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 Eight: Crossed Wires

Why? That was the question that had been pounding the inside of his skull. Why? His body felt alive with the very question as every inch of him tried to come up with a good enough answer. He'd kissed Harry Potter. But for the love of God, why?

He stared at the wine glass on the table, the empty bottle next to it glinting in the evening sunlight falling through the window. It was rather hard to believe that just five minutes ago he had been laughing and chatting, enjoying himself. It was disturbing how fast a moment could be shattered.

Why had he kissed Harry? What was wrong with him? A friendship wasn't something to be gambled with, so why had he thrown away so much in such a short space of time?

Harry had been his friend, the friend he had thought he hadn't wanted, but desperately needed. He'd given up his time, gone out of his way, just to make sure Severus wasn't alone, that he had someone he could talk to.

Well, so much for that. He'd royally screwed up this time. He'd never appreciated Lily like he should have, and he'd never appreciated Albus. And now it looked like he'd appreciated Harry a little too much. He'd be lucky if Potter ever breathed in his direction again.

But why? That question still remained unanswered. Why had he done it? Potter was an attractive bloke, but Severus wasn't attracted to him, not really – he wasn't his type. He usually went for…well, for people in his own league, for a start. For people who didn't have muscles and a tan. For people who weren't hero-worshipped by the masses. For people who weren't voted Witch Weekly's "Most Fanciable Wizard."

So why the kiss?

Severus put his head in his hands and sighed. Just thinking about it was causing an uneasy amount of embarrassment to flood through him and Severus Snape didn't take well to being embarrassed. But Merlin, he'd brought this on himself and he knew it!

There was no point in trying to fool himself. The fact was, in those moments leading up to the kiss, Severus had found himself irresistibly drawn towards Harry. And – and this was perhaps the most mortifying thing of all – he'd actually believed that Harry had been attracted to him. Imagine! And when their lips had touched and Harry had responded…what did that mean?

For the first time in years Severus had felt wanted, but was he really that out of practice that he'd mistaken the other man's kindness for something more? Friendship didn't mean "ownership" or "relationship" – friendship simply meant what it meant and he'd do bloody well to remember that!

It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't entirely sure what he was mourning; the ruin of a friendship, or the realisation that nothing could come of it?

Whatever it was, he had to fix things. No matter how much his instinct told him to hide away and let it go, he wasn't prepared to lose yet another friend because of his own selfishness. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to ruin things this time.

And, well, really…it wasn't that serious. A kiss was, after all, just a kiss. It hadn't meant anything other than a few crossed wires. Surely Harry was reasonable enough to see that?

But would Severus really be content with just friendship and nothing more?

Harry swirled the cold water around his mouth for the fifth time before spitting it out into the sink and shutting off the tap. His wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and stood, breathing heavily, staring at the edge of the mirror. His eyes refused to meet his reflection.

A horrible, squirming knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and he was shaking all over. He was angry, disgusted, and ashamed and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, nor what emotion to deal with first. His mind was stuck on "replay" and every time he remembered the feel of those lips, his cheeks would burn bright red, eyes shutting tightly.

He groaned and slipped down to the floor, his back firmly against the side of the bath.

He'd kissed a man. That man was Snape. He'd had his tongue in Snape's mouth. That was wrong on so many levels! He was engaged. And if he hadn't have been engaged, that didn't matter because he wasn't even gay! And if he had been gay, well, that wouldn't have mattered either because it was Snape!

What on earth had made Snape think he could kiss him? Had he been giving out some sort of signals? He was fairly certain he hadn't. But then Snape was, apparently, gay. Were gay signals somehow different? He'd hate to think he'd been leading him on.

But even so, Harry was an engaged man and Snape knew that! Was this some sort of game to him? Get close enough to Harry to ruin his life? Was this payback for all those things Snape had ever held against him?

Snape had kissed him! Sitting here, even now, Harry could barely believe it. And no matter what was going on in Snape's mind – whether it was a game or whether he truly liked Harry – Snape had no right to put Harry in this position! What was he to do now? Carry on seeing Snape, pretending it had never happened?

Did a kiss count as cheating? God, he hoped not. It would break his heart to think that he'd cheated on Ginny.

As he sat there on the bathroom floor, his anger slowly ebbing away, he realised that what he felt more than anything was guilt. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt it was somehow his fault that Snape had kissed him. And that wasn't all. He cringed at the realisation but there was no hiding from it – he'd kissed Snape back!

It was a perfectly normal reaction, he tried to tell himself. It didn't mean he didn't like Ginny, it just meant that it was a nice kiss. And he'd had over half of that bottle of wine which probably meant he hadn't been entirely himself. Yes, of course, that was it! And Snape had taken advantage!

So why didn't that thought make him as angry as it should have?

When Harry returned home from work on Thursday evening, a very ecstatic Ginny greeted him. She leapt into his arms and covered him in kisses before settling down to tell him all about the match. Harry didn't much care to hear how Rhiannon had saved ten goals in a row, or how Caryl, one of the chasers, had been knocked off her broom by one of Madrid's beaters, only to land on Mary's broom beneath her and score a goal, but he'd been so grateful at having something other than "the kiss" to occupy his mind that he'd joined in with her enthusiasm, asking questions, and promising that he'd be at the next match, no matter what.

When Friday morning rolled around, Harry had woken up feeling incredibly nervous. The very thought of going to see Snape was such a daunting one that he'd phoned up Ginny's favourite restaurant and made reservations for the evening. He hadn't even bothered trying to convince himself that he wasn't avoiding Snape, because he was. He just didn't know what he would do if he saw the other man. He still didn't know why Snape had kissed him and he was embarrassed about having kissed back. More than anything, he just wished the whole situation was something he could sweep under the carpet and say no more about.

So he went to dinner with Ginny that Friday evening and they spent the whole of Saturday and Sunday with Andromeda and Teddy, taking trips to the beaches further south and making the most of the gorgeous sunny weather. When it was time to go back to work on Monday morning, Harry felt a lot easier. He knew he'd have to talk to Snape eventually, but for now it seemed to be safely out of the way, leaving Harry to concentrate on other things. Like the call-out he got the moment he stepped foot in his office.

"It's that nutter again," Ron complained as they both approached the Apparition Points.

"Which one?" asked Harry, reaching for his wand.

"You know the one. Tall geezer, long beard, couldn't cast a decent stunning spell if you offered him all the gold in the world. Thinks he's the next Dark Lord."

"Ah," said Harry. "Good, old Mr. Winterbottom. Well, I'll see you there," he added to Ron and he disapparated, reappearing seconds later in Diagon Alley.

The tiny street was bustling with people but a crowd seemed to be gathering outside of Ollivander's. Making their way over, they pushed through the door. A tall, neatly dressed man with a large, bushy beard was tied up in a corner. Mr. Ollivander stood over him, looking frail but smug as he held his wand pointed at the man on the floor.

Ron grinned and shook his head. "Not again, Mr. Winterbottom," he said. "I'm beginning to think you like the food in Azkaban."

"Alright, Weasley? How's your Dad doing?"

"Same as ever," Ron replied. "How's your Megan?"

"Grand. She's just had another baby, she has. I'm a dad again!"

"Has she now? Well, I don't think she'll be best pleased when she hears you've been arrested again." Ron looked at Harry. "You want to do the honours this time?"

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped forwards, hooking his arms around and pulling him to his feet. Mr. Winterbottom's eyes went wide and his mouth opened.

"You're Harry Potter! I'm being arrest by Harry Potter! Wait 'til I tell the kids, they won't believe it! Can I have an autograph? And maybe a photo, to show 'em all back at home? This'll be somethin' to tell the grandkids! I can't believe it, Harry Potter…"

"For the fifth time, will you please stop laughing? It wasn't that funny."

Ron wiped a tear from his eye and grinned at Harry.

"The look on your face," he laughed. "No, the look on his face, like all his Christmases had come at once! Bless him."

Harry sighed and headed across the busy Atrium, nodding here and there at people he knew. It wasn't the first time someone had been delighted to find themselves being arrested by Harry Potter. In fact, quite a few people had committed a crime just for that very reason. Apparently, the novelty had yet to wear off.

"Poor Mr. Winterbottom though," he said, thinking of the man now locked in a Ministry holding cell. "That family of his is making him insane."

"Tell me about it," said Ron, still chortling. "If his wife has anymore kids, there'll be no room in the house for him!"

They walked through the double doors and clambered into a lift. As they waited for it to start its ascent, the smell of cooking food reached their noses.

"I could murder a bacon butty," Ron said wistfully, staring off towards the canteen. "Hermione didn't make me one this morning. She had to be in work early."

"Couldn't you have made one yourself?" Harry asked, as the lift shuddered and began moving.

"Not the way Hermione does it," he replied. "She does it the muggle way and I'll tell you now…once you've tasted her food you won't want to go anywhere else. Unless it's my mum's of course – nothing beats her cooking, not even Hogwarts and their food was amazing. And the food here isn't so bad either. Oh, and that little café down the road. And that restaurant we went to last week – what was it called? McDonna's?"

"McDonald's."

"Yeah, that's the one! Bloody good hamburgers there. But still, Hermione's bacon butties…"

Harry laughed and shook his head, wondering at his friend. "OK," he said, "Well, let me just have a quick word with Jeremy and we can head down for something to eat."

They got off the lift at the correct floor and they both headed down the corridor and into the large, main room. As Ron perched on the edge of his desk, Harry strolled over towards his own office where his assistant, Jeremy, sat outside.

"You're back early," Jeremy said brightly as he caught sight of Harry. "I was expecting you to be gone longer."

"The suspect was surprisingly cooperative," he replied. "Could you get me his file please? I need to add this to his list of previous convictions."

"Of course, Sir, right away."

"Thanks. If you could leave it on my desk for me, that'd be great."

He smiled at the blonde haired man and made his way back across the room. He was just following Ron back out of the room and into the corridor when he heard running footsteps behind him.

"Mr. Potter, Sir, wait!"

It was Jeremy again and he turned to see the young man skid to a halt in front of him.

"I almost forgot. A man was in here before, he said he needed to see you."

"I don't have any appointments do I?" Harry asked, suddenly fearing the wrath of his boss should he miss an important meeting.

"No Sir. He just turned up. Said his name was Severus Snape and that I was to tell you to contact him as soon as possible. It sounded urgent."

Harry stared. His whole body had become alert at the name "Severus Snape." For a few hours, he'd completely forgotten about him, but now the whole sorry issue had returned full force. Snape had been here?

"Oh," he said, praying he sounded nonchalant. "Did he say what he wanted to see me about?"

"No," said Jeremy. "But may I suggest that you get in touch with him, and soon? He said if you didn't then he'd spell off my manly bits and give me a cat's tail."

Ron grunted but didn't say anything.

Harry frowned.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," he assured Jeremy, who was looking slightly worried. He thanked him and watched him scurry back into the Aurors' room. Harry turned and continued towards the lifts again.

"Snape?" said Ron, bewildered. "What's the greasy git doing here?"

"He probably just needed help with some work he was doing," Harry said, trying to think fast as his mind threatened to go blank.

"Snape? Ask for help? What planet are you living on, mate?" He hit the button that would take them back down to the Atrium and the lift began to descend.

Harry was determined not to let his nerves get the better of him, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of all this. It was fairly obvious what Snape wanted to talk about, but was he angry at Harry for missing last Friday? He'd have to be to turn up at his work place. By avoiding him, had Harry made things worse? What if he told someone about the kiss in a bid to get even?

When they reached Level 8, Harry followed Ron into the canteen. He didn't join him in the queue though as he'd rather lost his appetite, and so he waited at an empty table for Ron, who appeared minutes later with a tray crammed with food.

"Ah," he moaned, biting into a bacon butty. "Heaven. Bloody Heaven." He looked at Harry. "You not eating?"

"I'm not hungry," he replied. "So…you up to anything this weekend?"

"Not that I know of, but you know what Hermione's like. She likes to spring things on me at the last minute so I can't wriggle out of it. Why? You have a plan?"

"The pub? On Friday maybe?"

Ron paused as he went for another bite of his food. He narrowed his eyes.

"Have you and Snape had a falling out?"

Harry's pulse quickened. "No, of course not. What gives you that idea?"

"Well, I know I'm not the brightest tool in the cupboard…" (Harry raised both eyebrows but refrained from comment) "…but it's almost like you've been avoiding him lately. Dinner with Ginny? Pub with me? Seriously, mate, what's he done? I won't say 'I told you so', I promise."

Harry forced himself to laugh. "It's nothing like that, Ron," he told him, leaning forwards and stealing a bacon butty from his friend's plate. "I had dinner with Ginny because she's my fiancée and I love her, and I want to go for a drink with you because you're my best mate and my future brother-in-law and I just thought it'd be nice to spend more time together, away from work, away from women. Just the lads. We could invite Sam and Gawain and the guys."

"You hate Sam and Gawain and the guys," Ron said.

"No I don't."

"You do!"

"Don't."

"You do in office hours," Ron affirmed.

"That's because they're incompetent," Harry explained.

Ron snickered. "You sounded like Snape then."

"Snape? Is that all you can think about? I swear, Ron, you have a one track mind."

"Oi!"

Harry went through the rest of the week on eggshells, terrified that Snape would turn up at any moment and demand to speak to him. Despite repeated urging from Jeremy, he absolutely refused to contact Snape, not even to save his assistant's manly bits. He wasn't sure why he was so scared; all he knew was that he wasn't ready to find out what the kiss had meant, if anything. He was being a coward but he didn't really give a damn!

Friday came and went and Saturday morning saw Harry nursing a hangover. The pub idea had been scrapped; instead he, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, along with George and Angelina, had gone to a nightclub in London, dancing and drinking away their youth before marriage and babies came along. Harry had woken up tired, sick, and feeling as though he'd had the time of his life.

Sunday was spent at The Burrow, where they all enjoyed a nice Sunday dinner and a game of Quidditch in the field beyond the garden. Harry had floo'd home with Andromeda and Teddy and had read his little godson a bedtime story before returning to London and snuggling up in front on the TV with Ginny.

All in all it had been an enjoyable, stress-free weekend and when he returned to work on Monday he was in high spirits.

He should have had the sense to realise it couldn't last. However, oblivious as he was, he didn't even stop to think about unresolved issues that were lurking about. At least, not until he opened his office door at work and stepped into his room anyway.

"Mr. Potter. Lovely office you have here."

A shock went through Harry's body at the sound of that smooth voice and he stopped in his tracks, one hand still on the door handle. He stared at the man, a deer caught in the headlights.

Snape was sat behind Harry's desk, leaning back in his chair. His arms were extended, hands grasped together on top of the desk. He had on high collared, long black robes and there was a glint of triumph sparkling in his dark eyes. This was very much Professor Snape.

Harry gulped and quickly averted his eyes. He remembered that the door was still open and he hurried to shut it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, once the sound of the other room had been dulled.

"You've been avoiding me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Harry heard a slight chuckle in the man's voice. "You're even avoiding eye contact with me. Guilty conscience?"

Harry lifted his head determinedly and met Snape's gaze. He quivered as the eyes bore into his.

"I have nothing to feel guilty about," he said. "You're the one who came on to me."

Snape gave a snort. "Don't flatter yourself Potter."

"But you did! You – " He stopped suddenly and pulled out his wand. He gave it a wave and a silencing charm went up. "You kissed me," he finished. "And what made you think you could just show up here anyway? What if people start talking, did you think of that? What if they get suspicious?"

Snape looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, although Harry swore he could see a smirk forming on that pale face.

"What reason would they have to be suspicious? You really do have a guilty conscience, don't you?"

"No I do not," he said through his teeth. "You kissed me!"

"You kissed me back."

"Stop being so childish!"

Suddenly, Snape withdrew is arms from the desk and he sat up in the chair. He fixed Harry with a glare.

"Do not talk to me about childish games, Potter. If you want an example of childish, take a very close look at yourself! How long has it been since I last saw you? Eleven days? You're a coward, Potter."

"I've been busy. I do have a life, you know."

"You've been avoiding me because you're scared."

"Scared? There's nothing to be scared of," he replied loudly. He returned Snape's glare and sat down opposite. "Is this why you're here? To shout and make fun of me?"

Snape gave him a dirty look, though it looked half-hearted. He didn't say anything and his eyes slowly left Harry and gazed about the room.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Harry asked abruptly. He immediately regretted it when Snape's eyes snapped back to him.

"I was acting on impulse," said Snape. "I apologise."

Harry starred at him. Was that it? After all this fussing, that was it? It was as if a great weight had been lifted, so much so that he was floating to the sky.

"Some impulse," Harry snorted. He was quiet, and then he looked sideways at Snape. "I've never kissed a guy before."

This time, Snape really did smirk. "You have now."

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Then he uncrossed them and began to fidget with the edge of the desk.

"So…are you one of those gays?"

Snape gave an amused grunt. "If this conversation wasn't so incredibly tedious, I'd be feeling incredibly insulted right now."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine with gay people. Really. One of my friends is gay. He's an Auror."

Snape shook his head and sighed. "Potter," he said. "I'm not here to tease you. I'm here to apologise for my actions. I'm sorry if I offended you by kissing you – "

"You didn't," he assured him.

" – But like I said, it was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment thing. It was mistake."

"No, really, it's OK," Harry said. "I was just worried that you were attracted to me or something."

"Like I said," Snape smirked, "Don't flatter yourself."

Harry smiled shyly. "Right. OK. Sorry." He lowered his head and began fidgeting again. He hated that after all these years, Snape still made him nervous. He felt like a foolish schoolboy all over again.

"So…are we cool?" he asked, trying to gain back a piece of the adult in him before he went to bits.

"I suppose," Snape drawled. "Friday, at 8 o'clock? My place?"

Harry smiled. "See you then."

A/N: Sorry for not answering any questions. For some reason I can't read my email - everytime I try, the page crashes. Really, me and computers just don't mix!

Thank you for solving the "fiancé", "fiancée" situation lol. And thank you for reviewing. "The Hardest Thing of All" WILL be updated, I promise. I haven't left it.

Please review! xx