Author Notes: Chapter Ten of the Harry and Snape Romance, Red and Green. The wonderful Maahes. Much thanks to you for putting up with my sad writing and helping out! Thank you for all the reviews I've gotten so far as well -- Keeps me going and happy. And just a note there will be about twenty chapters in this series.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just this story.

Enjoy!

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X. No More Excuses

I missed the bloody bird. I had to admit it. It brought me that note from Potter. The note that I still had. The note that was still tucked safely under my pillow. So I could sleep with Potter nearby. I needed him badly.

I have no bloody idea how the thing died. Horrifically, that much was clear. As far as I know, however, the beast is dead. And I can't help but feel bad that I didn't give it more money when it brought me that letter. And I feel terrified at the thought of how Potter must feel. He didn't deserve for the bird to die; apart from all those fake friends - that bird was the only thing left in his life that meant something. It was the only stable thing left.

I plopped back into my chair and looked at the clock. Last class. Thirty minutes till teatime with Albus. I had to talk to the damned man. He was the only person who would understand my little, ah, sort of, problem. Well, not little, exactly, but still. I'd never really leaned on anyone before, or asked for help, so there was a very odd feeling running through me. I wasn't really sure how to tell him exactly. Not sure what I wanted to tell him.

The old man was right, however, I cared for Potter. Ardently.

I think it started with the gift, and it grew with each chess game. He, the boy, gave me some sort of friendship, a friendship that I had needed ever since I started teaching here. Ever since I had somehow become the bloody git of a Potions teacher. It's not my fault little children don't like doing homework. It will help them in the future though. I wouldn't give it to them if it wouldn't.

Ok, maybe, I would. But still.

I watch as the minutes tick by. I need to get out of here, and I admit it for the first time; I am excited about my meeting with the old man. Perhaps I could kill him with all my problems. I bet he's never dealt with a case where the school's most unsympathetic teacher needs to get over an infatuation with the savior of the wizarding world. I could send him to St. Mungo's trying to get around the idea. Then maybe I could become Headmaster of this old school. Merlin, that was an thought.

++

"Ah! Severus, come in!" Albus invites me into his own sort of sanctuary. Damn man's image plastered all over the walls. Picture after picture offering the same idiotic grin. The same damned twinkling eyes. I should never have asked to come for tea. I've been through enough this afternoon already.

(Damn third years. I mean; if you're going to insist on breaking beakers, then I'm going to insist on you cleaning the mess up. Third year students should know a simple cleansing spell by now. They learnt them in first year for Merlin's sake.)

The pictures of him, Albus, on the walls, staring at me, never felt more... threatening. I felt like running. But if I did… I couldn't, wouldn't be able to. Wouldn't be able to do something very important. I was not sure what that important thing was yet, but I was working on it. Too many thoughts were flitting through my mind for me to be able to think properly.

I couldn't stop thinking of Potter. Thinking about what he was doing now, now that his bird was dead.

Thinking about Potter was enough. I didn't have space for anything else.

Stop thinking about Potter.

"Severus, candy heart?" Albus asked me as I took a seat in one of the two chairs placed before his desk. The past was repeating itself, one hundred times over. One hundred times in a row. Just for me. I shook my head and Albus pushed a cup of tea in front of me. Damn the man. It was the same black tea he gives me every time. I took it, rather gingerly. He never asked me if I liked it. But I did, nonetheless.

I remind myself to only drink half a cup. It's too hard to drink a whole cup of tea and not think about the chess games. And the books. And, as much as I hate to admit it, most importantly, Potter. I curse my inner self for bringing the boy back into my thoughts when I should be worried about marking homework, and taking points. Taking points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Taking points so that Slytherin could win the House Cup. Finally. Damned Gryffindor brats taking the cup every year. Every single year since Potter had first started at the school. Another reason to not care for him. But those damned chess games...

Stop it Severus. Pay attention to Albus.

Focus.

"Now, Severus. I know you wanted to comfort the boy this afternoon, when he was at your door." Albus started, using his quite tone of voice. The one that he used just for me, because he knew I couldn't become enraged when he used it. No, of coarse I would never become too angry in front of Albus. I wouldn't do that.

That's why I have a little voodoo doll of him in my room. I remind myself to poke another pin into it this afternoon.

"Headmaster, I'll be honest..." I stop myself. I'm always open towards Albus, it just usually takes him a while to 'open me up'. He does that with his eyes. Those damned twinkling eyes. I feel them watching me now.

Let me try again.

"I do enjoy those chess games, but Potter and I are far too different, our interests are far too contradictory for us to consider ourselves friends. Or anything near of being friends, or caring for each other. I simply don't understand why you won't give up this ridiculous notion that I care for Potter. I don't. And he doesn't care for me. It's just chess."

And half cups of tea. And being there.

Ok, so maybe I'm not so honest toward Dumbledore as I thought. Damn the man. What business was my private life to him anyway?

"Severus, what I don't understand is… It doesn't hurt you to play chess with the young man, it makes you happy." He stops and I find my eyes wandering to Fawkes. Damn bird should have killed Albus by now. It helped Potter kill the beast in the Chamber of Secrets; it should have killed Albus by now.

"Why do you shy away from human contact? Why can't you allow yourself to be happy for once in your life? I'm sure you're not embarrassed of our young Harry, are you?"

I blink at him, and take a sip of my tea. I want those games back, every single chess game we ever played. I want to play them again. I want to play new games. And I want him to fetch the tea. And sit in my chair.

My green Slytherin chair covered in Gryffindor robes.

But I don't show my emotions to Albus, they're too confusing for the old man, too confusing even for me. "Potter is the one who should be embarrassed of me. Will you please get over the thought that there is an us. Chess is just a game. Merlin!"

"Then why do I see you staring at Harry all the time? In the Great Hall, and in classes?" He retorts.

My eyes narrow. His eyes are no longer twinkling, and the grin is no longer present on his face. I expect to be fired or something just as drastic. All because of Potter. For the mess that he has gotten me into. Just because he gave me a damned book for Christmas. That damned book that captured me in its worthiness. Merlin!

"Why do you stare at me all the time? My life is none of your business! It's none of your business who I do, or do not stare at! It's my life! Why?" I shout. Enraged.

Fuck voodoo dolls, I could take on Albus right now. Hah, kill the man that even Voldemort's afraid of. Wouldn't that make me great?

"Because it's my job." Albus murmurs quietly. And everything turns to silence. Everything turns to black.

Everything turns to Potter.

+

I wander around my dungeons aimlessly. I sit. I stand. It's driving me to the point of madness. My mind's playing a game of tennis and the ball's left the court. Every thought wrecks havoc upon my little world. A world I once had to myself. My camouflage is falling away. Interlocking pieces of a puzzle, a puzzle I've taken years to construct, the puzzle that is my bastard-like image, all brought to nothing by a boy. Crumbling. Damn him for ruining me.

I'm exposed for being myself. The image of being the most feared teacher at Hogwarts, the most feared, but the best, the best teacher of them all, that image is gone. I am myself.

And the funny thing is that he has never said anything. Never acknowledged this thing, this thing that is between us, ever. There were no secret lover's messages. Just chess and tea. And yet the boy is the only thing that can make my rooms complete. Make me complete. And I miss the boy very much. I want him here, in my rooms.

As sick as it sounds, I wanted the boy to stay in my rooms forever. I could never tell anyone that. I could barely trust myself with these kinds... of thoughts, these kinds of emotions. I glanced at my door, and I waited. Perhaps the boy would come to my door and ask for another game of chess. I would admit to myself, but only to myself, that I wouldn't have minded a game of chess with him at that moment. To relieve myself of this stress, this madness that he had clothed me in.

Potter was my illness, but also my only medicine.

Finally there was a knock to my door. And my gaze flew to it, away from the spot it had had on the floor. I had stared at the floor for too long, as I had tried to keep myself steady, sane. The knocking continued. And my only wish was that it was Potter. He was my medicine.

Now I understood why they wanted my potions when someone was sick. Why they needed it. I wanted my Potter in just the same way. Needed him. And once I let him in through the door, there would be no more excuses.

Everyone deserves some bit of happiness in life. Just a little, if any was offered. And Potter was offering. Take it before it's gone.

I made my way to the door after a second or two had passed and quickly opened it. I don't care how out of character it may have been, but this was what was needed. I looked. And there, in his Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, stood Potter. Broom in hand, glasses lying on the bridge of his nose. I tried to convince myself not to devour the boy, not to take him into my arms. Luckily I succeeded. I shouldn't frighten the boy with my hidden thoughts. Not yet at least. Got to give it time.

"Evening Potter." I said rather warmly. It felt weird not to speak in a cold and distant manner. But any discomfort I felt in speaking to Potter in my real voice was erased as he offered me a smile in return. He looked around the hallway first, before he pushed his way in. He needn't have bothered; I would have let him walk over me. I wouldn't have stood in his way.

"Evening Professor. How are you?"

He asked how I was. And he bloody meant it. Sure, Albus had asked how I was many, many times. But those words always led up to other favours or tasks he wanted me to perform. That was the only true reason the man ever spoke to me. But now, astonishingly, Potter had asked me how I was. He had meant it. I was truly unsure as to what exactly I was feeling. Should I tell the boy the truth and risk the chance of being told off?

No, not yet. Just talk to him like a normal human being Severus. "I'm rather tired. Thank you, Potter. And how are you?"

He sighs softly and plops into his usual chair, and I do the same. The fire flickers onto our forms, and he starts to relax once everything settles down. The tension is gone. Maybe there was none to begin with?

Everything was moving along as it had done since the first time he had visited my rooms. A comforting routine. But I was not one for routine. I disliked it. It bored me. Normally. With Potter however…

I could easily get use to routine.

"Just a long practice." He sighs and lays his broom on the ground by his feet. I wouldn't mind having Potter on my Quidditch team; he truly was one of the better Quidditch players at Hogwarts. I won't say the best, but he did have skills that all the other houses envied.

"I hope you weren't busy or anything, Professor. If you were, I can leave."

I look at him, and I remember that this is Potter. He was not like Albus at all. Potter would leave if not wanted, unlike Albus who would stay and pester me till I was on the verge of drowning myself in some potion that I cooked up for the purpose of suicide.

I turn and gather up the stack of homework by my chair and look over them. "No, just grading some homework. You may stay if you wish."

"I would like that." He smiled softly and those green eyes wandered over the stack of homework gathered on my lap. I looked at his face as he did so; he was trying to communicate something.

I couldn't exactly tell what he was trying to say, but it came out in the form of a choked laugh. I blinked and waited for an explanation. "You really don't want to read my paper if those are the Gryffindor papers from the other night."

I blink and flip through the stack of parchments, finding Potter's near the end. I hear him gulp as I look over the paper. It looks quite normal, and I start to read it.

It wasn't that bad, but it was certainly not his best work, certainly not up to his usual standard. I stopped reading and looked back at the boy. He was blushing furiously, but the blush was partly hidden by the light reflected off of the flames dancing next to him.

"Potter, not your best work. I presume it only gets worse later on? Why the sudden lack of effort?"

"I'm not really sure, sir." He says honesty. His voice is a bit lighter, and his eyes are fixed on the fire, drinking in the warmth that the flames offer. He removes his Quidditch gloves and places them next to his broom. He must be rather hot and sweaty from all the practicing he has done. I heard that Potter really worked the team hard, he was their current captain.

Wait, I did not just think that. My eyes move to him again, but dart back to my paper. Merlin. Can not think those thoughts. He is a student.

"My scar's been hurting a lot lately, so I've been trying to sleep a lot. Which made me neglect my homework."

I moved my eyes back to the boy, his fingers were tracing over his scar. I tried not to feel too sympathetic to his condition; he was the boy who lived. But I was bothered by the thought of Potter having a headache every night and tossing in his bed trying to sleep. I tried erasing that thought from my mind, rather returning to the stack of parchments on my lap.

"Have you spoken to the headmaster about it? Or maybe to Poppy?"

"Professor Dumbledore already questions me enough. About our chess games and all…" Potter says both softly and slowly. His words don't register at first, but after a moment I nod. Albus is going after the boy too. I snarl silently, reminding myself to grab every candy heart I see in the future and burn them to crisps. I begin grading Potter's paper, but find myself lost. Missing spelling errors, not truly paying attention to the paper. Rather paying attention to him.

"The headmaster has spoken to me a lot recently, as well. Or at least, tried to."

Potter laughed and smiled. Running his fingers over the chair's arm, tracing undecipherable patterns onto the fabric. I hoped that the boy was not bored of me already. There's not much that a thirty-seven year old man can do to entertain a teenager.

But he's still smiling.

So I decide it's now or never.

"Potter, I don't mind you coming up here every so often." I pause, taking a deep breath. That breath embodies all of the thoughts and emotions the boy has provoked in me. Every time we played chess, and I had my tea. The weeks that had passed since Winter Break. I needed this breath before I took a step closer to the boy. The breath was needed, for there were words to follow. It was now or never. I only hoped that things wouldn't turn out badly.

"I truly like the chess games we play and all. It's rather nice. Something I haven't been able to do in some time. I thank you for that. But, I do hope that you don't come here because of the headmaster's wishes. That you come out of your own free will."

Well, far from the entire story, but I think I did bloody well considering.

Potter looked at me. His lips moved from a simple smile to a radiant one. It was much like Albus's, but it caused no discomfort. Rather, it reassured me. I was doing something right. Finally. What I needed: reassurance. His eyes glittered a heavenly green as they turned my way.

"I'm glad you like them. It's better then playing silly truth or dare games with the Gryffindors. And I come here on my own, because I like it."

And I smile. The shield was now truly shattered.

All those games of chess. All those cups of tea. The book. The talking. The times Albus tried to get the truth from me. Everything fell apart with the white of my teeth peaking through the curtain of my lips. I was truly happy. I could blame the books, and I could blame the chess games. But I realized, for the first time, I had only myself to blame. Because I did it myself.

There was a time for excuses; but this was not one. And so I smiled.

"I see you're happy." Potter laughed softly as he nuzzled his face into the back of his chair. Adorable as always.

I placed the upgraded papers to the side of me. I forgot about all my problems. I just wanted to sit and watch the boy. I just hoped that his scar was not a hindrance at this very moment. That he was not in pain.

Perhaps I could bring a little happiness into the boy's life.

"Always the brat aren't you, Potter?" I grin and relax into my chair. Every muscle in my body relaxes. I may be a bastard outside of my chambers; but I think tonight I deserve happiness. With Potter. Tonight I'll be myself. Tonight I don't want a chess game; I just want to watch Potter's face. I want to protect him from the pains that his scar may bring. I will tell him that.

But like all great things words must wait till it is the perfect time for their utterance. They must be perfect. Like Potter.

"Prat." Potter muttered softly and lazily laid his head on the arm of his chair. I wouldn't tell him to leave. Not yet. I wouldn't let him stay the night either, but he could stay just a little longer. I didn't want rumors flying around. It was amazing enough that there were no rumors flying around already. This school was a breeding place for rumor. The whole school and the hoard of Potter fans would be mourning the loss of any chance they had with him.

Tonight Potter was mine to smile at.

"You should act like this when you teach class."

"Like what?" I ask, picking up my teacup and taking a sip. I take more than half of the cup's contents this time though. There is no need to waste tea when there will be many more to come.

He thinks for a moment before smiling into the flames. "Nice and all."

I wasn't really expecting that answer from him, but I liked it nonetheless. Perhaps I could be more lenient in class, but that would be too out of character. I do make a note to myself to award Gryffindor some points when I have another class with them. Just to show Potter I did put some thought into his idea.

"Only around you." And I wasn't scared of what I'd just said. But I was truly surprised when Potter's cheeks lit up to rival the flames. He was blushing, and Merlin, was he blushing! He pressed his face back into the chair before letting out a long yawn.

"Thanks." He murmured softly. Everything turned to silence, but that was okay. It gave us a bit of time to think about what had happened this evening. And I hoped that Potter's thoughts, like mine, were good ones. He had no reason to come down to my dungeons. But he did. He didn't have to ask how I was, but he did. We didn't have to compliment each other. But we did. I didn't have to worry about his scar. But I did.

Then it hit me. I had forgotten about the bird. But the weird thing was; he had too. I pondered whether or not to bring it up. But I thought it would only be right to do so, since I had left him hurt at my door when he had asked for help.

He shouldn't have come. But he did. Damn my curiosity. I was going to ask.

"I'm sorry about your bird."

He looks up and watches me carefully. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I messed up your class or anything by knocking and asking for help."

I blink. Foolish boy.

"I should have been there to help." I mutter and return my gaze to the flames. It always gave me comfort to look at flames when I was lost in my own thoughts. But it was even better sharing it with Potter. I was still curious over how the boy could come down here acting as if the bird had never died. But I wouldn't act upon my curiosity. He deserved some time to mourn.

"You were there. I know you thought about it for most of the day." He smiles shyly. I look at him in a new light. Did he really know my thoughts? That I was thinking about him all day. Or was he just guessing?

"How would you know that Potter?" I enquire. Sounding like a small child wanting answers to the simplest of questions. I knew the answer myself. But I wanted to see if Potter knew the answer too. He merely smiled and looked into the fire.

"You care." Potter said quietly.

And he was right. I did care.

No more excuses.

To be continued..