AN:

" thoughts "
' speech '

Harry is of age (18).
the story is GOF compliant.
Voldemort is dead, Harry killed Him.
a lot of the death eaters got away.
This is my first fiction and i suck at summaries. English is not my first Language most of the story is Severus POV.

it is impossible, really

Sitting on a winged-back chair, a tumbler with Amber liquid in hand, staring into the fire, legs crossed, contemplating life, his mind a jumble of thoughts and moments, a sigh escaped his lips. What was he doing with his life.

How did he end up here! Living in the childhood home of his arch-enemy "of all people ", with a werewolf and the chosen one for company.

" well, for the typical reasons actually, there is an angry army of death eaters hunting me down, they have destroyed my house already and this house is undetectable, makes sense, really"

his thoughts ending with a sneer and a gulp of strong alcohol.

A louder sigh escaped, although it was where he grew up, he never considered it as home so no loss there, only his books. looking up at the clock it was ten past two in the morning.

Pursing his lips, he decided it was time to retreat to his rooms. Draining the last of the fire whiskey, banishing the glass to the kitchen, Severus Snape dragged his long limbs heavily from the chair and started ascending the stairs.

" well today was a very draining day. " thought while walking up the stairs. " with all the raids on muggle-born, it's a miracle no one died, it started from early morning and didn't stop until a few hours after sunset, no wonder everyone retired to their rooms earl..."

'Severus.'

The potion master froze as he heard his name being whispered from the door adjacent to his. Pulling out his wand, the ex-spy stood there staring at the door leading to potter's room waiting, maybe it was his imagination, or the alcohol in his system.

'Severus.'

The whisper came again, a little bit lower, but it was a whisper. Bracing himself, using his stealth, he approached the room as quietly as he could. His mind providing twenty different situations of the potter's brat in danger. He knew he was paranoid, but his paranoia is what kept him alive.

Opening the door silently, his whole body was on alert. his eyes scanning the room for anything out of order, any unwanted presence. Everything was as it should be.

Casting a few revealing charms, nothing happened. Then his name came again, this time the tone of the whisper was urgent. His head snapped to the bed in the room, with the faintest Lumos he could muster, he approached the bed carefully.

Potter was restless while he was sleeping, moving and whimpering softly, and he heard him saying his name in a very faint voice, that it almost came out as a hiss.

He stood there staring at the boy, thinking what kind of dream that he was dreaming about " definitely a nightmare if it stars me. " ending with a self-loathing smile.

While debating between waking the brat, or leaving him to his nightmares, suddenly potter muttered softly.

' yes. Severus, there.'.

Severus Snape started in his place, stunned with what he heard.

"What exactly was the boy dreaming about?", And he just realised " why in merlin's name is he calling me Severus? He usually calls me professor or Snape or sir!".

'Oh god. Please Severus, please!'

That was him potter was begging for. Severus's eyes went as wide as they could. It was like his mind isn't registering what he was hearing and seeing. " what the bloody hell is he begging for? ".

Just to be sure, he checked if the boy's eyes were closed, and they were. A low moan broke from potter's mouth, as he fisted his hands in the bed sheets, his back arching slightly, his body tense.

Severus Snape was a man who prided himself on the fact that he always knew what to do, or how to retort, and even supply someone with a lifetime worth of insults without the need to think. But at this moment in time he really didn't know what to do or what to think or to say.

As he was looking at the boy's face contouring in what he could only decipher as pleasure, or maybe pain " and hopefully its pain", he thought maybe just maybe the boy was not having a nightmare, maybe he was having an erotic dream.

But yet again, who would have an erotic dream about him! Who would want the ugly git of the dungeons staring in their wet dream when they can imagine anyone else other than him? So maybe its not an erotic dream, but the boy dreaming about him casting Crucio on him, " that would make more sense, really."

Then potter slumped on the bed, panting slightly, his breath a bit laboured, whispering Severus's name repeatedly.

'Severus. I love you, Severus.'

Said the boy out loud, with a faint smile gracing his lips in the dark of the room. Snape was never surprised in his whole life like he was now.

"Did he just say he loved me?".

He was staring with wide unblinking eyes and his mouth was slightly agape.

" what in the name of merlin's balls did I just hear?".

The ex- spy started retreating slowly backward towards the door, keeping his eyes on potter. As he took his second step, potter spoke again and louder than ever before.

'Severus. Please don't leave.'

Every muscle in his body frozen solid, his breath hitched, his heart was hammering in his chest. He could feel the adrenalin rushing through him. Looking at the young man's face, he saw tears running down his cheeks, but his eyes where still closed.

" So, he didn't see me, he is still dreaming. Wait a minute did he just beg me not to leave?".

'Please don't leave me Severus. Love yo...please... don't... me '.

the few words at the end were mere whispers.

The boy turned to one side and started sobbing quietly. Snape felt a lump stuck in his throat, as he was staring at the young man sobbing. He continued his steps, still walking backward, keeping an eye on potter's tear-full face. As his back hits the door, he opened it and fled the room as quickly as humanly possible.

The walk back to his rooms was not a long one, since his rooms are right next to potter's. He entered his rooms, swiftly closed the door, locked it warded it, and even put a silencing spell on it. He loosened a couple of buttons at the top of his high collar and sat down on an armchair in his room with a strained look on his face.

Severus Snape was not a sentimental man, nor was he a kind, or an understanding man. But the lump that appeared when he saw potter crying, and curling on himself while sobbing, was still there. Surprisingly it was getting harder and harder to swallow around it as time passed by, and there was that one thought that was going round and round in his head for as long as he sat their staring at the wall in front of him, one sentence kept repeating itself in his mind.

" why were you crying?".

Until his mind couldn't take it anymore and started to have a headache. He spelled his clothes to nightwear, got under the covers of his bed, Accioed himself some dreamless sleep potion, downed it in a couple of gulps.

Looking at the grandfather clock in his room, he realised that he sat more than three hours staring at nothing, lost in his thoughts, since it said that it was about quarter past six in the morning. His body was slowly relaxing as the potion took effect, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.