Harry knocked on the door. He hoped that it was loud enough for Snape to hear - these days Snape worked non-stop and would often be unseen for days, absent from class at a moment's notice, whether or not he had arranged for a substitute. Harry knew he wasn't one to talk.

He'd been skipping classes in his seventh (eighth?) year often, nightmares and flashbacks a constant in his life now. He'd stay up all night, only to fall asleep as dawn broke, then miss the day's classes. Unfortunately, today, he'd accidentally slept through the one class he attended with some frequency, DADA, which landed him this detention with Snape - it had been one of the few days he'd been teaching.

Snape had found him as he'd been wandering the halls while the rest of the students were at dinner, saying only, "Do not skip my class again, Potter. One more time, and I will have you thrown out. You still need to learn what the Dark Arts really are. Detention in an hour." Harryhad nodded silently, a bit curious that Snape had noticed his absence. Harry normally wasn't paid any mind anymore.

Ron was similar with nightmares, but Harry knew that Ron had confided in Hermione for months, and his two best friends could stay up all night together if needed. Harry stayed alone. He hadn't wanted to come back to Hogwarts, but McGonagall had insisted he finish his education. She made a strong argument, since generally only those who had graduated from a magical institution would be accepted into the running for Aurors, but that didn't stop Harry from feeling uncomfortable in these halls. He didn't want to be fawned over, didn't want the first years to see him and gawk, and especially didn't need any extra people around him right now.

He saw only Hermione and Ron regularly outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts, usually in the common room late at night. Occasionally, Harry would pass by Malfoy or Ginny with a nod, and would do the same with anyone really. Most of Harry's class had returned to Hogwarts, since their seventh year with the Carrows wasn't a year at all, just months of surviving torture. But he didn't want to talk to them, it was too painful to think about how five or six years ago, they were all just children - and the majority of them had still been alive.

Ginny and him had lasted for about three months after the war, during the summer. She'd eventually gotten tired of Harry being depressed, saying things like, "You're alive, isn't that good enough?" or "My brother's dead, but you don't see me letting life pass me by, do you?" And he had tired of having to pretend he wasn't tired, wasn't sad, wasn't bent a little. So the day before his 18th birthday, he'd sat her down in the Burrow and ended it.

She was upset, but Harry had thought she'd taken it reasonably well, and less than a month later she'd met her current boyfriend before school started again. Harry didn't know him, didn't really care to know, but she was happy and so Harry was happy. He loved Ginny, but she had built up an idea of him in her head from when she was twelve, and Harry didn't think that had ever really gone away.

Harry raised his hand to knock again, but as he did the door swung open violently. "Potter. Come in."

Harry stood in front of Snape's desk as the man closed the door behind him. Snape walked back to his desk, his face worn and tired at the moment but more alive than in recent years. Harry realized with a start that-

"You cut your hair. And-"

"Washed and shaved a bit, yes. I grew tired of hearing students use greasy and slimy to insult me, so instead I removed the issues altogether. Those were my only plans tonight, until I ran into you in the hall," Snape said plainly.

Harry had never known Snape to care what others thought of him, and as if he had read Harry's mind again, Snape stated quietly, "I have spent over 25 years being tolerated, disliked, or hated, Potter. I don't care for it anymore."

"Shocked by this sudden honest confession from Snape, Harry didn't say anything for a bit, then grew slightly red as he asked, "What should I do, Professor?"

Snape stood up. "Ah, yes." He motioned Harry to follow him, and led him into a small but tall room, where flasks of potions lined the walls up to the ceiling. "I need you to organize this room. All of it."

Harry was confused. "Snape, you're not the Potions professor anymore."
"No, I am not," Snape agreed, "but I am good at it, and it clears my head to brew. I have had too much time to think, and you see the result." Snape motioned to the walls. "Organize these - without magic. Alphabetically will be fine. Report to me when you're done."

Snape stalked off back to his desk, and Harry sighed and got to work.

As Harry sorted, he tried his best to keep things neat and tidy. He came across a bottle labeled dittany, and thought back to when Snape assigned him detention in sixth year, when Draco was trying to murder Dumbledore, and Harry had used sectumsempra against Draco in the bathroom. He thought about that day too often now, when he had seen Draco human, crying his eyes out at sixteen, and Snape looked at him with no hate, but curiosity and a bit of fear.

I think about Snape too much, Harry thought.

Snape had become more human too, now that Harry knew his full story. Harry didn't know how Snape had survived Nagini - Harry had thought he had seen him die, after all - but when Harry would ask him, he never got past Snape's constant reply, 'I healed."

As long as Harry didn't ask him that too often, and never mentioned his father, Harry and Snape were on civil terms. Classes with him were the most enjoyable part of Harry's day at the moment, really. The whispers from the other students didn't survive long in Snape's class, and Harry had always genuinely liked Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape maybe taught a little too much on the Dark Arts side for his liking, but since the man had saved his life a hundred times, Harry didn't feel the need to argue.

Too tired to argue, Harry thought, was more likely. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since Dumbledore was alive. He knew his health was bad - he didn't really care for food now, only eating when he needed to, and he'd become lankier than ever since turning eighteen - even Quidditch took too much out of him now. He drank more than he should, nicking alcohol from the kitchen when he could.

Harry wasn't alive too much anymore, that much he knew. Maybe he just existed.

He wondered briefly if this was how Snape felt years ago, working for two sides in a war that he had never asked for.

"Potter!" Snape called. "Where are you in organizing?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry looked quickly and called back, "I'm just starting V," almost putting the bottle of veritaserum strong down on the shelf. On second thought… Harry wanted to know too many things out of Snape for this chance to pass by.

He slipped the little flask into his pocket as he started coming down the ladder.

Snape walking into the closet, met him at the bottom. "That's fine for now, Potter. It's quarter to twelve. You need to sleep if you're going to make it to my class tomorrow," Snape said, showing a small smile.

Harry let out a short, barking laugh as he magicked the ladder to a smaller size within the room. "Ha! Fat chance, Snape."

...

There was a moment of silence as Harry realized his mistake.

"No, wait I didn't-"

Snape had closed his eyes, but when he opened them there was a familiar sight of rage at Harry. "Really, Potter? You think that I am just a joke, then? That the years I spent protecting you are worthless things you can throw back in my face? You're exactly like your father, I don't know why I ever- " Snape stopped, slammed his fist on the table, then quietly spoke. "Potter, get out."

"Professor, I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"I don't want you here right now, get out."

"But I don't want you t-"

"POTTER GET OUT!"

"I HAVEN'T BEEN SLEEPING, YOU PRAT!"

Harry and Snape paused, both breathing heavy, eyes widened slightly in surprise, that Harry had finally shown some anger, but Snape quickly narrowed them again. "I don't want to hear of your nighttime escapades with Miss Weasley, Potter, and I will not tell you again, ge-"

"I have nightmares," Harry confessed.

Snape might have been a dead man again, for how little he moved as Harry looked him dead in the eye to explain.

"Every night for two years, I see all the people I could have saved, dying. Or Voldemort's come back again, and this time he's built Inferi out of my parents. Or-" And at this Harry paused, scared of where this might lead, but tired of keeping it inside.

"Or I see you, Professor. You're dying in the Shrieking Shack, and I can't stop the blood coming out of your neck, and all I can hear is you telling me to lookat you, but your eyes are gone and instead all I see are snakes and I can't help you because I don't know how and I -"

Harry gasps for air from the jumble of words he's saying , and realizes his face is wet from tears. Against all his instincts, he looks at Snape's face.

Snape is white as a sheet, pale as a ghost, and Harry sees him move, and thinking Snape might fall from lack of blood, Harry rushes toward him-

into his arms, where Snape holds Harry closer than Harry has ever been to him.

"After I'd realized what I'd done," Snape croaked to Harry, "I couldn't stop seeing Lily's face for months. Sometimes Potter - not you, your father - would join her, and she'd ask me Why, Sev? Why do you destroy everything I love?" Snape's breath brushed against Harry's ear, and Harry didn't know how to react to being so close to Snape, and the revelation that he wasn't the only one facing nightmares alone.

"Sometimes, I'd see the moment she died. It wasn't real, just a version I'd conjured in my head, but as the nights grew longer, the nightmares grew worse. Sometimes the Dark Lord wasn't himself at all, but a huge ball of snakes snapping at her. In others, she'd already be dead with maggots crawling out of her everywhere…"

Snape stood back, his arms moving to Harry's waist without thinking, and looked Harry in the eyes, Harry tilting his head up slightly to look at the man who'd sent his parents to the grave. "I haven't slept without drinking or a Dreamless Sleep Potion in twenty years, Potter."

Harry stared at Snape.

He'd never known the extent of Snape's remorse, but now he saw. Snape had blamed himself for decades, needed potions to sleep, all while taking care of the son of the woman he had loved and man he had hated. Harry had never really forgiven him, but for the first time, he understood why Dumbledore had trusted Snape for so long.

Harry then realized the position he was in, both physically and emotionally, pushed Snape away and stood back.

He wordlessly grabbed his coat, then raised his voice. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Snape looked on curiously. "Potter?"

Harry smiled at Snape, although a bit sadly. "I'm getting us our potion," he said as he opened and closed Snape's door.

Harry returned eight, not ten, minutes later, with mead, a bottle of wine, butterbeer, and firewhiskey.

Snape raised his eyebrows at the amount of alcohol, but Harry only said, "I didn't know what you liked, so I brought everything unopened I could find from the common room." He shrugged, and picked up the bottle of firewhiskey, taking a swig. "Except this though. This is mine. You fancy some?"

Snape stood in disbelief at Harry's apparent drinking style, then nodded yes. Two glasses floated in, and as Snape caught them, he handed one to Harry. "Use a glass, Potter, you're not fourteen." Pouring Snape some fire whiskey, Harry replied, "I'm happy you've noticed."

He then ignored the glass completely, and took another swig from the bottle.

Snape gave him that despairing look he knew too well, then drained his glass.

Snape coughed a bit, then asked, "What the bloody hell is that?"

"That is pure firewhiskey, Professor. No dilution or honey. Just straight from the source," Harry said, grinning as he took another gulp.

Snape watched with the same mix of curiosity and fear Harry had remembered from that bloody scene years ago, although Harry felt there was more anticipation than fear in that look.

Snape moved to his desk, shuffled papers around, and stated, "If you think you're outdrinking me, Potter, you're going to be sorry tomorrow. Bring that mead, and I'll show you how to drink well, not fast."

Harry grinned wide and laughed.

Two large drinks each of mead and fire whiskey later ("Two measures of mead to one of that potent fire whiskey of yours" Snape lectured), Harry looked at Snape and asked, "Why did you keep protecting me?"

Snape stared into his empty glass. "I was ordered to, though once I was told why, it maddened me that you never knew the reason."

Harry stood over the desk, reaching for the mead-whiskey, and filled his cup again. Snape pushed his own glass to be filled, and Harry obliged. Snape's eyes weren't glassy, but they had taken on a faraway look that let Harry see how beautiful Snape's eyes were. And they weren't black, as Harry had thought. Just a deep grey.

Harry took a sip, looking at the desk, and ventured, "And after Dumbledore died? The doe? I know you didn't have to give me the sword that way, though I appreciate the elegance."

Snape nodded in recognition of the compliment. He was silent for a long time, then answered, "I used my Patronus because I- I thought it the best way to contact, engage you and you only, without actually being there to explain what I had done the past seven years. It has never escaped my notice, Potter, that your attachment to your Patronus is particularly strong."

Surprised Snape had stumbled over his words, Harry looked at Snape, who was now looking at Harry with an unreadable expression.

"It's a stag, like my dad," Harry said cautiously.

"I know. Mine has always been a doe, like Lily's," Snape answered in a whisper. "Always."

They both looked away, taking sips of their drink as a silence fell over them both. Harry knew he was tipsy, almost drunk, but he nearly sobered up when Snape asked, "Why did you and Miss Weasley end?"

Harry looked at Snape incredulously. "I thought you didn't want to hear about me and her."

Snape chuckled (had Harry ever heard Snape chuckle?), then said, "I didn't want to hear your escapades, Potter. But I am curious about young love. I could never show that side of me before, but now that I no longer hate the idea of love, I find myself intrigued with ideas."

He widened his eyes imperceptibly but Harry caught it.

Snape suddenly stood.

"I'm sorry, I must have had too much to drink - I did not mean to share- that was not- please excuse me-" Snape then turned and nearly ran to the storage room, if not for Harry pursuing him and grabbing Snape's forearm with the Dark Mark with a grip he didn't know he still had.

The words tumbling out with speed for fear he'd never answer and from the drink, Harry nearly slurred, "I broke up with Ginny because she needed me to be stronger than I am. And because most of the time, I was thinking about another person when I felt alive enough to think."

Snape's eyes were the widest Harry had ever seen them, his mouth slightly open in shock, unable to process what was happening in his office.

Harry realized he probably shouldn't keep talking, so he did the only other thing that made sense.

He pulled Snape's arm down slightly and tilted his head up to meet Snape in a kiss.

When Harry Potter came into his office for detention, Severus Snape did not think this is where they would end up.

And yet, Severus wasn't pulling away. He hadn't been able to look away from those yes - Lily's eyes - after Potter had slurred his explanation of his love life.

Potter had closed his eyes when he kissed Severus, but he felt his eyes closing too. It had been years since he'd been kissed, his last one being six years prior with Lucius Malfoy after a night of drinking and Lucius's confession of not loving Narcissa as well as he should, his eyes always straying to men. They had never spoken of that night, Severus knowing Lucius wouldn't remember what had happened unless he prodded him.

Potter wasn't cold, the way Lucius had felt, standing outside in the snow. He was hot, almost feverish, as if fire was inside Potter's veins instead of blood. One of Potter's hands was on his nape as they kissed, and Snape noted with a hazy mind that Potter's lips tasted like honey mead.

He was kissing Harry Potter.

At that thought, Severus pushed Potter back with all the speed he had.

Bloody hell, Harry thought, as Snape started to kiss back.

Snape's presence cooled him down, made him think better, but all of Harry's rational thinking stopped when he felt lips moving underneath his own.

And then just as suddenly, he was pushed away, nearly into the desk they'd been sitting at.

Harry started, "Snape, I-"

"Stop it." Snape was pink, but rapidly paling in shock. "Potter, I could have you expelled now."

Realizing he was not about to be cursed into oblivion, Harry nodded, but only grinned and stepped closer. "That would imply that you disliked my affections," Harry said, adopting a posh voice to inject some humor into the situation.

Snape backed up until he had met the door of the storage room he'd given Harry to sort.

Harry placed two hands on either side of Snape's waist, then leaned his head against the man's chest.

"I've spent too much time thinking about you, Severus Snape," Harry whispered as Snape breathed shakily, "and I've realized I feel best when I'm with you."

Harry gulped, and continued, "That nightmare, the one where I can't save you, is the one that keeps me up for days. I don't ever want to see it again, Snape."

Severus realized Potter - Harry? - Potter wasn't fooling him. He could think of no reason why the boy would subject himself to such blatant advances as a joke.

"I don't ever want to see it again, Snape."

The boy in question looked up at Snape, pushed himself slightly away, before stumbling a bit. As he recovered he stuttered, "But if you don't- If I'm not-" Potter gathered a deep breath and -

"If you don't want me, like I want you, I'll go."

Severus paused, astounded that Potter of all people was giving him a choice.

And he astounded himself most of all, when he realized he did want Potter.

The boy knew Severus's story, knew him almost as well as himself through his memories, and each time he looked into Potter's eyes, he knew he didn't only see Lily in there - he saw Harry as well, if not more now.

Unfortunately, Harry seemed to take his silence as rejection.

"Very well, Professor."

His rejection apparent, Harry just wanted to drink himself into oblivion.

Harry moved stumbling towards his jacket, ready to grab more liquor, getting it half on before Snape stopped him halfway with an arm on Harry's shoulder.

"Potter - Harry-"

"Harry looked at Snape in surprise - that was the first time he'd ever heard the man use his first name.

Snape paused before speaking softly. "I don't feel as intensely as you, Harry, but I think perhaps that I feel as strongly. If you can make any sense of my drunken ramblings. But you and I are different. There are so many factors - I'm twenty your senior and a teacher, not to mention you were the golden boy of the war and I wasn't accepted back as easily."

Harry began to protest, but Snape cut him off gently by bringing him into his chest, cradling Harry's hair

"I am not opposed to being with you, Harry. But we need to be careful."

Harry pushed himself off Snape's chest and looked into his eyes.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Snape turned beet-red, and Harry realized, "Not like that! I just- maybe if you were there, I wouldn't have the nightmare."

Harry cursed at himself internally for acting like he was fourteen again, but Snape not rejecting him had made him stupid with giddiness.

"That seems fine, Harry. I would rather like that, actually."

Harry noted how much Snape was using his first name, as if he wanted to remember it. Harry ventured a question at that thought:
"Would it be alright with you if I called you Sev?"

Snape stiffened, his arms tightening around Harry's waist, looking searchingly at Harry, still looking for a sign of a trick, a joke, that he might be allowed to be this happy. But he found nothing but hope and curiosity in Harry's eyes, and so said, "I don't see why not, Harry."

Sev pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead.

All was well.