Fic Post: The Black Asphodel, Part 3 of 5
The Black Asphodel, Part 3 of 5

"--genuinely indisposed--Damn it, Snape!"

Harry's eyes fluttered open reluctantly and it took an immeasurable effort to keep them open. His judgment was not so impaired as to realize he was no longer outside but tucked up into his own bed. He had only dim memories of the hue and cry in the street and of gentle hands picking him up. The bedroom door swung open wildly just as he managed to swing his head toward the sound of raised voices in the hallway.

Severus stood outlined in the door, his face full of outrage.

And just as outraged, Sirius followed hard on his heels. "Leave him alone, you greasy--"

"Severus!" Harry cried, though his voice was rusty and hoarse and he wasn't certain anyone had heard him.

"Harry," replied Severus, though he seemed to pale at the sight of Harry tucked up beneath the pile of quilts. Harry slid one hand from beneath the counterpane and instantly Severus was at his side, grasping it. "What happened?"

"I was about to ask you, Snape," Sirius growled. He'd followed Severus into the room, hovering at the edge of Harry's bed.

Harry was trying to shake his head but the motion made him groan. "He didn't--" he tried, voice gaining strength with use.

"You can't think I had anything--" Severus growled, his touch contrary to the harsh tone as he bent to stroke the hair away from Harry's forehead. Harry groaned--happily this time--and let his eyes drift closed again.

"See, you're disturbing him. I told you, he's genuinely indisposed," Sirius said. Harry felt Severus shift beside him, just as lips touched his forehead. Harry opened his eyes and smiled in appreciation.

"Has he told you what happened? Who did this?" Snape demanded.

Sirius shook his head with reluctance. "I've had a healer to see him and he said to let him wake naturally. Said it looked like a curse--multiple Cruciatus most likely." At this, a spell Harry was unfamiliar with, Severus squeezed his fingers tightly and muttered an oath.

"I've been frantic, cherie," Severus said, turning concerned eyes on Harry. "When you weren't at the theater last night--" Severus's voice broke. Even Sirius looked startled.

At this, Harry blinked. He'd missed a performance?

Sirius looked torn between further berating Snape and comforting Harry. "I found him on the sidewalk yesterday morning," Sirius explained. "I'd fallen asleep in my study--" His cheeks pinked faintly and Harry suspected he'd been waiting up for him to return from Severus's.

"Who did this to you?" demanded Severus again. Harry looked up at both men, each eager to learn the name of Harry's attacker.

As much as he hated to disappoint them he had to admit, "I never saw who it was." Harry could only think of one person who might wish him in pain and he didn't want to cast aspersions on friends of Severus's or a potential patron of Sirius's theater.

Sirius's eyes narrowed again. "You'd better start convincing me it wasn't you, Snape."

Severus shot to his feet, looking murderous. "I swear I never--"

"Your oaths aren't enough, Snape," said Sirius, his voice lowering dangerously. "And no bloody title will save you here. They don't like aristos, here, whether they're English of French."

"I have a house full of witnesses that will swear I never left the house after Harry left it," rebutted Snape, his own voice cold.

"You can pay servants to say whatever you like," Sirius countered, waving one hand dismissively.

"Remus Lupin was with me nearly two hours after dawn yesterday," Severus said, fingers clenching and unclenching as if about to reach for his wand.

"Remus is in Paris?" Sirius said, and his voice had gone strange.

Severus lifted his chin defiantly. "He sailed back to England last night."

Even dazed Harry saw Sirius's hand flash and his wand suddenly was in it. Severus's hand, still clasped in Harry's, jerked as if it ached to do the same.

"Sirius, no," Harry moaned, struggling to sit up, weighted down more by the mound of blankets than his own weakness.

"You said you didn't see who it was," replied Sirius, the tip of the wand dangerously close to Severus's chin.

"I saw the carriage. It wasn't his. Whoever it was came in a closed curricle." He felt Severus's fingers jerk again but then they relaxed. Sirius had lowered his wand.

"That doesn't prove anything," Sirius said, his eyes narrowing as they skirted over Severus's face. Harry could tell by the way Severus's fingers clenched tightly that he was controlling himself by the barest of threads.

"If he'd wanted to hurt me or kill me, he could have just followed me from his house and done it in some alley where you'd never find me. Not right in front of my own house. Honestly! Whoever it was lay in wait here because they didn't know I was at Severus's last night." He gave Severus's fingers a reassuring squeeze. All he wanted to do was slump back under the blankets and maybe sleep for a few more days, or better still, tug Severus under with him and curl up in his arms.

Sirius was calling down the stairs for food to be brought up, and strong hot tea. Once the news spread that Harry was awake, Gargery insisted on bringing the tray up himself. Sirius managed to hold off questioning him further until Harry had eaten an entire bowl of cook's heartiest beef stew before hearing what Harry could remember.

Admittedly the meal did make Harry feel better. Severus had only reluctantly released his hand to allow Harry to eat but remained by his bedside. Now that Harry was more fully awake he noticed that Sirius had not shaved and that there were puffy circles under his eyes.

Harry did his best to relate as much as he could remember about the attack. When he was done Severus and Sirius exchanged a look Harry could not interpret.

"He shouldn't stay in Paris," Severus said slowly.

"What?" asked Harry, blinking at the both of them.

"I agree," said Sirius, pacing several times back and forth in front of the bedroom door.

"You do?" Harry said, feeling very thick.

Sirius brightened--and for such a brilliant actor, he was quite unconvincing. "You should get some rest," he said solicitously giving what could only be described as a significant look at Severus.

"Oh no," Harry said, crossing both arms over his chest in protest. "You aren't going to shunt me off like a child while you decide what's to be done with me."

Sirius tried to look consoling but it was Severus who spoke. "Harry's right. He's been of age for several years now."

Now Sirius looked like he wanted to reach for his wand again and was holding on by the slimmest of measures.

"I think he should come back with me to England," said Severus. Both Harry's and Sirius's mouths dropped open.

"To England--" Sirius said.

"With you--" said Harry.

Harry smiled.

Sirius did not.

"I accept," Harry said.

"I disagree," said Sirius.

"I thought you might," Severus said, though Harry wasn't certain if he was addressing one or both of them.

"You've admitted you want me out of Paris," protested Harry to his godfather, who had gone back to glowering.

"Not with him," Sirius replied. Yes, definitely glowering.

Very slowly Severus rose to his feet and faced Sirius. "Is your objection merely to me or what has transpired between Harry and myself?"

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm at the boldness but lifted his chin when Sirius's piercing gaze turned toward him. Before he could reply however, Severus went on.

"Surely you know that there is no power on earth that could give me cause to harm Lily's son."

For a long moment no one spoke. Then Sirius nodded, looking very grave, as if some fundamental truth had passed between them. Harry slumped back against the headboard, not certain if he was relieved or tired, only that he was glad the two people he cared most about were not going to come to blows, or call each other out on the field of honor. At least not right now, he amended groggily as his energy drained away and he slipped back into slumber.

He awoke to the low murmur of voices but when his eyelids fluttered open he realized he was alone in his bedroom. The door was open and the voices came drifting in from the hallway. Harry tried moving and realized he felt much better than the last time he'd woken up.

Then the memories of that pushed him further toward wakefulness. Was he really going to England with Severus?

The door swung open and Sirius entered. "How are you feeling?" he asked, dropping into the chair by the bed.

Harry stretched, taking stock. "Better," he replied as Sirius grinned and fished in his waistcoat pocket. He pulled out a stoppered vial, no longer than his smallest finger, and handed it over.

"Drink this," he instructed. Harry pulled out the cork and sniffed it. "You've already had two of them while you slept." Harry tipped the vial into his mouth. "I suppose Snape knows a thing or two about potions."

The liquid spread warmly in his belly, or perhaps it was the mention of Severus's name that made him tingle. "Am I really going to England?" he asked, still uncertain it had not all been an especially happy dream.

Sirius's expression darkened. "Much as I hate to admit Severus Snape is right about anything, I'd rather see you sail away with him than lying crumpled on the pavement ever again."

He shuddered and visibly came back to himself. "You know I have a brother, Regulus, in London. Now, if you need help--"

"I thought you'd been disowned," Harry replied, curiously. Sirius had never explained exactly why he'd been disowned.

Sirius cleared his throat roughly. "Of course I have. Regulus got himself married and sired a passel of dutiful Blacks to carry on the family name. Reg has it all but he's kept in touch over the years." He fished in his pocket and pulled out and handed him a folded piece of parchment. "He won't turn you away if you need help."

Harry nodded and laid it on the nightstand beside his spectacles. Sirius followed the parchment with a slim gold key, explaining about wizarding banks and the money his parents had left him. He had to explain about the goblins who ran it since all the goblins had fled France ages ago when they'd been heralded as a local delicacy. England also had something called butter beer, which sounded quite exotic to Harry who had only ever had wine to drink.

"Gargery has packed your trunk and Snape assures me he has a whole flock of owls--" The gruff voice broke slightly and Harry reached out and placed his hand over Sirius's larger one. Sirius squeezed his fingers. "If he does anything to you, anything at all--"

"I trust him, Sirius, with my life," replied Harry.

"And I trust you," Sirius continued, "but it may not be your life in jeopardy." Before Harry could reply, Sirius stretched on the stool. "You've an uncommon sense about you."

"Thanks to you," Harry said, flinging back the covers and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He felt strong enough to run to London himself.

Luckily no such effort was required. Severus's coach came for him as planned the next day. He'd felt well enough to dress and take supper downstairs and report the incident to the local wizard liaison who assured him everything would be done to find the culprit. Harry put no faith in the assurance--the Revolutionary Committee was too busy chopping off heads to prosecute actual crimes these days. When the coach arrived, accompanied by several burly footmen, the groom swung down from the post seat to pull the door open and fold out the step. Harry was disappointed, however, to realize that the coach was empty. "Where is Sir Severus?" he asked the groom.

The be-wigged groom cleared his throat. "The master will meet you aboard his yacht, the Dreamless Sleep, sir." The door swung shut and the groom climbed back up with the driver and they were off.

Harry watched at the window eagerly until they got to the city gates. Sirius had made sure he had his papers, which were duly presented for inspection. Another guard, sporting a Revolutionary rosette, inspected the bags piled on the top of the carriage.

The guard walked around the carriage, still holding Harry's papers. "What have we here?" he asked, pressing the tip of his bayonet into an oak barrel.

"Wine, sir, bound for Sir Severus's estate in England," replied the groom, sounding very bored.

The guard's contempt was plainly writ upon his face. "The English grow their grapes as pale and weak as their women," he said, waving the barrels back onto the cart. Two liveried footmen hastened to obey, lashing the barrels back in place before the carriage got underway.

Once outside the city, Harry succumbed to the excitement of the previous few days and drowsed on his bench, bunching the lap robe up for a pillow against the jostling carriage. His dozing dreams flittered full of daring rescues and breathless escapes, galloping hoof beats blending in with the more measured pace of the coach. Harry's eyelids fluttered open. It did sound like they were galloping. He frowned and sat up. The carriage was still swaying along at a sedate pace.

He peered outside the carriage window. One of the footmen, now astride a horse, was galloping away, off the well-rutted path until Harry lost sight of him in the trees.

Later when the carriage pulled level with the more traveled road to the port of Calais, he blinked sleepily, uncertain whether the galloping footman had been part of his dreams. All dreams were forgotten as the carriage pulled into the city. Harry plastered himself close to the window as the vista broadened and salt air tinged the breeze. He had rarely been out of Paris before and never to such an exotic place as Calais.

The wharfs were teeming with more ships than Harry had ever seen--tall masted frigates down to sturdy fishing boats. Flags of all countries decorated the tops of the swaying masts, and languages Harry could not name flew from wharf to wharf on the tongues of sailors of all descriptions. Harry imagined himself taking on the role of a sailor in a play, wondering if he would look like one the group of pale, fair-haired men with arms as big around as one of Harry's legs who hauled ropes beside a rigged ship, or like the line of shorter, swarthier men, each with a straight line of corded black hair down their back, raising a layered sail on their ship. He saw no hooks but he did spot a few peg legs and once he thought he caught sight of a parrot, fluttering from one mast to another.

The carriage made its way toward the quays, knocking against costermongers and wagons, drays and donkeys, making its way down the bustling wharfs. He saw at once that the carriage was picking its way toward a slim schooner flying the Union Jack. Harry's heart fluttered like the pennant when he spotted Severus standing near the bow, too anxious to note that a single footman began hoisting off his trunks as he bounded up the gangplank.

"Feeling better?" Sir Severus said as Harry ducked under the rigging and met him near the bow with a broad grin.

"Much improved," Harry replied, "thanks to you."

"A simple restorative," said Severus, folding the heavy map in his gloved hand and handing it off to the captain.

"I am in your debt, sir," Harry said, mindful of the politely hovering captain.

For a moment he thought Severus would wave the debt away with another of his negligent gestures. Instead he said, "You can repay it by living a very long time."

Harry shivered at the low intensity of his voice, as if a goose had walked over his grave. Then he turned to make light of his reaction. "I intend to, m'sieur. It is only on stage that I meet my early demise."

Soon they were both caught up in the flurry of activity as the ship cast off. Severus guided them up to the prow and stood beside him as the sails filled and the sleek schooner slipped away from the teeming docks of Calais and into the channel. Harry smiled up at Severus as the wind whipped his hair behind him.

"You'll enjoy England, I think," Severus said, one hand on the rail. The strong breezes that filled the sails threatened to steal the words away but Harry heard him because they were standing quite close--perhaps closer that propriety would strictly dictate.

Harry cast his eyes towards his new home somewhere across the channel. "I shall like England with you in it," he said. He had never been curious about the land of his parents' birth, for he had never known them, save in the stories Sirius had told about their school days. He looked back to see that Severus looked pensive.

"Harry, you know I am back and forth between London and Paris quite a bit," he said, obviously choosing his words with care.

Harry had of course known this as an obscure point about Severus, though until this moment, had never realized the import of being alone in a strange country. Traveling back and forth with him would defeat the purpose of leaving home for his own safety.

He tried to make light of it, lifting one shoulder negligently. "As long as you are not having assignations with anyone else," he said, though he realized too he had no claim on Severus's affections in that direction either.

Severus's lazy gaze dropped to Harry's mouth and Harry knew instantly that Severus wanted to kiss him--perhaps even as much as Harry wanted to be kissed. Instead he said, "With you here, there isn't quite anyone left in Paris worth the bother."

Harry glanced to either side, as if checking to make sure they were alone before imparting a great secret. "You could take me to your cabin, monsieur, and convince me."

The fine dark brows shot up. "On a yacht?" Then his expressive features turned crafty. "I suppose, as an invalid, you should get your rest on the voyage."

Harry knew a cue when he heard one. He staggered a bit and flung one arm out blindly. Severus reached out to steady him, a solicitous look on his face. His voice was noticeably louder when he said, "Are you quite all right?"

Harry laid the back of his hand against his brow. "I think it would do me good to rest a while, monsieur," he replied, over-loudly, in case the prevailing winds whipped his words away from the crew's ears.

"Of course, of course," said Severus, offering his arm politely.

Harry's gratitude was not feigned when he took it. "Very kind of you," he replied as they passed the captain, who, to judge by his smirk, was not a fan of theater.

"No trouble at all," Sir Severus said, pushing open the door to the deck below. There were several narrow stairs so Severus went down first. Harry slid his hand along the teak paneling and followed, all pretense of infirmity fallen away.

"We did not fool anyone, I think," observed Harry just before Severus pushed him against the wall for a hard kiss.

"The proprieties must be observed," Severus replied, though it seemed he was less concerned with propriety just now, as he was with catching his breath for the next kiss.

There was only a short passage to the cabin but Harry was kissed down what felt like every inch of it. Together they pushed open the teak door, arms locked around each other, Severus's hand fumbling blindly for the doorknob. Harry had a glimpse of the well-appointed cabin before he spotted the only object in it that held any interest for him--the bed.

"I think my proprieties need to be observed right now," he panted, hoisting himself onto the lush array of pillows.

Harry's frothy Hedwig cravat gave way under Severus's determined tugging. "I daresay you could do with a bit of polishing before your entrance into Society," said Severus.

He had not forgotten the joy of pushing his fingers through Severus's long hair but it was a pleasure to renew that joy as he tugged it loose from its queue . The forced inactivity of his confinement had made him restless and he could think of no better outlet for his energy than to learn the ways of pleasing his lover.

"I am very sure that parts of you could do with a little polishing yourself," said Harry, pushing on one still waist-coated shoulder. One brow quirked in surprise and a smirk flirted around the equally fine mouth, but Severus acquiesced and allowed Harry change places with him and guide him back into the pillows.

There were rather well-tailored obstacles to his goal but Harry was equally good at costume changes under adverse conditions. He had both frockcoats awaiting the attention of the valet and was opening buttons with the dedication he had heretofore devoted to learning his lines. Severus, a true gentleman, would allow no one to touch his cravat, but himself.

Harry had no time to study the intricacy of the knot as he transferred his attentions to the buff trousers covering Severus's long legs. Boots, then trousers came away before Severus was in a suitable state for polishing.

"Magnifique," Harry murmured as he slid the hot, silky flesh of Severus's cock across his cheek. He rubbed his fingertip across the damp trail it left, sucking the salty tip into his mouth with relish.

"I see you are much recovered," groaned Severus from amid the pile of velvet pillows. There was satisfaction in his gaze and perhaps something more basic--a hunger that Harry felt certain clawed at himself as well.

"I am young and recover quickly," said Harry impishly. Snape's smile appeared quite agreeable to this. His prick seemed equally agreeable. The flesh was just as silken in Harry's mouth, still delightfully hard, yet yielding to Harry's still inexpert tongue. He traced around the head with his tongue, then back up to savor the renewed burst of dew leaking from the slit.

A guttural moan from the depths of the pillows alerted Harry that the previous single lesson in this art had not gone amiss. He was determined to improve on that lesson even though his throat gagged quite against his will as he lowered down too quickly.

"Slow down, cherie," coaxed Severus, "No pleasure is made more agreeable by rushing through it."

Harry imagined himself as a character in a particularly bawdy play--the sort Sirius had never let him read. The script called for him to be worldly and well-versed in the arts of pleasure. It was a technique he had employed before with mixed results. Severus, of course, had seen through it at once.

But it did allow Harry to slow his strokes, to focus on how the soft bollocks shifted and warmed in his hand when he cupped them against his palm. His foray into fantasy also seemed to attenuate his senses to Severus's reactions: the shifting legs, the increasingly restless moans, the final and the near-desperate gasp just before he flooded Harry's mouth with bitter seed.

Harry was not averse to the flavor, though it took more than one swallow to make sure he had got it all. He was not disappointed that the granting of such pleasure had no effect on his own greedy prick, though he had not quite got the knack of stroking himself while immersed in doing it.

Next time, he promised himself, looking up from his slumping prize.

Severus, in repletion, the color high on his cheeks, hair tangled from his thrashing, was truly worth his prick's current discomfort, though it twitched to remind him that Dover was not yet in sight.

"I see you are a quick study," said Severus, still panting, unclenching his fingers from Harry's hair.

"You are a very inspiring teacher," Harry said, hoping he was not misreading the predatory glint in Severus's eyes as he peeled away from the pillows. A shiver went through him as he sprawled back on the bed, not with the intention of escaping, but of presenting a more inviting prey.

"You do not object to further lessons?" Severus growled, insinuating himself between Harry's legs and bending his head to the object of Harry's discomfort.

"No--oh no…no objection at all," Harry moaned, lost the moment Severus's lips touched his prick.

They made landing at Dover amid a flurry of sailor's calls. Harry stayed close to Sir Severus and still nearly got swept off the gangplank by a fast moving tangle of ropes. He wanted to take Severus's hand but knew that such things were frowned upon even more than in France.

The cacophony of English and other more foreign voices was also quite confusing, sending pointed reminders with each shout that Harry was no longer in the land he had always considered home. The ships were moored so close together that sailors could call ship to ship, sharing news and jokes.

Once on the wharf Harry was propositioned by prostitutes of both sexes. He waved them away easily, being used to the fleet that congregated around the theaters of Paris. Even though he did not understand every offer called out to him, he simply shrugged and pointed at Severus. More than one disappointed gaze followed them to the waiting carriage.

A footman sprang down to open the carriage door for them. Severus gestured Harry in first. "Aren't we going to wait until the wine is loaded?" Harry asked, spotting their trunks already atop the carriage.

Oddly enough, for a moment Severus looked blank. "Wine? Oh…the wine. It's being loaded onto a wagon with other things bound for the manor."

With a shrug, Harry climbed in, sliding over to make room for Severus, only to be disappointed when he took the opposite seat. "How do you like England so far?" Severus asked, taking a pinch of snuff.

Harry peered out the small carriage window. "It's very loud," he admitted, as Severus brushed the snuff from his fingertips. The carriage had not moved at all. Harry was beginning to wonder if they were waiting for something or someone else to arrive.

"It will be quieter in the country," Severus said, sliding over on the padded bench to make room and patting the space in invitation. "I'm sorry you won't be seeing very much of the countryside just now."

Harry scrambled over. "I will not?" trying to remember to speak English.

Severus tucked his arm firmly into his own. "We're in England now. There's no reason we can't Apparate." Something jerked Harry behind the navel.

"Mon Dieu!" Harry gasped.

The oath was swallowed up by the blur of Side-Along Apparition. He clung to Severus's well-tailored sleeve until his feet once again found purchase. All at once there was a solid drive beneath his shoes. He stumbled slightly against the reassuring weight of Severus, opening his eyes. They were standing on a pebbled drive in front of the great bulk of a house.

"Welcome home," Severus said as Harry's astonished gaze traveled up the sandy old stone, over gables and rows of mullioned windows. There were at least two storeys, not including, Harry supposed, the upper servants' rooms and the lower kitchens and storerooms. At either end were two circular towers that probably had lovely views of the grounds.

In front of them stood a deeply set arched doorway, behind which bustled an array of halls and additions, chimneys arrayed along the center. The walls of the court enclosed a modest garden with topiaries lining the symmetrical criss-cross paths.

"No moat?" Harry asked, as Severus stood back and let him look his fill. The house had the air of one that had been added to over the years, and not always by architects who understood Muggle proprieties.

"I suppose we could put one in," Severus said, gesturing with his quizzing glass.
We're close to the river so it wouldn't be a problem to fill." Harry laughed. "There is a maze, if that's any consolation."

Harry could barely believe he was going to live here. He had known Severus was quite wealthy but this was the finest house he had ever seen. Of course he had never been allowed near the houses of the aristocracy in France to enable a comparison but he couldn't imagine anything grander than this.

"Plenty of privacy for broom riding," Severus pointed out as they walked through the stone arch of the doorway. The door itself was arched as well, old oak bound with dark iron. "Warded of course." He had his wand out to tap the door. Before he could, however, the door swung open as if by itself. Then Harry looked down and saw a house elf with large bat-like ears and huge eyes.

"Ah, Harry, this is Blakeney, the butler," Severus said, by way of introduction.

Blakeney, the house-elf bowed and stepped aside to admit them.

"Blakeney, this is Harry Potter, the young man I wrote you about," Severus went on. "He'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future."

The elf inclined his head with great dignity. "How do you do?" he said, in a high squeaky voice.

"How do you do?" replied Harry in his inexpert English.

"Lumbago is acting up a bit, sir," said the elf, in a stiffly formal tone.

"That's enough, Blakeney," Severus cut in sternly and the elf bowed again. "Blakeney came with the house," he explained, doffing his gloves, hat and coat. Harry followed suit, taking in the grand entranceway. Unlike Severus's townhouse in Paris there were no paintings in the hall or the wide staircase that led to the upper floors. Instead the walls were festooned with what looked like a very fine weapons collection. There were both wizard and Muggle swords and armor, goblin-made and human forged. Lining the upper walls across the top of the entryway were a row of shields with heraldic designs, also a mixture of wizarding and purely Muggle. Most looked as if they'd been used in battle at least once, one was even split down the middle and left slightly gaping on its display.

Severus, noticing his regard, said, "Most of these came with the house as well, though I've discovered an interest in them myself."

"No portraits of past Snapes?" Harry asked, adding his coat on top of Severus's in the elf's outstretched arms, piled so high that he could no longer see Blakeney's long pointed nose.

"There are plenty of those," Severus admitted with a slight shudder. "Nosey gossips, the lot of them. Re-hung them in the parlors."

Harry laughed as Blakeney tottered off, his crisp tea towel hanging past his knees.

"Come, let me show you the house," Severus bade and they spent a cheerful afternoon prowling through the aforementioned parlors, the empty ballroom, the dining hall and even the kitchens. The servants were divided between house-elves and humans, humans being mostly footmen, whose main requirement seemed to be that they were tall and burly, and grooms. The kitchen was full of spotlessly tea towel-clad house elves, headed up by the impressive Blakeney, who had deposited their coats and rejoined the staff by the time Harry and Severus arrived in the kitchens. Ffolkes, Severus's valet was at that moment below stairs, and he bobbed excitedly to see Harry again.

Harry's favorite room had been Severus's study: lined with books; with two fireplaces, one at either end, a huge, sturdy desk and a large portrait of Severus himself. The painted figure was dozing, but resembled Severus enough now that Harry guessed it had been painted only a few years earlier.

"I had it done right after I inherited the title," Severus explained, coming up behind Harry. The portrait Severus's arms were folded across its chest, face dropping in slumber, but Harry liked it all the same.

Outside, the cart and carriage arrived with a great clatter and Harry and Severus moved to the wide, sunny window to observe the arrival. More burly footmen scrambled to help with the trunks and casks of wine, as the groom steadied the horses. Harry's Gallic soul was impressed that the footmen were, if anything, more careful with the casks than they were with the trunks.

They watched until the carriage was led away, sitting on the edge of the open window. "Blakeney and Ffolkes will have your trunks upstairs by now. Come, I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" questioned Harry, then was instantly embarrassed by his presumption.

Severus, who had slid off the sill, stopped and turned. Harry attempted a carefree expression as if being shunted to a guest room had been his deepest wish. Severus sat back on the sill, regarding Harry gravely. "You are a guest in my house, no matter what else you are to me," he explained. "Having your own room gives you a choice where to sleep, not an obligation."

Harry was happy to follow Severus then as they went upstairs, turning right at the top and along a wide hall. Suits of armor stood at each end of the corridor, and several landscapes and a framed collection of wands lined the walls, which were only broken by two doors.

Both doors had been left ajar and Severus led them into the first one, a large airy room, very fashionably appointed. Again there were no portraits, just a rather lush still-life of fruit. Harry's trunks were piled up at the foot of a very high, canopied bed. "The elves will unpack for you if you like," Severus explained, "but I like to do it myself, so the decision is, of course, up to you."

"No, I'll do it," said Harry, still admiring the room, which was nearly the size of the entire downstairs of the house he had lived in in Paris. On the wall opposite the armoire was another door, also slightly ajar. Harry approached it with curiosity, looking back at Severus, who nodded for him to continue.

Beyond was another bedroom, matching Harry's own. Another set of trunks, that Harry had most recently seen atop the carriage beside his, lay at the foot of the bed. The fireplaces ran along the same wall, and like Severus's room in Paris, there were two large heavy armoires adjacent to the bed. The rooms were so similar in design and décor that Harry guessed, "For the master and the mistress?"

Severus's smirk was all he needed to confirm his guess. "Or the master and his mister. The guest rooms are along the east hall. I suppose the past masters and mistresses valued their privacy." Harry felt a blossom of warmth spread through his limbs. As much as he appreciated the choice of beds, he knew which one he wished for tonight.

Harry did not sleep in the canopied bed in his own room that night, nor any of the others that followed. Not even when Severus announced, after several blissfully debauched weeks, that he had put things off too long and he must sail to France. Harry did not pout about it, for he had been warned such a thing would happen and he did not want Severus's last sight of him as he Apparated to the docks, to be sulky and unhappy. He even tried not to begrudge the extra time it would take to sail back and forth, since the French restrictions against its own wizards inconvenienced visiting wizards as well.

He did not even consider sleeping in his own bed the first night Severus was away. For though he appreciated having a place of his own to dress and bathe--on those occasions when he did not bathe with Severus--he much preferred the room next door for nearly everything else.

Severus's bed was unfashionably not canopied. Instead the ceiling over it had been charmed to show the sky outside. Harry had heard of such things--the great wizard school where his parents had gone had been charmed that way. Clutching Severus's pillow in his arms, he lay awake watching the stars forming their star charts overhead until he fell asleep.

There was plenty to do to keep himself occupied. The house had a lavish library, scrupulously attended by ruffled tea-toweled maids, supervised by Marguerite, the housekeeper, who seemed to be Blakeney's wife, though Harry had not known that house-elves married, though he supposed they must, considering all the little house-elf tots he'd seen in the kitchens. Harry had learned only to inquire about Blakeney's health once or twice a day lest he be treated to a host of twinges and aches that plagued the aged elf. Dewhurst, lately promoted from under-butler to Harry's manservant, took great delight in teaching him various English methods of tying fashionable cravats.

When Harry's restless body demanded exercise, there was a stable and acres of park to explore on horseback, or by foot. Harry had only the most basic riding skills so he stuck mostly to long walks by the river. There was even, as Severus had promised, a hedge maze, though Harry had yet to venture into its murky depths, preferring more vigorous forms of exercise when Severus was at home.

There were also letters to write, for Sirius's first letter had come the second day after Harry's arrival and he'd written faithfully ever since. There had been a short, polite letter from Sirius's brother, Regulus, inviting him for a visit should he chance to find himself in London. The London season had not yet begun, of course, though Severus had explained that he owned a townhouse in a fashionable part of London should they decide to brave the social whirl when it really began.

On the fourth day there were two letters on the salver that Blakeney presented every morning over breakfast. One, on heavy parchment, bore Severus's Paris address. The second had no return address but was sealed with an embossed wafer. Curious, Harry opened it first and scanned the contents. Phrases rose up from the expensive parchment like 'come to your senses' and 'mutual interests'. Huffing in indignation Harry rose and tossed it on the fire. Amazed at Draco's--for such had the missive been from--cheek, Harry returned to his seat and the second, more welcome letter.

Though he made no mention of his business in Paris, Severus's letter was full of things Harry wanted to know: Your godfather is well. He didn't actually toss me out on my arse when I called, though I'm sure he wrote to you as soon as I departed.

Harry had, of course, heard from Sirius directly about their brief visit. To hear him tell it, he had been the soul of genteel politeness when Severus had called.

It was the best Harry had felt since Severus had left for Paris. Folding the letter and tucking it by his plate, he perused the Daily Prophet while breaking his fast. The Duc d'laCour and all three of his children had vanished from their cell after receiving a priest for their last confessions before the tumbrel had arrived. The only sign had been a calling card with the humble asphodel flower stamped upon it pinned to the door of the empty cell.

French authorities had, according to the reports, been outraged. The Prophet ascribed the rescue to the Black Asphodel and mentioned that bets were now being taken in certain gentlemen's clubs as to how soon M. le Duc and his children would join the other émigrés in British society.

It was Harry's habit to take exercise after breakfast. After thanking Blakeney, he decided on a walk down by the riverfront. He took Severus's letter and re-read it several times on the mossy bank. Harry sat there for some time staring out at the softly rippling waters, until it was almost time for lunch. He had never thought much about those who had been arrested and beheaded, save those names he'd known in the wizarding community. The Fortescues had been the only family he'd known personally and they had been rescued by the Black Asphodel. Harry had been outraged by the violence but his own life had been full of rehearsals and admirers and he had never spoken out about the events swirling around him.

He rose and made his way slowly to his room to tuck the letter away in his cupboard. He had just closed the doors when suddenly he heard the rattle of a coach outside. Surely it couldn't be -- Harry ran to his bedroom window just in time to see the Snape carriage clatter into view on the cobblestone driveway.

Pressing his nose against the window, Harry craned to see the carriage's occupant. Surely Severus would have just Apparated as they had done a few weeks before, he reasoned. The heavy old glass distorted the outline of the groom who jumped down to open the carriage door.

Harry's heart leaped in his chest when Severus climbed out of the carriage. As Harry watched, Severus reached back inside. At first Harry wondered whether he had been accompanied by another passenger, perhaps one who could not Apparate. Instead Severus pulled out a large birdcage, setting it down on the drive. When he opened the door, four white doves fluttered out, circled Severus's head several times with dizzying speed, then shot out across the grounds.

When Severus turned toward the arched door Harry raced out of his room and down the stairs to meet him. He was at the bottom of the grand staircase by the time Severus had his cloak and gloves off.

Even though Severus must have been traveling for hours he looked immaculately turned out, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to greet Harry.

"You're home!" Harry announced.

"So it would appear," came the warm reply.

"Why didn't you Apparate from the docks?" Harry asked, his curiosity about the birds overcoming his natural inclination to throw himself into Severus's arms.

"I had cargo I wished to personally escort," Severus explained.

"Those birds?" Harry knew you couldn't Apparate living creatures like horses and, apparently, birds.

Severus arched one brow. "You saw?" Harry nodded. "French, er, nesting doves I'm hoping will take up residence in the park."

Harry had stopped several steps from the bottom, one hand trailing down the banister. The position put him at a height so that Severus had to look up to speak directly to him. He found he could watch the exquisite play of Severus's eyebrows much better from here. He took a step backward when Severus advanced up one stair.

"What have you been doing while I was in Paris?" Severus asked, leaning in slightly.

"Wasting away from missing you," replied Harry, looking around to make sure Blakeney had departed with the coat and gloves. "Would you like to see?" He reached for the buttons of his waistcoat.

Severus, as hoped, looked scandalized. "On the stairs?" he gasped.

Harry laughed and scampered back a few steps. "You did not miss me at all," he said with a feigned pout. "Not to wish to throw me down on the carpet and have your way with me as soon as you've come through the door."

Severus seemed to sense Harry's playfulness and trod up several more of the steps, Harry retreating out of reach with each one. "It is a very fine carpet," Severus stated, as if thinking it over.

"Better than my arse?" Harry asked, turning just slightly sideways to display the arse in question.

"Hmm, perhaps you'd better let me see it again so that I may judge," murmured Severus, looming over him as he climbed inexorably up the stairs, one or two steps below Harry.

Harry hung his head. "I knew you would forget me amid all the distractions of Paris," he moaned, fingers trailing over his own chest like a maiden about to succumb to the vapors.

At that moment, Severus struck, quick as a viper. Harry's legs flew out from under him, knocking him flat onto the landing at the top of the stairs, aided by Severus's weight pushing him down onto the admittedly fine carpet.

"Forget?" Severus growled, his mouth close enough to Harry's for a kiss. "Nothing is as distracting as this sweet mouth," he breathed, distracting Harry with the heat of the promised kiss.

"Just my mouth?" Harry said, not at all done with teasing though it was much harder to think as he slid his arms around Severus's neck.

Severus slid one finger along Harry's jaw. "Your chin is quite fine as well," he drawled, following the fingertip with his lips.

Harry managed, despite the sweep of lust creeping through his veins, to snort quietly in disbelief. "You must have found another lover in Paris if you won't even ravish me properly."

"How can I ravish you if you won't keep still?" complained Severus, but it was Harry's mirth not his ardor that shook his body against Severus's. Then they were kissing again, half on, half off the landing and Harry's ardor shoved his mirth away. His buckled shoes knocked against Severus's Hessian boots, the echo of it sounding in the cavernous hallway.

They both went still, mid-kiss, when a squeaky, if stentorian voice called from below. "Is that you, sir?" It was Blakeney, calling from the foot of the stairs. "And…er, Master Harry? I heard a noise and--"

Harry tried to imagine the view from the house-elf's angle, of Harry's legs dangling off the landing enclosed between Severus's, their soles knocking together. His head popped up, looking at Severus and grinning. "I, er, fell, and Severus--Sir Severus--was helping me up," he called out.

There was a soft elf-sized snort from below. "Very good, sir, welcome home."

Harry woke up the next morning feeling thoroughly ravished even though the bed beside him was empty. He let his thoughts linger on the delights of the afternoon and evening past, then on the one ahead before climbing out of bed.

Once dressed he let his nose lead him downstairs to the breakfast room. Severus was already seated, the newspaper propped up in front of him. Once again the headlines concerned the Duc d'laCour who had presented himself and his children at the embassy for asylum in London.

Severus was not, however, alone. Remus Lupin was seated several chairs away, leaving the one beside Severus free. Good mornings were exchanged while Harry helped himself to eggs and sausages from the sideboard.

As before, Monsieur Lupin was plainly dressed. Harry remembered from their brief meeting in Paris that Lupin was Severus's steward, though Harry was not exactly sure what that entailed. He had the feeling they'd been discussing something in the paper before Harry came down but the conversation turned easily to other topics. Lupin asked him how he liked England and Harry admitted he had not seen very much of it. He also inquired after Harry's godfather, to the simmering amusement of Severus.

Lupin's mission, it turned out, was to go over the account books, which he assured Harry with nearly Gallic eye-rolling, that he would not require Severus for, preferring the privacy of the study and the soft complaints of Blakeney.

"Have you been in the maze yet?" Lupin asked Harry and at his negative, turned once again to Severus, "There, you see, you haven't shown him anything."

It was difficult for Harry to maintain his innocent expression when Severus had dropped one hand onto his leg and had been inching it upward under the breakfast table. Severus's expression, when he drew his hand back to dab his napkin over his mouth suggested what he wanted to show Harry and it had nothing to do with mazes.

Nevertheless they let Lupin shoo them out of the house with a cheery, "And don't let him cheat and Apparate to the center." It was a fine day, not as hot as it would undoubtedly get as the season wore on. They strolled across the lawn side by side, past the stables where they looked in on the horses.

The maze lay beyond the stables, not quite as far as the forest which served as the border of the property. The hedges were very thick and nearly twice as tall as Severus. The heavy scent of boxwoods hung in the unmoving air.

"What's at the center?" Harry asked, running his fingertips along the short outer branches.

"A fountain, I believe," replied Severus, propping his boot against the stone bench just outside the entrance of the maze.

"Haven't you been inside?"

They had reached the break in the greenery that bespoke the entrance. Shadowed trails led off to either side. "Not since I was a boy, before I went to school," admitted Severus. "My cousin Clyde hosted a house party when he first came into the title." The thin lips pulled into a smirk. "Before he took to drink."

"Not since then?" Harry asked in delight. Wordlessly Severus shook his head. His long hair, when they were not alone in the privacy of his bedroom, was always properly tied back in a queue, though a strand of it habitually slipped free on one side of his face. "Is it a magic fountain at least?"

Severus leaned forward and kissed him in the shadow of the maze. They were well out of sight of the house, and even of the horses. "It seemed like it when I was a child," he murmured.

"Then we should go and find it," Harry said, pulling his mouth away to speak. Before Severus could distract him again, Harry Apparated just inside the maze. He was just far enough in to see Severus's eyes narrow in challenge.

"What does the winner get?" called Severus, following Harry by more normal means, inside the maze, taking the opposite branch.

Harry was walking backwards, away from Severus, nearing the first turning. "Whatever he wants!" he called back.

"How about he gets to paddle your bottom for being such a wicked tease?" Severus asked, retreating down the opposite grassy corridor.

"Sounds like you expect to win!" Harry cried with a laugh as he darted around the first turn.

The race, it seemed, was on. Harry tried to listen for cheating pops of Apparition, but the leafy walls muffled sound. The sun was still bright overhead as he took one turning after another but its warmth did not seem to penetrate the thick walls of the maze. It was, however, peaceful as Harry wandered along, taking turns at random, though he dead-ended more than once. He huffed in exasperation at the latest one and retraced his steps, taking the alternate branch. Was that the faint splash of water ahead?

Heart racing, Harry quickened his steps. The leafy tunnels seemed to brighten with every step as though the sun too had solved the maze. Grinning with delight, Harry rounded the leafy corner.

"What kept you?"

Severus, sitting on a brightly colored green quilt that he had most certainly not had when they'd left the house, smirked at him, fanning himself with a spray of leaves.

"Cheater!" Harry cried without venom. He stepped pointedly over Severus's outstretched legs and stopped to admire the fountain. It was several heads taller than he was, quite old and heavy, though the water was clear as it splashed into the greenish basin. "It doesn't look very magical," he commented. He ran a finger around an incised flower design cut into the stone basin.

"I think Cousin Clyde just told us that to send the children into the maze so he could drink in peace."

Harry laughed and flung himself down on the quilt. Judging by the leaf pattern he guessed Severus had transfigured it from a handful of boxwood leaves. "You're a much better baronet than he was anyway," he grinned, turning so he could straddle the spray of legs.

Apparently Severus had been in the center long enough to transform a few more leaves into fluffy pillows with trailing leaves for tassels. "How do you know? Perhaps my own cousins are desperately plotting to kill me and wrest the title from me before I beget some brat and heir," replied Severus.

Harry went still, his smile frozen into place. He had not considered this. "You would have to marry to do that," he said with a lightness he did not feel. "Well, not beget a brat, of course, but to get an heir you--" The French aristos, Harry knew, were notoriously concerned with securing their own bloodlines, wizarding and Muggle alike.

Severus pulled him down and kissed him to shut him up. "I'm not planning to marry," he said, sliding his arms around Harry's hips. "I was inverted long before I was a baronet and don't see the need to make some bit of muslin miserable just to pass on a title I inherited by accident."

"You might change your mind," Harry said, as his heart, which felt as though it had stopped momentarily, thudded once more in his chest. Harry had been raised in the theater and knew even the most profoundly inverted, when there were bloodlines to preserve, did their duty to their families.

Severus waved one hand dismissively before returning it to Harry's back. "I have an older cousin living very nicely on my other property in the north, on the expectation that I will not. His son will no doubt inherit the title and his daughters will marry well on the expectation."

"You do not mind being inverti?" Harry asked, enjoying Severus in this forthcoming mood. Here in the center of the maze the sun was warmer than it had been in the corridors. Harry wiggled upright and took off his coat, tossing it to the edge of the quilt.

"How can I when I have such an engaging young man straddling my legs?" replied Severus. He must have been warm too because his coat joined Harry's in the pile of silk superfine though it took considerably more wiggling since Harry was weighting down his legs.

Harry paused thoughtfully. "I will not always be young," he felt obliged to point out as he loosened his suddenly confining cravat.

"When you are not, you may not wish such a wicked baronet as your lover," Severus rebutted. He must have seen the sweat dewing Harry's brow because he began solicitously to unbutton Harry's linen shirt. "A wicked older baronet," he continued, drawing Harry's hands to his own shirt while he slid the cravat from its knot.

Something of the warmth of the day was making Harry's breeches feel very confining. "As long as you are always more wicked than you are old," replied Harry, pulling Severus's now idle fingers to the fastenings of his breeches. He shifted to accommodate the cooling process only to find the warmth had intensified once his bare skin was exposed to the summer air

"Ah," said Severus, as if the mysteries of the philosophers had been revealed. Harry decided to further share his methods for seeking relief from the heat, bending to tug the fine lawn breeches from Severus's body, adding them to the pile of clothing by the quilt's edge.

"How are we to judge this dividing line between my age and my wickedness?" Severus asked, taking Harry in his arms now that they had both done all they could to coax breezes to cool their skin off.

"Ah," Harry echoed. "As long as you are never too old to make love to me in the middle of a maze." He wasn't entirely certain Severus had heard him, busy as he was, trailing kisses among the dewy beads of sweat on Harry's throat.

It was not solely breezes from the rustling hedges that caressed his skin, but fingers that had sought and learned the ways to pleasure him. Harry was passive only long enough to encourage further caresses with a moan before his mouth latched around one nipple. Severus too had found his voice, groaning appreciatively as his fingertips stroked the dampened tendrils at the back of Harry's head. Harry explored other places with kisses, not minding the sweat-slick skin under his tongue when his own was in a similar condition.

Being naked had not cooled them off very much, not when the movement of bodies shifting and straining against each other generated its own sort of heat, quite apart for the heat of the day.

His feet were dangling off the edges of the quilt, before, with a sound of great effort, Severus pulled his mouth away and urged them both to shift. Harry nodded in agreement, mouth lowering around his prize. Salty smells mingled with the heavy perfume of the boxwoods, and the masculine aroma that lingered between Severus's legs.

Harry had taken the lessons of soixante neuf to heart, practicing with Severus every chance he got. He was not quite as good as Severus at caressing--oh!--that spot behind his balls while sucking but he did so love the challenge of each and every lesson.

For many long moments in the center of the maze the sun was the only witness to the entwined bodies below, the liquid sounds mingling with the soft, nearly unheard splashes from the fountain. A hoarse cry, that may have been a name broke the afternoon stillness, then another, a long moan filled with aching relief.

For a time too, the solar disk bore sole witness to those same two bodies, much slicker and sweatier than when they began, nestled together, voices low in celebration of their intimacy, not as a caution to their isolation.

So it was hand in hand that they made their way back to the mouth of the maze. They'd dressed again as a concession to modesty but even Severus had not seen the necessity of retying his cravat or of doing up all the buttons on his shirt.

Harry felt delightfully rumpled, proud of Severus's mussed state as they strolled the leafy corridors, fingers entwined.

"Severus?"

They both stopped at the sound, for it had come from outside the boxwoods.

"Are you in there?"

"That's Lupin," Severus said, fingers clenching involuntarily against Harry's. They hurried down the long, last corridor until they spotted the steward hovering near the entrance. It was only when they reached the gap in the hedgerow that Severus released Harry's hand. No one, beholding their disheveled state could wonder what they'd been up to, but Lupin did not seem to notice. His gaze skittered away from Harry's.

Severus angled one hand overhead, leaning against the boxwood, polite inquiry upon his face. Once again Lupin tried to look at Harry only to look down at his own buckled shoes instead. "What has happened?" Severus asked, picking up on Lupin's agitation.

"A courier arrived while you were…away. The Marquis d'Malfoy and all his family have been arrested in Paris," Lupin replied, his voice full of worry.

Harry gasped, stepping close enough to grasp Severus's arm.

"What charge?" demanded Severus.

Lupin was shaking his head. "The usual, sedition and treason to the Republic. Severus--"
He did not appear to wish to say whatever it was he had to say next.

"What? What?" Severus was leaning forward, straining as if to bring himself closer to the dire news.

"It was…Harry's name upon the warrant."

All the blood seemed to flee Harry's face as both men turned to face him. Then Severus shook his head. "Harry has been here, with me--"

"Not his signature, his name," Lupin explained in a troubled tone. "Executed by the Wizard Revolutionary Liaison DeCharne on evidence given by…by…"

"But I gave no such evidence," Harry protested. "And I've never even heard of this DeCharne person." He looked imploringly toward Severus. Severus's and Lupin's countenances were twin pictures of grimness.

"Did anyone speak to you after you were attacked?" Severus asked, his tone emotionless.

"Of course," Harry admitted, "That attack nearly killed--"

"And did you mention the Malfoys--any Malfoy--by name?" continued Severus relentlessly.

"Only that--" Harry felt all at once that he was trapped inside the maze and the high thick walls were closing in. "The investigator asked me if I had any…any lovers who might--"

Severus looked as though he were forcing himself to look at Harry, shuttering away the ease and happiness that had lain there only moments before.

"And I told him only that I had spurned Draco's advances," Harry finished with the feeling of closing himself up in an iron trap.

Severus's eyes glittered dangerously. "Advances?" Before Harry could explain Severus was upon him, wand suddenly in hand. "Legilimens!" he commanded.

Unbidden images of Draco pushed up to the surface of his brain--the supercilious smirk, the flirting glances, even the letter that had earned Harry's ire with its boldness. Harry wanted to protest that he hadn't accused Draco of anything, certainly not of sedition but words had deserted his tongue while Severus was rifling through his memories.

At last Severus drew back with a grunt like a wounded animal. There was no kindness on his face now. Vanished was the tender lover of only an hour ago. Without another glance at Harry, Severus whirled on his heel and stalked off several paces before Disapparating with an angry pop.

On to Part 4