Over the next two years, Harry did everything in his power to forget Snape. He found boyfriends, experimented with one or two, but always left before things got serious. It always felt like they were missing something. He knew what, because every night he dreamt of the man he couldn't have, but knowing didn't help stop it. Eventually, tired of failing to find the type of connection he desperately craved, he stopped dating altogether.

Hermione had convinced him to sell his artwork while he worked on his Mastery. That had been a booming success. Whilst he never thought they were any good, his pieces sold quickly and at high dollar. It helped, of course, that he was famous. Everyone wanted a piece of him in their home, a centerpiece around which to gossip and boast. By the time he had achieved his Mastery, his small inheritance had more than tripled in size, with more pouring in from artwork still up for sale. Even Lucius Malfoy, never to be outdone by his neighbors, had commissioned a very intricate statue for his garden. Harry had had no trouble charging him upwards of a thousand galleons for the job.

When he returned to Hogwarts, it was with a full Mastery in Defense, and in the capacity of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. He arrived two weeks before the Hogwarts Express was due to bring the students, under the Headmaster's request to create an entirely new working syllabus for all the years. His dumb luck worked in his favor for the first week, as he managed to avoid coming into contact with Snape entirely until the man willfully sought him out.

Harry started when the door to his office opened without warning. Albus had been kind enough to give him a different office from the one Rogers had used two years ago, this one closer to his quarters on the fifth floor rather than his classroom on the third. He stared defiantly at his papers rather than at the Potions Master who had just come barging in without so much as a knock.

"No, please, ignore the closed door and common courtesy," He remarked sarcastically.

"Don't toy with me, Potter," Snape growled back, stomping towards him. "Why the hell have you been avoiding me?"

Harry flicked his wand, closing the door behind the man. "I haven't," He lied smoothly, seating his wand back in his arm holster. "It might not have occurred to you, but I do actually have work to be getting on with. I am not here simply for my leisure."

The Potions Master slammed his hands down onto Harry's desk. "You have," He accused angrily. "More than once I have missed you by mere moments in the Library or Lounge, and each time I have been told that you were informed of my coming beforehand."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from mentioning the dozen or more times that the man didn't know about, or how he actively avoided trips to the dungeons even in regards to his classes. He had even gone so far as to-

"You're using a House Elf as a go-between for a discussion that should only have taken a matter of hours and has now lasted three days!" The Potions Master snarled. "How can you ask me to help you run a voluntary extra lesson if you can't even look at me?!"

Harry flinched at the agitation in Severus' tone. He couldn't tell him. He wouldn't let himself be the victim again, wouldn't open that old wound. The Gryffindor looked up at the man defiantly.

"Like I said, Snape, I've been busy. Dobby volunteered to act as my messenger, so that I could concentrate on my work. It's not a big deal. However, if it bothers you so much, then you should have come to me sooner. I could've worked out a time for us to discuss the matter properly," He said, the very essence of diplomacy.

Snape scowled. "Potter, this is not just about-"

He was stopped by a knock on the door, and Harry looked around him as McGonagall opened the door enough to poke her head through. He ignored it as Severus looked away in frustration at being interrupted.

"Harry, I thought I should tell you, the creatures you ordered have arrived, and they're in the Entrance Hall," The Transfiguration professor said. "I would appreciate it if you could get them taken care of as soon as possible, some of them smell."

Harry smiled at her appreciatively. "Thank you, Professor, I'll go down and see to them immediately. I apologize, I told the handler to deliver them to Hagrid's Hut."

The elderly witch nodded. "It's alright, Harry, I've already sent for Hagrid to help you move them back out onto the grounds. If you like, I can come and help as well. I have a few moments to spare."

"That would be brilliant, Professor," Harry said.

"I told you to call me 'Minerva', young man. I'll meet you downstairs once you've finished your business with Severus." She smiled at the new Defense Master before closing the door.

Harry turned back to the irate Potions Master, who was still glaring at his desk. Before the man could speak, Harry stood up and began digging through the parchment littering his desktop. He found the list he was looking for and looked at Snape again with a carefully blank face.

"If you'll excuse me, Professor Snape, as you can see I have work I need to be getting on with. Thank you for bringing your concerns to me, I'll be sure to be more careful with your time and mine in the future." Harry said. He moved around his desk and headed towards the door.

Snape followed. "Harry, you cannot simply continue in this attitude," The man said, almost pleadingly.

The Gryffindor winced at the hurt buried in the tone. "I don't know what you mean." He led the way out of his office to the Grand Staircase, Snape still trailing behind. "I already told you, I've been busy."

"Potter, stop with this foolishness," Severus whispered harshly as their quick steps caught up with Minerva halfway to the Entrance Hall. "We both know this isn't just about work."

Harry shrugged. "What else would it be about?" He asked innocently, keeping his voice low as he followed Minerva down the stairs. "I can't help it if we keep missing each other. I'm-"

"Busy," Snape spat as they exited the Grand Staircase and moved towards the marble stairs that led down to the Entrance Hall. "So you've said. But we both know that that isn't all of it. You never had a problem making time for me before that night."

Harry felt his breath hitch at the reminder of his own foolishness, but took it in stride and didn't respond.

"Harry, I don't understand why you're so angry with me," Snape muttered. "You said yourself, that night, that is was just an ego trip. So what changed? Why, in the two years since you've been gone, haven't you even spoken to me? I sent letters, and you never replied. Why are you doing this Harry, tell me!"

The Gryffindor remained stolidly silent. He couldn't even lie. If he opened his mouth now, he would tell him the truth without ever meaning to.

"Why are you letting this drive such a wedge between us?!" Snape demanded, his voice rising. Harry noticed McGonagall was pointedly pretending not to hear them. "Why won't you just talk to me, Harry?!"

A hand gripped his elbow as Harry stepped off the last step into the Entrance Hall. He wrenched his arm free and rounded on the man.

"Because I loved you!" He shouted. He grimaced as he heard Minerva and Hagrid gasp behind him, and turned his eyes away from the shocked look on the Potions Master's stern features. Even the creatures in their cages stilled entirely. Everything…just…stopped. "I came to you with my heart on my sleeve that night, and you turned me away."

"I was your teacher, Harry…"

"No," The younger wizard said firmly, looking back up into that fathomless black gaze. "You were my salvation. When everything else went pear-shaped, you remained."

"Harry-"

"Don't, Snape," The Gryffindor interrupted. "Don't you dare show me pity. You wanted to know, so I told you. I was in love with you."

"You…love me?" Snape asked uncertainly.

Harry glowered bitterly and turned back to the Entrance Hall, away from the impossibly confused black eyes. Minerva and Hagrid were looking anywhere but at them, and even the Dark Creatures seemed to sense the intensity of the moment. He started to walk away.

"I did."