A/N: In case you didn't catch it in the description, this is going to be a Snarry smut fanfiction. That means that it will include sex between Harry and Severus Snape, two men. If that makes you uncomfortable, I encourage you to find something else to read as it gets very graphic. There will be no other warnings on other chapters so heed this one: this is a fic of gay sex!

Also, this is my first time writing any kind of smut fic so please be kind in your comments!

This is a birthday present for my wonderful Beta, Jack Frost Lover cadi93, and as such, has not been edited so please ignore any mistakes you may find (or if they're really bad, you can message me about it).

I do not own Harry Potter and am not making money from this.

ch 1

Harry fidgeted outside The Three Broomsticks, thinking about why he was doing this.

It had been a hard four years for him since the war ended. He hadn't taken up the offer to go back to school like many of his year-mates had. It would have been too painful with all the death that the place reminded him of now. Instead, he'd gone straight into the Auror Academy, where he'd excelled easily, to know one's surprise.

But that was where it had ended. He'd been put through multiple rings of training, but when he'd gotten out on the field, he'd frozen up. He'd been going after some of the last remaining Death Eaters, and when he came face to face with Fuller, not even a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle, he'd been unable to even draw his wand.

Fuller had hit him with such a good Sectumsempra curse that he'd been in the hospital for nearly a year. By the time they'd been able to get him to Mungo's, however, they'd been unable to fix all of the damage, not only to his body but to his face as well. Now anyone who saw his face would see the scars of his shame.

Harry Potter had been given an Honourable Discharge from the Auror Force, and told to find a new career.

So now he was here. With his hand on the front door to The Three Broomsticks. On his way to meet Professor Snape.

He'd owled the man shortly after Professor McGonagall had given him the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He'd figured it was high time they got past their old animosity, especially as they were to be working together, and now it was time well enough away from the war to be bringing up the old matters that Harry had become curious of.

Decided, Harry pushed the entrance open.

Snape was relatively easy to spot, if one knew to look for a bat lurking in the shadows, and that's just where he was, pulled up to the bar and hidden in the shadow of the failing summer sunlight.

Harry took the seat next to the man and ordered a firewhiskey, not his usual choice but it seemed necessary for the conversation ahead, from the new bartender. Severus didn't look up at him, but he did sneer at his choice of drink, "Something so strong, Potter? Are you sure you can handle it?"

Harry picked up the glass that'd been placed in front of him, downing half of it in one long draw. "I'll be able to take this better than our talk."

Severus was quiet for a moment as Harry finished his first mug, and when another was placed in front of the younger man, Severus asked for one too. Harry laughed.

"Insolent brat."

"You can't even admit I'm right!" Harry accused through his laughter.

"Why did you call me here." Snape demanded, vanishing all trace of Harry's merriment.

"You know as well as I, Snape, that this was necessary. I want to put the past where it belongs, bury the hatchet so to speak. We need to move past this. For our co-workers, for the students," Harry swiveled his bar stool to face Snape for the first time before finishing, "for ourselves."

"What makes you think I haven't put the past where it belongs, Potter?" Snape bit out. "It's the past, why should it still affect me?"

"It shouldn't, but it does, and if it didn't, you wouldn't have ordered that." Harry motioned to Snape's own firewhiskey, nearly gone.

Snape had no argument for that so he simply picked up his glass and drained it before slamming it back down on the counter. The bartender heard the noise and brought both he and Potter another.

A silence fell for a moment as both men sipped their drinks. "How right you are, Mr. Potter, so what do you suppose we do about such a predicament?" Harry asked in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of Snape's voice. "Well, Professor," he answered himself, in his own voice this time, "I think we should talk it out. Put everything out on the table. Get it all over with."

Snape perked a brow, but as he wasn't facing the younger man, Harry didn't see it and continued. "An excellent idea, though I loathe to admit it. Shall we start at the beginning? I believe that would be the only way that makes sense, though as you're a foolish Gryffindor, I doubt you'd see logic." Harry switched back to his own voice once more, "Yes, Snape, the beginning would make the most sense."

The silence resumed, and this time no one made to break it until the bartender had been by once more to give them their third and fourth respective mugs. Harry stared pensively down into his fourth drink, his numerous scars tingling as they always did when he was drunk or the weather was poor. As it was storming now, and he was well on his way to being pissed, they were starting to really itch.

Finally, Snape picked up his own drink, took a small swig as if to wet his throat and broke the silence. "I suppose that means you want me to go first."

It wasn't a question, and Snape couldn't even see him, but Harry nodded anyway. "Why did you give me those memories?"

With that, Snape launched them into the first civil conversation they'd ever had. He told Harry everything, and as the drinks kept coming, so did his secrets. His friendship with the late Lily Potter and his animosity with both her and her late husband was explained. Every argument, curse, insult, and misunderstanding was explained, and by the time he was finished, full dark had fallen.

He told Harry how he just wanted friends but never belonged anywhere, how he was jealous of James and the attention he got, how he had always loved Lily but never wanted anything beyond friendship from her.

Somewhere beyond that, however, Harry stopped listening to Snape's words and had started watching the man. He'd yet to face him, but he'd watch the lilt to his lips when he spoke Lily's name, follow the motions of his hands as he brought his drink to his lips, and study the way his eyes never seemed to break from their hazy reminiscence.

It was hours later when Snape finished. Kindly, though Harry was a bit startled by it, Snape asked if Harry had any questions. "Why didn't you?" Harry blurted as the first thing that had come to mind. He blushed, but the question had already been asked so he might as well make it intelligible. "Why didn't you want more from her?"

"Would you rather I have?" Snape sneered, but when Harry didn't speak, he slowly answered anyway. "I prefer the company of men." His eyes flickered up to meet Harry's.

Harry jerked away from Snape's own expected flinch-everyone flinched when they saw him for the first time now- even as his mouth dropped open in shock. It wasn't as if he had any prejudice against homosexuality, having long suspected himself of being able to wear that tag, but he had spent the last four years suspecting this man of being in love with his mother so it a bit of a shock.

Snape's eyes flashed in anger, "Don't tell me Petunia," he spit her name as if it tasted foul on his tongue, "taught you all her judgments of people-"

"No! No, sir, that's not it at all, in fact, I-I-I'm gay, as well. It- it was just a surprise is all." He ducked his head, hiding his marred face.

"You-" Snape stopped, hesitated, then seemed to change his tactic, sneering, "And whatever happened to the Weasley girl?"

"Nothing. We-she-we never picked up where we left off after the war. I-er-got-" Harry stopped himself for a moment, and took a breath before going on. "Charlie, he was messed up after the war. He felt guilty for not being there with his family, and with Fred, well, he just felt like it wouldn't have happened if he was here. We got close, and I-I realised why it wouldn't work with Ginny."

Severus felt his stomach tighten up. "I see."

"I mean nothing happened!" Harry rushed to say. He didn't know why he was telling his old professor all of this, but the words just wouldn't stop coming now, "We-we just kissed is all, but it kind of made me realise that I would never love Ginny the way she wanted me to. I-I kind of stopped skirting around her questions after that and told her straight that we would never work out."

There was a short pause in the conversation, breathing room per se, in which Professor Snape's face twisted in what seemed like disgust.

"Sorry." Harry added.

"Pardon, Mr. Potter?"

"Sorry for, well, all that." He laughed, "Guess I've had a bit too much." The boy- though Severus probably couldn't call him a boy any longer- swirled the remaining liquid in his mug before lifting it to down the rest.

Severus sneered at him, and though it wasn't true, he said, "No matter, Mr. Potter, I hardly care about your personal life."

Now, Harry could feel his own face contorting into the grimace that had been on his new colleague's face but a moment before. He tried to hide it and the churning in his stomach with a cough.

Still, the older man was not finished, and while Harry wasn't sure why he was particularly hurt by the man's words, he felt even further wounded when Professor Snape made to stand up, "If that's all you require of me, I'll be on my way." He rapped his knuckles on the counter to get the bartender's attention, and heaved himself onto his feet.

Harry watched in slight amusement as his old Potions Professor had to hold onto the counter as he fumbled with his money. He slid the coins across the table, but had to blink a few times as if unable to understand the bartender when he told him it was not enough. Harry giggled and slid a single galleon across the bar. "His and mine."

Then, he too, made to stand, promptly tripping over his feet. He would have fallen, too, if Snape hadn't reached out to grab his arm, roughly pulling him upright and surprisingly close to the Professor.

Harry instinctively grabbed onto the man's robes, and looked up at him. "Thanks." He breathed.

"Mr. Potter, how can you honestly be so clumsy on your feet yet so graceful in the air?"

"You think I'm graceful?" Harry questioned, latching onto the compliment as he stared into deep black eyes.

"Not right now, you're not." The Professor quipped, and Harry stepped back, unreasonable hurt filling his chest. Instead of moving from the Potions Master, however, he only succeeded in tripping over his own feet again.

Severus saw his hand go out to catch the young man and felt himself sigh as if he were watching the whole thing from underwater. Vaguely he heard himself speaking as well, "I suppose I should escort you to the Floo before you manage to get yourself killed."

Harry shook his head vehemently at that. No, he was graceful. He could do this.

Snape smirked at him, "Come along, Mr. Potter." The man started to drag him to the Floo, stumbling as well.

We must look quite the pair of drunks, Harry thought to himself. "No, Floo. Not connected." He heard himself say, And we obviously sound like tramps, he added to himself.

"You were going to Apparate?" Severus yelled, mayhap louder than he'd meant to. "In this condition? I'll not allow it!"

"Then where'm I s'posed to go?" Harry mumbled out, fearing the end of his coherency was approaching.

The Potions Professor stopped for a moment, as if contemplating, "I supposed you'll just have to come to my apartments."

Harry could feel his mouth drop open, but before he could protest, they'd reached the Floos and the man was throwing powder into the flames.