Two Left Feet

Chapter 12

"Liberation"

June 25, 2012

It was later in the evening when Harry had returned from Hogsmeade with the intentions of retiring in the dorms. A blissful thing he had set his heart upon, but unhappily, no such thing would happen. He just finished trotting up the hill when quite suddenly, his best mate came hurrying towards with a face as fiercely red as the shade of his hair. Harry hadn't the chance to inquire what had strangled his bollocks. "So that's it then, mate. You're just going to dump my sister after everything she's gone through for you." Ron's shoulders were stiff, his arms stuck at his sides, but he was inching closer to Harry, using his body as an intimidation mechanism. Harry obligingly took one step back, not with caution, but out of discomfort.

"Blimey, Ron," Harry was in no quarreling mood. Wearily, he replied, "Everything's alright."

"I found my sister sobbing yesterday! How can you tell me everything's alright? You broke my sister's heart, and after… everything! How do you expect to find someone that can surmount her efforts?"

There were really very close to the castle, and with a few good sprints, Harry could escape. The thought of dueling Ron was thrilling in the least. He'd rather tickle a dragon. "C'mon, Ron. It happened, yes, but it's for the best."

"For the best, really? Is my family suddenly not good enough for you? Now that you were clearly the chosen one? Let me tell you something, you suck at dancing!"

Harry felt his chest tighten. He stepped forward.

"Is that right?" Harry was moments away from shoving Ron onto the snow. He could feel the veins on his head throbbing, and his face warming. Ron was trying him purposely.

And then Ron drew his wand.

Harry quickly drew his and veered to the left. He had missed a stunning spell by a heart racing fraction of a second. Upon standing, he had to side step to avoid yet another spell. By the third attempt, Harry had the footing to block it.

"Are you mad, Mr. Potter! What are you doing?" Slughorn had come hurrying from the castle towards them. He then looked at Ron and said, "I hope you both have a very good explanation for your behaviours. Put your wands away this instance."

Not without reluctance, Ron was about to sheath his wand when a voice proposed otherwise, "Perhaps they ought to duel it out as two adult wizards."

Slughorn nearly jumped when Snape appeared to have been at his side the entire time. "Oh, Severus! Surely you don't mean that."

Snape then crossed his arms. "You underestimate their ability."

Slughorn released a breath of defeat. "You've gone mad." He then turned to Ron, "Good luck, Ralph."

Harry hadn't the chance to throw Snape a nasty eye. Almost instantaneously, Snape voice rose, "Wands at the ready."

Ron was truly eager, his eyes glistened and his attention was solely Harry's.

"Begin."

A spell, crackling as it soared, came hurling towards Harry and he instinctively threw himself in the snow once again. He hardly had the chance to stand before a second one approached and missed by centimeters. While situating himself, he tried his luck with a nonverbal spell. Ron was hit, and the second the spell touched Ron's sweater it burnt through and onto Ron's arm. Harry regretted this instantly and wished that they would put their wands away and call a truce. Ron would not have this. Angrily, he fired spells after spells blindly until all Harry could do was reflect them. And then he was hit, and it felt awful. He was on his back the next second with his wits nearly gone. He didn't hear the next incantation coming his way. He was hit again.

Slughorn raised his hands slightly in shock. "Merlin's beard, Severus. Ralph is going to kill Harry!"

But Harry managed to deflect the next oncoming spells and even send a second wave of spells which knocked Ron clear off his feet, giving Harry a chance to back away.

"I don't believe this is how wizards duel, Severus."

Still, Snape said nothing.

"What are they fighting over anyways?" Slughorn asked.

"Nonsense," replied Snape frankly.

Slughorn raised a brow inquisitively and then dropped his face and shrugged.

At this point, Ron had worn himself out and Harry was still holding himself up. Though it was evident that Harry wished to seize this and come to terms much more than Ron. Ron raised his wand then, ready to have another round when nothing more than just a speckle of magic spat from the wand. Ron was more tired than Harry conceived, or maybe just unable to focus. And then Ginny came from the castle accompanied by two of her friends. She ran towards Ron with a bitter face and a few nasty words. "You brainless dunce!" she pushed him and with ease he fell onto the snow with a thud. "I told you I wasn't upset with Harry! Blimey, men are so thick."

"Huh?" Ron stared at her, "I thought you told me you were upset Harry dumped you."

"No. I told you I was upset that things hadn't worked out, but everything was alright."

"Oh," was all Ron had to say.

Ginny then turned to Harry. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry." She started towards him but then Snape intervened and snatched Harry's arm with a firm grip. He glanced once at Ginny before he forcefully tugged Harry towards the castle. Harry found he could do little more than allowed himself to be guided through the halls, away from the light, and deep into the dungeons. It was then that Harry wanted to ask where Snape was leading him, but then had a feeling that he should know. His stomach did that ridiculous flip thing again accompanied by a tightening. He was suddenly nervous and his hands were beginning to perspire. It felt magical, but he knew it was very human. The halls were barely lit, and their path was dark, both literally and figuratively. It was moments before his mind popped a curious thought, since this was not the way to his classrooms, where was Snape leading him?

They came to a portrait of a doe, laying upon a meadow in the moonlight. It's back glistened silver and his face was nearly black. It turned to Snape who then whispered, "Prince."

The doe gave a curt nod as the portrait swung open and a door appeared behind it. Snape extended his arm towards the door then looked at Harry. "After you," his lip curled slightly.

Tensely, Harry found his feet again and with uneven and jumbled up steps, he stumbled pass Snape and opened the door to his quarters. Upon entering, Harry had the distinct feeling that Snape never brought anyone into his quarters. The place, though littered heavily with books and parchment, potion filled caldrons, and vials of creatures and chemicals, was pleasantly charming in its chaotic order. "Let me organize. I've been doing a bit of work." Snape moved some heavy files from the small couch by the hearth onto the floor. "There, Potter. Have a seat." Harry reeled towards the couch with the heavy thought of being within his chambers. His knees buckled and he collapsed in a mad rush onto the couch.

Snape, took no notice as he then began scrambling about this incredibly long table with the intentions of finding something. He raised vials to his eyes, checked them then put them aside to grab another glass. Harry's gaze didn't stay with Snape for long. He readily took noticed of how small Snape's quarters really were. Everything was in one rectangular room, save for the bathroom, which was adjacent by separated by a wooden door. The fireplace faced the couch, which behind was Snape's desk and shelves, filled and pouring out with books and papers. Across was the table, covered in potions and beyond that was another cabinet which was either filled with potions, books, or clothing. Across from that was a carefully made bed. The only neatly arranged thing in this room.

Harry moved towards Snape, careful not to interrupt him, but as he approached the older wizard, Snape turned and pressing something cold to Harry's lips. Obligingly, he drank from the small vial. He was given no other choice.

"What was that?" he asked, countenance cringing after a bitter flavor bit his tongue.

"It will help," Snape said plainly before touching Harry's face softly with his hands. Harry tensed again, and Snape in turn leaned forwards. His eyes fell onto Harry's face, scrutinizing. And then he raised a soft plush like thing to his face and carefully dabbed something on his wounds. "This should also help."

"What is it?" Harry asked again, his voice softer than he would have liked.

"If I told you, you still wouldn't know what it if for or what it does."

With Snape so close, Harry darted his eyes away, trying to avoid making that awkward and uncomfortable coupling of the eyes. The proximity was making his mind spin in the sort of way that reminded him of dancing with this old, loathsome man. He turned his attention instead upon a potion that was very familiar to him. Its dark red color and thick, mud-like texture was like that of…. Harry's thoughts came to a halt and his mouth was suddenly dry.

Harry stopped his mind again then caught Snape's eyes. The man had been watching him. "You are familiar with that potion, Mr. Potter?" Snape smirked then backed away slightly.

"Not me per say," and that was all Harry wished to say. He looked at the potion again while Snape moved away from him.

"Stay there, Potter." Snape moved towards the further end of the room to look among some shelves, but it was close to the bed and that's when Harry decided he planned on losing a lot more than house points tonight.

Harry reconnected with his legs and forced himself upright. And though he was stiff and awkward, he soon found himself before the bed. He turned and ungracefully fell backwards upon it. The sheets conformed to his shape and he knew then that he could not get up. Snape said nothing. He continued to go about his business.

Initiation would have to come from Harry. "Someone used polyjuice potion recently I think."

It was quiet for a moment until Snape asked, "Their intentions?"

"To kiss me."

The air never felt thicker, Harry's lungs have never had to work harder to breathe. He waited.

"Who did they choose to disguise themselves as?" Snape was casually browsing through a large leather bound book.

"Ginny."

Snape's gaze fell upon him. "And how did you know it was not her? How did the kiss differentiate from what she's accustomed you to?"

"Immediately I knew it was not her. Ginny… her kisses are like little attacks against mine. She kisses me harder, with teeth and stuff. I don't know, I guess this person was patient… willing to wait."

Harry could no longer hear the sound of pages flipping. Instead he heard a book close and then felt a dip in the mattress. Snape had seated himself beside Harry. "No one has raided your supplies I take?"

"What is your conclusion?"

Harry could have choked on his own words, "You kissed me." In saying it to directly to Snape, Harry felt an overwhelming about of adrenaline rushing about his body, and he could not stop himself, "I just don't know why you didn't have the bollocks to do it in person."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for disagreeable language."

Harry clung to his courage and stood. He then faced Snape, and then pressed his hands against Snape's shoulders. He obligingly fell backwards. "What do you want from me?" Snape whispered.

"Did you do it? I want to hear it from you."

The man's breathing hitched, "Potter…."

Harry needed no further confirmation. He had pinned Snape to his own bed.

His hands were shaking and the trembling of it vibrated through his arms, and consciously made him dizzy with excitement. His lips then parted, and he wanted so carelessly to whisper this man's familiar name. Here Snape laid, beneath him, his hair flared across the equally black satin sheets. Snape had submitted himself to Harry. He only looked up at Harry with a thoughtful and dubious gaze. What are you going to do with me? They seemed to ask along with the question: What could you possibly want from me?

And then Harry's left arm gave out. He was going to do this. Snape had presented him with the chance, and they done this before. Sort of. Kind of. But not like this, not in the privacy of Snape's quarters.

Harry leaned forwards, his thoughts gone in an instance with the eruption of need and impatience. His lips fell upon Snape's and demanded the exploration, the heavy touches, and his acceptance. In turn, Snape's hand gripped Harry, drawing him in closer before slightly pushing him back. "Harry," he breathed against the young man's lips.

Whatever concern Snape had was too late. They had crossed that line some time ago, and Harry couldn't return. "Professor," Harry aggressively pressed forwards for another kiss. He felt like he was conquering while becoming mush. He was losing his sense of placement, and then Snape flipped him over and Harry realized what he was doing with his professor.

The words "get out" never registered with Harry.

But after a few tries, Harry finally heard him.

"We cannot do this. Never, as your professor. No matter how evident the signs. No matter how strong the urges."

Harry could have slapped the man for his inconvenient timing were he not drunk with need and lost in his confusion.

"You need to leave."

Harry couldn't find the strength to say anything, so then he thought they would just have to finish this when he had more sense to fight for what he wanted. He pulled himself from under Snape and hurried from that room quicker than frightened rabbit.

He found himself in the courtyard next, and with the bitterly cold air, his senses were renewed and Harry felt butterflies taking off and an animal roaring with triumph in his stomach. He had won, in his own little way. He made Snape cave for him, and he had kissed him and it felt so bloody good and he felt alive. He whoa-ed into the night and raised his fist towards the falling snow before falling back and feeling his heightened body temperature clash with the ice.

Love was hardly a word to describe how he felt, and how so far gone it had surpassed anything he had ever felt with another person. Snape was the only person on his mind, this constant image of black drapes with a pale face and thin lips that knew how to touch his. And then he laughed a little. "Dad, I think I'm gay."