Thirty Six
Once both men had risen from the cold stone floor of Severus's quarters, cleaned themselves and re-dressed, they were seated in Severus's most comfortable arm chairs, next to a roaring fire, each awkwardly awaiting the other to begin.
"I hate this," Harry said, fiddling with the glass in his hand awkwardly.
"Indeed. It is much easier to simply fuck and avoid conversation all together," Severus agreed dryly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
Startled, Harry laughed, suddenly feeling all the more at ease.
"I think the best way to start would be to tell the other what we're each after," Harry mused aloud. "Then, if it's different, we can try to come to some compromise."
"I have no expectations," Severus stated promptly. "Until yesterday, I had no hope of you returning my ardor."
"And now that you know I do...?"
"My expectations are the same," Severus considered the liquid in his glass thoughtfully. "I have none."
Harry resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air in frustration. He had never known the Potions Master to be so deliberately obtuse.
"I think it's pretty obvious we're attracted to each other," Harry chose his words carefully. "And we're clearly sexually compatible."
"The last twenty four hours have certainly proved as much," Severus interrupted dryly.
"I'd also like to think that we've found some common ground since I took up my post at Hogwarts," Harry continued, unaccountably nervous. "I wouldn't be adverse to...trying...and seeing where this goes."
The silence that stretched before them seemed like the longest in Harry's life.