A History of Magic

Disclaimer:The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books for no profit. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to, JK Rowling.

A/N: Thanks everyone who's reading along, in particular those who've let me know they're enjoying the story. The amazing RaeWhit betaed this fic for me.

Part Five

-H-

I survey Spinner's End. I will not be here long. I have no more need of this hovel now, and as soon as I can empty it of my belongings, I will abandon it.

There is no use in selling this house. No man would choose to live here, much less pay for the privilege. This house is as scarred as I am.

I have not decided where I will go after this. I sit on my bruised couch and consider a holiday. No one would deny that I am due.

I have never been inactive.

The couch groans beneath me, uncomfortable bearing my weight. I stand and cross to the bookcase. There is an atlas here somewhere. Amongst this mass of paper and ink with broken spines, there is an atlas barely opened, never used. My eyes search uselessly for a moment, the dust and dullness of this house lying like a heavy veil in the air.

Then my wand is in my hand and I Summon the atlas.

The bookcase creaks. Several volumes bound in navy cloth leap off the shelves. From the gap left behind, a great book flies at me. I catch it in both arms, stumbling beneath its weight.

I sit on the floor. The couch has done nothing to deserve the weight of me and atlas both.

I flip the cover over and thumb the pages. I can feel their newness, their crisp, uncreased leaves.

My eyes fixed on nothing in the distance, I turn the pages. My finger stops, pointing accusingly at my destination.

I turn my gaze back to the atlas and read.

I laugh. An atlas of the world in my hands; distant and exotic lands spread before me in blues and greens and yellows.

I am going to the Welsh coast.

-S-

There is another flare of light. I turn my eyes to follow it; a flash of flames as fleeting as it is sudden. Twenty witches and wizards surround her, wands raised. She is fierce, her eyes flashing. Rings of smoke billow from her nostrils. They count down. Twenty jets of red rush forward and strike her.

She drops, a mound of dark green against the dying yellow grass.

"She'll wake soon," someone shouts. I think it's Hettie. "We need to get her shifted. Northeast is our best bet. There's another Muggle town not far south of here we need to avoid. Ready, everyone?"

When the beast has been dropped in some hidden valley, far from any Muggle inhabitants, Hettie catches up with me.

"Well, Snape, what do you reckon?" she asks, her voice no less booming for being directed at one person rather than nineteen.

"I am inclined to stay for the duration," I say.

"Excellent." She makes a move as though to slap my back in enthusiasm, but thinks better of it.

"Welcome on board, then."

I hold out my hand, and she takes it. As we shake, I can feel the roughness of her hands. Her palms are hard, and the backs of her hands are more calluses than not.

"Thank you," I say. I mean it. I had never thought to be welcomed again.

"Interesting career move, though, isn't it?" she comments absently.

The other handlers are Apparating back to the settlement.

"Interesting how?" I say.

I hadn't thought Hettie the sort to bring up my past.

"From a Hogwarts headmaster to a dragon trainer? Bit of a change in pace, I'd say."

I hold back a smile. "If you'd met some of my students you might know, as I do, that there is little change at all."

Hettie laughs and Apparates away.

No longer withholding my smile, I follow.

-H-

When Harry woke, he felt as though he had been put in a vice. His entire body ached as though squeezed past endurance. He could smell the familiar potions of the Infirmary.

His eyes crept open, blades of light slicing through his head. He groaned.

His vision cleared enough that he could see the room he was in. The walls were an unfamiliar white, and the curtain half drawn around his bed was not Hogwarts's standard issue. Harry struggled upright, regretting the motion as his muscles trembled and his head spun. He fell back to the bed with a pained grunt.

Black edged his vision and he saw no more.

"–ister Jones has no living relatives according to our records. I'm sorry Mister Snape, but –"

"It's Professor Snape."

"Of course, Professor. I'm afraid you're unable to visit at present."

The word Snape sent a throb of pain through his head. Or maybe his head was just throbbing anyway. Either way it sounded familiar.

"Snape?"

"Mister Jones, you're awake!"

Harry's eyes were closed, so it took him a moment to realise that she was speaking to him.

But why would she be calling him –

Three years slammed into him with the force of a cannon ball. His eyes burst open. "Severus!"

"I'm here, Thomas." A tall shadow moved into his field of vision.

"What happened?" Harry said. The words felt as though they were being forced out through a fist.

A cool hand pushed his fringe away from his forehead and Harry realised his eyes had fallen shut again.

"The Library was attacked," Severus said. His hand ceased stroking through Harry's hair; Harry sighed. "It was a resurgence of Death Eaters. The Dark Mark... No one was killed. There is no indication why something like this would happen so long after the Dark Lord's fall."

"Two wizards bearing the Dark Mark were arrested at the site."

There was something frigid in the woman's voice that shivered down Harry's spine.

"Your injuries should keep you incapacitated for a further week. It is possible you will go home before then if you have someone suitable to care for you."

"Severus?"

"Your other Healers and I are undecided on whether the Professor is an appropriate choice. He has barely been cleared of suspicion for bringing about your injuries – and the injuries of dozens of others."

Harry forced his eyes open so he could glare weakly. "Severus would be the perfect choice, but that's not what I was asking." He turned his head so that his gaze fell on Severus. "Are you okay?"

"I am quite alright, Thomas," Severus said. Harry's hand found Severus's and he was surprised to find that Severus did not let go. "You cushioned my fall, you idiot."

"Well, I knew you had to be keeping me around for something." Harry's throat felt bruised.

Capable hands lifted him, and he found himself leaning against a strong arm. A glass was pressed to his lips and he drank greedily. The water slid down like a balm, soothing the ache briefly. His eyes fell shut. He felt the glass pulled away and was settled back onto the mattress. The word thanks didn't make it to his lips before he was asleep again.

-H-

A mess tent has been set up. We will be at this location long enough to warrant it; there is a nest nearby, and the mother is responsible for several forest fires. It could be several days before we catch her and work out the problem. Or rather, before the others catch her and work out the problem. I'm simply here in case the solution involves a potion.

I toy with my soup, lifting a spoonful and watching it splash back into the bowl. No matter the height I drop it from, the drips do not spill over the edge. The bowl is charmed, I suppose.

I am not enjoying the food here.

A witch and a wizard, deep in conversation, sit opposite me. I recognise neither of them. The turnover in this job is remarkably high. I allow their words to wash over me.

"We're leaving soon. Team Holly, be ready and out front in five."

Hettie's voice booms across the tent. I am startled back into awareness. I will be accompanying Team Holly to the nest for reconnaissance.

"– gone off his rocker."

"They let him out of Mungo's too early, if you ask me. He's definitely too nuts to be working as an Auror. Damn near got himself killed last week."

The witch is nodding. "I know. Nasty curse, that one. And I heard no one visited him while he was re-growing his spine. Quite the anti-social little twat; frightened away all his friends. I reckon killing You Know Who's sent him round the –"

"Severus!" Hettie steps up beside me and takes my elbow. "We're meeting Team Holly just at the entrance in a couple of minutes."

I nod. I Banish my tray and follow Hettie outside.

The sky is so overcast that it's easy to forget that it's meant to be blue. Dull grey hides the sun and casts the fields in shadow. A group of fifteen is gathered, performing last minute checks on their kits, joshing each other and laughing.

I stop a little outside the group. I touch my potion case with two fingers, but do not bother to check inside. I know I have all the draughts I need.

"Everyone present and correct?" Hettie says; there is no need to amplify her voice with magic. "Right. On your brooms, then."

I mount my broom, shifting my potions case to my back. This part of the job is unexpectedly pleasant. I have never thought myself fond of flying, but now I relish the feeling of weightlessness. The wind beats against my face, a few strands of hair fight free to whip around me; I learnt some time ago to tie my hair back for these journeys. When winter comes I'll need a balaclava, though no doubt I could afford to lose some of my nose to frostbite.

All too soon we descend. The valley below us is half-blocked by the slumbering dragon. She is coiled around her nest so tightly that I cannot make out its contents.

As we come in to land, I see that her eyes are open. She follows us avidly. I am so stunned, my broom falls from my hands and I tumble the remaining two feet to the ground.

From the shouts and curses around me, it is plain I was not the only one caught off my guard.

A group of three approaches hesitantly, wands out. The dragon does not react. They fire a diagnostic spell at her eyes. She does not blink. Another spell, another, and she doesn't flinch.

"Shit."

Hettie is frowning. I catch her eye and nod to the dragon.

"Reckon we'll have to put her down. She's dying anyway. Losing her mind. At least she's had a good few years behind her."

"She's an old dragon?"

Hettie nods. "Sure. See the silvery tint to her scales? How brittle her claws are, all chipped?"

I lick my lips, preparing to ask another question. I am not an expert on dragons. Yet. "Of course. But why, then, is she guarding a nest?"

"Mind's gone, like I said. Nest'll be empty. She's not the first we've had thinking she was someone's mother. Bless her."

"Hey, Hettie! Who're gonna put her to sleep?" A tall wizard with a short beard is holding his wand loosely, and eyeing the dragon with discomfort. "I did one a couple of months back, mind, so reckon it shouldn't be me."

"You're fine, Owen. King, Finley, Jackson, would you put her out of her misery?"

There is much grumbling amongst those identified, but they all step forward.

I hear a slight crack, and my attention returns to the dragon. She is staring intensely at something contained in her claw. I step to the side and see it.

An egg.

Something is hatching.

King, Finley and Jackson have their wands raised against her now. I have seen this spell cast before; the creature's muscles spasm for a full minute after her heart stops. Her mind shuts down before her body.

"Wait!"

I am not aware of making a decision to speak.

"She has an egg in her claw. You need to remove it or it'll be crushed."

There is stillness following my words, followed by a sudden rush of activity.

"It's hatching!" calls a voice.

"Hey, nice catch, Snape," Finley says. He shoots me a grin as he helps subdue the dragon enough to extract the egg. She is so exhausted, not much is needed.

Hettie watches with her hands on her hips.

"Egg out? Good. Jones, get it incubated. King, Finley, Jackson: as you were."

I am in no hurry to depart, even as the others mount their brooms. There are important ingredients to be harvested before the dragon's corpse is disposed of, and I see no sense in wasting the opportunity.

Hettie has stayed to oversee. She has stressed to me more than once that she has every faith in me, but there is a legal requirement for her to supervise any member of staff around restricted goods. She leans irreverently against the carcass as I work.

"Guess she was nesting after all. Good call."

I shrug, not turning away as I strip away the dragon's healthier scales.

"Sheer dumb luck. I caught sight of the egg moments before the spell was cast."

Hettie smiles warmly. "It'll be hatched soon. Are you anxious to see whether it's a boy or a girl?"

I snort. "It's a little monster either way, why should I care?"

Little times passes before I bundle my haul – less than half my average – and turn to face her.

"But let's go see anyway, shall we?"

Her laughter is swept away by the wind, but I hear enough to know that she is not in the least convinced of my indifference.

-H-

When Harry next woke, he knew exactly where he was, and why Severus was there with him. He smiled sleepily, his hands coming up to de-goo his eyes clumsily.

Severus's gaze followed his hand's movement closely.

"It's odd," Severus said. Whatever it was couldn't be odder than his voice. "Being ill certainly brings out the green in your eyes."

Harry stopped rubbing his eyes. He stopped moving, stopped breathing entirely, and his heart stood still in his chest. Of course; they must have taken his contacts out. His eyes had probably been inflamed as anything after a day or so and he'd been here three or four.

Jesus.

Severus was staring at him, lips thinned in a line. He wasn't happy.

Dear sweet Jesus.

"I ..." There was nothing Harry could think to say to mitigate this.

His heart leapt once, settling in his throat. He touched his fingers to his forehead, slowly exhaling a sigh of relief when he felt the prosthetic covering his scar still in place. When he'd learnt how to cast a Semi-Permanent Sticking Charm at the Burrow, he'd never thought he'd use it for anything more important than hanging pictures on the wall.

If nothing else, at least his scar was still hidden. And with any luck, there wouldn't be enough of his roots showing for Severus to suspect he wasn't blond. That he was disguised had been revealed, but not what it was he'd disguised. There was no way Severus could connect him to Harry Potter in the future.

Severus was stood now, arms folded defensively over his chest.

Harry licked his lips nervously, eyes flitting to Severus and away again.

"I... I'm sorry," he said, finally. His voice was unfamiliar to him. "I really – I can't say."

In a storm of black, Severus was gone.

Well, that could have gone worse.

But it certainly could have gone better.

Oh, dear sweet Jesus.

What now?

-S-

Harry knew that Severus was watching his every move. He'd stayed in bed the required week and not a minute longer. He'd done something to the muscles in his back that apparently meant he wasn't allowed to so much as sit up unaided, or so Severus seemed to think.

"Will you be following me into work on Wednesday to make sure I don't overexert myself lifting books?" Harry said.

Severus didn't respond to the tease. As attentive as he'd been since Harry's return from St Mungo's, he'd barely spoken a word. It was driving Harry mad. There was something about a silent Severus that set him on edge.

Harry sighed, limping past the Transfigured cot and out to the hall. He made it to the bathroom this time before stopping to catch his breath.

He half-expected to find Severus behind him still, his scrutiny heavy as Harry struggled to hold his own weight; he was like a foal taking its first faltering steps.

Severus had not followed.

The water for the shower heated instantly. Harry stripped and stepped under the weak flow. Even that made his back ache.

Here, where there was no one watching him, where no eyes might peer into his own and glimpse his mind, he might just admit that he missed Severus. A little. A lot. A truly surprising amount. He missed Severus the way he had missed Ron during those first weeks of the Triwizard Tournament.

The wrongness of Severus's silence covered him like a greasy film, something he could not shake, that clung to him even as he tried to return to normalcy. In a way, it was worse than when Ron had not believed him, because here there was no Hermione to bring him toast and sympathy, and no dragon to shock Severus out of his distrust, and no reason for Severus to forgive him because he was right.

The ache of loneliness that he had known during his first year and a half in this time – that had been soothed by Severus's presence – had flared up once more in the past week.

Harry supported himself with his forearms against the wall, his head falling forward to lean against the cool tiles. This situation was useless. He could not allow Severus to leave for Hogwarts while this lay over them. There were less than two weeks left. However it had happened, Harry could not deny that Severus's regard had come to be important to him.

He would win it back.

Harry rushed through the rest of his shower, determined to address Severus now while his resolve was firm.

Water trickled from his hair down his back, and he wrapped a towel around his hips rather than dressing. He marched from the bathroom to the living room, only to find it deserted. His walk to the bedroom was less certain.

Harry opened the door and sighed.

Severus was gone.

-H-

I am soothed by the sounds of shouts and loud roars outside my tent. My potion is nearly ready, and these days I find it harder to brew in silence.

Blue flames coil and uncoil restlessly over the liquid's surface. A flash of green jolts through like lightening. I'll know it's finished when the flames change to green and stay that way.

In the meantime, I keep stirring.

The dragon must have been subdued. I have never known a beast to be that quiet when teething.

The potion is ready to decant. This one must be warm when applied, so I select a carved wooden vial.

Finley is waiting for me when I duck under the tent flap and into the open.

"Snape, you're a hero," he says, taking the vial from my hand. "I thought we'd never get him over so we could apply this. Wouldn't fancy rubbing it on his gums when he was awake."

I snort. "I wouldn't fancy rubbing it on his gums anyway. The mouth of a dragon – two weeks old or not – is not somewhere I want to put my hand."

"Oh, he's harmless," Finley says, but he's grinning. It is plain that he knows that the creature's harmlessness is contingent on his remaining unconscious. "You got a name for him yet?"

"I don't see why I should name him," I say. "I'm here for potions research. The dragons are incidental."

"You saved him, you name him. You've been here long enough to know the rules."

I hesitate. "I thought maybe... Norbert. I knew a dragon that was supposed to be a Norbert once, but she grew out of the name."

"That wouldn't be Hagrid's Norberta, would it? I should've known you'd have met her."

I stiffen.

"You worked with Hagrid when he was Care of Magical Creatures teacher, didn't you?"

I nod. I bite my tongue lest I say something incriminating and bitter. My past doesn't matter here; the present is too diverting.

"Oh, you'll be pleased to hear he's coming up tomorrow to visit. From France."

I smile. It does not reach my eyes. I avoid people I knew from Hogwarts. I have been exonerated, but I am far from innocent. I can't bear the looks in their eyes, of blame and pity and forgiveness.

"I look forward to it," I say. "Now, isn't there a dragon with a sore mouth out there, impatient for your tender touch?"

"I look forward to it," Finley parrots, his face half-grin, half-grimace.

I watch him leave with a feeling that his encounter will go remarkably smoother than mine.

-H-

Severus had made himself scarce all week; not a difficult thing, considering Harry was back on nights (though only five-hour shifts; Morgan could be surprisingly paternal, given the minimal gap between their ages). The most Harry ever saw of his flatmate was a silhouette against the curtains, making its way to and from the Transfigured cot while Harry himself passed in the other direction.

The silver lining in this mess was that Severus no longer had a chance to question Harry's actions. He'd finally made a trip to Grimmauld place, taking less than two hours. He replaced the Horcrux with an identical locket so that his future self would recognise it when he went back in time and read that book. Or something. Harry was pretty sure he'd avoided a paradox, at any rate.

As he strolled through the streets of London, he thought it a shame that he'd only managed to track two of the Horcruxes. He couldn't touch the ring, he knew that. Much as the thought of destroying it, and with it saving Albus's hand, was sorely tempting. The snake and the diary were out of bounds for similar reasons. That only left one, and it would have been nice to make a clean sweep of it.

But Harry had no idea where Voldemort might have hidden the last of his Horcruxes.

Turning into Diagon Alley, he saw the white walls of Gringotts greet him like a ship's sails on the horizon. He snorted. If he'd had something he desperately wanted to protect back when he was younger, Gringotts would have been his second choice after Hogwarts. He couldn't picture Voldemort having his own vault somehow.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, almost getting himself knocked down by a brisk warlock.

Voldemort wouldn't have his own vault, but one of his trusted followers might.

And though he would never get close enough to see it, and he'd surely never touch it, Harry suddenly knew exactly where the final piece of Voldemort's soul was hidden.

-H-

"Hagrid," I say, inclining my head slightly. I had thought to hide in the mess hall, a tree within the forest, but he has tracked me down.

"Professor," he says, a grin splitting his face.

I do not tell him to dispense with the formalities; Hagrid is nothing if not a creature of habit.

"Miss Granger."

She nods at me, but does not speak. From her pallor, and the way her lips are pinched together, I can deduce that she does not speak often these days.

An awkward silence settles heavily over us, one I have no inclination to see lifted. Hopefully the frigidity of my attitude will soon send them running to the dragons just for heat. I have no desire to endure a catch-up.

Hagrid's attention is caught by a familiar face. From their chatter, I gather that this boy learnt Care of Magical Creatures under Hagrid, which certainly explains his desire to work with magic's most deadly selection.

Granger does not turn to look at me. I expect her to keep her silence, and she exceeds my expectations once more by opening her mouth.

"I was surprised to hear that you work here. Are you enjoying it?"

"I am." I do not ask any questions of my own; I have no wish to know what she gets up to.

"Harry was even more surprised than me. Or at least so Hagrid says. He tried to look for you after your trial. Harry, that is."

I glance at Granger, but her eyes are still fixed ahead.

"He evidently did not look very hard. I am scarcely in hiding here."

"I don't think he wanted you to know he was looking."

"I see." I really don't. "And the reason you are happy to betray the confidence of your friend to me?"

"Haven't you heard? We are no longer friends."

I nearly drop my tea in shock. I stare at her, aware that my mouth is hanging ever so slightly open. I cannot string a question together. Luckily, I don't have to.

"Harry has been rather careless with his life; you cannot have failed to notice. He's avoiding me – avoiding his friends – because he knows we'll ask him to stop. Again. And now he's decided to – Well, he's planning something I find myself quite opposed to. Something quite selfish, which is rare for him. He deserves to be selfish but I wish... I just wish he would see sense. I don't think my anger has changed his mind one whit, and he's so hard to stay cross with. I will probably try to see him again soon."

I cannot say I share her sentiment.

"You are still angry with him?"

"I don't see how I can not be, knowing what he wants to do. But he does need me. I couldn't leave him in hospital alone again. It broke my heart. Mrs Weasley will be furious if I cave, of course. I'll have to tell her first."

I snort. "You'll be telling her second. For some unknowable reason, you are telling me first."

Granger is smiling faintly, though her gaze is still averted. "I thought that someone had better let you know. That's why I volunteered to meet Hagrid in Dover."

"I thought you were surprised to hear I worked here. Now you claim to have known all along?"

Her smile becomes more solid. "I was surprised when I heard. Of course, I heard some time ago. As did Harry."

Hagrid is beckoning her over. There is some beast he wants to introduce her to, no doubt. As I watch her leave, I realise that, for all that she said she had come to relay information, I know nothing more than I knew this morning.

-H-

Harry forewent sleep. Severus was leaving in a couple of hours, and Harry was damned if he was going to let him go like this. He sat on the sofa, elbows on knees and head in his hands, waiting.

Finally, the sound of footfalls in the hall brought his head up.

"Severus," he said, his voice worn and weary. "Please, just sit."

After a moment's hesitation, Severus obeyed.

Harry was so surprised that he just stared, stunned.

"Did you want something, or are you simply going to gape like a moron?"

Harry fell back to himself with a thump. "Right, well. I wanted to resolve things between us."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jones."

Harry flinched. "You never call me Jones. Not even at the start."

Severus sneered at him. "Completely contrary to common courtesy, when we met you did not offer me your last name. Of course the point is moot, given that I know that neither Thomas nor Jones is your name."

A flush stole across Harry's face. "I didn't want to lie to you, Severus –"

"And yet you lied anyway. You have lived in my home for a year; a year in which you failed to be honest with me once."

"That's not fair!" Harry cried. "I lied about one thing. You can't know who I am. There is too much at stake. But I lied about nothing else."

Severus stood, turning half away as though he could not bear to look at Harry. "This research, Jones. It is not the purely academic study you led me to believe, is it?"

Harry stared down at his hands. "It's not."

"For all I know," Severus said, his face twisted, "you conduct your research here, and not at the library."

It took Harry a moment to realise what Severus was implying.

"You think I'm spying on you? No, Severus! That's not it at all. I promise you –"

"What is one of your promises worth, when lies drip so easily from your lips?" His eyes darted to Harry's lips.

"I am not lying!" Harry screamed, suddenly on his feet. "I've hated lying to you, but surely you of all people should understand. How many lies did you tell before Voldemort fell, Severus?"

Severus reared back as though slapped. "You have no right –"

"Nor do you have any right to judge me for lying to you. Lives are at risk, do you understand me? I have no idea what the consequences would be if I told you the truth."

"No right?" Severus asked. His voice quietened, deadly soft. "No right to demand honesty? When all this time you have led me to believe – to believe –"

"To believe what?"

Severus turned back to look at him. His face was flushed, and Harry had only a moment to think that it did not suit him before a hand was around his neck and lips pressed against his.

He gasped, and a tongue slid agilely into his mouth. He had never in his life been kissed like this. His hands hung uselessly at his sides even as Severus's began to wander, to clutch at him and drag him close. Harry choked, his eyes falling shut when Severus slid a hand over the small of his back.

He didn't mean to, God knew he didn't mean to, but –

He kissed back.

A hand came up to cup his face, and Harry placed his own hand over it, fingers entwining. His other hand gripped an arm, holding himself up and keeping Severus near him.

Not that Severus showed any signs of stopping.

Harry was panting, but he did not pull away. His head swam from lack of air, but he was desperate to keep this connection. Once the moment was broken, Harry knew – Harry knew –

He redoubled his efforts, pushing forth with his tongue and surging into Severus's mouth. He faltered forward, pressing himself so closely to Severus that there was no telling whose heartbeat was whose. The kiss was clumsy, and Severus had to have noticed, but Harry wouldn't let him pull back. Just now, just here, Harry thought.

And then it was over. Harry could feel tears on his face. A gentle thumb wiped them away, his own hand trapped into moving with it. He turned away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice trembled, as though these were his first words.

"Don't be," Severus murmured, lips moving against Harry's hair. It tickled.

"I wish... I wish I could. I can't, Severus. I can't."

He stepped back, trying to disentangle his hand from Severus's.

"You can't what?"

And Severus's voice was cold again.

His hand freed, Harry stumbled backwards. He whimpered as he jarred his back against the couch.

"I never thought you would... It never occurred to me that you might..."

"That I would believe your act so thoroughly? That, as my only defender, you would own me?"

"I don't. Severus, please..."

He slid to the floor. He was shaking.

"You are one of only two people with leave to call me Severus, and you did not believe I would be affected?"

Severus knelt, his face inches from Harry's.

Harry couldn't look up.

"I didn't think what it would mean for you. I never think. I just... do."

"Then do this."

And Severus leant forward, trying to capture Harry's lips again.

Harry scrambled away, turning his eyes miserably to Severus at last.

"I can't. It wouldn't be right. You don't know who I am."

"I don't care. You said the rest of it wasn't a lie. I know that is true; you would not have... if you did not care for me at all. That is enough."

"It shouldn't be. You deserve better."

Severus growled. His fist slammed into the couch above Harry's head. Harry flinched.

"Hang what I deserve! You, you, are what I want, and you are within my reach. Why can I not have you?"

"I'm leaving," Harry said, the words little more than air. "I don't know when, but I'll have to leave you. I couldn't do that. It's all or nothing. It can't be all."

Severus's face was carved from stone.

"So it is to be nothing."

Harry let his head drop back against the couch. He closed his eyes against the sting of what couldn't possibly be tears. He felt as though he could fly apart any moment, as though nothing was anchoring him and he could dissipate into the air.

"It is to be nothing," he repeated softly.

He heard fabric shuffling, but didn't open his eyes. He did not want to see Severus walk away.

He was startled a moment later by pressure against his side. Severus was warm, and Harry moved to him automatically. Long arms wrapped around him.

"Fool," Severus said to him, arms tightening. "It could never be nothing."

-H-