Part Two

As always, the holidays seemed to pass in a blur and all too soon the students returned and lessons recommenced. With the fifth and seventh years approaching their O. and N.E., there was an even heavier workload for Harry to contend with in order to get them ready, including an increased amount of practical work. Consequently he was often exhausted by each Friday evening, a fact that did not go unnoticed.

A small respite from work came on May 2nd—a date remembered by every witch and wizard across the land, and one that Harry was not likely to forget. It was the day he had finally defeated Voldemort. It was now an annual holiday, a time for celebrations and thanksgiving, and Hogwarts was no exception, holding a grand feast in honour of the occasion. Harry made a brief appearance in the Great Hall, as it was expected of him, but then retired to his rooms for the evening, still feeling a certain amount of guilt weighing on his shoulders at the cost of his victory.

He was almost drifting off in his very comfortable armchair, the book he'd been attempting to read slipping from his hands, when a knock at the door jolted him awake. Stretching, he got up, glancing at the time. Almost nine.

When he wrenched the door open, Harry's mouth fell open in surprise. "Severus!"

"A passable impression of a guppy fish," Severus smirked. "Am I disturbing you?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut and smiled. "Not at all. Come in."

Severus walked inside, looking around the room with apparent interest before turning back to face Harry. "May I ask why you are not down at the feast? You are the guest of honour."

Harry closed the door and leaned back against it, a sigh escaping his lips. "I guess I don't feel like celebrating. A lot of good people died that day." He saw the tiniest flash of empathy in the black depths, and realized that Severus was probably feeling exactly the same way. This day held difficult memories for them both.

"Would you object to some company? In a non-celebratory capacity, obviously."

"Of course not," Harry said, moving again. "I think I have a bottle of non-celebratory whisky somewhere if you're interested. I don't like to drink alone."

"One glass, perhaps."

One glass of whisky became two, and then three, and before they knew it they'd managed to get through the whole bottle over the space of an hour or so. While Severus seemed unaffected, outwardly at least, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to think clearly.

"Do you ever wear any colours other than black, Sev?" he asked, the words sluggishly spilling from his lips.

Glancing sideways at him, Severus quirked an eyebrow. "I was not aware that we had progressed to pet names." He was sitting on the couch beside Harry, his body relaxed back against the cushions comfortably. "What colour would you have me wear, precisely? Pink?"

Harry giggled, slipping a little further down towards the floor. "No. How about dark green? You'd look good in green."

Severus looked slightly taken aback by the unexpected compliment. "Green is a possibility, being a traditional Slytherin colour. I must admit to having a penchant for a certain shade."

Harry studied him and the laughter faded from his face. "My mum's eyes."

"They were beautiful." Severus looked down at the remnants of whisky in his glass, and then added, almost as an afterthought, "As are yours."

Harry's shoulders slumped, his alcoholic buzz disappearing fast. "But they're not mine. They're hers. That's what everyone always tells me." Severus lifted his head but before he could form a response to this, Harry blurted out, "You loved her."

They both knew the inevitability of this conversation from the very beginning but, as Severus held his gaze, Harry regretted saying anything. He was too afraid of the answer.

"Yes, I did. But not in the way you think. Lily was my one, true childhood friend and I loved her as such."

Something like relief flowed through Harry at these words. "You weren't in love with her?"

"No," Severus replied softly. "I am… not that way inclined."

Harry continued to stare at him for a moment before his face broke into a smile. "You never said."

Severus smirked and drained his drink. "You never asked." Placing the empty glass down, he got to his feet. "I should go. It is late."

Harry immediately sprang up to protest but, his legs unsteady, he stumbled and ended up in a pair of deceptively strong arms. Blinking to clear the dizziness, he straightened up and found himself inches away from Severus' slightly exasperated face.

"How on earth have you managed to survive all these years?"

Harry grinned. "I've always had you there to catch me." He paused, looking up at Severus, and found himself drawn into the intensely black gaze. "Your eyes are beautiful, too," he murmured dreamily, "like bottomless pools." His gaze moved down to Severus' lips and, without a thought in his head, he closed the gap to softly meet them.

Severus didn't move for a few seconds, standing rigidly, then his fingers closed around Harry's collar. But, instead of being pushed away, Harry was pulled even closer. Severus seemed to come alive at that moment, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss while spinning Harry around so that his back was against the opposite wall.

Harry's fuzzy brain could barely comprehend what was happening, but his body was certainly reacting favourably and the kiss quickly became frenzied and desperate, hands clutching and scrabbling needfully. He shivered as a blast of cold air hit his heated skin, all of their clothing having abruptly vanished. Severus hoisted him up and, taking the hint, Harry wrapped his legs firmly around the older man's waist, feeling a tingle of magic as he was wordlessly prepared.

Then Severus was inside him, filling Harry to his very core. The sensation briefly sharpened his dulled senses and he moaned into Severus' mouth, his body flooded with pleasure, over and over again with every thrust until he thought he might break apart from the power of it. Gasping, Harry dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes while Severus' hungry mouth travelled down to devour his neck.

In no time at all, Harry felt the pleasure peak in a sudden rush, felt Severus stiffen, warmth spreading within and across his body, and then the combination of alcohol and exhaustion pulled him down into darkness.

xxx

Harry awoke in his bed, in the cold light of dawn, his only company a raging headache. Squinting with the effort of trying to remember the night's events, his eyes suddenly widened as snippets of memories flashed before his eyes. Hot, sweaty, skin, a hard stone wall, powerful thrusts… Severus. His flaccid cock stirred with interest. Ignoring it, Harry propped himself up on his pillows, wincing as his head protested against the sudden movement, and looked around, listening. There was no sign of the other man, and he couldn't remember anything to indicate how the evening had ended… sex notwithstanding.

Huffing in frustration, and giving up any hope of more sleep, Harry gingerly got up and made his way to the bathroom for a shower. Glancing down at his naked body, he adjusted the water setting to cold.

An hour later, with the distant rumble of hundreds of feet heralding the start of the school day, Harry opened the door of his rooms, steeling himself for the day ahead. More than anything he wished he could just return to bed and warm darkness, his head still throbbing. He paused on the threshold as something on the floor caught his eye. A small phial. Harry bent down to retrieve it, finding a small note attached to it with a very familiar scrawl.

For your headache.

The note was short and to the point, but Harry was touched by the gesture nonetheless. Not so long ago, he would have thought that Snape was trying to kill him but now he was quite happy to down the contents in one. The effect was immediate, like a cool breeze on a sultry summer night, gently taking the pain away. He would have to thank Severus later, but first he had a class full of fifth years to deal with.

Much to Harry's disappointment, Severus did not join the rest of the staff for lunch in the Great Hall. So, when his classes finished for the day, Harry decided to actively search for the elusive potions professor. Finding no sign of him in the dungeons, Harry then headed for the staff room. When he poked his head in, he found only one occupant. Unfortunately it wasn't the one he was looking for.

"Harry," Professor McGonagall smiled, the kind of smile an aunt reserves for her favourite nephew. Despite her promotion to headmistress, McGonagall much preferred to sit in the staff room during the day. She had told him that she wanted to be closer to the rest of the staff, but Harry suspected that it was more to do with getting away from the headmasters' portraits, who had talked across each other constantly when he'd last visited on the night of his return. It would have been highly amusing if it hadn't been for the obvious toll it was taking on her patience.

"Do you need something?"

Harry smiled back at her. "Erm… sort of." Feeling foolish standing with half his body inside the room and half out, Harry stepped inside and closed the door. "Have you seen Professor Snape at all?"

"No, I can't help you there, I'm afraid," she replied. "Perhaps you should check the greenhouses."

Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that? "Okay, thanks."

He turned to go, but McGonagall spoke again. "I must say that I'm glad to see you and Severus getting along so much better. As you can imagine, he was less than enthusiastic about your appointment here."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I caught that. Let's just say that we've finally found some common ground."

Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Good." She paused before adding, with a twinkle in her eye that Dumbledore would have been proud of, "You know, you're welcome to stay on with us next year if you'd like."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied casually, grinning as he shut the door behind him.

Severus wasn't in any of the greenhouses, or in the Great Hall for dinner. Running short on ideas, Harry used one of the school owls to send him a short note asking if anything was wrong. It was possible that he was unwell—he had to get sick sometimes, especially living in a damp, draughty dungeon—but Harry now had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that his disappearance wasn't attributable to anything quite so simple.

This feeling was compounded the following day when he finally caught sight of Severus in the distance while walking back from visiting Hagrid's. Harry was certain that Severus had heard him calling, but the other man kept on walking regardless. Friday came around and, even though he was fairly sure it was pointless, Harry went down to The Three Broomsticks as usual. He sat next to the fire until it had burned down, staring at the empty chair opposite as if he could make Severus appear by sheer force of will. The seat remained empty.

Harry's initial state of bewilderment and confusion had now been replaced by an entirely different emotion—anger. Trudging back to Hogwarts alone in the darkness, Harry decided that enough was enough. Severus was going to talk to him, whether he wanted to or not.

When Harry arrived back at the castle, he bypassed the stairs and headed down towards the dungeons instead. It was only when he reached the dimly lit corridor that eventually led to the Slytherin common room (he'd discovered it in his second year) that he realized he didn't actually know where the entrance to Severus' personal rooms was located. He'd seen the older man disappear down here enough times, though.

An ugly looking warlock was eyeing him distrustfully from a nearby portrait. Harry decided on the direct approach. "Could you tell me where I can find the entrance to Professor Snape's rooms, please?"

"I could," he answered gruffly, and then fell silent.

Harry sighed inwardly. Trust the portraits down here to be as difficult as the Slytherin head of house himself. "So, where is it?"

"Where it's always been."

"And where's that?"

"You should know if you're in Slytherin."

"Yes, but obviously I'm not."

"Didn't think so."

"So, where is it?"

"What?"

Harry was on the verge of banging his head against the wall when he suddenly thought of a blindingly obvious solution.

"Kreacher!"

With a loud crack the house elf appeared beside Harry, looking as shabby as ever in his dingy rags. "Master needs something from old Kreacher?"

"Yes. I need you to show me where the entrance to Professor Snape's rooms is."

Kreacher immediately grabbed his hand and, with another crack, Harry found himself in front of a seemingly innocent stretch of bare stone wall. He turned back to Kreacher with a frown. "Are you sure?"

The elf nodded, and reached up with one long finger. "Master must touch these four stones with his wand."

Harry was beginning to think he'd have to battle a dragon as well to achieve his goal. Removing his wand from his pocket, he peered closer. Those particular stones idid/i seem more scuffed than the others. And to think his old head of house, Professor McGonagall, had just had a regular door.

Holding his wand aloft, Harry tapped the four stones and, within seconds, a rather ornate wooden door had formed in the wall. He stood looking at it for a moment, gathering courage, and then stepped forward.

"Thanks, Kreacher. I'll take it from here."

The answering crack was drowned out by Harry's loud rapping. "Severus?" He paused, listening, but when no answer came he rapped again more loudly. "Severus! I'll stand here knocking all night if I have to!"

Harry stumbled forwards as the door suddenly swung open, just managing to stop himself from falling in a heap on the carpet.

"That is not necessary," a familiar deep voice intoned dryly. "I prefer my door intact."

Straightening up, Harry saw that Severus was sitting at a large desk at the far end of the room, bent over reams of parchment. Harry's gaze swept the rest of the room. It was nothing like he'd expected. Slytherin colours, of course, but it was—there was no other word for it—icosy/i. There was a large fire burning to one side, opposite a plush couch, and the walls were lined with bookshelves containing massive tomes on many subjects but most were, as expected, potions related. The room even had Severus' distinctive aroma.

"Did you come down here just to stare gormlessly? Or is there another reason for intruding upon my solitude? You have two minutes."

Shaking himself, Harry strode towards the desk purposefully. "What's going on?"

Severus didn't look up. "I'm marking dismal attempts at homework."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. You've been avoiding me since Tuesday and you didn't show up for drinks tonight."

"I have been busy, Potter. "

The renewed use of Harry's last name caused a flash of hurt, and anger bubbled up from within him.

"Really," he said dryly. "You got what you wanted so you're not going to waste any more time on me—is that it, Professor?"

The scratching of the quill ceased as Severus looked up, his expression one of cool indifference.

"That night was a mistake. You were clearly inebriated, and I should not have taken advantag—"

"Taken advantage?" Harry interjected, his tone incredulous. "I may have been drunk, but don't think for a moment that I didn't know exactly what I was doing."

"Nevertheless, it will not happen again."

"Why?" Harry asked forcefully, slamming his hands down on the desk.

"You'd like a list?" Severus snapped. "Fine. One, I'm old enough to be your father. Two, you're the blessed saviour of the wizarding world, the revered golden one, while I'm an ex-Death Eater who is spat upon in the streets. And three, by far the most important reason, I have absolutely no desire to repeat that particular mistake."

Harry shook his head furiously. "That's not true. You're just being an idiot."

The dark eyes flashed with a sudden fire as Severus sprang out of his chair and rounded the desk to face him, reminding Harry just how intimidating the man could be. "You may not be a student any longer, Potter, but I will not be spoken to in such a manner. Your two minutes are up."

"But—"

Go!"

Before Harry could gather his conflicting thoughts to try a fresh attempt at reason, he found himself back in the corridor with the door slammed firmly in his face.

xxx

"… So, after all that, we decided on lavender for the bridesmaids. I think it's the right decision, and as for the flowers…"

Harry let Hermione's voice wash over him as he stared out of The Burrow's kitchen window, his mind drifting, as it so often did, back to the man who was never very far from his thoughts. It had been over a month since the night of their argument, and Severus was determinedly keeping his distance. He had barely spoken to Harry, except for the odd curt word born purely out of professional courtesy, and it was as if a knife was permanently embedded in Harry's chest.

He hadn't expected it to hurt so much—in fact, he'd been staggered by the force of the pain each cold encounter inflicted upon his soul. It wasn't just pain, but an aching emptiness. He found himself missing the older man's company more and more, missing simple things like sharing teaching stories, or just the way Severus' mouth almost grudgingly curled upwards when he was amused. Harry missed his voice, the smooth silkiness of it, even when Severus was inevitably insulting him. And he missed their Friday nights. Harry had kept up the tradition, in the vain hope that perhaps Severus would change his mind and join him. Each time that hope was dashed, it hurt a little bit more.

Of course, both the staff and students at Hogwarts had noticed that something wasn't right. He couldn't keep his anguish hidden all the time. The other professors were constantly questioning him about it and, although Harry refused to give any details, they had surmised that it had something to do with Severus, seeing as he was being even more short-tempered and disagreeable than usual. Consequently, some had taken to aiming glares in Severus' direction whenever he swept into a room, and Harry knew for a fact that McGonagall had questioned him about it. It was no good though, and when the school year ended, he had decided to hand in his resignation.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Harry."

Hermione's whispered plea brought Harry back to the present. He looked back at her and forced a smile. "I'm fine."

"No," Hermione shook her head, "you're not. You've been miserable for weeks." She reached across the table to take his hand in her own. "I hate seeing you like this. Please, talk to me."

Harry looked down at their joined hands, rubbing his thumb over her palm absentmindedly as a sigh escaped his lips. He wasn't sure he could talk about it, even with Hermione—who he knew would listen to him without judgement.

"It's Professor Snape, isn't it?"

Harry's head snapped up in surprise. "What?"

"Come on, Harry, I'm not blind," Hermione smiled softly. "I could see something developing between the two of you beyond friendship, but recently you've stopped talking about him."

Harry glanced around the kitchen, checking that they were quite alone. Mrs Weasley had taken Ron upstairs to check his suit measurements again, much to Ron's obvious annoyance.

"Okay, yes," Harry admitted quietly. "Things… aren't good between us at the moment."

Hermione leaned forward, squeezing his hand encouragingly. "What happened?"

It was strange. After not wanting to talk about it at all, Harry found that, once he'd started, he couldn't stop. It was like opening a dam, all of his pent up emotions pouring out along with the tale. Hermione listened quietly without interrupting, her tight grip on his hand offering comfort and reassurance. It was remarkably cathartic and, when Harry had finished, he found that the weight in his gut had lessened considerably.

There was no trace of repulsion on Hermione's face in response, only heartfelt sympathy.

"You know what I think?" she asked, plunging ahead without waiting for an answer. "I think Professor Snape realized the extent of his connection with you that night, and it scared him."

Harry let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, well he's good at hiding it."

"Of course he is. He was a spy, remember." She paused and squeezed his hand again. "Don't give up on him, Harry. With everything he's been through, Professor Snape has had to build up a thick layer of armour over the years to protect himself; it's going to be very hard for him to let someone in now."

"I just don't know what to do."

"Be patient. I'm sure he'll see sense eventually… otherwise I'll just knock it into him."

Harry laughed again, this time genuinely. "A lot of people would pay to watch that."

Hermione's cheeks flushed a little as she smiled. Then she abruptly got up and rounded the table to pull him into a fierce hug. "We're always here for you, Harry."

Her use of the word 'we' caused Harry to remember his other best friend, and his stomach clenched uncomfortably as he returned the hug.

"Do you think Ron will freak when he finds out?" he asked quietly, glancing towards the stairs as he spoke. "He only barely coped with our friendship."

When Hermione pulled back to look at him, her jaw was set in that determined way which promised results. "Leave Ronald to me."

Smiling, Harry leant forward to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Hermione. You're one in a million."

She laughed and shook her head, making the dark curls bounce around her face. "No, I'm not. He's sitting in front of me."

xxx

Harry tried very hard to heed Hermione's advice as the school year slowly drew to a close, but it was by no means easy. Severus remained as distant as ever. Even the gloriously warm weather did little to cheer Harry up—he was running out of time.

His chance came unexpectedly. On a Saturday morning, a few weeks before school finished, Professor McGonagall caught up with him on his way down to breakfast.

"Harry! Just the man I was looking for."

Harry stopped, moving aside to let students pass. "How can I help, Professor?"

"Minerva," Professor McGonagall corrected sternly. "You're not a fresh faced eleven year old anymore."

"Sorry," Harry grinned sheepishly. "Force of habit."

Professor McGonagall waved his apology away briskly. "Could you possibly supervise today's Hogsmeade visit? Filius is unwell, and I have about a hundred things to do with all these examinations going on."

Harry had been looking forward to a nice, quiet day, steeling himself to write his letter of resignation, but found that he couldn't refuse his old Head of House. "Yeah, sure."

"Oh, thank you—you're a life-saver. They're all meeting in the Entrance Hall at two."

In the blink of an eye, she'd disappeared into the crowd and Harry continued down to breakfast. When he entered the Great Hall, Severus got up from the staff table and exited through the side door. Harry pretended not to notice.

As two o'clock approached, Harry donned his cloak and reluctantly left the sanctuary of his rooms, descending the stairs to the Entrance Hall. As he neared the bottom step, however, he paused, spotting a black-clad figure amongst the milling crowd. Severus looked up at that moment and saw him, instantly mirroring Harry's expression of maligned resignation. It was clear that they'd both been set up. Harry swallowed and continued his descent, a small spark of hope blossoming in his chest.

While most students quietened down when the two professors moved to stand in front of them, there were a few brave souls who continued to talk excitedly.

"Silence," Severus snapped, and immediately a deathly hush fell. Harry hid a smile. He'd always been impressed by Snape's ability to command an audience.

"Each of your names will be checked against this list," Severus continued icily, holding up a roll of parchment. "If your name does not appear on here, then you do not go. I trust that is clear enough for your miniscule brains to comprehend. Now, form a line."

It went very smoothly under Severus' stern direction, and soon they were all walking the well-trodden path down to Hogsmeade in the June sunshine. Harry's hopes for a conversation with Severus were dashed, however, when the older man insisted that Harry lead the group while he, himself, brought up the rear. Harry could hear his harsh reprimands directed at certain students echo in the still air as he strode ahead.

The group gradually broke apart as they entered the village, most of the students heading straight for the brightly coloured Honeydukes sweet shop—no doubt intending to stock up for the summer. Harry looked back to see Severus talking sternly to a fifth year Hufflepuff, who looked mildly terrified at being singled out. She kept glancing over at her friends, who were standing nearby, for support.

Harry decided to enjoy the sunshine a little longer and headed past The Three Broomsticks to sit down by the stone fountain in the centre of the square. He stretched out his legs and tilted his face up to the sun, closing his eyes to relish the warmth. It had a soporific effect. Harry wasn't sure how long he stayed that way, but when he opened his eyes again he saw that Severus' gaze was trained on him from across the street. As soon as their eyes met, Severus quickly looked away and pretended to be interested in a nearby shop window.

Harry sighed inwardly, his gaze wandering to a nearby group of students. He could only see the face of one of them—a very quiet, solemn third year Slytherin who seldom contributed anything in class, although Harry knew for a fact that he was very bright. The other boys surrounding him looked older, perhaps fifth or sixth years, and they were talking to him intensely. Harry's eyes narrowed. Something just didn't feel right about it. He was about to go and investigate when he was distracted by Severus crossing the street, looking as though he was heading for The Three Broomsticks.

Figuring he might as well try, Harry called, "Professor Snape!" but, predictably, Severus did not break stride.

Harry gave up and turned back to the group of students. Instantly, he knew that something was wrong. The youngest boy had gone rigid, his jaw and fists clenched, his eyes flashing. Harry had experienced something like it himself enough times when he was younger to know that the boy's magic was building up to dangerous proportions within the slender confines of his body, pushed beyond his control, presumably by the actions of his peers.

Drawing his wand, Harry jumped to his feet. He shouted something as he ran forwards, a warning of some sort although he wasn't aware of the exact words, concentrating on throwing a protective shield around the many students nearby. The next second it felt like a bludger had hit him in the chest. He was thrown backwards, hearing several distant cries. There was a blinding pain in his head and then everything went black.