The third chapter this week! There's probably only going to be one chapter after this one. My problem now is how to pull an R-rated (ff.net-acceptable) version out of what I have written that doesn't end with something lame like fade to black or they all lived happily ever after.

Meamwhile, the final, betaed, revised and expanded version of this story, containing the NC-17 bits, won't be available for a while. Sorry. This is only in part due to ff.net's rules regarding NC17 material; it's more because it's going to take me a while to achieve a version of the whole story that I really like. Which means -- if you have hopes and dreams for this story, or you think I've gone off track at some point, or you want to point out errors and omissions, now's the time to let me know.

Thanks again for reading!

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Heart of Glass -- part 8

Three years later

Harry Potter had been reborn -- as the Clark Kent of the wizarding world. He had it all: the glasses, the bad haircut, the clumsiness, and the deep flush whenever anyone paid him anything remotely resembling a compliment.

Rita Skeeter and her ilk had quickly become bored with him. He wasn't the brave, valiant, tragic figure anymore. He was some just an odd young man who babbled about the strange effects of Muggle stained-glass windows and their relationship to the rise of the Christian church.

Frankly, he bored people. And so their attention turned back to charlatans such as Leslie Darlington, the new wizard heartthrob and all around can-do guy who could charm the kneazles from the trees and the krups from their underground burrows.

Or Oliver Wood, who won the hearts of the British wizarding world when he led the team to a world cup championship. No, Harry was someone whose time had passed. His star, so people said, had fallen with Voldemort's. Even Hermione was looked up to as very modern model of all that a young witch could be. She had a successful career, and had reformed one of the wizarding world's worst rakes. With time and distance, Draco Malfoy's family's relationship with You Know Who made Draco seem all the more sexy. Meanwhile Draco frankly enjoyed the infrequent occasions that Hermione lost her temper over the antics of his newfound fans.

From Harry's point-of-view, there was still the problem of the occasional earnest young wizard or witch who thought they saw in Harry a kindred spirit. A few, a very few, of these people became his friends, but none touched his heart. And Harry continued to keep the Snape-crystal close by, and kept abreast of the gossip which first linked Snape with a potions mistress from Monaco, and then with an intrepid American wizard biologist whose explorations in the Amazon rain forest had yielded plants guaranteed to make anyone interested in potions salivate.

It wasn't until gossip linked Snape's name to a glassmaker from Austria that Harry was galvanized into action.

--||--

Ministry parties were a crashing bore, and Harry had successfully avoided most of them. Such was his new reputation that more recently, when he had been forced to attend, most people avoided *him*.

A quick glance around the room found Snape standing in a corner, talking quietly to a good-looking man who seemed to be gazing intently up into Snape's eyes. Only, good-looking wasn't quite an accurate term. The man was gorgeous.

Harry bit his lip. Snape deserved happiness, and Albrecht Bleibaum of Krizzle Krystall, GmbH, on the surface at least, seemed to want to deliver that. At least according to the intelligence provided via Hermione, courtesy of Draco. But Harry had taken steps to protect Snape -- and his knowledge, of course -- and the signs were ominous. Harry edged across the room until he stood a polite distance away and waited diffidently for the two men to acknowledge him.

And waited. Finally, he stepped forward.

Professor. Hello, sir. Harry smiled at the man he hadn't come face-to-face with in three years, then turned an expectantly hopeful gaze to Snape's companion.

Ah. Yes, Potter, Snape said. You've been keeping well, I see.

Snape's assessing glance took in Harry's well-worn robes and shaggy hair, and the flush that rose to Harry's face wasn't the result of the rubescere charm he could call into action at will. Harry decided he wouldn't use the stammer charm on himself tonight. There was only so far he was willing to humiliate himself in front of Snape.

Mr. Potter, Snape continued. May I present Albrecht Bleibaum. Albrecht Bleibaum, this is our famous Harry Potter.

Harry didn't bother to suppress a flinch at the word

Ah, the glaeslornian, yes. How nice to meet you. The greeting was cordial, but disinterested.

Yes, he was the glaeslornian -- glass-studier. A man who owned Austria's premier glassworks shouldn't be quite so dismissive, Harry thought darkly.

Did you come hoping to meet Albrecht? Snape asked. It can scarcely be my presence here that drew you.

Actually, required attendance for all directors. Even if my department only contains a staff of one. Harry smiled awkwardly. I'm rarely in the field nowadays -- Arthur wants me to make nice with all the muckety-mucks. Which I'd rather not do, not really my cup of tea. Not that it isn't nice to see you Professor Snape. And you, too, Herr Bleibaum. What you do with glass, amazing. Fascinating really. Harry increased the pace of his speech, as if hoping that he hadn't given offense. My specialty, too, by the way. Glass.

Yes. But a subset of the art -- glass in combination with the Dark Arts. Really, I have no taste for such things. Bleibaum's mouth pursed. But fascinating in its own right, I'm sure.

Oh, certainly. Fascinating. But often horrible. Er, always horrible. But, yes, well, maybe fascinating isn't *quite* the word. I, er

A waiter passed by, his tray loaded with flutes of sparkling lambic and Harry grabbed a glass and drank as if desperate.

Bleibaum regarded him kindly, and Snape with a peculiar twist to his lips.

Mr. Potter. Surely you haven't come to lecture Herr Bleibaum on glass, have you? There was a light in Snape's eye that Harry didn't quite understand, but Harry mugged his way through a typical response.

Lecture? Ah, no. Interesting exhibit of Austrian crystal, though, that you're mounting at the Tait Gallery. Um. If you like that sort of thing. Which obviously you do. As do I.

Yes, of course. As the exhibits sponsor, and considering my own profession, it is to be hoped that the subject is of interest to me, Bleibaum smirked again, and adjusted the collar of his robe. A peacock, Harry thought with dislike. I'll be giving Professor Snape a tour on Saturday. He, too, is interested in glass.

Well, that's a good piece of luck, Harry said brightly. I, er, well, I'd love to hear your insights. Shared knowledge and all that

Bleibaum raised one dark eyebrow. Not quite as quelling as Snape's, but effective, Harry thought.

Certainly, certainly, Bleibaum said But your Mr. Weasley has arranged for me to give a tour to all interested ministry employees. On Sunday, I believe.

Yes. Of course. So kind of you to take the time.

Not at all Mr. Potter. It is, as they say, part of the job.

Harry flushed again. He hadn't flushed this many times in a fifteen minute period since fourth-year potions. He opened his mouth and shut it, hoping that Snape would say something that would give Harry an excuse to remain in their company, but Snape remained silent and Harry, in the face of growing awkwardness, flushed even more deeply, and retreated.

--||--

Damn, Harry thought. Damn and damn and damn and damn. He strode through the gardens outside the ballroom and swore internally. Cultivate the demeanor of a fool long enough, and, apparently, you become one. But why in front of Snape

He'd fantasized about a casual encounter with the man for years, now. Had come close to asking Hermione to set one up. But this, this was a fucking disaster.

Damn.

So, Potter. Enjoying the evening breeze, are you?

Harry stopped mid-stride, then turned to face Snape. Something of the sort. Or actually, no.

You did kind of overplay your part in there. Snape looked Harry up and down calmly and Harry, for the second time that evening, was acutely aware of his appearance. No, his new persona didn't exactly stand him in good stead in the wow Snape with sex appeal category. He shrugged the thought away. There were more important matters at hand.

Second nature, now. Harry sighed.

Snape paused. So, all this is in aid of checking up on me? Making sure I don't reveal any secrets?

No! No, of course not. Harry took two quick steps toward Snape, and stood before the man. Really, not checking up on you at all. Bleibaum, however, I have my doubts about. I And Harry shut himself up. The urge to babble was a real, now, and he'd made an idiot of himself enough for one evening.

Snape said again. He stood, arms crossed, as remote as the stars.

It wasn't fair, you know. There should have been some way of acknowledging everything you've done. The last thing I want to suggest is that you, of all people, don't know when to keep your mouth shut.

Snape was silent for a moment. Well, life is rarely fair, Mr. Potter. I should think you had learned that lesson years ago.

Harry grimaced.

But, after all, what is the gratitude of Britain's wizarding community when werewolves everywhere howl my name to the moon in gratitude.

I'm sure they do. And I'm sure it drives Sirius insane when Remus does so. Harry found himself grinning up at Snape, and Snape smiled briefly back.

So, you are suspicious of Bleibaum, are you? Care to share the details as to why?

Certainly, Professor. But not here, and not now? Wouldn't want to draw Bleibaum's attention, would we?

I thought directors such as yourself left the cloak-and-dagger matters to the underlings, Potter.

Considering I'm a department of one, there's no one else I can direct to do it. But even if I had a staff of ten, I'd still keep my hand in. Wouldn't want to let the young things have all the fun. And Harry let himself grin at Snape and was gratified when the man's expression softened in return.

--||--

Harry paced nervously in his apartment, waiting for Snape to floo in. He'd gone through a frenzy of dusting and cleaning, and had purchased the first matching cups and saucers and glasses that he'd ever owned. He could provide tea, he could provide Ogden's Firewhiskey, and he had a very nice bottle of cognac. Now all he had to do was wait.

He checked the clock again. It still read not quite time. With a sigh he sat down on the couch, and reflexively squared up his magazines so that the latest issue of *Potions Quarterly* showed beneath his pile of *Quidditch Monthlies.* And then he shoved the *Potions Quarterly* back under the pile.

There was a warning hiss and with a pop, Snape appeared, and stepped gracefully out of Harry's fireplace. Glancing around the room, he said, Nice place you have here, Potter.

Thanks. I, er Won't you sit down?

Snape chose the well-stuffed armchair that Draco usually sprawled in on the rare occasions he and Hermione came by.



Thank you, but no. I'm more curious to hear what you think Bleibaum is up to.

Harry sat back on the couch and began his story, carefully omitting certain facts.

And Snape listened, calmly, to the case Harry laid out before him. Harry only hoped that the gaps he elided over weren't too obvious. He had another source, one he might not ever be willing to reveal. Reflexively he reached in his pocket to touch the Snape-crystal. Finally he came to the end of his summation, and Snape regarded him silently for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.

It's tenuous at best, Potter, and you know it.

It fits together all too well, Harry said quietly.

Snape frowned.

I'm sorry. I realize that you and he He's smart, he's moving slowly. Gaining your confidence.

Snape's mouth drew together in a grim line. He shook his head once, sharply, and stood.

Harry said. There's no need to go yet.

I need to return to my rooms at Hogwarts. Make sure the wards are in place.

Harry nodded.

Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Potter. And I will, of course, think about what you've said.

Harry smiled wryly. One favor. I'm already keyed to the Hogwarts flu network, but if you would Key me to the fireplace in your room?


I've keyed my fireplace to you. So, if at any time Harry let his voice trail off.
Well. Thank you again. Snape bowed slightly in Harry's direction, strode to the fireplace, and disappeared.

--||--

Harry walked to the armchair and sat. The cushions had absorbed Snape's heat and for a moment Harry let himself pretend that Snape's arms enfolded him. Then he sighed, reached into his pocket, and took out the crystal.

As England's only acknowledged glaeslornian, he'd learned a great deal about glass, and all the dark charms and enchantments that could be cast upon them. He'd taken care to learn benevolent spells, too. And he'd been unable to resist the temptation to cast a spell of protection on the Snape-crystal.

That was how, initially, he'd known that Jacqueline Mouchard, the French potion's mistress Snape had briefly been involved with, was not all that she could be. But Snape had figured that out quickly enough on his own -- apparently the woman had a reputation for appropriating others' work presenting it as her own.

To Harry's chagrin, the wizard-of-the-rain-forest was all that he appeared to be -- a gung-ho, healthy outdoor type with a passion for potions. And potion masters, apparently. But the call of the wild apparently rang louder in Daniel Johnstone's ears than the call of Snape's dungeons, so after six months he went to explore the Congo and Snape hadn't heard from him since.

But Bleibaum -- he'd been more subtle. Snape hadn't been joking about the acclaim he'd received for his wolfsbane potion. With further refinements, he'd discovered a variant that could be bottled, and it was now available as an over-the-counter remedy. Lupin's heroic efforts in Voldemort's defeat had reduced at least some of the stigma associated with being a werewolf, and while it was still a product one asked for in whispers, werewolves would probably be generally welcomed into wizarding society within the next decade.

The only problem had been the volatile nature of the solution and the solution to the problem was found in the glass containers in which it was stored. Snape had played a part in the development of that, as well. In doing so, however, he had revealed just how familiar he was with the properties of glass. Which would probably not have made a difference unless someone had made a connection that no one else had made -- the connection between Harry's interest in glass artifacts, and Harry's connection with Snape, and Snape's own knowledge of glass.

The connection had been made when Krizzle Krystall had bid to produce the glass bottles. The bid had been entertained because the company had an excellent reputation, and Bleibaum showed an understanding of the challenge that wolfsbane potion's instability presented.

Snape and Bleibaum had begun corresponding more than a year ago, while Daniel Johnstone was in the picture. Bleibaum had moved slowly -- it was only within the past few months that the Snape-crystal showed any sign that someone had ill intentions toward Snape.

Fortunately, Harry could pump Draco for information. Gradually, he'd narrowed the candidates down, initially concentrating on Johnstone. But Johnstone had left, and when Snape had accepted Bleibaum's invitation to hold a seminar in Austria, the presentiment of danger grew stronger.

Harry took a closer look at his own files, and then began to analyze the chemical makeup of the various dark objects in his custody. The discovery was alarming: the majority of the objects shared a chemical compound only found in glass produced in Argentina -- and their glassmaking industry, while of high quality, didn't have a high output -- and Austria.

Harry had searched for Austrian works on the properties of glass, and had Hermione cast an enchantment on him so that he could read German. Then another discovery: Austrian wizards knew quite a bit -- more than English wizards ever did -- about using glass for dark purposes.

It wasn't much to go on, but Harry just knew.

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Yes, a cliffhanger, and still no kissy-kissy, smoochy-smoochy. What can I say? This plot is determined to make the boys wait for their fun.

Love to hear your thoughts...