Severus Snape sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He couldn't be feeling this way. He couldn't. He could name five people who would kill him if they knew about his feelings for the boy. What was he going to do? He had to ignore it. It was the only way. There was nothing else he could do. Nothing.

His mind made up, Snape rose, and prepared for the onslaught of giddy teenagers. What class did he have to teach first? Oh no. Slytherin. Seventh year. He was doomed.

As the filthy students filed in and took their places, the professor's eyes followed the movements of Draco Malfoy. So fluid, so perfect, so—No. He couldn't allow himself to think this way. He couldn't.

He managed to explain the potion the children were supposed to make, and retreated to his office. There was no way he was going to be able to endure another six months of this. No way at all. He would have to quit, or take a sick leave, or do something to get away. He would go on vacation. That was it. He would go on vacation.

Severus looked up. There were five minutes left of that infernal class. He supposed he would have to endure that much. He had to.

Gliding to his desk, Snape shivered, for the boy was bent over his cauldron, his firm butt far too pronounced against the back of his robes. How much more of this did he have to take? The teacher took no notice as, one by one; the students deposited the vials of trash on his desk. They nervously filed out, hoping that their teacher wouldn't yell at them. When Severus finally looked up again, the only other person in the room was, of course, Malfoy.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape hoped with almost all his heart that the boy would say no.

"Well, professor, it's just that… You seemed… upset today and I wondered if there was anything I could do to help." Draco gulped audibly.

Looking up, Severus realized that the boy was sweating. Could it be? Could he actually be taking a step towards that? Snape rose, and walked around his desk so that he and Draco were no more than a foot apart. What was he doing? He couldn't do this. No. This was bad. This was very bad.

"Are you implying anything, Draco?" At this, the boy looked up into Snape's cold, dark eyes and shuddered.

"I—I don't know, professor. I don't even know if I should be doing this or not," Draco stammered, taking a step toward the older man.

"Draco. This could be dangerous. You could get hurt. I could be killed. I need you to understand that. Please, before you do anything you might regret, think about the risk. I don't—I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." Severus stepped forward, itching to wrap the younger boy in an embrace. He restrained himself, though. He couldn't believe he was doing this. If he had learned anything from the past, it was that he needed to listen to his heart more.

Draco Malfoy seemed surprised that the teacher shared his affections. He didn't know that anyone could be so protective of him. Placing his left hand on the older man's chest, he whispered, "I think that should be answer enough for you."

Severus gave in. He wrapped his arms around the son of his closest friend and kissed him passionately. When the younger man returned the kiss, he could barely believe himself. Go slowly, he chided. He couldn't mess this up. Bringing his left hand up to Draco's head, he ran his fingers through the platinum blond hair.

Malfoy broke the kiss off and laid his head on his godfather's chest. "I don't trust anyone. I shouldn't trust you. I don't know why, but I do. Please don't betray that. Please don't leave me. Please don't hurt me. I love you."

Severus, shocking himself, replied. "I love you, too, Draco." Perhaps he could survive without a vacation, after all.