Harry wiped his hands on his jeans, closing the back door behind him. The weather was still rather chilly for this time of the year.
Snape was still standing at the end of the bar, his face a storm-cloud, posture rigid.
The barkeep took the order of a chubby blond wizard, ignoring Snape's inquiry about the whereabouts of his drink. Harry joined the queue.
Five minutes and four orders later, Snape was still waiting for his pint.
"Two half-pints of lager, two butterbeer, a bitter and two dark ale shanties."
He promptly got his order and shoved one lager over toward the now-seething Snape.
"I think this is yours." Harry gave him a conspiratorial smile.
Snape's long bony fingers took a hold on the earthenware mug. "Mind your own fucking business, Potter." He knocked back his half-pint in one long swallow and slammed the mug back onto the counter, breaking it.
Harry watched him wipe the foam of his mouth with the back of his hand and felt defeated.
"Sorry, I was just..."
"What are you staring at? Did I destroy your warm glow of magnanimity?" It was funny how Snape, being only marginally taller than Harry, could still loom over him menacingly.
"But, I ..."
"You what? You didn't think? Why am I not surprised. Go and patronize those who give a damn."
Harry watched Snape flounce off, his, head held high. Harry levitated his drinks back to their booth., feeling agitated.
Straightening his shoulders, Harry carefully set the drinks on the table. Ginny had plucked one of the daisies from its vase, pulling out one pedal at a time.
"He loves me" A petal fell, "He loves me not..." She looked up at him, as he sat down on his stool, the small pile of white pedals scattering when he reached for his drink. Taking a deep drink from his lager, Ginny leaned against him, her soft hair tickling against his neck.
"Honestly, Harry, why do you bother? You know he is an arse."
He put an arm around her and she snuggled closer. Her hair smelled unpleasantly of roses.
"Really, he should be grateful. Got out of Azkaban scot-free. Working under Ministry supervision is hardly a punishment. Poor old Dumbledore. Can't really blame people for being miffed."
He turned his head away. Snape had picked up his cloak and wrapped it around himself in a rather good bat imitation. Their eyes met and Snape bestowed him with a condescending sneer that transported Harry straight back to his detention days. He swallowed hard. This was ridiculous, why did he let Snape get to him so much?
"Harry? Did you even listen to a word I said?" Ginny pursed her lips looking rather a lot like Molly at her most disapproving. "What are you thinking about? I am rather sure it is not me."
Harry cringed and stared into his beer. "Yes, but ..." He squeezed her shoulder not knowing what to say. "Let's go home, Ginny. It is getting late."
:::
"I am sorry."
"You already said that. Twice." Ginny pulled on her blouse with rigid movements.
"I know. I am -"
"Don't say it!"
Harry winced, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, the bed sheet draped around his waist.
"Gin, I have been under a lot of stress recently..."
"We haven't had sex for over a month now. Harry, I have needs, too. There isn't somebody else, is there?" She sat down heavily on the bed, her head in her hands. "This is all my fault..."
"No! Look, Gin. I guess.... This doesn't mean... Please don't cry." He awkwardly tried to pat her on the back. She shrugged his hand off, face blotchy with unshed tears.
"I just wanted us to be happy." She hiccoughed. "You know, as a couple. It feels like you are never really with me, no matter how hard I try. What did I do wrong? Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do. That is not... I would never say that!"
"Well, I must have done something..." She gestured at his crotch. "Makes it kind of obvious that I did. But what?"
Ginny finished buttoning up her blouse, hunting on the floor for her left shoe.
"Harry?" Her voice was softer now, pleading. "I don't want to lose you. I love you too much. I .. we... maybe we work better as friends, after all. Let's just... let's take a break... at least for a while, you know. So that we can think about what we mean to each other. Let's... let's be friends, okay?"
"What? Just because I can't... once?" Harry looked up at her, incredulous. What on earth was happening. "Are you dumping me?"
She grabbed her purse from the chair. "Please, Harry, don't make this harder than it is. I love you. Please? I don't want to lose you, too."
Harry had turned on the bed, staring at her in disbelief. "You are dumping me! I don't get it, what is this all about, Gin?"
"I... I am flooing home... owl me." She sounded as if she was close to crying again.
"Don't forget to take your stupid ..." The whoosh of the floo flared like his anger.
Fine, if she was going to be that way. Harry punched the pillow. He could play that game too! See if he would owl her first.
:::
Harry punched his pillow for the umpteenth time and turned over to face the wall. Every time he closed his eyes Ginny's parting words echoed in his mind, looping into a cacophony of misery and guilt. What the hell was she talking about losing him? He was right here, she was the one who had walked out on him, Goddamnit.
Harry finally got up and went into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet over the sink, he rummaged through the vials for Dreamless Sleep. His fist closed around the familiar blue vial. Of course, given his luck today it just had to be sodding empty.
Harry tossed the empty vial into the bin. Life seemed to conspiring against him again. Maybe if he took a long hot shower?
Stepping under the spray he started to relax, the soothing warmth of the water washing away part of his misery. Reaching up to adjust the temperature, his glance fell on the various bottles, pots and vials Ginny had accumulated on the sill. His temper roared. Hadn't he told her to take her stupid stuff?
His magic flared, glass shattered, showering the tub, the tiled wall and Harry in shards and various beauty products. Some of it started to bubble. Cursing his temper, he banished the mess, washing off the multicoloured goo that had stuck to him.
He winced as soap stung in the tiny cuts the glass had left on his skin. Feeling drained and slightly calmer now that his anger had found a magical outlet, he dried himself off and went back to bed. Warm and snug between the sheets, sleep came easily. As did dreams.
:::
And pleasant dreams they were indeed. Warm, soft limbs wound around Harry's dream-self, long, graceful fingers ghosted over his body, leaving desire in their wake, threading through his hair, stroking his prick.
Arching up to capture his dream lover's teasing lips in a heated kiss, Harry's hands reached up to thread through long greasy hair, Snape smiling down at him.
Harry woke panting, screaming out his orgasm just as Snape's thin lips wrapped tightly around his prick, sucking him to an earth-shattering climax.
He sat up in bed, rubbing the palms of his hand over his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Having a wet dream about Snape of all people. This had to be some fucked up reaction to the fight he had had with Ginny. And lunch. Damn her. This was all her fault.
Harry squinted at his alarm clock, the numbers a faint eerie green in the early morning gloom of his bedroom. The very early morning gloom. He cursed.
Five thirty was not a time he wished to be wide awake. Taking his 3rd shower in less than 24 hours Harry tried to wash away the evidence and memory of that bizarrely arousing dream.