A/N: Thanks everyone for reviewing. This chapter, however, is dedicated to all the people who like this fic enough to put it on their favorite's list, but not enough to review. Now, think about this, those of you who do that…since all HP technically belongs to Rowling (may she live forever) the only thanks I get for my tireless efforts are my reviews. And you are getting something for nothing. Don't you feel guilty? Guilty enough to review? Just hit the button and tell me what you think…it's easy…

Severus always felt better after a few drinks. Particularly if he had those few drinks while terrorizing some student. Particularly if that student was Harry Potter.

So really, this past detention should have made him feel much better. Somehow, though, it had done exactly the opposite.

Over the years, few things had given him so much pleasure as tormenting the Potter boy. It had been the only possible form of revenge on James, since Harry was exactly like his father.

Now, though, there was a shred of guilt muffling the sadistic pleasure he felt, watching Harry clean cauldrons manually.

The boy is not his father.

Severus snorted at the obvious statement. It was indeed obvious. So why had it taken him nearly seven years to figure out?

But he was Severus Snape, and as such, did not feel guilt. He couldn't. Especially not towards the son of James Potter.

Severus growled at his conscious and downed another shot of Firewhiskey.

"Sir? I'm finished." The boy sounded angry, and Severus rejoiced in the suppressed emotion.

Serves the little swot right.

"Do you think so? I don't. Get to work on the shelves."

As Harry, his teeth gritted together, moved to the shelves and began to stand books upright, pulling shredded potions ingredients from them, Severus moved to stand behind him.

"Did you think, yet again, that you are outside school rules, Mr. Potter?"

He smirked as he saw the muscles in the boy's back tighten.

"Potter, that display was disgusting. If it were my decision, I would have you thrown out of the school, along with Thomas."

Harry still didn't respond, and Severus felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He was unreasoningly angry, he knew. The Firewhiskey had not been a good idea. But there was no stopping himself now.

"At least in this aspect, you are unlike your sadly arrogant father. Even he would have raised a sneer at such behavior."

He tried to stop himself. Somehow, the filter between his brain and mouth seemed to have dissolved. He didn't recognize the words that were coming to him, but he spat them out anyway, hating the taste.

"You're disgusting. A freak, some would say. They'd be right."

Had there ever been a filter where the Potter boy was concerned? Severus couldn't remember ever holding himself back from insulting the enraged teenager before him.

These last words, finally, got a response. Harry flung down the rag he was wiping the shelf with, and turned to face his potions master, fury radiating from his face. "How dare you even talk like that?" His cheeks were very red. "How dare you, when I know perfectly well that you like men yourself!"

Severus stood very still. "We're not talking about me, Potter."

"Maybe we should be! If you can harass me about it, something's definitely wrong!"

"Oh? Pray tell, Mr. Potter. Is it now your intention, not only to be the savior of the wizarding world, but to right all wrongs here in Hogwarts as well? A weighty task, to be sure, but who better to do it than Potter, the wonder-boy, who can do no wrong?"

He would have gone on, spewing out the seemingly endless stream of poison coming from his mind, but he was cut off by Harry.

"Shut up!"

"You insolent little idiot—"

"Shut up!"

Severus saw, with some shock, that Harry's wand was out, pointing at his throat. For a second, feeling fury mount within him, he reached for his own wand, wanting to curse the boy to oblivion. Then, just as suddenly, his anger vanished, and he felt utterly exhausted. He slumped back into his chair, trying to remember when he'd leapt to his feet, when he'd gotten out of control.

"Put that away, Potter."

"No!" The boy's face was flushed. "Not till you apologize for saying that."

Severus sighed. "Harry, put it down. Pulling your wand on a teacher is punishable with expulsion."

Harry's chin was raised defiantly. "Then I've got nothing to lose, do I? Petrificus Totalus!"

Severus went rigid. He felt that, under the circumstances, he would have frozen anyway, from the sheer audacity of the act. Potter had cursed him.

Try as he might, however, he couldn't bring himself to be angry about it. It had been his own damn fault, not being able to shut himself up. Goading the boy past all reason.

But now what?

Unable to shift his features to a glare, Severus tried to shoot daggers from his eyes.

The first thing I do when he lets me go, he thought, will be to apologize. Then I am going to take a thousand points from Griffindor, and let him be grateful I don't expel him.

And, as Harry continued to stare furiously at him, Severus heaved a mental sigh.

Now what, boy?

As he watched, Harry,s face crumpled, and the hand holding the wand fell to his side. "Oh God, now look what you've made me do!" the boy sounded panicked.

Severus wished he could at least talk. This was a very annoying position to be in. No one had hit him with this spell since his school years.

Harry was pacing back and forth in front of him. "If I leave you like this, someone will let you loose, and you'll have me expelled, but if I let you loose, you'll kill me." Severus looked on dispassionately. If his mouth had been free, he would have managed a retort, but as it was, he could do nothing but wait.

"What did you mean about all that?"

Severus sighed and answered the question mentally, wishing he could say it aloud. Good question.

"I know damned well that you're gay too. Sirius told me, ages ago."

He would, wouldn't he?

"So what was all that nonsense?"

Firewhiskey. Far too much of it. You should try it some time and see how polite you are.

Harry stopped pacing and stood in front of him, wand out again. "You have no idea how much I want to hurt you."

I probably even deserve it, don't I? That won't stop me from making you pay as soon as you release me, which you have to eventually.

"I could always Obliviate you."

Damned boy.

"You know what's funny? Even when I really hate you, you're still incredibly attractive."

Potter sounded terrified, as he voiced his next comment, and Severus couldn't blame him. "Hell, how much worse can I make things?"

The boy walked around the desk, turned Severus's chair to face him, and loomed.

You would make a good teacher one day.

"I don't care what my father called you. That doesn't give you the right to take it out on me."

You don't know—

"I am not a freak." Severus could smell the boy, and the scent was familiar, but tantalizingly unknown. He wanted to lean forwards and take a deeper breath.

"And neither are you."

He couldn't think any more. Harry was too close. His eyes and ears and nose were filled with the sight, sound and smell of this person who was not James Potter, who was a thousand times better.

And then Harry leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Severus's.

Severus struggled furiously against the binding curse, wanting simultaneously to kiss Harry back, and to curse him into oblivion. He could do neither. Could not so much as move his lips. Could do nothing but sit in agony, feeling soft lips against his own, black hair brush gently against his forehead.

………………………..

Harry reluctantly ended the kiss, his lips pulling back from the other man's. It hadn't been much of a kiss, of course, since Snape hadn't been able to move, but it was the only one he was ever likely to get from his potions master.

Well, he thought, if I'm going to die, I might as well get it over with.

Pulling out his wand, his fingers shaking, he muttered the counter curse.

And, for a second, Snape just sat there, staring at him. He held his breath, waiting to be cursed or hit.

But neither happened. What happened was that Snape reached out, so quickly that he did not have time to even flinch, and grabbed hold of Harry's robes, pulled the boy forwards, to stand between his knees, and kissed him.

Harry felt his bones turn to molasses. The kiss sent shivers all down to his toes – and to some other areas – and he felt like his brain had frozen. Snape was kissing him.

Tentatively he leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. Snape's tongue was in his mouth now, and he could feel something hard pressing against his thigh. He wanted this. Very badly. Everything about the situation felt perfectly right. He ran his fingers through Snape's hair, and felt a shock jolt through him as a pair of hands gently flowed down his body and cupped his lower back, pulling him closer. He couldn't go any closer. The position they were in was decidedly awkward, and Harry felt his knees beginning to give.

With great reluctance, he broke the kiss and moved back a little. And felt Snape's arms tighten around him as the man gave a little growl deep in his throat.

Harry's knees almost gave out at that sound alone.

"I'm just—give me a second." The arms loosened, and Harry moved away enough to work his legs around to the outside, straddled his professor, and sat down, moving in again to kiss.

Snape's tongue was roughly shoved into his mouth, and he submitted to it, tilting his head back against the onslaught. He felt the tongue move to his neck, and sucked in his breath as Snape nipped at the skin behind his ear. Harry's eyes were closed. He didn't ever want this to end.

He slid experimentally forwards, their erections aligned, and thrust his hips into the other man's.

Snape bucked against him, grunting, and Harry realized, belatedly, that this was getting out of hand.

He moved back and met Snape's eyes.

"Sir?"

The older man sighed and loosened his arms. "Have you no manners? You are perched on my lap, looking absolutely edible, and you have the audacity to call me Sir? How would you like it if I called you Potter?"

"But then what—?"

"Severus would be acceptable."

"Severus." Harry breathed, hardly daring to believe his luck.

"Now can I get back to devouring you, or did you have something to say?" Harry felt Severus's lips move to the side of his neck again, and he tried to ignore the tongue tracing lines on his skin.

"Severus, I can't do this."

The head snapped back quickly, and disbelieving eyes met his own. "Do you have any idea how much I want you?"

To emphasize his words, Severus moved his hands to Harry's backside, and squeezed it lightly. Harry moaned, trying to keep his head clear.

"I can guess."

"Then shut up and let me get on with it."

"I can't." Harry squirmed, realizing too late that this would not help his problem. "Look, I'm with Dean."

Severus froze.

"I've liked you forever, but I can't do this. Not right now, at least."

Their eyes met and held for a second.

"You should know, Harry," Severus said finally, his voice sending shivers up Harry's spine, "that I am very, very drunk."

"Oh. And I thought that was pumpkin juice you were drinking." Harry nodded towards the nearly empty bottle on the desk, and felt his chest swell as the man beneath him chuckled slightly.

"Not quite."

"What were you saying?"

"I am drunk. If you leave now, doubtless I will come to my senses by our next meeting."

Harry felt his lips captured in another kiss, gasping into Severus's mouth as their tongues met. But Severus pulled back suddenly.

"And, alternatively, if you do not leave now, I will not let you."

Despite himself, Harry felt a delighted tremble work its way down his back. "You're that drunk?"

"You're that edible."
"Oh." Harry swallowed. "So you're going to hate me again in the morning?"

"Yes." Severus nuzzled the base of his neck. "Unless, of course, you stay, and convince me otherwise. I confess, I am easily persuaded."

Harry moaned, and got a glare. "I wouldn't persist in such noises, unless you want me to decide for you. Now hurry up."

"I don't know. I might be able to think if you'd stop distracting me."

Severus pulled away, and met his eyes again. It was Harry who looked away first.

"I can't."

"Oh."

"It's not fair to Dean. For that matter, it's probably not fair to you, since you're drunk, and you said yourself you'd never be doing this if you were sober."

"I said nothing of the sort."

"It was implied."

"If you're doing me a favor, why am I not feeling grateful?"
"Because you're drunk. You'll thank me in the morning."

"I doubt it. I'll probably take off points for that body bind."

"I thought you'd forgotten about that. Should I Obliviate you after all?"

Severus groaned, and Harry fought the urge to melt back into his arms.

"You should get off my lap while you still can."

Harry did so, trying not to think that he'd never get this chance again. He leaned forwards, gave Severus one last desperate kiss, which was ferverently returned, and fled, shutting the door behind him.

At least, he thought, I was fair to Dean.

The feeling of loss slowly seeped away, to be replaced by slight pride. Yes, he'd kissed someone else, but he had managed to be strong enough to break it off before it got serious. Dean was a good person. He deserved Harry's respect. It would have been dishonorable to cheat on him. In the morning, he'd think it over, and decide whether to break up with the other teen. The important thing was that he hadn't cheated on his boyfriend.

The feeling of pride and the rush of fondness for Dean lasted all the way upstairs, past the portrait, and into the common room, where he stopped.

Flickering in the firelight was a scene that resembled the one he'd just left. A boy was sitting in an armchair, kissing the neck of the girl who was straddling him, her red hair gleaming in his hands.

The boy, Harry noted distantly, was Dean.