Warnings: It's not exactly the most cerebral or happy story ever written. It was written at one a.m. after having only got 4 hours sleep the night before... Implied Bottom!Snape, Implied Past!Chan!. Implied rough sex (I suppose...) It's possibly Deathly Hallows compliant (if you want it to be) and it's definitely HBP compliant.
Notes: I haven't been especially fantastic lately... and Snarry is sort of a perfect way to work that out. You've been warned. Also, I considered calling the fic 'Under the Cover of Darkness (Comes the Light)' and 'Lost Like Severus' so you've been warned...
There's so much you can have Snape and Harry not say...

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The boy only comes to him under the cover of darkness. Inevitably, each evening, Severus will hear a whisper of cloth, and the boy will appear, head bowed and shoulders slumped, never looking Severus in the eyes.

There is nothing gentle about their interaction during the beginning of each evening. They are harsh and cruel, Harry attacking Severus for his crimes and himself for being too weak to resist returning, Severus attacking for the boy, because it is what the boy wants.

(When Severus always allows the boy to penetrate him, he realizes he has been lying).

They always collapse on the bed wound tightly around each other, as though in their desperate need they have grown so close, seen such an intimate part of the other's soul, that any degree of physical separation would be painful.

"You're still here." the boy whispers harshly into Severus' ear, holding Severus securely against his chest. One of his hands is too tight as it grips Severus' left arm (the arm cradling Severus' head, the Dark Mark blatantly displayed, a challenge Severus doesn't understand).

"You're still here," the boy repeats, and Severus doesn't know whether it's reassuring or torturous.

"You're still here," Severus replies.

Sometimes, the boy will cry then, staying stubbornly silent as his tears stream down his face and into Severus' hair. Severus does nothing, neither offering, nor refusing to give, comfort, but stays pressed against the boy's chest. (Sometimes, Harry is so gentle after his tears that Severus almost thinks he must appreciate his silence and warmth).

"You still need me," Severus says quietly, after Harry's tears have run dry or they have lain in silence for so long that the night is impenetrable around them.

"Yes," the boy admits, even more quietly, brushing hair away from Severus' face. He presses a soft, always hesitant, kiss to the juncture of Severus' neck and shoulder. His lips move across the skin there, forming words, and Severus knows what he is saying, though Harry never says it out loud. You need me too.

It is their ritual, their reaffirmation. And always, Harry is gone as soon as the shadows start to lighten, lost like the night.
Lost like Severus.

Fin