Title: Collide (1/2)
Author: Miss Barrowmaniac
Pairings: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I just have fun playing around with the characters, and do not make any kind of profit from this - except, maybe, improving my writing skills and making friends. So please don't sue me!
Summary: After the war is over, Harry has some trouble resuming a normal life, and the only one who can help him is Severus.
Warnings: This is a SLASH fic. It means two male characters involved in a romantic/sexual relationship. So if the subject makes you uncomfortable, please don't read this story. Nobody is forcing you, you can always close the tab/window or click on back button on the top of the page. There's no need to leave me any homophobic remarks. Also, though I don't describe it, there's mentions of suicide, and though I'm not sure if it can be considered a trigger, in case it does, here's the heads up.
Author's Note: I suppose this is a bit AU - Severus survives the war, and the Epilogue never happens. Other than that, everything is pretty much the same as it was in the books. Also, this will be a two-part story. The second part is ready and I just need to review it, so I should be posting it in a couple of days. Please read and review! I'll never blackmail my readers into reviewing, but it means a lot to know what you think, and it helps me grow as a writer. So please spare a couple of minutes to leave me a message in that little box at the end of the page!
Collide
After the Battle of Hogwarts destroyed the castle, the following school year had to be cancelled in order to rebuild the property, and all of the staff and alumni who had either the physical or financial conditions helped whichever way they could. The work didn't take up a full year, so everybody had exceptionally long summer vacations, though weekly meetings had been arranged by the new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, so the missing year problem could be assessed.
Severus Snape couldn't wait for that school year to be over: it'd been decided the students would be given extra classes a few nights a week and on weekends, so that they could cover the subject for three years in two, so that in a couple of years, everybody would be in the appropriate school year according to their age; and in the case of those who should be graduating that year and the following, everything else they'd need to know to take their N.E.W.T.s. I would be a nightmare.
During the war days, especially after the second rise of the Dark Lord, July and August were as busy months as the rest of the year for the Potions Professor, between planning the classes, spying both ways, and working missions for both his masters. He never spent too long in the same place, and his own house was practically abandoned through all that. Now he'd been granted an insufferable amount of free time, he'd decided it was more than time to fix the property his parents left him, and had begun living there full time. He was surprised to find how many interesting books there were on the dusty study.
It was a warm night in April, and he was going through a book on healing potions for children - there wasn't anything in it he didn't already know, having worked with the little brats for nearly two decades now, but it was mildly amusing anyway - when an extremely unexpected knock on the door put his still very sharp senses in full alert. For Salazar, who could it be? Nobody even knew where he lived, and the only one who did - and would dare contact him there - was McGonagall, who knew very well the fireplace was enchanted to let her through.
If it's another one of those muggle vendors, I swear I'll break the Statue of Secrecy, he thought as he got up. A quick glance on the clock on the wall told him it was already past midnight, which only increased his suspicions, at the same time it left him a little surprised to see how much he'd lost track of time. As he walked to the small hall, the knocks came again, insistent.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
He stood a few steps from the door, hidden in the shadows cast by the light coming in from the other room, wand firmly on his hand. A silent flick opened the door, and Severus didn't know whether to feel angry, surprised or both to see the very familiar figure of Harry Potter standing at his door. Though he looked a lot thinner and more battered than he did in his school days, which was surprising considering he was always a skinny kid in far-too-large clothes.
"Snape?" He called silently, sticking his head inside, trying to see something. "Snape?" He called again, stumbling inside and making it more than obvious he was drunk. It was then when Severus knew exactly what he felt: he was completely furious at Harry, for coming to his house, bothering him that late at night, and even more so for doing it all in that pathetic state.
"Get out." He said authoritatively, stepping into the light, his wand pointed straight at the boy's nose.
"No, please, Snape, talk to me." He begged, standing up straight the best he could.
"Go home to your girlfriend, Potter."
"She's not my girlfriend anymore."
"Then go cry on Weasley's or Granger's shoulder. Good night." He replied, lowering his wand and guiding Harry back towards the door.
"I can't talk to them. They don't understand."
"Then go find someone who does and leave me alone." He insisted.
Harry tried to resist, but Severus had always been stronger, and easily maneuvered him around.
"I already have. You."
"I'm no therapist, Potter." They'd reached the door. "Good night." He repeated, closing the door, but the boy put a foot forward, stopping him.
"Please."
"You've been drinking. Go home, sleep it off and you'll be fine."
Severus had never been one to have too much patience, but he knew that raising his voice at that moment would be counter-productive. He'd had to deal with far too many drunk people in his life, both students sneaking out for drinks and fully-grown Death Eaters who didn't know any limits, and had developed quite the ability to handle them. He instinctively knew what was the best approach just judging by their general state, and he was hardly ever wrong.
Besides, since the war ended and it was found out he was still alive, the Ministry had been very decided to throw him in Azkaban, despite the testimonies of his work as a spy. If it hadn't been for Harry's influence - which even Severus had to admit could come in handy, and wasn't something to be lightly dismissed -, they probably would've succeeded. So perhaps it was on his best interest not to piss the little brat off unnecessarily.
"No, I won't. Nothing's fine. The war is over, and everything's still fucked up." Harry insisted, clinging to the older man's arm.
He sighed, opening the door again. "I have a spare room upstairs. We can talk about this tomorrow." He said as he pulled his arm away, pointing to the staircase.
"Let's talk now, Snape, please-"
"That's my offer. Take it or leave it."
"Okay, fine." He mumbled, dragging his feet inside.
"It's that door." Severus indicated, having climbed the stairs behind him. "I trust you're still sober enough to conjure anything you'll need for the night?"
"Yeah, thanks." Harry smiled at him, and it was the first time he ever had, surprising the Potions Master. It reminded him more of Lily's smile than James's, and it was far more pleasant to be at the receiving end of that than Severus would ever admit.
When Harry came down for breakfast the next morning, it was already past ten, and he looked utterly embarrassed, which, of course, pleased Severus very much. But the boy seemed otherwise unaffected by the previous night's excess, and headed quietly to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat before joining Severus in the study. Preventive potions were becoming very popular among young people these days, and they did their job well, avoiding hangovers.
"If you leave now, I'll credit it to the indiscretions of the youth and never mention it again." Severus replied once the boy was finished with his apology. And the Potions Master, enjoying it greatly, gave him plenty of time to make sure he was done.
"You promised we could talk." He insisted.
"I just wanted to get some rest. I said whatever it took to get you to shut up."
"But you promised!" He replied, his tone growing louder.
"What could we possibly talk about?" Severus asked with an eyebrow raised. "Just apologize to the Weasley girl for whatever you did this time and I'm sure she'll be more than glad to take you back."
"I don't want to get back together with Ginny." He said quietly, taking a seat across from the other man. His tone was surprisingly sad, especially considering how much effort Harry had always put into hiding his feelings from that particular man.
"Then pick another girl from the endless line that surely is formed after you."
"I don't want any of them. And they don't really want me either, they want the boy in the posters the Ministry keeps putting up."
Severus sighed, putting down the book he'd been trying to read. "Potter, you knew this was how things would be. This is how they always were. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on with your life."
"What can I do, really? I haven't even graduated school." He replied, upset. Still the boy with no control over his feelings he always was, Severus thought sarcastically.
"You have two monumental inheritances on your name. Go spend them."
"It's not my money. I didn't earn it. I don't know what image you have of me, Snape, but I believe in earning a living."
"Well, you're Harry Potter. Just ask anyone for a job and they'll be more than glad to give it to you."
"I want to do it by my own merit. Just like everybody else."
"Get real, Potter. You're not and you'll never be like everybody else."
"I know." He replied quietly, and silence fell over them for the next several minutes. "How did you do it?" He asked suddenly.
Severus sighed, looking up from his book again. "Did what, Potter?"
"Live knowing you've killed another person."
"Why are you talking about that?"
"I know he was a monster, and could hardly still be considered a person, but I killed him."
"Nobody blames you for that, Potter. You saved the world." He said sarcastically with a smirk, and Harry smiled weakly.
"I know. And they'll never understand what it's like. My whole life has been about killing Voldemort. What does that make me?"
Snape stared at the boy for long moments. He knew well he was supposed to tell him it was alright, that he did what he had to do, but that was certainly what everybody in the boy's life had been telling him, and it evidently wasn't working on Harry's favor. He dwelled on the decision for another few moments before he decided to speak, looking away from the boy and at the fire crackling in front of them.
"My first kill was a muggle woman. The Dark Lord had sent some of his Death Eaters to capture a group of muggles and bring them to his headquarters. It was sort of a rite of passage. That kind of thing used to be very violent, back in the day. We all had to kill one of them to gain the mark. I thought I was lucky not to be assigned one of the three children they brought. The oldest wasn't more than seven. But as I pointed my wand to her and she started begging for her life, I found out she had a two-year-old at home."
"I'm sorry." He whispered quietly, and it took Severus a moment to chase away the woman's image, still burned into his eyes after all those years.
"I was the same age you were when you killed the Dark Lord." He added quietly, letting his eyes wander from the fire back to Harry. "You killed him, fine. But you've saved thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives. Focus on that."
He nodded, avoiding the black eyes. "Is that what you do?" He asked a few minutes later. "Let all the good you've done soften the bad things?"
"I could spend my whole life doing good and it wouldn't make up for turning that little boy into an orphan, let alone make up for what I did after that." Severus replied seriously in a low voice. "I did it because I could. You did it because you had to."
Harry nodded again, and after a few more quiet minutes, he stood up and headed for the door. He stopped at the threshold, his back turned to the older man. "I think... No matter what terrible things you did, you more than made up for them, all those years risking your life. Thank you for talking to me, Snape." He said before leaving.
Severus sat there for another moment, trying to understand what'd happened. Then he cast a diagnostic spell over himself. He had to have been seriously ill to have spent any amount of time talking to Potter. It had to be Lily's eyes. He could never say no to those eyes.
As he rest his head on his pillow that night, he was very satisfied to believe his interaction with Harry had been a particularly strange dream, and nothing more. And he would've believed that gladly, had Hermione not shown up on his doorstep the next morning, begging him to continue to do whatever he'd been doing to Harry.
A few months after the war ended, once the Ministry allowed him enough room to breathe, Harry had fallen into depression, and a couple of months earlier, he'd taken up drinking heavily. His friends had tried talking to him, helping him the best they could, but Harry categorically refused to let them close, and after they tried an intervention when he was found in an alcoholic coma in an alley in muggle London, he'd begun disappearing for days at a time. The previous day had been the first time in a long while since Hermione and Ron saw Harry sober and, more importantly, smiling again.
So she'd come to ask Severus to keep helping Harry, as he seemed the only one the boy would allow to.
Needless to say, he refused.
And Harry didn't show up for the next few days either, so he forgot all about the matter.
He was starting his preparations for the classes he'd be giving that year - he always preferred to get an early start on that, in case some unexpected event took place, as often happened during the war, not to mention now, with the extra classes they'd be giving, he'd have to completely reorganize his teaching schedule -, when McGonagall stepped through his fireplace, panicking, livid. Harry had tried to kill himself and left him, of all people, a note.
Despite his insistent refusal, the older woman dragged him to St. Mungo's, and he was met by a dozen people worried about Harry, all of whom seemed to hold him directly responsible for what had happened. All the Weasleys were there, as well as Hermione, Neville and Luna. They all looked accusingly at him as they stepped sideways, to let Severus closer to the bed. Whatever they expected him to do, he merely stood at the door, his eyes vaguely observing the sleeping boy in the bed, the only other sound being the constant scratching of quill on parchment as a result of a monitoring spell.
"Did he ever mention anything like this to you, Severus?" McGonagall asked after they were informed Harry's condition was stable and he was out of danger.
"No, of course not." He replied, avoiding the many pairs of eyes turned his way.
"Why you, Snape?" The youngest Weasley boy demanded. "He talked to you. What did you tell him?"
"Nothing that would encourage this in any way, Weasley." He replied, his anger ill-contained. "What does the note say?" He asked impatiently. It was obvious that, though the letter was addressed to him, the others wouldn't have respected that. Partially because it was him, but certainly because of the situation they found themselves in.
"He thanked you, and said he wished he was as brave as you." It was Hermione who replied.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, Weasley, maybe he finally decided to show some appreciation for all I did to save his miserable life and help end the war?"
"We're all very grateful for that, Professor." Hermione smiled at him, and that know-it-all air that was still about her made him even angrier. "But he seemed so much better after you two talked, I can't understand what happened."
"Just ask him when he wakes up, alright? May I go now? I honestly don't see why I should stay any longer."
"I think he'd want to see you when he wakes up, Professor."
"I think he didn't want to wake up, Granger. Excuse me."
Harry woke up the next day and sent for Severus, who was completely unwilling to get any more involved in that mess. As he was under a suicide watch, the boy was forbidden to leave the hospital, but he insisted to every person who came to visit him that he wanted to see Severus, until they all got so fed up they unanimously agreed they'd take the Potions Master to the hospital whether he wanted to go or not. And as it seemed their best alternative, McGonagall volunteered for the task.
One could hardly say they had a conversation, as Severus limited himself to standing in a corner, eyes out the window, doing his best to endure what was turning out to be an incredibly dull speech on Harry's side. When he left the room, he couldn't say he actually knew what the boy had said in the last several minutes.
He would've liked to have considered that a solved matter as he walked out of St. Mungo's, but much for his rage and discontentment, his involvement on the events wasn't yet finished. Though he wasn't too avid a reader of the Prophet - or the Quibbler, for that matter, as the magazine seemed to have gained legions of followers during the war and was currently considered more reliable than the newspaper -, he couldn't help noticing there wasn't a single word on what had happened, and thinking back, neither to Harry's indiscretions. It helped to have influent friends after all.
A week after he'd tried to kill himself, the healers at St. Mungo's considered him healthy enough to be released from the hospital, under the condition that he didn't live alone until further notice, and someone took personal responsibility over him. And to everybody's surprise, Harry refused to leave the hospital with anyone other than Severus. Not that he had any reason to believe the Potions Master would accept his demands, but he threatened to commit suicide again unless Severus took him in.
Evidently, Severus's first reaction was to tell him to stay at St. Mungo's then, if he wasn't willing to accept the help from any of his friends. He could, after all, afford as long a stay at the hospital as his stubbornness required. But the healers insisted he left, in order to properly begin his recovery, and none of his friend thought it healthy for him to remain there after being discharged. So one afternoon, as often happened with Dumbledore, Severus was summoned for a meeting with McGonagall and informed he was, from that moment on, responsible for caring for Harry. And as usual, he didn't have a say in the matter.
Even though, ultimately, he could've put his foot down and refused to comply, a part of him, which he wasn't even properly aware of, knew Harry was all that was left of Lily, and if protecting him was all he could do for her, he would do it. He couldn't save her, but he could save Harry. Wasn't that what he'd done since she'd been killed, after all? And telling himself he was doing it because he'd been ordered to was the perfect excuse to put his conscience at rest.
After all those years working at Hogwarts, Severus managed to save up quite some money, and had bought a little cottage house in the country, where he could be isolated from the rest of the world. The place was even less known than his house in Spinner's End, but McGonagall, knowing of its existence, suggested that perhaps the country air would be good for Harry. So they left the hospital mid-morning, Harry holding the suitcase his friends had put together for him, and Severus side-apparated him to what seemed like a large, empty space covered in grass.
"Where are we?" Harry asked curiously, looking around. He'd expected to find himself standing on Spinner's End, staring at the old door belonging to Severus's house.
"Read and memorize it, then I'll burn it." He heard the man tell him, offering a piece of parchment. "You know how this works."
"O-okay." Harry stuttered, running his eyes a few times through the two lines dashed down in Severus's unmistakable handwriting.
As the boy looked up again, a small house had appeared a few yards away, and they were standing by a low, worn, wooden fence. The entrance, where Severus was waiting for him, was a couple of steps to his left, and he took his time appreciating the view before following the man who'd billowed his cape impatiently and was already headed to the house.
"There's an anti-apparition spell around the property's perimeter." Severus explained as Harry caught up with him. "There are other protective spells around, so in case you want to leave, make sure you've crossed the fence. I won't be hold responsible for the consequences if you don't."
Harry nodded his head, and realizing the man wasn't looking at him, he added, "Yes, sir."
"I have some ground rules for you." The Potions Master continued as he moved his wand in front of the door, undoing the locking charms he always put on the place when he wasn't using it. "First, you will not try to kill yourself again. Not while you're here, at least. Because if you do, I'll personally make sure you succeed. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Also, I have a lot of work to do. I won't always be around, as a matter of fact, I'll probably spend more time away than here. Can I trust you won't destroy the house or go snooping around things that don't concern you?"
Harry nodded as they entered the house. The front door led straight to a living space, with a small fireplace, a couch and some armchairs to one side, the walls covered in book shelves, and the kitchen-dining room to the other.
"That will be your room." Severus pointed to the door on the left. "It's pretty empty right now, so feel free to conjure whatever you need. If you want anything brought from your house, you let me know and I'll arrange it." Another nod. "That door leads to the bathroom, which we'll be forced to share, so make sure to clean after yourself." He was pointing to the door in the middle. "And that's my room. Under no circumstance you are allowed to enter. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll make sure the pantry's always full, but if you want anything special, let me know. And go find something to do, I don't want you sleeping all day. If you're incapable of doing so yourself, I'll be more than glad to assign you some chores."
"Okay. I got it."
"I suppose that would be all for now. Go get settled. Lunch will be served at noon."
Harry nodded again and headed to the room he'd been assigned. Two things surprised him about it: first, the size, as it was a pretty large room, no matter what standards you compared it to; second, it really was mostly empty: there was a bed against one wall, and an old wardrobe on the wall in front of it. And that was all.
The boy smiled to himself, taking a deep breath. He'd never expected the man to agree to that arrangement, and he could barely hold his excitement he was actually there. And it wasn't even the town house, it was somewhere even more private, more special, Severus was sharing with him. He let himself fall on the bed, content, creating a cloud of dust that made him cough for a few moments before laughing again.
After a few minutes staring at the bare ceiling, he sat up again and looked at the wardrobe facing at him. It was made of some very dark wood, with a very simple, geometrical pattern on the doors. Taking out his wand, he pointed it at piece of furniture as he hesitantly opened one door with his free hand. It didn't look like it'd been used much in the past, and seemed quite the ideal place for a boggart to hide in.
The thought of using magic excited him, even if it was for something as silly as getting rid of a boggart. Between attending the millions of events the Ministry demanded his presence at, giving interviews and being assaulted by the mobs every time he stepped outside, he hadn't had a lot of reasons to use magic. And after he'd began drinking, he hadn't had a lot of reasons to do anything at all.
He was a little disappointed to find the wardrobe perfectly empty and clean, when by the looks of it, one would expect at least a nice cover of dust to have accumulated in it. Perhaps it was some spell Snape had put on it, he thought. Maybe he could ask the man about it later; he never knew many household spells, and they were always useful to have stored in your head.
Harry dedicated the next hour to transferring his things from the suitcase to the wardrobe, pulling them out again and refolding them after he realized practically no time at all had passed since he'd started. When he was finally satisfied with the way his things were stored, he put the suitcase under the bed and looked around again, wondering what he could do to make the room cozier.
There were two large windows on adjacent walls, one across the door and one over the bed, which let in quite a lot of light. He made a face when he realized it meant he'd have no choice but to wake up early, with sunlight invading the room. Unless of course he conjured curtains, he thought. Several attempts later, he realized he'd have to study a lot more before his skills went back to what they used to be. Or ask Snape to do it for him, but that option wasn't really an option for him. It was bad enough he'd failed to commit suicide, he didn't want the man to think he was so stupid he couldn't even do that little bit of magic on his own.
When he looked at his watch again, there were only a few minutes to go before noon, so he left his room and, after quickly washing up, he sat at the table Snape had set for them. The smell was divine, and he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. The meal was silent, and once they were done, Severus announced Harry was in charge on the dishes, and that he would be in his room, not to be bothered, until dinner time.
The following days were rather silent in the little cottage. Severus would leave early, short after breakfast, to his house at Spinner's End - the two were connected through the Floo Network, as Harry would find out -, claiming most of his research material was there, and though the boy wasn't aware of it, most days also included a few hours spent at Hogwarts. Harry knew how to cook the basics from his days at the Dursleys, so he would make himself something quick for lunch, and Severus would be back in time to cook them a proper dinner.
Harry would've liked them to have long talks, or at least short ones, but usually they ate in silence, and right after, the Potions Master would retire himself to his room. His days with the man turned out to be far less exciting than he'd hoped them to, but he was still very happy to just be around. He soon developed his own routine, which included most basic house chores, a lot of reading - he was surprised to find books that were actually interesting and, more than that , that weren't about Potions -, and working on the little garden he found on the backyard. With the guidance of a Herbology textbook, he soon knew exactly the plants that grew there, and what kind of care they required.
"You have your check-up meeting at St. Mungo's tomorrow." Severus said over dinner, two weeks after they'd started living together.
Another condition for his release was that he'd periodically return for check-ups, starting with every two weeks and, should he demonstrate the desirable degree of progress, the time gap between them would grow accordingly. They'd also strongly recommended Harry had therapy sessions for a few months at least, but he absolutely refused to, and being who he was, a point was made it would be unwise for anyone other than those already informed of the situation to know of what had happened. Severus was told to keep an eye on him, though, and at the first sign, that reluctant agreement would be suspended and the boy would immediately sent to a shrink.
"Yeah, right." Harry replied with a weak smile. He'd half forgotten about it, being completely immerse in his new reality. And it scared him a little to go back. He was afraid of what the healers might say, and how it might impact his current living arrangements. He enjoyed it too much to want it to change.
"I suppose it's my responsibility to accompany you, even though I'm rather certain you're perfectly capable of doing so on your own." He continued. "We'll take the fireplace to Spinner's End, and again from there to St. Mungo's."
"Okay. At what time do we leave?"
"Short after breakfast, so be ready."
"I will be, don't worry." He smiled. "Professor?" He called after a few minutes.
Severus raised an eyebrow. Since when did Harry voluntarily called him that? "What is it, Potter?"
"Thank you for everything you're doing for me." He blushed a little as he said that, looking down to his plate.
"In case you've forgotten, I didn't have an opinion on the matter."
"I know, but still... I mean, I suppose if you really didn't want to, you could've just said no, so whatever reason made you agree to this... I just want you to know I truly appreciate it."
"I'm glad to hear it for once." He replied sarcastically.
"You're right. I've never properly thanked you for everything you did for me before. All the times you saved my life."
"I'll say."
"I'm sorry I never gave it its proper value. But I know now how much you had to sacrifice. And I'll be forever grateful to you."
"I understood, Potter. Now can you please let me finish my meal in peace?"
"Yeah, sure." Harry smiled, looking up again and watching the other man for long minutes, until Severus looked up and their eyes met, making the boy blush and look away.
The meeting with the healer didn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes (which enraged Severus very much, as even though it was Harry Potter who needed a consultation, they were made to wait nearly an hour before it, and he had plenty to do other than sit around), and the wizard seemed rather satisfied with the boy's progress, even though he urged the Potions Master to talk to Harry about what he'd done and what led to it. It was an important part of his emotional healing process, the man insisted.
Harry went back to the cottage on his own; Severus insisted he had a lot of work to do at Spinner's End. He walked out of the fireplace and headed to his room to leave the coat the older man had forced him to carry, 'just in case', he'd said. After all the time he'd been living there, it was still spartanly decorated with only its original furniture. After all, it was really only used to sleep in and store his things; he was busy most of the day with the house chores, and should he need any space to study (not that it'd actually crossed his mind), he could always use the dining table. And the couch was far more comfortable to read in than a desk would be.
"Do you want to talk about it, Potter?" Severus offered over dinner that night.
"Talk about what?"
"Your doctor insisted I make you talk about what you did. So I'm offering to listen."
"I... wouldn't know what to say." He admitted, blushing a little.
"I personally thought you'd bring it up when you were ready, or if you ever thought it relevant. But the healer was very... adamant, so I felt compelled to bring it up." He replied, indifferent to Harry's reaction.
"Thanks anyway." The boy smiled, and the older man nodded curtly.
"He also insisted I keep a constant eye on you despite your progress, but that's unnecessary, right?"
"Yeah. I know you have more important things to do." He offered, even though he wished they could spend more time together.
"Good." They spent the next few minutes in silence. "Are you keeping yourself busy? I don't want that stupid idea crossing your mind again." He asked, and though his tone was completely indifferent, matching perfectly his expression, Harry couldn't help feeling happy at what he interpreted as concern about him. Not that Severus would ever admit it.
"Actually, I have. I hope you don't mind, but I've been taking care of your garden. And there are many interesting books around, so you don't have to worry."
"I'm surprised you'd have any interest in books, Potter." He said sarcastically, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upwards. "You never seemed to get along with them when you were at school."
"That's not true!" He complained, smiling. "It's not my fault if textbooks are so boring." He watched the other man arch an eyebrow, and his smile grew. "Well, it's true. It's not like I'm reading your endless collection of books on Potions, I'm limiting myself to the fiction ones."
"You must be a really slow reader, in that case. I don't recall having those many fiction books in my collection."
"I suppose they're not your main choice of reading, but I happen to have found at least a couple dozen of them."
"Really? That's... Peculiar."
Harry giggled. "Peculiar?"
"I do recall buying a few, but certainly not those many. Then again, I don't ever have time for them, so I can't say it's really surprising I'm not aware of their existence. It's good to know they're being put to good use, though."
"They are, don't worry."
After that day, they began talking more often, and occasionally, when the subject was deemed worthy, Severus would postpone his work for another hour or two and they would continue their discussion sitting in front of the fire. Harry's problems were never mentioned, as wasn't the past, be it the war or Severus's years before it; but they found out they had quite a lot in common, considering how different they were. Harry began getting used to the other man's sarcasm, and laughing at his remarks, even when they were about himself; not once since they began living together he felt the rage he constantly did in his school years towards the man.
Once he was through all the fiction books he could find, Harry decided to take a chance on some of the many others around, and the first ones he decided to tackle were the ones on defensive spells, which turned out to be many and greatly interesting. One Sunday afternoon, the first Severus spent at the cottage and, most importantly, not locked away, he mentioned the books, and from then on they began playing mock duels once a week, so Harry could exercise his new spells. And Severus had to admit he enjoyed himself as well; dueling had always been one of his passions, especially now his life didn't depend on it.
"When classes start again, I'll probably spend the week at school. I might return Saturday and Sunday nights, but I'm required to stay there the rest of the time." Severus informed the boy one night over dinner, about a month after they'd moved in together.
"You're kicking me out, then?" He joked with a smile. It'd become a constant expression on Harry's face, and one the older man was learning to thoroughly appreciate. Anyone looking from the outside now would have a hard time believing it was the same kid who tried to take his own life not too long ago.
"You can stay if you want to. I'm just informing you I won't be around a lot, so perhaps you might want to go somewhere you won't be so alone."
"I'm alone all day long anyway." He shrugged.
"Well, you're supposed to be under supervision. For now we can pretend you are, but it'll be more than obvious you're not when classes start. I don't want to be held responsible for your impulsive behavior."
"I won't try to kill myself again." He said seriously.
Though he couldn't quite explain why, Severus believed what the boy was saying. But he wasn't about to let him know that quite yet. "I wouldn't try to stop you if you did. I just don't want anyone blaming me for it, again."
"If you don't care what happens to me, why did you even take me in, in the first place?" He replied angrily, standing up. The same explosive temper as ever taking the best of him.
"I didn't have a choice in the matter." He said honestly, unaffected by the outburst.
"You're only following orders, then? You wouldn't care if I'd actually died that day?"
"If you hadn't implied me in your little dramatic performance, no, I wouldn't have, Potter." He stood up as well, getting angry for being yelled at, for having been put in that situation. "But you had to leave me a letter, of all people! You had to drag me into your little mess, it was yet again up to me to clean up after you. You're not a child anymore, Potter! Take some responsibility for yourself!"
He looked at the man with a fire in his eyes that the Potions Master had never seen before, not even when he tried to teach him Occlumency and invaded his private memories. It was entrancing. Mesmerizing. He'd hit a nerve, and they both knew it.
Severus was caught off guard by Harry's lips crashing against his own, rude, angry, as both the boy's hands held his face and pulled him close. It took the man a few moments to understand what was happening, and as soon as he did, he pushed the brunet away a little too roughly, making him stumble a couple of steps back. All he could think of was to get some distance between them; he'd forgotten he didn't need to use so much strength to achieve his purpose. Their eyes met as the kiss was broken, and despite his struggle not to end up on the floor, Harry didn't look away.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Severus demanded.
Harry didn't reply. Instead, he turned around and ran out the door, slamming it behind himself. A part of Severus wanted to go after him; it was dark outside, he was just a kid, alone, depressed, angry. But he refused to give it any attention, and decided to head to his lab, to work on some potions whose stocks he still needed to replenish before classes started.
There was a lot going on in the older man's mind. It was easy to cast it aside while he prepared ingredients, but watching potions boil wasn't the most distracting of tasks. He was so lost in thought he almost burned a potion, for perhaps the first time since he started school when he was eleven. After making sure everything was right, he decided to get some sleep, as he knew there'd be people knocking on his door, so to speak, as soon as a devastated Harry showed up for any of his friends.
Instead, none other than Harry himself walked through the door the following morning as he had breakfast.
"You didn't come after me." Was the first thing he said when he saw Severus.
He couldn't help smirking at his disappointed tone. "You're an adult, Potter. You're free to leave whenever you want to."
"So you really don't care?"
"I thought I'd made myself clear last night."
"Can I still stay here?" He asked shyly, sitting at the table across from the other man.
"If you want to." He replied indifferently.
Harry remained in silence, just sitting there, head down.
After several minutes, Severus sighed. "Why don't you go live with one of your friends? They'll be glad to have you, and the distraction will do you good. Maybe while you're at it, you'll figure out what to do with your life."
"They don't understand." He said quietly, his eyes still on the hands playing on his lap.
"Still at it, are we?" He asked sarcastically.
"They think I did it just because I was depressed. That all I have to do is go back and pick up where I left off before the war, and everything will be as it's always been. But I can't do that."
"Why not? It's what everybody else's done."
"My whole life... It's been all about defeating Voldemort. Now I've done it. And what's left for me then?"
"Two inheritances? Family and friends who care about you? Fame and adoration by the masses?" He listed sarcastically. "Isn't that good enough for you Potter? Stop pitying yourself already. You're not doing anybody any favors."
"Well, if you know everything, why don't you tell me what to do next, then?" He asked angrily. After the way he'd been talking, Severus was almost relieved to get some reaction out of him.
"I did. And you won't listen."
"I told you, I can't go back, they don't understand-"
"What? That your life's been dedicated to the war? That everything seems petty if compared to the magnitude of fighting the Dark Lord? That you had to make sacrifices and do things you never thought you would, you never thought you could, to defeat him? Wake up, Potter! We were all there! We all made sacrifices, we all did dubious things. But as always, you think you're so much more special than the rest of us and nobody can understand what poor young Potter had to go through to save us all!" He know he sounded angrier than I actually was, but he couldn't help feeling completely annoyed by the boy's attitude. It was so much like he remembered James Potter behaving the rare times things didn't go his way.
"You understand." He said quietly at last, gaining a confused look. "You're the only one who doesn't treat me with kid gloves. Who talks to me honestly, and doesn't try to protect me."
"Is it so?" He asked, unsure how to react. "Is that why you insisted in living with me?" Harry nodded, and Severus sighed. "Okay, then."
"You were the first person to be honest with me since the war ended."
"Then listen to me, Potter. You have to find something to do with your life. You can't just sit around all day. It will maybe seem petty, and maybe you'll decide to do something completely different within a month's time, but you have to do something."
"Seriously, what can I do? I never graduated from Hogwarts., and virtually every profession requires at least that. And don't tell me to use my name to get accepted. I refuse to do that."
"There must've been at least one moment during it all that you imagined what life could be like, either without or after the Dark Lord."
"I suppose there was." He replied with a faint smile, and the Potions Master was surprised at how relieved he was to see that. After another quiet moment, the boy continued. "I used to dream about being an auror."
"It sounds like you." He joked. "Very well. Try that, then."
"I told you, I needed to have graduated to attend the Auror Academy. And I told you 'm not-"
"Classes start in September, right?" Harry nodded. "Then we'll pull some strings and have them apply special N.E.W.T.s in, say, three months. And don't argue with me, Potter." He interrupted the boy's protest. "All students who should've taken their N.E.W.T.s last year were granted special exams earlier this year. It would be a small favor to ask them to let you take yours in a few months. Then if your grades qualify you for the Academy, great, if they don't, you go find something else to do."
"Except there's no way I can learn all I need to know in a single month."
"What subjects do you need? Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, correct?" He nodded. "Except for Potions, I believe something must've penetrated your thick skull during all those years at school." He said sarcastically, and instead of getting angry as he once would've, Harry smiled. "I'll help you reviewing, and I'll teach you what you need to know about Potions. It shouldn't be too hard, now that you no longer need Exceeds Expectations on all of them to join the office."
"Why would you?"
"I'd like my life back as soon as possible, and this seems to be the only way I'll achieve that." Even Severus believed the truth of his words then, but Harry smiled as if he could see through the man, making him uncomfortable.
"Thank you, Snape."
For the following months, they spent long hours every day on the many textbooks Severus borrowed from the Hogwarts library, alternated with equally long hours practicing the theoretical knowledge. Now that he didn't put all his energy into hating the professor, Harry got in touch with the talents he inherited from Lily and quickly progressed in Potions.
After all that, Severus didn't doubt Harry would pass his N.E.W.T.s with flying colors, even though the boy wasn't too sure of that himself. The results arrived by owl just over two weeks before classes were supposed to start, and with grades varying from Outstanding to Exceeds Expectations, Severus had him pull a few strings to extend the applying period for Auror Academy, to which he was promptly accepted.
"Thank you for everything you've done." Harry said one afternoon. He was sitting on the couch with a book, and the other man was working at the dining table, lots of books and parchment spread around him. After spending so long working so closely together, it became sort of a habit to keep each other company. "I wouldn't have managed without your help."
"It's good to be appreciated for once." He replied sarcastically, not looking away from his work, and Harry smiled.
"There's... there's something I'd like to talk to you about." He said quietly, and Severus knew immediately what it was about.
"You were upset. You acted on an impulse. There's nothing more to it." He said conclusively, still refusing to look up, but no longer paying any attention to what he was doing, the quill suspended half-way to the page.
"No. There is more to it, and I need to talk to you about it." Harry's tone was serious, and he stood up, his eyes fixed on the other man, walking slowly to where he was.
"Look, Potter-" He tried, his eyes meeting the green ones.
"Just listen to me, okay? Then you can shut me off or kick me out or do whatever you want to." He asked, and Severus waited in silence for what he had to say next. "When I... Kissed you, I was way out of line. I know that, and I apologize for it. But it's allowed me to come to terms with my feelings, and you're too important for me not to be honest about it. I... I'm in love with you, Snape."
"I'm sure you're just confused, Potter." He said, dismissing the boy. It was easier that way.
"No, I'm no-"
"Now you listen to what I have to say." The Potions Master interrupted the protest. "For nearly five months now, I've been practically the only person you've had contact with. I knew I should've forced you to at least visit your friends; clearly it would've been the best for you. But it's not important now. Soon you'll be at the Academy, around plenty of people your own age, and it'll all go away. So let's just pretend this conversation never happened, alright?"
"If that's what you want. But know it won't change how I feel. I don't expect you to care about me, I'm not much of anything, really, but it's important for me that you know how I feel."
"Don't talk about yourself like that, Potter." He asked quietly. That pattern was way too familiar for him to watch in silence. "You're a great man. And in a few weeks, you'll meet some young woman who sees that, and you'll be very happy together."
"Thanks." He said with a shy smile. "But I don't want some young woman. I want you." Severus rolled his eyes, and the boy giggled. "And going to the Academy won't change that, you'll see." His tone was almost a challenge, and it made the older man laugh softly, disbelieving.
It didn't take long for them to adjust to their new routines. Everything that Harry needed bought for the Academy, Snape's house-elf was glad to purchase for him - the boy wasn't interested in the least in being stopped every two steps to be congratulated or thanked, and in all honesty, he'd never been too fond of shopping anyway. He decided to keep living in the cottage while he studied, even though a dormitory in the academy grounds was offered to its students; he knew that if he did so, Severus would feel obligated to return at least once a week, if anything else to, as he put it, make sure the place hadn't been destroyed yet.
So every morning Harry took the Floo to Spinner's End - Severus refused to connect it anywhere other than his old house, his office at Hogwarts and the Headmistress's office, the latter to be used exclusively at emergency situations -, and from there to the academy. Classes went on usually until four or five in the afternoon, and then he'd return to the cottage, make himself something to eat - he rather thought he was getting good at that, and the thought of cooking a meal to Severus even crossed his mind once or twice -, where he'd spend most of the evening working on the day's assignments.
As most professors, Severus had moved back to the school when classes started, and he stayed there during the week, and one night every weekend he'd sleep at the cottage, after making dinner for them, as he didn't want to risk being poisoned by Harry's "atrocious cooking skills".
It was obvious all his school activities were draining Harry, especially after spending a whole year doing nothing of the sort, so about a month after classes started, Severus decided to take him out for dinner. It would be good for the boy to go somewhere other than the academy, and to eat something different. They meant to go somewhere more creative, but ended up in the Leaky Caldron, as it seemed the most convenient place and, now that Tom had hired a new cook to work for him, rumor had it the food standard had come up quite a bit. They weren't disappointed. So much so that they seldom dared not to have at least one of their weekend dinners at the place.
As October approached, the temperatures dropped rather quickly, catching many students by surprise, and leading a fair amount of them to Madam Pomfrey for a dose of Pepper-Up Potion. Harry, exhausted, also began feeling a few of the symptoms, and though he tried to hide them from Severus and pretend he was fine, the Potions Master wasn't fooled and pulled two small bottles from a cabinet in his room, which had vanished any traces of flu by the following morning.
October also meant Halloween, and as the party would take place on a weekend, the two most likely wouldn't meet for another week. So Harry decided to accept the invitation one of his new colleagues had made for a costume party, and was more than delighted to meet Ron and Hermione there as well - it seemed somebody's girlfriend worked with Hermione in the Ministry and had invited them as well. He was offered a vast assortment of drinks, some colorful, some smoking (literally), and some doing things he'd never imagined a drink could do, but he declined all of them. He knew alcohol had influenced strongly his past actions, and didn't want to risk a relapse. But he had a great time catching up with his best friends, and it was nearly morning by the time he returned to the cottage, so exhausted he passed out in the couch, not bothering to make it to his own bed.
As for Severus, Halloween had always been a complicated date. His memories of it growing up weren't exactly the best, and having his only friend murdered on that day didn't make matters any better. And to top it all off, there was the annual Halloween Party at Hogwarts, when he was made to supervise the students pretending to be grown-ups, and using it as excuse to all sorts of inconsequent behavior. At least it was a night he got to assign more detentions and take more points than usual.
But every year, usually about an hour before the party started, he'd leave the school for an undeferrable commitment.
It was always quiet at Godric's Hollow, when he visited. Usually the weather had already turned, and occasionally the first snow of the season had already fallen. The town became much quieter after its constant involvement in wars, but it didn't feel as much abandoned as it feels solemn, in memory of those who perished there.
Severus would always stop by the statue of the Potters on his way to the graveyard; it was one of the few images he had of Lily to look at.
As the years passed, a sort of ritual formed for those occasions. After a few minutes admiring the memorial, he'd head to the graveyard, passing by a small flower shop on his way - he'd never dare to conjure the flowers he offered her; he always thought she deserved better than that. When there was snow on the grave, he'd brush it away before arranging the flowers over it. Then he'd talk to her, hoping somehow his words could reach her, wherever she might be.
"Hello, old friend. Another year has gone by without you. You'll be glad to know your son is safe. It seems he's had some problems since the war ended, but I put him back on the right track. Funny how it seems it's always up to me to do that. But I suppose now, even more than before, that burden falls to me. With Black and Lupin gone, and Dumbledore... I suppose I'm the next best thing. And I promise you, I'll keep him safe, always."
He smiled, weakly tracing her name with the tip of his finger.
"Something happened, Lily. It would infuriate Potter, for which alone I'd like to tell you. But I suppose as his mother, you'd like to know either way. He kissed me. Harry kissed me. Of course I'm not letting it go any further; I promised you I'd protect him, even if it means from myself. He says he's in love with me. I wish you were here to put some sense into his head, as I seem unable to do it myself. It'll go away in time, I suppose.
"I don't think it helps much that he's been living full time in my house, even if he spends most of the day away. He's training to be an auror, you know. I'm sure you'd all be very proud of him; I'm reluctant to say, but I am as well. I'm sure in no time he'll meet someone adequate for him, and will have forgotten all about me. But I must confess it hasn't been as horrible as I imagined to have him around. He has a lot more of you in him than I ever gave him credit for."
The sun was setting in the clear sky, bathing everything in golden colors, and he took a moment to wander his eyes around, memories flooding his mind. Then he took a quick glance at his watch before turning back to the grave.
"That's my cue, Lily. Time to go again. Don't you worry. Your son is safe. And as for me... Life must go on, mustn't it?"
It was always very comforting to talk to her, even though she would never reply. He'd found it out the first time he visited the grave, a few days after the funeral. He wouldn't risk being among dozens of aurors; he'd probably be killed and her death would've been even more in vain. But devastated as he was, he felt a little better after sobbing over the cold stone.
He had to limit himself to two visits a year, as it was incredibly risky to be seen in the town during the war, and otherwise he'd easily waste his life sitting by her. And the habit carried on after the first war was over, and through the second war. He'd go to her every year on her birthday and the anniversary of her death.
Always carrying lilies.