"Oh, Merlin, I need to go," Harry said, looking at his watch. "I'm going to have to run to get to Snape's office in time. Thank you, Professor Rogers, as always, our discussion has been most informative." He took up his bag, stuffing his notes and books in haphazardly.

"Uh, Harry, I wondered if I might have a moment more of your time?"

Harry looked up. "I'm sorry, Sir, I really can't." He turned to leave with Ron, but a firm hand gripped his elbow. He looked back, perturbed, to see Rogers staring at him imploringly.

"Please, Harry, it'll only take a moment." The man said softly. His hand released Harry's elbow and ran up his arm to his shoulder. "It's important."

The Boy Who Lived furrowed his brow, but nodded. "A-all right, sure, Professor." He looked to his red-haired friend still standing by the door. "Go on, Ron, I'll see you after dinner."

The red head nodded. "Okay, Harry…if Snape doesn't skin you for being late." He waved to Harry and the Defense Master, then walked out of the classroom, leaving them alone.

Harry turned to Rogers, subtly rolling his shoulder to dislodge the hand resting on it. "Is there something the matter, Sir?"

"Actually," Rogers started, his voice low. He took a step towards Harry, his hands reaching for him, and the Seventh Year took a less-than-subtle step back. The Defense Master pulled his hands back with a small, dismissive laugh. "What I wanted to discuss was what your plans are once you've graduated."

"I haven't any," Harry admitted, frowning in confusion. "I've been looking at a few career options, and I'm leaning heavily towards teaching, but if I do I want to get my Defense Mastery. I haven't put much thought as to what I'll do while I'm working on my submission, though. Why do you ask, Professor?"

Rogers walked over to his desk and leaned against the front, tapping the wood nervously. "I have to tell you, Harry, I've really enjoyed our time together these last few months. Working with you has been very…enlightening. I hope you've enjoyed it as well."

"What's this about, Professor?" The Gryffindor asked, growing frustrated.

"I want you to be mine, Harry," Rogers blurted out.

"What?" Harry was taken aback, unsure he had heard correctly.

"Heh," Rogers gave a breathy laugh, smiling apprehensively. "Leave behind those stuffy old potions down in those cold, wet dungeons, Harry. I'm asking you to be my assistant next year, while you're working on your submission to the Mastery Board. You're a genius at Defense, you make intuitive leaps that seem to me to be impossible until you've pointed them out, and I would be honored to have you working alongside me in the classroom."

The Boy Who Lived was struck speechless, his mouth moving, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat a few times, and when he spoke, his voice was almost nonexistent. "Really? You want me to be your assistant?"

"If you want."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly finding his voice. "I-I mean, I have to think about it, it's a really big decision, but...I would love to be a Defense Assistant. That's incredible, thank you, really!"

Rogers grinned back at him. "It is my pleasure, Harry."

"Wow, that's-" Harry struggled to find the words. "Thank you, thank you so much, Professor Rogers."

"I think we're beyond such formalities, Harry. Call me 'Caedus', please." The Defense Master said, walking over to the stunned Wizarding Savior. He rubbed Harry's cheek with the back of his fingers.

Harry huffed a nervous laugh and didn't answer, stepping away from the cold touch on his cheek. He glanced at his watch. "Thank you, again, Sir, and I will definitely give your offer some thought, but I really do have to go now. Professor Snape is going to be angry already that I'm late. If I don't go now I may very well forfeit my position in his classroom." He started backing away towards the door. "Thank you, really."

"Oh, o-of course, Harry, I wouldn't want to come between you and your work with our resident Potions Master. I…admire your dedication," Rogers called after him.

The Gryffindor blushed and turned, leaving the room. He ran the entire way from the Third Floor to Snape's office in the dungeons. Another glance at his watch told him that he was still nearly fifteen minutes late. He knocked on the door apprehensively and waited for the call to enter. When it came, he walked in with his head down, closing the door behind him.

"Sir-"

"You're late, Mister Potter."

Harry flinched. "I-I know, and I'm sorry, I really am. Professor Rogers kept me after our extra lesson to ask me something, and it took more time than I expected."

"I hope it was important. I was very clear before this began about how much I value my time, and you have wasted fifteen minutes of it with your tardiness," Snape growled, looking up from his desk with a hard glare.

Harry flinched again. "I know, I do, and I really am sorry. But it was important. Professor Rogers offered me a position as his assistant next year."

"I see. And have you accepted?" Snape inquired, his voice as hard as his eyes.

"Uh, no," Harry told him softly. "Not yet. I mean, it's an amazing opportunity, as much as being your assistant has been, and it would give me something to do while I'm working on my Mastery, but…I don't know yet."

The look softened. "What's hanging you up? Is it that you haven't yet decided on teaching?"

"Not-not exactly," The Gryffindor said hesitantly. "It's true that I haven't settled on teaching yet, but I've gotten to the point that…well, I really think teaching is what I want to do. The hang up is that I'm not sure I want to work with Professor Rogers. He's kind of a fanatic about Defense, he doesn't seem to care about anything else beyond it, and it kind of…freaks me out. I mean, it's great to have someone appreciate me for something aside from the whole murder thing, but...his attentions just feel off."

Snape rose slightly from his chair, leaning over his desk with a ferocity in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. "Has he done something to make you feel uncomfortable?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "No…not in so many words. It's just a feeling, really. I'm probably just being an idiot. Before you, I'd never had a person in authority take a vested interest in my welfare, and I don't know Rogers well-enough to understand his motivations. I'm just naturally suspicious of random kindness from people with power, it doesn't usually come without strings attached." Snape raised a challenging eyebrow, as if he didn't quite believe Harry, and the Wizarding Savior frowned back. "Sir, what's this about, really?"

The Potions Master continued scrutinizing him for a long minute, not answering. Finally, he looked away, down at his desk. "It is nothing, Mister Potter. I only ask that you be careful around that man, and trust your instincts."

"Sir, please," Harry said softly, stepping up to the desk. "I think I have a right to know if you have some reason to distrust Professor Rogers. I've been spending a lot of time with him, more so than with you. I need to know if I'm in some sort of danger, otherwise how can I properly defend myself?"

Snape sighed, hesitating. "I don't have any evidence to support my bias against Caedus Rogers. As you said, it is just a feeling. However, as a spy against the Dark Lord, I have learned to trust myself, and there is definitely something odd about that man."

Harry sighed as well and leaned on the back of the student chair. "Alright, I trust you. My instincts have led me astray in the past, but if you say there's something wrong, then I believe you. I'll limit my time with him. I should be spending more time on my studies, anyway; NEWTs are only a few months away and, if I want to teach, I need good scores in more than just Defense."

"Thank you, Mister Potter," Snape said sincerely. He started shuffling through the papers on his desk, looking for something in particular. "So, you have decided to teach, then?"

'Oops.' Harry thought, cringing. "Um, yeah, I guess I have." He muttered, chewing his lower lip. "Working as your assistant, I've become enthralled by the job you do. I understand so much about what teaching really means, and I love working with the students so much, even if on a temporary basis. I still have doubts, obviously, but I can't imagine there's a person in the world who didn't have doubts about their compatibility with a given career choice."

The Potions Master smirked as he pulled out a piece of parchment. "You are correct, almost everyone wonders whether they will be successful. But, since you've decided on teaching," He moved around his desk and held the parchment out, his smirk growing to that sexy half-smile. "You're going to need this."

Harry took the parchment curiously, and his eyes widened as he saw what it held. It was a list of the prerequisites necessary for the Defense position at Hogwarts. There were three things already crossed out with Dumbledore's name signed next to them.

"Teaching experience, field work, and…recommendation?" Harry looked up uncertainly. "Experience and field work I get, but…who recommended me to a position I'm not even qualified for yet?"

"I did," Snape answered, still smiling. "I know you plan to get your Defense Mastery first, and I trust that you will. Consider it a show of good faith."

"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed. Without thinking, he threw himself at the older wizard, wrapping his arms around the stiff middle in a hug. He pulled away immediately. "Um, sorry. I know, you don't like to be touched, I just-This is amazing. On top of the invitation to continue as an Assistant next year, I think you've just made this the best day of my life so far."

Snape cleared his throat, smoothing out his robes. "It's all right, Mister Potter, it happens." He picked invisible lint off his sleeve. "As it is, I think with your recent decision, we can begin to increase your duties. There is not much more you can do in my classroom, but I would like to give you an idea of the progressivity of the Years." He looked up, his face stern. "Starting this evening, you will begin attending me on my rounds every Friday and Saturday night, rather than intermittently, and on those evenings you will help me to grade all of my student papers, including your Year mates. You will have to come here earlier. On Fridays, I expect you here immediately following dinner. On Saturdays, you will come as soon as your secondary lesson with Rogers ends. That should give us the better part of the afternoon and evening to work."

"O-okay," Harry said quickly, looking away in consternation. Already he was thinking about how he was possibly going to switch up his schedule to still leave time for studying. Hermione would know…and, maybe, she would know how he was going to continue hiding his attraction when he was spending so much time with the object of his affections. She'd hid her feelings from Ron for two years, she had to have some secret.

Impossibly long, impossibly warm fingers touched his chin and Harry looked up into that soft black gaze. "Do not fret, Mister Potter. I have already spoken to your other professors, and they will be assigning you less homework in the coming weeks."

This gave Harry pause. "But, how did you know to do that?" He looked at the parchment still in his hand. "How did you even know to have this? I didn't- I never told you I was even close to deciding on teaching. I hadn't told anyone!"

Snape stepped away from him, and looked away as he moved around to stand behind his desk, creating distance between them. "No, you didn't. But…you've thrown yourself into your work as my assistant more and more. It wasn't hard to draw conclusions, despite the fact that you've been distancing yourself from me lately."

"You noticed that?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He smacked a hand into his forehead when all he received in reply was a smirk. "Sir, I'm sorry, I just-"

"You need not explain yourself, Mister Potter," The Potions Master interrupted. "You've done your work admirably, and I can ask no more from you than that. I'm not going to force you to sit around and chat with me if you don't want to."

Harry felt he wanted to explain his behavior, to say something, but found he didn't have a lie that would suffice. He just nodded as Snape began passing half of his pile of papers over to Harry's side of the desk.

"Take these over there," The Potions Master said, nodding to their usual armchairs in the corner. "We'll start with the Fourth Years." He handed over another paper that still had fresh ink. "This is the set of guidelines you will grade by. If you're unsure about a particular aspect, either in my guidelines or a paper, just ask."

"So, same as with the First and Second Years, then?" Harry asked, picking up the pile of parchment.

Snape nodded and together they moved to the burgundy armchairs to begin their work.