A/N: Full uncensored version of this chapter is on Archive of Our Own, under the same name.

Chapter 8

When Harry was with the Dursley's one summer and Dudley was out with his friends instead of commandeering the television in the living room like he usually was, he and Aunt Petunia had watched a programme about people that chase tornadoes.

He never would have spent time with Aunt Petunia willingly if he could be in his room instead, but that summer had been unbearably hot. He went downstairs to sit in front of the air conditioner for a few minutes.

They called them storm chasers. Some of them were paid for their work, to take pictures and record footage. But some of them were just people that liked watching natural destructive forces, who just wanted to see how close to a raging tornado they could get, who were just curious.

The way he and Snape started spending every free moment together after the Veil reminded him of those storm chasers. They could spot a vortex in the distance and were getting in a car together, driving fast and hard toward doom while everyone else drove away. It was like that, baring his heart to Snape when he wasn't really sure he saw him for who he was. For Snape, it clearly went against his every war-tested instinct but Harry knew he was drawn in as powerfully by it as if he were made of paper and in a tornado's way.

It felt inevitable, their ending up together each night. The night of the tragedy on Tower Bridge, Snape had taken him by the hand and led him to the fireplace, where he told Harry to Floo to his room.

Harry did it without resistance but later, when he was laying on his side in Snape's bed and watching Snape's back as he wrote at his desk, he told him he wouldn't be able to stand it if he was letting him stay there because he felt bad for Harry.

"Just tell me to leave now if you do."

The scratching of Snape's quill on parchment didn't stop right away but when it did, Snape said, "I don't pity you. You had a choice. You have a job at Hogwarts that you leave willingly to try to save the world. Again."

"Not save the world. Just…help."

"Help yourself, Harry."

He retreated back into silence, and then there were no words between them, just Snape going about his nightly business and Harry watching him or numbly watching nothing. Snape wrote for what seemed like an eternity and undressed and showered and pulled on socks and read a book and Harry didn't move. Not until Snape closed the volume he was reading and went to retrieve clothes from a drawer. He threw them unceremoniously at Harry's face, exactly as he had the last time.

When he changed and they were both back in bed, the lights just went out as if Snape had done it without his wand. He waited, desperately hoping for Snape to reach for him but not wanting to ask, because he was asking for so much already.

Snape's hands were there then and easy, pulling Harry to him, his mouth near Harry's ear when they were done shifting, his palm over Harry's heart.

"The password to my door is beautitudo," he said. The feel of his breath and body around him and the meaning of his whisper in the dark were almost enough to stirr Harry's libido alive. He thought of how Snape had been the night before when they were touching and telling each other what they really wanted, who they really were. He thought of how Snape had been sweet, protective almost, how maybe that was how Snape was in between the times he thought he had to be a total prick. Or maybe he was just like that with people he liked, or just when he was having sex with them.

He thought this was the thing about Snape that his mother must have understood.

Harry shook with a sudden chill and found both of Snape's hands, interlacing their fingers together.

It should have scared him that he needed this so much but storms don't scare storm chasers, they just urge them on endlessly, living in wait for the day another one will come around.

He felt heavy in the morning with sleep, a feeling that seemed so far in his past that it reminded him of childhood.

He'd an amazing dream. He was driving, something he discovered he liked to do when he had to get his license as part of his Auror training. It wasn't unlike flying a broomstick when he could go really fast. He was driving on a narrow strip of land that divided water, which was a rich blue that he didn't want to stop seeing. The waves were calm and twinking in the sunlight, and whales were breaching the surface, taking Harry's breath away.

When he opened his eyes, he could still see the imprint of waves on his vision. He took a deep breath through his nose and stretched. He struggled to remember what day of the week it was and finally his mind landed on Saturday.

Snape was out of bed and ready before Harry had fully woken up. "Longbottom's missed you at breakfast," he said, pulling on his robes. "He tried to make small talk with me instead," Snape said as though it were the lowest insult someone could deal him with and added "It's not funny," when Harry hid his smile.

But soon Harry wasn't smiling anymore. He had his face in his hands and was groaning when Snape insisted he get out of bed.

"It physically makes me ill to think of seeing anyone right now," Harry said. And he meant it. His body still ached with a generalized malaise and he was genuinely sick with the thought of enduring the looks that people would surely give him after morning deliveries of the daily prophet.

"I don't care if you don't show your face in the Great Hall but you need to get up. Move your body, work your mind. You certainly may not stay here all day."

"You gave me the password, so even if you kick me out now, I can just come back in," Harry said, smug.

"Passwords can change."

"Don't do that," Harry frowned. "Fine. I should visit this new headquarters the Aurors have now, anyway. There'll be all these new people on the case."

"Potter," Snape said, suddenly looking like he needed to sit down. "If there are more people on his trail, couldn't you leave it to them? You're a teacher now, at the most prestigious school of magic in the world. Don't you have papers to grade? Lessons to plan? Practicals to design?"

"Yes," Harry said, filled with guilt thinking about the stack of 4th year essays on his desk that were sitting there for the second week in a row. There was another feeling edging in him, a feeling he didn't want to feel.

"Conceive, for a moment, the possibility of doing one job," Snape said. "A job that doesn't make you miserable." The feeling was getting bigger now, too big to ignore.

Snape was making him angry.

"Says the man who spied for two of the century's most powerful wizards."

"That was completely-"

"While he was a Hogwarts Professor," Harry said, coming out from underneath the covers now. "And didn't all those jobs make you miserable?"

"Well, look who has energy now," Snape said and there was something of the old glint in his eye that Harry knew so well in school when Snape was provoking him and he didn't care if he was falling into some sort of trap, because the remnants of his good dream and his good sleep and his paralyzing sadness were turning in him and fueling a growing hurt.

He knelt up in bed, sitting on his heels, the lack of a blanket making him more aware of the cold in the dungeon and his exposed skin and the way Snape's clothes hung on him.

"Who wouldn't be absolutely inspired by the ridiculous, random concern you all of a sudden have for what I do?"

"Random?" Snape's expression was hardening, getting colder. "You can't actually be that stupid."

"Don't call me stupid!"

"Keep your voice down."

"Oh please, like you haven't charmed this place with a million and one privacy spells."

"That's not my concern. I won't be yelled at, Potter." It was annoying to Harry that Snape was managing to seem more inconvenienced than anything.

"And I won't be criticized," Harry said, "Not by you, not for my career choices. Where were these concerns five years ago? Oh that's right, I never heard from you. Even when you knew I was casting cheering charms on myself because I was so depressed. Because you didn't give a shit," Harry said. He felt out of his body. He hadn't realized until that moment how that bothered him.

"You can't handle criticism? You can't stand to think that you've made a mistake?"

Snape glossing over Harry's resentment didn't escape him. The bubble of hope in Harry that maybe he would have comforted him about it or explained, burst.

"I swear on Voldemort's dead body, if you call me arrogant, I will fucking hurt you."

"Don't you dare threaten me. I could crush you with a word," Snape said, his body tense with danger.

"Yeah, you could," Harry said, deflating for a moment. "That's sort of the point."

He was embarrassed, realizing too late that he showed his cards. He leapt from the bed, looking for his clothes. He found his socks first and settled into Snape's desk chair to pull them on.

"Crazy prick," Harry muttered under his breath, fuming. He took off the shirt he was wearing and looked for his own.

"Are you going to London?" Snape was single minded. He had his arms crossed and was watching Harry move around the room with a look of irritation on his face.

"Yes. Because I have to. I can't not. It's just the way I am."

"There are some instincts you can't trust."

Harry stopped to look at him, hard. To ask him a question he already knew the answer to. "Like what, like this one?" he said, pointing between Snape's chest and his own bare one.

Snape shook his head minutely, eyes unseeing, set on something beyond Harry. It made him feel abandoned. "Especially this one."

Harry gave up looking for his clothes. He picked up his wand from the desk and lit a fire in the grate, Flooing out of there half naked.

He did end up going to London. He caught a few Aurors left at the office transferring the last of the evidence and found out from them where headquarters was. They were setting up at the Leaky Cauldron, which would be convenient for the visiting Aurors.

When Harry got there, he expected to be led to a private space in the tavern by the innkeeper, but there was no need. The department took over the entire establishment, the main bar room buzzing with people and Floo conversations and huddled studying of evidence.

Harry looked for a shock of red hair and found Ron in the back, with a group of witches and wizards looking at the painting from Rebecca Rickton's apartment. Some of the writing was still there but the magic had given out mid-sentence, the blood just dribbling meaninglessly after "Let's play, I".

He came up behind Ron and tugged at the sleeve of his robe. Ron turned and excused himself to talk to Harry.

"Hey," Ron said, sounding short.

"Hi," Harry said. "Are you- are we okay?"

Ron wasn't looking at him.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Harry said and then grabbed Ron by the arm and pulled him out of the main room and into a small corridor. Harry remembered there being a cleaning cupboard there when he stayed at the Leaky Cauldron one summer.

Stuck in a tiny space surrounded by mops and brooms made it harder for Ron to ignore Harry.

"What, Harry, what? I'm not ready to forgive you, alright?" Ron said the moment Harry closed the door. There was no light and they were engulfed in darkness.

"Forgive me for what? People break up. I broke up with Ginny and I know I probably should have done it sooner but sometimes you don't know until you just-"

"You kissed Snape!" Ron said, hissing and clearly furious but Harry preferred this to calculated cold.

He didn't say anything. He wanted to wait until Ron got it all out, every expression of incredulity and disgust.

Ron huffed and lit his wand so they could see each other in the dark cupboard.

"How is that supposed to make Ginny feel? Not only was she dumped because you're gay and Merlin knows what Rita Skeeter will have to say about that, but you cheated on her with Snape? The slimy git who tortured us in school? Who is more than 20 years older than you?"

"It's not like he was Umbridge. And he's a war hero, Ron. A war hero. That's sexy, okay? And I'm not going to apologize for it. Also, it's not like I knew I was gay- I still don't even know if I'm gay! I'm just gay for Snape!"

Ron was glaring at him, reminding Harry of the people on TV that told ghost stories during campfires with the light from his wand coming from his chin.

"It's just so fucking typical of you to shut everyone out, even your girlfriend to the point where we couldn't even tell any of this was happening."

Harry immediately opened his mouth to say that Ginny should have noticed, should have been able to tell something was wrong but he thought better of it. "Hermione could tell."

Ron pulled a face. "Well of course she did, you're really going to pretend that's fair?"

"Also," Harry said, remembering another thing Ron mentioned, "Me and Snape in the papers is never going to happen. The idea that soon we'll be coming out as some happy couple is ridiculous! We can hardly get through a day at Hogwarts without fighting."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry, that's just sexual tension!"

Pushing aside the intrusive thought that he was glad Ron thought so, Harry went on. "If you think this is so hard for Ginny," he reeled back as he saw Ron's expression, "which it is, I know! Just think for a moment what it's like to be me. Imagine wanting the attention of someone who's only ever wanted to do your mum. Just imagine that, Ron. Just for like 10 seconds."

Ron was looking at him blankly, like he was counting to 10 begrudgingly.

Finally, he said: "Fine, alright, that must feel like ass."

"Exactly."

Just like that, he and Ron were friends again.

They spent the day at headquarters questioning everyone that was signed in to visit the Department of Mysteries for the last month. There was a woman who'd been down there to listen to a prophecy related to a case she was working with magical creatures that Harry thought seemed suspicious, but there wasn't enough to move forward with any of them.

Before Harry left, he'd been given a file with copies of everything they had on the case to help anyone working it figure out what the killer's next move would be. Harry wondered how long it would take to convince Snape to look at it with him.

He thought about going back to his flat for the night. He knew he should pack his things and prepare for the move. He knew it'd be healthy, too, to spend the night and some time away from anything that had to do with Hogwarts or Snape. But he also knew he'd be in Snape's bed tonight the same way he knew the Great Lake was deep.

When he got to Hogwarts, he ran into McGonagall on his way to his room.

"Harry! Just the person I needed to speak to," she said.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling incoherent. He definitely didn't think it was a coincidence she'd known where he was the moment she needed him. Dumbledore had a way of doing that too- maybe it was a head of Hogwarts thing. "Of course, professor."

She led the way to her office, which Harry still thought of as Dumbledore's sometimes and missed the old man achingly when he did. The password was ruby slippers and Harry had the thought that he felt quite like the tin man before he'd been oiled, squeaking, somehow yelling his truth without meaning to. Did McGonagall know?

When she sat down, she smiled at Harry kindly. "How are you liking Hogwarts as a teacher?"

He watched Dumbledore sleeping in his frame and his mouth felt dry. "It's brilliant. Hogwarts has always felt like home."

She looked at him searchingly. "I won't waste too much of your time, Harry. I called you here because although the students are fond of you and the castle seems to understand it's your home as much as you do, you don't seem settled here."

Harry didn't have time to process everything she said before she was talking again.

"I know this terrible business with the recent muggle deaths is very serious work and you told me you might be called away before you took the job, but I'm concerned that Hogwarts students are not your first priority."

It stung. "Have there been complaints, m'am? By parents or students?"

McGonagall leaned back in her chair. "Admittedly, no. It's clear that when you're with students, you're focused and good at what you do. My concern is that you're not making an effort to be part of the community. You're missed at meals, you don't supervise a club, and Neville's been covering for you with study hall duties."

She held a hand up when Harry tried to say something, carrying on. "I understand that the circumstances at the ministry are worsening and I would accept your resignation if you felt that it was calling to you more than your duties here."

Harry was painfully embarrassed. "Are you sacking me?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "No, Harry. I want you to stay. But you have to want to stay. It would be difficult for me to let you go but I would do it if I thought it was what was best for the students. They need someone here who wants to be here."

Harry didn't know what to say. All the things that went through his mind immediately, he couldn't voice. He was pretty sure Snape hated this job and he was still allowed to stay at Hogwarts without anyone pushing him out the door. Why did everyone seem to want to pick a fight with him today? Was he spiraling so spectacularly that he couldn't see himself clearly? He suddenly worried that his robes looked wrinkled and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"I just-" he started, "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect this. I really like teaching. I value the relationships I have with students. I want to do a good job."

"I don't doubt that Harry," McGonagall said. "I just want you to be sure Hogwarts is your first priority."

"Alright," Harry said, irritated still. "Can I have some time to think about this and get back to you?"

"Of course," she said and Harry left feeling like the scarecrow this time or maybe even the wizard of oz himself; a fraud behind the curtain.

When Harry spoke the password to Snape's door, he was almost sure Snape knew about the conversation he just had.

He was in the shower and Harry sat in front of the sparking fire and took his shoes off and his robes.

The water stopped and he heard Snape come into the room behind him, searching in his drawers for clothes. Their fight from the morning hung between them awkwardly for a moment before Harry started their new one.

"Did you know McGonagall was going to try to sack me today? Is that why you said that stuff before?"

Harry heard a towel drop to the floor. Despite everything, it excited him.

"She wasn't trying to sack you," Snape said, mocking him. Harry rolled his eyes, if only for his own benefit. "Yes, I knew. She tells me everything. And no that's not why I said what I said.

"Then why did you?" Harry asked. He was tired, but he had to know.

He heard the bed move. "I will tell you but I do not want to fight about it."

"Fine." Harry kept his back to Snape. Maybe it was easier for them to talk to each other this way.

"I don't like the ministry. I don't like politics or anything approaching it. I barely was at peace with the influence someone like Dumbledore had over people. I think I only was in the end because I loved him."

He was surprised that Snape said that so readily. "Me too," he heard himself say.

"I don't like that you were used all your life. You saw that in my memories. And I don't like that even after Voldemort, the ministry still gets to use you. They feed on your desire, your passion, your work. Why should they get to do that?"

"Because there are lives at stake," Harry said. "I don't like the ministry either but when I see someone like Marvin, in danger or lose someone they love, I think about all the things that could be lost if I'm not paying attention."

"Marvin is the boy who lost his mother?"

Harry nodded.

"Hogwarts is full of Marvins," Snape said, "Marvins who haven't lost anyone. Who have their lives ahead of them, full of hope and potential. And numbing stupidity. That's what Dumbledore used to tell me, when I was most sick of this job. He used to remind me that Hogwarts could-"

Snape stopped talking abruptly. Harry realized he didn't think he'd ever heard him fail to complete a thought.

"The point being, you could have positive experiences or just mediocre ones. Not everything has to be about survival. You could enjoy life enough to learn that it's meaningless."

Harry felt the last few words like the stop before a cliff. He was sure Snape was holding something back.

He had to turn around now, had to look at the man. He was sitting on the bed, like Harry thought he'd be, in just his underwear, his hair hanging around his face, his sinuous body like pale stone.

"Life's meaningless?"

Snape nodded. "I'm certain of it. Why aren't you?"

Harry got up from the floor and walked to stand between Snape's knees.

He took off his shirt.

"You sound evil and crazy," Harry said. "Like the devil."

He took off his trousers.

"Maybe I am the devil." Snape's hands were at the back of his thighs as Harry straddled him.

"No. You're a god," he said, his fingers in Snape's wet hair. "You make me feel real."

The hair between his fingers dried magically and Harry felt his body move without his permission, his naked chest suddenly flush against Snape's. They kissed, Harry reeling when he felt the smooth wetness of Snape's mouth. It was glorious, delicious because he tasted of nothing. Then Snape pulled away before he was ready.

He barely kept from whining, grinding in Snape's lap and Snape caught him, arms wrapped around his back when Harry teetered on the edge of the bed.

"Don't stop," Harry said.

"I'm sorry, about the magic," Snape said, planting a kiss on Harry's throat.

Harry shook his head, pulling their mouths back together and mumbling words into their kiss. "Was. So. Hot."

That night he has fleeting fear that someone would hear him but it went away, as all things did, all thought and pain and shame, even, under the water of this heavy drug, this limitless escape, this found reason to carry on living.