For crying out loud, enough with the going at it like rabbits, alright.

Even Lav and I are not that bad. Well, maybe. He grinned, she was coming over tomorrow night for dinner'n'shag.

Harry pushed the door open with his hips, carrying a large tray.

Plaid pyjama bottoms dangerously low on his hips, smacks of flour on his face and bathrobe.

"Scoot over, I made breakfast!"


Snape turned over, hiding his face under the pillow. "Go away!"

"Sevvie, oh Sevviekins!" Harry cooed in a glass-shattering falsetto. "Rise and shine!"

The pillow thumbed off the wall behind Harry.

"Oy, I made you breakfast, you berk."

Snape grumpily opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times and then – as requested – scooted over to make space for Harry and the tray.

"Oh yummy, you reheated Friday's take-out. What is it? Two days old chow mien with a side of chutney."

"Very funny. I made French toast. There are also scrambled eggs, cappuccino and some strawberries with yoghurt."


"Aren't you glad to have me: your own personal naked gourmet chef?"

"Potter, your cooking skills extend to ordering take-out, besides … Dobby's dulcet voice carries."

Harry had the grace to blush.

Ron shock his head. Mate, we will have to have a talk on how to successfully lie about food production. Or maybe not. Snape did have one or two IQ points on Lavender and probably knew more hexes if he found out.

Snape slid a hand under Harry's bathrobe. "Now, the naked part does sound appetizing…"

Harry was about to snuggle close when Snape shoved him away.


Snape pointed to door. "It is watching us. AGAIN." Snape reached down, groping for a slipper.

The jar read: All work and no play make Professor Snape a grumpy boy!

The slipper hit the doorframe. The jar scooted out of range, peeping at them from behind the door.

"Aw, what did you do that for? I think it is cute!"

"Harry. It is watching us."

"So what."

Harry's hand slit under the blanket again, making Snape growl low in his throat. "Then by all means, let's give it something to watch…"

Forgotten in the doorway the jar scooted closer: Go get him tiger!

Great! Now Snape had a fan club. A pervy fan club.

Ron stopped the recording before he had to watch them having another go at it.

Dobby had made the breakfast. Darn. That annoying elf was absolutely devoted to Harry. No way in hell would he spice Harry's food with a love potion. There went that theory. Bugger.

The eggs did look good, though.

Ron wondered if he could afford a house elf. Did that coffee have foamy milk on top? And French toast. Man he loved French toast.

Would all of Hermione's yelling be worth foamy coffee?

Damn those eggs looked good.

Ron got up and nuked himself some pizza.

He glared at the dishes. Damn his father and his Muggle obsession. Three darn microwaves. Three. But a dishwasher. No, sir.

He stretched his back; it popped. Frustration mingled with resignation. He had been watching the two of them for – he checked his watch – more than three hours and had found nothing. Less then nothing. Ron glared at the empty notepad, then sighed.

What did Shacklebolt always say? 'If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck and swims in a

pond, it probably is a duck'.

Harry the odd duck. Ron snorted. It fit. A very bad pun about Harry's obsession with Snitches came to mind and had Ron in giggles for at least a minute. Why Snape of all people was still beyond him, but Harry had seemed okay.

Ron checked the globe; there were only a few scenes left that he had not screened yet.

Deciding to get it over and done with, he chose a random one and started the recording again.

Snape had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace, his feet on a settee, a book propped on his chest. Even sleeping he looked tired.

The grandfather clock chimed.

Harry looked up from his work, rubbing tired eyes. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes wandered first to the clock, then to the couch. Careful not to make noise, he scooted his chair back, walking over to the fitfully sleeping Snape. Ron could see a tender smile forming on Harry's face. He gently removed the book, taking care to mark the page, placing it on the occasional table.

Snape seemed not to notice. Harry picked up the tartan blanket that was draped over the stuffed leather armchair, tenderly tugging it around Snape, placing a soft kiss on his brow.

Snape opened drowsy, confused, trusting eyes. "Harry?

"Sleep, love. I am right here."

Ron paused the transmission. The sense that he was intruding stronger than ever. Maybe he couldn't understand, but then, it was not for him to understand anyway.

He felt like a total arse, but he guessed he deserved that.

He was about to call it a night when he noticed a recording with Harry looking beyond miserable, kneeling in front of the floo. He looked like he needed a hug, or a drink.

The fire flared floo green.

"Severus? Severus, you there?" Harry knelt in front of the fireplace, his arms wrapped around himself in a defensive gesture. He seemed to shiver.

"Harry? Do you have any idea how late it is? This better be important, I have little shits to teach tomorrow morning."

"I told Hermione."


"I told her… about us. Severus, can you please come through? Please?"

Ron's jaw hit the ground.

Harry had told Hermione first. Part of Ron felt slighted. A big part screamed: I am his best friend.

The flames flared and swallowed Snape's head only to spit out the whole staggering figure of

the Potions Master. He barely managed to brush some of the soot of his robes before Harry attached himself to him like a limpet.

"I take it she didn't approve." Snape's fingers gently carted through Harry's hair.

Harry nodded.

"Well, at least we are in no danger of Miss Granger knitting us socks – and I am using the term 'sock' in a very generous sense - any time soon. Count your blessings while you can."

"Severus, this is not funny." Harry scowled at a smirking Snape.

"I happen to disagree. Just wait till she starts making batches and starts handing out petitions for 'gay rights'."

Ron giggled. Snape had pegged her down pretty good. Her infamous SPEW activism had carried on from second year all the way to the present and was more than a minor pain in the arse. She still tried to get him to wear those stupid badges to Ministry functions.

Then it hit him: Hermione did not approve. HERMIONE?! Miss Lost Cause. Miss Tolerant. And from Harry's reaction it must have gone really shitty.

Ron pondered that for a minute then his face lit up with a vicious smile. He could be the reasonable one for once. The adult.

This would be awesome! He just hoped Harry would tell him soon.

Not that he would rub it into Hermione's face. Well… maybe a little.

Ron punched the air. Life was good.