Co-written with Stormypup

Beta'd by Rakina

Chapter 16

Falling asleep took less time than Harry had anticipated. He had climbed into the bed in the guest bedroom and pulled the sheets up almost over his head to block out the mid-afternoon sun before drifting off. The aches and pains of the day slowly eased from his body as it molded into the mattress. If he had stayed awake a little longer he might have seen Snape stick his head in through the door with a deeply puzzled expression before closing it softly behind him.

Perhaps Potter wasn't handling things as well he thought, Snape considered as he made his way to the shower. He wasn't accustomed to seeing Harry sleep in the middle of the day. Normally the boy had energy to spare after their training sessions. For the moment, his only thought was a hot shower to ease away the aches in his worn out body.

He stripped out of his clothing and turned on the water as hot as he could stand, relaxing in the steam as the water pelted his tired muscles. Perhaps Potter had the right idea. Severus felt like he could sleep for a week.

Steam filled the bathroom to the point where it was choking him and it was only then that Snape turned off the taps. His arms were red from the temperature of the water and the steam and he assumed the rest of him looked similar. He cursed his own carelessness as he stepped out of the shower onto the cool tiles and blindly reached for a towel, mumbling obscenities under his breath all the while. He rubbed the soft towel over his face, wiping the moisture from it so he could see more clearly.

He took his time drying off the rest of his body, ignoring the various marks and bruises he found. Harry was getting more spells through his shields, which was a good thing, no matter how much his body protested otherwise. Snape ran the towel through his hair roughly before running a comb through it, getting out the worst of the tangles.

He put on clean clothing and exited the bathroom, the steam wafting into the hallway behind him. He was passing by Harry's room when a strange sound stopped him. Frowning, he poked his head in the door to see Potter thrashing and moaning in his sleep.

Snape moved into the room, sweeping the interior of the room for unknowns but it appeared that whatever was plaguing Potter was in his mind. He debated crossing the room to wake him up, wondering if it would be worth the aggravation.

If it was Voldemort tormenting him, then he really should wake him before things got worse. He examined Harry's face, but saw no signs that he was in pain.

Snape furrowed his brow in confusion as he neared Potter's bed. What was wrong with the boy?

And then Potter moaned, and Snape recognized that moan for what it was, and his face colored. He was standing there watching Potter have a wet dream!

Harry gasped as long, potion-stained fingers wrapped around his leaking erection, arching into the touch. He could feel the answering erection pressed against his arse and it was all he could do not to come on the spot. Greasy hair brushed against his cheek as his lover pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. His fingers tugged on Harry's cock at a slow, teasing rate and no amount of urging on Harry's behalf could make him move faster.

"Please," he whined, hands clenching the silky sheets beneath him.

Snape knew he should leave, that he shouldn't be watching this, but the look on Potter's face had him transfixed. He could see Harry's lips form the word "please", and much to his embarrassment, he felt himself becoming erect.

Leave. Get out. Now!

But he stood, rooted to the spot.

He knew the end was near. He could feel it in the erratic way the hands were playing him. He could feel his lower stomach muscles clenching and tightening as the hand on his cock sped up and tightened and he exploded with a loud cry.

"Severus!"

Hearing his own name from Harry's lips stunned Snape more than any spell ever had. Perhaps he had been wrong in his initial assessment, and Potter was having a nightmare after all.

Harry sighed heavily and rolled over in bed smacking his lips as he began to come back around.

Snape began backing away, needing to exit the room before the boy awoke and found him watching him like some kind of pervert.

"Nyeargh," Harry mumbled, half awake. He cracked open his eyes to the harsh daylight. He groaned as he felt his pants cling to him. It took him another thirty seconds to realize he wasn't alone in the room. And in that thirty seconds he came to realize exactly who he was looking at.

"Bloody fucking hell!" he swore. Any remaining sleep kicked off him like the blanket that was now on the floor.

"I thought you were having a nightmare," Snape said, trying to school his features but failing miserably. "I was just coming to wake you," he said, swallowing thickly. "I'll just...go," he said, wondering why his feet weren't moving.

He could lie to the face of the Dark Lord without betraying a thing, so why was he standing here, staring at Potter like some kind of fool?

Harry scrambled over the edge of the bed, desperate to hide the stain on the front of his pajama bottoms. He peeked over the edge at Snape for a long moment, trying not to bristle at the quirked eyebrow, as if Snape had any excuse to find this amusing. He had been the one watching him have a wet dream. And, oh crap... Harry's eyes desperately roved over Snape's face trying to glean if he had spoken in his sleep or not, because, fuck, that could be ugly – brutally ugly.

"I-uh..."

Snape considered using Legilimency on the boy, suddenly desperate to know what he had been thinking, but Potter had become too good at detecting and blocking it. Instead, he forced a concerned expression on his face. "Tell me, Potter, what were you dreaming about?" he asked. "You were thrashing and moaning. Is everything all right?" he asked, trying to remind himself that he had the upper hand in this situation.

Why did you say my name?

Harry blushed and buried his burning face against the side of the mattress. "M'fine," came the muffled response.

Snape smirked. "I'll just leave you to wake up then," he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. He had run through a gauntlet of emotions from the time he walked in the room. Concern, shock, embarrassment, and now, intrigue.

Harry managed to chuck a pillow at the closing door before falling back onto the bed completely mortified.

"Wonderful," he muttered, clinging to the remaining pillow. "Just bloody wonderful."

Snape heard the thump of something hitting the door behind him and smiled. He wasn't at all certain how to feel about this new development. It could mean nothing, just normal teenage hormones expressing themselves in abnormal ways. After all, Potter was straight. It was merely a result of spending all of their time locked up together. Snape refused to delude himself that it was anything more than that.

But it did nothing to ease the erection straining against the front of his trousers. Snape had the sudden desire to take another shower. A very cold shower.

Harry didn't emerge for twenty minutes, once he was certain his face didn't look guilty as hell. He didn't know what was wrong with him. That was the third time that week he'd had that dream. He was straight, damn it! Straight. S-t-r-a-i-g-h-t. Right? He loved Ginny, didn't he? Didn't he?

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hallway in new, clean clothing and went into the kitchen.

"What's the matter Potter, rough sleep?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy; I'm not in the mood."

He crossed the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He sniffed the contents and, once happy that it hadn't gone sour, got a cup out of a cupboard and poured himself a glass. He took a deep pull of the liquid, trying not to laugh at the sulking stance the blond had taken.

"What, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry said, valiantly keeping the smirk off his face. "Where's Snape?"

"How am I supposed to know? Am I his keeper now?"

Harry shrugged and took another sip of milk.

"I do believe I am your keeper, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, entering the kitchen and smirking at Draco. "Don't drink all the milk, Potter, I need it for dinner," he said, pulling various pots and pans from the cupboards, not looking at Harry.

"I thought it was my night to cook," Harry said, placing the milk back in the fridge, trying not to blush when Snape finally looked at him.

Draco laughed. "Your cooking is hardly palatable, Potter."

"At least I can cook, which is more than you can say," Harry said defensively.

"Enough!" Snape growled, slamming the pot on the countertop, causing both young men to jump. "Draco, make yourself useful and set the table."

Draco scowled. "I'm not a bloody house elf," he said, glaring at Harry.

"I don't mind, Severus," Harry said, not in the mood to spar with Draco.

Draco sneered. "So it's Severus now, is it?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at the blond in silent warning, but if Malfoy noticed he wasn't heeding it. The blond continued to stare at Snape and Potter, imperiously waiting for a reaction; Snape could only hope Potter had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

"Table, Draco," Snape said, arching his brow in silent challenge.

"No," Draco replied, his lip curling into a sneer.

Snape shrugged. "Go hungry."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock before it snapped closed in anger. Harry was having the hardest time not laughing at Malfoy's fair imitation of a four-year-old being told he couldn't have that toy today. It hurt to keep his jaw clenched so tightly, so without waiting to be excused he left the kitchen and went into the hallway, where he finally allowed himself to smile crazily. It was weird to see Snape put Malfoy in his place like that, but Harry couldn't help but think the ferret deserved it.

"Potter?"

Harry turned his head, his smile not vanishing, only dimming slightly. "Snape." He inclined his head slightly before going back to his thoughts.

Snape went back and continued making a meal, ignoring Draco completely. When he heard the cutlery drawer slamming open and closed, he bent his head and hid a smile behind a curtain of hair. Draco would throw his tantrum, but in the end do as he was asked. He would make them all pay of course, but it would be done.

When Harry returned to the kitchen, Snape could see no trace of the grin he'd had moments ago, though his eyes were still twinkling with amusement. "Make yourself useful, Potter," he said, sliding a cutting board towards him and handing him a knife.

"What? I don't even get a lecture on how to use sharp pointy objects properly?" Harry asked under his breath sensing Draco moving close by.

"The sharp edge goes down," Snape replied, smirking.

Harry choked back a laugh as he picked up a stalk of celery and began to cut it evenly, albeit dramatically, pointedly making it obvious that he was heeding Snape's words of caution.

Snape rolled his eyes and held back a smile, putting carrots next to his stalks of celery. "Smaller pieces, Potter," he said, though there was nothing wrong with the size of the current bits of celery.

"Git," Harry muttered without changing how he was cutting the celery.

Snape let out a short, "hmph," and returned his attention to the sauce on the stove. They were running very low on food; he was going to have to use some Polyjuice and go into town for supplies soon.

Harry silently handed over the chopped celery when Snape put out a hand for it. He leaned against the worktop, crossing his feet at the ankle. He watched as Snape added spices to the sauce with the same amount of care as he would with potion ingredients.

He blinked at the thought. When did he start noticing things about Snape? Come to think of it, when did he become comfortable teasing the man? He furrowed his brow in thought, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. It was exactly the same as he had felt in the training room except more subtle. He couldn't quite pin down the emotion, which was odd. He normally knew how he felt and showed it quite clearly, but now? He wasn't even sure what to think anymore.

Then it hit him. He felt safe and comfortable, two words he would never have thought to associate with Snape of all people. He tried not to show how flabbergasted he was by his own thoughts, but he knew a bit of his shock had leaked through by the puzzled expression Snape shot at him.

He pushed off the counter top offering Snape a weak smile before sitting down at the table, hard. He followed his arms and rested them on the table before leaning his head on them.

"No manners at all, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm not going to repeat myself again."

"Not surprising really, raised by those filthy Muggles," Draco said disdainfully.

Before Snape could intervene, Harry had risen to his feet. His wand was in his hand and digging into the flesh under Draco's chin.

"I warned you, Malfoy," he said through clenched teeth.

"Potter! Put away your wand!" Snape ordered, reaching the young men in two quick strides.

Draco's eyes were wide and terrified, and Harry was ignoring Snape. He knew he was taking his own doubts and confusions out on Malfoy, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Potter," Snape said, and reached out a hand, covering Harry's with his own, forcing the wand down.

Harry blinked and looked at the hand that covered his own and up into Snape's scowling face. He bowed his head, ashamed, and sat down again with a soft thud.

"Sorry," he mumbled, not even looking at Draco.

"Sorry!" Draco shouted, outraged. "He could have killed me, Snape! Or does that not even matter, now Potter has his "Severus" to protect him," he added, putting the full amount of disgust into his voice as he sneered at the two of them.

Harry glared. "Sod off, Malfoy. Go and crawl into a hole somewhere and die." He stood up knocking over the chair. With one final withering glare, he headed out of the kitchen. He didn't even realize where he was going until he was at the door to the training room. Two seconds later he was in the room, wand in hand, rapidly casting at the padded wall as many minor-level spells as he could think of that wouldn't drain him.

"Fucking Malfoy and his fucking holier-than-thou-attitude with his stupid hair and stupid bloodlines," he muttered angrily as he shot off a jelly-legs jinx.

Snape scowled at Draco while he attended to the things on the stove that needed his immediate attention. "Get the rolls out in 6 minutes," Snape told him, and went in search of Harry.

Snape arrived in time to hear 'stupid hair and stupid bloodlines', which admittedly he found amusing. He leaned against the doorframe and took the opportunity to watch the young man. His spell casting was a bit erratic, but he was moving his feet and angling his body, just as he had been taught. It had become second nature to the boy and that was a good thing. The fewer things he had to think about when the time came, the better. Harry's instincts would serve him better than his brain.

He moved well. His well-muscled back and shoulders kept his wand level; Snape knew Harry could hold his wand straight and level for long stretches of time. His body was in perfect shape for what lay ahead. Moments later, Snape realized that he was appreciating Harry's body in a way that had nothing at all to do with defense. The subtle curve of his arse, the way his thigh muscles flexed beneath those Muggle jeans. Once again, he wanted to know what Harry had been dreaming about, and why he said Snape's name!

Harry wavered slightly and lowered his wand, slouching over. He wasn't magically drained but he was feeling oddly numb. Pinpricks raced up his neck and he knew someone was watching him.

"I hate him," he muttered, turning around and locking eyes with Snape.

"Sit down before you fall down," Snape said, frowning. He watched as Harry let out a huge sigh and slid to the floor.

"He's such an arrogant, inbred ferret," Harry continued angrily. "I've got to leave or I will hurt him. I'll hurt him bad."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose wishing he could just rewind events to when they were in kitchen, happily cutting up vegetables. "You're not going anywhere, Potter," he said tiredly.

Harry got to his feet. "You don't understand, Snape. I was so close to unleashing my rage on him, and I don't trust myself not to. I've got to get out of here."

Snape let out a deep sigh. "I will not let you out of my sight, Potter," he said, tiredly. "Stay here, I must speak with Mr. Malfoy," he said, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead.

Harry nodded and remained standing until Snape disappeared out the door before collapsing into a heap on the floor. It had been so long since he had been that close to losing control. He curled up on the padded floor and held his head, wishing the headache would just disappear.

Snape found Draco sitting at the table, pouting. "I am not your mother, Draco; that pout will not work with me," he said, frowning down at the boy.

Draco's pout turned into a scowl. "I don't understand, sir. Since when did Potter hold your regard?"

It was a question Snape wished he had an answer for, but instead, he shrugged it off as of no consequence. "Things are going to be changing, Draco, and for once in your life I need you not to fight me on it."

"I was here first," Draco grated out with annoyance.

Snape sighed, knowing that this wasn't going to be easy. "Yes, you were, but that changes nothing. Draco, we are going to be making our move on the Dark Lord soon. The further away from it all you are, the better it will be for you. When it's all over and the Ministry is doing their investigation, you will have been nowhere near the fighting. I'm trying save you, Draco," Snape said, trying to make Draco understand that he wasn't choosing Harry over him. He was choosing to end this war, and he needed Harry to do that.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What if I want to fight?"

Snape was momentarily taken aback by this question. "Why do you want to fight?" he asked, trying to ascertain the young man's motives.

Draco shrugged indifferently. "I don't. I was just wondering what you'd do if I said I wanted to."

"Draco, you are not my prisoner here. I'm doing all that I can to keep you safe," Snape said irritably. "And for the moment, the safest place for you is at our other safe house. I'll come by daily to spend time there with you," he said, trying to make a compromise Draco would accept.

"Fine," Draco said flatly. "I'll hide out there until the bloody war is over." He stood up and went to the sink and filled up a glass with water.

"Damn it, Draco, you're not being punished! Soon, this will all be over and you'll be able to go about your life. Just a little longer, alright?" Snape said, his irritation growing.

"I just don't like the fact that you're shacking up with Potter, that's all," Draco answered with annoyance.

Snape blanched. "You can hardly call this shacking up, Draco," he said, frowning. "We are training for a war I'm not certain we can win."

"When do you want me to leave?" Draco finally asked neutrally.

"I'll leave that up to you. Tonight or in the morning, whichever is most convenient," Snape said, letting out a pent up breath. "All the same rules apply of course, and I'll send along what's left of our food here. I plan doing the shopping tomorrow and I'll bring by more supplies for you."

Draco nodded. "Tonight," he said decisively. "The shorter amount of time I have to spend around Scarhead the better."

"Gather your things and I'll finish dinner so you can eat before you go," Snape said.

Draco nodded curtly and exited the kitchen. Snape watched him go, trying to ease the headache at the base of his head.

Snape and Draco ate a subdued dinner, and Harry never made an appearance at the table, for which Snape was grateful. His pounding headache couldn't take anymore arguing between the two of them. Once the food was eaten, Snape helped Draco shrink some of his bulkier items and saw him to the Apparation point.

"I'll be by tomorrow with food," Snape assured him.

Draco shrugged. "Whatever," he said blandly. Snape had told him it wasn't a punishment, but it was, and he knew it. He couldn't wait until this ended one way or another. Dead Potter or dead Dark Lord. Either way, Draco would win.

With a final look at Snape, Draco wordlessly Apparated away.

"Is he gone?" Harry asked, his voice cracking from the lack of fluid in his system.

Snape was startled by the dry voice coming from behind him. He turned to find Harry looking at him, looking lifeless.

"Sit down and eat," he said, pointing to the table. Harry did as he was asked, and Snape couldn't help but notice that something wasn't right.

"Potter," he said softly but the command was evident. Harry turned his head and looked at him.

"Something is obviously eating at you. What is it?" he asked, frowning at the boy.

Harry set his fork down beside his plate and picked at the tablecloth for a moment. "It's nothing."

Snape decided to try a different track altogether. "Does this have anything to do with your...dream?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Harry blanched then blushed all in the span of thirty seconds. "Sort of," he mumbled into his hands that he had brought up to hide his flaming face.

"You cannot put too much stock in adolescent dreams, Potter," he said, trying to ease the boy out of his embarrassment at least long enough to get the details. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, his voice casual.

Harry looked at the man, shock written clearly across his face.

"Are you serious?"

Snape shrugged negligently. "I merely thought it might help you get over it if you were to talk about it, and I admit to being curious as to how my name came up."

"Oh, Merlin." Harry's head thunked against the tabletop. Now he knew. He had spoken aloud. Well... crap, now what? Snape obviously suspected something already, but the way he was needling him seemed like he wanted confirmation and that was something Harry wasn't going to give.

"I have been known to give students and small children nightmares, Potter. Whatever I did to you in that dream couldn't have been all that bad," he said, deciding the direct approach wasn't working, so he would have to approach through a well thought out lie.

Harry turned his head so he could see Snape clearly. "No, it wasn't bad," he answered softly, raising his head off the table.

"It couldn't have been too good if you're afraid to tell me about it," Snape said, not above using guilt and manipulation to get what he wanted.

Harry knew he was being boxed into a corner, could feel his back up against the metaphysical rope, but he couldn't cave in, not yet.

"Perhaps it was too good."

Snape nodded. "Ah, I see, in your dream I finally gave you a passing grade in Potions," he said, arching his brow mockingly.

Harry laughed at that. He couldn't help it. It was obvious Snape knew what kind of dream it was. Why was he forcing the matter?

Snape cocked his head and looked at Harry. "Are you even gay, Potter?"

"I don't know," Harry answered through his laughter, which had taken on a slightly hysterical edge.

"One would think you'd have better fantasies than...well...this," he said, motioning to himself and smirking.

"Would you rather I dream of Malfoy, because honestly, he doesn't have anything going for him but his looks."

Well, that had been unexpected. Harry frowned at his own words. Mainly because it sounded like Harry had in fact checked Malfoy out, which was more than a little disgusting in thought and in practice.

"He is a rather attractive young man. It's too bad he has to open his mouth and ruin it all," Snape said with a mock sigh. "I wouldn't worry about it, Potter. I'm sure it was just a one time aberration," Snape said dismissively, though he was looking at Harry intently.

Harry flushed again and bowed his head. "It wasn't the first time."

Snape swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, not at all certain how to take this revelation. He cleared his throat. "Well, be that as it may, I'm sure it means nothing," he said nervously. He should stop right there, get up and walk away. "How many times?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Harry groaned. Why was he telling Snape this, now of all times? Was he really expecting something to happen other than disgust on Snape's part? It was stupid, his body was stupid and his altered heart rate was even stupider.

"Three times...this week."

"This week?" Snape asked, eyes widening. Does that mean there were times before this week?

They should not be talking about this. He needed to do the responsible thing. Tell Potter to grow up, get a grip on his imagination, and keep his adolescent dreams to himself. But that would require that he stop asking questions about them and he couldn't seem to do that. Harry was looking at Snape pleadingly as if it were his fault that Harry was blabbing this out to him.

This had to stop.

Snape got to his feet and made his voice as bland as possible. "You'll get over it," he said dismissively, though in his own mind, Snape was wondering how he was going to get over it.

Harry stared up at Snape with a confused and slightly hopeful expression. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just a phase that he would get over once they reentered the rest of the world again.

"Yeah," he agreed absently, gaze firmly fixed on the tabletop.

Snape couldn't help but notice that Harry was quite pleased with the fact he would get over his...dreams. Despite everything, Snape found himself irritated that the brat would want to dismiss them as soon as possible.

Snape had lost his mind, that was all there was to it.

"I'm going to bed," Snape said, voice tight. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," Harry muttered, the hopeful expression fading into sheer confusion once again.