Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 2700

Warning: self hate, scars.

Written for the lovely Chalise, for GGE21. I hope you enjoy it hun :)

All The Time In The World

He was pushed up against the wall, strong hands holding him in place as they traded harsh kisses. Harry was lost to the sensation, his common sense, his logic, all forced away by the all-consuming pleasure.

And then it was gone, and Harry was left panting, barely able to hold himself up, his legs like jelly.

Snape was pressed against the opposite wall, his chest heaving, his hair a mess, eyes wild.

"We can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "Not… not now."

Harry stared at him for a long moment. "Then after. Promise me you'll come and find me when it's all over."

"Potter—"

"Promise me," Harry demanded. "Give me… give me something to hold onto."

Snape nodded slowly. "Okay, Potter. I promise. If we're both alive when it's all over, I'll come and find you and we'll talk."

Harry smiled shakily. "Thank you."

…

"You've been avoiding me."

Harry sighed, his hand twitching slightly in his pocket, even as he shook his head. "I haven't."

"Then there's a reason I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since the end of the battle despite us being at many of the same events?" Snape asked, leaning against the wall beside Harry.

"You saw me at your trial," Harry pointed out. "That was after the battle."

"I saw you give an impassioned speech in my defence and then disappear immediately after the verdict," Snape pointed out softly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, the tugging of the roots grounding him. "I don't know what you want me to say. I didn't realise you were so eager to see me, Headmaster."

Snape stared at him for a long moment. "While I would simply put that down as your latest bout of idiocy, I think there's more to it than that, Potter. Wasn't it you that made me promise we'd talk when the war was done?"

Harry swallowed hard, and then inclined his head slightly. "It was, you're right. I… do not intend to hold you to that promise though, so if that's why you've been searching me out, you can stop without feeling bad about it."

"Potter…"

Harry pushed up off the wall and offered Snape a wry smile. "Looks like I'm wanted over there, Headmaster. It was good to see you."

He walked away without looking back.

He could feel Snape's gaze on him the whole time.

…

Harry surveyed himself in the slightly murky mirror in the bathroom of the tent and sighed. Another scar to add to his quickly growing collection.

There had been a time when he hadn't bothered about his scars, but…

He stared at the circle mark the locket had left behind.

He had more than his share already and his mission wasn't even close to being over.

Even if he survived—which would be a miracle in itself—how disfigured would he be at the end of it?

…

"You didn't sign up for Auror training."

"Still spying on me, Headmaster? I thought you'd fulfilled your duty by now. Surely you have more important things to be concentrating on?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Hardly spying when it's front page news, Potter. What are you planning to do instead?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know yet. I just… don't want to fight anymore."

Snape accepted the coffee from the waitress, and Harry pushed his coffee cup forward for a refill, smiling up at her with a soft thanks. Harry took the moment to look at the Headmaster.

He wasn't sure why the man was looking for him so often. Despite their singular encounter before Harry's Horcrux hunt, he hadn't actually expected Snape to want anything to do with him after the war.

It was… odd.

Snape watched him right back, and Harry could even imagine the thoughts that must be going through the man's mind.

"You should consider getting a mastery, Potter," Snape said eventually.

Harry frowned. "For what purpose?"

Snape's lips tilted up slightly. "Hogwarts always needs a Defence professor. If anyone is going to last longer than a year, I'd put money on it being you."

He left the cafe, coffee untouched, leaving Harry alone at the table once more.

…

"Please stop looking at me like that," Harry murmured, pulling his shirt over his head.

Hermione and Ron shared a glance and then Ron started prattling on about joining George in the joke shop instead of Auror training, and Harry really loved his best friends.

He just couldn't bear to see the pity in their eyes when they saw his collection of scars.

The one on his head now the least of his problems, Ron and Hermione—and Madam Pomfrey at her insistence—were the only ones who knew the extent of the damage done to Harry's body.

And it would remain that way, if Harry had anything to do with it.

The thought of showing himself to anyone else filled him with dread, and made him feel nauseous.

…

"I can't believe it's been three years already," Hermione said, linking arms with Harry as the two of them, with Ron on Hermione's other side holding her hand, walked up the sloping grass to the castle.

Harry nodded.

Hogwarts had been repaired in the years since the battle, but Harry could still picture the smoke and the rubble and the destruction when he looked at the first place he'd considered home.

Still, it was nice to see the castle back to her former glory, and the crowds of smiling people only made that better.

The Headmaster was rather insistent that the anniversary be a celebration of life—and of those that gave their lives—and Harry could appreciate the sentiment of that.

It was certainly better than endless speeches and readings about the people that had died by people who didn't know them.

Harry saw the moment Snape saw them, and he watched the emotion play across his face for a moment before he nodded at him, a nod of greeting and respect.

While they saw each other occasionally, Snape hadn't brought up their promised conversation again, and Harry was grateful for that.

"Potter," Snape said, when he found him a little later. "I'm glad you could make it."

Harry smiled at him. "I wouldn't miss it. Any excuse to come home, I guess."

Snape's smile widened slightly. "Then perhaps my offer won't be rejected outright."

"Offer?"

Snape held out a scroll. "I'll require an answer in two weeks, Harry. I hope it's a positive one."

Harry looked down at the scroll, sliding it open carefully.

He looked back at Snape and arched his eyebrow. "Really?"

"I'm surprised you're surprised, Potter. Wasn't I the one that recommended you get your Mastery for this very reason?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I didn't expect the offer to come this early. I'm only twenty."

"Almost twenty-one," Snape pointed out. "And you have more experience than most forty year olds. Will you take the job?"

Harry chuckled. "You knew I would before you gave me the scroll, Sir."

Snape arched his eyebrow and then shook his head slightly. "I've learned to anticipate nothing and expect everything from you, Mr Potter."

…

"You can't spend your whole life alone, Harry," Hermione protested, when Harry had once more wormed his way out of dating talks over Sunday dinner at the Burrow. "You're more than your scars."

"The first time I let anyone see them, the Prophet will know the day after," Harry replied, shaking his head. "The few people I trust to see them… Well, I don't want to sleep with you or Ron, or any of the Weasleys for that matter, Hermione."

"And the Headmaster?"

"What do you—"

"Harry. We both know I'm not stupid."

Harry felt his face flush and he looked away. "It was only a kiss, Hermione. It didn't mean anything."

"If you really believe that, you're an idiot. It meant something to you, and it meant something to him."

"Oh, tell you that, did he?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and hit him with a pillow.

"The way he's always there speaks for itself, Harry. He's waiting for you to be ready."

"What if I'm never ready?"

She sighed, but smiled at him. "I expect he'll still be waiting."

…

Harry leant back in his chair and rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd finally finished marking the final essays of the term, which meant that the next week was his own to enjoy.

He really needed to stop assigning so much homework for his students.

He was punishing himself more than he was them, what with some of the drivel he'd been forced to read.

From the doorway, he heard a throat being cleared and he looked up to see the headmaster watching him.

"Severus," Harry greeted softly, sitting up a little straighter.

It was weird, using the older man's first name, but it was getting more natural the more he did it.

He still couldn't call Professor McGonagall 'Minerva' without stumbling over her name like an overeager first year.

"You've finished for the evening?" Severus asked, stepping into Harry's office.

Harry nodded. "Finished, period. The holidays are mine to enjoy now."

"Oh. Any plans?" Severus asked, leaning his hip against the desk.

"Sleep," Harry replied with a soft chuckle. "Lots of sleep. I promised Andromeda I'd take Teddy for a few days as well; he's getting more and more energetic with every year that passes."

"I can imagine," Severus replied. "Well, for this evening can I interest you in scotch and fine conversation? The professors are getting together in the staff room."

Harry thought about refusing; he was tired and one drink would likely be enough to make him fall over, but he didn't want to be rude.

Despite his occasional rudeness, he genuinely did appreciate the measures Severus went to to try and include him in the activities of the staff—and everything else the man had done for him as well.

Nodding his head, Harry pushed his chair back a little and stood, stretching as he did so. His chair was comfortable enough, but he'd never been particularly good at sitting in one position for a long time.

He gestured to the door. "After you."

…

"Harry—"

Harry shook his head, sweeping from the bar as quickly as he could through the crowds.

He could hear Seamus calling his name behind him but he ignored him, apparating as soon as he'd made it to a clear alley.

He could still feel the hands that had tried to feel him up; even through his clothes he felt dirty.

He should have known when Seamus invited him for a night out in the Muggle world that this would be the outcome.

Muggles couldn't sense his magic the way witches and wizards could; they couldn't read the very firm do not touch that Harry practically emanated, and with his scars covered, he wasn't exactly ugly.

He could be considered handsome, even, he supposed.

When he was clothed at least.

Reaching the safety of his flat, Harry poured himself a drink and drank it in one long swallow before he turned and threw the glass at the wall, staring at the mess long after the satisfying shatter.

Would he ever be normal?

…

Severus led Harry to the middle of the dance floor and twirled him into a waltz position, his hands perfectly placed.

Harry shivered at the gentle touch but allowed himself to be led.

He could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him and he swallowed hard.

"Focus on me," Severus murmured.

Harry nodded, meeting his eyes as he was led around the floor expertly, almost visibly relieved when slowly, other couples joined them.

"That was sneaky, Headmaster," Harry said.

"It is traditional that I open the dancing," Severus replied. "And there is none that I wanted in my arms more than you."

"Severus—"

"I've been waiting for you, Harry. That isn't going to change because we've danced."

Harry shook his head and dropped his gaze. "You shouldn't wait for me."

"I see the way you look at me," Severus countered carefully. "You keep me at arm's length but your eyes… your eyes want me. They pull me in. What are you so afraid of, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. He waited until the end of the song, bowed respectfully, and walked away, leaving the hall entirely.

It didn't escape his notice that for the first time since they'd kissed, he'd been completely comfortable with the touch of another person that wasn't Ron or Hermione.

…

He tried not to notice the hurt on Molly's face when he flinched from her hug.

He tried to ignore the sadness in Arthur's eyes when Harry shifted out of an outstretched hand.

He looked away when Ginny bit her lip to stop the tears when he avoided the lips that tried to touch his cheek.

It wasn't that he didn't love them; he did, fully and completely.

He just couldn't cope with them touching him. He was cursed, his skin marred; destroyed, even. He couldn't bear for them to touch him and realise how badly he was damaged.

He didn't want them to realise he was unfixable.

…

Severus found him perched at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his legs dangling over the side.

He joined him silently, sitting beside him—almost close enough for their shoulders to touch, their thighs to brush against each other.

Almost.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and then turned his head to look at Severus.

"When we… when we kissed, I knew what I was offering you. I knew what I was hoping for."

Severus' lips twitched, barely visible in the moonlight. "And what was that?"

Harry chuckled slightly. "I was offering you someone whole. Or only, perhaps, slightly damaged. I wanted you… I wanted all of you."

"And now?"

"Oh, I still want all of you," Harry admitted quietly. "That never went away. I think you know that."

Severus inclined his head slightly. "Then what you feel like you can offer must be the problem."

It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway.

"The war… that year left its mark on me. So many marks. I can't bear to have people see. I can't bear to have people touch me."

Severus looked down for a moment and then slowly, he reached out, capturing Harry's hand in his own. Severus' hand was warmer than Harry's own, him having been sitting out in the chilly evening for much longer.

Sparks trailed up Harry's skin, following the path of Severus' thumb as he caressed over the back of his hand.

"You seem okay to me," Severus pointed out.

Harry let out a shaky breath. "I realised in the ballroom that your touch doesn't… it doesn't bother me. It… it affects me, but not the way other people do."

"Oh?"

"It feels good."

"Harry," Severus murmured, his tone serious. "Are you ready to stop running from me?"

Harry bit his lip for a moment, his eyes on their hands. He shifted, pulling away as he stood up. He dusted himself off and then looked at Severus; his dark eyes stared up at Harry, simply waiting for his decision.

"I… we'll have to go slow. I don't… I don't know how to do this."

Severus nodded and then smiled. "You have no idea how infuriatingly charming I find you, Harry Potter."

Harry laughed at that, and then, finally, he held his hand out to Severus.

Severus took it immediately, letting Harry pull him to his feet. Their fingers linked together like an intricate puzzle, a perfect fit as they clasped hands.

And Harry didn't flinch. He didn't pull away.

Severus leant down and brushed a kiss to Harry's temple.

"Come along, Mr Potter. I've been away from the hall long enough; it's time to see what damage the miscreants have done in my absence."

Harry smiled and let himself be led to the stairs.

He was still nervous, still scared that his scars would be too much even while he knew deep in his heart that Severus would never turn him away.

It would take time.

Luckily, they had all the time in the world.

Written for:

Bunny Racing: 2700 words

365: 10. Shiver

Scavenger Hunt: 2. Write a story over 1k

Fantastic Beasts: 110. Kitsune: "Please stop looking at me like that."