Chapter 12

Separating didn't feel good. As Harry packed a rucksack for the night, he thought about telling Hermione he'd just risk the splinch to come back to Hogwarts and sleep in Snape's bed. Then he thought of Snape's indifference, Snape telling him he should explore his options and he finished packing with resolve. Maybe he would just bugger off with someone at the bar that night so he could rub it in Snape's face later and see how he liked it.

But it was hard to imagine being with anyone else when he still had the pulled feeling he got every time they were in between one of their kisses. That's all Snape would give him that morning, long kisses that stretched into madness and then righted the world again when they stopped. Snape always finished what he started so Harry felt sure it meant something that he'd left him hanging.

"Don't let your guard down," Snape said to him before he left his room in the morning. They were millimeters apart, even as Harry was by the fire about to Floo. He felt Snape's breath across his lips, was quite distracted by it. "Cast privacy charms around your conversations, don't trust a stranger with anything as simple as holding the door open for you. Memorize the exits. Don't forget who you are."

Harry smiled. "Says the man who pushes me into broom closets in the middle of the day."

Snape didn't smile back. "Don't indulge weaknesses, either."

When he got to Hermione's in the early afternoon, she tried to make him drink polyjuice because she was worried about him being followed by the killer. They were arguing about it when he was surprised by Ron's appearance from the bedroom.

"Oi!" Harry said. "You scared me."

"Surprise." Hermione rose from her seat on the couch to wrap her arms around Ron's neck. He was pulling a shirt on over his head and their elbows collided. "Ron's got some time off, finally, so he's coming with us."

Harry knew time off meant dead leads. "Not having much luck with the case then?"

"No," Ron said, looking like he'd smelled something putrid. "Was a pretty good thing, to see the painting was magical, but we haven't gotten much past that."

"Shite luck," Harry said. A dead end in a case could end up lasting months, and the longer the dead end, the less likely it'd be solved.

"Yeah," Ron said. "But I'm right tired of talking about it, to be honest. Took the day to get some space. Might help if I just stop thinking about it for a while."

"Harry, just take the polyjuice," Hermione said, not letting go of the issue. "He knew where you lived in London, why wouldn't he have the capability to stalk you if he wanted to?"

"I'm not drinking that shit every hour, Hermione. Besides, he's not a man without a plan. He's not just going to attack me if he sees me in public or someone informs on me. He's probably building a strategy."

"Agreed and if he's building a plan, he needs more information about your movements and your whereabouts." Hermione was pacing now, agitated. "If he can't follow you at Hogwarts, where he can't enter, he'll most certainly be taking advantage of opportunities to follow you here."

"How would he know what weekends I'm in London?" Harry tugged at a tag hanging from Ron's shirt, indicating it was on inside out.

"How did he know where you lived?" Hermione shot back and Ron took his shirt off to fix it.

"Oh, that was never a secret," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, I'm not doing it. I'm not going to hide anymore, from anyone. If he wants to have a go at me, he can."

Hermione begrudgingly stopped trying to convince him then, realizing with his tone she'd found the outer limit of Harry's patience with the issue.

They decided to get coffee and tea before hitting Soho and Old Compton Street, which Hermione said was LGBTQ central in London. She kept reminding them to say all the letters like that, instead of what they were doing which was saying all the wrong letters on purpose, eventually both laughing hysterically when Ron was said "LGBooty."

Hermione glared at them. She also looked around them as if she were embarrassed, but everyone was loudly engaged in their own conversations. She cast muffliato discreetly anyway. "Harry, I expected this from Ron, but not from you."

"What? That's too many letters, Hermione. What do they even all stand for?"

"Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer or questioning to cover everything else like asexual or pansexual."

"Pansexual?" Ron said, forehead wrinkling. Harry could imagine him at 70 just then.

"Someone who forms romantic and physical attractions regardless of gender."

"Oh, alright, that's reasonable. Thought those might be people that like to fuck goats or something as well as people."

Harry choked on his americano. Hermione was giving Ron the most unforgiving look. "I wonder everyday why I'm with you."

Ron smirked. "We know why," he said, spreading legs and leaning back in his chair.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're painfully stupid."

"You have to be patient with me," said Ron, suddenly serious. "I don't know about any of this shit. Wizards are very hush hush about it all. I have an uncle that everyone knows bonks blokes but whenever we see him at parties, no one says anything about it and he never brings a date."

'That's so barbaric," Hermione said. "And sad. I've told Harry this already but I'm honestly ashamed I never wondered about it before, why I never read any mention of a queer witch or wizard in anything I've read. It's inexcusable. When I figured it out, I felt exactly like I'd felt when I found out that houselves cooked our meals at Hogwarts."

"Merlin," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "I haven't told you guys!"

"Told us what?" Ron looked reluctant to get excited.

"Well I just found out myself but-" Harry looked around, and then remembered Hermione's spell. "Did you know that Dumbledore- THE Albus Dumbledore- was gay?"

"Shut the fuck up," Ron said as Hermione gasped and almost spilled her tea in her lap.

"I'm serious," Harry said, feeling very important and satisfied to be the bearer of this news. "How mad is that?"

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered, jumping in her seat. "Do you think he was in love with Grindelwald?"

Harry and Ron both gaped. "Holy shit," Harry said. "That…that would be so unfair. He defeated the wizard he was in love with?"

"I mean, it makes so much sense," Hermione said. "Wait. How do you know this?"

Harry knew any mention of Snape might go down like a lead balloon with Ron, but he did it anyway.

"Snape."

Ron promptly excused himself to the loo.

"So it's like that, then," Harry said, giving Hermione a look.

"Oh, forget about him, he'll come around. How's it been- with you and Snape, I mean?" Hermione looked nervous to ask.

"You can ask, it's okay."

Hermione's shoulders dropped a bit and she took a deep breath. "Good- I've been dying to know."

Before Harry could help it, he smiled.

"Oh dear," Hermione laughed. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Harry actually blushed, liking the way it sounded out loud. "Well- yeah. Quite a bit actually."

"Oh my GOD!" Hermione said loudly and Harry grabbed her elbows, telling her to shush but also laughing.

"You have to tell me everything. I'm so curious."

"I don't know where to start."

"Literally anywhere."

"Okay- um. We fight a lot. It's kind of intense."

"What do you fight about?"

"Mostly about why we're together and his fucking," he twisted his coffee on the table, "absolute inability to give me a straight answer about anything."

"What sorts of questions is he avoiding?"

Ron's reappearance was a relief. Perhaps he wasn't so comfortable with Hermione asking questions after all.

"I actually, I'm gonna go," Ron said, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. He wouldn't look at Harry.

"Ron, don't be a dick," Harry said. Hermione was giving Ron a look from hell.

"I just need to be alone, I think." Ron zipped his jacket and leaned to kiss Hermione on the cheek, his hands braced on either side, trapping her in her seat. She leaned away from him.

"Go do that, then," she said and Ron stayed crouched to be with her at eye level. She looked down at her drink and used the spoon in her saucer to swirl the liquid. Ron gave up trying to get her to look at him and left.

"I thought," Harry started but he couldn't finish.

"I know he'll come around in time," Hermione said, still looking into her cup. "But I wish he'd hurry up."

"Is it Ginny? Does she- is she having a hard time?" Harry felt guilty that he hadn't already thought to ask.

"No- I mean, you know Ginny, if she was having a hard time, none of us would know anyway," Hermione said. "She doesn't talk to me about it, for obvious reasons. Have Molly or Arthur written to you?"

"No." They'd never had a reason to, since him, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all used to go to their home for dinners anyway. It made him wonder what would happen at Christmas.

"We've gone to dinner there a few times since and they don't really talk about it when Ginny's there."

"What do they say when she's not there?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not much. That not everyone meets their soulmate at Hogwarts, and these things happen. They're not angry or anything." Hermione took his hand. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that before, probably would have put your mind at ease."

"It's alright," Harry said. "I'm not really thinking about it much these days, to be honest. A bit distracted. So they don't know about Snape?"

"They don't," Hermione said. Harry didn't know if he cared either way, but it was good to know, at least. "To hell with Ron," Hermione continued. "Tell me more."

Harry told her about how Snape'd admitted that the hatred he expressed for him at school was out of necessity, how he thought Snape's Occlumency was bad for him, and he didn't think Snape knew how to process feelings normally.

Hermione gave him a look."Oh, like you're so good with feelings?"

"At least I know I have them," Harry said. "I don't even think Snape knows what he feels half the time. Or he really buries it. Like, deep."

"He taught you, or tried to teach you, Occlumency," she said, "Maybe you should teach him how not to use Occlumency. He doesn't really need it anymore, does he?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, thinking. "I was quite shit at it." He was silent for a moment. "It's like right after the war, when I kept warding everything all the time and not liking it when people walked behind me on the street. Maybe Snape's like that with Occlumency. He doesn't know how to shut it off."

"Don't go thinking you're going to change him," Hermione warned. "He may never learn to turn it off or may never even want to."

"I don't want to change him," he said. "I like him just the way he is. Mad and- prickly."

"Tell me more about the sex," Hermione whispered.

Harry laughed, embarrassed. They'd never talked about sex before. But he supposed he'd never really been having much of it before. "Only if you tell me about sex with Ron."

Hermione pursed her lips, blushing. "It's been amazing for a couple of years now. But that's not new. You're doing new and exciting things."

"Only a couple of years?" Harry was shocked. They'd been together for much longer than that.

"Ronald's on a delay with everything. It took us some time for him to learn what I liked. And I was shy too, in the beginning, and didn't really feel comfortable doing some things. Not that it mattered, Ron doesn't need a lot," she said.

"Wow," Harry said. "I guess I'd always heard women are more complicated in bed than men but I never thought Ginny was complicated."

"She was just happy you were agreeing to have sex with her."

"No," he insisted. "She-," he paused, not believing he was going to tell Hermione this, "she got off really easily. Like I really didn't have to do much."

"That's-," Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm jealous. I used to have such a hard time. But I think a lot of it is psychological, like there's so much shame attached to it that it took a really long time for me to be comfortable enough to let go."

"I used to think that was my issue with Ginny," Harry said, like it was a revelation. "SO stupid."

"Not having those problems now, are we?" She was smirking.

"No, God no. He's-" Harry shook his head. "It's like he's got this map in his head of all my buttons, buttons I didn't even know I had, and he pushes them." Without mercy. "And I never want it to end and sometimes like right after, we do it again. It's just so different from before, like I never thought I would feel that way about sleeping with someone."

Hermione sighed. "That's- that's wonderful, Harry."

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to draw Hermione's attention to the issues he had with Snape, because he thought she would vehemently disapprove, but there were certain things he just wanted her opinion on.

"He's an asshole, though. Like, truly. Last night he told me he wouldn't care if I slept with someone else, basically."

"Did he say that, exactly?"

"Well, no. He said I should explore my options." Harry deepened his voice to mock Snape bitterly.

"Okay, that's very different from saying he wouldn't care if you did. He probably just doesn't want you to feel like he's holding you back or something. Especially since this is new for you- being with men. And he's so much older."

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said, doubtful. "I guess I just wish he understood-," he stopped. He couldn't say it, because it was too true. He wished Snape understood how he felt, how serious he was.

But Hermione didn't need him to finish. "You should tell him," she said. "Make him understand."

"Maybe," Harry said, but he knew he wouldn't. Snape would kill him or stop talking to him. He'd be terrified of Harry's feelings, just like Harry himself was terrified. "Let's go, yeah?"

They left the coffee shop and walked to a bookstore Hermione wanted to show him. Nearly the entire place was dedicated to queer literature, with only a tiny shelf of world-renowned classics, a section the store named Heteronormative Fictional Narratives. Every other shelf was full of queer love stories, queer family dramas, coming out stories, tragedies, comedies, even film scripts. Harry was most captivated by the nonfiction educational sections, where there were books about sex and queer beauty and hygiene that him and Hermione snickered over because the uncensored images of penises and vaginas and even sex organs in between were galore. He ended up leaving with some of those titles and another one about queers in sports that he wished could have been about quidditch.

They went into a hair salon on a whim. Nearly every staff member told Harry they liked his glasses, which made him sort of feel like he belonged. Harry wanted a regular hair cut, but Hermione decided to dye a strip of her hair pink. A burly man called Barry the Bear (wearing a muscle tee and sporting a giant, well-groomed beard) was attending to Hermione. He nearly lost it when she told him Harry'd just come out.

"You should do something a little more exciting with your hair, to celebrate," he told Harry, who was in the chair next to Hermione having his hair trimmed by a pretty, full-figured woman with a sharp bob. "Like blonde tips or do your whole head silver."

"No," Harry said shyly, after he was done giving Hermione a dirty look in the mirror. "I couldn't."

"Leave him alone, Barry" his hairdresser said to him and Harry stuck his tongue out at Hermione for good measure.

They left with a salon card Barry'd written bar recommendations all over. They visited a few more shops, a sex "depot" being one of the most notable, before they decided to get lunch at home and rest before the evening. Harry went through some of the things Hermione had made him get at the shop, all recommended "staples" from the owner. Harry embarrassingly confessed in front of Hermione that he was a bottom, after being asked, and having the definitions explained to him.

At one point, also embarrassingly, Hermione pulled him to the side and said, "I'm going to go across the street to that thrift store we walked by. So you can be comfortable, you know, asking him questions if you need to."

"Jesus," Harry said. "Okay, mum."

Hermione smiled and reached up to pat him on the head before she left.

But Harry was glad he left, because there was one question he did want to ask the shop keeper. He zoned out a bit when the owner was talking about cockrings, butt plugs and prostate play, trying to build up the courage to ask. But then he blurted out, "Is it normal to only want to bottom?"

The store keeper stopped, his kind face lighting up. He had a ton of silver earrings in one ear and one of them had a dangling feather charm that moved as he spoke. "Of course, love. It's perfectly normal. Some men only bottom, only top, some men are versatile. There are no rules. Well, except do what feels good and stay safe."

After dinner, they went to one of the bars recommended cars called The Boiler Room. Harry thought it sounded pretty unpleasant, but it struck Hermione as "authentic", whatever that meant, so that's what they chose.

Although almost everything on Old Compton street was ostensibly gay, The Boiler Room was not. There wasn't a rainbow flag in sight and it seemed like an ordinary English pub except for the fact that furniture was removed from the center to create a dance floor and there were television sets above the bar playing 80's music videos. Harry wondered what Snape would think of it as he noted the exits.

They had three drinks before they were brave enough to dance. Harry always felt very different from Hermione, but sometimes, and especially in that place of strangers, he felt they were of the same mind. They both had the same paranoid urges and took turns casting privacy charms they were both so good at that they could do them wandlessly. They both felt shy and didn't know the words to any of the songs that everyone else seemed to have memorized. They laughed at the same things they overheard.

"I've absolutely given up finding a decent top in this town," one man near them said, while they were waiting for drinks by the bar. He was in the tiniest denim shorts Harry'd ever seen, especially in October.

"I heard they're all in Germany," his friend replied.

"Mmm- they're built differently there."

They avoided being pulled into dancing with different groups except towards the end of the night when they were at their drunkest and the bar the most full. They met a man named Steven, who was wearing a Beatles t-shirt and a tall blonde man called Trix. Trix successfully pulled Harry into a corner of the bar behind a curtain and a neon sign that said "The Kissing Booth". It was private from the bar but put them on full display to everyone on the pavement outside who were smoking or taking their drinks out. The pavement crowd caught sight of them through the window cheered them on. Harry laughed, but stopped when he felt the man called Trix's hand on his waist. It made him shiver.

He looked at Trix to tell him to stop and Trix was leaning in for a kiss. Harry moved his head and Trix's lips landed on his cheek. When he pulled back, Harry felt a bit of Trix's saliva there and he was disgusted.

"Sorry," Harry said, wiping his cheek and pulling away from Trix's touch. "I'm not really- I have to go." He went back out in front of the curtain. Hermione was right outside of it, looking ready to pull out her wand at any moment. Harry took her hand and they went outside to wave down a cab.

When they were sitting together in the back of a car, relieved to be headed home, Hermione asked, "Did you kiss?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I couldn't."

Ron was playing chess by himself when they got home. The bag of sex toys was resting on the floor near the couch, right next to him. Harry would have found it hilarious if Ron wasn't ruining his mood every chance he got. He wouldn't look at Harry, still, and didn't say much to either of them except when he took the pink strand of Hermione's hair in his hand to say he thought it was nice.

He did make up the couch for Harry. Spelled it bigger, dressing it with sheets and pillows and blankets. He made both him and Hermione drink big glasses of water before they turned the lights off and went to sleep.

But Harry didn't sleep. It was like the days before Snape, twisting in the sheets, the hours of the night stretching ahead of him endlessly in his imagination. The alcohol made his anxiety worse, doing things to his heartbeat that he could hear when his ear was pressed to the pillow.

He drifted off for an hour before the sun came up, dreaming he and Snape were behind the curtain at The Boiler Room, Snape saying to him, "Memorize the exits."

He woke up at dawn and couldn't fall back asleep. His first thought was to try his luck again in the dungeons. The sun coming up around him in Ron and Hermione's living room made him feel even more like he didn't belong. He wrote Hermione a thank you note and shrunk his purchases into his pocket before he left.

The first thing he noticed as he appeared in Hogsmeade was that it was raining softly.

The second was a person in black with a disfigured face, watching him.

It was a mere second that he was able to see that face, hidden between the trees of a patch of forest that lined the outskirts of the village. Vague, fast details that etched itself in his memory, and the way he moved, like he was being sucked through space.

Harry shot out his wand and aimed a stunning spell, too late. A tree absorbed it, stilling in the early morning wind, immovable. The drizzling made it hard for Harry to hear as much as he needed to, and he made more noise as he backed himself against the nearest structure, a residential building next to the Three Broomsticks.

He stunned the trees, all of them, and the silence it created helped him hear. He forced his breath slower- his lungs wanted to come into a hard pant but he stilled himself. He would breathe and he would listen and he would think.

He saw black in his periphery and heard another spell whistling through the air a millisecond before it struck. He ducked and it exploded the brick behind him. He covered his head in time to catch a piece of the building that would have hit him in the head. His gaze focused between the trees again, knowing he had the upper hand of vantage, knowing that eventually the fucker would have to move again.

He did, and this time Harry knew where to look. "Expelliarmus!"

A wand flew from the distance and clanked to a stop over Harry's head, falling to the ground at his feet. He put one foot over it to stop it from rolling and it immediately wriggled under him, desperate to break free. It slipped from Harry momentarily and he crashed down onto the ground to try to stop it.

He lay down on the floor, flat on his stomach with the wand caught under him. His gaze turned toward the trees again.

Then the wand stopped struggling and there was the familiar crack of Apparition.

In mere minutes from when Harry sent word, Aurors were swarming Hogsmeade. There were witches and wizards in groups at each part of the scene, scanning for magical traces and making the wand Harry captured regurgitate its previous spells. Ron and Dawlish were there, sitting with Harry on the bench outside of the Three Broomsticks, asking him to go over and over it again. Madame Rosmerta was handing out tiny shot glasses of butter beer to anyone that would take one.

"You said there was something wrong with his face?" Dawlish asked him.

Harry's toes squelched in his trainers. They were wet from his misstep into a puddle and his knee, which had broken his fall on the ground, throbbed in pain. "Yeah. I didn't get a long look at all but he was disfigured somehow. I couldn't tell if it was scarring or something else- I just know he didn't look quite- well, normal."

"White?"

Harry nodded.

"Was he wearing a hood? Could you tell what his hair looked like?"

"I'm not sure but I think he was bald," Harry said, lifting his knee gingerly to reposition it. "He looked like a monk almost, the way he was wearing his robes without anything obvious underneath."

They were approached by the pair of witches regurgitating the spells. "Looks like he wasn't trying to kill you, just stunning spells," Alice Savage said. "Attempted abduction. But the spell before last is a strange one. We can't recognize it."

Ron pointed behind her. "Hogwarts has arrived. Maybe they'll know."

Savage moved and Harry could see Mcgonagall and Snape approaching with an Auror Travis Hawthorne that Ron sent to fetch the headmistress. Harry felt afraid to meet either of their eyes, like he was a schoolboy again, and they'd reprimand him for causing trouble.

"Harry," Mcgonagall said as they got closer, "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." He wanted the subject to change, quickly. He tried to meet Snape's eye, to get it over with, but Snape was looking everywhere but him- at the blasted wall of the building near them, the patch of forest where some of the trees were still petrified, at Ron.

"Hello, er- Professor, Headmistress," Ron said awkwardly, standing. It seemed Harry wasn't the only one still feeling like a schoolboy.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape said, nodding toward Ron in what Harry thought was an awfully polite way for Snape. He didn't like the nasty look that Ron was getting on his face with Snape around but thankfully McGonagall started asking questions.

"This gentleman," McGonagall said, gesturing to Hawthorne and sounding as if she didn't think he was a gentleman at all, "Wouldn't say much. What's happened?"

"I was attacked by someone," Harry said. "Probably he's behind the recent killings. I got his wand."

Savage jumped in. "Yes, and we've just identified some of its last spells but there's one we don't quite recognize. Maybe you'd know?"

McGonagall nodded. Savage fetched the wand and they stood awkwardly in silence while they waited for her. Harry tried to look at Snape again, but his eyes were fixed on Harry's trainers.

When Savage brought the wand, the very last spells cast were orange and red in color as they exited the wand like ghosts. And then something purple and strange left the wand, strange because it wasn't like a ghost of a spell or a wisp even, but an almost invisible swirling, like matter that changed the nature of the air around it, and a blackness at its center.

"Severus," Mcgonagall said, reaching for Snape's arm and not quite connecting.

"Magik mortus," Snape said.

"Yes," McGonagall confirmed.

"It's a deadening spell. In the area cast, no magic can be performed whatsoever. By the size of it, it was powerful. Perhaps spanning a large area."

"Dark magic?" Savage asked and Harry felt her innocence.

"Darker than dark," Snape said.

No one said anything for a moment.

"Any possibility it's somewhere near here that's been affected?" Dawlish asked.

"No," Mcgonagall said with certainty. "It would have tripped the wards, even as far as Hogsmeade. Or been a reactive disaster. Hogwarts itself is held together by magic."

Savage dispelled the vortex. Harry didn't realize he'd been transfixed by it until it was gone.

Ron looked deep in thought. "I think we're done here. We need to find where he cast this spell. But Harry, I'm leaving Hawthorne with you and Savage. If that's alright with you," Ron said, but he wasn't asking permission from Harry, he was looking at Alice.

"Yes, of course," she replied.

"It's not alright with me," Harry said, having already mentally prepared for this fight. "First of all, it's unnecessary. I'm protected enough at Hogwarts. The fact that he tried to catch me before I was inside the wards should be proof of that. And secondly, it would be alarming to students."

"You of all people, Harry, should know that Hogwarts students don't scare so easily," said McGonagall.

"May I ask," Snape interjected suddenly, his voice slightly raised above them, "why a group of Aurors can't figure out that they should move a target from a point of previous attack? What is Potter still doing here? He should be escorted to the castle immediately. If this is the caliber of protection you're offering, Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid I'd have to second the rejection of your services."

Ron looked like his head might explode. Dawlish immediately stepped in.

"Absolutely, Professor Snape is right," he said. Harry bit back a grin- he knew Dawlish idolized Snape. "Harry, can you walk on that knee?"

"Of course I can- let's everyone get this straight from the get go. I will not be treated like a victim or a patient anywhere in this thing. I can handle my own. I don't need bodyguards and I don't need to be coddled," he said.

"Your carelessness says otherwise," Snape said, clearly angry now.

"Is it me or Ron you want to raise your voice with, because you'll have to choose one, I'm afraid," Harry said.

They all started talking at once. Ron needed desperately to tell Snape how stupid it would be for the killer to return without his wand, Snape spitting back that that was beside the point. Dawlish was getting in Ron's face to calm him down. Hawthorne was trying to get Harry up so he could walk him to the castle and Savage was just looking at the sky, perhaps questioning her career choices.

"That's enough," McGonagall yelled over them. "Ronald, please excuse Professor Snape. Severus, escort Harry back to the castle while we sort out how Mr. Hawthorne and Ms. Savage shall proceed."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. McGonagall raised a finger in response and Harry shut his mouth without saying anything.

He and Snape walked back to the castle without saying a word to each other, Harry's knee hurting him the whole time. He tried his best not to limp.

When they got to the castle, the halls were empty. Harry made for the direction of the dungeons but Snape stopped him with his voice, telling him they should check his room. "Just in case."

When they got to Harry's door, Snape insisted on entering first.

"This is exactly what I meant. You don't have to baby me, I'm an Auror, I was trained for this." Harry's pain was making him more irritable. He didn't hurt enough to be distracted by it, just enough for it to needle him in the wrong way.

"Training does not replace experience."

"I have enough of that too," Harry said, standing up straight so Snape was only a few centimeters taller than him and not several. He squashed the impulse to rock closer to him on his toes.

The way Snape was looking at him made him hot. Snape's hand dropped from the door knob and he gestured with it for Harry to enter. "Go on," he said.

Harry went in and swept the room and Snape gave him the space to do it. "No one here," Harry called from the bathroom. He heard Snape shut the door.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed and took off his wet shoes with great relief. Snape started a fire in the grate and leaned against Harry's desk.

"You cut your hair," Snape remarked.

For a moment, it felt so out of context that Harry was sure he was dreaming. And then he remembered. "Oh yeah," he said, "I did." He ran his fingers through it. His day in London seemed further away from him than mere hours. He dug in his pockets and resized his purchases, placing them on the floor.

"Bought a bunch of gay stuff," he said, not really feeling like providing more information than that. He got up from the bed and headed to sit by the fire, taking off his shirt. He wanted to feel the heat on his bare skin.

"We shouldn't," Snape said.

Harry turned to look back at him from the floor. "Shouldn't what?"

"We should, at least while this killer is still at large, stop meeting like this. Stop spending time alone together."

Harry turned back to the fire. "Why?" Blank and calm. He remembered Snape used to tell him that during Occlumency lessons, to make his mind blank and calm. To empty himself out. He remembered thinking Snape was mad to be able to do that and he thought that now, too.

"It makes us vulnerable," Snape said.

Harry tried to bring his knees to his chest, but the friction against his jeans was painful. He laid down on the floor to unbutton them and pull them off.

Snape went on. "We're doing ridiculous things. Kissing out on the grounds, fucking in empty classrooms. You traveled alone yesterday when there's a serial killer after you and I didn't do anything to stop you."

"I'm not your responsibility." Harry didn't get up from the floor. It was comfortable.

"Yes, you are. You'll always be. And I can't focus or be on guard when-" Snape stopped. Harry thought he sounded afraid. Or maybe he was imagining it?

"I can't sleep without you." Harry got up on his forearms to look at Snape. "I'm tired. Can we talk about this in the morning?"

"It is the morning."

"Right," Harry said and dropped to the floor again. "If you- I mean, if you're serious, then, no. Fuck no. I lived a life for one psychopath, and I'm never going to do that again. I'm going to do what I want and spend my time with who I want to spend it with. I'm not going to let some fucking muggle-hating asshole decide that for me. Fuck him. And if you leave me, if you shut me out, I'll make a scene in the dungeons. I swear I will." But he knew he wouldn't.

Snape didn't reply. The fire crackled between them. Harry was thinking of the dungeons and remembered something.

"Do you remember when Malfoy hexed Hermione's teeth really big?"

"No," Snape said.

"It was right outside your classroom and Malfoy hexed her and I hexed Crabbe or Goyle or one of them. You sent Crabbe to the hospital wing but you looked at Hermione and you said you saw no difference." Harry laughed, though at the time he'd been horribly angry. "You were awful to her."

"Did she remind you of that?"

"No. She never mentions those things."

"It was easy to use your friends to make you hate me. Sometimes easier than using you."

"You were horrible."

"I would have been whatever I needed to be." And he had been. Villain, murderer, turn coat. He still was what people needed him to be, even now, Harry knew. He was a plane-faced hero because people didn't understand the gray of him. Harry's love for him filled his throat, suddenly.

"Be what I need you to be now. Sleep next to me, be with me."

"Love me, love me, love me," Snape said softly, mocking him.

Harry sat up and crossed his legs. Snape was looking out the window. "Which Snape is this? Bully? Coward?"

"You'd love to believe that, wouldn't you, every time I was cruel to you? What if what you're getting now is the real thing?"

"That'd be boring," Harry said and got up from the floor. He went to the bed and pulled back the covers, climbing in. He took off his glasses, lay on his side, and patted the spot next to him. "You're not boring."

Snape got in next to him fully clothed with his boots still on. Harry fell asleep with his head against Snape's chest, Snape's fingers carding through his shortened hair.