HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Severus nodded, took one last look at the cellar where he had spent more than a decade, turned around, his black robe billowing, and never looked back.

The door closed behind me, the sound of the latch locking was particularly clear in the quiet corridor.

The old stone houses in the Cotswolds slumber in the summer sun.

Leah and John had come early to clean; the fireplace was spotless, the wooden floors were waxed, and the air smelled of sunshine and lavender sachets.

Ian moved the last box of books into the study, while Severus went to the basement.

In the evening, they sat under the old apple tree in the backyard, watching the sunset paint the stone walls a honey color.

In the distance, the fields are lush and green, with birds occasionally flitting by, leaving behind a few clear chirps.

"It's a little too quiet," Ian said, peeling an apple with the peel hanging down.

Severus leaned back in his chaise lounge, eyes closed, the dappled shadows of leaves falling on his face. "Hmm."

"I've looked at the orders," Ian said, handing him half of a peeled apple. "St. Mungo's regular restock list, a few custom orders introduced by Slughorn, and Mr. Bokin from Knockturn Alley asked if you could take on a batch of high-purity African tree snakeskin peeling and curing, and the price was quite good."

"Okay." Severus took the apple, took a bite—crisp, sweet, and juicy—"And what about yours?"

"Several potion shops are interested in a stable supply of moonstone powder and silver fern spores. The venomous tentacles in the greenhouse are growing well; we can harvest the first batch of extracts in the fall. Also,"

Ian paused, then laughed. "Kevin and Aris want to rent a small plot of land next to their French estate to grow medicinal lavender. They asked if I was interested in 'investing my expertise' and taking a vacation there as well."

Severus opened his eyes and glanced at him. "You want to go?"

"You can go check it out in the summer, treat it as a trip, and you can also take the opportunity to explore the French potion ingredients market."

Ian leaned closer, his grey eyes shining. "And, Aris said he has a distant relative at the Institute of Magical Theory who's recently become very interested in the application of ancient runes in magical energy manipulation. There might be a possibility of collaboration."

"...Whatever you want." Severus closed his eyes again, but the corners of his mouth curved up very slightly.

Life flowed by gently, like a stream.

Severus doesn't receive a lot of potion orders, but they are all demanding and the pay is generous.

He spends most of his time in the underground studio, only coming out occasionally when he needs special materials or is stuck in a rut. He then sits in his study for half a day at a time, studying those difficult ancient books or the incomplete manuscripts that Ian has collected from various places.

Ian manages his "small business," tending to the greenhouse and the increasingly lush herb garden in the backyard, communicating with suppliers and middlemen in various places, and occasionally taking short trips to collect samples or negotiate collaborations, but never for more than three days.

Leah and John come at least once a month, bringing large bags of food and sweaters.

Leah would force Severus to undergo a quick check-up, then nag him about his "sleep schedule" and "nutrition." After dinner, they would chat about the Ministry of Magic's insignificant new policies or the latest rumors from Knockturn Alley.

Harry comes to stay for a week or two every summer.

The boy grew taller as if by magic, and the childishness in his green eyes faded, replaced by brightness and sharpness.

He still called Severus "Professor," but his tone was less awe-inspiring and more intimate.

He would spend time in the basement watching Severus process materials, asking so many questions that Ian would laugh, but Severus would always answer concisely and to the point.

Lily and James would occasionally come together, but most of the time Lily would be alone with Harry.

She and Severus were having tea in the study, talking about Harry's studies, the latest potion discoveries, and old times that only they knew about.

Ian and Harry experiment with "creative dishes" in the kitchen, which usually end with a lot of cleanup.

Kevin and Aris's lavender field yielded a harvest in its second year, and the quality was unexpectedly good.

They really did reserve a guest room next to the estate for Ian and Severus that would always be available.

When Kevin visits for a short stay in the summer, he takes Ian hiking in the mountains in search of rare herbs, while Aris and Severus discuss in hushed tones in the cool study, looking at complex magical structure diagrams, and chat for an entire afternoon.

In the autumn of 1993, Mr. Bokin sent a message through a very discreet channel, saying that Knockturn Alley was "completely quiet" and that "some old customers seem to have finally realized that times have changed."

Included was a small packet of rare, well-preserved dragon claw powder, presented as a "gift" to celebrate the perfect delivery of a challenging order from Severus.

One autumn afternoon, the weather was fine, and the sunlight streamed through the window, casting slanted, warm dappled patterns of light on the wooden floor.

Ian lay sprawled on the living room carpet, a large hand-drawn sketch of the greenhouse expansion marked with various symbols spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed, the end of a quill pen between his teeth.

Severus emerged from the basement, carrying a small crystal vial containing a freshly made, pearly-lustered potion. He paused when he saw Ian's appearance.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking," Ian said without looking up, tapping a corner of the sketch with his quill, "whether to separate the Sneezing Grass and the Bad Blood Grass, or just use a magic barrier to separate them. Their magic fields interfere with each other a bit, but planting them separately takes up too much space..."

Severus walked over, knelt down on one knee beside him, looked at the sketch, and then glanced at Ian, who was biting a quill pen and looking very serious.

Sunlight shone on his hair, creating a fuzzy, luminous edge, and his profile was slightly puffed out from his concentration.

It was an ordinary afternoon, and the question was quite trivial.

Severus looked at him for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke, his voice flat, as if stating a fact:

Let's get married.

Ian's quill fell onto the parchment with a "thud" and rolled twice.

He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide, and stared at Severus, as if he hadn't understood.

"...What?"

Severus's expression didn't change much, except that his ears blushed slightly at a visible speed.

He looked away and shook the crystal bottle in his hand.

"I said, let's get married. The Ministry of Magic passed a new registration law last year. Although there are still restrictions, we can."

He paused, his voice lower but clear: "If you'd like."

Ian stared at him blankly, his mouth slightly open, but he didn't make a sound for a long time.

Then, he suddenly smiled, not a loud laugh, but a smile that spread from the depths of his eyes, growing brighter and brighter until his whole face was radiant.

He reached out and grasped Severus's hand holding the crystal bottle; his fingertips trembled slightly, but his grip was firm.

"Are you proposing, Master Severus Snape?" His voice was tinged with laughter, though slightly unsteady.

"What else?" Severus tried to pull his hand back, but failed. His ears turned even redder, but his dark eyes turned back to look at him. There was some tension and uncertainty in his eyes, but more than anything, there was an unmistakable focus.

Ian laughed out loud, and while holding his hand, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Ian's.

"Using a bottle... what is this? A beauty potion? To propose?"

"The latest improved version of the Soul Stabilizer has fewer side effects and helps in the recovery of long-term mana depletion."

Severus offered a dry explanation, his other hand unconsciously clenching into a fist, "Didn't you say last year that you wanted to try and simplify the recipe further..."

Before he could finish speaking, Ian kissed him.

The kiss carried the warmth of the sun, the scent of quill ink, and a hint of the bitterness of a magic potion.

Gentle and lingering, like all the days they spent together.

When they parted, both of them were breathing heavily.

Ian pressed his forehead against his, his grey eyes shining brightly, filled with Severus's reflection.

"I do," he said, his voice soft but firm, "a hundred times willing."

Severus looked at him for a long time, then gave a very soft, almost sighing "hmm," closed his eyes, and kissed him again.

The fire in the fireplace burned quietly.

The sunlight outside the window moved slowly, casting their embracing shadows onto the warm floor.

The sketch on the parchment was blown by the wind, and the undried ink on it spread slightly.

In the distance, the Cotswold fields stretch to an unseen, peaceful end under the clear autumn sky.

(End of text)