Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.


Chapter 1 – From Ground, Up (Harry)

Harry was not quite sure how he ended up outside in the rain, wearing nothing but boxers, but that's where he found himself when he woke up.

Or, perhaps, he had already been awake; he was standing and he was on a trail that seemed to lead into a woods. That didn't help him understand why he was there to begin with. Nor where he was nor why he didn't remember coming there at all.

He looked behind him. There was a house in the distance; a two-story building that seemed to have a lot of corners, nook and crannies. With the rain pouring down harder, Harry felt that heading toward the house was probably the best option.

A little after he started to feel the cold set into him, Harry saw a figure walking toward him and after a bit he realized it was Snape. Snape seemed to be in a hurry.

"What are you doing out here?" Snape yelled once he got close enough, his voice still muted because of the wind. Harry stopped and stared. "Come here," he said, wrapping Harry in a cloak and Harry stiffened when the professor put his arm around him and started to walk towards the house.

Inside was warmer than he expected and he allowed Snape to force him to sit on a couch in front of an almost-dead fire. A few minutes later, a cup was being forced into his hand, but he didn't drink it. He wasn't sure which question to ask first.

"What were you doing out there, Harry? And in nothing but shorts, no less."

Harry sat wondering the same thing as Snape sat on the couch and gave him a look that felt foreign.

"Are you going to tell me?" Snape asked, this time his voice sounding colder. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted, figuring if he was going to get in trouble it might as well be because of the truth.

"You don't know if you're going to tell me?"

"No, I . . . I don't know. Why I was out there." Harry felt a burst of annoyance, but Harry bit his lower lip instead of raising his voice. He was at Snape's mercy, now, as he had no idea where anyone else was.

"Maybe you were sleepwalking again, although I thought I fixed that." Snape seemed to be talking to himself, so Harry stayed silent. He never remembered sleepwalking before, actually, much less having Snape help him with curing it.

Harry jumped when Snape brushed a hand against his cheek. Not sure what to make of it, he stilled. Less than a moment later, Snape's face was close to his and their lips brushed.

"Wha—" Harry sputtered, scrambling to get away and finding himself unable to back up any further with the high arm of the couch behind him.

"What's wrong?" Snape looked confused, a first for sure.

"I don't . . . where am I?"

Snape was on him in a second, but this time with his wand and hands, seemingly inspecting him. Harry sat still, not knowing what brought on this sudden change in demeanor.

"What do you remember?"

"I . . ." Harry paused, wondering what he should say. If he should say anything at all. This was Snape, after all. Snape could have been the one who obliviated him and is pretending to help him to cover his tracks. "I graduated from Hogwarts a couple months ago. Got a job about a week ago, working for . . ." The look on Snape's face was something akin to fright.

"You think you're still working for the freelance company."

"Well . . . yeah. Wait," he pushed Snape away. "What do you mean still? I just got the job. And why am I here? Why don't I remember anything?"

"Why you don't remember anything, I don't know. It doesn't appear to be a memory charm." Snape sat back, arms crossed. "As to why you're here, you live here. With me. For the past three years."

Harry tried to wrap his head around that. He lived with Snape. And Snape almost . . .

"Are . . . we . . ." Harry didn't know if he could say it.

"Are we what?"

Harry had the feeling that Snape knew what he was going to ask but wanted him to say it. He wasn't sure why he knew it. If Snape thought he should say something he wasn't, he usually just yelled at him.

"We're dating," Harry stated before he looked around for anything unusual. Anything. An out-of-place animal, an alien . . . something that would indicate he was dreaming.

Everything looked normal, unfortunately.

How did he end up dating Snape? Last thing he remembered, Snape had failed him in Potions for absolutely no reason. He had been lucky he passed his NEWT with an acceptable with how Snape had been on his ass for his last year. It was that precise reason he couldn't become an auror.

Well, that, and maybe a couple of other reasons.

"I suppose you could call it that," Snape said, and Harry had the sudden urge to see himself. There were no mirrors in the room so he jumped up and ran for the doorway, finding a bathroom down the hall.

He looked like himself, Harry reasoned. Older, for sure. He actually had a beard growing in that looked more than fuzz and Harry felt a surge of happiness at that realization. The feeling quickly passed as he looked over the rest of himself. He was somewhat more muscular, but he was still short. Well, either that or Snape's bathroom was made for someone quite tall.

Snape came and stood in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"I don't get it," Harry said slowly. "I don't know what happened."

"We will find out," Snape said flatly as he walked towards him. "A lot has happened since when you remember."

"Obviously," he muttered and Snape sighed.

"Come to bed. I am too tired to focus and you are obviously not particularly sharp at the moment. We will handle this in the morning."

"I'm thinking fine," Harry argued at smooth insult to his intelligence, but from the tone of voice used, he didn't seem to mean anything bad by it. He also didn't seem to be joking, which came as a relief to Harry. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle a too-different Snape than he remembered.

Then it hit him.

"Do we . . . share a bed?" he asked quietly, almost scared of the answer.

"Yes. But if you feel uncomfortable with that . . . there are plenty of other bedrooms made up for guests. You could sleep in one of those."

"I . . ." Harry felt genuinely guilty for not wanting to sleep in the same bed as Snape, but other than the fact that Snape seemed angry about any other arrangement, he couldn't put anything more than a feeling to it. "I should probably do that."

"For the rest of tonight, then," Snape said sharply. "And then we'll solve the problem in the morning."

Snape left, leaving Harry in the dimly lit bathroom with his unfamiliar reflection. After a few more minutes of exploration, Harry found himself a bed on the first floor to lie down on, but sleep didn't come easy.

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He woke with Snape sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at him. He managed not to startle, sitting up slowly.

"What do you remember?" Snape asked.

"That I can't remember what's happened for years," Harry answered after a few minutes.

"I did some research already, as you've decided to sleep in." Snape handed him a roll of parchment and after some hesitation, he unrolled the top bit. "I'm assuming you took – or were fed – a potion, or – more likely – you may have a condition brought forth by the sleepers hex from a few years ago."

"Sleepers hex?"

"A horrible spell that put you to sleep and stole dreams. We were able to neutralize it before any permanent damage was done. Or so we thought." Snape paused. "That was the reason I told you to quit your job. You had no business being in the sort of job with all of the dangers and none of the protections of other jobs."

"Oh," Harry said.

"You are going to St. Mungos. If I am correct about the hex, then there may be nothing we can do . . ." Snape seemed to choke on his words, "but I want to be sure. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs."

"Ah . . ." Harry said. "Where . . . are my clothes?"

Without warning, Snape pulled him to his feet and pulled him along – although not at a fast pace; more like a gentle lead – to a bedroom, opening a wardrobe. "Those are all yours. Downstairs when you're ready.

He couldn't suppress the feeling that he was doing everything wrong as he picked a pair of jeans t-shirt to wear. Dressing, he looked around. The head of a decent sized bed was along the wall with the windows (lots of them that would let in a lot of light if the curtains were open, as he liked), another wardrobe was on the other size of the room, along with a bookshelf and a small desk, and other bookshelf was next to his wardrobe, albeit with much less book on the shelves. His side of the room was also in more disarray than the other – because, Harry decided, it had to be his side. The books were those that interested him, his firebolt was leaning against the nightstand, where the top drawer was open with a sketchbook and pencil box on top.

It was unsettling, he decided, to see a half room that was so much his next to a half room which was so much not. But it was proof that somehow he and Snape were dating – or maybe something even more – even though Harry could never remember being interested in men that way. And, if Snape was right, he would never remember any of it.

Very confused, Harry backed out of the door and walked slowly down the stairs.

He and Snape.

Surprisingly, the idea of it didn't repulse him. Confused him, yes. Despite the proof, Harry didn't know if he could ever feel that way out Snape, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to try.

Much to Harry's dismay, they flooed to St. Mungos, after an apology from Snape, and they were led to a room right away, giving Harry the idea that Snape had called ahead of time.

"Do you want me to stay?" Severus whispered in his ear.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly.

Snape did stay, which turned out to be a good thing. After all, it was Snape who had been there before, during most the parts Harry couldn't remember. It turned out that Snape had been correct about the sleeping hex. Harry listened to the mediwizard talk about how it was still possible for Harry to regain most of his memories but as there were no potions or spells that could reverse the damage – only stop the spread – he had to work hard and keep around the things he was supposed to remember.

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Harry followed behind Snape as they wandered through the house. It was extremely warm outside – a big difference from cold weather during the night – and in contrast, inside the house was comfortably cool.

Harry mentioned this.

"You charmed the house to keep a comfortable temperature when he had the house built," Snape answered.

"We built the house?"

"We had others build it, yes. None of the houses we looked at had enough windows, according to you. That's why we have several wings; you wanted a lot of natural light and this way none of the rooms could be without sun." Snape sounded somewhat irritated at the memory.

"It's kind of big . . ." Harry commented. He was sure he'd have preferred a somewhat smaller house. There were at least ten large rooms here, and several small ones that were used mostly for storage.

"That would be me. I like space. That, and I have collected a lot of things over the years." He paused. "It was somewhat a compromise, I suppose."

Harry nodded. Snape seemed so at home, and even Harry could admit that the place felt like home now. But he couldn't remember ever living there. None of the rooms held anything for him.

Harry managed not to jump as Snape pulled on his shoulder, tugging him backwards, and he found himself with his back to the wall with Snape unnervingly close to him.

"You don't remember any of it, do you?" he asked, putting his hand on Harry check. Harry shook his head, unable to not notice how much taller Snape felt like this. He only came up to Snape's chin. He might have looked older in the mirror, but he still felt like he was a teenager.

Still, Snape brought in his face close to Harry's and even as he had the urge to push him away, the closeness made him feel something he never remembered feeling before. Blushing – or perhaps he was flushed – Harry froze as Snape brushed fingers down his cheek before he kissed him.

A few seconds in, it was too much and he felt himself relaxing into Snape as the man kissed him harder, now pressing on his shoulders with his hands.

It was only after Snape had backed away did Harry realize he had kissed the man back and he wasn't sure what to make of that.

He kissed Snape and he enjoyed it.

Snape began to lead him again and coming out of his wonderings, he found himself sitting on a bed. Must be one of the spares, Harry thought as Snape sat down next to him.

"Harry," he said, but seemingly lacking for any more words, Snape leaned in and kissed him again. This time wasn't as appealing as Snape had his hand on his leg, dangerously close to his inner thigh.

Harry stood up quickly and was halfway to the door before he stopped and turned around cautiously. Snape looked . . . well, not displeased, but more disappointed.

"You're not . . ." Snape paused and schooled his face. "I am sorry. I had thought . . . . I assumed too much."

Harry wanted to open his mouth and say no, that it was fine, but he couldn't think of a reason to do so. He didn't want Snape touching him there. The kiss was alright; that he could handle right now, even if it was Snape, but to go any further than that . . .

What was he supposed to make of that? He supposed before, he must have done sex stuff with him, but he couldn't remember that.

Harry crossed his arms, feeling the need to reassure himself. The kiss felt right, but as he couldn't remember doing anything like that before, Snape was going to have to wait until he remembered for anything more. Anything more felt wrong.

Right?

Snape stood and walked past him before turning around in the doorway.

"I feel like making an early dinner, as we did not have lunch. I will make it this time. You can finish reviewing the house yourself."

He didn't want to admit it, but as Snape walked down the hall away from him, Harry felt horrible. Lacking the energy to wander around the house more – there was only one other wing left, besides – Harry went back to the room that Snape claimed was theirs and sat on the bed. He had energy for a nap, he decided.

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Snape sat across the table from him, avoiding his glances. The man had awakened him from his nap but hadn't said a word since. Harry felt compelled to start a conversation and he had the feeling that it was something he had done on many occasions.

"What do I do? For a job?" he finally asked.

"You're in between jobs at the moment. You had quit your last one a month ago and decided to wait to look for a new one until I go back to Hogwarts," Snape answered after a moment's silence. "Although I do believe Albus has plans on recruiting you as the new Defense professor soon. He's mentioned as much, at least."

"Oh," Harry answered. The idea was kind of appealing. He wasn't too happy about his seventh year ending, having to leave Hogwarts behind, and going back would be wonderful. Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering at Snape's strange tone. "Was I going to say yes?"

"Of course," Snape said. "And I would encourage you to even if you weren't." Harry gave Snape a questioning glance. "You may not believe me with your . . . lack of memories, but I enjoy having you around. It is why we started to live together in the first place."

"How did we come be together?" Harry blurted suddenly. Snape narrowed his eyes and sighed.

"Perhaps it's not best to talk about that yet, if you don't remember. It wasn't the most . . . pleasant of events."

Harry put down his spoon, feeling suspicious. "Were we forced?"

"What? No, Harry, we were not. It's more . . . we had a certain need and together we were able to satisfy it. Some. Thankfully, that changed."

"Oh," Harry said again, trying to think of what could be so bad that Snape didn't want to talk about it. Had they been into painful sex? Even though Harry couldn't remember, he doubted he'd ever be into something like that. He had enough pain in his lifetime to never want more. And wasn't stuff like that normal for some people to want? He didn't see how it would be something Snape would avoid talking about.

Confused again, Harry dropped the topic. He would probably remember eventually anyway.

Harry chewed his food slowly as they ate in silence. The few times he looked up at Snape, Snape was refusing to look at him, which made him feel even worse, which in turn made him feel angry.

Snape shouldn't expect so much from him.

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The chair he had chosen, Harry decided, was the best chair ever.

The room, however, Harry wasn't so sure about. Sure it had a television – none of the shows on were familiar – but it was strange. The furniture was sort of strewn about, most of it sort of facing the center, and there was a lot of it. All of it mismatched. He wasn't sure why that fact bothered him so much, but there was a green couch next to a purple chair next to a colorful yard chair . . .

He didn't think it possible Snape for like this room, either.

Glimpsing at the clock above the telly, he saw it was nearing midnight. He wondered briefly if Snape had gone to bed yet.

Snape, as if hearing Harry think about him, came up behind him.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked. Hesitantly, Harry looked over his shoulder and opened his mouth. A few seconds later, he shut his mouth and nodded instead.

After all, it was supposed to be his bed and even if Snape was in the bed, too . . . it was only sleeping, right?

Harry decided he must be a little too tired to willing sleep in the same bed as Snape, but he put the thought to the back of his head.

Snape didn't say anything, though, and he walked out of the room.

Harry stopped at the doorframe. It was very dimly lit with only one large candle burning on Snape's nightstand which made it that much more daunting. Snape came and met him standing a bit close for comfort.

"Harry," Snape said. "I understand you don't remember any of this. Of us." Snape stopped, looking completely like he didn't want to say what he was going to say. "And you probably won't understand it until you remember something – anything – but . . . I can't lose you." Snape breathed in deep. "Even if you never remember anything . . ."

He waited, but Snape never continued. Harry got the gist, though. If it turned out he never would remember, he wanted to start things over. He didn't answer, though, opting to lift his shoulders in a reluctant shrug.

Snape kissed him again, pulling him towards the bed. He let him, not really knowing why. He was too tired to argue, he supposed. Or maybe in his confusion he wanted to see if Snape was right about it all.

With Snape directing, Harry laid down on his side of the bed and he found Snape hovering above him, not quite laying on him but definitely not laying off him. A few kisses distracted him for a few minutes, but then Snape took his shirt off. It was too dark to see anything, but the thought made Harry uncomfortable. A few more kisses, then Harry realized Snape was unbuttoning his own – he had changed shirts after the appointment, finding the t-shirt itchy – but he didn't stop him.

When Snape started brushing his fingers up and down his chest, Harry started to squirm but then he started kissing him and Snape's hands stayed by his waist. He finally came down, laying on Harry instead of kneeling over him and Harry found he didn't mind it much.

Snape moved off of him, then, and Harry was mildly disappointed. And definitely more awake, now.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said, kissing him one last time before snuffing out the candle and climbing under the covers.

Harry found he couldn't sleep.

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Harry decided it must have been nearing time for Snape to wake up as the sun had long been above the horizon and was steadily rising in the sky.

During the night, he had too much on his mind to sleep – plus, because of Snape, he was partially aroused and couldn't get sex off his mind – so Harry had wandered the house more by candlelight instead of wand light, finding it much more calming. Eventually, he had found the room. He wasn't sure why it had been important he found it and he hadn't even realized he'd been looking until he had found it, but sitting in the window seat, legs close, he was reluctant to leave.

Harry had come there to think, but he hadn't been able to come to conclusions about anything and his stomach soon drove him to find his way back to the kitchen.

Snape was there, drinking something and flipping through pages of a book. Harry stood and watched him for awhile, feeling someone akin to happiness and soon Harry took a seat next to his ex-professor.

He could do this.


A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fiction of the SS/HP nature (also, my first story where 'romance' could actually be considered a genre) so I feel sort of out of place, here. I have a few ideas for how it should continue, but I wanted to see if there was any interest in this story.

I could use a beta for this (and following) chapters. If you are interested, PM me with questions or whatever. I'm think I'm needing someone who has a good grasp of writing the more intimate scenes (nothing explicit in this story) as I think mine are choppy and also to help with consistency. And any other thing that could use improving. I haven't really planned anything, but it will probably end up being around the 50,000 word length. I'm making no promises, though.

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, the title's meaning will come later in the story.