HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Over the next week, a tacit tension spread through the laboratory.

The brief touch of fingertips when handing over materials, the excessively long eye contact during discussions, and Ian's unconscious gaze falling on Severus's lips as he read a complex magical script.

Once, when Ian bent down to pick up a fallen quill, his bangs almost brushed against Severus's chin as he stood up, and the two of them froze for a moment.

The arrival of Aris and Kevin disrupted this delicate balance; they were in London to buy school supplies and stopped by on their way.

As soon as Kevin entered, he clamored to see the upgraded laboratory, while Aris politely asked Leah a few questions about the synergistic effect of healing spells and herbs.

"You've practically turned this place into a second Hogwarts Potions classroom," Kevin exclaimed, touching the smooth workbench. "These dragonskin gloves are new? Much better than my old ones."

"Quiet down, Kevin, you're interfering with my observation of this protective rune." Aris was taking notes with his quills in the corner.

Ian leaned against the storage shelf watching them fool around, while Severus was sorting through a stack of recently delivered back issues of "Practical Potions Master".

That afternoon they brewed a simple energy drink together, and Kevin almost burned the crucible again, but Aris saved him in time.

As dusk fell and the guests left, the house returned to quiet.

Ian and Severus stood in the doorway watching their backs disappear around the street corner, the setting sun casting long shadows.

"Kevin said his parents wanted to organize a short trip in mid-August to Devon to see the glowing fungi," Ian said, closing the door. "They asked if we wanted to go."

Are you going?

"It depends." Ian turned and headed towards the stairs. "I might go, I might not. What about you?"

Severus followed him up the stairs: "The potions journal isn't finished yet."

"Then I won't go."

It was that matter-of-fact tone again.

Severus looked at the fine downy hairs on the back of Ian's neck, which were tinged with pale gold by the setting sun, and suddenly felt his throat go dry.

That night, Severus woke up once, dreaming of an empty room in Spider's End, where dust danced in the only beam of light, and there was no sound.

He sat up, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. The window of the guest room was open, offering a view of the sparse London sky.

He walked out of the room barefoot and stood in the corridor for a while.

There was no light coming from under Ian's door; he must be asleep.

Ian stood inside the door, wearing pajamas, his hair a little messy, but his eyes were very clear.

He held a wand in his hand, but the tip of the wand did not light up, indicating that he had only heard the noise.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He asked in a low voice, afraid of waking his parents.

Severus nodded, then shook his head.

Ian glanced at him for a few seconds, then stepped aside. "Come in. I'm just looking up some information; I'm not asleep yet."

In the room, several thick books were laid out on the desk, and the ink bottle was open.

The air smelled of Ian’s usual grassy ink, mixed with a hint of clean soap.

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, and Ian dragged a chair from the desk over, straddling it backwards with his arms draped over the back. "Spider End Alley?"

"Hmm." Severus stared at the wood grain on the floor. "Nothing, just... empty."

Ian didn't say "it's all in the past" or "don't think about it." He was silent for a while, then suddenly got up, walked to the wardrobe, took out a flat wooden box, and handed it over.

Inside the box was a set of wizard chess pieces. The pieces weren't particularly intricately carved, but the wood was warm and smooth, and had developed a patina from being handled.

"It was left to me by my maternal grandfather." Ian sat back in his chair. "When I was little, I couldn't sleep, so he would make me play chess. I always lost because I would fall asleep every three moves."

Severus picked up the black Queen, the piece appearing particularly dark in his pale palm. "I didn't play well."

"It's alright." Ian had already set up the chessboard. "We'll learn as we play. The loser will be responsible for cleaning all the crucibles tomorrow."

It turned out that Severus was just being modest; by the third inning, he had already forced Ian to think.

The pieces moved clattering across the board, occasionally punctuated by whispers of "Knight to E5" or "Bishop captures a pawn."

As night deepened outside the window, a few indistinct barks of dogs could be heard in the distance.

In the middle of the fourth game, Ian stared at the chessboard, his fingers unconsciously stroking the top of the castle piece.

Severus looked at the hand and suddenly said, "You did this on purpose."

"What?"

"Secondly, you deliberately let the knight walk to that position, so I could take your units." Severus raised his eyes. "Why?"

Ian released the chess piece, leaned back in his chair, and the candlelight flickered on his profile. "Because I wanted you to win this once."

Severus's fingers were still gripping his king's hand. "I don't need to yield."

"I know," Ian said softly, "but I think."

The air freezes.

The confrontation on the chessboard extends beyond the chessboard, and something more dangerous and naked rises up in the silence.

Severus could hear his own heartbeat, one after another, pounding so hard it hurt his eardrums.

Ian stood up, the chair legs scraping slightly on the floor.

He walked to the bedside and stood before Severus, his shadow completely enveloping him.

"Severus," Ian called his name, as usual, yet seemingly completely different.

Severus looked up.

Ian's eyes were a deep gray in the dim light, like the sea before a storm.

He leaned over, placing his hands on the mattress on either side of Severus's body, so close they could feel each other's warm breath.

"Is it okay?" Ian asked, his voice hoarse.

Severus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He nodded, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible.

Then Ian kissed him.

It wasn't a tentative touch, but a direct and warm coverage, carrying a resolute certainty.

Severus froze, his fingers digging deep into the sheets, a suppressed whimper escaping his throat.

Ian's lips were softer than he had imagined, and his breath, a familiar scent of grass and ink, now made him dizzy.

"I..." Severus tried to say something, but Ian pressed his fingertip to his lips.

"No need to say anything," Ian whispered, then leaned closer, this time with light, fragmented kisses, landing on the corners of his lips, his cheeks, and finally resting on his eyelids, feeling the intense trembling beneath. "This is good enough."

They later slept together on Ian's not-so-wide single bed, the chessboard still lying on the table, the candle burned down to its last drop.

Severus was curled up facing the wall, and Ian was hugging him from behind, his arms loosely around his waist.

Their breathing gradually synchronized, and they sank into a dreamless darkness.