Second Place - Drama

Bill watched Severus for several minutes, the Potion Master deep in research. Dusty tomes and stained fragile parchment rolls were stacked in neat piles on his worktable. The dark wizard scratched notes onto a long roll of parchment.

"Meeting ran late?" Severus asked, wiping off the nib of his quill and setting it aside.

"No. Stopped off to have tea with the twins. In case they heard about the fire, I wanted them to know Harry was safe. They invited him to stay with them. That Muggle Elliot did, too."

"He has a place to stay." Severus� voice was stiff.

"Sev, he needs to know he has options," Bill said gently. "In the space of a day, he�s lost everything."

"But he�s safe here. I can protect him."

"So can they, love. In their own way, so can they."

Severus straightened his already neat research materials and tucked his leather chair beneath the table. He glanced toward Aconite, alone on her perch and wondered vaguely where Hedwig had gone. Bill�s voice broke into his thoughts.

"Has he come out yet?"

"Pardon?" Severus answered distractedly.

"Harry. Has he come out of his room yet?"

"No. I gave him a potion to calm him. He was asleep when I last checked on him."

"I picked up some take-away from The Leaky Cauldron. I�ll set the table and put on the kettle. Maybe you should see if he�s up for a bite to eat."

Severus reached over and briefly caressed the cursebreaker�s shoulder. "When are you leaving?"

"After dinner. I had my last meeting with Griphook so I�m officially on Holiday. It�s been cut short by a week though. They unearthed a new tomb in the Valley of Souls and the goblins don�t want to risk the Muggles getting treasure first."

"When do you catch the International Floo?"

"Not for three days. I�m going to The Burrow to see Mum." Bill gave Severus a measured look. "I could take Harry with me. Mum would love to see him."

"And Ronald? Would Ron love to see him as well?"

Harry, dressed only in boxers and a Tommy�s Pub t-shirt, leaned against the headboard of the ornate four-poster bed. He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his bare arms around them. Perched on a decorative finial, Hedwig gently groomed his rat�s nest of hair, giving him her comfort and affection.

Spread out on the duvet was the entire contents of the messenger bag and his pockets. Harry looked at his meager possessions � basic toiletries in a shaving kit, a change of clothing, two changes of socks and undergarments, his wand, his wallet with Muggle identification, forty seven pounds in notes and coin, a wristwatch, pens, notepad, cellular telephone, his Gringott�s key, and his photo album with photos of his parents and the Marauders. He didn�t remember packing the photo album the night before, but it had probably been a reflexive move in his distracted state. Beside his foot lay the bank cheque from Mr. Shaw.

Harry prodded the rectangular document. Blood money, he thought, no different than his Tri-Wizard winnings. The slight wizard closed his eyes as his vision blurred. Once again, he had been pushed aside when events grew too difficult or embarrassing. He read the sum of the cheque again, his stomach lurching. Shaw wanted to buy his silence, wanted him to disappear, and wanted him to protect Uncle Leon�s reputation. A salty tear leaked from beneath his closed eyelids, followed by others. Harry briskly wiped them away; tears never solved anything. Blood money.

Hedwig chirruped softly as Severus stood in the open doorway. Harry looked up, his dark eyelashes wet. It embarrassed him that Severus caught him crying again.

"I�m acting like a bloody girl."

Severus admired him in his half-dressed state, a soft smirk quirking this thin lips. "No, definitely not a girl."

Severus apparated directly into his study. The scent of oil soap and lemon oil tickled his nose. He sniffed, nostrils flaring. The unexpected smell was coming from the main hallway and foyer area of the townhouse.

As he approached the door, he saw Harry�s slender legs halfway up a tall wooden ladder, reattaching crystals to the Victorian chandelier. The freshly cleaned crystals glittered in the setting sunlight, causing little rainbow arcs to shimmer on the walls.

The dark wood paneling glowed behind the fresh application of lemon oil. The years of cobwebs and grime Severus had long ignored were gone. The Potion Master noticed a bucket filled with a murky liquid, a once yellow sponge floating in it. By the presence of Muggle rubber gloves, it was obvious Harry had not used magic; he had cleaned it in Muggle fashion. Harry must have spent hours scrubbing down the tall, narrow space.

"Hey," Harry said softly as he clamored down the ladder. "Sorry if I�m in your way. I didn�t realize the time. Thought I�d hang the crystals before I lost all sunlight."

"I�d forgotten how magnificent that chandelier was...it probably hasn�t been cleaned since the last Snape house elf died."

"And that was in what...1900?" Harry asked, humor in his voice, and Severus swatted his arse. As the young wizard picked up his cleaning utensils, Severus realized that the younger man was calmer than he had been for days. Severus followed Harry into the kitchen where he saw several containers of Muggle cleaning products and additional buckets and sponges.

The odor of roasting meat filled the air. Harry set the bucket on the floor beside the sink and washed his hands thoroughly before reaching for an oven mitt.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"It smells delicious. What are we having?"

"Pork chops, a gratin of potatoes and onions and stewed apples. Do you think we need another vegetable? I picked up some broccoli."

The dark wizard glanced around the kitchen, noting fresh fruits, vegetables and an assortment of groceries on the countertop in addition to the cleaning supplies in the corner.

"Picked up?" Severus startled. "You left the townhouse?"

Harry looked at the tall man uneasily, the sharpness of his voice startling him. Wasn�t he allowed to leave the house? Was he a prisoner? Severus had never actually said he couldn�t leave.

"We were running low on food and I needed stuff to clean the house..." Harry nibbled nervously on his lower lip. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Where did you purchase this? You didn�t go into Diagon Alley for this."

"I nipped around the corner to the Muggle shops early this morning."

"Without me? Weren�t you concerned Alistair or his hoodlums might see you?"

Harry relaxed. Severus wasn�t mad at him, just concerned for his safety. "Alistair would never be awake that early and he would have no idea where to look for me. I went out just as they opened...the only other people out were the shopkeepers and a few grannies picking up daily groceries..."

"How did you pay for this?"

"I had some Muggle money...my tips from Tommy�s."

"But not enough to buy all those cleaning supplies...you had less than fifty pounds..."

Harry tilted his head. "I am a wizard, you know. I conjured the buckets, sponges and rags...used a Replication Charm on items I could not magic...bought only enough food for use for today."

"I neglected to tell you I have an open account with several grocers in Diagon Alley. Make a list and I�ll send an order off with Aconite. I don�t want you wandering about alone again, even if it is just around the corner."

Severus picked up an odd duster, at least he thought that was what it was. It looked like a sleeve of sheep wool glued to a dowel. "What in Merlin�s name is this?"

"A Dustbunny."

"A dust..." Severus examined the odd item. "Bunny?"

Harry plucked it from his fingers and winked, pirouetting around the kitchen as if he were dusting. "Saw something like it in the shoppes...but they wanted 12 pounds for it...works like a feather duster, but better..."

"Twelve pounds?"

"I am not an idiot, Sev...I conjured it with a twig from the back garden and a bit of pillow stuffing."

The dark wizard smirked as Harry continued to mimic dusting in an exaggerated manner. Severus was suddenly struck by the memory of Harry wearing the black cocktail dress the night he met him at Tommy�s and it easily morphed into the image of Harry wearing naught but a French maid�s uniform. Damn Muggle inspired sexual fantasy, he thought, shaking his head.

Harry was worried. Hedwig had gone out on her nightly hunt with Aconite but only Aconite had returned. Not for the first time, Harry wished, rather than have the ability to speak to snakes, he had instead been gifted with the ability to speak owl.

Aconite did not seem to be agitated so Harry took that to be a positive sign. Hedwig hated London; so perhaps, she had taken it upon herself to visit the countryside. The slight wizard hoped that was the case. In the past few days he had lost so much; he didn�t think he could also cope with the additional loss of his faithful familiar.

Harry set the open book on his stomach and signed in frustration. He kept leafing through the small pile of books and pamphlets on career options, but felt qualified for nothing. Maybe he needed to stop concentrating so much; he didn�t need to decide his entire life, did he? He just needed something legal to get him through the next two years until he could claim his inheritance. But he knew in his heart that he had to discover something that would make him happy. His life had never been about wealth, just about surviving for another day relatively intact.

The young man sprawled, legs dangling over the arms of the comfortable chair in the guest room he had claimed as his own. His few meager possessions had been supplemented by a foray into Muggle London. Not wanting to be even more in debt to Severus than he already was, Harry had taken them first to a charity/resale shop. While satisfied that the quality of some of the garments was superb, Severus refused to let his Harry even consider shoes and undergarments that had once belonged to another.

His Harry.

Harry stared up at the plaster ceiling, now devoid of cobwebs. He didn�t know what to think about Severus. The Severus that came home every evening from St. Mungo�s Hospital was not the same wizard that terrorized the students at Hogwarts. This Severus seemed to be more human and not at all the evil black bat of Harry�s memories. This human Severus was not perfect; his sharp tongue and possessiveness was both repulsive and comforting. He could be kind, he could be affectionate, and yet, he could still be the most frustratingly arrogant of bastards. Harry found himself drawn to Severus� keen intelligence and his ability to think in more than one dimension

Harry marveled at how well the dark wizard had perfected his role as the greasy git, the slimy bastard, the Death Eater � Professor Severus Snape. How difficult it must have been for the solitary Potion Master to have kept up the role for twenty-odd years, to have survived playing a character everyone despised.

And then the slight wizard paused. Hadn�t he done the very same thing? He wasn�t the wide-eyed saint Harry Potter any more than he was the fallen angel Corvus Corax. If he was honest with himself, he was "Birdy", a combination of the two.

He closed his eyes. My Harry. What exactly was he to Severus Snape? The man was surprisingly tactile; he liked to touch Harry, almost as if he needed to assure himself that Harry was real. They had had sex a few more times, but it was a mutual decision, unlike his past experiences with Uncle Leon and his other partners. He trusted Severus not to force him if he were unwilling. He did not seem to be a toy or a conquest to Severus, and for the abused young wizard, it was both a comforting and an unsettling realization.

Severus� collection of erotica had come as a bit of a shock. Being in the trade, so to speak, Harry knew that a vast amount of Muggle pornography was available to satisfy every imaginable kink, but the wizarding erotica flabbergasted him. The images hidden between those sedate leather coverings moved, some fantasies were sensual treasures and others were more shocking than the most hard core of Muggle adult videos.

He knew Severus had a collection of photographs of him � from the first cologne ad to the animal welfare calendar and note cards. He even had pictures from a gentleman�s clothing catalog catering to men of short stature that had an extremely limited audience. The peculiar collection had frightened him at first, lending credence to his initial reaction that Severus was stalking him, but his fears quickly abated. Severus was possessive but not particularly domineering, so Harry decided to reserve judgment on Severus� compilation.

But the question remained. What exactly did he mean to this human Severus? And what did this human Severus mean to him?

"You are supposed to be researching career possibilities...not cleaning my Great Grandmother�s home," Severus murmured in Harry�s ear as he discovered Harry once again scrubbing the kitchen floor with a scrub brush.

Harry brushed back a loose strand of hair with a rubber glove clad hand. "You don�t really mind, do you? I keep looking at the books and it�s frustrating...I don�t know what I want to do when I grow up."

"I certainly hope you are not aspiring to be a house elf."

"Consider it in lieu of rent...an exchange of services for your hospitality."

"It isn�t necessary. I told you that before."

"Please, Severus, let me feel useful, ok? I need to feel I am earning my keep."

Severus pulled the smaller wizard up into his arms. He nuzzled at Harry�s throat and purred. "You�ve more than earned your keep."

Something in Harry twisted. He knew Severus was teasing him in his own bizarre way, but Harry wanted to feel as if he were valuable without having to spread his legs. Couldn�t Severus see that?

Fang let out a curious bark as a Postal Owl soared through the open doorway of Hagrid�s cottage. His half-giant master was up at the school, dining in the Great Hall. He sniffed; the snowy owl smelled familiar. Hedwig landed on the back of an enormous wooden chair and chirruped a greeting.

The boarhound cocked his huge head as he watched Hedwig examine the contents of the single room cottage with her large amber eyes. With a delighted chirp, the snowy owl flew into the rafters, landing on the cot Harry had slept on in his final months at Hogwarts. Her chick was so sad; she needed to find something to cheer him up.

Using her beak, Hedwig gathered up the edges of the abandoned Invisibility Cloak and folded it atop itself into a more manageable bundle. Carefully, she scrunched the liquid fabric, wrapping her great talons around the precious keepsake

With a chirrup of farewell, Hedwig took flight. Fang ambled to the doorway in time to see an odd silhouette against the moon.

Severus strode into his study. He hung his aubergine robes from a cloak rack and paused. Something was off. He breathed deeply and did not detect the scent of fresh lemon oil and oil soap. There was no aroma of food from the kitchens.

"Harry?" he called out but there was no answer.

The dark wizard climbed the steps to the second floor. He half-expected to find Harry napping in his bedroom, but the room was empty. Several sheets of paper lay crumpled on the floor and a number of the books on careers within the wizarding world were scattered across the otherwise neat desk. Severus picked up a battered but gaudy paper covered Muggle book with the ridiculous title of "What Color is Your Parachute? - A Practical Manual for Job Hunters and Career Changers". Wondering vaguely if this was a forgotten book from his own collection, Severus leafed through it, realizing the book was an American Muggle workbook of sorts to help determine one�s personal strengths and weaknesses, interests and requirements. A sales slip from a secondhand book vendor used as a place marker caught his attention. So, not a part of his collection.

The Potion Master accioed one of the crumpled balls of paper, smoothing it enough to realize Harry was attempting to work through one of the manual�s surprisingly intelligent exercises. While gratified to see that Harry was serious about his search for a legitimate position, it was obvious that he was frustrated by the process. His eyes drifted through the window and a movement in the overgrown herbal and flower garden below caught his interest.

Harry exhaled a thin haze of smoke hanging in the air around him. He stared out across the overgrown garden, mentally cataloging the various plants he could identify and wondering how many of the herbs were for cooking and how many were for potion brewing. He was rather surprised that Severus had let such a source of fresh ingredients fall into such ruin.

Harry flicked the growing ash from his cigarette, looking toward the back steps to the townhouse when he heard the creak of the hinges on the heavy oak door. He added "oil the hinges" to his internal "To Do" list.

Severus strode carefully through the moss covered brick and cobblestone pathway, stepping over several tangles of Devil�s Snare threatening to strangle the unwary. His eyes narrowed at the cigarette in his young houseguest�s fingers and at the small pile of butts ground into the bricks at his feet.

"How long have you been suicidal, Mr. Potter?" Severus inquired stiffly.

Harry blinked at both the odd question and the return to his former title. "I�m not suicidal, Severus. What gave you that impression?"

"Do you, perhaps, believe yourself immortal?"

"Not particularly..." Harry looked up through his thick eyelashes. "Is there a point you are trying to make or are you going to keep circling around it?"

Severus crossed his arms across his chest. Harry always found that stance to be rather intimidating. "Is...is it because I�m in the garden? I thought your wards extended to the garden...and anyway, no one could see me from the street back here...It�s such an overgrown jumble I doubt your neighbors could even see me from their rear windows."

"I am not talking about the garden, you little twit. Do you think just because you are a wizard you are immune to the damaging carcinogens found in Muggle cigarettes? With every inhalation, you are slowly committing suicide."

"Um..."

Eloquent as always...Why do you smoke?" Severus seized the nearly empty pack of cigarettes sitting beside Harry. He glanced at the wrapping. "Did you ever read the warning on the package? What ever possessed you to start such a disgusting habit?"

Harry flicked his half smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the toe of his trainers. He did not want a lecture on the hazards of smoking. He sighed. "Many models smoke...it keeps you thin..."

"It also stains your teeth and your fingers as well as cause premature wrinkling."

Harry�s eyes flickered towards Severus� slightly yellow teeth and potion stained fingers, but refrained from making a comment. He was not, after all, suicidal.

"I only smoke when I�m nervous."

"Bollocks," Severus spat, wandlessly banishing the crumpled pack. He roughly pulled Harry to his feet. "You will cease this disgusting habit immediately. I refuse to permit it to continue."

*I refuse to permit it*; the smaller wizard tried to process the words through his shock. Severus� possessiveness flared at surprising times and the tone of his voice offered no chance at compromise. He was so angry he could not formulate a proper retort.

"But.." Harry finally sputtered, "I�ll get fat."

He startled as a burst of mint exploded in his mouth � a breath freshening charm � followed by a quick cleansing charm on his clothing.

"It also makes your breath stink."

Bat-like, Severus swooped down, capturing his lips in a brutal kiss. The long fingers teased Harry�s t-shirt from his jeans waistband and the cool fingers caressed the warm, smooth fresh beneath. Severus nibbled at his throat, warm breath tickling his ear.

"You are underweight, my love. You could easily stand to gain a stone or two..."

Harry keened softly as the fingers continued their explorations. He was offended that Severus was treating him like a recalcitrant child, but his hormones thrummed with pleasure under the sexual mistrations of the powerful dark wizard.

The goblet was smoking slightly as it was placed in his hands. Harry�s nose crinkled at the odor wafting over the rim. Severus peered down his rather large nose.

"It solidifies as it cools...I suggest you do not delay."

Harry�s eyes clearly expressed his puzzlement.

"To eradicate nicotine addiction from your system..." Severus� smile was evil as Harry choked down the vile liquid, his eyes bright with unshed tears from the fumes. "I would suggest you plan to take it easy today...it can be rather brutal as it cures."

Several hours later a very green Harry wobbled from the bathroom for the fifth time since his ingestion of the curative potion. He looked tiredly at the smug Potion Master as he wrapped himself up in a soft wool throw to ward off the violent chills racking his frame.

"I hate you," he whimpered softly.

"I am quite sure that you do," Severus replied brusquely, but the hand smoothing back the wild black hair was gentle.

Severus looked up from reading the morning edition of "The Daily Prophet" as he caught a blur of movement in his peripheral vision. A plate shattered as it slipped from a startled Harry�s fingers. The Potion Master looked from the broken ironstone dish to the younger wizard, head and shoulders suddenly invisible.

Eyes wide in astonishment, Harry pulled the silky dew damped waterfall of fabric away from his face, instantly recognizing his father�s Invisibility Cloak. The young man collapsed into a chair, clutching the cloak to his chest.

"Hedwig, where did you find this? I thought it burned in the fire with everything else." He blinked away the sudden tears of happiness that threatened to overflow.

Hedwig simply perched on a curtain rod, chest puffed out, looking extremely pleased with herself.

Harry turned the parchment envelope over, cautiously, almost as if he were expecting it to explode. He eyed the return address apprehensively. At least it was not a Howler. Setting it on the library table, he prodded it with a quill. Severus snorted and Harry felt the heat rise to his face. He was being a coward, afraid to open an envelope.

The envelope contained an elaborate invitation that shot out little sparkles when it was removed. Harry ran his hand through his messy black hair. He was holding an invitation from the Ministry of Magic inviting him to a ball honoring all Order of Merlin recipients to be held in sixty days on the anniversary of the fall of Voldemort.

Harry tried to tear the invitation in half but the older wizard halted his action. Severus was holding an identical envelope in his hands. The Potion Master planted a kiss at the nape of Harry�s neck. Harry shivered.

"We�ll owl Madam Malkin with your measurements. You�ll need a proper set of dress robes."

"No I won�t, Sev. I�m not going."

Severus nibbled on an earlobe. "You most certainly are. It�s past time for you to be recognized for your part in the end of the war."

"Don�t forget, I am �morally corrupt�. I am not welcome in polite wizarding society." Harry�s eyes were bright. "Please, I don�t want to go. I can�t stand the finger-pointing and the ridicule..."

"Idiot boy," Severus said affectionately. "Haven�t you been reading "The Quibbler"? Lovegood�s articles are working their intended magic. There�s a growing distrust at the history of corruption and misdirection at the Ministry. You are not the only wizard or witch to be scapegoated � just think of your late godfather. If you were still considered to be a pariah, the committee would not have extended this invitation � Order of Merlin � First Class notwithstanding."

"But..."

"Just consider it? We still have a month to R.S.V.P."

Harry truly hoped Severus was correct. He didn�t mind pretending he was someone he was not, but he had paid so dearly for Voldemort�s defeat and wanted some sort of recognition for his struggle. He also had no desire to live his life hidden behind the Potion Master�s billowing robes.

He would have to carefully consider the invitation. But he didn�t want to give in to Severus� wishes too easily either.

Severus shifted in his chair, a most exquisite ache shooting up his lower spine. The muscles in his thighs throbbed, the result of being stretched into an unaccustomed position the evening before.

If anyone had been brave enough to ask, the Potion Master would have replied in no uncertain terms that he was exclusively a "top", but after last night he would have to re-think the notion. At least with his current partner.

Bill had returned to Egypt, leaving Severus alone in his townhouse with Harry. For the most part, the small wizard was keeping his expected Gryffindor mind set, but occasionally he let his inner Slytherin out to play and those were the times Severus enjoyed the most.

He knew Harry was blatantly manipulating the situation, but the former savior finally agreed to attend the Ministry-sponsored ball on the condition that Severus willingly give up his control to Harry for the evening.

Severus was uncomfortable with letting another gain control of him, but decided that if he desired a true relationship with the sprite, he would need to trust him without reservation. He had expected shyness and awkwardness from the younger man. He had believed Harry, due to his size and circumstance, to be exclusively a "bottom" and nervously inexperienced in topping. He was wrong.

From the beginning, Harry took charge of their lovemaking, keeping Severus pleasantly off-balance. He began the evening with a deep massage, leaving the always somewhat tense dark wizard a boneless puddle on the bed. Harry teased, nipped and kissed his way over every inch of the long, lean body. Harry settled between the impossibly long legs and carefully prepared his prize.

Harry�s even thrusts altered slightly as he brushed Severus� prostate. He enjoyed watching the former Death Eater loose control and the cry of "Harder" quicken his rhythm. Severus pushed up, meeting Harry�s trusts, taking him deeper. Through their mutual gratification, Severus realized Harry was not a fragile elf easily broken, but a man in this own right with a sexual drive to match. And he liked that realization. A passive lover would have quickly bored him.

Harry looked up as Severus placed several books on the tabletop, beside the novel he was currently reading. The green eyes scanned the titles and looked up at his older companion quizzically.

"Massotherapy? What is that?"

"It�s a branch of Mediwizardry...although I believe the Muggles have something similar. It is a non-invasive form of healing. It might be a career option for you."

Harry looked at Severus, confused. Severus smiled, leaned down and nuzzled his ear.

"It�s therapeutic massage. You are very good with your hands. It�s not a talent many wizards possess."

Harry was silent. He perused a few of the books. One was a course syllabus.

"If I did decide to pursue this, what would I need to do? Is the schooling expensive?" Harry mentally calculated the funds in his Gringotts� account He steadfastly refused to deposit the bank cheque from Mr. Shaw.

"St. Mungo�s has an accredited apprenticeship program and will absorb much of the cost of training. There is always a shortage of trained massotherapists and they are an absolute necessity in the Curse and Spell Damage Wards...especially since the war."

Severus did not need to elaborate. Since the war, St. Mungo�s and all the other magical hospitals were overflowing with victims of dark curses and wayward spells. Many could not be treated with magic in any form and even the potions had to be brewed without wandwork or incantation. Severus� mind drifted to the massage oil Harry had used the evening before and remembered Harry had said it was his own recipe.

"I work rather closely with the head healer in charge of apprentices. She could assess your skills and see if she thought you would be a good candidate."

Harry studied Severus, his eyes bright with hope, but tempered with a dose of healthy cynicism.

"According to the Ministry of Magic mandate, I am morally corrupt. The wizarding population is not going to embrace me touching their loved ones...I might �molest� them..." Harry could not disguise the bitterness he felt.

"Love, not everyone is as closed minded as Ronald Weasley...bisexuality, homosexuality and even pornography is not unknown in the wizarding world." Severus kissed Harry�s forehead, just left of the fading scar. "If your skills can ease the pain of a loved one�s suffering, the majority of witches and wizards aren�t going to care if you are a troll or a trollop."