The detentions were over. At least, he thought, he could be grateful for that. And he was grateful…in a way. Being in a room with Snape, knowing that the older man hated him, was impossibly painful. But not being near him was far worse.
Harry sat up in bed, glaring moodily at his pillow as if it were the cause of all his problems. Why can't that stupid man think of me as something other than my father's son?
He looked down at his watch, gleaming faintly in the dark, and flung himself down on his pillow, groaning into it. Five o'clock. Damn it, he couldn't even sleep now! Obsessions are not healthy, he told his inner self sternly. His inner self didn't respond, except to send him a picture of those long, thin hands.
And what they could be doing to him.
Harry punched his pillow, his face still buried in it, and got to his feet, rubbing his eyes. At least he could shower in peace at this time of day. It made him uncomfortable to shower in the crowded room, to resist ogling some of his housemates. Dean in particular made him nervous, since the other boy seemed to constantly seek his eyes.
Harry hissed when the cold water hit him, and fumbled at the hot water nob, swearing. It was turned on completely, but the water coming from the nozzle was icy. Some days you can just tell aren't going to work out. But something corrected itself in the system, and the water came down suddenly hot, just on the line between comfortable and painful. Sooo nice. Harry stretched like a cat, thinking again of Snape's hands. And voice. How could someone be insulting him and sound so sexy? Snape, he realized, was the only one who didn't care about his reputation. Snape was the only one who judged him by something other than his scar. Of course, judging him by his father wasn't much better, but they could work on that.
He looked ruefully down at himself. He'd had interesting dreams, and his cock was hard still. Sliding a hand down his body, feeling slightly guilty, he turned to face the wall, leaning against it with one hand and using the other to stroke himself.
Severus. The name in his thoughts that he'd never have the right to use. Severus touching me…trailing kisses…
Harry bit his lip to keep from shouting his teacher's name and waking people up. Just the picture of Severus walking down the hallway was enough to harden him. When he thought of that voice whispering his name, shivers went all down his arms.
He was almost there. Harry strained into his hand—
"So who are you thinking about these days?"
Harry jumped, his erection going down so quickly that he shook it, limp, out of his hand and looked up.
Dean Thomas. "What?" Harry asked stupidly.
Dean smiled, and, unthinking, Harry smiled back. Dean had always had that effect on him. The smile was completely without malice, and it always put you off your guard.
"Well, you're not thinking about me anymore. You don't even look at me in the showers, right? So I was wondering who you've been thinking about lately when you jerk off."
Harry wiped the grin off his face with difficulty (old habits are hard to break). "Not really your business. You broke up with me, remember?"
"Not technically my business, no, but that doesn't stop me from being curious, does it?" Dean sat down on a bench, cross-legged, and grinned again.
"You look like a wolf when you do that." Harry immediately wished he hadn't said it. He'd gotten over Dean, with difficulty, and didn't want to go through it again. Flirting was decidedly not a good idea. "How's Seamus?" With satisfaction, he noted that he'd managed to get rid of the grin. Replacing it was a sour look.
"Actually, that's partly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh." Harry didn't make it a question. All hope of a private shower seemed to be gone, so he reached over and snagged his towel from a peg, wrapping it around his waste.
"Don't do that." Dean wrinkled his nose flirtatiously. "I was enjoying the view!"
"I noticed." Damn it, he couldn't afford to flirt with Dean.
"Look, about Seamus." Dean noted the look on Harry's face and hurried on, "I know you probably don't want to talk about him, but I needed to have a word with you. I mean, you know that the reason I ended things was because it was going to far, and I wasn't ready to tell Seamus about it? Well I might as well have not gone through with it, because he found out. He's been avoiding me for a bit." Dean looked here so pathetic that Harry felt rather sorry for him, even while being angry. "I was right when I thought he mightn't like the idea. He said that he didn't mind so much, but if I was actually with anyone, that was it. He doesn't want…doesn't really want to be around it." This last seemed particularly hard to get out.
"Well that shouldn't be a problem, because you're not, are you?"
"No, but I told him to shove it."
This surprised Harry. "Why?"
"Cause…I dunno, Harry." He looked extremely uncomfortable. "I guess I started thinking about us, and…remember that Hogsmeade visit?" Harry nodded in spite of himself. "Well I started thinking how stupid I'd been to break up with you."
Dean wouldn't look at him. Harry could have laughed. Three months ago, he'd have laughed and kissed Dean, and been happier than he'd ever been. Now he wasn't sure he wanted the other boy back.
"Look…"
"I know you probably don't want me back." He was bright red now. "But I had to tell you, because I really…well I missed you. I'd like to give it another shot." And he stood up and crossed over to where Harry stood, leaning against the wall. "I'd like you back."
Dean reached up and ran his fingers gently through Harry's wet hair, and pushed him lightly against the wall. Almost automatically, Harry's hands found the other boy's hips, and they closed the distance between themselves and found each other's lips.
The kiss was slow and tentative. It had been four months since Dean had broken things off, but he still, Harry thought with some surprise, tasted the same. Things had gone very far with him, and Harry felt his body react on its own. Their tongues tangled in Dean's mouth, and he groaned quietly.
They pulled apart finally, and grinned at each other. "I guess that means yes?" Dean cocked his head to the side a little, and Harry couldn't resist. "How about you give me a hand job, then we'll see?"
"Fair enough." Harry leaned his head against the wall as Dean nuzzled his neck, slipping a hand into his towel. "Let me help you with that…"
Harry and Dean raced in the potions door, a second after the bell went, and stood there, trying not to meet each other's eyes, and doing their best not to laugh. Harry looked up, distracted, to meet Snape's eye, and the smile was utterly gone from his face. That familiar lurching in his stomach settled in.
What was going on? He'd only just gotten out of the shower with Dean. He'd just come moments ago. He shouldn't, couldn't be feeling lust for someone else. It wasn't fair to Dean for one thing.
But his stomach (and the regions below) didn't care about Dean. His eyes locked with the professor's, and he found himself imagining Snape in the same position Dean had been in a moment ago. And was dismayed to find himself growing hard again.
He tore his eyes away from the object of his desire, and looked at Dean, who winked.
"Mr. Potter. Mr. Thomas. You are late. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Be seated before I make it detentions."
They were seated. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, shrugging off their questions, and Dean sat with Neville. Seamus pointedly ignored them both, although he blushed right down his neck.
Harry spent the rest of the lesson in agony. Dean, cheerful as always, kept sneaking glances at him. The whole thing was made far, far worse, by the fact that Dean was so happy, so very happy to have him back. And he didn't deserve Dean. Not one bit.
Dean looked at him again, wrinkled his nose, and went back to working. Harry felt sick. He looked up to the front of the room, and met Snape's eyes. They were very black, and looked confused. What, wondering why I'm looking miserable while Dean looks like he just got a field day? You'll never guess.
Feeling defiant, Harry glared at his professor until Snape looked down. You'll never guess, and I'll never tell you.
"Potter." He was jolted out of his thoughts. "Remain after class."
"Yes, Sir."
Snape got to his feet, still directing his glare at Harry, and looked with faint disgust at the rest of the class. "Quills and wands down." As always, the quiet voice was obeyed immediately. "I wish to have your undivided attention."
His eyes met Harry's, and Harry felt himself shiver slightly. There had to be something besides hatred behind those eyes.
"As you undoubtedly have realized, you will be leaving this school at the end of this year. And, as Professor Dumbledore tells me, I will be in need of an assistant in the coming year." There was muttering for a second; this sort of thing was entirely unheard of. But Snape raised an eyebrow and the whispering stopped. "Now I would prefer this assistant to be from my own house, but, as I am informed by your headmaster, equality must be shown among the houses. So whichever of you manages to achieve the highest mark in my potions class, regardless of NEWT outcomes, will be offered this post. I will discuss the details with you when the time comes. If this student, whoever you may be," everyone glanced surrepititously at Hermione, "does not want the post, it will go to the next highest. Is that understood?"
There was a general muttering, which Snape ignored. "Then you are dismissed."
As they all rose to leave, Snape caught Harry's eye again. "Except you Mr. Potter. My desk. Now."
Harry, feeling yet again that he'd screwed things up, avoided looking at Hermione, Ron, and Dean as he made his way to the front of the classroom. If only he still hated Snape, everything would be simpler. He could go back to being happy with Dean, and forget about everything else. But NO. He'd had to fall for the crankiest person in the school. He tried not to smile at the thought of Professor Snape being referred to as 'cranky'.
"Potter, you are a disgrace."
What is it that I do to make him so angry?
"If it did not go against my policies, I would have you thrown out of my class. However," he tapped his fingers together, "Professor Dumbledore does not approve of such things." Snape fixed Harry with another glare. "You will not be late for this class again, or I will do something about it. Now get out of my sight."
Harry left.
The rest of the day passed so quickly that Harry felt he had no time whatsoever to think. What he needed, of course, was not so much time as space. Space away from Dean, and definitely away from Snape. If he could only get Snape out of his head, things would be better. But every time he thought of Dean, or so much as saw him smile, Harry found himself picturing his teacher in Dean's place.
Finally, exhausted and confused, he threw himself into his favorite chair and stared listlessly into the fire. I wonder how hard it is to work a memory charm on yourself…
"Harry!"
Dean grinned at him and flopped down in an armchair beside him. "Do you have a minute? I was wondering if I could borrow Hedwig. You could come up to the owlery and get her for me." His voice faltered for a second when he saw Harry's face. "Or if you're tired, that's ok. I can always use one of the school owls."
"Na. It's never a problem. Just give me a sec. I feel like someone set a bludger on me." It was true. The worries of his mind seemed to have transferred themselves to his body. Every inch of his back was in pain, and his neck twinged every time he bent it. Getting up was horribly painful, but Harry decided it was worth it for the grin on Dean's face.
They walked together, carefully not touching, until they'd reached a secluded corner. Harry, feeling more than slightly guilty about his straying thoughts, tugged Dean out of the way of prying eyes, and kissed him soundly. When they pulled apart moments later, Dean's smile was even wider.
"What was that for?"
"I missed you." As he said it, Harry realized with some surprise that it was true. Dean made him smile. "But don't get too comfortable…I'm planning on going back to my usual self as soon as I've gotten used to having you around again!"
"I can live with that. I'd better take advantage while this lasts though…"
It was a while before they ducked into the hallway again, slightly breathless, but laughing. It was, Harry realized, good to laugh. He should do it more.
They made it to the Owlery without further incident. Barely. Then, since the Owlery was deserted, they took their time sending Hedwig off. Harry had missed, not just Dean, he found, but the whole experience of being in a relationship. Whenever their hands touched, tying a parcel onto the owl's leg, whenever their eyes met. Dean was more inclined to blush than Harry was, and there was a great deal of laughter.
Then, after Hedwig had winged away, impatient with both of them, there was a long kiss in the dark. The moon was just coming out, and it brought out silver highlights in both boy's hair. They clung to each other, Harry trying to banish thoughts of a certain other person, while at the same time intoxicated by the smell of Dean. He kept seeing Snape before his eyes, but it was more than that. There was a certain presence that Snape always radiated, and it suddenly seemed to be all around Harry. He pulled back from Dean for a second, and looked over his own shoulder.
And there was Snape.