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

A/N: Sorry! I can't believe I haven't updated since April. I really do apologise, I know how annoying it is. I blame it on work - I'm only supposed to be doing part-time hours but because things are so busy there I've been made to do like 5 or 6 days a week. I don't even have time for a social life anymore. Anyways, since it's been so long (again), he's another recap, posted from the last one I used and added to:

Recap: Harry and Snape started being friends and meeting every Friday, when Ginny found out she was angry but has finally forgiven Snape for the things he's done, Harry and Snape have been sleeping together and it's been going on for a couple of months now, then Harry's assistant caught them making out in an alley on Harry's birthday. Harry talked to his assistant, Jeremy, about it all and Snape talked to Dumbledore's portrait. Harry and Snape made up (again) and they made plans for Harry to stay the night.

Hope that helps.

Chapter Eighteen: Dates and Dumbledores

For reasons Harry couldn't quite explain, he was looking forward to the coming weekend with a mixture of nervous excitement and dread. The days dragged by in one big haze of noise and colour, and even mad old Mr. Winterbottom trying - and spectacularly failing - to hold a few goblins hostage in his never-ending attempt to become a Dark Lord only managed to distract him from his upcoming date with Snape for a quarter of an hour, at most.

He could barely focus on the work set out in front of him - he'd read the same paragraph a total of nine times before he'd given up, grinning, and allowed himself to become lost in daydreams of what Friday night might hold in store. He'd even had to send Ron out on a mission in his stead, so low was his concentration that he was having trouble with the simplest of spells.

Sat in his office, staring out of the magical window, he felt like a teenager again - a young adolescent discovering the world of romance, the world of love and sex and powerful, powerful feeling. Did he look alright? Were his palms too sweaty? Did his breath smell? He was experiencing these things all over again and it felt fantastic.

His head felt much clearer than it had in months. It was amazing what not thinking about his problems could do. He knew that one day (and in the not-too-distant future) he would have to face up to what he'd done, but he hoped that, by then, he would have a better idea of want he wanted.

There were times - moments really - when the seriousness of what he was doing made him shudder with shame. He was usually with Ginny when this happened; she'd be cooking his favourite meal when he got home from work, or they'd be cuddled up on the sofa together, Harry doing some last-minute paperwork, Ginny watching her favourite soaps on the TV, when he'd be struck dumb by the realisation of what he was doing to her. But he was getting better and better at shaking himself out of these moments, casting his mind back to how he felt around Snape, how much he needed to be close to him.

Perhaps he was gay. Perhaps it was just Snape.

The first thing Harry did when he got home on Friday evening after work was jump straight into the shower. He'd spent the past couple of hours chasing some witches and wizards all over Birmingham, setting up traps and dodging spells, making quick, mental notes of all the muggles that would be needing visits from Obliviators. Dangerous as it was, he normally enjoyed this sort of thing. Today, however - what with the scorching summer sun glaring down on him, and his nerves on edge about his upcoming date with Snape - he'd hated every moment. He'd had to leave the arresting to Sam and Ron because by the time they had caught up with the criminals, Harry had felt like punching someone.

Standing under the powerful jet of water, feeling all sticky and sweaty, he took a few steady breaths. He quickly washed his underarms before reaching for the bottle of shampoo and starting on his hair, thinking all the while of how this evening with Snape could go. Would they simply enjoy a meal and a bottle of wine together? Would they sit and talk for hours? Or would they just skip all that and fall into bed? Either way, Harry was looking forward to it; he would be spending the night with Snape, no matter what.

Ginny had left that morning and wouldn't be back until Sunday. The final match of the European Championships was being played tomorrow - the Gothenburg Gargoyles from Sweden verses the team that had knocked out the Harpies, the Milan Magicians from Italy - and the manager of Ginny's team, who was dating the sister of one of the Chasers from Milan (which was all very confusing and scandalous and could be read about on pages 4 and 5 of the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly) had gotten them all tickets to the Cup Match. Then it was off to Holyhead in Wales for a spot of training before returning home on Sunday night.

Harry pushed away his growing guilt and shut off the shower. As he stepped out onto the tiled floor he caught sight of himself in the large mirror above the sink. His eyes travelled over his reflection and he flushed.

Snape had seen him without clothes on a few times now, but Harry had never really given any serious thought as to what exactly Snape was seeing beyond that of a naked body. He wasn't the best looking person in the world, but he was fairly comfortable with his appearance. He was never going to be tall and muscular like some of the Aurors he worked with, but his chest and stomach were adequately toned and he wasn't too hairy or too pale. His thighs were quite strong from all the exercise he did, and his cock was a good, average length. He'd never had any complaints from Ginny anyway, and he definitely looked better than Snape.

He cringed. Why did he suddenly feel so bad about thinking horrible things about Snape?

In all honesty, he didn't care what the man looked like. He was pale and had more hair than Harry, and he was skinny and his stomach was slightly rounded and he had quite a number of scars…but Harry didn't see all that when he looked at him. All he saw was Severus.

Not even bothering to try and figure out what that meant, he sighed and reached for a towel.

This time, Harry only had a few seconds to wait at the door when he knocked on. It opened to reveal Snape, dressed smartly in black trousers and a shirt. His long, black hair fell to his shoulders, as always, but there was something different about it and when Harry realised that Snape has washed it he had to fight back a grin - Snape had made an effort!

"Hi," he smiled, stepping into the cottage. He wasn't sure whether or not he should comment on Snape's appearance; on one hand, it felt nice to receive compliments and have your efforts acknowledged, but on the other…well, he wasn't so sure Snape would appreciate the attention, especially regarding something he had been teased about for so long.

Thinking it best to just silently admire the soft, clean hair, he moved forward and gave Snape a kiss on the lips.

"So," he said, pulling away, "what do you have planned for us tonight?"

Snape stepped past Harry into the living room. "I thought perhaps something to eat first, and then a bottle of wine and a film."

"Sounds good," said Harry. "Do you need a hand in the kitchen?"

"I think I can manage," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "Really, how hard can pasta be?"

So Snape swept into the kitchen and Harry made himself comfortable on the sofa. As usual, the room was very clean and tidy. He amazed at how the hundreds of books on the shelves were lined in alphabetical order and then further divided into sections regarding topic. The pictures on the walls were all perfectly straight and there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. He craned his neck and looked out of the back window; sure enough, the garden was still immaculate.

Snape re-entered the room carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them down on the coffee table and uncorked the bottle.

"Why do you never do anything with the front garden?" Harry asked, watching him. "That fence seriously needs some paintwork."

"It keeps people away," Snape said simply. He poured red wine into the glasses and held one out to Harry, who took it, frowning. "If the front of the house looked welcoming, people would think I'm nice. The neighbours would be knocking on at all hours, being nosy and trying exchange recipes with me."

Harry laughed. "Do people actually do that? I just thought it was on TV."

Snape took a gulp of his own drink, then placed it aside. "I do not care to test it," he said, and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Harry sipped the wine thoughtfully. He wondered if his parents had been the sort of people to do such things when they'd lived here. Had the muggles, witches, and wizards on this street exchanged recipes with them? Had they babysat one another's children?

He let his eyes scan the room again. Above the fire, the Dumbledore family slept. Albus seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping, Harry thought, and he was always here with Snape. Was he ever in his portrait at the Ministry or Hogwarts?

After a few more moments of silent contemplation, he heard Snape enter the room again. This time he was carrying two plates of food. He set it all down on the small table and seated himself next to Harry.

"I hope you like the sauce," he said, reaching for his plate. "It's tomato but it's a little spicy."

"My favourite," smiled Harry.

The food was delicious and the wine Snape had chosen to go with the meal complimented it perfectly. They sat and ate and talked for half an hour, discussing their week and all that had happened. Harry tried to persuade Snape to do at least a little gardening at the front of the house, saying how lovely it would look - he even went as far as to say that Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted his old home to fall into disrepair - but Snape wasn't having any of it, determined as he was to keep the neighbours away. Harry pointed out that he could use muggle-repelling charms, but Snape pointed out that they wouldn't work on the magical half of the community, and so the subject was dropped and replaced with idle gossip.

Once the meal had been cleared away, Snape went over to the television set and picked up a transparent case with a disc inside.

Harry, settled comfortably on the sofa and stretched out after the meal, looked up.

"What's that?" he asked.

He saw Snape do his eye-rolling thing again.

"This, Mr. Potter, is what the muggles like to call a DVD."

"I know that," said Harry. "But what are we watching?"

"Just a little something," he said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Are you coming?"

Harry sat up. He looked at Snape, who was moving towards the stairs, then at the large TV that sat in the corner, complete with video and DVD player.

Snape sighed. He looked pointedly over at Dumbledore's portrait, then back again at Harry.

"Oh…" Harry smiled and got up. "Lead the way."

He followed Snape up the stairs and across the landing into the familiar bedroom. As Snape busied himself with setting up the film, Harry kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, shuffling up until he was leaning against the headboard. A few seconds later he was joined by a smirking Snape.

"Sitting comfortably?" he asked Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're up to something."

Snape didn't answer. He reached for the remote and hit 'play'.

Harry had been expecting music, titles, the standard opening sequences to a film. Instead he was treated to the sound of heavy moaning and a screen full of cock. He was so startled by the sudden image that his whole body jolted and he blushed furiously.

"Snape!" he said indignantly, turning to glare at the man sat next to him. "This is porn!"

"Indeed it is," Snape smirked. "Have you never watched it before?"

"Of course not!" he said loudly. "I don't…well, I don't…"

"…do that sort of thing?" Snape finished for him. "I'm sure."

"Snape!" he said again, but that was as far as it went. The moans issuing from the television set were growing louder, breathier, and he chanced a quick glance back at the screen. A large hand had now joined in; it reached out and started gently teasing one of the hard shafts.

Harry turned away, feeling a shift in his nether regions.

He had watched porn before, of course, but he wasn't going to admit that to Snape. He wasn't going to admit that to anyone. Pornography, masturbation…well, it was a private matter, wasn't it? So what if everyone did it? It wasn't something to be discussed casually amongst friends, and it certainly wasn't something you did with other people. Obviously, Snape thought differently.

"Fuck…that's so good. Rub my hard cock, yeah, just like that…"

If possible, Harry felt himself burn even redder at those words. He looked back up at the screen. The hand had now joined the two cocks together, rubbing them both in tandem.

Harry gulped. He remembered when he and Snape had done that a few months ago, downstairs, on the very sofa they had been sitting on only moments ago. It had felt incredible, so unlike anything he'd ever felt, having his cock rubbed against someone else's, feeling how turned on Snape had been…

The camera zoomed out slowly; the two were quite attractive, but nothing special. One of them, the younger of the two, was pale and skinny. The other was quite handsome, tan, but a little overweight.

"I much prefer amateur pornography to the professional stuff," Snape drawled. "It's so much more real. They're doing it because they enjoy it, not because they're getting paid. They want to touch each other, rub against each other, make each other come. Look how hard they are."

Harry gulped.

The skinny man on the screen had let his hand drop as he took a step back and sprawled himself out luxuriously on the settee. He lay back, one arm resting behind his head, the other continuing the slow, hard pulls on his prick. The other man watched him greedily and licked his lips. So did Harry, his own cock throbbing painfully in his jeans.

He watched in horrified fascination as the other, older man knelt before the sofa at the sprawled man's legs. He knew what was coming, could remember how it had felt the first time Snape had done that to him, could remember every sensation, the hot mouth, the rough stubble…

The sound of a zip being undone made him jump and his head snapped round. His eyes locked on to the source without effort and he watched hungrily as Snape slowly undid his trousers. He couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to - Snape made such a simple thing unbelievably hypnotic. His trousers parted, he lifted his hips and pushed them down.

"Fancy a game?" Snape's voiced purred. Harry nodded, eyes still fixed on tented briefs; he could clearly see the outline of Snape's cock curling upwards and he wanted more than anything to suck at the damp spot appearing through the material.

He heard a deep chuckle and the briefs, too, were pushed away. Harry reached out an unsteady hand but Snape caught it.

"You're not playing by the rules, Mr. Potter," he said in a voice that sent shivers through Harry's body. "Your jeans, if you will?"

It took Harry a moment to register what Snape meant, but it didn't matter; his hands acted of their own volition, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them and his boxers down to his ankles.

"Let's see who can last the longest," said Snape, and he wrapped a hand around Harry's cock and stroked.

The house around him was heavy with silence, the darkness of the room pressing in. The sound of Snape's gentle snoring had ceased only minutes ago but Harry felt their absence completely. Every movement he made seemed to cause an avalanche of noise. He lay still, staring up at the black ceiling.

It must be at least two in the morning, he thought, judging by the silence and the thickness of the night. Which meant it was roughly 4am where Ginny was. She'd be asleep in her hotel room.

He sighed and rolled over, the soft ruffle of the duvet the loudest noise in the world.

He hated that he was thinking of Ginny whilst lying in bed with Snape. It was an insult to both of them, and that was the main thing, wasn't it? Both of them. Ginny wasn't the only one that was going to get hurt, because the longer this went on, the more Snape would rely on Harry's affections. He was naïve to think that this would all go away on it's own in time; it helped with the here and now but the lying and cheating couldn't go on forever. He knew all this already, of course - he'd thought about it and analysed it and ignored it; he'd already acknowledged that it was inevitable that someone was going to get hurt, he'd already realised that it wasn't about prevention anymore, but damage control. But some stupid part of him still thought there was a way to make everything better and it was that part of him that was stopping him from taking action. Why did 'just ignore it' still seem like such a brilliant idea?

He rubbed his eyes wearily and winced slightly at the noise as he pushed back the bed covers. He got to his feet and wrapped himself in Snape's dressing gown and headed for the stairs.

After filling a glass of water from the tap, he sank onto the sofa in the living room. It was a little lighter down here, the curtains not being as thick as the ones in the bedroom. He could make out the outlines of the armchairs and bookshelves without much effort and it made him feel easier, being able to see things when the night was so quiet, though he felt no desire to turn on the lights.

He sipped his drink and pulled his legs up underneath him. The thing he didn't want to think about was creeping up on him again and he glanced slowly around the dark room, distracting himself by trying to remember exactly where everything was and what it looked like in the daytime.

A candle sputtered into life and he inhaled a sharp breath. Another one, and then another one, and Harry gasped and jumped to his feet, spinning around.

"Hello, my boy," said a very familiar voice and he turned in the direction of the fireplace.

Albus Dumbledore blinked down at him from his portrait above the mantel. Harry stared. He'd never seen him awake before.

"Professor!" he smiled, relaxing and stepping forwards. "It's nice to see you again."

Dumbledore gave a sad little smile. "You too, Harry. I just wish it could be under better circumstances."

"What do you mean?" he asked. It was then that he noticed the other occupants of the portrait.

All of them were awake and, if their expressions were anything to go by, none of them were happy. Percival Dumbledore, looking bizarrely like a younger version of his son, Albus, was glaring down at Harry with a very disapproving look on his face. Kendra, his wife, was holding her daughter close to her, as if to protect her from Harry's evil ways, and she was looking at Harry in slight disgust, shaking her head. Ariana herself had a frown on her face, but didn't seem too concerned with what was going on in the room, twirling her long blonde hair around her fingers.

Harry's smile faltered. "This is about Snape, isn't it?"

"He doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly. "I know he acts tough but there's a very vulnerable man underneath that exterior."

Harry's jaw tightened. "I'm not trying to hurt him," he said roughly. "I didn't wake up one day and decide I wanted all this. It just happened. He started it," he added churlishly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, leading the poor lad on like this," snapped Kendra. "He's ten times the man you'll ever be."

"Mother…" Dumbledore put in.

"Don't you go defendin' him, Albus!" Percival said forcefully. "I've seen his type before and they don't care one iota 'bout the people they hurt, 's long as they get what they want."

"It's not like that!" Harry said. "I really care about Severus."

Percival snorted.

"I do!" he affirmed. "Do you think I like being in this situation?"

"Oh," said Kendra, eyes wide, "so we're supposed to feel sorry for you, are we? My mistake. I thought it was wrong to lead people on. How silly of me."

"I'm not leading him on. Well, not on purpose. I really don't want him to get hurt, I didn't -"

"That boy loves you, he does," she cut across. "He thinks the bloody world of you. And every time you're finished with him you just go running home back to that poor fiancée of yours. Well, my heart bleeds for you."

"Mother, please," said Dumbledore. "Harry is very confused right now."

"Confused?" laughed Kendra.

"He knows exactly what he's doing," said Percival.

Harry's stomach clenched and he dropped back down onto the sofa behind him, head in hands. They were right of course - not about everything because he wasn't doing this on purpose - but Snape was in a very vulnerable position and after everything he'd been through in his life, he didn't deserve to have Harry mess with his emotions.

And love? Did Snape love him? Surely not. But what if…

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "I've know Severus for a very long time. He hasn't had many relationships and he's never handled affection particularly well. But he's let you in, and if you knew him as well as I do, you'd realise how very rare that is. Please. I'm not saying you have stay with him, but please make up your mind, and soon. This isn't just a bit of fun anymore."

"It never - " he started to say, but stopped, the lie stuck in his throat. It had started out as curiosity, and then it had been something fun, new, and exciting. What was it now? Why was it so hard for Harry to let go? Had Snape really fallen in love with him?

"Fuck my life," he muttered.

A/N: Thank you all so much for being so patient and I hope you can forgive the lateness and review. I've had a bit of a writing-spree lately so the next one shouldn't be too long a wait. There's still lots more drama to come!

Thank you. xx