A/N: This work is cross-posted on A03 under the same profile name. Because of the restrictions this site has regarding Maturity rating, while this version is Mature, it has been edited down (a portion of the story removed) to meet standards. I thought about rewriting that part, a significant part of the rating issue can be broken down to how specific you get and the words you use, but honestly didn't feel like going to the trouble. You miss out on some clever banter, but not much besides. It's admittedly gratuitous just because I've never written something that detailed before and felt like giving it a shot. (Yes, that does mean you may think it was worth skipping, whether or not you read the full version. It's reader's preference.) Although, without it, this is a little more tooth-achingly sweet.
A/N: Small warning that Sev gets mildly OOC, but I'm blaming it on the alcohol.
Severus glanced at the clock on his mantle and swore softly. Ten minutes, assuming the brat had learned how to read the watch on his wrist. Setting aside his book, the Potions Master stood up and looked around his sitting room. He had gotten a little overzealous with his cleaning spells the day before, when he'd agreed to the meeting, so there was nothing left to do, but still he moved to straighten inconsequential things. His anxiety wouldn't let him sit back down. He'd been uncharacteristically fidgeting for hours already.
Minerva had been rather insistent for the past few months that he do this. He understood why, but little did she know why he'd been so reluctant. He and Potter hadn't spoken even once since the night in the Shrieking Shack. Potter sang his praises in the media, while simultaneously disavowing Albus, but otherwise hadn't really acknowledged him. At first, Severus had expected he would come seeking answers when he was ready. Minerva had assured him that that wasn't likely to happen. Potter, it seemed, had decided he knew enough and didn't want to reopen either of their old wounds.
Now that he'd been declared innocent without so much as a trial, Minerva had decided that enough was enough. Though Severus suspected Granger had had a lot to do with it, and with convincing Potter to go along with the forced meeting. The fact was, neither of them had wanted this, and neither of them had been willing to give a straight answer about why. Both of their obscenely Gryffindor friends had declared that that was entirely unacceptable, and decided that they needed to do this, whether they wanted to or not. Potter was willing to admit to having questions. Severus had foolishly admitted to being open to answering them. That had been all the opening either witch had needed.
Five minutes before the clock would strike the hour, Severus flinched at the slow, deliberate knock on his door. Too much to hope that Potter would've backed out at the last minute. Instead he showed up early. The brat was stubborn, prideful, and brimming with Gryffindor courage. Like hell would he have walked away and made himself look like a coward. Squaring his shoulders, Severus went to the door and opened it on the impassive face of the young man he'd willingly, if reluctantly, sent to his death. Stepping out of the way, he gestured to his sitting room and Potter walked in, hands stuffed into his pockets.
"Sit," Severus ordered, following him.
Potter gave a stiff nod and sat in the middle of the couch just as stiffly. Severus moved towards his chair. He sat down, and Potter folded his hands in his lap, staring at them as if they held some deep secret. It was clear he was as uncomfortable as Severus. The Potions Master waited for the first hesitant question, unsure how he could start the conversation they were expected to have. Potter, however, seemed to have no intention of starting the conversation either, and they sat in their awkward silence for several minutes.
Severus stood again as his agitation grew. "Drink?" He asked, moving to the sideboard.
"Sure. Thanks."
Well, at least he knew the Wizarding Savior hadn't gone mute. He poured two generous glasses of brandy. It was probably a horrible idea, throwing alcohol into the maelstrom of emotions they were both already dealing with, but he needed something to settle his nerves, and he suspected Potter needed the same. If nothing else, it might at least encourage the brat to talk. He walked back to the sitting area and handed Potter the glass silently before resuming his seat.
The silence only continued as Potter took a sip of the potent alcohol. He didn't flinch or grimace at the flavor, and Severus found that curious. Then again, the Wizarding Savior had seen and done a hell of a lot, had died for a world that had both demonized and canonized him, so he probably had some experience with alcohol in several forms in the months since the battle. Finally, as the silence began to grate on his nerves far beyond what any drink could soothe, he made himself speak.
"You found the house easily enough?" He inquired, hoping it was a safe topic. "I know the Knight Bus lets off more than a few blocks from here."
Potter nodded, twisting the crystal glass between his hands. "Yeah. I did get a little lost," He admitted hesitantly. "I wound up at- at the park. I didn't realize this was… where you grew up, when McGonagall gave me the address, until I saw it."
"Where Lily grew up as well," Severus pointed out softly. "Her childhood home is only a few blocks from here. If you wish, I could tell you where, and perhaps give better directions than Minerva."
"I- I think I'd like to see it," Potter admitted. "My grandparents, are they-?"
"They died," Severus interrupted reluctantly. "A year after we graduated. I regretted immensely being unable to be there for your mother in her grief; they were wonderful people, and the best sort of parents. By then, however, I had… chosen a different path. The wrong one. She would never have welcomed my sympathy at the time."
"How?" Potter asked in a small voice. "How did they die?"
"A car accident, in the rain. A tragedy. Your grandfather had swerved to avoid something in the road, as far as anyone could gather. Hagrid mentioned what Petunia told you about how your own parents died, the stories are remarkably similar, sans the proclaimed inebriation," Severus admitted.
Potter huffed and took a slightly larger swig of his drink. "Knowing her, that's because she wished it had been her sister and brother-in-law in the car instead."
"Unfortunately, that's probably true," The Potions Master agreed solemnly.
The silence descended again. Severus took the opportunity to study the younger wizard. Potter looked… different. A year on the run had put a lot of strain on him, and the last several months had allowed that to settle as he healed. When Severus had seen him in the Great Hall on the night of the battle, and then in the Shack, he had looked as fierce and stubborn as ever, and only a little less like his arrogant father. Now he appeared to have only the first half of that. There was a stiffness to his jaw, that same stubbornness that had saved his life countless times, but he didn't really look like James at all anymore. When his father had grown up, his features had softened. Potter's had hardened, and his angular jaw and slightly gaunt cheeks spoke to the upbringing Severus had been forced to ignore. Malnourishment from such a young age would've changed how his features matured, forced his body to adapt differently. He wasn't the same young man anymore, in appearance or personality.
"Potter, this is getting ridiculous," Severus finally snapped as his anxiety peaked.
The Wizarding Savior nodded. "I know," He agreed unexpectedly. He sighed and took another large drink from his glass, nearly emptying it. Leaning forward over his knees, he again began twisting the glass in his hands, still refusing to even look at his host.
"Is the idea of talking to me so repugnant?" Severus growled in frustration, falling back on old habits.
Potter shook his head slowly. "No, it isn't… just terrifying, I guess," He said, not responding at all to the vitriol. "I don't know where I'm supposed to start, what I'm even allowed to ask without insulting you or digging where you'd rather I didn't."
Severus sighed and drained his own glass slowly. That made complete sense, and somewhat explained the younger wizard's reluctance. Making a decision, he got up and retrieved the bottle of brandy, bringing it back with him. He set his glass on the coffee table and refilled it before setting the bottle near enough to the younger wizard that he'd know it was on offer. Potter didn't hesitate to refill his own glass.
"There aren't really any safe topics between us," Severus said slowly. "I think if we started with the bleeding weather, we'd wind up arguing. So I'll make you a deal: my honesty for yours. I'll admit to having some questions of my own, regarding your tenure at Hogwarts, and what happened during the months before the battle. Nothing will be off-limits from me, if you can afford me the same. You've earned the right to pry."
Potter finally looked up and smirked. "Okay, that seems fair. An exchange? Question for question?"
"It seems the most logical course, if we're to do this. I don't think either of our friends would permit us to get away with the bare minimum after they went to so much trouble," Severus agreed with a smirk of his own.
Potter chuckled and they both sipped their drinks. "Alright. You go first, I guess. I think we've proven that you have infinitely more courage than the boldest Gryffindor."
Severus couldn't stop a huff of laughter. "Courage is a little strong. I spent the last twenty years scared for my life and managed to take it out on children. In ordinary circumstances, I'd have been kept far away from them, never mind running a classroom and House."
"Is that why you aren't going back to Hogwarts?" Potter asked curiously. Severus smirked at him, and Potter glowered without any fire. "Manipulative git. Answer the question, then."
Severus shifted into his chair a little more comfortably. The warmth of the alcohol was starting to take effect, and he could feel himself relaxing slightly. Horrible idea or not, it would allow him to offer the honesty he'd promised and make this easier.
"No," He said, taking a drink. "I actually think I'd make a better professor now than I had ever been, without the stress and terror I was living with before. Minerva thought so, too, since I'd always at least managed civility with my colleagues, and a vague level of acquaintance. She invited me to return, in fact, with that belief in mind. I turned her down, however. Whilst I probably wouldn't be mentally and emotionally scarring students anymore, I never actually wanted to teach. The Dark Lord forced me to apply when Slughorn retired, to be his spy in Hogwarts, with the incentive it afforded me to gain my Mastery. Being the youngest professor at such a prestigious school gave me special consideration, and it fast-tracked my application with the Guild. After I switched sides, I was still required to remain for obvious reasons. After the night you became the Boy Who Lived, I remained at the school only out of an obligation to Albus. Neither of us believed him to be gone for good, and Albus insisted I needed to be there, maintain that cover, for my own safety, and for the sake of my role when it had to resume. Thanks in part to that, the Dark Lord was well-convinced of my loyalty and worth up until the moment he first 'died'. He still was, before you set him straight in your final confrontation. I wish I could've seen his face."
"It wasn't half priceless," Potter admitted with a small laugh. "I think for the slightest moment there was a decent chance he almost died from shock alone. Now it is your turn."
Severus sighed and sipped at his drink as he considered what might be a relatively safe topic to start on like Potter had. "I find myself curious why you felt it necessary to steal and ride a dragon, and if you'll ever be allowed back into Gringotts after such a foolish act."
Potter laughed and sat back rubbing his brow. "Yeah, that was a bit… stupid. Entirely impulsive, but we were sort of trapped. Lestrange's multiplication spell had gone insane, and the Goblins were coming after us. There really wasn't any other way out… except maybe by instigating a new war with the Goblins when we defended ourselves, and probably dying in the process. The dragon seemed happy enough to be free, at least, since it didn't try to eat us when we leapt off. We're still allowed to go to the bank, since I gave them the sword, but we're watched closely."
"You gave them the sword?" Severus demanded. "That was an incredibly stupid thing to do."
"Probably, but considering it still showed up when Neville had need of it, and he used it to lob off that stupid snake's head, I can't see that it matters much," Potter answered with a sly smile. "The Goblins aren't happy about it, but the sword is tied to the school, so there's nothing they can do. It stays in their keeping… until someone needs it, then they have to go about collecting it again. They're more pissed at Godric Gryffindor than they are with me, now."
"Further proof of your infinite luck," Severus scoffed in disbelief.
"You aren't one to talk about infinite luck," Potter pointed out. "How did you survive?"
"A benevolent phoenix and someone's House Elf worked together to ensure I returned to the land of the living, then held vigil until you and Minerva came for my body. I always assumed you had at least sent the Elf," Severus answered curiously.
Potter shook his head, sipping from his glass. "Kreacher is the most incomprehensible Elf on the planet. But he claimed to have a debt, because I promised him that I'd return the locket and that Mundungus Fletcher would pay for disrespecting his former master. I think when he found out that Fletcher did, in fact, suffer before he admitted to what he'd done with the locket, he must've decided that it was enough to verify my sincerity. I suspect he was following me, helping us. We sometimes discovered that we had a little more food left than we thought we had. When I reacted like I did when you fell, I guess he decided that was how he'd pay the debt. Secretive little bastard hasn't ever said, though, he just treats me like his master without complaint now."
Severus drank deeply, but decided he wasn't near inebriated enough to try asking his most burning question yet. "Why has your opinion of Albus shifted so much? You seem to hate him more than you ever did me even on the night that I killed him."
"The night we killed him, you mean," Potter said, draining his glass and pouring another. He avoided looking at the shocked Potions Master.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand that comment," Severus said thickly.
Potter glowered at his refilled glass. He had to be feeling its effects by now, but he'd yet to make any indication of it. "You know that he orchestrated a lot of what happened to me while I was at Hogwarts, yeah?"
Severus blinked. "He… what?"
Potter huffed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck agitatedly. "Yeah, figures there'd be things he never even told you. After I faced off with Quirrell, when I was in the Hospital Wing, he practically told me that I'd been manipulated into doing it. When I asked about Flamel he seemed very happy that I'd 'done the thing proper'. That's a direct quote, if you're wondering."
Severus gripped his glass a little more firmly as it nearly slipped from his grasp at this news.
"He played off my natural curiosity, gave me leeway where necessary to encourage me to keep following trails, and gave me a light shove in the right direction when I got stuck," Potter continued. "I knew he was doing it, in a vague sort of sense, but since I kept succeeding, I didn't think much about it. Until I found out the real reason. He'd been preparing me, playing off my nobility and encouraging the growing depth of my commitment to putting my life on the line. Also, you know, the whole keeping Riddle from regaining a foothold bit, though I think better-trained adult wizards might've been the smarter route to go. Some of it was probably just supposed to be tests, to ensure I was as ready as I could be, strong enough to get to that final moment. The Tournament, for instance. I went back and read the restrictions and the rules. As Headmaster, and because I had no guardian in the Wizarding World, he could have refused to allow me to participate. Instead he lied and told everyone that it was out of his hands. Fudge let him get away with it probably for his own image, and that ponce Bagman probably never read the rules at all. Me winding up in the graveyard was most likely just dumb luck on Dumbledore's part."
"What about your comment about having killed him?" Severus asked softly, still reeling from this horrendous insight. What the hell had the old man been thinking?
"His final test for me, my willingness to do whatever was necessary to bring an end to the Dark Lord," Potter answered with a scowl. "When we went to the cave that night, the entrance was warded with something. A blood protection ward. He cut his hand and wiped his blood on the stone to make it open, saying something about 'an exchange'. I was too stupid to realize that a little blood smear wasn't the exchange he was talking about."
Severus found himself speechless. No, the Dark Lord would never have put such a simple protection. He would've put something much darker. The ward would have been an exchange of life, the blood given being an oath that the person who opened the door would die within a time limit.
"We got across the pool of Inferi and found a bowl with the locket sitting at the bottom beneath a clear potion. Dumbledore told me I had to make him drink all of it, no matter what happened, he had to drink all of it. He relived horrible memories, became this quivering, child-like old man the more I gave him, but I kept going, because I'd promised him I would. I coaxed, and cajoled, and forced it down his throat no matter how much he begged me to stop. Finally, when it was done, he just kept asking for water. I suspect you know what the potion was, and that its effects weren't just reliving one's worst memories and being a bit parched after," Potter said, drinking deeply before setting his glass down to hang his head in his hands.
Severus did know. He'd invented the poison. Albus would've appeared to recover, if weakened, but within hours he would've descended into madness, culminating in taking his own life. If he hadn't cast the Killing Curse that night, the old man still would've died, and Potter would've been at fault… at least as much as Severus was currently at fault for the way he did die.
"I didn't know. I can't believe he would place that on your shoulders. If things had happened differently, if Malfoy had backed out that night…"
Potter shrugged. "Honesty, remember? That was the deal. You asked a question, and I gave you the answer. The old bastard turned my life into a miserable hell, manipulated me, left me in an abusive home willfully, made me a killer when I was 11, and nearly made me his killer as well… never mind what he forced you to live with, and to do. He brought about both our deaths, ensured we went to them with all the courage and nobility we needed. I pray every day that he left that between place for the bowels of hell, but probably not. I don't doubt he could manipulate his way into eternal paradise."
Severus nodded in agreement, both of the sentiment and the belief, and drank deeply. "Your turn," He said a little hoarsely.
"Do you actually hate me?" Potter asked, dropping his hands.
"No," Severus said shortly. "I had to behave a certain way. In reality, you drove me insane with your insistence on running headlong into harrowing adventure. Discovering that it wasn't entirely your decision has left me unsure how to feel about that now, to be honest, but I never hated you. I probably wouldn't have been able to play my role so well if I wasn't so determined to keep you alive."
"Yeah, but you only did that because you were in love with my mum," Potter argued.
A harsh laugh escaped Severus before he could stop it and he realized he might've had a little more to drink than he should have. He suddenly felt dangerously close to revealing his true motivations behind what had kept him going in his year as the false Headmaster. He chuckled softly as he tried to get himself under control and Potter glared at him in insult. Finally, he looked at the young man with a patronizing smirk.
"You seriously misinterpreted my memories if that's what you took away from it," He told him. "I wasn't in love with Lily, I loved Lily. I was absolutely devoted to her because she was my best friend, but not more."
"It sure as hell looked different," Potter snarled. "Your bloody Patronus is a doe, and you admitted to Dumbledore that you were still doing everything for her 'after all this time'."
Severus shook his head and drained his glass even as his head spun. "Potter, I betrayed my best friend, became that which she despised, and as a result gave the Dark Lord the information which inevitably led to her death. I swore, the night she died, that I would keep you safe at whatever cost, in repayment for my misdeeds. And that I would never forget her."
"You're not exactly saying anything that doesn't suggest romantic feelings," Potter said, draining his own glass. His speech was now slightly slurred.
Severus huffed. "Then allow me to give you an example, if I may, that will help you to understand. If you had been in my place, and Miss Granger were in Lily's, what would you have done?"
Bright emeralds widened with sudden understanding. "Oh my God…" He muttered. "I can't believe that didn't occur to me."
Severus chuckled again and poured them both more brandy from the dwindling bottle. The amount they'd had so far aside, he winced slightly as he glanced at the clock on the mantle. It had only been slightly more than an hour. They were both going to pay dearly come morning, but he couldn't be bothered to care at this point. At least they weren't snapping and snarling like days of old, which had been one of his concerns.
Potter glowered at his smugness but accepted the glass without protest. "In my defense, everyone in my life has at one time or another been convinced that me and Hermione are more than just best friends. Ron abandoned us in the dead of winter in that stupid tent because he was convinced of the same. The stupidest thing being that he did so already suspecting what I yet didn't about where my interests really lie."
"His baby sister," Severus supplied.
Potter snorted, earning an arched eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure after our whirlwind relationship at the end of my Sixth Year, everyone, including me, thought they knew where my interests lie. Turns out everyone, including me, was very wrong."
Severus eyed the younger wizard curiously. "Then I suppose we suffered the exact same misconception regarding our relationship with our best friends."
Potter smirked. "Really?"
Severus shifted uncomfortably at the unrecognizable look in those gem-like eyes and cleared his throat. "It isn't your turn."
"No, but your refusal to answer is an answer, and makes me feel less stupid about admitting it out loud, since I haven't told anyone but my friends," Potter said, sipping from his glass. "Your turn, then."
Severus frowned as he drank from his own glass. He only had one question remaining that he actually wanted the answer for. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he was currently well into inebriation, he didn't think he could ask. He searched for something else to ask and decided on something frivolous.
"Were you in Hogsmeade that time in your Third Year?"
"Since you can't give me a detention, yeah, I was," Potter admitted, grinning. "Terrified Malfoy and simultaneously helped substantiate rumors about the Shack being haunted. Speaking of Malfoy, there was a rumor when I was a student that you're his godfather, is that true?"
Severus scoffed. "Please, as if Lucius would ever have named a half-blood who was much better liked by his lord and master to be godfather to his perfect pureblood son. Our relationship was sheer business. I was never more lenient with him than I was anyone else in my House, he just had a habit of testing the limits of that. Now, about my ingredients…?"
"Hermione in Second Year, Dobby in Fourth," Potter answered immediately with a small smile. "We thought Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin who'd opened the Chamber, so we made Polyjuice to try and get him to admit it. Prat didn't know anything. In Fourth Year, I had absolutely no idea how to go about getting gillyweed, after I found out I could use it. I didn't even know it was a potion ingredient. Dobby stole it from you without my even asking him to. Little guy was as bound and determined to keep me alive as you apparently were."
Severus felt his heart clench as Potter's face fell and he drained his still nearly-full glass. Another lost soul, and a good friend by all accounts. He'd heard the story from Bellatrix during the meeting the Dark Lord called after it happened. The Elf had given his life for Potter and his friends and saved them from certain death. Severus was never more glad that Molly Weasley had done the world such a great favor in killing the bitch.
"I hear he's going to be honored by the Ministry," He offered gently.
Potter nodded, setting down his glass. "Yeah. First House Elf in history to be awarded an Order of Merlin. Third Class, but they can't risk being overly generous in the eyes of archaic wizards, I guess." Silence fell. Eventually, he opened his mouth, closed it, furrowed his brow, and opened it again. "This might seem ridiculous, but I've always wondered… are your eyes actually black?"
Severus laughed. "Yes."
"Truly?" Potter asked skeptically.
Without thinking about it, Severus set down his own glass and moved to the couch, to sit a little unsteadily beside the Wizarding Savior, bracing himself against the back of the couch so he could look him in the eye. "Yes," He said again.
Potter turned and leaned obscenely close to him to study his eyes. "That is so unusual," He said softly, his breath ghosting across Severus' face. "I didn't even know black eyes were a thing before I met you."
"A rarity I inherited from my grandfather on my mother's side," The Potions Master explained. "I think it terrified my father as much as his inability to cut my hair short. He always told anyone who asked, when I was a child, that they were a dark brown. My mother was equally ashamed of it."
"You'd think they'd have been proud," Potter said thoughtfully. "I always thought your eyes were gorgeous, even before I…"
"You what?" Severus asked, wavering.
"Realized that I was attracted to men in general," Potter answered, blushing endearingly. He hesitated. "Can I touch your hair?"
Severus smirked. "How drunk are you?"
"Very, but I'm serious," Potter answered. "This close, I'm realizing it isn't greasy, just… shiny."
"It's called fine, Mister Potter, and it has always looked like this. Lily used to complain endlessly that she couldn't do anything with it when she was bored. Asked frequently what the point of having a best friend with long hair was if she couldn't even curl it for me," Severus explained.
Potter chuckled. "Hermione actually complains like that when she tries to fix my hair for events and such. I guess yours is spell-resistant, too?"
"It is," Severus agreed.
"So can I?"
"If you feel you must," The Potions Master answered with a sigh.
He was willing to acknowledge, with them sitting so close, that drinking had definitely been a bad idea. Temptation was a lot harder to resist with his inhibitions so low. Part of him wanted to pull away, was screaming at him to put some distance between them before he did something stupid, but he opted to ignore that rational voice. Potter's hand rose hesitantly. When bronze fingers carded through his hair and the younger wizard actually moaned at the soft feel, Severus shut that rational voice down completely.
Leaning forward, he captured dark lips in a searing kiss he'd been dreaming of for longer than was appropriate. The fingers in his hair clenched and drew him closer. His own fingers reached out and clung to a hard thigh and stiff neck as he swept his tongue into that sinful mouth. The younger wizard tasted of brandy and something darker, sweeter, which was wholly his own. Severus moaned, scratching his fingers along the inseam of rough jeans. Potter gasped, responding eagerly to the kiss.
Severus knew he should stop. They were both drunk, and this could lead to nothing but regret. Damned if he could, though. Particularly when the hand in his hair slid free to trace down his body, playing down his chest, sliding across his side, and then caressing his thigh dangerously close to his painful erection. He moaned again, moving his own hand further up the inside of that quivering thigh. Potter's answer was to forego pretense and press his hand over the tent in Severus' trousers, rubbing his palm over the length. Severus pulled away with a sharp gasp and found Potter hosting a sultry smirk.
"Guess its true what they say about men with big hands," He said huskily.
Severus found himself unable to respond as that hand continued to stroke his cock. He pressed the younger wizard back on the couch, moving his own hand to touch the hard flesh hidden behind dark jeans. Potter moaned, dragging him into another hard kiss as they both stroked each other needily. Nimble Seeker's fingers flicked open the button of Severus' trousers, sliding the zipper down, then slipped beneath his waistband to touch him properly.
"Fuck, Potter," Severus gasped as those calloused fingers wrapped around his needy flesh.
"Kind of what I'm hoping for, yeah," The brat replied cheekily, still stroking him slowly.
Severus growled and pulled back, rising from the couch and dragging the younger wizard up with him. He was more than happy to oblige as that hand slipped free. Pulling the Wizarding Savior into a passionate kiss, he began pressing him back, guiding him around the table and chair. His own leg caught the edge of the coffee table, moving it, but he barely noticed as Potter's tongue tangled with his. They both grunted when the younger wizard's back met the shelves beside the open hidden door.
"Shit!" Potter hissed, arching away from the bookshelf.
"Sorry," Severus murmured, dipping his head to lick and bite at a bronze throat.
"S'long as that's not the only bruise you plan to leave on me," Was the breathless answer.
Smirking, the Potions Master pulled the younger wizard away from the wall and towards the stairs as he continued to mark warm flesh. They stumbled together up the stairs, almost toppling twice, and at the top Severus continued leading Potter backwards towards his bedroom. If he expected Potter to stop him or hesitate, he'd have been wrong, as those strong hands gripped his lapel and dragged him towards his own bed.
As they proceeded to give in to inebriated desire, Severus decided that he could worry about the consequences come morning.
(Edited for rating purposes. See opening notes.)
-Break-
Morning, it turned out, came too soon. Dark obsidians opened, followed by a deep, pained groan as they closed again against the bright light filtering past the curtains of his bedroom window. Severus was sharply reminded of why he didn't make a habit of drinking to excess. There was a cacophonous pain in his head, his mouth felt as dry as a desert, and his thoughts were remarkably fuzzy. Shifting, he realized that there was a weight on his chest unexplained by his heavy consumption of alcohol. Cracking open his eyes again, squinting against the light, he looked down and found a shaggy head of black hair. His head fell back to his pillows as he sighed heavily, supposing he stood corrected. The weight could definitely be explained by the amount of alcohol he'd had the day before.
Rubbing at his eyes, Severus traced back in his memory, ignoring the pounding in his head, as he recalled exactly what had happened. He couldn't say the events of the previous afternoon weren't entirely worth it. Though he supposed he was never going to get the only answer he really wanted, now. Why in the hell had he done this? What had he been thinking? No way in hell was he going to be able to look the brat in the eye again. It might be better just to send him on his way, refuse to deal with the painful and awkward aftermath at all.
"If you even think of handing me a Hangover Cure and telling me to fuck off on my way never to see you again, I will finish the job that snake started and kill you myself, phoenixes and sneaky House Elves be damned," Potter muttered into his chest sleepily. His legs shifted against Severus' own, and he moaned a little in pain. "Well, you definitely made good on your promise. Moving sucks even worse sober. God, now I remember why I quit drinking like that. My head feels like hell, and it's too damn early for your self-recrimination bullshit."
Severus looked at him curiously. "What-?"
"I could hear your gears turning in my sleep," Potter answered with a sigh. He shifted his head so that his chin was resting on a pale chest and he was squinting with one bright emerald at the Potions Master. "Or maybe it was just that obscene sigh and the fact that your heart picked up speed like you'd found yourself standing in oncoming traffic when you realized I was still lying in your bed."
"There should be natural laws preventing observant Gryffindors," Severus muttered, running his fingers through his hair before his head fell to the pillow again. "I take it you hadn't planned on slipping out quietly if you'd been the first one awake?"
"Maybe to the loo," Potter said with a shrug. "Based on the fact that your arm is still bruising my ribs like I'm a bloody lifeline, I'm gonna hazard the guess that you had different aspirations for the morning after, too. Honestly, do you think I just fall into bed with any man who lets me run my fingers through their hair?"
"You certainly seemed to know what you were doing yesterday," Severus answered indelicately. He winced, releasing an indiscriminate sound of pain, when hard fingers pinched his side brutally.
"I can't believe you just said that," Potter scoffed, sitting up with his back to him and rubbing his eyes. "I'll have you know I've had all of one lover, it was a brief affair of all of one week, we had sex twice, only once while we were actually sober, and the knob fucked off with a comment about not being able to stand my scars. A bleeding Muggle, of course, or I'd have hexed the crap out of him for it. Beyond that… well, you'd be surprised what you can learn in books."
"The shelves over there would agree with you," Severus commented idly, gesturing across the room and sitting up as well. He grimaced when his head and stomach protested this decision violently. Reaching out, he soothed tense arms and placed a tender kiss atop a prominent scar on a bare shoulder pointedly. "Apologies, my ability for tact is significantly diminished before I've had coffee, particularly when my head hurts this much. It was a crude assumption on my part."
Potter hummed. "At least you're still being honest."
Severus hesitated, leaning his brow against the shoulder he'd kissed as his hand traced lightly over a rippling back. "So… if you aren't inclined toward sleeping with many men, may I ask why you were so eager to sleep with me?"
"That's not really the right question," Potter huffed.
Severus pulled away with a scowl. "And what, pray tell, is?" He asked sternly, wondering what that could possibly mean.
Potter turned to look at him with a mischievous smile before leaning over and drawing him into a deep kiss he couldn't stop himself from returning. When they drew apart again, the mischief was gone from the smile, and Potter was chewing his lip hesitantly.
"The one you never asked yesterday," He said softly. "The one you've been dying to ask since that night."
Severus frowned. It was really disconcerting how well the brat seemed to know his mind. "Why were you there?" He asked finally. "Why did you try to stop the bleeding?"
Potter huffed another small laugh that lacked any real humor and turned away to lean atop his bent knees as he pulled his legs up under the blanket. "Do you know what I spent my Sixth Year doing?"
"Stalking Draco Malfoy," Severus supplied with a roll of his eyes. He didn't know what that had to do with what he'd asked.
"Besides that," Potter said. He paused and sighed, bowing his head slightly between his knees and scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I spent almost that entire year reading my Potions text, the one I got from the store cupboard, before I hid it after what happened with Malfoy in the bathroom. I was so bloody obsessed, and I never even saw it. To me, the boy who'd written all over it, the Half-Blood Prince, was this mysterious, brilliant person that I just felt so weirdly close to. I couldn't explain it, but I felt this strange connection to him. He was… familiar, like someone I'd met in a dream, and I couldn't get him out of my head."
Severus found himself entirely unsure how he was meant to respond as a lump formed in his dry throat, preventing any attempt he might've made to find a response.
"Ron was the first to point it out," Potter continued, as he looked at the far wall. "He didn't say anything at the time because he was so desperate for me and Gin to get together, but after the battle… After we went to get your body and found you miraculously alive, he spoke up. He didn't want me to live according to what was expected of me anymore, decided on my behalf that enough was enough. If you want to talk about a lack of tact, try having a conversation with my redheaded best friend. He practically shoved me headfirst into the realization that while I'd thought I was falling in love with his sister, I'd really been falling for someone I couldn't have. Projecting, he called it. We argued, loudly, when I pointed out that that was still true, considering who the Half-Blood Prince turned out to be. I thought it didn't matter, anyway, because you aren't the Prince anymore; 'might as well be two different people' I told him. Hermione stepped in when what he was saying failed to get across. She reminded me that I hadn't known you were on our side when I went tearing out of the secret passage. That's when I figured out what they'd already begun to suspect after having to literally hold me back to keep me from going to you before it was even safe. It's amazing, the things you bury in your mind because you're too afraid to face them. I tried to stop the bleeding that night, and walked to my death after I'd failed to, because I fell for a boy in a book. And because I'd fallen for who that boy really was in the year since. It didn't matter what you'd done, all that mattered was that I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."
Severus stared at a tense back in shock as silence descended like a weighted blanket after this soft declaration. The rippling muscles there were taut, like the younger wizard might bolt any second. The Potions Master was confounded by this remarkably impossible answer, uncertain if he could believe it even as his heart thundered painfully in his chest. A harsh sigh caused the hunched shoulders to rise and fall, and when Potter reached for the edge of the blanket as if he actually intended to get out of the bed, Severus found the wherewithal to finally move. He wrapped his arm around tense shoulders and pulled the young man back, all-but throwing him onto the pillows as he braced over him.
"You're lying," He accused, eyeing the brat critically.
Brilliant emeralds darkened in a hard scowl. "If that makes it easier to swallow, believe what you want. You asked the question, and I gave an honest answer, whether you like it or not. Let me up, you overgrown bat."
"No," Severus answered stiffly. Potter pushed at his chest to try shoving him off, and Severus grabbed his hand, pinning it to the bed. "It's your turn to ask."
Potter stopped struggling, his scowl falling into a look of suspicion. After a long, breathless moment, he spoke. "Why were you so eager to sleep with me?"
A small smile twisted the corners of thin lips as Severus sighed through his nose. "Because after nearly two years of dreaming about having you in my arms, and that much brandy, I couldn't resist temptation any longer." Potter frowned uncertainly. "Ironic, that you fell for me, and I for you, during a year where we saw neither hide nor hair of one another. I suppose the old adage that distance makes the heart grow fonder has some merit. I stayed alive that entire year, did everything I had to, to play my role, not because I had a last duty to Albus to fulfill. It wasn't about being able to tell you the truth, finally, and gaining some peace. All that mattered, the only thing that kept me going, was knowing that I'd get to see you again in order to do so. I knew you would hate me, for the lies you'd been fed, and for the final message I had to deliver about what you needed to do. I didn't care, as long as I got to look into your eyes one last time."
"Your last words that night…" Potter said, his eyes widening with shocked realization. "Your dying wish-?"
"Was to look into your eyes and pretend, with my final breath, that I might've been allowed to love you, if Fate had been a little kinder," Severus finished, releasing the hand he'd pinned.
Bronze fingers immediately reached up to burrow in his lank hair, dragging him down atop the younger wizard in a fervent kiss. He breathed into it. Never, in even his most secret dreams, had he imagined this, that there had ever actually been a chance. Withdrawing slowly, his small smile returned as he traced a sculpted jaw.
"We make quite a pair," Potter murmured, combing his fingers through Severus' hair. "We've both been so afraid of the rejection, it never occurred to either of us that things might work in our favor if we were just honest."
"I'm seriously starting to wonder if you've taken up residence in my head, Mister Potter," Severus growled playfully.
"Harry," The brat corrected him, smirking. "You're supposed to call me 'Harry' after admitting something like that."
Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Does that mean I can look forward to hearing my own name on your lips from now on, Harry?"
The Gryffindor nodded, pulling him down into another kiss. "So, what do we do now, Severus?"
"Hangover Cures," The Potions Master answered, smiling. "Then coffee and breakfast, and after that we try to get a few more hours of sleep before Minerva and Granger come banging at my door thinking either we've killed one another, or you ran off into the wide blue yonder after doing the Gryffindor thing and admitting your feelings."
"Any chance there will be an opportunity for a shower and a more sober version of yesterday afternoon somewhere in your grand plan?" Potter asked slyly.
Severus chuckled. "Normally I'd say 'if you're lucky', but let's be honest, you've-"
"Got infinite luck," Potter finished for him, laughing lightly as well. "Tell me about it."
Leaning down and capturing that laugh in a smoldering kiss, Severus couldn't help but feel that, in all honesty, he was the luckiest man alive.