Rating: M

Warnings: Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

Pairings: SS/HP and HP/GW

Genres: Romance, Drama, Angst

Summary: Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

Chapter Four: Gaining a Friend

With a heavy groan, Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his hands over his face. The text lying open on his desk swam before his eyes and he combed his fingers through his messy hair so that it stood on end more so than usual. He stretched his arms out high and arched his back with a satisfying sigh, getting rid of all the achy kinks that had settled in his muscles. He then folded his arms on top of his desk and buried his head.

It was Monday morning. He'd been at work for a total of 3 hours and 47 minutes and already he wished the day would end. During the weekend his personal life, as always, had been splashed across the papers for all to see and if one more person asked him about it he was seriously going to hex them. Why did people seem to think that Harry's business was their business? And why did they believe that Harry would happily discuss it with them if they approached him? And why, why, did they all jump to conclusions because of a stupid picture and a stupid article written by a stupid so-called reporter?

Just because Ginny had attended Gwenog's Quidditch party with her brother George instead of her fiancé Harry did not mean they had broken up! Just because they were engaged to be married did not mean they had to go everywhere together! He was used to being treated like a hero – it still made him feel uncomfortable but he understood that people needed someone to believe in, someone to have faith in if things ever got as bad as they had during the war – but being treated like some sort of muggle celebrity? Snapped by the paparazzi and gossiped about in papers and magazines? He was an Auror, damn it!

And if that wasn't enough, he now had his boss breathing down his neck about the still-unsolved murder case. Gawain Robards, previous Head Auror, was now in charge of the entire Magical Law Enforcement Department. He was smug and patronising and was sarcastic in an 'I'm-joking-but-I'm-not-really-joking' sort of way, but he was good at his job and that was all that mattered. Socially, he and Harry were quite good friends – they went to pubs and clubs together and went on 'lads weekends' with the other male Aurors, which usually consisted of going to another Country, watching a Quidditch match, getting drunk, and usually ended up with one or two of them (never Harry) getting arrested and thrown into a muggle prison for the night.

At work, their relationship couldn't have been more different. The man seemed to take great pleasure in seeing Harry struggle and as much as Harry would have loved to prove his boss wrong, he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

He was fed up and his brain felt full of cobwebs – heavy, boulder-sized cobwebs that weighed his head down so much that he wanted to sit with his head in his arms all day long and do absolutely nothing. But the knock on the door told him he couldn't do that either. He groaned.

"Come in," he called out, still not looking up. The door clicked open and he heard indistinct voices chatting away before the door closed, shutting it all out.

"You alright mate?" a voice asked him and he recognised it as Ron's.

"Urgh," he grunted.

Ron chuckled and Harry heard him cross the room and take a seat.

"What's it this time?" he asked Harry. "The paper or Big Boss Robards?"

"Both," he muttered into his arms. "Stupid newspaper. Stupid people. Stupid Robards. Stupid criminals. Everything's just stupid."

"Yeah," said Ron. "But you know what to do, don't you? Just ignore the paper like you always do; people will get bored eventually and move on. As for work, well…it is a bit harsh that he won't let you take on something new, but I reckon he's testing you. Your first big case since you became Head Auror and all that. He wants to see how you handle it."

Harry groaned again, but part of what his friend had said actually made sense so he lifted his head from his arms and slipped his glasses back on.

Ron looked the same as ever, just much broader of shoulder and chest. He'd been sporting a rather rugged look recently, intent on growing a beard to make himself look more "dark and mysterious"; Hermione, thankfully, had vetoed that idea straight away and so it was a newly shaven Ron that smiled at Harry across his desk, looking very bright with his red hair and red robes.

"I can handle it just fine," he told Ron, sitting up in his chair. "It's not my fault we don't have any new leads. Until Davidson or McCulloch make a move, we're stuck."

He tried, once more, to throw himself into the investigation; he picked up the file on his desk and flicked it open. Words that he had read a hundred times stared up at him and he dropped the file back down with a resigned sigh. His heart just wasn't in it.

"You fancy going for lunch?" he asked Ron, who nodded. He got up from his chair and they both made their way through the busy room and towards the corridor.

"So," said Ron, sounding as if he was trying to make conversation, "You set a date for the wedding yet?"

Harry followed him into the lift. He pressed the button for 'Level 8 – The Atrium' and the lift began to descend.

"We've only just got engaged," Harry said. "Why would we set a date?"

"Well, you know how girls are with that sort of thing," he said, as if he was an expert on the subject. "As soon as you've got a ring on their finger, they're hurrying you down the aisle with no expense spared."

"Ginny's not like that," he told Ron. "She's not even mentioned the wedding since the engagement party. We're doing it all in our own time and at a pace we're comfortable with."

"Mate, trust me," said Ron, "even my sister's not immune. The wedding bug will bite soon and then it'll be all flowers and dresses and food, you'll see. Bet you anything you're married by Christmas."

Harry frowned.

"What about you and Hermione?" he asked, stepping aside as the lift doors slid open on Level 6 and a few people joined them. "Are you guys planning on tying the knot anytime soon?"

"Well," said Ron, slowly, "Mum keeps going on at me about it, but I just don't think we're there yet, you know? I know it's been almost five years and I know we're living together now but…I dunno…marriage is this huge thing to women."

"Not just to women," he assured him. "I wouldn't have asked Ginny to marry me if I wasn't sure."

"But it's a lifetime though, isn't it," said Ron. "How can anyone be sure if that's how they want to spend a lifetime?"

The lift came to a stop and the doors opened up onto the noisy Atrium. A large picture of Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled down at them as they stepped out into the large hall and Harry smiled back, thinking of how fortunate they were to finally have such a trustworthy Minister.

"You know," said Harry, leading the way towards the canteen, "for someone who's always been in love with Hermione and has wanted to spend his life with her, you really sound like you've got cold feet over this. Is everything OK?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as they reached the dinner hall. They quickly joined the line and ordered their food and minutes later they were sat down at a table in the busy room.

Harry pulled the wrapping off his chicken and mayonnaise sandwich and bit into it as Ron drowned his chips in vinegar.

"Well?" Harry asked. "You and Hermione alright?"

"As well as we could be," he replied. "It's just this moving in together thing. I thought it'd be nice to be around each other all that time – you know, cuddles in the morning and sex at night. But it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I forgot how much she used to annoy me at school."

Harry laughed.

"I'm serious," Ron went on. "She sits around reading books and making lists and plans and things. There was never any of that when we went on dates – it was just fun Hermione back then. Now we're living together I've remembered what bossy Hermione is like and how she hates being disturbed."

"But isn't that the Hermione you fell in love with at school?" he said. "You've known that about her all along."

Ron looked thoughtful as he dipped his chips in ketchup.

"I suppose," he said. "It's not like I've gone off her or anything. I still love her. It's just weird, is all."

"You'll get used to it," Harry assured him. "It's bound to be difficult when you're learning to live with someone. Not only do your privacy levels drop dramatically, you have to learn to live with every aspect of their personality."

Ron looked over at him.

"You and Ginny didn't seem to have any problems," he said.

"We had plenty."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well," said Harry, thinking, "We argued constantly about food; we always wanted to eat something different so we'd cook for ourselves at different times – it was a month until we started eating meals together. And we were forever complaining about each others' habits – I mean, I like tidying up after I've finished something, yeah? But Ginny likes tidying up as she goes along; she was always saying that I was too messy and I was saying that she was too organised. And she hates it when I walk through the house in my shoes; I was so used to doing it at Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place that it took me some time to remember to take them off. And there's no point in talking to her when she's in one of her moods because everything I say and do is wrong. And I hate the way she makes the bed in the morning, piling it with all those pillows…there's just no need for them! And sometimes she just expects me to drop everything at her say so and do whatever she wants – well I'm sorry, but that's just not going to happen! And sometimes she's upset and she expects me to know what's wrong when I haven't a single, bloody clue!"

Harry finished with a great, satisfying sigh and reached for his dessert.

"Feel better?" said Ron, staring at him in amusement.

"Hmm, much," Harry nodded with a smile.

Severus set his best quill aside and glanced down at his finished article on the recent advancements of Amortentia. For the first time in his career as a Potions Master and Journalist he was having second thoughts about submitting his work.

After months of research and development, (and hiring, firing, and Obliviating test subjects) he'd finally found a way to make the love potion, Amortentia, stronger. A colleague of his had been so certain that it couldn't be done; naturally, Severus had seen that as a challenge and had proceeded to lose himself in frozen Ashwinder eggs and bubbling cauldrons. The thought of gloating about his achievement was an enticing one, but a part of him – the part he'd listened to during the war – was telling him that releasing this discovery was a bad idea; no longer did the potion just cause obsession with the intended target, tricking its victim into thinking they were in love. No, what Severus had created was pretty much liquid Imperius.

People would do anything for love and that worried him. If they got their hands on this potion then the world would be full of men and women running around killing, stealing, committing all kinds of atrocious acts, all claiming it was in the name of love.

He stood up with a sigh and paced about the room, glancing every now and then back down at the parchment.

He supposed he could submit the article without the instructions on how to make it but he imagined his boss wouldn't be very thrilled. He'd want a demonstration and that, of course, would lead to publicity and eventually things would get out of hand. Just knowing that such a potion existed would cause countless letters to arrive, all offering incredible amounts of money in exchange for his services.

Fifteen years ago he wouldn't have thought twice about revealing his findings. He would have bathed in the glory and recognition it brought to his name. But now?

He stopped his pacing and sat down on the window seat.

The war had taught him a lot about himself, he realised; about the man he was and the lengths he would go to, about how far he would allow himself to be pushed. He didn't care for the Order of Merlin he'd been awarded – he hadn't even turned up at the ceremony – and he certainly didn't care for glorifying his name. It wouldn't even be his name that got the glory either, but that of Augustus Prince, his alias in the journalism world.

Albus snored in his picture and Severus looked up with a scowl. If it had been possible to get rid of that painting then he would have done so the moment he stepped foot inside the cottage. But the Dumbledore's, like Mrs. Black, had found a way to stick themselves permanently to the wall above the fireplace. Severus just thanked whatever deity he was supposed to thank that the occupants of the portrait spent most of their time asleep.

The large grandfather clock in the corner chimed 8. Severus cursed. This time he really was late to meet Potter.

He got to his feet once more and looked down at the Amortentia article. It was Friday – the deadline was Saturday and publication was Monday. He wouldn't have time to write a different piece but he was fairly certain that he could not let this one be published. With a sigh he opened his desk drawer and pulled out some parchment; a few weeks ago he'd written an article on the ever growing uses of Asphodel – his backup plan, should he ever find himself unable to make the deadline. He rolled it up into a scroll, spelled it closed, and strode out the room.

As he stepped into his shoes he tried to tell himself that he wasn't looking forward to meeting Potter. He still believed everything he'd said last week, that the only reason Potter was sniffing about was because he had a conscience that needed soothing. Severus was a charity case to Potter, a project, and nothing more – as soon as he felt he'd done his bit then he'd be off quicker than a Golden Snitch.

And Severus wouldn't have put up with it if he wasn't so damn lonely. As much as he hated it, there was no denying it – he was going crazy stuck in this house with nothing but a portrait for company. He knew very well that Potter would disappear when he felt his "duty" had been fulfilled, but his need to get out and do something had grown so large that it could no longer be ignored. Taking trips to Diagon Alley and spending weekends abroad were no longer enough to distract him.

He'd always hated crowds and he'd always hated making conversation. But, admittedly, he missed the banter. He missed being able to stand in the Staff Room and insult the teachers, be insulted back, and then smile and part ways, no harm done.

He wasn't looking for friendship from Harry Potter. He merely wanted something to tide him over until his own company became bearable again. That's all Potter was to him – he was nothing more than a fix.

That so-called "fix" quickly became something of a semi-permanent fixture. A month later, Harry and Severus were still meeting every Friday outside the pub in Godric's Hollow and the table they sat at had quickly become their table.

Severus had come to see the meetings as one of the high points of his week. He honestly hadn't realised how much he needed to share. He shuddered at the thought, but it was actually nice to have someone to converse with. He'd been so withdrawn since the death of Albus that he hadn't noticed how dire things had become.

And so every Friday he would talk with surprising ease about the war and his past and he gladly answered any questions Potter had about his mother. Potter would ask about his work, seeming genuinely interested, and Severus would take great pleasure in describing the discoveries, however small, he'd made. Potter, being an Auror, agreed that Severus had done the right thing in keeping the improved Amortentia a secret; it would cause too much trouble for the Ministry and they had enough things on their plates.

He was still cautious of the situation and had been careful not to drink enough to become inebriated again; no matter how much he drank in the comfort of his own home, he couldn't afford to do it in public – he wasn't naïve enough to believe that just because he'd been declared a hero he would be safe, despite the Death Eater's being locked in the new wizard-guarded Azkaban. And besides, he needed to keep a clear head where Potter was concerned

But by the time April rolled around, Severus had to admit that he was enjoying himself. He'd even started to re-question Potter's motives – it had been almost two months and still the Auror showed no signs of abating. Maybe he really did want to be friends? And if he did…well…Severus wasn't so sure he'd be averse to the idea.

After all those years spent hating the brat it suddenly felt like he'd gained back a piece of Lily.

"I like it here," Potter said one evening, dropping onto Severus' sofa. They'd met, as usual, outside 'The Lion' at 8 but had decided to go back to the cottage for something to eat. Potter's hair was a mess but he looked rather handsome in his dark jeans and blue dress shirt.

"It's so peaceful and quiet," he continued. "My house is spelled to keep most noise out, but it doesn't feel like this. This is a natural peace."

Severus set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of Potter and moved to sit in the armchair.

"Why do you live in London anyway?" he asked. "Why not in Godric's Hollow? I always assumed you'd jump at the chance to live in the same village your parents had."

"Because I was young and foolish and had money, that's why," said Potter. "I wanted to be where the action was."

"But not anymore?"

Potter frowned, reaching for his soup.

"Ginny likes it," he said after a few mouthfuls. "It's a gorgeous house and she loves being in the city."

"That doesn't answer my question," Severus said, watching him carefully.

Potter shrugged.

"I get enough action at work," he said. "Sometimes I think it would be nice to come home to a quiet little village. But I can't fault London – it's got everything; great shops, great restaurants, great bars…not to mention it's perfectly located for work and the hospital."

"But you're a wizard," Severus said, watching as Potter tore a piece of bread in two. "Location doesn't matter when it comes to travel – you can just apparate of use the floo network."

Potter smiled at him rather sheepishly and gave another shrug.

"Sometimes I like to get the bus," he admitted.

Severus' eyebrows shot up.

"Why on Earth would you want to do that?" he asked.

"Not everything is about magic, you know," he said, waving a piece of bread at him. "A lot of people take it for granted. I like to feel a part of it."

"A part of what?"

"It," he repeated. "The muggle world. It used to be all I knew. I may not have liked that time of my life, but it was a part of me, a part of my mother. And muggles don't know me," he went on explaining. "Sometimes, if it's been a particularly trying week and I've been in the papers, then it's nice to just become anonymous for a while."

He finished, looking a little flushed, and busied himself with his bread and soup. He probably thought Severus was going to make some sarcastic comment, mocking him for his celebrity status and his desire to be unknown. Severus, however, had no intention of doing so – if the two months had taught him anything it was that Harry Potter was not the spoilt, selfish brat he'd always believed him to be. In fact, he was the exact opposite. If his dedication to befriend Severus was anything to go by, he was kind and caring just like Lily had been.

Although Harry wasn't his mother any more than he was his father, that much was glaringly obvious. He was his own person with his own nature, his own sense of right and wrong, his own loves and his own fears. He was the figure of hope to many and Severus was just coming to understand why.

Maybe he really could be friends with Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry it's a bit of a short one. Thankyou to everyone who is adding to alerts/favs and reviewing!