Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter.

Note: Thanks for the reviews. I need ideas badly, so please post some. Let's begin.

Breakfast was, on any normal school day, an early engagement for both the students and the teachers; before the classes began at eight. On the weekend, breakfast could be as late as ten o'clock. But now, on the average Monday morning in the third week of term, the few students who were attending breakfast at a quarter to seven were yawning, and Harry unconsciously mirrored their movements.

The messy haired professor smiled at some female students, who giggled when they caught him yawning as well. The staff table was deserted, save for the small charms teacher Professor Flitwick, Neville Longbottom and Madam Hooch, the flying instructor.

Harry looked down at his plate, wondering what to eat next. There was so much to choose from and Harry grinned to himself.

"So, Harry, are you coming to watch to the Quidditch training of Gryffindor this Saturday?"

Harry glanced to his right and into the yellow eyes of Madam Hooch as she smiled at him. Buttering a piece of toast, Harry noticed that Neville leaned in closer. The apprentice of Professor Sprout was the only one who had fallen off his broom in the first year and had to be taken to the hospital wing.

"I might watch, if I have the time," Harry softly answered. He didn't really want to watch but preferred to fly himself. His broomstick, a Fire Bolt, was old but very useful and it had been the first Christmas that had been given to him by his dead godfather Sirius Black.

After he had defeated Voldemort, he had wanted to be a professional player for a while, but he began to realize that people were only asking him because he was famous. Soon after that he had started his training ship as an Auror.

Ginny was hard on her way to becoming a professional player, and Harry was happy for her. He quickly took a bite of his toast to bite away the pain of Ginny. He had received another letter from her, this time asking him to meet up with her when she had a break from training.

Once more he had not answered. Not in the least because he began to suspect that Ginny might not be the one for him. The nearly two months that he had been back at Hogwarts proved to be challenging but much more fun than sitting at home in London with his job as an Auror and Ginny as his girlfriend.

The door opened and the headmistress walked in, looking as stern as ever as she murmured a quick good morning to Harry and the other assembled staff. Harry's stomach did a weird flip as it always did when the dark haired and currently scowling figure slipped into his customary seat next to Harry.

Professor Snape pulled the mug that stood near his plate close as Harry wordlessly pushed the coffeepot towards the older teacher. He had learned long ago that both he and Snape were not morning people. Instead of being hexed, scowled at, or having a dressing down in front of the students it was much easier not to speak to Professor Snape and wait until spoken to or until the Potion Master had finished his third cup of coffee, whichever came first.

Harry pulled out 5 Knuts when an owl carrying the Daily Prophet landed near his cup and Harry accepted the paper. The bird waited patiently for Harry to put the money in the bag at its leg, helpfully extending it and hopping around and flapping with its wings until the owl found the right balance, hooting when Harry was too slow.

"Yeah, yeah I know, I will hurry up," Harry muttered as the owl hooted again, nearly falling over and knocking the mug down as Harry quickly straightened the owl. The owl hooted one last time, picking up Harry's toast before flying away, leaving Harry to stare after his breakfast.

"Great…" The Boy Who Lived and was now a professor muttered. He sat back, defeated, as some students laughed good naturally, smiling up at him. He could hear Snape snort beside him as the older wizard finished his cup of coffee.

Harry took up another piece of toast and buttered it. He took a hasty bite, looking at the ceiling darkly, which currently reflected grey clouds, to check for any other owls. The noise of conversation around them became louder as more and more students came down for breakfast.

Harry reached for his mug, looking down when his hand only encountered thin air. Remembering that the owl had knocked it away, he glanced around only to find it on his left side filled with coffee. He frowned, he never drunk coffee, least of all in the morning. The only one that he knew who drank coffee regularly in the morning was the professor sitting beside him, and sure enough the fathomless black eyes were locked on his face.

Harry felt his stomach doing that weird flip again but he kept his face from flushing. He looked at the pure black coffee and then back up at the same coloured eyes as he answered, "I don't drink coffee, Professor."

The thin lips curled into a sneer and the long elegant fingers drummed on the table as Snape beckoned with his other hand for Harry to lean in closer. Feeling anticipation begin to form in the pit of his stomach, Harry leaned in closer until the potions master said, "You will drink that, for I will not have you falling asleep again when you insist me as repayment for the migraine potion."

Harry frowned as he pulled back slightly to gaze into the black orbs. He searched the face before him for any lies and tried to keep any disappointment out of his face and voice. He had assumed and hoped that Snape had done it to help him and out of friendship but he should have known better. Severus Snape was head of Slytherin house, and it was common knowledge that Slytherins never did something for nothing.

"Of course, Professor. I will assist you…"

"Potter, stop calling me professor. You are a member of the staff, so either call me Snape or Severus, but not professor," Snape frowned at him, gesturing for him to accept the mug of steaming coffee and Harry did so, making sure to add lots of sugar and milk before taking a sip.

"You would like me to aid you in making a potion?" Harry took another gulp, uncomfortable with what to call the Potion Master now. Snape smirked, leaning back in his seat as he watched Harry grimacing every time the younger wizard took a sip of the coffee.

"You are correct, Professor Potter. There is a potion that requires two brewers and while I was thinking of who to ask, your named popped up into my head. Most importantly your debt to me. You must surely remember our lessons fairly easily to know what I will and won't tolerate. After your last class is over come and meet me in my office, Potter. Don't be late."

With those words the dark haired wizard pushed his chair back and rose easily, one hand brushing Harry's shoulder as the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort quickly tightened his grip upon his cup and drained the coffee to suppress the shivers that shot down his spine at the unexpected touch.

"Harry, kindly assist this old headmistress to her office, would you?" The sharp voice of the Professor McGonagall shook him from his thoughts and Harry rose to fall into step besides the headmistress. "You own a debt to Severus?" Her inquiry was soft and Harry sighed heavily before he answered.

"I asked him to brew me a potion to cure my migraine..."

Harry assumed that Professor McGonagall would want to speak to Professor Snape about this, saying that there were no debts between staff members. Instead she shook her head and, much to Harry's surprise, smiled.

"For a while I have asked myself if I did the right thing in asking you to become a DADA professor because of the history between you and Severus. It seems I have done the right thing seeing as the last time I saw that man so mischievous was when he was busy thwarting Albus' attempts to hold a Valentines' ball during your third year. I think you might find yourself learning a valuable lesson tonight, Harry. While his personality might not be so pleasant, he is a brilliant potion maker. I think at least you might have some fun tonight."

With those words she left Harry alone at his classroom as the Boy Who Lived shook his messy head. Severus Snape and fun? This was going to be one hell of a night…

--

The day passed uneventful except for one first year student bursting out in tears when Harry said the name Voldemort. Completely baffled, Harry had the class saying the Dark Lord's name over and over again until they could say it without fear.

Hurrying back towards his rooms to change into dark trousers and a dark green jumper, Harry quickly grabbed his dragonhide gloves as he hastily walked down towards Professor Snape's office.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The deep voice of the older wizard bade him to enter and Harry did, closing the door behind him. Harry frowned when he noticed the office was empty, yet well lit.

"Through here, Potter," Harry could see the door to what he assumed was the private laboratory of the Potion Master was open and he walked in.

The private lab was well furnished and there were several cauldrons placed next to wooden work benches. There were big cauldrons like the one Voldemort was resurrected from and Harry suppressed a shiver at this thought, before quickly shaking his head and looking around once more. Other cauldrons were small and sitting on the tables.

A fire was lit beneath one of the bigger cauldrons that stood between two wooden workbenches, one of which Snape was bending over, a scroll in his hand. Snape had shed the heavy dark teaching robes and was dressed much like Harry was; instead his jumper was navy blue.

The older wizard straightened, eyes passing over Harry who felt himself flush before the dark eyes locked on his face and the thin lips curled upwards in what could be described as an approving look. Harry walked closer, stopping near the desk where the scroll was lying as Snape spoke softly

"This potion, like I said this morning, requires two brewers. It is a potion for the healing wing and it is used to dispel the venom of most snakes. More and more snakes have been seen in the area but the only way to ensure that this particular potion works if one of the brewers is a parseltongue. Seeing as you are the only parseltongue currently alive, you are the lucky one to say the incantation that makes this potion so strong and valuable."

Harry frowned, glancing down at the scroll. It looked like English to him but before he could do as much as comment on it, something else popped into his mind. "But I am not such a good brewer. I think the five years that I spent in your classes were enough proof of that, sir."

Something passed over the harsh looking face so quickly that Harry could not catch it until Snape said, "True, Potter, but in your sixth year you proved that you can follow my instructions quite clearly, if given the right ones. I think with my guidance and your unique talent that we can create this potion."

Harry unconsciously flinched as he remembered the disastrous potion book in his sixth year which had belonged to the Half Blood Prince. The dark eyes probed his face and Harry took the scroll. Most of it was in English except for down near the bottom there was an incarnation which seemed like a foreign language until it transformed into plain English, but Harry knew it would do so for his eyes only.

"Ready?" The dark voice shook him from his thoughts and Harry put the scroll down, nodding as he walked around the taller wizard towards the other desk.

"There is a word of caution. This potion is very explosive. The only way to ensure that the potion stays safe is when the incantation is completed. Do you still wish to proceed?"

Feeling uncertainty creep up within him, Harry quickly nodded; he had a bad feeling about this. He took the ingredients Snape handed him and began to cut them up. He could hear Snape doing the same and soon the hours began to blend together.

At one moment he looked down frowning, unsure of what to do with the beetles he had been given. Their shells were hard as steel and he was quite sure that if he tried to cut them open the knife might break. He shook his head to clear away the images of him hitting the beetles with such force the desk would split as well.

"You need to break them open with magic," Harry glanced up to see Snape leaning against the desk from the right side, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. In front of him was another cup and Harry's mouth watered at the sight. He had not realized how thirsty he had become.

Taking a quick sip, he went back to contemplating his beetles.

"Potter, are you unable to follow simple instructions?"

"But how? I mean, how do I break them open without making them explode?"

"Like this," The Potion Master raised his wand as he steadied his tea mug with his other hand and Harry watched amazed as one of the beetles' popped open, and the fluid inside of the beetle ran out into the bowl. Harry turned to meet the smug expression on the older wizard's face.

The dark eyes were twinkling with hidden amusement, no doubt at Harry's inexperience at non-verbal spells. Harry felt anger rise up within him when he remembered his sixth year and his first try at non-verbal spells. He wanted to say something but the feel of slender hands over his own made him glance down.

Harry blushed a scarlet colour when he felt the firm chest at his back and Snape's voice in his ear as the older wizard whispered, "Forget about everything else, Potter. This isn't unlike a defensive non-verbal spell and you are good at those. The goal is instead of protecting or destroying is that we want the beetle to open up. Feel your magic build up within you and order the beetle to open. Order it to spill the fluid inside that we want and need."

Trying to quell the strange feeling in his stomach, Harry focused upon the beetles that stood in the bowl and slowly allowed his magic to rise to his hands. He tried to focus upon a command but in the end he said in a low hiss, "Open."

The beetles popped all at once and Harry swayed as the powerful magic died away, leaving him suddenly exhausted. A strong arm around his waist, the hand sprawled over his stomach as he was brought back to rest against the strong body behind him.

"Potter, relax, you are too tense. Give yourself a moment to recover. Non-verbal spells, especially those you are unaccustomed can be very tiring. You managed to open all the beetles without aid. Next time you should do it one by one."

"The spell wasn't a non-verbal one. I told the beetles to open in parseltongue," Harry realized he was panting and he felt Snape shift behind him as the older wizard took the cup of tea that stood off to the side. The next moment the strangely reassuring weight was back, as was the arm around his waist, and Harry allowed his weight to rest against the older wizard as the mug was placed at his lips.

Harry drank quickly, feeling more like himself again even as he brought one hand up to hold the mug. He startled when gentle fingers traced his cheek before going through his hair. Harry could feel Snape's hands on his shoulder, steadying him as the professor moved away.

"Thank you," Harry softly murmured, hearing the rapping of the knuckles on the desk as Snape passed around the desk, dark eyes watching him.

"We should proceed with the next step, Potter," Harry quickly finished his tea, nodding. The pleasant feeling in his stomach surprised him as it lingered after Snape's touch.

Harry turned his attention back to the cauldron when a bubble exploded on the surface. The substance was dark and bubbly and Harry might not have much experience with potions, but he knew it might be a dangerous when the potion was bubbly. He began to feel alarmed, remembering the warning that the potion was highly explosive.

He looked around, the door to the private storage was open and he could hear Snape looking for something. "Uhm, Professor Snape…" He called out.

"What, Potter? Can you not even add the beetles without aid?" The dark voice snapped as Snape appeared in the doorway.

"It is not that. The surface, bubbles are forming on it…." Taking long strides towards the cauldron, Snape dropped the ingredients onto the workbench. Harry could see the well masked alarm in the dark eyes as the Potion Master snapped quick instructions.

"Lower the fire, Potter, hurry! Have you added all the beetles?" The dark eyes probed his face and Harry quickly nodded, taking out his wand as the bubbles began to increase. He crouched down and muttered the incantation that lowered the fire, putting the flames out.

Harry backed away hastily, seeing Snape doing the same when a small explosion sounded. The boiling liquid went over the edge and Harry backed away even more. "The fire is out, I don't understand."

Another explosion sounded and Harry jumped backwards. He could hear a low hissing sound like a gigantic breath being taken before the plunge. The cauldron was emitting heavy smoke and Harry somehow knew that unless he got away before the thing exploded, he could very well die.

The liquid inside was boiling and Harry had seen enough cauldrons explode in the potions class when Neville had been his classmate to know that damage a normal potion could do. Now with a highly explosive potion, the damage would be even worse.

He swallowed thickly, turning away when he suddenly felt Snape's hand close around his wrist and he was yanked towards the older Wizard's side. He stumbled before he managed to regain his footing as he could hear the older Wizard pant, "Hurry, into the storage room…."

The cauldron exploded with a huge bang. Harry could feel the sheer force of the explosion propel him forward. He slammed against the wall with a low grunt, hearing a yelp of pain beside him. Eyes watering with the heat that had suddenly invaded the room, Harry forced his eyes open.

His glasses were broken and instinctively he crawled towards the prone figure of the other wizard lying close beside him. It wasn't over yet as Harry could feel the air building around them.

Snape was lying on his side, eyes closed and trembling. Taking mere second, Harry took out his wand and while placing one hand around the trembling shoulders, he pulled Snape towards him, burying the pale face in his chest as he whispered his voice hoarse. "Protego."

He could feel the shield focus around them both as the last bang went off with such a blast that Harry could feel his shield charm falter but he pushed at it with his magic, suddenly hearing another welcoming voice weakly echo the same charm as fingers took hold of his jumper.

Harry could feel the heat against his back, even with the protection of the shield charm and the pressure was building. His eyes were watering and stinging and he could feel the sweat running down his neck.

He coughed as the heated air forced its way into his lungs, feeling Snape shift against him. A huge bang made him flinch and Harry looked around, still coughing weakly. The whole private lab was wrecked.

Small fires were still burning somewhere and the very air was shimmering with the heat. The door to the private storage was hanging off its hinges and Harry frowned when the door to the hallway appeared alright. The cauldron was destroyed as were the wooden desks. Every single bottle in the room was broken and dust was shaken from the ceiling.

He felt a hand on his thigh as Snape righted himself. Harry coughed again as he took in Snape's appearance.

The older Wizard looked like Harry felt. He looked slightly dazed and there were patches of grime on the white cheeks, clothing ripped and a cut had appeared on the pale cheek. The dark eyes returned to his own and Snape waved his wand, chilling the air a bit which made Harry cough even more.

Harry could feel the adrenaline leaving him, making him realize just how much his cheek was throbbing and his hand was sticky and wet. The air smelled of smoke and Harry wiped at his eyes, upsetting his glasses.

Snape was still looking around, seemingly unable to believe what had just transpired.

"Severus?" The name slipped weakly from his mouth but it had the desired affect because Snape looked at him, the dark eyes narrowing slightly.

Harry coughed harshly, seeing dark spots appearing in his eyes for a moment. He flinched when a large section of the ceiling suddenly came crashing down close besides them both. Another part of the desk collapsed, showering them both in dust.

Harry let out a huge gush of air, sending some more dusk flying. He coughed again, the air now alive with dust that had settled in his lunges. He felt thirsty and he opened his watering eyes as fingers settled tentatively on his cheek that wasn't throbbing.

Snape was looking at him and the older Wizard frowned when Harry coughed away some dust that now coated the dark blue jumper, making it a light brown. Harry frowned when he realized that Snape wasn't coughing at all and he could see the shimmering air around the older Wizard's dark head.

He could have slapped himself. Snape had used a charm to ensure that the air close to his lips and nose would be clean. He wanted to raise his wand but truthfully he didn't know any charm that would have the same affect.

Lowering his eyes, he closed them for a moment, bowing his head but long fingers curling underneath his chin prevented him from it. He looked up, seeing the black eyes close to his own. The thin lips of the older Wizard were set in a firm line and the dark eyes were searching for something with an intensity that made Harry slightly uncomfortable.

Unknown emotions were fighting to be acknowledged within Harry's mind, and then Snape closed the distance and Harry felt the lips seal over his own, a tongue licking his lips until he opened them. Yet instead of the tongue sliding in, like Harry would have imagined, clean air suddenly filled his lungs, ending the itching in his throat.

Harry could feel the prickling of magic as it danced upon his skin and when Snape suddenly pushed away, Harry inhaled deeply. Another bang sounded and a moment later Harry was yanked out of the way and into the unyielding body of the other Wizard as another piece of the ceiling collapsed.

Harry could feel it grazing his shoulder and then hit the floor with a loud thud. His face was buried in Snape's side and he could feel the older Wizard breathing quicker as if in pain.

"We have to get out of here before the whole bloody ceiling comes crashing down."

"But the door is blocked, where do we go?" Harry pushed himself up and he glanced around. He felt the Potion Master's hand on his arm as the taller Wizard walked to a door to the right which Harry knew led to the private rooms that every professor at Hogwarts had.

It was the only door that was not blocked and Harry heard Snape mutter low under his breath, too low for him to catch. The DADA professor felt strong wards pass over him as the door opened but not once had he seen Snape raise his wand or had the hand on his arm move, the touch both comforting and strangely exhilarating.

The rooms were well furnished and warm. The main colours were a dark red and dark wood. Harry shivered when the suddenly cool dungeon air touched his sweaty skin. He watched as Snape walked to a liquor closet, taking out two glasses and pouring a generous amount of firewiskey into the glasses.

One glass was pressed wordlessly into Harry's hand and Snape took a quick sip, refilling his glass immediately.

"Shouldn't we be toasting to the fact that we have just managed to blow up a good size potion lab?"

The dark head snapped back to look at him and a smile pulled at the thin lips before Snape laughed softly, "Imagine the headmistress' look of horror when she learns what has transpired tonight."

"Yes, she told me it would be a memorable evening, but I am sure she never imagined this," Harry hiccupped slightly, the firewiskey scolding his throat. The sound of laughter coming from the older Wizard was inspiring feelings within him that he had rarely ever experienced.

A soft muttered word and the fire raised high in the fireplace, the warmth welcoming. Harry walked closer to the fire, unsure if he should sit down. He took a closer look at the older wizard as Snape gazed into the fire wistfully, lost in thought.

His face was still throbbing and as he drained his glass, longing for a nice long soak in the bath. Snape stopped any word that he was going to say as the older Wizard reached out with a hand and said, "Sit!"

Harry felt the old anger resurface and Snape must have seen it on his face because the older Wizard frowned and sneered, "Many things may be said about me and the headmistress may have our heads for blowing up a potion lab but I refuse to allow you to walk out of here looking like that."

"Like what?!"

"Like you have just survived an explosion. Sit please," Harry was pushed down in the armchair, frowning still. "I will not have you walking out of here wounded, Potter."

Harry could not help but wince as the long fingers touched his throbbing cheek. He felt a tingling sensation as Snape raised his wand, muttering a healing charm and Harry could feel the pain ebbing away, leaving only the sensation of Snape's fingers there.

"Any other hurts?" The dark haired Potion Master purred, lips curling into the familiar sneer.

Harry rose, fixing his glasses with a tap of his wand as he regarded the slightly taller Wizard and said, watching closely for a reaction. "Not on me, but perhaps you should sit now, Severus."

"I am not hurt, Potter," Snape snapped but Harry could remember the hitching of the deep breathing when he had brushed Snape's side. Lips curling into a sneer of his own, Harry stepped closer as he said.

"You are lying, Snape. So when I do this…." With lightning quick reflexes Harry's hand ducked underneath the blue clad arm, now coated in dust and brushed the older Wizard's firm side, feeling Snape flinch away from him. "…you won't flinch."

Scowling deeply Snape growled low in his throat. "Just remember, Potter, this is a one time show."

"I will make sure to enjoy it then," Harry shot back, lips curling in amusement as Snape snorted before the older Wizard removed the blue jumper, tossing it onto the couch, displaying a white undershirt which soon joined the jumper on the couch.

The pale chest was muscular and an unbidden thought crossed Harry's mind. It seems that Snape's life is more active then I imagined it would be. Harry's eyes trailed a path of dark hair that ran over a flat belly and down into the waistband of the dark trousers. He quickly refocused his eyes upon the bruising covering the left side of Snape's chest, covering his ribcage.

The ribs could still be counted but Harry knew that Snape was stronger then what he looked like. Harry could feel the intense force of the eyes upon his own, the nasty smile curling the lips as Snape purred, "Enjoying the show?"

There was bitterness in the dark velvet voice and the brilliant green eyes snapped up, meeting the dark ones without flinching away.

"Would it bother you if I was? The paper will have a new story to print about me. 'The Boy Who Lived is now Gay.' I am sure it would please the public." Harry nearly flinched himself when he heard the bitterness and harshness in his voice.

A delicate dark eyebrow rose and Snape said softly, "Potter, the public only cares for the worst gossip, regardless of who they might harm with the rubbish they print. My trial is a most excellent testimony of that."

Looking away, Harry nodded. He could still remember the anger at opening the Daily Prophet each day and seeing the lies printed about Snape. He raised his wand and muttered the necessary healing charm to heal the bruising, still amazed that magic could do such a thing.

It seemed that Snape breathed a little bit easier as the older Wizard straightened. The firewiskey had returned some colour to the slightly sunken cheeks and Snape pulled the jumper back over his head, upsetting the dark long hair.

Harry glanced at his watch and groaned. It was barely time for dinner but he felt like hours had gone by. Something was pressed into his hand and Harry glanced up as Snape answered softly, "It will deal with the pain that will come in the morning. I am sure that after a good night rest your body and the headmistress will think otherwise about our peace."

"Professor McGonagall already knows that we have blown up the laboratory?" Harry asked, putting the vial away. He was thankful for the potion because he could already feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"Oh yes, Potter, she knows and I am sure that come tomorrow, when she has ensured that we are both well and alive, she will ensure that we never do such a thing again," Snape sneered and Harry could see the harsh lines being drawn tighter in pain.

"I can't wait," Harry murmured softly, seeing the thin lips before him lift up in amusement. He suddenly felt better.

"Now get out before I forget myself and demand that you give me a massage in return," Snape's voice was a low purr and for a moment Harry got the expression, as the dark eyes flashed, that the dark haired professor was flirting with him.

Snickering softly, he walked out the door and back towards his own private rooms. He was still grinning when he stopped dead in his tracks to meet the shocked blue and brown eyes of his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

Bringing his hand up to his head to slap himself, Harry wondered what to tell them; especially when he saw another letter from Ginny clenched tightly in Ron's hand.

So what should Harry tell his best friends? Please send some ideas and review of course.