Disclaimer: Belongs to J. K. Rowling etc.
Pretending
Severus hated this room. He hated the walls, the floor, the ceiling. He hated the fake window and basic furniture. The only things he hated more than this room were the two adjoining it. He lamented the loss of his vast library and the fact that the only things left to distract him were counting the days wasted and trying to get the jam stain off the carpet. He hated that the only reason he got out of bed in the morning was for something to do. He hated that by now he was too apathetic even to worry that he might not get out of this alive.
Most of all, he hated that Harry seemed impervious to the whole horror of their situation.
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Harry glanced out of the window, which constantly showed the same day over and over again. Every day he woke to the bright sunlight illuminating grass of unvarying length. At about half eleven a cloud slowly swam past. The hours of daylight didn't change, although Severus was aware that they'd been there at least two months. Every night Harry drew the curtains, despite Severus snapping that the window was not real, that no one could see in.
"Weather's nice today." Severus groaned.
"It's not real!"
"Even so, no harm in pretending."
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Severus accepted that, for his own safety, he had to be hidden. At the moment, he was almost as wanted by Voldemort as Harry was. In a rare act of selflessness, he had helped Draco to escape abroad, and in doing so incurred the Dark Lord's wrath.
He also accepted that it was only logical to hide Harry, now that not even Hogwarts was safe any more. Boy-Who-Lived or not, the seventeen year old was in no way prepared to fight a war.
What he did not accept, however, was that they had to be hidden together.
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Harry tasted whatever vile concoction had appeared on his plate that evening and grimaced.
"You think they'd give us a decent meal once in awhile!"
"For the look of disgust on your face I'd eat these meals a thousand times over." Harry stuck his tongue out and Severus rolled his eyes, turning back to his food. He looked up a moment later to see Harry sitting quite still, his eyes shut. He contemplated bringing Harry's face down to meet his plate, but decided that he was too grown up for such infantile behaviour. He cleared his throat, but Harry appeared not to notice, or if he did, he was ignoring him. "I realise that your upbringing was somewhat negligent, but I trust you were taught how to feed yourself?"
"Shush. I'm pretending." Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Pretending what, exactly?"
"Pretending that this meal is edible." A few seconds later his eyes flew open and he began to eat at a pace Severus thought was probably dangerous to his health.
"You realise that it doesn't actually taste any different?" Harry shrugged.
"I have a good imagination."
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Severus hated Potter. He hated his unmanageable hair, his broken glasses, his flat, tanned stomach. He hated his cheerful smile and optimistic approach to their situation. He hated that nothing seemed to bother him and that he tried to make the best of everything instead of just admitting to its hopelessness. He hated that he occasionally won their arguments. He hated that Potter sometimes watched him when he thought he wasn't looking.
He hated that very occasionally Harry faltered and left behind a lost, scared boy who expected Severus to hold him as he cried.
He hated that he wanted to.
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At Christmas Harry made paper-chains out of napkins and hung them randomly in the three rooms they inhabited. He daren't use magic, just in case it could be traced. His smile looked strained and Severus was sure that, when he had disappeared into the bathroom, it was to cry. Severus dithered outside the door, unsure of what to do, before pretending that he hadn't noticed. It was better for both of them.
Later they ate another squalid meal and drank a bottle of wine. Harry requested that, just for a while, they pretend that they didn't hate one another, and Severus used that excuse to be civil. He toasted to their dismal situation, and Harry left the curtains open, declaring that they would sleep under the stars.
It struck Severus that it must be difficult for Harry to be locked up here, on Christmas of all days. He wondered where he would normally be. At the Weasley's, probably, surrounded by friends and bright colours and general mayhem, instead of locked away with his sullen potions professor, drinking mediocre wine and crying to himself behind a locked door.
Severus thought about this, then thought about what Molly Weasley would do, before kissing Harry lightly on the forehead and retiring to bed.
Lying on his hard mattress, Severus thought about how he spent his Christmases, and realised with a cool emptiness that he didn't mark the occasion in any way. He had the sudden selfish want for another Christmas to pass this way, if only for the day to be given some sort of significance. He wanted to spend the holiday as others did, in pleasant company, even if that company did take the form of Potter.
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"Why must you be so infernally happy all of the time?"
"It wouldn't annoy you so much if you tried smiling every so often."
"I am not the one with the problem. The circumstances in which we are living are atrocious. No one would blame you if you gave up to pessimism." Harry frowned slightly.
"Why do you want me to? Is it just a case of misery likes company?"
"I would just feel more comfortable knowing that you are human."
"You would feel more comfortable if I were depressed?" Severus stayed silent. "Would you feel more comfortable if I let you know just how utterly miserable I am? If I told you that the only reason I haven't topped myself yet, even before we came here, was because everyone counts on me to be their saviour? They don't want a human! It just doesn't occur to them that maybe I'm not cut out for all this saving the world crap! It doesn't occur to them that I'm too young to deal with the thought that everyone's faith rests in me, and if I fail I don't get a second chance! That is why I try to look on the bright side, Snape, because in reality I just can't cope with how messed up I really am." He laughed bitterly, bringing up a phrase that had become somewhat of a joke between them. "It's easier to play pretend."
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What Severus hated most was not the room, or Potter, or even the fact that their lives were in danger. It wasn't the dire food, or the images of a perpetually sunny day, or the mind-numbing boredom. It wasn't the lack of news from the outside world or his inability to use even the simplest of magic. It wasn't that the water was rarely warm and that he had to move quickly if he was to get the chair without the wobbly leg.
What Severus hated most was the paper-thin wall which separated Harry's sleeping form from his own.
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Severus quietly entered Harry's room and leaned casually against the doorframe. Harry was lying on his stomach, his eyes closed. Severus knew that he wasn't asleep because of the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been woken too many times during the night by screams to think that Harry's dreams were happy ones.
"What are you pretending?" Harry answered without opening his eyes.
"I'm pretending that we aren't at war anymore and I can get on with a normal life. My partner and I have a small flat, where we can look out and see what the weather's really like. There's a cat which visits a few times a month and I feed it, and he scolds me and says that it'll come back whenever it's hungry. We both work long hours, so we spend a lot of our time missing one another, and when we are together we make it count. Generally he acts indifferent to me, but sometimes, when I'm not doing so well and my memories hurt too much, he consoles me and wipes away my tears, and makes love to me instead of just fucking." Severus stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying to ignore the feelings of jealously of whoever 'he' was.
"Who is he?" Harry looked up, biting his lower lip.
"It's you, Severus." He stood and wandered into the bathroom.
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Knowing that he was in a perfect position to take advantage of Harry, Severus wondered what it would be like to be honourable for once, to be respected out of something other than fear. He wondered what it would be like to be a good person. He wondered what it would be like to do the right thing.
Above all this, he wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers across the flat stomach he hated so much.
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Harry didn't try to stop Severus as he wrapped his arms around his waist and dropped his head onto his shoulder, not wanting to see his own reflection in the mirror Harry stood before.
"May I pretend too?" Harry turned around, and Severus kissed him with surprising tenderness.
"This isn't strictly pretending." Severus smiled and wiped a tear from Harry's cheek.
"No, but I've never had much of an imagination."
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Severus hated having to hide. He hated living in only three rooms, with no access to the outside world. He missed small luxuries, such as a fireplace and an armchair. He hated that the carpeted floor and the tiles in the bathroom never seemed to be clean. He hated living practically as a muggle, and an underprivileged one at that. He hated that he couldn't sleep comfortably, pressed so closely to Harry on his narrow bed.
Severus glanced at the dark haired boy, asleep with his head on his shoulder, and hated the thought that, one day, they would have to leave.
Fin