A Motherly Intervention.

Title: Strengthening Family Ties.
Author: pekeleke
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Challenge: Prompt 11 (Picked from an online seasonal prompt list): Christmas Market.
Word Count: 1605
Content: Chapter 11 of my Christmas Series: A Motherly Intervention.
Warnings: Getting Together. Enemies to friends to lovers. Mild Angst. Romance.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Posting one chapter a day from December 1st to the 25th.
Summary: "Severus blinks. He looks a tad overwhelmed, a bit hopeful, and a whole lot shy. Molly wants to hug him to death. "I'm doing inventory" he resists weakly. Harry seems to catch onto the flimsiness of the excuse as much as Molly because he flashes the potioneer his most disarming smile and proceeds to plead earnestly."

Strengthening Family Ties.

Molly is both surprised and genuinely delighted when Harry shows up at the Burrow two days later and invites her to accompany him on a spot of late-night Christmas shopping. He’s never done that before, preferring to take Ginny on his purchasing adventures. Still, he claims she’s too busy with young Scorpius to accompany him this year, and Molly happily agrees to step in. She finished all her chores for the day and has just handed little Rose and Hugo back to Hermione. Arthur is attending an end-of-the-year budget meeting that will probably run late, so she can spare the time.

Harry is in an excellent mood as they meander around Diagon Alley, admiring the festive atmosphere and darting into random stores. A small Christmas market has sprouted on the steps of Gringotts. It sells crafts and mulled cider, and they stop to buy a mug each.

Haggling with the market vendors is no fun with Harry around. Even after all these years, people are still in awe of him and quite happy to gift him their wares. Harry smiles charmingly and thanks their generosity, but Molly can tell the special treatment bothers him. She wonders if Severus’s refusal to even talk to him after the war increased Harry’s attraction to him instead of helping diminish it, as Severus probably intended. Harry has always shied away from the grand title that the wizarding world insists on saddling him with. Her son has little patience for the whole Savior Of The Wizarding World rigmarole. He’s always wanted to be known as merely Harry, especially to those he loves.

They’ve been shopping for about two hours when Harry looks around the street, catches sight of the regular businesses such as flower shops and Slug&Jiggers closing for the day, and decides it’s time for dinner. He suggests passing by The Simmering Cauldron and trying their luck at convincing Severus to accompany them. There is a new place that opened two weeks ago down the street. Harry has heard that their steak and kidney pie is to die for.

Molly readily agrees to that plan. She'd wanted to take Severus out to tea a few days ago but, when she’d showed up at his shop, there was a line of customers waiting to be served, and she hadn’t had the heart to bother him.

When they reach Severus’s store, he is still behind the till. The space is quiet; most shoppers prefer to spend their limited time on businesses where they can acquire actual gifts for their loved ones, especially now that the Christmas market is open. Severus is clearly busy writing something on a ledger despite his lack of customers.

The bell above the shop’s door jingles as they enter, and Severus waves his free hand distractedly, politely requesting a moment. He continues to write without looking up, head bent down towards his parchment in evident concentration, quill flying across the page. Severus looks studious and diligent, and although Molly realizes she’s got no right to feel pride at neither his scholarly nature nor his professional achievements, she still allows the feeling to bloom inside her heart. Molly wonders how many people feel their chests warm with joy at seeing Severus both physically safe and relatively successful in the business he created out of nothing. The suspicion that the number of those who care for him in such a way is minuscule indeed makes Molly’s breath hitch in distress.

“Mrs. Weasley. Potter,” Severus greets them, surprise evident in his tone, when he finally stops writing and looks up, “How may I help you?”

Molly steps close enough to lean across the counter and pats him gently on the hand that’s not holding his quill, “Call me Molly, please, Severus. We’re here to see if you’ll join us for supper. We plan to try the new place down by Fortescue’s. Harry has heard wonderful things about their steak and kidney pie.”

“You plan to dine at Gregory Goyle’s bistro?” Severus sounds astonished, but there is a pleased hint of excitement brightening his gaze, “That will mean so much for his business. Patronage as exalted as yours could guarantee the restaurant’s success.”

“A colleague of mine was praising the food the other day,” Harry replies, shockingly blase about the mention of how easily his fame can affect the fate of everyone he interacts with. He usually becomes angry and defensive whenever random people so much as hint at using his name to boost their businesses. That rule of thumb doesn’t apply to the family, or Harry’s extensive group of Gryffindor friends, of course. And Molly is glad to see that it doesn’t apply to Severus, either, “Molly and I have been shopping all afternoon, and we’re beat. A good meal sounds like the perfect way to end our pleasant evening. Say you’ll join us, Severus. Please.”

Severus looks torn, “It sounds like you’re enjoying a family outing with your parental figure, Potter. It’d be indelicate to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” Molly butts in before Harry has enough time to look too crushed, “You are family now too, Severus. You’re my youngest grandchild’s godfather. That makes you an honorary Weasley.”

Severus blinks. He looks a tad overwhelmed, a bit hopeful, and a whole lot shy. Molly wants to hug him to death, “I’m doing inventory,” he resists weakly. Harry seems to catch onto the flimsiness of the excuse as much as Molly because he flashes the potioneer his most disarming smile and proceeds to plead earnestly.

“Please, Severus. Molly is right. You’re family now. We want you to come.”

“Fine,” Severus caves, “But I can’t stay long. I must finish my cataloging tonight, or my weekly order will be delayed. I can’t afford an ingredient shortage so close to the holidays. I expect to sell at least fifteen times my monthly quota of hangover potion next week.”

Harry beams at him, delighted, “I promise to deliver you back home within two hours. How does that sound?”

Severus hums his acceptance and places his quill inside his ink-pot with a circumspect air. Molly watches him come around the counter. He reminds her more of a cat than a snake. A reluctant, and far too streetwise feline, warily allowing himself to sniff the hand of the smiling stranger willing to feed him. Still suspicious and ready to scratch at the slightest hint of trouble, but heartbreakingly tempted to give in to hope.

“I think George is free this weekend, Severus. He may be willing to assist you with brewing such a large batch of hangover potion for the small price of picking your brain about a product he’s stuck on. He’s been grumbling about it for some time now. I could owl him for you. If you’re interested.”

Severus stills at the suggestion, staring at her assessingly, “Draco usually helps me, but he is understandably distracted with Scorpius this year. I’m not sure— Do you honestly believe your son will be willing to aid me? His potion-brewing skills were remarkable.”

“George will be ecstatic to help. You were his favorite teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Was I?” Severus blinks, incredulous.

“Of course you were. George likes to say that his brand of mischief requires more than a touch of potion-related ingenuity. Harry here agrees with him, even though he grumbles about helping him with his brewing. Harry is not as gifted at it as George, and neither is Ronald.”

“You don’t say,” Severus drawls, a small, amused smile lightening his features as he looks warily towards Harry. Molly beams, for she knows how very eager Harry is to encourage the potioneer’s cautious teasing and therefore isn’t the slightest bit surprised when he groans aloud dramatically.

“I like potions well enough when they’re already inside pretty glass bottles or boiling away in someone else’s cauldron. Potions are all powdered guts of this and ground eyes of that. It grosses me out. Give me a tricky disemboweling curse any day of the week; at least I don’t have to hold anything slimy in my hand and do unthinkable things to it while trying to unspool its magic.”

“Your loss, Potter. Creating something helpful from scratch is far more rewarding than reversing nasty old curses. Still, I suppose it takes all sorts to make a village.”

“Creating helpful things requires genius and imagination, Severus. I’ve got neither one to offer. I’m more of a blunt force instrument. I’ve got plenty of power and no finesse whatsoever; a bit like a hammer, you know?”

“You’re a person, not a tool, Po-

“ Harry . Call me Harry. Please, Severus.”

“Very well—er- Harry,” Severus repeats dutifully, and Molly is pleased to catch a hint of the faint blush that colors the very tip of his left ear, which peeks out through his hair in the most adorable fashion. She wonders if Harry can see it.

“Shall we head out then?” Molly hurries to redirect them before Severus becomes self-conscious enough to beg off accompanying them to dinner.

“Yes, of course,” Severus agrees guardedly. He looks flustered, demure, and oh-so-lovely. Hope is such a good look on him. He steps close enough that the edge of his dark robes brushes Harry’s outer coat, “After you,” he says, motioning toward the door with a nervous wave of his hand. Molly glows with the purest form of joy. Here is proof of Severus’s willingness to become part of her family. Soon, he’ll realize he is not all alone in the world anymore. He is a Weasley now. And, Merlin willing, he’ll be a Potter in the not-so-distant future. Molly can’t think of safer hands to handle the heart of her precious Harry.