Title: No Regrets

Summary: Sequel to The Thin Line

A/N: I'm working on my creativity by going through and either writing sequels to things I've written or re-writing stories I liked, but that I think could have been written better, in order to rev myself up for the last, long haul of Invictus. So sorry for the readers of Invictus about my updates; if you're at all familiar with my work, you'll have noticed that I have a pattern. I update rapidly and with great zeal until I run out of the creative juices, at which point the story goes on hiatus for a while until I re-charge. Usually I can…feel…my muses returning to me, and at this point in time I'm starting to feel the slow trickle of creativity rising to the surface in my thoughts. This, and another thing I intend to re-write, will be the test-run to the last haul of Invictus, to see if I'm ready to turn out good work. Love you all,

Cozy

Two men stood facing each other, nearly three feet apart and utterly still as the gentle breeze played about them. Neither spoke for long moments, only staring at one another. The younger, shorter man stared with what could only be disbelief, hope, and fear, while the others face was a study of stillness, as though he were attempting to closely resemble granite.

"So." The younger man said, halting his speech in an obvious show of uncertainty.

"So. It looks as though you've finally done it, Potter." The words were intended to be congratulatory, but the younger man flinched.

"Don't…don't call me that. I…are we…can we be together, now?" Harrys voice was strong even as his words were so uncertain, and the older man almost smiled at his gumption before remembering his resolve.

"Don't you think I have better things to do now, with the war over and my named cleared, than to babysit you, Potter?" Indignation, hurt, and something like sorrow passed over Harrys face as he spluttered. Snape turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry called, not sure of what exactly he might say, but certain he couldn't let the man leave—not yet, not now.

"Don't bother me again, Potter. I'm tired of you, tired of watching out for you and saving you, tired of your juvenile ramblings, worries, and fears. Have a good life, Mr. Potter." With his back turned to the boy as he walked away through a field that had once held a great battle, Severus did not see the boy's face, did not see him disapparate in confusion and anger; he did not see any of it as he stared across the tortured land.

Have a good life, for your sake and for mine. It's the only way that I can bear to let you go.

Not long after that fateful last meeting in the courtyard, where he had held Severus and been held, he had begun to understand that Severus—regardless of status, face, and stature—was the only person he wanted. And through a war that killed hundreds, a war that had spanned two decades of both his lifetime, and his parents, he had learned one thing. Life was far, far too short to not pursue what he wanted. What he needed. What, perhaps, he loved more than anything in the world.

And so, fearless and no longer shackled by shame, Harry had spoken with first Hermione, and then Ron, about what had happened and how he felt. Certainly, Hermione had been the most accepting, but Ron had greatly surprised Harry with his maturity in the matter. Harry supposed that when one is fighting on the front lines of battle, one cannot exactly hold on to old school room grudges.

Dumbledore had been the hardest part, both during that time, and later when Harry had spoken with his friends. The night following the Headmasters death, Harry had gone to Severus and made demands, most of them beginning with 'why' and ending in 'how could you?' The Potions Master, at this point barely operating under the immense pressure of guilt, had snapped. 'Don't you dare accuse me of things you don't understand, boy! The old man asked me to, in order to save Draco because I made a damn Unbreakable Vow to do my best to help him! The old fool was dying anyway, he'd done something to his hand he could not fix—that I could not fix because he shared it with me too late!' The sheer amount of pain and regret in those onyx eyes had made Harrys heart shift suddenly from righteous anger to overwhelming sympathy. Snape had seen it and, mistaking the sympathy for pity as he so often did, had thrown Harry out on his arse.

After he had explained these things to Hermione and Ron, though, the two had been far more accepting of his feelings for Snape. And now, with the war finally over, Harry had thought for sure that he and the older man could have a chance at a life—at exploring the confused mess of feelings each had for the other. Maybe they would even be able to make a relationship out of it.

And live happily ever after? The mocking voice in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Snape had rang out, again and again, as his thoughts ran to these lines. And every time he answered stubbornly; Yes, it's about fucking time I get to at least try for a happily ever after. Isn't that what everyone is trying for, in the end?

Harry Potter, for all his faults, self-doubts, and fears, was a persistent man. He had not won a war, and saved hundreds, by being deterred by a few words. But in this particular instance, when so many things made him so unsure, he needed someone else to talk to, someone to help him understand the difference between what it was right to do, and what he wanted to do. In this, he took his troubles to Hermione Granger.

"And you love him?" Said woman asked as she set down afternoon tea on the table between them. Harry shrugged as he took a pastry and teacup.

"I can't imagine my life without him. Is that the same thing?" Hermione nodded her head from side to side.

"More or less, I suppose. I doubt you could really say with conviction that you love him until you get a chance to truly be with him, but it sounds like you have some serious feelings, and want to give those feelings a real chance." Harry nodded gratefully; glad that he had a friend who could explain his feelings to him better than he could himself.

"So, what should I do? He said he was tired of me, that he never wanted to see me again…" Hermione frowned in thought.

"Well…You could always start behaving very recklessly. That always seems to bring him out to rescue you." Harry shook his head in disgust.

"That would be completely immature. I want a relationship with him, not for him to be my nursemaid. And I doubt he wants that either." When he saw her grinning in satisfaction, his eyes narrowed. "Were you tricking me? I knew you were meant for Slytherin!" Hermione rolled her eyes at his accusing finger and shrugged.

"Harry, think about what relationship you did have with him…think about if he trusts you, likes you, enjoys your company. Then think about what he said to you the other night, and try to figure out why he would say that, based on what you know." Harry looked glumly down at his teacup.

"Well, we always had really great sex. And I guess he trusted me, but there wasn't really anyone else around that was available for his trust, you know? And he never tossed me out when I wanted to stick around a bit and read, so I guess he doesn't hate my company." Harry was still looking dejected and Hermione shook her head in slight wonder at his apparent incomprehension.

"Harry…how many people in the world does Severus Snape—former Death Eater and social recluse—act like that with? How many people does he sleep with, and allow to hang around his private quarters, and tell top secret things to, even if it was in a fit of rage and guilt?" Harry looked up at her slowly.

"What are you saying, 'Mione?"

"I'm just saying that what he said to you the other night doesn't add up to the liberties he's granted you. He's a very private man, Harry. And yet he allowed you very far into his private world. Why would he do that, if he was only looking out for you or helping win the war? And on the other side, why would he tell you to get lost when you're the only person that we know of since Dumbledore to be allowed access—although limited—to the very private world of Severus Snape? It doesn't add up." Harry was putting two and two together, looking more hopeful by the second.

"So…I should be persistent?" He asked, as though expecting her to say he was absurd.

"Go on and do what you do best, Harry. Be persistent." She confirmed. He grinned and threw himself at her in order to hug her, professing her brilliance and telling her how much he loved her. When he was finished, she was red in the face and fussing with her hair.

"Go on then, get out of here," she waved him away and he went readily, intent on his renewed quest.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" The older man sounded angry and slightly ill, as though he couldn't stomach the presence of the younger one in his own home.

"Being persistent. Hermione says it's what I do best. She also said that what you said to me the other night and the way you've given me some access to your private world don't add up—or something, to be honest I wasn't fully following her—and I agree with her, so here I am." Snape was nearly shocked silent from the blatant admission that Harry had told a friend of his about the odd relationship the two men had, but he recovered quickly enough to retort.

"Don't tell me you've told your friends about your shameful secrets, Potter." He taunted snidely. Instead of looking guilty or ashamed, as one might suspect, Harry Potter merely smiled brilliantly.

"I have, actually. Ron and Hermione, anyway. I think Ron probably told his whole family, but I suppose the Weasleys weren't too much of a risk. Hermione and Ron were pretty supportive when I told them everything, two years ago."

"Two years, Potter?" was all Snape could say, as his mind was reeling from the new information.

"Yeah. Remember the night in the courtyard? Well, I meant what I said. I mean, I guess I didn't really say that much. But what I mean is, I…I need Hermione to translate for me…" Snape raised an eyebrow and would have admitted to being utterly confused, if Harrys confusion wasn't so much more…appealing.

"I—yeah that was stupid. Look, what I meant—what I mean, now—is that, I'm not ashamed, not at all. And I only was before because I was confused. I didn't know how I felt—I still don't know how you feel—and I didn't know what any of it meant, let alone how all of it fit with everyone else's opinion of you. But I'm not ashamed, or guilty, or worried anymore. And I want to find—I mean—I want to try, to see, maybe, how we could do if we gave this—" he gestured between the two of them rather ungracefully, "a try. A real try. And maybe just…see how things go. I don't want to lose you. And I know I want you, want to be with and around you, and I don't really understand what Hermione was saying about things adding up, but I kind of feel like maybe you weren't being completely honest with me the other night." Harry took a large breath and waited while his one-time professor scrutinized him with intense black eyes.

"I was being honest." Snape said finally, watching as Harry's eyes and face never changed or flickered—as the young man waited for him to continue. "I was being honest when I said I had better things to do than babysit you." Snape waited to see what Harry would say next, at once hoping the boy wouldn't understand, and leave, and yet hoping he would, and stay.

"You don't have to babysit me. I know what I want and at least most of how I feel, and I'm willing—more than willing—to give this a real try." The damn brat had understood, had seen that Severus was tired of waiting for Harry to lose his shame and guilt, had seen that the older man had at some point began to want more from him than just sex, just brief moments in time they were together. Severus had realized it that night in the courtyard, and out of a sense of honor and weariness has decided to set Harry free to live his own life, set him free of his shame and a likely doomed relationship.

"You had better be sure, Potter, because once I take something…" Snape moved menacingly towards him, but the brat just reached out to wrap his arms around his neck. The boy smiled brilliantly, and then kissed him, rough confidence and underlying uncertainty making it completely impossible for Snape to resist. When they broke apart, Harry was still smiling.

"Don't call me that," the young man said lazily, and a smile tugged the elders lips.

"Harry."

A/N: So...review?