Pairing: HP/SS

Rating: R

Warning: Slash, angst, M/M, Songfic

Disclaimer: All characters from Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I'm just an obsessed maniac who is also an insomniac thanks to the voices in her head. I don't own the song nor the lyrics either. I'm not looking to make money out of this and am just slaying the bunnies that are multiplying in my brain. Trust me, if you try to sue me, it won't get you any money cos I'm dirt broke already!

Archived: ask please

Feedback: Desperately needed…

A/N: My very first HP/SS and my very first bunny ever. So, please, let me know what you think. I heard this song when I was driving one day and the bunny just grew from there. The song is called Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone, sung by Al Green. I'd advice you to listen to the song while reading if possible… it's a great song. Thanks to my great beta's Linda and Lillian. I'm thinking of doing a sequel, maybe, if this gets a good reception. Let me know if you all want a sequel to this. It'll probably be Harry's POV to the song In Demand by Texas. Yes, the song where Alan Rickman dances the Tango. Sigh… Drool… Enjoy the fic, and please, I'd really appreciate some feedback.

/Blah blah/ means Italics

/Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away

Wonder this time where she's gone
Wonder if she's gonna stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away

And I know, I know...

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Only darkness everyday
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away/

'Click'

The faint noise was heard just after the chimes of the great grandfather clock stopped on its fifth chime. The fireplace is lit and it flames softly lick the hearth as it casts its soft glow, the only illumination. Two wingback chairs slightly facing each other face the fire, separated by an antique dark wood coffee table, with stylized snarling dragons as table legs. Softly, the strains of an old muggle song permeate the senses, echoing throughout the empty dungeon rooms.

However, a small movement from the enveloping shadows of one of the chairs disproves the emptiness of the rooms after all. A closer look shows the occupant of the chair, Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sitting in his favorite chair, Severus clutches his snifter of brandy loosely, staring into the fire and refusing to look at the chair facing him. The /empty/ chair. As the music starts playing and the voice of the male singer starts crooning, Severus sighs deeply and lifts his hand to wave the magical radio alarm clock off. Not that Severus Snape needs and alarm clock though. Oh no, the alarm clock belongs to him. And he forgot to turn the blasted thing off before……

The man stops his line of thought just as abruptly as his wand hand stops mid wave when the words to the song hit him. Against his better instincts, which scream at him to stop this foolishness, he allows his wrist to flop limply while he listens to the song and does what he has been doing the whole night, brood.

/Ain't no sunshine when she's gone/

Ahhh, yes... unfortunately the words of the muggle song rang true. For someone who had been living in the dungeons for most of his life, one would think that he'd abhor sunshine or at least avoid it whenever possible. Especially someone with his sensitive skin. But no, contrary creature that he is, he blames it all on the boy. Well, no longer a boy. But he will forever be a boy to him. No, not a boy, /the boy/. There's a difference. Damnation, why did he have to become so melancholy? When the hell did he become a doddering sentimental old fool, sitting up at till all hours of the night, listening to bloody muggle blues and brooding over his twenty years younger lover. How on earth did that irritating, annoying Harry Potter manage to turn his life upside down in just two years? He had managed to live his life perfectly fine without needing, no, craving anybody's company. So why now, when he'd reach the ripe old age of forty, did he need the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived to feel alive again?

/It's not warm when she's away/

Shivering slightly in the cool dungeon air, he shifted closely to the fire. Who would have ever thought that Harry Potter would mean so much to Severus Snape? Mean so much that his very absence acted like a vacuum. As if the empty space that he wasn't around to occupy turned into negative space, drawing in and draining every ounce of light and warmth available in the room.

/Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,

And she's always gone to long,

Everytime she goes away, /

Heaving a deep sigh, Severus stared deep into the flickering flames and saw images of his beloved and himself, together, happy, whole…/complete/… And then, as if to suit his bitter mood, the memories turned to those he'd rather forget. Memories of other times like this when he kept silent, lonely vigils all night long. For far too many nights to count. Sitting here in the same chair, cupping the same snifter, staring into the fire and waiting, just… waiting… The time he was gone is never the same. However, if Harry wasn't back by the next day, then it would be safe to say he would be gone for a week at the least. Especially if it was for a mission. He never complained but he felt the absence and the time passing as if each second was carved onto his flesh. And it was. The harsh heat of the fire was burnt into the lines of his face and the supple leather of the chair left it's marks on his back. But he never complained about the time apart. At least never aloud.

/Wonder this time where she's gone,/

Since he was retired, Severus was supposed to be using the free time to research his potions and actually be able to revel in the joy of brewing. Unfortunately, all his free time was spent with Harry, whenever he was around and available of course. Not like those times were numerous. Oh no, and Harry always had to run of somewhere to help this person or to solve that problem or to go on another mission. Bloody Gryffindor! And he, well technically he was supposed to welcome this alone time to be able to brew and read. It was not to be however. No book would ever manage to captivate him long enough to draw his thoughts away from his beloved. No potion was intricate enough to pull his distracted mind into some semblance of order. Instead, he sat, brooded, remembered, and most importantly, he waited. Refusing to look at anything in the room that might remind him that Harry was gone. Not wanting to turn around and start to speak an amusing thought only to realize that Harry wasn't there to hear it. And so, he spent his time trying to distract himself by thinking up scenarios of where Harry could be. Of what Harry was thinking and doing. Of whether Harry ate, if he slept, if he had time to bathe or even time to clean between his toes.

/Wonder if she's gonna stay,/

Of course, thinking along these lines seldom led to a positive outcome. Instead, his thoughts would traitorously wander to musings of whether Harry had left because he grew bored. Did he finally find out what an ogre Severus was? Was Harry fed up with him because he refused to play exploding snap with Black? Or did Harry finally wise up to the fact that he deserved far better then a greasy, cynical, washed up old potions professor and decided to explore his options. What if Harry was right now under some handsome, young Quidditch player, making those delicious noises he makes while coming? Did the player know how those noises taste as they roll from Harry's mouth into his? Did he know how Harry would writhe and moan and beg if you just touch him behind his left knee?

/Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,

And this house just ain't a home,

Anytime she goes away/,

Enough. Thoughts like these do nothing but drive him deeper into depression. Instead of wallowing, Severus forced himself to look around the room, taking stock of his surroundings for the first time since Harry left six days ago. His Quidditch robes were still hung on the peg by the door. However, they looked like an empty husk, much like a caterpillars cocoon, left behind on the leaf to rot and fall away while the butterfly flits around in its new form. Shuddering slightly at the unpleasant analogy, Severus continued his perusal of his, no, /their/, quarters. Papers were strewn on the table, messily placed into something resembling piles while empty dishes and cups lay unwashed near the sink. The house elves knew better then to disturb him while he was in this mood. Much trial and suffering leading to Dobby being cursed ensured they knew he would be in this mood whenever Harry was not around. Sometimes though, they still popped into the room periodically and quietly observed him, making sure he was still alive and in passable health. No doubt Harry had ordered them to look after him. Everything just felt so empty though, so… bereft… as if without Harry, everything seemed to not function. How on Merlin's great cauldron did the brat make his dungeons more Harry's then his?

/I know, I know, I know, I know,

I know, I know, I know, I know,

I know, I know, I know, I know.../

I know the bloody brat is the savior of the wizarding world. I know he's Harry Potter. I know he'd the Boy-Who-Lived. I know he is the Heir of Gryffindor. I know he's the Man-Who-Killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I know he won't stand by and see people get hurt. I know he puts others before himself. I know his heart won't allow him to say no to any of the ragamuffin group of people he calls friends. I know he is too honorable, too valiant, too bloody Gryffindor to sit back and rest on his laurels while the world around us gets back onto their feet. I know all of this. I know what he represents and all his responsibilities and how seriously he takes them. I know /him/ and I know he will never leave me unless he sees it as he has to. I know… I /know/.

/Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,

Only darkness everyday,

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,

And this house just ain't a home,

Everytime she goes away./

Yes, I know all of that. I also know how I feel every time he leaves. How my heart cracks when I sit here alone, wondering if he will ever return. Worrying if he is hurt or injured somewhere and only I have the potions needed to heal him. I know how I curse the day I joined Voldemort's ranks. But then again, if it wasn't the sight of me being tortured and cursed repeatedly by Voldemort, Harry might never have found the anger to be able to unleash the power that enabled him to kill Voldemort for good. I only regret the loss of the use of my legs because it meant I would never be able to follow him. It meant I would be stuck here, waiting. Waiting… waiting…