TCRegan and Sophie Richard's Fiction

Update

2008-02-03T21:47:36Z

Since most of the requests around here express a desire to read "An Unconventional Relationship," which is a <i>very</i> light NC-17, I've unlocked that story so that everyone can read it. I hope you enjoy.

Sophie

Friends added

2007-08-18T08:54:19Z

I've been adding all those who made friending requests--I ran out of energy to reply individually to each, but everyone who has requested thus far has been friended. Hope you enjoy the archive.

Sophie

Privacy status

2007-08-07T20:58:17Z

Owing to recent policy clarifications of policy by LJ staff, this journal is presently friends only.

An Unconventional Relationship - Epilogue

2003-12-02T18:40:35Z

TITLE: An Unconventional Relationship
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Harry/Snape
SUMMARY: Harry's time at the Dursley's has left him with some rather odd quirks that only Snape can help him work out.

Harry rolled out of bed, then stumbled down to the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He could see the post owl sitting patiently for him, and was rewarded with a small piece of toast Harry conjured up. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he sat down and opened the Prophet. This had been his daily routine: wake up, have breakfast, read the paper, then clean. It was nearly a week that he'd been out of school, and he had no clue what to do with himself. Offers from Quidditch teams worldwide had arrived almost daily since, but he didn't want Quidditch. He wanted Snape. And Snape's dungeons and dirty classrooms. He missed the castle so much.

Frowning, Harry flipped through the Prophet until he came across a page of advertisments. He skimmed for a few minutes, until something caught his eye.

"Applications welcomed for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Applications welcome from all fields of work; lack of experience need not bar you from applying. For more information please contact Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster."

Harry smiled at the desperate tone to that. It sounded like Dumbledore would take pretty well anyone he could get. He looked around his kitchen, lost in thought. It was nice, and peaceful at Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't the same peace that he had craved and been accustomed to. He knew quite well why that was...Snape wasn't there. Harry looked back down at the paper, and a little grin crossed his face. 'Why not? He's prepared for the worst applicant, let's give him the best.'

Summoning a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill, Harry began to write.

Headmaster Dumbledore,

I've read your ad for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, and am very interested. I have a very strong background in the dark arts, and have been tutored personally by some of the strongest and most talented wizards concerning those dark arts. While I'm younger than the applicants you're probably used to seeing, I feel I can handle the job competantly. I request a meeting with you at your earliest convienence.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Harry laughed a bit, imagining Dumbledore's reaction. It had been fairly clear that the headmaster had been absolutely thrilled to get rid of him, and he was sure that his letter of application would be torn up and danced on. Still, it was worth a try. He tied the letter to Hedwig's leg, and sent her off, putting the matter out of his mind. He set about clearing away and washing his breakfast dishes.

*****

Harry received a letter back a week later.

Mr. Harry Potter,

Thank you for your interest in the position. However, we've received several other applications from more competant wizards. We're sorry to inform you that your request has been denied.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore & Staff

Harry almost laughed out loud. "'And Staff,' indeed," he said, pocketing the letter. He highly doubted that anyone else had applied for the position. And if they had, they certainly weren't more competant than he was. With a chuckle, he sat down to write his first letter to Snape, feeling happy enough for the first time since leaving school in order to do it.

Dear Severus,

I'm sorry I haven't written sooner, I've been feeling abit out of sorts, and had nothing pleasant to put in a letter. I applied for the DADA position, even though I knew Dumbledore would rather start using Dobby as the instructor rather than hire me. I got back a letter today, stating the obvious. He doesn't want me for the position. I guess you know how that feels; apparently neither of us will ever be teaching DADA at Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Harry

Snape received the letter late in the afternoon. He read it through a few times, then scoffed. Dumbledore had been keeping him busy since the students had left, overhauling the curriculum of both the Potions department and the Defense department. Of course, Harry was right. Dumbledore would never let him have the Defense job, but he could always hope. Deciding not to write Harry back just yet, he went back to his work, wondering if it could possibly last the entire summer.

Harry ended up passing the rest of the summer months doing pretty well nothing. He attended quite a few Quidditch matches, read books, cleaned the house, and just reveled in not having to keep any kind of schedule. He knew he would have to settle down and do something soon, but he was enjoying his freedom, and decided he would worry about the future later. ~ That worry was taken out of his hands at the beginning of August, when he received a second letter from Dumbledore.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am writing in order to ascertain whether you are still interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. While there were indeed many more qualified applicants, they all died. The position is yours if you wish. I await your reply.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster

Harry blinked, then burst out laughing. So, Dumbledore did need him. Harry was of two minds, processing this information. On some level, he wanted to write to Dumbledore and tell him that he wasn't interested anymore, and force him to find someone else, but he really, really wanted the position, and not just to see Snape. Taking up a quill and some parchment, he wrote back an affirmative reply, then began to pack his things. Only when he was done, did the full realization set in. He was going back to Hogwarts!

*****

Harry left the next day, apparating to Hogsmeade with his things, and walking up to the castle. He bypassed the dungeons, heading straight to Dumbledore's office. He was rather hoping to surprise Snape later, and he had to exercise a lot of control not to skip as he thought about Snape's reaction. After a guessing game of sweets, he climbed the stairs, and entered Dumbledore's office. "Headmaster," he said, politely.

Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, Harry. I see you've arrived very quickly." He looked slightly annoyed at Harry's speedy arrival.

"Yes, Headmaster. I wanted to go over the curriculum before the school year started." Harry sat without invitation. "I trust you've had a good summer so far? Pity about the other applicants, though."

Dumbledore paused before speaking. "Yes. Quite. Well, I suppose we'll have to get you a room somewhere. I think the old Defense teacher's quarters are free."

"That won't be necessary, sir," Harry said.

"Oh? You have a place to stay, then?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.

"I'll be staying in the dungeons, of course. With Professor Snape." Harry's tone made it perfectly clear that if Dumbledore didn't agree to this, he wouldn't have a Defense teacher. He covered up any animosity with a polite smile.

Dumbledore had that annoyed expression on his face again. "Fine. Good! That will free up a room. You can ask Severus about the curriculum, he's done most of the work on it after all. I hope you'll excuse me now, I'm extremely busy."

Harry glanced meaningfully at Dumbledore's desk, which carried nothing more than a few copies of "The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle." "Of course," Harry said politely, standing up. "I hope you have a very...productive evening."

When Dumbledore didn't respond, Harry walked out, levitating his things behind him. With a silly sort of smile on his face, he hurried down to the dungeons, pausing outside the office door. What if Snape didn't want him to stay with him? 'Stop it,' he told himself. After a slight internal argument, he managed to convince himself that everything would be fine. He opened the door, then continued through to Snape's private room, pleased that the passwords hadn't been changed yet.

Snape wasn't in his rooms, however, and Harry, forcing himself to banish the uncertainty in his mind, unpacked his trunks, putting most of the things in his old closet, which, he was pleased to see, was still empty. After everything was unpacked, Snape still hadn't returned, and Harry sighed, and looked around. With a little smile on his face, he decided to start cleaning the rooms. He went into the Potions classroom and took up his old sponge, which squeaked happily at his familiar touch.

Harry whistled, falling back into his old patterns of cleaning, and was done in a surprisingly short time. He checked his watch. Nearly dinnertime. Frowning, he set to work on Snape's office, dusting and even inventorying the ingredients he kept there, and moved on to his storeroom. After two more hours of cleaning and reorganizing, Snape STILL wasn't back, and Harry was getting a bit tired. He figured that Dumbledore probably had something to do with it. Slightly irritated at that, he straightened up the sitting room and bedroom, then settled down in bed, waiting.

*****

It was nearly midnight when Snape returned to his rooms, exhausted. Dumbledore had forced him to go over the entire Defense curriculum AGAIN, and prepare a brief to give to the new instructor, which, naturally, was not Snape. Dumbledore had been rather cagey about who it was, though, had just grunted that he would find out soon enough.

Entering his bedroom, Snape undressed without bothering to turn on the lights. He decided not to bother with pyjamas, and simply left on his boxers as he slid into bed. A bed that was not unoccupied. He sat up quickly. "Who's there?" he said loudly, grabbing his wand and pointing it at the figure in his bed.

The figure stirred, then sat up, rubbing its eyes. "Severus?"

"Harry?" Snape turned on the lights, then lowered his wand. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Harry yawned widely before answering. "Sleeping?" He smiled tiredly at Snape, who did not return the smile. "I missed you," he said. When that didn't get a response either, he frowned. "I cleaned your classroom and your office. And your storeroom. Er, and I straightened your sitting room. Did you know it's not a good idea to leave floo powder so close to the fire like that?"

Snape stared at him, blankly. "But what are you DOING here?"

Harry squirmed a bit. He hoped Snape wouldn't be angry about this - he knew how long the other man had coveted the Defense position. "Dumbledore hired me for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Apparently all the other applicants died. Quite tragic, really, or it would be if they weren't all imaginary." He looked at Snape appealingly, willing him not to be upset. "I thought maybe you wouldn't mind if I slept here," he added timidly.

There was a very long, somewhat awkward silence. "You cleaned my classroom?"

Harry winced a little. "Yeah. And I took inventory of your ingredients."

Snape just looked at him for a moment. "Why?"

"Because," Harry started slowly, "I... love you," he whispered, repeating the words he'd said so quickly before leaving him last year.

There was another pause. "Are you going to be waking me in the middle of the nights with your infernal obsessive cleanliness?"

"Not if you let me stay," Harry said, defensively.

"In that case," Snape said, a smile touching his lips, "you may stay." He leaned over and kissed Harry gently, almost hesitantly, before pulling back again. "I love you, too."

FIN

An Unconventional Relationship - Part 7

2003-12-02T18:39:23Z

TITLE: An Unconventional Relationship
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Harry/Snape
SUMMARY: Harry's time at the Dursley's has left him with some rather odd quirks that only Snape can help him work out.

The next evening, Snape was finishing up his dinner and preparing himself to deal with another round of tears from Harry when Dumbledore spoke. "Severus, do you think I might have a word with you?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, slightly irritated. While he wasn't really looking forward to dealing with the tears, and there was an excellent chance that he would again find that Harry had slipped out of bed to scrub down the bathroom, he still knew that he needed to be there for Harry.

They walked up to Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore whistling slightly in a manner that reminded Snape of Harry. After sitting down, and declining the sweets that were offered, Snape looked at him critically. "Yes, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore pulled a few files from his desk. "I just wanted to speak with you about your syllabi for next year."

Snape was puzzled, then irritated. He hadn't changed his curriculum for nearly ten years, excepting in small instances when potions were modified or enhanced, or a newer, more elaborate text was for sale. After a quarter of an hour, discussing the first term for first years, Snape thought he quite knew what Dumbledore was up to. "Headmaster, I'm sure the curriculum is just fine. I've been using the same syllabi for nearly a decade now."

Dumbledore smiled. "Why don't you walk me through the current curriculum, then, and perhaps we could see if there is anywhere that it could be improved."

Snape pressed his lips together. "Headmaster, that could take all night." Damn the man! He apparently believed that after two years' worth of restraint, Snape was about to lose control and go make love to Harry. That was the only explanation. What made all this even more irritating was that Snape could guess the real root of the headmaster's problem. Dumbledore was jealous. Jealous that he was no longer the one that Harry turned to with problems or concerns, unhappy that Snape was now the person Harry trusted above all others. "We could go over the curriculum tomorrow. Or the day after that, you know. Or any day for the rest of the summer."

"Oh, but I think now is the right time, Severus. Especially since I have to make a few new hirings over the summer. With Professor McGonagall wanting to take an extended holiday, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," he paused, looking at Snape significantly, "I have to see if the Potions' curriculum is in order." He smiled a little.

Snape frowned. By Dumbledore's words, he could only assume that he was being teased with the one thing he'd wanted for the past twenty years: the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. However, he wondered, if there wasn't Harry waiting for him, would Dumbledore be making this same veiled suggestion? "Yes, we surely cannot keep Nymphadora Tonks as the Defense teacher, though she somehow managed to last a year longer than most of your other hires."

"Yes, I believe she quite misses London," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Now, what potions do the first years do during their second term?"

And so it went, for three hours straight. It was the worst meeting that Snape had ever been to, and he had attended quite a few. Finally, sometime after midnight, Dumbledore looked at him appraisingly. "You look rather tired, Severus."

"Well, Headmaster, it has been rather a long day," Snape said through clenched teeth. "At the moment I want nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," Dumbledore said, twinkling at him maddeningly. "Very well, then. Run along and go to sleep."

Snape bit back the urge to growl at the man, and walked out of the office, robes swirling behind him menacingly. When he reached his room, he found Harry curled up in a corner of the bed, sleeping rather fitfully. With a sigh, he undressed, then climbed in next to him.

"Sev'rus?" Harry said sleepily.

Snape frowned. He didn't mean to wake him up. "Go back to sleep."

"Where were you?" Harry asked, opening his eyes and yawning.

"I had dealings with the devil."

"Did he steal your soul?" Harry smiled at the look on Snape's face, and wiggled over to him, laying his head on his chest, and wrapping an arm around his stomach.

Snape tried not to think about how good this position felt, and slid his arm around Harry's shoulders. "He might as well have," he said quietly. "He wanted to go over the Potions' curriculum."

"The whole..."

"Yes, the whole Potions curriculum. Now go back to sleep."

Harry gave a little sigh. "I don't want to. I only want to sleep through the parts without you in them."

Snape blinked at that statement, then gave a little laugh. "Harry, you're half-asleep already."

"Am not," Harry mumbled. "And if you aren't nice to me, I'll show you how half-asleep I am by getting up and cleaning the entire room."

Snape winced. That had happened two nights before, when a wave of anxiety had hit Harry. "Don't do that. Please. Let's just go to sleep." The last thing he needed after that mind-numbing meeting was to listen to Harry cleaning.

Harry whimpered a little, burying his head in Snape's neck. "Right," he said, not loosening his grip a bit.

Snape sighed, bringing his free hand up to brush through Harry's touseled hair, hoping that morning was a long time in coming.

*****

The next morning, Harry woke first, but didn't feel like moving. He checked the time, and saw that they had enough in order to have breakfast before he had to get on the train. He listened to Snape's even breathing before he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Snape opened his eyes slowly. He could see Harry sitting up in bed, looking drawn and unhappy. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"I think I've been better," Harry said, drawing up his knees and resting his chin on them.

"Quite understandable," Snape said. "Breakfast?" He stood up and pulled on his dressing gown.

"Breakfast," Harry agreed dully. He wished he could do something, something big, something that would make everything stop. Kill someone and claim they were an undetected Death Eater. He gave a little laugh at the thought.

Snape sighed, tossing Harry his clothes for the day. "How I'll miss your random acts of utter nonsense," he said.

Harry smiled a little. "And I'll miss your never ceasing insults. Hearing, 'What's wrong now, Potter?' has been quite the highlight of my day."

"If my insulting you is the highlight of your day, then you're more pathetic than I've ever thought."

Harry was now grinning. "Then call me pathetic."

Snape smiled at him, then left the room in order to call a house-elf to bring them breakfast. Harry, feeling slightly better, dressed quickly, then pulled his trunk into the sitting room.

Time seemed to move all too rapidly during breakfast. One moment Harry was buttering a roll, the next it was gone, and he had only a vague idea that he had eaten it. They didn't talk, just ate, and Harry wondered if they would say anything at all. Maybe he would just get on the train and go away without a single word on either side. It didn't seem impossible.

Snape looked at the clock. "Time to get you to the train," he said shortly. "Come along."

Harry levitated his trunk, following Snape out of the room he'd never get to stay in again, and suddenly stopped. "Hang on a second," he said, rushing back to the bedroom. He opened the closet door, and gave it one last look. Feeling a bit of closure, he walked back to where he'd left Snape in the classroom.

"Everything all right?"

"I guess," Harry said, following him again. He patted the sponge good bye before heading out into the corridor. The dungeons were deserted, everyone already having gone upstairs for breakfast. As Harry and Snape joined the group of people exiting the castle, no one said anything about them being together, just looked. Harry climbed into a carriage with Snape, remaining quiet for the ride to Hogsmeade. He wondered how he was going to say good bye to him.

And then they were standing on the platform, and Harry knew he had to say something. "I suppose... this is the end, then. I mean, I don't know if I'll..."

"No," Snape said, staring off into the distance. "I don't know either."

"I'll owl you," Harry said desperately, not wanting to break their connection with this laconic exchange.

"Do," Snape said, still not looking at Harry.

Harry swore under his breath, and finally, Snape turned to look at him, the emotion in the dark eyes crashing over him. And that was when Harry lost his mind, and any sense of the proprieties. Standing up on tiptoe, he wrapped his arms around Snape's body and kissed him, full on the mouth.

Snape could hear the gasps and murmurs around him, but in his mind, there really was only Harry. He kissed him back, not caring about the students around him, just needing this. All his doubts and fears were washed away with that kiss, and he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close, needing the closeness. He'd only felt the way he felt about Harry about one other person: Lily. He knew he was lucky to have known both, and wished that it didn't have to end like this.

It was some time before Harry finally pulled back, breathless. "I love you," he said, hastily, and then got onto the train, without even giving Snape a chance to respond. He found a seat in a compartment, and sat down by the window, looking out at Snape, wanting to be able to see him as long as possible.

Snape stood quietly on the platform as the train began to pull away, and even after it was moving, he still stood there, following the train with his gaze. "I love you," he whispered, as it rolled out of sight.

To Be Continued...

An Unconventional Relationship - Part 6

2003-12-02T18:35:06Z

TITLE: An Unconventional Relationship
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Harry/Snape
SUMMARY: Harry's time at the Dursley's has left him with some rather odd quirks that only Snape can help him work out.

A week later, Snape was called up to Dumbledore's office. He went, quite nervous. Dumbledore hadn't been able to let the issue of his relationship with Harry rest, had been worrying away at it for far too long. Snape knew that this would simply be more of the same. He sat down and stared at Dumbledore challengingly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, my boy, it would be far easier to talk to you if you didn't look at me as if I were about to cast the Cruciatus on you." Snape didn't answer, or change his gaze, and Dumbledore continued. "I'm concerned about Harry. I know that in the past the current arrangement has been best for him, and he has resisted all suggestions about returning to his dormitory. I believe, however, that there is one person whose suggestion or command he would not resist. That person is you."

Snape let Dumbledore's words sit with him for a minute. "Why should Harry return to his dormitory? He's in no danger by staying with me." He paused, realizing how awkward that sounded. Trying to act nonplussed, he continued. "I see no reason to send him off."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Severus, the staff is concerned, the same as myself. I know that you and Harry have not done anything.. innapropriate, but you have to admit that his behavior is very odd, and to have you encourage it, well, you can imagine how detrimental that would be to Harry's health."

Snape was irate. 'Detrimental to his health? And leaving him to those... those Muggles wasn't?' He checked his anger, then spoke. "I suppose you are right, Headmaster," he said in a quiet voice. He didn't want to order Harry away, but if he had to, as Dumbledore saw it, he would. "I'll speak with him immediately."

Dumbledore smiled at him, for the first time in a long time. "Thank you, Severus. This will be for the best."

Snape sincerely doubted that, and as he headed down to the dungeons, he wished he were going anywhere else. He still remembered the betrayal in Harry's eyes when he'd been ordered to stop cleaning in his fourth year. And this would be a hundred times worse. He forced himself to calm down. Potter would no doubt be emotional enough for both of them.

He found Harry curled up in an armchair, going over the first part of the potions text for next term. Snape sat down across from him. "Have you eaten dinner, Potter?"

Harry closed his book and set it down. "Yes, sir. Dobby gave me something."

"Very well," Snape said, and wondered how to begin.

Harry frowned. There was clearly something on Snape's mind. "Sir? What is it?"

Snape took a deep breath. "Potter," he said, before pausing again. There was no good way to say this. "You've managed to defeat the darkest wizard the world has ever seen. You're seventeen years old, and you'll be going into your last year. I think, maybe, that it's time you went back to your dormitory, to spend time with your friends." He ignored the hurt look on Harry's face, as that would be the only way he could possibly get through this without breaking down as well. "After all, it's the last year you have of your innocence..." He winced. Potter had never been innocent, Voldemort had made sure of that. Deciding that he'd only dig himself deeper by continuing, he stopped, then looked up at Potter.

Harry looked at him, bewildered. "But, sir, I don't want to. I promise I'm happy here." His breathing sped up. It wasn't an order, not yet. He didn't have to leave. It wasn't an order. He clung to the thought.

"I know you are happy, and I'm glad of that. But it's time you learned to be happy on your own, without my help. After all, you'll be leaving Hogwarts in another year, and you'll need to adjust to being alone then."

Tears began to well up in Harry's eyes, both at Snape's apparent determination and at the thought of leaving him behind in a year. He shook his head. "I don't care. I'll deal with it when I have to. I can't leave, sir."

Snape was beginning to grow angry. Did Harry think this was easy for him, that he wanted to do this? "Potter, you don't have any choice in the matter, I'm afraid. I have been trying to put this gently, but obviously you are being willfully obtuse. You will take your things up to your dormitory tonight, and that is where you will sleep from now on."

The tears fell, Harry powerless to stop them. "But. I... I don't want to. I don't... please, don't make me go..."

Snape frowned. "You have to, Potter."

Harry fell to the floor, clinging to the bottom of Snape's robes. "Please! Please let me stay!" Why? Why was Snape doing this? After a year and half, he was sending him away. Harry wasn't sure he could handle it.

Snape was horrified. Damn, Albus, how could he put them through this. "Harry," he said unsteadily, "you have to go. Get your things now."

Harry sobbed, his face buried in the fabric of Snape's robes. "No, please. I'll do anything, Professor. Please don't make me go. I promise I'll be good. And I won't wake you up anymore, I promise. Just let me stay. Please!"

"Damn it, this isn't a punishment. You haven't done anything wrong. It's for your own good." Snape was almost panting at the effort of keeping his own emotions under control.

"Then let me stay. That's what's good for me, what I need. I need to be here." Harry was desperate. Snape was the only person he trusted, how could he leave the quiet comfort of his presence to go back to the noisy, oblivious presence of the other boys.

Snape closed his eyes, gathering patience, then knelt on the floor next to Harry, gathering him in his arms. There was nothing else for it. Half pulling him to his feet, he led the still sobbing boy out of the dungeons. Harry, who thought he was being shown back to his dormitory, could barely remember how to work his feet. "Please! Please, don't, Professor. I'll do anything!" He sobbed into Snape's chest.

Snape frowned, but said nothing. Maybe if Dumbledore saw how much pain this was causing the boy, he would reconsider. He half dragged Potter to the stone gargoyle and up the stairs, feeling him shiver slightly, still crying.

Upon seeing the pair, Dumbledore stood up, shocked. "Severus, what is-"

"YOU tell him he needs to return to his dormitory, Headmaster. I will not be a part of what is causing him such misery."

Harry, almost blinded by painful tears, looked up. He didn't release his tight grip on Snape, was still holding on for dear life. This wasn't Snape's idea? He didn't want Harry to be sent away.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Severus, what is the meaning of this? I thought we agreed-"

Snape interrupted. "We agreed on nothing. You told me to send him away, apparently believing that my words would crush him into obedience. This is what has happened. Is he crushed enough for you, Headmaster?"

Harry clung tighter, shivering at Snape's angry tone, even though he knew it wasn't directed at him. It still upset him, though, and he couldn't calm himself until a reassuring hand began rubbing his back.

Dumbledore was not happy. "Harry, listen to me. You cannot stay in Professor Snape's rooms anymore. It is extremely inappropriate."

Harry whimpered, then collected himself, suddenly quite angry with Dumbledore. Sniffling a little, and taking comfort in the arm around his shoulder, he turned. "It wasn't inappropriate a year ago, then?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from the crying.

"Well, under certain circumstances," Dumbledore began slowly, "it was allowed. Letting you stay in Professor Snape's closet seemed the best thing for you at the time, and allowed you stay calm enough in order to defeat Voldemort."

"And I did. I defeated the darkest wizard ever," Harry said, his tone quite chilly. "And not only that, but I'm seventeen now. I don't even have to stay here. I can leave at any time." He knew he was threatening Dumbledore, but frankly, he didn't give a damn.

Dumbledore threw his arms up in the air, having reached a level of frustration he had rarely known before. "Very well. Do whatever you want. Sleep wherever you want. Perhaps we'll just give up having dormitories. Perhaps Mr. Weasley would like to sleep in my closet. Miss Granger might feel better in the infirmary, or with Professor McGonagall. After all, she and Professor McGonagall are very close, perhaps they ought to live in the same room!"

Harry and Snape looked at each other stunned. Harry whispered in his ear, "So, does this mean...?"

Snape whispered in return. "I believe it means he's given up. And that we should leave the room VERY quickly."

They turned and left, neither speaking until they reached Snape's room. "I've never seen Dumbledore so upset," Harry said, a little worried.

"I have," Snape reassured him. He frowned a little, but shook it off. He had Harry, and that was the important thing. And then he wondered WHY it was so important, but decided not to think about that at the moment. Almost unconsciously, he reached up and wiped the tears from Harry's cheeks. "Bedtime, I believe."

Harry shook his head slightly. "I don't - I don't want to go to bed," he said, feeling stupid. He sounded like a little child. But he didn't want to be alone, not after all that.

Snape gave a slight frown. This evening had almost been too much for Harry. "Go put on your pyjamas," he said shortly.

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, feeling deflated. Even though everything was all right now, he was still feeling scared and shaky. Still, he had to do as he was told. He went into the bedroom and undressed, pulling his pyjamas on. He didn't go into his closet, though, since Snape hadn't ordered him to do that.

Snape followed after a minute, taking pyjamas for himself, then went into the bathroom to change. He watched Harry stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as he climbed into bed. With an impatient sigh, he lifted the covers. "Are you getting in, Potter, or do I have to tell the Headmaster you've changed your mind?"

"What? Oh! Getting in." Harry slid into bed next to Snape hesitantly, but relaxed when an arm slipped around his shoulders. He wanted to speak, to ask about what was going to happen in the future, but he couldn't bring himself to break the moment. If someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be cuddling with Snape some day, he would've said they'd been smoking floo powder. But now... now he snuggled a little closer to him.

"Potter."

"Yes?"

"Your elbow is digging into my side."

*****

Months passed, and Harry was happy. He did start spending a little more time with his friends, though oddly, it wasn't Ron and Hermione that he seemed most drawn to now. It was people like Neville, who seemed to have an eternal goodwill, and apparently didn't care that Harry was sleeping in his most hated teacher's closet. It was Luna, who shook things off dreamily and asked him if there were nargles in his closet. Luna actually began coming down to the dungeons occasionally, and while Snape at first seemed rather hostile to her (rather to Harry's bewilderment), she managed to win him over in the end with her respectful behavior and obvious fondness for Harry.

In mid-November, Harry was called to Dumbledore's office. With some trepidation, he went, sitting nervously as the headmaster looked at him critically. "Harry," he said, smiling, "how are you?"

Cautiously, Harry said, "I'm quite fine. Thank you." He knew this meeting was for something more than a trivial inquiry. Dumbledore could have asked him that during dinner.

"Harry, in order to... raise the spirits of the students, I was thinking of having a Yule Ball."

Harry vividly remembered his first, and only, ball. "Yes?" he prompted, trying to push visions of Parvati's anger out of his head.

"Well, being the savior of the wizarding world, I rather thought you'd like to lead it."

By Dumbledore's tone, and falsely cheery smile, Harry was quite sure what would happen if he turned it down. Steeling himself, he smiled. "That would be wonderful, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore looked moderately annoyed at Harry's enthusiasm. "Splendid, I'll just leave it to you to find a partner, then. And however close you and Professor Snape may be, I do not think he would be a suitable partner." His tone was rather stern.

Harry wanted to snicker at the thought of himself and Snape solemnly waltzing across the floor together in front of the whole school. "I think you're quite right about that, sir. May I go now?"

Dumbledore dismissed him with an irritable wave of the hand. Harry walked slowly back to the dungeons, dragging his feet. He didn't want to even ATTEND this stupid ball. He knew, however, that if he didn't show up, and lead, Dumbledore would force him away from Snape. It wasn't fair. They weren't doing anything inappropriate. At the thought of that word, Harry's mind flooded with images of things considered inappropriate by Hogwarts' standards, and blushed. He muttered the password to Snape's room, and let himself in, forcing a smile.

"Potter," Snape acknowledged, reading over some essays. He looked up. "What is it?"

Harry, still smiling, said, "Oh, nothing, sir. Just that Dumbledore wants me to lead the Yule Ball he's going to put on."

"Professor Dumbledore," Snape corrected automatically. He noticed the false cheeriness. "What's wrong with that?"

"I can't dance."

Snape repressed a smile. "Don't be foolish, you ambled around satisfactorily with that Patil girl at the last ball."

Harry squirmed a bit. "She was mostly leading, I think. And I'm certainly not taking her again."

"Very well, then, who WILL you be gracing with your companionship?"

Hary frowned. "I thought I might ask Luna. Just as friends, you know. And I don't think she seems like the type of girl who would lead."

"Very well," Snape said, pleased at his choice. He had quickly realized that Luna, while she liked Harry very much, had no designs on him romantically, which was why he tolerated her occasional presence in his rooms. "Assuming she accepts your offer, bring her down here one evening, and I will give you lessons."

"Sir?"

"Since you're overly concerned with not acting like a buffoon, and I can see where you would be concerned," he paused to smirk, "I shall give you both lessons."

Harry smiled at the insult, which was devoid of any sharpness. "Thank you, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, wondering if Potter would be thanking him after the lessons.

*****

The next evening, after dinner, Harry walked up to Luna, who was reading a book, upside down. Not feeling even a quarter of the nervousness that had accompanied him when he tried to ask Cho out, he sat across from her. After a minute of silence, he decided to interrupt her, as she didn't seem to notice him. "Luna?"

Luna looked up. "Oh, hello, Harry." She closed her book politely.

"Luna, you know the ball that Dumbledore announced at dinner?"

Luna nodded. "I don't think I'll be going, though," she said quietly. "I don't usually, you know." Truthfully, Luna was quite sure that no one would ask her, just as no one had asked her to the last Yule Ball.

Harry looked a bit downcast. "But - I wanted you to go with me. As friends. I have to have someone to go with, and I don't have a girlfriend, and you're the only girl I can think of who I'd want to take. Please?" He gave her his best puppydog eyes.

Luna seemed unaffected by the eyes, and blinked, then gave a slight smile. "Of course, Harry."

Harry let out a breath. That was one thing over with, and Luna seemed pleased rather than offended that he only wanted to go as friends. "Um, I was also wondering if you would join me for dance lessons. You see," he said, leaning in a little, "I don't know how to dance."

Luna laughed softly at that. "I would like that very much," she said, leaning in also, as if this were one big conspiritorial conversation. "I don't know how to dance, either."

Harry remembered the first time he had ever met her. "Is that why you said you didn't like to dance very much?"

Luna nodded. "No one likes to do things they don't know how to do. At least, not in public."

Harry grinned. "You're dead right about that. Why don't you come down to the dungeons tomorrow after dinner. Professor Snape said he would teach us."

Luna got a dreamy expression on her face. "Oh, that's good. He's such a nice man."

Harry found himself silently agreeing, but frowned inwardly at the all too happy look on her face. "Well, I'll see you then," he said, standing and smiling.

Luna nodded politely, then took up her book again. Harry walked down to the dungeons in order to tell Snape the good news.

*****

The next evening, after dinner, Luna arrived in the dungeons, her hair dreshly washed and pulled back with a ribbon. She actually looked very pretty, Harry thought, and if he had been interested in her at all, he might have upgraded it to beautiful.

Luna looked down at her feet, which were encased in a pair of silver high-heeled sandals. "These are my good shoes. I thought I ought to learn to dance in them if I'm going to be wearing them. It's probably a good thing. I fell down a flight of stairs on my way here."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, concerned.

Luna smiled. "Oh, yes. Professor Flitwick was there and he levitated me to the ground."

"Well that's good," Harry said, relieved. He pushed the armchairs out of the way, in order to give them room to manuever.

Snape came in a moment later, greeting Luna with a slight nod. "Well, I assume you both know how to start," he said, sounding impatient.

Harry took a step toward Luna, and took her hand. Feeling slightly awkward, he put his other hand on her waist, while she put her free one on his shoulder. He could feel Snape staring at his back, and wondered if he was doing anything wrong.

Snape was rather impatient. "Do either of you at least know how to waltz?"

"No, sir," they said, in unison, then laughed a little bit.

Snape shook his head slightly, a bit disgusted. "Very well. Harry, forward with your left foot, Luna, back with your left." He continued describing the pattern, watching as they awkwardly followed his directions. This was going to take a while, he thought. "Very well, that is the basic step, but you will need to be able to judge the rhythm. Potter, that's your job." Snape put on a bit of music. "You must listen for the beat, and begin on a one count, and then it's one-two-three, one-two-three."

Harry listened hard, and put his foot forward, clumsily, too far. Luna yelped.

Snape rubbed his eyes. "Here, Potter give her to me. You need to see how to lead properly."

Harry backed off, blushing. He didn't mean to step on Luna's foot. He watched as Snape started the music again, and took Luna in his arms. "No," Snape said, tilting her chin up, "look at me, not your feet."

They started to waltz, Harry watching carefully, though truly not paying attention to where Snape's feet were, but rather to the look on Luna's face. He felt a wave of... it could only be described as jealousy, as she smiled serenely, letting Snape lead her all over the room. "Very good," Snape said, as he let her go gently. Harry frowned, then moved back into position. "Try it again, Potter. One-two-three, one-two-three."

Harry counted in his head, trying to keep his eyes up, but once again ended up stepping on Luna's toes. She yelped again, and leaned down to massage them. "I'm sorry!" Harry said desperately, feeling like a failure.

Snape stepped forward, and knelt down, taking Luna's rather dainty foot in his hand. He made an irritable sound. "Wait here, Miss Lovegood." He went and fetched a vial of healing potion, and then returned, brushing it gently on her red, swollen toes. "All right?"

Luna blushed a little bit. "Yes, sir."

Snape stood up. "Very well. You can follow adequately, you may go back to your dormitory. Potter and I will continue to work on this."

"All right," Luna said, then looked at Harry. "We can practice again before the ball, Harry," she said reassuringly, then left.

Harry knew he was pouting, but he couldn't help it. He wondered if he shouldn't get hurt, too, just to have Snape give him attention like that. With a frown, he shoved that thought in the corner of his mind, to be dealt with later.

Snape beckoned him over. "Come here, Potter. And stop sulking."

"Yes, sir." Harry ambled over, frowning slightly when Snape roughly took his hand and placed it on his waist.

Snape took up Harry's other hand. "It's not that difficult, Potter."

"For you, maybe," Harry said, feeling a slight anger toward him.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to moderate your tone, Potter?" he asked, very coldly.

Harry cringed at that tone, one that he rarely heard anymore. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I should hope so. Now, I'll count. Start on a one. One-two-three, one-two-three..."

Harry managed to step forward, carefully, on a one, and before too long, they were actually managing to move in some semblance of rhythm. He looked up at Snape and smiled. "Is this right, sir," he said, hopefully.

"This is the basic step, yes, but you will look quite pitiful if you cannot go any further. You will also make your partner look pitiful, which would be rather unfair." He ignored the sudden scowl on Harry's face.

Snape pressed on. "As I'm somewhat larger in stature than Miss Lovegood, you'll want to take smaller steps. For now, come a bit closer." He pulled Harry forward a step. "Good. Now, Miss Lovegood is going to be completely dependant on you for direction. You'll want to apply a slight pressure to her hand and waist as you move."

Harry, who was having trouble concentrating, being in such a close proximity with Snape, nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Well? Try it now," Snape said, a bit annoyed.

Harry started moving again, trying to direct Snape where to go and remember his steps at the same time. He miscounted, and tripped, falling into Snape's arms.

Snape looked down at him, his face gentle. "You'll want to try not to do that. I don't think Miss Lovegood can hold you up quite so well."

Harry blushed, and pulled away, feeling very warm all over. "Yes, sir."

"Never mind," Snape said. "I think that's enough lessons for tonight. We can finish up tomorrow, since you clearly have no control over your body tonight."

Tears pricked at Harry's eyes. Snape had told Luna that she'd done very well, and he was being told he had no control over his body. "Maybe you should just forget about it," he said roughly, turning away.

Snape was slightly irritated. Potter was acting worse than a pregnant woman, exerting no control over his emotions in addition to his body. "Unless you want to act a fool on Christmas, I suggest you calm down, and get some rest. We shall continue tomorrow evening."

Harry sniffled, wiping at his eyes, then turned back, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Snape sighed. "Here, Potter."

Harry looked up; Snape's arms were out. "Sir?"

"Might as well have another go," Snape said, gesturing him over.

Harry moved into the proper position, and as Snape began counting softly for him, he somehow managed it, keeping his steps in order, the tension in his arms allowing Snape to sense and anticipate his movements in wordless communication. He beamed up at Snape.

"Yes," Snape said, smiling slightly. "That's it. Keep going, don't lose the beat in your mind." He followed Harry's lead easily, and they began circling gracefully around the room. Snape stopped, then, and looked down at Harry proudly without releasing him. "Very good, Potter," he said gently, brushing the hair off Harry's forehead.

Harry blushed, just looking up into Snape's eyes for a minute. He felt a familiar stirring in his groin, and horrified, he took a big step back. "Thank you, sir," he said quickly, trying to quell his arousal. "Um, I'll just shower and be off to bed, then."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, but didn't mention his odd behavior. "Of course." He watched Harry practically run into the bathroom, closing the door forcefully behind himself. Shrugging to himself, Snape undressed for bed, then picked up a book, settling himself under the covers.

A half hour later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair clinging to his forehead. Several water droplets graced his chest, and Snape found himself staring openly. "Forgot clothes," Harry said quietly, hurrying into the closet, and closing the door behind him.

Harry came out a moment later, wearing his pyjamas and Snape looked up, a bit surprised. "Yes, Potter, what is it?"

Harry fidgeted slightly, eyes down. "Sir. I just - I never have any nightmares after I get into bed with you and I was wondering if I could just-"

Snape realized that Harry wanted to sleep with him. Probably not just for tonight, either. He nodded slowly. "That seems sensible. It ought to enable both of us to get more sleep."

Harry looked delighted, but didn't approach the bed, not quite yet. "So..."

Snape almost laughed at his eager hesitation. "So if you're going to get into bed, I would suggest you do it, unless your new idea is to sleep standing up like a horse."

"That would be quite uncomfortable," Harry said, smiling, and walking slowly over. He waited for Snape to shift slightly, then climbed in next to him. "Thank you."

"Mm," Snape replied, noncomittally, as he leafed through his book.

"What are you reading?"

"Third year potions text."

"Oh." Harry sighed quietly.

Snape closed the book, then leaned over Harry in order to place it on the endtable. He waved his wand, dousing the lights, then laid down. Harry blinked a few times, not really sleepy, but feeling extremely comfortable. He snuggled a bit closer to Snape.

"Potter."

He stopped. "Yes, sir."

"Roll to your right."

Frowning, Harry did, and the frown was immediately replaced by a grin as he felt Snape behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat sped up a bit.

Snape could feel a slight tension in Harry's body. "Are you planning to lie there like a pine log all night?"

Harry relaxed a little bit, and allowed his body to curve backwards a bit, pressing against Snape's. The soft warmth of the other man's body was comforting, and Harry fell asleep almost immediately.

*****

After numerous more lessons, both Harry and Luna could manage a perfect waltz, and fairly respectable versions of a few other dances. They stood, comfortably together, while Dumbledore gave a little speech, about losses and triumph. Luna could feel the eyes of every girl on her, wondering how on earth SHE had managed to be the one who Harry Potter asked to the Yule Ball. Finally, the music began, and they stepped out, moving together with practiced grace.

Snape sat off to the side, watching with the air of a proud father, as Harry danced elegantly with Luna. They both had improved dramatically, and the applause at the end was well deserved. He stood as they approached him, shaking Harry's hand. "Well done, indeed."

Both Harry and Luna beamed. Just then, a nervous looking Hufflepuff fifth year came over. "Um, Harry. I was wondering..."

Harry looked to Luna, who smiled politely, and nodded. He turned back to the blushing girl, and offered his arm. Snape watched them walk off to the dance floor to join the others. "Well," he said, turning to Luna, "I think Mr. Potter has gotten over his stage fright."

Luna tilted her head slightly, giving Snape a dreamy smile. "Only, I've lost my dance partner," she said airly.

Snape held out his hand. "I trust you remember the foxtrot?" There was a faint undercurrent of menace in his voice indicating that should she forget, house points would be lost.

Luna giggled. "Of course I do. Harry fell down when you were teaching us."

Snape rolled his eyes and pulled her into position. "How could I forget?" He began leading her across the floor.

Harry gazed over the head of his partner, and saw Snape hold out his hand to Luna, and her little giggle. They then proceeded to move gracefully across the floor, Snape leading Luna in a complex series of steps that she followed with apparent ease. Now he was talking again, and Luna was smiling up at him...

"Ow," the Hufflepuff yelped, as Harry stepped on her toes. And he could swear that Luna and Snape glanced at him and then deliberately continued with their dance. Now Snape was chuckling. Oh, if they were laughing at him...

"I'm sorry," Harry said. Then, to make up for it, when the dance ended, he kissed her hand. That seemed to make her forget, and she thanked him for the dance, then ran off to tell her friends.

Harry started to make his way back to Luna and Snape, but was waylaid but a rather enchanting Ginny Weasley. "You better save me a dance, Harry," she said, almost threateningly.

Harry grinned. "Of course I will," he assured her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione dancing rather close, and decided to talk with them before the night was over. Right now, however, he was intent on getting back to Luna, in order to get her away from Snape. He frowned slightly at the jealous feelings that were welling up inside him, and decided to think about them later.

He danced with Luna almost all night long, and only danced with anyone else when she was safely in Neville's arms. Neville actually asked her to dance four times, and she assented with dreamy pleasure each time. He didn't talk to Snape for the rest of the evening, feeling rather sulky. HAD Snape been laughing at him? And why had he asked Luna to dance? And looked so happy about it?

When the ball was over, Harry undressed and went straight to bed without talking. When he felt Snape join him, wrapping a sinuous arm around his waist, he squirmed away, determined to sulk on his own without being lulled by Snape's touch.

Snape sat up, igniting the torches with a pronounced spell. "Potter, what is your problem? You've been in a horrible mood all night long." 'But more importantly, why do I care?'

Harry pulled the covers up to his chin, still facing away from him. "Nothing."

"You're sulking."

At this, Harry rolled over and looked at him. "You danced with Luna."

Snape blinked. Had he been wrong about Potter? Did he really harbor some deep-seated feelings for the girl? Had he been reading him wrong the entire time? "I'm not sure I understand you, Potter. I've danced with Miss Lovegood before the ball."

Harry frowned. "But... you... and she..."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, Potter, I had no ulterior motives for dancing with Miss Lovegood. Truth be told," he said, pausing a bit, "I'm not very interested in women."

"But - but you danced with her," Harry said, confused.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Potter, it is possible to enjoy a young lady's company, and dance with her, without wishing to drag her out into the rosebushes and molest her. Miss Lovegood is one of the few females in the castle that I can tolerate, and she wanted to dance, and I obliged. Does that satisfy your rather maddening curiousity?"

Harry blushed. "Yes, sir. But...if you don't like women, then you and my mother..."

Snape was becoming exasperated at the lengthy interrogation. "One is not always completely clear on one's sexual orientation at sixteen, Potter. I loved your mother because she was a wonderful, beautiful person. That has nothing to do with sexual desires."

Harry smiled a little, slightly reassured, then was quite suddenly upset again. "I stepped on that Hufflepuff's foot."

"I'm sure she sought proper medical attention," Snape deadpanned.

Harry fought the urge to drive his elbow into Snape's ribcage. "I heard you and Luna laugh. Were you... I mean... was that because of me?" He blushed, and was glad that only one of the torches was lit. Had it been brighter, he was sure that Snape would've seen, and probably commented on it. It wasn't his fault he was so clumsy.

"Yes, Potter, Miss Lovegood and I spent the entire course of the dance looking at you and mocking you. We'd nothing better to do, of course. I couldn't have been telling her, for example, about the time in my school days that Flitwick came and taught a class without his trousers on."

"So you weren't laughing at me?"

"No, Potter, we weren't laughing at you."

"Professor Flitwick wasn't wearing any trousers?"

"No, but he apparently has an ample supply of cartoon underwear," Snape said with a little smile. "Now, do you think we could get some sleep?"

Harry laughed. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep after that bit of information."

Snape doused the torch anyway. "Just imagine my shock when I first got to see those cartoons on a Muggle television."

Harry burst into laughter, and was promptly hit over the head with a feather pillow. "I'm sorry!" he said, still laughing.

Snape growled. "Unless you go to sleep, Potter, I'll find something else to smack you with. I believe I have a text book around here somewhere."

Harry clamped his lips shut, trying to stifle his giggling. When they'd passed, he said, "Yes, sir. Good night."

A muffled, "Good night, Potter," and an arm around his waist was the reply.

*****

Sometime in the night, Harry shifted positions, and was stretched out facing Snape, his head buried in Snape's chest, and their bodies flush against each other. As he stirred slowly to consciousness, he realized that he could smell the warm, slightly herbal scent that Snape exuded. Still half-asleep, he gave a tiny moan, and snuggled up closer to Snape's body, not wanting to face the icy December morning. He realized, after a half a moment, that he was hard, and wondered whether he should bother to get up and go to the bathroom and take care of it. After another half a moment, he opened his eyes slightly, and saw Snape looking down at him, and realized that his erection was pressed up against Snape's thigh. "Sir!" he said, jerking away quickly. "I'm sorry!"

Snape, somewhat amused, merely said, "It's a natural reaction in someone your age, Potter." He managed to keep his voice calm, even though his own body was starting to react to waking up with a very aroused Potter next to him. "Are you going to lie there all day? Go to the bathroom and take care of it!"

Hurriedly, Harry scrambled out of bed and darted into the bathroom, breathing heavily, mortified. Once inside, he contemplated the absurdity of what just happened, and replayed the conversation in his head. Snape had just ordered him to masturbate. Well, that was definitely a first.

*****

There was a Hogsmeade weekend shortly after Christmas, and Harry, who seemed to be left behind by Ron and Hermione more and more as the two were developing a relationship, found himself walking along the street with Neville, eating licorice and talking. "I just don't know how you can live with Snape," Neville said earnestly. "I mean, what do you talk about? Potions?"

"Sometimes," Harry said, realizing that they really didn't talk very much at all, there was just a comfortable quietness between them. "Like this morning, he said that he was going to switch out your lacewings for lizard skin so that your potion blows up next class. He said it would be a fairly violent explosion. He looked really happy." Neville went pale, and Harry laughed. "I was just joking."

Neville let out a relieved breath. "I'm having enough trouble in that class without him threatening sabotage."

"I thought you were going to work with Professor Sprout next year," Harry said. "What do you need Potions for?"

"It'll look good on my resume for my herbologist position with the Ministry. I need to learn Advanced Potions in order to help some of the more complex plants to grow."

Harry listened politely to Neville as they continued down the street, heading toward the Three Broomsticks. Once inside, he ordered and paid for two butterbeers, then sat down with him. "Neville, can I talk to you?" Harry asked, taking a sip. His gaze slid over to another booth, where Hermione and Ron were cuddled together, talking with Seamus and Parvati, sitting close together on the other seat.

"Of course," Neville said easily.

Harry began thinking about how to phrase this. Because he had to talk to someone about the feelings he was starting to have for Snape. "Neville, did you ever have a crush on someone? Or maybe even more than a crush. But they just see you as a friend or something, and you don't want to tell them, because you really need that person in your life. But you keep on liking them, and it just drives you crazy..."

Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and took a sip of his butterbeer. "Harry, I - I think I know what you're saying. But you see, I like Luna. I just - it's not that I don't like you, but I don't like you that way."

Harry looked confused for a second, then realized. "Oh! No, Neville, it's not you." He laughed, and was glad when Neville joined in.

"Good thing," Neville said.

"I just don't know what to do about it," Harry continued. "I mean, I can't help my feelings."

Neville remained silent for a moment. "Just tell Snape you like him."

"But I couldn't do that. I-wait. What?" Harry turned to him, suddenly nervous.

Neville laughed. "Harry, no offense, but you really only have three friends. Snape, me, and Luna. I know you don't like Luna, and it's not me, so it has to be Snape."

Harry frowned. He supposed he had been somewhat transparent. "I can't just go up to him and say that, though. 'Gee, Professor Snape, I think you're swell.'" He shook his head, then took a swig of butterbeer.

"Well," Neville said thoughtfully, "I mean, he must like you. I don't know if he wants to do that with you. On the other hand, he hasn't ever had a girlfriend, and he lets you sleep in his bedroom."

"In his bed, actually," Hary said absently.

Neville looked at him as if he were stupid. "Snape lets you sleep in his bed. And you aren't sure if he likes you. Harry, you're being a bit thick."

Harry thought for a moment. "You might be right. But Dumbledore would crucify us if anything happened...I mean, I think he already thinks we're...you know. He keeps making these little comments. Like when he told me about the Yule Ball, he told me that I couldn't take Professor Snape as my date." Harry gave a little chuckle as he remembered that conversation.

Neville shook his head a little and took a sip of butterbeer. "That would have been slightly awkward."

"To say the least," Harry agreed.

"I still think you're being a bit thick." Harry sighed, and defeated, put his head down on the bar. Neville clapped him on the back. "You'll figure it out. I mean, you've gotten this far, right?"

Harry turned his head so he could look at his friend. Neville had a point. "I suppose."

"Okay, look at it this way," Neville said, taking a different approach. "You can't do anything until the term is over anyway, right?"

"Right," Harry mumbled, unsure where he was going with this.

"So make him want you."

"Huh?"

"You share a room with the man. A bathroom. A bed! For Merlin's sake, Harry, use that to your advantage." Harry sat up, his lips curling into a smile. "You're right."

*****

That evening, as Harry was getting ready for bed, he thought about what Neville had said. With a little smile, he went into the bathroom and began taking off his clothes. He left the bathroom light off, and the door slightly ajar. He pulled off his shirt and waited until he heard Snape enter the bedroom. As soon as he heard those soft footfalls, he began ubuttoning his trousers.

Snape opened the door to the bedroom and murmured the spell for the lights absently. He then froze, standing perfectly still as he realized that he was in the bathroom with a nearly naked Harry. Snape bit his lip at a quick rush of arousal, then immediately lost his temper. "Potter! Could you at least perhaps have the decency to close the door when you are in a state of undress!" His voice was harsh.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, slightly worried at Snape's tone. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea. "I was just so tired, I didn't think..." 'Why is he still standing there?' Harry took this as a good sign, and dropped his trousers. "If you don't mind, sir?"

Quickly, Snape stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Not wanting to be in the room with Harry when he came out, and saw him in such a flustered state, Snape took a pair of pyjamas from the wardrobe and hurried to his office to change.

Harry was already in bed when Snape came in, and he smiled as he felt the body slip in behind him. When the familiar arm slipped around his waist, he pressed his body backwards, until his bottom was firmly pressed against Snape's groin. "Good night, sir," he whispered. "And I'm sorry about earlier."

Snape pressed his lips together. Harry was a good deal closer than usual, and after what he had seen moments earlier, he was hard-pressed not to respond. "Go to sleep, Potter," was all he said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said softly, squriming a bit as he "settled in" pressing himself backwards even more firmly.

"Potter, will you cease that infernal wriggling," Snape hissed as he tried to think of things that didn't involve losing his job.

"Sorry, sir," Harry whispered, giving one last wiggle for good measure before relaxing. After a while, he let his breathing even out, and heard Snape gave a frustrated sigh. Smiling to himself, he finally fell asleep.

*****

Over the course of the next few months, Harry worked hard, studying for his N.E.W.T.s, and wondering exactly what he was going to do with his life once he left school. He'd wanted to be an Auror since fourth year, but he'd seen enough death, destruction, and dark wizards to last him a few lifetimes. Instead of letting himself be distracted by that, however, he focused his energies on seducing Snape. They often took breakfast and dinner together, and Harry used that to his advantage, eating in provocative ways until Snape, frustrated (Harry hoped sexually), told him to eat properly.

One morning, the morning before his first N.E.W.T. in fact, Harry was visited by a wicked thought. He was watching Snape sleep, and feeling an irresistable urge to touch. 'Well, why not?' He could always claim he'd been asleep. With this in mind, Harry closed his eyes, and squirmed closer to Snape, resting an arm gently across the older man's chest. He was already a bit hard, and he began rubbing himself against Snape's hip, moving with slow, rhythmic motions. As the weather had grown warmer, Harry had begun sleeping in his boxers, and he relished the feeling of Snape's soft pyjamas against his bare chest. "Mmm," he moaned slightly, eyes still tightly shut.

Snape stirred slightly, then opened his eyes. He'd been having such a nice dream. Looking down, he realized that the dream wasn't a dream at all. He cleared his throat. "Potter?" he whispered, not wanting to embarrass him, but needing to get him away before he did something they'd both regret.

Harry repressed a smile, still feigning sleep, and moaned again. "Ohh, please," he whispered, rubbing against him harder. A very large part of him wished that this could continue.

Snape gritted his teeth. "Potter!" he said, in a commanding tone.

Harry's eyes flew open, as he pretended to wake up. He looked down. "Oh. I'm sorry, Professor," he said, though he didn't move away.

Snape swallowed. "It's all right, Potter."

Harry pulled away slowly, rolling to his back and stretching widely, letting Snape get an eyeful. "It's just a natural reaction, after all," he said with a grin.

Snape was completely speechless at that, and as Harry went into the bathroom, and stayed there for quite some time, Snape just stared at the closed door. Waking up hard was a natural reaction for a young boy. Waking up grinding yourself into your potions master was not a natural reaction, he was almost certain. He thought with a hint of relief of the time that his torment would soon be over, then winced, and immediately took the thought back. He didn't want Harry to leave, even though he knew he had to. Seven years. That ought to be enough for anyone. But with Harry, it seemed, it wasn't. Snape wanted more, perhaps even a lifetime. He shook his head. It didn't matter if he wanted that, he couldn't have it.

*****

Harry flew through his tests, feeling confident on every single one. He'd have to wait until the summer to find out how he'd done, however. On the last night, the night before the leaving feast the next day, Harry decided to get a jump on packing. He was sitting in the middle of Snape's bedroom, looking around helplessly. He didn't know where Snape was, assumed he was in one of his many workrooms. With little enthusiasm, he began tossing his things into his trunk.

"It works better when you do it neatly, Potter." Harry looked over his shoulder, and shrugged. He was feeling too depressed to care. Snape sighed. "Very well, throw them in messily. I suppose that will provide you with ample things to wash and iron when you get home. That should please you."

Harry shrugged again. Actually, that sounded rather nice. And maybe he could give Grimmauld Place a good scrub. Ever since Kreacher had 'disappeared' (Harry had strong suspicions that Moody and Lupin had had something to do with that) it had just been collecting dust. Lovely. He would spend his summer cleaning the house. And sleeping all by himself in a cold, lonely bed. Damn it.

He felt tears springing to his eyes, and pushed them away savagely. There was a rustling sound, and Snape knelt down next to him, taking things out of his trunk and putting them back in neatly. They took their time, folding everything with precision. The process took a good two hours, and at the end of it, Harry wanted to dump everything out and do it again. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts, and more importantly, Snape. In the years he'd gotten to know the man, he developed strong feelings for him. Looking up, seeing concern etched in the face that was normally set in a scowl, Harry knew he had fallen in love with him. With a cry, he threw himself into Snape's arms, wanting at least comfort, if he couldn't have that love returned.

"Shh, Potter, it's okay," Snape said, hugging him close.

"I don't think it is," Harry whispered rather desperately. He sniffled a bit. "Can we please go to bed, sir?"

Snape looked down at him. "Severus," he said, after a moment of internal conflict.

"Sir?"

"You're not my pupil anymore. Call me Severus. And yes, we can go to bed. Come on."

"My clothes," Harry murmured dispiritedly.

Snape snorted. "You haven't slept in anything proper since March. Just pull them off and sleep in those infernal underclothes."

Harry stood, stripping without bothering to go into the bathroom. Working on a sort of automatic pilot, he climbed into bed, facing the wall. He waited, and soon felt Snape slide in behind him. Only he wasn't wearing pyjamas. He tried to turn around to ask him why he had chosen to wear only boxers, but an arm around him waist stopped him from moving. "Good night, sir. Severus," he quickly corrected, the name sounding weird coming from his own mouth.

"Good night, Harry."

Harry felt himself starting to cry again, then stopped. Tomorrow would be his last full day in the castle, and he found himself missing this already.

To Be Continued...

An Unconventional Relationship - Part 5

2003-12-02T18:29:42Z

TITLE: An Unconventional Relationship
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Harry/Snape
SUMMARY: Harry's time at the Dursley's has left him with some rather odd quirks that only Snape can help him work out.

Harry's school work for the next month was put on hold in lieu of training for something more important: the impending war. In mid-January, an attack on Diagon Alley left the wizarding world in shambles. Flourish and Blotts had been the main target, though several neighboring shops had been destroyed as well. Dumbledore had decided that the time to act was soon. Harry found himself being trained by Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, and Dumbledore himself when he had the time. He missed his extra time with Snape, but during the evenings, if they found themselves together without anything to do, they never failed to share a glass of wine or hot cocoa. Harry could tell that Snape was growing more and more concerned with the Death Eater strikes, when the raids changed to private homes by the end of February. The Weasleys had been a main target, but thankfully, they had been at Grimmauld Place at the time of the attack.

Harry began attending Order meetings, much to Ron's dismay, who still wasn't allowed to sit in. Hermione, too, was told to stay out of them, and consoled him as much as she could. Harry grew apart from his friends during March, a rift that carried through into April as he abandoned his classes completely in order to get in as much training as possible. Slytherin students, at least those with Death Eater parents, had been pulled from the school one night in late April. No one was sad to see them go. Classes stopped halfway through May, following an attack on Hogsmeade. Harry could feel the tension wherever he went. He was in his closet, studying and meditating when Snape came and fetched him. This was it. The final battle. With Voldemort's forces holed up in the Three Broomsticks, the Order of the Phoenix was ready. Harry went quietly, wand in hand, ready.

The Order blasted through the wards on the back door, and with Lupin and Snape flanking him, Harry went forth. Things happened surprisingly fast, and time seemed to blur for Harry. He didn't remember the trip up the stairs, or how they got past the Death Eaters, but before he could think about it, he was facing Voldemort, armed, and prepared to kill.

A quarter of an hour later, it was all over, and word was going forth into the streets of Hogsmeade, that Harry Potter had done it again, that the Dark Lord was well and truly dead. It hadn't happened without its casualties, though. Moody had lost a bit of his ear. Percy Weasley had lost his life. And Snape was hurt, having been hit by an ugly hex as soon as it became crystal clear which side he was on.

Harry ignored the praises, the reassurances, the invitations to celebrate. He crouched protectively over Snape's fallen body. "He's hurt. Get Madame Pomfrey." No matter what they said, he wouldn't leave, just stayed there, ignoring Remus' gentle persuasion and Dumbledore's direct order. "I'm not leaving him," he said, stubbornly.

Remus, seeing that Harry wasn't about to move, left in order to get the medi-witch. Dumbledore was called away to help with the wounded and to restrain the remaining Death Eaters. Harry kept his head down, cradling Snape's head in his lap, brushing back dark hair away from pale skin. On impulse, he rolled up the left sleeve of Snape's robes, and smiled grimly when he saw a very angry looking white scar where the Dark Mark used to be.

Madame Pomfrey hurried over, Remus in tow. The medi-witch carefully took Snape away from Harry, who let him go with little protest. Though he wanted to stay with him, he knew he was in good hands now, and others needed his help. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, courtesy of Remus, Harry turned away, and began cleaning up the aftermath of one of the worst battles the wizarding world had ever seen.

*****

The next day, Harry, tired but at peace, was sitting by Snape's bedside. He was rereading a portion of his mother's journal, and trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He knew that at some point he would have to leave the hospital wing and rejoin the rest of the world, but that simply wasn't going to happen until Snape was awake. It didn't matter how many times Madame Pomfrey, exasperated, assured him that Snape was going to be just fine. He wouldn't leave.

He was interrupted when Ron and Hermione walked in. His brain was still very scattered, and only a tiny portion of it registered that they were holding hands. "Hello," he said, quietly.

Hermione merely gave a tiny smile, but Ron answered back with a sullen, "Hello."

"Um, care to sit?" Harry asked, awkwardly, waving his wand and bringing up two chairs, almost without thought.

Ron winced at the use of magic, which Harry was able to do, despite the fact that he wasn't of age yet. No one was going to stop the hero from doing magic. He sat down, still clutching Hermione's hand. "How've you been?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry closed his mother's journal, frowning a bit. "I've been better," he said honestly. "How's your mother holding up?" The death of Percy had not been easy on any of the Weasleys.

"She's okay, I guess. She's got Dad and the rest. Dumbledore's gone over a few times as well, but he's still busy with the Ministry."

Harry turned to Hermione. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, Harry," she said, glancing at Ron.

Ron, unable to keep silent any longer said, "Harry, this is just weird. I know you don't hate Snape anymore, but there's no reason for you to be mooning over him while he sleeps." He paused. "Or is there?" he asked, under his breath.

Harry looked at him sharply. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he said, in a cold voice.

Ron flushed, but didn't back down. "You spend all your time with him. You haven't slept in the dorimitories since last year. And now you're sitting here, waiting for him to wake up. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Ron," Hermione began in a slightly repressive voice, but he cut her off with a savage gesture.

"I'd just think you might have told us. But I suppose you outgrew us, didn't you?"

Harry frowned. He was tired, worried, and in need of a wash. He didn't need this from Ron right now. "Ron, I don't know what-" he started, then stopped. "I'm not... I just..." This is what he feared. He had no idea how to explain his relationship with Snape to his so called best friends. Slightly frustrated, he started again. "We're not boyfriends," he said pointedly. Even to his own ears, that statement just sounded stupid. "We don't sleep together or anything," he said easily. Years ago, thinking about sexual relations with Snape would have made him vomit. Now, though it didn't have that effect on him, he couldn't think about it just yet. He was still too worn out from the battle with Voldemort.

Ron gave a disbelieving look. "Remus said you wouldn't leave him until Madame Pomfrey came."

"I wouldn't. Just like I wouldn't leave you alone if you were hurt. Or Hermione. I know it's hard for you to understand, but I care about him. He's not... he's not what you think. He's been taking care of me for a long time now. I - there was a time when I needed him, and he was there. He understands about... the weird things. The things I couldn't tell anybody." Looking at the blank expressions, he realized he'd have to explain further. "There are things I have to do sometimes. Like clean things when I need to think. Or..." he almost stopped, but he owed them the truth. "Or sit in a closet when I'm upset. He lets me sleep in his closet, because he knows it makes me feel safe. He's... almost like a father." That seemed wrong, though. Snape wasn't like a father to him, but he didn't know how else to explain it.

There was a momentary silence as the information digested itself. Hermione brushed back her hair, releasing Ron's hand for the first time. "I think it's admirable of you to care about him, Harry, but there are other important things to do right now." Her voice was gentle, but insistent. Harry recognized it as something of a Remus Lupin trait.

"Like what?" Harry asked, though he already knew. He was feeling slightly irritated by his friends' presence for some reason.

"You're the hero of the war," Hermione said carefully. "Being outside, helping people rebuild their homes... it would be a good boost for morale."

"Spare me," Harry said, sitting back in his chair. He conjured a cup of black coffee, cupped it in his hands, and took a long sip. "I've heard this from Moody, Dumbledore AND Remus."

"It's just that you have responsibilities, Harry," Hermione said earnestly.

Harry pressed his lips together. "I had responsibilities. I dealt with them. My destiny is fulfilled. I just want to get on with the rest of my life. And I can't do it without him."

Ron and Hermione had left after that, obviously frustrated that they couldn't get through to him. Harry looked down at Snape's unconscious form. "I wish you would wake up," he said softly. "This is getting kind of hard without you, sir."

*****

The next afternoon, after a short nap in the bed next to Snape's, Harry found himself curled up in the same chair, reading over more of his mother's journal entries, when a small noise jerked him from his thoughts. He stood, put the journal on the table, and moved closer to the bed. "Professor?"

Snape mumbled something, then opened his eyes. "Potter?"

Harry tried to keep his emotions in check, but the tears that welled in his eyes couldn't be stopped. "You're okay."

"That's very astute of you, Potter," Snape said hoarsely, "however, I could use a glass of water, if you're done goggling."

Harry smiled, poured a glass of water, then helped Snape sit up, holding the cup to his lips. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by the Cruciatus a few times."

"It was worse than that, I think, sir," Harry said, taking the cup away.

"Thank you, Potter, I'm quite aware of that. I presume from your corporeal presence here and the fact that I am not hung upside down on a dungeon wall that the Dark Lord has been defeated?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Snape looked at him with weary approval. "Well done," was all he said, then, "What day is it?"

"Wednesday, I think," Harry said, thinking hard, still blushing at the praise, the only praise he hadn't shrugged off since it happened. "You've been out for two days. I should probably go tell everyone that you're awake." He didn't sound too eager, though.

"It can wait," Snape said. He wasn't particularly eager to deal with people either. He let his mind drift in the comfortable silence, wondering what would happen next. He supposed Potter wouldn't need to sleep in closets anymore, he would presumably feel safe enough to move back into the dormitories. He might even be able to get past his cleaning fixation. Snape gave a heavy sigh.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Nothing that cannot be dealt with at a later time," Snape said. He looked Harry up and down. "You look like you've been rolling about in a swamp, Potter."

Harry blushed. "I didn't... um. I mean, since you were knocked unconscious..."

Snape blinked. Potter had stayed by his side the entire time? He pushed away the feelings that wanted to swell up at that thought. "Well, I'm awake now. You should go bathe," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Harry smiled. "Yes, sir. Do you want me to tell anyone that you're awake?"

"Not yet," Snape said, reaching for the glass of water. "I would like a few minutes to be conscious alone, without everyone hovering around." He noticed Harry's slightly put out look. "Save for yourself, of course," he added.

Harry brightened a bit. "I'll go wash, then. But I'll be right back."

Snape nodded. "You might bring me back a few books. I suspect Madame Pomfrey will insist on having me here for some time. That is - if you're going to wash in my room."

Harry gave him an odd look. "Of course I'm going to wash in your room, sir. Where else would I go?"

Snape gave a slight smile. It wouldn't be too long, he was sure, before Potter remembered that he had a bed of his own, and rejoined his peers. "Of course. Go on, then." His eyes followed Harry out of the room.

*****

A half hour later, freshly washed and dressed, Harry returned to the Hospital Wing, carrying an armload of books. He was looking forward to a proper chat with Snape, but stopped in the doorway, seeing Dumbledore, Remus, and Madame Pomfrey hovering about his bed. He frowned, wondering if he should go in or not, then decided he didn't care what the others thought, and continued forward, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"I'm perfectly fine, Headmaster."

"You are not, Severus. You were hit with several hexes and a terribly powerful curse."

Snape scowled, but his expression brightened slightly when he saw Harry. If the other three noticed, they said nothing. "Ah, Potter. Returned with my entertainment for the rest of the week." As he said this, he glared at Madame Pomfrey.

Harry gave a little grin, and stacked the books on the besdide table. "Yes, sir."

Remus frowned slightly, and Dumbledore looked rather grave. "Harry, I believe that we should have a talk. Perhaps you'd like to come to my office?"

Harry was quite sure he wouldn't like that, but knew it was inevitable. "Yes, sir." He followed Dumbledore and Remus out of the hospital wing, slightly reassured by a small smile from Snape.

Once Harry was settled into a chair and sucking on a sweet, Dumbledore began. "Harry, while I understand that you and Professor Snape are very close, I think perhaps it would be better if you began spending less time with him. I understand that it was necessary for you while you were under the pressure of having to defeat Voldemort, but I believe it is time for you to rejoin your peers."

Harry frowned thoughtfully for a moment. He knew he could take one of two routes in this situation. He could either beg and plead like a child who is being denied its favorite toy, or he could use the reasoning he used with Ron and Hermione. While he was sure either would work, he wasn't nearly as comfortable with Dumbledore and Remus to use the child act. Besides, he wasn't quite sure he'd be able to make it through it. "Sir," he said, once the sweet was completely dissolved, "you were there the night Professor Trelawney made her prediction about Voldemort and myself." He waited for Dumbledore's polite nod before continuing. "Therefore, you also know that I've fulfilled my destiny." He ignored the exchanges of somewhat startled glances between the two. "Since my first year, I've done everything you've asked of me, and more. I believe," he said, reaching for another lemon drop, "that it is time you let me do as I wish." With a slight smile, he popped the candy into his mouth, looking back and forth between them.

Dumbledore looked at Harry rather pityingly. "Harry, I understand that you may still feel the need of reassurance. Perhaps, under the circumstances, we could arrange a closet in your dormitory."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want a closet in my dormitory. I want to sleep in Professor Snape's closet. And I intend to stay there. If you make me move out, then I'll leave school as soon as I'm seventeen. I don't mean that as a threat, but I don't think I can handle being here without him. And I know I don't want to. I killed Lord Voldemort, I did what you all wanted. Couldn't you just accept that this is what I need?"

Remus stirred slightly. "I can." At Dumbledore's surprised look, he continued. "I think it's a bit bizarre, but I know Severus is a good man, and I think this helps both of them. And at this point, I think Harry's right. He's done enough. We should leave him be."

Harry felt an upsurge of warmth and friendship for Remus, and gave him a broad smile, which was returned. He turned to Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow almost unconsciously, a move that came easily, after rooming with Snape for the past several months. Dumbledore frowned slightly, then nodded. "I suppose you're both right." His tone made it was clear that he still wasn't happy with it, though. "Though, Harry," he said sternly, "I want you to keep in mind that Severus is still your teacher, and you are still his student."

Harry looked confused for a second, then his eyes widened, and he blushed, realizing what Dumbledore had been hinting at. "Yes, sir," he said firmly, still unsure about his own feelings for Snape on that subject. "May I go?"

Dumbledore waved a hand, dismissing them both.

*****

A week later, to the day, Snape was released from the hospital wing. It was just around dinnertime, and Harry was on hand to help him down to the dungeons. Madame Pomfrey wasn't pleased about letting him go so soon, but she muttered something when no one could hear about mold growing better in dark places.

Snape was still rather weak, and before they had gone very far, he was leaning on Harry's shoulder, breathing rather heavily. They passed by the Great Hall, which was just letting out after dinner, and Harry could hear the whispers as everyone took in the sight of Harry gently helping the potions master down the corridor. He held his head high, though, and ignored them. He had been through enough to know what mattered and what didn't and school gossip definitely fell into the latter category.

If Snape noticed the whisperings, he too, ignored them. They made it down to Snape's office, and through to his room, where Harry helped him into an armchair, then went to make him a cup of tea. After handing it to him, he ran to get a blanket, heeding Madame Pomfrey's caution about keeping Snape warm. Draping it over Snape's lap, he started tucking it in.

"Potter, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself," Snape snapped.

Harry backed off immediately, remembering what had happened the last time he had pushed Snape too far. He had no desire to return to his dormitory tonight, or in fact, any other night. Looking worried, he edged away. "I'll just go to bed, then," he whispered.

Snape's manner gentled at the obvious discomfort on Harry's face. "Sleep well, then. I'll see you in the morning. I believe my office has gotten rather dusty in my absence. I'll expect it to be spotless before I return to it in the afternoon."

Harry nodded, relieved. "Yes, sir. Good night."

He headed for his closet, rather looking forward to his first full night's sleep in longer than he could remember. He was still a little worried about Snape, but knew better than to push him when he wasn't feeling well.

He fell asleep somewhat quickly, and should have known that was a bad sign. It was just past midnight when he awoke, screaming and sweating from another nightmare. Cursing loudly, he massaged his forehead, expecting pain, but feeling none. Voldemort was gone; he shouldn't be having these nightmares any longer. He took little comfort knowing that they were nightmares, and not visions. With a frustrated sigh, he stood and opened the closet door. Moonlight spilled into the room from the high dungeon windows, and Harry could see a faint flicker from an almost dead fire. Snape was lying quiet in his bed, and Harry was loathe to wake him, but knew that if he didn't, the consequences would be horrible. Slowly, he crept across the room to the bed. "Professor?"

Snape stirred, wincing as his still sore muscles protested. He opened his eyes, and saw Harry standing beside his bed. "What is it, Harry?" The name slipped past his sleepy lips unheeded.

Harry blinked. His mind briefly registered that Snape had called him Harry, but he was more concerned about the wince. "Are you all right, sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "If you woke me up just to ask that..."

"No, sir," Harry said quickly. "I - I had another nightmare. I didn't know if you still wanted me to wake you, though. I mean, my nightmares don't matter now that he's gone..." He fidgeted uncomfortably.

Snape grunted a bit, shifting to make room for Harry. "Nightmares always matter." He patted the bed tiredly.

Harry hesitated slightly, then slid in next to him, feeling the comfort that always came from being close to Snape. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be foolish," Snape admonished, stifling a yawn. "What happened in your nightmare?"

Harry quivered a little, pulling the blankets tighter around him. He felt Snape's arm slide around his shoulders, and relaxed. "The usual," he whispered. "Sirius... my parents... Voldemort coming back, telling me that I had to do it again, because I missed."

Snape's voice was very soothing. "Harry, have you looked at my arm since Voldemort was defeated?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. Right after it happened." He felt a little awkward. "I just wanted to know that everything was..."

"Understandable. Having seen that, you must know that he is gone once and for all."

"I do know it," Harry said softly. "But when I'm asleep, I don't." He curled up a little closer to Snape.

"You will. After a while, it will sink in, and then I think the nightmares will be over."

Harry was frustrated. "But what if it takes too long? I can't keep-"

"You can and you will," Snape said sternly. "You will awake me every single time you experience a nightmare, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, defeated. He knew it wouldn't do any good to argue.

"Good. Now try to get some sleep."

Harry sighed quietly, and felt the arm around his shoulder tighten just a bit, then smiled. He supposed Snape was right. Voldemort was gone, he knew that. It would just take a little longer for his subconscious to catch up with his conscious mind. A light snoring told him that Snape was already asleep again, and he wondered if he should go back to his closet. However, he was feeling very sleepy, and very safe, and he decided that staying wouldn't be so bad. Trying not to snuggle any closer than was necessary, Harry fell asleep.

*****

As the end of the year rolled around, Harry became quieter, and instead of spending less time cleaning, as Snape had expected, he began to spend more. It seemed like something was on his mind, and finally, one night, when Harry began polishing all his silver at two in the morning, Snape said, "Potter, will you for the love of Merlin tell me what is wrong? I'm becoming concerned that soon you will decide I need a good cleaning and try to drag me into the bath."

Harry blushed a little, both at the reproach and at the idea of dragging a naked Snape into the bath. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just...Professor, do you think I could stay here over the summer? I mean, after all, I do have a lot of lessons to make up. And it doesn't really matter if I stay with the Dursleys anymore."

Snape thought about this for a moment. It was true, the war had prevented the boy from completing his second term, and the summertime would be a perfect opportunity for him to make it up. After all, being Harry Potter, and having his fame could only take a person so far in life. "We should speak to the headmaster about that."

Harry winced slightly. While he still respected Dumbledore, he had begun to lose that hero worship that many people still held. He was sure that Dumbledore would be against the idea, but agreed. It was really his only shot of getting away from the Dursleys. "Yes, sir. Can we go now?"

Snape looked at him incredulously. "I think we should wait until morning."

Harry looked at the time, realizing that it was the middle of the night. "Oh, yes. Of course, sir."

*****

The next morning, quite early, Snape took Harry up to Dumbledore's office. It occurred to Harry, as he looked up at his teacher, that Snape's expression held the same kind of wary discomfort that he felt. Well, there was still nothing to be lost by trying.

"Severus, Harry." Was it Harry's imagination, or was the voice lacking some of its usual warmth? "Is something amiss?"

"No, Headmaster," Snape replied. "Potter and I have been discussing how lamentably behind he has fallen in his studies, and I believe it would be beneficial for him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer to make up his work."

Dumbledore pursed his lips, sitting back in his chair and looking at the pair over his glasses. "I'm not quite sure that would be such a good idea, Severus."

Harry clenched his fists. He knew that Dumbledore would do something like this. "Headmaster, if I may, because Voldemort, and the war, I've lost nearly an entire term of lessons, and won't be able to pass my exams."

"And does the study that was given to you by Remus, Alastor, and myself count for nothing?"

"Of course it counts, sir," Harry said, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. "But you only taught me dueling spells, things to use against Voldemort. I didn't learn anything about potions or charms, or even transfiguration." He frowned, thinking of what McGonagall would say. She'd probably agree with him about the situation.

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore said, "I'm quite sure Professors Flitwick and McGonagall would be pleased to tutor you next term, and if I recall correctly, you were quite advanced in Potions before your lessons were suspended. I think, Harry, that the best thing for you right now would be a return to your normal routine. That would include going back to the Dursleys' for the summer."

Harry's mind flashed back to the "normal routine" that Snape had made him describe. The chores. The hunger. The beatings. Looking over at Snape, he could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

"Headmaster," Snape said smoothly, "with all due respect, Hogwarts is a part of Potter's routine, as are lessons. I believe there would be more stability for him here."

"The Dursleys are Harry's legal guardians until he is of age," Dumbledore said firmly, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle.

"Then I'll come back when I'm seventeen," Harry said. It would only be a few weeks, and he could spend his time in August catching up. And spending more time with Snape. That thought made his stomach flutter slightly, but he pushed it away, needing to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Dumbledore looked at them both for a long time. Compromise would probably be the only way out. After a moment, he nodded. "Very well. I'll have a port key owled to you on the first of August-"

"Why not the day before?" Harry interrupted, but Dumbledore frowned, and he let the subject drop. "Thank you, sir."

*****

Harry went back to the Dursleys at the end of the summer, and he thought that Petunia actually seemed pleased to hear that Voldemort had been defeated. Things were passing fairly quietly, and apart from a few clouts on the side of the head, he had been left mostly alone. He wrote to Snape every week, working hard to keep the tone of his letters light. After all, it would only be a little while before he could go back to Hogwarts. He crossed off every day in his planner, and would stare broodingly at the days that were left. He wanted to go home.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his birthday came. He didn't sleep at all that night, instead packed every single one of his possessions into his trunk, and locking it firmly. He paced his room, read books, talked to Hedwig, but nothing he did could make the time pass more quickly. He was yawning by the time the sun came up, and was surprised to see not one, but two owls fly through his window. The first was obviously a Hogwarts' owl. It dropped a package and a letter on his desk, then flew out. The other owl, looking very impressive indeed, waited until Harry untied the letter from its leg, but didn't leave. Harry, confused, opened the letter. It was from Gringotts.

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you are now the owner of both Grimmauld Place, as per your relationship to one late Sirius Black, and the land remaining at Godric's Hollow that was left to you by your parents, Lily and James Potter. Please come to Gringotts at your earliest convienence to sign some paperwork, and collect the deeds.

Sincerely,

Galdring
Gringotts Bank

Harry was a little surprised. He hadn't really thought a lot about the properties, especially not about Godric's Hollow. He decided that he would ask Snape to take him there when he had time. He supposed he could go alone, of course, but he wanted to go with Snape, wanted to have him with him. As for Gringotts, he supposed, really, that he might as well take the Knight Bus there before going to Hogwarts. He tucked the Hogwarts letter and package into his pocket. It would be just as well to get everything out of the way so that he could focus. With a flick of his wand, Harry levitated his trunk, and began heading downstairs. Petunia was in the kitchen, making tea. Harry knew he couldn't leave without saying something. "Er - Aunt Petunia, I'm leaving now."

Petunia looked up, somewhat startled. "Leaving?"

Harry nodded. "I'm seventeen now, and I'm going to start a new life. In the wizarding world. You're not responsible for me anymore."

Petunia, tight-lipped, nodded. Harry, who'd been expecting nothing less than this, turned to leave. "Harry, wait."

Frowning, he turned back. He didn't want a long goodbye, just wanted to leave and get on with his life. He watched his aunt cross to the sink, take a small jar off the windowsill, and root through it for a moment. She pulled something out, replaced the jar, then walked over to him. "This was your mother's," she said, holding out her hand.

Harry looked down. In the palm of Petunia's hand was a plain, golden band. "Is that...?"

"Your mother's wedding ring. She must have known something was going to happen, because she gave it to me a month before... before that happened."

Harry looked at her, surprised. Then again, it seemed that people were constantly surprising him: Dumbledore, Snape, and now Aunt Petunia. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," Harry said sincerely, taking the ring from her hand. He held it for a moment, marveling at its small size. His mother's fingers must have been very slender. "Goodbye."

Petunia nodded. "Goodbye. And good luck."

Harry walked out of the door of 12 Privet Drive, and felt more free than he could ever remember. He stuck his hand up for the Knight Bus.

*****

Harry was walking down the white marble steps of Gringotts, his trunk following him like an obedient puppy, feeling rather stunned. Aside from the somewhat horrible trip over, in which Stan Shunpike and Ernie Prang had to shake his hand about fifty times, and fall over themselves, praising him, Harry had never realized how well off his family was. He decided to keep Grimmauld Place, instead of selling it to the bank, just in case. After all, he wasn't quite sure where he was going after his last year at Hogwarts. Godric's Hollow was another case. He wanted to see the land where his old house once stood, and clutched the deed papers quite tightly, trying to stem the flood of emotion that wanted to spill out.

Once in a side alley, for people had started to turn their heads, wondering if he was the real Harry Potter, or just a look alike, he opened the letter from Hogwarts.

Dear Potter,

The headmaster, who has apparently washed his hands of both of us to the greatest extent possible, has delegated the task of writing you to me. The portkey will take you straight to my rooms. I enchanted it myself. I'll expect you back here at no later than four o'clock, and you will be spending the rest of the day on Potions lessons. You have a great deal to catch up on, and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick will be tutoring you tomorrow and the day after. Should you be late, your (slightly belated) birthday tea will be fed to the house-elves.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Harry, smiling widely, opened the package. It was a small, silver charm in the shape of a serpent. Taking one end of his trunk, he wrapped his fingers around the charm, and immediately felt the jerk behind his navel. He closed his eyes, feeling slightly sick, and landed hard a moment later, on the floor of Snape's rooms. "Ow... oh, ouch." He heaved the trunk off him, which had landed on his leg. "That hurts."

"Having a large trunk land on one's leg usually does hurt, Potter." Snape appeared in his field of vision, holding a hand out to help him up.

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a big grin, accepting the hand and standing up.

"The portkey, by the way, is your birthday present, now that it is deactivated." Snape held out a silver chain. "This goes with it. Happy birthday, Potter."

Harry looked at him for a moment. It seemed a very personal gift, and he had half a moment of wondering what that meant, then said, "Put it on me, sir?"

"Turn around."

Harry did so, unable to surpress a shiver as Snape's arms came around his neck, the cool silver laying against his skin. He felt Snape do the clasp, then turned around, his hand going to the charm. "Thank you."

"Don't get all sentimental on me, Potter," Snape said gruffly. He tossed a dust rag at him. "Get to work, already."

Harry smiled, and caught a slight smile from Snape in return. "Yes, sir." Heartened, Harry slid his trunk to his closet door, then walked into Snape's office.

"And try not to take all day, Potter. We have work to do."

*****

For the rest of the summer, Harry hardly had time to think about anything. His days were eaten up by lessons, his evenings with cleaning and doing homework. He tumbled into bed at night so exhausted that there was hardly even room for nightmares, though they still came occasionally. Harry felt a little bit guilty about that, because he realized that he dearly loved those nights when Snape would pull him into bed and hold him close. It made him feel safe and loved, and he worried a little bit that he wasn't blocking the nightmares as he should have because he didn't want to lose that.

A week before term started, Harry had finally caught up on all of his lessons, and was told he could do as he liked for the rest of the summer. He had immediately asked Snape to take him to Godric's Hollow and, after some hesitation, Snape had agreed.

They took a port key, Harry not being able to Apparate yet. Harry also realized that he needed Snape with him because he had no idea which way to go. He followed the potions master through the quaint little town, down a dirt road, where they happened upon a clearing. Harry stopped. He could see the outline of the foundation, the path leading up to what could only have been the front door, and a few scraps of wood and stone left over. Harry felt his chest constrict painfully, and he fell to his knees, unable to breathe. He felt Snape kneel down next to him, but ignored it for the moment. His old house. His parents' house. He had known it was nothing more than ruins, but to see the plot of land made it real.

Snape wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Potter, get hold of yourself," he said gently.

Harry nodded, and managed to calm himself down a little bit. "I'm sorry. It just..."

"I know." Snape attempted to lighten the atmosphere. "And if you're going to break down every time we leave the school, I'm afraid there'll be no more outings for you."

Harry looked up at him quizzically. "Professor, this is the first time you've taken me anywhere."

Snape furrowed his brow. "Well, that's true. Just mind you don't do it again." Secretly, he smiled to himself, having distracted Harry successfully from his distress.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, smiling slightly. He stood, with Snape's help, and began walking toward what was left of the house. "I suppose the Ministry took anything that was still in one piece."

"More than likely. It's probably sitting in a sub basement somewhere, waiting for you to collect it."

Harry knelt down, sifting through the dirt. He didn't know what he expected to find, but he didn't find anything at all. With a sigh, he stood, brushing his hands off on his robes. "I suppose I should sell it," he said, trying not to sound forlorn.

"It's yours for now," Snape said. "Perhaps you should wait before making that decision."

Harry nodded. "I think I'll wait until I graduate and know what I'll be doing."

"A sensible course of action." He looked around, and said, "Is there anything else here that you need to do?"

"No. I don't think so. I just needed to see it." He looked up at Snape, who had a somber expression on his face. "Professor, there's something I've been wondering for a long time. Why did you have my mother's journal?"

Snape winced. He had wondered when this question would come up, and knew he would have to answer it. "I think this might be best discussed at home. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I think so," Harry said, taking one last look around.

Snape extracted the port key from his robe pocket, and tapped it with his wand, then held it out for Harry. The second Harry took hold, they were both transported back to Snape's rooms. Harry took a seat in one of the armchairs, and accepted a glass of wine. He watched Snape pace back and forth for a while before sitting across from him.

"Your mother and I were friends at school. You may have noticed in my pensieve that she was surprised when I insulted her. That probably had something to do with the fact that we had spent three hours studying potions together the night before." He gave a wistful smile. "She was the only one who didn't care that I was a Slytherin, that I spent my spare time boning up on hexes and poisons."

Harry wasn't surprised, and was glad Snape had had a friend. "And that's why she gave you the journal?"

"That was... part of it," Snape said, looking pained. "In our sixth year, we were actually dating. We kept it rather a secret, not wanting to deal with the repercussions from our housemates." A little smile drifted across his face. "I believe she thought it was wildly romantic."

Harry was seriously taken aback. "But then why did she... and my father?"

"That was my fault, I'm afraid. As I got older, there were more and more pressures on me to choose sides. As you know, I chose the wrong one. Your mother couldn't live with the darkness in me anymore. We parted ways, and she went to your father."

Harry frowned, taking this all in. "I'm sorry," he said, after a time. He knew it was weak, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Snape waved a hand. "Nothing to apologize over, Potter. You weren't there to make the decision for her. And besides, if Lily hadn't gone to James, there would be no Harry Potter." He stood, and left the room, leaving Harry to wonder about the implications of his statement.

To Be Continued...