April Showers Bring Gay Flowers

Disclaimer: None of the characters, except Melvin Rook, are mine. They all belong to JRK and other people/institutions involved in the HP universe. I'm making no money off of this. Drat.

A/N: This will be HP/SS. The story was originally meant to belong to Lady Kardasi's zodiac challenge, in response to a first line challenge, but since this is my first fic, it wasn't ready on time. Please review so I know if I should continue. Praise and constructive criticism are very welcome. Flames are not, for one simple reason: If you hate my story so much, you shouldn't be reading it. One last thing: I realize the premise is not exactly unique, but my feeling is that every writer has a different voice, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Rating is for language and lustful thoughts & allusions. This will probably stay PG-13 because I have never written a sex scene, and I'm not sure I'm ready to try. If that changes, the rating will go up to R.

CHAPTER ONE

"Gay? No way!" Oliver Wood laughed. "Sometimes I'm not sure the greasy bat even has sexual organs. I don't want to think about him actually using them." After several years of playing professional Quidditch, the young man had returned to Hogwarts as Quidditch coach.

"I'm just saying," Harry Potter murmured, looking around for possible eavesdroppers, "that he seems to be getting awfully chummy with that new Muggle Studies professor, whatshisname – Melvin Rook, I think?"

"I don't think Snape gets chummy with anybody. Maybe you were seeing things, Harry," Neville Longbottom responded. He was now studying Herbology under Professor Sprout and would soon take the test that would hopefully make him an Herbology Master.

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed. "They're always together. Snape has never spent that much time with another professor, ever."

"Well, whatever the reason, it's probably not because they're – eww – seeing each other." Oliver shook his head. "Rook isn't all that attractive himself, and maybe he doesn't have any other prospects, but even so. I mean, who would want to date that ugly bat any – shit . . ." he trailed off, looking over Neville's shoulder as the very devil they were speaking of strode across the staff room floor with thinned lips and darkly glaring eyes.

"I see these past few years have done little to help you mature," he snarled with such force a tiny fountain of spittle sprang from his lips. He either didn't notice or didn't care. "Of course, I had never really expected any of you to grow beyond the fools you were, but you have far under-whelmed even my meager expectations." He aimed a glare specifically at Harry, who imperceptibly winced, knowing the Potions Master had actually expected a bit more from him.

Snape snatched a sheaf of papers from a nearby table and headed toward the door. He turned back just before he left to add, "Seeing as the brats will be returning soon from Easter Holiday, I have lesson plans to prepare. Perhaps you might want to do the same? Except for Potter, of course, whose immensely poor preparation skills seem to have carried over from his student days. Or maybe he still feels his fame will carry him through life?" With a dramatic swirl of black robes, he left.

"Ouch," Oliver muttered. "That was rough. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to say it, I guess he's right. The children will be back in a few days, and we should get to work." He and Neville both bid Harry goodbye and left.

"Well," Harry said unhappily when he was finally alone, "that certainly went well." With a portion of his sleeve he wiped at a droplet of spittle remaining on his cheek from Snape's diatribe.

He wasn't entirely sure when it had started, other than that it was sometime during his Seventh Year. After the terrible events at the end of Fifth Year, Dumbledore had begun teaching Harry Occlumency, but had still required Harry spend time with Snape. The Headmaster demanded that they at least get to the point where they could tolerate each other, because they were eventually going to have to work together, and dissent would only make the war against Voldemort that much more difficult.

So during his sixth year, Harry had started serving "detention" with Snape. It was weeks before they could even be civil to each other, months before they could have a reasonably decent conversation. But by the beginning of Seventh Year, they were working relatively well with each other, and while neither would have said they were friends, they could talk, and the insults were considered nothing but banter, except in Potions class where for the sake of his spy cover Snape still had to treat Harry like shit.

And then, of course, Snape's cover just had to get blown. Afterwards, while he still gave preferential treatment to his Slytherins, naturally, and he certainly never gave points to Gryffindor, some of his hostility did ease in his treatment towards the other Houses. Well, it eased as much as possible for a snarky man as set in his ways as Snape is.

At that point, Harry was able to tell the other Gryffindors that the detentions were really just a way for he and Snape to try to get along better. This eased Harry's previous stress about lying to his friends, and he began to actually enjoy said "detentions."

It's when like turned to lust that Harry isn't sure of. Some time during their sessions together, Snape stopped appearing ugly to Harry. Certainly after all that time spent together, one would become somewhat immune to greasy hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. After Harry had his first rather less-than-innocent dream about Snape, he realized that for at least a couple of weeks he had actually been admiring the older man's appearance of all things.

Needless to say, that took some getting over. Not the fact that Harry was lusting after a man – he had long since discovered he preferred men and even had a thing for older men – but Snape? Harry started going out with a very attractive Ravenclaw boy to try to get his mind off Snape, but nothing came of it. So, after a couple of months, Harry became resigned to his attraction to the Potions Master. After a couple more months, and several long sessions in the shower, he actually began to appreciate his feelings for Snape. Until he realized they were going nowhere. Which led to his current predicament.

After Seventh Year (and what was in the end a rather boring defeat of Voldemort), Harry had gone off for two years of training in the Dark Arts and their defense before returning to Hogwarts as the new DADA professor. He had now held this position for almost a year and had been trying to use that time to get closer to Snape. Instead, they had backtracked from where they were before Harry left Hogwarts. Although they were still civil with one another, they no longer spent any time together just talking, and their friendship, if it could be called that, had more or less disintegrated.

And now, Snape thought Harry had been one of the people making fun of him. That hadn't been the point at all! It was just that Harry had never been able to figure out Snape's sexual orientation. He didn't even know if Snape had a sex life – there had been speculation during his years as a student that Snape probably didn't have a sex life or he wouldn't be so mean. Harry hadn't actually seen Snape hanging around Professor Rook any more than necessary; the new professor was most certainly much too cheerful for Snape. He had simply used that as an excuse to see if his fellow professors had any details Harry didn't. No such luck, and now Snape was probably pissed off. Fuck.

That evening after dinner, Harry knocked on the door to Snape's quarters, then opened it at the irritated, "What do you want?" he heard from inside.

"Sorry to bother you, Professor," he said, closing the door behind him and walking forward a few steps. Most of the other professors wanted him to call them by their first names. Snape, of course, had never extended that invitation.

"Obviously not too sorry, or you wouldn't be here," Snape responded. "I repeat, what do you want?"

"I, uh, just wanted to apologize for what Oliver said earlier."

"You made a pointless trip, then, as I am not going to forgive you for something someone else said. Not that I particularly care anyway. I have heard much worse, and from younger students at that."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip and glanced around the room. Snape didn't give him long to think.

"Is that it, or is there some other reason you're forcing your presence on me."

"Would you like to have dinner with me the night before the children get back?" Fuck. Oh, great, bloody fuck. Where had that come from? Oh God. What if Snape wasn't gay? What if Snape . . . Gryffindor courage or not, Harry didn't think he wanted to deal with whatever insults Snape would come up with in response.

Snape started at him for a moment, and something Harry couldn't interpret flashed in his eyes, but all he said was, "I think not, Mr. Potter. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do."

That was it? While Harry had definitely not expected a "yes," he hadn't thought he'd get off so lightly. He had expected to be insulted, possibly hexed, and given a long list of all the reasons Snape would never deign to have dinner with one Boy-Who-Lived. He turned and left before Snape could live up to Harry's expectations.

TBC

Coming soon in chapter 2:

Snape's office door slammed back against the wall. "What do you mean you think not?" Harry exclaimed.

A/N: Although I only have a vague idea of where this is going, it will be a short story. Unless a plot bunny comes my way, there will only be one or two more chapters.