A/N: So I went on my computer tonight and read my reviews, and I LOVE you all. I was so touched by the lovely comments I got that I went straight to this story and wrote the next chapter, which is consequently probably pretty bad. But still. Thanks to everyone for reviewing. I love to write, and I wouldn't be able to stop even if a thousand people told me that I'm horrible, but it's so much nicer when I get feedback. Anyway, on with the fic.
If this was what love felt like, Harry did not want to be in love. He'd never felt so miserable in his life. Comparing the way he felt about Severus and the way he felt about Dean was like comparing the Cruciatus curse to a hangnail.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life following Severus around on his knees, worshiping every freckle, every inch of ivory skin, every silky strand of hair. He didn't know if the yearning he felt was love, and he didn't care. All he wanted was Severus.
He was overcome by horrible guilt at what had happened. But, pathetically, he couldn't bring himself to go down to the dungeons and apologize. He knew how stupid this was. He knew that leaving had been the wrong thing to do, but just picturing that sneer directed at him, full of hatred, was enough to quash his feeling of duty.
Finally, long after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed, Harry sat up, half in a dream, and rummaged around until he found his invisibility cloak. He was going to find Severus.
And he almost made it.
But once he reached the turn off to the dungeons, he found himself walking by the staircases and on towards the front door. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was nothing in the dungeons for him.
And, outside, he found himself walking out towards the lake, to a stand of trees he could see dimly silhouetted against the sky.
He walked, still in the dreamlike daze, into the trees and sat down, the invisibility cloak falling from his shoulders, on a boulder overlooking the lake.
He was here to wait. He was waiting for Severus. He was here to wait.
And, still waiting, his head began to droop, and he fell headfirst into sleep.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Love is like foot rot. Once it's got you, it's impossible to shake. He couldn't remember where he'd heard that, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been from his father. It did sound like something the old man would have said.
Now that he'd put a face to the quote, he could remember the scene perfectly. And you know what else, boy? Love stinks. You can tell that to your mother; go on, tell her I said it.
He shook himself free of the memory and frowned at himself. Love was not a topic that had been much in his mind, the past few years, but now he could think of little else.
Not that Severus Snape was in love. No. What he had was a powerful obsession, stemming from a certain boy's uncanny resemblance to his attractive father. Severus Snape could not be in love with Harry Potter, because Severus Snape did not believe in love.
Love was a fictional emotion created by hopeless romantics pining after the idea that everyone has a soulmate, not wanting to face the reality that some people simply end up old and lonely, instead of happy ever after. Love was definitely not real, and definitely not something you could feel for a seventeen year old who's fourteen years younger than you, who you have virtually raped.
He didn't see Harry at any meals, and after the boy failed to turn up to his potions class, Severus was reasonably sure that he was being avoided.
What he needed, he decided, was a long walk around the grounds. Perhaps he could find somewhere to sit that was out of the way of the castle, so Albus wouldn't come pry, as he was wont to do. Severus found a heavy cloak in his wardrobe and pulled it out. The night was cold, and he wasn't planning on freezing to death, no matter how much self-disgust he was feeling.
So he set off along a path outside the castle, briskly looking around at the dark forest and the still lake.
There was a grove of trees by the lake that would hide him from the castle, he thought, and made for it. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted just now, but it involved solitude. He needed to think about the Potter boy.
But when he reached the trees, he stopped short. It was bad enough that he was developing a dependence on alcohol, but it was worse by far to see visions.
Because what he saw before him, draped sensuously over a boulder, a light breeze playing in his dark hair, could only be a vision.
Severus, astonished and disbelieving, moved forwards, until he was mere feet from the motionless form, and sank to his knees.
Harry looked somehow older in the dim light, a flush darkening his cheeks, and Severus knew he was staring, but couldn't look away. The boy was lying over the top of the rock, spread-eagled, the unbuttoned cuffs on his shirt sleeves stirring with the breeze. Severus resisted the urge to reach out and button them.
In a soft white shirt and a pair of dark trousers, Harry was breathtaking. In the pose he was lying in, he brought to mind a painting Severus had once seen, a damsel chained to a rock as a sacrifice for some vengeful god. The stunning beauty of the scene was the same, lit by moonlight, dark trees bending and swaying around the figure, dark water lapping at the edge of the rock.
Soft, full lips had fallen open gently, and Harry's lashes rested against his cheek, white in the darkness.
Severus knew he couldn't afford to stand here much longer, in this silence in this place. It was too much like a dream, a fantasy, and if he didn't speak soon, he never would. But he was loath to break the vision before him.
And in the end he didn't have to.
Harry's eyes fluttered open, and Severus caught his breath at the startling color, before forcing himself to be quiet.
The boy looked confused for a second, looking around blankly, obviously at a loss to tell how he'd gotten here. But when his eyes lit upon Severus, who was trying very hard to remember to breathe. And the green eyes cleared instantly.
"Severus. You came."
The wind picked up, throwing Severus's hair into his eyes, and making Harry shiver, wrapping his arms around himself.
"You were expecting me?"
Feeling very foolish, Severus got to his feet, took a step forwards, and wrapped his own cloak over the boy's shoulders, not allowing his hands to linger at the bared white throat or the trembling shoulders.
"I knew you'd come."
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then spoke together.
"Harry—"
"Severus—"
Severus plowed on, having to yell now, over the sound of the wind. He felt a drop of rain, fat and solid connect with his forehead.
"You left before I woke up."
"You told me you'd hate me in the morning."
More raindrops were falling now, and the boy's hair was plastered to his head, rain running in rivulets down his face and neck, down the collar of Severus's cloak. Lightening flashed in the distance.
"I couldn't bear to stick around and see you hate me again!"
"You should have stayed!"
Harry took a step closer, and Severus reached out to cup the boy's face in his hands, ignoring the rain streaming down his fingers.
"You don't hate me then."
Harry's voice was very quiet now, and Severus had to strain to hear it, below the creaking and rushing sound the trees made all around them.
"Never, you foolish boy."
And Severus bent his head slightly, feeling Harry's hands slip inside his shirt, and touched his lips to the boy's. Rainwater mingled in the kiss, clear and fresh, and Severus reveled in the taste of Harry's mouth. Thunder rumbled behind them, but neither responded to it. The sounds of the storm were intoxicating, and Severus didn't resist as Harry's hands pulled his shirt over his head, those soft hands tracing lines on his chest, following the path of the rainwater as it poured down over both of them.
His own hands tugged and teased at Harry's clothing, pinching a nipple here, slipping beneath layers of cloth there. Severus's mouth moved to the marble throat, licking the streams of water off it, reveling in the cold wind that gusted over his bare skin.
And suddenly they were sitting down, the rock hard and cold beneath them, Severus pressing the younger man's body against it, running his fingers through the tangled curls, meeting those green eyes and seeing in them the same desperation he felt overwhelming him, the desperation he did not, quite, understand.
I want you, Harry. Not pieces of you; not your body, but every part of you, everything that makes you yourself, forever.
The cloak was discarded quickly, falling to the ground in a sodden mass, and Harry's shirt followed, till the two men were pressed together, sweat forming on their chests only to be washed away instantly by cool rain.
Harry seemed to be in a trance, his fingers dancing over Severus's skin, never pausing for more than an instant, mapping out his body. His tongue followed, and Severus heard, under the howling wind, little mewling sounds issuing from the boy's throat.
He pressed frantic kisses to the forehead beneath the dark hair, ignoring the disfiguring scar, cradling the smaller head in his hands.
The worshiping exploration that both men were conducting lasted for what seemed like hours, the pair of them curled around each other, Harry's back to the boulder, as they disposed of their clothing. And when the last article had fallen from them, Harry looked up into Severus's eyes, his own green orbs clouded with trust and desire.
Severus kissed him gently, savoring the taste, and slicked himself with a muttered incantation, looking deeply into Harry's bottomless eyes as he thrust into him, the wind still tearing at their hair and the surrounding trees.
Severus moved slowly out and then in again, water streaming down his chest and onto Harry's. The boy gasped as Severus hit his prostate, and seized his hand, covering it in kisses, whispering incomprehensible murmurings into his palm.
They rocked together, icy water raising goosebumps along Severus's back, lost in ecstasy, until Harry cried out suddenly, biting into Severus's shoulder to stop his screams as his chest rose and fell heavily, and he came all over the older man's stomach. The sight of Harry, his lips red from being bitten, his hands clenched in the ground beside them, was too much for Severus, and he came too, Harry's passageway contracting around him, as he gazed into green eyes that seemed to go on forever.
He didn't know how long they lay there, the storm raging around them, but all too soon he felt the younger man tremble, and came to his senses.
He was freezing, and so was Harry. They were sopping wet, and their clothes were covered in mud and full of twigs. And it was raining harder than ever.
"Harry?"
The arms around his waist tightened, and Harry met his eyes. "I love you. I don't want anyone else ever again. I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me, and I'm never letting you go."'
Severus found himself rather taken aback by the depth of emotion in that gaze. Something in the back of his throat tightened. He wanted to reassure Harry, offer parallel words of devotion, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wasn't ready for what he saw in the young man's face.
"Harry, I don't need promises from you…not now. I believe I would be content to simply lie here with you forever. But I am growing increasingly cold, and you're not far behind."
Harry sighed beneath him and they rose to their feet and began to dress. Severus winced as the icy garments clung to his skin, making him shiver, and frowned in sympathy as Harry gingerly pulled his own on.
And then, fully dressed, they stared at each other, and simultaneously stepped forwards. Severus reached out and took the boy's trembling hands in his own. "Harry, I don't know what was different this time, but…"
"But something was."
They beamed at each other for a moment, forgetting the sopping clothing and the rumbling thunder. Or rather, Harry beamed. Severus removed the sneer from his face and smiled, his thin lips turning upwards at the edges.
Then, carefully, he raised Harry's hands in his own and kissed the backs, never breaking eye contact.
Wrapped in the silvery folds of Harry's invisibility cloak, they walked into the castle, their arms brushing against each other, sending shivers up Severus's spine.
For the first time since the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark and the Death Eaters, Severus Snape had something to live for.
It was a very disconcerting feeling.
A/N: This is NOT the end! I know it sounds like it could end here, but there's so much more to write, so it's not going to. Just thought I'd give you a heads up. Since you were all so nice in your reviews, I thought I'd better write a new chapter fast. I LIKE this chapter, but I just wrote it, and maybe in the morning I'll look at it and shudder in self-disgust. I'd better post it soon before I get disillusioned with it. Right now it seems romantic and poetic and all that rubbish. Anyway, thanks for reading…I hope I didn't let them get too out of character, because I don't like fics that do that.
Cheerio all.