Hello all! Sorry I've been slow about posting, holiday break and all.  Thanks to my excellent beta, Kei who edited this for me even though she was sick. And also, thanks for all reviews, and comments, questions, flames, and scathing reviews are always welcome!

…

1Harry awoke to the sounds of squealing horses that tore through his head like a knife through tissue paper. Brakes, train brakes! his pounding head managed to register. Beside him on his bedside table was a steaming beaker full of a fragrant potion. Wafting the thick steam towards his nose, Harry immediately recognized the unmistakable scent of a Pepper-Up Potion. The sensation that seared his head now was similar to the pain that came after a full night in Voldemort's mind. With unsteady fingers, Harry grasped the bottle in both hands and tilted its contents into his parched throat. Relief was immediate. His head still ached distantly, but the edge had eroded from the sensation.

After a few moments, Harry climbed unsteadily to his feet, and tentatively pulled back the thick red curtain. As expected, Snape was not there. His bed had been neatly made and other than a vague outline of his head on the pillow, there was no trace of his ever having occupied the room. Harry sat down heavily on the bed where his professor had slept just the night before. Taking the pillow into his arms, he buried his head in the outline, inhaling deeply. Harry had been in a Muggle church once during one of his trips with the Dursleys to a business event in London, and, as Harry inhaled, the scent of the church came back to him. The smell of incense that haunted the air between the pews, the waxy scent of polished wood, and the bitter solitary scent of marble. His Potions Professor smelled like a cathedral.

Harry sat there, his head buried in the pillow, trying desperately to remember the specifics of the night before. The events of the night blended in his mind's eye like a kaleidoscope. Sitting across from Snape, staring solemnly at each other over the rims of their glasses, the silence had seemed so pure, so natural. Speech that night had seemed to be a diluted, desecrated form of silence.

The air between them had been warm and as thick as the burgundy liquid in their glasses. Snape's profile lit by the soft light of the fire that blazed nearby struck Harry for the first time as not as overly robust, but strong and formidable, and the elegance of his arched eyebrows and aristocratic cheekbones had, with the enlightening assistance of brandy, become absurdly attractive to Harry. The sound of the compartment door opening cut through the cathedral scent of the pillow like a spoon against teeth. Harry jerked his head abruptly up, to see a very bemused Potions professor standing in the doorway.

…

Severus yanked open the compartment door expecting to find his hung over charge sleeping soundly. Instead, he saw the waifish youth curled up in his own carefully made bed, with his face buried in his pillow. Harry jerked upright, his hair standing up at odd angles, and gaped, fish-like at Severus. Severus always recovered well from shocks.

"Mr. Potter, you've hopefully noticed the train is at Hogwarts. Gather your purchases quickly-the carriages leave in ten minuets. Unless I am mistaken, your fan club has saved you a seat in their carriage near the left of the platform."

Tossing the pillow aside with guilty haste, Harry practically leapt over to his cot and began folding the sheets.

"Right then sir. I'll hurry."

Severus turned and was halfway out the door, when Harry blurted out abruptly,

"Thank you for the potion sir, it worked brilliantly"

Severus kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard.

"So Harry, was it horrible? Give us all the gory details!" Ron said around the large bite of toast he had just taken.

Harry looked quickly around the Great Hall and, satisfied everyone nearby was busy with their respective breakfasts, scooted his chair closer to his friends.

"To tell you the truth, it was god-awful! I tried so hard to be nice and civil, but he was just a jerk the whole time! I had to drag him from store to store until midnight because he wouldn't even let me get dinner!"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess some things take time to change Harry. I mean, think about it! He's hated you since before you even attended Hogwarts. One day of you being civil is just a drop in the ocean."

Ron shrugged. "But Hermione," he interjected, "It's Christmas! How can you feel mean while shopping for Christmas? That's a heart of stone!"

Hermione giggled "I don't know Ron, even Remus was getting a little vexed when you couldn't decided whether to get my mum red potholders or green."

Ron rolled his eyes. " I don't know what Muggles like! It only just occurred to me to buy her something from Harry and I!"

Harry smirked over the rim of his orange juice, watching his two friends flirt with the dispassion of those who believe in love, just not for themselves.

…

Severus was watching Potter slyly between bites of his Eggs Florentine. He felt almost certain Potter wouldn't give away their bout of drinking. He watched Harry as the boy regarded his friends over the edge of his glass; he remembered the expression from the night before. The way his eyes narrowed and expanded with his thoughts, and how his long lashes brushes against the rim of his glass. What HAPPENED this morning? Severus grimaced. Harry had been burrowed in his pillow, and, though Severus was no expert, appeared to be smelling it. Why on earth would that insufferable brat want to smell ME?

Severus's mind raced back to the moment the night before when Harry had slipped his arm into his own. No. No Severus. Don't think about this. He told himself. It's been a long time, but even I know what that flutter in my stomach meant. The clatter of Minerva's fork against her plate distracted Severus briefly enough to allow him to take notice of the owls that had just rushed into the Great Hall with that familiar chorus of wings.

Severus started as the tawny brown owl dropped a letter into his glass of water. Casting a baleful glance at the fleeting winged form, Severus quickly yanked the letter out of the glass and cast a mumbled drying charm.

This weekend, I got shamelessly

Drunk and enjoyed every

Minute of it. I have to

Tell my friends it was

Torture because

They'd never understand.

Severus chuckled ruefully. Every minute of it? His mind ran the phrase over and over like a liturgy. Wishing he could conjure up a cognac with out attracting undue attention, Severus mentally steeled himself against his recent romantic thoughts. He felt as though he had let his guard down too far, and that Potter, though well meaning, might well take advantage of his little indiscretion. I'll have to be more ambivalent than ever to the boy. Severus decided. In the spirit of self preservation of course. Not embarrassment. And certainly not out of awkwardness or anticipation.

Harry sat in potions, nerves causing his quill to tremble to the point that his writing became illegible, forcing him to cast the inadequate devise aside in disgust. Snape hadn't looked at him once during the entire class. On any given day, Harry could usually expect at least three hate fueled glares, and a bare minimum of four snide comments. Today Snape had avoided his seat as if it had been the site of a recent plague outbreak. Harry told himself he didn't care. That he had expected this. But there was hollowness in the pit of his stomach, that neither the security of routine, nor the habit of social graces could vanquish. The period passed in an icy wave for Harry. His mind raced back to the moment when Snape had opened that door, and the grimace he had given when he saw Harry embracing his pillow. It had seemed so silly at first, almost quaint, but now it left Harry empty and numb. The last thing he had expected was to be ignored.

…

"Harry, pass that astronomy chart." Hermione mumbled over her pile of homework later that night in the common room.

Harry duly grabbed the chart and tossed it over the mound of paper that Hermione and Ron were hunkered down behind.

He could hear them giggling mischievously, mockingly almost.

Slamming his Transfiguration book shut abruptly, he tossed it into his pile of homework and marched up the stairs blankly.

"What's eating him?" he heard Ron whisper.

Harry didn't wait for Hermione's reply before he slammed the door of the dormitory shut. He yanked the curtains of his bed violently aside, and jumped bodily into bed. As Harry kicked off his shoes, he noticed for the first time the letter on the window sill. The window was slightly ajar, and a crisp snowy breeze caused the candle by his bedside to flicker rapidly. Ripping the letter open, he devoured its contents ravenously.

We play the roles we are given,

And regrettably, I fear,

I have played mine all to well.

HA! Harry thought. Tell me about it. Try being the savior of the world sometime. Sitting cross-legged on his lonely bed, in an empty dormitory, Harry felt a hollowness pervade his spirit.