The Magic Carpet, Part Three

Disclaimer: I still do not own this series, or make any profit from toying with it.

A/N: This is the end, and it is bittersweet. Fair warning for angst and awkward early adulthood.

...

It wasn't anything obvious, really. Harry had a feeling that Dean had been watching him for a while, and after discovering Snape had apparently moved on and begun dating someone else, Harry was more determined to explore his other options, whatever they may be.

He didn't say anything right way, preferring to keep a closer eye on Dean for the next few days instead. The other man certainly made an effort to talk to Harry on most occasions, but Harry was also notoriously shy and not always willing to begin a conversation. His desperation regarding Severus had driven him to new levels of effort, and he wasn't sure if he could reproduce that any time soon, or for affection that failed to move him to such a degree.

He pulled Dean aside nearly a week after his meeting with Severus and asked him plainly if he'd like to grab dinner after work. Dean shrugged and agreed, unused to Harry asking for company, but always willing to spend time with his oblivious friend. Harry smiled brightly and let his hand rest a little longer than usual on Dean's shoulder. 'There, that should do it', he thought to himself, missing the calculating look Dean shot him as he walked away.

…

They drove together to a local pub after closing the park, and Harry tried his best not to fidget in the seat of Dean's immaculate car. The music he played was far from Harry's taste, but it was pleasant in its own way. Apparently, Dean had a liking for confessional singer-songwriters. He tried his best not to roll his eyes as a woman shouted, 'Liar!' several times in a voice that sounded like she ate a carton of cigarettes a day.

The pub was pretty empty, considering it was a Wednesday night, and Dean led them to a table in a secluded corner.

"You've been here before, right?" Dean ventured, and Harry nodded with a small smile. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to go with the truth.

"I came here on a blind date once. Hermione set it up and the . . . the person she thought I might like never showed up."

"The man?" Dean pressed, and Harry blushed, nodding. "It's alright, Harry. I've known for a while. It was pretty obvious when you were crushing on Snape."

Harry cleared his suddenly dry throat, and was immensely pleased when the waiter arrived to take their orders. They were both ready to order food as well, and as the waiter left, Dean nudged Harry with a foot under the table. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you off?"

"No, no. I just thought I was better at hiding it." Dean chuckled at that, and Harry reluctantly had to laugh at himself, too. "You know how teenagers are. They think they know everything and no one can tell them otherwise."

Dean smiled at that. "I'm pretty sure Ron and Hermione warned you."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter, anyway. Snape's dating a pretty soprano and-" Harry cut himself off and felt himself grow cold. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up."

Dean watched Harry fidget for a long moment before sighing. "Is that why you asked me out? You've been acting weird all week. I thought you liked me or something. How stupid of me."

"No, I do!" Harry fumbled across the table and gripped one of Dean's warm hands in his own. "I don't want you to think that's why. You've been a great friend to me; I wanted to see if . . . "

Dean frowned, but didn't pull his hand away. "Will you tell me what all happened?"

"What, w-with Snape?"

"If you can. It's really none of my business, but I always wondered, with the way he left right after the End of Summer party, and you leaving in such a hurry that night."

Harry grasped his beer as soon as the waiter set it down and took a long pull. "I . . . I've never told anyone before. I'm not sure if I can."

"You don't have to." Dean offered, softly. He pulled his hand away and swiped a bead of condensation off the side of his soda. Harry bit his lip and fiddled with the rim of his glass.

"I don't remember ever seeing Snape when I was a kid. But he snuck up on me my first week at Whatnot, and I dropped Albus' tool bag . . ."

…

"Come on, Harry."

"Nooo." The raven haired man groaned in protest, but Dean hauled him out of the car anyway.

Harry had told him about Snape, alright, and managed to get himself entirely drunk in the process. They were parked outside of Harry's apartment now, and Dean maneuvered the drunken man up to his second floor apartment, grumbling about Harry being a little more helpful, if he was able.

Harry fished out his keys and promptly dropped them. He muttered an apology as Dean stooped to grab them, then struggled to open the door and hold Harry up at the same time. He shuffled them through the door and deposited Harry onto the nearby couch, stepping outside to make sure he hadn't dropped anything else. He came inside and closed the door, crouching to remove Harry's shoes, sure the man was too drunk to remember to do it before going to bed.

"Thank you for being so good to me. I didn't even know, and it's been years." Harry mumbled, eyes closed.

"It's what friends do, Harry. No worries." Dean tucked Harry's shoes beneath the side table and moved to stand when he found himself looking into green eyes, open and cutting. Harry held him by the shoulders.

"Don't-" Dean began, but Harry cut him off with a gentle kiss that tasted faintly of the beer he'd overindulged in earlier. Dean let himself enjoy it, knowing somewhere deep down that this wasn't for him, not really. Harry was upset about Snape, and was trying to distract himself. But he'd wanted-

"It's soft." Harry murmured as he pulled away.

"What?" Dean blurted, eyes closed as he licked a lip, savoring this moment while he could.

"Your hair is soft. I thought it'd be like wool, but it's like a bunny."

Dean opened his eyes at that, grinning despite himself. "Really? You kiss me after five years of friendship, and that's the best you've got?"

"I never got to touch it before." Harry protested, trying to run his fingers through Dean's messy curls and nearly losing a finger. Dean reached up to disentangle Harry's hand and kissed his palm before placing it in Harry's lap. He watched green eyes close again and the owner of those eyes twitched in his seat, spreading his legs a little.

Dean jumped up and backed away, nearly tripping over a coffee table he'd forgotten was behind him. "Go to bed."

He heard Harry mumble something about his bed being in another room, but he blurted, "See you in the morning!" and fled. Back in his car, Dean beat his head against the steering wheel a few times, for good measure. He was doomed.

Harry stared after Dean for a long while, frowning. After accepting that he wasn't coming back, he curled up on his couch and was asleep within minutes.

…

"Good morning." Dean said with a smirk as Harry oozed into his car the next morning.

"Yeah." Harry deadpanned, nudging down the volume on Dean's stereo. They drove in near silence after Harry's quiet 'Thank you' for the coffee waiting for him in the cup holder.

"About last night . . ." Harry began as they approached Whatnot, but Dean silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Don't worry about it."

"No." Harry insisted. "I shouldn't have mentioned Snape. That wasn't the point. I'd like to try again sometime, but with no alcohol."

"I know what I can handle." Dean said with a laugh, and Harry shot him a scowl, which only made him laugh harder. "All right, all right. We can try again." Dean said as they pulled into the lot. "Maybe next week?"

…

It was a little awkward working alongside Dean after drunkenly gushing about his tragic romance, but Dean wasn't treating him any differently and didn't bring up the follow –up date for a few days. Harry was beginning to second guess their chemistry that night when Dean pulled him aside and asked him to attend a show with him.

"It depends. Who's playing?"

"You wouldn't know her if I told you. It's a half hour drive, but we can make it if we leave right after lock up."

Harry thought about it for all of a second before accepting, but with the stipulation that he be the one to drive. Harry had an easier time listening to his own music in the clutter of his own car. He and Dean chatted about work, mostly Albus' emerging dementia. The older man was beginning to forget little things, and they both worried he would eventually be unable to manage the park.

Once they arrived at the venue, Harry changed his shirt in the parking lot, missing the hungry look Dean sent his way. He barely flinched when Dean took his hand on their way to the door, and paid for both cover fees. The basement venue was tiny, and Harry had to admit he enjoyed the proximity to Dean the crowded surroundings afforded him.

The lights dimmed as the opener began. She reminded him of Hermione (same hair), and Harry felt a pang of guilt. He'd forgotten to call and tell her how things had gone with Snape. Or how things were currently going with Dean, for that matter. Maybe he could call her tomorrow-

The songs this girl had clearly written herself were pretty confessional, and Harry wondered who had smashed her heart into a million pieces. He enjoyed them, though, and clapped enthusiastically along with everyone else. She finished her set and quietly thanked the crowd before the emcee came back onstage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our featured guest of the evening is none other than Nina Sorbello!"

Harry clapped along with Dean and the others, watching with interest as a slim, dark haired woman of about thirty adjusted the mic stand to her height. She was rather tall. Dean said something from just behind Harry that he didn't quite catch, as it was rather noisy and hot in the confined space. The lights changed and the backing track began. Harry froze, feeling his insides turn to ice as he heard an angelic soprano begin to sing 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now'.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked after a moment, seeming to sense Harry's distress.

"Bathroom." Harry nearly shouted, and dragged Dean into an empty stall. He could still hear the music faintly, and cursed the gods for punishing him.

"Don't people usually wait a little longer before making out in the bathroom?" Dean quipped, and Harry blushed, realizing how this must look.

"No, I . . . That's Severus' girlfriend. I recognize her voice."

Dean's eyes widened comically. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, I had no idea-"

"It's alright. I had no idea she was touring. We're closer to the university, I guess."

"Do you want to leave? I can probably get a voucher for another night."

Harry considered, but eventually shook his head. "I'm trying to be realistic, here. She is a great singer, and you obviously like her."

Dean blushed. "I have all her recordings. I met her at an open mic a few months ago."

"We should go back out there. I was just surprised, I guess." Harry swiped his clammy palms on his jeans and stepped closer to Dean. "Don't feel bad, okay? I'm going to try enjoying this, if you'll help me."

"Yes." Dean whispered, pulling Harry closer by the waist, kissing him. They stayed close for the rest of the song, and Harry nipped at Dean's lip as he pulled away. "Ready?"

"Ready if you are."

…

After all, Harry was glad he'd stayed. Nina was a great performer, offering witty commentary between songs and clearly in her element. She mentioned among the applause after her last number that she had CDs for sale at the merch table. Harry steeled himself and walked over, browsing the small selection as Nina chatted with the man working the table,

"You find anything you like? I can sign it for you."

Harry looked up into eyes nearly as green as his own and stuttered, "Y-Yeah. Thank you." He grabbed a CD at random and handed it over to be signed.

"What's your name?" Nina asked, looking up with an expectant smile.

"Harry."

"Alright, Harry. You're all set. That'll be five dollars."

Harry dug for his wallet and paid her, trying his best not to shake as he did.

"And please tell your friend Dean that I remember him from the open mic. He probably thinks I don't, but he bought all my CDs, so I owe him a drink sometime."

"Alright." Harry said, caught off guard, but amused. He turned the CD over and saw the small print on the back: 'Produced and recorded by Severus Snape'. He considered giving Snape a message, but thought better of it. He was happy for the older man, and separation would make eventually getting over him much easier. He thanked Nina again and returned to Dean, relaying the message. They left soon afterward.

…

Harry parked in Dean's driveway and turned off the radio. "I had a good time. Thank you."

"I couldn't tell if you were actually enjoying yourself or just humoring me."

"Both." Harry said plainly, and Dean laughed, caught off guard.

"I see. Well, we've gotta work tomorrow, so I'm going to bed."

"Wait, can I . . . Forget it, I've hassled you enough."

Dean stilled from his attempt to climb out of the car and looked to Harry with an even mix of concern and interest. "Hmm?"

Harry blushed. "Can I come inside? I . . . I'm not tired and I don't want to be alone."

Dean frowned at that, clearly torn, but sighed and climbed out of the car. "Come on. But I'm going to sleep. I mean it."

Harry shut off the car and nearly skipped after Dean into his childhood home.

…

Dean's parents had moved not long after Dean graduated high school, with the stipulation that Dean take over the utilities and take care of the place. Harry could see they'd left their decorations and furniture behind, but Dean had added his own touches here and there.

Unlike Severus, Dean had moved into the master bedroom after his parents moved out, and there was more than enough room for the both of them to sleep comfortably. They ended up spooning anyway, Dean's arm thrown loosely around Harry's waist, his warm breath rustling his hair. Harry drifted pretty easily, despite not feeling tired, and woke the next morning to Dean pulling away to silence the screaming alarm clock, only to return a moment later, his arm pulling Harry flush against him and his morning erection pressing against Harry's backside.

Harry huffed a sigh and wriggled back a little, stifling a moan as Dean's arm tightened around him, and they ground slowly, still half asleep. Dean sped up a little, moaning softly into Harry's hair and holding him firmly as he ground harder. Harry bit his lip, struggling not to stroke himself and Dean's breaths came in gasps, hitching as he teetered on the edge. Harry settled his hand on Deans, gripping his waist, lacing their fingers together as Dean trembled and came pressed against him.

"Good morning." Harry said smugly, rubbing his feet on Dean's calves behind him.

"Mmm." Dean responded, reaching to latch onto Harry's neck with a slick sound just below his ear. Harry groaned at that and plunged a fist into his pants, stroking himself quickly, urgently. He came fast, already heated from Dean's movements earlier. As his breathing slowed, Harry yawned and wiped his hand on the inside of his shirt.

"That is so nasty." Dean grumbled, and Harry laughed.

"I'm going to change back into my work shirt anyway. It doesn't matter."

"Maybe not to you." Dean continued, pulling fully away. He climbed out of bed and awkwardly shuffled to the bathroom. Harry stretched before climbing out himself.

…

A few weeks later, Harry was just about to drain the fettucine when there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" He hollered from in front of the sink, and drained the pasta as Hermione bustled in, arms loaded with grocery bags.

"I asked for a loaf of French bread, Hermione. One loaf."

"Yes, well . . . I bought what you needed, not what you asked for."

Harry sighed and returned the pasta to the stove, mixing in the store bought sauce he'd picked up earlier. He hadn't had time after his shift to make any from scratch. Hermione joined him at the counter, reaching beside him to grab dishes for the both of them. She placed the loaf in the oven to warm and sat with a sigh, rifling through a grocery bag.

"So, what's new?" Harry ventured.

Hermione smiled and shuffled in her chair. Clearly, she was prepared for this question. "Well, I passed my finals."

"Obviously."

"And I, uh, mighthavekissedoneofmyprofessors."

Harry took a breath and turned his head. "Sorry, would you like to run that by me again? Slower, perhaps?"

"I . . ." Hermione looked off, blushing, and Harry took pity on her, setting the pasta to keep warm and taking her hand as he sat, squeezing encouragement.

"Well, the first day of class, I think I told you, Professor Lupin gave us a practice final to gauge where we were as a whole. And it was so easy; I was done right away. I waited for the first person to turn theirs in, so I wouldn't stand out."

Harry nodded. He remembered hearing about this.

"So he started grading them there in class, and I pulled out my textbook to double check some of my guesses-"

Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione caught it with a smirk. "I know. Silly thought, me guessing on anything. So, anyway, the next class, he called me to stay behind and locked the door, and at this point, I'm panicking."

Harry chuckled. "I would have been, too."

"He asks me point blank if I cheated on the test. Of course I hadn't. He asks if I'd taken the course before, and I haven't. He just looks at me, and I'm shaking."

Harry shook his head, amused at the idea of fearless Hermione shaking in her boots at anything.

"Finally he says, 'Well, clearly you know a bit about this subject. If you pass all the chapter tests, you won't have to attend the lectures if you don't want to. I can write you a recommendation letter for my advanced course.'"

"Wow" Harry managed, taking a moment to let it soak in. "Did you kiss him?"

"Later." Hermione said plainly, and Harry cackled at that, standing to make plates for the both of them. He sat down again, pushing Hermione's plate toward her and gesturing for her to continue.

"He gave me all the chapter tests the next class, and I finished them within two hours."

Harry set down his fork, stunned. "And your pencil didn't catch fire?"

"I used a pen. I only had to cross out maybe three words." She laughed at herself, then added, "But of course, I love Pathology."

"So what then?"

"He'd graded them by the next class, and at this point, I was wondering what I'd do for the rest of the semester, because I'd planned on hours a day studying for this class."

"But you read the book already."

"I've read all of my books already."

Harry shook his head and ripped his piece of bread to soak up extra sauce. "So?"

"So, I passed all the chapter tests. I think I missed one or two questions, but that's not so bad. He wrote me a letter and told me the advanced course was less often. It sounded more like a review course for pre-med students or something."

"But you're not pre-med."

"Technically, no. But I have a lot of transferable credits, and after talking to Remus-"

"Remus?"

"Sorry, Professor Lupin. He teaches most of the anatomy and pathology classes on campus. He was a cardiovascular surgeon for almost twenty years until he developed carpal tunnel and decided to retire."

"So you've clearly had some personal conversations with him."

"Yes. I'm considering dropping the advanced course though."

"What? Why?"

"Because I stayed after class to ask some questions about my independent reading, and he kissed me unexpectedly. It was nice, but I shouldn't continue the classes if I know he feels romantic attraction toward me."

"You have perfect grades anyway, so I guess there's nothing to gain-OW!"

Hermione had smacked him on her way to the stove for seconds, and Harry rubbed his arm where she's hit him, legitimately in pain.

"Alright, so what's your plan? Do you need the course?"

"I don't think so. My career track at the moment is psychology. I just wanted the pathology course as a personal interest."

"I'd continue the class. Otherwise, you'll just be missing a credit that you thought you'd have."

"But I'd like to see if this is going anywhere."

"Can you wait until the end of the semester?"

Hermione frowned. "I guess I'll have to. I may be rushing into this, anyway . . . He's just so interesting. I'll have to tell him to stop making advances the next time I see him."

"Does he treat you any differently in class?"

"No, no. I usually stay after to ask some questions. That's how we started talking about his personal life in the first place."

"I think you'll be okay. It's only two more months, right?"

"Something like that."

Harry finished his food and watched Hermione fiddle with her food. "If you don't eat that, I will."

"No, I want the food. I'm just thinking."

"About Professor Lupin?"

"About Professor Lupin's eyes."

…