Chapter 8

Harry awoke to find himself flat on his back on Professor Snape's bed. The Professor himself sat on the edge of the bed, near Harry's feet. Harry sat up carefully, his head throbbing painfully. Snape looked worried.

"Did anybody see you come in here?" He leaned over Harry and reached toward the cabinet near the bed.

Harry scooted back till he was sitting up. "I don't think so," he replied with a grimace.

"You must take care not to be seen with me. You should not associate with me in any way. It's dangerous. They're watching me," Snape took up a vial and uncorked it. "Here, take this, it will help."

Harry was still feeling rather groggy. He wondered who it was dangerous for, himself or Snape? "What is it?" he asked.

"A most efficacious hangover cure," Snape said with a rueful smirk. "You made it."

Harry smiled and swallowed a mouthful. He felt better almost instantly. He rubbed at his head and was surprised to feel long hair growing there again.

"Hey, my hair's back. That's weird." Harry looked at Snape questioningly, and the Professor stood up.

"You'd best be getting back to your friends before you are missed." Snape gestured towards the door.

Harry felt reluctant to leave. He rarely got the opportunity to be alone with Snape. The Professor folded his arms and leaned against the door.

The black Quidditch robes really suited him, Harry thought. They were not as thick and concealing as the Professor's usual attire. Harry stared at the powerful thighs encased in tight black trousers. Snape did not wear leg pads, opting instead for knee high leather boots, and he had taken off the black leather gauntlets he had worn during the game. Harry decided he liked the look of Professor Snape in his Quidditch outfit.

Snape cleared his throat, motioning abruptly towards the door with his head. Harry stood up.

"Well, thanks." Harry didn't quite know what to do. Snape had saved him from a nasty fall. Should he shake his hand? "I know you took a risk, catching me like that."

Snape nodded. "How is your assignment progressing?" Surprisingly, even he seemed to be reluctant to let Harry go when it came down to it.

"Great. I'm nearly finished. I just hope that Dr Underwood will accept that the 'subject' wants to remain anonymous." Harry smiled, "What about your assignment?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You know, your work for the Order."

"The less said about that, the better."

"I'm just worried that you're taking risks. Playing both the Ministry and the Death Eaters is a dangerous business. Either one of them could get suspicious."

Snape snorted. "Too late for worrying about that. Neither of them are sure of my allegiances, and that impression is quite deliberate, I assure you. I am ...grateful for your concern. It's rather novel."

Harry put out his hand and Snape took it. They shook hands firmly, but when Snape tried to let go, Harry held on. He turned the warm, dry hand over, pulled it closer and pressed a moist kiss into the palm.

Harry heard Snape's shocked intake of breath. Harry did not dare look up as he turned and hurried out the door. It closed behind him and he leaned back against it, sagging in disbelief. What the hell did he just do? He ran for the stairs like a frightened rabbit.

Oh God, he thought, what would Snape think? Harry felt like such an idiot. His hands were shaking and his cheeks were still burning when he arrived at the Great Hall.

Everyone else was gathered there for the post-game feast. He caught the eye of Ron who was seated at the Gryffindor table and went over to sit with him.

"All right now, Harry?" Ron asked as Harry climbed onto the bench. He did a double take at the reappearance of Harry's hair, but said nothing.

Harry nodded. "Took a hangover cure. God, now I'm starving." Harry ate with gusto, as he had not had much for dinner the previous night. The noise level in the room was high, as most people were still arguing over the Quidditch result.

Harry let the debate wash over him, half-listening but not taking part. It was strange how no one even asked him for his version of events. Most of the Gryffindors, past and present, were of the opinion that Snape had knocked him off his broom to stop him from catching the Snitch and therefore winning the game.

Ron also kept silent. He too was aware of Snape's delicate position. He nudged Harry and grimly drew his attention to the Slytherin table, which was the origin of some rather cold stares aimed in their direction.

Harry jumped as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned to greet the smiling Headmaster.

"I see you're feeling better, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I was hoping you would agree to present the awards at our upcoming Demonstration night. It is to be held on the Ides of April."

Harry smiled, agreeing immediately because he knew Snape would have to be there. "Thank you, Headmaster, " he accepted formally. "What should I wear?"

"Dress robes, Harry. There will be a Reception afterwards. The parents like to see Hogwart's most famous ex-student." Ron looked slightly miffed and the Headmaster realised his omission and politely extended the invitation to him as well.

Harry kept smiling, but felt rather embarrassed. Having gone through most of his childhood without any praise, he was uncomfortable with how gratified such accolades sometimes made him feel. Deep down he knew he was strong enough not to need the approval of his peers. On the other hand, it was nice to know you were appreciated. That thought took him back to Professor Snape, who was unanimously despised by the 'decent folk' of the Wizarding world. How did he cope with it all? Three quarters of the students hated him, and presumably their parents did too. The Slytherins respected him and even admired him, perhaps, but Harry wondered if any of them genuinely liked their head of house.

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So it came to be that a few weeks later Harry was once again in front of his mirror. He wanted to make a good impression, but most Dress Robes were ridiculously ornate and overdone. He had looked in the shops of Diagon Alley and eventually given up in disgust. Madame Malkin and her assistants seemed to have no idea of what it was that he wanted. Harry turned instead to muggle shops, and managed at last to find something that he wouldn't feel stupid wearing in public.

He smoothed it down his thighs. A fashion designer known as Mr Fish had made a couple of dresses for David Bowie in the early 1970s and Harry had found a copy of one of them. It was peach satin velvet with a blue floral pattern. As Harry turned in front of the mirror the skirt swirled out around him. It was mid calf length and he wore brown leather boots underneath. The bodice was tight and fastened with brocade frogging. It was slashed open to the waist, exposing his slender, lightly muscled chest. The long sleeves were flared slightly and balanced the skirt perfectly. To complete the look Harry wore his hair long and tousled.

Ron came out of the bathroom draped in a hideous maroon tent trimmed with white lace. "Merlin, these things are a bitch to take a leak in!" He walked up to Harry and stood there in appreciation. "Wow, Harry. That looks great! How come you always look good and I always look like this?"

Harry laughed at Ron's woebegone expression. He took up his wand and adjusted his friend's robes until they didn't look too awful. Ron stood next to him and surveyed them both in the mirror. "Are you trying to get laid tonight?" he asked Harry's reflection. Harry's reflection flushed.

"Shut up, Ron. There's only going to be school kids and parents there."

"And teachers," Ron added with a leer.

Harry chose to ignore that comment. Since when was Ron so perceptive? He marched over to the door, stuffing his wand into a concealed pocket in his skirt.

An hour later Harry was seated on the stage, trying to pay attention to the second year pupil who was demonstrating the transfiguration of a mouse to a thimble in seven easy steps. Harry scanned the hall for Professor Snape, finally spotting him lurking in the shadows down the back. When the demonstations were finally over and Harry had presented the prizes to several awestruck students he joined Ron in the crowd near the buffet.

Their lecturer, Dr Underwood, wearing his ubiquitous turban, spotted them and approached with his wife and daughters. Harry was friendly to them all, but tried at the same time to keep an eye on Professor Snape.

Harry was listening with one ear to Dr Underwood's daughter rambling on about life at Hogwarts, while with the other he was trying to hear what Dr Underwood was saying to Ron.

"...a word to your father. There are a lot of us who think it is just outrageous! Look at them over there! As blatant as you like. Something must be done, and soon..."

"What was your favourite subject at school, Harry?" Flavia Underwood asked. Harry was looking at Snape, who stood talking to some Slytherin parents. They were leaning close, whispering.

"Potions," he answered without thinking.

The girl gave him an incredulous look. Harry excused himself and sought out the Headmaster. He was seated at the side of the room with Professor McGonagall.

She smiled as he approached them. "You're looking very fetching tonight, Harry."

"Thanks. I can't believe how small the first years look! Was I ever that little?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed you were, Harry." The old man followed his erstwhile gaze across the room. Harry looked back at the old man with a guilty flush. "Go up to my office, Harry. I'll send him up after you in a little while. The password is 'rhubarb and custard'."

Harry nodded. The old codger must have read his mind!

Harry spent a fascinating half hour in the Headmaster's office, examining carefully, but not touching anything. He still remembered the awful sinking feeling that he had experienced when he thought he had killed Fawkes. He was gently tickling the bird's neck when he heard the door opening.

"I can't stay for long. I must speak with Fletcher Pennywise about next month." Snape strode in quickly, coming to a stop right in front of Harry and Fawkes.

Harry felt nervous. He hadn't had anything in particular to talk to the Professor about. He bit his lip and continued to stroke the phoenix. He could smell Snape, could sense his black stare.

"I prefer your hair worn long like that," Snape said quietly.

Harry went cold, and he found he could not move.

Snape stepped even closer and stroked down Harry's sleeve. Harry tingled all over.

"I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable," Snape said in a whisper.

Harry sighed and looked up into Snape's dark eyes. The expression he saw on the older man's face both terrified him and thrilled him. He knew Snape wanted to kiss him. He could sense the waves of tenderness, and Snape's wonder at the unfamiliarity of it. He opened his mind to the older man, letting his own feelings flow back between them. There was no way that Snape would not realise how he felt. Their Occlumency and Legilimency lessons had ensured that their minds were easily attuned to one another.

Snape took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. Harry waited to see what would happen next.

Nothing happened.

Finally Harry had to speak. "Are you all right?"

Snape nodded. He turned his back on Harry and walked back towards the door. He clasped his hands together but Harry could see that he was shaking.

"Were you going to...?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. Why did you want to see me?"

"I don't know. I just..." I want to kiss you, really kiss you, Harry thought, putting all his energy, all his desire, into the feeling. He sensed that Snape was using his own powers of Occlumency desperately trying to block him out.

The Professor took a deep breath. "Soon it will all be over. One way or another, there will be an end to it."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" Snape was worrying him now.

"Walpurgis Night. The last of the Death Eaters will be apprehended or..."

Harry nodded as Snape trailed off. He realised nothing was going to happen between them until the Professor had completed his mission. Snape turned his head and their eyes met, both understanding that they must wait. Harry would do nothing to compromise Snape's safety.

"I must return to the Great Hall. Good night, Harry."

"Good night...Severus."

Harry smiled to himself. They had come a long way already, but it was the next part of their journey that had him both fearful and optimistic.