he remembered that Harry wasn't privy at all to the most important part of him: that he was Severus Snape.
They sat that way for almost an hour, and it was the most peaceful that Severus had felt in years. He knew he was courting disaster, that a day would finally come, when he'd have to pay the piper, but for now, he was content, that it was not this day.
***
It was the last conversation they were to have together in this fragile arrangement, Severus would later think to himself. Perhaps the subject matter, and their unguarded admission to each other, should've tipped him off, but then again, perhaps not—hindsight was almost always perfect.
Severus gave him a disbelieving look. "It's a foolish question. I can't say I've really thought about it."
"Aw, c'mon, it's pretty simple. Don't think too deeply, then, just off the top of your head, what would it be?"
"I'd have to say money, then," Severus said slowly, then put up a hand, the one not holding Harry's. "Not for the reasons you might think. No, I owe some debts that it'd give me great pleasure to repay at last, people that it would give me satisfaction to assist." He saw the puzzled look on Harry's face, but there was no way to explain that, despite his lack of culpability, he felt a great burden of responsibility for those victimized by the Dark Lord and his minions. Although his part had been reluctant and necessary, he still felt a desire to make remunerations. Someone should've long ago, but they were approaching a decade after the war, and those families still struggled, he knew.
He looked up, startled, as he realized he'd been woolgathering. Harry was still watching him, his face lined with concern. Severus mildly scoffed, "Ah, but it's as you said, that's just off the top of my head. So, your turn—the one thing you'd wish to have, no holds barred, no limitations of reality."
Harry didn't seem to need time to think about his answer. He searched Severus' face, then told him, "Power."
Severus knew instantly what he meant, but also knew he'd have to demand an explanation. "How old are you, Harry?" he asked gently.
"Twenty-eight," Harry told him, with not a whit of defiance. "Not power to rule or influence. Just the power to be what I once was. And even that wasn't much, to be honest," he confessed as he looked away, embarrassed.
"Not too much to ask," Severus agreed and gently squeezed his hand. "I can't imagine how difficult it must've been for you, to lose a part of yourself that way."
Harry only gave him a solemn nod in reply.
***
The next time Severus came to the park, the weather had become wintry. The trees were completely stripped of their leaves, and the wind was bitterly cold as it blew debris across the now deserted garden walkways. He sat, rubbing his hands together, glancing up and down all the possible approaches, every minute or so. After two hours of waiting, he stood stiffly, and walked dejectedly back to his flat.
He returned the next day, and the next, until it was finally week's end, and Harry had still not put in an appearance. Severus didn't know what it was, this emotion that he was feeling, but had he been pressed for a definition, he might've labeled it disappointment, tinged at least with apprehension for Harry's well-being, because the man wasn't exactly well, was he?
He sat alone in his small room on Friday evening, finally taking himself to task for what he'd done, this hiding of himself from a man he barely knew, but whom he expected wouldn't have been overjoyed to re-forge an acquaintance, let alone share with him the things that he had, had he known Severus' true identity.
It had started off with a curiosity on his part, plain and simple, but now it had become something much more. They were two lonely men, who'd found a sympathetic ear in each other, and now, damn it to hell and back, Severus was distraught at the prospect of losing this fragile association, built on the shifting sand that it was. It was something, he realized, that he would have to remedy in the near future, that is, if he ever saw the man again.
And this last thought, that he'd missed the chance to be entirely truthful, was for some reason a frightening one. Harry was the only person in the world whom Severus had really talked with about such personal matters, and he suspected that the same was true of Harry. It was suddenly important that Harry know who he was, that he know that all those personal thoughts belonged to Severus.
Saturday dawned just as cold, but now there was a winter sun that blessed the city with a bit of warmth—probably not measurable, but at least it encouraged the delusion, that the day was somehow not as cold and bitter as the ones before had been.
Severus dutifully trekked off to the park, once again disappointed to see the benches bare, but still, he sat, deciding that he'd give Harry an hour. Pulling his thin coat in around him, he held his knees tightly together as he sat there, buttressing himself against the wind as it whistled through the park. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, vaguely aware of the passage of time.
Finally, he knew, by the slant of the sun as it dipped below the trees, that it was well past time for him to go. He stood to his feet, turned to collect the newspaper he'd been sitting on, then when he twisted back, there Harry stood, just in front of him.
"Harry," he said, stunned, wondering how he'd missed his approach. Harry was bundled in a heavy parka, one gloved hand gripping his cane, the other shoved casually in a pocket. "I was just about to go—I've been here everyday, but…" He stopped, uncertain what to say. You weren't…where the hell have you been…I was worried about you…Even more outrageous…I missed you.
The man gave him an apologetic smile, then removed his hand to gesture at the park and nature in general. "Happens every year, when the weather first turns cold. I can't get out and about at first…till my leg adjusts."
"Ah, I see. And now…?" Severus asked, as something akin to relief spread through him, relief that the explanation had been a simple one.
Harry smiled. "Winter's not the best time for me," he paused, then gave Severus a rueful grin, "but I'm up and dressed and out, so that's a start." They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Harry said hesitantly, "Look, would you like to go someplace? You might've weathered that bench fairly well, but I'm not sure that I can."
Severus frowned as he thought. "All right, we can go to the café out on the corner, if you like." He took a step toward the exit, when Harry put out his hand.
"Wait, if you don't mind, and I know this is forward of me, but how about we go back to my place? It's close by, and I can stretch out my leg, be more comfortable." He looked tentatively at Severus. "I mean, if that's all right," he mumbled.
Severus had to hide his astonishment, that Harry would even think of inviting a stranger…but no, he wasn't a stranger, was he? They'd spent months, learning each other, seated side by side on a park bench. It was perfectly logical, he reasoned. "All right, if you're sure you're up to it. Maybe another day would be better?"
Harry shook his head. "I'd be glad for the company—it's been a lonely week," he confessed, then bit his lower lip as color flooded his cheeks. "Take my arm?" he asked, and Severus found it the most natural thing in the world to do, taking the arm of this man for whom he'd just spent six afternoons holding vigil.
They made slow progress out of the park, then down one street, turning left into the next one, talking about their week as they went, Harry's full of television programmes and books, Severus' mainly anecdotes of his latest night employment.
Severus watched as Harry expertly made his way up the steps of a rather well-kept building, placing his cane on the step above, using his hand on the rail to pull himself upward. They stood silently, side by side in the lift, as there were other tenants squeezed in the small space with them. Down one long, plush-carpeted hallway, then Harry was letting them into the flat with a key.
Once inside, Severus couldn't help himself, and had to remark, "Very nice. I'll make certain you never see the inside of mine." He took his time to look around him, noting the art on the walls, the faux fireplace, the inviting softness of the settee and armchairs. "How many rooms?" he asked as he shrugged off his coat, eyeing the large, overflowing bookcase at the end of the room.
Harry was watching him, a mixture of amusement and apprehension on his face. "Six, not counting the bath," he answered as he took Severus' coat, then motioned him to the settee. They both sat in a corner, angled in to face each other, Harry's leg extended out between them.
Severus was running his eyes over the room again, then they finally came to rest on the man staring at him intently.
"It's adequate," Harry told him.
Severus snorted. "It's more than adequate. It's…you," he finally said.
Harry studied him for a moment, and the intensity of his scrutiny made Severus uncomfortable, because it seemed as if Harry were trying to read his thoughts, trying to decide what to say next.
"This may seem totally off the wall, what I'm about to say, but hear me out, all right?" Harry's voice was not its usual tone, and Severus decided that it was strain that he heard.
"All right, go on," Severus said cautiously.
Harry hands were nervously working at the edge of his jumper. "I've been thinking about it all week, and I know how strange it might sound, so I wasn't going to do it, but then, seeing you today, well, it makes sense to me, although you might not think so."
Severus was staring at him, his brows knit together, so Harry plunged on. "I've got this whole, huge flat to myself, and it's a waste, really. So, I was thinking, that maybe, if you're interested," he paused, as he took a deep breath, "you'd like to move in, as a flat-mate. You'd be helping me out, you see. As it is, I have to pay someone to clean, someone to shop, even someone to help me get around, from time to time. So, we'd just call that even," he stopped, at the look on Severus' face. "I've offended you, haven’t I? I don't mean it as a hand-out, or any such rot." His face was scarlet. "I'm not being entirely honest here. I'd not offer such a thing to anyone else. Just you," he mumbled as he looked away.
Severus was speechless, for a number of reasons, not the least of which was this very small matter of who he actually was. He had to admit, that were Harry anyone else, he'd seriously consider the offer. But now, he found himself in the unenviable position of having to refuse, and unable to be truthful with Harry as to why. It rankled, it irritated, no, if he were honest, it was downright pathetic. He'd put himself in this predicament, and now they both were to pay a price, although, he admitted to himself, that had Harry known who he was, he most certainly wouldn't be sitting here at all, let alone being given such an offer.
Harry took advantage of his hesitation to slide along the length of the settee towards him, his leg now dangling over the edge. When Severus turned at the movement beside him, it happened before he could even protest…not that he would've, he thought moments later.
Harry leant in, bringing his face close to Severus'. "I've wanted to do this for a very long time." He closed the distance, and their lips met, Severus' inexplicably and immediately responding, as he put up a hand to the back of Harry's head, holding him fast, as they plundered each other's mouth. It was an exploration of warmth and wetness, hunger and sweetness, tinged with desperation, and yes, bitterness too. Severus could sense all of these, as the sensation of tongues and lips melded with what he knew of this fragile, yet resilient man. When they finally pulled away, Severus found he couldn't even look Harry in the face, so great was his sense of having violated him, allowing Harry to kiss someone he never would have, had he known….
A hand reached out and tipped up his chin, so that Severus had no choice but to meet the shimmering green eyes. "I don't mean for that to influence your decision, and it certainly isn't part of the bargain, if you accept…" Harry searched Severus' face, then dropped his hand. "I know what you're thinking," he said softly, not letting Severus look away.
"You couldn't possibly," Severus murmured miserably.
Harry gave him an enigmatic smile. "I'd like to do that again, but…" He reached up and ran his hand through the hair at Severus' temple, sliding his fingers down his cheek, then lightly traced his lips with a fingertip. His eyes came back to find Severus' again. "But…I'd like to do it without the glamour, Severus," he quietly finished.
Severus felt the blood drain from his face as he processed the words, then for a moment was unable to find the breath to even speak, as his heart pounded unnaturally in his chest. Harry watched him as he struggled, then said the unbelievable again. "Severus?"
Severus briefly had to shut his eyes, his mind racing as he thought. When? How? Why had he not said anything? He let out a long sigh of relief, a sigh he'd been holding for months, then murmured, "Finite Incantatem."
He felt an involuntary shudder, then opened his eyes again, meeting the eyes that were still watching, waiting… He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry moved in again, and this time it was possession, pure and simple, a frenzied kiss that moved to necks, then back to mouths again, in the space of just moments, as they sought to learn each other, molding with their tongues and lips, gasping and groaning into each other, mixing saliva, and after a brief mutual biting, even blood, Severus realized.
This time, when they broke away, there was no shame, no sense of trespassing, as Severus, still stunned, stared at Harry's well-kissed face. "I don't understand—you knew, but then why didn't you…?" Severus' eyes became wide as he thought, his mind trying madly to work it out, thinking back over their many meetings on the bench, what they had talked about each time, how they'd treated each other, when and if Harry had given him a clue… A voice broke through his mental agitation.
"Severus?"
He snapped back to himself, then realized that Harry had snapped his fingers in his face. He shook his head, pursing his lips at Harry, wanting somehow to feel outraged, but knowing he didn't have any foundation for feeling it, when it had been he himself who'd perpetrated the farce in the first place. "When did you know?" he finally managed to articulate.
Harry gave him an assessing look. "The very first day. The very first time you opened your mouth. You said, 'No thank you, I've already eaten.'" Harry smiled at him then. "Your voice wasn’t entirely the same, but still, I'd listened to you drone on for six years." He laughed out loud then. "And consider what you said, too. It was so…you. I put two and two together and came up with you—the voice and the sarcasm were a dead giveaway." His smile faded now. "It was clear you didn't want me to know who you were, so I honored that."
"Why? Why would you even care? I'd think it more likely that you'd push me off the bench," Severus confessed, flummoxed.
Harry's mouth twitched at the corners. "I was tempted, when I first thought you might be playing with me." He cocked his head in question. "But that's not what it was, was it? I think you were just curious, and after that first day, that's what it was for me as well. I'm right, aren't I? You were curious."
Severus felt that, given the circumstances, he should oblige with the truth. "Yes, at first, I was curious, but then…" He paused as he saw the glint in Harry's eyes, and nodded in response, "…then it became other things. Interest in your perceptions, a certain empathy for your experiences, as they were shared experiences, some of them." He had the good grace to blush, remembering how he'd felt, listening as Harry confessed his deepest thoughts to a total stranger, when he himself could claim that he'd done no such thing, as he'd known Harry's identity. The tables had been turned, figuratively, from the onset; only he, Severus hadn't had a clue, whereas Harry had known all along.
"And?" Harry's voice pulled him back once again.
Severus' eyes became wary. "And…I'm not altogether sure why, but I came to look forward to the afternoons we spent in the park. When I realized that, I was paralyzed, so far as telling you who I was. I wasn't too certain what to make of it all, and I was sure that you'd…" he stopped, then shook his head, looking away.
"That I'd overreact. Throw a tantrum. Tell you to go away and never come back?" When Severus nodded without looking at him, Harry continued, "You felt no ill feelings toward me, but you expected that I would? Well, it's all moot anyway, isn't it? I've known from the beginning, and if I didn't fly in your face then, I don't think you could've said anything to make me do it afterward." His voice became gentler. "I'm letting you off the hook here. I could've called you out anytime I wanted, but I…came to look forward to this the same as you." He paused, and Severus knew that Harry was waiting for him to go on, so he did.
"Friendship, as you said, the common comfort of knowing that one other person in this miserable world would notice if you didn't get up, didn't eat, didn't get dressed…" He saw Harry smile. "…didn't go out. It was all of those things, and a great many other things about you, that I've recently come to understand for the very first time," he finished, gratified when Harry reached over to take his hand and lace their fingers together.
"Same here," Harry said. "I'll not even go into all the things I thought in my head…how weird it was, that it was you who I was talking to, listening to, looking forward to seeing everyday. I'm sure you felt the same way."
"For a while, I did," Severus told him. "But not in a long time, these last weeks."
Harry nodded, then paused as he as he took a deep breath. "I meant what I said about you coming to stay. I'm a very wealthy man, Severus, and what's going to happen to all of that when I'm gone? I don't even like to think about it." He leant in, capturing Severus' shoulder with his other hand.
"But just think what we could do—those debts you'd like to repay, the families you've mentioned that need help. I don't have the wherewithal, physically, to do it, but you do." At the look of pure confusion on Severus' face, he added gently, "And besides, with your being here, there'd be magic again. Not mine," he added sadly, "but it'd feel good just to have it here, and you along with it."
He sat back, a look of satisfaction on his face. "I think it'd be a fitting end for both of us—one that would shock the wizarding world if they knew, but fuck them." He gave Severus a moment to think, then finally asked, "What do you say?"
What could he say, indeed? It was outrageous, it was unthinkable, but Severus knew, in his heart of hearts, that Harry was absolutely right. He raised his eyes to meet the green ones. "All right, I agree. But it won't be easy—I'm a bastard, and you're unbelievably stubborn. Not the best of arrangements, and one that would raise eyebrows, I'm sure, but as you so delicately put it, fuck them," he said with quiet emphasis, delighting in the look of pure pleasure on Harry's face.
Harry laughed out loud, and soon, Severus with him. Harry gave him a once-over glance. "You look much better than I expected. A few more gray hairs, but all in all, the same Severus Snape." They began to laugh again, and when they finally stopped, Harry held his arms out to him, his eyes glittering. "As for fucking, now take me to bed, Severus."
***
They moved softly on the sheets, and although Severus cautioned himself to be gentle, he found that Harry's impairment, on this six-by-ten, flat world, was largely non-existent. They took their time, moving their hands over one another, feeling skin for the very first time, tasting hidden places in wonder, murmuring softly as their passion built, saying each other's names in gasps and groans.
When Severus was at last buried deep inside, shuddering from the effort of control, when he felt Harry hook his leg around his waist, coaxing him further in, when they both experienced a rhythm that grew and expanded to pull them to a shattering completion, then they both finally knew…
They might be dead and gone, so far as many were concerned, but as for Severus and Harry, after a long and painful journey, they were finally alive and truly home.
Fate, who had demanded so much and left so very little, had smiled, and seen fit to give them to each other.
FIN