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 Fourteen: Falling
When Severus awoke the next morning he immediately became aware of the warm body next to him. He hadn't forgotten the events of the night before, but was shocked to find the other man still asleep in his bed. Before he'd even yawned or stretched, he'd turned on his side to get a good look at the young man sleeping peacefully beside him.
Severus felt his lips twitch into a smile as he took note of the dark, unruly hair, the rosy lips slightly parted, the smooth, almost flawless skin. Harry's bare chest rose and fell with his steady breathing and for a moment Severus allowed himself to become lost in memoires of the eventful night they'd both enjoyed.
He still couldn't believe it had happened. Of all the things he'd expected, Harry Potter asking him for sex was a fantasy come true. He knew he should have resisted – should have refused to indulge the boy in his desires, should have allowed things to end there and then, should have left Harry to struggle with his own messed up life – but it wasn't easy when you, too, wanted the thing being so desperately requested, albeit for very different reasons.
Harry's motives for last night were questionable and only a gullible person would've truly believed them. When Harry had said he'd wanted to sleep with him, his heart had soared into regions unknown. When he'd then gone on to explain why, Severus had been crushed. He'd stood up and turned his back to Harry, afraid that his face would betray him. It had taken him quite some time to realise what utter rubbish the boy was speaking. He wanted to sleep with Severus to set his mind at ease? He wanted to have sex with him so he could stop dwelling on it and move on? It sounded to Severus that Harry was having some serious doubts about his relationship with Ginny and his developing feelings for his once-hated professor.
So, would Harry be content now? Would he leave Severus alone and get back to his life? Doubtful. The boy's head was in a state.
Severus rolled back over and lay staring at his blank ceiling, letting confusion wash over him. As strange as it was to even contemplate, he was pretty sure he was falling for Harry. He wouldn't go as far as to say "love" but there were feelings there that, when tweaked, did all kinds of things to him. He told himself it wasn't real, that he only felt this way because Harry was the first person in a long time that had shown any such interest in him, but he knew deep down that he was becoming far too attached to the wizarding world's saviour.
The highlight of every week was when Harry knocked on his door. He enjoyed hearing about the Auror's day at work and what silly messes he'd ended up in since the last time they'd spoken. He loved being able to talk to someone about his past and not be judged for all the crimes he'd committed. The man made him smile and there had been a few times over the last couple of months where he'd actually laughed, genuinely amused at something Harry had said. He felt at ease around him. Admittedly, he'd liked playing games; he'd enjoyed immensely watching the hero squirm as Severus dished out all sorts of advances, revelling when Harry gave in to whatever he was feeling underneath all that determined front he put on. But this was no longer a game.
Sighing, he looked again at the young man in his bed. He ached at the thought of this being the end, despite the fact that he was fairly certain he knew what was going on in Harry's head. Severus just wished the boy would come out and admit it.
Turning away, he pushed the covers back and got out of bed, stepping into his slippers. He wrapped his dressing gown around him and made his way along the corridor and down the stairs. He quickly made use of the downstairs toilet and headed into the kitchen in search of his morning refreshments.
As he stood crunching a chocolate biscuit and waiting for the kettle to boil, his stomach turned at the rather large question of "what happens now?" This was an entirely new situation for both of them and he was dreading having to listen to Harry make excuses and fret over what had occurred.
Severus was 42 years old and he'd only ever had sex with four different people in his life. The first, shortly after he'd left Hogwarts, had been a one night stand with a very awkward morning-after scenario. It had occurred during a drunken night out with the Death Eaters and had brought about the start of the endless teasing over his sexuality. Back then, it had all been in good fun and he'd been overjoyed at finally ridding himself of his virginity. Now, looking back, he was ashamed that he'd never even bothered to find out the name of his so-called "conquest."
The second person he'd slept with had also been his first real relationship. Tall with shoulder length brown hair, lean but with a slight muscular build, and a sharp nose to rival Severus' own, Austin Finley had been a Death Eater. After three surprisingly comfortable months of dating, Austin had been killed by the Dark Lord for incompetence and that had been the end of that.
The third person hadn't happened until years later, long after he'd become a teacher at Hogwarts. He'd been drinking in The Hog's Head one evening and had struck up a conversation with a fellow potions enthusiast by the name of Hubert Crutchley. They'd enjoyed a fair few months together before their once friendly and flirtatious competition of trying to out do one another in the lab had turned into all out war. Still, the sex had been good.
And now here he was, over a decade later, with person number four, none other than the famous Harry Potter himself, the second person he'd ever let top during sex. He snorted and grabbed another biscuit from the tin.
Even though he didn't believe that Harry's curiosity, or whatever it was, would be satisfied with just one night, Severus thoroughly believed that the boy's stubbornness would grow tenfold, thus keeping him from engaging in such things from now on.
He sighed and turned back to the kettle. He quickly made himself and Harry a cup of tea – adding one teaspoon of sugar to Harry's, just the way he liked it – and headed back up the stairs, towards his bedroom.
When he opened the door he realised, with a jolt, that Harry was awake. He looked up at Severus with big, green eyes and offered an uncertain smile. Severus groaned inwardly. How was it possible for someone to look so innocent, yet so guilty at the same time?
He stepped into the room and headed for the bed. He sat down gingerly and held out the tea. Harry took it with a muttered "thanks."
Toeing off his slippers, Severus slipped back under the duvet. He blew across the hot surface of his drink before taking a gulp. Next to him, Harry did the same.
Five minutes passed in silence, neither willing to glance at the other. Severus's eyes were more than content to just gaze around the room, looking everywhere but at the man next to him. They settled on an uncorked vial that lay on the floor. With a flush, Severus realised it was the lubricant from last night. He still couldn't believe he'd bottomed, but at that moment he'd been willing to do anything to keep Harry there with him.
He really was falling for him.
He finished his tea and was just contemplating getting another one in order to escape the room when Harry cleared his throat.
Severus turned and Harry smiled nervously.
"I'm sorry I got a little…carried away…last night," he said awkwardly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Severus snickered and set his cup aside. "No," he reassured him. "No, you were very…passionate."
Harry snorted. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose."
Silence threatened to fall again and Severus decided to ask what was on his mind. He was dreading the answer.
"So," he said, trying not to sound as if his insides wanted to see the light of day, "Have your desires been satisfied? Are you cured?"
Harry bit his lip and looked away. Severus heard him let out an unsteady breath. He took a deep one of his own.
"Look," he said, "you may not want to talk about it but you can't avoid it. We had sex last night."
"Yeah, I had noticed that, thanks," Harry muttered
"And what are you going to tell that fiancée of yours when she asks where you were?"
"I dunno," Harry said loudly, with a hard shrug, "I'll just tell her that I'd been drinking or something. That I was too drunk to apparate and spent the night on your sofa."
Severus' lips thinned and he turned away, but not before Harry had caught the sour look on his face.
"What is your problem?" Harry demanded suddenly. "Do you want me to tell her the truth? Do you want me to shout about it from the rooftops?"
"Oh, don't be absurd," he snapped.
"Then what?"
He turned and fixed Harry with an incredulous look. The boy was staring at him with wide eyes and an angry flush was creeping into his skin. Severus didn't know why he was so surprised. He'd known this would happen.
"You're really going to pretend this never happened, aren't you?" he said.
Harry gave him a hard stare before he turned away.
"I told you what this was," he replied. "I told you."
Severus sighed. "And so you did," he said quietly. Then, more confident, he added, "But we slept together, you can't deny it. You cheated on Ginny and you slept with a man."
Harry let out a ferocious growl. "What is it with you?" he yelled. "Why are you so determined to…to just…just…God!" Before Severus could even react, Harry had thrown back the bed covers. He watched, stunned, as the naked man ran about the room, gathering his clothes.
"This was your idea, Potter," he reminded him. "It was your idea to sleep together, coming over here, begging me. Look at you. You're pathetic!"
"Oh, and of course you had no say in this whatsoever," Harry replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're completely innocent."
Severus scoffed and shook his head, amazed. Only Harry could be so stubbornly in denial, so incredibly naïve, so downright annoying. He watched in silence as Harry struggled into his trousers, stumbled as he slammed his feet into his shoes.
A cold chill descended over Severus as harsh realisation gripped him tightly. Any minute now Harry was going to walk out that door and it was very likely he'd never return. He was going to walk back to a life of questions, a life of regrets, a life so full of holes that it wouldn't be any wonder if the boy fell flat on his face.
He flung on his shirt and headed for the door and Severus saw his last chance.
"You don't know, do you?" he spoke softly. "You don't know what you want. You don't have any idea."
Harry halted.
"You're afraid," Severus continued. "Afraid of people hating you. Afraid of not doing what people want you to do."
Harry shuddered. He turned back to Severus. His face was pained. "You don't understand," he said. "You can't possibly understand."
"But I do," he replied. "More than you can imagine."
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. He sighed and bit his lip. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I want…I don't…" But he trailed off into nothing, looking as lost as ever.
Severus pushed the duvet back and got to his feet, not even bothering to fasten the dressing gown he still had on. He crossed the room and stood in front of Harry, looking down into that tragic face. He reached for a hand and held it in his own, throwing whatever pride he had left out the window.
"Meet me here," he said to Harry, "next Friday. I want to show you something."
"Snape…"
"Please."
Harry looked doubtful but Severus kept his gaze and, eventually, his expression softened. He gave in with a nod and a small smile, which Severus returned, feeling relief course through his body. Then, probably surprising even himself, Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Severus' lips. Before Severus could decide on what to make of it, Harry had turned; his hand slipped from Severus' grasp and he left the room.
Harry huddled under the small bus shelter, wrapping his arms tight around himself as the heavy morning traffic rushed by, crashing through puddles and sending water spraying in all directions. Rain bounced as it hit the ground and the men and women of London sped by, ducking under their umbrellas and clutching at their coats.
There were several other people at the bus stop with Harry, all dressed in suits, each one of them carrying a briefcase. They looked more than a little disgruntled at being made to ride the bus thanks to the flooding of the nearest underground station. They had important things to do, they had to get to work. It was supposed to be July, where was the sun?
Harry could have laughed but he didn't want to draw more attention to himself. Already he'd attracted strange looks from the businessmen and women. Not that he could blame them. Dressed in trainers, jeans, and t-shirt, he stood out from the crowd. They probably thought he was a troublemaker who'd been out partying all night.
With a shiver, he reached into his trouser pocket and fastened his hand around his wand. He muttered a spell to heat the area around him and settled back on the uncomfortable metal seat.
He wasn't quite ready yet to go home and face the wrath of Ginny. She was probably worried out of her mind and as angry as hell at him for failing to come home. He had his excuses at the ready but lying to her face wasn't easy.
Why was his life so out of control? Why couldn't the world just leave him alone and let him be happy? Why did it always create a drama for him to suffer through?
More importantly, why didn't he feel satisfied? Why didn't he feel guilty?
Something had to be done. Enough was more than enough. He'd gone too far this time. But there was something lurking, something…
He sighed. Where was his life taking him? He'd wandered away from the path that was meant for him, but why was that particular path for him? Was he travelling down that road because that was where everything led? Or was it because it was safe and he knew where it would lead?
And why was he analysing this with such clichéd metaphors?
Was he with Ginny because he was attracted to the idea of marriage, of stability?
Did he want Snape because of his connection to his parents?
Was he simply doing everything for all the wrong reasons?
He didn't know and, if he was honest, he was finding it hard to care. He loved Ginny, but there was just something about Snape that had him completely hooked.
He knew he had to figure things out. He knew he was being totally selfish. He knew he was an awful person, but he just couldn't bring himself to end things with Snape, not yet. He didn't want to. He honestly felt, believed, that this was something he had to do, to experience, in order to move on in life with a better knowledge of himself. Snape was bringing out sides to Harry that he'd never even been aware of before and he wasn't ready to stop learning. He needed to know why he wanted Severus Snape, his ex-professor, a male.
Maybe he didn't have to do anything? Maybe if he left it to run its course…maybe it would all just sort itself out. And in the meantime he would just…enjoy the ride.
He wouldn't think of Ginny. He wouldn't think of himself as a cheat. He would push it all to the back of his mind for when he was ready to deal with the consequences.
Something hard hit Harry in the head the moment he stepped into the living room. Looking down, he saw a gold Quidditch boot. Looking up, he saw Ginny.
"Where the hell have you been?" she cried, striding round the settee. Her face was dark, her makeup smudged, and her long hair was almost as messy as his own. She glared at him and crossed her arms against her chest. "Well?" she snapped. "I'm waiting."
"Honey, I am so sorry," he said earnestly. "I was at Snape's…I'd been drinking, I slept on his sofa…I'm sorry."
Ginny shook her head. "His sofa?" she echoed. "You slept…?" And then, suddenly, she started to laugh. Not a humorous laugh, but a mad, unnerving laugh. "You slept on his sofa? I have been up all night worried sick, and you slept on his sofa?"
She turned away from him and Harry wasn't sure how to react. He watched as she ran her fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her head, as if to restrain herself from lashing out.
"Do you even have the slightest idea of what I've been through?" she questioned shrilly, no longer laughing, but angry again, wide-eyed. "I haven't slept one bit. I've been contacting all of our friends, asking if they'd seen you. I kept expecting the Minister to appear in the fire, telling me you'd been hurt. And all this time you were too drunk to come home!"
"Ginny, I'm sorry…"
She let out a weak little noise, something halfway between a laugh and a sob, and collapsed onto the settee. Her head fell into her hands and her shoulders shook.
Harry's heart beat painfully. He'd done this to her.
"I'm sorry," he said again, coming to sit next to her. He made to reach out a comforting hand but thought better of it at the last second and pulled away.
"You're sorry?" she said, sounding out of breath. "God, Harry…I've been out of my mind. I thought…I thought something had happened to you…that someone had…" She swallowed. Her eyes shone as she turned her face towards him. "Don't ever do that again!" she shouted. "You hear me?"
Harry nodded and this time he pulled her into a hug. She arms fastened around his waist and she lay her head against his chest, sniffling.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm so sorry. I should have let you know…I didn't think." He looked down at her shaking figure. He kissed her hair. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you to bed. You look exhausted."
"I can't," she said, pulling away from him and rubbing her eyes. "I have work."
"You need sleep," he said. "I'll call Gwenog and let her know you won't be coming in."
"Harry, I can't…we have to practice for our next match."
"You can't fly like this," he told her gently, "you'll hurt yourself. Come on," he added, "Bed."
She sniffed and sighed. "Fine." She got to her feet and rubbed her eyes again. "But I haven't forgiven you, you know. I'm still mad at you."
"I know," he said quietly.
She gave him a soft smile before leaning down and kissing him.
"Arsehole or not, I'm glad you're OK."
Harry smiled at her and watched her slump out of the room.
His lies had done this.
"So," said Harry, swinging his arms and looking about the room, "what is it you wanted to show me?"
It was Friday evening and, after much deliberation, Harry had decided to follow up on his promise of returning. As curious as he was to find out what Snape had to show him, he'd found that he'd wanted to visit, regardless.
He watched as Snape buttoned himself up and held out his hand. "Come here," he said to Harry.
Harry took a few steps, crossing the room to stand in front of the man. He felt himself blush under Snape's intense gaze. Snape smirked and offered Harry an arm.
"Hold on tight," he said. "I'm going to apparate us."
"Where are we going?"
Snape let out a sigh. "Do you ever do as you are told, Potter?"
"Not usually," he answered with a grin. He rolled his eyes at Snape's impatient look and gripped his arm.
"Good boy," the man smirked, but before Harry could come up with any sort of response, the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition overtook him, taking the breath from his lungs.
The first thing Harry saw when his feet found solid ground again was green. He looked around. They were stood at the base of a small hill, trees decorating the landscape behind them. He could hear the fast, steady rush of traffic – most likely a motorway, he thought – and from somewhere ahead the sounds of shouting and laughing children.
"Where are we?" he asked, letting go of Snape's arm. Snape shook his head and started up the hill. Harry trudged after him.
The ground was soggy from the rain they'd been having and his feet slid in the mud. A simple drying spell took care of that problem and he followed Snape to the peak of the grassy mound, eager to survey his surroundings.
"This way," Snape said, starting down the right side of the hill. Harry stood for a moment and glanced around. To his left, where a river meandered, he saw in the distance a large housing estate made up of hundreds of terraced houses. A large chimney belonging to an old factory overshadowed the area.
"Is that Spinner's End?" Harry asked, jogging to catch up with Snape.
"Yes," he said. "But we aren't going there. This way, come along," he added, climbing over a wooden stile in the fence. Harry followed, gravel crunching underfoot.
They had joined a footpath that ran alongside the river. Just ahead, Harry could make out more houses, larger than the ones on the estate and fewer in number. It wasn't until they passed a children's playground that it dawned on Harry where they were heading.
He'd seen this place in one of Snape's memories but had never actually been here himself. Visions of a younger Snape came back to him as they passed a set of swings and Harry's heart sped up.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, Snape looking determinedly ahead, Harry glancing around at everything they passed. A flower shop sat neatly on the other side of the bank, along with a fish and chip shop, a newsagent, and a laundrette. When they reached a small stone bridge crossing the river, Snape veered right, off up another path, slightly up hill, and soon they were entering the small neighbourhood of detached and semi-detached houses.
His first thought was that it looked remarkably like Privet Drive – sparkling windows, mowed grass, shiny cars parked in driveways – but the more he looked, the more the smaller details jumped out at him. Ornamental gnomes, bird baths, rainbow-coloured pinwheels...if anything, it was a smaller, more modern version of Godric's Hollow.
"We are here," said Snape, coming to a stop opposite one of the houses. He sat down on a bench. Slowly, Harry joined him.
Number 18 didn't have any garden ornaments decorating its lawn. Instead, a colourful flowerbed ran around its borders. A small apple tree took pride of place in the middle of the grass.
"Your mother planted that tree," Snape said quietly, and despite the fact that he was addressing Harry, it sounded like he was lost in his own memories. "A few days before we left for Hogwarts she dug a hole and buried an apple seed. A year later it had grown into a large sapling. Well," he added, with an amused snort, "I say 'grown'…I rather suspect her father went out and bought an apple tree to plant in the seed's place."
Harry swallowed. "Did you know my grandparents well?" he asked.
"Well enough," he replied. "I was invited to dinner on a number of occasions." He looked at Harry softly. "They were wonderful people."
Harry nodded but didn't say anything. He was thinking back to the thing's he had seen in Snape's memories and, not for the first time, it struck him how hard it must have been for Snape to lose such a friendship. Had he ever tried to talk to Lily during the summer holidays and make up for his behaviour?
He looked around him, taking in the comfortable little village. Had his father, James, ever visited here? Had he ever sat down with Lily's family for a meal like Snape had done?
"My Aunt Petunia never talked about this place," he said to Snape. "She never talked about my parents unless it was to insult them, and she hardly ever spoke about my grandparents."
"Yes," said Snape, with a half scowl, "Petunia was very much the jealous type. She couldn't have magic so she decided to hate everything about it, even her own sister."
"There were never any photographs around the house," he said quietly. "I remember once coming home from school and asking my Aunt if we could go and see Grandma and Grandad – the other kids had been talking about visiting their grandparents at Christmas and I wanted to go, too. She just yelled at me that I didn't have any." He looked to Snape. "When did they die?"
"About two years before you were born," he told him. "Your grandfather had a stroke. Your grandmother had cancer." He seemed to hesitate before continuing. "My friendship with your mother was already ruined by then but I attended the funeral, unbeknownst to Lily. I overhead an argument; Petunia was shouting, blaming Lily for the death of their parents, taunting her that magic couldn't solve everything." Again, he hesitated. "What was life like growing up with your Aunt and Uncle?" he asked.
Harry let out a snort. "Everything you'd expect it to be and more," he replied dryly. "I wasn't their nephew, I was their…" He stopped, and sighed. "I want to say 'slave' but that sounds so melodramatic, doesn't it?" He laughed humourlessly. "It used to annoy me so much the way they'd go on and on about how grateful I should be. They took me in, put a roof over my head, gave me Dudley's old clothes." He snorted again and went on. "I ate when I'd finished doing the housework, the roof over my head was a cupboard, and I never had anything that was my own. And I hate myself for forgiving them. And during the war, I hated myself for wanting them to be safe. Pain would have been no more than what they deserved." He paused. "I hate that I'm so weak."
Snape let out a bark of laughter. "You are not weak," he said. "You're one of the strongest people I know and the fact that you can forgive your family just confirms that. Don't ever think otherwise. You're a good person, Harry. You give people far more chances than they deserve."
As strange as it was to hear such good things coming out of Snape's mouth, Harry shook his head. A stray lock of hair fell in front of his eyes and he pushed it away.
"I'm not a good person," he mumbled.
"You are."
"No," he said, firmly, "I'm not. Look at me. Look at what I've done, what I'm still doing."
Snape gazed at him sadly and Harry wished he knew what the man was thinking. Did he pity Harry? Did he feel even the slightest bit of guilt for the position they were in?
"I'm sorry," Snape said, getting to his feet. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I thought –"
"No," Harry said quickly, standing. "No, I'm glad you did. Really. I love hearing about my mum and her family. It makes me feel that much closer to them. I'm the one who should be apologising. You were doing a nice thing and here I am, going off on a 'Poor Harry' rant. It's just…" He trailed off with a hard sigh, wondering how far he should go. "I like you," he admitted awkwardly. "More than I should. And I don't know what to do. I shouldn't be feeling like this."
Snape was silent and his expression was unreadable. In all honestly, Harry didn't know if he was going to be laughed at, if this was all some sort of game after all, or if he'd just opened up yet another opportunity for them to get close.
"We should go," Snape said finally. Slowly, he stepped around Harry and started down the lane.
Harry's heart filled with disappointment. "That's it?" he couldn't help but say to Snape's retreating back. "I tell you how I'm feeling and you just ignore me?"
Snape stopped and turned. "You said yourself you shouldn't be feeling like that. I'm doing you a favour."
"Well, maybe I don't want favours," he said, walking over to where Snape was stood waiting. "Maybe…maybe I just…" But he couldn't say it, didn't even know what he was trying to say. He just wanted Snape to take control so that he didn't have to think.
"Just kiss me," he settled on, and Snape did.
A/N: Nothing to rant about today except that I can't get "Evacuate the Dancefloor" out of my head! Might have something to do with the fact that I have it on repeat. Anyways, my cat says "hello". Or "meow!" She smells like wet cat...because she's all wet lol.
OH!! Did anyone see the meteors? I didn't. I sat up all night and I'm doing it again tonight lol. I've never seen a meteor shower before and I'm determined to see one! Just looked out the window and I think people may have the same idea - not a single house light on on the whole street! Knowing my luck I've missed it though.
Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far. Keep 'em comin'! I'm glad you're all enjoying it!