Severus knocked impatiently on the door to 12 Grimmauld. The wards on the door, while not as strong as they had been during the days of the Order, were specifically designed to keep callers out unless invited inside. Otherwise, purely out of concern for the notably absent Wizarding Savior, Severus would have already turned the house inside out looking for his former student. Finally the door opened, and Potter stared out from the dim entryway. Severus immediately took note of the exhaustion that sunk the emerald green gaze.

"Snape?" Potter asked, looking astonished. "What are you doing here?"

Severus frowned. "That is not a discussion to be had on a front stoop, I think."

Potter shook his head, as if clearing it. "Yeah, right. Come in. Excuse the mess, I've been…remarkably busy, and Kreacher is getting old. I've been seriously considering Albus' suggestion of hiring Dobby as my own, but I just haven't gotten around to writing him my answer yet."

Severus followed silently, closing the door, as Potter led the way to the library. Once within, Severus closed the twin sliding doors as an added effort at privacy. The last he'd heard, Remus Lupin had been living here, and he couldn't be sure Lupin wouldn't suddenly appear to witness the minor weakness of concern he was about to address to Potter. He turned to see the young entrepreneur was sat heavily on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked even more exhausted now than he had in the shadowy sunlight at the door.

"Where have you been, Potter?"

The younger wizard looked up with a strained smile. "Here and there. I've been busy."

Severus glowered, but he hadn't expected a real answer. Potter's smirk came a little more easily.

"Were you worried, Snape?"

Severus glared even harder, a glare that had once been capable of reducing his First Years into quivering balls of defeat. Potter was utterly unaffected. He stood up quickly, as if remembering something.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Sit down, I'll order us tea. Kreacher's getting old, but he still makes a wonderful cup of tea," Potter said, moving to a chair near the couch.

Severus moved forward as Potter began gathering the papers scattered on the chair. A single page slipped from the stack to flutter to the ground, and Severus stooped to pick it up. He glanced over the page out of mild curiosity, intending to hand it back immediately, but froze as he recognized the format. It was impossible to mistake, after staring at similar pages as his mother slowly faded under the weight of a disease not even his potions could cure.

"This is a medical bill," He gasped. His eyes flew up to stare at his former student, the dark black gaze swimming with barely concealed concern. "Are you sick?"

Potter shook his head, taking the page and stuffing it into the pile in his arms, which he placed on a low coffee table. The stack immediately slipped, spreading across the coffee table and the rug beneath it. The young man groaned and collapsed onto the couch again, his head back in his hands.

"Not me," He answered. "It's my aunt, Petunia. She has cancer. That's what I've been doing the last few weeks. Uncle Vernon is director of his company, so he can take care of most of the bills, but I've been anonymously paying for an experimental treatment that I convinced Aunt Petunia to try. I've also been running around a lot, getting things to make her hospice room more bearable to live in." Potter looked up from the floor, his face a mask of strain, hurt and confusion. "Why are you here?"

Severus sat on the edge of the seat that had been cleared for him. "As you suggested, I was worried. I have not seen you at the restaurant in more than two weeks. Is…is there anything I can do for Petunia? I imagine you have already suggested she go to St. Mungo's for the cure, and she refused."

Potter looked awestruck. "Wizards-wizards have the cure to cancer?"

Severus frowned, but nodded. "Yes. I would brew it myself, but the ingredients are not cheap, and I do not have a year to spare, nor do I know the ritual spells that must accompany the potion. St. Mungo's, however, has a regular supply of the potion, and Mediwizards, and –witches, who are specially trained in the spells."

Potter stood immediately. "I need to go, then. Maybe-maybe I can convince her to go. She couldn't possibly say no to a cure to her pain!"

Severus stood as well. "Knowing Petunia as I do, she very well could." Potter looked at him with mild surprise, and Severus realized the young man had no idea of his history with Lily Potter-nee Evans. "That is a discussion for another time, perhaps. I will, however, accompany you to the hospital. Perhaps together we might sway your aunt."

Potter gave a stiff nod and led the way to the door. Once on the front stoop, Potter grasped Severus' hand and apparated them to a darkened parking structure. The evening sun glared in-between the spaces of the car-park levels as they waited for the lift. Severus was entirely too aware of Potter's hand, which had yet to release his. He hoped, for Potter's sake, that Petunia's stubborn streak had softened with age and illness.

-Break-

Severus followed Potter out of the hospital. He didn't think the young entrepreneur even knew where he was going. Pet…Severus couldn't believe her light was going out, and she would do nothing to stop it. Potter had done everything to convince her, comparing the cure to the experimental treatment he'd been paying for. The skeleton that had once been the shrewdly beautiful sister of Severus' first love had refused at every turn. Her eyes had continued to glance at her fuming husband, who Potter had silenced wandlessly almost as soon as they'd entered the aseptic hospital room, and Severus wondered if they would have had perhaps more luck if Vernon had been absent. It was too late now. She had refused, and her time was too short to hold out hope of her reconsideration.

A mile or so from the hospital, Severus sped up and grabbed Potter's hand. They stopped under the glow of a street light. Potter's hand slipped out of the loose grip, his face blank except for a mild look of hurt, as if he were lost in his own mind. The air grew heavy as a light drizzle began to drift down from the dark sky.

"Potter…"

The sound of his own name seemed to break through the internal fog. Green eyes shifted up and focused sharply. Tears sprung up in the emerald gaze almost instantly. Severus thoughtlessly brushed away the first tear to fall, causing even more to slip down a tan cheek.

"Potter," Severus said again, unsure what could be said. "I…I'm so sorry."

"Why?" The young man breathed. "Why won't she let me help her? She's dying, and she won't let me do what I can to prevent it. Why won't she just let me help?"

Severus didn't have an answer. Potter gave a light gasp of internal pain as he was dragged into a stiff embrace. It was all the answer Severus knew how to give, and he gave it without question as tan arms wrapped around his back and Potter wept against his chest. It was cold, but Severus doubted it was this that shook the young restaurateur's shoulders. He ran his hands gently over the quivering back, soothing the messy head of hair in which he'd buried his own tearful face. He could imagine the torrent of feelings racing through his former student's mind, had felt much the same when his mother had been sick. He couldn't fathom, however, the forgiveness in Potter's heart. He had seen the memories of his childhood, and could piece together the abuse he'd suffered, and yet still Potter mourned for his spitefully jealous aunt. Still, Potter wanted nothing more than to help her shake free of the chains slowly dragging her towards death's cold embrace. Not for the first time, Severus marveled at the wonder that was Harry Potter, Wizarding Savior.

Potter pulled away and stared up with watery eyes that glistened in the halo of the street lamp. Severus swallowed thickly as the younger wizard rose up on his toes to engage him in an intimate, watery kiss. Severus let his eyes slip shut as he relished in the press and glide of the tender, plump lips. In spite of the tears, the kiss caused his heart to flutter in his chest. It was the most he had felt since Lily's death. He pushed the Wizarding Savior away.

"Don't," He murmured when the young man tried to press forward again. He pushed him back a step, his hands gripping solid biceps that were slick from the misty rain.

"Why?" Potter asked tentatively.

Severus sighed, looking away from the bright, hurt gaze. "You're grieving," He said gently. "You'll wake up tomorrow and regret you've even done this at all."

"What do you care?" Potter demanded, suddenly angry. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is why you've been stalking me, filling my days with godforsaken hope that someone out there might actually give a damn about me? It's the real reason you came looking for me when no one else did, right? So I could be your little whore?"

Severus gave the young man a sharp shake at that. "Don't you ever insult me, or yourself, with such ludicrous ideas again," He growled in warning.

Potter continued to glower at him defiantly. Severus tried to maintain the contest of wills, but his gaze slipped down to those dark lips, swollen from nervous chewing. He leaned down to brush his lips carelessly, thoughtlessly, against the barely parted lips of the Wizarding Savior. In a moment of pure insanity, the caress of the lips became a caress, and then a tangling, of tongues. The thought to stop skittered across Severus' brain, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, his hands slid upward, over tense shoulders, gliding over a tan throat, to cup a stiff jaw. Passion had set his heart aflame, and his blood boiled even as it rushed past his ears in an oceanic tidal wave of desire. Severus moved forward, and the length of their bodies brushed briefly before Potter was pulling away sharply. Calloused fingers went up to touch kiss-swollen lips as Potter backed further away. Severus' eyes widened as realization of what he'd just done surfaced in his shifting thoughts. Before he could speak, however, Potter was gone with a crack of disapparation.

Severus did not return to the restaurant after that, afraid to face his shame. He had been a fool to think a beautiful Adonis like Potter would see anything in him. The world didn't work that way, and this wasn't some fairy story where the monster finds true love in the end.