Harry's Love

A/N: because everyone is doing it... pairing: slash

Harry walked home with a skip in his step. Three years ago he doubted he'd live past his eighteenth birthday, but look at him now! Not only did he manage to beat Voldemort, but doing so had made those who didn't initially jump the 'Boy-Who-Lived' band wagon, grudgingly admit there was more to him than some vapid brat that rode the coattails of the fame that came with his mothers sacrifice.

He had returned for his 'eighth' year at Hogwarts, and managed to get himself eight N.E.W.T.S. and, after another year of hard work, his A-levels as well. He could tell himself he had finally accomplished something.

What was even better, was that he had studied for his A-levels while living on a perpetual cloud nine. He was in love, and His Love loved him as well. The last year had been absolute bliss. While he hardly could deny that His Love wasn't an easy man, he was his.

And even though Ron and Hermione had had their doubts at first, once they were sure Harry was free of any and all potion influence, and His Love seemed to be genuine in his new-found affection towards Harry, they had given Harry their blessings, even though they might not have understood.

But tonight wouldn't be about them. It'd be about Harry and His Love, no-one else. It was, after all, their one-year anniversary. That's why he had all the ingredients for a lovely three course dinner with him, in which he would cook His Love's favourites – he had even already fought with Kreacher over the rights to the kitchen this day; and luckily Kreacher seemed to understand the concept of why Harry wanted to cook by himself.

Not that Harry could get used to it, Kreacher had grumbled. But that didn't matter, today was the first day of the summer holidays, and after their romantic dinner, Harry would surprise His Love with Portkey tickets for a week long holiday. It would all be perfect.

...

"Love, the entire evening you've had the most peculiar expression on your face, are you finally going to tell me what's that all about?" Harry asked, voice muffled into His Love's naked shoulder, savouring the feeling of the man still in him – talk about post-coital bliss.

"Yes, it is about time," His Love said, sounding rather contemplating.

"Huh, you can't be talking about the Portkey, I might have only told you about that half way through dessert, but we still have three ho-ours." Harry spoke, moaning halfway through the last word as the man pulled out of Harry and started dressing himself.

"Of course I'm not talking about the Portkey, you idiot boy," the man sneered.

Feeling rather hurt at the choice of words of his usually very kind lover, he stood up quickly and laid his hand on the man's hip.

"What's all this about, then, Love?"

The older man pointedly took Harry's hand of his hips and pushed Harry backwards, out of his personal space.

"You can't tell me you've never wondered at the fact that, when you confessed your feelings to me, I reciprocated your feelings at all?" The man asked, scathingly.

With wide eyes, Harry gave his significant other an uncomprehending stare.

"What's with the passed tense?" Harry jested before he gave His Love a proper answer.

"All joking aside, of course I did at the beginning. I mean, the only reason I confessed to you at all is because I wanted to get it out of my system – I was about to leave Hogwarts for good; you were my teacher! I probably wouldn't see you again for quite some time. If at all! I never thought you would feel that way about me. I was ready for a heart break, I just needed to hear it form you to move on, really. And it almost did break – my heart that is – but you grabbed me, dragged me back, and kissed me like I was never kissed before."

Harry gave His Love a thousand megawatt smile.

"Though I must confess, the entire first month I woke up thinking it was all a dream, only to turn around and see you sleeping next to me. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am for the happiness you've brought me this past year, Severus Snape. I love you."

"Well, that's the thing, Harry, I don't love you."

"What are you on ab – "

"Don't interrupt me, Potter. You have got to listen to what I'm about to say. I do not love you, nor have I ever held any love for you. On my magic I do so swear, expecto patronum."

"There," he said, after the doe shot out of his wand.

"You cannot dismiss that."

Harry felt shell shocked.

"But, for Merlin's sake, why?" He managed to get out through lump in his throat.

"I have abhorred everything you represented since the day you were born. I thought you knew this. The fact that you came to confess your love to me on your graduation day in itself is laughable. I never stopped to detest you, and when you came to me and surprised me with that pitiful confession of yours, I saw an opportunity. I saw the opportunity to completely ruin you and your loathsome ego. Truly, you've set yourself up for this, Potter."

Harry could do little else than give an unbelieving, horrified squeak.

"Pah, and you ask me why... You aren't even my intellectual equal. I can't discus magical theory with you, let alone potions. The last year you've been a decent fuck Harry, but no more than that. You, Harry James Potter, completely and utterly disgust me. You've always did, and won't stop to do so. I simply waited with saying this so I could see you crumble completely unlike you would have a year ago."

The man looked like he did, indeed, take sick pleasure in Harry's silent tears.

"This is the only warning you'll get: if you try to either cross or approach me in any way or manner – even if it is through your horribly inquisitive friends – I will not hesitate to send pensive memories to the press. They're still speculating whether Granger is dating both you and Ronald, or if you're shacking up with the youngest Delacour girl; aren't they? I'm sure they'll have a field day with the fact that the Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived extraordinare, is nothing but a wanton little cum dump in the bedroom, that easily comes from nothing more but sucking my dick."

The man sneered some more.

"Now stop snivelling like the pathetic child you are. It's repugnant, is what it is. I'm glad to finally be able to wash my hands off you."

With those words he turned on his heel, and Apparated.

A/N: And thus my answer to the HPxSS fics, truly imho HPxDM is less far-fetched. I truly do not get Snarry. The man hates everything 'Potter', and I cannot, for the life of me, imagine any kind of circumstanes where Snape would fall in love with Harry, a boy that's 2 decades younger than him. I got the idea for this oneshot some random time, stumbling across yet another unbelievable HPxSS; but the moment I had the will to truly write it was when I read Publicola's a/n in "wait, what?" c7, called 'safer with the convict' where the author in question raises some good points in Snape's role in trying to have both Sirius' ánd Remus' soul sucked out.

The open ending is a conscious choice. In my first version (in my head) I had Harry commit suicide, because Snape had already send a letter to the press while dumping him... with the following tail: [A week later Bill and Fleur are breaking Grimmould Place's wards after the begging of Hermione and Ron. They find him and his suicide note, and Kreacher mad with grief because he was ordered not to save him, and not to seek help.]
Alas, it wrote itself the way I've posted it. How do you feel about Snarry?