Part Four

Severus reread his letter to his son before signing it.

He shook his head slightly, smiling to himself. Whoever would have thought that he would one day be counselling a child, his own son, not to take Potions seriously!

He sympathized with Alexander, who had talent in the area. But yes, the usual Potions Instructor, from what he understood from his slight contact with other schools, was someone who put truth to old clich of `Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.'

Good Potion Makers were few and far between. They were quickly scooped up by Ministries, by medical institutions, by manufacturers of new products. Potions was not deemed to be a glorious enough profession by many - too confined to a lab for appearances in the Daily Prophet - so there were too few of them.

If Alexander cared to learn more, he would see to it during the summer breaks.

He was pleased that Slytherin was indeed showing signs of regaining its past glory at Quidditch. Must have a lot to do with that new Seeker of theirs. It had been very good of Potter to take time out from his own practices with the National Team to show up and give all the Hogwarts Quidditch players a day of lessons. Yes, he did have to agree that he wasn't a bad sort, in spite of being a Gryffindor. He would, however, be far more impressed with Mr. Potter when he settled down and found himself a career worthy of his intelligence rather than his ability to catch a Snitch before anyone else.

Severus reread that part. Alexander delighted in his ability to catch the Snitch before anyone else. He spelled that last bit away. Besides, he couldn't blame Potter for not wanting to settle down: he'd spent his time at Hogwarts having to deal with far more serious matters than a child his age should have had to. It would do Potter good to have a few years with fewer responsibilities, with fewer drastic consequences to catches that were missed. At one point, the playing and the lack of using his brain for something more challenging than beating an opponent to a flying ball would bore him and he would move on.

He'd actually received a few letters from Potter. The first brushed off Severus's thanks for the testimonies Potter had gathered to save him from Azkaban. It was only right, according to Potter, given that Snape had risked his life for them.

However he did take offense at the comment Snape had fit in about his hoping that one day Potter would find his place in the wizarding world. Quidditch may not be potion making, but it did require the use of one's brain.

And to make the point, Potter had provided an entire analysis of how he had managed to catch the Snitch in the match that had seen him replace the first line Seeker after the man had had a rather definitive meeting with a Bulger. It had been his chance, Potter wrote, to prove that he was worth more than a photo op for the National team's PR department. And he'd taken it.

Severus had read the young man's anger and hurt between the lines and had written back that, of course, Potter was worth more than a photo op. Even he who had only participated in Quidditch from the sidelines knew that! And that he had been astounded when reading Potter's letter at how psychological the game truly was.

The next letter was filled with Potter's ramblings. Severus understood that the man was venting his frustrations about his not being used to his full potential by the coach who favoured the older Seeker who, according to Potter, was long past his prime. The World Cup was only a year away: at this rate they wouldn't make it into the play-offs, never mind the final!

Snape had sent back a calm letter, reminding Potter that he was young enough to make first Seeker and play in a great many Quidditch Cups. That if he were reacting at practices the way he had in his previous letter, well, the coach may have some grounds on which to delay his promotion.

Potter's response indicated that he'd only blown up in his letter to Snape. That he felt he could do so safely without anything he'd said or would say in the future getting back to the team administrators.

Severus would have thought that he would have been the last of Potter's instructors with whom the boy...the man would have chosen to begin a correspondence, but there it was. A letter usually arrived every few weeks and Severus had begun reading up on Quidditch the better to understand what Potter was writing about so he could at least respond intelligently.

From the couch, Eirik snorted loudly, obviously not agreeing with something he was reading.

He looked over at the man. Another wonder. How serious... No. He would not allow himself even to think along those lines. Alexander and Freya both seemed to think that this was a done deal, that Eirik Brekke was now a part of this household. All because of some scent...some stink he emitted after sex.

He focused on the letter he was folding, sealed it with his ring then put it and whatever he dared hope aside.

Life had taught him well. He knew his worth and it was not as the partner of this beautiful, talented, gregarious man.

He had his lab; he would be happy with that. And he would. It was far more than he had ever allowed himself to dream of for so many years, and it would satisfy him and those dreams.

He blew out the lamp that sat on his desk and stood up.

As he passed the couch, Eirik's hand reached up and grasped his.

"Going to bed?"

Severus kept his face expressionless. His tone dripped with more sarcasm than usual, but then Freya wasn't around to look at him the way she did when he returned to what he thought of as his Hogwarts voice. "Yes. Do you have any objections?"

Eirik, like Alexander, didn't seem to hear the sarcasm. He merely grinned up at him, tossed the book onto the end of the couch and, never releasing his hand, stood up.

"Then I need to kiss you good-night."

Damn him! The man might claim to be here for his stink, but Severus was growing addicted to his taste. The moment Eirik's mouth opened on his, he wanted...no, he needed to open his own and feed on it. He couldn't believe the hunger it raised in him, how it was never enough. How he craved it.

He would starve when it would no longer be available to him.

It would be prudent to break off the invasion of Eirik's tongue but, like a true addict, he only opened wider, absorbing the flavour and hoping that he would capture enough for his senses to remember it. Maybe, he thought, as Eirik's hands buried themselves in his hair, holding his head still so that he could direct his plunder, he would overdose on it, grow tired of it, find it boring, distasteful. He raised his own hands to Eirik's head, wrapping the long braid around a fist and angrily taking control. Damn him! Why couldn't he taste as others had: bitter, foul. Distastefully unarousing.

Bloody hell, he was hard again. He'd been a hormonal teenager the last time he'd gotten this hard this quickly.

Eirik broke off the kiss which allowed him to breathe. They were both gasping and he could feel Eirik's own erection against his thigh.

"Your bed. Mine is too narrow and I don't want to take the time to magic it larger."

So they went up to his room. Not quickly. There was time for Eirik to push him against a wall and to fill his mouth with that particular flavour again, for Eirik to rub against him, clothed cock against clothed cock. Somewhere in the hallway they lost their robes, their shoes on the stairs, the rest of their clothing...who knew where. All Severus knew was by the time they dropped onto his bed, they were naked.

Hot skin against hot skin and the taste of more than Eirik's mouth overwhelming his senses.

His skin was more of that taste, less strong than his mouth's, which was much less than that of his cock. And the mouth, the hands that played with him were...painless. Severus wondered if it were a Brekke trait. Inga's hands had explored him as Eirik's were doing. He may have been a bastard at the time he had met her, but her gentleness, her fragility had penetrated his bitterness and he had taken a lot of time with her. She'd been a virgin and he almost one, considering his experience with females. Did one quick shag behind the greenhouses with Polly Poindexter count? She hadn't thought so. It had only served to point out all the more to him that what he'd wanted then was not only male but werewolf.

He groaned as Eirik's mouth took possession of one of his nipples. He'd never known that...Oh, Merlin! He was going to come! Ouch! Well, that took care of the imminent orgasm. Not that he really minded, but he'd not had that many with a partner. More with his hand. Many more so.

"Lube?"

"Huh?" What did Eirik want?

"Lube. Grease. Unguent. Where is it, Severus?"

Severus shook his head and tried to think. Why would they need... Oh, like last time. He opened his eyes, forced some saliva into his dry mouth. "In the lab."

Eirik grinned down at him. "In the lab? Severus!" He sounded exasperated as he shook his head. "Not going to do us much good in the lab. And can't call it up as our wands are somewhere...well, not here."

Severus felt a small weight fall into his stomach. Well, it wasn't as if he had really expected any differently, now was it? He pushed Eirik onto his back and slipped down to take his cock into his mouth. If he used enough saliva...

When he'd coated the thick cock as much as he could, he did as he had last time; he turned and offered his arse. He dropped his head onto his folded arms and forced himself to relax. It hurt less if he didn't resist. He could feel his cock softening and fleetingly wished that Eirik had let him come.

Instead of a hard cockhead at the entrance of his arsehole, he felt a mouth. A wet kiss that trailed over a buttock to bite lightly on the more fleshy part.

"No, not that way. Severus, lie down, flat. Put your legs together."

And then the feel of that cock, not pushing itself painfully into his hole but into the aperture of his upper thighs, back and forth, rubbing against his perineum, against his balls. A hand pulled him up at a slight angle, rolled him back against a hard body, and an arm settled on his thigh. The hand took hold of his softened cock and began working it in rhythm to that other cock. A mouth bit down on his shoulder and Severus felt himself grow hard again.

Eirik came first, with a sound that only made Severus harder. He managed the thought that the sound that might prove to be equally addictive.

Eirik's hand left him and, with a sigh that he wouldn't prevent, Severus reached to complete the job.

Instead, his hand was slapped away and he was turned onto his back, facing a suddenly feral partner. "Mine." Said with unquestionable determination.

And Eirik slipped down and took Severus's cock into that hot mouth and with a couple of sucks, a stroke of his tongue, a twirl around his glans under the foreskin had him as hard as he'd been.

And then he couldn't think, only feel and then come.

He opened his eyes to find Eirik propped up on an elbow, watching him with those wolf eyes of his.

He used his free hand to brush the hair off Severus's face. "I think," his voice was far too serious, which warned Severus that he should immediately head for the bathroom and a shower, "that we need to have..." Damn, he hadn't been quick enough. Eirik had rolled over onto him, trapping him. He could fight the man off, but he had the feeling that would only defer this little speech. He sighed and let himself go loose. Might as well get it over with.

"...a little talk, Severus."

Severus gave as much of a shrug as he could, considering the weight on him. For a slim man, Eirik could certainly be a dead weight when he wanted.

"Who taught you that you were nothing more than a hole to be filled?"

Severus froze. What had happened to goodbye, not what I thought this was going to be, guess the smell thing was a mistake?

He kept his face expressionless, strangely difficult considering all the years of experience he had. Instead of looking at the man who had hit him with this, he focused his eyes over him to the ceiling with its reflections of the fire from the small hearth that provided the room with its warmth. In as dry a voice as he could make it, he allowed himself to respond. "I'm sorry that my skills aren't up to the level that you're so obviously used to."

The insult missed.

"Nothing wrong with your skills, Severus. You have a mouth that is sheer magic. You could rouse a dead man's cock with that mouth of yours. It's just that you never seem to expect any similar consideration. Why is that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. If you would allow, I'd like to take a shower."

Eirik ignored him. That knuckled hand grazed his cheek, back and forth, in a soothing rhythm that made Severus, refocusing once more on the ceiling, want to scream. He was careful to close the back of his throat, forbidding any sound to escape.

"You were willing to allow me to hurt you - again! - tonight. You offered yourself up to be used knowing full well that you weren't properly prepped. That time, at father's celebration, you were surprised when I did so. You weren't expecting that...that consideration, were you? Were you, Severus?"

Eirik's voice was harsh. Rougher than usual. He hadn't raised his voice but Severus could tell he was angry. Severus frowned. What the bloody hell did it matter what he was or wasn't expecting? Eirik had gotten what he'd wanted, hadn't he?

"Severus." Eirik's voice had softened, had lost the anger and slipped into persuasive. Severus might have been able to ignore him, to tell him to go to hell along with his questions, but that hand began its rhythmic stroking again, along his jaw line, down his neck, across his shoulder, tracing back its route, as if offering comfort.

A soothing touch. A gentle touch.

Not demanding. Not hurting. Touching him as he had Alexander the night they had gotten back to Hogwarts and Poppy had isolated them so that Severus could calm and soothe his overly-exhausted child.

There were even words. "It's all right, Severus. It's going to be all right."

But it wouldn't. Eirik had no idea what he'd been. Once he knew, Severus wasn't going to smell right to him.

Oh, damn it. He'd been greedy and had wanted a bit more of Eirik's taste before the man would come to that conclusion. He was going to pay for it now. And it might as well be now. Sooner rather than later. It would be all that harder later when he would have fed his addiction even more. What was it that he'd read about ending an addiction? Ah, yes. Cold turkey. He ruthlessly shoved the returning sensation of loneliness to one side and lowered his gaze to look into Eirik's eyes.

"I was a Death Eater. One of Voldemort's during the first wave of terror."

Eirik didn't move. Another surprise.

"Yes, I know."

Fuck! When... Severus swallowed hard. "How long have you known?"

Eirik kept on touching him. If only he'd stop. Please, Merlin, don't let him stop.

"Since that first time. You disappeared and I broke into Father's secure files. I knew that Finnbogi would have as much information on you as possible."

"I'm surprised that you bothered to come here." Surprised too that he could get the words out so calmly.

Eirik shrugged. "It was only important in that it gave me a sense of how to approach you. And a lot of it was too political for me. Oh, I read every word, Severus, but frankly, I decided that I wanted nothing to do with politics when I was a child. Too much of it at home. The answers I wanted concerned Alexander and Inga. I needed to know if you had been truly in love with her. I needed to know if I was going to have to fight my way past a ghost as well as your defences."

Severus shook his head. "Inga was a chance meeting at a time when I was contemplating suicide. Wasn't that in Finnbogi's file?"

Eirik shook his head. "Finnbogi deals with facts, not emotions unless you piss him off. So, no, nothing about your state of mind at that time. If meeting her kept you alive for me, then that's something more I owe Inga. No, what I did learn was that you seem to have an attraction to werewolves. A particular one, in fact. One Remus Lupin. Tell me, Severus, do I have to fight my way past him?"

Severus actually found the wherewithal to laugh. Rather successfully, considering the situation. "No."

"Sure?"

"Remus Lupin is living with Sirius Black, his lover since their student days at Hogwarts."

"Severus." Eirik's tone reminded Severus of Freya, digging at the truth of some episode between Alexander and his cousins.

"Remus Lupin was...at the most...an adolescent infatuation." There, he'd finally said it aloud.

"I hate to challenge you, Severus, but I don't think so. I think you would have liked him to be more. But I'll let it go. He's not here and I am."

Those knuckles gently stroked his mouth. Eirik's voice was even gentler. "I still want to know who taught you to be used, not loved."

The hand settled against his jaw, the fingertips skimming his temple, the thumb his cheekbones. Silently encouraging. Building on this new need of his for touch.

"Severus, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here."

"Really?" Severus lashed out, his sarcastic sneer getting a startled reaction from the other man. "For how long?"

There was a long silence. Severus could feel the other's heart beating against his side.

"I think I see," Eirik frowned. "It was Voldemort."

Severus was taken aback by the hatred in Eirik's voice. He was the one who hated, not Eirik.

"Severus."

And this time there was no defence against Eirik's tone. "It was how we proved our loyalty to him."

"He raped you and the fact that you permitted him to proved that you were loyal? What kind of bloody arsehole was he?"

Severus almost smiled. "Actually, that's pretty much what he liked: a bloody arsehole."

"Fuck, Severus!"

"That, too. Every now and then to remind me that the freedom I had in the lab he'd given me came at a price. And the price was his satisfaction. He liked me - I can only speak for me, you understand. He didn't use me in front of the others. Probably knew that would be too much for me. Where was I? Oh, yes." His eyes found the security of the ceiling. "He liked me to go down on him first. Taught me just what to do and how to please him. Then he needed to come in my arse. With blood for... What did you call it? Ah, yes. Lube."

He'd never truly noticed before how the reflections of the fire on the ceiling changed with each flicker.

He ignored Eirik's vehemently spat "Fuck!", concentrating on the shadows that seemed to be drawing images above them.

"By the time he came, I guess you could say that I wasn't in the mood, if I ever had been." He tried to shrug as though it was of no importance. "Regardless, the purpose of those encounters was to remind me of my place, which was at his feet. Not for my pleasure. Since no one was permitted into his presence with their wand, the reminder was a very effective one. I often trailed blood back to my lab and my wand."

The hand slipped against his scalp and its fingertips rubbed ease against the tension growing there.

"When I went back to him... I assume Finnbogi did cover all that?" He closed his eyes against the growing ache building up behind his eyes. "Yes. Of course. If he was thorough enough to help save me from Azkaban, I really can't complain, can I?" Who the hell was this man who was speaking so very calmly? "Well, when I went back, Voldemort enjoyed re-enforcing the things he liked me to do to him with the occasional Crucio. Once more to remind me of my place in his scheme of things. And he was harder to arouse. Things were not following the schedule he had set and that irritated him. So he tended to use Crucio more often."

Eirik said nothing, but he felt the warmth of Eirik's mouth on the corner of his shoulder. It was strangely soothing.

"After he came back that second time, he wouldn't touch me himself. He had a few trusted henchmen who were in charge of discipline. It gave him great pleasure, not to have me raped, but to have me whipped. He used some of his other Death Eaters as the receptacles for the erections the sight of my blood gave him. Which he also used as `lube'."

Severus was quite proud of the firmness of his voice. Being handed over to the Death Eaters, his erstwhile colleagues, had been one of those nightmares that would wake him screaming in his bed at Hogwarts. He'd seen what they could do, not just to Muggles but to those of their own they thought had betrayed them.

"Severus. Beloved."

Severus forced himself open his eyes and focus on Eirik. And pushed what he sensed was the right button. "And so you know all about me. From your father's files. Except they don't seem to be complete. Is there anything else you want to know, so you can have Finnbogi add it to that information? Now's the time to ask, Eirik."

This time the insult struck home. Eirik's snarl was worthy of a true werewolf. "That's the second time you've accused me of gathering information on you to pass on. The next time you do so, so help me Odin, I will...I will..."

"You'll what?" With biting mockery.

"I'll tie you to the bed and suck every drop of cum out of you."

Severus blinked. He knew he must look surprised: he could feel it on his face. "That's how you're going to...to punish me?"

Eirik covered Severus's body with his own. He rested his weight on his elbows while his hands carded themselves in Severus's hair. He kissed him.

Severus opened his mouth wide. His tongue pushed the other's to a side so that he could inhale, feast on that bewitching taste. His own hands, which had dug into the bedclothes as they'd talked, now rose of their own volition and clasped Eirik's head. Maybe... But he stopped himself from thinking any further. He was hungry and he devoured the mouth that only raised his hunger.

Eirik pulled them apart. Severus whimpered at the loss but didn't follow.

Eirik dropped his forehead onto Severus's and panted to catch his breath.

"We need," he gasped, "our wands and lube."

"Do we?"

"Bloody right. And then, Severus Snape, we're going to take turns fucking each other through the mattress. And, once we've caught our breaths, we'll do it again. And then, we'll take a shower, eat a little, sleep - not necessarily in that order - and we'll begin all over again. And again, until you understand that I'm not going anywhere. So the unguent you call up had better come in a large jar, Severus; we're going to need it."

They found their clothing folded and piled at the door of the bedroom. Their wands had been placed on the top. Severus found he was embarrassed by the fact that Ketil had picked up after them. Eirik, he noticed, was barely aware of the fact other than it meant they didn't have to search for their wands.

He handed Severus his and leered happily at him. "Unguent, Severus. And I'm serious when I say it should come in a large jar."

Succumbing to a momentary snit, Severus summoned a jar that held a good liter. Eirik merely looked at it and said, `Well, I guess that'll do. For now."

And then he dragged Severus into the shower.

The last time Severus had showered with anyone had been back as a student. The dormitories had communal showers where they checked out each other's equipment and sometimes, depending on the time and those present, even put it to use. Masturbating contests had been very popular in his day. He assumed that they still were. He wondered if his son...

Eirik's hands were on him, lathered, and slipping and sliding over his body. Severus had no body pride. He had long ago accepted that his shoulders were boney, that his musculature tended to the wiry rather than the developed.

Eirik was standing behind him, his chin resting on Severus's shoulder, his hands roaming over his chest, circling his pecs, his nipples which he flicked with a finger. Severus pulled in his bottom lip under his upper teeth. Damn, but that felt good. He leaned back into the man behind him and put all thought on hold.

Eirik's hands descended to his stomach, fingertips dipping lower, teasing his awakening cock. As he stooped to reach other parts, Eirik's mouth made its way down his spine, nibbling at the ridge of vertebrae, until his hands were between Severus's legs, making him open up more. Those soapy hands concentrated on the juncture of torso and legs, on his balls, coming round to his arse where some teeth were busy playing with his flesh.

"Nice arse, Severus. Anyone ever tell you that you have a arse that is just begging to be tasted?"

Severus swallowed then managed to get out an uncertain, "No."

"Well, you do." And he did.

Severus gasped as the teeth made themselves felt. But only that. No penetration. No pain. No bleeding.

He had mixed feelings about what Eirik was doing. His arse clenched in readiness for pain and all it got was a series of strong...nibbles...that he knew would mark him but would also quickly fade.

Meanwhile, those hands were forcing him to split his attention between what that mouth was doing to him and the responses of his body to those bloody hands.

Hell, when had his knees become so sensitive? And how could the nerves in his calves be linked to his cock? And those in his ankles and the top of his feet?

When had his body changed on him?

Eirik slowly rose to his feet again with his hands retracing this new body of his. When they approached his groin, he jutted it out, wanting them to pay equal attention to his cock. But they slipped by and reshaped his chest instead.

"Your turn."

Severus blinked hard against the water streaming down on him from above. "Huh?"

"To wash me," laughed the voice in his ear.

Severus had to shake his head to understand why the bar of soap was hovering at eye level.

With a deep breath, he took hold of it and turned to face the man watching him with a very pleased smirk on his face.

Severus was surprised to discover he was competitive. He lathered his hands and not turning Eirik around, he slowly duplicated the moves the other had played upon his body.

Severus was used to the feel of his own skin against his hands. Of the bones, the hair that grew coarser as it dropped to his groin. Eirik was smooth, hairless. His body was more muscular than his own, probably from the lifestyle he led which was far less sedentary than Severus's.

Severus didn't lie to himself: one didn't become as proficient in bed as Eirik was from the occasional masturbation session in the shower. And he'd picked up Freya's discretion about Eirik's previous lovers. The man was far too talented, far too beautiful to have had to engage in such sessions as his only - even main - form of sexual release.

Under the slickness of the soap, he took his time to discover the feel of the warm golden skin over muscles, over bone. Cautiously, because he wasn't quite certain just how far he was allowed to go, he used the flat of his hands to mould the shape of muscles across the chest. When all he got was a sigh, he grew more bold. He paid particular attention to the nipples that responded to his care.

"Nice," sighed Eirik. "I like that. I'd prefer your mouth on them, but then you'd end up with a mouthful of soap and I suppose you'd make me pay for that by kissing me."

Severus chewed on his lower lip. If he didn't misunderstand, he was getting direction here. But then, when he'd indicated that he would have liked having his cock touched, Eirik had ignored him. Maybe a little tit for tat.

Eyes holding the yellowish wolf ones, he purposely dropped his hands to the tight stomach.

Eirik closed his eyes as Severus used his fingertips to delineate the muscles he found there. His own stomach was more thin than defined and he wondered why Eirik had spent so much time on it. He was somewhat thrilled with he felt the muscles spasm under his skimming fingertips.

Eirik's cock seemed to like what he was doing as well. It rose high against his stomach, demanding attention. Severus dropped to his knees. There was a limit to his bravery, he discovered. He didn't want to leave this man hungry and unpleased. As he went to take Eirik's cock into his mouth, Eirik pulled back.

Severus looked up.

"You have to learn to tease, Severus. It won't kill me to wait. And anticipation adds to the pleasure."

Severus eyed the cock that was bobbing under the beat of the water. With a certain reluctance, all he did was give a long lick along the thick vein that pulsed blue against the thin white skin.

Eirik's groan was really quite satisfying. So he wanted teasing, did he?

Severus sat back on his heels and, leaning forward, gave another long hard lick to the heavy ball sac.

Eirik's hands dropped to Severus's head as his hips jerked.

Ah, but Eirik had indicated that he wanted to be teased, so though Severus did place his face in the man's groin, it was only to turn his mouth to the soft skin of his inner thighs and bring his teeth into play, as lightly as Eirik had over his arse.

He rather liked the louder reaction that brought about. He liked the curses even more when he used his fingernails on the back of Eirik's knees.

"Like that?" he asked, trying hard to hide his satisfaction at hearing the sounds coming from above.

"Odin! You're a fast learner, Severus Snape."

Severus grinned as his hands slowly skimmed the back of Eirik's thighs, his arse, his lower back as Severus rose to his feet, Eirik's hands still in his hair.

Eirik used that grip to haul him in close for a kiss that devoured. Their erect cocks danced with each other as hips rubbed back and forth under the cooling water.

Eirik turned off the water and pulled Severus out of the shower. Dripping wet, he tugged him, not very reluctantly, into the cool hallway, and then into the warmth of the bedroom. There he took Severus's mouth for a quick kiss and allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed.

Arms outstretched, body reflecting the firelight wetly, his hair soaking into the bedclothes, Eirik Brekke challenged him. "I'm all yours. Do with me as you will."

Severus stood, head cocked, looking at the man who was offering himself to him. Trusting him. All he managed to say was "You're wet."

Eirik's grin grew wolfish. "Then you'd better lick me dry."

Severus's cock liked that notion. He did , too.

Severus knelt on the bed, between Eirik's wide-spread legs, and took him at his word.

The water was drying in the heat of the room, but Severus was nevertheless very careful to find every damp spot. He began with Eirik's feet, remembering how his cock had responded to Eirik's touching his feet.

Eirik's feet were long, thin with high arches which proved to be especially sensitive to the slide of the tip of his tongue. The first time, Eirik's foot jerked, nearly hitting him in the face.

"Sorry. I'm ticklish there."

Severus could feel his face suddenly widening with a smile.

Eirik moaned. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret giving you that information?"

Severus made certain that he had each ankle clamped down in a fist before he returned his attention to licking every bit of ticklish skin.

He discovered another of Eirik's ticklish points behind his left knee though the skin of his right barely twitched.

Eirik had already said that he'd found Severus's mouth magical on his balls and cock, so he avoided those and concentrated on the line the delineated the hip-bone. Now and then he brought his teeth into play, with growing confidence when Eirik's moans only increased in volume whenever he did so.

Until then, Eirik's hands had been to either side of him, buried in the pillows but now they found Severus's body and roused a fire in him that evaporated whatever wetness was water from his skin.

He'd understood that Eirik liked having his chest come in for special attention. And he gave him that, but this time, he refused, no matter how much Eirik tried, to pay any attention to the hardened pebbles that gleamed dully against the shining skin that surrounded them.

"Damn it, Severus!" Eirik grabbed his head and directed it forcibly to one of the stone hard nubs of flesh.

Severus shook his hands off and raised his head to watch Eirik's face. "I think," he gasped, "you said I could do with you as I wanted. Right now, it does not please me to touch you there. Maybe later."

Eirik choked out a loud moan. "I've created a monster."

Severus stilled. His breath caught and suddenly he knew he had crossed some line.

Eirik opened his eyes, and lost the smile. "Severus?"

He reached up with a hand and drew Severus down to him. His kiss was reassuring in some undefinable way and Severus let his forehead drop onto the other's.

"You take life far too literally, Severus," Eirik gasped, and then added, "Beloved." And he turned his head to plant a kiss in Severus's ear.

Severus raised his head. He tried twice to get out, "A beloved monster?"

Eirik's gaze grew very gentle. "Wait until I do the same thing to you, Severus Snape, and we'll see how you think of me then. I promise you `monster' will be the least of the terms you throw out at me."

"A promise?" Severus found that voice was easier to get out of his throat.

Eirik jerked his hips and his cock found Severus's. "Wolf's honour."

Severus dug his hands into the tangled, still damp hair and buried his face in it. Eirik's hands played across his back until Severus raised his head and, with a growl of his own, took possession of the mouth repeating the oath over and over again in his ear.

When he had gorged himself on this man's taste, Severus reached for the jar of unguent and removed the lid. He offered it to Eirik who dipped his fingers to the first knuckle into the grease. With a grin, he pulled himself up enough to grab Severus's cock and coat it.

Severus shook his head.

"I want you in me, Severus Snape. Are you going to deny me that pleasure?"

Severus swallowed. "It's been a very long time since... I may hurt you and I couldn't..."

Eirik pulled him down for a long kiss. Then he handed Severus the jar. "Prep me." And not only spread his legs wide apart, he pulled up his knees to his chest. "This way. I want to see your face when you come in me."

Severus finally nodded. He scooped out a handful of the grease and made certain that Eirik's arsehole was well greased before he even thought of inserting a finger in. He kept his eyes on Eirik's face all the time his finger penetrated but all he saw was a grin and eyes that were gradually glazing over.

"Another finger. You're not a small man, Severus."

Severus hesitated but then complied. He remembered how Eirik had prepared him and carefully added a third finger.

"Ah, that feels sooooo nice! And it'll feel even better," Eirik's rough voice dropped into a baritone that curled Severus's toes, "when it's your cock in me. Put it in, Severus. I want to feel every inch of you where you belong."

Remembering all too well the sharp pain of ungreased penetration, Severus moved cautiously. He removed his fingers and placed his glans on the stretched hole. He leaned into the hole, lower lip caught under his teeth as he meticulously added enough pressure to make his way past the ring of muscle.

"OH! That's it! All of it, Severus. I want all of that bloody beautiful cock of yours deep in me. Come on, Severus, don't deny me that!"

In spite of the encouragement of Eirik's words, Severus still took his time. It felt marvelous, once he allowed himself to feel the walls of Eirik's anus tighten on him as he inched his way in.

"There!" Severus gasped the word, a victory.

Eirik grinned at him as he lowered his legs and wrapped them around Severus's waist. "Well, is that all you're going to do?"

Severus felt a welling of warmth suddenly chase all the trepidation from his body. He shook his head. He pulled back almost as carefully as he had penetrated, eliciting some heartfelt groans from his partner. "Severus! Fuck me!"

Severus found himself grinning at the frustration in Eirik's voice. He pushed in a little faster, a little harder. Eirik's hips rose and joined him in counterrhythm. Once they went at it a little too fast and Severus's cock slipped out of Eirik's hole. Before Eirik had time to do more than scream "DAMN!", Severus had found his place and his rhythm once more.

As Eirik's head rocked back and forth, his mouth open, gasping in air, his body once more wetly reflecting the firelight, Severus wondered at the pride he felt within himself, that he was the one responsible for this man's writhing, for his moans, for his screamed orgasm.

Then as Eirik's muscles caught and released him, Severus closed his eyes and stopped fighting the need to explode.

Severus found that Eirik hadn't been joking. They took a nap and fed each other some of the food that Ketil must have placed by the bedside while they'd been sleeping. Then Eirik took his time and taught Severus that more than his cock responded to a hot mouth. To hands that raised the skin off his bones and muscles, crying for more of the same touch. That sex was an act of the body but that love-making required more, required the participation of the mind, the voice, the imagination. That it required teasing. Tickling. Smelling. Licking. Sucking. Tasting. Savouring. Even the occasional bout of laughter.

That all was permitted as long as there was no pain. Eirik kept on checking, insisting, "If it hurts, if you don't like something, you have to tell me, Severus. I don't want you to hurt, to feel pain. To do things that make you uncomfortable, that you don't like. I swear if you do anything that I don't like, I'll let you know, too. Wolf's honour."

Once, Eirik went down on him, his mouth and tongue making him see fireworks until he suddenly pulled away, clearing his throat and spitting out. "Hair. The bane of decent cock-sucking. We'll deal with that later."

And they did. Eirik kept his own white-blond bush trimmed down. After a shower that saw far too much water end up on the floor, Severus now sported, thanks to a skillful wave of Eirik's wand, an equally trimmed bush.

He stepped out of the bathroom while Eirik was still drying his hair and went to stare at his nude self in the mirror in his room, the same one that had hung in his bedchamber at Hogwarts.

He examined the man reflected back at him.

Not him.

He didn't recognize this man.

His mouth was swollen, his lips red from being bitten, not just by him. His face was more relaxed than he could ever remember seeing it. His eyes drooped with the residue of their erotic activity. A droplet of water dripped off the end of his hair and it slowly trailed down the wealth of love bites, scratches, whisker burns that littered the front of his body. Even his thighs and legs bore signs of Eirik's attention. His cock looked well and truly fu...

Severus turned and looked over his shoulder to see what marks of possession Eirik had used to claim him on his back. He found himself smiling at the teeth marks, fading but still visible, that branded one buttock. If he remembered correctly, he had been protesting to Eirik that he couldn't get it up again, and Eirik had bitten him to get him to shut up so that he could concentrate on what he was doing. Which had been to get him hard again.

"Looks painful," commented the mirror. "Going to deal with that?" It was used to seeing what his body looked like when he returned from one of Voldemort's summons. Most of the time it had been the only one, other than when he'd needed Poppy's care, to know what had been done to him.

Severus shook his head. "No." No. He wanted to remember this. Besides, his body wasn't the only one sporting marks like these.

Eirik appeared behind him, long hair still wet but no longer dripping. He stood behind Severus and wrapped his arms around his waist. Severus rested his arms on those. Then Eirik dropped his chin onto Severus's shoulder, resting his head against the other's.

"Nice picture. I think I'll paint it."

Severus found the energy to glare at the man in the mirror. "And will you hang it next to the sketches of your mother?"

Eirik grinned sleepily. "No. No one will ever see this one. Only us. We'll hang it in our bedroom. So that when we're one hundred and ninety and have trouble with our memories, we'll never lose this one."

Severus closed his eyes and dared allow himself a glimmer of belief.

Eirik entered the kitchen looking for Severus.

"Master Severus is in the lab. It is time for the Wolfsbane."

Eirik grinned at Ketil who had been very diligent in providing them with food these last two days. The house elf didn't smile back.

"What's wrong, Ketil?" Eirik dropped to a chair at the table and picked up the mug of coffee. He'd enjoyed these last days, teaching Severus the wonders of the male body, talking about inconsequential things, sleeping wrapped around each other. He supposed they'd been lucky to have the time before the real world demanded they pay it attention.

"Master Severus will be busy all day with the potion."

"Yes?"

"He took only coffee."

Ah, yes. Like Freya, Ketil was a great believer in regular meals. And based on his own behaviour when Orm showed up with one of his when he was painting, he could only assume that Ketil was equally used to being ignored by Severus.

"Make up a tray for two, Ketil."

Ketil snapped his fingers and one already prepared appeared on the table next to him. Eirik only laughed.

Casting a heat spell around himself and the tray, Eirik went off to feed his lover.

For once the wind wasn't blowing and that made it easier to open the door with only one hand. Severus was already glaring at it when he entered. Eirik held up the tray in explanation.

"Where can I set it down so it's not in your way?"

Severus looked irritated, but nodded towards the worktable that he wasn't using.

Eirik raised the covers on the plates. The aroma of eggs, porridge swimming in brown sugar and cream, bacon and sausages filled the air about him.

Severus had turned back to the ingredients wall and was gathering bottles, pulling out small drawers, and taking all to his own worktable, by the fire. There was a variety of tools set up there, waiting to be used; scales, knives, measuring cups, a cutting board. A smallish cauldron was sitting in the sink, ready to be scrubbed.

"If you're like me when I begin putting out the paints I'll need, you're still on this planet. So we can talk and maybe I can help you."

Severus only raised that well-trained eyebrow of his. Eirik grinned back. "Well, at least I can feed you."

"Eirik..."

"Severus. Listen to me. I know that this is very important to you and I promise you, I understand. But you're going to be here all day working on this and, frankly, passing out from hunger into Alexander's pot of Wolfsbane is going to hold you back a lot more than my being here. Unless you need to spell the ingredients as you select them?"

Severus leaned back against his worktable and crossed his arms over his chest. Eirik forced himself to look back equally seriously. What he wanted to do was go over there and shove Severus back onto that table and take him there. Not for today. But one day, soon, he promised himself.

"No, I don't need to spell them as I gather them. They need to be prepared before I begin that part of the potion."

Eirik nodded, picked up a sausage, bit off about half of it and, making his way over to Severus, offered him the other half. Severus glared at him but raised his hand to take the sausage. Eirik shook his head. "You can't afford to get your hands greasy. Open up."

One day, thought Eirik, he was going to ask Severus to do something that he'd never done and not see his eyes grow wary the way they did. Now he only waited until Severus did open his mouth and, with a smile, he popped in the rest of his sausage. "I feed. You chew."

His reward for the teasing tone was a lessening of the wariness. He let Severus get on with his preparations, with his cutting and weighing, his measuring. Every time he was certain that Severus had swallowed his last mouthful, he came over and offered another. A spoonful of porridge, his hand under the utensil to catch any drip; a forkful of eggs, a buttered piece of hot roll covered with jam, a piece of bacon or sausage that he'd nibbled on before presenting it to Severus who, with growing comfort, would open his mouth to receive.

Breakfast was completed at about the same time as Severus was truly ready to begin work on the potion.

"Aren't you going?"

Eirik shook his head. "I'd like to watch you, if you permit. I promise not to talk to you, not to make any noise. I just want to see how you do this."

Severus had that look of wary irritation again.

"Please. If my presence does bother you, you only have to look at the door and I'll leave. But I really would like to watch you work."

Severus made a moue of indecision. "It's safe to assume that you'll be sketching."

Eirik shrugged. "As you need to work, so do I."

"At least you're quiet with it. Oh, I suppose so. But if I ask you to go, it's because you're interfering with my concentration. At one point that can have disastrous effects on the potion."

"Understood. I promise you, I'll do nothing that will affect Alexander."

Severus nodded. He turned back to his table and began double-checking the quantity of ingredients. Eirik wondered if this was normal procedure, or only because it was a potion which involved his child.

Eirik made himself comfortable on the work table, his sketching pad at hand, and began planning the painting he was going to make of his lover working.

"What are you going to call it?"

Eirik looked up and found Severus watching him with that resigned look so many of his family wore whenever he drew them. He grinned. "Genius at Work."

Severus actually laughed. "What a misnomer!"

"Why?" Eirik set down the pad. "It's the perfect title for the man who invented the Wolfsbane."

Severus shook his head. He carefully rinsed out the cauldron he was using. "I didn't create the Wolfsbane, Eirik."

"That's not what Finnbogi's research said."

"Then Finnbogi is not infallible. No. I merely read up on all the work that had been previously done and analyzed it. What worked and what hadn't. I eliminated the hadn't and built on the had. That didn't take any genius. Only experimentation."

Eirik was ready to challenge that, but something in Severus's demeanour told him that he was already stepping into that other world of his and he kept quiet.

Freya had been right, he thought, looking at the last sketch he'd done of Severus's face as he chanted over the cauldron, adding this and that: they were alike when it came to work. Several of his former lovers had accused him of not being aware of anything other than his canvas when he was painting. They were right, he wasn't. And right now, Severus was just as oblivious.

Eirik silently moved back so that he could sit cross-legged on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees, propped his chin up on his fists, and thought as he watched.

He had broken through one set of barriers with this man. In bed they were a good match. And what Severus didn't have by way of experience, he made up with the delight of discovery.

The second time they'd made love Eirik had wanted Severus be the one to take him. And he'd insisted on their doing it face to face, so that he could watch Severus's eyes. There'd been fear in them, fear of his hurting Eirik. Eirik had almost had to impale himself to get Severus to understand that he truly did want Severus's cock in him.

Right then, he'd also wanted Voldemort's neck between his hands.

Voldemort who, according to Finnbogi's files, had given Severus the approval and encouragement to expand his talent and skills with potions which had been denied him. Who had used Severus's hunger for such things to bring him over to the Dark Arts, to brand him with the Death Eater's mark. A wizard, he now knew, who had held Severus's need for experimentation over his head and made him pay for that with his subjugation.

But Finnbogi's research had been very thorough. It had pointed out that there had been limits to Severus's hunger and, when he'd realized what was happening, what use Voldemort was making of his potions, he had gone back to accept whatever punishment would be meted out. Only to be sent back to spy. And to endure further abjection.

Why the bloody hell hadn't Dumbledore put an end to that? Why the fuck had he allowed Severus to do that in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to have Severus's best interests at heart? How could a dead spy be of any help?

Eirik knew he needed to calm down. He took a very quiet deep breath, not wanting to attract Severus's attention and have him ask Eirik to leave. He let it out very, very slowly and quietly.

Well, now Severus had Eirik - and others - in his life who cared for him..

Freya was as protective of Severus as she had been of Inga. Eirik hadn't needed more than that last glare of hers to know that if she came back and found Severus had been hurt, he would pay for that.

And Severus had Alexander. Whom he loved. No. Adored.

Eirik watched as the intense concentration on Severus's face deepened and yet softened. Alexander had told him that Changes were much easier since he'd begun taking his father's potion. When Eirik had casually asked Bera Hillswick about those taking her potions, the Village Potion Maker hadn't mentioned that aspect. He thought that now he understood. There was an ingredient missing in hers. Severus's love.

He felt a flash of jealousy. Not good, that. Jealousy of Severus's love for his son. Something that Eirik needed to deal with and quickly before it became a problem. Alexander, he reluctantly admitted, would always come first with Severus. Could he live with that?

Eirik knew that he tended to be rather possessive of things that he loved. He wasn't much of a sharer. Maybe that was due to having been brought up in a household where there were so many children, so many petty jealousies, so much anger at any sign of favouritism on the part of their father. On the whole, the children of Oddvar Brekke got along together. All things considered. But now and then, a new wife, a new child, was the cause of disruption and there could be strife in the Children's Wing.

The children of the First Wife had never quite gotten used to the situation. They hated family gatherings and, on the whole, couldn't hide their disdain of their siblings and of the other members of the Coven.

Although he was known for his stubbornness as a child, Eirik had not been as aggressive as some of his siblings. Rather than fight over possessions, he would instead draw or paint his opinion on the matter. His father had been the one to point out to him that not everybody enjoyed having their foibles hanging on a wall for all to see, and that discretion was a good thing for anyone, no matter which career they had chosen, to foster.

His father had never really forbidden Eirik to select painting as his career. He just couldn't see it as one. Even his mother, who had been the flightiest of Oddvar's wives - a professor of Comparative Mythologies - had referred to his painting as a `nice little hobby'.

He'd ignored them all and now had a name as a portraitist and a innovator of Expressionism.

He liked the limelight. And he'd picked for a partner a man who had a child, who would force him to share his limelight.

He liked Alexander. The boy was bright, outgoing, had a brain that he was not afraid to use. He had courage. He'd been ready to challenge him... Who the hell was he fooling? Alexander had been ready to take Eirik on for his father's sake.

For the love he bore his father.

And that was the point, wasn't it, Eirik, he told himself.

These two loved each other. And they'd said so to each other aloud and they'd shown that love to those about them.

Severus hadn't said it to him. Apart from in bed, he hadn't shown it.

It would be rather ironic if he, Eirik, the gallivantor of the Brekkes, had fallen in love with a man who was unable to return it. To him.

Oh, Severus could love. All he had to do was look at the man as he prepared Alexander's Wolfsbane potion. His face glowed with the love he felt for his son.

And if Eirik forced him to chose between his son or his new lover, Eirik knew, without a moment's hesitation, that he would be the loser.

So he had to accept that Alexander would be the first and deepest love of Severus's life.

He caught the sigh before it left his mouth. Freya had once told him that he still had some growing up to do. Not that long ago, when he thought about it. He guessed this was what she'd meant.

Good thing that Alexander was so easy to love and that Severus was more than worth it.

But one day, Severus was going to look at him the way he did now. With all the love of which he was capable. But it would be the love for a partner, not for a child.

And that was something Eirik could live with.

Severus was returning from having sent the Wolfsbane on its way when he noticed that there were not one but two house elves in the kitchen. The second one was wearing clothing similar to Ketil, but splashed with paint.

"Orm, I presume?"

The house elf grinned at him and elbowed Ketil with delight.

"Ketil tells Orm that Sir is very quick."

Whatever response Severus might have made to that was pushed aside when Eirik, who was sitting at the table, a letter in his hand, began spouting a litany of sounds which, from the house elves' grimaces, Severus assumed meant that he was not pleased with the contents of the letter.

"It's a bloody summons. To Oslo. From my cher papa. Time for the annual showing of the colours at the General Meeting of the IFOW."

Severus shrugged. "Then you must go."

Eirik sighed, pulled out his most put-upon face. "All those politicians and diplomats. Having to be polite to them. To sound so bloody interested in their little stupidities."

Severus didn't bother to hide his grin. He pulled out a chair and sat. "Then don't go."

Eirik rubbed his eyes. "The problem is that my agent patrols the hall in hope of picking up commissions for me. If I don't go, I'll be booked to paint idiots for the next two years."

"Yes, I can see where that might be a problem. So you must go."

Eirik glared at him. "Don't enjoy this so much. You're included in the summons." And he tossed the letter at Severus.

"What!"

Eirik tipped back his chair and grinned. "Father sees you now as an official member of the family. Family shows up for this. Well, it's one of the few things he asks of all of us. And it's not as though there aren't any rewards: in turn, he does support our projects. And it's only for twenty-four hours. Mind you," he sighed dramatically, causing the two houses elves to snicker, "they're the longest twenty-four hours in the year."

Severus looked up from the letter. "He's serious. He wants a man who is under Pronouncement of Banishment in his own country to appear at an international gathering!"

Eirik grinned. "You're family, Severus. All things considered, that takes precedence in father's mind."

"Yes, well, I doubt that many others will see it that way."

"You'd be surprised. Father has built his reputation on making others see things his way. Orm! Ketil! We'll need formal gowns as well as a couple of changes for the meals and afternoon tea." He looked up at Severus. "I suppose all you have is black?"

Severus glared up from rereading the official invitation - in both their names! - which had been personalized with Oddvar's scrawled, `I'm looking forward to seeing the two' - underlined heavily - `of you there.'

"Yes."

Eirik shook his head. "Well, I suppose it makes the selection of robe much easier. You don't have to worry about co-ordinating with the Coven and accidentally treading on someone's toes."

At Severus's baffled expression, Eirik only smiled. "You'll see. Family politics. Send a note off to Alexander and then we'll have to go. The damn thing is tomorrow."

The President's Personal Assistant was waiting for them with an itinerary in his hand when they arrived late that night. Finnbogi grinned unrepentantly at Eirik's loud and overly dramatic groan when he'd read it. "Damn it, Finn! The Russians for breakfast! I can barely tolerate them for supper, but first thing in the morning!"

Severus sat back to watch the interplay between the two. Finnbogi's only response to Eirik's complaints was to grin more widely.

"No! Definitely not! I'm not eating lunch with the Italians. Those witches are all fingers! My arse is still bruised from last year."

"They specifically requested your presence at their table."

Eirik growled, "I've noticed that Severus is never seated at my table. Not for breakfast, not for lunch." He scowled threateningly, "If you want me to be at all co-operative, you'll see to it that Severus is next to me at every sitting."

Finnbogi made a bit of a production out of rummaging in his pockets for a notebook and quill, and making note of that. "It will require some rearrangements," he said with a deep sigh, "but I suppose it really wouldn't be fair to let Professor Snape loose without his knowing the situation."

Eirik frowned. "You bastard," he said, with reluctant respect. "You kept that in reserve to see that I'd agree."

Finnbogi looked far too innocent: Severus tried to hide his smile, but Eirik had seen him. "See, even Severus knows I'm right."

"You'll notice that supper is with the Americans," Finnbogi pointed out, sidestepping the need to respond.

"What did my agent promise you in return for that?" Eirik added for Severus's sake. "My exhibition opens in New York in two weeks."

"A sneak peek at your new exhibition for the President."

Eirik groaned even more loudly. "That means I can expect a critique from my father at some point or another."

Finnbogi ignored him and turned to Severus. "Professor, we would all greatly appreciate it if you kept Northlander, the painter, under control. He tends to get bored and occasionally creates havoc."

Eirik managed to look offended. "I do not. I just won't play those political games that everyone else seems to be so fond of. I don't know why Father insists that I appear at these things when he knows that."

"For the colour and the possibility of excitement?" Severus looked at Finnbogi who nodded in turn.

"I see that the Professor understands very well."

Severus looked around at people who were busy `working the room', to quote Finnbogi. Eirik hadn't been joking about the situation. Though he'd been a spy, Severus had not been involved in the political aspect of the war against Voldemort. He went in, reported to Voldemort, carefully listened in to all the discussions he could overhear, made note of whomever was there, took whatever punishment Voldemort had decided to mete out, and then returned to report to Dumbledore. What had happened to his reports after that, he'd had no idea.

The level of tension in the room was unbelievable. More so that no one else seemed to be noticing it.

Leisurely exchanges of forced politeness made Severus grit his teeth. Public smiles followed by behind the hand glares made him uneasy. It was like being at a Death Eater gathering all over again. The only good points were the food, the wine - Eirik had growled at him the first time he'd caught Severus with a glass of vodka in his hand - and the fact that his was not the only black robe.

He'd understood too what Finnbogi had meant about keeping Eirik under control. Eirik's patience was far more limited than his own and he'd had to extricate Eirik away from a couple of terse exchanges before his opinion got away from him.

He himself managed to avoid many of those by keeping on the move, but he hadn't been totally successful. One or two of the family had been genuinely pleased to greet him again. There were inquiries about Alexander that were more than cursory. It warmed him to know that his son was truly well liked. There had also been more than one comment, from those he seemed to remember were involved in politics themselves, about how finally someone appeared to be keeping Eirik in line. Severus found that he was offended on Eirik's behalf. This was not his scene and if he embarrassed them so much, then his presence should not be required.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Snape. Shouldn't you be hiding under your rock?"

Severus slowly turned around to face someone he couldn't ever remember meeting. The accent though was a dead give-away. Someone from Britain.

"I believe you have the advantage of me," Severus pulled out his driest, most sarcastic tones.

"Cranston. Philmore Cranston. My brother is in charge of the Department of Aurors. I believe you have met him."

Severus allowed the old Snape to rise to the front while inwardly he could hear the door of an Azkaban cell closing behind him.

"Ah, Representative Cranston, there you are. I've been looking for you." Finnbogi smoothly stepped in between the two wizards glaring coldly at each other. "The Minister for Iceland seems interested in discussing some trade issue that she says has been of particular interest to you. She's asked me to bring you to her."

And with that, Finnbogi slipped his arm under Cranston's and diplomatically steered him away from Severus. When the next Light Elf passed by with a tray of drinks, Severus exchanged his barely touched glass of wine for one of vodka.

"Please, Professor, wine not vodka." Finnbogi took the empty glass out of his hand and replaced it with one of wine. "It'll be easier to keep Cranston away from you for the rest of the evening than it will be to deal with Northlander." And before Severus could comment, he was gone again.

And Severus finally understood Eirik's comments about colour co-ordination with the Coven. Each member wore her own colours, rather like Hogwarts and its Houses had theirs. And the children of that particular union wore hues of the same. Eirik's mother, who had merely glanced at Severus with the questions, "Is that your latest, Eirik? More mature than your normal choices, isn't he?" favoured sky blue and so Eirik was wearing a robe that was within the same colour spectrum.

"It's so that someone doesn't accidentally say something offensive about one of the President's former wives in the hearing of her child," explained Finnbogi to Severus, when he and Eirik had arrived for breakfast, indeed a dry event with the Russians, who were even less creatures of the morning than he and Eirik were. "One year there was nearly a diplomatic incident when someone did. This makes things so much easier."

"You were right," Severus acknowledged to Eirik as they dressed for supper. Eirik had selected a robe of delft blue; Severus draped his jet black robe about his shoulders. He wondered what the British representative would have to say if he saw the hem, collar, cuffs were embroidered with black versions of the Slytherin snake.

"About what?"

"About the length of the hours."

Eirik sighed loudly. "And the longest are yet to come. I swear, I don't think this day will ever end."

Severus held Eirik's braid doubled as he fit a long silver clasp around the club of hair.

"Well, the tension alone will keep us going."

Eirik suddenly smiled. Severus was beginning to recognize that smile. From their bed. It meant that Eirik wanted to offer a new experience to his lover.

"What?" Severus tried to sound resigned, but he had trouble with the small fire of desire that was building in his groin.

Eirik turned around and wrapped his arms around Severus. He kissed him, staring with just a tease at the end of his mouth. Then he moved on rather purposefully to take possession of the wet heat that opened readily for him. And he kept at it until Severus melted in his arms.

"Severus," Eirik whispered in an ear, "lean over the chair."

Severus gasped but complied. He was growing fond of having Eirik's cock up his arse. He gripped the arms of the chair and waited while Eirik folded his robe over his shoulders, while his hands undid the buttons of his trousers, when they slipped down both trousers and underwear. He bit back the moan when he felt Eirik's greased fingers enter him, allowed it out when his lover angled his knuckles just so and brushed against Severus's prostate, a part of his body he'd thought he lacked until Eirik had showed him where it was. He shoved his hips back, indicating that he was more than ready to be penetrated. And he was. But not by Eirik's cock.

Whatever it was, it was hard, long and filled him.

Eirik pulled him up, turned him around and took possession of his mouth again. Then with a grin, he straightened Severus's garments and made him presentable again.

"What..."

"It's called a butt plug. I've spelled it so you don't have to worry. It won't come out, not until the evening's over. It should keep us both more interested in tonight's proceedings. Walk to the door and back and you'll understand."

Severus stopped after two steps. He glared over his shoulder at Eirik who was watching him with that feral look which went directly to Severus's cock.

"When we are allowed to find our bed, I'll take it out and fill you with my cock. Not before." And Eirik took Severus by the arm and led him down to the evening's gathering.

As before, Severus kept on the move but this time, it was with the constant reminder of Eirik. And every now and then, as they waited for everyone to gather to go in for supper, Eirik would pass by, whispering things like, "Tighten that arse of yours for me." "Am I still in there, filling you?" "Think how much better you'll feel when I'm pumping away in you." "Are you thinking how you'll feel when I come in you?"

By the time they went into supper, Severus was flushed from more than the heat. And the heat in Eirik's eyes didn't help him cool down. Neither having to sit for nearly two hours of leisurely eating and speeches . Severus tried hard to keep still but Eirik would lean over and, unconsciously, Severus would move towards him, shifting the pressure on the plug in him. And Eirik, Severus quickly realized, did it too often for it not to be deliberate.

Severus was hard by dessert. He glared at his lover who was ignoring him for a discussion with his neighbour on the latest theatre season in New York.

When they stood up, joining the rest of the gathering in a standing ovation, Eirik moved to behind Severus. Severus felt one of his hands settle on his hip, the other... The plug began wriggling from the pressure Eirik was putting on it. Severus kept on applauding but he closed his eyes and began mentally reciting the order of ingredients for the most difficult potion his brain could call up.

When Oddvar Brekke signalled the end of both the evening and the General Meeting, Eirik stepped to Severus's side and, sending a wide smile his way, applauded loudly.

Before anyone could come over to them, to hold them back, Severus grabbed Eirik's arm and, with an expression on his face that too students of Hogwarts would have recognized, towed his grinning lover out of the room, up the stairs and into the room they had been assigned.

The door to their room had barely closed when Severus snarled, "Let see how funny you find this!"

And he dropped to his knees, pushed Eirik's robe aside, ripped his trousers open, and took hold of his cock. It didn't take all that long for his lover to be gasping, his hips jutting out, working in rhythm to Severus's mouth.

He knew Eirik was close to coming when Severus released his hot, wet cock into the cooler air of the room. Eirik opened his eyes and, panting, glared at Severus who had risen, stepped back, arms folded over his chest, and was now watching Eirik's scowl with a similar expression on his face. Let's see how Eirik liked being left aching as he had been all evening!

Eirik found his wand and Severus was suddenly naked, standing in a pool of clothing. Another gesture and Eirik was equally naked. As Eirik took a determined, purpose-ridden stride towards him, Severus moved faster. He spun Eirik around, facing the wall, and slipped two greased fingers inside him. Severus found what he was looking for and Eirik moaned. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock. It was quick, with just the right amount of roughness which he now knew delighted Eirik. And which made him harder.

Eirik's arse tightened around him, and that was it: Severus came hard.

He had barely caught his breath when Eirik shifted them around. Now Severus was the one facing the wall. He rested his forehead against it and waited while Eirik carefully wriggled the butt plug out. Severus moaned. It had been amply greased and Severus felt well prepared for Eirik's cock. He sighed loudly when he felt Eirik slip into him.

Severus's body had been well trained this night. He clenched his arse muscles and Eirik gasped with the sensation. Eirik leaned over and growled, "Milk me!"

And with a thrilling sense of accomplishment, Severus did as his lover had asked, not bothering to hide his victory when Eirik leaned against his back, his hands braced to either side and not able to hang on any more, pumped himself deep into Severus's arse and came.

"The next time," Eirik gasped, "I'm adding a cock ring."

Eirik lay on their bed and sighed happily. In the two weeks since Oslo, Severus seemed to have found a new confidence in himself. At first, Eirik had been the leader in their bed. Only in their bed. Out of it, Severus knew his abilities and was secure in them.

Now, it was as though he'd decided to claim his part of their bed as well. He led as often as Eirik did. He was a quick learner and had a repertoire of moves and actions that drove Eirik wild.

It was no longer a case of teacher and student and, though Eirik had loved being the one to teach Severus the joys and pleasures of the body, he found that having a partner in bed was equally satisfying.

Maybe that was what had been absent in his previous relationships. He'd been the one to top, and even when he'd been submissive, he and his partner had both known it was a game on his part.

Severus's personality was too strong to allow him to submit all the time to Eirik. Oh, he'd done it with Voldemort, but there had been extenuating circumstances. And Eirik discovered that he was willing to hand over control to Severus, knowing that it wouldn't be used against him.

Face it, he told himself, he trusted the man. And that was something he'd never been able to say about any former bed-mate.

Eirik rolled over and watched as Severus finished dressing. He squinted and tried to replace that long-coated suit with something more casual. Something that would emphasize the sleekness of his lover.

"I'm going to love showing you New York. Not just the magical part, but the Muggle side of it."

Oops. There was that slight stiffening again. Severus only grunted in response, but Eirik slipped off the bed to go wrap his arms around his man. "The restaurants alone a worth this trip. You can find any cuisine you could possibly crave without having to leave the city."

Severus's smile was a tad insincere. "Just so long as we're back in time for me to make Alexander's Wolfsbane."

Eirik listened not to the words, but to the hint of trepidation in Severus's voice. He was going to find out what the hell this was about. Another barrier that needed to be brought down.

"Darling!"

Severus blinked several times as Eirik's New York agent greeted him with a series of air kisses.

The witch had purple and pink hair that stood up as if she'd just had a shock of some kind, a fusca dress that showed off her breasts down to the aureole which was painted bright red, said dress ending just at the apex of her thighs, where a flash of skin led to a pair of equally fusca thigh-high leather boots with unbelievably high stiletto heels. Her open robe matched the purple of her hair, the colour of her lips, her eyelids, and the tips of her longnailed fingers.

So that's what harpies did, thought Severus. They worked as agents in America.

As she blathered away at Eirik, Severus glanced around the room. This was really the first time he was seeing any of Eirik's work. Oh, he'd seen sketches and had a peek at the piece he'd worked on that day in his room, but this was his first real chance to see other finished pieces.

"Severus, I'd like you to meet Luciana Fortunata, my agent out here. Luc, Professor Severus Snape."

The harpy held out her hand and Severus took it in his. "A pleasure to meet you, Madam Fortunata."

The agent took her time looking him over. Severus knew that he wasn't what usually accompanied Eirik to his openings. He sighed mentally: it was obvious that he wouldn't fit in here any more than he usually did.

"Riky, this one has manners." Her voice was definitely American. "Will wonders never cease! Sevvie, please made it Luc and make yourself at home. I'm going to need Riky here for a little while. Try the hors d'oeuvres. The shrimp're really quite good." And she pulled Eirik away into a corner.

Sevvie, thought Severus, was almost as bad as Riky. Not his world, he reminded himself.

A waiter dressed in black presented him with a tray that held a platter of shrimp. Severus shook his head. "No, thank you. I've already eaten tonight."

"And what will Sir be drinking this evening?"

Severus raised a disquieting eyebrow. "Sir," he said in his driest tones, "will drink the wine."

He was making his way slowly around the exhibition when the waiter presented him with a glass of better than expected red. He nodded his thanks after taking a sip and went back to his perusal of the artwork that hung on the walls of the gallery.

Until he had met Eirik Northlander, Severus had never heard of him. Not surprising, really. His world had been that of the classroom and Voldemort, his lab when he had the time. But like Finnbogi, he too knew how to research.

Eirik Northlander had appeared on the Art scene twenty years ago. His portraits of people were sensitive, honest without being brutal, and selective. Just because someone wanted to be painted by Northlander didn't mean it would happen. One needed to have something that appealed to the artist in order to be accepted for a sitting. He'd accepted the commission to paint a well-known New York Auror, not because of his rank, but because the man collected Muggle toy train engines.

Severus had to admit that the portrait of the man with the severe look of a high-ranking Auror was made whimsical by the collection of toy engines that peeked in, out and about from under his heavy robes.

There was a small plaque on the lower edge of the frame that indicated the portrait was actually on loan for this exhibition.

Severus shook his head. He doubted that any of the Aurors he had encountered would have allowed themselves to be painted in this manner. Or if they had, it certainly would not have been loaned for public viewing. Maybe it had something to do with America.

There was another portrait of a woman which, Severus read, was also on loan to the gallery. A tall, elegant dowager of some pureblood family with ties to Europe. If Severus hadn't known of her, he certainly had heard the name. The woman was also an artist and Eirik had reproduced some of her more famous pieces in the background. The way she smiled at Severus indicated that she was well pleased with her being portrayed in a paintstained robe, with splotches on her cheek and on the tip of her aristocratic nose.

Eirik Northlander had also made a name for himself in the style called Expressionism. Lots of slashes of colour, forms that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the watcher's heartbeat. Some picked up the emotional state of the watcher and changed in hue accordingly. Some continually changed as if made of shifting sand.

Others exuded their own emotional state. Well, thought Severus, Eirik's emotional state. He shook his head. Severus liked to keep his emotions to himself. He wondered where Eirik found the courage to display his state of mind to any passer-by. Still, they were powerful images and they throbbed with life.

Severus looked around to see if the harpy was done with Eirik. He found her but not his lover.

"Excuse me," she was talking to some pompous-looking official, "have you seen Eirik?"

"Eirik? Oh, you mean Riky. Try the men's. He's probably barfing."

Severus wondered at her unconcern as he asked the waiter where he could find the `men's'.

The door was locked. Severus took out his wand; "Alohomora!" Yes, inside the single toilet `men's', Eirik Northlander was indeed `barfing'.

Severus shook his head and went to hold his lover's head, pulling the end of the long braid out of the porcelain, then the nearest robe sleeve which also seemed to have joined the last meal Eirik had shared with him.

"Go 'way..."

Severus ignored Eirik. He did however spell the door locked from the inside, making certain that they would not be surprised by anyone wanting to use the facility.

He managed to get Eirik's robe off. It would require a cleaning spell before he would be able to wear it back out. Severus tossed it onto the tall waste disposal unit. He knelt next to Eirik and held him again as another bout of vomiting hit him hard.

Without letting go of the man, Severus wanded a glass of water and a cool, wet cloth over from the sink and counter. He waited until the bout seemed over. With a slight wrinkling of his nose at the rancid odour, Severus flushed the toilet. He helped Eirik raise his head and held the glass at this mouth. "Rinse, don't swallow. That's it. Spit. And again. Good. Now swallow some. Just a sip. Ah, not a good idea." He waited until this bout was over to have Eirik go through the rinsing routine again, minus the sip of water. This time, he also wiped his face down with the cool cloth.

Then he sat on the floor and pulled his ashen, sweaty, trembling lover into his arms.

Eirik snuggled into his warmth and Severus managed to open his robe and wrap the ends of it around the man.

They sat that way, silent, for several minutes. Severus rested his cheek on Eirik's head. "Better now?"

Eirik sighed. "Yes."

"Is it always like this?"

"Yes."

"Nerves?"

"Yes."

Severus rubbed a soothing pattern on Eirik's back. "I find it strange that someone with your talent reacts this way to an exhibition. Until I opened that door I would have sworn that you were completely calm about the occasion."

"You can add acting to my talents, such as they are."

Severus thought about that. "Eirik, do you doubt your talent? Why?"

Eirik snuggled closer, slipping his arms around Severus's waist. "Eirik Brekke has the pathetic and sad delusion of the mediocre artist that he has talent."

"You're quoting someone."

"Yes."

"An idiot. You have allowed an idiot to make you this ill before an exhibition."

"Not just this one. Every one since that first one. Haven't you ever wondered why I paint under the name of Northlander and not Brekke?"

Severus sighed. "No, I can't truly say that I have. I suppose, now that I think about it, you wished to differentiate yourself from all those political Brekkes."

Eirik raised his head and settled it down on Severus's shoulder. He seemed warmer now; his teeth had stopped chattering and he looked less green. "True, to a certain extent. Actually, when I had my first exhibition, it was in Oslo and it was reviewed by a critic who had some grudge against Father."

"The one you quoted?"

Eirik nodded. "Father found it funny. He said any idiot looking at my work would see the talent there. Actually, it was the first time he'd said anything positive about my work. I was publically disemboweled and privately acknowledged."

"You didn't find it amusing."

Eirik forced himself to sit up and out of Severus's arms. Severus wondered if Luc was going to come looking for him soon.

Eirik shook his head. "I destroyed every piece. I've never shown in Oslo since then." He got to his feet. "My next exhibition was here in New York and I used a new name so that no one would associate it with that other one."

Severus got up and, as Eirik splashed cold water onto his face, he picked up the teal robe that seemed to be Eirik's favourite and spelled it clean. Eirik grimaced at his reflection in the mirror as he spelled the vomit out of his hair.

Severus gently slapped his hands away and undid the now untidy braid. Staring at his lover in the mirror, he calmly redid it, folding the silver clasp on its end.

Calmer now, Eirik watched as Severus settled the robe on his shoulders, turned him around and brushed something off the front. All serious, Severus held out his hand, offering him a small white item. "Mint."

Eirik suddenly grinned. "Thanks." He popped it into his mouth. At the door, he stopped and turned to face Severus. "I have to be a salesman tonight. Which means I won't have much time to be with you. Please, don't disappear on me."

Severus raised one eyebrow, insulted at the suggestion. "I shall wait till you're ready to go back to the hotel." Then, he pulled Eirik into his arms and kissed him, not passionately, but with all the reassurance he could give.

Eirik sighed. "Thanks. I needed that."

Luciana Fortunata was waiting for them in the hallway, leaning back against the wall, a glass of champagne in each hand. Her eyebrows rose high when she saw Severus behind Eirik. She handed Eirik one of the glasses and he tossed it back.

"Medical purposes," explained the harpy to Severus as she took Eirik by the arm. "Okay, boys and girls, showtime!"

Eirik, thought Severus three hours later, might not like politics, but he was good at them. Maybe not those of the diplomatic scene, but he certainly could manipulate those of the Art scene.

Severus stood on the sidelines watching as Eirik charmed some, flirted with others, held serious discussions on the meaning of his work with a select group of what Severus decided had to be critics of some kind. Luciana Fortunata saw to it that he wasn't monopolized by any one person, couple or group, that he worked the room as well as Oddvar Brekke worked a political gathering.

At one point, when the waiter who seemed to be following Eirik around with a tray of champagne came close by, Severus gestured to him. "How many of those has he had?"

Before the man could inform him that it was none of his business, Severus fixed his best glare on him. The man found himself swallowing hard. "Seven."

"Replace it with that fizzy water stuff."

"Sir, I really...."

"Or I'll see to it that you never reproduce."

The man took Severus very seriously. The next time Eirik picked up a glass and drank from it, he gestured in an irritated fashion for the waiter who must have informed him of Severus's threat because Eirik looked around the room until he found his lover. For a moment, Severus thought that Eirik would challenge this decision he'd taken on his behalf. They had a bit of a glaring contest which Severus assumed he won: every time he checked during the rest of the showing, Eirik had a glass of the fizzy stuff in his hand.

"Have you seen his newest piece?"

Severus looked at the harpy who was twirling her glass by the stem.

"No, I can't say that I have. It hasn't been easy getting close enough to really look at anything. Too many people."

Her smile was like the cat who had drunk all the cream. "Not too many people. Just not enough pieces." She indicated that he should follow her. The initial crowd had lessened enough for them to approach the far wall with ease. One of the three paintings hanging there was the one that Severus had seen Eirik paint.

The splashes of bold, vital colours were continually shifting. Off centre, low to the right, was a solid slash of black.

"At first glance," said the harpy, "that black seems to be totally out of place, doesn't it? But then, while you're watching, you realized that it's the only stable part of the picture. That you can come back to it and it'll still be there. Dependable. Unlike the colours which are shifting all over the rest of the canvas. You never know where they're going to be."

She turned to look at him. "You're not going away, are you? You're here for this exhibition and you'll be here for the next. And the one after that. And the many others that will follow that one."

Severus said nothing, merely kept on looking at the picture.

"Yes." She toasted him with her glass before emptying it. "You're not going away."

He turned his glance onto her. "What makes you so certain?" When he himself wasn't.

She shrugged and gestured to the waiter for another glass. "Well, of all the people who have accompanied Riky to an opening, you're the first who's held his head while he barfs. He let you change his champagne for fizzy water. I've never managed to get him to do that. He holds his booze well, but I only dared suggest that once." She grinned at the memory.

"And then there's that." She pointed to the picture they'd been looking at. "I know he painted that after he met you. It'll be interesting what else you inspire him to do. By the way, I think that's the very best thing he's ever done. Up `til now. I've had three people tonight bidding to buy it, but I'd sold it before I'd even hung it."

"I may not know much about exhibitions, but isn't that a little out of the norm? Selling before you even open."

She nodded. "Hard to deny President Brekke some privileges."

"Brekke bought that?"

She nodded. "He's never done that before. Oh, he usually comes to see what Riky's showing before we open, but this time, he took a long look at it and smiled. He told Finny to top whatever I was offered by 500 galleons."

Severus couldn't prevent the gasp.

The harpy patted him on the arm. "In case you don't get it, you're the slash of black. His anchor. `Bout time." She turned and walked away.

It was finally over. They were the last to leave the gallery. Severus was tired. Eirik was, to his mind, giddy, overly-excited. The harpy looked as she had six hours earlier, ready to take on the night. He assumed that she was as there was a much younger male waiting for her by the door.

"Well, loves, another huge success. The people who weren't here will be kicking themselves tomorrow for having chosen other engagements over this one." She kissed Eirik on the cheek. "Riky, you're brilliant. Everything sold. Start working on the next show."

She hauled Severus down for a very loud, wet kiss on the cheek. "Your job is just beginning, Sevvie," she spoke softly by his ear. "Riky's wired to the gills. Have fun."

She patted Eirik on the arm. "Meeting in my office...Billy Babe, what day are we? Friday? Okay, Riky, make it supper Saturday, eight o'clock, at `John's'. Billy Babe will see to the reservations, won't you, sweetie? See you then, Sevvie."

And then the harpy and Billy Babe apparated off somewhere.

Severus didn't allow Eirik to do more than snicker "Billy Babe!" when he grabbed the man and apparated them to their hotel.

Where Severus got his first inkling that the night, as the harpy had indicated, was not over. They were met by a wary yet hesitant night manager who smiled nervously at them. "The usual has been sent to your room, Mr. Northlander."

Eirik, eyes over-bright, turned and sneered, "What makes you think I might be interested in the `usual'?"

The man took a hasty step backwards. "So sorry, Mr. Northlander. Of course, if there's anything you need or want changed, you have only to say."

Severus's eyebrow raised in his most displeased look. Which he directed not at the night manager, but at Eirik. "I'm certain that whatever the usual is, it will be fine."

Eirik was not pleased with his interference. He turned, his face peeved, but before he could say anything, Severus grabbed him and apparated them both to the suite which had been assigned to them.

There was a soft light on in the sitting room that shone on the very large bottle of champagne icing in a bucket by the table which was laden with small sandwiches, finger foods of all kinds, and pastries.

Eirik went for the champagne but Severus held him back.

"What?"

Severus frowned at the tone. Right now Eirik reminded him of Draco Malfoy when denied something he had considered his due.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired."

Eirik pulled away. "Then go to bed. I want to celebrate," he sneered, pulling the bottle of champagne out of its bucket, splashing water and ice all over the floor and himself.

From behind one of the large armchairs, Severus saw Orm peek out, as if ready to hide once more.

As Severus went to take the bottle Eirik was struggling to open, he nodded to the bathroom. "Hot bath," he said, and Orm, eye on Eirik, nodded, scurrying off to do Severus's bidding. "Give me that," he said to Eirik.

"Pour me a glass full," said his lover, dropping into the chair Orm had been hiding behind. "To make up," he scoffed, "for all that crap I had to drink tonight."

Severus ignored the belligerence. Right now Eirik was nothing more than a fractious child, over-tired and riding high on his nerves. Wired, as the harpy had indicated. This must be, Severus understood from everyone's behaviour, Eirik's usual response to the end of the evening as `barfing' had been to the beginning.

He stuck the bottle back into the bucket.

"Hey, babe! I want some of that. Just because you don't doesn't mean that I have to be as stodgey as you. Damn it, Sevvie, the night's not over and I ..."

Severus waved his wand and Eirik found himself in the bathroom, naked.

"Into the tub, Riky babe."

Eirik opened his mouth to protest and found himself sitting in the deep two person tub, water up to his shoulders.

"Orm, tea, please."

Orm, mouth wide open, eyes astonished, nodded quickly and went off to do Severus's bidding.

Acting like a denied brat, Eirik angrily slapped the water hard with his hand. It splashed over the rim, onto the floor and Severus's robe. "Damn it, Sevvie..."

"Eirik!"

Something in Severus's tone got through the child to the man. Eirik shut up and turned to glare up at the man shucking his wet robe.

"To begin with, if you ever call me Sevvie again, I will transfigure you into a newt."

No one, not even Dumbledore, had ever challenged Severus when he spoke in that tone. Eirik gulped.

Severus removed his clothing, carefully folding everything onto the top of a hamper. "Next, the last thing you need is more champagne. I am fully aware that you managed to imbibe more of it between glasses of fizz whenever you thought I wasn't watching. Accepting a glass of champagne from one of your many admirers still constitutes drinking. Its effect on an empty stomach is quite noticeable. Not to mention adding alcohol to nerves, excitement and an overabundance of admittedly deserved compliments and flattery."

He stepped into the tub behind Eirik and sat, pulling the irritated child into his arms. Eirik resisted at first, lip curled, and then suddenly all resistence disappeared and he sagged back into Severus's arms.

Severus could feel the small tremors caused by nerves running under Eirik's cold skin. He settled himself with his arms around this child-man as Eirik's head tucked itself in the curve of his shoulder.

With a soft word from Severus, the light in the bathroom dimmed. Eirik's teeth chattered slightly in response to the heat and the quiet.

Orm cautiously placed a mug of sweetened hot tea on the ledge that rimmed the tub and smiled back when Severus mouthed `Thank you.'

Severus picked up the mug, and held it to Eirik's mouth. "This will warm you up."

There was a reluctant sigh, a small rippling of water as Eirik moved enough to accept the mug and take it to his mouth.

"Toast?" Orm whispered and Severus smiled. With a sigh of relief, Orm disappeared.

The mug was replaced on the ledge with a sound that was part pleasure, part exasperation.

Severus held out a point of the toast that had appeared next to the now refilled mug.

"Hands're wet," whined Eirik.

"Just open."

Eirik yawned loudly when the last piece was gone. He turned so that he could rest his head on Severus's shoulder, his arms around Severus's hips.

Severus said nothing, just lightly stroked the warming body in his arms, from shoulder, down back to the hips resting against his.

He spelled the water hot one more time before he felt Eirik was truly warmed and relaxed.

Severus closed his eyes and concentrated. He pictured the bedroom, then the bureau which held his things. Mentally, he opened the drawer which contained a small leather case. The case hovered in the air and finally settled on the dresser top. It unsnapped itself and opened, revealing four small stoppered vials in a special holder that held them secure. One of the vials rose up to sit next to the case. On its label appeared `Two drops in a small glass of water.'

Orm tiptoed into the bathroom, glass in hand. He showed it to Severus and held up two fingers, pointing to the glass. Severus smiled. He took the glass from the house elf and held it to Eirik's mouth. "Drink this."

"What is it?" There was still a hint of fractiousness to the voice as though the petulant child was putting up a last attempt to be quarrelsome.

"You'll like it," soothed Severus. "Promise."

Eirik swallowed the contents. "Doesn't taste anything," he groused.

Severus only moved, helping Eirik stand up and then out of the tub. Orm was there with thick towels and a long heavy toweling bathrobe which Severus got Eirik into with little difficulty: the man was almost asleep on his feet. Then a short trip to the bed which Orm had already turned down.

Severus tucked his lover into bed and stood over him, shaking his head.

And smiling.

Part Five

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