A/N: Hello, my dears…it's recently occurred to me that I haven't written a disclaimer for a very long time. I think since the first chapter, but I couldn't be bothered checking. Anyway, this may come as a surprise to some of you, so brace yourselves: I am not JKR. Shocked? I thought you might be. On with the story.

Oh yes, and sorry for the delay and all that. I suppose you'll be getting used to it by now, though. :)

They were waiting for him in the common room. Hermione had slumped in a chair before the fire, one arm draped over her eyes, while Ron had paced up and down in front of the windows.

They both jumped at the sound of the portrait creaking shut.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was tentative.

"Of course it's him." Ron sounded brisk, almost unlike himself. "Who else has an invisibility cloak?"

Harry, under the cloak, gulped as Ron's eyes swept the room.

"Although we never figured he'd use it against his friends, right Hermione?"

Hemione ignored him. "Harry, please. This is ridiculous. We want you to talk to us."

"Come on, Mate." Ron sat down in a chair, heavily. "Time's up."

What else could he do? Slowly, uncertainly, Harry let the cloak pool at his feet.

Hermione gave a little gasp that was half-scream, and made as if to go to him, then thought better of it.

Harry, not having looked in a mirror, wondered what they were seeing. Mussed hair and disheveled robes would be the least of it. There was silence for a few seconds, in which Ron and Hermione took in his appearance. Then Ron said, a strangled sort of horror in his voice, "What happened?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Harry didn't know what it looked like. Like he'd been attacked, probably.

Hemione's voice was shrill. "Harry, what's going on?" She took several steps forward, then stifled another gasp. "Why do you smell like Firewhiskey?"

Ron looked at her incredulously. "How do you know what Firewhiskey smells like?"

"For heaven's sakes, Ron, I have been to pubs." Hermione snapped, sounding more like herself. Then her voice lowered again. "Harry, you've got to talk to us. If you've gotten yourself involved in something dangerous, maybe we can help."

"It's nothing like that." He hastened to assure them. But was that the strict truth? He wondered if Ron and Hermione would consider a relationship with Severus to be 'dangerous'.

"Then what is it?"

They were looking at him in expectation, as if they were absolutely certain that he about to tell them everything, and he caved, sinking into a chair. "This is private, mind?" He looked at Ron anxiously. "And you're not going to like it, but there's nothing you can do."

Hermione sat down too, and Ron followed her example. They were now sitting in a semicircle around the fireplace. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of soot, old furniture, and yes, Firewhiskey from his robes. How had he missed it before?

Then he opened his eyes and looked at his two friends. And suddenly, acutely, he felt how very much they meant to him. He couldn't say why this occurred to him now, except that he didn't know if they would still be his friends in the next few minutes.

"You've got to promise to let me finish, alright? And let me speak my bit before charging off to kill anyone."

Ron agreed without hesitating, and, though she looked more nervous than before, so did Hermione.

And the time had come to tell them. Harry opened his mouth, and was not surprised to find that no words came out.

He was more frightened of his friends than he was of Lord Voldemort.

Where was his Griffindor courage? Perhaps he'd left it with Severus. Perhaps he'd better run back and get it, before having this conversation that he so wanted to avoid.

No.

"Right. I'm…I like blokes. I'm gay."

There was an open-mouthed, shocked silence. Even Hermione, who Harry had thought might have guessed, looked thoroughly taken aback. She recovered fastest, though.

"Well…oh, Harry…that's…that's perfectly alright, of course, but I never…I didn't…I never guessed!" She elbowed Ron sharply. "Oh, Ron, shut your mouth. It's perfectly alright. Isn't it?"

Ron shut his mouth with a snap and turned to Harry, looking slightly worried. "Ya, I s'pose, mate, but…" he grinned uncertainly. "You don't…you don't fancy me or anything, do you?"

"No." Harry's mouth was so dry that the single word was all he could manage.

"Then it's fine by me, I guess." Ron stated, and sat back, looking bemused.

Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, for a second longer, as if seeing him for the first time, and he knew she was adding things up in her head, making connections that she'd missed before.

Then she frowned.

"Harry, this is important. Really important. It's good you told us, really, because now we know, and now hopefully you realize that we're your friends no matter what. But this doesn't explain where you were tonight, and why you smell like alcohol, and why you look like you've been attacked."

Harry made a mental note to check his appearance before leaving Severus's place next time. He must really be a sight.

"Wait a second." Ron was sitting there with the corner of his mouth quirking up in what was almost a smile. He grinned at Harry uncertainly. "Harry was with someone, wasn't he?"

Hermione turned bright red and put her hands to her face, but didn't say anything.

Harry nodded. "But you won't approve." He said, as Ron grinned in a manner reminiscent of his reaction to Cho kissing Harry.

Hermione smiled, also uncertain. "I'm sure we'll be fine with him, Harry. Is he in Griffindor?"

"No." At least that was something Harry could answer without any qualms. "And before you ask anything else, I'd better tell you that there's a bit of an age difference."

Ron frowned. "But we're in our last year. There isn't anyone older." Then a light seemed to dawn on his face. "He's younger, then? That might look bad, mate, especially if you're…" He trailed off, with a significant look at Harry's disheveled clothing.

"He's not younger."

Hermione was silent for a second, and then said, very quietly, "Suppose you simply tell us, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to comply, but—

"Blimey!" Ron interrupted, suddenly looking rather ill. "It's not Dumbledore, is it?" Ignoring Hermione's horrified look, he continued to Harry seriously, "Only it can't be a student, and it has to be an older man…"

Before Harry could deny this, Hermione cut in, looking absolutely furious. "Ron, you're being an idiot. Anyone can see that Professor Dumbledore sees Harry as his son, not as anything else!"

"But it's a teacher, right?" Ron ignored Hermione's scandalized look, and continued to address Harry. The guilty look that Harry knew was on his face seemed to convince Ron.

Come on, who? Not Flitwick? Not Hagrid, obviously." Ron screwed up his face in concentration. "Oh, yeuch! I've had a thought. Not Filch?" Harry laughed, and so did Ron. "Cause I don't think I could be ok with that, mate."

Harry shook his head. "Me neither."

They grinned and simultaneously shuddered. Hermione settled for simply looking quite sick.

Then Ron said, still grinning. "Although worse than that would be Snape, of course. Or Binns, though that's not really possible…"

Harry felt the grin fade from his face.

Hermione and Ron stared at him with twin expressions of surprise. Then Hermione's surprise faded, to be replaced with a blank, dreamy look, one that meant she was thinking hard.

Ron simply looked horrified.

There was silence. Finally Ron choked out, "Snape?" And Harry nodded.

There was more silence. Harry had never felt so miserable. He couldn't give up Severus; not for anything. But Ron and Hermione…they were his family. He couldn't bear to lose them either.

"Harry…" Ron's voice was almost a whisper. A disbelieving, disgusted whisper.

Harry didn't meet his eyes, but stared instead at the staircase, which was creaking ominously. "Look, I know you think it's sick, or something, but I really, really care about him. I don't expect you to understand, since you've only ever seen one side of him, but this is how I feel."

Hermione was running her hands through her hair, which was already looking bushier and less orderly than usual. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "Harry, I don't know what to say."

He gulped.
But instead of immediately speaking again, she rose from her chair to kneel beside him, to place a hand on his arm. "But we're your friends, Harry. I can't say that I approve, since Professor Snape is what, twenty years older than you? But I certainly won't condemn you for being in love. And neither will Ron, if he thinks about it."

Ron shook his head, although his face was pasty white. "I might kill that git, though. He's got to be controlling you somehow." Their eyes met. "If he is…" Ron swallowed hard. "I'll kill the bastard."

"I suppose that's what you were doing tonight?" Hermione asked, after a long pause.

Harry nodded. He no longer felt like talking at all. He felt a profound sense of relief that they had not discarded him as something contaminated. But they hadn't exactly accepted his relationship with Severus either.

"Well." Hermione frowned. "It's hardly reassuring that you've come back after midnight, smelling like alcohol, with your clothes ripped."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

"Was he drinking?" Her voice was shrewd, and Harry leapt to his lover's defense.

"That's none of your business, Hermione."

She shook her head. "Don't jump down my throat, Harry…it's only I've noticed him drinking a lot lately. Not in class, obviously, but the signs are there."

"So he drinks sometimes!" Harry tried to control his rising voice. "That doesn't mean anything!"

"I didn't say it did!" Hermione sounded frantic now. "Honestly, Harry, I'm not insulting him! All I mean is that he might have a problem…I'm worried about him, for your sake."

To this, there was nothing Harry could really think of to say.

A/N: I would like to thank (yet again) BlackPriestess, for getting me back on track. Without her, I'd probably have given up from sheer boredom by now, and you'd all have nothing to read. So be nice, grateful readers, and go check out her story, which is on my favorites list.