Chapter 7: Those we love

Harry sighed as he walked in Snape's rooms downstairs and flung himself into a chair, thoroughly worn out, completely ignoring the fact that he had missed the rest of his classes for the day, barring Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was currently going on. Harry snorted, it was a waste of time anyway, their teacher had no idea what he was talking about! Honestly, who tried to petrify a patronus?

"Get up!" Snape spat. Harry leapt to his feet, alarm in his eyes. Snape hadn't spoke to him like that in private for a long time. Since before they had become friends in fact. Snape ran his wand up and down Harry's sides, muttering what was obviously a counter-curse before throwing the wand onto the couch in a careless gesture that made Harry raise an eyebrow.

Then he turned on Harry.

"What the hell did you think you were doing you stupid, foolish, impertinent brat?" Snape snarled, his voice deadly. Harry stumbled back half a step. He was definitely alarmed; Snape certainly hadn't said anything like that to him for months. The potions professor grabbed Harry's upper arms to prevent him moving backwards again. "You could have got yourself killed! Just because you have a Christ Complex, doesn't mean you can't use your common sense!"

Harry blinked. Christ Complex? Since when did Snape know anything about muggle religion? The man in question gave Harry a shake.

"Well? Do you have to be Harry bloody Potter the boy martyr all the time? Do you insist on always playing the hero?"

The words made Harry's blood run cold. He stumbled back a few metres, wrenching from Snape's grasp, anger written on his face.

"Is that really what you think of me? Do you really think I stopped to think 'here's my chance to play hero?'" he demanded in disgust. He stepped back a little further, fighting down a sob that threatened to choke him. "Do you think I like being the boy-who-lived? That I enjoy knowing that it falls upon my shoulders to destroy the evilest wizard to walk the earth since Grindelwald?"

Harry was shaking now, getting thoroughly worked up. He thought the man knew him better then this. He had hoped…

Snape's expression softened slightly as he heard the boy's angry and sickened words. He hadn't meant it all to come out like that. Especially not the bit about playing the hero. He knew Harry hated the word, let alone the thought of him being one.

Snape stepped forward a little, not wanting to startle Harry any more.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he sighed. "I didn't mean it like that." However it would seem that Harry's visions and nightmares were plaguing him more then anyone believed because he shied away.

"The hell you didn't," he snapped.

Snape felt desperation in his chest as he stepped forward again. He hadn't realised how much the boy's trust meant to him. He caught Harry's arms again, this time refusing to let go, despite the fierce yanking. He stepped closer, drawing Harry towards him.

"Harry I didn't mean it like that. You should know me better then that by now…"

"So it's my fault?" Harry asked sharply. "I'd think you should know ME better then that by now."

"That's not what I said," Snape growled, his voice like a waterfall dripping through silk. "And that's not what I meant. It is not your fault that the world expects something that should never be put on the shoulders of a child…young man," he corrected himself before Harry could interrupt. "I do not believe you are a hero, or the-boy-who lived, you're just Harry."

Harry swallowed, he loved hearing people refer to him as 'Just Harry'. Not Harry Potter, not the-boy-who-lived, not the-boy-who-would-defeat-Voldemort, just Harry.

"And yet you're so much more," Snape added, pulling Harry a little closer, so the boy, young man, could feel his professor's hot breath on his face. Harry swallowed again. "So much more…and you could have gotten yourself killed," he growled again, but this time he pulled Harry roughly to him. "You could have died, you were screaming, you were screaming at someone that you were sorry, you were telling someone to stop. I thought you were dying."

Snape swooped, his lips grinding down heavily on Harry's. Harry could do nothing but accept those lips. Even if he'd woken up out of his startled mind he couldn't have done anything but accept. Those lips would not give him a second to respond, to reject. Heat ran through his whole shuddering body and a face flashed into his vision, onto his closed eyelids. Red eyes glinted malevolently. "And you're mine."

Harry gasped in shock and fear and reared backwards, stumbling and tripping, falling heavily to the ground, smacking his head on the coffee table as he fell.

"Harry!" Snape jumped forward, his face pale, but his cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry I just…"

Harry was shivering, and aware of blood coming from his head, from where he had hit it. He could vaguely make out Professor Snape apologising for something. He leaned forward. He needed reassurance that only one man could give him. He reached up and clutched his Professor around the neck, tears suddenly running down his face so fast he couldn't make out the bemused expression Snape wore as he hugged him tight, and whispering reassuring nothings.

A/N: grins evilly I am aware of how short this chapter is, but I think you were slightly spoilt with the Snarry going on here.

Next Week: Snape provokes Harry to do something foolish, and the return of Norbet…with someone alongside. All this in next week's addition Chapter 8: What Harry Did.