Chapter Text
The Order meeting took place in a back room of a dingy pub in Dufftown, not far off the main street. The driver let Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Harry out at a back entrance and drove off. Inside, Ron's parents and Remus were already waiting with a few people Harry didn't know.
Mrs Weasley was less than pleased that Harry was getting involved with the Order and expressed that rather directly, but luckily, Dumbledore had his back and ended that discussion rather quickly.
A bubbly young woman with pink hair, piercings in her face and tattoos all over her body introduced herself as Tonks, and the muscular man next to her as Kingsley, both from the Criminal Investigation Department. There were a few people who had already been in the Order with his parents, apparently, and half of Ron's family. A cantankerous man with a long beard served them drinks and disappeared again.
The meeting progressed with several people giving an account of their current information on the terrorists. Mr Weasley had the most to report, tracking the terrorists infiltration of the government.
By a show of hands, it was decided that the Order needed more trustworthy members if they wanted to oppose them as a force to be reckoned with. Several names fell and strategies were discussed as to how the recruitment should happen. Among others, Snape was asked to reach out to a former teacher who had retired to the countryside. As the drive would take quite a few hours, he was excused from his duties on the weekend to visit the man.
Harry wasn't assigned a task, which disappointed him, but Kingsley came to chat when they were done and asked about Harry's career plans - Had he thought about joining the police force? - and he was somewhat mollified.
They dispersed, with Dumbledore hastening to the next appointment and the rest dribbling out time-delayed as not to draw attention. Harry and Snape stayed back while McGonagall called the driver.
Snape ordered a beer and Harry wished he could have one too, but he hardly thought he would be allowed alcohol. The grumpy waiter waited for his order while Harry gave Snape an envious look.
"Go on," Snape said.
"Can I have a beer too?" Harry asked him.
Snape gestured at him to order it.
"Have a pint of whisky if you like, I don't care."
Something had definitely changed between them. Snape seemed to no longer see him as a student under his care, as demonstrated in his teaching behaviour as well as the meeting in his rooms.
Harry ordered the beer and the waiter disappeared.
"I don't have any money on me, though," Harry said sheepishly.
"I believe I owe you a drink anyways," Snape replied, tapping his fingers on the wooden table and giving him one of those looks that made Harry all flustered.
Did the man have no tact at all? Flushed and uncomfortable, Harry tried not to let on his state of mind as McGonagall returned. He was silent for the duration of their stay while McGonagall and Snape bantered about the upcoming rugby matches.
Snape sat with Harry in the back of the car. Harry could tell he was already making plans for the acquisition they had talked about.
"Minerva, would you be so good as to take over my house duties on Saturday and Sunday?"
They haggled playfully about compensation and finally reached an agreement.
"I'll be gone from Friday afternoon to Sunday then," Snape said to no one in particular. He turned to the side to give Harry a contemplating look.
"I don't suppose you would like to accompany me?" he asked in a low voice, so as not to be overheard by the driver and McGonagall.
"Am I allowed to go on missions yet?" Harry whispered back, baffled.
Snape shrugged.
"I'll talk to the Headmaster. It's a low level mission, no indication of any danger."
Snape's hand surreptitiously moved towards Harry's knee and danced over the fabric of his trousers, hardly even touching, but the points of contact burned hot on Harry's leg. The furtive gesture, happening right behind the Deputy Headmistress, made him flush.
"I could do it alone, but I'd rather have company."
Their eyes met and Harry's stomach gave a jolt. He knew that expression and he knew what he was being invited to. The only question remaining was, did he want to accept? After everything that had happened?
"Why should I?" Harry whispered. "Our last mission hasn't exactly gone well for me."
Snape regarded him with glittering eyes and no hint of remorse.
"I'll make it up to you," he murmured. "Friday, five o'clock, front gates. Think about it."
*
Friday, three o'clock had Harry still havering about whether to go or not. Sitting in the park outside with Hermione and Ron drinking tea, he told them that there was a mission he could be part of and they were excited for him.
"'Course you've got to go," Ron said. "It'll go well and Dumbledore will see that you can take on bigger missions for the Order."
"But it'll be with Snape," Harry answered, well aware that they had no idea in what kind of turmoil that sent him.
"If he's on duty, he'll behave professionally," Hermione said, watching Harry's expression closely.
Harry almost choked on his mouthful of tea. Yeah, there was no danger of that. He had a lot of expectations and misgivings about this weekend, but Snape behaving professionally was not among them. And he wasn't even sure he wanted him to.
"But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, you can always ask to join the next one," she added, seeing his expression. "I'm sure they will understand."
How could they, when Harry didn't even understand himself?
In a way, he hated the man. He was rude and ruthless and didn't care about other people. After torturing him for days and taking advantage of him afterwards, he still didn't think there was a reason to apologise. He didn't even call Harry by his first name.
But the invitation to come along had not been a proposal of marriage, it was just an invitation to a weekend of Order business and unsavoury things, and there was something so bloody attractive about that man that Harry was hard-pressed to do the sensible thing and stay home.
*
Snape sighed. It was one minute to five, his luggage was loaded in the trunk, the car fuelled up and he was ready to go.
By the way the boy had looked at him, he had been sure he would come, but if he wasn't there at five, he'd set off alone. It was a pity, the boy would have made excellent bait for Slughorn, and as for the rest of the weekend… Snape would find other entertainment, but Potter had something uniquely enticing that he'd be loath to miss.
He reached into the glove compartment and took out a map, tracing the roads leading to the town his old Chemistry teacher lived in. It was a pretty straightforward route. If the weather stayed good, he could be there in a few short hours' time.
Just as he had closed the compartment and put on his sunglasses, the passenger door opened and a wheezing boy dropped in, carrying a rucksack and a belligerent expression.
"Just so you know, this time there'll be no photos."
He flung his rucksack on the back seat and slouched into an obnoxious posture.
Hiding his delight at Potter showing up behind a slight smirk, Snape started the engine.