Title : Confessions

Author : Me, but Dr. Poptart is it's great Uncle Harold.

Rating : PG-13

Disclaimer : Me, and Litchy, and Ebil Dr. Poptart made up the setting and stuffs (okay, so we don't own the pickel.. and we don't own Godric's Hollow.. nor do we own the phrase 'Thank Snape's Thighs its friday'..) And J. K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter Stuff.

Summery : Harry luffs Snape and Snape luffs Harry. And Neville luffs Harry. This presents a problem..

Author's Notes : I was at writer block and had my friends give me things like a person and a random object and things. And so this is the product of their Ebil minds.

And The Fanfiction's great Uncle Harold would just like to thank all the people in her gender-confused head.

No, I'm not kidding. There really is a great uncle harold..

Prolouge - Let them know it

The home was broken down by now. The fire, storms, time had taken its tole. The picket white fence that surrounded the house was long gone. The name 'Potters' had been whiped clear off of the mailbox, which hung down at an odd angle. Even the two people walking through the house - at 3:52 am- had changed. To love each other.

"Why here, of all places?" One of the two people was asking the other- who was steering him around the house.

The man remained silent. He continued to steer the younger man from room to room. The chared remains of memories that went un-remembered surrounded the two. Old photographs lay in ashes- or what was left of them. All in all the house was a hazard. A Hazard never destroyed.

"Here" the Potions Master said, steering The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Kill-The-Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live into a room he vividly remembered. There was an old, broken crib. A dresser. And deep red stains on the torn carpet.

This is where is all happened.

Where Harry Potter got that lightning bolt scar- which still mared his forhead.

Where he became the boy who lived.

"Not Here. " Harry said, turning to leave. Severus stopped him. "Harry - here. " He said, giving Harry James Potter a small push back into the room.

Harry could feel them. His parents would be watching this. His parents watching the Greasy Git shag him in the very room on which his mother defended him. If his mum hadn't done that, then Harry wouldn't even be alive. And she would be watching this.

Harry couldn't let this happen. Not here, anyway.

Harry started toward the door again, only to be stopped by Severus, again. "I know that they're here, Harry. I want them to see this. They deserve to see what has become of their son, do they not?" He said in that deep tone of his, as if he was droneing on in a lecture.

"I don't want this!" Harry said, trying with all his might to fight past his lover. Anywhere but here. Just.. Anywhere would do. Not here though. Not in front of his dad. Not in front of his mum.

Severus pushed Harry back with such force that Harry crashed into the crib, it breaking, wood falling to Harry's sides. "I do want it, Harry." Severus was saying, as he took a few strides so he was standing in front of Harry.

"I want them to know."

Harry looked up, his mother's eyes pleding. This did no good, for Severus landed with a thud on his knees, pulling Harry in for a kiss. Their lips clashed. Harry fighting, and Severus fighting back. Severus kept his mouth upon Harry's, even when he felt the aura of the room change so suddenly he would have thought a vampire present. Harry finally yeilding to him.

It was awhile before Neville found the room they were in. Neville, somehow, had fallen secretly in love with Harry. Harry had been the one who had been there - comforting him, drying his tears. Now Harry was with someone else. And Neville had taking up stalking him.

It reminded Neville of Collin Creevy, which he did not want to be reminded of. He was not part of Harry Potter's Personal Fanclub. Well.. okay, he was. But he had joined under a different name.

Neville stood on his tiptoes to see into the broken window. What he saw made him want to cry.

Harry Potter was shirtless. Severus Snape was straddling his waist, his hands splayed on the younger man's chest. "Tell them!" Severus said. His robes were oben, and he wore no shirt underneath. It seemed like the inside of the house was shaking. Harry seemed to be holding something back.

Harry arched up, "I'm his!" He screeched hoarsly, "His and his alone!" Harry floped back down on the ground. His eyes fluttering softly. "I belong to Severus Snape."

A pickel jar came crashing to the ground.

The anger of all their work - while they were alive and while they were dead - all the work - for nothing.

Glass flew everywhere, but Severus ignored it. Neville pressed his face to the glass and watched Severus unbotten Harry's pants..