Part Five

"Severus?"

Severus looked up from the morning issue of "American Wizard", the local newspaper that had accompanied breakfast.

Eirik looked ruffled, with his hair escaping yesterday's braid, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and his face wrinkled from the bedding. The bathrobe he was wearing was hanging open, rumpled from having slept in it.

Severus smiled and put paper and coffee down.

Just in time.

Eirik was suddenly kneeing between his legs, his head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Severus! You're still here."

Severus found himself ruefully shaking his head as he stroked the head buried against him. Like Eirik, he too was wearing one of the terrycloth bathrobes that had been hanging in the bathroom.

"Where else would I be? I've been waiting for you to wake up." He leaned over and rested his mouth on Eirik's head.

Eirik's grip tightened. He made a sound that resembled a choked off sob. "Long gone. After...after last night."

Severus responded to that with a scoff and another kiss. Eirik looked up and the intensity in his expression made Severus very aware that Eirik hadn't been joking.

"You weren't that bad. Just overtired."

Eirik rubbed his face against Severus, pushing the lapels of his robe apart. He nestled his face against the softly pelted skin he had uncovered.

"Severus." Said so softly that Severus only caught a hint of his name.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Severus rested his cheek on Eirik's head, liking the warm breath tickling his skin. "Are you always like...so..."

"So `Riky'?" Eirik sighed. "Yes. It's the only way I can get through those evenings."

Severus stroked the white head. "They're that difficult for you?"

There was a long moment of silence, as if Eirik were deciding just how to answer that. "I keep waiting for one of them to look around and laugh and yell to everyone that this is farce. Or to take out a knife and begin cutting away at..." He turned his face into the warm skin.

"At the part of yourself that you've exposed."

"Yes." Whispered.

Severus nodded. "I think I understand."

Eirik pulled his head away, looking up at Severus. "Do you?"

Severus nodded. "It's like walking into a circle of Death Eaters and seeing your son fight for his life. You know that if you can't get him out, he'll die. And that maybe the price for his being able to escape will be your own life."

Eirik nodded. "Compared to that, I know this sounds trivial..."

"Eirik! The one thing I noticed in all of your work is the amount of yourself that you put into them. You're exposing yourself for possible... `disembowelment', what Voldemort would probably have done to me if Dumbledore and the others hadn't arrive in the nick of time. The pain would be no less, the destruction no less permanent."

Eirik swallowed. He gave a small nod. "Yes, you do understand. Thank you."

He slowly unwrapped the robe away from Severus's body. With a hint of his old self, Eirik brought his hands up along Severus's thighs, lightly skimming his stomach with small circular motions that gradually moved up to his pecs. It crossed Severus's mind that Eirik was reassuring himself that he truly was still here. Then, with a look that promised many things, Eirik dropped his mouth onto the cock that was already reacting to the feel of his hands.

Severus gasped, his fingers digging into Eirik's head, his breath roughening in response to what the mouth and tongue were doing to him. He closed his eyes and accepted the return of his lover.

Eirik concentrated on every nuance of sound coming from Severus. He had awakened, alone in their bed and, though there had been signs of someone having slept next to him, he had immediately thought that his other self, his `Riky', had been too much for Severus to put up with.

But not only was his lover still here, he seemed to understand why Riky existed, why Eirik needed him to hide behind.

He was relieved and wanted to show his thanks, his appreciation for Severus's remaining in the face of what so many of his past lovers hadn't been able to tolerate.

He knew the management of the hotel would probably be wondering what had happened: he hadn't trashed anything, hadn't send food back with screams of it not being what he'd wanted. He hadn't fought with his partner, hadn't kicked anyone out for not being able to understand the state he was in or to give him what he needed. Some had enjoyed his after-exhibition shenanigans, joining him and even encouraging him on to new heights of frantic behaviour, and then couldn't understand his self-loathing after he'd put `Riky' back into the compartment he lived in until his next showing.

But Severus had not only stayed, he'd handled Riky, calming him, helping him deal with the nerves, helping him find sleep. And he understood, truly understood, what Eirik went through when he gave his work up for public scrutiny.

The fingers buried in his hair hurt, but he was so happy to have them there, he barely noticed their presence. Hold on to me, Severus, he chanted to the rhythm of his mouth, hold on. Don't let go. Please.

Severus came with a grunt and a jerk of his hips that shoved his cock further down Eirik's throat. His hands loosened but didn't release as Eirik slurped the last of his cum, cleaning him off.

While Severus recovered, Eirik buried his nose in Severus's groin and inhaled deeply. The scent of his lover filled him.

Severus tensed. Eirik looked up. "What?"

Severus raised his hand as if to brush away the question but then he allowed it to settle onto Eirik's head, fingers playing with some of the loosened hair. He shrugged. "Every time you smell me like that I wonder if this is when you laugh and yell out that this is a farce."

Eirik was shocked. "You're serious? Severus!"

Severus had his inscrutable look on again. "A relationship based on a smell, how rational is that?"

Eirik slipped his arms between the robe and Severus, and held on tight. "The smell only tells me that you're `The One'. That's all it does. The rest of it is up to us. I came after you not just because of the smell. If that had been true, I'd have locked us both in your bedroom and fucked you until I was sated. But I want more than that. That's why I came courting. I wanted to know you better."

Severus's fingertips sketched Eirik's eyebrows, his nose, the line of his jaw. "And what did you need to know that you hadn't already learnt from Finnbogi's files?"

Eirik understood the seriousness of the moment. "That, of all the people I have had in my life, you seem to understand me, all the mes, best. That you'll allow me my painting because," his face softened, "I allow you your potions. That... Dear Merlin! That you're as insecure about this relationship as I am."

He rested his chin on Severus's chest. "I love you, Severus Snape."

"A former Death Eater." Though the eyes were almost afraid, the voice was rough with challenge.

Eirik shook his head. "You want me to tell you what I learnt in Finnbogi's files? I learnt that you're a man who's been to the edge, who looked down into the abyss, and who found the courage in himself to pull back and to step away. That Death Eater stuff, it's before my time, Severus. All it means to me is that it's made you the man that you are. The man I love. The man I need."

Severus looked uncomfortable. Eirik placed a hand on Severus's mouth. "No, I'm not expecting you to say the words back to me now. I know better than that, Severus. I know you need time. But as you waited for me this morning, I'll wait for you."

He could feel Severus's discomfort. He leaned over and kissed Severus's warm skin. "I would however like something cleared up from last night."

Severus's voice was rougher than it had been. "If I can."

Eirik gave Severus a last hug. There' d been enough emotion for them both this morning. He sat back on his heels. "Would you really change me into a newt if I called you Sevvie?"

Severus closed his eyes. A small smile softened his mouth. "Yes."

Eirik sniffed. "Ha!"

Severus looked at him. "Believe me, Eirik, I have a tolerance for a great many things but being called...that name is not one of them."

Eirik took up the ends of Severus's belt and made a loose knot. He fitted the robe back about Severus and then he gave the belt a second knot. "Does this mean that you'll..." he looked up, eyes alive with teasing, "you'll newtify Luc the next time she calls you that?"

Severus closed his hands over Eirik's. "I have a suspicion that harpies may be the exception."

"Harpies? What...? Severus, what makes you think that Luc is a harpy?"

Severus looked startled. "She isn't?"

Eirik shook his head, trying to hold back his laughter.

"But...the hair, the clothing, the nails..."

Eirik grinned. "Fashion. The Art scene here in New York is a little livelier than it is back home."

"You mean she looks like that on purpose!"

Eirik reached up, "No wonder I love you!" And pulled Severus's head down for a thorough kiss.

Eirik dressed in Muggle clothes. Severus watched him via the mirror as he pulled on dark brown trousers, a heavy cream-coloured sweater with a high collar. It suited him, he thought, as much as his teal robe or his paintsplattered working clothes. Another facet of this man who claimed to love him.

Severus brushed back his hair and looked at himself in the same mirror. Though he and Eirik were the same age, he looked older. He certainly wasn't nearly as handsome. His personality was far more introspective than Eirik's. He straightened the high suit coat collar at this throat and wondered if there was any truth to the attractions between opposite personalities.

"No, don't put on the robe. You can get away with the suit and the cloak, but the robe won't pass."

Severus rehung his robe with reluctance: he felt almost naked without it. He adjusted his winter cloak while Eirik zippered up a dark brown soft leather jacket.

They were outside, looking at the shimmer that was the curtain separating this world from the other, when Eirik realized that Severus was truly not looking forward to this excursion into the world of Muggles.

"Severus? What's wrong?"

Severus stood on the esplanade, staring at the demarcation line.

"Some of them died because of me. Not quickly. And I knew that. From the beginning."

Eirik slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. He nodded, eyes focused on the curtain. "Several centuries ago, they used to take people they thought were werewolves and nail them, spread-eagle, to boards. If they were indeed werewolves, during the Change, the nails tore their paws to shreds. Then the Muggles would set their dogs after them. To hunt them down. To tear them to pieces."

Severus couldn't hide his horror. In his imagination he could see Alexander, torn and bleeding, being hunted down.

"They've done and still do worse to those they identify as their enemies. As we do. Brutality is part of us, humans and wizards. The trick is to face it and overcome it."

Eirik pulled on a pair of sunglasses, even though the day wasn't particularly bright.

"My eyes bother them," he said by way of explanation.

Severus shook his head. "Their loss."

And Eirik grinned. "You know," he nudged Severus with his hip, "that's the first time you've made a personal remark about me, outside of bed."

Severus thought it prudent not to respond to that.

Walking through the streets of downtown Manhattan, Severus was amazed that no one seemed to notice that he wasn't dressed as they were. Eirik laughed when he said that aloud. "Take a good look around, Severus. This is New York. Nothing much is out of place around here."

Severus followed Eirik into a building, a store that specialized in men's clothing.

"Mr. Northlander! How delightful to see you again!"

And the next thing he knew, Severus was in a small room walled on three sides with mirrors, with a double doored closet-like structure on the fourth. Eirik tossed his jacket onto one of the chairs that was placed by a small table then took Severus's cloak from him and placed it on top of the jacket. A young man entered, carrying a silver tea service, a plate of biscuits and two delicate sets of cup and saucer.

The man who had greeted Eirik was looking at Severus with a determined glint in his eyes. "Yes," he kept on saying, as he walked around him. He stopped in front of Eirik. "Yes. This will be a definite pleasure, Mr. Northlander."

Eirik made himself comfortable in one of the free chairs and poured himself a cup of tea. Severus could see the slightly vexed look on his face reflected back at him from the walls. Eirik smiled at him. "Just relax. This'll be fun."

"My concept of fun or yours?"

Eirik grinned as the stylist entered followed by several more of the young men.

For the next two hours, Severus was made to dress and undress. He stood silently as Eirik and the man he soon thought of as the Tormentor passed comments on the way he looked in certain clothes, how his shoulders fitted certain cuts and not others. Ditto, more embarrassingly, his arse. His choice of underwear was silently disparaged and replaced with silken boxer knits that caused Eirik to leer at him in a most promising way.

And though they allowed him to keep to his safe and comfortable black, the Tormentor insisted that there were limits and forced him into different tones of greys, from the darkest, nearly black, to a pale, almost white.

During a pause when he and Eirik were alone while the Tormentor went off to locate some shoes and boots, Severus asked, "Why?"

Eirik grinned at him. "Because my closet is filled?" He laughed. "No, seriously, my work occasionally crosses over into this world. So does Father's." At Severus's raised eyebrow, he explained, "There are several Muggle political leaders and organizations who are aware of us. As President, Father maintains friendly ties and likes some of the more presentable members of the family to appear with him once in a while at certain social events. I often attend with Luc - we represent the Arts - so he indicated that I should see to it that you be appropriately dressed for the next one. Thus the suits and formal wear.

"And there are things that I want to show you in this world. And I think you'll be far more comfortable if you don't stick out. The rest of the world isn't New York."

Severus shook his head. "I can't pay for this, Eirik. I didn't change any money."

Eirik grinned. "Call it a gift."

Severus shook his head again. "Even I know that if there are no price tags, the chances are that the tally for your selections will be outrageous."

Eirik grinned. "Do you have any idea of how much I made last night? Even accounting for your harpy's portion? You needn't worry, Severus. Consider them to be your new working clothes. Because, believe me, Father will have you working those events as hard as he will be. He's still got six years left to his tenure as President and he'll expect us to come when he calls."

Severus wondered if he were the only one who remembered he was under Pronouncement of Banishment. He sighed. Oddvar Brekke seemed to expect a lot from his people. So much for there not being any cost for his support!

He frowned at his reflection. He was wearing an elegantly-cut suit with trousers that didn't bag at the ankle, a sweater similar to Eirik's except that his was a dark charcoal. With a grimace, he pushed the hair off his face and glared critically at himself.

Eirik appeared behind him. "You're beautiful," his murmur tickling Severus's ear.

Severus rolled his eyes. "You are obviously still suffering from the aftereffects of last night."

Eirik dropped his chin onto Severus's shoulder. With a grin, he turned his head and sucked on the lobe of Severus's ear. Severus shivered.

"Severus," rasped this voice in his ear, "you truly have no idea of just how sexy you are. It's going to be a real pleasure to show you."

This time when they walked down the street, they did get the occasional glance. Eirik was eye catching enough in himself. Severus could understand why anyone would want to take a second glance at him. But he was surprised when a pair of elegantly dressed women smiled at him as they strode by. He knew it had to be him, Eirik was buying a paper at a near-by kiosk.

He glanced at his reflection in a store window. He was dressed as Eirik was, but in his safe and comforting black. Black trousers, black turtleneck sweater, black leather jacket. The only hint of colour was the grey scarf around his neck. His regular clothes along with his new wardrobe were to be picked up by an employee of their hotel later that day.

Eirik had seen the short exchange and grinned at his lover. "Flirting?"

Severus looked insulted. "I do not flirt!"

Eirik nudged him. "You'll learn."

The building was huge, with tall, thick columns and a long series of stairs leading up to the front doors. There were massive colourful banners hanging down the front of the building. One bore only the word Goya, as though that was enough. Another showed a set of young girls in short dresses whose skirts flared off as though stiff. The word Degas appeared on that one.

Eirik flashed Severus a smile as he paid the entry fee.

The lobby was filled with chattering people. Of all kinds. They were elegantly dressed, causally dressed, poorly dressed. There were children in groups being led by flustered looking adults, parents with children, couples of all pairings and ages.

As they proceeded up the stairs to the inner building, Eirik smiled. "This is one of my favourite Muggle places."

Severus wondered why until they entered the first of many large open rooms whose walls were hung with Muggle art.

As they made their way in deeper, the quieter the rooms grew. Severus noted people standing almost reverently in front of pieces which, unlike Eirik's work, didn't move. Here and there a Muggle was sitting on a chair, eyes focused on a painting. People walking by made certain not to block their view. In front of one, out of the direct path of travel, a young woman had set up an easel and was copying a part of some work which fascinated her.

Eirik said nothing, just stopped now and then in front of a piece he wanted Severus to see. They were in front of Vermeer's `Young Woman with a Water Pitcher' when Severus said to him, in a soft voice, "They have magic, too, haven't they? Not our magic, but magic still."

He could feel Eirik relax. "I love you."

Severus kept his eyes on the young woman with the overlarge wimple and smiled.

Now that he was certain Severus understood, Eirik showed him his personal favourites: the Rembrandt self-portrait, the Breughels. He was more cautious when they moved into the Modern section, where he let Severus lead. It was obvious that there were some he didn't find magical, but he stopped in front of Modigliani's `Reclining Nude' longer than he had in front of any of the others and finally nodded. Eirik bit his lip with delight: it was also one of his favourites. Not to mention the Monets, which Severus also liked.

They were standing in front of `Water Lilies' when Severus' stomach growled loudly, attracting some smiles and glares from their fellow art lovers. Eirik checked his watch: they'd been here for over two hours. Long past time for lunch, closer to supper. "Come on, time to feed the physical man."

They were outside when Severus stopped. Eirik watched him as he looked about in the fading light. "It truly is another world. With as much right to exist as ours." He looked at Eirik. "Voldemort and others who believe as he did are wrong."

Eirik nodded. "They have their strong points and their weaknesses. They're as protective of themselves as we are of ourselves. Doesn't mean we can't co-exist."

Severus smiled. "Is that Oddvar Brekke I hear?"

They started down the stairs. Eirik shrugged. "Can't be around the old man without picking up some of his philosophy. Besides, we in the North may see things differently. We're not so pressed against them, like you are in the more southern regions. We werewolves ended up in places where there was ample room to roam, to settle in our villages without being much noticed. It's not by chance that there are so many werewolf clans in the colder regions of the world. I mean, not exactly hospitable territory for Muggles. We had an easier time with adaptation. And since we were less visible, we were less prone to persecution not just by Muggles but by our own kind for being different. It gave us time to become a true part of the wizarding world in those areas."

The cab ride was a nightmare for Severus. Eirik sat next to him in the back seat, holding his hand, as the driver wove in and out and around traffic, muttering invectives. "Close your eyes," he recommended.

"No, thank you." He gasped as the cab fit into a space it shouldn't have. Unlike riding on the Knight Bus, nothing here made way for their vehicle. "If I'm going to die, I don't want to be taken by surprise."

It seemed they might be too causally dressed for the restaurant Eirik had chosen, one specializing in Szechuan and Cantonese food that he swore Severus would enjoy. They were both given the once over and Severus was certain that the short Asian man of indeterminate age had priced their apparel to the knut before showing them to a booth.

Eating with chopsticks was another adventure, but this one had Eirik laughing and Severus determined to show the two thin sticks just who was in control.

"What other new and exciting experience do you have in mind for me now?"

They were walking along the street, jackets zippered up to their necks and gloved hands in their pockets. With the darkness, the temperature had dropped. Nothing like it would be back at Hillswick, but Severus found it much damper.

"You'll see."

It was a skating rink.

With a grin, Eirik led Severus up to the booth where he rented them each a pair of skates.

"You have got to be out of your mind."

Eirik pushed Severus down on one of the benches and handed him a pair. He sat next to him and began exchanging boots for skates. "Come on. It'll limber you up for the rest of the evening."

Severus gave Eirik one of his frostier looks. "The rest of the evening. I'm going to need limbering up for the rest of the evening?"

He must have honed that look on Slytherin House, thought Eirik. Bet he never had to ask for silence twice. But Eirik only grinned at Severus in response.

With a resigned sigh, Severus laced up the skates.

"I have never done this, you know," he announced casually as he tied the second lace.

Eirik was stunned. "Truly? Come on, Severus, surely..."

Severus only shook his head. He got to his feet gingerly: Eirik quickly took him by the hands. "Think of this as another pair of chopsticks."

Severus glared. "I doubt that I could have broken my neck in that situation."

"Trust me. I won't let you fall."

Severus looked into his eyes. Eirik had taken off his sunglasses as soon as they had come out of the restaurant: Muggles rarely noticed his eyes after dark.

"I trust you."

Eirik heard more than the words. Still maintaining eye contact, he brought Severus's hand to his mouth. "Thank you."

Still, there were a few close calls before Severus got the hang of moving around on thin edges. And there was laughter.

Eirik held the moment in his heart when Severus, attempting to skate on his own, wobbled as though his legs were boneless, then managed to find his balance and skate triumphantly into Eirik's arms. His face was lit with success and pleasure and lightness of spirt. Eirik thought that he had never seen Severus look so beautiful.

"I can't believe you'd never done that before," he laughed in the cab on their way to yet another new experience for Severus. "Must be something specific to the North."

Severus shook his head. "Our temperatures are rarely that cold, Eirik. The lake at Hogwarts might ice over, but never deeply enough to hold anyone's weight."

The cab left them at 13th and Broadway. Severus looked around. The neighbourhood was not as upper-scale as where they'd spent the day.

Eirik grinned. "All limbered up?"

Severus grimaced. "I'll feel this tomorrow."

"I'll take care of that tomorrow. Right now, time to put all that limbering up to good stead."

It was a nightclub, one that took Severus only a few moments to realize was filled with males.

"I suppose that dancing isn't something that you've much experience with."

Severus yelled over the noise. "Really? And what clued you in?"

Eirik grinned as he took Severus by the hand and led him to a small booth huddled against the wall. "The look of astonishment on your face." He tossed his jacket into the booth and took Severus's off him before he could complain. To a passing waiter he held up two fingers and yelled "Heineken" into his ear.

He grabbed Severus's hand and pulled him along to where males in all states of dress - and undress - were gyrating to a deafening beat.

As Eirik moved in response to that beat, Severus stood watching. Apart from supervising dances at Hogwarts, he had no real experience with this activity. He hadn't been popular enough to have a partner, even a Slytherin female one, at the dances held when he had been a student. He usually spent those in his room reading or, if he had been able to sneak past the newly hired and therefore overly-conscientious Filch and Mrs. Norris, in the Potions classroom, working on a potion of his own invention.

Eirik cocked his head and kept on doing things with his body that explained why he could move the way he did in bed. In fact, watching him, Severus could feel his body reacting in a manner that could be socially embarrassing.

The loud beat slid into another song and Eirik leaned over, once more yelling to be heard, "Just think of an ice cube dropped down your back and move that way."

Severus's eyebrow rose high. He wasn't certain this was something he was going to be able to do with any success. Chopsticks and skating were... Well, maybe not the skating. There were some people who looked as had a few of the skaters before they'd hit the ice.

Reluctantly, not wanting to disappoint Eirik who was beginning to look concerned, Severus tried. He tried to convince his feet that they could move in response to the rhythm, his arms not to get in the way. He had some success, though never with the exuberance or dexterity Eirik displayed. And when he finally lost enough self-awareness to concentrate only on the beat, he found that his body enjoyed the movement.

"More like mating," he said when they'd returned to the table to down the cold beer waiting for them.

"Exactly like mating. That's what most of the men are here for: to find a mate for the night at least."

Severus was disapproving. "Is that what we're here for?"

Eirik shook his head. "No way. We're here so I can show you off." And laughed at Severus's incredulous expression.

Still, Severus was taken by surprise when several men tried to cut in, and move him away from his partner so that they could dance with Severus, not Eirik. More than dance, actually. Severus couldn't believe the propositions he got, and the manner they were offered in the loudness that passed for music. And though he was definitely not at all tempted by any offer, it was very satisfying to watch how Eirik dealt with those men. Some shrugged and went off when he made it clear that he was with Severus. Others needed more persuasion, which Eirik was more than happy to provide.

The strange thing was that Severus suddenly found himself as possessive of Eirik's attention as it seemed Eirik was of his.

At first, when a dancer had tried to get Eirik's attention, Severus had not interfered, letting Eirik deal with the situation. But as the night grew later and the heat- both temperature and sexual - in the club rose, he moved quickly to dissuade any challenger. His Hogwarts glare was called into play more than he'd had to use it since leaving the school. And he was delighted to see that though it didn't have much effect on Eirik, it hadn't lost any of its power on others.

Eirik grinned as he watched Severus deal with another dancer who was determined to come between them. Nice to know that he wasn't the only one to feel a little possessive tonight. Damn, but the man looked like sex on two legs. He was more at ease with the music, his body looser. His hair was damp from exertion and his feelings more open. He'd gotten less stiff as the evening progressed, and had picked up enough moves from watching those around them that he seemed to be actually enjoying himself.

The music slipped into a softer beat and Eirik pulled Severus into his arms. Arms wrapped around each other, they barely moved to the music, claiming their little space. Bloody hell, there was that smell again. He rubbed his hardening cock against Severus, who pulled away just enough to raise that eyebrow again and then leer. Eirik nearly gasped: Severus was leering at him! Then he pulled Eirik in close and rubbed his own erection against Eirik's.

Severus opened his mouth and, angling his head just right, took Eirik's which opened to greet him. Ah, that taste. That went directly to his cock. Severus moaned and tried to take more of Eirik's flavour into his own mouth.

They broke apart and, without saying a word, together made for the booth and their jackets. Outside, Eirik headed for a dark nook and allowed Severus to reclaim his mouth. They broke to breathe and rub against each other like two dogs in heat. Which they were. Eirik swallowed and had to clear his throat in order to disapparate them back to their hotel and room. Severus' mouth was far too busy working on his throat, on the soft spot under his ear.

They took off only enough clothing to deal with their immediate hunger.

By now, Severus knew to find the jar of unguent that he fabricated for them under Eirik's pillow. He drew it out with one hand as his other was burrowing under Eirik's sweat-soaked sweater, hunting down a nipple. He tormented the sensitive nub of flesh until Eirik was writhing under him.

He pulled his hand down to Eirik's trousers, opened them and freed his cock. Eirik bucked, rubbing up against the rough weave of Severus's sweater. He grabbed hold of his shoulders and arched himself into Severus again.

Severus swallowed the other's breathy gasps as he managed to uncap the jar with one hand and dip two fingers deep into it. Then, he wriggled his hand between them and got his trousers open. With a hard push, he turned Eirik over onto his stomach, yanked down his trousers enough for him to find his arsehole with his greased fingers.

Eirik moaned loudly and raised his arse in invitation.

A quick swipe of greased fingers on his own cock and then, hand guiding him to the place he wanted to fill, Severus pushed his cock in hard.

Eirik shouted and, though Severus heard him, he knew enough now about his lover to know that his rough claiming was welcomed.

There was no finesse to their orgasms. Severus rammed in and out until he came while Eirik slipped a hand between himself and the covers until he found his cock and jerked himself off to the rhythm that Severus set.

They lay panting, an entanglement of arms and legs. Eirik turned his head so that he could breathe more easily. Severus rested his head next to Eirik's, reaching over with his mouth to suck on the nearby earlobe. Eirik moaned softly. Severus wrapped his free arm around Eirik's waist. Eirik tightened his arse muscles around the cock that was still in him.

"Have I mentioned that I like being done this way?"

Severus released the earlobe. "Not too rough?"

Eirik turned his head to face Severus. "I'll let you know if it's ever too rough. Wolf's honour."

They kissed.

"I need a shower," Severus complained as he slowly pulled out of Eirik.

"Sounds good." Eirik grinned then wriggled his eyebrows. "Bet I can get you to come first."

Severus raised only one eyebrow. His tone was dry, almost non-caring. "Really?"

Eirik's grin grew into a smirk. "Yes," he purred as he followed Severus into the bathroom.

He lost.

They spent the next day at some other museums and art galleries that Eirik wanted Severus to see. Supper was with Luc who showed up without Billy Babe and with a totally different look. She was dressed in a dark grey business suit and robe, a black leather briefcase in hand, auburn hair in a sedate chignon.

Severus gasped at the number of galleons she had deposited into Eirik's account at the New York branch of Gringotts. Between dishes of antipasto, pasta and dessert, arrangements were discussed for Eirik's next showing, in two years' time.

"I think that instead of borrowing a few portraits, the ones you do of Sevvie and his kid - Alex, isn't it?" she smiled at Severus, "would make a nice presentation of your portrait work."

Eirik sat back in his chair. "What makes you think that I'm going to be painting them?"

The harpy of the exhibition peered out of Luc's eyes. "Well, the way the two of you have been playing footsie all evening is one clue. Another is the fact that you actually asked Sevvie here for his opinion on something. It was only the wine, but I've never before heard you express any consideration for the opinion of one of your...ah... let's call them exes, shall we?"

Definitely a harpy, thought Severus, no matter what Eirik said.

"And the fact that he allowed you to drag him through... How many museums and art galleries, was it, Sevvie? Six? Seven? Well, I expect not only portraits of Sevvie and Alex, but the next generation as well. Unless Alex is also gay? Why haven't you asked him? Oh, well, if he's as sweet and sexy as Sevvie here, well," she nearly wriggled with the tease, "kids and puppies sell really well, Riky."

She kissed and hugged Eirik when she left them at the entrance of the small restaurant. Then she hugged and kissed `Sevvie'.

"See you when I see you. Probably early summer. I want to find you've got at least five canvases ready for me to look at by then, Riky."

Eirik waited until she'd apparanted off to wherever she was going to glare at Severus. "I thought once you knew she wasn't a harpy that you weren't going to let her get away with calling you..." Severus's eyebrow threatened. "...that name."

Severus smiled innocently. "She thinks I'm sweet and sexy. I can forgive her that."

"I think you're sweet and sexy and you won't let me call you...that."

"No, I won't. But then again, I don't call you Riky. I think that's a fair exchange."

Eirik shook his head as they walked through the demarcation curtain. "And to think I was really looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when you turned her into a newt. You owe me, Severus. Big time."

Severus only shrugged, wondering where they were headed for this evening. The part of town they were in was brilliant with marquee lights, noise and as many people as he'd seen at any corner in the daylight.

"Times Square. The best and the worst of New York."

"And we're heading for?"

It was a sex shop.

Eirik held back his smile as Severus's eyes opened wide at the variety of toys. He sounded shocked as he muttered, "Toys? These are toys?"

"For adults, Severus. And we are that."

Eirik could easily read Severus as they walked around the shop. Some of the toys were definite turn-offs. He gently steered Severus away from the whips and other bondage and S&M gear. He himself didn't mind skirting the edge, but it wasn't something that was necessary to him.

Now cock rings and nipple clamps, butt plugs and vibrators were another matter.

Severus was stunned at the variety of lube. "They're even flavoured," he muttered under his breath.

Eirik shook his head. "Not on our shopping list. I like the one you make for us. The only flavour I want is you."

Severus was very quiet as they walked along the displays. Eirik's attention wandered to the items he was choosing, imagining how Severus would respond some of the play he intended introducing into their love-making.

"Eirik."

Something in Severus's voice made him shift all his attention from cock rings onto the man standing at his side. He was wearing one of those faces Eirik so disliked: the one devoid of all expression, all emotion from his eyes.

Eirik wondered if this trip to the shop had been too much for Severus.

"Do you want to leave?"

Severus shook his head. He used it to gesture towards the whips. "If that's the kind of thing that you like...I'll let you."

Eirik didn't immediately understand. He had to look at the section for Severus's offer to penetrate. Odin! he thought.

Worried at the offer and understanding the reason for the blandness of Severus's voice when he made it, Eirik put the packages down and stepped up close enough so that they could have a very private, very quiet conversation.

"No. No, Severus, it's not. I'll admit that I like it rough now and then, but I'm not into pain and I'm not into blood."

"It would be all right."

It passed through Eirik's mind that if he had ever truly wondered if Severus cared for him, maybe even loved him, this was the time when all doubt was cast aside. That the man would offer to submit to pain in order to keep him happy...

"No, it wouldn't. I like it when you do me rough, Severus, because it means that you're so hot and hungry for me that you've forgotten your own guidelines about sex. About how nothing is to hurt." He kept on quickly, not allowing Severus to interrupt. "Yes, sometimes it does hurt but I like that kind of hurt. It doesn't last long, and it isn't pain. I told you once that I'm not into pain and I meant it. Not receiving it. Definitely not giving it."

Eirik placed his hand on Severus's clenched fist. "Love, I do thank you for the offer but the games I like are the ones we're already playing. The ones you seem to like?"

He waited while some colour returned to Severus's face and he nodded.

Eirik felt the relief down to his toes. "We can expand on those for years to come."

And he leaned over and rubbed his cheek against Severus's still tense one.

"Do you want to leave?" he whispered.

Severus turned his face into Eirik's hair and leaned into it. "No." He cleared his throat and stepped back from the intimate closeness. "No, I think that I want to take a look at those butt plugs. You only have the one and, if what you tell me is true, we're each going to need our own to get through those social invitations of your father."

When they arrived home the next day, Eirik watched as Severus made certain he was the one who unpacked the case which contained a rather large bag filled with a variety of toys. He even spelled the drawer he stored them in so that only he or Eirik could open it.

Freya shook her head and wondered why it was that the male of the species had been created without an awareness gene.

When she'd returned, she'd found the two men had settled into the first phase of their relationship. They were still getting to know each other and, all things considered, for two rather strong personalities, were getting along quite well.

Eirik had converted the parlour into his studio and was working on a portrait commission of some colleague of his mother's. The man was headmaster of the school at which she taught, and Eirik was doing this as a favour to her. Freya had already decided that the portrait would be adequate, but would not have the Northlander touch as the man obviously did not interest Eirik. He was working from sketches and photographs.

Severus was working in his lab with Bera Hillswick, the Village Potion Maker. She was assisting him as he was making a large batch of a fairly complex healing potion that the Elders had hesitantly requested from him. Whenever he had the time, they'd added. The Elders were still more than a bit in awe of Severus and his abilities. That someone of his skills had been banished to their part of the world, that he would willingly share his expertise with them, was, in their eyes, an unexpected outcome of their supporting the father of one of their Clan.

Orm had settled in rather well. Ketil and he were distant cousins and Ketil didn't mind sharing his Family with family. Freya had overheard a conversation in which the two house elves were trying to better each other's examples of the foibles of their masters when working.

She'd even heard from both Finnbogi and Oddvar about how Eirik had been so much better behaved since Severus had come into his life. She knew that Oddvar had purchased `Raven Among Parrots', and that it was now hanging in his office at IFOW Headquarters. Finnbogi had merely indicated, in a passing conversation, that there had been no complaint from the New York hotel this exhibition, not a one.

And looking at the two men, she could see that each had found his partner. Eirik was calmer, less morose when a painting didn't go the way he expected it to. He allowed Severus not only to look at a piece before it was finished, but asked for his opinion and comments. This from a man who had once nearly killed a lover who had dared sneak a peek and then commented on it to Luc before it was done!

Severus, well, Severus was not the same man who had come up for Inga's funeral. He was no less intense about his work, no less diligent about his correspondence with Alexander, but he actually laughed now and then. And he had begun to tease back. In that dry, sarcastic voice of his, but definitely teasing.

And Freya was quite thankful that Severus's bedchamber was spelled for silence. Not that she minded where the two men had sex, or fondled each other - she'd overheard a rather playful encounter in the parlour one afternoon, and only that once - but Alexander would be home in a month's time and she didn't think that a now fourteen year old boy should be an audience for his father's sexual life.

Affection was something else. Eirik was affectionate and that should not be confined to behind doors. Alexander was, too. It would do Severus good to allow that part of himself expression as well. He was learning, she was happy to note.

And it was obvious that the two men were happy.

Had been.

Until that letter had arrived and Severus had reverted to his silent, stoic self.

Eirik had noted the silence, the stoicism. But he hadn't made the connection with the letter and didn't understand why Severus was acting the way he was.

And instead of asking Severus what was the reason...

Well, no, she had to be fair: he had. And Severus had answered that nothing was wrong. But the...the...man had accepted that and was still shrugging his shoulders at Severus's attitude!

Dear Odin! Was it only women who could connect the dots?

She looked up from her notes for the article she was writing for the `Periodical on Werewolf Midwifery' - though Anna had had to spend the last three weeks before labour in her bed, and though the actual delivery hadn't been easy, the twins had been born hale and hearty and their mother had lived - when Eirik dropped into the chair opposite her at the table. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched until he was resting on his tailbone.

"Not going well?"

He scoffed. "As well as can be expected. That man is such a..." He growled.

Freya pushed her notes to one side and reached out a hand to Eirik. He shrugged and placed one of his in hers. "I take it that's not just in reference your mother's headmaster."

Eirik scowled and shrugged again. "I don't understand. Everything seemed to be going so well."

Freya nudged, "Until?"

"Until last week. Now he's like he was when I first met him. Freya, I love him, but that man he used to be, that's not Severus. Not any more."

Freya sighed. Not only missing a gene, but thick as well. "Eirik." She placed her other hand on top of his. "What happened last week?"

"Huh?"

Freya made a moue of self-control. Ah, well, it wasn't as though the boy could help it. Even Oddvar, with his great diplomatic skills, never understood why his wives acted as they did.

"Eirik. Last week, Severus received a letter. Do you remember?"

Eirik wriggled. She knew from his expression that he didn't like her slightly exasperated tone, but frankly!

"Severus gets a lot of letters. From Alexander. From that professor in Lillehammer. Even from the Potter kid. You're going to have to be more specific."

Freya released Eirik's hands and reached for her wand. The drawer in the sideboard opened and a badly wrinkled letter rose out and made its way over to the table.

Eyes holding hers, Eirik reached for the letter. "I never saw this," he pointed out after a quick scan. "I don't read his letters unless he wants to share. He respects my privacy the same way."

She sat back. "A letter tossed into the garbage after it's mangled might well prove to be an exception to that very good rule."

"It's an invitation to a Potion Masters conference."

"Yes."

"So he doesn't want to go. That's why he threw it away." Eirik tossed the letter back onto the table.

Freya controlled the urge to hit him. "Doesn't he?"

Eirik picked the letter up again and reread it. He looked up at her. "Doesn't he?"

Mentally, she counted to five. "The letter indicates who has been invited."

Eirik glanced down. "Yes? So?"

"Eirik," she felt her exasperation reach its limit, "even you have to recognize some of those names. You've met some of them at your father's socials."

Eirik reread the listing. He went to say something but Freya's glare made him stop and consider. "They're bigwigs."

"Yes. Very important Potions Masters."

"And they've invited Severus."

"Yes." It was worse than pulling teeth!

"Freya, I do know that Severus is a superb potions maker. I've heard that often enough from Bera."

The slight condescension in his voice made her grit her teeth. "Eirik, Severus is a genius with potions. How else could he have invented the Wolfsbane?"

Eirik shrugged. "He doesn't think so. That he invented it. He told me that all he'd done was read up on the other attempts and toss out what hadn't worked and keep what had."

"And you believed him? Eirik. One day, take the time to look at what had been done prior to his work. See how much of what had already been done actually appears in the formula. Not just the ingredients but the spells. He invented a few of those as well."

Eirik squirmed a little, which she found very satisfying. "He passes it off as nothing."

"The potion represents years of work, Eirik." Then she nudged harder. "Why did it take him so long?"

Eirik sat up. He exhaled loudly, passing his hands through his hair. "All right. I admit to being dense. You're trying to tell me something and instead of wanting to hit me over the head with a hammer, why don't you just say it?"

Freya crossed her arms over her chest. "Because if you work it out for yourself, you'll understand him better."

Eirik closed his eyes and moaned. "Damn it, Gudrid was just like that. If I asked her for help with an assignment, she would spend hours pulling the information out of me word by word rather than just hand it to me."

He placed his hands flat on the table. "All right. It took him that long because...because he was at Hogwarts and teaching. Not in a lab."

"Yes. And why was he at Hogwarts, Eirik, and not in a lab of his own, which is where he should have been?"

"Because...he liked teaching."

"Oh, yes. He so liked teaching," Freya allowed herself to drip Snape-like sarcasm, "that his was the very sweetest and most patient of dispositions."

Eirik found a smile. "Not according to the reports Finnbogi collected."

"And why was that?"

Eirik offered a little tentatively, "Because he would have preferred being in a lab."

She nodded. It was slow going but they were getting there! "Imagine what it was like for him. Needing to be in a lab, working on his potions, but instead having to deal with students who had little respect for his subject, even less for him. Having only the summers to work on something that he needed to do as much as...you need to paint. Knowing there was a line of experiment he should be following but instead having to break away to teach, to correct, to examine. And more than that, to deal with the everyday problems of his House."

"Then why didn't he just quit?"

"Eirik, what was the understanding Severus had with the Ministry so that he wasn't sent to Azkaban?"

"That he work with Dumbledore to bring down Voldemort."

"And Dumbledore was where?"

"At Hogwarts. So that was where Severus had to be as well." He thought a moment, "But why in the classroom? Why not in a school sponsored lab? Lillehammer can't be the only school to have that kind of thing. For students who wish to specialize. You have to be a brain to get into those classes. And Severus might have enjoyed teaching them. He certainly doesn't mind teaching Bera, and she was top of her class in Potions."

"Eirik, do you remember your own Potions instructor?"

Eirik laughed. "Odin! What an idiot! He let us make love potions and things like that. Potions to turn a faithless lover into a frog. I seem to remember that someone used that one on him."

"And what is Alexander's main complaint about the staff at Hogwarts?"

Eirik sounded pensive. "That his Potions instructor is also an idiot."

"Eirik, Potions instructors in most schools are idiots. It's not a popular subject. It's one that's necessary, but it's a career with no real glory attached to it. Not like Aurors, or Foreign Ministries. The ones who are good at Potions end up in select positions. They don't end up in classrooms teaching first year students."

Eirik nodded. "But Severus did. As punishment?"

Ah, finally, Freya thought. "If you've read Finnbogi's reports, you know that Severus spent his holidays - all of them - at Hogwarts. Except for one when he spent a week up here."

"He was suicidal."

"Was he?" She hadn't known that. She sat back in her chair. There had been no mention of suicide in Finnbogi's reports. She hadn't been here that summer. If she had, would she have noticed how badly off Severus was? Inga had been aware that he was troubled by something, but suicide? To that point? "That might explain why Dumbledore allowed him..."

Eirik sat up, snarling, "They didn't stick him in Azkaban because Hogwarts was his prison. Albus Dumbledore was not his protector, he was his warden!"

YES! thought Freya, and hoped she had kept it out of her face. She leaned over the table, her hands now on Eirik's. Time to remind him of things that were in Finnbogi's reports but which he had probably forgotten since political intrigue usually went in one ear and out the other with Eirik.

"Other than his desire to become Minister for Magic, Albus Dumbledore cared for one thing, more than anything else. He cared for Hogwarts.

"He wanted to make it the best of all the schools for witchcraft and wizardry in our world. And he did. Even before he became Headmaster, he had a lot of influence on his predecessor. He saw to it that Hogwarts attracted some of the very best. Especially for the serious sciences. Minerva McGonagall was one of the best teachers of Transfiguration. Madam Sprout is second to none in her ability with Herbology. Even Professor Binn, ghost that he is, is still one of the finest minds in his knowledge of our history.

"Dumbledore offered them whatever they wanted in order to keep them. So they wouldn't be tempted away by better offers. They are some of the best paid professors in any school."

Eirik interrupted, scowling. "He didn't pay Severus what he was worth. Not by a long shot!"

Freya smiled. "No," she agreed. "According to Finnbogi, Severus is no spendthrift. He deposited most of his salary into Gringotts and used them as his brokers. Added to that is the money allowed him from a trust set up by his grandparents which means Severus is more than comfortable."

She continued, "What drew the Hogwarts staff more than the money is that they have total teaching freedom in their classes. They pick the curriculum, not the Ministry. So it wasn't that hard to keep them. Dumbledore had managed to assemble the best, except for the usual Potions classes."

Eirik was angry. "And then he had one of the very best Potions Masters at his disposal. Under his control."

"Eirik, even before news of the Wolfsbane leaked out, Severus has been invited to this conference for the last ten years and every year he hasn't attended."

He picked up the letter once again. "I don't understand. All right, he wasn't allowed to go while he was imprisoned in Hogwarts, but he's not there now. Finnbogi's fixed him up with all the documents he might need to travel. Why won't he go?"

Freya sighed softly. "Maybe it's because he's still not used to the freedom: he was there for so long. So far, whenever he's left Hillswick, it's been for a Brekke reason. Maybe he doesn't think a Snape reason will be reason enough."

She reached over and once more placed her hand on the tensed arm of the man brooding in front of her. "Eirik, what is it about Severus that keeps you here with him, painting in a room that is so much more inferior to your own studio, away from your own house?"

Eirik played with the letter. He set it down on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles. He looked almost shy, thought Freya.

Wary, in a soft voice, Eirik answered her. "He completes me."

She smiled at him. "A rare favour, that. Well, then, Eirik, return the favour."

He nodded. "Wolf's honour, Freya." Then he stood up, yelling, "Orm! Ketil! Pack our bags. For three days, including formal wear. For weather that is truly spring, not for what passes for it here! Get it all to this conference and tell them we're on our way."

As the door slammed behind him on his way to the lab, Freya sighed and, with a smile for something well accomplished, she reached for her notes.

Bera Hillswick was in awe of the man working at her side. The potion they were making dealt with the healing of wounds which were severely infected, almost gangrenous. Sometimes things happened to her werewolf kin when they were in Change and roamed far away from the Village. Sometimes they didn't make it back, or near enough back, when they Changed back to human form. Sometimes they died of their badly infected wounds.

This potion would be of great help to her and the others who were involved with the health and care of the Villagers.

The potion was not something that she would have tried on her own. She was a good Potions Maker, but she was wise enough to know that this one was beyond her skills.

But not beyond the skills of the man who had invented the Wolfsbane.

Bera looked at Professor Snape from under her lashes. She was honoured that he was allowing her to help him. But more than that, he was also showing her the proper way of making the potion, explaining what he was doing and why. As if he eventually expected her to be able to do so.

She knew those Aurors had made comments in the hearing of the Villagers about the Professor, about his being a traitor and a murderer, but she hadn't believed them then and never would, not now.

They were in the final stages of the making, waiting for it to cool down so that it could be bottled when the door of the lab burst open and Eirik Brekke charged in.

"There's no other word for it," she told her father that night at supper. "The door slammed open and Mr. Brekke rushed in, all angry. The Professor was so startled that he didn't say anything."

She giggled, blushing slightly. "Then he couldn't because Mr. Brekke had the Professor in his arms and was kissing him. Then, when he finally broke it off, he looked at me - Mr. Brekke, that is - and asked me if I could finish off the potion on my own. Well, I could. There was only the cleaning up and bottling left to do, so I said yes. And then, he grabbed the Professor again and kissed him. And they disapparated!

"Madam Freya helped me finish the bottling. She kept on asking me to describe again what I'd seen and then she'd smile."

Severus was peeved. No, more than that, he could feel himself grow angry. What bloody right did Eirik have to barge into his lab that way and...and grab him like that? He was making a potion, one that required a great deal of concentration. It was only fortunate that he and the girl had been done otherwise an entire cauldron of a complicated potion could have been ruined.

And why the hell was Eirik still insisting on kissing him? Surely he could feel how unco-operative he was being!

Severus pulled his mouth away from his lover's, ready to let loose with the most scathing comment he could think of when he suddenly realized that they were not in the lab anymore.

Not only that, that they had an audience.

He stepped back from Eirik and glared at the two witches who were watching them with eyes wide open and faces blushing. What was wrong with them? Hadn't they ever seen anyone kiss before?

And a short, rotund wizard who was looking as though he wanted to laugh but wasn't.

"Professor Snape, I presume," said the wizard, coming down some steps, hand out in greeting. "May I say how absolutely delighted we are that you could join us this year. We despaired of ever getting you to attend our gatherings. I'm Petronius Togidubnus, this year's chairman of the Potion Masters Conference." He had grabbed Severus's hand and was shaking it repeatedly as he spoke.

"Professor Togidubnus? I... That is to say..."

Severus had no idea what to say. He allowed the wizard to continue shaking his hand as he looked about, finally lighting on Eirik who was watching him, his grin reflecting his self-satisfaction.

Eirik avoided his glare to step up and get the attention of the Chairman. "Good afternoon, Professor. My name is Eirik Northlander. I apologize for our appearances, but I've only just managed to get Severus away from his cauldron. I'm certain that you yourself will have no problem understanding that."

The Chairman was delighted to shake Eirik's hand. "Mr. Northlander. This is an honour. We met once, at President Brekke's inauguration I doubt that you'll remember..."

"Potions Master at the Milano School of Magic. You recently wrote a challenge supporting the non-traditional usage of Phoenix tears in certain potions. And I believe you know my mother, Hildigunn Neilsen Brekke."

Professor Togidubnus actually reddened as he beamed with pleasure. "Yes, oh, my."

Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing. And he thought that Eirik was pouring on the Brekke charm a little too thickly. "Professor Togidubnus..."

"Yes, yes. You'll want to register and take a minute or two to find your things and change. I believe that your house elf has seen to your luggage and the room. Now then, we only need you to sign in and these two charming ladies will provide you with the itinerary for the next three days. Mr. Northlander, will you be accompanying Professor Snape or will you be occupied elsewhere?"

"I'd like to accompany Severus and, if people don't mind, sketch a little."

Mind?" Professor Togidubnus couldn't grin any more widely. "Of course not. I don't see how anyone would mind being sketched by you. I'll just see to a registration for yourself so that you will be allowed in. I must, however, indicate that there are certain presentations to which, I apologize, you will not be admitted. I'm afraid the opening speech will be one of those."

"No need. I understand. That will allow me to revisit some old friends. The local museums and art galleries."

Severus finished signing in and accepted his bag of conference information from one of the witches who whispered, "It is such an honour, Professor Snape, to finally meet you in person."

"Thank you," he whispered back, not really understanding why they were whispering.

And then they were in the room assigned to them and Eirik was pushing him into the bathroom. "Shower. The welcoming speech has already begun. I'll see to your clothes."

Severus stopped so suddenly that Eirik bumped into him.

"What?"

Severus opened his mouth to say something but Eirik pushed him into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the shower. "Later, love. You can yell at me all you want this evening. Now get going. You need to get rid of that odour of..." he wrinkled his nose, "of what ever it is that you used in your potion. Smells very medicinal."

Ten minutes later, Severus found himself entering a small hall filled with the most powerful wizards of his specialty. At the doorway, one of the two witches who had been part of the welcoming committee, smiled as she cast a Translation Spell on him. No matter what language was being spoken, he would hear his own.

He quietly made his way to a seat at the back and sat down. One or two others who were sitting there turned to see who the latecomer was. He expected to be told to get out but instead, with a slight lowering of their heads, they greeted him as one who belonged in their midst and returned their attention to the speaker.

Severus sat back, slipped his hands into his robe sleeves, and listened.

The afternoon, after the welcoming speeches and announcements were over, was spent socializing.

Severus wasn't the last arrival. There were one or two others who apparated in the lobby still wearing their working robes. Thankfully, everyone was wearing name tags, which looked idiotic, but which meant that there was no need to try and put a name to a face. Potions Masters didn't socialize much and this was an awkward time for many, not just Severus.

He accepted a drink from a passing house elf and found a quiet corner in which to remind himself that he was truly here, in Milano, Italy, in the presence of men and women who were only familiar to him through their writings. That had been the one thing not denied him, his right to write investigations on potional theory and to publish the results of his experimentation. And though the Wolfsbane had taken him years to perfect, he had established a small reputation as an innovator of certain new potions, a reputation which had allowed Dumbledore to boast that Hogwarts had the best Potions curriculum of all schools.

It was obvious that some of these people were good friends, some knew of others enough to make a personal reference, still others like himself were making their way to corners or shadows in order to watch before getting involved.

Professor Togidubnus was making the rounds, greeting some, waving to others, and doing his best to pull people out of the shadows into conversation with others.

When he stopped in front of Severus, Severus smiled at him, a little ruefully. "I see that there is as much politics among us as any diplomatic gathering."

Togidubnus grinned as he shrugged in a very Italian manner. "I enjoy the politics which is why I suppose this is the fifth time I serve as Chairman. And I enjoy introducing people to others whom I think they will enjoy meeting in turn. Professor Snape, may I introduce you to Sun Yat-Sun. Professor Sun, Severus Snape. I think the two of you will find that you have a great deal in common."

Sun Yat-Sun was not quite as tall as Severus. More slight than thin. Many decades older. He wore a heavy embroidered black and silver on black Mandarin silk garment that ended below his knees. His trousers were of the same black silk, unembroidered, though the black slippers on his feet were decorated with Chinese hieroglyphics identical to those on his robe. His thick grey-white hair was cut short and he was clean shaven except for a long, greyish moustache which framed his mouth and chin.

Sun's dark eyes had been just as busy evaluating Severus. He cocked his head to one side and raised an elegant eyebrow. "So, tell me, Professor Snape, just what kind of shit are you in with your Minister for Magic?"

Eirik was propped up against a stack of pillows on the bed when Severus entered their room. He glanced at his lover over the top of the newspaper he was reading: La Gazzetta della Stregoneria Italiana.

"Done for now?"

Severus pulled up a convenient armchair and made himself comfortable. "Seems we have some free time until dinner at eight."

Eirik folded the paper and rested it on his lap. He pointed to a tray with a variety of finger foods and half a bottle of red wine. "I think you missed lunch. You might like a few of those to hold you until supper."

Severus shook his head. "They saw to it that there was food along with the wine during the social hour. It seems that Potion Makers have a noted tendency of forgetting to eat while at work."

Eirik grinned. "Ain't that the truth."

"You sound very Luc. Does that mean that she's also here?"

Eirik crossed his arms over his chest. "You're angry. Why don't you just let it all out and you'll be able to enjoy tonight's dinner with your colleagues."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Angry?" He looked for a moment as though he were considering the idea for the first time.

Eirik's grin grew. "Let it out, Severus."

Severus merely continued looking pensive. "No. I can't say that I'm angry. Not now, anyway. I was when we got here. But now that we're here, now that I've met some people that I never thought I would ever get a chance of meeting, I think I prefer to thank you."

Eirik looked delighted. "Really? And just how do you intend to do that?"

Severus shrugged. "Is there anything you can think of?"

"How much time do we have?"

Severus made a small procedure of looking up at the ceiling. "I would think enough for me to express my gratitude."

Eirik sighed loudly. "Well, if you feel you'd like to..." He pulled a pillow out from under his head and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. "How about your hips on that with your arse high up?"

Severus contemplated the pillow. "Dressed or undressed?"

"Buck naked."

He thought about it. "I think that might be possible. If you're sure that's what you want?"

"I think that might do as a beginning."

They were late arriving for dinner, though, again, not the last.

They were also not the only male couple. Most of the Potions Masters were accompanied by a partner of some sort, whether mate or assistant, though Professor Sun was the only one who wore his around his neck.

Eirik was the first one who noticed that Professor Sun's fur collar was occasionally lapping at the glass of wine he held up to it. And that throughout the meal, Sun fed it tidbits of the meat. And that when he did, the opposite end wriggled.

The Professor acted as if what he was doing was perfectly normal, and Eirik noticed that no one at their table, not even Severus, seemed to find his actions strange. They were all discussing a question that had been posed on the methodology of determining the proper time for making a potion with unicorn hair. Not something that interested Eirik greatly. He did smile and nod at the appropriate moments, remembering that Severus had supported him during his exhibition. But Professor Sun did interest him and, surreptitiously, he pulled out a small sketch pad from a pocket and charcoal from another, and began trying to figure out just what the fur around his neck actually was.

The old wizard caught him at it and just smiled, going back to the conversation.

From Professor Sun's collar, Eirik moved on to sketching Sun's face, and then those others around the table. They were a small group, only five. The last couple were a witch and her very enthusiastic assistant. The common element was an intensity of feeling while they discussed their beloved potions. Even Severus seemed less withdrawn than usual.

He's relaxed, thought Eirik. At ease. Not just from the sex they'd had, but also because he was surrounded by people who were like him. People who lived and breathed potions. Loved potions.

Eirik made a note alongside one of his sketches of Severus to have Finnbogi compile a list of these kinds of meetings. It was only fair, he thought as he returned to the mysterious fur collar: Severus endured his father's invitations, he'd dealt with Eirik's exhibition. There would be time for his interests.

For the remainder of the conference, Eirik presented himself only at the social gatherings, deciding that Severus really did not need him to worry about while he was having fun at the presentations, presentations that Eirik truly didn't understand. And in truth, Milano was not that hard a burden.

The conference organizers had scheduled a large block of free time that last day, during the mid-day, so that attendees could see something of the city. Eirik had tossed Severus a Muggle change of clothing after the morning seminar and hauled him off - not all that reluctantly - for a quick tour of a couple of art galleries. Then, off to lunch at one of the outdoor cafes overlooking a terraced garden.

Harry Potter found himself doing a classic double-take.

Couldn't be!

He stopped and squinted at the two men sitting at a table, one casually sipping wine while the one wearing sunglasses seemed to be drawing.

He turned to the two members of his team who were with him. "Listen, I'll meet you all back at the hotel. I've seen someone I know."

"But, Potter, Coach said we were to stick together."

As he started towards the caf, Harry tossed over his shoulder, "That's just because most of you have never been in Muggle territory before. You forget I lived in it for more than half of my life."

He crossed the crowded street and ran up the couple of steps to stand in front of the table. "Professor Snape?"

"Potter! What are you doing here?"

Harry grinned at the man. "We're playing a round of matches with Italy. We won the last one and as our reward, the Coach's given us time off. It seems that exploring Muggle life is suppose to broaden our horizons."

Harry watched as one of the first smiles he'd ever seen on this man grew to include the gorgeous man no longer drawing.

"Potter, I'd like you to meet..."

Harry noticed that the seated man seemed to hold his breath.

"I'd like you to meet my partner, Eirik Northlander. Eirik, this is Harry Potter."

Harry looked from one man to the other. Partner, eh? Shit, how the hell had Severus Snape ended up with a lover who looked like this?

"Pleased to meet you." Northlander offered his hand. "Congratulations on making First Seeker. Alexander regards you as quite his hero."

Harry grinned as he shook hands. "Thank you. And that's very kind of Alexander."

"Please," Snape smiled again - Snape smiling! What universe was this? - "join us. We're just trying to decide what to have for lunch."

"Are you sure? I'm not interrupting anything?'

Snape sat down, gesturing to an empty seat. "Only Eirik's sketching."

Northlander called out in Italian, attracted a waiter who hurriedly produced another glass and platter of antipasto.

"You don't mind?" he asked, pointing to his sketch pad with a piece of charcoal.

Harry shrugged. He was used to the Media taking pictures - and no longer just for his publicity value! - this wouldn't be all that different. "No, not at all." He turned to Snape. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

Snape's eyebrow rose in that oh, far too familiar way. But instead of some scathing remark, he only said, "We've been attending a Potions Masters conference which is ending tonight."

"Severus has been wallowing in Potions talk." Northlander teased.

"Not entirely. I wallowed in art galleries for several hours today." He poured Harry a glass of wine and refilled the other two.

Harry sat back, almost stunned. Though mocking, Snape's tone was minus the biting edge that had made Potions classes so uncomfortable.

"Makes for a balanced intellect," Northlander grinned. "Don't you think so, Mr. Potter?"

Harry found he was grinning back in turn. "I wouldn't know. According to some, it doesn't require much intellect to do what I do."

He'd never dared do that, he thought, tease Snape. He wondered if his audacity was going to be punished. Maybe his head taken off.

Snape shrugged. "You'll move on when it's time. I trust in your own levels of boredom. Besides, you're young. And it's time you had some fun."

Harry nearly fell off his chair.

"Riky! Sevvie!"

Sevvie? Sevvie! There was actually someone on the planet who had the balls to call Severus Snape `Sevvie'?

Harry stood up as did the others. And this time his jaw dropped open. He knew he probably looked like some idiot, but he couldn't get his mouth to cooperate.

The woman who was hugging and kissing the two men was... was hot, even if she was older than he was.

She was dressed in leather pants, tucked into a pair of knee-high matching leather boots with those stiletto heels which made Harry wonder how she managed on the cobbled walkways. Her cream silk blouse was unbuttoned almost to the waist and served as a frame for several necklaces of gold that he finally realized were in fact amulets of some kind.

In her heels, she was tall, but she still had to reach up to get Northlander to make himself accessible. Her shoulder length blondish hair framed a face more intelligent than beautiful.

"Riky," she kissed Northlander's cheek, then wiped the lipstick off with a rub of her thumb, "why aren't you working? Sevvie, you look gorgeous." She added a hug - Damn it! She was actually hugging the man once known as the Greasy Git! - to her kisses, "Has he painted you yet?"

And Snape hugged and kissed her back!

"And who is this?"

Her voice purred over his nerves.

Snape did the introductions. "Luc, this is Harry Potter. I think you may know him from the tabloids. Britain's victorious Seeker on the National Team and a former student."

Harry noted that any mention of his association with Voldemort had been omitted: a fact he appreciated.

"Harry, may I present Luciana Fortunata. She's Eirik's American agent."

"Madam Fortunata." Harry took her hand in his and raised it to his lips in approved continental fashion. Her hand gripped his in return.

"Of course, I've read about your exploits, Harry. I may call you Harry? I understand that our team didn't have much of a chance when they played yours last month. In fact, I believe there were some accusations in our Media that you were playing with them, rather than against them."

"The spectators had paid to see a match, Madam..."

"Luc," she interrupted, her hand still in his.

"Thank you. They had paid to see a match, Luc," he allowed his voice to caress the word - well, he had learnt a few things since leaving Hogwarts! - "and I doubt that they would have thought they'd had their money's worth if they'd had to go home in the first five minutes."

Luc leaned forward as she sat and one of her breasts decided to follow. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He found he was curling his hands into fists to keep from touching it.

And those flashes of plump flesh certainly kept his attention all through the meal. He knew that he was the cause of some of the smiles shared between Snape and his lover, but he didn't mind. He wondered how Luc felt about younger men.

Talk at the table turned to Northlander's work and Harry realized that he was going to add art galleries to his list of things to visit when he had time.

"I don't understand why he hasn't painted you yet, Sevvie. I mean, one of you sitting here in the sun, looking scrumptious."

Harry shifted his attention from the woman to the man. She'd called Snape gorgeous and now scrumptious. He sat back and took a good look at his former Potions instructor.

Snape was looking more relaxed than he'd ever seen him. Mind, that probably had a lot to do with the man at his side. Because, though they were through fighting Voldemort and his Dark Forces, Snape's reward had been anything but. Banishment.

Come to think about it, if he was banished, what was he doing here, in Milan? He'd need papers of some kind, identification papers at the very least, to travel. He doubted that he got them from the Ministry responsible.

And yes, now when he really looked at him, he did look...well, not gorgeous, but definitely attractive.

Not in his usual black, but in a dark grey suit with a lighter grey shirt that was open at the collar, and down a couple of buttons, revealing a smattering of black hair. Casual yet elegant. And elegantly draped over his chair as he spoke with the bewitching Luciana Fortunata. And, yes, when he really thought about it, damn if the man didn't have something.

Yes, well, he was going to have to revamp his impression of Professor Severus Snape.

Something brushed his arm and Harry looked to see one of Northlander's sketches falling to the ground. He bent to retrieve it at the same time as Northlander. Harry glanced up to find himself looking into a pair of no longer sunglassed wolf eyes. He'd seen eyes like that, once, when he'd dropped in to visit Sirius and Remus during a full moon. Remus's eyes had looked just like that after he'd Changed.

Less threatening, however. A whole lot less.

"Mine." Northlander's voice was a soft growl.

Harry nodded. He was proud that he didn't gulp.

They were discussing the fact that one of the consequences of the Triwizard Tournament was the now nearly concluded discussions of a Quidditch Schools League when they were interrupted.

Harry looked up and found he was being glared at by one of the Team trainers.

"Potter. The Coach thinks you should join him."

Harry looked around and found his coach, accompanied by Ludo Bagman, standing at the corner, casting angry glances their way.

The atmosphere at the table grew very still.

"Skidder," Harry spoke very softly, feeling the kind of anger rise in him that he hadn't had to deal with in many months, "I was under the impression that my time was my own until practice tomorrow at one o'clock."

Skidder checked back nervously with the two men on the corner. He returned to Harry. "Look, do you have any idea who this man is?"

Northlander made as if to get up but Snape stopped him with a hard hand on his arm. Luc's lip curled as she looked the trainer up and down as if he were something that offended her, and then turned her head away from him, dismissing him.

"Oh, sorry." Damn, when had he picked up Snape's sarcasm? "I should have introduced you. Skidder, Professor Severus Snape. My old Potions instructor from Hogwarts. And the man who kept me alive so that I can today catch the Snitch that guarantees yet another victory for Britain."

"Harry..."

Harry held up his hand so that Snape wouldn't interrupt. "Skidder. The Coach has the right to demand my attention as regards any matter related to Quidditch. He does not have the right to tell me who my friends may be. Especially considering the company he's at present keeping. Now then, today, I am with my friends and tomorrow, I shall be at Quidditch practice for one o'clock. One has nothing to do with the other. Good day, Skidder."

And he turned his back on the man. After a moment, the trainer slunk away.

"Harry." This time there was no hiding Snape's concern.

Harry took a deep breath. "It's all right, sir. As long as the Boy Who Lived continues to catch the Snitch and provides publicity value , I can pretty much do what I want." Even he was taken aback by the line of bitterness he could hear in his own voice.

"And when you don't?" Snape asked gently.

Harry shook off the moment and smiled at Snape's concern. "Beauxbatons has approached me about coaching their entry in the Schools League during off season. Madame Maxime is far more interested in that than in any British politics."

"Not Hogwarts?" Luc leaned over and there was yet another flash of breast.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe eventually, once this thing gets off the ground, but I think I want to experience some other realities before I head back into home territory. Besides," he grinned at Snape, "I need to find out if I truly like coaching and if I have any skill for it before I go foul up the home team."

"A good idea," said Snape.

Harry laughed. "I think so, Professor."

Snape shook his head. "And I think we've gone beyond titles. So, Severus, if you please."

When Harry got up to leave, Luc announced she was accompanying him. "I have the rest of the day free and there are places here I think you might like to visit."

She kissed the two men. "Riky, I'm inviting myself to Hillswick for the end of June, the beginning of July at the latest. Don't freak out. Just an overnight visit. I'll expect to find that Sevvie's inspired you to new heights. You've got a good month to impress me. Sevvie, be well."

Then she slipped her arm under Harry's and led him off.

"What did you tell her when she kissed you?"

They were strolling back to the demarcation point amidst the bushes behind the Roman column.

Severus shrugged. "To be gentle with him. He too has his scars which don't show."

Eirik slipped his arm under Severus's as they passed through. "Well, if he wasn't any good in bed before, he will be now. Luc's a hell of a teacher."

Severus stopped. "Speaking from experience?"

Eirik's eyes sparkled though he kept his voice serious. "No, love. Luc never mixes business with pleasure and I've always been business. That's why she's still my agent." Then he pulled Severus into his arms and kissed him. "I like it when you get that snarky, possessive tone in your voice."

Severus's only response was a scoff.

Part Six

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