A/N: Wow, I know this took a long time. Sorry folks. Next time I write a story I'll make sure to actually plan it out ahead of time. Once again, this chapter is in ultra raw form so it might get toyed with a little and any mistakes that are pointed out to me will get fixed. Thanks. Oh and as always R/R!

The rest of the week passed all too slowly, but, at last, the weekend arrived. Harry did his best not to count the hours before his first potion's lesson with Snape- he was currently forty-nine hours and thirty-one minutes away from getting the man alone -and to find something productive to do. So he sent a letter to Ron. It was filled with pleasantries about life at Hogwarts and false disbelief about Hermione's already finished schoolwork. After having known Hermione for six years, Harry wasn't shocked in the least that she was finished and he knew Ron wasn't either. The boy just needed an excuse to talk about her. Harry really wished Ron would just admit he liked the damn girl already.

All in all Harry was immensely dissatisfied with his letter. It felt like it could have been written by anyone. There was not one piece of real or pertinent information about Harry's life at the moment, although he didn't know what he could have written. Hey mate, Still being hunted by the Dark Lord, by the way d'you think Snape might wanna shag me? Cause boy do I want him to. Cheers, Harry. No, that wouldn't do at all. Although there was a part of him that wanted to send a letter like that if he could only see Ron's reaction upon reading it.

After the letter, Harry decided to tend to his long neglected homework. He finished his transfiguration essay, which ended up being complete crap, but Hermione would help him revise it before the first day of class. Next was divination, where he predicted that the year ahead would be filled with terrible pain and probable death. He wondered idly if Trelawney ever tired of students inventing new ways to off themselves. So he was finally done with all his homework…..at nine o'clock Friday night. Harry sighed. This was going to be the longest weekend of his life.

It wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared. Saturday and Sunday did go by a bit slowly, but they weren't nearly as unbearable as Harry had feared they would be. He just made sure that he was busy every single second of the day. He revised all his homework. He swam in the lake, helped Hagrid tend to some of the animals, practiced some new, dangerous flying maneuvers, and made sure to indulge in all sorts of delicious Snape-centric fantasies as often as his aching right hand would allow. No matter what he was doing though, he always made sure he was on time for all meals. He had been a little disappointed that Snape hadn't missed another meal and given Harry the opportunity to bring him dinner and catch the man alone.

But it was all for the best Harry reflected Sunday night at dinner as he once again enjoyed the scrutiny of the potion's master. Harry watched Snape out of the corner of his eye. He had made a game of counting every time the man's eyes had come to rest on him. 'Twenty seven' Harry smiled to himself. At this rate Snape was going to beat Saturday night's record of thirty-two, not that Harry was complaining. He got a little chill each time those obsidian eyes flicked his way. Harry glanced down at his watch. 'Only fourteen hours and twenty-six minutes to go' Harry thought to himself as a fresh surge of nerves made his stomach clench tightly. He just hoped he would have the nerve to do what he planned to do. 'Twenty eight' Snape returned his attention to his plate for a brief moment. 'Twenty nine' Harry smiled broadly at his pot roast. He couldn't believe no one else had noticed Snape's odd mealtime focus. But then again, Harry mused, even if they did it's not as if anyone in their right mind would guess the truth. At least what Harry desperately hoped was the truth. If they did notice, they probably chalked it up to Harry and Snape's infamous dislike of each other. Harry knew better.

Feeling rather smug and daring, Harry decided to beat the potion's master at his own bizarre little game. He waited patiently for the inevitable flick of those black eyes. When Snape turned his gaze towards Harry once again, he quickly swiveled his head and captured the man's gaze in his own. Then Harry smiled. And gave Snape an almost imperceptible wink. His heart pounded in his chest with the fear of Snape's reaction. But Snape looked like a deer caught in headlights. He blinked several times rapidly then quickly averted his head and didn't look at Harry the rest of the meal. That was alright though, it was worth the novelty of seeing the soft pink tinge creep over the potion's master's usually sallow face. Harry felt triumphant.

The next morning Harry woke early, took a long shower, and proceeded to primp himself in a most disgraceful manner. He felt like an idiot as he stood in front of the mirror attempting to make his hair seem tousled rather than the "I've just stuck my tongue in a socket" look that it normally had. He wasn't having much luck and, if he wasn't very much mistaken, his hair actually looked messier than ever. He was prepared to grab his razor and simply rid himself of the annoying mop on his head when he remembered that this was Snape he was trying to improve his appearance for. Snape. The greasy haired, hook nosed man who probably hadn't seen the sun in decades. Harry smiled at his own reflection. At least he washed his hair. He tapped his head with his wand, ridding it of all the gunk he had put on to make it behave. Shaking his head from side to side, he was happy to see his hair back to normal. He wasn't a vision, but he wasn't too shabby either. And anyway, he didn't see Snape being someone who put a lot of emphasis on looks….obviously. He went downstairs and grabbed his potion's book. As he stepped through the portrait, he took a deep breath to steel his nerves. Time for step one.

Madame Pomfrey had been most helpful. Although she had been confused by Harry's enthusiastic reaction to her answer. He didn't let the odd look she gave him interfere with his mood in any way. It was a very elated Harry who knocked on the potion's classroom door ten minutes early.

"Come in." Snape's voice held a question in it that was answered when Harry walked through the door. He raised one elegant eyebrow. "I believe this may be the first time you have ever arrived early for a class, Mr. Potter." Harry just shrugged non-committally and resisted the need to close his eyes and let that deep, creamy voice wash over him. "In the future" Snape's gaze never left Harry's face "you needn't knock when coming for a lesson. Although at any other time I expect you to knock before disturbing me." The last was said in a threatening tone.

Harry decided however to interpret the last statement as a tacit invitation to come down to the dungeons some time other than lessons. Well, maybe not an invitation. Maybe it was just annoyed resignation, but Harry would take what he could. He smiled at his would be intimidating professor in what he hoped was a relaxed, unconcerned way. "Of course, sir." There was a heavy moment of silence while he and Snape simply looked at one another. Snape turned away first.

"Well don't simply stand there. We do have a lesson today." He snapped as he turned towards his desk.

Harry made his way into the potion's classroom. He wanted Snape to speak again. "So what are we making today, professor?"

" A very complicated potion called nervisi morto." Snape sounded impatient.

Harry raised his eyebrows dubiously. If Snape thought the potion was complicated, then he wasn't sure how he was going to be expected to make it.

Snape saw the look on Harry's face and rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You are not a complete idiot, so I'm fairly certain that with one-on-one instruction you won't be able to botch it too badly."

Harry nodded and smiled briefly before getting his features under control. So, Snape didn't think he was an idiot. One point to Griffindor. He went and set his things down by the cauldron Snape had set up. Time for another attempt at conversation. "So what does the potion do?"

Snape had begun pulling ingredients off the shelves and didn't turn around when he spoke. "It is a pain killing potion." He said shortly.

"Painkilling?" Harry was confused. "A healing potion, but I.." Weren't all the lessons this summer supposed to be of use in his inevitable battles with Voldermort?

Snape approached the worktable and set the ingredients down with a frustrated sigh. When Harry looked up, Snape was gazing down at him with the patented 'how-did-you-live-so-long-being-so-stupid' expression. Harry wondered how in the world a look like that could make his stomach dance.

"Nervisi morto" he said slowly as if speaking to a particularly slow person "is a painkilling potion in that it deadens the nerves. If taken before a duel or a battle, it prevents the wizard from feeling any pain from curses or other injuries that are inflicted."

Harry interrupted "Even from.."

Snape waved his hand for Harry to be silent. "Yes even the cruciatus curse is completely ineffective against a wizard who has taken a dose." Snape finished with a curious glint in his eyes. If Harry didn't know better, he would have called it excitement. Snape never seemed very passionate in class, but Harry couldn't blame him. Shrinking solutions and such weren't nearly as exciting as the possible applications of this potion.

Harry smiled. "That sounds" He decided to try the truth. "really interesting." He hesitated a moment before asking. "How does it work?"

Snape blinked in surprise, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Pardon?" He said after a moment.

Now it was Harry's turn to look confused. He hadn't spoken softly. Surely Snape had heard him. "I wanted to know how it works…sir?" He added as an afterthought.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why?" He asked, voice laced with suspicion.

God, the man was paranoid. You'd think he would be happy to have another person interested in the subject he had dedicated his life to. " I just thought it sounded interesting, and I…I wanted to know." Harry shrugged and tried to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. He wanted to sound sincere. It was the truth after all.

Snape failed to look convinced. "It uses poppy seed extract coupled with valerian to deaden sensation." His eyes were still narrowed menacingly at Harry.

Harry thought about what Snape had said. "But those are both main ingredients in sleeping draughts, so how would you be able to stay awake?" He looked up at Snape for an explanation.

Snape didn't say anything for a long moment, only gazed at Harry appraisingly. He looked as if he were working out a complex puzzle. Harry continued to gaze up at him curiously hoping that Snape didn't notice the flaming blush on his face. Gradually Snape's eyes relaxed and then the thin lips quirked up for a second. Harry felt his heart quicken at the sight. An entirely different area of his body was affected when Snape slowly licked his lips before speaking.
" Well" he began almost hesitantly "if you are truly curious." He dropped off and Harry nodded eagerly. "It has to do with the reaction of the main ingredients to each other and the heat of….."

An hour later, they were still discussing the interactions of potion ingredients. Harry, much to his surprise, found it all very interesting. Snape's enthusiasm for his subject was boundless and, Harry found, contagious. He asked a lot of questions all of which Snape answered without insulting his intelligence even once.

Snape was midsentence in his diatribe on the overuse of wormwood when he glanced down at his pocket watch. He started for a moment then sighed. "I'm afraid this discussion has gone on far too long. We won't have enough time to make the potion." He stood and began collecting the unused ingredients. "You may go back to your dorm, but be prepared to make it tomorrow." His voice had lost all traces of the previous enthusiasm and was back to cold teacher mode.

"But" Harry burst out. But what? He didn't know. All he did know was that he wanted some more time with Snape.

Snape paused in his task and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Umm. That is. " Oh come on. Out with it Potter. You sound like a twit again. "I'd like to make it today." He paused trying to read Snape's closed expression. "I don't mind staying late. That is...ummm..if you don't mind, professor." He tried not to sound as if he were begging.

Snape set the ingredients back down and took a moment to study Harry's face. Oh god, Harry wished he could read minds or that Snape's expression gave even a hint as to what the man was thinking. He found himself reddening under Snape's scrutiny. If having the man's eyes on him made him this excited, his heart was pounding and he found it difficult to breathe, then he could barely imagine how he would feel under those graceful hands. Oh shit, wrong thought. His face, if possible, got even redder, and all the blood not rushing to his head was pooling lower in his body, making his trousers quite uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to squirm.

At last Snape spoke. "I believe" he said very softly "that I can take time away from my busy social calendar, if you wish to stay."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Was that a joke? Was it safe to laugh? Harry decided to give it a try and let loose an amused snort. Snape's mouth pursed, but it looked as if he was resisting the urge to laugh himself. It gave Harry courage.

"Well I wouldn't want to keep you from all you prior engagements." Harry said with a wry twist of his mouth.

Snape's face fell. Uh oh. He glared daggers at Harry whose stomach suddenly clenched in fear. Then something extraordinary happened. Snape laughed. A short little hmmph, but a laugh nonetheless. Harry grinned outright. Two points to Griffindor.

Snape pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and set it in front of Harry. Ah, the recipe. Harry read the first step and reached out blindly for the valerian. Instead of a glass jar, his hand came into contact with warm fingers. His head snapped up. This seemed very familiar. Snape ripped his hand away causing the jar to teeter back and forth precariously until Harry steadied it. He looked back to his professor for a reaction.

Snape was staring resolutely at the wall. "Well?" He snapped. "Get on with it. I said I'd stay late, not all day."

Harry didn't need to be told twice.

An hour and a half later, the potion was simmering nicely. Harry glanced at his watch. Three more minutes and it would be done. He sighed, but whether it was in relief or disappointment, he didn't really know.

Making the potion had been a brutal test of self-control. If Harry didn't know better, he might even say that Snape was doing it on purpose. Standing so close he could feel the other man's robes brush against him. The hot breath on his ear, his neck, causing him to shiver as that deliciously deep voice purred unending criticism of Harry's technique directly into his ear. It had made his knees tremble and the thin thread of his sanity nearly snap. All he wanted was to take a step back. Just one tiny little step. To mould his body against the one behind him, to rub against that tall, lean form, to grab Snape's hands and pull them around himself, to…..Shit! Harry waved his wand and quickly put out the flame under the cauldron right before it boiled over. He peered cautiously at the potion. It still looked good. He hazarded a glance at Snape who was sitting at his desk smirking.

"You know, Mr. Potter, in order to make a potion, one must be fully present in reality." He drawled.

"Yes, sir." Harry agreed readily which, to his satisfaction, seemed to shock Snape from any further comments.

Inwardly, Harry was laughing. 'Sorry sir, but I was caught up in an extremely erotic fantasy about you. Tell me, are you as good with your hands as I imagine you are?' Oh how Harry wished he could say that. He could imagine the dumb look of horror on Snape's face if he came out with something like that. Harry gave an involuntary snort of laughter at the image.

"Something funny, Mr. Potter?" Snape was looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.

Harry bit his trembling lips. "No, sir." He managed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to get control of himself. How could someone so dour make him feel this giddy? He started when he opened his eyes and found Snape standing beside him bent over the cauldron. Did the man make any noise at all when he moved?

Snape didn't seem to notice Harry's reaction. He was too busy studying the contents of the cauldron critically. At length he straightened up and Harry was suddenly aware of the lack of distance between them. Snape was close enough to touch, to put his arms around. To kiss. He suddenly found breathing difficult. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs and his mouth had gone completely dry. He was dizzy and fairly sure that his legs would give out soon as he could no longer feel them. Oddly enough, none of these sensations were in the least bit unpleasant. He noticed a few strands of hair had fallen in Snape's face and he had to clench his fists to keep from tucking them back.

A long, silent moment passed, and suddenly Harry realized that Snape had neither moved nor spoken, but was gazing steadily at him. Lips barely parted, eyebrows drawn together, he looked confused and considering. Harry felt something in the pit of his stomach jolt and tickle. Snape's eyes seemed to stare straight through him, and Harry found himself staring into those dark orbs completely transfixed. He had to do something, say something. He couldn't last another moment in that crackling tension.

"Sir?" It came out as a tense, thready whisper.

Snape shook his head and stepped away from Harry. He took a ragged breath and walked towards his desk.

"Your potion turned out fine." His voice was shaky. "You may go now." He motioned towards the door without turning around.

Harry just stood there, completely incapable of movement. Oh my god. Oh my god. Repeating the phrase over and over seemed to be the only thing his mind was capable of doing. After he had remembered the kiss, he had believed, he had hoped that Snape reciprocated some of his feelings. But…now. To see the man so affected. It had to be because of him, didn't it? Harry didn't know what to do, but he knew he couldn't leave. He had to think of something. Of course! He had come down here with an elaborate plan. But this wasn't the way he had planned it at all. Everything was so tense; Snape wasn't even looking at him. He couldn't think of anything else though, and if he didn't find something to say soon, he would have to leave. He took a shaky step forward.

"P..Pro..Professor?" He whispered desperately. Snape didn't turn around. He didn't acknowledge Harry in any way. Another step towards the man. "Sir?"

Slowly Snape turned around. His face looked pale and angry, nothing unusual there, except he wouldn't look at Harry. "What is it, Potter?" He barked at the floor.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This wasn't good at all. Harry's common sense told him to turn around and walk out, but he had, over the years, become quite adept at ignoring his common sense entirely. He did so now.

" I believe" He began and wondered how in the world his voice was managing to sound so collected at a time like this. " I believe that you have my chess board, Professor."

Snape did look at Harry then. His head shot up quickly and his face became even paler as he stared at his student with something like panic. His voice came out raspy and quick. "What in the world would make you believe that?" He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. Eyes narrowed, he delivered the rest in his trademark scathing tone. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, that I am not in the habit of collecting celebrity memorabilia." His lip curled disdainfully. "Perhaps you should go ask a member of your fan club if they have it. If there is nothing further, I believe I dismissed you for the day."

Harry shook his head obstinately. "No!" He said a little more forcefully than he intended. Too afraid to look Snape in the eye and see one of those terrifying glares, he addressed his next words to Snape's boots. "I…I…went to Madame P…Pomfrey today." He found it hard to complete a sentence now that his heart had taken up residence in his throat. Summoning up all his reserves of Griffindor courage, he continued. "I saw her and she said the board wasn't there when…right after you left." Snape had been released the morning after the kiss. "There was no one else in the hospital wing. So unless…" unless someone else visited Snape between the hours of one and seven in the morning which was not likely considering Snape's popularity among staff and students alike. "So you must have kept it." Please. Please. Please have kept it. Harry begged silently. He curled his hands into fists to hide their trembling and lifted his head.

Snape looked as if had just been punched in the stomach and for an awful moment, Harry thought the man was going to be sick. At length, he seemed to collect himself and made his way around his desk. Sitting on the edge of the chair he reached down and muttered some unintelligible phrase to open the bottom drawer. Then Harry glimpsed it. His chess board. Snape's hands trembled as he lifted it out and set it on the desk. He pushed it towards Harry who simply stared at it dumbly for a moment before reaching out an unsteady hand to pick it up. He looked up at Snape in amazement hoping to find some answers in his face. Snape looked afraid.

"Pot…Harry" He had a pleading tone Harry had never heard before. "You must realize that if anyone were to find out about the…the events in the infirmary, I would lose my position at Hogwarts."

At first, Harry was too busy lost in the pleasure it gave him to hear Snape use his first name to work through what Snape had said after that. When he finally absorbed everything, he became confused. "Why?" He looked at Snape questioningly.

"Why?….Why?" Snape repeated, incredulous. He seemed to have shook off any trace of fear and once again gave Harry the 'you're an idiot' look. "Surely, you must realize, Mr. Potter, that for a teacher to..to kiss" he seemed to choke on the last word "a student would be sufficient grounds for a dismissal?"

The explanation only deepened Harry's confusion. "But" he shook his head softly "You didn't…I mean." He gave Snape a searching look. "I kissed you. So. So its not like you would get in trouble for something I did." Even if you did kiss me back he added silently.

Snape looked mildly indignant. "You most certainly did not. I remember distinctly. I.." Snape trailed off as the full implication of what Harry had just said sunk in. His eyes went wide as he stared, shocked, at his student.

Harry wasn't faring much better. His mouth hung open as he stared at his potion's master. Snape had thought…Snape had wanted. It seemed so impossible, but it was true. Snape had wanted to kiss him. Harry wanted nothing more in that moment than to jump up and down, shouting joyously to the four walls. For some reason though, he was completely incapable of doing anything but staring, slack-jawed, at Snape.

Snape was the first to look away. Looking down at his desk, he gave a short bitter laugh. "You are dismissed, Potter." He sounded as though the last few minutes had never happened.

It was as if Harry had been slapped. Confused and hurt he took a step forward. His thighs nearly touched Snape's desk. "But.."

Snape held up his hand for Harry to be silent. "We will not discuss it. You should put it out of your mind." He reached for some paper and a quill and began to write, ignoring Harry completely.

But Harry wasn't going to be dismissed so quickly. "No, I want.." He was cut off by Snape slamming his hand down on the desk hard enough to snap the quill and topple the bottle of ink.

"Well that is very unfortunate." Snape barked angrily. "Because this is not a question of wants, is it, Mr. Potter?" He cleaned up the ink with a flick of his wand, and reached for another quill. Once again he began to write as if Harry wasn't there.

Harry was flushed with rage. He glared at the potion's master, willing him to look up. Snape kept writing. Harry couldn't take it any longer. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND." He shouted. Snape didn't flinch, but he did look up at last. "Why are you doing this? Why can't we.." Snape stood so quickly, Harry stumbled back in surprise, but quickly righted himself and stepped towards Snape as he put his hands on the desk and leaned forward so his face was only inches from Harry's.

"Why can't we?" Snape hissed. "Perhaps you are an idiot, Mr. Potter. That would be the only explanation for such a stupid question." He drew himself upright and glared down at Harry. "I am your teacher. I was in the same year at school as your father. I am a former death eater. Those should be reason enough."

Harry cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "What if I said I'd already considered all that and I didn't care?"

Snape dropped ungracefully in his chair, utterly deflated. He stared at Harry in bewilderment. Finally he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "Then I would say that once again you wish to rush into action without consideration of the consequences." He looked at Harry sternly. "It is against the rules, and before you say anything," Harry closed his mouth. "it would be a gross violation of trust, especially on my part, to go any further than I already have. And if it became public knowledge? I would not only lose my job, but whatever is left of my reputation would be destroyed as well. You, being the boy-who-lived, would only fare slightly better." Snape closed his eyes wearily. "So for once in your life, Potter, just do what you're told. Go back to your dormitory."

He didn't want to. He wanted to stay, but much of what Snape had said made sense. He had a lot to think about. Oh, he wasn't about to give in. Already, he could see some flaws in Snape's arguments. He would wait though. Wait to get his thoughts in order, to work through everything Snape said and to let himself calm down. He gathered up his things quietly. Snape was no longer pretending to write, but he wasn't looking at Harry either. Reaching the door, Harry turned around to find Snape staring after him. Before his expression became closed once more, Harry thought he saw something like sadness etched into Snape's face. He smiled softly. "Good-bye, professor."

He told himself that he didn't expect a response as he closed the door behind him and headed back to his dorm.