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 the 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 murmured into his chest sleepily. His legs shifted against Severus' own, and he moaned a little in pain. "Ow… 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 grumbled, running his fingers through his hair before letting his head fall 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 a small squawk 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. 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 swept 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 demanded 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 realized 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. I spent every spare second memorizing his advice, his comments, his snarky humor…"

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 grew up to be 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, startling 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 slump. 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 from it. 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 narrowing 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 again. "Then coffee and breakfast. After that we try to get a few more hours of sleep before Minerva and Granger come banging at my door thinking we've killed one another. Or you ran off into the wide blue yonder after you did the Gryffindor thing and admitted your feelings and I reacted like a git."

"Any chance there will be an opportunity for a shower and a more sober version of yesterday afternoon somewhere in your grand plan, Git?" Potter asked slyly.

Severus chuckled. "Normally I'd say 'if you're lucky', Brat, 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.