Everything's Relative

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Harry sipped idly at the truly appalling coffee as he gazed through the wide front windows of the shop. He was settled into what had become 'his' booth for the week he'd been in town. So far, no local had contested his claim. It was probably more that he was an inoffensive bit of scenery than anyone actually ignoring the accent. He was so obviously from out of town, in both manner and dress, that it was pointless to attempt to evade notice.

He sighed heavily, his introspection broken as the waitress stepped up to the table. She was one of the first people he'd recognized on his arrival. But, for all that he knew her face, he was still surprised that she was so… short.

"Need a refill?"

Harry glanced from the coffee mug on the table, to the prospective contents of the glass carafe. He wondered if this refill would end up in the cup, or in his lap. For all the times he'd been served by this girl, six of his ten stops, he'd be doused on three occasions.

But, in the face of her nearly saccharine smile, he shrugged. "Sure."

She left him to himself once more, alone in his corner. As he watched, the other tables and booths began to fill with the social life of the young. Those who had just completed their Muggle extra-curricular and those who were there to meet and greet. It was odd to him that his age group was vastly under-represented.

Then again, most people his age had jobs at this time of day. And this wasn't the type of place where people regularly went on vacation.

"So what do they think of you, Harry?"

As he mumbled to himself, he caught the eye of the latest entrant to the coffee shop. He was met with a suspicious narrowing from the new arrival, arising as he'd both refused to bow to interrogation and was regularly known to wander around with a file folder and talking to himself.

Harry lifted his cup in salute before turning away. They might be the same age, but Harry had been threatened at wandpoint by Voldemort himself. No Muggle was going to intimidate him after that, no matter who he was in their world.

Of course, it did raise some difficulty, as the size of the town restricted social spheres. Harry watched his waitress serve several others, wondering if he had any right to tell her the news he'd originally come bearing.

'Hi, I'm Harry Potter and we're cousins. No, ignore the wizarding paparazzi. No, you won't ever be a witch; something in this town has burned out all the natural magic. No, I killed the really bad guy but there are still people around who'd love to kill you just for being a relative of mine.'

He sighed again, sipping the atrociously bad coffee. It was a sign that the blend was truly repellent if he wasn't even stomaching it well. He continued to drink the sludge simply because that was what one did in a coffee shop. And he wasn't about to stalk the girl at school or home and end up in a Muggle jail.

It was time he admit it; Severus was right.

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(Flashback)

October 1999

Harry cracked the seal on the Ministry letter, releasing a shower of golden light as the parchment unfurled. He read through it quickly, still confused when he'd reached the end.

"Hurry up, Potter. You are a chaperone, if you recall."

He smiled up at the mildly scowling face of his lover. "Of course I do, Severus."

"Then why are you not prepared?"

Harry rolled his eyes, moving from the chair at the prodding tone and reaching for the robes he'd set aside earlier. He would never have admitted that he'd lost track of time. Nor would he admit that the contents of the letter were confusing enough as to make him hesitate.

"As you can see, dear Professor Snape, I am prepared with only a moment's notice."

Severus grumbled but accepted the swift embrace. They clasped each other lightly, secure in their casual romance.

+++++++++++

Harry mused on the name of the store he'd spent so much time occupying. Yes, they were both Americans and Muggles. Even considering those handicaps, couldn't someone supply a name less banal than 'The Beanery?'

He shifted in his chair, his unrestrainable black hair falling forward over the ever distinctive - at least to wizards - scar. Brushing the length irritably out of his eyes, he flipped open the file. While he was careful to shield the contents from an idly wandering eye, he studied them all the same.

Harry James Potter was not alone in his survival upon the Potter family tree. His father's parents had so carefully faked their deaths and then disappeared. It started to make some sense to him that his father might have grown up emotionally - at least enough to lure his mother - when he'd suddenly become responsible for himself.

Though it burned in his gut that his grandparents would have abandoned their son as they so obviously had. They'd disappeared, leaving even James to believe them dead. Then, to find in his search that his grandmother had died in childbirth after delivering twin girls.

Harry flipped past the documents he'd found and straight to the photographs. He'd been quite comfortable already in his inheritance, but saving the wizarding world had made him positively flush. After being convinced that he wasn't wrong for keeping the money from either the Ministry or the oddest of direct inheritances, he'd used it to find this information.

A series of glossy pictures stared up at him from the manila folder. The girls grew older together. They graduated from a Muggle school. One married, eventually. And then the one who married had died.

Harry had gone to the cemetery earlier, taking rubbings of both the stones for his grandparents and his deceased aunt. They were all buried with their spouses.

It amused him for a moment that he'd been practicing frottage alone in a cemetery. It was a thought that probably would have amused Severus as well, though reminders of his lover so soon after the thought of marriage drew his mind away from its ordered path.

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(Flashback)

October 2000

Harry glanced around the hidden formal garden. Paranoia trickled along his spine.

It had been a truly lovely meal. Served by the school's house-elves in the almost too formal rose garden, Harry was only slightly uncomfortable. It was a romantic gesture almost completely at odds with the casual relationship he had with Severus Snape.

Severus glanced at the younger man across the table, measuring Harry's reaction to their environment. With the meal disposed of in the most pleasant of fashions, he drew a box from his pocket.

"Harry?"

The use of his first name snapped Harry's head around to stare at the Potions Master. It might be odd to most people that even in the midst of coitus, Severus occasionally called him Potter. Other than a mild, perpetual joke that the older man had a thing for his father, they both ignored the habit. Harry was prone to addressing the other man by his last name as well.

"Uh, Severus?"

The hesitation was there, even as Harry smiled at his lover. He remained silent when it became apparent to him exactly how hard Severus was working to speak what was coming.

"I know that our liaison has never been popular, nor conducted in a usual fashion."

Severus paused and seemed to come to a decision. "I would be honored if you would consent to join the Potter and Snape lines."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. At a small gesture, he reached for the box on the table and opened it. It was only when the engraved silver bracelet was gleaming at him that he understood what was happening to him.

Severus Snape, in his broodily formal, classic wizarding fashion, wanted to marry him.

It took a moment to force actual words from his mouth and even then, they weren't what a person would usually expect in response to such a question.

"Of course, you stubborn git!"

+++++++++++

Harry flipped on through the pictures, looking at the imprecise and oddly still visage of his surviving aunt. She was, according to the file, a good woman. She'd taken in her sister's child after a tragedy. She'd made that daughter her own through adoption.

It was far and away better than his mother's relatives had treated him. Still, Harry had found something off about her when he'd arranged to make her acquaintance. He was bothered that it was beginning to appear that he'd given up his life for a chance he wasn't going to take after all.

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(Flashback)

October 2001

"Look, Snape, I have to take this trip."

The Potions Master scowled at his lover, his fiancé. "Once again, explain to me why this must occur now."

"Because I have the information. Because, as an apprentice, I can take the time to go find out."

"And what of the ceremony, Potter?"

Harry sighed, throwing up his hands as he mirrored the pacing around their sitting room.

"I never wanted some exaggeratedly formal setup. I don't want to speak seven pages of memorized piss based on ancient wizarding custom. I've only ever wanted the two of us and people around who'd understand I really meant it."

"Mean what, Potter?"

"That it's true when I say that I love you, you obnoxious bastard!"

Snape scowled, his expression a stern layer of disapproval. "I am neither a Muggle, nor a baseborn wizard, Potter. Despite my family's circumstances, there are customs."

"Why do we have to follow them? There's nothing in Ministry law that says we can't be together, can't teach, can't raise children, if we don't do this."

"Despite the rank of your mother's birth, there are certain entitlements to you as a Potter. A formal ceremony is one of those."

Harry was practically spitting in his anger, rage coloring his cheekbones. "Don't bring my mother into this… I don't want this thing you've planned for us. I don't know if I would have even agreed a year ago if I'd known I'd be flying patterns for twelve months. It's unnecessary!"

The Potions Master was unmoved, staring at his shorter partner. "Perhaps you should clarify your point."

Harry gathered his folders and his documents. He had travel plans he was keeping, no matter the outcome of this argument.

"You want clarification, Severus, fine. Here's the deal. I will not participate in this sham of social acceptability. If you only ever wanted the Boy Who Lived, then that's the setting you'd expect for him. But if you ever wanted just me… Well, send me an owl."

And in his fury, Harry stomped out of their suite.

+++++++++++

Once again, he had to admit, Severus was right.

Harry didn't have the right to come into this town and disturb these people's lives. There was no justification in adding to the girl's burdens. And he plain didn't trust his surviving aunt.

It burnt him to realize he was as well and truly alone for family as he'd believed when he'd first started this quixotic quest. Not only that, but he'd burned the one bridge that would have led him to a new family.

Harry abandoned his mug as he stood and crossed the room. There was a small, unused fireplace behind a group of chairs. Ignoring the occupants, he tossed his folder into the empty space.

It would be a violation of law. Harry was well aware of this fact. He reached out with his hand, miming a lighter, as he lit the folder with wandless magic. It flared instantly, caught and spread to envelop and consume the information inside.

Oddly, the patrons might only notice that no foul odor from the burning would linger in the air. Or, they might notice that no one would be able to extinguish the flames. Or, that the carefully gathered documents would burn so thoroughly that only ash remained.

Standing, he brushed at his trousers and straightened. Heading off the objections of the establishment's owner, he pulled an American Muggle bill graced with the image of Benjamin Franklin from his wallet.

"For the trouble."

His smile and casual manner hadn't seemed to disarm her irritance. She accepted the money, even as she turned away muttering about the idle rich.

Harry had made it all the way to the door before he was stopped. He looked curiously down at his waitress, his unacknowledged cousin, as she brandished a rather ugly purple flower at him.

"This came over from my aunt's shop. I think it's for you."

He demurred quickly, "No, I'm sorry. I don't know anyone in town."

Her smile brightened, her insistence continual. "Oh, sorry. It was a phone order. Said to deliver it to the British guy drinking too much coffee and moping? That was what I was told, I'm not saying you were moping or anything."

Harry stared down at the girl, shaking his head slightly. He doubted he'd ever been that young, even at that age, but acknowledged that he was probably the intended recipient.

After all, he was the only Brit in town. If there'd been another one, he would certainly have heard about it. Probably even been asked if they knew each other.

"Thank you. Was there a message or a sender?"

The internal buzz that told him about magic also told him that this flower, though ugly, was harmless.

"No message, just a sender. An S. S.?"

The girl forced the wrapped stem into his hands as the owner of the coffee shop made emphatic noises that she should return to work.

Harry stepped out the door, donning a pair of sunglasses. He paused, considering the flower. He'd abandoned his lover for a lost cause and now Severus was sending him an ugly flower.

"This just can't be good."

A person who'd exited the shop behind him surprisingly responded to his gloomy statement. The voice was familiar and Harry recognized it even before turning. It was the man who'd attempted to find out why he was there at the beginning of the week.

"Odd, receipt of a Cleome has historically been cause for at the very least happiness, if not joy."

Harry turned. His face was closed off as he faced the young man. Off all the people in this town, this man might be able to understand his life. But they hadn't talked beyond the first offensive exchange; he shouldn't even know who Harry was… Perhaps it was simply in his nature to be so assumptive.

"Would you care to explain that?" The question came out slightly harsher than Harry had intended. His tones were bleeding at the edge with professorial insistence.

The other man simply smirked. "Cleome hasslerana, also known as the Spider Flower, has a very specific meaning. It's a request - 'Elope with me.' Most people would find this propitious, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry's thoughts whirled; his attention focused on elation over Severus' message. All was apparently not lost.

"I've had business associates indicate that apparition is impossible in this particular Kansas county. I do have a floo-enabled fireplace if that would be of assistance, Mr. Potter."

Green eyes were drawn from the spiny purple flower to meet a steady, steely blue-gray consideration. Harry didn't bother with an attempt at prevarication. His latent Legilimency told him all he needed to know after meeting the other man's eyes.

"You know who I am." They both knew it wasn't a question.

"I do."

Suspicion colored Harry's voice, "And what is access to this fireplace going to cost me?"

A speaking shrug answered him first; though the man's face gave nothing away, it was all present in his eyes. "Let's just say I have an intimate understanding of the trials and tribulations of… unusual… relationships."

Harry doubted, but watched the young man's eyes flicker to a person still seated within the coffee shop. "Uh huh."

With only the slightest huff of offended dignity, the other man continued, "In return for my giving you a ride to said fireplace, you could always agree not to do business at any future time with my father."

Laughing slightly, Harry held out the hand not filled with a floral stem. "Agreed. Call me Harry."

He was treated to a return of that same smirk as his handshake was met in a firm, business-like manner.

"Lex."

Finis

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