Wiping the tears leaking forth, he kicked a stone over the ledge, into the grounds below. He knelt to pack away the wasted food, trying to convince himself he wasn't losing much in the way of a friend. Even though he knew he most certainly was.

*

Chapter 9

Severus felt like he was going to explode with the rage flowing through his body. He could feel the heat in his blood, the overwhelming urge to absolutely destroy something was almost too much for him. He wanted to kill something. Someone. Harry goddamned fucking Potter. He could not believe the cheek of the boy! He'd kissed him! Him! He growled, losing control for a moment, and hexed a tree, leaving a smoking scorch mark in the trunk. Oh, how he wished it was Potter standing there rather than the tree.

He made it to the castle without another incident. He was hoping nobody had seen his temporary lapse. They'd probably cart me off to St Mungo's. He wrenched the doors open and made his way to his chambers, intent on throwing back a very large amount of very strong alcohol. He knew that was probably the worst thing to do, but it was that or commit homicide. And, as tempting as that thought was, he'd rather not go to Azkaban, thank you very much.

Finally, finally, he made it to his chambers, barking the password to the idiot portrait who knew who Mutt was, but didn't tell him, and headed straight for the Firewhiskey. Ireland's finest, too. Just what he needed.

*

Harry gloomily made his way back to Hogwarts, the picnic basket having been shrunk and placed in his pocket. He felt so lost. So stupid. Looking back at his actions, he realised that just kissing someone wasn't going to make them like you. He winced at his boldness. He'd actually kissed Severus Snape. I'm so glad no one saw that… He kicked a loose stone, trying to will away his complete mortification, barely taking notice of the singed tree along the path. I wish that was me. How was he going to show his face in class again? Especially after that little episode. He shook his head, understanding now, that what it meant to be Gryffindor was not actually always a good thing. He didn't even think about the consequences when he'd slobbered all over his teacher. God, I'm such an idiot! I don't even know if he likes guys or not! And he'd just found out that the one person he hates most is the first friend he's had in God-knows-how-long! Ugh! He could feel the blood rushing to fill his cheeks. He just wanted to crawl into bed and never venture beyond the hangings again. Ever.

He blankly wandered up the path to the castle, through the corridors and passageways to the Fat Lady, absently giving the password and made it to his bed before collapsing, face-down. He let out a frustrated groan, wanting to just die. What was he going to do?

*

After allowing himself a glass of Firewhiskey, Severus decided liver poisoning would not be productive to his situation. So, he decided to destroy a few things instead.

He blasted holes in walls and destroyed furniture, breaking a mirror here, incinerating a 15th Century Persian rug there. It made him feel a lot better after about ten minutes of mindless destruction. Amazing.

Calling a House Elf in to clean up the mess, he decided to have a shower and go to bed.

Stepping under the hot spray, Severus moaned his appreciation. The relaxing beat of the hot water on his tired muscles was bliss. He could have fallen asleep in the shower. As it was, he had some papers to grade, and he'd rather not leave them too long. Sighing, he turned off the shower and stepped out. He only half-bothered to dry himself before dressing again. This time, he put on his comfortable pyjamas, not intending to remove himself from his rooms until the first class on Monday morning.

*

Though it was only early afternoon, Harry felt like he'd been awake for more than twenty-four hours straight. He was so drained. Ron and Hermione were apparently still in Hogsmead, on their date, and Harry had the Sixth Year boys' dorm to himself. He was ever thankful for that. He didn't want any questions asked about his 'sudden' change in mood.

After spending a good five minutes on his bed, face-down, He decided to make a plan to get into Snape's good books. Well, not really a book… more like a list. A short list. He chuckled. Grumpy old git. He was determined to live through his embarrassment and succeed in making his Potions professor his friend. No matter how long it took. This time, he thought, I won't kiss him.

He contemplated his plan as he had a shower, cleaned out his trunk and bedside table and made his bed. He as about to get his History of Magic homework out when an idea hit him, as he went to grab a quill, ink and parchment. A letter! Of course! He rolled his eyes, feeling a bit silly that he'd not thought of that in the first place. Now… what to write. He'll probably incinerate it as soon as he gets it… but it's worth a shot. But, what do I say?

He mulled it over, trailing the feather along his jaw as he thought. I may as well just be honest. Keeping the whole truth from him last time just bit me on the arse. So, he put pen to paper and wrote a long, heart-filled explanation, accompanied by an apology.

Halfway through his letter, Ron came in, looking exhausted, but happy. His hair was messy and his lips were a bit swollen. He and Hermione had obviously had a good time.

"How was the date?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows, subtly putting his half-done letter away in his bedside table. He needed a break from it anyway.

"Fantastic," said Ron, a little dreamily. He plonked back on his bed, a grin spreading on his face. "Bloody fantastic," he said again. "We went to the new tea place down the street from Zonko's. It's a lot nicer than Madame Puddyfoot's. It doesn't smell weird. And the serve coffee." He grinned. "Hermione liked it. She said it was like a Muggle café."

"So, it was good, then?" Harry chuckled, happy for his friends. He wished he had someone to do things like that with. Though, now that he'd kissed his teacher, and after what Ron'd said about his 'goofy grin' before his 'date', he wasn't so sure he wanted it to be a girl. Well, not any of the ones in Hogwarts, anyway.

Ron rolled his eyes and flopped back, laying across the bed. "Shuddup, Harry." He chuckled. Suddenly, he sat up, looking mischievous. "So… what about your date?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Was it as good as mine?" A huge, cheeky grin spread across his face at this, making Harry laugh and throw his pillow at his best friend.

"No! And it wasn't a date! I told you!" He caught his pillow, plumping it a bit before laying back against it. "And… it didn't go as I planned. I have to apologize. A lot. Turns out I'm not so great at making friends." He gave a sheepish grin, hoping Ron wouldn't ask too many more questions.

"So, uh… who is it?" Ron turned around to lay on his stomach, facing Harry. "Go on! Tell me! I told you about me and Hermione!" He obviously refused to drop it.

"Uh… I'd rather not say until I'm sure of where I stand… I made them really angry today." He suddenly remembered the scorched tree, wincing. "Did you go along the path near that overlook outside Hogsmead?" At Ron's nod, he continued. "Yeah, well, that was my… friend." He smiled his sheepish smile, once more. He chuckled at Ron's wide eyes.

"Mate, that's… what did you do? That's a magic tree, that is! It's hard to hurt them like that! Shit… Harry, you'd better make it a wonderful apology with roses and chocolates!" He laughed at the horrified look on his best friend's face. "Jeez, I thought I was clueless!"

"Thanks, Ron. A lot."

"No problems. So, what were you working on when I came in?"

"Actually… I decided the best way to go was a letter. I thought it'd be… safer." He shrugged, blushing a little. "I don't know if I'll send it though."

"Ah, Harry. I wish I could help. I'd normally offer, but I don't know who you're seeing. Or… trying to." He laughed again at Harry's scowl, ducking a hex. "Hey, just saying…" he smiled, shaking his head. "I'll leave you to it, yeah? Hermione and I are going for a walk around the lake soon." Another goofy grin plastered itself on his face. "See you later, mate."

Harry waved good bye to his friend, grinning and shaking his head at him, feeling rather cheered up. I hope that works out, he thought as he retrieved the letter, ink and quill.

*

Severus yawned, placing the marked essays for the weekend in the 'complete' box on his desk. He never thought he'd see the day when he wished for more marking to do. He was bored. And he had nothing to do. Even the essays he'd just marked were given the day before, just so he'd have something to do. He smirked, remembering the looks of horror on his Second Years' faces as he told them they had a foot to write on the properties and uses of snake vine. How he loved to set homework like that. It kept the students on their toes. He wished the other teachers would use that tactic. It meant it was less likely they'd churn out complete idiots.

He decided he would read a book. It'd been a while since he'd taken time to himself to just read and enjoy the silence of solitude. He wandered over to his bookshelf, contemplating which tome he'd like to re-familiarise himself with, when he heard a light knocking on his portrait. He knew that particular knock to be an owl pecking the frame of his portrait entrance. Grumbling to himself, he answered the insistent tapping, allowing the snow owl to glide in and perch itself on the back of his armchair. It hooted softly, holding out its leg.

"Well, who do you belong to?" He asked, warily. He knew he'd seen the owl before, but couldn't place who owned it. He rather liked owls. He liked most animals, really. Not that he'd ever tell anyone. Ever. He tentatively stroked the soft feathers on its chest before taking the letter from her claw. It looked to be quite thick.

The bird made no move to leave. He supposed the owner wanted an immediate reply. He flicked his wand, closing the portrait that he'd left open for the bird to fly back through.

He recognised the scrawl immediately. He growled, about to set the parchment on fire. But, the bird hooted warningly, flying over to him, landing on his desk, nipping his finger not-so-gently.

"Bloody bird. I don't have to read it. And he doesn't deserve a reply." He dropped the envelope on his desk, crossing his arms. He turned his head away, having a mild bout of rebellion. Against an owl.

When the annoying bloody thing landed on his shoulder, rubbing its head against his cheek, nipping his ear affectionately, he sighed, giving in. He'd read the letter. But he wouldn't reply. Not straight away, anyway.

Stroking the insufferable owl's feathers, he picked up the envelope once more and retrieved its contents. It looked quite long. He sighed again, shaking his head. He'd see what the brat wanted.

Severus Professor,

I know you don't want to hear from me. But I need to apologise.

At this point, Severus decided he needed one more stiff drink and a soft couch to relax on rather than a high-backed chair. He walked over to his cabinet, surprised the owl didn't startle and stayed on his shoulder. He approvingly stroked her chest again before smoothing a hand over her head. Just like Potter, aren't you, owl? He smirked as she nipped his ear gently.

Making himself comfortable, he continued to read.

I want to apologise firstly, for kissing you. I didn't actually mean to do that. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I guess I should have thought things through… I apologise for not only the kiss, but for not considering your… preference. As far as I know, you're asexual.

Secondly, I should explain a little about not wanting to let you know who I was.

You've never liked me or shown any kind of indication that I was someone you could like. So, I was hoping that you'd like Mutt more than you hated me. I was almost right. But, because I lost track of time and didn't change on time, you found out.

I won't apologise for choosing to remain anonymous. I'm sure you would have done the same. That, and you seemed to be doing pretty well with guessing who I was.

Lastly, I wanted to let you know: when you took care of me when I was stuck as a puppy, I saw a side to you that I'm sure no one else ever really gets to see. I learned that you're a good man. You're still a grumpy old git, but you're not a bad person. I've already told you that, though. And I don't want to feed your ego any more than you already do.

I've asked Hedwig to stay until you reply. She's very persistent, as you may have already seen. So, I'd reply quickly if I were you.

Harry.

Severus growled at the blunt, presumptuous letter from the horrid little brat he'd come to loath. He scrunched it up and threw it in the fire, watching as the paper blackened and disintegrated. He felt the owl, Hedwig, shift on his shoulder. He supposed he should send a reply. Just to let her go. He didn't think she'd be too happy about spending an extended period of time in the dungeons.

He stalked over to his desk, taking out parchment and ink, using his old marking quill, he penned a curt reply.

Potter,

I cannot begin to aptly express how little your apology means to me. You deliberately kept your identity from me when you knew I would not be pleased. I was not averse to it before, but now that I know it's you, I am beyond 'upset'.

Your kiss was sloppy and poorly initiated. My preference is none of your business.

Your owl is more tolerable than you. She, at least, has manners and is far more intelligent than you.

We are not friends. We certainly won't ever be. Give up.

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

He cast a quick drying spell on the ink before rolling it and handing it to Hedwig.

"There is his reply. Now, shoo," he opened the portrait door with another flick of his wand and watched her fly out. Closing it again, he sank into his desk chair, completely emotionally drained from the day. He just wanted to go to bed now.

*

Harry scowled. The reply he received was not at all what he wanted. But it was pretty much what he'd expected. He didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to storm down to the dungeons and demand Severus forgive him and be his friend. On the other hand, he was angry at Severus, too. He wanted to hex him. Prank him. He wanted to turn the bastard's hair pink or stick toilet paper to his shoe… or… something!

He needed help. He wanted to win the man's friendship somehow. And, as clueless as he was, he knew hexing the git wasn't going to work. He needed help from someone who knew what they were doing. So, that left Ron out. He didn't even ask Hermione out! She had to ask him! Wait… Hermione! That's it! He smiled, planning on asking his friend for advice when she got back from her walk with Ron.

**

He waited a few hours before his two best friends came back from their walk. Both looking thoroughly snogged, in Harry's opinion. He smirked at Ron's dazed, but contented look.

"Hermione," he approached her, allowing Ron to escape to the bathroom, "can I ask you something?"

"No, you can't copy my homework." She pursed her lips, crossing her arms.

"That's not what I wanted to ask, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch before the fire. He stared into the flames, trying to think of how to put his question.

"Well?" She poked his arm.

"I… I don't know how to ask," he admitted, turning to face her.

"Just ask me. I'm your friend; you don't need to worry about how you word it." She smiled encouragingly.

"Well… I… did Ron tell you that I was meeting someone in Hogsmead today?" She nodded, her smile becoming more understanding. "Well, it wasn't a date, like he probably told you. I was… trying to make friends with someone. And… it didn't turn out like I'd hoped. Actually… I fucked up majorly and I need to know how to fix it. I really want this to work." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back into the fire, trying not to feel too embarrassed.

"Harry," she gently touched his arm, "who was it you were meeting?" He winced, not willing to tell anyone yet.

"I… I'd rather not say. I don't want to say anything to you or Ron in case it really doesn't work out. And… you don't like them."

"Them? As in… him?" She moved closer.

"It isn't like that!" He moved away slightly. "Well… I don't think so."

"Harry, who is he?" She pressed.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"I promise."

"It's… P…" he mumbled the name.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said… Professor Snape." He winced, expecting her to yell at him, or thwack him upside the head. Neither happened. When he looked at her again, he was surprised to see her smiling a little.

"Really?" She looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Harry… you hate him. You're always complaining about the 'evil, nasty, greasy, ugly git'." He blushed at her quote, feeling bad about the names he'd called the man over the last six years.

"Well… things change," He shrugged. "People change."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," he hesitated. He wanted Hermione's help, and he knew she needed to know the whole story – if not most of it – to give the best possible advice. He decided he'd tell her the main points. Starting with his new Animagus abilities.

By the end of his story, Hermione was deep in thought. She'd only interrupted once throughout his whole tale. And that was only to scold him about practicing Animagi alone.

"Well, with what you told me," she began, sitting back in the chair, "I have no clue. You don't really know much about him, do you?" She raised a disdainful brow at him. "From what you said, he seems to know more about you." She slung an arm over the back of the couch. "In my experience, it's always nice to receive small tokens of affection. Not that Ron has ever done anything like that…" she scowled slightly, before continuing. "I don't know what Professor Snape likes. Other than Potions of course, but I think you should be more original. He can get his own supplies and books on that when he wants to. I think you should try doing something fun. Try to show him a good time. Make him laugh. If that's at all possible," she joked. "He strikes me as the one to appreciate effort and originality more than anything else." She shrugged, "that's all I've go so far."

"Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate that. Just… could we keep this between us? I don't know how I feel about this yet. And, I don't want other people judging anything that even I don't understand yet." He hated talking about his feelings. But, he didn't want anyone to know about his little "crush" on Severus Snape.

As he readied for bed, Harry was suddenly hit with an idea. A wonderful, grin-inducing idea that almost made him collapse into bed with laughter. Perhaps he'd be able to take out his frustration on Severus anyway…

*

Severus groaned as he got into bed, feeling the strains of the day taking their toll. He was glad he didn't have duties that night. He would have blown a hole in a wall somewhere, just to relieve some stress.

"Damn Potter," he grumbled, snuggling in under his thick blankets. Soon, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of grading papers and failing Hufflepuffs.

The next morning, he found himself feeling much better. His back was free from knots of tension, and his head was clear. He felt refreshed. More so than he had in a long time.

As he showered and got ready for the day ahead (he decided he'd brew a few potions for the Hospital Wing) he almost tripped on something on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It was a Muggle-style gift box, it seemed. He eyed it cautiously, wondering what on earth it could be. He wondered who on earth had left it there. He warily cast detection spells all over it until he was convinced that its presence was benign.

Rather than opening it, though, he sent it floating to his desk for later. With one last glance at the bright red box, he left for breakfast, intent on making at least half of the necessary potions for the Hospital Wing that day.

**

That night, Severus returned to his rooms with a sense of accomplishment and a smug look on his face. He'd completed more than half of the required potions that day and had taken fifty points from Ravenclaw for 'indecent activities' (he'd found two Fifth Years entangled in a corridor on the way to the Hospital Wing). He would have taken more, but he was in a generous mood and gave them detention with Filch instead.

He didn't even spare a glance at his mystery gift before turning in for the night. He was pleasantly drowsy and wanted nothing more than another good night's sleep.

The next morning, Severus again woke in a relatively good mood after sleeping soundly. He smirked as he recalled the points he'd taken from the mouthy Ravenclaws… and at the possible point losses that the day could bring. Life was starting to look up. Now that he was Potterless, he felt better. He even thought he'd open the little gift he'd received the previous morning, before going to breakfast.

Taking the little parcel from his desk, he opened it carefully, lest something jump out at him. When nothing seemed to happen, he looked inside, only to find a beautiful yellow rose.

His brow creased in confusion as he took the flower from the box and brought it up to his nose, taking in the beautiful smell. He wondered who on earth would give him such a gift. He'd thought it was from Dumbledore, at first. The air of mystery was surely something the annoying old man would take great pleasure in. But, he found no note, no markings of any kind. Simply a rose in a small, ghastly-bright, red box.

Shrugging, he cast a preservation spell on the bloom, and sat it back in its box.

As he exited his rooms, he was unaware of the pink cloud surrounding his head.

AN: Hello again, everyone! I hope you've enjoyed this latest instalment of Harry Cocker! I'm sorry it took me longer to post. I actually got a little stuck with how to put my ideas down.

I have a wonderful Egglorru to thank for that! She helped me get the ideas out of my head and onto my computer!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing, Werewolf Groupie! Without whom, there would be no ideas to be stuck with! XD Both these ladies are my guardian angels!