Remember Your Heart

Harry stood before the open armoire, staring at his reflection in the mirror mounted on the door. "I look ridiculous," he thought. He tried to tame his hair, without success, and then smoothed over his robes. He had recently purchased some new formal robes, with Hermione's guidance. They were more elaborate than what he usually wore as Hermione felt that they were more appropriate for a 'prominent' wizard. These were raw silk (Harry rather liked the rustle it made when he moved), a deep forest green (to go with his eyes, Hermione had said), and trimmed in gold thread ("too ostentatious", he thought). The main body of the robe was embroidered in a lighter green thread with an ivy design, and the sleeve cuffs were asymmetrical with the top of the cuff at his wrist, but the seamed end falling nearly to his knees. A gold rope-like sash was tied around his waist. Pear-shaped emeralds were sewn all the way around the neckline. The Potter family crest, a red shield with a gold griffon below a blue snake[1], was embroidered on his left breast. He wore his robe over black slacks and a black shirt, not feeling comfortable without his Muggle clothes.

"I'm not wearing this," he muttered, and began searching through the armoire for something less bold. He looked up at the creak of the door. Severus was standing in the doorframe, staring.

"What!?" said Harry. "I look foolish, don't I? I'm changing." He turned back to the armoire and began sorting through his formal robes again. So intent on his mission, he didn't notice Severus move close to him.

"Stop," said Severus. Harry jumped and whirled to face him.

"Bloody hell, Severus! Don't do that!" Harry snapped. "No matter how many of these stupid things I go to, I'm always nervous." Harry sighed as Severus snickered. "Stop what?"

"You don't need to change," Severus said softly. "You look...fine," he stuttered.

Both of Harry's eyebrows went up; he had never heard Severus trip over his words. "Uh, thanks, but I feel a little overdone, I-" Harry stopped when Severus reached out and slid his long fingers along Harry's jaw, letting a thumb rub along his lower lip. Harry was immobilized at his touch.

"You are exquisite," whispered Severus, and he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Harry's. An exhilarating tingle sparked through him at that slight touch and his body buzzed with aftershocks. Harry opened his eyes, not remembering closing them, to see that Severus had stepped back, his hand falling away from Harry.

"You don't need to change," Severus repeated.

"Okay," said Harry, willing to agree with whatever Severus said. He stared, unmoving, until Severus arched an eyebrow. Harry blushed, looked away and straightened the robes in the armoire before closing the door.

"Are you sure that you won't come with me?" asked Harry. He had asked several times over the past two weeks, but Severus always declined.

"I would become a spectacle and detract from the event," replied Severus. "But thank you for the invitation. I shall enjoy the solitude while I finish chapter one of my book."

"Alright, but your twisted sense of humor would've really been appreciated tonight. These things get so dull," Harry smiled. "And maybe I could've gotten a dance?"

Severus snorted, "I don't dance. Go play; you're going to be late." Severus ushered him out of their room.

Downstairs, Harry picked up a copy of his acceptance speech, which he pocketed, and turned to Severus.

"Last chance to change your mind," said Harry. Severus shook his head. Harry sighed, "Good night then." Harry stepped forward and kissed Severus on the cheek. Harry didn't want to push Severus; also, he thought that if he kissed Severus on the mouth, well, he just might not stop. Moving away, Harry Disapparated.

Harry arrived at the designated St. Mungo's apparition point for this event, on the fifth floor just outside the Visitor's Tearoom. A nervous young Trainee Healer stepped forward and curtsied. "Did she really just curtsey?" he thought.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she squealed, her blond curls bobbing around her head. "Allow me to show you to your seat." She gestured into the tearoom. Harry stepped in and noted that the room must have been magically expanded to accommodate the several hundred wizarding folk he saw. Harry snorted at how "Muggle" the room looked, with round linen-draped tables clustered around three sides of a central square dance floor, and a head table directly across from him on a raised dais, complete with a lectern. His guide looked at him, but he waved her on and she led him across the room. Harry nodded his greetings to several people as he moved toward the head table and winced when he saw Rita Skeeter in the crowd.

"You'll be sitting here, sir," she gushed, as she showed him 'the place of honor'. "Tonight's Master of Ceremonies is Gilderoy Lockhart," she paused when Harry groaned. "Do you know Mr. Lockhart?"

"Yes," said Harry, "he taught at one point at Hogwarts."

She smiled. "He's been here so long now that he seems to be a part of the staff. Anyway, he loves public speaking, and the hospital's director and assistant director were unavailable for some reason, so they gave him the job. Mr. Lockhart will say a few words on behalf of the hospital and then announce dinner. During dessert there will be an award presentation after which you'll be introduced, then mingling and dancing."

"Thank you, Miss...?"

"Trainee Healer Angelica Button," she said breathlessly. "I thought, maybe, if you wouldn't mind-"

"Harry Potter, how good to see you again," interrupted Rita Skeeter. "Run along, child," she hissed to Angelica, who blushed bubble-gum pink and turned to walk away.

Harry caught Angelica's hand before she left, "Thanks for everything, Angelica. Perhaps you'll save me a dance?" Angelica's face glowed with a magnificent smile and she nodded to him before leaving.

"Really, Rita, you never know where your next story is coming from. You shouldn't burn potential bridges," Harry scolded, fixing Rita with a Snape-like glare.

"Pish, she'll never be anything." Rita adjusted her jeweled spectacles. "Now, you though are front page news on legs." She rooted around in her bag and brought out a quill and parchment. "How about a little impromptu interview? No Quick Quotes Quill." She tried to smile in a winning manner, but it came off as vulturous.

Harry considered; Rita Skeeter had her uses as odious as he found her. "I can't guarantee anything beyond 'no comment'"

"Where is your new companion, Mr. Snape, this evening?" she asked.

Harry chuckled, "Don't you want to know why I'm receiving this award and not Humberto Puddlemuffin?"

"Harry Potter receiving yet another honor is not newsworthy, it's boring. Now I've heard some interesting rumors concerning Mr. Snape, ugly rumors, and I'm wondering why such a fine upstanding citizen as yourself would be involved with him." She held her quill above the parchment in readiness to write his response.

"I have not heard these rumors, perhaps you'll enlighten me?" Harry kept his face blank, but his stomach began twisting about.

"Why, the corruption of youth, while teaching at Hogwarts. The current Headmistress declined to have him on her staff, maybe for this reason." Rita looked eager.

"Severus Snape did not return to Hogwarts because there were no open positions. And being someone who studied under the former Professor Snape, I can assure you that no 'corruption of youth' occurred. You must remember, from your time at Hogwarts, how quick gossip about teachers ran through the school." Rita's quill hadn't moved. Harry's words sounded like a standard denial.

Harry leaned close to Rita's ear, nose twitching at her noxious perfume. "I can give you a hint on a potential story."

"Misdirecting me, Harry?" she said in a sickly sweet voice.

"I've heard the rumor of Severus' involvement with a student, and it's false. What I would like to know is who started that rumor and why. Who could they be, to have enough power to have the ministry consider starting an investigation, without evidence? And why was the initial search for Severus halted prematurely, by the Minister of Magic? And are they connected to who's blacklisting him in the publishing world?" Harry was speaking softly and Rita was writing furiously. "Now that's a mystery that could get you into trouble, Rita, where obliviating you would be the kindest thing that could happen. Are you up to it?" he murmured.

"You're not telling me everything," she muttered.

"And I won't, but I may tell you more, unless, of course, this isn't newsworthy." Harry saw the interest in Rita's face.

"I might just poke around, see if there's anything worth pursuing," said Rita, her eyes already sweeping the room for potential sources. Several Ministry officials were in attendance this evening.

"Have a Good Evening, Rita," said Harry with a little bow. Rita inclined her head and swept off into the crowd.

"Good Evening, Fine Wizards and Witches, and welcome to St. Mungo's Annual Banquet!" Gilderoy Lockhart announced from the head table, smarmy voice reverberating throughout the room. "I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Seven-Time Winner of St. Mungo's Most Delightful Patient Award, and your modest Master of Ceremonies this evening."

Harry sighed and moved to his seat at the head table, noting that a Healer stayed in the background, watching over Lockhart.

"Some of you will have the honor of receiving an award, presented by me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Seven-Time Winner..." Lockhart's voice trailed off and the Healer stepped forward and whispered something to him. "Ah, yes, of course, later we will hear from our guest of honor, Harold Patter, but for now I invite you to begin your evening by indulging in a most delightful repast prepared by our own marvelous kitchen staff, before we proceed with our most excellent evening."

Lockhart sat and, upon seeing Harry, he leaned over and held out his hand, "Hello, Gilderoy Lockhart, Seven-Time Winner of St. Mungo's Most Delightful Patient Award."

Harry sighed, and shook Lockhart's limp hand, "Harold Patter."

"Oh, quite nice to meet the guest of honor," said Lockhart. "Do you know what happened to old Puddlemuffin? Seems he got it on with the director's daughter. One of the ladies was nice enough to help me color and set my hair," Lockhart held a hand up to his blond curls, "but old Puddlemuffin never did a thing with his white wispy mop. I haven't been laid in ages." Lockhart sighed.

Harry smiled. "Maybe tonight will be your night."

"You're right, Henry," said Lockhart with a bright smile. "One must always think positive."

"You should try your moves after a bit of dancing, when everyone is wankered, excuse me, relaxed." Harry suppressed his chuckles and turned to his meal.

"Good plan," Lockhart nodded. "Ah, lovely, roast beef!" he cried and dug into his food, ignoring Harry for the duration of dinner.

After the dinner dishes cleared themselves away, Lockhart's caretaker gave him a nudge and he rose once more to speak.

"Good Evening, Fine Wizards and Witches, and welcome to St. Mungo's Annual Banquet! I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Seven-Time Winner of St. Mungo's Most Delightful Patient Award, and your modest Master of Ceremonies this evening." The Healer poked Lockhart again. "Yes, yes, wasn't that a most delightful meal?" He tried to encourage the crowd to clap along with him, but only a smattering of guests responded. "Well, there you have it, if you ever invite me, Gilderoy Lockhart, to your home, you'll know what to serve." He chuckled, flashing far too many bright white teeth and another reminder was whispered to him.

"Yes, of course, the awards. And now the moment you've all anticipated. It has been a banner year for St. Mungo's, with Contagious Magical Maladies up 23%, we know that the wizarding world has been getting together and spreading the love." Lockhart smiled suggestively and a few older witches in the crowd giggled. "Potion Poisoning has dropped by nearly 13%, so I imagine you're all getting better at those love potions," Lockhart winked and Harry fought the urge to bang his head on the table. "But Creature-Induced Injuries have risen 5%, keeping the Dai Lleywellyn Ward quite the busiest ward in the hospital." Lockhart paused to pose with his 'Most-Charming' smile, when a photographer moved closer to snap a picture.

"Thank you," he nodded toward the photographer. "Autographs will be available." A firmer poke made his jump. "Ah yes, the first award-" He reached behind him to pick up a small golden plaque off a table. "-Is, ah, 'The Healer Most Likely to Contract an Illness' which goes to Morbidia Oldridge!" Polite clapping ensued. "Come on up, Morbidia!" A witch in lime green robes rose from a table and walked toward the head table. Lockhart winked at Harry and murmured something about "turning up the charm." As she drew closer, Harry and Lockhart could see that Morbidia Oldridge's face was covered in gauze, with only a slit for her luminous orange eyes, and she had pink leather gloves over her hands.

"She's the one," Harry whispered to Lockhart, who shuddered momentarily before pasting his smile back on. To be fair, Lockhart was quite good-natured about posing with Morbidia for a picture, though he did maintain an unusual amount of distance from her.

"Thank you, Morbidia!" Lockhart clapped as she went back to her seat.

"And the next presentation is..." droned Lockhart. Harry sat, head resting on his hand, as the next twelve awards were given out, the recipients congratulated and the photographs taken. The buzz of the crowd began increasing as people lost interest in the ceremony and more champagne was served. Harry had drained several glasses himself and Apparating directly from here to bed was sounding more and more fascinating.

"And now the next moment you've all been anticipating," Lockhart paused and the room quieted. "Our beneficent benefactor and honored guest of honor, Mr. Henry Patton." Lockhart gestured to Harry with a flourish. There was a sprinkling of clapping from the crowd as Harry rose to the lectern.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Harry said with a nod to Lockhart, who smiled, and he turned back to the guests. "I have a lovely speech prepared to deliver this evening," Harry held up the parchment and jiggled it for a moment to catch everyone's attention. Grasping the parchment between his hands, he slowly tore the parchment into little pieces. The crowd cheered and clapped wildly. "I would just like to thank St. Mungo's for offering me this honor. This hospital has provided such excellent care to the wizarding community over the years and I am glad that I can be of service. With that, I believe it's time for some music and dancing." Harry stepped away from the lectern to boisterous applause. The band appeared with a crack and began playing. Harry tried to escape photos with Lockhart and the plaque he was presented with, but failed and spent a miserable quarter hour before he slipped away.

Harry began winding his way through the crowd, heading for the exit, stopping to greet people politely as they called out to him.

"Harry!" A sugary high voice called. Harry caught sight of Angelica Button waving to him and he walked over to her. "Leaving?" she asked.

"I'm a bit tired, so I thought I'd slip out," he said. "Listening to Lockhart go on...well, it was exhausting. But I could probably manage a dance," he smiled, pocketed his plaque and held out a hand to her. It was a slow dance, and Harry blessed Hermione in his thoughts for forcing dance lessons on him and Ron. At least he didn't feel like a fool just revolving around the dance floor. Angelica chatted and giggled and generally acted far younger than she could possibly be as a Trainee Healer. When she started dropping hints that she was open for more than just dancing, Harry started silently praying for the song to end. Spying Hypericia at a table, Harry led her off the dance floor.

"I need to discuss a case with Hypericia, if you'll excuse me. Thanks for the dance, Angelica." Hypericia was laughing at him already.

"Yeah sure," said Angelica sullenly and went off to find another dance partner.

"You're like honey to bees, aren't you?" chuckled Hypericia. Harry rolled his eyes. "And where is Mr. Snape tonight?" she asked.

"Home, he thought there would be a scene if he came," said Harry.

"He seems a bit harsh for you, Harry, and I only say that because I like you," she said gently.

"I like him," Harry replied simply. A tray floated by with glasses of champagne on it and Harry picked up a glass. He and Hypericia sipped, watching the gyrations of the dancers while the band played a faster tempo song.

"I saw Susan Longbottom earlier, here with a rather handsome young man. I'm sure she'll want to say hello," Hypericia said.

"You never did tell me what Susan does for St. Mungo's," Harry said.

"Why she's an expert at reversing memory charms. It can be quite dangerous, lifting a memory charm, the mind can be damaged very easily, but she seems to have a natural gift for it. We bring her in whenever someone comes in that the staff is afraid of damaging."

Harry sat stunned at the implications of this piece of information. "I imagine she's quite good at applying a memory charm as well," he whispered.

"Probably so," agreed Hypericia.

"I need to head home," said Harry. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon."

"Yes, call me when you need to treat your next house guest," she laughed and waved to him. Harry gave her a small bow, which made her laugh even more, and he once more headed for the door. He nearly reached the exit when he heard his named called again. Ignoring the person, hoping they assumed that he hadn't heard, he kept walking.

"Harry!" he heard called again and then a hand reached out to detain him. Harry whirled, knocking the hand away, drew his wand and shouted Protego! In the next blink of his eye, he saw a fearful Winston Chamberlain cowering at the end of his wand.

"Everything's okay, I was merely startled," Harry spoke loudly to the gawking crowd. "I apologize," he said to Winston. "If I had been on my guard properly, you never would have been able to touch me."

Winston straightened up and ran his hands over his dark blue robes. "My fault entirely. I just couldn't seem to catch your notice in the din." Winston smiled. "Susan was kind enough to invite me to accompany her this evening when Neville did not feel up to it." Winston moved closer and dropped his voice low, "I must confess I came solely to see you."

Harry gave a small smile, "Me?" and thought that Winston really did have such nice blue eyes.

"Yes," said Winston softly, "Perhaps, I could entice you to dance with me?"

Harry thought of how much he had wanted Severus to be here, dancing with him and said, "No, thank you, but I'm really exhausted and ..." Harry stopped when Winston reached out, saying "Shh", and pressed a finger to his mouth. Harry took a step away, uncomfortable with such an intimate touch from a man he had only met once before, when he caught the scent of vanilla. Vanilla!

Alarmed, he stepped back several times from Winston, trying his best to hide his apprehension. "Excuse me," he said and not waiting for Winston's reply, he swiftly stepped outside the tearoom and apparated back to his cottage.

Arriving in his living room, Harry scrubbed his mouth on the sleeve of his robe. Seeing no evidence of a potion on his sleeve, he paced while considering his options. "Well, maybe there was no potion and I just smelled someone's vanilla perfume," he muttered. "I mean, where would Neville's cousin get such a thing?" Harry flopped into his overstuffed armchair. "But some potions are absorbed almost instantaneously, leaving no trace. I should get Severus." Harry stood. "But what if I'm under the influence of this potion? It's a lust potion. I can't be that way with Severus, he's traumatized enough." Harry sat. "I should talk to Severus. I don't feel off-balanced or unfocused like he was in the pensieve." Harry stood. "But that was more than seven years ago, Mulciber probably cleared up those side effects." Harry sat. "It can't last that long, can it? It has to wear off eventually. I'll sleep here and wait it out." Decided, Harry kicked off his shoes, and standing again, he pulled off his robe and transfigured it into a green woolen blanket. He lay on the couch, blanket tucked around him, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was a long time in coming.

Waking on the couch, without Severus wrapped around him, was quite disorienting, Harry thought. The sunlight streaming through the windows let him know that it was late and the taste in his mouth coupled with the pounding in his head let him know that he had drunk too much champagne. He slowly sat up, stretched and then, even more slowly, stood. Shuffling his achy body to the kitchen, he pledged never to drink again. "Didn't I say something similar after the Cannons' game?" he mumbled.

Severus was up, fully dressed in black, drinking coffee and reading a magazine.

"Morning," muttered Harry. Severus didn't respond. Harry lowered himself onto the kitchen chair, all the while taking in Severus' cross expression.

"Severus?" asked Harry.

Severus raised his head to look coldly at Harry. "I had assumed that you chose to sleep on a lumpy couch rather than your own bed because you were too drunk to make it up the stairs. But perhaps not." Severus tossed the magazine at him and Harry managed to grab it. "Perhaps after last night, you regret what you find in your bed and prefer a lumpy couch." Severus folded his arms across his chest and continued to glare at Harry.

Harry looked at the copy of Witch Weekly in his hand and saw several photos of him on the cover; one of him and Lockhart, another of him dancing with Angelica Button and lastly one of Winston leaning close with Harry looking into his eyes. The caption read, Harry Potter, Sexy and Still Single!, see pages 4-5 for details. Harry shoved the magazine away from him and rubbed his eyes under his glasses before running his hands through his mussed hair.

"Did it have to be Chamberlain?" whispered Severus, no longer angry-looking, more saddened and tired in appearance than anything.

"Winston was asking me to dance. I didn't accept. There's nothing between-" Harry stopped as Severus snorted. "Severus," Harry leaned forward and spoke urgently, "Winston touched my mouth and I smelled vanilla. I slept down here in case I was under some lust potion."

"What?" Severus gasped.

"Yeah, and furthermore, Hypericia told me that Susan Longbottom's specialty is reversing memory charms." Harry poured a cup of coffee and let those revelations sink in.

"It seems I owe you an apology," said Severus gruffly.

"Forget it, Sev, the picture is quite damning. I was looking at his pretty blue eyes. But then he asked me to dance and all I could think of was how I wanted to be dancing with you." Harry grinned as Severus' cheeks pinked.

"Don't call me Sev. And I don't dance," Severus grumbled.

Harry slid from his chair and sidled up to Severus. "Never believe what Witch Weekly says about me," whispered Harry. "There's only one Potions Master that I'm interested in." He slid his arms around Severus and gently embraced him. He felt Severus wrap strong arms around him and sigh.

Severus drew away and Harry made to let go, but Severus restrained him. "Open your mouth," he said. Harry cocked an eyebrow but opened his mouth. Severus raised his wand, pointed it into Harry's mouth and murmured a breath-freshener charm[2]. "Absolutely corrosive," he muttered. Then he tightened his arms and softly pressed his lips to Harry's. Harry let himself drop to his knees so that he was no longer standing hunched over Severus and mmm'd in contentment at the soft warm kiss. This was followed by more gentle, moist kisses.

Harry moaned when Severus stopped, but he withheld a more passionate response. This wasn't the time to pressure Severus.

Severus smoothed over Harry's hair, without any noticeable effect, and murmured, "You should get dressed and then contact the Weasleys. It's time to try to put the pieces of this puzzle together and see what we're still missing. They may be of some small service."

Harry nodded and rose. "I'll always be honest with you," he said, and kissed Severus close to his ear. Severus shivered a little and smiled at Harry as he headed out of the kitchen to get ready for the day.

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