To Hold Our Destiny
Some six months after Severus Snape and Harry Potter had moved to San Benito, on a day cloudy with “June gloom”, Severus stood in the kitchen of his friends, Miguel Gomez and Michael Smith, deep in argument.
“But I don’t want to attend this PrideFest!”
“Why not? What, are you homophobic?” Miguel, stirring a pot of bean soup, flashed him a grin.
Severus rolled his eyes. “I don’t care one way or the other about anyone’s sexual orientation, Miguel, as you well know. Nor their gender identity. Nor how they express said orientation or identity. I just hate street parties and festivals.”
“Aw, how come?”
Severus counted off his fingers. “I hate crowds. I hate noise. I hate people making fools of themselves. Ergo, I hate festivals.”
“Come on, Stephen,” said Miguel, using his pseudonym, “give it a chance. Think how much fun Harry would have!”
Severus glanced out the kitchen door into the living room, where Harry was running around with Mike and Miguel’s daughter, Maya. The two toddlers were racing around the coffee table, screaming happily and knocking toys about. Harry probably would enjoy PrideFest, Severus admitted to himself. Since moving to San Benito, the boy had bloomed, more energetic and outgoing every day. Severus still remembered Harry’s perfect joy and wonder when he’d first seen the ocean, staring with open mouth before demanding to be taken down to the beach, where Severus had had to physically hold him back from hurling himself into the waves. Now Harry loved to play in the sand, loved to spend time with Maya, loved to be taken shopping or to the park or the library. He waved and babbled to everyone they passed, to the point where it was alarming and Severus had to restrain him from running off with strangers. Yes, Harry would probably adore PrideFest.
Severus turned back, taking a sip from his wineglass. “Perhaps,” he said grudgingly. “But you know my idea of a proper social activity is to meet with the Shakespeare Reading Club in the backroom of the Mermaid Bar.” He smiled a little, remembering their last reading, all the club members in a circle with their drinks and paper scripts. They’d read The Tempest, with Severus reading Prospero. Everyone said his British accent was perfect for the role.
“And who talked you into attending your first meeting at the Shakespeare Club?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed.
Severus shifted around. “You did,” he admitted. It had taken Mike and Miguel months to convince Severus to leave Harry with them while he attended club readings. During his first meeting he’d been in a nightmare of anxiety, worrying about Harry, but it had gotten easier over time.
“Exactly,” said Miguel with satisfaction. “And that worked out great, didn’t it? So you should take our advice again and come to PrideFest. You spend days locked up in that house. It can’t be good for you.”
“Why do you care so much?” Severus asked in honest curiosity.
Miguel gave him an odd, sideways look Severus couldn’t read. “Because I care about you, Severus,” he said gently, using his real name this time. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes. Severus only just stopped himself from saying it. It had been six months and he still didn’t entirely trust or believe in Mike or Miguel’s friendship. The last group of people who had called themselves his “friends” had been anything but. And he knew Mike and Miguel had only welcomed him and Harry and given them houseroom because Albus Dumbledore had paid them to. But Severus and Harry had moved to their own house months ago, getting out from under the couple’s feet. Why were Mike and Miguel still inviting them over for dinner, babysitting Harry and inviting them to PrideFest?
“Come to PrideFest, just this once?” Miguel gave him a long, blindingly-white grin. “I swear, if you hate it, I’ll never make you go again.”
Severus sighed, cursing himself. “All right, fine. I’ll go. Just this once.”
“Excellent!” Miguel chuckled in delight, turning the heat off on the soup. “Go set the table, will you?”
Severus took up a stack of plates, silverware piled on top, and carried his load out to the dining table. A moment of surreal disbelief ghosted over him. A year ago, if someone had told him he would be raising James and Lily Potter’s son in a Muggle beach town in California, running a shady potions business, with his non-magic middlemen as his best friends, reading Shakespeare in a Muggle bar and avoiding other wizards like the plague, Severus would have thought that someone was Confunded, if not stark raving mad. Yet here he was, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that read Meet Me at the Mermaid, setting the table before he sat down to dinner with a Squib, a Muggle, their adopted daughter and his own adopted son. After, apparently, being talked into attending a Muggle street fair next Saturday.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves, Severus thought, and sighed. He supposed he couldn’t argue with the Bard on that one, much as he would like to sometimes.
Then Harry, still squealing, crashed into his left leg and Severus forgot all about Shakespeare and PrideFest in the ensuing mayhem.
Unfortunately, neither Mike nor Miguel forgot.
“No!” cried Severus the next Saturday, held at bay on his own front porch. “No, I’m not wearing that!”
“Come on, Stephen, it’s PrideFest.” Mike’s grin was wide and nasty as he shook the plastic bag at Severus.
The June gloom had cleared and it was promising to be a hot, sunny day. Severus could hear the sounds of the street fair even here on Mesquite Drive: cars honking, music, fairgoers’ voices. It filled him with distaste and dread. And now this…!
“I don’t care what it calls itself, I’m not wearing that.”
“Let me see!” Harry zoomed up, holding up his arms. Reluctantly, Severus hoisted him up so the toddler could peer into the bag. Harry took one look and let out a squeal of delight. “Want it! Want it!”
“Fine. You can wear it.” Severus took out the rainbow unicorn headband and handed it to Harry. The boy let out another squeal and shoved it inexpertly onto his head, clearing the hair from his forehead.
Severus immediately adjusted it for him, sweeping his bangs to cover his forehead again—and, more importantly, his scar. He and Harry might be the only wizards in town, but there was no point in tempting fate by flashing Harry’s souvenir from Voldemort around.
“Looking good, Harry,” said Mike with approval. “But Stephen here needs to wear the shirt.” He took out the t-shirt and flourished it at Severus.
Severus stared at the horrible garment with revulsion. It depicted a unicorn surfing a wave, wearing sunglasses and a smug grin, holding a martini in one hoof and streaming the word PRIDE in big bubbly letters across the sky from the other.
“Absolutely not,” said Severus flatly.
“I told you he wouldn’t wear them.” Miguel came up the garden path, resplendent in shorts, a purple Pride t-shirt and big, sparkly sunglasses. At his side, Maya skipped along in a glittery pink confection, gauzy fairy wings trembling on her back. Harry waved to her from Severus’s hip and wriggled to get free. Severus gratefully let him down to run around the yard with Maya, sunlight glinting on the children’s accessories. He shook out his arm: Harry was only a month shy of his second birthday and he was getting heavy.
“Why all the unicorns, anyway?” Severus demanded irritably. There was a unicorn on Mike’s shirt too, a smirking creature with long lashes and a rainbow mane. “You do know that’s not what real unicorns look like, don’t you?”
“That’s hardly the point, wizzo.” Mike’s voice turned dry, as it always did whenever the subject of wizards or magic was brought up. “Unicorns are symbols of gay pride and the LGBTQ community. Which is why you should wear the t-shirt.” He brandished it at Severus again.
“He’s not going to do it, mi corazon.” Miguel gave his husband a kiss on the cheek. “Which is why I came prepared.” He swung his backpack around to fish out a brilliantly colored tie-dyed shirt.
“I’m not wearing that either!”
“It’s either this or the unicorn shirt.” Mike and Miguel gave Severus identical evil grins, shoving the two horrible shirts at him.
For a moment, Severus considered whipping out his wand and jinxing both men, or obliviating them. But he knew he couldn’t afford to alienate Mike or Miguel, his main interfaces with the wider world and the middlemen in his potions business. Sighing, he took the tie-dyed shirt. “Fine. But only this once.”
“We’ll be waiting.” Miguel stood back with Mike, both men waving sarcastically, while Severus stomped back inside to change.
Forty-five minutes later, the fathers had wrangled the toddlers into their strollers, packed snacks and drinks, equipped themselves with hats, sunglasses and Severus’s special sunscreen, and were making their way to the festival on the main street. Harry, rolling along in his stroller, wriggled and cried out in excitement. He yelled happily when he saw the great, colorful morass of the festival.
“You are becoming quite distressingly sociable, Harry,” Severus said to him under cover of the ambient noise. “Altogether too much like your father.”
Harry paid no notice, merely screaming ecstatically at a troupe of dancers in bikinis and waving streamers around. Severus sighed.
It seemed half of California had crammed itself into San Benito’s shopping district for this event. Everywhere Severus looked, the crowds pulsed and gyrated: Muggles in festival dress, Muggles in swimsuits, Muggles in costume, Muggles in nothing at all. Musicians blasted music from every corner, a yowling assault on Severus’s ears; tourists flailed about dancing. He was pushed and shoved around, nearly losing his grip on the stroller; balloons and streamers occluded his vision. Everywhere, vendors shoved useless things at him, from weed joints to noisemakers to paper windmills. It was like a vision from Hell.
“This is like a vision from Hell!” Severus shouted to Miguel.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Miguel returned. “It’s just getting started!”
And indeed it was. It only became noisier and more crowded. Everyone but Severus was having a fabulous time, especially Harry. The boy giggled and cooed at everything, reaching up tiny hands at the balloons, kites and cotton candy clouds. Severus pushed the stroller firmly past such vendors, ignoring Harry’s plaintive cries.
At last, they reached the section reserved for small children, where toddlers ran and played, safely fenced off from traffic. They parked the strollers and let the kids out. Harry stared around in wonder before grabbing Severus by the finger and dragging him off.
Harry and Maya both demanded to get their faces painted, their fathers waiting in line with them. Severus stood back, watching as Harry was painted up to resemble a tiger. Face black and orange, Harry then wanted a turn on the miniature carousel. He laughed the entire time, gripping his plastic steed, then ran off to wait in line at the bubble stall.
It was nice watching Harry have fun, Severus admitted grudgingly to himself, standing back while Harry stood on a stool in the center of the tub of bubble mixture, face a picture of delight while the lady running the stall carefully lifted up the Hula hoop, encasing the toddler in a pillar of iridescence. But Severus wished he himself could have stayed home. The sun was beating down like a hammer, he was sweating into the dreadful tie-dyed shirt and the noise of the street fair was like a physical pain. He wished he was back in his workshop, concentrating on a new potion. Or in the backroom of the Mermaid Bar, sipping blood orange cider while reading Shakespeare under the fan. Or—
“Is that your son?”
Severus blinked, coming back to himself. Mike and Miguel had hurried off to attend to Maya. In their place was a woman, blond and smiling. Her shirt, open and tied under her breasts, made it very clear she was not wearing a bra.
“Yes,” said Severus, unwilling to share the details of his complicated situation with this stranger.
“He’s really cute!” The woman flashed pearl-white teeth at him. “I’m here with my daughter, Shelley. She’s over at the mermaid booth.” She pointed to a tow-headed little girl in a gaggle of other children, gathered around a lady dressed up as a mermaid, flashing her purple-and-pink tail at them. Maya was among them, Severus noticed, mouth open in admiration.
“That’s nice,” said Severus.
“Thanks.” The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Nicole. Nice to meet you.”
Seeing no alternative, Severus shook her hand. “Stephen Powell.”
“Are you new here?” Nicole asked. “You’ve got a British accent.”
“I just moved here six months ago from England.” The key to dissimulation, Severus had discovered long ago, was telling the truth but not all of it.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Nicole batted her eyelashes at him. “I love British men.”
“Ah…all right.” Severus edged away.
Nicole edged after him. “What brings you here to the States, Stephen?”
“Better business opportunities here,” said Severus, which was true enough. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go get my son…”
He hurried off to fetch Harry and lead him firmly away from Nicole, rejoining Mike and Miguel. “Let’s get out of here,” he hissed at the couple.
“Aw, Stephen, you know we would have looked after Harry if you wanted to flirt some more.” Miguel’s smirk was feline.
“Not interested,” said Severus flatly. “Anyway, I thought PrideFest was about gay pride, not straight.”
“It’s about being proud of who you are, whoever that is.” Mike gave him a can of chilled beer. “Have a drink, my friend.”
Severus sighed and cracked open the can. He didn’t see any other way he’d get through the afternoon.
“So, Stephen,” said Miguel some hours later, “you survived your first PrideFest!”
“Barely.” Severus lay in a deck chair in Mike and Miguel’s backyard, utterly limp. “That was unspeakable, Miguel. I am never doing that again. Ever.”
“Well, you did it once, at least.” Miguel, seated in the other chair, poured him a glass of wine. Severus drank gratefully.
Footsteps, and Mike came outside. Severus half sat up. “Where are the kids?”
“Settled down in front of Frozen. They’re pretty tired too.” Mike wandered over and poured himself a glass too. “Happy Pride.”
There came a wail from inside the house. Miguel groaned, then levered himself up. “Well, guess it’s my turn…” He headed indoors.
Mike took his vacated seat. “You okay, Severus?”
“Stephen, please. We need to be in the habit of using that name.” Severus sipped more wine. “And I’m all right. Just tired. I really hate street fairs.”
“I can see that.” Mike took a sip of his own drink. “Did you have any fun, though?”
“It was nice watching Harry enjoy himself, I suppose. Though I’m not looking forward to bedtime.”
“Kids can be a nightmare,” Mike agreed with a wry grin. “Especially when they’re overtired. But you know, I saw you with that lady.”
“What lady?” It took Severus a moment to remember. “Oh. Her.”
Mike eyed him curiously. “Weren’t you interested at all? She was kind of hot.”
“Aren’t you gay?” Severus said irritably.
“Sure, but I’m not blind. And I know you’re not gay.”
Severus sighed. If he hadn’t been so tired and tipsy, he might have perhaps kept his mouth shut. But perhaps not. It had been a long, strange six months, and he was not even remotely recovered from his grief.
So he said, “There was a woman once. A woman I loved. But…it didn’t resolve in my favor.” He drank more wine. “And she’s gone now.”
“Ah,” said Mike, nodding. “Yes. Dumbledore did tell us…” He paused. “I’m sorry, Severus.”
“Thank you.” Severus knocked back his glass, finishing off his wine. “If I can’t have her,” he said after a long silence, “I don’t want anyone.” He set his glass aside with finality.
“I see.” Mike nodded, accepting all Severus told him without judgment or censure.
The two men sat together while around them the long, golden evening gathered. It was strange, Severus reflected, that he felt so calm and comfortable in Mike’s company. The company of a Muggle. He’d never felt this comfortable in the company of other wizards, not even those he’d known for years.
“I suppose you think I’m foolish,” said Severus at last. “Remaining faithful to a dead woman who didn’t want me even when she was alive."
“Some of us fall in love just once,” said Mike. “Some of us are attracted to just one person and no one else. And that’s okay.” He raised his wineglass in a toast to Severus. “That’s what Pride is all about. Accepting yourself for who you are.”
To his surprise, Severus felt his heart warm just a little, the broken pieces not hurting so much. He smiled at Mike. “Yes. I suppose so.”
“Sev-wus!”
Both men turned at the high-pitched squeak. There stood Harry, stark naked except for a pair of superhero underwear, waving one of Maya’s dolls at them.
“Harry, where are your clothes…!” Severus stood, striding over.
“A parent’s work is never done, eh?” said Mike, coming up behind him with a saturnine smile.
“Indeed not.” Severus got Harry turned around and marched back inside. “Who even has time for romance? Come on, Harry, let’s get your clothes back on and then I think it’s time to go home…”
They all headed indoors, Harry protesting and Mike laughing, while outside the sun set on the sea and the festival.