The Space Between Failing and Falling • Snarry •

Chapter 15: Hope and Headlines

Harry sits on the edge of the desk. "You're my hero."

"You are touched in the head."

"How you feel though, about being seen with me...it's important," Harry says.

"Not more important than you," he retorts. The decision comes quick and easy. "Come to dinner with me tonight. In Wizarding London." He is tired, he didn't sleep well, his croissant is not digesting properly, everybody despises him, and he can feel a headache coming on—

Harry rests his fingers on Severus's cheekbone, to make Severus meet his eyes. "You really mean that," Harry says.

"I'm a good liar, and a convincing spy. However," Severus says, "I have never lied to you."

"I—there just haven't been many times when someone thought I was worth it. Worth the hassle," Harry says softly.

"I have made a lot of stupid decisions in my life. This is not one of them."

Harry frowns at Modern Counterfeit Potions. "Sometimes I get the impression that...I'm more interested in you, than you are in me."

The freshly polished bonding rings rest heavily in his inner pocket. He stands.

"That," he says, "is absurd." He grips Harry's biceps, and continues, "But let it be known that I do not share. And my promises are lifelong. So if you are in any doubt, want any dalliances with women, or," Severus says with a swallow, "men, then call this off right now, for you will know the touch of no other."

"You're the one I want," Harry says, reaching out to cup Severus's chin and bring him near for a kiss.

He feels a flutter of desire that he can't stifle.

"Well then," Severus murmurs into his ear, "Mr Potter. We have a date. The new Italian on Diagon Alley. Meet me at seven." Harry's smile lights up his face. It's undimmed when he says, "You are worth everything to me. Now get back to work. You are a distraction to the workings of the Serious Patents Office."

****

The staff meeting is borderline intolerable, with a number of raised eyebrows and secret glances. Mercifully, Arthur and Percy join him for lunch, flank him like bodyguards in the queue, and talk to him animatedly about counterfeit spellbooks.

He can almost ignore the glares of every young witch. He can't ignore that a man spits on him in the Atrium.

They are both early to their date. Harry meets him outside, holds his hand, kisses his cheek. He smells like heaven, and is so attractive he takes Severus's breath away.

A waiter steers them to the centre of the restaurant, and the only way they could be more exhibited is if they were seated on a raised platform with a spotlight. He gets a few dark stares from other patrons and is nervous until Harry glances at him with scorching eyes.

They order food, and Harry says, "We should go out more."

At that moment they are interrupted by the owner bringing them a free bottle of wine and vigorously shaking their hands.

He considers that Harry is clearly pleased to be here, and asks, "Do you like music performances?"

"Yeah! What sort?"

Severus dips his bread into balsamic vinegar. "Albus tucked away a number of things in the Headmaster's Quarters. A huge sack of gold, which I ignored," Severus says with a snort, "as well as some paperwork he'd transferred over to me. He was a patron of the Royal Albert Hall. There was a phone number, and directions to a telephone box so I could book a seat for any show."

"Really?" Harry grins. "No way."

"At first, I could never in a thousand years imagine attending, but in the spring of 1998, I'd go in disguise and pretend I was anyone else."

"Would you take me?"

"Yes," Severus says. "I am attempting to ask you."

Harry sits back in his chair, wine glass in hand. He has a devil-may-care look about him, and stares directly at Severus with a casual grace, as though they are the only two people in the world. "I can't believe Dumbledore had membership. Well, actually, I can. He was a bit odd."

"A big chamber music fan. And wealthy," Severus says.

"We could take the Underground to Kensington."

"That death trap? All crushed in like sardines?"

"I like the idea, squashed in next to you." Harry pokes him with his foot under the table. "I used to ride it for hours. Besides, I haven't got my Apparition licence yet."

Severus's lips twitch. "As if they'd arrest you."

"You never know."

Harry spends the rest of the meal as an outrageous flirt, teasing him by feeding him gelato and stroking Severus's sleeve with his fingers, so lightly that the hairs on Severus's arm stand up under the caress. They hold hands across the table as they eat, even though their meals are tricky to eat one-handed, and he knows that they look sappy and in love.

He can't help it—it's true.

When they're back at number twelve, Thames View, Harry puts on a rented film, pulls a blanket over their knees, interlinks their fingers, and rests his head on Severus's shoulder. Donald and Somnus are both asleep, and wind rattles the window panes. Severus is full and sleepy from the food and wine, and is comfortable just breathing in the smell of his shampoo, feeling the weight of Harry's hand in his, and the thigh pressed against him.

It is a dangerous feeling that he could get used to.

The credits roll, and Harry turns to face him and starts playing with his hair. "You'll stay tonight?"

It's unwise.

"Yes."

"Move in."

Severus hesitates.

"You told me you hated Spinner's End," Harry says.

It's true, his home feels here.

"And you leave your toothbrush here. And your potions. Why not leave your books here too, and all your things. And then stay every day."

It seems reasonable.

"I could," Severus says slowly. He traces the borders of Harry's lips. "I belong wherever you are, after all." They inch up into a grin. "Wherever your smile is. Wherever you are happy."

****

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