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

The encounter with Regulus did, however, give Harry an idea. After being dutifully introduced to Regulus's wife and taking a turn around the dance floor with his blushing daughter, Harry made his excuses amid promises to visit them in London during the season.

Searching the throng for his quarry, Harry spotted Severus in one of the gaming rooms though there were no cards or dice in his hand. Harry allowed himself an unobserved look. He would miss England when he returned to Paris as he'd informed Regulus, and though Severus would never care, he would miss him too.

Enough. He had urgent business to complete this evening and his time was growing shorter.

Knowing what he must do, he cornered Draco Malfoy. "Heard you got lucky and got yourself rescued," he said as Draco lounged against a wall. Harry had contrived to maneuver him away from his parents, who were still regaling a revolving crowd with the dramatics of their escape.

"No thanks to you, Potter," Draco spat at him. "Safe and snug in Sir Severus's bed while we were rotting in prison."

"Looks like you didn't rot very much," Harry snorted. Draco was every inch as fashionable in his silver satin as he had been in Paris.

"Well, we were rescued, weren't we?" Draco drawled, looking very smug again.

"Bribed your way out, more like," retorted Harry.

"You know the Committee don't need bribes. They arrest us and take our lands and all our things--oh, well, you wouldn't know about that since you have to sleep with an aristo to have anything."

Harry ignored the burning anger in his belly at this barb and also the fact that Draco himself had been one of the aristos who'd wanted to sleep with him. "I don't believe the Black Asphodel rescued you. He rescues people who have some worth to society," taunted Harry.

"Shows what you know," Draco said, a pleased smile on his thin lips.

"Who is it then?" Harry asked with feigned casualness.

Draco snorted. "As if I'd tell you. You'd probably run back to the Committee and turn him in for the reward."

Inwardly Harry squirmed. Though he had no interest in the reward, he had ties, however unwanted, to the Committee. "You don't even know, I'll bet. I bet he made sure you never saw his face," he said as if suppressing glee.

Draco pushed away from the wall. "I did. I had to crawl into this contraption under a lady's skirt and hang on for all I was worth." The shudder that went through him was not feigned. "If we'd been stopped--"

"Then who was it?" asked Harry, pressing the moment.

Draco regained his poise. "I wouldn't tell you even if I--"

"I knew it!" Harry said, for Draco had never been his real quarry.

"My father--" Draco began in protest.

"Doesn't know any more than you. The Asphodel is a master of disguises," Harry insisted. "He was dressed as a lady, probably wore thick make-up and a wig since he couldn't use Polyjuice to hide his face."

"My father knows," Draco said and the stubborn look on his face was no longer mere bravado. Harry had been certain all along that, though Draco had not been entrusted with the secret, the Marquis had.

"Prove it," Harry said, as if he sought no more than an autograph.

"Why should I?" said Draco, looking sulky at being caught out.

Harry looked cautiously to either side, though he was certain no one was close enough to overhear. "Because Unforgivable Curses are just as illegal here as they are in France and I'm certain your father would be interested to know exactly why his family--"

"All right!" Draco wrinkled up his pointed nose as if he smelled something bad.

"Have the Asphodel meet me in the library at midnight. He can hide behind the drapes or something so I don't see his face." He paused to make sure Draco was listening. "Have your father tell him there is someone I need the Asphodel to rescue who is being held prisoner in France."

Draco straightened, giving no hint whether Harry's plea had moved him. Harry watched him retreat down the hall as his own heart seemed to start beating again.

A prickling at the back of his neck alerted him that he was no longer alone in the corridor.

"Well played," DeCharne said, as if congratulating Harry on a cricket match.

"I am not certain it worked," Harry said, unsure how much DeCharne had overheard.

"Did you arrange a meeting?"

Harry breathed out in relief. DeCharne had not heard every detail. "Yes, at quarter past midnight, in the library." He took a deep breath. "You will release my godfather?"

DeCharne's smile was reptilian. "When we have the Black Asphodel in custody."

~~**~~

Harry made sure he was in place five minutes before the appointed hour. His nerves were worse than the worst stage fright he'd ever experienced. Would the Black Asphodel show up? Had Draco told his father? Was it--could it actually be Regulus Black?

Up and down Harry paced, far away from the lights and gaiety of the ball. Keeping an eye on the mantel clock, Harry grew more and more anxious. When both hands were upright he tried to compose himself, standing beside a long sofa, waiting. Slowly the longest hand clicked over a notch and Harry began to panic. One of his precious minutes to warn the Asphodel gone--

"Do not turn around."

The voice, the merest whisper, sounded into one ear. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin and the voice repeated its warning. "Do not turn around."

Harry nodded to show that he understood, resisting the near overwhelming urge to face his visitor.

"Why have you asked to see me?"

Harry could tell that the man stood very close behind him for he could feel the tell-tale warmth of another body close to his own. "To warn you," he said quickly, fastening his gaze on the inexorably moving hand of the mantel clock. "The French Committee has set a trap to catch you."

"With you as bait?" Even whispered, the amusement in the words was plain.

"Merely the instrument of deliverance, sir," replied Harry. "They believe they have ferreted out your identity."

"DeCharne has been following a false trail." The voice was no longer amused.

"You…know about him?" Harry asked, startled.

"I do."

Another minute had clicked by, sounding very loud within the hushed walls of the library. "You haven't much time, sir. He is coming to apprehend you at quarter past."

There was a pause, full of a slow breath, close enough to ruffle the hair on the back of Harry's head. "How does he know I am here?"

Harry hung his head, fidgeting nervously with the lace at his cuffs. "I told him," he admitted.

"If your honor means so little to you, then why warn me?" Even whispered, the voice held contempt.

A lump rose in Harry's throat, but he swallowed it down. "He is blackmailing me, sir," Harry admitted, amazed that was able to speak this unshared pain to anyone. "I had to help him--or at least seem to--to buy myself time to rescue my godfather, who is being held in--"

"Dear God" the Asphodel said.

Harry startled and nearly broke his vow not to turn around. He could tell this news had surprised his visitor. "I cannot let him die," Harry said against the quickened breath. He lifted his chin and focused once more on the long hand of the clock moving toward their downfall, should either of them be discovered. "I am leaving England tonight to try to rescue him myself."

There was a snort from behind him. "I daresay your lover will have something to say about that."

Harry's pride guided his tongue. "He does not love me, monsieur. I would change that if I could, but he believes I played him false."

The whisper was very close, lips nearly touching Harry's ear. "Did you?"

"He alone has held my heart from the very start," he admitted. It was easier to say such things to a phantom, for he had never managed to say them to Severus.

"He is a fortunate man," said the whisper, sounding very strange.

Harry shook his head as another minute ticked off. "Would that he thought as you do. Please, sir, you must leave before that vile Frenchman catches you."

The man behind him straightened and Harry listened in vain for the sound of Apparition. Instead the whisper came again. "Will you promise me something?"

Harry saw that they had barest minutes to go. "Yes, of course."

"Let me attend to the rescue of your godfather. I have one particular agent who will be quite keen to dash to his aid."

"But I did not mean for you to--" protested Harry.

"I know you didn't," came the swift whisper. "Promise me you won't go rushing off to save him."

Reluctantly Harry nodded. Before he could say another word, a hand descended to his shoulder. The gloved fingers squeezed him once before, with the sweetest sound Harry had ever heard, the Black Asphodel Apparated away.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts, foremost was that he too must not be discovered here. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not that the library door opened just as he too, Apparated away.

Harry reappeared just outside the refreshment room and treated himself to a cool glass of weak wine. Still he longed to go ahead with his plans--nebulous as they had been--to rescue Sirius on his own, but he saw no way around his promise.

He could only hope that the Black Asphodel would get there in time. Since he had failed in his mission, he expected DeCharne would find him soon enough. Harry's only plan was to beg for a second chance in order to give the Black Asphodel more time to carry out his promise to rescue Sirius.

Wandering around the edges of the dancing, Harry wondered if he would ever be part of the happy carefree throng again. When he heard laughter coming from the drawing room ahead he followed the sound of it until he stood in the doorway.

The room was not very crowded, though the dozen or so ladies in their finery made the room look much fuller. There was however, one gentleman present. What astonished Harry was that the gentleman was Severus.

Harry slipped inside the room as one very powdered lady implored, "Do it again, do it again."

Severus inclined his head, then took his quizzing glass between his fingers, holding it up almost like a wand.

"They seek him here.
They seek him there.
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven--"

Severus pointed the quizzing glass straight up then flipped it straight down to the carpet as he continued.

"Or is he in hell?"

Several of the ladies gasped and covered their mouths as if they had muttered the oath themselves.

"That damned elusive Asphodel."

There was a round of laughter and applause while Severus bowed several times. When yet another lady asked for an encore, Severus begged off, winding his way between their skirts to where Harry was standing.

"Are you having a good time?" Severus asked politely.

"Tolerable," replied Harry, feeling--nearly--that they were back on their old footing again.

"Did you find Regulus?" Severus asked, tucking his quizzing glass back into his waistcoat pocket.

"I did, Sir, thank you. He assured me I am welcome to visit any time."

Severus's gaze met his and Harry saw something much like uncertainty there. "Am I to be deprived of your company then?" he asked carefully.

Harry didn't say that lately it hadn't seemed that Severus had wanted his company, but that flicker of uncertainty gave him hope. "I suppose you could manage without me," he said with studied casualness, as--yes--the uncertainty became more pronounced, "for an hour or so for tea."

The relief that flooded through him was only heightened when Severus growled, "Minx." He offered his arm and Harry took it. "We need to speak--soon." He waited for Harry's nod before Apparating them both away.

If Harry expected their talk that evening, he was at once disabused of that notion by the presence of Lupin in their foyer.

"I got your message," he said, looking quite as distraught as Harry had ever seen him. "I've been frantic with worry. God, we've been so--"

Severus made a warning noise and Lupin caught sight of Harry, looking for all the world like he was just coming into focus. In fact he looked quite unlike the calm Lupin Harry had come to know. His attire suggested he had dressed in haste and to call his cravat tied was being generous. His hair looked like it had seen only the attention of his fingers raking through it. What had happened to cause him to be in such a state?

Severus turned to Harry. "I must bid you good night," he said, but his voice held no coldness. He inclined his head toward the study and Lupin left them alone. Severus took both of Harry's hands, his thumbs rubbing the backs. "Promise me you will do nothing foolish."

Harry frowned. His experience at the maze had shown him that Severus could use Legilimency but Harry had not felt the spell being cast upon him. His brief silence conferred a terrible urgency on Severus. "Say you will wait for me," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Of course," Harry replied, more confused than ever at this reminder, however fleeting, of their more passionate past. Whether he had reassured Severus, he wasn't sure. There was the briefest pressure on his hands then Severus was gone.

Slowly Harry went upstairs, thoughts chaotic as he sat on his own bed. What had happened to put Lupin in such a state? And what path had they--Harry and Severus-- stumbled upon--a path that might lead them back to each other?

How long he sat there Harry did not know. He heard boots on the stairs and movement in Severus's room next to his. But the door between the rooms did not open and after a flurry of activity, the sounds faded back downstairs.

Curious, Harry peered out of his room into the corridor. There was no one about and no sounds at all from downstairs. For a moment Harry felt the terrible pain that perhaps there had been not one pair of boots upon the stairs but two. He jerked his gaze toward the next room. The door to Severus's bedroom was slightly ajar. Surely if Severus and Remus were engaged in amorous play they would not have left the door open?

Harry crept closer. Unless…unless they wanted him to catch them together. Perhaps their liaison was what Severus wanted to speak to him about. Strain as he might though, Harry could detect no sound within. He listened for a second longer before summoning his nerve and pushing the door open.

The room was quite devoid of life. Even the fire had not been laid. It was in fact nearly as Harry had seen it last time, save for the dress robes thrown hastily across the neatly made bed. Harry realized he was still in the transfigured robes of Severus's and pulled them over his head, laying them beside Severus's. Together they looked like the mockery of the intimacy he and Severus had once shared--empty arms now straining one to another.

The thought gave him such pain despite the bubble of hope he'd had earlier, that he had to look away from the bed.

Then he frowned. Severus had obviously left in quite a hurry--the door of one of his armoires was ajar. Taking out his wand, Harry lit a bedside lamp as a prickle of something not quite right went through him. It wasn't the closest armoire that was open, but the second one, the one that Harry had never seen open, its door now showing a gap of darkness to the secrets within.

He would just shut it, he told himself, standing before the formidable structure. It was nearly the twin of the one Severus had drawn the transfigured robes from, nearly seven feet tall and broad as two men.

And not locked.

With the feeling of someone pulling back the drapes on a hiding and willful child, Harry flung the door open.

To be met with the sight of merely more clothes within. Harry nearly laughed aloud at his own bravado.

Only…wait. These weren't Severus's usual flawlessly tailored clothes. In fact most of these looked as though they'd never been closer to a tailor than a carriage on the street. The ménage of clothes more closely resembled the debris Harry had in his own dressing room back at the theater. There were several wigs, one even powdered like a footman's. There was brightly-colored livery to go with it. Shoes, plain and buckled, lined the bottom of the armoire. There was even an apron and skirt for a lady, though any lady that could fit into that skirt must be twice as big as Harry.

Arranged carefully along the inner shelf was a row of glass vials. Harry pulled one out and saw hair inside. And in the next--blond and curly--and the next-nearly gray. Harry remembered that Severus had Polyjuiced himself into a servant upon his return to Paris. Then, Harry had believed, it had merely been to catch him unawares and to test his loyalty.

But surely Severus wasn't planning on impersonating a parson, or a fat lady or a footman to test Harry again. A footman--Harry remembered his journey from Paris and the notion that a footman had departed the carriage before Calais.

But why? Was Severus…wanted? Surely he roamed the streets of Paris, in his own features and had never been arrested.

Unless….

Unless he was wanted in another guise.

They seek him here, they seek him there. Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.

Suddenly Harry knew, knew it as surely as he'd known the man in the box at the Theatre Francais had come to see him. The Black Asphodel, the cleverest and most daring of outlaws, was Severus Snape.

And Harry had just sent him into terrible danger. Surely he was even now off to rescue Sirius, on Harry's request.

Harry had to warn him, though surely Severus would be halfway to Dover by now.

Harry did not know the way they had taken when he had arrived, so to try to Apparate to the coast would be madness. However, he could still ride and find his way with the Four Points Spell. Also, as Severus would have to sail to Calais because of the wards in place around the French borders, he would no doubt have to wait for the yacht to be prepared and for the tide before he could sail. That gave Harry a chance to catch up to him. Even though he had promised Severus he would wait, surely the circumstances had changed now that Harry knew his true identity.

Racing back to his own room through the door between them, Harry threw on his traveling cloak and grabbed his purse with all the galleons he had in it. He did not think the servants would notice if he left but he was silent as he crept down the stairs all the same.

Once outside, he Apparated straight to the stables. A broom would of course have been faster but he didn't have one and even if he had, he would still have to land in the channel and swim in since broom-riding, like so many other magical pastimes, had been forbidden by the Revolutionary Committee.

"Who's there?" a voice called out as Harry re-appeared by the stable doors.

Since stealth was no longer an option, Harry called out, "It is I, Harry Potter." He thought he heard the sound of swearing but couldn't be certain until the stable door swung open.

"What are you--" It was the groom that Harry had met by the maze a few days ago. He was in the same homespun outfit Harry had seen him in before, though a traveling cloak lay draped around his shoulders. The groom cleared his throat. "May I help you, sir?"

"I have…an errand," Harry said, trying to look convincing at two in the morning.

"Surely any errand can wait till it's light out, sir?" the groom went on, frowning. Harry had probably come upon him just as he was arriving back to the estate and he was eager for his bed.

"I'm afraid it can't," Harry said, pitching his voice with enough urgency to make his errand seem genuine but not so much that his frantic haste to be away was revealed. "Is your horse still saddled?" Harry cast his gaze over the man's shoulder to the gloomy stable beyond.

"She is, sir, but--"

"What is your name?" asked Harry, as though he had any right to it. He was only a guest in the house but Severus had never denied him any privilege. True, he had made him promise not to do anything foolish, but trying to head him off from what surely must be a trap wasn't foolish at all.

"Nettleship, sir, Toby Nettleship," repeated the groom with a bow.

"I'll have your horse if she's not too tired, Toby, or a fresh one if you deem her so," Harry said obligingly.

"Are you…leaving us, sir?" Toby asked, studying Harry.

"I told you, I have an errand," Harry said, thinking there must be a trick to getting servants to do what you wanted that he had never mastered.

They stared at one another a long moment while Harry tried not to appear nervous. Then Toby pushed the stable door open and walked toward the waiting mare. "I'll have to be coming with you, sir," Toby said, grasping the reins.

"That's not necessary," Harry replied, as the groom swung up.

"Be my job if the master catches on I let you out at this time of night," Toby said, steadying the mare.

"I'll explain everything to him when he returns," Harry said, feeling the desperate minutes ticking away.

But Toby mutely held out his hand, offering no more arguments. Harry took it and pulled himself onto the horse's back, between Toby's splayed thighs.

They trotted to the road before Toby spoke again. "Where are you bound, sir?"

"Dover," replied Harry promptly.

"At this hour?" Toby flicked the reins and turned the horse down the rutted lane. "We'll have to stop along the way and change the horse then. Why so far, sir?" Toby asked, once he had settled the horse's pace.

"It is where Sir Severus has gone," Harry replied, trying not to lean too far back into that broad chest.

"He won't thank you to follow him when he's told you to stay put," said Toby, speaking so softly that his voice was more growl than speech.

"I believe him to be walking into terrible danger," Harry said. The late hour was beginning to catch up with him but he remained rigidly upright, trying to focus on his goal.

A soft snort behind him led Harry to believe Toby wasn't taking his errand quite as gravely as Harry was. "Surely he's used to that, young sir," said Toby.

"That's as may be but never before on my own behalf and I cannot let him face it without letting him know all the facts." At least all the conversation was keeping his mind from dwelling too much on the danger that awaited Severus in France.

"What facts are these?" asked Toby.

"You forget yourself, man," Harry said, swerving his head just enough to give the groom a weighty glare of displeasure.

"I forget nothing," Toby said, his mouth now so close to Harry's ear that the warm breath swirled inside it. "Not the way you smell, or the flush that runs between your nipples when you come or the way you gasp out my name when my mouth is around your cock."

"Sir!" Outraged Harry tried to turn, but Toby held him fast. "Release me," he demanded, trying not to spook the horse.

But it was not their struggles making the horse whinny softly; it was the approach of another rider. Harry went still as a familiar voice called out, "Hallo?"

"Over here, Monsieur Lupin," Harry called out, before the groom got any further above his station.

"Harry? What--" Lupin, astride a big bay gelding, came out of the shadows along the crossroad lane. "Harry? And --" He sighed expressively. "I might have known you wouldn't stay put."

"Stay put?" Harry protested, sill amazed that Nettleship still had one arm around him and had not cut off his voice. "Lupin, Severus is in danger!"

"Only of thrashing your bottom," murmured Nettleship.

"Severus is always in danger," Lupin said, stroking his restless horse. "God, we haven't time for your lover's spat. Sirius is--"

"Lover's spat?" Harry yelped.

"Regrettably the real DeCharne has been detained by a sleeping potion he imbibed at the ball." Harry felt the body nestled so close to his on the horse shifting. "Fortunately not before revealing that Sirius is under orders not to be released to anyone but DeCharne," said the groom. Only he sounded less like Toby the groom and more like--

Lupin seemed to sag in relief. His horse cantered up beside theirs, still facing them. Toby's voice had lowered considerably and lost its West Country accent.

"Not before donating a few of his hairs, I trust," Lupin said smiling for the first time this evening.

The hand not holding Harry reached out and a glass vial disappeared into the folds of Lupin's robes. "You will not end up needing rescuing yourself Lupin?" said Severus's voice, as the body completed its transformation and joined the voice's owner. Lupin shook his head, as he turned his horse down the Dover road. "I believe the Black Asphodel has urgent matters to attend to at home." His fingers splayed over Harry's belly as he turned the horse's head back down the road they had come. "Matters that can, I think, no longer wait."

"You aren't the only one who can sneak out of Paris," Lupin said. "I believe DeCharne is about to acquire a large black dog." Severus's laugh followed on Lupin's heels as he spurred his horse and rode out of sight.

Harry relaxed against the arm still restricting his midsection. "Before I forgive you," he said, twisting around to confirm that indeed the body pressing quite close to him was Sir Severus attired as a groom. "Tell me, did you leave your armoire open on purpose?"

The soft chuckle was more arousing for being so close to his ear. "Is that what gave me away?" Severus dropped his hand along Harry's shoulder. "I thought it might have been this."

Harry remembered the whispered meeting with the Black Asphodel in the library and how his hand--Severus's hand--rested there. "Your ring!" he said at once and Severus nodded approvingly.

Severus stretched the arm out so that Harry could see the heavy old silver ring over the riding glove. "I forgot to take it off when I met you in the library. You cannot know how anxious I was to hear why you requested that meeting."

The surface of the ring mount was quite bare when Harry touched it. "It's under the Fidelius Charm," explained Severus. "No one can see the sigil unless I--" He nuzzled Harry's ear in a way that had nothing to do with revealing secrets and whispered, "Welcome to the League of the Black Asphodel." The surface of the ring shimmered and upon it appeared a sprig of asphodel.

"A family crest appropriated for more--"

"Worthy," Harry supplied with a shiver.

"Nefarious," said Severus.

"It is not nefarious to save wizards from extinction in France," Harry argued. "Since they do not seem to be helping themselves."

"Many do," Severus said, "once they realize help is available and paths can be forged with or without magic. And some, like the Mafoys, simply refuse to see the danger they are in."

Harry nodded in understanding, clasping the ringed fingers with his own. He had heard of the results of Severus's work even in his cocoon at the theater, wizards circumventing the restrictions on their powers. Severus was not just a means of rescue but a symbol of how to resist.

"I didn't mean to keep anything from you," Harry said, lowering his head as he remembered their days of discord.

"Shhhh," Severus said soothingly. "I was too jealous of Draco's youth and beauty to see how you had spurned him at every juncture. I have spoken to the Marquis on his son's behavior in attacking you."

They had come to the low stone wall that marked the entrance to the lane leading to the house. The mare, perhaps sensing a warm stall and fresh straw turned down the path.

"I fear we must see the horse home before we can…celebrate our reunion," Severus said. He cleared his throat and for a moment Harry thought he sounded almost--

"We are having a reunion, aren't we?" asked Severus.

Nervous.

Harry pretended to think it over. "As long as you aren't hiding anything else from me, like you are secretly the heir to the throne."

"What a wretched fate," Severus said with a soft shudder that somehow drew their two bodies closer.

"And you tell me everything I wish to know," Harry went on.

The horse clipped along the path, the only noise in the silent night until at last Severus sighed and nodded. "You have more right than anyone to the truth."

"Monsieur Lupin is one of your men?" Harry asked.

"He was the first. I'd been carrying on on my own then had a rescue suited to his unique abilities. He saw through the pretense I fabricated to obtain his aid and has worked with me ever since." He chuckled. "And he makes a very fine steward."

"He is not your--" Harry's hand must have tightened involuntarily on Severus's.

"My lover? No. His heart was bespoke years ago while we were at school. Unfortunately the object of his affections was cast out of his family for what he was and fled the country. I knew no more of the matter than that, for Remus does not easily confide his emotions, until I went to the theater in Paris."

"Did you go seeking Sirius?" Harry wanted to know. Revenge, no matter how little realized, was still bitter.

"Not at all, though I had heard his theater had a magnificent reputation. I went seeking tricks of make-up and costume to fool the guards. And found you instead."

Severus had started nuzzling the back of Harry's neck, no doubt to dissuade Harry from his questions. Stifling a whimper, Harry pressed on. "Why were you and Lupin on horseback tonight? Wouldn't it have been easier to Apparate to Dover?"

"Ah but he will need a horse once he arrives in France since he cannot Apparate or ride a broom on their soil. It is less suspicious, we have learned, if he arrives on his own horse than if he attempts to buy one in port. DeCharne has spies everywhere." He pushed his nose into the short hairs at the back of Harry's neck. "Urgency must sometimes be tempered with secrecy."

"Is that why you posed as a footman when you sent your carriage for me to leave Paris?" Harry asked. He could tell he had surprised Severus with this information.

"Better to have the guards focused on you rather than the fact that Severus Snape is leaving Paris when yet another person has eluded Madame Guillotine," he replied.

"The wine barrels?" guessed Harry.

Severus nodded against his neck. Harry's hastily tied cravat was no match for the determined assault of his fingers. "The Comte and Comtesse Caramel."

The horse picked up pace now that the barn was in sight, spurred on by the welcoming nickers of fellow stable dwellers. Severus dismounted first before sliding Harry down close to his chest.

"Why?" Harry asked breathlessly, face to face with Severus in his own form for the first time since the stairs.

Severus kissed him, not hurriedly but as though he was filling a promise made long ago. "Why what, I>cherie</i>?" he asked, though he did not wait for the answer before covering Harry's mouth again as if to read the answer unspoken from his tongue.
"Why are we not in bed?" Severus asked as if in answer to his own question. "Let me attend the horse and we shall be." He kept one arm around Harry and pulled out his wand, performing the necessary unsaddling and grooming charms before leading the mare back to her stall.

"No, why do you do it? Risk your life for--" His question was swept away as soon as Severus wrapped his arms around him again and Apparated them both straight into his bedroom.

"I like outwitting the French," admitted Severus, pointing his wand at the fireplace and starting it going before tucking his wand away. "Their regime does our kind a great harm." One finger hooked on the careless knot of Harry's nearly undone cravat, loosening it with gentle motions. "And I do not like, nor did I expect, the life of the idle rich this title forces upon me."

Harry moaned softly as the scrap of linen slid to the floor. He pulled Severus down by his own cravat, desperate for another of those needy kisses. "And you are very good at outwitting the French," Harry said, his fingers deftly coaxing the buttons to bid adieu to their buttonholes of the groom's homespun shirt.

"Tis not my wits but my passions concerning me this evening," said Severus. Harry looked up from the patch of skin on Severus's chest, wondering at the uncertainty in the normally steady voice. Severus kissed him again as if gaining courage, the way a drunkard would seek out wine.

"Your passions seem very certain to me," Harry said, pressing his hips into the snug breeches in front of him.

"You have not asked me if I am utterly besotted with you," Severus said hoarsely.

Harry hoisted himself on the high bed and pulled Severus between his splayed thighs.
"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

Harry's finesse at buttons did not stop at shirts. "Are you besotted with me?" he asked, closing his eyes briefly as his hand slid into the now-open front of Severus's breeches, clasping the heated flesh within briefly before tugging the breeches down.

"I am indeed, sir," replied Severus, stepping out of the groom's breeches as he pressed Harry back on the bed. "Utterly." A kiss to his throat. "Irrevocably." He pushed Harry's shirt open and trailed kisses down the revealed flesh. "Eternally." He seemed very determined to kiss places that were still covered by clothing so they assisted one another until there were no further barriers to their kisses.

The feeling was so glorious, of being naked and free to touch and kiss and take delicious liberties after so long denied that neither spoke for many long moments. There were sounds other than words in the fire-lit room, wet sounds accompanied by moans and gasps. Harry did not need words to beg Severus to enter him, or the King's English to proclaim his joy when at last he had. Indeed there were no words at all to describe how perfect it felt to wrap himself around Severus, urging him with moans alone to bury himself deeper.

The closest things to a word was a hissed 'yes' sucked out between kisses. Eternity did not seem nearly long enough to drink his fill of those needy kisses, Harry thought, finding his own release at Severus's skillful urging.

When the only sounds in the room were the soft pants of satiation and the quiet pop of the fire Harry laughed as he realized they were still lying sideways on the bed, never having made the move that would bring them under the covers. Severus's head, currently weighting down his shoulder, lifted, expression curious.

"You never asked me if I forgave you," Harry said, capturing a drop of sweat that had escaped from Severus's hairline.

"If you have not, then, regrettably, I must tie you to this very bed and make love to you until you do," came the slightly slurred reply.

"Regrettably?"

Severus nodded, coming, it seemed, to the same conclusion as Harry had about their sideways sprawl across the bed. He shifted, urging Harry the right way, stretching out beside him under the sheets before answering.

"Most regrettably. I should much prefer keeping you with me of your own free will."

The stars overhead shone very bright where the ceiling was enchanted. Harry wondered if Lupin had arrived at Dover yet, whether his mission to liberate Sirius would be successful.

"Then it would be very churlish of me not to forgive you," Harry said, "Since you have made such spectacular love to me."

"Spectacular?"

"Mmm," Harry said, drawing closer so that there were very few places along Severus's side that he was not touching. "And since you are quite besotted with me." He paused, because Severus had not asked him and probably never would. Harry, however, had no reservations in revealing his tender feelings. "As besotted, I hope, as I am with you."

Severus, who had seemed to be slipping into a languid sleep, was suddenly quite awake. "Besotted?"

"Quite." He lifted up on one elbow, dragging his fingers down Severus's cheek. "They seek him here." He dropped a kiss upon one cheek. "They seek him there." He flicked his tongue on one corner of Severus's mouth. "Those Frenchies seek him everywhere."

The sides of Severus's mouth quirked up in a smirk. "Is he in heaven?" he said taking up the verse, trailing a finger down Harry's belly. "Or is he in hell?" The finger did not stop when the surface was no longer quite so smooth.

Harry completed the doggerel. "My own elusive Asphodel."