A/N: I am so glad people were pleased with Snape's reaction. I really did try to balance his anger with his feelings for Harry. I am having so much fun writing this story for you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Hermione," Harry leaned over to speak in a low voice, "do you think I could talk with you for a minute alone? After dinner?"
Hermione gave him a questioning look, glancing around to see if anyone else at the table had heard. "Of course, Harry," she answered back softly. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, brushing off her concern, "I just have a question for you."
Hermione nodded gently.
"…have to stay here, mate," Ron was saying. "I wish you could come spend the whole holidays with us."
Harry grinned at Ron. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll get plenty to eat, so your Mum will be pleased, and I'm sure I'll be serving my detentions with Snape, so I'll have time to get a head-start on studying for the new term, Hermione."
"If he makes you serve detention while you're on holiday, Snape's an even bigger bastard than I thought," Ron grimaced.
"Well, I'm hoping if I serve them over break that he won't be too averse to letting me off easy for Quidditch, when it starts back up," Harry reassured Ron. "I'd rather spend some of my free time now in detention than have to miss practices or games."
"'s a good point," Ron nodded, taking a large mouthful of turkey.
"I think that's a very responsible, mature attitude, Harry," Hermione condoned. "I think it says a lot that you're willing to shoulder the consequences for your actions."
"Still can't tell us, then?" Ron tried once again.
"Nope," Harry denied them. "Still can't."
As dinner drew to a close, Harry nudged Hermione and whispered, "Room of Requirement?"
She nodded.
As the students filed out of the Great Hall, Harry saw Hermione lean in to Ron and murmur something in his ear. Ron looked back at Harry and then gave a nod, walking past Hermione and leaving her to speak with Harry alone. They made it to the Room of Requirement and slipped inside, then both sat down on the cozy armchairs that had appeared.
"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked with concern.
"Oh, nothing's the matter, really, I just needed your help," Harry was trying to keep from becoming embarrassed. "You're just always so good with this kind of thing – I mean, I can't ask Ron, and – I'm not sure who else I could really talk to about it."
Hermione had a look of intense concentration on her face, much like she got when she was set a particularly difficult task in class.
"So," Harry began awkwardly, "how would someone, you know, know if they were – were gay?"
There was a beat of silence before Hermione's face broke into a sly smile. "You think you're gay?"
Harry had his legs tucked up under him and he stared into his lap, picking at his fingernails. "I don't know. I didn't think so, but…how would I know? I mean, I got on well with Ginny, and I thought Cho was pretty."
"Are you attracted to any other girls?" Hermione asked with a clinical air.
"Not right now. But, I mean, do people just switch like that? Like one day they might fancy a girl and the next day a bloke? Is that how it's supposed to work?" Harry reached up and ran his hand through his messy hair.
"Is there a boy you find attractive?" she continued.
"Erm, I think so," Harry blushed. "He likes me," he clarified for her.
"How do you know that?" she folded her hands in her lap.
"I – I kind of – overheard him telling someone else," Harry lied. Sort of.
"Who is it?" Hermione couldn't hide her interest.
"I can't tell you," Harry found himself wishing that he could. "But the other day I sort of kissed him," Harry finished with his eyes on his lap.
"You kissed him?" Hermione shrieked and brought her hands to her mouth in shock.
"Yeah," Harry looked up, smirking a bit at the comical look of surprise on her face. "I didn't plan it or anything. I wasn't even thinking when it happened. It was just – I didn't even decide to do it. I just – he was there and I felt him – and it felt," he stammered, looking to Hermione for help. Her eyes shone with excitement. "It just felt so right," he pleaded, willing her to understand. "It was everything I used to feel for Cho; for Ginny. But now it was with him. What's wrong with me, Hermione? Did – do you think that when I died, something – something changed me?"
A laugh bubbled up from Hermione's throat. "Oh, Harry," she got up and made her way over to Harry's armchair, waving her wand and enlarging it enough that she could sit down next to him. "Nothing's wrong with you. Dying didn't change you. Plenty of people find both men and women attractive. For whatever reason, you no longer think of girls that way. Maybe it had something to do with everything you've been through – being aware of those feelings – but it's always been there." She put her arm around his shoulders. "I'm surprised you ever even had a thing with Cho or Ginny, to be honest," she said with chagrin. "I sort of thought you were completely gay."
Harry pulled back suddenly. "What? Why on Earth would you think that?!"
Hermione looked guilty. "Oh, girls just have this sense about things. After the disaster with Cho, I was really surprised that you ended up with Ginny. But when everything was over, she and I talked, and even she knew that you were probably not completely straight."
"So you did talk her into breaking up with me," Harry sulked.
"No!" Hermione protested. "No, it wasn't anything like that. It was just – we just talked it through. It helped for her to have someone to talk to about it. But she would have gotten there on her own."
"But how am I going to ever really be with someone, then? If at any point my body might just decide to start liking a completely different gender!" Harry was fighting back panic and tears. "Who would ever want to be with someone who might just leave them without a reason?"
"Oh, Harry," Hermione took his hand in hers. "I don't think it will be like that. I think that it will be just like any other person. If you're with someone and it isn't working, you'll break up. If you fall in love and it's the right person, you'll stay in love. I don't think you'll just randomly stop loving someone or being attracted to them. I don't think it works that way."
"But it might!" Harry yanked his hand away from her. "How am I ever going to have a relationship, not knowing if I'm going to be able to stay in it? How can I control it?"
"Harry," she tried to soothe him, "you're getting all worked up over nothing. It's love. It's not something you can control. See how it goes with this boy. If it goes well – stay with it."
"I don't want to hurt him, Hermione," he whispered.
"Then be honest with him. No one can fault you if you're up front," she suggested. "But I think you're worrying about something you don't need to worry about."
"You won't tell anyone about this," Harry looked at her, suddenly nervous, "right?"
"Of course not!" She gave him a hug. "And if you ever want to tell me who it is, I'll keep that secret, too."
Hermione's expression turned calculating. "Harry, did that kiss have something to do with why you're serving so many detentions with Professor Snape?"
Harry couldn't control the blush that rose in his cheeks. "I – it – erm," he stuttered.
"Harry James Potter," Hermione stood up and towered over him. "What did you do?"
Harry looked uncomfortable and abashed.
"Never mind," she waved her hands in front of her. "I don't want to know! Just – I don't care if it's a girl or a boy – just keep it in your pants!" And she whirled around and headed to the door.
Harry was stunned in the chair, left spluttering behind Hermione.
It was the first Monday of Christmas holidays and dinner had ended. Harry stood in front of Snape's office door in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He knocked on the door gently.
"Potter," Snape said through the crack of the open door. "Why are you here?"
"Detention, sir," Harry answered solemnly.
"It's holidays," Snape said, as though Harry may have been unaware.
"Yes, sir, but I didn't want to assume that meant I was free from detention. Unless you're busy and don't want me to serve it. But I deserve it, sir, so I'm here," Harry looked confidently at Snape.
"How…mature," Snape tried to sneer, but faltered somewhat. He opened the door wider. "You are right that you deserve to spend your holidays suffering through detention," he confirmed, ushering Harry inside the office.
"If I apologized again, would you forgive me?" Harry asked hopefully.
"I may," Snape had his back to Harry as he walked to his desk, "if you apologize enough times."
"I wouldn't blame you if you never did," Harry said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Harry," Snape sighed, sitting down, "you are one of the most unobservant, naïve, oblivious persons alive."
Harry thought Snape sounded a bit endeared, but he wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not.
"I have come to the conclusion, after my many years of getting to know you, that the hurtful things you do are not out of malice, but sheer lack of forethought. I cannot imagine you ever intending to do someone harm that wasn't deserved, and if it was, I thoroughly believe you would own up to your actions. You have said you did not spend time with me as a cat with the intent of doing me harm, and I believe you."
"You do?" Harry blurted out, surprised.
"I do," Snape nodded. "But your impetuousness is going to lead you into trouble that you cannot apologize your way out of. In fact, it has in the past."
Snape left it unsaid, but Harry knew he was referring to the Ministry incident and the death of Sirius.
"You must learn to think things through before you say or do them. Regardless of what career you choose, failure to learn this skill will result in your being dismissed. Or worse." Snape looked critically at Harry.
"I know," Harry agreed.
"So," Snape's tone indicated an abrupt shift of topic, "detention. Tonight, you will make a list of everything that you enjoy doing, along with a detailed explanation of why you enjoy it."
Harry was puzzled. "Really? That's it?"
Snape gave a wry smile. "Yes, Mr. Potter, that is 'it'." Snape waved his hand and a desk appeared for Harry, with parchment and a quill. "Sit," Snape directed him. "You'll find this may take a while."
"All right, sir," Harry complied and began with the thing he enjoyed most: flying.
Harry had been writing for a bit on why he enjoyed flying when he felt Snape's eyes on him. He realized he'd been gnawing at his lower lip, and he looked up shyly at Snape, whose eyes snapped back down to the exams he was marking. Harry thought back to the kiss they had shared Thursday night and his conversation with Hermione. He studied Snape for a few moments, trying to gauge his attraction to the man. He didn't turn Harry on just by looking at him. Harry wasn't sure what made a man attractive, but he didn't think there was anything in Snape's face that would be considered such. Harry did think he had interesting eyes, though. There were a lot of things Snape could communicate just through his eyes. Harry watched Snape mark essays. He did have nice hands. They were elegant, in a way. Long, slender fingers. Harry remembered their strength when Snape had helped him up off the floor. He thought about how Snape had felt on top of him. He thought about how Snape made him feel when he'd been the cat, and how grounded he felt around the man. The thoughts of Snape that way – about who he was, as a person, those thoughts warmed Harry inside and his memory flickered back to that time he'd seen Snape come calling his name in bed. His groin tightened and he shifted, clearing his throat absentmindedly.
Snape looked up. "Something the matter, Potter?"
"No, sir," Harry shook his head. "Did you love my Mum, Professor?" he blurted out.
Snape gave him an indiscernible look. "I did, though not in the way I presume you suggest."
Harry tried to reason that out.
"Do you love Miss Weasley?" Snape countered.
"I," Harry started, then frowned, trying to think of how to explain his feelings. "I do," he admitted, "but not like a girlfriend. I mean, I did, but not anymore. I'm not sure what happened. She just – she wasn't what I needed."
Snape nodded. "I cared a great deal for your mother," he explained. "I did love her. But she was not what I needed, either."
"What did you need, sir?" Harry's eyes flickered down do his hands.
Snape brought his hands up to his lips, steepling his fingers, pausing, as if thinking about how to phrase his reply. "I was – wounded. I came from a place your mother could never understand. I did things that – the choices I made were ones your mother was unable to fathom. No amount of explaining could make her see my point of view. She just couldn't give me what I needed."
Harry understood. "But I do," he said softly, looking Snape in the eye. "I know why you did the things you did. I know – I understand. I – I come from that place, too."
Harry's gaze was locked with Snape's for several heartbeats. The air in the room seemed to thicken. Harry could feel his breathing become shallow.
"Stop it, Potter," Snape finally said in a pleading voice. Harry noticed Snape's knuckles were white; he'd brought them back down to the desk and had clenched his fists.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What, sir?"
"Stop – this," Snape waved his hand between them. "I thought I made it clear this cannot happen."
Harry's look must have registered the confusion he felt.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Snape rolled his eyes. "You've no – you haven't the slightest idea what you're – just get back to your list," he finished, exasperated.
Harry shook his head imperceptibly as he bent back down to his work, unsure what he'd done to irritate Snape. He figured he was done with his explanation on flying. He thought about other things he liked to do. He'd liked running the DA, back in his fifth year. He supposed that counted as tutoring – or teaching. He began his explanation on why he'd enjoyed helping others learn Defence.
"That's enough for now, Potter," Snape said after quite some time, interrupting Harry's concentration.
Harry straightened up and stretched, letting out a groan. He saw Snape's eyes roam appreciatively over his figure. He smirked.
"Leave your work with me," Snape held out his hand for Harry's parchment. Harry handed it over. "You're free to go," Snape dismissed him.
Harry lingered in front of Snape's desk. "Erm, all right, sir." He backed up a step.
Snape's face displayed a torn expression. Over what, Harry wasn't sure. Finally, Harry turned and walked to the office door. His hand was on the knob when he heard Snape's voice right behind him.
"Harry," Snape's low tone made Harry shiver.
Harry turned around and found himself face-to-face with Snape. He doubted he'd ever be as tall as Snape was, but he was still growing, so Snape no longer towered over him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the desire glittering in Snape's eyes. His eyes darted down to Snape's mouth and then back up to the dark eyes. Harry only hesitated a moment before he leaned up and brushed a kiss across Snape's lips.
Snape growled deep in his throat and reached around Harry's back, crushing them together. His lips captured Harry's and then they were moving against each other, a tangle of lips, teeth, and tongue. Harry began clawing at Snape's robes and he felt himself pushed against the door. Suddenly, Snape backed away.
"Go," he breathed heavily. "I cannot – we – this – go," Snape wiped his mouth.
Harry's face fell and he felt bereft. His pants were uncomfortably tight and he was disappointed that Snape was refusing to alleviate that problem. Part of him was sure that if he pressed the issue, he could win Snape over. The other part of him – the decidedly smaller part – remembered he had promised Snape he would wait until after NEWTs. He wondered if either one of them was going to be able to withstand the torture if the detentions continued.
He finally sighed, resigned, and left Snape's office without a word.
"I think I'm finished, sir," Harry looked up at Snape. It was Friday evening and Harry had spent the past two hours writing his list of things he enjoyed and why. It was his first detention since Monday; Snape had cancelled the others – presumably because of the kiss. But he had relented for some reason on Friday and instructed Harry to come to his office at seven.
"Very well," Snape held out his hand for Harry to give him the parchment.
Harry handed it over and watched as Snape skimmed his work.
"Now list everything you consider yourself to be skilled at," Snape directed him, still reading Harry's responses.
"All right," Harry began listing everything he thought he was good at. Flying, of course, was first on the list. "Do I need any sort of explanations, sir?"
"Hm?" Snape looked up at Harry. "No, just list them." And he looked back down at Harry's papers.
Flying, yes. Harry stared at the word and tried to think of other things he was good at. Defence Against the Dark Arts; he'd always been pretty good at that. He'd been able to produce a Patronus since his third year. What else? Defence was the only subject he'd managed an 'O' in. He added Defence to his list.
He was rubbish at chess, or anything that involved logic. He couldn't play any musical instruments and couldn't carry a tune. He wasn't particularly artistic, although he'd done well enough on his Herbology sketches. He wondered if Quidditch counted as something separate from flying. He decided to write it down.
Flying. Defence Against the Dark Arts. Quidditch.
Harry was depressed. He'd never felt so painfully mediocre. He couldn't even speak Parsletongue anymore. What else was he good at?
Surviving…Dark Lord…attacks…he wrote down in jest. He figured that would probably piss Snape off. He smirked. Vanquishing…Dark Lords…he wrote on the next line. This was fun.
Wandering corridors after hours without getting caught.
Becoming an Animagus.
Ruining Potions.
Breaking into Gringotts.
Riding dragons.
Retrieving the sword of Gryffindor.
Killing basilisks.
Fulfilling prophecies.
Irritating Draco Malfoy.
Conquering death.
"Amusing, Potter," Snape's voice from over his shoulder made him jump. He streaked a mark across his parchment.
"Sorry, sir," Harry started to crumple his parchment. Snape stopped him by placing a hand over his. Harry flushed and his heart sped up, feeling Snape close behind him and Snape's warm hand on his.
"You are missing a few strengths," Snape said softly, releasing Harry's hand and standing back up. "Loyalty," he moved around so he was in front of Harry, and he leaned against the front of his desk, "bravery," he ticked the list off on his fingers. "Courteous, funny, persistent," Snape continued.
"But those aren't things I'm good at," Harry argued. "Those are just personality traits."
"Those are things you are good at being," Snape countered. "They matter when you are choosing a career."
"A career?" Harry was nonplussed.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, how you defeated the Dark Lord, when you can't even – never mind. Why else did you think I was having you complete these two assignments?"
"I wasn't really sure," Harry admitted. "I just did what you asked."
"If you don't want to be an Auror anymore," Snape folded his arms across his chest, "you have to combine your interests with your talents to find something to pursue."
Harry nodded. That made sense. He felt a sense of despair overcome him. "But what is there?" he cried. "You saw my lists. What am I supposed to do with that? I'm – I'm so average."
"In truth," Snape replied calmly, "you did leave off many areas of strength. I saw your OWL scores. You managed 'E's in most of your subjects. Your Transfiguration skills alone are impressive enough to warrant an apprenticeship."
"But 'E's aren't really all that great," Harry argued. "If they were, you'd take them into your NEWT classes."
That seemed to give Snape pause. "My expectations are unusually high," he finally said. "But that does not mean you do not show skill in your 'E' subjects. Your achievement in those areas should be taken into consideration when choosing a career."
"But I'm not even sure what else there is to do. I just remember that when we were looking at the brochures back in fifth year, nothing else seemed interesting," Harry sulked.
"Perhaps that is because you already had your mind made up about being an Auror," Snape suggested. "If you were to look through them again, you may find your interest in certain careers has changed."
That made sense to Harry. "You're probably right," he conceded. Snape raised an eyebrow at that pronouncement. "Where can I get them?"
"I have copies," Snape stood up and walked around behind his desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a handful of pamphlets. He came back around and handed them to Harry. "Take your time," he encouraged. "I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have."
"You will?" Harry was surprised.
Snape gave him a look that reeked of incredulity.
"I mean," Harry stuttered, "thank you."
"Now go," Snape waved him out of the office.
Harry stood up, brochures in hand, and walked to the door. Snape hadn't followed him this time. "Erm, sir," he turned around to address Snape. "Do you think it would be all right if I came back down later as – I mean, I've missed being around you like it was when – would you let me in if I came back as the cat?"
Snape's eyes widened for a moment, but then the surprised look was gone. "Do you have any brain cells at all, Potter?" Snape's voice was full of complete and total astonishment.
"Oh, I – sorry – never mind," he shook his head and turned back around to open the door.
He heard Snape sigh. "I'm out of salmon," Snape sounded defeated. "So if you're hungry, you'll have to make do with tuna."
Harry turned back around to face Snape and grinned stupidly.
"Don't get caught, Potter," Snape straightened up and smoothed down his robes. "I'm disinclined to share my – pets," he finished with a strange tone Harry couldn't identify. "Now go," Snape jerked his chin at the door.
Harry felt excited and inexplicably flushed as he left Snape's office and went back up to the Tower, eagerly awaiting his return to Snape's company as Cat.