SS/HP, mentioned DM/PP, RW/HG
Genre: humour, romance
Summary: sequel to Black Coffee, No Sugar. Four months later Harry still has not told his Gryffindor friends about Severus...
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made.
Warnings: this is slash story, so if you don't like homosexuality, don't read it. And it was written before HBP, so it's definitely AU now.
ss ss ss
"Damn that Weasley," grumbled Blaise and turned away, trying to light the third cigarette in a row. "And damn you."
"Me? Why me?" answered Harry. "I didn't do anything. I'd like to ask Ron though, just where he did find this moron," he pointed at the National English Seeker who was dejectedly hovering over the field. The snitch was not anywhere in sight.
"What could he do, really?" asked Draco disinterestedly and opened a can of Guinness. "I didn't make it to the Team and also didn't you. Whom should he give the job?"
... March was awfully cold that year. The Head of Scotland Division of MLE Harry Potter, his deputy and his assistant were freezing their arses off on the eastern stands of Dublin Central Quidditch Field. English National Team was currently loosing to Ireland 20 – 70.
"Damn. Severus was right again, it seems. He did ask me yesterday, in that favourite dry tone of his, just what I was hoping to see here," Harry said gloomily when an Irish Chaser scored again. "It's just not worth the time. Have you got another beer, Dray?"
"Here it is." Draco gave him a new can. "Thank Merlin that the Weasel can't hear you now."
"Yes!" shouted the commentator. "Irish Chaser O'Neil scores for the fifth time! Ireland leads 80 to 20!"
The stands roared, and Harry swore. Blaise sprang to his feet and began gesticulating with a burning cigarette in his hand. Draco who was sitting to the right of him immediately made a face.
"Blaise, sweetie, could you please stop poking your poisonous stick into my nose?"
"And you are a big healthy life-style fan, I suppose," snapped Blaise, placing the cigarette back between his teeth.
Zabini owed this ridiculous nickname to his wife Delia. Two months ago, Blaise married a Hufflepuff girl three years younger than him who also worked at the Ministry as an undersecretary for some insignificant office. Delia was an extraordinarily beautiful, not unintelligent and well brought up girl who unfortunately was not able to hold her tongue sometimes.
One day past their honeymoon, she burst into the Auror Headquarters just before lunch with a cry: "Blaise, sweetie, I missed you so-o much!" The officers were stricken into the silence. Blushing, Blaise grasped her hand and ran away with a startling speed. Needless to say, as soon as the door closed behind them, everybody in the room roared with laughter.
When later that day one of their colleagues needed to ask something from Blaise, the man called him, desperately trying not to giggle: "Blaise, sweetie, couldn't you..." The jester would certainly meet a quick and painful death if not for Harry who threatened to kill everybody who would dare to tease Blaise... save himself and his deputy, of cause. Poor Blaise could do nothing but suffer silently.
"The beer is very health-giving," said Harry indignantly. "Just for your information, it's full of vitamins!"
"90 – 20 to Ireland!" shouted the commentator.
"It seems we won't hear anything new today." Draco waved his hand in a disparaging gesture. "Merlin help Merry Old England... Gentlemen, I've got wonderful news. My precious other half is expecting."
"Wow!" Harry raised his beer can in a joking salute. "So, to the Malfoy heir?"
"To the heiress," corrected Draco. "The mediwitch assures us that it's a baby-girl."
"To the heiress!" cried Blaise enthusiastically and they drank their beer.
"Well, Potty, what do you think of being a godfather?" asked Draco with a light sneer.
"Me?" Harry gaped. "And why not Severus?"
"Well, Pansy insists rather obstinately that it should be you." Draco shrugged. "I don't know why and I'm not suicidal enough to argue with a pregnant woman."
"Neither am I," Harry snorted. "Anyway, I would be happy to..."
"Excellent!" Draco interrupted him impatiently. "By the way, it's good you mentioned Severus. When..."
He was not able to finish though – the audience roared again, and the hell broke on the stands.
"The Snitch! English Seeker David Brown has caught the Snitch!" the commentator tried to shout over all the uproar. "England wins at 170 – 120!"
The stands yelled, the English players landed on the field and hugged their Seeker. Some Irish fans in the stands got into a fight with some English fans, and Irish Hit Wizards tried to pull them apart. Harry sought for Ron's head of red hair down on the field – without any success – and failed to notice that Draco was still speaking.
"... your sidekicks. Hey, have you gone deaf?"
"Sorry. You were asking?"
"I was wondering – when are you going to let your so-called friends into the terrific secrets of your so-called private life?" Draco asked curiously. "I'm sick of regularly lying to your red-headed buddy and his too clever wife of where you do spend your weekends."
"I thought they knew already!" Blaise was obviously surprised.
"There just hasn't been a good opportunity," mumbled Harry, looking at his hands.
"There will be a perfect opportunity tomorrow," told Draco in a peremptory tone. "If I am not mistaken, we were going to celebrate the latest achievement of the National Quidditch Team. There are you go. You are telling them everything tomorrow... or I'll do it myself."
Harry imagined Draco describing Harry's love life to Ron in his peculiar sarcastic manner and groaned out loud.
"All right, all right, I'll tell them everything tomorrow," he promised with a sigh.
ss ss ss
The next day they met at the Kelpie's Horseshoe, a cosy little pub at the backyards between the Diagon and the Knockturn Alleys. The pub was famous for its wide assortment of drinks, both Wizarding and Muggle.
Harry got there first, ordered his beer and drank it nervously while striving to think out a way to tell Ron and Hermione about Severus. Blaise and Delia came fifteen minutes later. Then Ron appeared, shining as a new knut, with a smiling Hermione, and everybody immediately began to discuss yesterday's match. Ron was boasting shamelessly, Blaise sparsely complimented the English Seeker and venomously criticized the Keeper. Delia was obviously bored. Hermione tried to keep her entertained and at the same time questioned Harry about latest Ministry news and gossips.
Almost half an hour late, Draco came with a happy Pansy leaning on his arm.
"My congratulations, Weasel," he said buoyantly. "Your little band of amateurs began to show a bit of technique at last."
"Hi to you, Ferret," Ron answered. Even Malfoy's mockery could not spoil his wonderful mood.
"Just like kids, aren't they?" Hermione sighed, resting her chin on her hands.
"They are sometimes," Pansy nodded and ordered apple juice instead of her favourite margarita.
"Oh! Congratulations! Is it a boy or a girl?" Hermione asked immediately. Ron, being much less observant, just goggled.
"It's a girl!" Pansy declared proudly. "Harry has already promised to be her godfather."
"Why Harry?" Ron asked, surprised. "Why not Snape?"
Harry choked over his beer.
"Because Harry is our friend and I decided so," answered Pansy. "Besides, Severus is Draco's godfather, it wouldn't be right. And taking into consideration that Harry and Severus are..."
Harry choked again, and Draco made some strange suppressed sound. Pansy just shrugged and started drinking her juice.
"Harry?" Ron asked suspiciously and bewildered a bit. "What are you doing with Snape?"
Draco and Blaise looked at Harry significantly. Harry fidgeted a bit, staring in his mug.
"Er..." he mumbled at last.
"Oh, I got it!" Ron said happily. "You are madly in love with Snape, you and him have been dating for months, and you just couldn't find courage to tell me and Mione, right?"
Harry's jaw dropped to the table, his eyes as large as saucers. Delia and Pansy giggled; Blaise doubled over, sniggering. Draco was laughing softly.
Ron roared with laughter himself.
"Sorry, Harry, I'm just kidding," he said with a broad smile.
Draco was laughing so hard, that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. Harry simply looked miserable.
"You know, Ron," Hermione began carefully, "it seems that you have guessed right."
"What? It just can't be right! And it is not, right, Harry?" Ron cried indignantly. Suddenly he saw Harry's face and was not so sure anymore. "Or is it?"
"You got it, Weasley!" Draco almost couldn't laugh any more.
Ron stared at his friend in astonishment, obviously unable to say a word.
"Let's start from the beginning." Hermione decided to take matters in her own hands. "Are you dating Snape?"
"Yeah, I am," Harry answered unhappily.
"Since when?" Hermione, as usual, was unstoppable.
"Do you remember the Ministry Ball?"
"The Autumn one?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah, that one. It all began after that blasted ball..."
Draco, Pansy and Blaise started snickering again. Delia, who appeared to not know the entire story, was just blinking in perplexity.
"Do not mind them. Those jesters," he nodded at the giggling trio, "had a lot of fun at mine and Severus's expense, but in the end everything turned out all right, so I should not complain, I guess. Are you okay with this?" He looked at Ron pleadingly, afraid that his best friend was going to go ballistics. He was, of course, right.
"You are dating Snape?" Ron cried in distress, as he came to the conclusion that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.
"Well, yeah..." Harry lowered his gaze.
"And you were hiding from us all this time?"
"Well, at first I did not know myself where all this were going, and then..."
"Do not believe him," Draco cut in. "Our brave Vanquisher of Voldemort is simply scared to death of you both."
"Shut up, you," snapped Ron. "You were lying to us through your little ferret teeth all this time!"
"It seems that your memory and your Latin leave much to be desired, Mister Weasley," drawled a familiar sarcastic voice over their heads. "My godson's name is Draco, and it is a totally different animal."
"Severus!" Harry cried happily. "I'm so glad to see you. They were going to nag me to death, I swear."
"It seems that it is my destiny to save your skin, Mister Potter," Snape answered, tragically rolling his eyes. "I am beginning to get used to it, though. By the way, Draco, thanks for letting me know of this little gathering."
"You are always welcome," Draco nodded with a gallant smile.
Snape sat down and started to read the menu.
"What do you suggest?" he asked the blond Slytherin after a while.
"Salmon is quite good here, they have it fresh from Shetlands," Draco told him readily. "You should also order Black Velvet, it is amazing."
"What is Black Velvet?" asked Ron with an interested expression on his face. It seemed that nothing could spoil his appetite... at least not for long.
"Black Velvet is a Muggle cocktail. One part dark stout or porter, one part champagne," answered Draco.
"Sounds ridiculous," Ron said suspiciously.
"It is pretty good. The combination is not what you could expect, but the result is worth it. Just like our happy couple," he smirked and nodded at a blissfully smiling Harry and at Severus who was still concentrated at the menu card.
"Very flattering," the Potions Master snorted. "I would like to know though – whom exactly do you find being similar to porter?"
"Well, Potter, of course!" Draco grinned. "He should really be labeled as an easily foaming substance that can be dangerous in large quantities, not to mention addictive."
"That can be said of Severus as well," Pansy added slyly.
"And of champagne, too!" Hermione snickered.
Snape snorted again, not bothering to respond to those insinuations, and stole a look at Harry.
The young man settled back on his chair and smiled at his friends. He was looking happy and relaxed; he obviously liked being in this strange company, and it seemed that no amount of teasing and mocking could make him stop enjoying his life.
Severus struggled not to smile, and then wondered quietly just when he started feeling sentimental. Undoubtedly, there would be some troubles in his relationship with Harry as they both had quite a temper and were able to fume... to the point of foaming at the mouth, indeed. The addictiveness of all this should not also be disregarded. And yet... and yet, it was definitely worth it. Yes, he decided, Black Velvet would do well.
--- The End ---
A/N. Draco means dragon or snake in Latin.