A/N: I do not own Harry Potter

This story was written for a Secret Santa my old THC Gryffindor Team took part in.

I hope you like your Snarry, MelodyPond!

Actions Speak Louder

It was Christmas Eve.

Harry watched the snowfall through the frosted window. London was cold and dark but incredibly busy. Droves of people walked through the arctic streets, all of them laden down with a ridiculous amount of shopping.

Harry wouldn't be going back out into the crowded town.

"Jingle Bells", amongst other holiday classics, played in the coffee shop. So far, he had suffered through "Last Christmas", "All I Want for Christmas", and worst of all, "Christmas in Blobbyland". Harry found Christmas Eve depressing enough as it was, never mind having to endure all that crap as well.

Beside Harry sat one small shopping bag. It was pathetic really: a mug for a colleague at work because he had no one else to buy for. He took another sip of his stone-cold coffee, and his phone flashed.

His hand shot from his pocket, and he grabbed the mobile.

'Wishing all of our friends a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,

Love Ron and Hermione'

He dropped the phone to the table. 'Well, at least I'm still on the Christmas text list,' Harry thought.

His friends, Ron and Hermione, had married two years earlier. Everyone had told him that they would get new friends, married friends. Harry hadn't believed it. They had been his best friends, a little thing like marriage wouldn't get between them.

What do you know, a little thing like marriage had come between them.

Harry necked the last of his coffee, wincing at the chill sliding down his throat, and picked up his pathetic Christmas shopping.

Then he walked in, the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, wearing all black, his inky hair pulled into a knot at the base of his neck.

The last time that Harry went on a date, it was with a funeral director. He'd insisted on picking Harry up, which seemed chivalrous at first, but then there was a body in the back, and he explained that he just needed to make a quick stop.

Harry watched as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, his long pale fingers caressing the ten-pound note before he paid for the coffee and panini that the barista had placed on the counter.

Harry hovered over his seat, his eyes following the dark stranger. He swallowed and sat back down. The man who was just his type; in fact, he reminded him of his ex. If only he could see his face.

'If there's one thing that can cure loneliness...' Harry said to himself, and he tentatively got up and crossed the room.

He walked over, then staggered: this man had more than a passing resemblance to his ex, a former tutor who had dumped him when a past lover had come crawling back. He had the same sharp cheekbones, the same hooked nose. When Harry saw his dark eyes, he knew. It was his ex: Professor Severus Snape.

Severus's face paled, and he dropped his panini on the plate. When the shock passed, his nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened.

'What on earth are you doing here?' Severus asked. He curled his lip, his words coming out clipped, sharp even, and gripped his mug with white-knuckled hands.

'Professor Snape.' Harry narrowed his eyes, putting all thoughts of his loneliness to one aside.

Severus pushed the coffee towards Harry and stood. 'I do believe your restraining order is intact.'

'Oh, so that's the reason I never heard from you. An imaginary restraining order.' Harry rolled his eyes, every word soaked in sarcasm.

Snape thrust his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, looking in every direction but Harry's. 'Don't play dumb with me. I lost my job, I can't teach, and I'm on the sex offenders list!'

Harry stumbled backwards, swallowing hard. He squared his shoulders, but still, he had to look up at his old professor for his icy glare to have maximum effect.

'Don't lie,' Harry said, practically spitting out his words. 'You got fed up as soon as I wanted things out in the open, and then you fucked off with your ex. Sex offenders list my arse. I was of legal age, and nothing ever happened—not like that, anyway.'

'So, you're telling me that you didn't tell your dearest daddy all about how I coerced you and took advantage of you? If you can't face what you've done, you shouldn't be chasing me down in coffee shops, you insolent boy.'

Severus pushed past Harry, who fell into the vacated booth, and marched from the coffee shop, muttering to himself, his long, dark coat billowing as he went.

'I did nothing of the sort,' Harry shouted, but Snape was gone. 'I told my dad that I was gay, and I told him I had a boyfriend, that's all.' The barista eyed Harry from behind the safety of the counter. 'I hate it when he twists shit.' He grabbed his coat and marched towards the door. 'Merry Fucking Christmas.'

Harry slammed the door behind him, still clutching the sad little Secret Santa gift.

Harry had intended to drive back to his flat, but Professor Severus Snape's memory so plagued him that he found himself driving in an entirely different direction. It had taken him too long to get over his professor, and now, just like that, the pain was back and along with it, the passion, the want, and the need.

He drove the entire journey to Godric's Hollow, a quaint little town where his father still lived. James had toyed with the idea of moving out when Harry's mother had passed but couldn't give up the memories.

Harry's old, banged-up Volkswagen Beetle idled in front of the house.

The small cottage was idyllic, which was a good representation of Harry's upbringing. But, as he looked through the window at his father's sorry excuse for a Christmas tree, he forgot all of that.

"Dad, say something." Harry sat in front of his father, his foot bouncing, and he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving his dad's.

"You're… gay?" James asked.

Harry turned off the engine and found himself marching up to his childhood home, kicking the driven snow as he went.

A dark green wreath with sparkling red baubles attached to it hung from the bright red door. He knocked so hard that he heard scuffling about the house as his father rushed to the door.

Harry looked down at his trembling hands. "Yeah. I've been seeing someone. I kept it a secret for a while, but he means a lot to me, and I don't want to hide anymore."

"Okay." His eyes were fixed on Harry's, and while there was no malice, there was no warmth either, just panic.

The door opened, and there stood his father, a tall, muscular man with slightly greying hair and a few wrinkles around his eyes. He grinned and pulled Harry into a hug.

'Dad…' Harry pushed his father away, holding him at arm's length. 'I saw Severus today.'

"He's a good man," Harry had said. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. The steaming cup of tea beside him finally caught his attention.

"Man?" his father said, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, Dad, that's what being gay is. I go out with guys, not girls." Harry laughed, taking a sip of tea.

"But you're not a man, Harry. You're a boy. How old is this guy?" James frowned. Standing up, he began pacing the living room and looked down at Harry, which did nothing but highlight how small he felt.

Harry slammed down the mug, and tea splattered over the coffee table. "I'm not a kid, Dad. I'm nineteen, completely legal and old enough to take care of myself."

"I know how old you are. I'm asking how old he is."

'Oh,' James said. 'You should come in. If you just let me explain.'

Harry took a deep breath. "He's my chemistry professor."

"He's your what?" James shouted. "Harry, that's wrong. He is in a position of power. He could be grooming you, h—"

"He's not grooming me! He doesn't help me, he's never manipulated me, and we didn't meet at the college."

"I don't know why you're trying to protect the man. He's in the wrong, Harry. You're innocent. You don't have to be pushed around anymore."

Harry pushed his way into the house. 'That's exactly why I'm here. I mean, he's lying, right? About the restraining order?'

"Yes, that's right, cause that's the only way I could be gay is if I was manipulated into it."

"For Pete's sake, Harry, this is about age, not sexuality. Your uncle Sirius called it years ago. It's not exactly a surprise! So, how old is he… twenty-five? Thirty?"

Harry swallowed, the words sticking in his throat. "A little older."

James followed Harry into the bright living room. It looked the same as it had all those years ago. Family photos adorned the cream walls. The furniture focused around the TV, and only a few feminine touches remained, leftover from his late wife.

'He's not lying, but Harry, you have to understand—'

'—No! I don't have to understand. I don't have to see your point of view. You need to see my point of view.' Harry flung his hands in the air, tears in his eyes. 'You lied to me. You made me think he didn't want me, and that broke my heart! I loved him.'

'If he had loved you, I wouldn't have been able to turn him away.'

'You got a fucking restraining order, Dad. He would have been put in prison. He thinks I did that, not you. He hates me, and it's all your fault.'

James sat in his armchair, his head in his hands. 'I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you, that's all. You wouldn't understand; you're not a parent.'

'Mum would never have done that.' Harry walked out of the living room and out of the house. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the red and green wreath sitting in the snow.

Spinner's End was exhaustingly long. Side by side were rows of dilapidated brick houses with a dark cobbled street separating them. It wasn't a homely place.

Harry drove slowly, not wanting to miss the house. He needn't have worried. It stood out as if no time had passed at all. The curtains were drawn but glowed from the light within. The black paint peeled from the front door, but the tarnished number forty-three still stood out.

He pulled over and parked right outside but didn't get out of the car for a while, nervous about finally facing him. He had gone to Tesco's on the way over and picked up a bottle of Severus' favourite Rioja. It wasn't much, but it had more thought put into it than his pathetic Secret Santa gift.

He plucked up the courage to get out of the car and walked over to the door where he hovered before knocking. Stepping back, he glanced at the window.

The door opened. Severus scowled, standing there in his black bathrobe, his wet hair held up on the top of his head.

'What do you want, Potter?'

Harry shuffled on his feet, blowing hot hair into his hands. 'It's freezing. Can I come in? I need to explain some things.'

Severus sneered. 'Sorry. You see, there's this restraining order—'

'Oh fucking hell, Sev! Fine. I had no idea about that. I swear on my mother's grave. Let me in. I want to explain without getting frostbite.'

Severus looked down his long nose at Harry. The light in the hallway left harsh shadows on his angular face, accentuating his frown. He stood aside with a sigh and allowed just enough space for Harry to squeeze through.

The living room was more like a library. Shelves covered the walls, and everyone was stuffed with books. Piles of hardbacks sat on the coffee table, side tables, beside the couch, and the floor. Every single one was in immaculate condition, unlike the peeling wallpaper or the moth-eaten curtains.

'Say what you have to say, then leave.' Severus walked over to the large black leather chair and sat down. He crossed one leg over his knee and watched Harry.

'Okay. Well. The last time I saw you, I went home and spoke to my dad. I meant it when I said I wanted things to be out in the open. I told my dad I was gay, which he accepted, and I told him that I loved you. When you left me, it broke my heart, but I know now. You didn't leave. You didn't get back together with your ex. When my dad went to see you, he lied. I realise you have no reason to trust me, but—'

'Why would your father lie? What does he gain? It's childish, pathetic—'

'Yeah, that sounds like him. But, seriously, he didn't see it that way. He thought you were bad for me because you were older. You and my dad are… Well, you and my dad are the same age. He figured you manipulated me.'

'He didn't lie. He had a restraining order, and I am not allowed to teach.'

Harry nodded. Leaning against the wall, he stroked the cover of one of the books and smiled. 'Well, the restraining order ran out about a year ago. As for teaching and the sex offender's list, we'll go and speak to whoever we need to speak to. We'll fight to get it removed.'

Severus smirked. 'Your father would be arrested for wasting police time.'

'I know, and he knows. He had a police buddy that he went to, but my dad is ready to face the music.'

'How do I know this isn't just another lie? I saw how pathetic you looked. You see your ex, tell a few fibs, you have company over the holidays?'

'I get it, but I didn't do this. I love you, Severus, I always have.' With tentative steps, Harry walked over to Severus. Making the first move because he knew Severus wouldn't, he climbed onto the chair, a knee on either side of Severus' hips.

'Yes?' Severus' hands caressed Harry's legs, cupping his hips, and pulling him closer.

'Oh yeah, and I know you love me, too. You don't have to say it, though. I know it's not your thing.'

Severus smiled. He grabbed Harry behind the neck and pulled his face to meet his, kissing him passionately. 'I think actions speak louder.'