Fic: Harry, Harry, Snape, and Bob [1/2] Dresden Files/Harry Potter
Title: Harry, Harry, Snape, and Bob [1/2]
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Dresden Files [TV]/Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Harry Dresden/Bob
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry [Potter] shows up at the office of Harry [Dresden] looking for Severus Snape. And then the plot took a long walk [as usually happens in my writing], and this becomes about four guys, two relationships, and trying to make things as right as they can be in the weird world of men named Harry [one of whom is kind of a pyromaniac].
Disclaimer: So many lies. So many.
Author's Notes: This is TV-verse "Dresden Files", and AU "Harry Potter" [I ignored large parts of book seven to pull this off]. I cannot be thankful enough for the hard work of leaper182 and shoshannagold who did the beta work on this. This story would not be nearly as good without their help. Thank you two so much. You're awesome.
Harry, Harry, Snape, and Bob [1/2]
By Perpetual Motion
Harry’s changing into a slime-free t-shirt when he hears the bell over the door. “Just a sec!” he yells as he looks around for his boots. He spots a pair-also slimed-and figures barefoot is good enough. He pads down the hall, shooing Bob back into the lab with a wave of his hand, and steps into his office space to find a man with messy dark hair and bright green eyes looking around the room. “Hi,” Harry says. “Harry Dresden.”
“Hello,” the man says, the ‘e’ coming out like a ‘u’. “Name’s Potter.” The English accent solidifies when the ‘er’ comes out like an ‘a’.
“First or last?”
“Last. I’m a Harry, also.”
Dresden grins. “It’s a pretty good name.”
“Mine’s caused some trouble.” Harry reaches into the pocket of his slightly baggy jeans and pulls out a small piece of black cloth. “I need a location spell,” he says to Dresden, holding out the cloth. “I’d do it myself-”
“You’re a wizard?” Dresden asks, left leg falling back to give him a good defensive stance.
Harry’s eyebrows get lost somewhere in his mess of hair. “Seriously?” He asks after a moment.
Dresden squints at him. “You famous or something?”
“Oh, for the love-” Bob walks through the wall and looks like he wants to smack Dresden upside the head. “How uneducated can you actually be? I taught you-”
“Bob,” Dresden says with a touch of warning, “get to the point or get in your skull.”
“Harry Potter,” Bob says like it has meaning. He shakes his head when Dresden looks at him blankly. “Harry Potter, Harry. Son of James and Lily Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived.”
“The boy who-ah,” Dresden nods to show Bob he’s got it. “Sorry, Mr. Potter-”
“Harry,” Harry says. “And it’s rather nice, actually. Been a bit since I’ve been completely unknown.”
Dresden thinks about what he knows about Harry Potter. “Been what? Ten years or so since the war?”
“Twelve,” Harry says. “And a half, if you prefer to be precise.”
“He doesn’t,” Bob says.
Dresden rolls his eyes at Bob. “A location spell,” he says to Harry. “For what purpose?”
“Finding someone,” Harry says; the grin he gives Dresden makes it funny instead of obnoxious. “A man I knew in England. He went missing after the war. We thought he was one of the bad guys.”
“He wasn’t,” Dresden states.
Harry looks down at his feet and scuffs his shoes against Dresden’s floor. “Not even close. Very good at faking, however.” He holds out the cloth again. “Reports of him here in the States started coming up a couple of years ago. I tried locating him myself, but all I can tell right now is that he’s within about a hundred miles.” Harry looks at the floor again. “He’s blocking me,” he says after a pause. “And all the people who knew him at Hogwarts.”
Dresden catches the way Bob’s eyebrows quirk. “You know who it is,” he says to Bob.
“There are a few options,” Bob tells him, “but if I were forced to guess-”
“Consider yourself forced,” Dresden tells him before Bob can ramble.
“Severus Snape,” Bob snaps. “Hogwarts Potions Master. Former Death Eater.”
“That’s a lot of capital letters,” Dresden quips. He grimaces when Bob glares at him. “So, Severus Snape,” Dresden says to Harry.
“Severus Snape,” Harry says with a nod. “I’m hoping you’re obscure enough that he hasn’t thought to block you.”
“One way to find out,” Dresden says and takes the cloth. “You’re welcome to stay, but it may take awhile.”
“I’ve plenty of time,” Harry says. “If you’d prefer I stay out of your way-”
“Nah, come on,” Dresden says and gestures Harry to follow him to the lab. “You already know the good secrets, anyway.”
Dresden watches Harry when he walks in the lab. There’s a lot to learn, he knows, from watching one wizard in another wizard’s space. “That’s Bob’s,” he says when Harry reaches for Bob’s skull.
“Ah.” Harry’s expression clearly reads ‘ew’. He circles the room, leaning in to read labels and carefully handle some of the notions lying around. He raises his eyebrows at the hockey stick. “That’s not a hockey stick,” he declares.
“Staff,” Dresden says as he clears a spot on the table for the spell. “You don’t get weird looks in Chicago when you carry a hockey stick.”
“What’s your wand,” Harry asks with a grin, “a baseball bat?”
“Drumstick,” Dresden says. “Baseball bat is Excalibur.”
Harry laughs. “Of course.” He finishes his circle of the room and leans against a wall to watch Dresden turn on the burner. “Lots of candles,” he says casually.
Dresden doesn’t look up from sprinkling lavender into the water he’s boiling. “You can ask,” he tells Harry.
“Sorry,” says Harry, and he sounds like he means it. “I’ve spent too much time skulking about for information.” He gives Dresden an apologetic smile when Dresden glances at him. “So, what’s up with the candles?”
“I’m kind of a busted fuse. Lights, cell phones, digital anything; if I get twitchy, it goes up in a puff of smoke.”
“Sometimes it melts,” Bob adds, coming through the wall to stand beside Dresden. “Your flame-”
“Is fine,” Dresden finishes.
“Is high,” Bob says, undeterred. “You keep it that high, you’ll get spell all over your face.”
“I’ll live.”
“I can’t dress your wounds, you know.”
“Yeah, but you’ll laugh if I get them.”
Bob gives an elegant, one-shoulder shrug. “Only a little.”
Harry chuckles. “Oh, memories.” Dresden and Bob both look at him. “Sorry. Just,” he pauses and shakes his head. “Potions class sounded a lot like you two,” he explains, but there’s something in his tone that says there’s more to it.
“We aim to entertain,” Dresden says and ducks away as a bubble on the top of the bowl pops in his face. “Ow.”
“Told you,” Bob says smugly. He walks over to Harry and rolls his eyes. “Some students…” he says with a touch of drama.
“That sounds familiar, too.” Harry jams his hands in his pockets and gives Bob an appraising once-over. “I’ve never seen a ghost so constructed.”
“I am attached to my skull,” Bob says, with a wave to the skull. “I believe it assists my construct in being less see-through.”
“Huh,” Harry says. “The Hogwarts ghosts-”
“Are connected to the school itself in a looser manner,” Bob explains before Harry can finish. “I am, in fact, chained to my skull for inappropriate behaviors.”
“Inappropri-never mind,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “Not my business.”
Bob smiles, wistfulness coloring it. “It is not a useful story,” he tells Harry. “The morale is to simply not play with dark magic.”
Harry rubs the side of his hand against the scar on his forehead. “Yeah, that one I know.”
Bob leans in. “May I?” He asks.
“Sure,” Harry pushes his hair off his forehead. He waits patiently while Bob inspects the scar from a distance of three inches. “Not very exciting.”
“Untrue,” Bob says, “but I imagine its greater meaning has lost its luster.”
“You could say that.”
“You could also say,” Dresden cuts in, eyes still on his spell, “that you two are cackling about nothing in particular while I’m doing all the hard work.”
“Do you require assistance?” Bob asks, walking to Dresden’s side.
“Just wanted to remind you we’re doing things here,” Dresden says. He looks over his shoulder at Harry again. “Hand me one of those crystals behind you.”
Harry grabs a crystal and carries it over. He looks down into the green goop in the bowl. “I’ve not seen a green location spell before.”
“The colors differ depending on the ingredients used,” Bob explains. “Harry’s training is not as classical as the education you received at Hogwarts.”
“Which is to say, Bob thinks my talents aren’t refined.”
“You are not refined,” Bob tells Dresden. “The American system of schooling for wizards is not centralized,” Bob says to Harry. “All magic lessons are preformed in the home by private tutors. Some students,” Bob gives Dresden a stern look, “are willing to work patiently through carefully planned coursework.”
“I set things on fire, instead,” Dresden tells Harry with a grin. “More fun.”
“More idiotic,” Bob adds.
Harry grins. “My friend Ron would like you,” he tells Dresden.
Dresden considers that. “That’s a compliment, right?”
“Sure,” Harry says, and it’s only the light in his eyes that gives away the joke. “He’s my best mate.”
Before Dresden can retaliate, the spell turns a darker shade of green. “We’re ready,” he says. He dips the crystal a few times to get a good coating, and then he waits. It’s almost a full minute before he gets a feeling. “He’s in the city,” he tells Harry. “Somewhere in the greater Chicago area.”
“I thought as much,” Harry says. “Once I got into the city, it was like hitting a wall. I thought it might be a hint.”
Dresden walks across the lab to a map of the metropolitan Chicago area. He holds the crystal above it and breathes evenly to help his concentration. “East,” he says to himself. “Southeast.”
“Southeast?” Bob asks, surprised. “The energies on the Southeast side are incredibly high. A British wizard in the midst of that much American energy would stand out sharply.”
“He’s not a British wizard,” Harry says. “He’s a British wizard in hiding. If he wasn’t actively using his power, the amount of power there would help mask him better. He could probably easily keep his protection spells around himself without tipping the vibe for a general area. Why look for a small amount of British energy in the middle of an American powerhouse?”
“Perhaps,” Bob allows. “But the Southeast section of Chicago is still large.”
Harry thinks for a moment. “Is there an herbalist?”
“Phone book’s in the office,” Dresden says from his spot over the map.
Harry steps over next to Dresden and pulls out his wand. He touches it to the edge of Dresden’s crystal and mutters something in Latin. “Should help narrow it,” he says and walks out of the lab.
Dresden looks at Bob when they’re alone. “Unrefined?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Bob replies with a roll of his eyes. He raises his eyebrows when Dresden doesn’t look at him. “Unrefined isn’t bad, Harry,” he says.
“I’m aware,” Dresden replies, sharpness in his tone. “Do you know this Snape person?” he asks to change the subject.
“Only by reputation,” Bob says, the look in his eyes making it clear he’s not pleased with Dresden’s attitude. “It’s been a good long while since I’ve had the chance to speak with anyone who deals with him personally. I was in your uncle’s possession for nearly twenty years, and now I am in yours, and had Mr. Potter not wandered in asking for help, I can’t say I’d have thought of the man again.”
“Is he dangerous?” Dresden asks quietly.
“Only when cornered,” Bob tells him, “but that’s true of anyone.”
“What’s a Death Eater?”
“The kind of person your uncle admired.”
Dresden looks up from the map at that information. “And what’s a former Death Eater?”
“I’ve no idea,” Bob admits. “I’ve never met one.”
“Got it!” Harry calls from down the hall. “He’s at a book shop. Which would have been my second guess.” He walks into the lab and stops near the door, looking back and forth from Dresden to Bob. “Sorry, did I-”
“We’re fine,” Dresden cuts him off. “Let me grab my boots. Bob, get into your skull.”
Bob blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
“Bookstore,” Dresden says, “you’re always saying you need something else to read.”
“Of course,” Bob says with a nod. He gives Harry a polite smile and fades away into his skull.
“You have to bring it with you?” Harry asks, eyeing the skull.
“It’s like a leash,” Dresden explains, picking it up. He pauses by the door of the lab and eyes his hockey stick. “What’s a Death Eater?” He asks Harry.
“A power hungry dark witch or wizard out to rule the world and kill Muggles.”
“Muggles?”
“Non-magical people,” Harry says. “You don’t know that?”
Dresden grabs clean boots from under the couch and sits down to slip them on. “Nope. All I knew growing up was that I was a wizard and other people weren’t. When Bob started teaching me, he tried the history lesson, but I never really listened.”
“How did you know about the war?” Harry asks, leaning against Dresden’s kitchen counter.
“How could you miss the war?” Dresden counters. “That much power goes boom, everyone feels it.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Harry admits. “Trying to stay alive, you know.”
Dresden thinks of his uncle and carefully places Bob’s skull into his shoulder bag. “Yeah, I know.” He grabs his keys from the hook by the door and gestures Harry to follow. “Come on. You’ve got an address, right?”
“Yes,” Harry follows Dresden to his Jeep and climbs in. He buckles his seat belt and pulls out his wand again, holding it against his inside leg so it can’t be seen from the street. The tip of his wand glows blue. “If it turns red, he’s moved,” he tells Dresden.
“If he’s anything like Bob, he’ll be there awhile,” Dresden says reassuringly. He turns the key, the Jeep gives a cough before properly turning over, and they’re off, headed Southeast.
*
Because he’s actually tracking someone, Dresden thinks, the traffic has to suck. “Still blue?” He asks Harry.
“Yeah,” Harry says. “Traffic always like this?”
“Not unless I have somewhere to be,” Dresden tells him. He glances away from the windshield to give Harry a quick grin. “Don’t worry. If he’s not there when we get there, we can track him.”
“The wand can do it,” Harry says. “No offense to whatever you have planned.”
“None taken.” Dresden sighs when he finally makes his left turn. “About time,” he mutters. “Why are you looking for this guy?” He asks when traffic slows to a crawl again.
“I owe him,” Harry says quietly. “A lot.”
“How much is ‘a lot’?”
“He saved my life a few times. Helped train me to face Voldemort. Little things, you know?” The humor falls flat when Harry’s voice drops into a whisper. “I owe him,” he repeats, voice slightly louder.
“All right,” Dresden says.
They fall into silence for the rest of the trip, save a moment where Dresden yells a particularly interesting series of swears when a cyclist cuts him off. The bookstore is in a storefront next to an alley. It’s a long, thin building with a large picture window and carefully restored brickwork.
“Sign looks new,” Dresden observes when they step out of the Jeep. He gives Harry a sidelong glance. “You want me to lead the way?”
“No.” Harry straightens his shoulders and discreetly pockets his wand. “I should be fine from here.”
Dresden watches the way Harry flexes his hands and distractedly shakes his hair off of his face. “I’ll just come inside anyway,” Dresden says. “Promised Bob he could have a look around.” He taps his fingers on Bob’s skull as he says it, and Bob swirls out, falling into form just to Dresden’s left.
“Charming,” Bob says when he gets a look at the place. “Are we going in, then?”
“Yes,” Harry says.
“You’re still standing still,” Dresden says a few seconds later.
Harry breathes deep. “I faced down a two-faced Death Eater when I was eleven,” he tells Dresden.
“Well, then going in shouldn’t be a problem.” Dresden puts a friendly hand between Harry’s shoulder blades, counts to five, and then gives Harry a friendly shove.
“Thanks,” Harry says as he stumbles into a steady walk.
“Just one of the many services I provide,” Dresden returns.
The inside of the store is slightly dark even with the picture window. Bob squints at it. “Charmed,” he mutters to Dresden. “It does give a certain presence to the place.”
Dresden agrees with a nod. The long walls on the sides of the building are both covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There’s a single register sitting on a dark walnut counter that’s carved with swirls and curlicues. Dresden cocks his head and spots a couple of runes carved amongst the more decorative bits. “Wards,” he says to Bob.
“May I help you?” The question comes from a young woman with bobbed blonde hair and a ready smile. Her nametag reads, “Charlotte”.
Harry blinks at the sight of her. He glances at Dresden, and Dresden shrugs. “I’m looking for someone,” Harry says just as her smile starts to droop. “Tallish guy, middle-aged. He might have long black hair. He’s got kind of a big nose.”
“Mr. Snape?” Charlotte asks.
“Mr. Snape?” Harry repeats.
“He owns the store,” Charlotte says. “He’s in the back office right now having tea. He’s really, really British.” Her cheeks suddenly pink. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Harry says with a smile Dresden thinks probably gets him out of lots of trouble, “so am I.”
“I can get him if you want.” Charlotte offers.
“Um…yeah. That’d be great.” Harry’s eyebrows furrow when Charlotte gives him a pointed look.
“And your name?” She finally prompts.
“Harry.”
Dresden turns to share a smirk with Bob and finds that he’s standing alone. He turns in a slow circle and spots Bob ten feet away looking longingly at a shelf that runs down the middle of the store. “Bob?” He asks as he walks over.
“Just browsing,” Bob tells him and smiles, but Dresden can see it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We need something more than my old tomes and your trash.”
“Funny,” Dresden says and watches Bob lean closer, his nose nearly going through a book. “Pick something,” he says before he talks himself out of it. “I’ll read it to you, if you want.”
Bob’s smile makes Dresden’s stomach churn. “That’s unnecessary, Harry.”
“Says you.” Dresden waves his hand to encompass the entire aisle of books. “Anything. Really.”
“Within a perimeter,” Bob says, giving a knowing look to Dresden’s bag.
“Yell if I get too far away,” Dresden says. He walks around the shelf and reads the titles on the other side.
*
“Mr. Snape?”
Severus looks up from order sheet he’s been carefully marking. “Yes, Miss Johns?”
“There’s a man named Harry Potter here to see you.”
He pauses, and then asks, “Could you repeat that, Miss Johns?”
“Um, yeah. There’s a man named Harry Potter here to see you.”
“Are you certain you’ve gotten the name correct?”
She blinks. “…Yeah.”
“I will be out momentarily,” Severus tells her. He watches her walk away and wonders how Harry found him, and then he grimaces. “Because he’s Potter,” he mumbles to the walls. Severus breathes out hard and smoothes his hands over his vest. “Brat,” he sneers to himself as he walks out of his office.
Harry is standing by the picture window, thumbing through a manual on growing herbs in a kitchen windowsill. Severus approaches him from the side and gets a good look at him. He’s put on a bit of weight since the last time they’d seen one another, but his hair is still a mess.
“Professor,” Harry says before Severus can clear his throat to announce himself. “This is your shop?”
“Why are you here, Potter?” Severus asks sharply. He notices a dark-haired man look up from the middle aisle. There’s a man with white hair and pale eyes on the other side of the shelf, and Severus narrows his eyes at the both of them. “You hired that?”
“How you doing?” Dresden says with a wave.
“I did what I needed to do,” Harry snaps in return. “You did a pretty good job of hiding out.”
“That was the point, Potter.”
Dresden’s eyebrows go up at Snape’s tone. He shares a glance with Bob. “That didn’t sound angry,” he says to Bob.
“It did not,” Bob returns.
“I can hear you, Mr. Dresden,” Snape says over his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, I can hear you, too,” Dresden returns. “And you sound like a jerk.”
“Harry,” Bob admonishes.
Snape turns on his heel and glares at them both. “Take your pet and leave, Mr. Dresden.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Dresden says, stepping forward to get into Snape’s face. “You want me gone, I’m gone. But you don’t get to insult Bob.”
“That’s what you call it?” Snape gives Bob a sneer that Bob returns with matching venom. “I wasn’t aware dead indentured servants-”
“Stop it,” Harry cuts in. He steps forward and puts his hand on Snape’s arm. “You can get mad at me all you want, but don’t take it out on them.”
“I can defend myself, thanks,” Dresden tells Harry. “You’re an ass,” he says to Snape. “We’ll be leaving now.”
“Brilliant response,” Snape retorts.
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop it?” Harry asks with a sigh.
“Tell me all you want, Potter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “Look, can we talk?”
“We’re talking-”
“May we talk?”
Snape gives Harry a long, unreadable look. “Miss Johns,” he says without looking away from Harry. “I’m not to be disturbed for the next hour.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Into my office,” Snape says and leads the way. He’s not wearing a robe, but Harry can practically see it trailing behind him.
*
Bob stares out the door as Dresden drives back to the office. “Thank you,” he says softly.
Dresden spares Bob a glance. “What for?”
“Your quick defense.”
“Oh.” Dresden slows for a red light and smacks the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “We didn’t get you a book.”
Bob smiles. “While I appreciate the courtesy you’re attempting to extend, I would not be such a bother as to make you read to me.”
“Hey, I offered,” Dresden tells him as he looks for a place to turn around. “I meant it.”
“Harry,” Bob says softly, and the longing it in distracts Dresden so badly the guy behind him has to honk to get him to move through the light.
“Look, we can’t do much-”
“We can do nothing,” Bob interjects. “We can’t touch. We can’t kiss. We can’t even breathe on one another. It is a waste-”
“Shut up, Bob,” Dresden says. “I’ve made my choice.”
“It’s a ridiculous choice.”
Dresden sighs heavily. “Yeah, but it’s mine. So either help me find a place to turn around or cram it.”
Bob crosses his arms over his chest and silently flows back into his skull.
“Classy,” Dresden almost-yells. He throws a smile at the two people in the convertible in the next lane. “I like to remind myself,” he tells them. They look straight ahead, and Dresden isn’t surprised when their tires squeal as they hurry away. “Some people,” he says with a shake of his head. He spots a turn-in up the street and changes lanes. “We’re going back,” he calls to Bob. “I’ll pick out the first stuffy, dusty boring thing I find. You’ll probably love it.”
*
Snape closes the door with a firm snap and points to the chair in the front of his desk. “Sit,” he orders Harry.
Harry sits. He watches Snape walk around the desk and sit down with the same precise motions he remembers. “I had to find you,” he says before Snape can say anything.
“No, you did not. In fact, I made a special effort to make it exceedingly difficult.”
“I noticed,” Harry drawls. He smiles a little when Snape scowls. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”
“Immaterial to the point.”
“I like it.”
“Also immaterial to the point.”
Harry scratches the back of his neck and considers his options. “If you want me gone-well and truly gone-I’ll go, but not before I’ve said my piece.”
“You are the same impetuous-”
“I know this line,” Harry says, slicing the ends off his words. “Let me say what I want, and you can insult me a few times before I leave, yeah?”
Snape leans back in his chair, arms crossing as he considers the option. “One chance,” he says.
“Wouldn’t expect more than that,” Harry tells him. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. “It’s like this: everything you said to me before you left, about how we were bad for one another, about how you were a danger, and I didn’t need the headache-I’ve decided all of that is shit, and I’m not going to listen to you when you say such stupid things.”
“My god, Potter, you’ve actually gotten less poised since I last saw you.”
“My injury wasn’t your fault,” Harry says instead of rising to the bait. “I threw myself into the fight without any help from you.”
There’s a small silence, Snape and Harry sizing each other up across the desk. Snape raises his chin. “And your injury?” he asks.
Harry pushes up the sleeve of his sweater. There’s a scar running up the length of his forearm, almost white in the middle and lightly grey on the edges. “Neville says the grey will probably always be there, but that the spell that was trying to eat through my arm is completely clear.”
“I would not trust his opinion.”
“You’re welcome to check yourself,” Harry challenges.
Snape opens a desk drawer and removes his wand. He presses it against Harry’s arm and stares at the tip until his wand glows white. “Well, a point to Mr. Longbottom. It is most likely the only one he’s ever been awarded.”
“Ten points for courage in first year,” Harry says with a smirk.
“Noted,” Snape says drily.
Harry’s smirk drops into a hopeful smile. “So, I found you.”
“Bravo,” Snape gives a small, sarcastic clap.
“I think the sheer fact that I found you should earn me at least a kiss.”
“You can try, Mr. Potter.”
Harry’s eyebrows go up. “You think I won’t?”
“Your desire to always be in a confrontation is not a healthy compulsion.”
“If you’d stop flogging yourself because I injured myself, we wouldn’t have to have a confrontation.”
“There will always be a confrontation, Mr. Potter,” Snape replies with a weary sigh. “If not over your lack of impulse control-”
“Stop talking,” Harry says and stands up from his chair. He walks around the desk and leans towards Snape. “Lecture me all you want in a couple of minutes; write up a list of rules of conduct or whatever gets you excited, but just shut up for a minute.”
And then they’re kissing, Harry pressing his mouth to Snape’s mouth without any hesitation. For a moment, Snape sits completely still, mouth tightly closed, but in the next second, he’s out of his chair, hand curled in Harry’s shirt as he kisses back.
There’s a knock on the door.
Snape pulls away from Harry. “I said an hour, Miss Johns.”
“That guy’s back,” she says through the door. “The dark-haired guy with the weird friend.”
Harry holds up his hands when Snape glares at him. “Wasn’t me. I’ve been right here.”
“I will out in a moment, Miss Johns.” Snape steps away from Harry and straightens his hair.
“I like the vest,” Harry says and reaches out a hand to touch. “Surprised you didn’t just keep the waistcoat.”
“I was incognito, Mr. Potter. Waistcoats stand out.”
Harry snorts to stop from laughing. “Yeah, that’s the weirdest thing about you.”
“We shall continue this later, Mr. Potter.”
“My name’s Harry,” Harry says as Snape walks to the door. “You’ve said it before.”
“This is not before.”
Harry waits until Snape’s out the door before he rolls his eyes. “Same old, same old,” he mutters to himself. He hurries for the door when he hears a voice he thinks is Dresden yelling something akin to ‘jackass’.
“What an original opinion, Mr. Dresden,” Snape is saying when Harry gets to the main floor.
“And how do you know who I am, anyway?” Dresden asks, the suspicion in his eyes ratcheting up.
Snape makes a show of checking his watch. “Only twenty-seven minutes to think to ask that question. Wonderful.”
“He is a man of certain means, Harry,” Bob cuts in before Dresden can retort. “And a man of certain suspicions.”
“You are also as subtle as an elephant in a rose garden.”
Dresden looks confused. “I’m not even sure that’s a metaphor worth mocking.”
“I’ve certainly heard better,” Bob drawls.
Harry bites back a laugh when Snape levels a glare at Bob. “Nice scene,” he says to break everyone’s attention. “But maybe we should have it somewhere else.”
“Subtly,” Snape says, his glare dropping just a little. “I would not have-”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m rude and insensitive. I am not, however, stupid.” Harry touches Snape’s sleeve and jerks his head towards Snape’s office. “Shall we?”
“I dunno,” Dresden says, his glare at Snape not flexing. “I think he’s afraid I might mess on the carpet.”
“Or set fire to something,” Bob says, and Harry’s not sure who Bob is actually insulting.
“Follow me,” Snape says, turning on his heel.
“Neat trick,” Dresden says to Bob, sotto-voice. “Think he practices?”
Bob smirks. “Left, right, left, right, Harry.”
“You are both juvenile and idiotic,” Snape says as he closes the office door.
“We’re great at parties,” Dresden bites back. “Can’t say the same for you.”
“Enough,” Harry snaps, slightly louder than he intends, but it makes everyone look at him. “God, it sounds like first-year all over again.” He scrubs his hands through his hair and looks at Dresden. “Why are you back here? I thought you’d left.”
“I owe Bob a book,” Dresden says, glancing at Bob.
“You do not-”
“So we came back,” Dresden continues over Bob, “so I could buy a book.” He glances at Snape. “Also, something feels weird.”
“Define weird.”
“The vibe in here is weird.”
Harry glances at Snape, who merely raises an eyebrow. “Energies?” Harry guesses.
“Most likely,” Snape agrees. He gives Dresden a once-over that’s just shy of hostile. “America has wizards the same way America is here today-”
“Immigrants,” Dresden guesses.
“Yes,” Snape says with a nod. “The witches and wizards who first came to America did so because the way they used their given talents manifested in different ways.”
Dresden looks at Bob. Bob looks thoughtful. “While you use a wand,” Bob explains to him, “it is not required. What we consider to be British wizarding technique in terms of wand usage is actually a need for British-and other European wizards-to focus their energy into a more useful conduit.”
“It is possible for non-American wizards to perform magic without wands, but the effort is greater,” Snape completes. “American wizards are schooled in the home because their wand technique is not a necessity for adequate performance of magic.”
“Now this really sounds like first year,” Harry says with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, well some of us didn’t have that,” Dresden points out. He looks from Harry to Snape to Bob and finally settles on Snape. “So, basically, you’re telling me that I’m jazzed up because the way you use your magic, and the way I use mine, they don’t get along?”
Snape looks pained at the simplification. “That is a reasonable facsimile of the information, yes.”
“But if that’s true, why haven’t I been jazzed up the whole time you’ve been in town?”
“Because, Mr. Dresden, outside of a few necessary protection spells and some minor potion requirements, I have not used magic.”
“Ah,” Dresden says. “And now I feel like a jackass.”
“You should be used to it by now,” Bob tells him.
Harry’s eyebrows go up in surprise when he sees Snape and Bob share a knowing look. “Creepy,” he says, and then everyone’s looking at him again. He straightens his shoulders rather than hunching in embarrassment and gives Dresden a friendly look. “Is there a pub with proper beer nearby?”
“Sure. Probably. Why?”
“Because I think if we leave, Severus and Bob will find they have plenty to talk about in our absence.”
Dresden considers it. “Maybe.” He looks at Bob. Bob nods. “All right.” Dresden reaches into his bag and pulls out Bob’s skull. He holds it out to Snape. “Don’t drop it.” It sounds like a joke, save the hard tone at the end.
“I will do my very best,” Snape says drily. “Please refrain from dragging Mr. Potter into anything unsavory. Trouble will most likely find him, but if you could avoid dark alleys and anyone demanding help, it may lessen any damage he would cause his person.” There’s a hard note to his tone as well.
“Charming,” Harry says. He touches Snape’s arm again on the way out the door. “Back in awhile.”
“As if I could get rid you, you pest,” Snape mutters.
“Do be careful, Harry,” Bob says to Dresden. “Mr. Potter does have a reputation for trouble.”
“You say the same of me,” Dresden reminds him. He holds up a hand before Bob can protest. “I promise. No saving of damsels, distressed or otherwise.”
“Of course not.” Bob’s eye roll makes it clear he doesn’t believe it.
“Bye, Bob,” Dresden says as the door closes.
Bob gives Snape an appraising look. “2-to-1, five dollar bet.”
Snape returns the look. “And the bet?”
“One of them comes back bleeding.”
“3-to-1 if it’s both.”
“Done.”
*
“They’re talking about us,” Harry says as he and Dresden walk down the block in search of a bar.
“You think so?” Dresden shrugs when Harry nods. “I haven’t been particularly embarrassing this week. I think it’ll be all right.”
“Right about now, Severus is probably talking about how I’ve always been a twat and will always be a twat, and how it’s only through a ridiculous amount of luck that I’m not dead.”
“Is he right?”
Harry thinks about it. “Maybe a bit.”
Dresden grins. “He seems like a pain in the ass.”
“He is,” Harry agrees easily, “but only at the surface.”
“Warm and cuddly with a chocolaty center?”
“Complete bastard,” Harry corrects. “But he’s my bastard.”
Dresden considers the implications. “So, you and he-”
“It’s something of a long story,” Harry interrupts. He points ahead. “Let’s get a beer, first.”
“All right,” Dresden agrees and lets Harry lead the way into the bar. They both order beers and settle at a table near the back, Harry’s back to the wall, Dresden moving his chair so that he has a clear view of the door. “Explain it to me,” he says, taking a sip of his beer.
Harry pulls his wand from his jacket, mutters something, and the air sparkles for a second. “Twisting charm,” he tells Dresden. “Anyone else comes in, it’ll sound like we’re talking about something different.”
“Must be a good story,” Dresden replies.
“It’s not bad,” Harry agrees. He pauses to pull his thoughts together. “He’s an utter bastard,” he says after a moment. “And he berated me and belittled me-”
“Yeah, he’s a winner,” Dresden drawls.
“I know,” Harry insists, and there’s a smile on his face. “I really do. He worked for Voldemort. He spent the majority of my school years telling most of us that we were going to become nothing.”
Dresden bites back something snide. “And?”
“And he saved my life more than once,” Harry tells him. “And then he worked with me to strengthen my mental defenses. And he took the blame.”
“For what?”
“For the death of Albus Dumbledore.”
“Albus…” Dresden repeats. He knows he knows the name. “If Bob were here right now, I’d be getting a lecture about how I never listened when he tried to teach me magical history.”
“He was the Headmaster at Hogwarts. Something of a surrogate father to me. He died, and Severus took the blame because it allowed him to get back into Voldemort’s good graces.”
“This sounds like it’s going to turn into a double-triple-agent sort of thing.”
Harry chuckles. “You’ve heard these stories before.”
“I read a lot of spy novels,” Dresden says. “Just don’t tell me you were the damsel.”
“I was the hero,” Harry says with a smile. “A quick-tempered, headfirst into the shallow end kind of hero, but a hero. Severus was, like you guessed, the double-triple crosser.”
“All right,” Dresden says, taking another drink of his beer. “How’d you go from hero and supposed-villain to…whatever you define your relationship as now?”
“Whiskey, and the state of the relationship is why I was trying to find him.”
“Because he vanished.”
“Three years ago, when I tripped up and said I loved him,” Harry confirms. “Severus doesn’t take emotions well.”
“Unless it’s anger.”
“Or disdain,” Harry agrees. “And he does well with annoyance.”
“Yeah, I noticed that one.” Dresden leans his arms on the table. “You really think he left because you dropped the L-bomb?”
“No.” Harry pushes up his sleeve and shows Dresden the scar on his arm. “He left because I jumped in front of him and got this. And he thinks it’s his fault.”
“Why’d you jump in front of him?” Dresden grins when Harry goes quiet. “Love makes you stupid.”
“A little. Although Severus would point out I was stupid to begin with.” Harry sips his beer and looks at his arm. “The war’s well over, but there are still Death Eaters wandering around, trying to gather enough strength to return again. Severus and I were working together, following sightings and bursts of power, trying to track down a gang of them. We were at a campsite one night, and he was brewing up an anti-tracking potion to keep us hidden. The gang we were following snuck up and started throwing spells. Severus had to protect the potion-”
“You protected him.”
“Yes,” Harry says.
“And you got hit with something nasty.”
“And then my arm tried to rot off.”
“Gross,” Dresden says cheerfully.
“And Severus decided it was his fault. Because he’s apparently supposed to have eyes in the back of his head and not rely on anyone else to keep him safe.”
“How long had the two of you-”
“About three weeks after the war. We were at yet another victory party, there was Fire Whiskey, and it turns out Severus is something of a floozy when he’s had a bottle all to himself.”
“Wow, I…” Dresden shakes his head. “And you waited for all those years to tell him you loved him because-”
“You’ve met him,” Harry says matter-of-factly. “I knew better, but I was delirious with fever and arm rot.”
“Ah,” Dresden says. He pauses. “So he’s here running a book store, and you’ve been tracking him for…?”
“Two-and-a-half years,” Harry supplies. “I thought he’d come back on his own. And then I remembered that I was thinking about Severus.”
“Wait a minute,” Dresden thinks for a second, running some quick mental math. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“War’s been over twelve years, right?”
“Yes.”
“Which means you were-”
“Seventeen,” Harry supplies. He raises his eyebrows when Dresden takes a long pull of his beer. “Well?”
“Nothing,” Dresden says and stares into his beer bottle.
“Uh-huh,” Harry grins. “I know that look. That’s the ‘wow, seventeen is young and wasn’t he still the guy’s student’ look.”
“No, it’s not that look. It’s the close cousin to that look.” Dresden grimaces when Harry raises his eyebrows. “It’s more a, ‘wow did he have to be named ‘Harry’ too’ look.”
Harry laughs. “You and Bob, huh?”
“Or as close as it can get,” Dresden acknowledges. “No amount of whiskey is going to make it possible to touch Bob.”
“Have you-”
“Researched? Yeah. And tried a few things. And considered playing around with things that’d have the Wardens on me in about two seconds.”
“And tried having relationships with other people,” Harry guesses with a knowing look.
“And failed. Very, very badly.” Dresden shakes his head and finishes his beer. “You?”
“Tried to date my best mate’s sister.”
“Ron?”
“Yeah. His sister Ginny.”
“And he didn’t brutally murder you?”
“He was relieved, actually.” Harry chuckles a little. “I’m a bit of a trouble magnet.”
“Sure you don’t have a secret older brother who might have been farmed out to a nice American couple and named Harry?”
“No, but I’ll buy the next round, and we can keep creeping each other out.”
Dresden laughs. “Done.”
PART TWO
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Dresden Files [TV]/Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Harry Dresden/Bob
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry [Potter] shows up at the office of Harry [Dresden] looking for Severus Snape. And then the plot took a long walk [as usually happens in my writing], and this becomes about four guys, two relationships, and trying to make things as right as they can be in the weird world of men named Harry [one of whom is kind of a pyromaniac].
Disclaimer: So many lies. So many.
Author's Notes: This is TV-verse "Dresden Files", and AU "Harry Potter" [I ignored large parts of book seven to pull this off]. I cannot be thankful enough for the hard work of leaper182 and shoshannagold who did the beta work on this. This story would not be nearly as good without their help. Thank you two so much. You're awesome.
Harry, Harry, Snape, and Bob [1/2]
By Perpetual Motion
Harry’s changing into a slime-free t-shirt when he hears the bell over the door. “Just a sec!” he yells as he looks around for his boots. He spots a pair-also slimed-and figures barefoot is good enough. He pads down the hall, shooing Bob back into the lab with a wave of his hand, and steps into his office space to find a man with messy dark hair and bright green eyes looking around the room. “Hi,” Harry says. “Harry Dresden.”
“Hello,” the man says, the ‘e’ coming out like a ‘u’. “Name’s Potter.” The English accent solidifies when the ‘er’ comes out like an ‘a’.
“First or last?”
“Last. I’m a Harry, also.”
Dresden grins. “It’s a pretty good name.”
“Mine’s caused some trouble.” Harry reaches into the pocket of his slightly baggy jeans and pulls out a small piece of black cloth. “I need a location spell,” he says to Dresden, holding out the cloth. “I’d do it myself-”
“You’re a wizard?” Dresden asks, left leg falling back to give him a good defensive stance.
Harry’s eyebrows get lost somewhere in his mess of hair. “Seriously?” He asks after a moment.
Dresden squints at him. “You famous or something?”
“Oh, for the love-” Bob walks through the wall and looks like he wants to smack Dresden upside the head. “How uneducated can you actually be? I taught you-”
“Bob,” Dresden says with a touch of warning, “get to the point or get in your skull.”
“Harry Potter,” Bob says like it has meaning. He shakes his head when Dresden looks at him blankly. “Harry Potter, Harry. Son of James and Lily Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived.”
“The boy who-ah,” Dresden nods to show Bob he’s got it. “Sorry, Mr. Potter-”
“Harry,” Harry says. “And it’s rather nice, actually. Been a bit since I’ve been completely unknown.”
Dresden thinks about what he knows about Harry Potter. “Been what? Ten years or so since the war?”
“Twelve,” Harry says. “And a half, if you prefer to be precise.”
“He doesn’t,” Bob says.
Dresden rolls his eyes at Bob. “A location spell,” he says to Harry. “For what purpose?”
“Finding someone,” Harry says; the grin he gives Dresden makes it funny instead of obnoxious. “A man I knew in England. He went missing after the war. We thought he was one of the bad guys.”
“He wasn’t,” Dresden states.
Harry looks down at his feet and scuffs his shoes against Dresden’s floor. “Not even close. Very good at faking, however.” He holds out the cloth again. “Reports of him here in the States started coming up a couple of years ago. I tried locating him myself, but all I can tell right now is that he’s within about a hundred miles.” Harry looks at the floor again. “He’s blocking me,” he says after a pause. “And all the people who knew him at Hogwarts.”
Dresden catches the way Bob’s eyebrows quirk. “You know who it is,” he says to Bob.
“There are a few options,” Bob tells him, “but if I were forced to guess-”
“Consider yourself forced,” Dresden tells him before Bob can ramble.
“Severus Snape,” Bob snaps. “Hogwarts Potions Master. Former Death Eater.”
“That’s a lot of capital letters,” Dresden quips. He grimaces when Bob glares at him. “So, Severus Snape,” Dresden says to Harry.
“Severus Snape,” Harry says with a nod. “I’m hoping you’re obscure enough that he hasn’t thought to block you.”
“One way to find out,” Dresden says and takes the cloth. “You’re welcome to stay, but it may take awhile.”
“I’ve plenty of time,” Harry says. “If you’d prefer I stay out of your way-”
“Nah, come on,” Dresden says and gestures Harry to follow him to the lab. “You already know the good secrets, anyway.”
Dresden watches Harry when he walks in the lab. There’s a lot to learn, he knows, from watching one wizard in another wizard’s space. “That’s Bob’s,” he says when Harry reaches for Bob’s skull.
“Ah.” Harry’s expression clearly reads ‘ew’. He circles the room, leaning in to read labels and carefully handle some of the notions lying around. He raises his eyebrows at the hockey stick. “That’s not a hockey stick,” he declares.
“Staff,” Dresden says as he clears a spot on the table for the spell. “You don’t get weird looks in Chicago when you carry a hockey stick.”
“What’s your wand,” Harry asks with a grin, “a baseball bat?”
“Drumstick,” Dresden says. “Baseball bat is Excalibur.”
Harry laughs. “Of course.” He finishes his circle of the room and leans against a wall to watch Dresden turn on the burner. “Lots of candles,” he says casually.
Dresden doesn’t look up from sprinkling lavender into the water he’s boiling. “You can ask,” he tells Harry.
“Sorry,” says Harry, and he sounds like he means it. “I’ve spent too much time skulking about for information.” He gives Dresden an apologetic smile when Dresden glances at him. “So, what’s up with the candles?”
“I’m kind of a busted fuse. Lights, cell phones, digital anything; if I get twitchy, it goes up in a puff of smoke.”
“Sometimes it melts,” Bob adds, coming through the wall to stand beside Dresden. “Your flame-”
“Is fine,” Dresden finishes.
“Is high,” Bob says, undeterred. “You keep it that high, you’ll get spell all over your face.”
“I’ll live.”
“I can’t dress your wounds, you know.”
“Yeah, but you’ll laugh if I get them.”
Bob gives an elegant, one-shoulder shrug. “Only a little.”
Harry chuckles. “Oh, memories.” Dresden and Bob both look at him. “Sorry. Just,” he pauses and shakes his head. “Potions class sounded a lot like you two,” he explains, but there’s something in his tone that says there’s more to it.
“We aim to entertain,” Dresden says and ducks away as a bubble on the top of the bowl pops in his face. “Ow.”
“Told you,” Bob says smugly. He walks over to Harry and rolls his eyes. “Some students…” he says with a touch of drama.
“That sounds familiar, too.” Harry jams his hands in his pockets and gives Bob an appraising once-over. “I’ve never seen a ghost so constructed.”
“I am attached to my skull,” Bob says, with a wave to the skull. “I believe it assists my construct in being less see-through.”
“Huh,” Harry says. “The Hogwarts ghosts-”
“Are connected to the school itself in a looser manner,” Bob explains before Harry can finish. “I am, in fact, chained to my skull for inappropriate behaviors.”
“Inappropri-never mind,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “Not my business.”
Bob smiles, wistfulness coloring it. “It is not a useful story,” he tells Harry. “The morale is to simply not play with dark magic.”
Harry rubs the side of his hand against the scar on his forehead. “Yeah, that one I know.”
Bob leans in. “May I?” He asks.
“Sure,” Harry pushes his hair off his forehead. He waits patiently while Bob inspects the scar from a distance of three inches. “Not very exciting.”
“Untrue,” Bob says, “but I imagine its greater meaning has lost its luster.”
“You could say that.”
“You could also say,” Dresden cuts in, eyes still on his spell, “that you two are cackling about nothing in particular while I’m doing all the hard work.”
“Do you require assistance?” Bob asks, walking to Dresden’s side.
“Just wanted to remind you we’re doing things here,” Dresden says. He looks over his shoulder at Harry again. “Hand me one of those crystals behind you.”
Harry grabs a crystal and carries it over. He looks down into the green goop in the bowl. “I’ve not seen a green location spell before.”
“The colors differ depending on the ingredients used,” Bob explains. “Harry’s training is not as classical as the education you received at Hogwarts.”
“Which is to say, Bob thinks my talents aren’t refined.”
“You are not refined,” Bob tells Dresden. “The American system of schooling for wizards is not centralized,” Bob says to Harry. “All magic lessons are preformed in the home by private tutors. Some students,” Bob gives Dresden a stern look, “are willing to work patiently through carefully planned coursework.”
“I set things on fire, instead,” Dresden tells Harry with a grin. “More fun.”
“More idiotic,” Bob adds.
Harry grins. “My friend Ron would like you,” he tells Dresden.
Dresden considers that. “That’s a compliment, right?”
“Sure,” Harry says, and it’s only the light in his eyes that gives away the joke. “He’s my best mate.”
Before Dresden can retaliate, the spell turns a darker shade of green. “We’re ready,” he says. He dips the crystal a few times to get a good coating, and then he waits. It’s almost a full minute before he gets a feeling. “He’s in the city,” he tells Harry. “Somewhere in the greater Chicago area.”
“I thought as much,” Harry says. “Once I got into the city, it was like hitting a wall. I thought it might be a hint.”
Dresden walks across the lab to a map of the metropolitan Chicago area. He holds the crystal above it and breathes evenly to help his concentration. “East,” he says to himself. “Southeast.”
“Southeast?” Bob asks, surprised. “The energies on the Southeast side are incredibly high. A British wizard in the midst of that much American energy would stand out sharply.”
“He’s not a British wizard,” Harry says. “He’s a British wizard in hiding. If he wasn’t actively using his power, the amount of power there would help mask him better. He could probably easily keep his protection spells around himself without tipping the vibe for a general area. Why look for a small amount of British energy in the middle of an American powerhouse?”
“Perhaps,” Bob allows. “But the Southeast section of Chicago is still large.”
Harry thinks for a moment. “Is there an herbalist?”
“Phone book’s in the office,” Dresden says from his spot over the map.
Harry steps over next to Dresden and pulls out his wand. He touches it to the edge of Dresden’s crystal and mutters something in Latin. “Should help narrow it,” he says and walks out of the lab.
Dresden looks at Bob when they’re alone. “Unrefined?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Bob replies with a roll of his eyes. He raises his eyebrows when Dresden doesn’t look at him. “Unrefined isn’t bad, Harry,” he says.
“I’m aware,” Dresden replies, sharpness in his tone. “Do you know this Snape person?” he asks to change the subject.
“Only by reputation,” Bob says, the look in his eyes making it clear he’s not pleased with Dresden’s attitude. “It’s been a good long while since I’ve had the chance to speak with anyone who deals with him personally. I was in your uncle’s possession for nearly twenty years, and now I am in yours, and had Mr. Potter not wandered in asking for help, I can’t say I’d have thought of the man again.”
“Is he dangerous?” Dresden asks quietly.
“Only when cornered,” Bob tells him, “but that’s true of anyone.”
“What’s a Death Eater?”
“The kind of person your uncle admired.”
Dresden looks up from the map at that information. “And what’s a former Death Eater?”
“I’ve no idea,” Bob admits. “I’ve never met one.”
“Got it!” Harry calls from down the hall. “He’s at a book shop. Which would have been my second guess.” He walks into the lab and stops near the door, looking back and forth from Dresden to Bob. “Sorry, did I-”
“We’re fine,” Dresden cuts him off. “Let me grab my boots. Bob, get into your skull.”
Bob blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
“Bookstore,” Dresden says, “you’re always saying you need something else to read.”
“Of course,” Bob says with a nod. He gives Harry a polite smile and fades away into his skull.
“You have to bring it with you?” Harry asks, eyeing the skull.
“It’s like a leash,” Dresden explains, picking it up. He pauses by the door of the lab and eyes his hockey stick. “What’s a Death Eater?” He asks Harry.
“A power hungry dark witch or wizard out to rule the world and kill Muggles.”
“Muggles?”
“Non-magical people,” Harry says. “You don’t know that?”
Dresden grabs clean boots from under the couch and sits down to slip them on. “Nope. All I knew growing up was that I was a wizard and other people weren’t. When Bob started teaching me, he tried the history lesson, but I never really listened.”
“How did you know about the war?” Harry asks, leaning against Dresden’s kitchen counter.
“How could you miss the war?” Dresden counters. “That much power goes boom, everyone feels it.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Harry admits. “Trying to stay alive, you know.”
Dresden thinks of his uncle and carefully places Bob’s skull into his shoulder bag. “Yeah, I know.” He grabs his keys from the hook by the door and gestures Harry to follow. “Come on. You’ve got an address, right?”
“Yes,” Harry follows Dresden to his Jeep and climbs in. He buckles his seat belt and pulls out his wand again, holding it against his inside leg so it can’t be seen from the street. The tip of his wand glows blue. “If it turns red, he’s moved,” he tells Dresden.
“If he’s anything like Bob, he’ll be there awhile,” Dresden says reassuringly. He turns the key, the Jeep gives a cough before properly turning over, and they’re off, headed Southeast.
*
Because he’s actually tracking someone, Dresden thinks, the traffic has to suck. “Still blue?” He asks Harry.
“Yeah,” Harry says. “Traffic always like this?”
“Not unless I have somewhere to be,” Dresden tells him. He glances away from the windshield to give Harry a quick grin. “Don’t worry. If he’s not there when we get there, we can track him.”
“The wand can do it,” Harry says. “No offense to whatever you have planned.”
“None taken.” Dresden sighs when he finally makes his left turn. “About time,” he mutters. “Why are you looking for this guy?” He asks when traffic slows to a crawl again.
“I owe him,” Harry says quietly. “A lot.”
“How much is ‘a lot’?”
“He saved my life a few times. Helped train me to face Voldemort. Little things, you know?” The humor falls flat when Harry’s voice drops into a whisper. “I owe him,” he repeats, voice slightly louder.
“All right,” Dresden says.
They fall into silence for the rest of the trip, save a moment where Dresden yells a particularly interesting series of swears when a cyclist cuts him off. The bookstore is in a storefront next to an alley. It’s a long, thin building with a large picture window and carefully restored brickwork.
“Sign looks new,” Dresden observes when they step out of the Jeep. He gives Harry a sidelong glance. “You want me to lead the way?”
“No.” Harry straightens his shoulders and discreetly pockets his wand. “I should be fine from here.”
Dresden watches the way Harry flexes his hands and distractedly shakes his hair off of his face. “I’ll just come inside anyway,” Dresden says. “Promised Bob he could have a look around.” He taps his fingers on Bob’s skull as he says it, and Bob swirls out, falling into form just to Dresden’s left.
“Charming,” Bob says when he gets a look at the place. “Are we going in, then?”
“Yes,” Harry says.
“You’re still standing still,” Dresden says a few seconds later.
Harry breathes deep. “I faced down a two-faced Death Eater when I was eleven,” he tells Dresden.
“Well, then going in shouldn’t be a problem.” Dresden puts a friendly hand between Harry’s shoulder blades, counts to five, and then gives Harry a friendly shove.
“Thanks,” Harry says as he stumbles into a steady walk.
“Just one of the many services I provide,” Dresden returns.
The inside of the store is slightly dark even with the picture window. Bob squints at it. “Charmed,” he mutters to Dresden. “It does give a certain presence to the place.”
Dresden agrees with a nod. The long walls on the sides of the building are both covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There’s a single register sitting on a dark walnut counter that’s carved with swirls and curlicues. Dresden cocks his head and spots a couple of runes carved amongst the more decorative bits. “Wards,” he says to Bob.
“May I help you?” The question comes from a young woman with bobbed blonde hair and a ready smile. Her nametag reads, “Charlotte”.
Harry blinks at the sight of her. He glances at Dresden, and Dresden shrugs. “I’m looking for someone,” Harry says just as her smile starts to droop. “Tallish guy, middle-aged. He might have long black hair. He’s got kind of a big nose.”
“Mr. Snape?” Charlotte asks.
“Mr. Snape?” Harry repeats.
“He owns the store,” Charlotte says. “He’s in the back office right now having tea. He’s really, really British.” Her cheeks suddenly pink. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Harry says with a smile Dresden thinks probably gets him out of lots of trouble, “so am I.”
“I can get him if you want.” Charlotte offers.
“Um…yeah. That’d be great.” Harry’s eyebrows furrow when Charlotte gives him a pointed look.
“And your name?” She finally prompts.
“Harry.”
Dresden turns to share a smirk with Bob and finds that he’s standing alone. He turns in a slow circle and spots Bob ten feet away looking longingly at a shelf that runs down the middle of the store. “Bob?” He asks as he walks over.
“Just browsing,” Bob tells him and smiles, but Dresden can see it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We need something more than my old tomes and your trash.”
“Funny,” Dresden says and watches Bob lean closer, his nose nearly going through a book. “Pick something,” he says before he talks himself out of it. “I’ll read it to you, if you want.”
Bob’s smile makes Dresden’s stomach churn. “That’s unnecessary, Harry.”
“Says you.” Dresden waves his hand to encompass the entire aisle of books. “Anything. Really.”
“Within a perimeter,” Bob says, giving a knowing look to Dresden’s bag.
“Yell if I get too far away,” Dresden says. He walks around the shelf and reads the titles on the other side.
*
“Mr. Snape?”
Severus looks up from order sheet he’s been carefully marking. “Yes, Miss Johns?”
“There’s a man named Harry Potter here to see you.”
He pauses, and then asks, “Could you repeat that, Miss Johns?”
“Um, yeah. There’s a man named Harry Potter here to see you.”
“Are you certain you’ve gotten the name correct?”
She blinks. “…Yeah.”
“I will be out momentarily,” Severus tells her. He watches her walk away and wonders how Harry found him, and then he grimaces. “Because he’s Potter,” he mumbles to the walls. Severus breathes out hard and smoothes his hands over his vest. “Brat,” he sneers to himself as he walks out of his office.
Harry is standing by the picture window, thumbing through a manual on growing herbs in a kitchen windowsill. Severus approaches him from the side and gets a good look at him. He’s put on a bit of weight since the last time they’d seen one another, but his hair is still a mess.
“Professor,” Harry says before Severus can clear his throat to announce himself. “This is your shop?”
“Why are you here, Potter?” Severus asks sharply. He notices a dark-haired man look up from the middle aisle. There’s a man with white hair and pale eyes on the other side of the shelf, and Severus narrows his eyes at the both of them. “You hired that?”
“How you doing?” Dresden says with a wave.
“I did what I needed to do,” Harry snaps in return. “You did a pretty good job of hiding out.”
“That was the point, Potter.”
Dresden’s eyebrows go up at Snape’s tone. He shares a glance with Bob. “That didn’t sound angry,” he says to Bob.
“It did not,” Bob returns.
“I can hear you, Mr. Dresden,” Snape says over his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, I can hear you, too,” Dresden returns. “And you sound like a jerk.”
“Harry,” Bob admonishes.
Snape turns on his heel and glares at them both. “Take your pet and leave, Mr. Dresden.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Dresden says, stepping forward to get into Snape’s face. “You want me gone, I’m gone. But you don’t get to insult Bob.”
“That’s what you call it?” Snape gives Bob a sneer that Bob returns with matching venom. “I wasn’t aware dead indentured servants-”
“Stop it,” Harry cuts in. He steps forward and puts his hand on Snape’s arm. “You can get mad at me all you want, but don’t take it out on them.”
“I can defend myself, thanks,” Dresden tells Harry. “You’re an ass,” he says to Snape. “We’ll be leaving now.”
“Brilliant response,” Snape retorts.
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop it?” Harry asks with a sigh.
“Tell me all you want, Potter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “Look, can we talk?”
“We’re talking-”
“May we talk?”
Snape gives Harry a long, unreadable look. “Miss Johns,” he says without looking away from Harry. “I’m not to be disturbed for the next hour.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Into my office,” Snape says and leads the way. He’s not wearing a robe, but Harry can practically see it trailing behind him.
*
Bob stares out the door as Dresden drives back to the office. “Thank you,” he says softly.
Dresden spares Bob a glance. “What for?”
“Your quick defense.”
“Oh.” Dresden slows for a red light and smacks the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “We didn’t get you a book.”
Bob smiles. “While I appreciate the courtesy you’re attempting to extend, I would not be such a bother as to make you read to me.”
“Hey, I offered,” Dresden tells him as he looks for a place to turn around. “I meant it.”
“Harry,” Bob says softly, and the longing it in distracts Dresden so badly the guy behind him has to honk to get him to move through the light.
“Look, we can’t do much-”
“We can do nothing,” Bob interjects. “We can’t touch. We can’t kiss. We can’t even breathe on one another. It is a waste-”
“Shut up, Bob,” Dresden says. “I’ve made my choice.”
“It’s a ridiculous choice.”
Dresden sighs heavily. “Yeah, but it’s mine. So either help me find a place to turn around or cram it.”
Bob crosses his arms over his chest and silently flows back into his skull.
“Classy,” Dresden almost-yells. He throws a smile at the two people in the convertible in the next lane. “I like to remind myself,” he tells them. They look straight ahead, and Dresden isn’t surprised when their tires squeal as they hurry away. “Some people,” he says with a shake of his head. He spots a turn-in up the street and changes lanes. “We’re going back,” he calls to Bob. “I’ll pick out the first stuffy, dusty boring thing I find. You’ll probably love it.”
*
Snape closes the door with a firm snap and points to the chair in the front of his desk. “Sit,” he orders Harry.
Harry sits. He watches Snape walk around the desk and sit down with the same precise motions he remembers. “I had to find you,” he says before Snape can say anything.
“No, you did not. In fact, I made a special effort to make it exceedingly difficult.”
“I noticed,” Harry drawls. He smiles a little when Snape scowls. “Your hair’s gotten longer.”
“Immaterial to the point.”
“I like it.”
“Also immaterial to the point.”
Harry scratches the back of his neck and considers his options. “If you want me gone-well and truly gone-I’ll go, but not before I’ve said my piece.”
“You are the same impetuous-”
“I know this line,” Harry says, slicing the ends off his words. “Let me say what I want, and you can insult me a few times before I leave, yeah?”
Snape leans back in his chair, arms crossing as he considers the option. “One chance,” he says.
“Wouldn’t expect more than that,” Harry tells him. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. “It’s like this: everything you said to me before you left, about how we were bad for one another, about how you were a danger, and I didn’t need the headache-I’ve decided all of that is shit, and I’m not going to listen to you when you say such stupid things.”
“My god, Potter, you’ve actually gotten less poised since I last saw you.”
“My injury wasn’t your fault,” Harry says instead of rising to the bait. “I threw myself into the fight without any help from you.”
There’s a small silence, Snape and Harry sizing each other up across the desk. Snape raises his chin. “And your injury?” he asks.
Harry pushes up the sleeve of his sweater. There’s a scar running up the length of his forearm, almost white in the middle and lightly grey on the edges. “Neville says the grey will probably always be there, but that the spell that was trying to eat through my arm is completely clear.”
“I would not trust his opinion.”
“You’re welcome to check yourself,” Harry challenges.
Snape opens a desk drawer and removes his wand. He presses it against Harry’s arm and stares at the tip until his wand glows white. “Well, a point to Mr. Longbottom. It is most likely the only one he’s ever been awarded.”
“Ten points for courage in first year,” Harry says with a smirk.
“Noted,” Snape says drily.
Harry’s smirk drops into a hopeful smile. “So, I found you.”
“Bravo,” Snape gives a small, sarcastic clap.
“I think the sheer fact that I found you should earn me at least a kiss.”
“You can try, Mr. Potter.”
Harry’s eyebrows go up. “You think I won’t?”
“Your desire to always be in a confrontation is not a healthy compulsion.”
“If you’d stop flogging yourself because I injured myself, we wouldn’t have to have a confrontation.”
“There will always be a confrontation, Mr. Potter,” Snape replies with a weary sigh. “If not over your lack of impulse control-”
“Stop talking,” Harry says and stands up from his chair. He walks around the desk and leans towards Snape. “Lecture me all you want in a couple of minutes; write up a list of rules of conduct or whatever gets you excited, but just shut up for a minute.”
And then they’re kissing, Harry pressing his mouth to Snape’s mouth without any hesitation. For a moment, Snape sits completely still, mouth tightly closed, but in the next second, he’s out of his chair, hand curled in Harry’s shirt as he kisses back.
There’s a knock on the door.
Snape pulls away from Harry. “I said an hour, Miss Johns.”
“That guy’s back,” she says through the door. “The dark-haired guy with the weird friend.”
Harry holds up his hands when Snape glares at him. “Wasn’t me. I’ve been right here.”
“I will out in a moment, Miss Johns.” Snape steps away from Harry and straightens his hair.
“I like the vest,” Harry says and reaches out a hand to touch. “Surprised you didn’t just keep the waistcoat.”
“I was incognito, Mr. Potter. Waistcoats stand out.”
Harry snorts to stop from laughing. “Yeah, that’s the weirdest thing about you.”
“We shall continue this later, Mr. Potter.”
“My name’s Harry,” Harry says as Snape walks to the door. “You’ve said it before.”
“This is not before.”
Harry waits until Snape’s out the door before he rolls his eyes. “Same old, same old,” he mutters to himself. He hurries for the door when he hears a voice he thinks is Dresden yelling something akin to ‘jackass’.
“What an original opinion, Mr. Dresden,” Snape is saying when Harry gets to the main floor.
“And how do you know who I am, anyway?” Dresden asks, the suspicion in his eyes ratcheting up.
Snape makes a show of checking his watch. “Only twenty-seven minutes to think to ask that question. Wonderful.”
“He is a man of certain means, Harry,” Bob cuts in before Dresden can retort. “And a man of certain suspicions.”
“You are also as subtle as an elephant in a rose garden.”
Dresden looks confused. “I’m not even sure that’s a metaphor worth mocking.”
“I’ve certainly heard better,” Bob drawls.
Harry bites back a laugh when Snape levels a glare at Bob. “Nice scene,” he says to break everyone’s attention. “But maybe we should have it somewhere else.”
“Subtly,” Snape says, his glare dropping just a little. “I would not have-”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m rude and insensitive. I am not, however, stupid.” Harry touches Snape’s sleeve and jerks his head towards Snape’s office. “Shall we?”
“I dunno,” Dresden says, his glare at Snape not flexing. “I think he’s afraid I might mess on the carpet.”
“Or set fire to something,” Bob says, and Harry’s not sure who Bob is actually insulting.
“Follow me,” Snape says, turning on his heel.
“Neat trick,” Dresden says to Bob, sotto-voice. “Think he practices?”
Bob smirks. “Left, right, left, right, Harry.”
“You are both juvenile and idiotic,” Snape says as he closes the office door.
“We’re great at parties,” Dresden bites back. “Can’t say the same for you.”
“Enough,” Harry snaps, slightly louder than he intends, but it makes everyone look at him. “God, it sounds like first-year all over again.” He scrubs his hands through his hair and looks at Dresden. “Why are you back here? I thought you’d left.”
“I owe Bob a book,” Dresden says, glancing at Bob.
“You do not-”
“So we came back,” Dresden continues over Bob, “so I could buy a book.” He glances at Snape. “Also, something feels weird.”
“Define weird.”
“The vibe in here is weird.”
Harry glances at Snape, who merely raises an eyebrow. “Energies?” Harry guesses.
“Most likely,” Snape agrees. He gives Dresden a once-over that’s just shy of hostile. “America has wizards the same way America is here today-”
“Immigrants,” Dresden guesses.
“Yes,” Snape says with a nod. “The witches and wizards who first came to America did so because the way they used their given talents manifested in different ways.”
Dresden looks at Bob. Bob looks thoughtful. “While you use a wand,” Bob explains to him, “it is not required. What we consider to be British wizarding technique in terms of wand usage is actually a need for British-and other European wizards-to focus their energy into a more useful conduit.”
“It is possible for non-American wizards to perform magic without wands, but the effort is greater,” Snape completes. “American wizards are schooled in the home because their wand technique is not a necessity for adequate performance of magic.”
“Now this really sounds like first year,” Harry says with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, well some of us didn’t have that,” Dresden points out. He looks from Harry to Snape to Bob and finally settles on Snape. “So, basically, you’re telling me that I’m jazzed up because the way you use your magic, and the way I use mine, they don’t get along?”
Snape looks pained at the simplification. “That is a reasonable facsimile of the information, yes.”
“But if that’s true, why haven’t I been jazzed up the whole time you’ve been in town?”
“Because, Mr. Dresden, outside of a few necessary protection spells and some minor potion requirements, I have not used magic.”
“Ah,” Dresden says. “And now I feel like a jackass.”
“You should be used to it by now,” Bob tells him.
Harry’s eyebrows go up in surprise when he sees Snape and Bob share a knowing look. “Creepy,” he says, and then everyone’s looking at him again. He straightens his shoulders rather than hunching in embarrassment and gives Dresden a friendly look. “Is there a pub with proper beer nearby?”
“Sure. Probably. Why?”
“Because I think if we leave, Severus and Bob will find they have plenty to talk about in our absence.”
Dresden considers it. “Maybe.” He looks at Bob. Bob nods. “All right.” Dresden reaches into his bag and pulls out Bob’s skull. He holds it out to Snape. “Don’t drop it.” It sounds like a joke, save the hard tone at the end.
“I will do my very best,” Snape says drily. “Please refrain from dragging Mr. Potter into anything unsavory. Trouble will most likely find him, but if you could avoid dark alleys and anyone demanding help, it may lessen any damage he would cause his person.” There’s a hard note to his tone as well.
“Charming,” Harry says. He touches Snape’s arm again on the way out the door. “Back in awhile.”
“As if I could get rid you, you pest,” Snape mutters.
“Do be careful, Harry,” Bob says to Dresden. “Mr. Potter does have a reputation for trouble.”
“You say the same of me,” Dresden reminds him. He holds up a hand before Bob can protest. “I promise. No saving of damsels, distressed or otherwise.”
“Of course not.” Bob’s eye roll makes it clear he doesn’t believe it.
“Bye, Bob,” Dresden says as the door closes.
Bob gives Snape an appraising look. “2-to-1, five dollar bet.”
Snape returns the look. “And the bet?”
“One of them comes back bleeding.”
“3-to-1 if it’s both.”
“Done.”
*
“They’re talking about us,” Harry says as he and Dresden walk down the block in search of a bar.
“You think so?” Dresden shrugs when Harry nods. “I haven’t been particularly embarrassing this week. I think it’ll be all right.”
“Right about now, Severus is probably talking about how I’ve always been a twat and will always be a twat, and how it’s only through a ridiculous amount of luck that I’m not dead.”
“Is he right?”
Harry thinks about it. “Maybe a bit.”
Dresden grins. “He seems like a pain in the ass.”
“He is,” Harry agrees easily, “but only at the surface.”
“Warm and cuddly with a chocolaty center?”
“Complete bastard,” Harry corrects. “But he’s my bastard.”
Dresden considers the implications. “So, you and he-”
“It’s something of a long story,” Harry interrupts. He points ahead. “Let’s get a beer, first.”
“All right,” Dresden agrees and lets Harry lead the way into the bar. They both order beers and settle at a table near the back, Harry’s back to the wall, Dresden moving his chair so that he has a clear view of the door. “Explain it to me,” he says, taking a sip of his beer.
Harry pulls his wand from his jacket, mutters something, and the air sparkles for a second. “Twisting charm,” he tells Dresden. “Anyone else comes in, it’ll sound like we’re talking about something different.”
“Must be a good story,” Dresden replies.
“It’s not bad,” Harry agrees. He pauses to pull his thoughts together. “He’s an utter bastard,” he says after a moment. “And he berated me and belittled me-”
“Yeah, he’s a winner,” Dresden drawls.
“I know,” Harry insists, and there’s a smile on his face. “I really do. He worked for Voldemort. He spent the majority of my school years telling most of us that we were going to become nothing.”
Dresden bites back something snide. “And?”
“And he saved my life more than once,” Harry tells him. “And then he worked with me to strengthen my mental defenses. And he took the blame.”
“For what?”
“For the death of Albus Dumbledore.”
“Albus…” Dresden repeats. He knows he knows the name. “If Bob were here right now, I’d be getting a lecture about how I never listened when he tried to teach me magical history.”
“He was the Headmaster at Hogwarts. Something of a surrogate father to me. He died, and Severus took the blame because it allowed him to get back into Voldemort’s good graces.”
“This sounds like it’s going to turn into a double-triple-agent sort of thing.”
Harry chuckles. “You’ve heard these stories before.”
“I read a lot of spy novels,” Dresden says. “Just don’t tell me you were the damsel.”
“I was the hero,” Harry says with a smile. “A quick-tempered, headfirst into the shallow end kind of hero, but a hero. Severus was, like you guessed, the double-triple crosser.”
“All right,” Dresden says, taking another drink of his beer. “How’d you go from hero and supposed-villain to…whatever you define your relationship as now?”
“Whiskey, and the state of the relationship is why I was trying to find him.”
“Because he vanished.”
“Three years ago, when I tripped up and said I loved him,” Harry confirms. “Severus doesn’t take emotions well.”
“Unless it’s anger.”
“Or disdain,” Harry agrees. “And he does well with annoyance.”
“Yeah, I noticed that one.” Dresden leans his arms on the table. “You really think he left because you dropped the L-bomb?”
“No.” Harry pushes up his sleeve and shows Dresden the scar on his arm. “He left because I jumped in front of him and got this. And he thinks it’s his fault.”
“Why’d you jump in front of him?” Dresden grins when Harry goes quiet. “Love makes you stupid.”
“A little. Although Severus would point out I was stupid to begin with.” Harry sips his beer and looks at his arm. “The war’s well over, but there are still Death Eaters wandering around, trying to gather enough strength to return again. Severus and I were working together, following sightings and bursts of power, trying to track down a gang of them. We were at a campsite one night, and he was brewing up an anti-tracking potion to keep us hidden. The gang we were following snuck up and started throwing spells. Severus had to protect the potion-”
“You protected him.”
“Yes,” Harry says.
“And you got hit with something nasty.”
“And then my arm tried to rot off.”
“Gross,” Dresden says cheerfully.
“And Severus decided it was his fault. Because he’s apparently supposed to have eyes in the back of his head and not rely on anyone else to keep him safe.”
“How long had the two of you-”
“About three weeks after the war. We were at yet another victory party, there was Fire Whiskey, and it turns out Severus is something of a floozy when he’s had a bottle all to himself.”
“Wow, I…” Dresden shakes his head. “And you waited for all those years to tell him you loved him because-”
“You’ve met him,” Harry says matter-of-factly. “I knew better, but I was delirious with fever and arm rot.”
“Ah,” Dresden says. He pauses. “So he’s here running a book store, and you’ve been tracking him for…?”
“Two-and-a-half years,” Harry supplies. “I thought he’d come back on his own. And then I remembered that I was thinking about Severus.”
“Wait a minute,” Dresden thinks for a second, running some quick mental math. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“War’s been over twelve years, right?”
“Yes.”
“Which means you were-”
“Seventeen,” Harry supplies. He raises his eyebrows when Dresden takes a long pull of his beer. “Well?”
“Nothing,” Dresden says and stares into his beer bottle.
“Uh-huh,” Harry grins. “I know that look. That’s the ‘wow, seventeen is young and wasn’t he still the guy’s student’ look.”
“No, it’s not that look. It’s the close cousin to that look.” Dresden grimaces when Harry raises his eyebrows. “It’s more a, ‘wow did he have to be named ‘Harry’ too’ look.”
Harry laughs. “You and Bob, huh?”
“Or as close as it can get,” Dresden acknowledges. “No amount of whiskey is going to make it possible to touch Bob.”
“Have you-”
“Researched? Yeah. And tried a few things. And considered playing around with things that’d have the Wardens on me in about two seconds.”
“And tried having relationships with other people,” Harry guesses with a knowing look.
“And failed. Very, very badly.” Dresden shakes his head and finishes his beer. “You?”
“Tried to date my best mate’s sister.”
“Ron?”
“Yeah. His sister Ginny.”
“And he didn’t brutally murder you?”
“He was relieved, actually.” Harry chuckles a little. “I’m a bit of a trouble magnet.”
“Sure you don’t have a secret older brother who might have been farmed out to a nice American couple and named Harry?”
“No, but I’ll buy the next round, and we can keep creeping each other out.”
Dresden laughs. “Done.”
PART TWO