Snape sighed, struggling to resist this overwhelming grip of sleep from consuming him. His gaze fixed upon the wild, seemingly untameable fire as it roared within the confines of its fireplace. His long, slender fingers encircled a glass of amber whiskey. The coolness of the glass seemed to contrast greatly with the ambient coziness offered by the crimson flames.
Had he done the right thing? Perhaps he should not have sent Harry that letter. He closed his eyes, perhaps doing so would allow him to shut out the world for just a moment. His grip tightened around the glass, as though afraid it might suddenly fall from his grasp. He allowed his body to sink deeper into the couch beneath him as though hoping it would suck him away into some kind of alternative universe where he possessed at least the faintest trace of success.
No.
He wasn't wrong to let Harry know that he appreciated his company.
He'd planted the seed, now it was time to play the waiting game, perhaps the worst game of all.
*~.~*
Harry flinched as a cool breeze danced across his face. His eyes instinctively darted to the open window. When had it gotten dark outside? Had he really been drifting in and out of sleep this entire time? He suddenly felt his heart pound in his chest as his eyes darted towards the faded clock barely clinging to the wall.
8:45
Within his fingers he still clutched the unrolled parchment delivered by that unusual owl.
When had his life become like this?
How could he have fallen asleep without opening it?
He forced a sigh from his lips, resisting the temptation to close his eyes once more and escape this unfriendly world for a few more hours.
No.
He shook his head, as though hoping that action would somehow snap him out of himself. He rose the parchment closer to his face before unrolling it. His heart began to pound in his chest as his eyes ran over the page, absorbing the words until a smile began to form on his lips.
*~.~*
Snape rose from the couch, placing his glass down on the otherwise empty coffee table next to him. His eyes darted towards the fireplace, as though torn between allowing the fire to run wild or whether to extinguish it. He didn't have to decide as a distinctive knock resounded off of his front door.
Who could that be at this time of night?
His eyes stared at the wooden door, as if contemplating whether to open it or leave it as it were. It wouldn't be the first time in his life that he pretended not to be home.
It seemed as though the decision had been made for him as a series of louder knocks echoed off the wooden surface once more. They seemed this time to be more desperate.
Curiosity seemed to consume Snape as he turned on his heel and made for the door.
He slid his fingers over the knob before turning it and dragging it towards him.
The professor's eyes darted to the figure of a man standing before him.
"Mr Potter." Snape stated, raising an eyebrow as he did well to keep the surprise from his voice.
"Good Evening." Harry offered, his eyes downturned as he seemed to struggle come up with any other words to offer the man.
"Come inside." The professor invited, standing aside to allow the younger man inside.
"I'm sorry, I know its late." Harry began, his eyes briefly catching Snape's before dropping to the floor once more.
"Not at all, I was just enjoying a drink by the fire, care to join me?" Snape offered, suddenly glad that he had not extinguished the fire.
"Thank you," Harry nodded as the vague essence of a smile traced across his lips. His eyes searched the now familiar walls as he strode towards the lounge. A sense of calm seemed to consume him as he traced through the house, it began to feel more like home to him than his own apartment. Perhaps because it offered a reprieve from his otherwise mundane life. An escape of sorts.
"Have a seat." Snape offered, handing the younger wizard a glass of whiskey before occupying the seat next to him.
"What brings you here at this time of night?" Snape asked, more out of igniting a conversation than genuine curiosity. He suspected he already knew why, though he also suspected he would never get a completely genuine answer of out the young wizard. Harry glanced up at the older man, as though debating with himself whether to be honest or not.
"I needed to get out of the apartment." Harry decided on a vague rendition of the truth as he drew the amber liquid towards his lips.
Snape nodded, though he didn't bother to hide the dubiousness lurking within his eyes.
"There I was hoping you'd come because you wanted to see me." The professor smirked as he mentally scolded himself. He should know better than to play games with the young man.
"Well..." Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he glanced away. He didn't need Snape to witness this involuntary physical reaction but he suspected it was too late.
"I'm only kidding," Snape offered the younger man a vague smile, yet his eyes betrayed that even he himself did not believe the words he were speaking.
Harry turned to face him, it wasn't exactly like Snape to 'kid around' about anything.
"Well, I'd be lying if I said that I only came here for the whiskey." Harry smirked as he rose his glass to his lips once more.
"You are already aware I'm sure that I have come to enjoy your company." Snape stated as though it were a commonly known fact before also drawing his own glass to his lips.
Harry nodded slightly, yet the right words seemed to be evading him
"Did you go to work today?" Snape began, though something in his tone and voice suggested that he already knew the answer.
Harry shook his head, opening his mouth as though to elaborate on the reasons why he didn't go, yet those words were evading him also.
"Perhaps it's time you found yourself a new career." Snape suggested, making it apparent that he already knew the answer.
"I'm just not sure what." Harry sighed, resigning himself to his words as he swilled what remained of the amber liquid around, watching curiously as miniature waves crashed against the one lonely ice cube.
"For what it's worth, I think you would make an excellent teacher." The professor suggested as he struggled to stifle a yawn. He truly was starting to show his age.
"I'm keeping you up, I guess its probably time I headed back." Harry sighed as he rose to his feet, though it seemed more a question than a statement. It was as though he were actually seeking permission from his old professor. Permission for what though he wasn't sure. Permission to stay? Permission to go?
"Nonsense, you don't have to go." Snape whispered, the words seemingly leaving his lips before he had the chance to scrutinize them.
Harry turned to face him, his head tilted slightly as though a mixture of surprise and confusion had consumed him.
The truth be told, he didn't particularly wish to return to his lonely, empty apartment. He certainly didn't feel much like laying in bed wide awake all night helplessly as his thoughts would all seem to direct themselves to work the next day.
What harm could come of him staying here a bit longer?
"If you don't want to that is." Snape quickly added, as though afraid he may have made the younger man uncomfortable in some way.
Harry nodded, standing there for a moment as though pondering his situation, the echo of warm flames flickering across his cheek.
He soon found himself sat back down on the couch, next to Snape, except this time he found himself several inches closer than before.
"I always gave you a hard time back in Hogwarts." Snape sighed as he closed his eyes, dangling his glass of whiskey from the tips of his slender fingers.
The younger wizard opened his mouth to speak, yet the right words seemed to elude him once more. While he couldn't deny those years at Hogwarts had certainly left their mark on his psyche, he could now see so many more angles to the professor that he had not had the privilege of knowing until now.
"I probably deserved it." Harry chuckled, though it seemed to be more out of a loss of what else to say.
"No, you didn't." Snape leaned forward, it was the most daring he had been in years.
He was so close now, so close in fact that Harry could feel the man's breath dance across his own cheek. He needed to stop, yet he couldn't. It felt as though someone else was controlling his body, dictating its actions. Perhaps he was curious. At what point would Harry pull away from him. When would he decide that this was in fact too much? What would happen then? Would he flee like some kind of terrified rabbit? Snape's heart suddenly missed a beat. It felt as though it had leapt out of his chest, completely abandoning him.
No.
What was he thinking?
He couldn't afford for that to happen.
He needed to pull away, only it seemed his body was determined to refuse the command.
"Know this, I like you Harry." Snape began, though it seemed to take all the strength he could muster to force those few words from his lips.
What on Earth was he thinking?
He would have smacked himself in the head if it wasn't for fear of appearing deranged.
Harry tilted his head slightly, as though not expecting those words and yet, he did not appear unhappy to hear them.
But had he heard them correctly?
What was his old professor really saying?
"Perhaps a lot more than I should." Snape winced at himself, his words were barely above a whisper, as though he had hoped that perhaps the younger wizard hadn't heard them.
There was no mistaking it this time.
Harry's eyes narrowed, yet the confusion buried within them seemed to give way to something else, something a little more certain. Instead of moving away from his old professor, he found himself moving closer still.
His body seemed drawn to Snape as though the man were a magnet and he himself made of some kind of metal. His fears, anxieties, the constant burden of what others though of him, of his lack of direction in life, the feeling that his charade would only hold up for so long before his life would crumble beneath him, revealing to the world his myriad of short comings. He was a hero because of his circumstance, not because of his ability. Though, his friends would argue that but he knew the truth about himself in a way that his friends couldn't. Yet he knew Snape could see this other side of him. Perhaps that is what attracted him to his old professor. He shook his head, hoping that all these feelings would fade into some kind of permanent oblivion.
A warm hand came to rest upon his cheek, snapping him out of his reverie. He didn't need to look up to know whose hand it was.
"Something tells me I'm not wrong to suspect this feeling is mutual."