Title: what hurts the most.
Author: Godric's quill22
Warnings: underage sex, m/m slash, character death.
Genre: angst, romance, drama
Spoilers: none
Pairing: Severus Snape/ Harry Potter (snarry)
Summary: harry misses Snape even a year after the war and in spite of everything that happened between them. He recaps how things happened between the years ago.
Harry knew he'd been a fool. It didn't take an expect to know that. He was still a fool. Mourning a man who didn't love him. Waking up every day with an empty feeling in his chest, knowing somehow that he'd never love another like he loved him.
That bastard! Why did he leave? Why? They'd won the war. That's what they had both wanted so why did he have to die? Tears of self pity sprung into his eyes and stung him into awareness. He'd fallen in love with the git the moment he'd seen him though at the time, he was suspicious of him.
But come to think of it, he had been suspicious of anyone that wasn't Ron or Hagrid. He told himself for what seemed like the thousandth time now how foolish he'd been.
Giving his heart to the bastard selflessly and being hurt by him on more than one occasion. That day in first year when he'd caught his eye, he couldn't explain the tremor he had felt. Hell, he was only what, eleven?
Then later after his encounter with Professor Quirrell when he had realized that he'd misjudged him, he couldn't explain the tremendous flow of relief that flooded his veins and washed over him.
Dumbledore had later explained to him the role he was playing but he didn't know that then. That didn't stop him from daydreaming about the man. He lay in bed at night thinking about him and during the day, he was faraway in fantasy land dreaming about Severus Snape.
He'd noticed then. Severus Snape had noticed how he'd blush whenever their eyes met and how for the most part, Harry has been avoiding his gaze.
He had been surprised when one day as he was walking alone in the halls, a very rare occurrence; Snape had stepped in and asked what was wrong with him. Of course he hadn't sounded the least bit like he cared or that he was even concerned. He sounded angry. Angry and just a little bit of curious.
Harry'd said nothing, of course, which had only incensed Snape and landed him a month of detention. It wasn't fair, yes, but then again, when ever had Severus Snape been a fair man.
A month's detention just because he had chosen to shut his mouth and say nothing instead of speaking a lie. When he thought of it now, he'd have gotten that detention even if he had spoken the truth. He didn't know what Snape had expected him to say after that, but it obviously hadn't just nod and turn to leave.
That afternoon, he'd gotten a summons from Professor Dumbledore who claimed an anonymous someone- a little birdie, as he termed it,- had told him Harry was in a mood. It was obvious to a fool that Snape had been the one to report it but why worry when for once in Harry's life he had listened and not talked back?
He'd told Dumbledore he was fine and the old man had looked at him with unconvinced eyes but seemed to have decided not to push it further and trust that whatever was bothering him would pass or that Harry'd come to him if he needed help.
The twinkle had crawled back into Dumbledore's eyes and he'd offered him toffees, which he had gladly accepted with a smile.
He'd served detention with Snape, who had apparently grown some sort of emotion or maybe he just brewed it in a cauldron but even then, the only one he could manage was pity.
He didn't scrub floors without magic like he used to whenever he had detentions with Snape. However, he had been given books upon books and told to summarize into a foot parchment and submit, with only one day intervals.
Basically, he had a new book every day. He'd enjoyed those moments in detention, strangely, and had wondered how he'd keep going after it ended.
It hadn't bothered him much that he was spending more and more time with Snape and less time with his mates. Snape wasn't complaining, at least not to his face, and neither was Harry, but he couldn't say same for Ron and Hermione.
Especially Ron, who didn't understand why the "greasy git" was "holding Harry against his will". When he'd later explained to Hermione how he felt about the detentions and how much he loved doing it, she had hugged him happily and crooned "Oh Harry, I'm so proud of you!"
That had initially been surprising to say the least then it sunk in: of course Hermione will be glad since she had a soft spot for books but he'd still never dreamt of a day when Hermione would show happiness at the fact that he was serving detention. With Snape!
That explanation hadn't worked with Ron though, he should've known. He had been fairly horrified and said that Hermione had corrupted his brain. Harry had laughed at that and tried a different angle; saying it was better than what he could be doing.
Ron had just rolled his eyes and accepted it. He knew then he'd won that round and promised to find time for Ron. After all, Ron just didn't want to be neglected.
In fourth year, he had been quite certain that he was infatuated with the greasy haired, big nosed, bad tempered git. He was infatuated with Severus Snape.
He'd spent at least an hour every night with the man. After that detention, he'd waited another month before becoming bold enough to ask Snape if he could keep coming by.
The man had looked at him as if he'd just told him he had an O in potions, which at the time, would have been nothing short of a miracle, or some other outrageous nonsense.
He'd been given the longest list of rules known to man and he'd promised on all things he held dear that he'd be quiet and stay out of Snape's hair- gladly, and finally, Snape had affirmed.
He'd almost jumped onto the man and kissed him but then, he'd only realized what he was thinking midstep and held himself back, blushing fiercely and worse when Snape looked at him curiously. He'd only thanked him and made his escape.
Of course Ron hadn't liked the idea but he'd stopped complaining when the level at which Snape mistreated – that's how he called it- him and Hermione had diminished significantly.
If Snape had noticed his change in behavior towards him, he hadn't said anything.
He'd done things…
Things that said "I know you love me and I love you too"
Things like stocking his library with new and more interesting and modern books. Like offering to give Harry potion lessons until he knew by heart how to brew considering he'd been thought by the potions master himself. Things like sitting by Harry on his couch while Harry read, and even buying those books that Harry had recommended. Smiling, no matter how vaguely, at harry when no one was watching and above all, treating his friends right.
Hermione had noticed, of course! Nothing slips past her, but Harry had reassured her that it was nothing, which was true at the time.
Then at the end of the Triwizard competition when his blood had brought Voldemort back and he'd been depressed, it was Severus Snape who had brought him back to the land of the living.
Spending the rest of the year with Snape, he'd gone home. – as Dumbledore sees fit to call the house on no. 4 Privet Drive- feeling like a shadow of his old self, which was a shadow in its original form.
Snape had apparated to his room frequently with the excuse that Dumbledore sent him to check on him, or that he bought a new book. He'd probably bought a new book everyday for the whole summer because he had a new book every day.
They sat in companionable silence for a long time till Harry drifted off. And that's when Snape would leave. Only then would he leave.
With that feeling of gratitude came that thought crippling realization. He was in love with the man. He was madly in love with Severus Snape. He was 15 and in love with his 36 years old professor!
That should have stopped him. It didn't. If anything, it intensified his feelings for the man until he couldn't sleep a wink just thinking about the man.
What he's like in bed, if he's a great lover, how big he was… the fantasies built up when he was with the man and couldn't keep blushing. Again, if Snape noticed it, he hadn't commented on it.
Draco had once made the mistake of calling him a blushing virgin when Snape was in hearing range and as if to concrete the claim, he'd blushed. From the corner of his eyes, he'd seen Snape frown at Draco's comment and almost – smile at his reaction to it.
He hadn't done anything except hand Draco a week's detention with professor Sprout, scrubbing the floors of the greenhouse for what seemed like a very trivial matter.
No one had noticed, of course, and it had taken Harry a while to figure out. They hadn't spoken about it. They never even mentioned it as if it never happened but they both knew that it did.
At that point, Hermione had figured out the seemingly mutual feelings between Harry and Snape. She'd only spoken about it once. A simple "be careful, Harry, and know that you can always come to me if you need anything."
Ron hadn't noticed. Or he had pretended not to notice because he was, still is, actually, a very intense person and he just doesn't change his emotions and opinions about people that easily.
And then that night when he/ Voldemort/ Nagini had attacked Mr. Weasley and occlumency had been proposed, he hadn't minded because the explanation he had been given was that he'd be able to block his mind from people.
He wasn't ready, however, for the level of invasion that had been done that night. He hadn't known what to expect but that hadn't been it. Snape had been able to see and feel how Harry felt about him.
Bless Merlin he hadn't gone further in to see the fantasies he had of them naked and doing sexily unimaginable things to each other. He'd pulled back like he'd been burned and stared at Harry strangely.
Harry had done the only thing he could do to salvage what little of his sanity there was left. He'd turned around and fled like he had a basilisk at his heels.
He couldn't not go there the next day but after several minutes of standing there on the doorstep and not having the courage to knock, he'd given up and gone back to his room.
It took him another week and another Voldemort invasion to finally find enough motivation to approach Snape and even then, he'd only had enough courage to stick a note in his potions notebook.
A simple: "I'm sorry about what you saw the last time. Can you please forgive me so we can move past it? Because I had one of those dreams or invasion or whatever they're called, and it was horrible so I'll really love for them to stop. Soon. I'm sorry, please consider. – Harry.
Snape had looked up and straight at him. He had the habit of reading the first few notebooks that were submitted in class, which normally belonged to Hermione. He'd been shocked when Harry had been the first to submit his book and so had Hermione and the rest of the class.
At dinner that evening, Harry'd found a note tucked in his plate. He was pretty stunned, but had recovered quickly enough to pull it out before anyone could see it. Anyone except Hermione, of course. Merlin, sometimes he was tempted to call her a witch but she already knew that.
He'd smiled guiltily at her and she'd chuckled lightly before gently squeezing his hand under the table. He'd felt leagues better then.
When he'd opened the note later that night, he'd seen the undeniably crafty handwriting of Severus Snape, looking as intellectual as always: "Dear Mr. Potter,
Believe me when I tell you that in all my years as a leglimens, I have come across far worse memories. Yours, if I may say so without embarrassing you further, was one of the most pleasant few. As for your apology, I believe there is nothing to apologize for but if it will set your heart at peace, then alright. I forgive you. – S. S"
He hadn't wasted any time then and he had grabbed his invisibility cloak and literally run down to the dungeons. He hadn't knocked, and Snape hadn't seemed surprised. He's simply quirked an arrogant eyebrow and almost smiled but seemed to have caught himself and said instead : "You do realize, Mr. potter, that it is after hours and as a teacher of this school, I am not allowed to condone and connive with a student in the absolute disregard of school rules?"
He hadn't sounded so serious so harry had just shrugged and replied "I'm not just any student, and besides, Dumbledore-"
"That'll be Professor Dumbledore to you!" Snape had chipped in sternly.
"'Alright… professor Dumbledore himself gave me a free pass."
"Sit down" they hadn't practiced occlumency that night and He hadn't mentioned it. He figured the way he'd been blushing lately; he'd turn red as a lobster if he had to ever mention the word "occlumency" out loud.
They'd practiced the next night. And the night after that and a week later, they were still safely practicing occlumency which he still hadn't mastered then and therefore, left every night with a horrible blush.
Then one night at occlumency practice, he'd noticed instead of Snape attacking like he normally did, he seemed to be slightly on guard. It was suspicious behavior and Harry's senses had kicked in overdrive.
He'd pushed and pushed till finally, Snape had cracked, apparently, he'd owed Voldemort for that kind of power, and he'd seen into Snape's head.
At first, it had been gruesome memories of his days as a death eater which seemed like they were being deliberately shown to him and he got even more curious to see what Snape was hiding. When he'd finally broken the surface and cracked the shield, the emotions and visions that assaulted his senses were enough to weaken him.
For a moment. A moment. That was all snape had needed to pull that shield back on. Harry had pulled back fully then. He was too surprised to pull off the amount of strength needed to keep looking at the images Snape had been pushing to him.
Harry had stood there dazed. He was apparently not the only one who felt the attraction except that Snape was good at masking his. He hadn't dared to even look up at the man then. After a while of tense silence, snape had said in a clipped tone "get out"
That had snapped Harry out of his reverie and he'd moved in bemusement towards the door. At the door, he'd turned back to see Snape had his back turned to him, his muscles visibly tensed under the casual clothes he wore in his chambers.
He couldn't help himself; he'd walked back and tapped him on the shoulder. Snape had turned around reluctantly, an apology on his lips but Harry had stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly. Snape had hesitated for a short while, obviously weighing his options and he'd finally given into his desire and wrapped his arms around Harry to pull him close into the kiss.
They'd kissed that night for the first time and they kept kissing each other for the rest of the term. The farthest they'd gone till then was to frott.
At the end of the year, he'd gone home feeling worse than he did every summer when he had to leave Hogwarts but when he'd finally gotten home, snape was there waiting for him in his room.
He had run to him and hugged him so tight it had taken all that was in him to not burst into hysterical tears because he could have sworn in that moment that he was in love and not only that… but his feelings were reciprocated.
When he came back from that careless visit to Harry's house, he had found Dumbledore waiting for him in his chambers and he'd found it very strange since they mostly kept their meetings restricted to the headmaster's office, even in situations that were dire.
From the look on the old man's face, he had known there was no way he was going to like what he had to say- and he hadn't- his smile had disappeared immediately.
Dumbledore's first words to him was that he had noticed his changing relationship with Harry and for some reason, the old man hadn't sounded as peeved as he'd have thought he'd be but he looked, and sounded, extremely wary. Like suddenly, the weight of his years was bearing down on him.
He had felt his heart sink with every word Dumbledore had said. He'd presented a strong argument and even a fool could've realized that the man was right, and Snape had never been a fool: "If I'm correct, the boy is still struggling with his occlumency lessons. He's the only one who can beat Voldemort and there is no middle ground when those two meet. He already seems to be leagues ahead of the boy and is ready to use whatever weakness he has against him. At this moment, you are his strongest weakness and you cannot allow that considering you are constantly in the presence of Voldemort. Harry is not strong enough to block out the dark lord nor is he strong enough to create or alter preexisting visions and emotions. He is bound to find out soon and it won't be safe for either of you."
It had been a simple argument. One he hadn't been able to counter so he'd made a choice. He had decided to hurt Harry so his hatred for him will be real once more.
He'd done it and watched the evident pain on Harry's face as well as the confusion. He'd made sure to hurt the boy even though every time he did it, it tore at his insides.
They still carried on with their occlumency lessons and every day, it seemed harry was less enthusiastic about seeing him than he was the previous day.
When he got the rare chance of delving into Harry's memories, he'd been both gladdened and devastated that the boy still held onto memories of him. He'd reported to Dumbledore but the old man had easily shed off the gladdened part of the message and focused on the devastated part and implored him to try harder saying he'd have the chance to explain his behavior after the war when Harry was out of school but they first had to make sure that he survived the war.
So that was what he'd done.
Snape had broken up with him at the beginning of his sixth year. Well, if you'd want to call it that if no official words were spoken both at the beginning and end of their relationship- alliance-
Snape had just changed. It was like he built this invisible wall around himself that no one could see or get through. In short, he was Snape again. Doing the things he used to do in the past.
Again, Hermione noticed – even Ron had- but this time, she said nothing. Occlumency was normal, or as normal as it could be staying in the same room as Severus Snape and since he was yet to let go of their time together, Snape had been flooded on a daily basis with emotions and visions of their time together and he'd sometimes pulled back as if burned.
He'd stopped letting harry into his head and he hadn't pushed. Then that fateful day had come and harry had felt heavy with anticipation as he'd headed down to the dungeons. He hadn't known then whether it was positive or negative but thinking back, he'd decided it was a bit of both at the end of the night.
Snape had immediately ordered him to sit in a worn out chair and said in a dead tone: "since it seems you're having troubles letting go of certain memories, I'll have to give you stronger ones to hold on to. I have to cause you pain."
That was all the warning he'd gotten before Snape had delved, painfully, into his head. He'd screamed so loud then at the pain that shot through his head. It had felt like having crucio cast on his head because it felt like bursting wide open or cracking apart.
Whatever it had felt like, he knew no one was entitled to that kind of pain no matter their crime, and his was love. He scoffed. Love. Yeah right, and Dumbledore had said all those poetic gibberish about that feeling to him in first year.
The part he'd refused to add was that loving someone, especially loving Severus Snape, hurts like a bitch… worse than the cruciatus curse.
It seemed his screams had somehow managed to get through to the man because for a moment, he'd turned sweet and attentive, squatting by him and muttering soft words of apologies and reassurance. He'd glimpsed briefly the Severus he used to be around him but he hadn't been able to focus on anything else for long as the waves of pain rippled through his head.
He'd felt strong arms wrap around him and he'd melted into Snape. He didn't know how long they stayed that way, his face tucked gently in the nook of Snape's neck. When his sobs calmed down, Snape had gently pulled his face in to kiss him passionately just like they used to.
All his woes had vanished in the moment his lips claimed his, tongues battling for dominance as their hands desperately groped at each other as if holding on for dear life
And then for the first time since their "affair", their clothes came off. It had been a frenzied coming together of two seemingly desperate people and it had showed in the way they had kissed, licked, sucked, nibbled and scratched at each other's skin.
Snape had lovingly and languidly made slow and thorough love to him and when he'd reached his climax, he'd soared so high up; he hadn't wished to come back down to earth. But he had. And the reality was that he knew he shouldn't hope for a repeat performance so he'd quickly put on his clothes and headed out.
He was only a few steps out the door when Snape had caught up with him and reinforced what he already knew. "What happened here tonight was a onetime thing. It was a mistake and won't be repeated."
"I wasn't hoping for it since you don't love me anymore." He'd replied despondently.
It would have been better if Snape had just sneered at him and walked off, but being the mean bastard he was, he had declared "whoever said I ever loved you?" and returned to his room, setting up his wards while Harry just stood there in pain.
He had cried for weeks and then retreated into a permanently bad mood. Anyone who so much as breathed "wrong" when he was around found themselves at the receiving end of numerous hexes. Even Malfoy had stopped teasing him.
Snape had made a passing comment in class once which had earned him a loud "you lied to me" followed by series of curses. The man had been too shocked by the outburst, he hadn't had time to create a shield and found himself on the floor.
Harry had left the room then, livid and trembling with extreme anger but free of detention. He'd been summoned to Dumbledore's office and instead of the calm support the old man normally showed, he'd yelled "he doesn't love you. So move on."
It'd be an understatement if he said he'd been shocked. No that was not the right word for what he felt then but since he knew Dumbledore was always right, he had taken his advice and "moved on"
He'd moved on to permanent anger and pain for all things magic. He had been great then, in occlumency. And the weeks that followed had been great too and soon enough, he had been relieved of his torture lessons. That slow torture of being in the same room with Snape, late at night.
The same room he lost his virginity in, to the same man. He'd focused on Voldemort solely and all else came second to that.
He'd been relieved when at the beginning of their 7th year, he'd gotten a letter from Hermione saying she had written to Dumbledore for permission to search for horcruxes and the old man had reluctantly agreed as his health seemed to have depreciated in a short while.
They'd spent the most part of that academic year in the woods, on the run from death eaters and snatchers. Ron had gotten tired of the hunt, honestly, they all had but Ron had something to go back to and he and Hermione hadn't.
He had a family he missed so it was understandable. He had known that Hermione would've loved to be in school since it was the only place seemingly safe for her kind – muggleborns-
They'd kissed one night and it hadn't felt right. It was a kiss born out of fear, desperation, anxiety, frustration and pain. He wasn't sure if it hadn't felt right because he was kissing a girl, or that it was Hermione, or worse, that it was someone who wasn't Snape.
He hadn't wanted to analyze it. He had felt saddened by it and even though Hermione had reassured him several times that it was okay, he felt he had betrayed Ron, knowing how he and Hermione felt about each other.
They had destroyed a few horcruxes and Dumbledore had found the rest but after Voldemort had threatened Hogwarts in a final act of desperation, with nothing to lose, he'd secretly left to face off the bastard.
It was a jumble of surprising events after that. He'd been cursed with Avada Kedavra and survived. He'd been saved by a death eater, - he'd felt nostalgic but had accepted the help- And then when Hagrid carried him to school, his sobs had nearly torn him apart.
He had been fighting when he'd heard the news of Harry's death. For a moment, he'd let his guard down and felt a hex cut through his arm like a knife through warm butter. He created a shield and retreated into a corner as he was trembling with suppressed emotions.
The only thing he could remember was Harry's face as he'd yelled "you lied to me!" in class. The tears that had been evident in his eyes and the stony expressions he'd brought to his chambers for occlumency lessons.
That had been their last encounter and it hadn't been memorable. Well, it was memorable, just not in a good way.
He hadn't noticed Voldemort and his stupid Nagini but when he lifted his gaze, he saw the idiot of a man, all billowing robes as he glided towards him in slow motion. He'd stood up quickly and been confronted with the strangest question on earth.
"Where's the boy?"
He'd simply told Voldemort what he knew: "I heard news of his death so I presume this war is over…?"
Voldemort had apparently not liked the answer since apparently, the boy had somehow managed to survive the killing curse. Whatever forces were being employed by mother and father to protect their boy had been doing a great job of keeping the angel of death busy and his eyes away from Harry.
He had felt relief wash over him at the thought that he'd still have a chance to explain to Harry how things happened. His relief must have shown on his face because next thing he knew, Voldemort was ordering the snake to kill him and just leave him there.
He'd only had enough time to recover from the shock and kill the snake but not before he had been bitten in several spots. He collapsed onto the floor, struggling to keep his eyes open long enough.
Harry'd walked in on him a few minutes later. He hadn't had it in him to just walk past the man he still loved, the man he still craved with every part of his being.
He'd taken one look at him and fallen to the floor, hugging him close. All the git had managed was a weak "I'm sorry". He'd been angry then. He'd been brought to tears by the intense anger he felt. Hugging, Snape's body close, he had muttered any and all healing spells he knew in quick succession, berating himself for not paying special attention to healing spells and spending too much time on defense spells.
He didn't know how long he lay there, hugging Snape's body as the world passed by but he'd felt a hand on his shoulder and the soft undeniable voice of Albus Dumbledore. For what it was worth, the man had tears in his eyes and a few managed to escape under his half moon glasses.
He'd knelt by Harry and continuously whispered "Let him go, harry". Harry'd been broken and in that moment, he'd felt capable of anything. Laying back and waiting for Voldemort to find him and kill him or find the son of a gun and kill the hell out of him.
He'd chosen the latter option. For Hermione and Neville, and Dumbledore and Ron, the Weasleys, and anyone who had fought by the side of the light and lost their lives and their families, but most importantly, for Snape. And his parents.
He'd pulled himself together and went off to search for the psychotic bastard. Anyone who had stood in his way got their due. Avery, Fenrick Greyback, Goyle Sr. , Macnair, he lost count after a while and when he finally found Voldemort, he hadn't thought of doing the noble thing and dueling with the piece of shit. He'd just cast the killing curse and watched pleased as Voldemort had struggled, seemingly searching for any horcruxes for guarantee and realizing painfully that he had none.
He'd turned to look at Harry and Harry had casted and recasted the spell to make sure he'd done it right. He'd smiled at the dying face of Voldemort. In that moment, he'd felt evil and he had loved it. He watched him vanish into nothing as he cast a series of unforgivable and burnt him to the ground before running back inside to look for Snape's body.
He hadn't been there. And no one else had known what happened to him and the last person he'd seen with Snape had retired from his job as headmaster after the war and moved somewhere in the hills of Scotland.
If Dumbledore wanted a break, everyone including him understood. Snape's portrait had been made along with all the fallen heroes of the war but he didn't reside in it.
Harry had claimed the portrait after a while and kept it in his house. He lives alone in a cottage at the outskirts of wizarding London, a year after the war with no intention of falling in love again.
He stood up from his seat by the window and saw an owl headed straight for him. He knew it wasn't Ron's or any of Hermione's from college. It was an unfamiliar owl.
He took the unaddressed envelope from the owl and sent him on his way: "It's probably from one of my admirers" he mused and put the envelope down on his chair and headed to the kitchen. "when I have nothing to do, I'll read all those letters but for now, I'm starved."
He stretched with a lazy groan.