Sometimes, you can trick yourself into thinking that your life is just a dream and that you will wake up any second, blinking in the early morning light and wishing you could go right back to sleep. However, more often than not, your realities are too nightmarish to be even the devil's own dreams, and even if you find your arms red and sore from the pinching they've been subjected too, you still won't wake up. The thing that really gets you is when you are sleeping so peacefully, and you know what kind of life awaits you on the other side of your eyelids, that you have no desire to wake up. Usually, you recognize that feeling as soon as the sleep leaves your body, and you try desperately to keep your eyes closed and hold on to the last few moments of restful bliss before your reflexes kick in and they open.
Much to my dismay, I woke up today with that feeling. I also felt rather sore in some unmentionable places that I never imagined I could be sore in before. I groaned and turned over, and nearly fell out of the bed; the handsome bare back of someone with dark shiny hair and muscular arms was staring me in the face.
'Oh, shit.' I thought, and I must have been thinking out loud because my bed mate turned and opened one eye to look at me.
"Good morning," he said, "glad to see you look like I'm the Grim Reaper."
"Severus," I moaned, "what have we done?"
"Well, would you like the slang or the medical term for 'we shagged'?" Severus rolled over to face me, propping his head up on his elbows.
I let my own head fall into my hands. I realized, of course, before I had even followed Severus to his home the night before, how I felt about him. I loved him; there was no denying that. It was just that, given the current state of things, it was hard to love someone, to sleep with that person, when the whole world you know hates them and expects the same of you.
"Severus, we-we can't-" but he interrupted me, softly pressing his forefinger to my lips, silencing me.
"We can, Harry, just not right now, I understand that. The situation is not exactly ideal. But I don't regret anything, Harry, understand that; I don't regret anything because I love you, and if last night was meant for anything, it was to prove that to you. No matter what happens over the next few months, no matter what I am forced to do, I will always love you, Harry Potter." He lifted my chin, looked into my eyes, and I saw, clear as day, the love that now resided there. The love that was meant only for me. "Harry, look at me," he said, and even if he didn't, I could not bare to look away, anyway. "Harry, when this is all over, when this war is only history, if we live through it… when we live through it, I will be here waiting for you. I will wait for you every day until the day I die. I will wait forever, Harry, if that's what it takes." He placed his forehead against mine, and my breath hitched in my throat. I felt tears prickling the back of my eyes. Why did I deserve this? How had I become the recipient of this man's love? How had I become so lucky?
"Severus," I said, and I kissed him, "Severus" kiss "Snape" kiss "I love you more than anything in this world." Another kiss, "I will be yours as long as you will have me," I promised, and smiled, tasting salty liquid. I don't even know which one of us was crying. It might have been both, again.
"But Harry," Severus said, a sad look in his eyes, "there is a person that I must be that I do not wish to be, but I must keep up my mask, I have to act as a spy, still, for that was Dumbledore's wish. When you go to that wedding, where people expect you to show up angry and wanting revenge, you must give them what they want. You have to pretend to hate me, even if you think you can't, because that is what it will take to win this war."
"But, Severus, I thought you said-"
"Yes, you should tell Minerva McGonagall that you know about the Unbreakable Vow and everything, but no one else has the privilege of knowing what happened this past year. No one, Harry, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I said, despite myself; it was probably going to take a while to get used to, this transition from Professor to enemy to lover.
Severus laughed, "I'm glad you still have some amount of respect for me, Potter."
"No, sir, no respect at all, you filthy old man," I grinned, stretching on the bed.
"Mr. Potter, I do not need lip from you," he said, scowling.
"Oh, Professor, I think you do." And I kissed him soundly on the lips.
I got up and stretched some more, pulling on yesterday's clothes, suddenly aware that the Dursleys had no idea where I was. Oh, it was going to be one hell of day.
(Snape's POV)
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened last night. Of course I had thought about it, in the fleeting moments between classes, the second of apparition between Death Eater meetings and returning to Hogwarts, when he knocked on my door every Wednesday night. But I had never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that it might actually happen. Especially not after that night.
I never thought a man like me would be able to express any emotion after locking it inside of me all these years, but Harry is so, so different. He makes me want to lie around all day just spewing all that emotional garbage, just whispering 'I love you' and staring into his hypnotizing eyes. Gods, those eyes; if I didn't feel so lost already, I'd say I could get lost in his entrancing emerald orbs.
These past few weeks felt so much like hell I actually found myself wondering whether I was dead. Last night, I finally felt alive. I was in heaven, with Harry Potter beside me, and it felt like I was actually a person worth knowing for once. I am not sure whether it is I who is responsible for the hatred I feel directed towards me, or if it is the Magical World in general. It is probably both. But I know Harry does not hate me. And that in it of itself makes me smile like I used to when I was sixteen. Like I used to when Lily Evans studied with me and cracked jokes about the strange physical characteristics of our Professors. The apple does not fall far from the tree, I suppose.
The truth is, all this "expressing my true feelings" crap is making me feel rather strange. I know that there is much to be done, and I know that after Harry returns from the Weasley Wedding he will come back to me, and we will start searching for the Horcruxes. I know that the world is still a bitter place to live, but I cannot help ignoring that piece of information when Harry is on my mind. I have utterly and completely lost myself. I am no longer snarky and rude. I do not close myself up anymore.
It has been less than twenty four hours since Harry left, but I feel as if he has been gone for years. Of course, in reality, he has. It took me six years to realize how unlike his father he was. Before this past year, Harry Potter might as well have been James Potter in the flesh for that was all I saw when I looked at him. It took me six years to discover that the young man I loathed was undeserving of my hatred; it took six years to make me realize how special Harry Potter truly is.
See? Look what he has done to me, making me all mushy and lovey dovey. No one does that to Severus Snape. Or at least, no one could, until now. I do hope Harry has no regrets about last night. I know how I feel for him, that's for sure, and my feelings for him have only been heightened from the experience. I just hope he does not hate me. I don't think I could stand it if he hated me.
A/n: sorry its short! Kind of having a little case of writers block ovrr here!!! Please REVIEW!!!