The Magic Carpet

by halfwayhopeful

Severus Snape has been operating 'The Magic Carpet' at Whatnot since before Harry was born. The fact that Harry's parents have warned against him from day one doesn't change the fact that Harry finds him . . . interesting, to say the least. *Revised Ending*

2. Magic Carpet, Part Two

The Magic Carpet, Part Two

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I just enjoy shoving them into AU's of my own devising.

A/N: And lo, the Lord said, "finally". Thank you all for being so patient.

…

Harry left the bathroom in a hurry, but of course saw no one around that might have heard him. He hoped they had only stopped in to wash their hands and hadn't heard him say Snape's name, or hadn't heard anything, preferably. It probably hadn't been Albus, so that left Neville, Ron, Dean, or . . . or Snape. Harry shuddered. Please, not Snape. Anyone but Snape.

Harry ordered a hot dog at the snack bar and watched Neville closely. Nothing out of the ordinary there: Neville dropped the mustard bottle as he often did, and apologized too many times. He didn't mention anything about Snape or look at Harry awkwardly. Harry took his hot dog and soda with a sigh. He had a feeling his mental list would grow shorter and his day would get massively worse when he found out if anyone had heard him. Eating his hot dog in record time, Harry wandered the park and found Albus at the Magic Carpet, chatting with Snape. He sat a ways off and finished his soda, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant and sneaking glances at Snape on occasion.

The man looked tense, one hand clutching the rail and the other clutching the doorway of his booth. Whatever Albus said to Snape made the other man shake his head, and Albus patted Snape on the shoulder, coming down the ramp and spotting Harry.

"Hello there, Harry. If you'd follow me to the tower? I'd like to start reorganizing my storage room, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not, sir. I'm being paid to help you, anyway. Why would I mind?"

Albus chuckled and Harry followed him to the storage room, opening a window and preparing himself to get sweaty again, if necessary.

He wound up unearthing more useful things to add to his tool bag, and Albus told him several times that he was grateful for the help, as it was getting harder for him to lift and carry too much throughout the day. Harry admitted he wouldn't have expected it, with the way Albus still jotted around the park, climbing and jumping nearly as much as Harry some days.

"Perhaps it's all in the intent. I like climbing on railings. Cleaning, I can't say I have any fondness for."

Harry laughed and agreed, opening a box labelled 'Christmas Photos'. Stacks of frameless photos were stuffed haphazardly into the box. "Sir, why are these here?"

Albus came over to look and smiled. "I can't bear to throw them away. Those are photos from the Christmas and End of Summer parties I have every year. There may be some of your parents in there, if you'd like to look. You can take a few off my hands."

Harry sorted through the photos as Albus wandered away, glancing through groups of people he vaguely recognized through town. Most of the Weasley children made an appearance. And then he saw it. A photo dated from his parent's . . . senior year? They held hands, and on his mother's other side was none other than Snape himself. Harry studied Snape's expression. The man was smirking a little, the closest to a smile he seemed capable of producing, and looking slightly to his right, at Lily. Harry frowned at that. His mother had said there was nothing going on. But did Snape want there to be?

"Ah, I see you've found your parents." Harry startled a bit, as Albus sounded right behind him. "Has your father told you about the shenanigans he got into with that Sirius Black?"

Harry turned slowly, forcing himself to calm down and breathe. It's not like Dumbledore knew . . .

"A little. I know Sirius was banned from the park as a child because he wandered over a few gates."

Albus laughed. "Wandered is an interesting way to put it. Considering we had video evidence of him climbing over gates taller than he was at the time."

"That sounds about right." Harry laughed, knowing his Uncle Sirius was a bit of a trouble maker. His father insisted Sirius got them both into trouble more often than not, but Harry was sure his father was a willing participant.

"Can I keep this picture, sir?"

"Albus, Harry. Yes, of course. One or two from each year . . . I can stand to get rid of at least one."

Harry wasn't sure if he would tell his parents about the photo or not. His mother might be interested in seeing it, for old time's sake. His father, on the other hand, might have a fit about Harry owning a picture with Snape in it, however minutely.

…

Harry spent a rare night at home, opting to stay in and catch up on a pet project instead of sticking around with Ron and Hermione, who were occasionally a little too enthusiastic about being a honeymoon phase teenaged couple. He dug an old robotics kit out of his closet, something he'd received as a Christmas present years back and never opened. Harry glanced over the instructions and got the gist, throwing on an album he'd bought with his latest paycheck. He sat cross-legged in his bedroom, humming to the bass lines as he worked. He didn't hear his mother opening his door an hour later.

"Is this The Smiths?"

Harry jumped, dropping a micro-chip he'd been carefully gluing onto the plush carpet with a groan. "Uh, yeah. I just bought it." Harry examined the microchip with a frown, peeling the carpet hairs from the adhesive side with his stub nails, wiping them off on his jeans.

"Severus and I used to listen to this album." Lily said quietly, perching on the edge of Harry's bed, head cocked with a small smile as she listened. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, I heard it on the Magic Carpet. I had to sing what I remembered to the guy at the record store."

Lily smiled knowingly, reaching over to nudge the volume down on Harry's stereo. "Harry-"

"Please don't lecture me. I would have found it eventually and if Dad finds out where I heard it, I'm sure he'll explode or . . . whatever."

Lily looked at her son, shaking her head with a sigh after a moment. "You've clearly thought of everything I would say, hm? I'll leave you to your kit, baby. Glad you're getting around to it. Dinner's in half an hour, okay?"

"What are we eating?"

"Pizza and wings."

Harry smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in a while, waiting to make sure the door stayed closed before sighing with relief. After a moment, he stood to crank the stereo back up.

Harry brought part of the photograph to dinner with him (the other half being hidden in an old pair of briefs in his underwear drawer). His father, home from work and pleasantly surprised by pizza, was a little too busy reminiscing about his antics with Sirius that year to catch the calculating look Lily sent her son across the dinner table, and his flushed face in response. Lily said nothing about the fact that Severus had been to her other side that day, or that the picture was torn, with Severus' half of the room mysteriously missing. Harry was old enough to heed her warning or suffer the consequences.

Considering his reluctance to broach the topic, Lily knew Harry felt guilty for hiding this, but also felt there was something going on to be ashamed of. She wondered if calling Severus for a chat would do any good. There was no point getting James riled up about what could very well be a simple friendship for Severus, who had such a hard time making friends as it was. And Harry . . . Well, Harry had Ron and Hermione now, who had been a godsend for her naturally shy son. Lily could tell Harry hated the attention being the son of a star athlete and student leader had brought him. He disliked talking to people he didn't already know, and made friends by close proximity. It didn't surprise her that Harry had taken a liking to Severus, considering their similarities.

She was rather surprised Severus had been so lenient of Harry's naïve infatuation, but he seemed to have mellowed a bit since they'd been close all those years ago. At the rink, she could read his gaze toward Harry, tolerant but wary. She was surprised she still knew him well enough to know what he was thinking, even after all this time. He'd always hated that. Severus liked to be a mystery, even if it meant being purposely obtuse.

Lily drifted back into the moment as Harry excused himself from the dinner table to fiddle with his robotic kit a bit more before bed. James finished his pizza and studied the picture Harry had left behind. "Can you believe Dumbledore keeps all these photos in his tower? I'm surprised he's never mentioned it . . . Not that I'd ever want a picture of Snivellus lying around my hou-OW!"

Lily smirked as James rubbed the shoulder she'd smacked. "You know how I feel about that name."

"Yes, yes, well he hasn't changed much, has he? Still at Whatnot playing that awful music, ignoring everyone in the world like he's so high and mighty . . . Doesn't help that he's always in a pissy mood."

Lily soothingly rubbed the shoulder she had assaulted. "Severus had a hard life before you met him, James. It's made him very distrusting."

"You've only told me several million . . ." James trailed off, seeing the storm clouds gathering behind Lily's sharp gaze. He knew he was on thin ice and would rather not be kicked out of bed at 3 a.m. (His back was starting to complain as of late.) He sighed and toyed with the edge of the torn photograph. "I know Harry's interested in Snape. And I know nothing I say will change his mind. But I want him to choose right. I want him to be happy."

"You'd rather he have one less friend?"

"I'd rather he found a nice boy his own age to experiment with, if my son's going to wind up gay after all."

Lily raised an eyebrow and went upstairs without a word. James watched her go and slammed a fist on the dining room table, unsatisfied as the disposable dinner ware they'd used for the night fluttered slightly. With a grunt, he stood to clear the table.

…

Nearly an hour after he heard his parents go to bed, Harry played his album for the umpteenth time (quieter, gentler) and studied the picture of Snape he had stowed away for later. By the faint light of his neon alarm clock, he could almost imagine Snape's smirk turning into a predatory grin. Harry stifled a groan as he plunged into a fantasy. Snape in his bedroom, Snape sitting on the edge of his bed, neatly rolling up his sleeves to reveal thin wrists. Fantasy Snape's eyes burned into Harry's as he fumbled to shove down his pajama bottoms, freeing his sudden erection (young, stupid). Snape – No, Severus – reached up to tuck his hair behind his ears as Harry stroked himself, quickly.

"Harry" that voice echoed in Harry's mind as he began to arch, trying his best to be quiet, breathing heavily as Severus loomed over him, hair falling in curtains around Harry's face, hands pressing firmly on his waist. Harry came hard with a choked gasp.

It took him longer to come down than ever before, his heart still racing long after he'd wiped his hand on the towel shoved beneath his bed for such occasions. Harry lay staring blankly at his ceiling, letting the reality of the situation wash over him. He'd just come thinking about Snape. He'd just come harder than he could remember thinking about Snape's wrists and eyes and – oh, god – hands, hands holding him down. Harry felt the sting as tears of frustration began to prick behind his eyes. How was he going to face Snape that weekend?

…

It turned out he didn't have to. For perhaps the first time in nearly twenty years, Snape wasn't at Whatnot. When Harry asked Dumbledore what he was allowed to know, trying to appear casual, the older man simply smiled and said Snape had called in, and considering his attendance record, he'd more than earned a day off. That left them a little short staffed, however, so Dumbledore assigned Harry to operate The Magic Carpet until the later shift came in. The controls seemed simple enough, though Harry noticed the teenaged girls seemed happy to see him operating instead of the usually dour Snape.

Harry enjoyed being in the booth, imagining Severus sitting on the same stool, noticing the wear marks from where his longer legs rested on the edges of the control system, the notch on the counter edge from his books. The permanent condensation ring from Snape's drinks (orange flavored soda, Harry had discovered one day while feeling particularly adventurous.) The pop station Harry played was a nice change of pace, he had to admit.

He almost didn't want to leave, smiling at Dean with a quiet goodbye and shuffling to leave the booth.

"Oh, Harry?"

Harry turned to see Dean holding out a small scrap of notebook paper. "I think you dropped this." Harry took the paper with a puzzled 'Thank you', unfolding it as he made his way toward the fountain. It was starting to get late, and he had to tilt it to see.

Potter

That was all? Someone had written his name in spidery, precise script, pressed the pen so hard it had nearly ripped . . . Harry swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. So Snape had been thinking about him, too. But thinking how? Was he- Did he- Harry flushed. What kind of thoughts was Snape having about him if he was apparently scrawling his name forcefully on a scrap of paper? Harry scanned the park, spotting Ron and Hermione near the entrance, chatting. They hadn't made plans for after work, but Harry knew they expected him to stay and decide together what to do afterward. He carefully folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, smiling at his friends as he turned to face them.

…

At the drive-in later that night, Harry leaned his chair back too far on purpose, amused by Ron's sputtering complaints. The previews suited the horror film they'd agreed to see, each with creepy music and a signature jump-scare near the end. He heard Hermione and Ron chuckling from the back seat as he jumped during one scene, heard the signature sound of their kiss and grumbled under his breath, "Already?" During the previews now, apparently.

Harry opened his box of caramel chews as the film began, watching with interest and a rapid pulse as the opening sequence showed a dark shadow search a seemingly empty house, only to come across a small boy in bed. The screen went dark as the boy screamed, a haunting sound that was abruptly cut off, and the opening credits began to play. This was the third movie in a series, Harry remembered. Though he hadn't heard great things about the first two, he hoped this one would be at least a little better.

Maybe not. The acting in the first few scenes was not promising, not to mention the increasingly frequent kissing noises coming from Ron and Hermione in the back seat were throwing him off. They'd promised to tone it down this time around, but it didn't seem to be happening thus far. Ron's parents insisted Harry be present for all of Ron and Hermione's outings lately, seeming to notice the two getting more physical, but Harry had been leaving them on their own more and more, too annoyed by their displays of affection to stick around for the Weasley's sake. Harry grumbled something about getting a drink from the snack bar and climbed out of the car.

…

Harry bought his soda and slowly weaved through the sea of parked cars toward Hermione's. Looking ahead to the screen, it looked like someone was about to die. Harry chuckled, wondering how a particularly wooden actress was going to (attempt) to respond to sudden death. He nearly tripped stepping in a dip in the ground and looked up to see a dark haired man climb into an old SUV. Harry could have sworn it was Snape. Cautiously, he made his way to the passenger side and crept up (knowing he looked ridiculous). Glancing through the window confirmed it was Snape indeed, settling in for a movie by himself, by the looks of it.

Taking a moment to gather his courage, Harry reached forward with a free hand and toyed with the door handle a moment before jerking it open and clambering inside. To say Snape was surprised would be an understatement. The man looked positively shocked.

"What the fuck-"

"I'm sorry. I saw you were here and I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"You climbed into my car."

"Yes." They stared at each other for a long moment. Snape's expression didn't soften and Harry looked away, blushing. "Sorry. I . . . You weren't at work today. I couldn't exactly ask Dumbledore why."

"I wasn't feeling well." Snape said curtly. "Certainly, he told you that."

"He may have mentioned it." Harry admitted, taking a sip of his soda. Orange soda, he realized, something he'd never cared for until he'd discovered it was Snape's . . . God, he felt so pathetic.

"Is there a reason you're here? You don't have a car, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, no, I came with Ron and Hemione. But the movie was horrible and they were making out during the previews, so I-"

"Climbed into the car of someone you barely know, who your parents don't approve of?" Snape's expression clearly said what he thought of that, and Harry looked at Snape in surprise.

"How do you know my parents don't like you?"

"It's not complicated, Potter. Your father has hated me since the day we met. I'm sure he's convinced your mother that I'm a horrendous creature by now."

"My mom still likes you, Snape. She just wants me to be careful." Harry realized too late what he had said and watched in horror as Snape smirked.

"Careful? Does she think so little of me now that I would steal you away?" Snape scowled at Harry's choked denial. "That's disgusting. Get out of my car."

Harry swallowed against the growing lump in his throat. "You wrote my name, Snape." He said quietly, toying with his straw.

"What?" Snape bit out, managing to sound both enraged and . . . concerned.

Harry pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the dashboard, Potter visible in the faint movie screen light. "Dumbledore asked me to operate The Magic Carpet today while you were gone, and this was on the floor."

Snape went pale, something Harry hadn't known was possible with his inherent coloring. "That meddling ancient fuck."

"Snape, I'm sorry. I-"

"He told me I needed to take a day off, because you were, you were . . . And I agreed, because I thought it was the right thing to do, and now this."

Harry struggled to understand, suddenly clammy fingers tracing the etched words unconsciously. "He heard me in the bathroom. Oh my God."

Snape rubbed a hand over his face, raking his hair back with a sardonic laugh. "He was very adamant that I take a day off, to give you time away to focus."

"It won't do any good. I can't stop thinking about you." Harry said quietly, setting his soda down in the cup holder.

Snape fiddled with the radio, turning up the sounds of two women arguing to a deafening level, then turning it off. He fidgeted a bit, scratching at the steering wheel in front of him, something Harry knew from hours of observation was uncharacteristic of him. "Get out of my car, Potter. Please."

"No." Harry whispered, splaying his hands on the dash, the tips of his fingers brushing the paper, Potter carved into it, over and over-

Snape moved quickly, so quickly Harry flinched, thinking he was going to be hit. Snape's fingers were surprisingly gentle, nudging Harry's head to face him. Harry looked into eyes that were surprisingly dark (Fantasy Snape had softer eyes, for sure) and then Snape kissed him. Harry had never been kissed and felt his body tremble in reaction. Had never felt his heart stop, only to thud so hard he may have been dying. Harry raised an uncertain hand, brushing Snape's lank hair, sinking fingers into it with a moan.

They kissed slowly, wetly. Harry breathed through his nose desperately, unwilling to pull away just yet, unwilling to let this end, ever. Snape moved a hand from Harry's face to his collarbone, trailing. Harry pulled away, gasping. "Don't, please don't. I'll-"

Snape kissed him again, harder, thin fingers skimming down Harry's shirt to brush over the tent in his jeans. Harry jerked his hips with a cry, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in Snape's neck. "Fuck", he whispered, sloppily kissing the taut chords he found there. "I want you. Oh, I want . . ." Harry spread his legs with a choked noise and Snape cupped him firmly, pressing and kneading until Harry couldn't think straight, could only whimper as he came thrusting against Snape's hand. Harry realized dimly as he bit Snape's neck that it wasn't 'Potter' that Snape was moaning, it was 'Harry'.

Harry took a long moment to catch his breath, listening in the near silence as Snape's breathing slowed, too. He pulled away, shifting uneasily at the wetness in his pants, the damp stain at the front. "Severus-"

"Don't." Snape covered his face with both hands, something Harry had never seen him do before. "God, Potter . . . What are you doing?"

"I want to touch you." Harry reached over to Severus' lap, but stopped in his tracks, realizing he had no idea what to do, didn't know the first thing about pleasuring another man.

"You've done enough already. Won't your friends wonder where you are?" Snape spat out the word 'friends' like it hurt him to say, and Harry felt a pang of loneliness for this man, who had had at most two friends and had lost one nearly twenty years before.

"My friends are too busy being a teenaged couple to notice anything I do." Harry said quietly, lifting a finger to bite the jagged beginnings of a fingernail. Oh God, he had kissed Snape. He had cum while kissing Snape.

Snape watched the shock overtake Harry's face and sighed. "Albus is going to fire me for this."

"Albus doesn't need to know." Harry mumbled around his nail biting. "My parents don't need to know. And neither do Ron and Hermione, actually."

"Nothing stays a secret at Whatnot, Potter."

"Are you ever optimistic?"

"Never." Snape shot back, smirking a little when Harry glared. "Go back to your friends, child. The sooner you forget about this, the better."

"I don't want to forget!" Harry insisted, touching his kiss-swollen lips unconsciously. "I've wanted this for so long."

"You're a fool, and I hope you find someone your own age by the end of the summer."

Harry shook his head with a snort. "What if I never do? What if I only want you?"

"Then you're a moron and there's nothing I can do. You don't know me, Potter. I'm not what you think you want."

Harry studied his fingertips, looked out the window at the soundless movie Snape had initially come here to see. His eyes wandered from the screen in front of them to the one just beyond, where the last teen was running for her life. Ron and Hermione were probably worried by now, although it wouldn't be the first time Harry had wandered off. He always made it by the end of the credits. He looked around the cabin of Snape's ancient SUV, noticing the strawberry air freshener, the paper with his name, still on the dash. Snape had to have strong feelings about him, Harry knew it. Whether they were good, bad, or a mixture of the two, Harry wasn't sure. But you didn't write someone's name on a scrap paper and make out with them if you didn't care at all. Snape was probably just scared of getting hurt . . . Right?

"Do you hang around here when you're not at the skating rink?"

Snape shook his head with a sardonic smile. "If I told you, you'd stalk me incessantly. Now, get out of my car." Harry bit his lip but obeyed, only pausing to pitch forward and kiss Snape once, hard, before slipping out and stumbling toward the bathroom to clean up. He left his soda and the scrap paper with Snape.

…

Harry reported to the maintenance tower the next day and greeted Dumbledore in what he hoped was a convincing manner. He was a little wary of the man considering he'd heard him in the bathroom and spoken to Snape about it, but Dumbledore didn't seem to be treating him any differently. Harry shrugged it off and got to work, ratcheting and lubricating and checking the latches on everything he was told to. He felt relieved when Dumbledore told him to take his lunch break.

Harry had told Ron and Hermione that he'd run into Dean at the drive-in and hung out until he thought the movie was over. He was lucky enough to have a word with Dean at the Snack Bar before they asked, and Dean gave him a knowing look. "I think there's something going on that you don't want to tell me. But that's okay. I'll cover for you."

Harry grinned at that. "Thanks, Dean. I owe you one."

"You should tell your friends about your boyfriend, Harry. They're going to find out eventually."

Harry stared, gobsmacked. "Dean, I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not gay."

"Right." Dean chuckled. "Whatever you say."

Harry watched him move to the next window with a sinking feeling. Was it that obvious?

Harry took his sweet time moseying around on his break, still unsure how much Dumbledore knew. Had he planted the paper? Had he even known it was there? Harry spotted Ron at the Pirate Ship and hopped a railing to land right next to him, laughing outright as Ron jumped a little.

"Gah! Why do you always do that?"

"Because I'm young and agile?" Harry ventured, and Ron shoved him a little. "How was the movie last night? I missed most of it because of your make out session." Harry failed to mention he'd had quite a bit of one of his own, but he planned on never telling Ron or Hermione, and so far, so good.

"It was alright." Ron mumbled, blushing. "I honestly couldn't tell you who lived until the end."

"I heard bad reviews anyway." Harry smiled weakly and helped Ron check the lap bars of several children who were a little wet from a water ride. With an approving nod from Ron, he smacked the start button before pulling his friend aside as the ship swung higher and higher. "Have your parents . . . Do they know I'm not always with you?"

"I think they're catching on." Ron said with a sigh, squinting at the ship as it sailed the other way. "My mom's been giving me these looks, like she'll know when it happens by looking at me, I don't know. And my Dad's even worse. He'll stop in my doorway and sigh, and I found condoms in my sock drawer the other day. They're being really weird about it. It wasn't like this with my brothers."

"What did they do about your brothers?"

"Yelled, mostly. And you see where that got 'em." Harry chuckled at that. Most of Ron's brothers had dated throughout high school and married young. Maybe Ron's parents were lucky their youngest son was a late bloomer. Harry waited until the ride stopped completely before tapping the 'unlatch' button for the lap bars. The kids scampered out of the boat in a hurry, one of them tripping on the edge and falling, hard. Harry rushed forward and helped the little boy to stand. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight, and was trying not to cry, though a few tears escaped.

"Are you okay?"

"Nooo." His face crumpled as he began to cry in earnest.

"Alright, alright." Harry murmured, shooting Ron a frown. "I'm on break. I'll take him to the office."

It wasn't a long walk, but Harry tried to keep the boy focused on something other than his wrist, which already looked a little swollen. Ushering him into the office, Harry froze in his tracks at the sight of Snape looking bored behind the counter.

"What are you doing here?" Harry choked out, to which Snape replied with his signature smirk.

"Such a rude child. What's going on here?"

Harry explained that the little boy had tripped and possibly sprained his wrist, and Snape spoke to the boy briefly (in a soft tone completely foreign to Harry.) He fetched an ice pack, gauze, and children's ibuprofen, gently wrapping his wrist and prodding him to drink water and give him a phone number. Harry watched in amazement as the boy sat still for Snape, clearly calmer now. Snape called 'Jackie's parents, who had left the boy in the care of an older cousin.

Harry watched Snape, only breaking the gaze when they made eye contact. He blushed, remembering the feel of Snape's lips on his, the feel of his hand . . .

"Is there anything else, Potter? Albus is probably expecting you in the tower."

"No, I . . . I was wondering if you're going to the End of Summer party this year?" It had slipped out, but Harry had been wondering. About as much as Harry wondered about Snape anyway, which was a lot.

"I had considered it. I haven't gone in quite a while."

Harry understood immediately. Snape had barely gone to a Whatnot party since his mother left all those years ago. What would have been the point? Snape didn't like anyone else, and they certainly didn't like him. Without Albus giving him a place to work, Harry wondered what Snape would have been doing all this time.

"Well, I hope you go. I'll be there, if that makes a difference."

Snape stared at Harry for a long while, then smiled, or as close to a smile as he could manage. "Perhaps."

…

Ron and Hermione sat on Harry's bed, dishing out Chinese food as Harry nervously paced in front of his window. "What if he doesn't go? Or worse, what if he does?"

"Calm down." Ron grumbled, holding out a bowl to Harry as he passed, too occupied to notice. "It's not like you're actually going to talk to him if he does. You haven't spoken to him since you took that kid to the office."

"Snape's been watching him, though." Hermione chimed in, breaking her chopsticks apart. "I saw him actually turn his head to watch Harry walk by yesterday."

Ron grunted, mouth full of his own food as he tried to offer Harry a bowl again. Harry took it grudgingly and dropped into his desk chair.

"I don't know what to think." Harry admitted, toying with his fork. (He had a knack for dropping chopsticks, and had given up after making a mess one too many times.) "He said he was going. But Snape seems like the type to lie for his own amusement. He doesn't care."

"That's an interesting character study, Harry." Ron said with a chuckle. "How much time have you put into this?"

"Too much." Harry admitted, digging into his food. His parents had gone out for the night, so he didn't have to worry about them overhearing an incriminating comment. "I actually, uh, have something to tell you guys."

Hermione raised a brow, which reminded Harry of Snape, and he looked away. "We've never told your secrets before, you know."

"It's just . . . This is bigger. This is . . . potentially illegal."

Hermione gasped and set her food on the nightstand to stand and smack him. "Harry!"

"I don't wanna know!" Ron shouted. Hermione gave him a look and he groaned, "What did you do?"

"Sit down." Harry said to Hermione, and took a shaky breath before visibly trying to relax. "I didn't hang out with Dean at the Snack Bar. I, uh, I ran into Snape."

Ron and Hermione stared at him in silence for a long, long moment. Harry cleared his throat and stuffed a forkful of chow mein into his mouth.

"Well, fuck."

"Ronald!"

"I'm sorry, but you heard him. Something vaguely illegal? He was gone for an hour!"

Harry swallowed hard and stared down into his bowl. He regretted telling his friends, but knew he would've felt worse if he'd tried to hide it much longer. "I'm not sorry." He said softly.

"What happened?" Hermione said finally, scooting to the edge of the bed to lean closer.

"Well, I was on my way back from the Snack Bar and saw Snape getting into his car. So I climbed in." Hermione gasped, but Harry pushed on, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. "We talked, I confronted him about having feelings for me, and we made out."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You didn't." she whispered

"He did." Ron nodded, looking Harry in the eye. "That's why they haven't been talking. Snape's avoiding you, isn't he?"

"I don't know." Harry sighed. "He kept telling me to get out of the car and then he kind of . . . went for it, I guess."

"You need to stay away from him." Hermione said firmly, shaking her head. Harry couldn't tell if she was truly angry, or just being protective on his behalf. "I know you have a crush on him, Harry, but if he's willing to jeopardize his job like that with a minor, he clearly can't control himself."

"Maybe I don't care." Harry mumbled, and Ron stood and set down his bowl. This was serious. Ron didn't set down food without an occasion. He walked to Harry's chair and gripped him by both shoulders. Harry ducked his head, and Ron pushed him slightly back against the chair. "Look at me."

Harry looked up into Ron's concerned face. "This is not going to end well. Snape is messing with you for his own amusement. Once he's done, he's not going to stick around, Harry. He's going to go back to his life and forget you ever happened."

Harry felt himself tear up unexpectedly and ducked his head again. "Why are you saying that? Why don't you think I can make my own decisions?"

Hermione sighed. "It's not that, Harry. We don't want you to get hurt. And I honestly can't see this ending well. Think about it. Snape hasn't really talked to anyone besides Dumbledore for a decade. He's mean, and he hasn't tried to make friends this entire time. Don't you think you're giving him a bit much for no effort on his part?"

Harry sniffled, feeling his face heat up. Ron let go, backing away to sit on the bed again. Harry saw Hermione clasp his hand through the haze of tears. So this was how it was going to go? Wonderful.

"You guys wouldn't understand. You have each other already. What if . . . What if no one else wants me? What if Snape is the only one besides you who even sees me?"

"You know that's not true, Harry. There are plenty of people who would love to get to know you if you would let them in. Dean, Neville, even Ginny . . ."

Harry set his bowl on the desk, having completely lost his appetite. He covered his face with both hands and tried to calm down. His friends were just trying to protect him, but Harry couldn't help feeling like he was in too deep already, now that Snape knew how he felt, or at least knew that he was willing to get physical. And Harry was curious. He didn't want to end this so abruptly, when everything concerning Snape made his heart race, kept him up at night-

"Let's not talk about this too much, alright?" Harry said, lowering his hands, trying his hardest to smile. Ron and Hermione did not look convinced. "He's probably not going to the party, and I can just go on with my life. Summer's almost over anyway, right? I never have to see him again, if I don't want to."

Harry reached over and turned on his stereo, still set on the same Smith's album he'd been listening to for weeks. He stood and put on something more upbeat. Ron and Hermione reluctantly changed the subject to schools they had applied to, which eventually became a good-natured joke about Hermione moving away and meeting a boy named Francois, who literally smoked baguettes and demanded she learn to crotchet the French flag. Harry felt a little better after that, managing to finish his dinner, though his stomach was still in knots at the thought of the end-of-summer party. What if Snape didn't go after all?

…

Snape didn't go after all. The End of Summer party was indoors on a humid night, in the multipurpose room attached to the maintenance tower. Harry wasn't surprised by the overly bright decorations (It was a Dumbledore sponsored function, after all.) He glanced around the room, disappointed to not see Snape among the twenty or so people in attendance. He spotted Ron and Hermione, but wasn't too keen on talking just then, choosing to make the rounds first instead. He spotted Minerva first and made his way over, complimenting her dark hair, flowing freely out of its' usual restrictive bun.

"How have you been, Harry?"

"Pretty good, thank you. And you?"

"Trying to keep busy. Retirement can be a little . . . underwhelming."

Harry looked around the room, spotting Dumbledore climbing a ladder to adjust a wayward decoration. Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Do you think Albus will ever retire?"

Minerva turned to look for her husband and chuckled as he strained to reach from the ladder. "Not likely, Harry. Let's be honest."

Harry excused himself and grabbed some punch from the drink table, greeting Dean and Neville who were standing nearby.

"Why do I always run into you near concessions, Dean?"

"Food is my life." Dean deadpanned, causing Harry and Neville to choke on their punch with laughter.

"Did they make you guys work on your day off?" Harry joked after clearing his throat

Dean cackled and smacked Harry's arm. "Of course not. We don't get paid for this party, so everyone gets their own drinks."

Harry spotted Ron and Hermione moving toward him out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you feeling better?" Neville asked out of the blue, and Harry raised a brow as he sipped his punch.

"Was I sick?"

"You haven't really talked to us for a month. We thought maybe something had happened."

Harry blushed and studied the floor. That was about the time he'd first kissed Snape. "I've been, you know, distracted."

"That's one way of putting it." Hermione said crisply, stepping up to the drink table to grab punch for both herself and Ron.

Harry sighed. "There's been a lot going on . . ."

"Tell me about it." Dean cut in. "My parents are freaking out about college and I really don't think I'm ready."

"Me neither." Harry agreed, grateful for the change of topic. "I still don't know what I wanna be when I grow up."

"You were pretty good at theatre, if I remember correctly." Ron offered. "You got the lead every year."

"Yeah, but you can't really get a degree for that can you?"

"You'd be surprised." Hermione said with a smile. "I can get you come brochures if you'd like to find out."

Harry nodded. A commotion toward the front of the room drew the group's attention, and Harry mentally scolded himself as he scanned the room for any sign of Snape. Albus was addressing the room by the looks of it.

"Thank you all for coming tonight, and thank you for being a part of another magical summer at 'Whatnot'." Harry clapped along with the rest of the crowd, smiling a little sadly. Most of the teens in the room weren't staying past the summer. "I have a few announcements to make." Dumbledore continued. "Minnie and I are going to bed-" A catcall cut through the murmuring, and Minerva laughed.

"We're old, Finnegan. We tire easily." Everyone had a good laugh at that.

"I'm leaving the keys with Mr. Thomas, and I expect you all to behave yourselves." Dumbledore continued. "Please get home safely and if any . . . emergencies occur, please wake me. Goodnight!" He turned to follow Minerva upstairs, but paused and came back down. "My apologies. I was hoping Severus would be here tonight to tell you all himself, but-"

Harry felt his heart turn to ice and drop to his stomach. Distantly, he felt Hermione's hand close over his own. "After nearly twenty years at 'Whatnot', our dear Severus is leaving for greener pastures. If any of you would like a full time position, I regret to inform you that there is now one available. Please see the office on Monday if you've any questions. I bid you good night."

Harry stood shaking as Hermione whispered, "I am so sorry."

"Yeah. Ron chimed in. "That's insane. I wonder what happened to make the old bastard lea-"

Harry ripped his hand from Hermione's and made a dash for the door. He heard Hermione and Ron calling for him, but he was faster and knew the park like the back of his hand after months of behind the scenes maintenance. He jogged through the parking lot and into a neighboring field, stopping only after he was out of the ambient light from 'Whatnot'. He panted, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Fuck. How . . . FUCK!" He yelled into the darkness. He looked around the empty field just in case someone had heard him, but there was no one in sight, no one coming to investigate. Harry swiped angrily at the tears streaming down hot and fast now, a week's worth, a month's worth.

Snape had lied to him, to his face, no less. He'd said he'd be at the party, in Snape lingo, anyway. Harry was sure of it. And he hadn't said a damn thing about leaving. Harry'd foolishly thought he cared, or as close as he could expect from Snape. Trying to take a few deep breaths in vain, Harry started walking slightly north instead. His grandparents still lived in Spinner's End. Betting on Snape's resistance to change (Whatnot, the ancient SUV, holding grudges), Harry reckoned he still did, too.

About halfway into Harry's trek, it began to rain. He began to grumble, straining to see any holes or puddles in the dark roadside he adamantly stuck to in case Ron or Hermione were looking for him, or worse, his father. Harry trudged along in the warm rain, stopping to wring out his drenched shirt. Standing shirtless near the road, he couldn't help but laugh. "The rain falls hard on a humdrum town. This town has dragged you down." He sang, putting his shirt back on to continue toward the dim lights of Spinner's End.

. . .

Harry snuck around to end of the street to avoid his grandparents' house and spotted the old SUV in front of the last house. He stared up through the rain at the lit window near the back of the house, a beacon. Harry steeled himself, took a deep breath and walked around to the back door, leading to the kitchen, if the layout was the same as his grandparents'. He knocked, listening hard for a response through the rain, hearing nothing. Still, a dark silhouette filled the frosted window.

"Go away!" Snape called, tone tight with suspicion. Harry'd expected this, really.

"It's raining, Snape. Let me in." Apparently, Snape recognized his voice, because he tore open the door and yanked Harry inside, closing it after him just as quickly.

"What are you doing here?" Snape demanded, not releasing his grip on Harry's arm. Harry didn't mind, not really. He looked around Snape's small kitchen, dripping wet and stunned. He hadn't seen Snape from this close in a while, and rarely out of uniform. Snape was clearly settled in for a night at home, if his pajama bottoms were any indication.

"You said you'd be at the party." Harry blurted.

"I said I would consider it."

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye," Harry bit out with a touch of anger. Snape released Harry's arm as if burned.

"You don't understand, Potter."

"Then tell me! Why would you leave without saying goodbye? Why leave now?"

"No." Snape said flatly, moving toward the phone on the wall. "It's none of your business. I'm going to call your mother-"

"And tell her what, exactly? That I magically showed up outside your door and you have no idea why?"

"That's entirely the truth, you moron!" Snape yelled, snatching the phone off the hook.

Harry caught Snape's gaze. "You know why I'm here, Snape." He said quietly. They stared at one another for a long moment, a clock from deeper in the house ticking away every heavy second. "Can I dry off at least?"

Snape shook his head initially, but hung up the phone and headed down the hall anyway, calling over his shoulder, "Don't move, Potter. You'll get water everywhere." Harry stood in the kitchen for a beat before heading that way himself, passing Snape rifling through the hall closet to stand on the second step of the stairs.

"Do you ever listen?" Snape said without looking. "I said stay put". To anyone else, Snape would have sounded genuinely angry. But Harry had listened to this man, despite his accusation otherwise. He'd studied his tones, expressions . . . His hands . . .

"Can I have a towel now? Is that what you're looking for?" Snape grunted and closed the hall closet, stepping to the edge of the stairs to hand Harry a fluffy towel. Harry clutched the offered towel and locked eyes with Snape, reading what he saw as an invitation and taking it, leaning to kiss Snape gracelessly. Snape froze, surprised, and Harry coaxed with his tongue, pleading.

Snape pulled away. "I'll put you right back out in the rain."

"You won't." Harry murmured, taking a step down so they were closer to their usual heights. He raised a hand and trailed his fingertips on a prominent collarbone. "You can't." Snape moved then, climbing to crowd Harry against the wall and nipping at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Harry whimpered, grinding his newfound erection against Snape's thigh.

"You're such a child." Snape growled, hands gripping Harry's arm again as he licked up Harry's neck to the soft spot below his ear.

"I didn't hear you complaining at the Drive-In." Harry managed between pants, spreading his legs as much as his confined surroundings would allow. Snape pulled away, but before Harry could protest, he was quickly turned around and Snape pressed him bodily against the wall, cheek pressed against the old floral wallpaper.

"I told you to get out, Potter." Snape's rock hard cock strained through his thin pajama bottoms.

"Harry. Please call me 'Harry'." Harry gasped, arching back to feel the pressure. "Fuck."

Snape ground against him with a groan. He nosed through Harry's damp hair to press a sloppy kiss to the base of his neck.

Harry trembled, knees going weak as he wavered on the edge, too soon. "Please, I've waited. I've waited so long."

Snape began to thrust, rutting his clothed erection against the seam of Harry's jeans, breathing raggedly. Harry jutted his hips back, fumbling with his button and zip, struggling to push the clinging material down his thighs. He finally succeeded, shoving his jeans to his knees and pressing his now bare ass back against Snape, who moaned long and loud before pulling away, heavy breathing a delicious counterpoint to Harry's own.

"We can't." Snape rasped, removing his hands from either side of Harry's shoulders and stepping away. Feeling rather silly, Harry turned awkwardly on the stairs to face Snape.

"I . . . I don't understand. Do you want this or not?" Harry studied Snape's expression, eyes closed, arms at his sides with his fists clenched. He meant it. He really-

"If we do this here, right now, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. There's no point."

"I guess 'I want to' isn't a good enough reason for you?" Harry said quietly, stroking the cold skin of his exposed thigh. Snape opened his eyes and pinned him with a stare.

"We have to think about this rationally. There's no reason to get into this if we don't have to."

Harry laughed mirthlessly, shoving his jeans down the rest of the way and kicking them to the bottom of the stairs with a splat. "You don't get it Snape. I love you, you stupid bastard."

"You don't know what love is, you idiot. You heard it in a song once; you have no idea." Snape spat out. "It hurts. It ruins your life. Now put your pants back on and go home."

Harry bit his lip, but his eyes hardened after a moment. "No." He said firmly, turning to walk up the stairs with as much dignity as he could muster. He opened to the door to the second largest bedroom and turned on the light, hoping it was Snapes'.

It was. Apparently, inheriting his childhood home hadn't changed Snape's choice of bedroom. Harry removed his wet shirt and set in in a corner, shivering in the cool of the room as he looked around. It looked like most of Snape's possessions had been boxed already, but the closet held several t-shirts and jeans, all either faded black or grey. It only confirmed what Harry had suspected, that Snape was very much a creature of habit. Harry sighed and lay on the immaculate bedspread, shifting awkwardly toward the middle and folding his hands neatly over his stomach.

Now, to wait, though he wasn't sure what for. It had been a long day, a long walk. He began to drift . . .

"Idiot." Snape muttered as he turned out the light, and Harry came out of the fog, listening to Snape putter around the room, drawers opening and closing, and finally, a dip in the bed next to him. Snape's lips on his startled him, but Harry opened to it. Surprisingly gentle despite the conversation they'd had on the stairs. A warm hand trailed down Harry's side to pin a hip, and Harry arched against something, anything. Snape pulled away, and Harry fought the involuntary whine.

"Turn over." Snape said softly, and Harry barely hesitated to obey, gasping as Snape pushed at his knees to spread them. A large hand pressed soothingly between his shoulder blades. "Relax. I don't want to hurt you."

Harry stilled, but let Snape climb above him and settle low. A warm breath ghosted between his spread thighs and Harry let out a soft cry of surprise as Snape spread his ass and licked him firmly.

"You can't . . . Aaaah . . ." Harry trailed off as the exploration continued, fingers were added, and was teetering thinly on the edge when Snape pulled away abruptly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I . . . Fuck, I'm close."

"Not yet." Snape murmured into the dark of the room. He pressed against Harry then, wide and blunt, and Harry tensed until he could hear Snape saying, "Relax. Push back." over the initial shock. It took time, Harry knew this from the stories the Weasley boys had whispered to them over the years, but Snape was vigilant, testing the resistance based on the noises Harry couldn't hold back. Finally, he was fully sheathed and they were both out of breath. Harry arched his back experimentally and Snape moaned, low and guttural.

"Fuck me." Harry said softly, and Snape ground into him.

"I will. Momentarily." He pulled fully out and Harry began to push himself up, but Snape returned with slick fingers that pressed into him and Harry spread his legs wider as a jolt of something flared through him. Snape thrust and spread his fingers several times, removing them only to push his cock back into Harry, faster this time.

Harry cried out as Snape began fucking him in earnest, wrapping a hand around Harry's shoulder to get better leverage. Snape pounded into him, groaning every so often, strokes shortening until he was rutting, rocking, shoving Harry's knee higher to get an angle. Harry came hard, moaning "Severus", whining at the tail end of it as his vision whited out in the darkness. Severus stilled and moaned as Harry felt warm liquid flood him and come dribbling out.

"I love you." Harry panted afterward, lifting his face from his elbow to say it again. "I'm so sorry, but I do."

Severus pulled out slowly, and after a moment, clambered off the bed to return with a wet washcloth. Harry flinched.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." Harry whispered, and Snape gingerly turned him over. Harry stared up at the dark silhouette, imagining Severus as he probably looked, flushed, sweaty, perfect. "I'm so happy, I could die."

"You've been listening to The Smiths."

Harry barked out a laugh, caught off guard. "How could you tell?"

"You're easy to read." Severus admitted, kissing Harry before leaving the bed again, leaving the room.

…

Harry sat at Snape's kitchen table an hour later, dressed in one of Snape's pajama bottoms after a quick shower. His whole body hurt. Honestly, he hadn't known what he'd expected. Snape was somewhere deeper in the house, retrieving Harry's clothes from the dryer. Harry didn't see the point. He knew for damn sure Snape wasn't giving him a ride anywhere, so he'd be soaked again by the time he got home. Still, it was a nice gesture, he supposed.

Harry looked around, noticed that a lot of the kitchen looked as it normally would. Maybe Snape wasn't really moving after all? Or was coming back . . . Harry sighed and looked down at his coffee, growing cold after a long while contemplating. He knew nothing about this was going to be easy. Continuing life as normal after Snape left. Keeping such a huge secret from his parents. He wasn't sure he'd be able to tell Ron and Hermione either, as neither had been too keen on the idea of pursuing Snape in the first place. He downed his lukewarm coffee in several long pulls and rinsed hip cup out in the sink.

Reaching to turn off the faucet, Harry noticed a paper cup leaned against the back splash behind the sink. He picked it up, noticing idly that it was the same kind they gave you at the drive in. Harry popped off the lid and stared at the inside, empty but for the scrap of paper, with a faded Potter carved into it.

Harry silently put the lid back on and sat down, just as Snape came back into the kitchen. The man glanced at Harry and dumped the warm clothes into his lap. "There you are. Now go change."

Harry looked up at the older man, sure that his shock was clear on his face. "You're kicking me out? Now?"

"Why would you stay? Your parents and friends are probably looking for you, and if they find you here, I'm going to jail."

"I wouldn't go that far-" Harry began, but Snape silenced him with a look.

"Do you really think your father wouldn't go out of his way to make my life hell if he knew you were here?"

"I know he would. I just don't want to leave so soon after . . . what we did."

Snape had the grace to blush, faint though it was in the chilly kitchen. "You can't stay here, Potter. You know you can't."

Harry picked at the frayed skin of his thumb. "Why are you leaving?"

"It's none of your business."

Harry looked up sharply, trying to keep his anger in check and failing. "Oh, really?! I'd say it is, considering you've fucked me and wrote my name and planned on leaving WITHOUT SAYING A GODDAMN THING!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry fumed, holding his tongue only in hopes of finding out something, anything about why Snape was leaving so abruptly.

"I applied to an audio production program, and was accepted. I'm going to college."

Harry felt the anger seep out of him in a rush, gone as quickly as it'd come. "Why couldn't you just tell me that in the first place?"

"As I said, it was none of your business. I'm going away, and you're not going with me, so why would it matter?"

"Peace of mind, maybe?"

Snape shook his head with a smirk. "No, Potter. Never from me." Harry sighed and stood, coming as close to Snape as he dared. The older man looked away, but stood his ground.

"Even though you're going somewhere I can't follow, I'm glad you've given me tonight . . . As stupid and soppy as that sounds."

Snape reached out a hand to touch Harry's brow, his cheek, his lips. Harry closed his eyes and Snape murmured, "Don't. Tell. Anyone."

…

Harry's grandmother was a good sport about being woken at a late hour by her dripping wet grandson. She ushered him inside the front hall and gave him a towel, tittering about how his parents were 'worried sick' and had been looking for him. Harry took the towel and tried not to look too guilty.

His grandfather groaned his way down the stairs and hugged him despite his wet clothes. "We're so glad you're alright."

"I was only gone for a few hours." Harry mumbled, which he realized with a sense of detachment was completely true. His life had changed forever in the span of a few hours. Or it felt like it, anyway.

"When you have kids you'll understand. A few hours missing can be terrifying."

Harry just nodded and accepted the glass of milk his grandmother offered when she emerged from the kitchen. "Your father's on his way." She announced, sitting next to Harry on the couch and handing him a plate of cookies.

"Did you know I was coming?" Harry joked, taking a cookie and trying not to shake. His grandmother chuckled and handed a cookie to his grandfather, who sat quietly on Harry's other side. Harry ate his cookie and drank his milk in silence, grateful for the soft cushion. He was worried his father would take one look at him and know immediately what he'd done.

James Potter pulled into the driveway sooner than Harry was expecting, and they were given the plate of cookies for the road with strict orders to go straight to bed. Harry was more than ready. It had been a long, eventful night. They rode with just the radio between them for most of the ride. When James reached for the volume dial to turn it down, Harry couldn't help it, he groaned.

"What? I haven't lectured you in while."

"Only because Mom beat you to it last time." Harry grumbled.

James smiled and reached over to shake Harry's knee, which set Harry on the edge. The fear of his father somehow 'knowing' overtook him again.

"Where were you?" His father asked, driving slowly along the field Harry had trudged through hours before.

"Here, actually. I left the party and walked to Grandma and Grandpa's."

"And it took you three hours?" James said, trying to keep his tone calm. He knew Snape still lived in Spinner's End, but he wasn't sure if Harry knew. He hoped with everything he had that Harry hadn't been with Snape. Even if Lily didn't think there was any harm to it, he knew better. He'd seen his son's curiosity spike and grow to an obsession. He'd heard The Smiths playing at all hours through the walls.

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't really planning on going to Spinner's End. I just kept walking for a while."

James sighed and glanced at his son, frowning at the damp he was certain had seeped into his seats. "I thought Hermione was giving you a ride home."

Harry bit his lip and looked out the window, weighing the consequences of the truth or telling a lie. His father would find out about Snape eventually, he supposed.

"I found out that Snape's leaving Whatnot. He never mentioned it, and I thought we were pretty good friends."

"Ah. Well, it's about time he got out of that booth. Good for him."

Harry stared at his father. "You hate Snape, but . . . you're happy for him?"

James huffed a laugh at that. "I'm glad that poor bastard's finally getting out of the town he's always lived in. And I'm glad I won't have to see his stupid face anymore."

Harry nodded, looking out the window again. "Yeah." He sighed as they pulled into the driveway. "I'll probably never see him again."

…

TWO YEARS LATER

Harry tugged at an already ragged fingernail as he sat waiting at the table, nervous jitters in full effect. He really didn't expect Snape to show, not after . . . Everything. Snape's whole life seemed engineered to be as aggravating and lonely as possible. Realizing his leg was jiggling beneath the table, Harry grumbled to himself about the cup of coffee he'd sucked down already while waiting. He stood to go to the restroom, but thought better of it as he glanced at his watch. It was nearly time. Either Snape showed or he didn't, and seeing a nearly empty coffee shop with no sign of Harry would be a death knell for any friendship they may have.

Harry sat down and jiggled some more, nearly rising again and looking up to see a dark haired man slip into the coffee shop. Harry felt the breath leave his body all at once, and stared as Snape walked up and perched gracefully in the chair across from him. The bastard had the nerve to smirk.

"Potter."

"Oh my God."

"You don't need to address me so formally. 'Snape' is just fine."

Harry laughed then, a soul-deep laugh that bubbled up and burst out in sharp bursts. "You got my letters. You read my letters."

Snape shook his head at that, but the smirk remained. "Do you mean the infantile attempt at postal correspondence that flooded my post box no matter how long I ignored it? I may have glanced-"

"You're here." Harry breathed, interrupting him but uncaring. "I have to pee, but please don't leave. I need to talk to you."

Snape shook his head at that, cleared his throat. "Coffee?"

"What kind do you like?"

"Strong, black. I've had so much coffee during finals, I'll probably die by the end of the evening."

"That's okay. As long as you stay here, die here."

Snape said nothing, raised a brow. It was so familiar and jarring, Harry blushed and headed for the restroom.

…

He'd ordered Snape's coffee on the way, and by the time he returned to the table, Snape clutched the cup like a lifeline and was staring into it, failing to look up as Harry sat down.

"Does the coffee have all the answers, Snape?"

"Yes." The man deadpanned, and Harry huffed softly. This man was different from the Snape he remembered. Then again, this Snape had seen more of the world, had probably met more people out of state than he'd ever met at Whatnot.

"How was school? I had to beg Dumbledore for your mailing address, and even then, I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again. You never wrote back." Snape blew on his coffee and took a sip, taking his sweet ass time and Harry knew it, but he also knew that anything concerning Snape required the patience of a saint. So he motioned to the barista for another latte and waited.

"I learned quite a bit." Snape offered slowly, and Harry tried not to fidget. "I never knew how much music theory comes in handy in audio production. I can explain in essay format why The Smiths wrote such compelling material." Harry grinned at that. Since Snape's departure, he'd bought all the Smith's albums he could, and some of Morrissey's, too. "I can tell if a singer is flat, hum a middle C . . . I can assemble a speaker from used parts if need be."

Harry grinned. "That sounds amazing. I'd love that."

"Ah, I'd forgotten you were a grease monkey." The barista set down Harry's latte in front of him and shot a glance at Snape before hurrying away. Harry laughed.

"Just because I'm up to my elbows in grease all the time-"

"Even now." Snape ventured, and Harry examined his hands and nails, though he'd scrubbed them that morning. He grit his teeth. "I was referring to your jeans." Snape explained, and Harry glanced down to see a faint blotch of old oil on his jeans.

"These are my best pair!" Harry said incredulously, smoothing a hand over the stain. "What can I say? I've been busy."

"Your letters mentioned Albus retiring?"

"Not completely." Harry smiled a little. "He handed over maintenance to me. Apparently sixty three is the magic age for him to focus on office work and getting his affairs in order."

Snape chuckled, a soft throaty sound Harry wanted to drown in. "I think Minerva finally talked some sense into him." Snape took a longer sip of his coffee, then abruptly: "Who's been on the Magic Carpet since I left?"

"Me, actually. We updated the control booth a few months ago, and I had the pleasure of destroying your counter." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of wood, which he extended to Snape. "It's the notch from your books."

Snape stared blankly at Harry for a moment before taking the small piece of wood from him. The notch was shallow, but noticeable. Harry had cut out the bottom and sanded it smooth into a semi-circle. Snape smoothed a thumb over it and felt memories creep around the guard he kept up at all times. It truly felt like a lifetime ago, with Harry's letters often the only reminder.

"Even if you didn't want it, I would have kept it. I means a lot to me."

Snape nodded, perhaps not even listening as he examined the notch. "This is . . . obsessive." He said finally. "I can't imagine what you've done with Dumbledore's pictures of me."

"Nothing! They're in Dumbledore's tower where they've always been. Well, except for one."

Snape looked up sharply and slid the notch back across the table. "You wrote that you'd moved from your parents' house."

"After high school, when Dumbledore offered me full time, I decided to strike out on my own. But we still have dinner every week. Ron and Hermione too, whenever they can make it out."

"Ah. How are the revolting lovebirds?"

"They broke up, actually. In college, Hermione decided she wanted a break from making out to focus on her grades. And Ron found someone else to make out with. We all still talk. There was some drama at first, but we're all good now."

Snape nodded and went back to his coffee. Harry had the distinct impression that talking about his friends had made Snape uncomfortable.

"Did you make any friends in school?" He said after a moment, and the older man snorted.

"If you consider stalking a friendship, then I suppose."

"You had a stalker?"

"Nearly as persistent as you-"

"Hey!"

"A vocal student took a liking to me after a group project in theory. The more I insulted her, the more she persisted."

"Sounds familiar." Harry said with a smirk. "Do you still talk?"

"We're dating." Snape said shortly. Harry felt his insides clench, but tried his best to recover.

"Ah, that's good. Great, actually. Umm, wh-what's her name?"

"Nina. An operatic soprano, very pretty."

"And she's, uh, dating you?"

Snape scowled and stood. "If you just wanted to interrogate and insult me Potter, you could have just come down to the school-"

"NO! No, I wanted to know how you were doing. Please sit down, don't leave."

Snape stared at him, hard, and Harry felt a blush rising. Despite desperately wanting to hide, never go outside again, curl up and die, he forced himself to smile. "Please sit down. I'm sorry."

Snape sat, arms folded and back ramrod straight. "We are dating. I don't understand it. I've tried my best to dissuade her, but she's as stubborn as you are and used to getting her way."

Harry smiled down at the table. "I suppose I am, at that. Are you staying out there or moving back?"

"Why does it matter to you? I have my own life Potter, and I'm sure you have yours."

"Does that mean we can't be friends?" Snape raised a brow, and Harry sighed, continuing. "I'll admit it; I was hoping you were single. I haven't really been with anyone else, and I wanted to continue . . . whatever. But I'm happy you found someone. Really."

Snape grunted and stood, and Harry felt his body tense and relax in quick succession as the man simply went to the counter to order more coffee. Harry took a shaky breath and started picking at his cuticle again. He was probably in shock or something. He hadn't expected . . . Well, if he wanted to continue this friendship in any capacity, he was going to have to get over it. Besides, Dean had been shooting him strange looks for weeks. Maybe if he let this go, he could focus on other things . . .

Snape returned with coffee for both of them and Harry nervously blurted, "So, what's audio production like? Do you have any job prospects?"

"I have an internship secured at a studio near the school. They liked my work on Nina's recordings."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Can I hear it?"

Snape looked shocked, which was an accomplishment for Harry, and he reveled in it. "Why would you want to?"

"It's something you obviously spent a lot of time on. If you really don't want me to, that's okay."

Snape was still for a long moment, clearly contemplating. He stood. "I have a copy in my car."

Harry followed him out and couldn't help but smile at the sight of the old SUV. Snape glanced at him and shook his head. "I should have known. This is set up."

"No, no. I want to hear your work."

Being inside the SUV was like a step back in time. Harry skimmed a finger over the warm dash as Snape started the engine to run the air conditioning and dug through the center console for a CD.

The first waves of sound were faint, a quiet string intro Harry wasn't familiar with. When Nina's voice sliced through, high and clear, Harry thought he might cry. Her voice was truly beautiful, but more than that, he could just imagine the many hours Snape had put into it, slaving over every instrument track, probably directing Nina between takes. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Too soon the song was over and the next track startled Harry as he recognized the intro.

"The Smiths? Really?"

"She refused at first, but I convinced her to give it a try."

"She needed convincing?"

"She hates The Smiths."

Harry stared for a moment, gob smacked as the beautiful music drifted over him. She sounded enthusiastic. "She must really love you to sing this for you."

Snape frowned a little. "I'd rather she didn't."

"How is love a bad thing? Why are you so pessimistic?"

"I'm realistic, Potter. Love hurts, you know that. Every time I thought I had it, it ruined my life."

Harry reached for Snape's hand or something, but thought better of it. ""I'm sorry you feel that way, Snape. I hope everything works out for you."

"I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour . . ."

"I never told anyone what happened." Harry blurted. "My parents always suspected something, because I listened to The Smiths all summer, but . . . I never fessed up to it, and eventually they let it go."

"The fact that I was never arrested or set upon by Minerva revealed as much."

"My father wouldn't let up for a while about staying at Whatnot and becoming too much like you, out of obsession." Harry sighed. "I think my mother finally put a stop to that."

"What do they think of your choices now?"

"I think they're just happy I'm working full time and haven't knocked anyone up. Not everyone from my class can say the same."

Snape switched off the stereo. "Nina's expecting me for dinner, and I'm sure I'll be interrogated."

"Is she the jealous type?"

"No. She has no reason to be, but she's a curious person by nature."

Harry nodded, brushing a hand unconsciously over the notch still nestled in his pocket. "Can I kiss you?"

"Why would you want to?" Snape choked out, caught off guard, but Harry kissed him anyway. It was certainly different. They both tasted of coffee and Harry had kissed a few people in the meantime. He had idolized Snape for so long, he'd never realized the older man wasn't that great of a kisser. There was something to be said for passion.

Harry pulled away, eyes still closed and whispered, "It's gone."

He felt Snape exhale, felt the air rush past him. "Welcome to adulthood, Potter. The grass is always greener and all that."

Harry licked his lip and opened his eyes. Looking into Snape's dark, dark eyes, he felt like a fire in his chest had flickered out. He smiled a little and reached for the door.

"Goodbye, Snape. See you soon." He heard Snape murmur something as he climbed out of the car, but he quietly closed the door and walked to his car without looking back.