A/N: You might notice in this chapter that Dumbledore is still alive; this is because I really needed him in this fic. I enjoyed HBP, but I don't think I could write with the ending JKR gave us.

I'm going on a trip at the end of the week, and I'll be back soon, but a couple of my cousins are coming to visit me, and they'll be here all summer. And that means that I won't have much (if any) time for fanfiction. I'm REALLY sorry, but that's just how it is. I can promise you that I am NOT going to give up on this story, but that's the best I can do. I hope I get some time to write while they're here, but if not, by the end of August, I should be back to work.

Sorry…I hope you can be patient…

Harry knew it was going to be a bad day. And, after his two morning classes resulted in a mountain of homework, twenty-five points lost from Griffindor, and a detention with Professor McGonagall, he didn't think it would be looking up any time soon. Worse yet, it was only Tuesday, and if he was behind on homework this early in the week, he'd be dead by the weekend.

But that wasn't the real reason for his foul mood. The real reason was that he missed Severus. He didn't have potions until tomorrow, and even then it was doubled with the Slytherins.

He looked gloomily at the paper in front of him. At the top of the page, one sloppily scrawled sentence read, 'The Proper Method Of Transfiguring Goats and Larger Animals."

Harry put down his quill. He had no idea how to transfigure a goat. If the situation ever arose, he'd just ask Hermione, who'd probably already finished her essay.

He would visit Severus tonight, under invisibility cloak.

But it was going to be a very bad day.

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…and Severus knew it. Nothing good would come of the note sitting on his desk.

Severus paced his room, back and forth, towards the fire, then with his back to it, casting a long shadow on the cold floor.

He crossed the room to pick up the scrap of parchment, but did not look at it. He had read it so many times now that he knew what it said without looking.

Severus,

Come for tea? We have things to discuss. Come about the usual time, I think.

Warmly,

Albus

Short and to the point. But what point? Severus did not believe Albus when the old man said that there were things in the school he did not know about. The headmaster knew everything. But Severus could not see how even Albus could be approving about this.

Albus, I think I'm in love with the boy, he could hear himself saying.

In his head, the old man leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, raised an eyebrow. Have you told him that?

No, but we've screwed a couple of times.

Have you talked?

Not much. Just in between the sex.

He clamped down on that train of thought quickly. Images of Harry, back arched almost in pain, lips opened in a soundless cry…

Severus groaned and sank into an armchair, putting his head into his hands. Then, abruptly, he rose. He was not going to just wait here until teatime. If Albus wanted to discuss something, they'd get it over with. He sprinkled a handful of floo powder over the fireplace, composed himself, and stepped into the emerald flames.

Harry and Ron had a spare period after Herbology, and Harry, claiming a headache, chose to spend it in the common room, staring at the fire. For a second he thought he saw a flash of green in the flames, but no one appeared to step from the fireplace, so he knew it must have been his imagination. He wondered if Severus's face was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, because every time he closed his eyes he saw the older man.

He wanted to curl up on Severus's lap and talk about – oh about everything! There was so much he didn't know about Severus, so much he'd like to find out. He wanted to know what those dark eyes were hiding, why Severus looked away when Harry used the word 'love'.

"Harry?"

Startled, he looked up. Ginny stood there, her hair falling into her face, her eyes rimmed with red. "You haven't seen Dean have you?" the calm in her voice was forced.

"Not lately, no. What's up?"

He pushed an armchair towards her, lifting an eyebrow in invitation. She dithered for a minute, and then sat down. "It's Dean."

"I figured."

Ginny shot him a quick, puzzled look, but continued. "He's been avoiding me, and we had a fight yesterday. I just…well I don't understand him, for one thing. He says he's never liked a girl this much, but I don't think he really does like me…not really. He kisses me, but I don't think he really wants to. He doesn't know what he wants!" She rolled her eyes. "He sometimes says I go too slowly, which is none of his bloody business, and other times he doesn't want to be near me at all."

"Are…are you sure you like him?" Harry managed.

Ginny managed a weak, watery laugh. "Yes, I am sure." She wiped her eyes with a trembling hand. "Despite everything I really do care about him. Harry, I don't know what to do."

Harry shifted in his seat. She was his friend…didn't he owe it to her to tell her?

But he couldn't. Not without telling her that he, Harry, was gay.

Surprisingly, the idea didn't horrify him. Telling Ginny would be, in many ways, much easier than telling Ron and Hermione. And she wouldn't pass it on, not if he asked her not to.

He'd decided, had opened his mouth to tell her, when Dean walked in, followed by Ron. Dean looked mildly horrified to see Harry and Ginny together, with her in tears, but he pulled himself together quickly when she didn't immediately start yelling at him.

He crossed the room to take her hand.

"Alright, Gin?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Harry and I were just having a talk. No need to be jealous, though; there's nothing between Harry and me."

"I know there's not." He kissed her cheek lightly. "I've got to get some homework done. Do you wanna come to the library with me?"

Harry shut his mouth with a snap. He couldn't say anything, not with Ron here.

They left, nodding to Harry and Ron on their way out. Harry couldn't bring himself to meet Ginny's eyes.

Ron sank into Ginny's vacated chair with a sigh. "What was up with Gin? She looked in a right state."

"Hmmm."

"I dunno what she talks to you for." Ron grimaced. "Dunno what you listen for either, though. She's alright when she's happy, but when she starts leaking tears all about, I don't know what to do."

They sat in companionable silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire in front of them, and it occurred to Harry that he'd miss this, if Ron ended their friendship. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell his friend about Severus, but no sound came out. He couldn't do it.

Harry stared morosely at the flames. He couldn't bear to lose Ron's friendship.

Albus looked up from his desk, beard flipped over one shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. "Severus. You're early, of course. Come and have a seat." The tone was light, courteous, as always, and didn't tell Severus anything.

Severus, although he knew better, extended his mind a little. If only he could tell what Albus was thinking, it might give him an edge. But his legilimensy was blocked by what seemed to be a wall of impossible strength, like always. Twinkling eyes looked up from a teakettle, and Severus had the disconcerting feeling that Albus had felt his attempt.

He braced himself, but all the old man said was a mild "Do have a seat, Severus."

Over tea, Severus gripped his cup in an iron fist, waiting for the blow to fall.

"How have you been managing?" Severus tried to glare at his mentor, but couldn't manage. The eyes were his undoing. Bright and honest, they seemed to actually care about how Severus was doing. So instead of snapping at Albus, he found himself replying, "Not so bad. And you, Albus?"

There was concern in those eyes. "And your work for the Order?"

Severus quashed a frown. He ought to have known that Albus wasn't genuinely concerned with him. His only value to anyone was his work against the Dark Lord. And he wouldn't be valuable much longer because he was swiftly approaching breaking point.

Instead of saying any of this, he shrugged with false levity. "The Dark Lord trusts me, as he always has. I have nothing to report, Sir."

All this he said with polite formality, to the man who had been his sole reason for living for the past twenty years.

Instead of vanishing the concern, he'd seemed to fortify it. Severus could read the worry behind the clear eyes with ease. A torch on the wall flickered, and he felt the portraits' eyes on him.

And he felt a touch on his mind.

Automatically he did what he always did when the Dark Lord invaded his mind, and let the older man in, shoving unimportant details and long-forgotten memories to the front, burying his secrets away behind the wall of trivia.

For a second he considered letting Albus glimpse a scene of the previous night, let one of the boy wonder's gasps trickle through his defenses, but something about the idea repulsed him. It would be an easy way to tell Albus about his new problem, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He owed his life to this man, but he did not belong to this man.

No. He would not do it. Here was something he could hide from Albus, something he would hide from Albus, something that was none of the old man's business.

Their eyes met across the table, one black pair outwardly impassive, churning with fury beneath the surface, and one pale pair, shining with compassion.

There was silence following the mental struggle, and Albus broke it by sipping his tea, slurping slightly.

"Severus, what is he planning?"

"Nothing new. I am, at the moment, one of his favorites. I believe I would know if there was something afoot."

"I confess to being relieved." Firelight turned Albus's beard a deep golden color, and Severus felt suddenly tired, like he could sink his face into that shoulder and sleep for an eternity.

"Albus, when does it end?" He blurted it out, mesmerized by the firelight, and immediately regretted it, seeing the lines on the older man's face deepen. Albus had enough things to worry about without knowing how close to insanity his spy was. Besides, Severus could manage. He always did.

"Soon, my friend, soon." Albus looked old, and Severus hated him for it, and loved him for it at the same time, because it made him human. "Or there will be little left of us all."

The rest of the tea was a somber time, and Severus had the impression that they were holding something together that was dissolving at the threads, desperately snatching at sanity while it slipped through their fingers. When he rose to leave Albus placed a hand on his shoulder, the first physical contact they'd had in a long time, and sighed heavily.

"Severus, I would like to think that I am your friend."

"You…you are, Albus, as much as anyone." Severus stuttered.

"Yes." There was a sad smile at the corner of Albus's mouth. "And yet in one night we have each tried to invade the other's mind, and each blocked the other out." Severus stiffened, but Albus went on before he could continue. "But you know, Severus, don't you, that I will always be willing to listen, should you wish to talk."

"I know." His answer was bland, and he could not make it anything but.

"I need you sane, Severus. We all do."

They all needed him. He could not give in to the urge to simply fall asleep and never rise again. He had to live for the rest of the wizarding world.

"I know. I won't let you down, Albus."

A heavy sigh, and the old man's words were barely audible "No. That is true, Severus, despite all I have done to you, you will never disappoint us."

Severus crossed the room to leave, his brow creased in thought, and paused at the sound of Albus's voice, again.

He looked so weary, so utterly spent, that Severus felt a rush of pity.

"One more thing, my boy."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I condemn nothing you do, please understand that. I have every faith in your judgment, but I would remind you of something. Relationships between teachers and students are prohibited in this school. I would tread with caution were I you."

Severus could not, for the life of him, manage a coherent reply, and when he reached the door to his chambers he was more exhausted than before. He massaged his temple, leaning against the wall.

Harry was a boy, a child really. How could what he was doing not be wrong? And what kind of relationship did they have? They'd fucked twice already. If someone had described this to Severus, he'd have condemned himself for rape. This, whichever way he looked at it, was wrong.

But he loved the boy.

He scoffed at himself. The statement was a double blow. If he did indeed love Harry, he was a fool as well as a rapist. And he would destroy Harry. He destroyed everything.

So Severus had to end this, before it got out of hand. Before he got in so deep that he couldn't end it.

A small sound jolted him from his thoughts, and he pulled out his wand, squinting into the dark corner by the wall, out of the way of any torch bracket…

Harry lifted his head, a smile brightening his face when he saw the other man.

"Severus?" The boy stretched, and Severus felt his heart shudder. He fought the urge to tell Harry how beautiful, how flawless, how forbidden he was. "I figured it'd be a while before I got to see you again, and I came down to visit you. But I fell asleep. This probably isn't a good time?" There was a question in those green eyes.

Severus swallowed around the lump in his throat. Here, in front of him, was everything he wanted in the world.

And everything he could not have.

Their eyes met.

A/N: So you've met my Dumbledore for the first time…let me know what you think. You'll notice that he did not once mention Lemon Drops. I didn't include that because I think it's become a ridiculously overused cliché. Lemon Drops are mentioned all of what, three times? In six books? And yet seventy percent of fanfics including Dumbledore have him shoving the things down everyone's throat.

Sorry for the cliffie, but I'll try and write more as soon as I can.