Harry looked over the paperwork he'd been given in regards to the opening of an orphan asylum in the wake of the Second Wizarding War. Minister Shacklebolt had already signed the initiative, and Harry was on the books to be the face of the organization. Although he wanted all of the young people who had lost parents or guardians in the final battle to be taken care of, he was unsure about the notion about being the face, for it was he who was the direct cause of the war in the first place.

Other than Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley family, Harry hadn't been all that social in the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts. Once he had testified at the trials of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy, as well as provided evidence for Severus Snape, Harry had all but vanished from the public eye. He had promptly given over Grimmauld Place to the ministry, in case there ever needed to be another Order of the Phoenix, and had taken up residence with the Weasleys at the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole, with the Weasleys only too glad to welcome him.

Although he hadn't bothered to stay in touch with his other friends and acquaintances from his Hogwarts years, Harry knew full well what had become of them. Ginny, of course, was now the star Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and was due to announce her engagement to Oliver Wood in the next week or so. There had been no hard feelings between the two, as Ginny and Harry had realized their love, although strong, was that of a brother and a sister, and were only too glad to call one another family.

Neville was in his final year of his Master's Program for Herbology, which meant that he was now Professor Sprout's apprentice, and he was likely to take over the position eventually. He was in a committed relationship with Hannah Abbott, a former Hufflepuff in their year, who was now the landlady at The Leaky Cauldron. As for Luna, she was now a prominent member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, alongside her fiancé, Rolf Scamander, whom she had met soon after her graduation from Hogwarts. Draco, whom Harry was now on polite speaking terms with, had just gotten married to Astoria Greengrass, and the pair were expecting their first child, a son, to be born the following spring, while Draco had taken over the lordship of Malfoy from his father.

Harry set aside the paperwork, the legal jargon and semantics becoming far too much for him, and he massaged his temples, trying his best not to groan from the office he had been given two summers ago. "Kreacher," he intoned.

There was a pop then, and the house-elf bowed to his master, his tea towel impeccable, with a crest of combined houses of Potter and Black. "Master has called for Kreacher?"

"I'd like a Pain Potion, please, Kreacher," Harry told him, slowly lifting his head to regard the aged being, who looked far younger than he had in years, for he now had a master that cared for him. "These documents are wearing on me."

"Naturally, Master Harry," Kreacher said with a bow. "Master is being out of Pain Potions at the Burrow, and Grimmauld Place," he went on, for the house-elf still wandered the halls of the old house, frequently finding things that Harry had misplaced or forgotten about. "Shall Kreacher go to Slug & Jiggers in Diagon Alley?"

Harry gave the elf a small smile. "You know where to go, Kreacher. And remember, be quiet when you get in there. Summon the potion, and leave the money on the counter."

Kreacher bowed, and popped away from Harry.

Harry, although his mind was screaming at him not to, slowly dragged the important documentation back towards him, and massaged his temples. His work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Auror Department, hadn't been too terrible since the war had ended, and he had had enough reports from Kingsley to how it had been to last a lifetime. As he rolled his shoulders, he considered the shop that Kreacher had frequented to buy potions for Harry of late, unknowing if the proprietor would allow Harry anything, despite the fact that his money was good, based on circumstances, mostly unavoidable ones, in their respective pasts, that now seemed quite trivial.

Kreacher appeared a moment later with a nondescript brown bottle, and Harry sighed with relief at the thing.

"Thank you, Kreacher," he said gratefully, taking the bottle.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher longs to serve the House of Potter," he droned, before bowing deeply, and vanishing with an almighty pop.

Harry uncorked the bottle eagerly, tipping the concoction into his mouth, and sighing with relief as his headache slowly began to dissipate. It was nearing lunchtime, and Harry was scheduled to have it with Hermione that day, as Ron and George were testing new products that afternoon and couldn't be disturbed. Pushing himself to his feet and vanishing the bottle, Harry sent his Patronus to Hermione, telling her to summon Kreacher with their lunch order, as they so frequently did, for Harry still did not appreciate the limelight, and the notion that The Daily Profit wanted to get his hands on his favorite foods, as well as dietary restrictions, was enough to drive him looney.

Harry made his way past the other cubicles in the law enforcement area, and many of the other Aurors waved and greeted Harry, and he nodded back. Once he got to Hermione's office, he saw their favorite sandwiches waiting for them, and was relieved to not see root vegetable soup made from Hermione's scavenging expeditions in the Forest of Dean. Hermione poured their drinks from an antique-looking teapot into matching cups, which Harry recognized from the Black family vault at Gringotts.

"How are you feeling? Any better?" she called over her shoulder.

"No worse for wear, Hermione," Harry told her.

"Hungry?" Hermione asked, her eyes averted, as she did her best to toss the salad that Kreacher had made for them, before she plated it up.

"No more than usual," Harry admitted, slipping into one of the finely-upholstered chairs that Hermione kept in her office. Ever since the age of eleven, his perpetual starvation had been limited to that of the summer vacations he'd been forced to spend with the Dursleys, whom he didn't really communicate with anymore. The food packages from Ron, Hermione, and Molly had helped, however, when Hedwig had been permitted to fly, of course.

Hermione looked up as she moved to sit in her own chair, and nearly stumbled, looking at Harry with a shocked expression. "Oh, Harry!" she cried out, and rushed to his side.

"What is it, 'Mione?" Harry asked, straightening in his seat, and no longer moving to gather up his sandwich—roast beef on thick slices of white bread.

Hermione let out a sound of shock then and brought Harry quickly to his feet, throwing her arms around him and quivering in his grasp. "This can't go on..."

"What, 'Mione?!" Harry pressed.

Hermione pulled back then, whipping out her wand and performing a Diagnostic Charm upon him, before she shook her head. "It's getting worse..."

Harry ran a hand through his hair; yes, the headaches had been progressing to that of migraine form, and the sleepless nights hadn't helped either, not to mention the hot flashes and cold sweats he had been afflicted with for the past several months. On a routine check-up at Azkaban, Harry, who had been permitted to go alone, was there to oversee the Death Eaters who hadn't perished in the final battle. All the Death Eaters—minus Severus Snape and the Malfoys—had been found guilty, and had been given life sentences in Azkaban. However, although their wands had been snapped and their ability to roam free had been taken from them, healers had not yet been able to siphon off their magic without outright murdering them. In so doing, when the Lestrange brothers had come into contact with Harry, they had used ancient Black Magic, and had cursed the Boy Who Lived.

"I'll live, 'Mione," Harry said softly, remembering the chill which had passed through him, once the curse had hit him completely.

"That's the problem, Harry," Hermione replied.

Harry's dark brows knitted together at that, and he found himself cocking his head to one side, as he attempted to ignore the hammering of his heart in his chest, which seemed to pick up, as Hermione deliberately withheld information, through no fault of her own. "What...? What is it you're saying here, 'Mione?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself, the glint of her engagement ring catching Harry's attention for a moment, and he wondered if he himself would ever marry anyone at all, in future... "I've scoured my personal library, Harry..."

Harry spread his hands. "All right? What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I also went to Hogwarts last weekend..."

"Ron said you had tea with McGonagall," Harry told her. "How is our former Head of House? Is she enjoying being headmistress?"

Hermione sighed. "Of course she is—she was born to do it, I feel. However, the tea was just a cover story, Harry. I went there with a more important mission in mind."

"More S.P.E.W.?" he asked, smirking.

"Harry! For Merlin's sake, this is serious!" Hermione snapped.

Harry held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Sorry, 'Mione, really." He stepped forward then and hugged her, chuckling slightly when she rested her head upon his shoulder. "All right, I'm sorry, I really mean it this time. Now, talk to me. What was it you were looking for that you didn't already have access to?"

Hermione shuddered, breaking away from Harry then, her eyes filling with tears as she struggled to put the words together. "Harry... I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly. "You don't know how sorry I am..."

"'Mione?" Harry asked, peering closer to look at her. "What's going on?"

"Well, there are two things, actually," she admitted, hunching her shoulders. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" she asked, her lower lip quivering.

"The good news," Harry said quickly, almost without thinking.

Hermione sighed, shutting her eyes, her tears appearing in trails down her cheeks. "You're going to be an uncle," she said quietly. "Next May, likely around the anniversary of the battle..."

"'Mione!" Harry shouted, already forgetting the existence of the bad news, and grabbed ahold of her around the middle, and then proceeded to swing her around the room, although his muscles and joints screeched in protest.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, struggling from within his grasp. "Put me down, for Merlin's sake, I'm begging you!"

Harry complied, slowly lowering Hermione to the ground, and all but collapsed in the chair behind him. His head was throbbing again, and he felt completely weak as he gripped the arms of the chair to steady himself. "All right... What's the bad news, 'Mione?" he whispered, finding that it was difficult to speak.

"I didn't find any information, in any of the sections of the library, about your curse," Hermione replied brokenly. "Madam Pince helped—anonymously, of course, because I didn't tell her who had been afflicted. She claimed she hadn't seen or heard of anything like it. I even brought it up to Professor Flitwick, and to Anthony Goldstein, now that he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. No one has heard of it, Harry..."

Harry lifted his head slightly then, and forced himself to his feet. He shook his head then, unsteady on his legs, and slowly moved towards the Floo. He knew that he couldn't stay at the ministry any more that day, not like this. Mechanically, he took the powder into his hand and called out for the Burrow, and stumbled into the living room a moment later. Just as he felt the comforting embrace of Molly Weasley gathering him into her arms, Harry felt his senses leave him then as he crumpled, and blackness greeted him.

~*~

In the three summers since the war had ended, Severus Snape had been pardoned of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, as well as from willing Death Eater activity. He had been found to be a spy for the Light, due to the quick intervention of Harry Potter, from the memories he had given the boy, in the hour of what he had presumed to be his death. However, Fawkes the phoenix had arrived in record time, after Severus had handed over the memories, and after the Golden Trio had left him in peace. The phoenix had swooped in, and had proceeded to cry upon the man, so much so that he was able to get the bird to heal him just enough, before transporting him in a burst of flames to the main doors of St. Mungo's Wizarding Hospital.

In the aftermath of the healing, Severus's name had been cleared successfully, and he had been subsequently released from hospital, relieved that he wouldn't have to go through a trial. His first piece of business to take care of had been to sell his childhood home at Spinner's End, never wanting to set foot in there again. However, he had plenty of potions books there, as well as some old photographs, so he got over the anxiety, and fetched everything of value he deemed he owned, and the house was sold promptly. Combining the profit of the sale, as well as the income he'd gotten from teaching at Hogwarts for seventeen years, Severus used the money to buy a potions shop in Diagon Alley, which he'd called Parchment & Potions, and was living a rather successful life financially, but, otherwise, it had proved to be quite a lonely experience.

Surprising it was when Arthur Weasley happened upon the doorstep of the shop, one evening in late-December, just five minutes before Severus was due to close the shop. Naturally, the wizard invited himself in, and gave a cursory glance to all the potions on the high shelves, with the most expensive and rare ones in crystal-cut bottles in a glass case behind the counter. The man crossed the room promptly, once he caught Severus's eye, and Severus could detect the grave demeanor which the man emitted.

"Severus," the man said, his voice just as grave as his expression.

"Arthur," Severus replied, with a bereft nod.

"I... How are you?" the man queried, obviously thinking that pleasantries would be the correct way to go about things.

"Fine, thank you," Severus told him. "And yourself?"

"I've been better," Arthur told him softly. "You know that we've got Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry living with us now? Not so much Ginny, as she's got that contract with the Holyhead Harpies. Bill and Fleur are married, and raising their daughter, Victoire, and Charlie's still in Romania, studying those dragons of his. And then there's Percy, freshly married to Audrey, and hard at work for the ministry. George still has the joke shop in Hogsmeade, and Ron's quit the Auror Office to help him out, and Hermione's grown to accept it..."

"Yes, it appears all of your children's lives are on full display in The Profit, including Mr. Potter, which I am sure you and Molly do."

"We do include Harry," Arthur said quickly, giving the potions master a quick nod.

"How is Mr. Potter's relationship with young Ginevra? I assume that it cannot be easy, what with him raising the ranks within the Auror Office, and Ginevra gallivanting about as a Seeker for an all-women's Quidditch team? Gwenog Jones doesn't work her too hard, does she?"

"No, that's not... Harry and Ginny tried it out, his sixth-year and her fifth, but they realized that their relationship was that of a brother and sister," Arthur told him, looking at Severus as if he should have known the information. "Ron and Hermione are convinced that he was obsessed with the writer of this book he found..."

"I'm sorry. A book?" Severus asked. "You don't mean to tell me that he was into Bathilda Bagshot in a romantic sense, do you? Because she died in the war, and there was the remarkable age difference to speak of..."

"Harry does not seek the romantic company of witches, Severus," Arthur said, his tone patient, although his eyes still held fear and worry.

Severus swallowed. "Muggle women more his type, then?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, of course not. Men, Severus, men. Harry is gay."

"Don't tell me that the boy fell for Lockhart?" Severus spat, unknowing why he seemed to be taking this all so personally.

"Methinks that Lockhart was too pompous and overly obsessed with Harry to even warrant a date with him. Plus, there's the matter of his lack of memory to consider, plus the notion that he attempted to wipe both Harry and Ron's memories in the Chamber of Secrets at the tail end of their second-year..."

Severus calmed himself then, knowing that he would have to have a conversation with Potter at some point, for getting him and Weasley alone with someone as deceptive as Lockhart. "Well, what was the book, then?"

"One that he hid in the Room of Requirement while at Hogwarts, but rescued in the wake of the battle itself," Arthur explained. "Ron and Hermione claimed he slept with it while at school, and it's all he does these days as well."

"What's the book?" Severus pressed.

"An old, worn copy of Advanced Potion Making," Arthur said, shrugging his shoulders. "The few times I've caught glimpses of it, I've noticed how old the copy is, and that there are plenty of notes in the margins, about perfecting the recipes and whatnot..."

Severus bit the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed with the notion that Potter had somehow managed to get his hands on the copy of his old textbook twice over. "Well, what brings you here, then, Arthur?" he asked, thinking that a change in subject would likely prove the best for their conversation.

"It's Harry," Arthur told him, his expression becoming grave once again. "Harry's been ill for the last several weeks, but when he came back from the ministry three weeks ago, he was muttering under his breath, and was pale, cool to the touch. Molly met him at the Floo, and he collapsed in her arms. Harry fell into a fitful sleep shortly thereafter, all the while clutching the book. Hermione seems to think that someone has cursed Harry, and although we've had Poppy over to perform diagnostic spells, nothing we do is working."

"Why can't Miss Granger help?"

"She's scoured her personal library, plus the one that Minerva gave her access to at Hogwarts, all to no avail," Arthur informed him. "We're at our wits end, Severus. Hermione... She deduced that the book that Harry holds so dear must be yours, and that only you can possibly save Harry from what plagues him."

"I doubt it," Severus replied, his tone clipped. "Potter and I have never seen eye-to-eye as it is, plus there's the mutual hatred to consider..."

"Harry doesn't hate you, Severus," Arthur informed him, looking as if someone had informed him that his own Kneazle had been hit with a Knockback Jinx. "Harry has stated more than once how he's sent you owls since the war ended, and he was broken up when they either came back unopened, or unanswered."

Severus blinked, but made no move to shake himself of the stoicism that had served him well since his adolescent years. "I see."

"I don't believe that you hate him either," Arthur pressed on, his feelings for the young man that he and his wife had thought of as a son since the age of twelve radiating through his tone. "We all had our parts to play in the war, Severus, some worse than others. Don't let the past cloud your judgement any longer, please. Harry needs you."

Severus found himself gripping onto the counter; no, even he had to admit that his hatred for the boy had diminished, to the point where it no longer existed, in the wake of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Seeing Harry lying over the broken body of Cedric Diggory, and refusing to let him go, and how devastated he had seemed, caused Severus to rethink everything he had ever imagined about James Potter's son. Of course, the following year, when he'd been ordered by Albus to instruct Harry in Occlumency lessons, and seeing his less-than-savory childhood, which truly seemed to match his own, had turned everything on its head, and all the hatred he'd transferred onto Harry from his father, had simply vanished. It hadn't helped that the boy had called him a coward during his sixth year, but Severus's feelings for him by then were confusing enough as it is, so he could hardly answer to it, one way or the other.

"Very well, then," Severus said, taking his wand out from his robes, and accio-ing his potions bag, as well as his winter cloak, for he was sure that Ottery St. Catchpole was particularly cold at this time of year. Once his cloak was in place and he was gripping tightly to the bag, he spelled the front door of his shop locked, and dimmed the lights, and revolved the sign so that it was in the 'closed' position.

"Shall we?" Arthur asked.

Severus nodded, taking his arm, and the pair of them vanished with a pop.

~*~

Hermione walked downstairs from Charlie's former bedroom, where Harry had taken up residence since moving into the Burrow permanently. Ron and Hermione now shared Bill's bedroom, with Ron's old room becoming a makeshift office for Ron and George, which they used to test products at home. Hermione stepped into the kitchen, her eyes riddled with redness from lack of sleep; since she'd joined the ministry after attaining her NEWT's, she had very long work days, and Harry's apparent illness did nothing to help, as she was now using her lunch hour at work to sleep off her perpetual exhaustion.

"How is he doing?" Molly asked, shutting the oven, the scent of roast chicken filling the kitchen as she turned around.

"His rest is fitful," Hermione admitted, nodding her thanks as Molly handed her a cup of tea. "I am so relieved that the ministry gave me time off to help him..."

"You've thought of Harry as your brother for years, dear," Molly said, embracing Hermione and squeezing her shoulders. "Families grow and shrink because of war, but I couldn't be happier to have gained another daughter."

"Just a few more weeks until the wedding," Hermione mused, looking down at the solitaire diamond upon her ring finger. "I just hope Harry is well enough by then. Ron and I have agreed to postpone the ceremony if he isn't. He's Ron's Best Man, and we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. It wouldn't be fair."

Molly tucked her future daughter-in-law's hair behind her ear and smiled. "I doubt it will come to that, my dear. Arthur has gone to Diagon to fetch Severus, and there is not much the man can't do when it comes to potions."

Hermione nodded, finishing her tea before wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm staying in the room when he gets here," she told her.

Molly nodded back. "Of course, dear."

The telltale pops of Apparition sounded in the frost-bitten yard shortly thereafter, and Arthur came up the walk with Severus Snape in tow. Stepping through the kitchen door and briefly kissing Molly and Hermione on their respective cheeks, he allowed Severus inside, before he warded the door behind them. Severus surveyed the surroundings, before he looked towards Hermione, knowing that she would know where Potter was.

"Where is he?" he asked her, without preamble.

"Upstairs, I'll take you," she said, and turned around, forgoing pleasantries, and made her way towards the staircase. They creaked slightly under the dual weight, but they nevertheless made it to the proper landing, and Hermione moved to open the door to Harry's sickroom. "In here," she intoned softly, her voice catching, as Severus crossed the threshold just behind her, and moved promptly to the side of the bed.

Severus placed his potions bag onto the nightstand, before quickly withdrawing his wand from its holster, and casted a Diagnostic Spell on Potter. Just as he thought, the boy was indeed afflicted with something, and it had a cure, although controversial to say the least, so he was quite positive that, although the Hogwarts matron was aware of said cure, she would likely be loath to suggest it. "There is something that can be done," Severus said at last, returning his wand into its holster.

"What? Anything," Hermione said, her eyes already filled with tears again, as her voice shook with emotion.

"Potter must be bonded to his true soulmate by midnight on the final day of the year, or else his catatonic state will remain, until he suffers from starvation, which will ultimately lead to his death," Severus informed her.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. "Arthur's figured it out, then," she whispered, her fingers knotting themselves together.

Severus peered over his shoulder at her. "Arthur?"

"He brought you here because of the cure, sir," Hermione told him. "It's quite obvious that Harry has been in love with you since he was sixteen."

Severus's dark eyes narrowed. "I was not brought here to made a fool of."

"Not a fool, sir... Snape," Hermione said, trying her best not to sound too desperate. "It's the truth, I swear to you."

"What good is your word?" Severus sneered.

Hermione's brown eyes narrowed at the man. "You cannot take points from me now," she said, and crossed her arms. "I've just told you that Harry, the Savior of the Wizarding World, an accomplished Auror, and an all-around amazing person has been in love with you for five long years. Don't you think you owe it to him to share the cure?"

"There is the matter of Ginevra..."

"Ginny?!" Hermione cried out, and laughed heartily. "Arthur should have explained the matter to you at length, sir. Ginny's contract with the Holyhead Harpies keeps her out of England for much of the year, now that she's their star Chaser. Not to mention her recent engagement to Oliver Wood."

"Wood and Ginevra?" Severus asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. They've managed to keep it hidden from the likes of The Daily Profit and Rita Skeeter for the time being. Their announcement is due to come on the first of the month, if they have anything to say about it."

Severus turned to regard Harry again; the young man's face was pale, and the fringe of his hair was plastered to his forehead. His lips were threatening to turn blue, and his hands were gripping onto the hem of the blanket that covered him, white-knuckling it. He made small, pitiful noises in his restless state, and seemed to whimper every now and again, as if calling out for something, but could not put it to words.

"He needs you, sir," Hermione said softly. "Now more than ever."

Severus sighed, finally allowing his inner walls to come down, as he considered the boy he had lusted after for close to seven years. "Very well," he said at last, feeling his shoulders hunching automatically, knowing that, even then, he feared rejection. "There is a ritual, and we must have a witness to it..."

Hermione stepped forward. "Of course, I understand," she said quickly. "He is my brother, and he has deserved happiness since he saved us all. I will do this for him, most willingly, as any good sister would."

Severus leaned down, gently prying Harry's hands from the blanket where they clutched it, and gestured for Hermione to take ahold of one. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby pledge my life, my soul, my magic, and my body to Harry James Potter, in an effort to aid him towards the cure of the curse which afflicts him," the potions master intoned, and then, almost as if by magic, a gold beam of light seeped from his fingertips and straight towards Harry.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, bear witness to the bond of life, soul, magic, and body of Severus Tobias Snape, to Harry James Potter, which Mr. Snape is utilizing in an effort to aid him towards the cure of the curse which afflicts Mr. Potter," Hermione said steadily, and a silver beam leaked from her own tapered fingers, and soared towards the golden beam, causing both lights to intermingle beautifully, as the cure attempted to overtake the curse.

Harry stiffened then, absorbing the golden light of the cure, and the silver light of the witness, and a cough escaped from his lips then, as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. He gripped tightly onto Severus and Hermione's hands, but found himself running a finger along the former's hand, as the calluses were a major tip-off. When he found the strength to do so, his eyes fluttered open, their greenness a shock to his pale face, and his lips parted automatically when he saw Severus looking down at him.

"What...?" He whispered.

Hermione let out a shout of joy then and dropped his hand, before throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. "Harry, Harry, Harry," she said, over and over again, as she wept, never wanting to let her brother go. "You're awake..."

"Yeah, last time I checked that was the case, 'Mione," Harry said, his voice slightly gravelly as he took in his surroundings. "Water, please..."

Severus conjured a glass from nothing, and whispered, "Aguamenti," over it, and handed it over to Harry, while Hermione let him go instantly.

Harry took the offered glass, and raised his eyes to Severus. "Thank you," he said softly, and took ahold of it carefully as he tipped it into his mouth.

"I'll go and tell Molly and Arthur that you're all right," Hermione said, and her eyes drifted over to Severus, her hand sweeping her belly for a moment. "In the wake of things, I assume you'll want a few moments alone, so I'll do my best to explain to them why," she told him with a smile, before she slipped from the room, and down the staircase.

Harry cleared his throat then, catching Severus's attention once more, and set aside his glass of water, which he had finished, and placed his hands atop the duvet. "Sir, I'm sorry if I forgo the pleasantries, but why are you here?" he asked, not impolitely.

Severus sighed, lowering himself into the chair beside Harry's bed. "Were you aware of the curse placed upon you, Harry?"

Harry blinked, flushing immediately at the sound of Severus using his first name. "I was, yes. It was the Lestrange brothers, during a routine check at Azkaban, to ensure the Death Eaters weren't escaping," he said at last. "I... I know that Ron, Hermione, Molly, and Arthur have been at my bedside, off and on, for the last few weeks, I... We none of us really knew what to do. We were all out of our element, even Hermione."

"Yes, Arthur had mentioned that," Severus put it. "I... The reason why Arthur brought me here was because..."

Harry straightened up. "Arthur brought you here?"

Severus nodded. "He did, yes. His reasons behind it were that Madam Pomfrey was unable to deduce what the proper cure was, which is why I was summoned here from Diagon Alley. I was able to figure out the cure, Harry, but I am unsure that you will be receptive to it, even though it had to be done, otherwise, you would have slipped into a permanent coma, which would have led to starvation, and then death."

"But what about Nutrient Potions?" Harry queried.

"The curse which flowed through your veins would have counteracted them, I'm afraid, and your body would have been unable to use them," Severus explained.

Harry swallowed, leaning back up against the bolsters upon the bed. "I see," he whispered, his fingers knotting into the duvet. "Well, what was the cure, then?"

"A soul-bond," Severus told him quietly.

Harry went white. "Are you serious?"

Severus sighed. "I am afraid so. In order to save your life, you had to be bonded immediately to your soulmate, and only then would the curse begin to purge itself from your system."

"And... And you were able to figure that out?"

Severus swallowed. "There's more to it, I'm afraid," he told him. "As it seems, your soulmate has been found, which is why you were able to awaken."

Harry shook his head. "But the only two people here when I awoke were you and Hermione," he sputtered, looking shocked. "Please tell me that Hermione isn't..."

"Rest assured, she is not," Severus told him gently. "She is quite taken with your friend Mr. Weasley, so have no fear in that regard."

Harry slowly raised his gaze upwards, to Severus, and whispered, "It's you, then? You're my soulmate, Severus?"

Severus tried to ignore the sensation of all of his blood rushing towards his cock at the sound of Harry using his first name. "I am."

"Why?"

Severus blinked. "Pardon?"

"My mother," Harry protested, shaking his head.

Severus shook his head. "I don't follow..."

"Your memories," he sputtered, trying to come to terms with the sudden turn of events. "They clearly express deep love, devotion, affection..."

"Of course. I loved your mother."

"Then how can you have loved my mum, and then claim that I am your soulmate?" Harry asked then, his heart breaking.

"Harry, how do you feel for Miss Granger?"

"Hermione? She is my best friend, and she's like my sister. I love her, but I'm not in love with her, of course. She's Ron's fiancée, and I'm gay..."

"Exactly," Severus assured him. "I loved your mother as a best friend, or as a sister, whichever you prefer. I was never in love with her, Harry, or any witch, for that matter."

"Why would you even...? You're so far out of my league, sir," Harry managed to get out. "I mean, I've loved you since I was sixteen, and likely even before that. You're so accomplished in your chosen field, and I've barely established myself as it is. Of course, my destiny was made when I was fifteen-months-old, and accomplished just before my eighteenth birthday, but you and I, we're... The differences are astronomical," he said, stumbling over his words, and Severus smirked, enjoying the notion that Harry knew such a word. "Not to mention the fact that you're so handsome and I'm..."

"You're absolutely beautiful, Harry," Severus said softly, reaching forward and gently taking ahold of Harry's hand.

Harry flushed becomingly at the notion. "You think I'm beautiful?" he asked.

Severus nodded at him. "Yes. The most beautiful person I've ever seen. I've wanted you for ages, and the notion that you want me, too, is... Well, just amazing," he said quietly.

Harry lowered his eyes. "I just... I don't want to let you down..."

"Let me down?" Severus asked, dragging the pad of his thumb along Harry's knuckles. "How on earth could you possibly do such a thing?"

"I... That is to say, I've not..."

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry raised his eyes to Severus then, and his voice shook slightly as he spoke. "I've never been with..."

"A man? Oh, Harry, it is all right," Severus assured him, his heart leaping at the notion that Harry not only seemed keen to be with him intimately, but also that he could teach Harry the art of homosexual love. "You've nothing to worry about..."

"Not just a man," Harry said quickly, cutting across him, as his flush bloomed deeper. "I've not been with anyone."

Severus stilled then—the Boy Who Lived was a virgin? "Oh," he said, his eyebrows raising practically to his hairline. "What have you...?"

"Done? I've used my hand, of course," Harry replied, lowering his eyes as he flushed deeper than ever before. "Then, of course, I kissed Ginny and Cho Chang, but that was it. Romilda Vane tried to smuggle me a love potion during sixth-year, but I ignored her efforts. Plus, Ron ate the damn chocolates, and I was already..."

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry looked up at his former potions professor, and forced the words to produce themselves. "I was already in love with you," he replied. "I still am."

Severus smiled then, and Harry's heart picked up the pace at such an intimate gesture from the man who he had once hated. "I'm in love with you, too, Harry..."

"What?" Harry whispered. "You love me?"

"Since... Well, it doesn't matter..."

"It matters to me," Harry urged him, pressing closer, and inhaling the intoxicating scent of the man—sandalwood, jasmine, and lavender—and found himself smiling up at him. "Tell me. I want to know when your feelings for me changed. Please?"

Severus smiled indulgently down at him; how could he ever deny Harry? "My feelings for you first changed after Diggory's death, and how broken and compassionate you were about the matter," he told him gently. "And then I fell in love with you properly when I saw that our childhoods weren't so different after all."

"You've been in love with me since I was fifteen?"

Severus swallowed. "Yes. But I wouldn't have..."

"Shh, no, I know," Harry said quickly and, before he lost his Gryffindor courage, pressed closer than ever before, and pressed his lips to his.

Severus, although shocked, dropped his hold on Harry's hand and promptly threw his arms around the young man, and was delighted by the eager response that emitted from him. He wasn't sure who moaned first, but was quite positive it happened when Severus gently trailed his tongue along Harry's lips, bringing them open, and tasted him for the first time, their tongues clashing for dominance in the battle of attraction.

Holding him close, he whispered, "Not here..."

"What?" Harry asked, continuing to press himself closer.

Severus chuckled, pleased at his eagerness. "A soul-bond, a magical one, at the very least, constitutes a marriage..."

"We're married?" Harry whispered, pulling back and gazing up at Severus.

Severus nodded. "We are."

Harry let out a sigh of relief and pressed a chaste kiss to Severus's lips then. "That's all I've ever wanted," he declared.

Severus smiled. "Well, you must know that it's customary for a married couple to live together under one roof..."

Harry nodded. "Diagon is not so far from the ministry," he said, running his fingers up and down Severus's arms. "I can spell my belongings into a trunk, shrink it down, cast a Cleaning Charm upon myself, and be ready to go in five minutes."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "You're certain?"

Harry nodded. "I am. This is all I've ever wanted since I've known that it was you I wanted to spend my life, Severus. Let us begin our lives together."

Severus smiled, pressing a kiss to Harry's lips. "I would like nothing more."

Harry made a grab for his wand, transfiguring his pajamas into proper clothing, and spelled all of his belongings into his trunk, before he shrank it down. He then put a Cleaning Charm onto himself and slowly moved to get up from the bed, before he placed his trunk into his pocket, and pulled his cloak around his shoulders. Looking up at Severus, he grinned, before sending his Patronus to Hermione, Molly, and Arthur, thanking them for everything, before he pressed a kiss to his husband's cheek.

"Ready?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded. "I am."

Severus grabbed ahold of Harry then, and they were promptly in a stairwell, just outside the lovely little apartment he had above his potions shop. Letting his husband go, he considered it for a moment, before he promptly lifted him up, and spelled the door open.

"Severus!" Harry yelled, trying not to laugh.

"It is part of my duty as your husband," Severus told him.

Harry smiled indulgently up at him, and looked outside the window as the door was spelled closed behind them. Snow was falling, and Harry suddenly remembered what day it was. "Happy Christmas, my Severus," he whispered.

Severus reached down, gently turning Harry's chin so that he faced him. "Happy Christmas, my Harry," he repeated, and pressed his lips to his new husbands', before he made a beeline for their bedroom, and all that that entailed.

TBC