A Bit Of All Right

by I Got Tired of Waiting

COMPLETE :: SLASH :: Book 02 of Hiding Under The Ninth Earth :: Harry has a secret--Severus has a few of his own. Can they reconcile and stay together? A romance about honesty and trust in five parts. :: Edited to R rating for FFnet

18. Part II Beginning The Beguine

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting

Part II : Harry and Severus
Chapter Eighteen : Beginning The Beguine

10 August 1999

Harry crept through the corridors of the school in stockinged feet, the invisibility cloak wrapped securely around him, his boots in his hands. He cautiously peered around each corner before he passed and right before he was at the entrance to his private quarters, he saw Draco step out of the shadows of a column right in front of his door.

'Shite! Now what do I do?' he thought as he watched the other man sniff the air as he always did when he'd been looking for his ex-lover at some rendezvous or another. Harry silently pulled back into the shadows, grateful he'd thought to remove the boots with their thick leather soles and steel capped tips when he'd left Severus' quarters. Ordinarily he didn't notice the noise they made on the stone flags, but tonight he suspected they could have been the death of him.

He watched Draco bounce on the balls of his feet, the jittery way he moved his hands and the way his eyes swept the corridor told Harry this was his former lover at his worst. He'd hated it when Draco got this way--demanding, punishing, irrational. In fact, when he got like this, Harry had often wondered if Draco was dabbling in substances similar to Dudley's little habits he'd observed the last time he'd been 'home'. He certainly had the same irritability, the same movements as his cousin and, given the vast number of questionable potions that could be made from almost ordinary ingredients, it wasn't too difficult to imagine.

He was about to make a dash for it, hoping he could get a quick spell off before Draco could react, when Draco lifted his head like a gopher out of a hole, alert and cautious. Harry strained and then he heard it too--soft footsteps coming slowly this way. While Harry ducked deeper in his niche, Draco took one cautious look down the hallway and, turning swiftly on his heels, pelted quietly down the side corridor. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and was about to come out of hiding when he saw Dumbledore come into view. He looked around him and a frown lit his face when he looked down the hallway Draco had gone. He shook his head and continued in the direction he had been going, away from Harry.

Harry eased out of his hiding place and as his hand was on his doorknob, he heard the chuckle floating down the corridor as Dumbledore called out, "Good night, Harry. Pleasant dreams." Harry chuffed and went into the safety of his apartments.

+ + + +

After taking a quick shower to wash off the stink of his earlier fear, Harry got ready for bed. It was one of those nights when his body demanded a sleep his mind denied and after thumping his pillow for the third time in as many minutes, he tried to order this thought knowing that until he got whatever was on his mind off of it, he would lie awake. So he let his mind wander where it willed and after a few moments was surprised it wasn't so much interested in what had happened this evening but rather on the things leading up to it. He shrugged into the pillows and let it have its way; although there were certain events he was not keen on remembering, he knew there was something in the back clamouring to get out and, recently, he was nothing if not patient.

+ + + +

He supposed it started out simply enough when he'd said goodbye to Ron and Hermione at the train. It had felt very strange to see them off knowing they were going away and he was the one staying. While they had not been as close as they had been during their years before, they were still his best friends and they all promised to see each other over the summer at Grimmauld Place.

Which is where he ultimately wound up. Still at Hogwarts when he received his NEWT letter, he was pleasantly surprised at his better-than-average scores. They were good enough to get him into Auror training, which was what he still wanted. The Ministry insisted he join some others at Hogwarts and learn the courses there under the tutelage of Moody and two new teachers, Professors Brice and Langer in September, which left him the whole summer open.

In the first week of July he had moved to Sirius' house; he officially joined the Order of the Phoenix on his eighteenth birthday and with the others from the Order began making their final plans to defeat Voldemort. He and Snape were still at odds with each other most of the time, more so because he had taken to thinking the fragile rapport they'd built earlier was based on Snape's duty as guardian and not of mutual liking; it was a source of disappointment to him. He knew Dumbledore had apprised Snape of the problem (to his surprise) when the Headmaster insisted they start calling each other by their first names as they were to be working as equals. It had helped a little, although, over the ensuing months, it didn't stop Snape from pointing out to him, at every opportunity and in graphic detail, exactly what he thought of his risk-taking.

He supposed, looking back on it, that everyone else knew the constant sniping for what it was. But at the time, even though he knew he was drawn to the Potions Master, for whatever reasons, he could not become emotionally tangled with anyone until he knew the outcome of the Prophecy. So he'd kept his distance; it was a lonely habit by now, but it fit him comfortably most of the time and, he grinned as he thought it, (catching himself doing exactly that) it had made him good friends with his right hand.

No, the whole thing almost fell apart when he let Draco seduce him last Christmas. They'd both been at Hogwarts, the only two upper level students staying for the holidays, although now he couldn't remember why, and except for a few lower form students, they were pretty much on their own. Over the previous months, while they'd not exactly become friends per se, they had a mutual respect that was close enough and Draco had pursued him, sometimes quite openly. Draco had worked hard trying to convince him he was as lonely as Harry (which turned out to be a lie) until he'd reached the 'what the hell' point and capitulated. While Harry had gone into it thinking there was something to be said for mutual relief, that first time with Draco had quickly disabused him of that notion--it had been utterly amazing and Harry was hooked.

He'd known the members of the Order were appalled; it didn't matter that Draco was in the same training as Harry, supposedly on the same side. And he guessed, in retrospect, that sleeping with the son of an inner circle Death Eater had probably not been one of his brightest ideas, so he didn't really blame them for their less than enthusiastic reactions. Except Snape. It always came back to him, as he'd once said. He was the only one seemingly not upset about the whole thing. When the issue came up about separating them, he was adamant they leave well enough alone; his reasoning, or so he'd heard, being that Harry was alone enough as it was. Eventually, Dumbledore came to see it this way too.

He found it embarrassing he never noticed the way Draco had manipulated him. It still made his cheeks burn to think of some of the things he let himself be talked into. But it wasn't love. Had never been love. And from the beginning, Harry had known it never would be--and why. He'd always had an impending sense of danger to anyone who was his friend, so while pleasant, he held everyone off emotionally, including Draco. Snape and Remus were still the closest thing he had to friends and by virtue of their positions as his teachers and mentors were the only people Draco could not cut out of Harry's life, although he tried hard enough to do so.

And the other reason was even deeper. For on those nights when he was alone, it was never Draco who fuelled his fantasies. It was Severus and had been ever since the night he'd almost killed the Potions Master with his first killing curse. Something profound had changed within him during those long hours he'd sat by the Potions Master's bed in the infirmary, something he'd found impossible to stop and as equally impossible to live with. He'd fallen in love with the man and, at the time, he'd thought that was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but there was no helping it. It was done and he was just going to have to live with the consequences. One such was the hope he'd felt after Snape mended his memories when he'd been hurt in the duelling exercise. He remembered the moonlit picture of the man as he slept and began to harbour fantasies of seeing him awaken with love in his eyes. For him. He was such a fool.

Afterwards, Harry began to catch Snape off-guard and to enjoy his quirky humour. Remus was right, Snape could take it as well as dish it out. Snape on the other hand, grudgingly acknowledged Harry's accomplishments and could be heard from time to time actually telling him he'd done a good job. Harry hugged those rare moments to himself. And he'd found Snape had been full of surprises, once they both started lowering their guards.

Before Draco entered his life, he'd been pleased with the increasing depth of his discussions with Severus and, given that they both found the use of their first names easier with time, he liked to think Snape enjoyed them as much as he although as Remus had said, one had to wade through a lot of shite to get to him. Harry started learning in bits the private part of him that was Severus, as opposed to Snape, his more public and vocal persona. When he compared the two, he concluded it had been Snape's quick, biting wit that had saved Severus' internal thoughtfulness. While it was sometimes strange to think of Snape as two very different people, he didn't dwell too much on it because he saw himself that way as well.

But that all changed with his affair with Draco. Snape was still Snape, but was more withdrawn, less open, more businesslike; it was as if he were observing Harry more than interacting with him and had withdrawn from him the Severus he'd come to know. Harry shrugged in the dark--and maybe he had been--his comments, as usual, were right on the mark.

So by the time they succeeded in defeating Voldemort and Harry had decided not to become an Auror, his and Snape's relationship had been complex to say the least. It was a bad period in his life; with Draco's increasingly aggressive behaviour and Severus' distance, he'd felt very alone. Their special classes ended as there was no longer any need to continue them since the job was done, although Harry continued Auror training until he could find a new profession. It left a big hole in his life, one he sensed now Snape had understood well but chose not to address.

Then there was the night Severus had confronted him on the Astronomy Tower when he'd told Draco of his decision to quit training. He'd been desolate, full of doubts, and so lonely the choice to fall off the edge had been closer than he'd let on. What had scared him most was how good he'd felt when Severus had held him; he'd been more than comforted--he'd felt at peace afterwards--a fairly new emotion for him. After they'd made their awkward good byes, he'd gone to his rooms and slept soundly for the first time in months.

The next day, when Snape had helped him with the career charts, he'd been almost overwhelmed with gratitude and no small amount of shame for how he'd regarded him all the previous years. Even though it was impossible to tell the man that he filled his fantasies, there was still the matter of how he'd treated Snape with such anger and disdain when he'd put more effort into it than Harry. He certainly hoped, albeit too late, that he'd got the apology and acknowledgement across to Severus.

And he began to see Draco in a new light. That Draco would stay and spy on him while he'd been with Snape had affected him deeply; what little trust he had for him evaporated with the argument they'd had after leaving Snape's lab. He'd tried to break off the erstwhile relationship at that time, but Draco had employed his usual wiles and within moments after the first kiss, he was hard-pressed to remember why he'd been angry with him in the first place.

During the weeks he'd been collecting his information, trying to decide what profession to choose, he'd spent more time with Snape, pestering him with questions about his different choices. Looking back on it, he shouldn't have been so surprised at how easy it had been. He was still in love with him and was thrilled with all the positive attention.

He'd also pursued advice from McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey as well. Professor McGonagall was surprisingly mild in her assessments to him. She'd studied the sheets Snape had given him and he'd later modified, her only comment being that logic was a fine thing but sometimes one had to go with their 'gut'. When Harry told him what she'd said, Snape had commented caustically that "Gryffindor guts are best used for sausage casings, whereas McGonagall's are fit only for garters." Harry had been more amused than insulted and almost agreed with him.

He smiled. Snape told him to make his own choices based on logic and his desires, which the Slytherin in him was only too pleased to do whereas McGonagall advised him to follow his instincts, which pleased the Gryffindor in him. However, it was his talk with Madame Pomfrey which, in the end, had cemented his choices.

****

28 June 1999

Madame Pomfrey's advise was unexpected.

"These are interesting, Harry. I see you've come up with quite a few choices; the ones you've kept are in the Healing Arts. Any particular reason for that?" she asked in her normal no-nonsense way.

Harry chuckled, "I think I've spent more time in here than in my classes."

She smiled, "Probably, but is that the reason you want to be here? Because it's familiar? Or has someone suggested it would be a good place for you?"

Harry cocked his head at her question. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Other than Professor Snape lending me the workbook, which you can see I didn't take at face value, no one has suggested anything. That's what's making this so hard. I'm not really sure what I want. The other was a joke."

"All right, let's start with what you don't want," she said, seeming to ignore his last comment. "You've crossed-out Potions, Auror, Unspeakable, Curse-Breaker, and Medi-Wizard. I'm curious. Why leave out the Medi-Wizard? It's a good profession."

Harry turned a becoming shade of red. "Uh, well, you see--"

She raised a brow, "It's all right, Harry. I am just curious--being a Medi-Wizard is not for everyone."

"Well, it looked--boring, actually." He squirmed.

She laughed throwing her head back, a full rich sound. Her eyes twinkling, she chortled, "With what you students bring in? Hardly, but I do know what you mean. To someone of your abilities, the odd challenge brought in every now and again would not be sufficient to interest you. So tell me Harry, what on your list is enough to sate you but not enough to overwhelm?"

Harry, not knowing how to respond to her merriment, read through the remainder of the list. "Healer, Researcher, Ferreter, and Spell-breaker."

"What appeals to you most?"

He considered the list and his research. "The Ferreter sounded interesting, even if I still don't know what the devil it is; when I first saw it, I thought it might mean one looked for small mammals." She chuckled. "The researcher sounds interesting at first, but as I looked deeper it looks a right bore."

"Don't tell Snape you said that. He loves research."

Harry shrugged. "That may be, but he also makes things as well. Researchers don't really get to make things, not like that. The Spell-Breaker is exciting, maybe too exciting."

"So that leaves you with the Healer. What did you find out about it." She was watching him closely.

He shook his head, perplexed, "There's just so much--and so little. There must be dozens of branches but little written about them. I wouldn't know where to begin. It does appeal to me though. If I could just find out more about it, I think I would like doing it."

"It's done that way on purpose. You cannot take any of the Healer Courses without a recommendation and an apprenticeship. Tell me, is the boredom the only reason you want to take the career path?"

Harry looked off into the infirmary. Talking about what he wanted, what he felt, was not one of his strong points. "No, I just--" He turned and caught her eyes, holding them, "I have caused so much destruction. Yes, I know, the ends justified the means, but that does not mean the truth makes me feel any better about it. I threw out the others partially out of boredom but mainly because they left me cold. It's almost like they're not enough, strong enough, to balance out in a lifetime what I have managed to destroy in such a short amount of time. They're not intense enough. Not in an exciting kind of way but in a reparation kind of way. Oh, I'm explaining this badly." He dropped his head.

Madame Pomfrey regarded the bent tussled head a moment and then with kind hands lifted his face to hers, saying gently, "I understand, you explained it just fine." She moved the hair out of his eyes, exposing the scar. "Which is why, if it's truly what you want, I am willing to sponsor you and give you my recommendation to enter one of the Healing Arts. You may serve your apprenticeship here, at Hogwarts--unless of course, you've seen the inside too much already." Her eyes were dancing.

Harry was stunned.

He was glad she decided to rescue him. "So Harry, let's talk about the 'dozens of branches'--"

+ + + +

10 August 1999 (Continued)

Harry wished the break-up had been just melodramatic. Unfortunately, it had almost proved fatal with Harry being the victim of one of Draco's increasingly more frequent rages; he'd raped Harry and left him to die. This morning Harry had gone to breakfast, preoccupied and hurt when Draco had come out of nowhere. One look at his eyes had told Harry he had no intention of letting him survive to rat on him. He didn't want to hurt Draco, but he was committed to not letting Draco hurt him again. He didn't know how far he would have gone had not Dumbledore intervened. 'And perhaps that was precisely why Dumbledore stopped the whole thing. Maybe I really would have killed him.' His reactions to the Unforgivables were usually swift and deadly--he'd certainly been trained that way.

After the meeting with the Headmaster and Snape he had gone straight back to his quarters and brooded all day until late afternoon, he couldn't take it anymore and crept out of his rooms in his invisibility cloak and made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. The rain had nourished his despondent mood and by the time Snape had found him, yet again, the only thing holding him up on the parapet had been his indecision. He began to wonder if the reason he put himself in so many dangerous situations was to make sure Severus was always there.

He savoured the time this evening with Severus in his quarters. The brandy, the way he'd held him through the shudders he was helpless to stop, 'I will NOT think of them now!' the feel of his hands making their own statement. The greenhouse and Horatio--both delightful surprises and a needed diversion from the restive recollections of what Draco had done. But more that anything there was that one instant, when their eyes locked, that one look, and a whole new world of meaning opened--so intense he could not stay for fear of where it would take him, not sure he was really ready for it now. The unbidden knowledge all kenned in that one moment. He's worried about me. He's cared for me. He's wanted me--for a long time.

'Did he suffer when I was with Malfoy? Did he think of the two of us together? Think of the things we could be doing? Did it cause him pain? Did he ever guess how much it was lacking? Does Severus know how much Malfoy hates every syllable of his name?'

He knew everyone had thought him crazy to stay with Malfoy and everyone assumed he'd been besotted with him. But there were other reasons he'd stayed as long as he had. Reasons he was ashamed of now, born of pure lust and blackened guilt. And Draco had known and played it for all it was worth. 'How long was it before Draco realized I didn't always 'see' him, was not always 'with' him? He wondered how much of Draco's anger was due to the hurt he'd caused him by these small betrayals and how much was due to his childish tantrums when Draco was not given the toy he wanted to break '--me. And stupid fool that I was, I let him do just that last night.'

He desperately turned his thoughts from the pictures in his head from the night before, concentrating instead on his own culpability in it. 'I forgot it in my fear. Forgot that as long as I saw Severus, wanted him, Draco could never hurt me, for I really cared not for him. I forgot that Draco's greatest weakness is he wants to be needed without giving anything of himself. I forgot that his greatest weapon is the two edged sword of guilt.'

Giving up, he watched the stark terrifying images play over and over in his mind like a dervish top. 'I wish I could forget now.' And the night lay stretched out before him endless in its speculation.

+ + + +

Once he entered his apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey and started remote classes at the Wizarding Branch of St. John's College at Oxford, life settled down into something of a routine. He regretted his lack of contact with the Potions Master, although he made it his business to visit him from time to time in his lab either to just talk or with the coming of school have him judge his Potions work for credit. The first time he did so, it changed his life forever.