Chapter 7

Thank you again to those of you who reviewed, and those of you who took the time to give me your thoughts and advice- this is the first time I've written anything of this length or type so I really appreciate your input!

Something is going to happen in this chapter which will change the dynamic between them both quite significantly. Please let me know what you think…

As ever, I don't own any of these characters *sigh* only the plot line…

"Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith." – Margaret Shepard

The next couple of weeks were a blur for Harry as the season slipped in to December on a wave of bitter winds and steel ice. The castle became festive, but the draught and the cold were difficult to keep at bay. He began to long for the Christmas break when he could spend time in a warm house with a regular fire and copious amounts of food, and not have to dodge treacherous icy stairs or Peeves' well aimed melt-water balloons.

Harry had not had much contact with Snape, mostly because it simply had not been necessary, though he couldn't deny he was glad of the excuse to maintain some distance. He felt marginally ashamed of how he had behaved, especially seen as they had been, by all accounts, getting along rather well. Snape had even called him Harry- which, to his knowledge, had never been a label used in connection with himself that had ever passed through Snape's lips. He wasn't sure how Snape would react, should he see him again, given that he had virtually thrown his advice back in the man's face by bringing up an element of their past he had long thought he had put behind him.

Still, he was aware that Snape had mentioned reviewing the remaining plans for the lessons in the New Year prior to the Christmas holiday, and so, biting the bullet one evening in mid-December, Harry wrote a careful but simple note:

Dear Professor Snape,

I understand that you wish to review the lesson plans for the winter term following the Christmas break. They are enclosed here. Please do not hesitate to contact me should you feel they require further alteration.

Best wishes,

Harry

He had a reply within a half-hour, Sox settling in through his window and holding out his leg patiently, angling his head for a stroke whilst he did so. Harry noticed the ink was still wet over the familiar, elegant writing. The thought that Snape was down in the dungeons, hurriedly replying to Harry's polite missive, made a sudden, unexpected, odd feeling sweep through him.

Mr Potter,

I shall review these and get back to you. Wednesday at 7, if this fits with your hectic schedule?

Regards,

SS

He could virtually taste the sarcasm laced through the words, though Harry was unsure what had warranted it. Had Snape noticed Harry's reluctance to communicate with him over the past couple of weeks? Well, of course he had, being the stubbornly observant prat that the man undeniably was, but the fact that it had bothered Snape enough to allude to it made Harry feel uncomfortably guilty. This was a decidedly unfamiliar emotion when it came to anything to do with Snape.

Harry scrawled a swift reply and gave it back to his haughty owl, who looked most unimpressed at having to take flight on another short journey-

7 on Wednesday is fine.

Thanks,

Harry

0000

The dungeons were even cooler than he remembered, and he shivered slightly as he descended, wrapping his cloak around himself tightly. He felt nervous again, though the regular occurrence of this Snape-related feeling was beginning to grate on him somewhat. He wondered about the wards for the second time, as they allowed him easy entry once again following the short rap of his knuckles upon the polished wood.

Snape regarded him carefully as he entered, his gaze as intense as ever though his face remained relatively impassive.

"Evening, Potter," he spoke, his voice bland "Take a seat."

Harry nodded, obliging.

Silence descended on them both, and Harry could barely breathe through the awkwardness of the moment as it dragged on in to the unspoken abyss. Harry marvelled at how Snape could seem so utterly unaffected by it all, gazing quietly at Harry's shifting form.

"Professor, I'm sorry about our last meeting. I shouldn't have brought it up- It wasn't helpful or particularly appropriate…" Harry trailed off, avoiding Snape's eyes.

"It clearly needed to be said, Potter. Is there anything else you wish to say on the matter?" Snape asked in a measured tone, those same unflinching eyes surveying him with intensity.

Harry shook his head briefly, feeling like the embarrassed school boy after the outburst.

"Then consider it settled unless any other particular concerns arise. Tea?"

Harry nodded, though his suspicion levels were sliding up. Since when had Snape been so gracious? The man had no malice lining his features though, his movements were smooth, relaxed even. Though he was one of the most enigmatic people Harry had ever known, he had been around his former Professor long enough to know when there was anger underlining his motivations. Harry tried to relax a little.

"Do you have plans for Christmas, Professor?" Harry asked, curiously, accepting the cup of tea. Harry noted that Snape seemed to know his preference for the beverage as he sipped the sweet, hot liquid. He didn't know quite what to make of that.

"When have you ever known me have plans for this infernal holiday?" Snape spoke, looking slightly irritated.

"I haven't known you at all, actually." Harry pointed out, watching him.

Snape raised an eyebrow in response, slight amusement smoothing his irritation at Harry's personal questioning.

"Quite." He agreed, running a pensive, pale finger over his upper lip.

"Well, would you like to spend it with me?" Harry blurted, rushing over his request and rattling his tea somewhat precariously, feeling his face heat "I mean…uh…there's a few of us getting together. Minerva will be there." he finished, somewhat lamely.

"Potter…I." Harry raised his head at Snape's pause, catching him doing some very un-Snape-like…hang on, was he squirming?

"You don't have to though." Harry added, quickly, wanting to alleviate Snape's discomfort "I know it isn't really your scene. Just…no one should be alone at Christmas."

"I won't be alone…Harry," he replied, softly, rolling Harry's name as if his very tongue was rusty uttering the necessary syllables "I'm part of the staffing that remains behind to care for the students who do not return home."

Harry nodded, deciding not to push it.

"Will you come to the staff party then? Minerva wishes me to inform you that you only have the choice of one or the other." Harry flashed him a devious grin, pleased at his own inspiration. Even if it was not wholly honest.

"And what makes you think I will pay any attention to such a ridiculous ultimatum?" He levelled at Harry in a smooth, dismissive tone.

"Because you are, as Hermione puts it, a 'man of honour'."

"Flattery, Mr Potter?" Snape stood to collect his empty tea cup, levitating them both to a nearby tray, and then surprising Harry by suddenly swooping low, his face coming to rest just inches from the side of Harry's rapidly-reddening cheek "You know what they say about that…" he murmured silkily, his breath brushing up against the sensitive shell of his ear. Harry tried to suppress the shiver that reared up at the confusing combination of the sensation of being whispered to, and the effect of having Snape in such close proximity. He had silently manoeuvred himself away within two beats of Harry's alarmingly-stuttering heart, however, making to reach for Harry's latest pile of scrutinised efforts from a shelf behind his desk.

"Er…" Harry cleared his throat, trying to focus "Will you consider it, though?"

Snape looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable "Perhaps." he replied with finality, letting Harry know that the subject was dropped.

"These plans," Snape began again, after a few moments, handing Harry a pile of parchment "Are suitable. I think it is a little ambitious to cover the dark curses in one session, however. Three is more realistic."

Harry nodded "I thought so too- but their practical NEWT mocks are the following week. If I do more than one session it will push back their revision time." He reasoned.

"Potter, they are NEWT students. A certain amount of self-directed learning is mandatory. Stop mollycoddling them. They won't thank you for it when it comes to the real exams." Snape replied, irritation slipping in again.

"Fine. But if they start asking for extra lessons, I'll direct them to you." Harry levelled at Snape, a small smile pulling at his features.

"It would be my pleasure." Snape smirked "Since you've been teaching the lower years the scouring charm en-masse I've been looking for some test subjects for new detention techniques."

"Charming." Harry replied, pulling a face at the thought of his favourite group in the clutches of Snape's experimental punishments.

"I do have a reputation to maintain." He quipped, looking at Harry with an almost-smile.

"I've no doubt." Harry returned, rolling his eyes. He stood to leave.

"I'll see you at the party on Friday then, Professor?"

Snape merely arched an eyebrow in response, and Harry grinned back.

"Goodnight Potter. And by the way, to answer your query, the wards are keyed to your signature, but only when I am here. Just in case you are gripped by a bout of your school-boy curiosity."

"My…wait, what query?" Harry muttered in slight confusion, until the words sank in.

He felt a sudden rush of fury "Have you been in my head?!" he accused.

"Hardly," Snape scoffed "You broadcast when you're nervous. And I am an extremely sensitive Legilimens. It was, in fact, you who was in mine." Harry caught the whispered hush of regret through the tone, as if he wished he had not brought the subject up.

"Er, right." Harry mumbled awkwardly "Goodnight then."

Harry missed the small sigh Snape gave as he left, the tired pinch of his nose as he turned toward his pile of marking.

0000

Harry wondered what he was doing as he traced the now familiar route to the dungeons, a package wrapped in blue-grey tissue paper and finished with a chiffon silver bow gripped in his cool fingers. He was nervous about how Snape would react, and wondered what on earth had possessed him to buy a gift for his supervisor on impulse whilst sheltering from a sudden, descending blizzard out in Hogsmeade the day before.

"Potter." Harry saw Snape quickly contain his surprise at Harry's presence "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, flatly, which left Harry in no doubt that he did not consider it much of a pleasure at all.

"I've come to escort you to the party of course!" Harry said, cheerfully.

Snape gave him an ugly look in response.

"I'm joking!" Harry laughed "Though seen as I'm here we could go up together if you like. Erm. I actually came to give you this." He held out the package in his hands. Snape took it, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"You don't have to open it now!" Harry exclaimed quickly, blushing as Snape had begun to pluck at the bow carefully with a steady forefinger and thumb. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't want to see Snape's reaction when he opened the gift, he just knew he'd rather not.

Snape looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, placing the package on his desk.

"I haven't got anything to give you." Snape returned, honestly.

"That's ok." Harry shrugged "I wasn't expecting anything. Are you ready to go? We're already late."

Snape grimaced in reply and Harry smiled as they set off up the damp and draughty dungeon tunnel, walking in companionable silence. Harry assessed Snape out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you wearing blue?" Harry asked, allowing shock to permeate his voice, knowing it would annoy the wizard next to him.

"I'm glad we've established that you do not suffer from colour-blindness Potter." Snape groused, predictably.

"Well it would never have been identified in your presence before now, would it? All that black…"

Snape merely grunted. Clearly, he was not in the most talkative of moods tonight.

"You look different," Harry whispered in to the space between them "In a good way…" he blushed, realising what he had just said and he determinedly avoided the other man's gaze as they approached the door to the staff room.

The party was already in full swing, and Harry felt himself grinning. If last year's party was anything to go by, he was in for an enjoyable night.

Professor Flitwick was engaged in a decidedly un-serious game of chess with Professor Sprout, who seemed rather tipsy already and kept giving her pieces mixed instructions. Harry tried not to laugh as he walked past, watching a Knight glaring at her, his arms folded haughtily, foot tapping in irritation as she gave the marble figure a string of non-sensical requests.

Minerva was embroiled in a heated discussion with Professor Vector, over, it seemed, the value of muggle items being adapted to a magical equivalent. Professor Vector looked utterly flustered as Minerva seemed to be particularly vocal on the subject of electric razors.

Madame Pomfrey was dancing rather exuberantly with Filch, who was red in the face and seemed vaguely alarmed by the whole process.

The rest of the staff were either sitting or slouching, glasses clutched in their hands and plates of pudding balanced precariously on their knees.

Snape was eyeing the scene with distaste. Harry chuckled quietly to himself, heading off to find something to drink. Music was playing from a wireless in the corner, and the air hummed above him with floating fairy lights and candle-filled mason jars. There were piles of charmed snow around the edges and corners of the room. The room felt warm, cosy, and good spirited, the minimal lighting and the roaring fire creating a gentle glow around them all.

Sometime later, Harry thought he knew why everyone was so merry despite the still-early hour. It appeared, rather childishly, that the 'Spiced Christmas Punch' was more spiked than spiced, and after a few glasses he felt decidedly foggy-headed and relaxed.

"Having fun, Potter?"a sleek voice uttered in his ear. He startled as he realised Snape was sitting next to him. When had that happened?

"Definitely," Harry beamed "Whatever is in this punch is good!"

"As much as that might be the case," Snape replied, plucking the glass from Harry's dangerously-limp hand "I thoroughly recommend that you do not consume any more."

"Spoilsport." Harry pouted in return "So, you've confiscated my drink," Harry continued "I think you owe me a dance."

"I don't dance." Came the blunt reply.

"Neither do I!" Harry laughed "That's no reason not to do it though."

"It is reason enough for those of us who are not as far removed from our inhibitions as you currently appear to be."

Harry stood, shaking his head to clear the sudden swimming feeling. He held his hand out.

"It would do you good, Severus Snape, to lose your inhibitions once in a while. Dance with me, please." Harry demanded, boldly. He was only vaguely surprised when Snape stood, slipping his warm fingers through Harry's own, and leading him to a space cleared for dancing near the corner of the room. The song had changed to a slow paced one, and Harry grasped Snape's hand in his right, his left snaking behind Snape's back. Snape responded, reluctantly, placing his arm around Harry's shoulder, though it was more a light pressure than a touch, as if Snape was avoiding as much contact as possible. Harry lead them to slowly revolve on the spot, surprised at his own grace considering the level of alcohol currently sloshing through his blood stream.

Snape was still rigid, his muscles tense and awkward.

Harry gently but firmly drew Snape closer to him, rotating his hand in barely-there, comforting circles in the centre of his spine, trying to get him to let go, enjoy himself. Harry had backed them gently in to a badly lit corner, the room to his back, so he was unconcerned that their uncharacteristic touch might be noticed. A dim, quiet part of Harry's brain asked him, for the second time that evening, just what he thought he was doing. That this moment was in some way both completely inappropriate and dangerously close to crossing a line he wasn't sure they were quite ready to venture near just yet.

"Relax, Severus." Harry implored, lifting his chin slightly to whisper in his ear.

Snape drew back slightly, regarding Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Harry questioned "You refer to me by my first name twice and I'm not allowed to return the sentiment?"

"I had not realised we were keeping score." Snape replied, softly.

"Really?" Harry murmured, drawing Snape back in to the closeness, barely a couple of inches between them "Because we're playing an interesting game here."

Harry felt the tense-ness shift from Snape's form slightly. He no longer felt that he was trying to dance with a lamppost. Harry felt a small smile pull at his mouth at the thought.

Now that he had achieved his goal of a more pliable Snape, Harry began to realise how close they really were. He could feel the warmth between them both, and it was making his skin tingle and pulse. Having Snape this near was causing something of a sensory overload for him. He could feel everything simultaneously; the softness of Snape's fingers, clasped in his own, strong and sure and steady. The proximity of their faces, Snape's leg placed in the space between his feet, the warmth of the man's hot and spidery fingers on his shoulder. Harry's breath hitched as a thumb stroked very gently once, twice, three times over his shoulder blade, though he did not have time to register it as Snape twirled Harry away from him, pulling him back with a practised, elegant effort.

"I thought you didn't dance." Harry accused, slightly breathlessly, as the song ended and he released the hand he had been clinging to. He was surprised to note the sense of loss once the contact had ceased.

"I don't." Snape countered with a small quirk of his lips that Harry had come to recognise as his attempt at a smile "That does not mean I can't."

Harry shook his head. The moment whilst they were dancing had passed, and they'd slipped back in to their easy, teasing banter, but Harry remembered it, and the acuteness of it was making him dizzy. His head swam and his vision blurred around the edges.

"That punch isn't seeming quite as fun." Harry groaned as the room tilted slightly "I think I need to go."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr Potter." Snape replied, firmly, though Harry could hear the amusement winding through the words "I will escort you back to your quarters."

"S'not necessary." Harry protested.

"I beg to differ." Snape stated, coolly.

Harry frowned, reluctant to leave all of a sudden and not wanting to let Snape use this as an opportunity to humiliate him. However, his ability to assert himself appeared to have left him somewhere around his third glass of punch. His next coherent thought occurred half-way along the north corridor, where he found himself trailing after an irritated looking Snape who was firmly marching forwards, his arm angled behind him as he held Harry's wrist in a vice-like grip.

Ooops. Harry thought to himself, as he recalled a vague recollection of Hermione telling him what an irritating inebriated person he made.

Harry saw that they were in the corridor that held his accommodation, and he tugged his wrist firmly from Snape's grasp as he gained confidence in their approach to this known location.

Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten about the uneven stone paving that existed in some parts of the corridor, and his unsteady feet caught the edge of an upturned slab just as Snape turned, vexed, to investigate his sudden loss of contact with him.

He half stumbled in to Snape, who caught him in strong arms with impressive, ready reflexes, manoeuvring him gently to the floor, carefully and efficiently easing him to sit against the wall behind.

Harry looked up at a standing Snape, vaguely confused. "Why am I on the ground?"

"We're having a tea party." Snape replied, bluntly.

"Are we?"

"No, you idiot," Snape muttered through clenched teeth "We are here because you are drunk and I have the unfortunate task of ensuring you make it back to your rooms unscathed."

"There's no need to be rude," Harry scowled, though the strength of the glare was off-set by its unfocused air "Help me up, please, and I will remove my inconvenient self from your presence." He held his unsteady hands out to Snape, who took them with a grumpy exhaled breath, and gave a sharp pull to haul Harry to his feet.

Harry's trembling legs, however, had other ideas, and before he'd fully straightened up he felt himself stumble again as his knees gave way.

Harry heard Snape curse under his breath as he surged forward to save him from hitting the floor again. Before he realised what had happened, he found himself pinned against the wall by Snape, their chests pressed together and his legs constricted as Snape held them between his own, the man's arms resting either side of his shoulders, palms pressed against the wall behind.

Harry let out a surprised huff of air at the sudden change of position. The awkward, strange feeling he'd felt when they'd been dancing earlier re-surfaced again with a violent surge, causing Harry to shift uncomfortably. He raised his head to meet Snape's eyes, which he fully expected to hold anger, resentment, irritation at having to save Harry from himself, yet again.

Instead, Snape was regarding him carefully, the gaze piercing, controlling something Harry couldn't quite discern.

Every one of his nerve endings seemed to be on fire. He could feel the cool curve of the wall behind biting in to his back, but it was overridden by the intense feeling of warm pressure coming from the body in front of him. He felt assaulted by Snape's very presence; the smell of him, all warm spice and wood and smoke, could feel the rise and fall of the chest compressed against his own, though Harry wasn't sure whether it was Snape or himself currently near-panting at their proximity.

The moment was escalating, evolving, and Harry was utterly frozen, lost in the liquid, burning gaze. The glow from the wall sconce a few feet away illuminated Snape's face, shadow flames flickering over them both. As the seconds ticked by in time with the rapid beats of his nervous heart, Harry could see this intimacy begin to fall away, slipping through like water in a cupped pair of hands. The gaze Snape was giving him was shuttering closed, whatever control the man seemed to be wrestling with finally winning.

It hit Harry, with the sudden electric force of a lightning bolt. He did not want Snape to pull away. He did not want this, whatever 'it' was, to stop.

Taking a deep, steady breath, Harry threw the last of his misgivings over the edge of the familiar, unsteady precipice.

Harry leant forward, closing the centimetres between them as he tilted his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, and with tender deliberation, covered the lips in front of him with his own.

Oh Harry, you brave, spontaneous drunk. Aren't people amazing when they do this? Just leap off the edge in the hope that it'll be worth it? I love them for it :) I'm truly sorry for the cliff-hanger. Review? It definitely encourages me to write faster ;) thanks again!