Title: Two If By Sea

Author: RaeWhit

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: SS/HP

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and characters are the sole property of JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros, Inc. I make no money from writing fanfiction. It is my own private obsession.

Feedback: Appreciated. E-mail the author at raewhit@earthlink.net

Beta: Jadzialove—endless appreciation for your expertise and support.

Archive: Part of the From Dusk Till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Party Fuh-Q-Fest

Wave X at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm

Challenge:"Not here. Not now! No magic?"

Summary: After the end of the war, Harry is sent for a summer away from the

Wizarding world in an effort to help him cope with the aftermath. Severus Snape, a man hiding from his past, has an unexpected new employee for the summer. Their collision with fate will change both of them forever.

Two If By Sea



"And the sea will grant each man new hope, as sleep brings dreams of home…." Christopher Columbus.



Chapter One: Albert Dock

"Here's your change, sir."

Severus took the coins and slid them into his pocket, gave the man a vague nod, then picked up his large coffee—double mocha latte, single sugar—and turned to make his way to the bench that he occupied every morning when he came here. The fact that he hummed as he walked had absolutely nothing to do with his mood, which on this particular morning in June, was not particularly pleasant, although, to be perfectly honest, this was not in the slightest bit unusual. No, he hummed because someone had once told him that humming whilst carrying a full cup of coffee prevented it from spilling, a suggestion that he'd found ridiculous at the time, but now had to begrudgingly admit actually worked. He'd walked these twenty meters from the coffee kiosk to his bench so many times in the past, that he didn't even need to look up as he did so, just concentrating on the full cup and his toneless humming until he finally reached his destination.

When he finally did look up, he was shocked to find that his usual seat on the end of the bench was already occupied by another coffee drinker. Disoriented for just a moment, he continued on to the far end of the bench and took a seat, inwardly grumbling at this unforeseen aberration in his morning ritual.

Sitting back with a sigh, he leaned in to take his first tentative sip. Not scalding hot, but warm enough to force him to hold it in his mouth momentarily before swallowing it down, he savored the flavor of it, blessing all the saints on high for this sinfully delicious concoction that had to the power to set his body and disposition to rights, irregardless of what his night had been like.

It was a beautiful day, the sun already well up, the air damp with sea-salt and the aroma of the hundreds of breakfasts being prepared in the eateries of the Dock. Stretching out his legs, he took another, larger mouthful, then sat and watched the river and the ever-present gulls circling above it. This was his favorite part of the day, sitting here and watching as the city awakened. It was only for the next few weeks that he'd have the pleasure of doing it every morning, and he intended to not miss a single one of them. He had to admit to himself that the break in the monotony of his year was most welcome this time. He'd been out of sorts for months, restless in a way he'd never been before. He sighed again. He knew the reason he was unsettled, but at present, he was determined to not to let the matter ruin the few months of the year that he actually looked forward to with an almost childish anticipation.

He felt a shift in the bench, and looked up to see its other occupant making his way back to the kiosk. He frowned as he watched him. A second cup of coffee? He had never even considered such a thing. Shaking his head at himself, he sat back and continued to sip at his first one, until he felt the slight upward tilt at his end as the person once again took his seat.

As "people-watching" was part of what he did here with his hour on the pier, he cautiously glanced down towards the other end of the bench, hiding the moment behind the slight tilt of his head as he took an uncharacteristic gulp of his drink. He smirked to himself as he noted that the man was using several napkins to wipe coffee from his jacket. Obviously, he did not know the humming trick.

The smirk was suddenly wiped from his face as the head turned casually toward him, and two bright green eyes looked at him, a combination of amusement and question behind them.

"I should've asked for a lid," the man told him conversationally as he continued to wipe at his front. "I don't usually spill it—serves me right for getting a second cup."

Although he didn't know quite why, Severus continued to watch in fascination as the man finished wiping away the coffee, then proceeded to wad the napkins into a ball, and with just a moment's hesitation, lifted a graceful hand and artfully arched the paper into the dustbin five meters in front of them.

"Nice shot," Severus murmured mostly to himself, but the man had heard him.

"Thanks," was the murmured reply.

Severus stared into his coffee. It was disconcerting—he didn't usually have conversations during his morning ritual. But he himself had been the first to speak, so he imagined that the ball was in his court now, where he had every intention of leaving it.

Obviously, the man was not aware of this game etiquette. "Excuse me for bothering you, sir, but I was wondering if you're from the city?"

Severus gave him a neutral look. "No, I'm not." He didn't offer anything more, but had a feeling that this would not end the conversation.

"Oh, all right, then. I thought if you were, then perhaps you could tell me a little about what's good to see, you know, the historic things."

Severus studied him for a moment. The man was polite, he had to admit, and had really just asked a reasonable question. He considered for a moment, aware that the man was watching him with interest as he thought. "As I said, I'm not a native, but there is a Tourist Information Centre here on Albert Dock, back where you entered from the city-side. I'm sure you could find all that you'd want there."

He was rewarded with a small smile and a nod. "You're right—I remember seeing that advertised somewhere. Thanks." The man continued to smile his gratitude, so Severus decided that it was time to get on with his morning. Gathering up his cup and napkins, he walked to the dustbin to deposit them.

He had no idea why he was doing it, but he found himself turning to the man and saying just before he left, "You might want to start with one of the Duck Tours." Not waiting for an acknowledgement, he strolled north on the pier.

***

It was the end of the week now, and Severus had habituated himself to the fact that he must share his morning bench and coffee time with this tourist, or at least that's what he assumed him to be. The man had thanked him on the second day for his recommendation of the Duck Tour, and had then asked for any others he might be inclined to give. So far he'd made three, and the man had made sure to tell him the following morning what he'd thought of each place that he'd dutifully visited.

"I never knew that slave trade had been such a huge enterprise for the empire," the man was telling him, the morning after his visit to the Transatlantic Slave Gallery. "But it makes perfect sense when you think of it. We kind of just exported that part of our culture to the colonies."

Severus gave him a sideways glance. "It was expressly because of the colonies that we were engaged in it in the first place. There was no tolerance for actually maintaining slave labor here, but the work in the colonies required it, particularly in the Caribbean."

***

He found his bench-mate intelligent and thoughtful, and was surprised at how quickly these mornings passed with this stimulating conversation. In the next week, Severus found he was, in spite of himself, looking to see if the man was there when he rounded the corner to the kiosk each morning. He continued to point the man in the direction of the regional attractions that he thought he might enjoy, and the next day they would talk at length and with animation over what the tourist had discovered on his visits. The man, to Severus' pleasant surprise, wasn't afraid to speak his mind, and voiced both his enjoyment, or lack thereof, of the places where Severus had sent him.

"Hmmm, I guess the Voirrey Embroidery Centre would be an acquired taste," he murmured one morning near the end of the second week. He was presently on his second cup of coffee, something of a novelty for him, but it now seemed only natural to have another when the man went for his.

"Well, it was interesting, I suppose. A lot of history there as well." The man shot him a smile. "But it's definitely an ‘acquired taste'. I'd imagine your wife made you go?"

Severus stopped blowing on his coffee to look at the man. "No, no wife, I'm afraid. Just an unusual interest in needle-working." He studied the man for a moment, who was considering him with interest. "If it's not too indiscreet, may I ask your name? We've been sitting here for two weeks now, and it just occurred to me that I didn't even know."

The man chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then smiled. "It's Harry. And yours?"

Severus noticed the lack of a surname and replied commensurately, "Severus. Pleased to make your acquaintance." They sipped for a few moments more, then Severus decided to indulge a little more of his curiosity. "Well, Harry, if I may say so, I find it odd for a tourist to spend so much time in Liverpool. Not that it doesn't have its alluring facets, but two weeks is more than the average sightseer usually spends here. Worth a few days, certainly, but…."

Harry laughed softly as he turned slightly on the bench. "I'm not really a tourist, Severus," he said, then hesitated for a moment before adding, "Well, in a way I am. I've never been here before, so I am having a great time getting to see the city. No, I'm here for a job that starts week after next. I came early, and decided to spend that time checking out the local color." He paused as he looked out over the Mersey. "I've never really had a chance to travel before, and this has been rather like a holiday," he finished wistfully.

Severus had been watching him as he spoke, and wondered to himself how old the man was. Extraordinary that one so young and attractive seemed so mature, and yet almost lonely. He was moved by the man's candor to make a confession of his own. "I don't live here either, Harry, nor am I a tourist. I have business here this month, and I'll be moving on next week as well. But I've been here many times before, and managed to see a great deal of the city over the years. Hence my familiarity with it."

Harry laughed again. "Well, that's turned out in my favor, then. You've sifted through the sightseeing possibilities for me. I really appreciate you putting me off the Acorn Venture farm, not that I have anything against pony rides and the lot. Although, there still is that matter of the embroidery place," he said with mock seriousness.

When they stood to part company, the young man extended his hand, which Severus shook without hesitation. "You might want to see the Halton Miniature Railway. I defy you to see it and then tell me you weren't positively taken with it."

***

"I spent the whole day there, Severus. I didn't realize there was so much to see. I've never had much exposure to art, and now I wish I had. It was fantastic." His voice communicated his enthusiasm, and Severus looked at him with an amused smile.

"If you're ever in London, you'll have to visit the Tate, then. They circulate works between all their galleries, including the one here, of course, but the main collection is breathtaking." He stopped, and realized that he was more pleased by the man's appreciation of this museum than of any other of the sites he'd recommended to him. "Is there anything in particular that stood out for you, perhaps an artist that struck a chord?"

Inexplicably the man blushed, and Severus found himself entranced by the sight of it. They'd been meeting every morning for almost three weeks now, and nothing in their conversation had ever elicited such a reaction. He rather thought the man was beautiful, his green eyes always soft and sparkling, his black hair framing an almost perfect face, his voice pleasantly musical. Severus thought, too, that there was something sad in his expression, something he'd noticed even in the timbre of his voice at times. He spoke now to cover Harry's embarrassment. "Oh, come now, it can't be all that bad. This is the Tate we're talking about. I know there's nothing even remotely obscene in the collection."

Harry smiled then, and the blush was gone. "No, it's just that it's an odd piece, I think, to affect a," he groped for the word, "man the way that it did me." He glanced at Severus' face once more before finally giving in. "It was of a lady in a boat, a painting by J. W. Waterhouse, and I—"

Severus smiled as he interrupted him. "The Lady of Shalott? Why Harry, I am stunned. Of all the pieces there, that's the one?" He grunted in amusement as he sat back to take a sip of his coffee. Not looking at the man, he murmured, "It's my absolute favorite, and you're fortunate to have seen it. It's usually in London."

Harry was slightly incredulous. "You like it as well, then?" He sat back, too, nodding his head as he did so. "I don't know you very well, Severus, but I'm not surprised you like it. Actually, I'm a tad relieved. I thought you might think me a little strange." He had pursed his lips, and was watching Severus with interest.

Severus agreed. "Not your usual manly portrait—not a battle scene or study in physiognomy. No, you're right. It's a striking painting, nonetheless. Especially if you know the back-story to it. But still, I'm surprised, that something so tragic would appeal to you. You do know the back-story, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "I do now," he admitted as he withdrew a small book from his jacket pocket, which he held up for Severus to see the title. "I read the little synopsis in the program, but then decided that I had to read the whole thing. It's funny, though, I've never much liked poetry, but this…" he trailed off has he flipped through the pages.

Severus shook his head a little to clear it. He'd met the stranger on this very same bench several weeks ago. He'd resented the man's presence at first, but had, in spite of himself, sent him off on a quasi-guided tour of the city, and was now responsible for reducing the man to reading bloody Tennyson.

"It's good poetry, Harry, with timeless themes beautifully woven into it, no pun intended. What is it that entices you, then, in the painting, and the poem?" He realized this had become a very personal conversation, on a level that they had not before touched.

It was clear that the man had thought about this. He looked Severus straight in the eye, and told him, "It's funny, that I could sense what the tragedy in the painting was, even before I knew the story. She was giving herself, Severus, to fate. She'd had to make a terrible choice, but at the bottom of it, she'd really had no choice at all. I sensed it the moment I looked at her, but then, reading the poem, well, I was right, wasn't I?"

Severus gave him a small smile. "You were right, and you know it. Still, it's unusual that it would jump out at you like that. I wouldn't think that its sense of tragedy would speak so strongly to someone…as young as yourself."

Harry squared his shoulders, and with a trace of defiance told him, "I'm twenty-five, and people your age don't corner the market on tragedy, I can assure you." He seemed to catch himself, then peered at Severus with curiosity as he asked, "How old were you, the first time you saw it…the first time it affected you?"

"Touché, Harry. A little younger than yourself, actually."

They were both quiet for a moment, then Severus idly asked him, "So, tomorrow is your last day, then? You report for your work?"

Harry nodded in reply, and Severus thought that he almost looked glum. "Yeah, actually tomorrow afternoon, but I have to spend the morning doing a little shopping—clothes that I'm going to need." He brightened as he looked at Severus. "So, what do you suggest for my last evening here? I've not done too much with my evenings, but tonight I've a mind to see some of the local nightlife."

Severus didn't even think about it, and the fact that he hadn't would give him several bad moments in the days to come, but for now, he just blurted it out with no pre-meditation, "There's a place here on Albert Dock, Harry, which I think you might like. I've been there once myself, years ago, and found it enjoyable. As it's my last night of freedom here as well, perhaps we might go together? It's the Laughter House at the Baby Blue. There's passable food and spirits, but the highlight of the evening is the comedy, drawn from local talent in the area. It's very touristy, but it might serve to top off your memories of Liverpool on a more positive note than the regrettable Lady wending her way down to Camelot." He hadn't meant to tease, but he was sure that it had ended up sounding that way. He was gratified when it appeared that Harry was delighted by the prospect and immediately accepted.

That night, they had a more than passable dinner, and there had been no shortage of alcohol, either. They were now enjoying the last of the comedians, and as Severus smiled at an amusing bit of hyperbole, his mind drifted as he watched the man sitting across from him. He seemed younger than twenty-five now, his face glowing pink from the reflection of the stage lights. And his complete abandon in his enjoyment warmed Severus' heart. He had sensed something in the man today when they'd been talking, something that he knew was none of his business, but even so, he wished that Harry had not experienced whatever it was that had made him so able to empathize with the Lady of Shalott.

Then the lights were up, the music seeming uncommonly loud, and Severus was suddenly tired, and a little sad that he would have to say goodbye to this friend, probably forever. They had another drink, not speaking due to the noise. He looked up to see Harry watching him, a curious expression on his face. When Severus made eye contact, the man blushed for the second time of the day. Severus arched an eyebrow in question, but Harry only smiled and shook his head.

They both reached for the check at the same time. As neither one of them would release it, their fingers were pressed together for a moment. Their glances locked, and they stared at one another, oblivious for an instant to their surroundings. Severus thought he knew, then, but it was irrelevant at this point. They were both leaving, so what did it matter, and he wasn't into sex for the thrill of it; in fact, he had never been.

As their battle over the check continued, Severus remarked dryly, "You'll have to explain to the maitre d' why the check is torn in half, so I suggest you let me have it. It was I who invited you, if you remember?"

"Yes, it was, Severus. But consider it payment for three weeks as my tour guide. Please, let me do this. I'm really grateful for all your advice." His eyes were so sincere and beseeching that Severus had no choice but to graciously concede.

Finally outside, they strolled in the direction of the pier, till at last they came to the park bench where they'd spent so many pleasant hours over the past weeks. They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, until they both started to speak at once.

"Harry, I must tell—"

"I'm so glad that—"

They both fell silent, looking at each other. Severus made a gesture with his hand, signaling for Harry to speak.

"Severus, I'm so glad I met you. I can't imagine what I would've ended up thinking of Liverpool had I been left on my own. Really, it was a stroke of luck for me. And I really enjoyed talking with you in the mornings, as much as I did seeing the city…so, well, thank you. Who knows, maybe we'll run into each other again some day…" he stopped, uncertainly, as the smile faded from his face.

Severus felt an unfamiliar emotion— the regret, he realized, of a missed opportunity. "I must confess, Harry, that at first I was a little put out sharing my bench." He smiled at the man, then continued, "But it's as you said, I've enjoyed talking with you too, and you're right, one never knows what the future holds. When I'm in Liverpool, I always park myself here in the mornings, and who knows, if you're ever in the city again…." Severus was uncomfortable, unsure why he felt the need to suddenly get away.

There was nothing left, then, but to shake hands, and say goodbye. Harry shook his firmly and looked him straight in the eyes. Severus felt the strength and warmth of his grip, and then understood why he'd wanted to run. He would miss this man, and he hadn't let anyone get this close to him in a long while.

At they walked their separate ways, Harry's voice made him turn.

"Severus! I wanted to tell you," he called as he continued to walk backwards away from Severus. "If you hum when you walk, you won't spill your coffee. Just a little useful tip I thought I'd pass along." Giving him one last, almost boyish grin, he turned and walked on. Severus stood a little while longer, watching him until he blended into the crowd.

***

Chapter Two: Mersey Harbor

As he approached the ship, he felt his heart begin beat a little faster. She rode a little high in the water, her holds empty for now. Of course, he'd been checking on her progress daily since he'd been here, but now the Zephyr had been moved from the dry-dock to her berth at the pier, and the sight of her gleaming, refurbished hull almost took his breath away. If ever a man could love an inanimate object, Severus Snape loved the Zephyr. It didn't matter that, strictly speaking, she did not belong to him. For every summer of the past fifteen years, she'd been entrusted to his care, and he cherished every moment that they'd spent together—not that all of them had been pleasant ones. There had been a few that he was sure had subtracted years from his life, but all in all, these summers of captaincy with this small band of fishers whom he now knew like family, made him feel free and alive. He anticipated each summer with increasing impatience as June approached, knowing that for the next three months he could lose himself in the camaraderie of old friends and the mysteries of the siren sea. Not that the school year did not present challenges, but he was at heart a man of action, and teaching afforded him little opportunity to exercise this side of himself.

Now happily seated in his office, he faced his first real challenge of the season. Sprawled back in his chair, both feet propped on the desk in front of him, he glared at the man across from him. "They gave you no warning that this was a problem, Ramsay?"

The man shook his head, still holding the folder open in front of him. "Nope. It was over-nighted from the front office. They couldn't find a man with both sets of qualifications, so they hired two: a fisher with no cooking skills, and a cook who's not a fisher. They say here it was the cooking part that was the problem. Not many blokes interested in putting to sea and having to spend all that time in a galley. And this fellow's coming aboard with us here."

Severus shook his head in disbelief. "And did it occur to them that we might not have space enough to bunk both of them? We're fitted for a crew of ten, not eleven."

The other man smiled at him as he shook his head. "Ah, Severus, you know very well they'd have thought of that. We do have just one extra bunk, as you're perfectly aware. It's just that someone's going to have to make a little adjustment." He grinned outright now at the grimace that Severus made.

"Oh, all right. It's damned inconvenient, but I haven't much choice in the matter," he sighed in disgust. "I suppose we should berth the cook in with me. I'd imagine that the fisher would be better off sleeping with the others." He shot a dark look at the amused look on the other man's face. "But he better not snore, Ramsay, or you're going to find yourself sharing your bunk with him."

Well, Severus thought to himself after the man had left, and he settled into the second cup of coffee to which he was now well-accustomed. Let's hope that that's our glitch for the season. There always was at least one major problem, and countless other minor ones as well. He could count himself lucky if this proved to be it. He didn't much like having to share his quarters with someone, but as neither of them would actually spend much time there, it really was not that much of a hardship.

At mid-morning, he was enjoying the sounds of the crew as they readied the boat: the groaning of wooden timbers as the Zephyr took on supplies; the whining of the hydraulic crane being tested at the stern; the low-pitched hum of the trolling engine being put through its paces. These sounds of preparation always excited him, a sort of nautical foreplay that literally produced shivers of anticipation as the day wore on, and which managed to bring him to almost fever pitch by the time they cast off. It was always this way, every year, and he didn't expect that it would ever change. He'd experienced this since he'd been a boy, when he'd prepared a boat with his father in much the same manner, although that had been purely a pleasure adventure. The Zephyr, of course, was not a pleasure vessel, but part of a small fleet of fishing craft owned and overseen by a wizened old seaman, who had finally chosen to leave the more dangerous and operative side of his business to younger and more sea-worthy men than himself.

Severus' savoring of the moment was interrupted by a knock at the door, which Ramsay opened without waiting for a reply. "Captain, the cook-mate is here."

Severus swung his feet off his desk, at the same time making a beckoning gesture. "Send him in." Not looking up for a moment, he rooted around on his desk for the dossier sent from the front office on his new employee. Finding it, he took one last gulp of coffee and looked up, only to find it took more than a casual effort just to swallow it down and not spray it out over the desk.

"Hello, Severus," the man said, the surprise showing in his voice. It was obvious that he was uncertain whether or not it would be appropriate to smile. But as Severus stood and reached over to shake his hand, he gave in and managed a small one.

"This is…well, I'm not sure what to say." The man stumbled with the words as Severus motioned him to take a chair.

Reseated, Severus studied him for a moment through narrowed eyes, a number of things running through his head, not the least of which was the thought of the evening before and the fact that he'd been attracted to the man, and had even, no matter how briefly, entertained the notion of propositioning him. He breathed a mental prayer of thanks to whomever on high that he'd remained his usual recalcitrant self, and not given in to the moment—rare as it was that he'd been tempted at all.

He gave Harry a small nod of acknowledgment. "We never did discuss what either of us was doing in Liverpool, so the trick is on both of us, I suppose. I did wonder, you know, but I didn't think it any of my affair." He pursed his lips, restraining the smile. "So, here we both are."

Harry gave a small snort. "I was curious too, sir, but I didn't think it my place to ask, and what I was going to do didn't seem all that interesting, especially since we had so many other things to talk about." He didn't look away, his eyes betraying no embarrassment, but only utmost sincerity.

"Yes, well, there was that," Severus softly agreed, still taking a new measure of the man before him. "Perhaps it was fortunate that we didn't talk about it then. I'm not altogether sure, but I suspect that knowing you were to end up here might have put a damper on those rather enjoyable three weeks. I expect you might have been a little intimidated?"

Harry smiled. "No, I don't think so, sir. Not unless it would have made you treat me differently." He paused as something occurred to him. "Would you have, you know, treated me differently?"

"Ah, well, that's something we'll have to wonder about, isn't it?" He sat for a few moments, wondering about the man's self-possession in the face of this rather unsettling coincidence. Shaking himself mentally, he moved to the business at hand. Pulling himself into the desk, he opened the folder and turned to Harry's application. "Your full name is?"

"Harry Potter, sir."

"Hmmm…Harry Potter…and the J. stands for?"

"James, sir. It was my father's name."

"Ah, a good tradition, passing on the father's name. You said ‘was'. I take it he's deceased then, your father?"

"Yes, sir. Both he and my mother, when I was just a child. An auto accident." The man's voice betrayed no emotion, and Severus couldn't help but look up at him, and noted that he saw no particular emotion, either, in the eyes that met his steadily. He inclined his head slightly in what he hoped the young man would interpret as a gesture of condolence, then looked back to the dossier.

"So, I have your personal and work history here, on your application. I'd much prefer to hear a brief summary from yourself. It's a little more revealing, to hear what a person deems important enough to include in the telling. So, humor me, if you will, Mr. Potter. Keep it short, please." He laced his fingers in front of his chest, and sat back in his chair. This was going to be interesting, he was sure, and the expression on the man's face confirmed it.

Harry shifted in his chair, showing the first signs of being ill at ease. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he cleared his throat once, and then, in what Severus already knew to be a rather signature characteristic of the man, met his questioner's eyes as he began.

"Well, I was raised by my aunt, and when I was eleven, I was sent away to boarding school. After I finished, I did some odd jobs here and there—mostly as a research assistant, actually, at the same time furthering my studies on my own, with some mentoring from a few experts in my field. And for the past two years, I've been teaching at the boarding school that I attended." He paused here, and Severus could not help but interrupt before he went on.

"All right, let's stop here for a moment. I'm more than a little puzzled why someone with your qualifications would respond to an advert for a ship's cook position. This is important, Mr. Potter. I want you to be well aware that this is not a pleasure cruise, nor is it a position in which your abilities can get you by if they are only marginal. You've been hired on to cook for eleven men, who will require decent and adequate meals at predictable intervals, and you will be required, as well, to perform a variety of manual tasks at my discretion. Theses tasks, to be sure, do not require any particular training, but at least a minimum of physical hardiness and endurance. I want to be perfectly sure that you're cognizant of what will be expected of you—for all of our sakes. The crew," he commented dryly, "is somewhat at the cook's mercy, and I need to be sure you are qualified." He added with a trace of humor in his voice, "Believe me, Mr. Potter, there will come a point in the summer when your meals will be what they most look forward to, or not, preferably the former."

The man nodded his head in agreement. "Mr. Fletcher, who interviewed me for the position, made that very clear, sir. I've experience with cooking in quantity. Some of my past summers were spent in a community setting, and I had to prepare meals for far larger groups of people. My physical conditioning is not an issue, I can assure you. I physically train myself, and coach one of the football teams at the school. It won't be a problem, sir." He looked down at his hands, and Severus was not surprised to see the first hint of a blush creeping into the man's cheeks. He suspected that the man was not actually lying, but skirting very close to the edge of it, would be his guess.

"All well and good. You're qualified and physically fit. But why would you choose a position that is so beneath your skills?" He asked the question that the man had not answered. "You're not in some sort of trouble, are you? I know it couldn't be anything serious, or you would've failed the background check. But why is it that you want to commit yourself to work such as this, given your aptitudes?" He knew he was pushing, and really, at this point, the answer wouldn't make a bit of difference. He had all the information that he needed to satisfy him, spelled out in the file in front of him.

"There's no trouble, honestly. I just wanted to get away from things for a while, you know, just to clear my head, think about some things, check my perspective. I know it's not the best motivation for wanting to do this, but I'm sure I could do it well. I won't let you down, I promise." He swallowed as he watched Severus, as if trying to read the man's inscrutable face. He added, the desperation in his voice apparent, "Haven't you ever needed to do that, Severus, just get away from things so you can," he struggled for the word he wanted, "get your bearings again?"

Severus felt something inside himself give way then, in response to the longing on the man's face and the almost pleading note in his voice. For a moment he despised himself for making the man bare himself in this manner when, really, it had all been decided back at the beginning of the interview. But there was an appearance that needed to be kept up, he thought, if only for his own sake.

He flicked through the remaining pages of the file, his surrender complete as he looked over the man's references. He knew he had no choice, then. He looked up at the anxious face, and couldn't help the softening of his own in response. ‘Relax, Mr. Potter. Your references are sterling, as I'm sure you know. This was decided by the front office before you even arrived. I just wanted to make certain that you knew what you were getting yourself into. You'll do fine, I'm sure." He stood to signal the end of the interview. "Ramsay will show you to your quarters, such as they are. Actually, they're mine, which I'll be sharing with you, as we have one more aboard than we're usually accustomed to. I trust that won't be a problem—you'll miss the perks of the usual nonsense that goes on in the crew's quarters, but then I don't think you'll be spending much time there, in any case."

The relief on Harry's face was unmistakable as he shook Severus' hand, and Severus was surprised at the slight tremor and dampness he felt in the grasp this time.

At the door, the man turned back, and said, "You won't regret taking me on, sir. I don't have a problem with working hard and I intend to." Stepping through the door, he had started to close it, but then turned back once again, this time with a question. "I noticed you're calling me Mr. Potter. I suppose I should call you something other than Severus, then?"

Severus had been just behind him, and had to take a step back when the door reopened. He was standing uncomfortably close to the young man, and for just a moment, was once again caught up in the green eyes that he still found so entrancing. He groaned inwardly as he told him, "No, Severus will definitely not do. We use surnames here, although most of the men call me Captain." He took a tentative step backwards as he finished.

The man smiled then, the green eyes not letting go, and probably seeing more than Severus meant for him to see. "Ah, so it's Captain, then. But if I were to call you by your surname…."

"Snape, Mr. Potter. Severus Snape."

***

Severus sat at his desk, nursing his way through his second brandy, the first having been tossed back and downed in a single swallow just moments after Harry had finally closed the door. He'd desperately needed that drink, from the moment the consequences of what he had almost done the night before had presented themselves with sickening clarity. He was calm now, the shaking gone from his hands, and the suddenness of the shock quelled by the ingestion of alcohol.

He set his glass down, and sighed in resignation as he reached for the man's file. As he opened it, and saw for the second time that day the name at the top of it, "Harry J. Potter", he took a moment to mentally congratulate himself for the considerable amount of self-control he'd had to exercise when he'd seen it the first time.

"Harry James Potter," he murmured out loud as he fingered the document. "The bloody Boy Who Lived. What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" He spread the contents of the file out in front of him, now interested in reading between the lines for the information that he knew had to be there. Of course, he possessed a great deal of the story. Any wizard who'd maintained any semblance of consciousness over the past twenty-five years would have to know quite a bit about him. That Severus had been "out of circulation" did not mean that he'd not kept himself apprised of what was happening in the Wizarding world. No, to be honest, his continued sanctuary and safety, in fact, had depended upon and demanded it.

So, the boy had been raised by an aunt—this was information that he'd not known, and what he'd read in the Prophet when the boy resurfaced had been surprisingly deficient in accounting for his whereabouts during those formative years. He'd followed the rest of it with interest, however, from his first years at Hogwarts, through the difficult years when he'd been disgustingly slandered by that Skeeter woman, to the stunning and climactic ending of just a year ago. Although many in the Wizarding world had not been happy with how long it had taken him to accomplish this, the Boy Who Lived had finally become the Man Who Defeated Voldemort. Severus had never been too sure of what to think about the rumors that he was the "Chosen" one, but his instincts about it, coupled with the fact that the boy had already been marked, told him that there was probably some complicated story that lent an element of truth to the speculations.

He smiled in spite of himself as he looked at the three pages of references and the three names that whispered to him from his past: Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Filius Flitwick. He harrumphed a little at Harry's description of his current employment as a teacher at this "boarding school". Hmmm, a teacher of physics, he thought to himself. His guess, thinking back on the curriculum at Hogwarts, would be that Harry was the Transfigurations professor. Now that he thought about it, he was certain that he was correct, Minerva McGonagall having retired a few years ago. Yes, it made perfect sense, and it squared perfectly with Harry's not entirely inaccurate description of his teaching position, as Transfigurations certainly had to do with the subject of physical matter, energy, and the interactions between the two of them. He laughed to himself as he shook his head, ever appreciative of clever subterfuge, even if this time he was the apparent victim of it.

He read through the glowing recommendations, snorting at how their affirmation of the man had been artfully couched in words and phrases that were entirely accurate: self-directed and focused; goal-oriented and personable; works well under pressure; dedication to achieving group objectives; loyal to co-workers; mature and insightful. If anything, he suspected that they'd not done the man justice, given that he'd finally managed to dispatch the Dark Lord to a long overdue and well-deserved oblivion.

He stared at the black-and-white photo that had been submitted with the application. Harry looked soberly at the camera, unsmiling, and suddenly Severus was caught into that expression once again, despite the fact that the picture was a Muggle one and did not interact with him. He was struck anew by the sadness and knowledge in those eyes that, even though they were not green here, tugged at his heart, demanding his attention, and yes, definitely respect. It was the same sensation he'd experienced when he'd watched the man struggling to explain why the Lady of Shallot had captured his notice and why he'd felt a kinship with her tragedy, albeit a fantasy one.

He picked up his glass again and drained it, then closed the file and slipped it into his desk drawer. The most disturbing element in all of this serendipity was, of course, that he knew with a certainty that there was nothing accidental in the whole affair at all. He had no doubt that Harry was ignorant of who and what he was, but he was positive that Albus Dumbledore would've never written a glowing reference and sent it off without knowing precisely all the particulars of the employment and the personages behind it. In fact, he suspected that the Headmaster had orchestrated the entire opportunity in the first place. He wouldn't even put it past the old man to have somehow made certain that Harry was the only qualified applicant.

He smiled as he thought of this. It was incredibly presumptuous of Albus Dumbledore to do this without consulting him. He had to have known that Severus would immediately know who the man was. The fact that he had chosen not to divulge Severus' identity to Harry solved his own dilemma of whether or not he should do so himself. No, if the Headmaster had wanted Harry to know from the onset, he would've told him. That he hadn't, and moreover why, was a mystery, but Severus had had enough dealings with the old man to be inclined to trust him in this, at least for now. He mused over the situation in which he now found himself.

Albus Dumbldore, the master director, had set a stage: Harry Potter was now the employee of one Severus Snape, who knew exactly who Harry was and what he had done, while the man himself had no idea of who or what Severus was. This was obviously exactly how the old man had intended it, and Severus was content for the moment to just let matters play out as they would. It seemed that the actual serendipity in the situation was an event yet to come. That he was to play some part in it was mystifying, even intriguing, but one thing he knew for certain: wherever Harry Potter found himself, extraordinary things usually happened.

***

Chapter Three: The Irish Sea

It was the middle of the night, and Severus had awakened from a dead sleep to the soft noise of someone moving quietly in the room. His eyes half-open, he watched as the shadowy figure pulled on a pair of jeans, leaned over to pick up the boots, then stealthily opened the door just wide enough to squeeze out into the passageway. The door closed soundlessly, and Severus was left alone to wonder again about Harry Potter.

They'd put to sea just hours earlier, and were currently steaming at a healthy fifteen knots, bearing north in the Irish Sea. Harry should've been exhausted, he thought to himself as he sat up and began to buckle his own boots. He and Ramsay had kept the man busy until the sun had gone down, then had sent him off to prepare a small supper for the five of them who were sailing from Liverpool; the remainder of the crew would not come aboard until they moored at Wick. There had been food and conversation aplenty until they'd finally cast off near midnight. Severus had piloted them out of the harbor, and by the time he'd left the ship in Ramsay's competent hands and returned to his cabin, Harry had been fast asleep.

But now his cook was up at two-thirty in the morning, and Severus, knowing the man's lack of sea-worthiness, felt compelled to check on his whereabouts and make sure he wasn't doing something that, although unintentional, might prove dangerous or foolhardy.

Harry wasn't in the galley, the first place he checked. Severus moved to the community smoking drawer, and removed his pipe and pouch, then filled the bowl and tamped it down, saving the lighting of it until he was topside.

He took the steps to the bridge two at a time, so familiar this path that he really needed no illumination to find his way. Besides, there was a full moon this night, and the wind mild enough that he didn't even need to tie his hair back.

On the bridge, Ramsay turned slightly in his chair as he entered, then turned back to the bay of navigational instruments at the helm, his profile set off by their eerie blue-green light. "Severus, you couldn't' sleep?"

Severus gave a non-committal, "Hmm, no," as he moved to the coffee maker and poured cups for the two of them. Moving to stand beside the man, he handed him the cup, then looked out the window at the pitch-black sea and star-studded sky in front of them, the only unnatural light the ship's running-lanterns at the bow.

Ramsay was his usual laconic self, and they drank their coffee in silence, until the man broke it with, "He walked back astern just before you came up—you must've just missed him." He shot Severus an amused glance. "That's who you're looking for, isn't it?"

Severus gave a dry chuckle. "Not really looking for him, Ramsay. He woke me sneaking out, and I'm well aware he's not accustomed to the ship. Just thought I'd check on him."

The man grumbled, "Not natural for him to be up, after the way we worked him. Get him back to bed, Severus. I'm expecting a decent breakfast before I bunk down."

Severus clapped him on the back and voiced his agreement, then left to make his way to the deck. He paused for a moment to light his pipe, then casually strolled toward the stern, already aware that the man was there, his tall silhouette framed against the back of the ship. He stood for a few moments and just watched him, the man seemingly unaware of his presence.

Harry had both elbows on the rail, his head tilted up to catch the gentle sea-breeze that lifted his hair slightly from his shoulders. Severus knew what he must be feeling: the exhilaration of standing there surrounded by only sky and sea, of being able to imagine that there's no one else on the planet, of realizing that one's own problems, no, one's very existence, paled beside the vastness of these two domains. He remembered the first time he'd stood in that very same place, at much the same hour of the night. He recalled the sensation of being set free, of how existential a moment it had been, and he suddenly knew that he should leave the man alone with his experience of it. He watched for a moment longer, and was just on the verge of turning to slip away, when the voice stopped him.

"Captain, I know you're there," the man said just before turning to face him. "You have been for a while. Can't sneak up on someone with one of those." He gestured in Severus' direction.

Severus walked the rest of the way to the stern to stand beside him. "I don't recall ever smoking in your presence," he said. "Although I imagine the smell lingers on the person."

"Hmm, yes it does. I have a friend that always smells of caramel from his pipe. What do you have there?" he asked with curiosity. "It's rather nice, actually."

"Hermitage—a burley of coffee and dark chocolate. Although I'm fond of the Cherry blend, too."

Harry laughed softly. "It's the Hermitage tonight, then. It fits you, Captain. You seem like a coffee-chocolate personality."

Severus was amused, and raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly would a 'coffee-chocolate' personality be like, Mr. Potter?"

The man stuck both his hands in his jeans pockets, and then looked up at the moon as he thought, and Severus couldn't help but be struck by the beauty of his face. "Oh, let's see, since you've put me on the spot." He looked at Severus speculatively. "I think the coffee part is focus and energy, and the chocolate part…" he hesitated, looking at Severus' face, then smiled as he finished, "the chocolate part would betray a certain indulgence for the more primal parts of life—you know, recklessness and passion. Maybe even frivolity, on occasion." He grinned as he finished, watching for Severus' reaction.

<i>Ye gods</i> , Severus thought, but said aloud, "And the Cherry, Mr. Potter?"

The man laughed outright now. "Ah, but I don't know that, Captain. I haven't smelled that on you yet. Perhaps you save that for special occasions?"

Severus harrumphed to himself. How would the man know this? "You're right, the Hermitage is my everyday blend. We'll have to put your analysis of the Cherry off until another time." But he was intrigued. "The recklessness only occurs on rare occasions, and the passion on even rarer ones. The frivolity, however, is non-existent." He marveled at himself even as the words were spilling out. What a strange conversation, but he mentally sighed as he remembered who had initiated it.

"I'm surprised you couldn't sleep. Ramsay and I intentionally wore you out so you'd sleep soundly your first night at sea. Some men find it difficult to do so, the motion and noises being so new."

Harry was looking down at his boots, and for a moment there was no reply. "Is it all right for me to come up here like this? I won't do it if it's a problem."

"No, Mr. Potter, it's not a problem, as long as you keep yourself safe, and keep in mind the things that Ramsay's told you. If the sea were rougher, you'd have to stay away from the rail." He noticed that the man had not answered his question, so he asked again, "You couldn't sleep?"

Harry looked up at him, and Severus felt a hitch at the look in his eyes, a slight catch at the look of resignation on his face. "No, I couldn't, but that's pretty normal for me. I don't need much, I guess. I sleep like a rock for the first couple of hours, but anymore than that is hard to come by. But I manage, so don't concern yourself. It doesn't affect how I function…hasn't for quite a while." He looked away then.

But Severus was concerned about this, and felt he had to address it. "It <i> is</i> a concern for me, Mr. Potter. You're going to be working hard, and you're not going to be much use to me on a few hours of sleep a night." He studied the man who was still not looking at him. "Why don't you sleep? And what have you tried to remedy it?"

Harry looked up at him again, and it was obvious from his expression that he was bothered by Severus' questions. "I do sleep, sir, but I…dream, too." He seemed embarrassed by this admission. "But that's my problem, and I've dealt with it for years, so really, don't worry about it. Like I said, I handle it. I have something I can take, but I prefer not to, unless it's absolutely necessary. It leaves me a little hung over, so I don't like to use it. And getting up and walking about a bit sometimes helps." He was starting to appear more than a little anxious over what he was revealing, and now attempted to change the topic of discussion. "I was wondering about the Outer Hebrides, sir. Will we be close enough to really see them?" he asked as he turned back to face the rail.

Severus recognized the none too subtle redirection, but gave in for now. "I think we'll be able to see them, as the weather will be clear for the next couple of days." As they chatted about the Zephyr's course along the northwestern Scottish coastline, in the back of his mind Severus considered the man's insomnia. He wasn't surprised; in fact, he thought it made gruesome sense. He could only imagine what horrors the man had been through in the past several years, not to mention what he had suffered through as a child and adolescent. And he didn't even want to know what the man resorted to when his sleeplessness made it 'absolutely necessary'. It was, no doubt, a potion, and he knew exactly why Harry did not like to use it, the 'hung over' feeling cited most likely a problem, but its addictive properties were ones of which the man would also be acutely aware.

He let Harry talk on, answering his questions, volunteering information and stories about the fishing trade and the Zephyr's exploits in particular. He relit his pipe, and they talked some more, Severus pulling from the man some anecdotes from his teaching experience. He knew these accounts were highly sanitized for his benefit, and he felt a twinge of sadness that the charade they were both playing prevented a more honest conversation.

They'd both been silent for a moment, watching the churn from the screws below them, when Harry finally confessed what Severus knew he'd been waiting to hear. "It's seems so safe out here. Nothing can touch you." His voice was soft, but Severus could hear the rawness in it.

He tapped his pipe to empty it into the sea, then turned slightly, knowing now with a surety what it was that he could give the man tonight. A small thing, really, but valuable, nonetheless.

"Mr. Potter," he said firmly, and waited until Harry turned to look at him. He stared into the green eyes, willing them to read the reassurance there, commanding them to believe and obey, knowing that his own eyes were almost hypnotizing. "You are safe here. And I assure you, nothing can touch you, unless you or I permit it." He paused for a moment, holding the man's gaze. "Understood?" Not waiting for a response, he told him gently, "Now, go to bed, Mr. Potter. I'll wager that you'll be able to sleep now."

The man stared back at him for a moment, as if he were slightly disoriented. He betrayed that slight confusion with his goodbye as he turned to leave. "I think you're right. I do think I can sleep now. Thanks, Severus."

Then he nodded, and Severus watched him as he made his way forward. He knew that what he had just done had not been without risk. It was a subtle, persuasive art that required a master Legilimens, and he hadn't been all too sure that the man would not immediately recognize it. He'd not done much, just used his skill and his mind to convince the man to take to heart and believe what Severus had said. And what he had told him had been completely truthful. The man was safe here with him. No doubt that Harry's magical defenses not expecting such an intrusion in present company had played in Severus' favor. He sighed as he waited to give the man time to fall asleep, wondering again why Albus Dumbledore had set him on his doorstep.

***

Chapter Four: The Hebrides

The next morning, Severus was gratified to see that his cook seemed none the worse for wear, considering his hours of wakefulness. Harry had been asleep by the time he had returned the night before, and Severus himself had had to gently shake him when the alarm had gone off at five.

Harry had presented the five of them with a more than adequate breakfast, evidenced by Ramsay's comment as he slid from the bench to seek his bunk for his well-earned rest. "Captain," he said as he clapped Harry on the back in approval," I think we shouldn't throw him overboard like we planned. Not if he can keep this up." With a wink at Severus and a hearty laugh at the look on Harry's face, he bid them all a good night and a day of fine sailing.

"He was just joking, wasn't he?" Harry asked Severus, as he removed the man's dishes from the table. "Now I'm really motivated," he grumbled, but good-naturedly.

Severus was tempted to prolong the teasing a little, but decided that Harry could use the encouragement instead. "Well, coming from Ramsay, that was a ringing endorsement, Mr. Potter. He wouldn't hesitate to criticize, believe me." There was a muttered agreement from the remaining man at the table. Severus finished his coffee, then stood to leave, telling Harry before he left, "Ramsay told you what you're to do today? Stop up and see me before you start—I'm off to relieve Wallace." Giving Harry a nod, he located his pipe and pouch before leaving, but caught the amused look on the man's face as he turned to latch the door.

Once alone on the bridge, he sighed to himself. He could already sense it, that this summer was going to somehow be very different from the preceding ones. He'd managed very well to keep his two worlds apart, but suddenly, without any warning, or even his permission, they were now almost uncomfortably juxtaposed on this small ship in the middle of the sea, with no possibility of escape should he want one. Of course, at this stage of things, he wasn't altogether sure that he would.

***

Two hours later, Harry presented himself to the bridge, and Severus was surprised to see that he carried with him a mug of steaming something, humming as he walked. He had to make an effort to conceal the smile. "That really wasn't necessary, Mr. Potter, " he told him as he took it. "But appreciated." He lifted an eyebrow at the man after his first hasty sip. "What on earth is it? Certainly not from the ship's stores?" But Merlin, it was heavenly.

"You like it, then?" Harry asked him with a smirk. "I thought you would. It's mocha java, just a hint of chocolate, which you know very well the galley is stocked with. I remembered that you got it at the coffee place." He crossed his arms and looked out in front of them, the green sea seemingly endless in all directions. "So, when will we be able to see the Hebrides?"

Severus gestured off to their left. "Once you're down on deck working, keep an eye out on the port side—they'll be coming up fairly soon. And in the morning, we'll be passing through the Orkneys—they're quite beautiful this time of year. A pity that we won't be stopping there, actually. I'd have liked for you to see them."

Harry looked sideways at him, a slight smile on his face. "Still my sight-seeing guide, Captain? I'll keep it in mind, if I ever get up this way again. Thanks." They stood in silence for a moment, neither of them speaking, and Severus wondered at this ease that they both seemed to feel in each other's company. He sipped again at his coffee, then made the observation. "I noticed you managed to get back to sleep."

The man seemed embarrassed. "Yeah, I did, which is unusual for me. Sorry if you felt you had to come look for me," he murmured.

"Not a problem. As I said, I want you to be well rested." He drained his cup and handed it back to Harry. "The trawling nets are spread out on the deck there." He pointed towards the bow. "Ramsay's filled you in on what needs done?" When the man nodded, he continued, "I'll be up here all day. If you have any questions or problems, grab either Wallace or MacBurnie—I'll stop down in the afternoon when I have my break." He waited until the door closed, then shook his head. Mocha java on the Zephyr. Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose.

It was a beautiful summer day, the sun high in the sky glittering off a sea that was unusually calm for this early in the season. Being at the helm this time of day was a monotonous task, and to occupy himself, Severus recited poetry and even sang tunelessly from time to time. He also watched Harry busy at work, seated down on the forward deck straight ahead of him. The man sat cross-legged with a trawling net spread in front of him, pulling along the edge of it as he worked his way, filling the small pockets on its sides with heavy weights which would enable the net to be dragged well beneath the surface. Severus knew what backbreaking work this was, and noted with approval the admirable pace the man had set for himself. A pace that he knew could not be kept up without the worker paying a heavy price for it. He watched as the hands moved rapidly along the net, pausing to occasionally tuck his hair behind his ears. He noticed too, that the man had his shirt off now, and had abandoned his gloves. He sighed in irritation. Harry would have more than just dreams to keep him awake tonight.

It was mid-afternoon, just about time for the men to break for the cold lunch that Harry had prepared beforehand, when Ramsay stepped onto the bridge to relieve his captain. Stretching as he yawned out a greeting, he whistled when he spied Harry on the deck. "Impressive, Severus. He's got two of the four already weighted. Not bad, not bad at all, that is, if he's done it right."

"Oh, he's done it right, Ramsay. I've had a front row seat, and he hasn't missed a beat," Severus commented dryly. "Did you tell him to use gloves?" He didn't look at his helmsman, but heard the intake of his breath beside him.

"Oh shite, the little idiot. Of course I did. What the hell's he doing with them off?"

"Oh, he's had them off most of the time. I imagine he thought he could be faster without them, that there couldn't be any earthly reason why you'd tell him to wear them," he finished, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh no, not at all. I'm about to go down there anyway. You told him, and he's made his own decision, one which he'll truly regret." They both shared a snicker, and Severus left the Zephyr in the man's capable hands.

After a satisfying cold lunch, Severus had his usual pipe at the stern, then made his way forward to check on the man who was once again laboring over the trawling nets. He stood and watched him for a moment, Harry chewing his lower lip in concentration as his hands flew along the edge. Severus winced at the already noticeable burn on the man's shoulders, but knew that the lack of gloves was going to prove the more painful ordeal of the two idiocies. But he marveled, too, at Harry's proficiency at what took most men days to master. He wondered at how much of this was sheer determination, fueled by Harry's desire to prove that he'd not been a mistake on someone's part.

He stepped forward, and the man looked up as the shadow fell across the net. "Captain," he grinned up at him. "You're taking a break. So who's driving?"

Severus smirked as he told him, "Yes, I deserve a break now and then, Mr. Potter. And Ramsay has the helm, or is steering, shall we say." He took another step forward as he reached into his coat pocket. "Here, you look like you could use this." He held out the leather tie that he'd brought from his quarters.

Harry took it and looked at it uncertainly, then squinted up at Severus, the question in his eyes.

"For your hair, Mr. Potter." He watched as realization dawned on the man's face.

"Oh, right. Thanks. That has been a bit of a bother." He pulled his hair behind his head with both hands and began to secure it with the tie. Severus noted with satisfaction the grimace on Harry's face as his sore hands tried to accomplish this task, but said nothing for now.

"You've made an impressive amount of progress, Mr. Potter. You'll be done with that one by the end of today, and still have a day to finish the only remaining one. Well done." Severus was sincere in this compliment, no matter that a considerable part of the progress was owed to the lack of gloves.

"Well, it's not very hard, but I'm glad there're only four of them. It's kind of boring, actually. I won't tell you what I was doing in my head to distract myself," Harry confessed sheepishly.

"Indeed," was Severus' only comment. He watched as Harry began to work again, and noticed that the hands were a little slower with the net this time. He knew that the man was no stranger to pain, but this time it was totally fruitless and unnecessary.

"Mr. Potter, I just want to advise you that when Ramsay or I give directions or make a suggestion, we have very good reasons for doing so. Most of the time," he added humorlessly.

Harry looked at him quizzically. "All right, sir. I'll remember that." He frowned as he looked at Severus for a moment, as if waiting to be told what he'd done wrong. When no criticism was forthcoming, he smiled and returned to his net.

Severus stood and watched him a little longer, then shook his head and made his way back to the bridge . Yes, he thought to himself, you will remember that, Harry, but unfortunately for you, it won't help you this first time. Experience will, but as you'll find, it's often a painful teacher. Albeit effective.

***

He'd listened to the restless body above him, tossing and turning, until it did the inevitable. He heard the creaking of the springs as the man lowered himself to the floor, and watched as once again Harry pulled on his jeans, but this time shirtless, then picked up his boots and slipped out the door.

After waiting what he thought an appropriate interval, Severus repeated his journey of the night before, this time altered by his rummaging through his trunk for the two bottles that he took with him to the galley, leaving them on the counter when he went topside to find his cook.

Harry was hunched over the rail now, and Severus felt a twinge of empathy for what he knew the man must be feeling. He took his time lighting his pipe, knowing that the man knew he was there. He sauntered over to join him at the stern, and looked out at another night of calm seas lit by a summer moon.

Not looking at him, he asked conversationally, "How bad is it, Mr. Potter?"

"Pretty bad, Captain, but I'll live," the man admitted with a rueful laugh. "I finally got what you said to me. I'll pay attention next time, believe me."

Severus looked over at him. "It wasn't disobedience, Mr. Potter. I'm aware of that. But we have very good reasons, usually, for every piece of instruction that's given. Seamen are very economical with words, I think you'll find." He paused and caught the green eyes before going on. "Now, the shirt, well, that was just common sense, or a lack of it, on your part. But I daresay you won't be making that mistake again either."

"Definitely not. That was my last shirtless day, for sure."

Severus noticed that the man had his hands dangling from the top of the rail, as if contact with any surface would prove painful. He guessed that it would. Ah, he would be helping him out with that in a while, but all in good time. He had another curiosity that he wanted to satisfy first. "So, you've survived your first day. What are your impressions, then?"

Harry turned to face him, cradling his hands against his chest. "I'm exhausted, I can tell you that." He grinned. "But that's a good thing, I suppose. It means I wasn't completely worthless." He thought for a moment, then told Severus, "I like the men, too. They don't talk much, you're right, but they're really easygoing, and funny, too. Especially Ramsay." He turned again to look out over the stern. "And this feeling of being in the middle of nowhere, at the same time knowing that you're heading somewhere, well, I like that. I can see why you love this." He stopped and turned to look at Severus. "You do love this, don't you? It kind of shows, you know."

Severus took a few puffs on his pipe before answering. "Yes, I do. I look forward to it every year." He hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. "We have something in common, Mr. Potter, as I, too, am a teacher." He was amused at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "I teach advanced chemistry at an all-boy's school near Wick. Not unlike your own school, I'd imagine, " he added, knowing perfectly well how unlike their circumstances really were. "I like what I do, but every year, during the three months from July through September, I become an almost completely different person. I love the sea, Mr. Potter, the wildness of it, the beauty and unpredictability of it—I always have. The fishing part is a necessary evil that I put up with, but even that has its moments. I suspect that most seamen feel this way. The love affair is with the sea itself, not with what comes out of it."

"I'm a little confused, sir. Why exactly does the Zephyr sail from Liverpool?"

"Oh, she usually doesn't. She was there for some long overdue refitting, and so she needed a partial crew to get her back to her home port—we left her in Liverpool at the end of the season last year. Normally, we set out from Wick." He looked at the man, a small smile on his face. "So, you see, it was rather serendipitous that I met up with you on Albert Dock. I'm rarely there—maybe every five years or so." He watched as the man digested this.

"A stroke of luck for me, then, as well. I don't think I would've responded to an advert from Wick," Harry mused.

"Well, let's hope you still feel that way by the end of the season. I'm glad your first day has left you feeling positive." He nodded at the man's hands. "All things considered."

Harry laughed. "They're incredibly painful. I've figured it out, though. The corrosive whatever that was on the weights, combined with the scratches and cuts from the nets, not to mention all the dried salt—not a very good combination, I can attest to that." He flexed his hands as he finished, and could not hide the wince.

Severus had had enough. "Come along, Mr. Potter. I have something in the stores that will help you out."

He led the man forward, down the stairs to the small galley, where he motioned him to a seat. Picking up and uncapping one of the small bottles, he instructed him, "Turn around." As Harry swiveled in his seat, Severus pulled up a stool to sit directly behind him and poured a goodly amount of the salve onto his hands. As he rubbed them together, he told him, "Brace yourself. This will hurt a bit." He paused for a moment, nudging the still-tied hair to one side with the back of his hand. Then he gently placed his hands on the bright red shoulder blades, and just held them there as Harry gasped and instinctively flinched away.

"God, that hurts," the man muttered, unable to control an involuntary shudder. "You're right, sir. I'm never going to forget this lesson."

Severus murmured his agreement as he began to slowly move his hands. His touch was light, but firm enough to press the unguent into the protesting tissue. He smoothed over the tops of the shoulders and down the skin of the biceps, drawing his hands back up over and down, each hand a mirror of the other. He served himself more of the potion, for that was indeed what this was, then took up again, working the curative lotion lower down the back. He worked methodically, making sure to cover every inch of skin, at the same time admiring the musculature of the back, the hardness of it verifying that Harry was indeed in excellent physical condition. As he felt the man begin to relax, he closed his eyes, and opened his mind and breathed a mental spell of healing to aid the potion. He continued soothing and massaging lightly, and Harry couldn't help but moan in appreciation as the treatment began to take effect. Severus continued on in this fashion for several minutes, but then his eyes snapped abruptly open as he realized he was finding this application of salve more than just a little arousing. He gingerly withdrew his hands, then stood and stepped to the sink. "That should do it for your back—you'll most likely need it again tomorrow night, but I think that should make the discomfort more than bearable."

Harry had turned in his chair, and was looking at him with curiosity and gratitude. "Wow, that's great stuff, whatever it is." He rolled his shoulders experimentally. "Yeah, that's much better. What is it, anyway?" he asked, trying to peer at the bottle.

Severus capped it as he told him, "Just a local Wick concoction that is used by the fishers there." This wasn't exactly a lie, but certainly did not divulge the truth that it was Severus' own creation, either.

Given his reaction to the man, he worried over what he was about to do next, but had no other choice at this point. Pulling his stool to sit in front of him, he requested without looking at him as he turned slightly to pick up the second bottle, "Let me see your hands now."

Harry held them out awkwardly, palms up, hovering just above Severus' lap.

Severus took one with his free hand and examined it carefully. "Well, they're a mess, that's for certain. Why ever didn't you say something at dinner?" has asked irritably as he poured a large dollop of the cream into the center of the hand.

"Didn't want to complain," Harry mumbled without looking at him. "I'd already figured out the glove thing."

"Ah, how Spartan of you," Severus replied as he set the bottle on the counter. Taking the outstretched hand, he supported it from below with one of his own, and began to work the potion into the palm with the other. <i> Merlin</i> , he thought as he massaged the damaged skin with his long, slender fingers, I'll be lucky if I survive this, already feeling the resurgence of arousal that he'd managed to hold at bay. He worked steadily, circling each finger with his own, carefully rubbing in between them, making sure that each joint was liberally coated and the potion pressed into the skin. He turned the hand over, and worked along each fine bone in the back of it, paying special attention to the thumb and the skin that had cracked open and bled. It was a terribly sensuous and personal experience, he was finding, and by the time he was finished with the hand and ready for the next one, he knew he dare not look the man in the face.

"The other one, please," he murmured as picked up the bottle again. He bent in over the hand as he worked, noting that this one was in even worse condition. He found that halfway through it, he felt suddenly warm, and knew he was breathing more rapidly, the sensation of his fingers sliding over the man's skin, over the top of the hand to the wrist, in between the fingers, swirling back to the palm again, the wetness of the potion, all these added together to increase a desire that he was desperately trying to thwart. When he was finally finished, he said almost breathlessly, "Let me see them again, Mr. Potter."

The hands were offered a second time, the palms upraised, and he traced over both of them with his fingers, feeling the skin that had already begun to heal. He was startled, then, when the hands gently took hold of his own to stop the examination, and he knew that he gave himself away when he did not immediately react.

"Severus," Harry said softly. "Look at me." It was a gentle command that he found he could not disobey.

He slowly lifted his head, and looked into the green eyes that were bright with invitation, glittering with warmth, and he felt, in that moment, that he'd never be able to look away again. Then the man leaned forward slightly, not releasing his hands, in fact pulling on them slightly, as the eyes kept hold of his own until their lips came together.

He could sense the hesitation in the kiss, but it was not the hesitation of uncertainty, but rather that of asking his permission, which Severus knew he'd answered affirmatively when he opened his mouth to the man. And suddenly, it was a frantic exploration of lips and tongues pressed together, sliding and searching one another, still joined by the hands that grasped each other. There was a frenzy of sucking, and even biting, as they possessed as much as they could, each of them poised on the edge of his seat, leaning in without touching, connected only by the potion-soaked hands and the mouths with a seemingly insatiable appetite.

They did not pull away as the sudden realization of what had happened struck them, but only slowed, ending with a leisurely, smoldering kiss that they both knew was the last one of the night. They sat with their hands still joined, their foreheads together, both of them gasping as their bodies struggled to return to normal. Then, as if they'd been cued by some outside force, they dropped their hands and sat back in their chairs, the only connection now their eyes that would not let go. Not yet.

Severus felt remarkably calm as he looked at the thoroughly-kissed man. "Thank you, Harry," he murmured softly. "I've wanted to do that for some time, now." He smiled then, genuinely.

Harry smiled too, a little self-consciously as he said, "Oh, no thanks are necessary, Severus. I've wanted to do it too, even before that night at the Baby Blue." He cocked his head. "I was pretty sure about you, but it was…well, awkward." He shook his head, but his smile was even wider. "I have to tell you, though. When things turned out the way they did, I was rather glad that we hadn't…got too close."

"Ah, yes. I did have a distressing moment of my own that morning when you turned up." They continued to eye one another, smiling, both of them knowing that the awkwardness awaiting them would make all that had come before it pale in comparison.

Severus nodded at Harry, knowing that they were both having the same thought. "I don't know what to say, Harry, except that while we're on the Zephyr, there's a certain decorum that must be observed, for everyone's sake. Perhaps the nights when we put in to Wick we can spend some time together, if you'd like?"

"I'd like that, Severus. And don't worry—I understand the need for discretion. It would be nice to have someone to talk to while we're there. I got a little lonely in Liverpool, and I really became attached to our morning chats, out of sheer desperation," he teased.

After a brief reexamination of his patient's back and hands, Severus sent him on his way to bed, the first messages from his brain finally screaming through that he'd better take some time out for a serious consideration of what had just occurred.

He made himself a cup of coffee, and sat in the galley alone, feeling suddenly set adrift in a sea of self-doubt and self-recrimination. That he'd known the instant he'd touched the man where it was going to end up, he couldn't deny. Nor could he honestly regret it, he realized, his conscience be damned. That Harry had been the one to make the first move towards him meant a great deal. They were attracted to each other, and had a great deal in common, he argued with himself. Much more than Harry has the benefit of knowing, breathed a part of him. Yes, well, who knows what will even come of it? But he wondered, his head in his hands, what in the world Albus Dumbledore would have to say to him, were he to know how things were turning out. He shuddered as he thought of this, but comforted himself with the knowledge that Hogwarts was literally a world away. For the present.

***

Chapter Five: The Orkneys

The next morning at breakfast, Severus was pleased when Harry met his glance without a trace of embarrassment and gave him a cordial nod. Standing in his place at the helm now, he found that he was anticipating both the man and the cup of coffee that he was certain would soon be forthcoming. It was another fair-weather day, and he reveled in the beauty of both the sea and the skies as he steered the vessel on towards the Orkney Islands.

When he heard the door creak open behind him, this time he gave in and smiled at the man humming his way towards him with his eyes fastened on the cup that he held in front of him as he walked.

"Ah, you're going to spoil me, Mr. Potter," Severus said as he took the steaming cup.

Harry laughed. "You deserve it, Captain. After all, I didn't really thank you for putting me back together last night. I don't think I'd have been able to sleep without whatever that was you had for my hands. Or make breakfast, to be honest," he admitted.

"It was my pleasure, then, Mr. Potter." Their eyes met over the top of the cup, and he could tell by the look in the man's eyes that his message had been understood and appreciated.

"Well, we won't argue, sir, over whose was the greater pleasure, then." At that, Severus found he had to look away, feeling a sudden heat streak down through him. He nodded in the direction of the port-side of the ship.

"You'll be able to see the Orkneys coming up soon. I believe you've one net left to finish? " He watched as the man left, then saw him a short time later take up his place again on the deck in front of him.

It was strange, he thought to himself, but this was not just a man whom he'd met a mere three weeks ago. This was a child whose adolescence he'd observed with interest from afar, whose adventures had allowed him to vicariously live in the Wizarding world, for whose accomplishments he'd even experienced a small measure of pride, and then a man whose triumph, against impressive odds, he'd celebrated in secret. No, if truth be told, he had the vague, although irrational, notion that he'd known the man for years. In a way he had, and perhaps this was part of the reason that they seemed so comfortable with one another. He had to wonder, once again, what Albus Dumbledore had intended in sending the man his way.

***

Relieved by Wallace at noon, Severus made his way down to the deck where Harry was just finishing up. This time when he stopped in front of him, the first thing the man did was hold up his hands to show him his gloves.

"I'm learning, sir, " he said as he slid them off and stood to his feet. Severus only gave a small smirk in return, then motioned the man to follow him to the port-side rail.

"We're at Hoy, Mr. Potter, the southernmost isle of the Orkneys. The Mainland isle is just to the north. I don't want you to miss out on seeing the beauty of it. As I said yesterday, I regret that you'll not get to stop there." They both leaned on the rail, and took in the sight of the rugged, jutting topography, the dark red of the cliffs set off by the dazzling azure of the sky and the dark-green sea pounding in at its base.

"It is beautiful," the man agreed almost wistfully. They watched for a few moments in silence, then Severus surprised even himself with his next words.

"Civilization had its beginnings here, Mr. Potter. Tourists come from around the world to see the standing-stones that attest to that." He paused, then asked the man, "Do you believe in magic, Mr. Potter?" He'd expected some reaction from the man with such a question, but was not quite prepared for the momentary panic he saw in the green eyes.

"Magic, sir?" the man echoed, his eyes unsure, his voice slightly strained.

Severus kept his face completely neutral as he nodded.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what you mean," Harry faltered. "You mean like in <i>real</i> magic, witchcraft and such? Or stage magician stuff?"

"Oh, definitely the <i>real</i> kind, Mr. Potter. The reason I ask is that the legend of the Orkneys is seeded with it. Magical places…these standing-stones are believed to be. And the people who erected them and built the burial mounds were a race that was steeped in it. Rumors of sorcery, if you believe that sort of thing," he finished, watching the man closely.

"Usually, where there's smoke there's fire," the man murmured in reply, not looking at him. "I imagine there's some truth in it, then." Severus noted the blush that was creeping into the pretty cheeks.

It occurred to him then, that sometime in the future he might have cause to regret this little conversation, especially since he suspected that sooner or later Harry was going to know the complete truth about what and who he was. Backpedaling was a good maneuver at this point, he decided.

"Ah, well, most ancient ruins the world over have some whispers of elemental magic woven into their histories. This is especially true of the Orkneys, for some reason." He laughed to ease the tension between them. "And there are quite a few stories of the sea-sirens surrounding the islands, too. Sailors are a suspicious lot, and in bad weather, they're particularly nervous in these waters."

Harry was looking at him now, a little defiantly, he noted with alarm. "I don't think one can just discount the magic as being purely legend. There has to be more to it than that, sir. People have talked about magic since the dawn of time. I have a feeling it might really be there—perhaps something that people have just lost their ability to perceive. I think it's incredibly presumptuous to just write off the things that one doesn't see physical proof of or understand." His voice was almost fervent, his expression displaying an intensity that he had not witnessed before.

Inexplicably, Severus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In fact, he could feel the magic, an almost raw power rolling off the man in this moment, and Severus understood then, for the first time, that this was not a wizard with whom one would ever want to contend. He'd unintentionally aroused the man to defend his true world, and his passion for it was unmistakable and, as Severus was a wizard himself, admirable.

"Hmm, perhaps you're right," he conceded, deciding it was time to put the topic to rest. But he wondered again about what price he might have to pay in the future for this little digression.

"We've really slowed down, haven't we?" Harry took his own chance to divert the conversation. "I noticed it at breakfast. The engines seemed to be pitched a little lower."

Severus nodded as he told him, "We're in the Pentland Firth, the narrow channel between the Orkneys and Scotland. It's only eleven kilometers wide at one point, so after lunch, I'll be slowing us even more to pilot us through to the North Sea." He paused as he looked out at the isle again. "These waters can be treacherous, so extra care must be taken." He turned back to Harry once again. "We'll be in Wick by three." He smiled. "Anxious to be on dry land again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled back, meeting his eyes. "Not really, sir. Although being in Wick will mean the two of us will be free of the Zephyr and," he softly added," her restrictions."

Severus felt a hitch in his breath, but then managed to acknowledge, "Yes, we will, Mr. Potter. A new port for both of us, in that respect." He could feel his heart quicken, then said as he turned away, "Lunch when you have it ready, Mr. Potter."

***

When they'd finally moored at Wick, Severus and Harry were both in the small cabin stowing their gear in their duffels, making ready to vacate the ship. Severus was watching the man out of the corner of his eye, for the first time wondering about the wand that he knew the man must have secreted somewhere. He always kept his own on his person, but he didn't see how Harry could've managed to do this with the clothing that he'd worn. For some reason the thought of this irritated him, and then he realized that it was because he knew that Harry, of all people, should always have it close at hand. The war was indeed over, but he would always be Harry Potter, and thus, a potential target.

They made their way along the dock which was bustling with activity at this time of the afternoon, Severus leading Harry through the crowd, and finally onto the main road that led into the town itself. They talked easily about Wick and its colorful history, the time passing quickly as they made their way to the lodgings where Harry would stay whenever the Zephyr was in port.

Severus explained. "It's not really a bed-and-breakfast, as it's not open to the public. But Mrs. Archer takes in seasonal workers every summer, and I have a feeling, Harry, that she's going to try and mother you a bit, so be fair-warned. She furnishes breakfast and lunch, but you'll be on your own for dinner." He stopped then, and turned to Harry. "We're only here for one overnight this time—in the future it will usually be two. If you like, we could have dinner together?"

Harry shifted his duffel on his shoulder, squinting up at the white-clapboard house in front of them. "That'll be great, Severus." He smiled as he met the older man's eyes. "I take it that you have a house in Wick, then?" he asked.

Severus nodded as he told him, "Just a little place, not too far from here—it's a cottage, really." He was suddenly uncomfortable, knowing that, at least for now, he could not invite the man to stay with him. He knew that the house would give him away from the very moment Harry entered, and would require some work if he was to hide his true identity from the man. "I have some business at the office for now. Let's say dinner at seven at the Mirage—just ask Mrs. Archer to point you in the right direction—it's not far. All right?"

"All right, Severus," the man agreed as he smiled a little crookedly at him. "I can call you Severus for now?"

"As you said earlier, Harry, we're no longer on the Zephyr," Severus told him softly as he met his eyes once again. "I'll be looking for you at dinner, then. And afterward, I'll show you a bit of the town." He couldn't help but smile at the pleased look on Harry's face.

***

His business concluded, Severus returned home to the small cottage where he lived. Walking idly through his rooms, he realized that there was not a chance of having it in order for Harry to visit this time, his library full of wizarding books, not to mention the small potions laboratory set at the very back of the structure. He sighed. He'd have to find some time soon to do it—he didn't want the man staying alone for more of the summer than was absolutely necessary. As he showered and dressed, he wondered at this reluctance on his part to leave Harry to his own devices. He wasn't precisely sure why he felt inclined to board the man, but he imagined it had something to do with the certain knowledge that Albus Dumbldore would expect it of him. And even stranger still, he knew that he didn't want the man spending his time in Wick alone—it seemed to him that Harry had already spent far too much of the past month left entirely to himself, and, he had to admit, he thought he'd rather enjoy his company, given the time that they'd already spent together. Who do you think you're fooling, Severus? he lectured himself mentally as he dressed. It's far more than that, and you know it.

***

They'd spent another enjoyable evening dining together, much as they had only three nights ago in Liverpool. Severus smirked as, this time, he plucked the check from the server's hand just as she was about to lay it on the table. Harry gave him an amused smile of defeat, and they left then, Severus leading the way to the public walkway that bordered the seaside edge of the town. As they walked, Severus told him of his everyday life here in Wick, of the school where he taught, and of his education at Edinburgh. Harry listened intently, asking probing questions about his students and curriculum, in turn telling Severus several delightful stories which, while Severus knew did not express the entire truth, were in fact based in the man's real experience.

They were walking side by side, their shoulders almost touching, and Severus found himself wishing that they would touch, that encounter of the night before almost palpable between them. He led Harry down a narrow path to a rocky jetty, where they could sit on the outcropping there, lit by the moonlight of a cloudless night sky. The waves breaking on the barrier made a soothing undulation of sound in the background, and for a moment after they sat, neither of them spoke, drinking in the splendor of the light glittering off a sea spread blackly in front of them. For a time, Severus even forgot Harry was there, lured by the sights and sounds and smells that represented his love affair with this vast Lady who had stolen his heart so many years ago. The voice at his side softly broke her spell.

"I can't imagine what it's like to live with this in your back garden…to be able to come down here anytime you want."

Severus turned to find Harry looking at him, his face illuminated by the moonlight. He smiled at the look of awe on the young man's face, and agreed with him. "I've lived here for twenty-five years, Harry, except for the time at Edinburgh, and I can honestly say I've never taken it for granted." He paused for a moment as he considered how to word the question. "Surely there are beautiful sights to see in Coventry as well? I know you're a little more landlocked there, but still, each place possesses some particular charm of its own, I'd imagine?"

The man's lips twitched slightly, and Severus realized he'd seen that mannerism before, during his questioning of Harry that first day when he'd presented himself to the Zephyr. It's Harry, about to embellish on a fantasy, he thought to himself . How difficult this must be for him, to need to mentally consult his fabricated persona before answering a simple question.

"Hmm, well, that's true, the countryside <i> is</i> pretty, but there's something about the ocean, especially on a night like this. Nothing can hold a candle to it, I think." He stopped with a catch in his voice. "It really makes you feel small, doesn't it, Severus? Makes all your petty concerns seem so trifling in comparison? It's exactly what I was hoping to find, you know, when I set out to do this. Some space…some distance from everything…a way to put things in perspective."

Severus turned slightly on the rock, his back to the moonlit sea, Harry's face in full relief before him. Carefully, he asked him, "Do you want to tell me about it, Harry? I know it's none of my concern, and I won't be offended if you take a pass. But sometimes, I think it helps to spill it out to someone who's tabula rasa, so to speak. I think you already know that I'd have your best interests at heart?"

Harry stared at him for a long moment, and Severus saw him swallow visibly before answering, "I've had a rough patch, Severus, just a rough patch, is all. Nothing more than what everyone meets up with at some point in their life." His voice faltered, and he stopped. Severus waited, and watched as the man's face searched his own. "I've lost someone very close to me…and it's been difficult." He looked away, his voice finally flat at the end.

"Ah. I see." Severus offered nothing further, sensing that this might be all that would be forthcoming for the time being. But by Merlin, the understatement of it was mind-boggling. "I'm truly sorry, Harry, and I won't pry. But I want you to know that if you ever want to talk about it, I think you'll find I've had some similar experiences. I won't tell you everything is going to be fine, or that you'll feel instantly better. But I think knowing someone who's survived similar circumstances often helps." He made no reaction to the small laugh that Harry gave, knowing that the man would think that Severus could never empathize with the magnitude of what he'd suffered.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I laughed…. It's just ironic, I guess, a total stranger offering to help me…. So many others have tried and failed, you see," he finished quietly, raising his eyes to meet Severus'. There was such misery in the face, coupled with such a sincere longing, that Severus could not restrain himself from reaching out to touch the man. Cupping Harry's face with a palm, he used his other hand to brush the man's wind-blown hair from his face, hiding his fascination as he took in the infamous scar that stood out on his forehead. Of course, he'd known that it was there all along, but Harry had kept it hidden by the fringe that fell nearly into his eyes. He traced it lightly with a fingertip, then looked straight into the green eyes that were staring into his.

"Let me help you, then. For the next three months, set it aside. And if," he was cupping both cheeks now, "you want my ear, you'll have it. And anything else that's in my power to give you." He felt a thrill of satisfaction when Harry only nodded, but leaned in to his touch.

Severus moved his face towards Harry and kissed him then, softly and with great care, sensing the fragility of the man in this moment. He felt the mouth under his respond, the lips opening to the gentle seeking of his tongue along the curve of them. It was different from the frantic kiss of just the night before, this time the both of them exploring slowly and deeply. Somewhere in the middle of it, Severus pulled the man towards him, and encircled his shoulders with his large, muscled arms. He felt Harry shudder in his embrace, and when they finally parted, the man was content to lay his head on his shoulder and just let Severus hold him. He stroked the soft black hair gently, slipping one hand to the back of the neck to massage the skin there.

They sat there for some time this way, Severus holding him as the sea crashed on the jetty in front of them. He shivered when Harry moved his face and kissed his way gently up his neck to behind his ear. Then came the husky words that he was not surprised to hear. "I want you, Severus."

He turned his face just enough so the man could hear him. "I know, Harry. I want you, too."

***

"Mrs. Archer," Severus greeted the woman crisply as he and Harry made their way to the stairway. With the same urgency that had propelled them back from their walk to the jetty, the two men took the stairs two at a time. Severus followed Harry down the long hallway to the back of the house, waiting impatiently while the man fumbled with his key. Once the door was opened, Severus pushed him inside the small room, flicking on the light only long enough to visualize where the bed was. Switching it off again, he pushed Harry backwards towards it, their hands now actively engaged in removing one another's clothing.

Finally free of this encumbrance, they fell onto the bed together, Harry reaching out to pull Severus on top of him, groaning at the first contact of bare skin on bare skin. "Oh God, Severus, I've wanted you like this for weeks, ever since you sent me to that fucking embroidery factory," he mumbled into the skin of Severus' shoulder, giving the man several well-placed bites followed by a lick. Severus moved to silence that mouth for a long moment, then pulled back to look at the eyes gleaming up at him in the moonlight streaming in from the window.

"Really?" he asked as he rubbed a thumb over Harry's lower lip. "And here I felt badly over your obvious lack of appreciation for such an instructive adventure." He gently kissed the lips that had smiled in response. Pulling back again, he told him, "As for myself, I must admit that your passion for the Lady of Shalott," he gave him a wicked smile, "is what literally perked me up and made me want to have you." He pressed the whole length of his body against the man, grinding his hips until Harry moaned in frustration.

They teased each other slowly, tasting one another, learning secret spots and hidden crevices. Severus marveled at the lithe body of his lover, while Harry seemed to revel in every single touch, his body quivering in anticipation. There was no further conversation, both of them intent on pleasuring the other, until Harry was finally reduced to begging. Wrapping his legs around Severus' waist, he pulled him in snugly as he whispered, "That's it, Severus. Now, please, please, now."

Severus rolled off of him to the side, then queried softly, "You have something we can use?" Harry nodded toward the bedside table and the small glass jar waiting for him there. Liberally coating the fingers of one hand, he stretched alongside the man, then slowly reached between his thighs, caressing as he went, his fingers moving down, and then stopping to lightly circle his entrance. Harry arched upward into his touch, but then told him breathlessly, "Don't need it. Please, Severus, just fuck me," he gasped.

"You're ready?" Severus asked, pulling back enough to see Harry's face, this face that he'd thought was beautiful from the very first time he'd seen it, even before he'd known who Harry was. When he heard the moaned, "Yes," in reply, and saw the expression on that face, he sat up quickly to prepare himself. Then he knelt on the bed, and lifted a leg to each of his shoulders, circling an arm around each of the thighs to pull Harry tightly against him. "Harry," he said softly as he pushed his cock against him, and when he had the man's full attention, he slowly advanced, groaning at the warmth and tightness of him, biting his lip in concentration as he held himself back from his desperate urge to thrust. Harry reached out with his hands, capturing Severus' shoulders, gently coaxing him forward until at last he was fully sheathed.

They stopped then, still looking at one another in the pale, soft light slanting in through the window, both of their bodies trembling with the effort of restraint. Severus murmured a shaky, "God, you feel wonderful," and in reply Harry gave him a sudden forward cant of his hips. Smiling at the man beneath him, Severus began to move then, pulling out almost completely before plunging in again quickly to the root. Soon it was Harry who was audibly panting, and Severus reached down between them to stroke him in time with his thrusting. His desire was kindled even more by the sounds that Harry was making as he pounded into him. He felt the sweat drip from the tip of his nose, and looked up to see Harry with his head thrown back, his tongue working over his lower lip as he moaned. Just the sight of him so enraptured was enough to bring Severus to the end of himself. He felt the sudden, tell-tale loss of control begin to pulse through him, and he held on to the man as if for dear life now, his arms still circled around the front of Harry's thighs, still stoking firmly as he gave in and let his release take him. He knew he cried out as he came, and heard Harry just behind him, but then suddenly he was spent and shattered, falling into the arms that then wrapped tightly around him.

He felt literally stunned as he lay there, recovering his breath as his heart continued to pound away in his chest. Harry was smoothing the skin on his back, and saying something that Severus could not yet make out, his hearing still deafened by the force of his climax. He'd had sex enough times to realize that this had been something extraordinary, and he idly wondered why, this time, with this man, it had been so amazingly different. That it was Harry Potter was not the answer, he knew, but rather something in the man he'd been drawn to before he'd even known who he was. Complicated, he thought to himself, even as he was beginning to hear the words of his lover.

"Severus?" Harry called him softly. "All right, then?"

***

Severus felt Harry protest physically as he gently disentangled himself from the embrace in which he'd fallen asleep. He sat to the edge of the bed and groped on the floor for his shirt, knowing that it was of paramount importance that he have it on in the unlikely event that a light was turned on. Leaning over the half-awake Harry, he traced the man's lips with a finger, then bent in to kiss him on the forehead.

"Ssh, Harry, don't get up. I'm going now."

There was a verbal protest now. "You have to go?" the sleepy voice asked.

"Yes, I think it'd be best if I did. I'll see you on the Zephyr." In response, Harry pulled him down for one last kiss.

"Okay, if you have to—I'd sleep so much better if you stayed…. Like the sound of you sleeping…" he drifted off.

Severus sat and watched until Harry was fully asleep once again, then finished dressing. With one last glance at the figure on the bed, he let himself quietly out of the room.

***

Chapter Six: Sortie One

The next day, the Zephyr put to sea once more, now with her full crew of eleven, taking a southwesterly course into the North Sea. They were stocked for a sortie that would last approximately seven days, two of these to be spent in transit to and from their destination.

Severus was at the helm, relaxed now that they were clear of the harbor and its sea-channels. The water was a little rougher this time, the sky a dull metal-gray, but visibility was still excellent. He was studying the weather maps that had been faxed in just shortly after their departure, when he heard the door behind him open, and knew that Harry was here with his morning indulgence.

As he took the cup from the man, he was surprised enough to set it down without even taking a sip, when Harry said to him, "I know we're on the Zephyr, and we have to be different with each other now, but there's something I have to say to you, Severus."

He nodded as he watched the man. "All right, Harry. Go on, then."

Harry grinned ruefully at him as he confessed, "God, do you know how hard it is not to touch you right now?" When Severus inclined his head and smiled, he continued, "That's not what I wanted to say, but it's true, isn't it? Anyway, I was thinking, and I wanted you to know that…that I don't usually fall into bed with someone that easily." Now he did reach over and lightly brushed the back of Severus' hand with a fingertip, then pulled it away before going on. "I don't know why it was so easy with you, but it was. I feel like I've known you far longer than I actually have." The green eyes peered intently into the black ones. "But what I really wanted to tell you is that I'm not this needy person that you're going to have to always be worrying about, wondering if I'm going to go off the deep-end. I was afraid you might have got that impression…from what I told you last night, and the fact that I don't sleep and have nightmares." He was searching Severus' face as he added, "I have a few skeletons in my closet, Severus, but you needn't concern yourself. Really, it's as I said—I'm just taking some time off to think a little. Nothing more. I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking that you had to watch out for me or something," he mumbled as he finally looked away.

Severus shook his head at Harry as he finally picked up his coffee. "I watch out for everyone while they're here on the Zephyr, Harry. It's part of my job description. I am concerned in that regard, that you do not seem to sleep very well. As for the other," his voice was lower and softer, "I meant what I said, about being someone who could listen and perhaps help. Whether or not you take me up on that offer is entirely up to you. But rest assured, I don't think you're unbalanced or any other such rot. I have no worries on that account. So, put it to rest." He flicked a switch on the panel in front of him and watched for a moment as the instrument started to calibrate itself. Harry watched in fascination, and Severus found himself explaining the directional navigational system that allowed the ship to find its way in even the darkest of weather.

"What I don't understand, Captain, is why we're traveling for twenty hours to find a place to fish. Why is that necessary, to go so far?"

Severus pursed his lips as he looked at him with amusement. "Mr. Potter, if you want a banana for your breakfast, where do you go to find one?"

Harry smiled in return as he considered. "I have the feeling this is a trick question."

Severus prodded him. "Do you leave your house and look around in the road for one?"

Harry played along. "No sir, I guess I'd try the produce market."

Severus was silent, but raised an eyebrow at the man, letting him know that he wasn't quite there yet.

Harry frowned in concentration as he stared back at him, then he grinned as he finally got it. "Ah, I see." He laughed out loud. "We're going to the fish market, so to speak? Because there aren't any fish in the road?"

"Precisely, Mr. Potter. Full marks. Of course, we could fish anywhere, but there are places in the North Sea, particularly shallow ones, where the fish life is abundant. This is a business for profit, so we spend our time where it proves most profitable. In this case, an area known as the Dogger Bank. You'll be spending quite a bit of time there in the next several months. You'll learn to love it or hate it," he added dryly.

They continued Harry's fishing lesson until Severus was finally finished with his coffee. Handing Harry his empty cup, he startled the man when he casually hooked his little finger around the man's thumb to hold his hand there for a moment. "To address your other concern, Harry, in which it appears we bear a similarity. Nor am I in the habit of ending up in someone's bed so easily." He held his eyes for a moment, then released his hand. "Have a good day, Mr. Potter."

***

It was exactly six days later, and the Zephyr, now riding much lower in the water with her holds filled to the top with swordfish and tuna, was making her way steadily north to Wick and home-cooked meals. Severus let himself into the galley for a cup of tea near nine that night, and was surprised to find Harry seated there alone at the small table, his head lying on his forearms.

"Captain," he greeted the man, his pleasure obvious as he raised his head from the table. "Here for a cuppa?" He stood and moved towards the urn as Severus took a seat across from him.

"Actually, I was looking for you, Mr. Potter. Your presence at the customary card game in the crew's quarters was conspicuous by its absence." He waited while Harry prepared his tea, then couldn't hide the note of concern in his voice. "You don't enjoy fraternizing with the other men? They're a little rough around the edges, Mr. Potter, but I can already tell they've accepted your presence here, despite the fact that you're not a fisher." He hesitated, then added with a note of sarcasm, "I think the omelets at breakfast this morning rather clinched it for you, Mr. Potter, as you no doubt intended? You'll be the talk of the docks for that one, I can assure you." He was gratified to see the satisfied look on his cook's face.

"I thought that might do it, Captain. As for the fraternizing," he looked embarrassed as he admitted, "I usually do spend part of the evening there. But I'm not much good at cards, and frankly, sir, they've bled me dry. At least for this sortie," he mumbled.

Severus smiled around his pipe. "You'll have to watch out, then. They won't cheat at it, but I can see where you'd be an easy mark. For many of them, playing at cards is almost a second profession." He watched as Harry digested this, then asked with curiosity, "So, what do you do with your spare time, Mr. Potter? During your school year?" He waited, knowing that Harry was sifting through his possible replies to find one that was not compromising.

"Well, I do like to play chess, and do it rather well, I think. Too bad I can't get them into a game of it for stakes," he muttered darkly, but smiled as he said it.

Severus smirked at this. "Not likely, although I know that Ramsay can play." He took another drink of his tea, then asked the man, "Do you have a set with you?"

Harry nodded. "Just a small one—a travel set. I played myself in Liverpool, which is kind of hard to do. But I was bored in the evenings…" he confessed a little sheepishly.

Severus slid his cup across the table towards him and instructed, "Well, give me a refill, then, and let's go back to the cabin for a game, shall we? We'll see just how good you are at it, Mr. Potter. I'll play you for the check for tomorrow's dinner—winner gets to pay. Are you on?"

Harry grinned happily, "Oh, I'm on, Captain. Are you sure you want to do this? I should tell you that my chess powers are legendary, and there'll be no consideration for your position—you won't know what hit you, sir. It could be humiliating," he warned.

***

Two hours later, they were both still sitting with their backs against the bulkhead in the tiny cabin, the chess set spread out between them. Severus sighed in irritation as Harry took his second bishop, and added it to the small pile of pieces he had already collected from his captain. It's clear he going to have me, Severus thought. It's just a matter of how long I want to postpone the inevitable. He winced as he noted that his next move put Harry in excellent position to make short work of what was left of him.

Which he finally did a moment later—with a flourish, brandishing the queen just before setting it in place with a smugly murmured, "Checkmate, Captain."

As they shook hands over the board, Severus muttered defensively, "It was your turn to pay anyway, Mr. Potter."

"Yes it was," Harry agreed as he swept the pieces into their velvet bag. "But at least this time I won't have to fight you for it. And I actually earned the honor of doing something for you, unlike how you managed to snag it the last time." He stowed the bag, then sat back, watching Severus with a smile.

Severus thought this would be as good a time as any to present the man with his offer. "There is something that I'd like to do for you, Mr. Potter, if you're so inclined. You'll have to spend tomorrow night at Mrs. Archer's, but from there on out whilst you are in Wick, I'd like to offer you a room in my home, humble as it is. You're in no way obligated to accept, of course." For a moment he was flooded with irrational uncertainty, with the feeling that he was putting them both on a collision course with some unknowable destination.

Harry's eyes widened for a moment, then glittered with pleasure as he answered, "Really, Severus?" He winced at his mistake. "Captain, I mean, sorry. I'd really like that, sir." He seemed to be having difficulty restraining his delight. "I'll pay you the same as Mrs. Archer, sir. It's really a kind offer."

Severus smirked at him. "As it is I who made the offer, Mr. Potter, I would think it's up to me to set the conditions. You'll pay me nothing, understood? We'll share the cost of the food we buy, which will not amount to much." He paused, then added matter-of-factly, "It only makes sense for you to stay there, don't you think, as it appears that we may be spending much of our time in Wick together?"

Harry ducked his head a little and grinned slyly as he commented, "And I'd imagine that you have a much more accommodating bed than I do?"

Severus snorted. "You'll have your own room and bed, my fledgling cook. And yes," he smiled as he added, "that bed leaves much to be desired, and I think you'll find mine much more comfortable."

At the look on Harry's face, Severus found he couldn't help himself, and reached out to pull the man towards him, who complied instantly, dragging them both to the floor, their feet and arms knocking awkwardly against the furnishings in the cramped quarters. The restraint and distance that they'd maintained for the past six days exploded suddenly as they were reduced to a frantic frenzy of mouths possessing mouths and hands that were desperately seeking to remove clothing. Gasping against one another, they finally ended up stretched out in the only narrow space where it was possible for them to lay.

"Severus," Harry moaned as the man worked his mouth down his shoulder to his chest, then fastened on a nipple there. "What happened to naval decorum? Being on the Zephyr? Not complaining, but…" He stopped with a sharp intake of breath as Severus sucked his way down his belly, and was now nuzzling in the curly hair of his groin.

Severus raised his head for a moment, then said with a note of resignation in his voice, "We're on the home stretch, six hours out of Wick. That'll have to be close enough, Harry. Now, if there are no further questions?"

"None at all, sir. Carry on," he gasped, as the man had indeed already done so.

***

Severus let himself into his small cottage, and knew instantly that he had an intruder. As it was still daylight, he could see the entirety of the sitting room and into the small kitchen from his vantage point just inside the door. Removing his wand from its slot in his jeans, he moved stealthily along the front wall of the sitting room, carefully avoiding the floorboards he knew would creak under his weight, until he was finally lined up to afford him a total view of the interior of the kitchen. He froze in shock for a moment, then let out a sigh of relief, but still did not pocket his wand. Appearances could be intentionally deceptive, after all. And if this was who he thought it was, then the proof of his identity would be in who put the first foot forward. Severus leaned against the wall and waited, but not for long.

"I wouldn't think you need an invitation to come and sit in your own kitchen, Severus. But I know what you're doing, so well done. Come and sit now," the man finished as he turned from the window where he'd been looking out on Severus' herb garden.

Severus now pocketed his wand, finally certain of the identity and intentions of his uninvited guest. "Albus. Why don't you just make yourself at home?" he asked with a mixture of irritation and amusement. He'd found that it was always this way with the Headmaster, just annoying enough to make one sigh in frustration, but tempered with a humor that made one's mouth twitch as it suppressed a smile.

"Ah," the old man smiled warmly at him. "I could have sat on the stoop and waited for you, but I didn't think it wise to draw too much attention to myself, and," he lowered his chin and looked out over the top of his glasses, "I couldn't be certain that you'd turn up alone."

Well, a day too early, fortunately , Severus thought as he said aloud, "And if he'd been with me, sir?"

The man shrugged. "You would have found the cottage empty, of course, Severus. I may be old, but my ability to be discreet has not suffered from it, I assure you." He motioned the man to a seat at the table where two cups were waiting for them. "Tea, and a biscuit, perhaps?"

Severus slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands, not looking at the man for a moment. He'd known that this visit was inevitable, but for some reason, it had still taken him by surprise. When the cup was slid in front of him, he straightened and fixed the old man with an accusing glare.

"I think an explanation is in order, Albus. I don't know what you were thinking, but there were numerous occasions when this whole scheme of yours could've gone awry. One of which you are most likely unaware."

Dumbledore frowned for a moment as he thought, then smiled outright. "Ah, yes, it was so good of you to help him see the city, Severus. So much better than picking things out of a tour-book, don't you think?"

As Severus shook his head and conceded with a smile, Dumbledore consoled him. "It's humbling to be found predictable, isn't it? But I knew you well enough to be certain that you'd immediately recognize him and not give yourself away. And I was right on that account. But the two of you meeting by chance on Albert Dock was unexpected, I admit, although I now think that it proved most fortuitous." He paused as he looked at Severus. "He still doesn't know?" he asked with interest.

"No, he doesn't," Severus told him shortly. "And that hasn't been easy, I can tell you. I'm sure you have an explanation for all of it, sir. I'd really like to know why you've done this—to both of us. I can perhaps understand why you'd not make my identity known, even why you might have sent him in my direction, but to have not forewarned me…" he trailed off as he pursed his lips, studying the Headmaster. "Albus, please, don't make me drag this out of you. It'd be so much easier if you'd just explain why he's here and what you expect of me."

The old man sat back in his chair, studying the man across from him. "What has he told you, Severus?"

"Not much. Just that he's taking some time off to think about things…that he's had a 'rough patch'…and that he's lost someone close to him. He's said he needs some distance…some space to reflect a bit, but nothing more specific, and not a hint of what he is."

"And how did you react to this information, Severus? Were you helpful in any way? Supportive? Consoling?" he gently probed.

Severus had to swallow before answering, suddenly unsure of how the man would react if he knew. He ventured cautiously, "I think I've been helpful, in a general sort of way. He talks to me, and I've let him know that I'm available to listen, should he ever have the desire to really talk . We spent his first evening here in Wick together, just last week. I don't like to leave him on his own, sir. I think he's rather had a bit too much of that recently."

The man sat back in his chair, his satisfaction obvious. "Let me tell you specifically, Severus, why I suggested this time away for him." He stopped for a moment, and seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

"The war's been over for almost a year, but in the past six months, Harry's almost lost his life on several occasions. There are still elements of the Death Eater organization intact, and Harry, of course, is their prime target. This would not be such an issue if Harry were himself. But it seems that the war and its aftermath have taken a terrible toll on him, Severus. He's no longer alert, is easily distracted, and frankly, I sensed that it was just a matter of time and circumstance before he'd become a victim, of those that seek to do him harm, and of his own indifference and lack of focus."

"So, you sent him on a little trip?" Severus asked, trying to put this description of Harry together with the man whom he knew.

"Yes, so to speak. Actually it was Lupin who suggested you—he's the only other who knows what your life is like, but not your location," he hastened to add. "And it made glorious sense to me—out on the seas, hard physical labor, complete removal from the Wizarding world and its dangers and reminders. And, of course, you, Severus. You seemed like a stroke of genius."

Severus was slightly distraught at this statement, the beginnings of a suspicion forming in his mind. "I can't imagine being anyone's 'stroke of genius', sir. And I'm surprised that you would even think of me at all. Surely you know how he's likely to react when he learns of my past, and he will learn of it, as I'm sure you know. " He accented this last rather heavily, but then ploughed on, "I'm not certain I appreciate your trying to pull me back into a world that I've no desire to reenter, Albus. It smacks of presumption on your part. I'd have thought my silence in response to your inquiries after the fall of Lord Voldemort might have given you your answer on that account." He sat stiffly as he waited for the man to answer.

"You're doing me a service in this, Severus, looking after him for a time. I had to know that he'd have someone close by, even though the danger here might not be as great." He stroked his beard, then softly added, "It's a service to James and Lily, too, Se