[From Samhain to the Solstice]: Ambition Becomes Him, Harry/Draco/Severus, PG-13, 1/2
Title: Ambition Becomes Him
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Severus
Content Notes: AU (Severus lives), minor angst, made-up wizarding traditions
Wordcount: This part 4300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Draco wants Harry to agree to come to the Manor to celebrate a traditional wizarding Yule, but Harry is reluctant. Draco enlists Severus’s help.
Author’s Notes: Another of my “From Samhain to the Solstice” fics, written for goddess47’s request: Harry/Draco/Severus -- Post-war. Lucius and Narcissa have left Malfoy Manor to Draco (maybe they died, maybe they left for France, whatever fits your muse). Draco wants to celebrate a Wizarding tradition with Harry but needs some help from Severus. This will have two parts, the second to be posted tomorrow.
Ambition Becomes Him
“And you truly don’t understand why he won’t set foot in the Manor?”
Draco scowled at Severus. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Severus stretched his arm to pull down a flask from the top shelf of his Potions lab. He had refused to go back to Hogwarts after the war-an intelligent decision, Draco thought-and instead bought this little cottage in Wales with money that it turned out Dumbledore had set aside for him. The scars on his throat flashed lividly for a moment as he turned around.
Draco glared at the fire to conceal that he’d been looking. Severus was entirely unwilling to believe that some people didn’t find scars unattractive. “Take my whole argument and litany of complaints to you and puncture it with a single stab?”
“Ah.” There was the clinking of glassware as Severus settled the flask on the table next to the cauldron. “In this case, I happen to know Potter better than you do.”
“I’ve been dating him for a year!”
“Have you?”
“You did it again!”
“I only wished to emphasize that in my understanding of dating, both parties have to be aware that they’re doing it.”
Severus made it sound as if he had picked up the word “dating” with tongs. Draco sighed and turned back, aware that he would probably be safe now, since Severus’s back was turned as he carefully decanted some of the potion into the flask.
But only probably.
“I mean, if I said that I wanted to date him he would run away and proclaim he was straight,” Draco muttered. “It’s what he did when Theo wanted to date him, and when one of the Weasleys made an overture. So I’ve been-”
“Stringing him along.”
“No, leading him up to the idea,” Draco snapped. “And he’s so hungry for a connection with his heritage. I looked up how the Potters celebrated Yule. I want to give that to him. But it can only be performed in a building where a wizarding family has lived for at least three generations, and the Potters don’t have any place left like that.”
Severus turned and stared at him. Draco stared back. As pleased as he was that Severus was paying more attention to him now than the potion, it wasn’t flattering to be examined as though he was an insect whose wings Severus might want to pull off.
“You looked up how the Potters celebrated Yule.”
“Yes, I did. It’s a matter of public record. Or, I mean, some records. One of my ancestors was invited to a Potter Yule, and he wrote-”
“That is not what I meant.” Severus gave him that degree of unflattering study again. “You are truly gone on him.”
“Yes, I am,” Draco said, and then frowned. “Did you think that I was trying to lure him to me? Or trap him into celebrating a Malfoy Yule with me? Why?”
“No. I thought you were using him for your own gain. Relying on his power to redeem the Malfoy name, and get you out of the mess that made your father leave.” Draco’s father had chosen exile rather than face the lingering suspicion and the reputation that said he would turn on the rest of wizarding society at any moment-and, Draco knew, because he hoped that leaving would free his son from the same.
Draco glanced away and shook his head impatiently. “No. I could have tried to do that. But I didn’t.”
“And you want my help.”
“Yes, I do.” Draco waited a moment, while Severus stood there and looked unimpressed some more, and then gave in with bad grace. “If you’re there when we celebrate Yule, then he won’t think of it as a manipulation. The way he will if he arrives and I’m the only one there. Besides, we could use three people for some of the ceremonies.”
Severus’s hands tightened for a long moment, to the point that Draco wouldn’t be surprised to see a crack race up the glass neck of the flask. Then he shook his head and turned back to the potion, bottling it with an easy scooping motion. Draco supposed he should be flattered that his presence had distracted Severus so much from the potion in the first place. “No.”
“Why not?” Draco leaned forwards insistently. “I know that you don’t resent Potter the way you used to.” Or pretended to. But Severus would use the discussion of how much he’d resented Potter in the past to get out of having the Yule discussion, if Draco brought it up, and Draco didn’t intend to make it easy for him to get out of the conversation. “And I don’t think that you’re committed to a particular set of Yule celebrations.”
“I will not celebrate the Potter ones.”
Draco opened his mouth to ask why, and then closed it. Oh, of course. Father had revealed Severus’s past with James Potter and Lily Evans to him when Draco was still a child, in case Draco needed to use it for blackmail or leverage at Hogwarts. And even if Severus’s feelings had mellowed towards the son, he would hardly want to celebrate the way the father must have.
Luckily, Draco knew ways to get past that. It was something he wouldn’t have been motivated to do in the past, for all that he had looked at Severus and wanted. It wouldn’t have worked out the way he’d hoped.
But now…
“Then we’ll do the Prince celebrations, too.”
Severus almost dropped the flask. He managed to fumble it back to the table in time and pinned Draco to the chair with a wrathful gaze that actually seemed to hurt like a pin stabbed through his body would. Draco winced, but kept his eyes steady. Severus had spent too much time alone already, especially since he no longer taught at Hogwarts and wasn’t surrounded by students and other professors most of the time. It would do him good to spend Yule with at least a few people.
And if celebrating the Prince Yule traditions brought a smile back to his face, Draco would consider that a price well-paid for the research he would need to do.
“How do you know about my mother’s name?” Severus asked, and then answered the question before Draco could. “Lucius. Of course.” He stared off into the distance, his face unnervingly cold.
“Come on, Severus, please.” Draco gentled his voice. “It’s not just to help me with Harry. It’s-I hate what you’re becoming stuck in this place.”
“An expert brewer? You do not want the competition?”
“No. Someone who’d lost track of what day it was when I stepped through the fireplace.”
Severus’s head jerked once, and then he was still, watching Draco in the kind of silent, intense concentration that Draco had once found so unnerving when he was a student in the Potions classroom. This time, he simply stared back. He had been through things a lot more unnerving than that in the six years since the war, including realizing that he was steadily falling in love with Harry Potter.
Including realizing that his longing for Severus’s company and his wish that he could have done more for the man meant-well, many things.
“I wish that I knew why you continue to bother with me,” Severus said.
“Because you’re worth bothering with.”
Severus studied him again, but Draco wasn’t a potion to give up his secrets so easily. In the end, Severus nodded slowly. “Then I suppose I will see you at the Manor on the day of the winter solstice.”
Draco stood up and smiled at him, letting his hand fall briefly on Severus’s arm before he went over to the fireplace. “Yes, and I’m looking forward to it.”
*
Severus looked around critically as he stepped through the fireplace into Malfoy Manor. The decorations on the walls were sparse, at least in this room, but he could see the crown-shaped decorations, in that faint blue that veins in marble so often bore, for the Prince family, and a golden gryphon rampant.
Severus grimaced. Yes, yes, the Potters.
“Hello, sir.”
Severus turned to face the man who was no longer his bane, but only because he no longer had to teach him or was bound to save his life. He nodded distantly. “Mr. Potter. I would prefer that you call me Mr. Snape, as I am no longer a professor and I believe Draco would object to the…distance your title implies.”
“I most certainly do.” Draco swept into the sitting room, carrying a silver tray with three wineglasses on it. Severus relaxed as he realized that the wineglasses held nothing but clear water, a Prince tradition. “And I insist that you call each other by your first names. It’s not as if you’re strangers.”
“I don’t think Mr. Snape would be very comfortable with that, Draco,” Potter said, before Severus could voice his own opinion. “And I don’t want to make him uncomfortable when we’re both guests in your home.” He gave Severus a distant nod and picked up the wineglass on the edge of the tray nearest him.
“So you would not be averse to making me uncomfortable at other times?” Severus couldn’t stop himself from asking, as he chose the wineglass closest to him in turn.
He got nothing but a calm scrutiny from Potter, and allowed himself to stare back for the first time. He had caught nothing more than glimpses of Potter since the end of the war-well, at least since the end of that damn trial in the Ministry where Potter had spoken to him. This young man was self-contained, cool in a way that Severus would never have believed a Potter could be.
And in dark green robes that Draco had probably persuaded him to war, with his magic dancing and springing freely around him in a way that Draco probably also had something to do with, he was more beautiful than Severus was willing to admit.
“I would try not to, sir.”
“None of that, I told you,” Draco said, and put down the tray on a small table of what looked like cherry wood nearby. “Come on, Harry. If you can take my hand when I trusted you enough to put it out for a second time, then you can call him Severus.”
A second time? Severus watched in perplexity as Potter flushed. It seemed that it was some kind of private joke between the two of them, though, since Potter didn’t follow up on it, but turned and inclined his head a little to Severus.
“Sorry, Severus.”
His eyes were clear-as clear as green pools of water, without the fire. Severus found himself missing that fire, wanting to do something to bring it back. He cleared his throat and said, “Apologies accepted, Harry.”
It was the first time he could remember that he’d said the first name without the last name after it. The air in the room seemed to pause, trembling like the snowflakes outside the window, but nothing broke.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Draco clapped his hands with the same brisk motion he’d used to carry the tray into the room, and then walked over to stand in front of the fireplace. “Come here, Harry.”
This must be one of the Potter traditions that Severus hadn’t wanted to participate in or witness. But from the way Potter brightened as he swallowed the water in the crystal glass and set it down on the tray again, Severus began to suspect that Draco wasn’t the only one completely gone on someone in the room.
Good, Draco deserves to have his devotion returned, Severus told himself, and ignored the way part of him winced when Draco and Potter’s hands joined, forming a circle that left him outside it.
“I would like to make you a promise for the coming year,” Draco murmured, gazing at Potter’s eyes with such earnestness that Severus wondered idly how Potter hadn’t picked up on Draco wanting to date him. “Will you let me make it?”
“I have to hear what it is, first, don’t I, Draco?”
Potter’s voice was low, measured, and husky. Severus watched Draco light up at the sound of it, and the surge of jealousy that passed through him was-unusual. Not least because he wasn’t sure which one of them he was jealous of.
“That’s true.” Draco stood taller and drew his breath in, and he looked more adult than Severus had ever seen him. “So. First. I would like to promise you that I’ll look up Potter traditions for other holidays in the coming year, and celebrate them with you as well.”
For a long moment, Potter was so still that Severus thought they were riding the edge of a rejection, and silently winced, anticipating Draco’s disappointment. And then Potter ducked his head and smiled a little, and Severus realized with astonishment he was watching a man struggling to control his own delight.
“Yes,” Potter whispered. “I accept that promise. Thank you, Draco.”
“I’m not done yet.” Draco squeezed his hands gently. “The tradition says two promises each, since there are two of us.”
Two, Severus thought, and suddenly wished that his wineglass was full again, of something much stronger than water.
“Then please make the second.” This time, Potter let the smile spread fully across his lips, and Severus had to look away.
But he couldn’t escape the sound of Draco’s voice, low but not pleading, the way he had imagined it might sound. “Two. I would like to promise you that I’ll be faithful to you for the next year, in public and private, and not date or bed anyone else without your permission.”
This time, the silence was short. “Yes, Draco. I accept that. I’d like it very much.”
Severus turned back in time to see Potter lean forwards and kiss Draco. From what Draco had said on his weekly visits to Severus, that was the first time this had ever happened. Draco let out a soft groan and dug his hand into Potter’s hair.
Severus shut his eyes, and luckily the disturbing sight was gone when he opened them again. Potter was the one who faced Draco with his head canted up and a smile tugging on his lips, and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but my first promise to you is going to be a mirror of the one you just made me. I promise that I’ll be faithful to you for the next year, in public and private, and not date or bed anyone else without your permission.”
“Thank you,” Draco said. “I accept.” His own voice could get deep and husky, too, as if he wanted to prove that and not let Potter have all the huskiness to himself. Severus resisted the temptation to swat at invisible irritants that seemed to be congregating around him.
“And for the second one…” Potter seemed to be thinking, but his body was still, his hands not fluttering around the way Severus was accustomed to seeing happen in his Potions class. Of course, with them captured by Draco’s hands, perhaps he couldn’t do that anyway, Severus thought, a little sourly.
Then Potter looked up, and caught Draco’s eye. “I promise to visit you more in Malfoy Manor for the next year, and you don’t have to dangle the prospect before me and promise me Severus Snape’s presence. Will that be acceptable?”
What? Severus thought, and very nearly said aloud.
Draco seemed to know what Potter was talking about, though, because he caught his breath in a way that sounded grateful, and then nodded. “Thanks, Harry. I would appreciate that. I accept.”
Potter smiled at him and touched his face with one gentle hand. Then he stepped back, and released Draco’s hands, and some flame that seemed to have been burning in the room, at the edge of Severus’s sight, flickered out.
It would have been less disconcerting if Potter hadn’t turned to face him. “Are you ready for my promises to you, sir? I mean Severus,” he added hastily, seeming to sense Draco’s scowl before it had fully formed.
“What?” Severus did say this time. “That is a Potter tradition, not a Prince one.”
“I know that. But it seems that someone should make promises to you that they do mean.”
Severus studied Potter carefully, but could see no sign of drunkenness. He didn’t think Potter had arrived all that much before him and begun imbibing wine, either. He gave a little shiver, which Potter only considered with a grave glance.
“You-you cannot mean it.”
“That’s not a refusal.”
Severus didn’t know when Potter had acquired a mysterious, Slytherin-like smile, and found that he didn’t really want to contemplate it. He moved slowly forwards. Potter reached out his hands, and Severus took them, and then suddenly he was part of that same enchanted circle that he had been envying a moment before.
Draco stood by, next to the fire, and he was sipping a glass of wine that he must have received from the house-elves. Severus couldn’t say whether he envied him more for that, or for the way that he looked delighted with what was happening-a softness around the edges of the face, in his eyes-and not jealous at all.
But Severus had to turn away from Draco, who was familiar, a Slytherin, someone he had talked through childish troubles and adult ones and in fact his own jealousy of Potter, and look at Potter’s eyes.
Potter, who smiled at him as openly and fearlessly as he had smiled at Draco. Severus stared back. He hadn’t been the one pursuing Potter for the past year and trying to get him to come to Malfoy Manor. Did Potter remember that? Realize that?
Maybe not. Or maybe it didn’t matter to him.
“I suppose you’ll want me to make you promises, as well,” Severus said, forcing his lips and tongue to move.
“Oh, no,” Potter said calmly. “I know that this isn’t your tradition, and it probably weighs on you a bit, considering what my father did to you.”
Severus’s hands jerked in Potter’s, without leaving them. Potter looked at him, and then back down at his hands. “Do you want to leave?”
It sounded so much like something Severus would have said that he forced himself to stand still. He shook his head. “I am curious to see what promises you wish to make me, Potter. And what makes you think that I’ll accept them,” he added, because, honestly, he had to.
“I would like to give you the chance to accept them.” Potter’s glasses shone as he tilted his head, and then Severus could no longer see into his eyes. “First, I’d like to promise you that I’ll speak to you more often.”
Severus stared at him. “What makes you think I want that?”
“You agreed to come here tonight. And I think it would make you happy.”
That was so preposterous that Severus thought of at least six different ways he could point out that it was ridiculous. But he didn’t say them. He stood there and thought, and then said, “This would be for the term of the next year?”
Potter nodded.
Severus thought of the way he had felt when Draco and Potter had stood as if to leave him out. And how Potter wanted to make these promises to him. And how Potter had said that he didn’t need Severus’s presence to visit Malfoy Manor, but…
He had spoken of it as a temptation.
“I accept,” Severus said, and wondered if he was mad.
Potter gave him a smile so brilliant that it warmed Severus more than wine could have. Then he said, “I have a second promise for you, if you’ll accept it.”
“Perhaps I will. Tell me what it is.”
Potter’s hands tightened for a moment, and he watched Severus’s face as if he thought that this one was the one more likely to be refused. “I would like to make you part of the foundation I’m putting together to dispel darkness in the wizarding world.”
Severus simply stared at him and didn’t say a word, because if Potter couldn’t see how ridiculous this was, then Severus was not going to be the one to tell him.
“Harry.” Draco’s voice was soft and amused. “You need to explain what you mean, I think.”
“Right,” Potter said, and flushed. “There’s the impetuousness again,” he muttered, sounding as if he was quoting someone. Severus thought it was probably no one more interesting than Weasley or Granger, but on the other hand, he would have liked to have the right to ask.
Potter looked up at him and cleared his throat. “The foundation I’m putting together is working at educating people on biases, making life better for magical creatures, and trying to prevent another civil war.”
“All of them at once?”
“It does sound sort of disorganized, doesn’t it,” Potter murmured with a smile that unfairly disarmed Severus by depriving him of his ability to speak. “But I think all of them are connected. It all comes back to ignorance. Ignorance that blood status means nothing. Ignorance of what beings like vampires, centaurs, and goblins need to be happy. Ignorance of the fact that there are political changes short of taking up your wand.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “So you would be working on policy changes?”
“Yes. Those are the deepest kind, I think. But there’s also the fact that the magical world barely has any celebrities or entertainment or education outside of Hogwarts-I mean, compared to the Muggle world. I want to do more of that. Publish kids’ books where goblins get to be the heroes. Make people prominent who have ideas, but lack the money to do it. Encourage people to listen to someone other than me. In the short term, though, the fact that I’m the Boy-Who-Conquered will encourage people to listen.”
“That sounds Slytherin of you.”
Potter lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “The Hat would have put me in Slytherin if it had had its way.”
Severus choked on air. Potter laughed at him, but for the first time in his life, laughter coming from a Potter’s mouth didn’t offend him. Potter just grinned at him and added, “This is what I’m doing. And if you’d like, biases against Slytherin can be the ones that you specifically work with.”
“I am-not Head of Slytherin House or part of Hogwarts anymore. And some would say that a teacher who bullied his students should be the last to speak on that.”
“Believe me, I have other people speaking on that.” Potter’s eyes were as sharp as broken glass for a moment, and Severus did not look away. “No, what I thought you could speak to are the pressures inside Slytherin House, something most people don’t know about or think is actually a good thing. The perils of judging everyone by blood status. The way that Slytherins felt themselves under siege, whether or not they really were, and what it did to them. The largest number of Death Eaters came from Slytherin, and that’s not a coincidence, but there also has to be a reason for it.”
“Some of that might involve criticism of Albus.”
Potter sighed a little. “I loved the man, but his saint-like image is something else that influenced the wizarding world for the worse. So is the image that people had of me, for that matter. They wanted a saint, and when I proved not to be one, they had no recourse but deciding I was a villain. I want us to move away from assuming someone is perfect in either direction.”
“Perfectly evil?”
“Yes.”
Severus looked over Potter’s head for a moment, trying to imagine what was approaching, and finding that he probably couldn’t imagine it. “I-am not sure that I would like the interference in my quiet life.”
“You could do it all by owl, if you’d like, although personal appearances are more impressive. And I’m sure that you have wards against Howlers.”
To his horror, Severus found himself actually considering it. He would like to think that future generations of Slytherins would never again be subjected to a pressure like the one that had resulted in so many becoming Death Eaters, but he knew that was foolish. The destruction of the Dark Lord had not burnt and salted the roots of blood purity, as much as Severus wished it had. And certain vicious traditions endured in the House that Severus could not imagine Slughorn coping well with, or most Heads of House hired after him.
Severus looked back at Potter, still waiting sincerely for his answer, still ready, he knew, to explain more, and made his decision.
“I accept your promise.”
Potter nodded. “I promise that you’ll be able to escape if you want to, or don’t feel this experiment is working out. But let’s try it for the terms of one year.”
“Experiment?”
“Anything that a Potter and a Snape do together is an experiment.”
Severus stiffened, his eyes scanning Potter’s face carefully, but he saw nothing but the utmost sincerity, the kind Potter seemed to have come to after the war. After a long moment, he nodded, and Potter smiled back.
“Splendid!” Draco announced. “And now, we have dinner waiting, and some of the Prince traditions to perform.”
Severus let go of Potter’s hands. He found himself doing it slowly. He found himself reluctant to do so at all.
And he hadn’t even had any wine as yet.
Part Two.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Severus
Content Notes: AU (Severus lives), minor angst, made-up wizarding traditions
Wordcount: This part 4300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Draco wants Harry to agree to come to the Manor to celebrate a traditional wizarding Yule, but Harry is reluctant. Draco enlists Severus’s help.
Author’s Notes: Another of my “From Samhain to the Solstice” fics, written for goddess47’s request: Harry/Draco/Severus -- Post-war. Lucius and Narcissa have left Malfoy Manor to Draco (maybe they died, maybe they left for France, whatever fits your muse). Draco wants to celebrate a Wizarding tradition with Harry but needs some help from Severus. This will have two parts, the second to be posted tomorrow.
Ambition Becomes Him
“And you truly don’t understand why he won’t set foot in the Manor?”
Draco scowled at Severus. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Severus stretched his arm to pull down a flask from the top shelf of his Potions lab. He had refused to go back to Hogwarts after the war-an intelligent decision, Draco thought-and instead bought this little cottage in Wales with money that it turned out Dumbledore had set aside for him. The scars on his throat flashed lividly for a moment as he turned around.
Draco glared at the fire to conceal that he’d been looking. Severus was entirely unwilling to believe that some people didn’t find scars unattractive. “Take my whole argument and litany of complaints to you and puncture it with a single stab?”
“Ah.” There was the clinking of glassware as Severus settled the flask on the table next to the cauldron. “In this case, I happen to know Potter better than you do.”
“I’ve been dating him for a year!”
“Have you?”
“You did it again!”
“I only wished to emphasize that in my understanding of dating, both parties have to be aware that they’re doing it.”
Severus made it sound as if he had picked up the word “dating” with tongs. Draco sighed and turned back, aware that he would probably be safe now, since Severus’s back was turned as he carefully decanted some of the potion into the flask.
But only probably.
“I mean, if I said that I wanted to date him he would run away and proclaim he was straight,” Draco muttered. “It’s what he did when Theo wanted to date him, and when one of the Weasleys made an overture. So I’ve been-”
“Stringing him along.”
“No, leading him up to the idea,” Draco snapped. “And he’s so hungry for a connection with his heritage. I looked up how the Potters celebrated Yule. I want to give that to him. But it can only be performed in a building where a wizarding family has lived for at least three generations, and the Potters don’t have any place left like that.”
Severus turned and stared at him. Draco stared back. As pleased as he was that Severus was paying more attention to him now than the potion, it wasn’t flattering to be examined as though he was an insect whose wings Severus might want to pull off.
“You looked up how the Potters celebrated Yule.”
“Yes, I did. It’s a matter of public record. Or, I mean, some records. One of my ancestors was invited to a Potter Yule, and he wrote-”
“That is not what I meant.” Severus gave him that degree of unflattering study again. “You are truly gone on him.”
“Yes, I am,” Draco said, and then frowned. “Did you think that I was trying to lure him to me? Or trap him into celebrating a Malfoy Yule with me? Why?”
“No. I thought you were using him for your own gain. Relying on his power to redeem the Malfoy name, and get you out of the mess that made your father leave.” Draco’s father had chosen exile rather than face the lingering suspicion and the reputation that said he would turn on the rest of wizarding society at any moment-and, Draco knew, because he hoped that leaving would free his son from the same.
Draco glanced away and shook his head impatiently. “No. I could have tried to do that. But I didn’t.”
“And you want my help.”
“Yes, I do.” Draco waited a moment, while Severus stood there and looked unimpressed some more, and then gave in with bad grace. “If you’re there when we celebrate Yule, then he won’t think of it as a manipulation. The way he will if he arrives and I’m the only one there. Besides, we could use three people for some of the ceremonies.”
Severus’s hands tightened for a long moment, to the point that Draco wouldn’t be surprised to see a crack race up the glass neck of the flask. Then he shook his head and turned back to the potion, bottling it with an easy scooping motion. Draco supposed he should be flattered that his presence had distracted Severus so much from the potion in the first place. “No.”
“Why not?” Draco leaned forwards insistently. “I know that you don’t resent Potter the way you used to.” Or pretended to. But Severus would use the discussion of how much he’d resented Potter in the past to get out of having the Yule discussion, if Draco brought it up, and Draco didn’t intend to make it easy for him to get out of the conversation. “And I don’t think that you’re committed to a particular set of Yule celebrations.”
“I will not celebrate the Potter ones.”
Draco opened his mouth to ask why, and then closed it. Oh, of course. Father had revealed Severus’s past with James Potter and Lily Evans to him when Draco was still a child, in case Draco needed to use it for blackmail or leverage at Hogwarts. And even if Severus’s feelings had mellowed towards the son, he would hardly want to celebrate the way the father must have.
Luckily, Draco knew ways to get past that. It was something he wouldn’t have been motivated to do in the past, for all that he had looked at Severus and wanted. It wouldn’t have worked out the way he’d hoped.
But now…
“Then we’ll do the Prince celebrations, too.”
Severus almost dropped the flask. He managed to fumble it back to the table in time and pinned Draco to the chair with a wrathful gaze that actually seemed to hurt like a pin stabbed through his body would. Draco winced, but kept his eyes steady. Severus had spent too much time alone already, especially since he no longer taught at Hogwarts and wasn’t surrounded by students and other professors most of the time. It would do him good to spend Yule with at least a few people.
And if celebrating the Prince Yule traditions brought a smile back to his face, Draco would consider that a price well-paid for the research he would need to do.
“How do you know about my mother’s name?” Severus asked, and then answered the question before Draco could. “Lucius. Of course.” He stared off into the distance, his face unnervingly cold.
“Come on, Severus, please.” Draco gentled his voice. “It’s not just to help me with Harry. It’s-I hate what you’re becoming stuck in this place.”
“An expert brewer? You do not want the competition?”
“No. Someone who’d lost track of what day it was when I stepped through the fireplace.”
Severus’s head jerked once, and then he was still, watching Draco in the kind of silent, intense concentration that Draco had once found so unnerving when he was a student in the Potions classroom. This time, he simply stared back. He had been through things a lot more unnerving than that in the six years since the war, including realizing that he was steadily falling in love with Harry Potter.
Including realizing that his longing for Severus’s company and his wish that he could have done more for the man meant-well, many things.
“I wish that I knew why you continue to bother with me,” Severus said.
“Because you’re worth bothering with.”
Severus studied him again, but Draco wasn’t a potion to give up his secrets so easily. In the end, Severus nodded slowly. “Then I suppose I will see you at the Manor on the day of the winter solstice.”
Draco stood up and smiled at him, letting his hand fall briefly on Severus’s arm before he went over to the fireplace. “Yes, and I’m looking forward to it.”
*
Severus looked around critically as he stepped through the fireplace into Malfoy Manor. The decorations on the walls were sparse, at least in this room, but he could see the crown-shaped decorations, in that faint blue that veins in marble so often bore, for the Prince family, and a golden gryphon rampant.
Severus grimaced. Yes, yes, the Potters.
“Hello, sir.”
Severus turned to face the man who was no longer his bane, but only because he no longer had to teach him or was bound to save his life. He nodded distantly. “Mr. Potter. I would prefer that you call me Mr. Snape, as I am no longer a professor and I believe Draco would object to the…distance your title implies.”
“I most certainly do.” Draco swept into the sitting room, carrying a silver tray with three wineglasses on it. Severus relaxed as he realized that the wineglasses held nothing but clear water, a Prince tradition. “And I insist that you call each other by your first names. It’s not as if you’re strangers.”
“I don’t think Mr. Snape would be very comfortable with that, Draco,” Potter said, before Severus could voice his own opinion. “And I don’t want to make him uncomfortable when we’re both guests in your home.” He gave Severus a distant nod and picked up the wineglass on the edge of the tray nearest him.
“So you would not be averse to making me uncomfortable at other times?” Severus couldn’t stop himself from asking, as he chose the wineglass closest to him in turn.
He got nothing but a calm scrutiny from Potter, and allowed himself to stare back for the first time. He had caught nothing more than glimpses of Potter since the end of the war-well, at least since the end of that damn trial in the Ministry where Potter had spoken to him. This young man was self-contained, cool in a way that Severus would never have believed a Potter could be.
And in dark green robes that Draco had probably persuaded him to war, with his magic dancing and springing freely around him in a way that Draco probably also had something to do with, he was more beautiful than Severus was willing to admit.
“I would try not to, sir.”
“None of that, I told you,” Draco said, and put down the tray on a small table of what looked like cherry wood nearby. “Come on, Harry. If you can take my hand when I trusted you enough to put it out for a second time, then you can call him Severus.”
A second time? Severus watched in perplexity as Potter flushed. It seemed that it was some kind of private joke between the two of them, though, since Potter didn’t follow up on it, but turned and inclined his head a little to Severus.
“Sorry, Severus.”
His eyes were clear-as clear as green pools of water, without the fire. Severus found himself missing that fire, wanting to do something to bring it back. He cleared his throat and said, “Apologies accepted, Harry.”
It was the first time he could remember that he’d said the first name without the last name after it. The air in the room seemed to pause, trembling like the snowflakes outside the window, but nothing broke.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Draco clapped his hands with the same brisk motion he’d used to carry the tray into the room, and then walked over to stand in front of the fireplace. “Come here, Harry.”
This must be one of the Potter traditions that Severus hadn’t wanted to participate in or witness. But from the way Potter brightened as he swallowed the water in the crystal glass and set it down on the tray again, Severus began to suspect that Draco wasn’t the only one completely gone on someone in the room.
Good, Draco deserves to have his devotion returned, Severus told himself, and ignored the way part of him winced when Draco and Potter’s hands joined, forming a circle that left him outside it.
“I would like to make you a promise for the coming year,” Draco murmured, gazing at Potter’s eyes with such earnestness that Severus wondered idly how Potter hadn’t picked up on Draco wanting to date him. “Will you let me make it?”
“I have to hear what it is, first, don’t I, Draco?”
Potter’s voice was low, measured, and husky. Severus watched Draco light up at the sound of it, and the surge of jealousy that passed through him was-unusual. Not least because he wasn’t sure which one of them he was jealous of.
“That’s true.” Draco stood taller and drew his breath in, and he looked more adult than Severus had ever seen him. “So. First. I would like to promise you that I’ll look up Potter traditions for other holidays in the coming year, and celebrate them with you as well.”
For a long moment, Potter was so still that Severus thought they were riding the edge of a rejection, and silently winced, anticipating Draco’s disappointment. And then Potter ducked his head and smiled a little, and Severus realized with astonishment he was watching a man struggling to control his own delight.
“Yes,” Potter whispered. “I accept that promise. Thank you, Draco.”
“I’m not done yet.” Draco squeezed his hands gently. “The tradition says two promises each, since there are two of us.”
Two, Severus thought, and suddenly wished that his wineglass was full again, of something much stronger than water.
“Then please make the second.” This time, Potter let the smile spread fully across his lips, and Severus had to look away.
But he couldn’t escape the sound of Draco’s voice, low but not pleading, the way he had imagined it might sound. “Two. I would like to promise you that I’ll be faithful to you for the next year, in public and private, and not date or bed anyone else without your permission.”
This time, the silence was short. “Yes, Draco. I accept that. I’d like it very much.”
Severus turned back in time to see Potter lean forwards and kiss Draco. From what Draco had said on his weekly visits to Severus, that was the first time this had ever happened. Draco let out a soft groan and dug his hand into Potter’s hair.
Severus shut his eyes, and luckily the disturbing sight was gone when he opened them again. Potter was the one who faced Draco with his head canted up and a smile tugging on his lips, and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but my first promise to you is going to be a mirror of the one you just made me. I promise that I’ll be faithful to you for the next year, in public and private, and not date or bed anyone else without your permission.”
“Thank you,” Draco said. “I accept.” His own voice could get deep and husky, too, as if he wanted to prove that and not let Potter have all the huskiness to himself. Severus resisted the temptation to swat at invisible irritants that seemed to be congregating around him.
“And for the second one…” Potter seemed to be thinking, but his body was still, his hands not fluttering around the way Severus was accustomed to seeing happen in his Potions class. Of course, with them captured by Draco’s hands, perhaps he couldn’t do that anyway, Severus thought, a little sourly.
Then Potter looked up, and caught Draco’s eye. “I promise to visit you more in Malfoy Manor for the next year, and you don’t have to dangle the prospect before me and promise me Severus Snape’s presence. Will that be acceptable?”
What? Severus thought, and very nearly said aloud.
Draco seemed to know what Potter was talking about, though, because he caught his breath in a way that sounded grateful, and then nodded. “Thanks, Harry. I would appreciate that. I accept.”
Potter smiled at him and touched his face with one gentle hand. Then he stepped back, and released Draco’s hands, and some flame that seemed to have been burning in the room, at the edge of Severus’s sight, flickered out.
It would have been less disconcerting if Potter hadn’t turned to face him. “Are you ready for my promises to you, sir? I mean Severus,” he added hastily, seeming to sense Draco’s scowl before it had fully formed.
“What?” Severus did say this time. “That is a Potter tradition, not a Prince one.”
“I know that. But it seems that someone should make promises to you that they do mean.”
Severus studied Potter carefully, but could see no sign of drunkenness. He didn’t think Potter had arrived all that much before him and begun imbibing wine, either. He gave a little shiver, which Potter only considered with a grave glance.
“You-you cannot mean it.”
“That’s not a refusal.”
Severus didn’t know when Potter had acquired a mysterious, Slytherin-like smile, and found that he didn’t really want to contemplate it. He moved slowly forwards. Potter reached out his hands, and Severus took them, and then suddenly he was part of that same enchanted circle that he had been envying a moment before.
Draco stood by, next to the fire, and he was sipping a glass of wine that he must have received from the house-elves. Severus couldn’t say whether he envied him more for that, or for the way that he looked delighted with what was happening-a softness around the edges of the face, in his eyes-and not jealous at all.
But Severus had to turn away from Draco, who was familiar, a Slytherin, someone he had talked through childish troubles and adult ones and in fact his own jealousy of Potter, and look at Potter’s eyes.
Potter, who smiled at him as openly and fearlessly as he had smiled at Draco. Severus stared back. He hadn’t been the one pursuing Potter for the past year and trying to get him to come to Malfoy Manor. Did Potter remember that? Realize that?
Maybe not. Or maybe it didn’t matter to him.
“I suppose you’ll want me to make you promises, as well,” Severus said, forcing his lips and tongue to move.
“Oh, no,” Potter said calmly. “I know that this isn’t your tradition, and it probably weighs on you a bit, considering what my father did to you.”
Severus’s hands jerked in Potter’s, without leaving them. Potter looked at him, and then back down at his hands. “Do you want to leave?”
It sounded so much like something Severus would have said that he forced himself to stand still. He shook his head. “I am curious to see what promises you wish to make me, Potter. And what makes you think that I’ll accept them,” he added, because, honestly, he had to.
“I would like to give you the chance to accept them.” Potter’s glasses shone as he tilted his head, and then Severus could no longer see into his eyes. “First, I’d like to promise you that I’ll speak to you more often.”
Severus stared at him. “What makes you think I want that?”
“You agreed to come here tonight. And I think it would make you happy.”
That was so preposterous that Severus thought of at least six different ways he could point out that it was ridiculous. But he didn’t say them. He stood there and thought, and then said, “This would be for the term of the next year?”
Potter nodded.
Severus thought of the way he had felt when Draco and Potter had stood as if to leave him out. And how Potter wanted to make these promises to him. And how Potter had said that he didn’t need Severus’s presence to visit Malfoy Manor, but…
He had spoken of it as a temptation.
“I accept,” Severus said, and wondered if he was mad.
Potter gave him a smile so brilliant that it warmed Severus more than wine could have. Then he said, “I have a second promise for you, if you’ll accept it.”
“Perhaps I will. Tell me what it is.”
Potter’s hands tightened for a moment, and he watched Severus’s face as if he thought that this one was the one more likely to be refused. “I would like to make you part of the foundation I’m putting together to dispel darkness in the wizarding world.”
Severus simply stared at him and didn’t say a word, because if Potter couldn’t see how ridiculous this was, then Severus was not going to be the one to tell him.
“Harry.” Draco’s voice was soft and amused. “You need to explain what you mean, I think.”
“Right,” Potter said, and flushed. “There’s the impetuousness again,” he muttered, sounding as if he was quoting someone. Severus thought it was probably no one more interesting than Weasley or Granger, but on the other hand, he would have liked to have the right to ask.
Potter looked up at him and cleared his throat. “The foundation I’m putting together is working at educating people on biases, making life better for magical creatures, and trying to prevent another civil war.”
“All of them at once?”
“It does sound sort of disorganized, doesn’t it,” Potter murmured with a smile that unfairly disarmed Severus by depriving him of his ability to speak. “But I think all of them are connected. It all comes back to ignorance. Ignorance that blood status means nothing. Ignorance of what beings like vampires, centaurs, and goblins need to be happy. Ignorance of the fact that there are political changes short of taking up your wand.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “So you would be working on policy changes?”
“Yes. Those are the deepest kind, I think. But there’s also the fact that the magical world barely has any celebrities or entertainment or education outside of Hogwarts-I mean, compared to the Muggle world. I want to do more of that. Publish kids’ books where goblins get to be the heroes. Make people prominent who have ideas, but lack the money to do it. Encourage people to listen to someone other than me. In the short term, though, the fact that I’m the Boy-Who-Conquered will encourage people to listen.”
“That sounds Slytherin of you.”
Potter lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “The Hat would have put me in Slytherin if it had had its way.”
Severus choked on air. Potter laughed at him, but for the first time in his life, laughter coming from a Potter’s mouth didn’t offend him. Potter just grinned at him and added, “This is what I’m doing. And if you’d like, biases against Slytherin can be the ones that you specifically work with.”
“I am-not Head of Slytherin House or part of Hogwarts anymore. And some would say that a teacher who bullied his students should be the last to speak on that.”
“Believe me, I have other people speaking on that.” Potter’s eyes were as sharp as broken glass for a moment, and Severus did not look away. “No, what I thought you could speak to are the pressures inside Slytherin House, something most people don’t know about or think is actually a good thing. The perils of judging everyone by blood status. The way that Slytherins felt themselves under siege, whether or not they really were, and what it did to them. The largest number of Death Eaters came from Slytherin, and that’s not a coincidence, but there also has to be a reason for it.”
“Some of that might involve criticism of Albus.”
Potter sighed a little. “I loved the man, but his saint-like image is something else that influenced the wizarding world for the worse. So is the image that people had of me, for that matter. They wanted a saint, and when I proved not to be one, they had no recourse but deciding I was a villain. I want us to move away from assuming someone is perfect in either direction.”
“Perfectly evil?”
“Yes.”
Severus looked over Potter’s head for a moment, trying to imagine what was approaching, and finding that he probably couldn’t imagine it. “I-am not sure that I would like the interference in my quiet life.”
“You could do it all by owl, if you’d like, although personal appearances are more impressive. And I’m sure that you have wards against Howlers.”
To his horror, Severus found himself actually considering it. He would like to think that future generations of Slytherins would never again be subjected to a pressure like the one that had resulted in so many becoming Death Eaters, but he knew that was foolish. The destruction of the Dark Lord had not burnt and salted the roots of blood purity, as much as Severus wished it had. And certain vicious traditions endured in the House that Severus could not imagine Slughorn coping well with, or most Heads of House hired after him.
Severus looked back at Potter, still waiting sincerely for his answer, still ready, he knew, to explain more, and made his decision.
“I accept your promise.”
Potter nodded. “I promise that you’ll be able to escape if you want to, or don’t feel this experiment is working out. But let’s try it for the terms of one year.”
“Experiment?”
“Anything that a Potter and a Snape do together is an experiment.”
Severus stiffened, his eyes scanning Potter’s face carefully, but he saw nothing but the utmost sincerity, the kind Potter seemed to have come to after the war. After a long moment, he nodded, and Potter smiled back.
“Splendid!” Draco announced. “And now, we have dinner waiting, and some of the Prince traditions to perform.”
Severus let go of Potter’s hands. He found himself doing it slowly. He found himself reluctant to do so at all.
And he hadn’t even had any wine as yet.
Part Two.