Severus tenses as the usual rumble of foolish idolatry announces Harry's arrival more faithfully than medieval trumpets ever could.
Severus suspects the brat is beyond angry. Harry had pushed for them to arrive together hand in hand, champing at the bit to oust them as the happy little couple they've managed to become away from the prying eyes of the general public, but Severus's lack of faith in happily-ever-anything had nipped that plan in the bud. It doesn't matter that they've been together for just over a year, struggling their way through the onerous ordeal of learning to navigate the pitfalls that come hand in hand with both their antagonistic history and their, at times, positively incompatible tempers, emotional needs, inner circle, and outlook in life. It's irrelevant that they've managed to survive the taxing process of forcing their very different lifestyles into a relatively harmonious blend that soothes both Severus's middle-aged need for quietude and Harry's youthful desire to experience life to the full, to party like there's no tomorrow, to engage in every athletic activity he comes across, and be constantly on the go.
What matters is that managing to pull through their first year together, as Harry had frustratedly pointed out mere seconds before Severus left, isn't enough to make their— whatever any more enduring in Severus's book.
To Severus, loving Harry, loving anyone, feels like waging a war that both never ends and he's bound to lose. Surrendering to sentiment is a constant struggle between what his head tells him he deserves, what his Slytherin instincts assess as a safe enough risk for him to take, and the recklessness of his heart's foolish desires. Severus has enough honesty to accept the profoundly troubling fact that he's deeply in love with a man young enough to be his son. Heroic enough to have earned the goodwill and admiration of most folks in Wizarding Britain, and rich enough to make the likes of Lucius Malfoy sound like middle-class upstarts. Severus's heart constantly cajoles him into trying his hardest to ensure nothing ever gets between them while his Slytherin instincts quietly remind him that Harry is out of his league, and his head screams he's making the biggest mistake of his life. He's risking too much for Harry Potter, and he's bound to lose him in the end because Saviors and Death Eaters simply don't belong together.
Severus watches Harry get instantly surrounded by a ring of earnest fans. It's the same wherever the brat goes. Everyone is eager to speak to him, touch him, and try to hold his attention beyond the brief second of distracted acknowledgment that Harry's inherent good nature grants every perfect stranger who dares to accost him thus. Severus hates it. Knows that Harry hates it too. Yet instead of stalking forward and using his forbidding reputation to save his significant other from the affectionate horde so unsubtly determined to 'capture' him, Severus uses the moment to retreat toward the type of suitable dark corner that never fails to make an outcast wallflower like him invisible.
It takes a solid half hour of disinterested nodding on Harry's part and the exasperated intervention of one Ginevra Weasley to finally free The Boy Who Lived Twice from his adoring fans. Severus watches them walk towards the bar with the heaviness of knowing them to be perfect for one another. Ginevra is so beautiful and courageous, so young and lively, so capable of giving Harry the means to officially claim the family he already adores and bring forth a new generation of green-eyed Weasley brats that, despite the fact that Severus's head knows there is no attraction between them, his foolish heart breaks anew watching their affectionate bantering.
Severus and Harry's banter could never look so lighthearted. They've got too many antagonistic memories to tiptoe around. Severus sighs, tries to smile through his maudlin thoughts, and lowers his head to stare mindlessly at the dwindling contents of the champagne flute he'd picked upon arrival. Severus doesn't particularly like champagne, but the bubbles are distracting as they fizzle to the surface ever so prettily.
"There you are," Harry's softly voiced greeting startles Severus into raising his gaze, "I knew I'd find you lurking in the shadowiest corner of the ballroom."
Severus swallows with discomfort. The certainty he's responsible for putting that pained look in Harry's beautiful green gaze makes him feel even more wrong-footed. Even more undeserving of the attention Harry so generously bestows upon him.
"You should be mingling, Potter. Unlike myself, the likes of you don't belong in shadowy corners."
"Potter, huh?" Harry smiles tightly, "You know I hate it when you call me that."
"Harry-
"Don't you dare try to shoo me away. I agreed to come here today against my better better judgment because you begged me to put in an appearance. Some birthday gift, this shindig. We could have been at my place all along, sheltering from this awful weather and cuddling on my sofa. We could have listened to your wireless soap opera while I fed you those dark chocolate covered cherries you like so much, but no. Severus Snape can't possibly be selfish enough to ignore the rest of the world and grant his partner permission to celebrate him. Not even on his own fucking birthday."
"Celebrating the likes of me is a waste of everyone's time. Yours especially. Attending this shindig, as you've so charmingly termed it, gives your evening a far worthier purpose."
Harry bristles and is in the process of opening his mouth to deliver Merlin knows what type of angry retort when Severus sighs, tired to the bone of their circular argument, "I know you'd have donated even if you'd convinced me to stay home, Harry, but this fundraiser is important. The orphaned children of former death eaters deserve care and attention too. The event is unpopular enough as it is and your presence here tonight increases attendance numbers to a point this charity can not manage on its own."
"When will you stop making everything about others?" Harry grumbles, "I'm not the only one who— You're here too, Severus; and you're a decorated war hero with an Order of Merlin, First Class."
"Don't be daft. The Wizengamot itself could crown me King of Scotland, and still my presence here wouldn't achieve a quarter of what yours will."
"That's a load of-
"Let's not argue any more, Harry. Please. Just— go mingle. Those children need this evening to be a resounding success."
Harry inhales sharply, clearly upset, but Severus doesn't know what else to do. They can argue about this until the cows come home. They have, in fact, done that already. Ad nauseum. Severus finds Harry's resistance to understand the simple truth emotionally draining. Harry Potter is everything, while Severus Snape is nothing. That's how their world works; attempting to frame reality differently is foolish.
"Come with me then. Let's mingle together, sweetheart. It's not too late to turn this publicity stunt you're so set on orchestrating into the birthday date I long for. Merlin knows I'd love to dance with you in public for once."
Severus shakes his head, "I don't think-
"You think too much, darling," Harry interrupts him, vanishing both their flutes to Salazar knows where and attempting to grasp Severus's left hand.
"Don't do that! You're going to draw undue attention towards us," Severus panics, taking a hasty step away and shoving his hands inside the pockets of his formal dress robes.
"I don't care," Harry snaps, trying to close the distance between them.
"Rita Skeeter was hovering by the buffet table when I arrived," Severus hisses, casting a harried side look toward the glittering dance floor, "She'll turn us into the scandal of the century if you keep that up. You know she will. Even a rumor linking the two of us romantically could do irreparable damage to your reputation."
Harry stills and stares at him with the same growing frustration Severus had tried to escape when he left Grimmauld Place mid-argument, "Is this how you want us to live our lives? Hiding at home, lying in public, refusing to acknowledge our relationship for fear of what? I'm not afraid of Rita Skeeter. The wizarding world's high opinion of me doesn't keep me warm at night, Severus. You do. Why would I choose it over you?"
"Let's not do anything hasty."
"How is this hasty? I just want one measly public dance with my partner on his birthday. I know you're cautious by nature, Severus, but I'm not asking you to marry me on the spot. I'm just asking for acknowledgement. We've been together for a year."
"Not tonight," Severus replies tersely, heart pounding a mile a minute. He looks around, praying for a distraction, anything he could rightfully use to delay their unfolding argument. Still, nothing in the vicinity warrants the type of retreat he sorely needs. Severus realizes it's inevitable, but he doesn't really want to help Harry understand. Not here and now. In all honesty, Severus never meant to deliver the explanation he can no longer see a way of withholding, and he's positive Harry won't react well to it.
"Severus-
"Not tonight. Please. You're so young and— beautiful, Harry. You are beautiful in every way."
"So are you," Harry says softly.
Severus smiles through the ever-growing lump sitting in the middle of his throat, "I am nothing of the sort. You know that, deep down, Harry. Surely you realize you deserve better than me."
"What does that even mean?" Harry growls, stepping in close and personal and rising on his tiptoes, clearly gearing up for a fight.
"It means exactly what it sounds like."
"That's good then. Because it sounds like utter rot."
"You need to take this seriously," Severus grits, growing more aggrieved by the second as he clocks the rising awareness of their argument spreading among their fellow guests. Severus sighs unhappily and turns toward the dance floor, intending to put much-needed distance between himself and Harry, but his lover grabs his arm with an iron grip, forcing him to stay put.
"I'm taking us seriously. It's you who insists on making us less than we are," Harry hisses, "I am here for you, Severus. I'm not here for my fans or for Rita Bloody Skeeter. I'm not even here for the children this charity champions. I'm here for you. I'm here because you are here. I'm here because you asked me to come."
"Yes. You're here, and you're making a scene, Harry," Severus points out, uncomfortable.
"So what?" Harry challenges, "None of these old farts has the right to judge you as harshly as you think they will."
"Yet they do judge me harshly."
"They do it because you let them, dammit!"
"They do it because I deserve it, Harry. I've earned society's scorn through two decades of misconduct. It is you who doesn't deserve the smear our public association will bring."
"But. I. Deserve. You!" Harry shouts in utter frustration, attracting the riveted attention of every single witch and wizard inside the ballroom. Severus looks around and cringes even as Harry keeps growling, "I deserve you because I love you. I deserve you because you love me too. For fucks sake, Severus, when are you going to stop beating yourself up over the role you played in the war? Nobody else played spy because no one had the fucking guts to look Riddle in the eye and lie through their teeth to his face. What kind of twisted bastard would look at courage like yours and claim it makes you unworthy of me?"
"Harry, please-
"You deserve me," Harry insists fiercely, ignoring Severus's attempt to interrupt his outraged rambling, "You deserve me because you've fought enough. You've fought alone for all our sakes and nobody ever gives you enough credit for it. Nobody ever thanks you. You deserve me because you're honorable. And loyal. And funny. You are brave, Severus. And clever, so ridiculously clever. You deserve me because you're the most beautiful human being I know. Because you refused to let me make other plans to celebrate this day and dragged us both here on your birthday to guarantee the success of your favorite charity's fundraiser instead of letting me pamper you rotten. And, Merlin's saggy bollocks, I love you for that. I do. But I hate you a little bit for it too."
Severus blinks, speechless, as Harry finally runs out of words. He's too stunned to come up with a suitable response and much too chicken to look around and assess the reaction of their fellow party-goers. Harry takes a step closer. His green eyes are wide and pleading but also thoroughly unrepentant. He meant every word he'd said, and he'll gladly repeat them all again, this impossible, ridiculous, bloody— Gryffindor.
"Did you just imply that former Death Eater Severus Snape and you are a couple, auror Potter?" Rita Skeeter's gleeful voice cuts through the pin-drop silence like a knife cuts through soft butter.
Harry doesn't even bother to look her in the eye. His attention is still firmly focused on Severus even as he shrugs with that shy awkwardness of his and mumbles the most passive-aggressive reply Severus has ever heard, "I said nothing of the sort. How could I? Master potioneer Severus Snape, current head of St Mungo's potion research department, is convinced I deserve better."
Someone in the crowd inhales sharply. Severus has the awful suspicion it must have been Minerva. Or Molly Weasley. He can't decide which one of those options is worse. Either one will lecture him for 'embracing his ridiculous insecurity' until the day he dies. It's even possible they'll decide to combine forces. Salazar. He's so screwed.
"Well. That's utter bollocks, mate," Ron Weasley pipes up, suddenly materializing beside Harry alongside his wife, who is glaring rather murderously at the eager journalist.
Rita Skeeter takes a shaky step back yet refuses to be cowed, "What does that mean, exactly, auror Potter?"
Harry opens his mouth to reply, but his best friend steals his thunder once again, "Blimey. How daft are you, Skeeter? It means Snape here is a prize idiot. That's what it means."
Severus stiffens, thoroughly offended, while Harry laughs hysterically. Rita Bloody Skeeter ignores Weasley's reply with the single-minded focus of a shark scenting blood in the surrounding water.
"Are you or are you not Severus Snape's partner, auror Potter?" She asks pointedly, and the entire room seems to hold its collective breath while her obnoxious enchanted quill literally trembles with excitement as it pops into existence, parchment it tow, right beside her left shoulder.
"I don't know. Am I your partner, Severus, or are we merely— friends who've caught feelings?"
"Friends who've caught feelings?" Severus splutters indignantly. What in the bloody hell would that even look like? He's never heard anything more ridiculous in his life.
"What else would you call it when there's love, so much love, but one's better half sees no future in the relationship?" Harry whispers, and Severus looks at him, his heart sinking all the way down to his toes. Harry is still pale. He is still wide-eyed, but now he's also shaking like a leaf. His two lifelong cohorts flank him like a pair of faithful bookends, yet Harry still manages to look small. Devastated. Alone.
"Of course we're partners, you idiot. What else could we possibly be when I love you enough to have lost all my marbles?" Severus grumbles, desperate to remove that awful uncertainty from Harry's gaze. Harry takes a step closer to him, digs Severus's trembling hand out of his pocket, and, intertwining their fingers, holds onto Severus for all he's worth.
"You only lost your marbles temporarily, Severus. And you've just gotten them all back," Harry claims firmly, raising their clasped hands to his lips and placing the most reverent kiss on Severus's white knuckles.
Severus sighs, "You're a fool. I was trying my best to protect your reputation, and you've just ruined all my hard work with a single ill-timed tantrum."
Harry kisses his knuckles again, "You were using public opinion to hold back, my love. That is unacceptable. You've allowed enough people to trap you under the weight of their unreasonable expectations already. It's time you choose yourself. Live your life the way you want to live it, Severus, and if the public doesn't like it then the public is very welcome to shove their irrelevant opinion up their collective arse."
"We'll, I've never!" Harry smirks upon hearing Rita Skeeter's scandalized gasp, but he doesn't turn to acknowledge her this time either. She's not the only one incensed, of course, but Severus can also hear someone clapping in the back. Someone else is wolf-whistling. Severus sincerely hopes it's not Ginevra Weasley, but he wouldn't hold his breath. That shrill sound has become painfully familiar in the last couple of months.
"Does this mean we can finally whisk this annoyingly secretive git out of here so I can savor that awesome cake Mum baked for him this morning?" Ronald Weasley pipes up, patting Harry's shoulder in a gesture that showcases both staunch camaraderie and unabashed gluttony.
"Your mother baked me a cake? What for?" Severus asks, and Weasley blinks at him, bewildered, before turning back to Harry.
"I'm sorry mate, but this man of yours is dumb as mud. What does he even mean with that what for?"
"Ronald! You've got to let Harry deal with this," Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, hisses, grabbing her husband forcefully and dragging him away with an embarrassed, "Sorry. I'll just— round the family up and steer them toward The Burrow. Take your time, Harry. I won't let this idiot touch the cake. I promise."
Severus blinks at their retreating backs, utterly bemused. "Harry, what-
"And there goes your surprise birthday party. Not a surprise anymore because Ron can't keep his trap shut when he's lusting so much after your bloody cake," Harry sighs.
"What's the point of organizing a birthday party when you knew we'd be here all evening?"
"This shindig doesn't count, Severus. Not when is not about you."
"But that's a lot of unnecessary wor-
Severus's flustered words suddenly stop when Harry presses his index finger firmly against his lips, "Sorry, but that, right there, I hate it. Celebrating you is not unnecessary work to me. Or to my family. Or to our friends, Severus. Minerva Apparated all the way to Portugal this morning to buy a bottle of that special edition Ginjinha drink you like so much. Celebrating you is bloody essential to our collective sanity, because we all love you like there's no tomorrow and you don't love yourself enough."
Severus's heart has lodged inside his throat, "I'm sorry," he whispers against Harry's fingertip, kissing it apologetically before taking hold of Harry's trembling hand and lowering it to rest against his pounding chest. "I can't believe you planned a surprise party for me and then I walked out on you mid-argument. That must have felt like a slap to the face."
"I knew you were afraid. I've known that all along, Severus. I was trying to be patient."
"You? Patient?" Severus snorts incredulously.
"Yes. Me. Patiently letting you hide us from the general public for an entire bloody year while hoping to Merlin you wouldn't lose your shit and bolt when I finally did -er pretty much this."
"Harry, I don't-
"I swear, if you tell me you don't deserve me one more time I'll hex you into next Sunday, Severus Snape."
Severus tries to laugh, but the sound is a shaky disaster. He's probably crushing Harry's poor fingers to death, but he can't bring himself to let them go. Harry's gaze softens, and he rises on his tiptoes to kiss Severus's tensing jaw tenderly. Severus leans into the comforting caress, trying his best to ignore every gawker still surrounding them. It's hard, though, but he'll find a way to manage it because Harry is right in this particular instance. It's time for Severus to start choosing himself, "I was going to say I don't want to be here anymore. I've got a better party to attend. One that's all about me, apparently."
"That's right, sweetheart," Harry's bright smile is so radiant it could blind the sun itself, "You're a busy man tonight. There's far better company waiting eagerly for you to just— show up," He tightens his hold on Severus's shaky hand, looks toward the glamorous ballroom and the scandalized guests staring at them judgmentally, and scrunches up his nose, clearly unimpressed, "Let's go somewhere much better, my love. Somewhere you don't have to lurk in shadowy corners, unwanted and unappreciated, despite your unswerving loyalty. Let me take you where you can shine, Severus."
The End.