Precipice

Chapter 10: Fallen

Everyone around him was privy to Harry's drastic change of mood after his surprise meeting in the library with Professor Snape, a week prior. He felt light and near giddy, and nothing any Slytherin could (and did) say would bring him down.

Harry's friends were in the dark regarding his moods--he fluctuated regularly from variations of happy, sad, angry or what could only be described as pouty--but made it a practice never to pry into their reasoning. He had made it clear long ago that it was none of their business. He disliked discussing Voldemort, his parents, the Dursleys, his fame, or anything remotely linked to the aforementioned. He was a difficult person to get along with, to say the least.

Snape had not made any effort to contact him outside of their classes together as of yet, but this did not dim his spirits. He knew by now that Snape liked to take his time, to make others wait. In fact, Harry fairly reveled in the wait, in the heart-pounding anticipation of good things to come. He'd had so few things to look forward to in life; he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling.

--

Severus, however, was dreading their impending reunion. Since their last private discussion, Potter shot glowing grins at him whenever he managed to catch his eye. His excitement was painfully palpable to Snape, which made him quite uncomfortable. How stupid of him to have made such an agreement! To allow this tryst--for that is indeed what it had become--to continue. He may have had appalling physical responses to the boy, but he knew his feelings paled in comparison to Harry's... not love, but close. Close.

Though he would not voice the words in his head, he knew that the worst aspect of the situation was that his pull to Harry could not be broken. No matter what he decided to do privately, if he was around Potter, his convictions would shatter. Having experienced this several times by now, he knew himself well enough to realize that he was too selfish to give him up. Not needy, not love-starved, not lonely, but selfish. This is what he had decided was true. This is what was easiest for him to believe.

After two weeks had passed since the discussion in the library (two weeks in which Potter went from appearing helplessly ebullient to hopelessly anxious), Severus was no closer to deciding when, or whether, to meet Harry again privately. He continued to consciously put it off, to ignore the boy's smiles, his meaningful glances.

Needless to say, he was quite surprised to run into Potter loitering in the Potions Wing one Friday night after classes. He had apparently grown tired of waiting and gotten up some nerve. Admirable, but the timing couldn't be worse. Severus had undergone a very draining week, and was looking forward to a quiet and solitary Friday night.

After recovering from the slight shock, Severus schooled his sharp features into his accustomed stern glower before continuing past Harry as if he hadn't even noticed him.

--

"Er--Professor! Excuse me!" Harry called out to his teacher's retreating back. He could verily feel the older man smirking self-importantly. He stopped in his tracks, allowing Harry to catch up to him, but he did not turn around.

"Potter," he enunciated, spitting out the name. "I told you that I'd come to you. I did not expect you to come crawling after me."

"Which is why I came to you. How long do you expect me to wait? I won't do it forever," he dared to say.

"Precisely," Snape hissed derisively. "Take the hint, Potter."

"No, Severus, don't say that..." Harry froze in his tracks when Snape whipped around sharply, his expression fearsome.

"How dare you address me so informally, boy. Who do you think you are?" he intoned dangerously.

"I'm...I...I had hoped to be y-your--"

"My what? My boyfriend? My lover?" The words shot from his mouth like acid, as he had meant for them to do.

He so badly wanted to strike the boy, to strike those thoughts out of his own mind. He couldn't stand the possibility of being considered a homosexual--not even by another man that he'd kissed. His father used to consistently taunt him with derisive versions of that term; he'd taught him that it must be a bad thing to be. Already stressed to begin with, he was now feeling frantic, trapped. He had to make it clear to Harry that he was not gay. He grabbed the stunned boy's arm and strode down the hall with purpose, pulling Potter along behind him.

"P-Professor, where are we g-going?" Harry stuttered.

"To a pub."

"...What?" Harry could not see the older man's face, and he was trapped in his iron-like grip. He was starting to get nervous. Had he given the Professor a nervous breakdown?

"I'm going to show you what I can do to a woman. You're going to watch me, I'm going to prove it to you--"

Harry dug his feet into the ground, effectively halting Snape in his tracks. He moved to stand before his Professor, whose expression was haggard and almost desperate.

"I know you're not gay," Harry affirmed quietly. "I don't know that I am, either. I've... I've not had these feelings for anyone, male or female, before. I just... like... you. And I thought--I hoped, that, maybe... you could like me, too."

"Why should I?" was all Snape managed to get out. He sounded very tired, and rather lost. He smirked half-heartedly and rested his head against the wall with a sigh. He looked down at his left hand, which was still holding fast to Harry's arm. His eyes traveled to focus upon Harry's with intensity, causing the boy to blush, which he noticed.

"I don't like anyone, Potter." His voice was barely above a whisper. He removed his hand from the boy's arm, lifted it to smooth the ragged dark hair from the luminous eyes. He circled and drowned in them, as if they were twin whirlpools.

"Not anyone..." he murmured before leaning in to kiss him, closing his eyes against the impelling, exhausting pull of Harry's.