Part 4

Part Four

Harry wasn't sure how much more he could take of Snape's cold shoulder. For the past few days, the man had been very quiet, not making any small talk whatsoever...not that there was much before but certainly more than the glares and grunts. While they hadn't become friends, they had made some progress, but now, they'd taken a few steps back.

"Brilliant," Harry muttered scornfully.

Although Snape was across the room, lost in a book, he ignored Harry. At least before when Harry would make some off-the-wall comment, the man would try to find out its meaning.

Silence.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" he said loudly. When stillness again met him, he replied to himself, saying, "Why, yes, Potter, it certainly is."

The man said nothing.

"Are you still alive, Snape? I don't think a book about a slug's lungs, or whatever weird shite you're reading, is keeping you that fascinated."

Snape looked up and curled his nose in disdain before shaking his head and returning to his reading. It was obvious that Harry was getting to him.

So he pushed on. "What's got your wand in a knot lately? Still on about that bloody Howler? Is that it?"

Nothing.

"WILL YOU ANSWER ME?"

Placing a bookmark on his page before he closed his book, Snape quietly said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone, Potter. I don't want to talk to you. I don't like you. I hate living here with you. You agreed to give me peace when you forced your way into my life. Are you reneging?"

"I'd leave you alone if you'd just talk to me," Harry replied, sitting forward, elbows on his knees. "I need some conversation, but ever since you heard that berk's Howler, you won't even do that. I thought we were getting on fine enough." He growled in frustration. "That git is going to think what he wants anyway. We know nothing like that has ever happened," he snorted, "and that it never will, so I don't get what this is about."

"It's complicated," Snape allowed. "Let's just leave it at that."

"I've learnt lots of things over the years. I'm sure what you have to say won't be too much for me to handle." Harry was surprised that Snape honestly seemed uncomfortable and felt suddenly guilty. "I'm out of line. I apologize. You don't have to answer that."

He sat back and reached for the glass of whiskey he'd poured for himself a few minutes before, knowing it would help soothe him. Before the tumbler reached his lips, Snape spoke.

"You've been drinking a lot lately."

Harry looked over at his housemate. "What?"

"You heard me, Potter."

"One or two glasses every other night aren't much, Snape." He smirked. "Why, I didn't know you cared."

The man shrugged. "I don't, not really, but what would your adoring fans say?"

"They'd say, 'Brilliant, come round the pub with us, mate.'"

"Everything's a game with you, isn't it?"

"A game?" Harry gestured around the small room. "Look at where I am, Snape. Look at what I'm giving up to be here... to help you, and you don't even appreciate it. Not one bit." He shrugged his shoulders and placed the glass on the rickety table in front of him. "I'm making a big sacrifice, too, you know!"

"This is very hard for me."

The words were so softly uttered Harry nearly thought he'd imagined them. His eyes found Snape's an instant later, and he saw that the man's expression was unlike he'd ever seen it...in person anyway. He'd seen Snape in pain via memories, but they'd always seemed surreal. This was different. Knowing that speaking would break the ceasefire, Harry remained silent.

"I loved your mother so much," he whispered. "My mum and dad were always arguing about something, so I took refuge in hiding away in secret places...the attic, this room, a copse of trees near the park down the way, down by the river, and even in the mill.

"Your mum attracted me right away. Her smile was simply carefree. From the first moment I saw it, it gave me hope. I knew that not everything was dark and dingy or ugly. Things could be colorful and beautiful and happy. I had to befriend her, even if her horrid sister was always about.

"And I did one day," he said, sounding proud. "You saw the day I told her she was a witch. I gave that to you."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I wish I could have known her. Even at that age, she seemed so..."

Snape nodded this time. "I strove to better myself, wanting to do good things with my life for her, and I knew that I could do anything with a friend such as Lily in my life. She was always supportive, never judgmental, and genuinely cared for me." He stood and strode over to the window, peeling back the thick curtain for a look out into the gloomy evening.

"Lily," he continued, "was all I ever wanted as I grew old enough to know what men need, and I don't mean sex. I wanted her to be my partner, my equal, my wife and lover, my everything." A sigh escaped his lips. "That was easier said than done. While her feelings for me did develop, I made bad choices and ultimately ruined any chance I could have had with her."

"I remember that."

"It wasn't only that, though that is definitely my worst memory." A hand lifted, and his fingers gently brushed the protective gauze on his throat. "Well, not now, of course, but for years. After she died, I thought I could make up for everything, thought I could live for what might have been and help you live because it's what she would have wanted."

"And I never appreciated it," Harry said sourly. "I do now."

"Don't get sentimental, Potter. I didn't do it for you." He spun around to face Harry. "You see, I hated that she chose you over life. For a long time I blamed you, hated you for that. He would have let her live. Don't you see?"

"She still wouldn't have been yours, Snape," Harry said firmly. "I don't think she would have just forgot her family that quickly and gone off to play house with you."

Snape winced. "I know that, but it doesn't stop the mind from wondering, does it? From having fantasies."

Shaking his head, Harry rose and walked over to where Snape stood and noticed for the first time that he was able to look the man directly in the eyes without so much as tilting his head. Had he grown so much over the last couple of years? He was glad for his height in that moment. It made him feel like the adult he was and made him feel like Snape's equal.

"I understand your feelings," he said. "I would have felt the same way if it were me, Snape." He blinked and looked away. "If I felt that way for someone as you did for my mum."

"Don't you?" Snape asked, stepping closer. "Just the other night you went to Ginevra, whom you proclaim to love."

"I do love her. I just..." He nodded. "You're right. I don't know what I was..."

"Explore that for a moment. What were you thinking just then?"

Since Snape seemed interested, Harry quietly said, "It seemed different."

It was Snape's turn to blink. "I see."

Harry laughed nervously. "This isn't about me. What did you do with yourself after my mum died? Are you a... er... virgin?"

Snape's lips twitched violently, and his head tilted back suddenly, his shoulders shaking with rich, deep laughter. His Adam's apple moved against his throat in his mirth, and when he gazed at Harry again, his black eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Of course not."

Blushing, Harry said, "Oh, right. I just thought that since you seemed to still, you know, love her that maybe you hadn't." Something dawned on him. "Hang on! Voldemort as much as told me that you'd moved on. He said that you'd realized there were other women for you, women with purer blood."

"There were other women, yes." He flashed what Harry perceived as a smug smile. "And for the last few years before this happened," he pointed to his neck, "there was a witch in Hogsmeade I could call upon for a few hours of passion if needed."

"Sorry. Just never imagined you, er... having a shag before." He caught the light splotches of red on Snape's cheeks and wondered why the man would blush. "You being my professor and all that."

"Oh, come now. Have you never speculated about any of your professors' sex lives before?"

They walked to the couch together and sat down comfortably, facing each other. "I have, I guess," Harry admitted with a sly grin.

"Who?" Severus asked.

"Hooch."

"Rolanda? Why her?"

"Well, I thought she might be the rough sort. She'd probably have the bloke tied to a Quidditch hoop tossing Bludgers at him." He shuddered. "I don't mind letting Ginny have her way with me, but I don't think I'd ever put up with that. I expect I rather like being the one who's doing the...bloody hell, did I just tell you that?"

Snape snickered lightly and waved away his words. "You did." An elegant eyebrow arched. "I always took you for the submissive sort I'm afraid."

"You've thought about me that way?" Harry asked incredulously.

"What? No! I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Snape was obviously flustered. "What I mean to say, Potter, is that... Say, did you not know that Rolanda has a female lover?"

"No! Anyone at Hogwarts?"

"Grubbly-Plank actually."

"I thought she was married."

"Widow."

"Wow! I hadn't thought of that."

That Snape had evaded his question hadn't slipped Harry's notice, but he wouldn't point it out. Instead, he decided to give a quiet confession of his own. "I lied before... when I said that I'd never thought about you doing the deed."

"Is that right?"

"I have." Harry shrugged. "Hang on! Does this mean we're talking again then? No more silent treatment? No more brooding over that wanker's Howler?"

Snape nodded and extended a hand. "I think we should stop this nonsense and make the best of the situation."

Harry grasped Snape's proffered hand firmly and shook it, realizing how warm and clammy the man's pale hands were. Poor sod's probably exhausted and needing his bed.

"I'm glad, and I'll try to respect your privacy." Noticing he still held Snape's hand, he released it abruptly and said, "Guess we should go on up to bed then." His eyes widened, and he blurted, "Separately of course."

Sneering, Snape said, "Perhaps you should drink that firewhiskey after all."

"How's the throat tonight? Any itching?"

"Not much."

"Let's see then," Harry said, scooting closer. With practiced fingers, he peeled away the bandage and studied the healing wound. He plucked away the tiny scrap of cloth packed into one of the slashes. "You won't need me to pack that anymore. It's about as good as the other. Now's just the time for the final healing." He smiled. "You'll be able to apply the salve yourself from here on out."

Strangely, to lose such an important responsibility disappointed Harry. His fingers lightly caressed the raised, bumpy flesh. Even after they had to cut out the parts that the venom destroyed, the skin had come back and would one day just be small, faded scars.

"Speaking of scars..." Snape began. A pale hand lifted and brushed away Harry's fringe so that his lightning bolt-shaped scar showed. Snape's index finger traced it slowly.

Harry's face inched closer to Snape's, and he was certain the man's face had moved forward as well, for their lips were only inches apart, their quickened breaths mingling. He couldn't bring himself to pull back, and his eyes, which had locked with Snape's, refused to lower.

Closer.

Snape never had finished the tale he'd started, had he? What had been the point of it before they'd gone off track?

Closer still. If he just tilted his head a little to the side, he'd be able to get where he needed...

Tap, tap, tap.

Both men jumped apart guiltily. Harry recovered first while Snape simply stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell's that?" he said, leaving the couch and heading to the window they'd both been standing at only minutes before. "A bloody owl."

"Weasley's owl," Snape said, finding his voice once Pigwidgeon flew in.

"Come here, idiot," Harry said, trying to snatch the letter from the owl's leg.

Instead, Pig landed on Snape's outstretched arm and allowed him to retrieve it. "Here you are, Potter."

"Thanks."

Harry frowned as he noticed Ginny's loopy longhand writing. Did that just happen? Was I about to kiss Snape? He'd have to examine those thoughts later. "It's from Gin," he said aloud and unrolled the parchment further.

Harry,

Ginny

"She wants me to go..." His words cut off abruptly when he noticed that Snape had slipped from the room. Damn. Swallowing thickly, he fetched a quill to reply that he'd be there.

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Severus paced the floor in his room until he heard a plank of wood starting to creak. He'd been about to kiss Harry Potter! How the hell had that happened anyway? He'd resolved to keep the brat at arm's length to make certain he'd not have any more strange thoughts or dreams, and then they'd ended up talking about sex and had nearly kissed.

What he couldn't believe was that Potter had been the one to initiate it.

"Right?" he wondered aloud. "Yes," he confirmed with a nod as he remembered the fingers caressing his neck, the burning look of need in his green eyes.

Confusion settled over him like a blanket. He'd never been attracted to any man in all his years, yet he knew without a doubt, now anyway, that he thought of Harry differently.

But I hate Potter! Why him? Why now? he fumed. How could hate develop into this shite? Hate was a very strong word, wasn't it? His feelings for his young husband were definitely not loathing, not now.

"Oh, my God," he said, horrified. "I've gone and done it now."

He'd thought of Harry as his husband, not as the brat or even as Potter. "It's being in such close proximity with him all this time. He was a right pest at St. Mungo's and now this. Married for a month! It's misguided appreciation for the care he's been giving me, for keeping me out of Azkaban, and for pretending he cares."

He does care, a voice said. He told you as much, remember?

But Harry was involved with Ginevra, still in a relationship that was quite deep. The girl had loved Harry for years and had bided her time patiently, waiting for her chance to have him, and though Harry had left her for a long time, everyone knew that the pair would marry and have a family one day.

How could they deal with this without causing hurt feelings on either side? And deal with what exactly? While he didn't hate Harry, he knew that he didn't love him. Love was an equally strong word. His feelings bordered on the baser side of things...affection, appreciation and, dare he admit, lust?

"It's simple. Nothing has to change. We'll continue this farce as long as it takes, we'll get along amicably while we're here, and then when the time is right, we'll announce that we'd be better off going our separate ways."

Severus hoped it would be that simple. The worst part of this was the awareness that those beautiful eyes, his favorite shade of green, were no longer what he'd always considered Lily's eyes.

They were now Harry's eyes, and oddly enough, he didn't care that they were framed in glasses much like the style James Potter had worn when he'd lived. Panic gripped him viciously in that instant, for he couldn't conjure his beloved's face. It was only Harry's that he saw.

"FUCK!" he roared.

Something would have to give. In a few days when he was completely back in top form, he decided that a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks were in order. Rosmerta could remind him of what he'd been missing all those years...could take away this strange attraction to his Lily's son.

AN: Thanks go to blue_paris and soul bound for reading this for me!