Entry tags:

2008_fic, ewe, fic4:lesyeuxverts, frottage, snape/harry

Snapely Holidays Holiday entry 2 of 3, 'Under Any Other Circumstances' (SS/HP)

Fic for: lesyeuxverts
Title: Under Any Other Circumstances
Author: r_grayjoy


Pairing Snape/Harry
Rating NC-17
Warnings Post-war, EWE.
Summary When Harry discovers that Snape is still alive, he's determined to see him. Getting Snape to even let him through the front door of his home, however, requires a unique set of circumstances.
Disclaimer The world of HP and its characters belongs to Rowling. The author of this fic has borrowed them for the purposes of storytelling. No profit was or will be made.
Word count 6,550
Author Notes Thanks first and foremost to the long-suffering snapelyholidays mods. Heaps of love and chocolate to my betas and everyone who cheered me on while this fic fought me every step of the way.

lesyeuxverts, it took me ages to come up with this bunny, but I finally took one of your suggestions, gave it a twist, and ran with it. I hope it pleases.

Under Any Other Circumstances

"This is where he lives?" Harry asked, standing across the narrow road and gazing speculatively at the small, unassuming Muggle house.

Minerva McGonagall nodded tersely, her lips pressed into a tight line. "Harry, are you certain you wish to--"

"Yes," Harry cut in before McGonagall could complete the question. "I want to. I have to."

McGonagall nodded again. "Very well. But remember what I told you."

"I know, I know. No mentioning the war, or Voldemort, or any of that stuff."

"The man deserves some peace." After a short pause, McGonagall added, "He isn't the person you remember."

"We'll see," Harry said. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and began walking toward the brick home.

* * * * *

Professor McGongall peered sternly down her nose at Harry from across her desk, making Harry feel like a first year who'd been caught breaking the no flying rule. Harry reminded himself that he was no longer a student and thus couldn't be given detention, and waited for McGonagall to explain the purpose of this meeting. As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long.

"Harry, let me get right to the point," McGonagall said. "I'm concerned about you."

"About me?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why?"

"I hear from a number of sources that you've become quite interested in Severus Snape of late."

Harry frowned. "I'm not interested in him," he attempted to explain. "It's just that I think he's still alive. Only no one believes me."

"Your friends are worried about you. They think you're becoming obsessed with this notion."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "Look, it makes sense. We never found his body, right? His portrait never appeared in the Headmasters' office. Snape survived years as a spy in Voldemort's inner circle. He wasn't the sort to go into a situation unprotected and unprepared, you know?"

"Harry, you yourself reported Professor Snape's death to all of us. You witnessed it."

"I know, but…" Harry paused to chew his bottom lip. "I might not have seen what I thought I saw at the time. I mean, I didn't exactly stop to check his pulse…"

McGonagall sighed. "It's natural to want to blame yourself for his death, but there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You're living too much in the past. You need to let it go and focus on your future now."

"That's not it," Harry objected. "I don't blame myself for anything. I honestly think he's still alive, and I'm going to find him." He crossed his arms in a stubborn gesture.

McGonagall removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You're truly not going to let this go?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm not."

"In that case, there's something I must tell you."

"Oh?" Harry asked, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward.

"You are correct. Severus Snape is alive."

* * * * *

The march to the front step of the house seemed to take an eternity. When they reached the door at last, Harry glanced once at McGonagall, then raised his hand to knock. A few agonizing moments later, the door swung inward and the imposing figure of Severus Snape stood peering out at them.

Snape looked much as Harry remembered, if perhaps a bit older and more worn. He was still too thin, his nose still too large; a curtain of dark, lank hair didn't quite succeed in hiding a fine web of silvery scars on his neck. Harry fought down the urge to touch his own scar and shudder at the memory of what had happened in the Shrieking Shack.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," Snape said before his gaze slid over and landed on Harry. Harry waited for the customary barrage of insults, but none came. There was no look of loathing, no spark of recognition in Snape's eyes at all.

"Severus," McGonagall greeted. "It's good to see you. This is the young man I mentioned in my letter," she said, nodding toward Harry.

"Ah, indeed," Snape said noncommittally. "Please, come in." Harry was vaguely astonished when Snape stepped aside and gestured for them to enter his home.

Harry followed McGonagall inside, and Snape said, "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll start tea."

As Snape disappeared into the kitchen, Harry had the opportunity to take in the room into which he'd been ushered. It was a small sitting room, simple but surprisingly cozy, with a sofa, wingback chair, and small table in the center and a fireplace to one side. The walls were entirely lined with book cases, their contents appearing neat and meticulously organized. Harry didn't know what he'd been expecting -- cobwebs and bats, perhaps -- but somehow this was very Snape, he decided.

Settling a bit uneasily on the sofa beside McGonagall, Harry waited for Snape to return. A few minutes passed before Snape reentered the sitting room bearing a tea tray. He placed the tray on the table, then sat in the chair and looked across to Harry.

"I must apologize for not remembering you, Mr...?"

"Harry. Just call me Harry." The idea of Snape drawling "Mr. Potter" at him at every available opportunity didn't appeal to Harry in the slightest, whether Snape remembered him or not.

"Very well... Harry. Minerva tells me you were one of my students."

"Er, yes," Harry said. "I was your student for six years."

"I must have been one of your favorite professors if you've gone to the trouble of coming to visit me," Snape remarked.

"Well, uhm, not exactly," Harry hedged. "To tell you the truth, we never really got along."

"Indeed," Snape said, leaning back into his chair with an expression of mild surprise. "Then I suppose you disrupted my classroom on a regular basis and I gave you detention at every turn."

Harry smiled wryly. "Something like that, yeah." It wasn't entirely the case, but Harry wasn't about to tell Snape that he'd despised Harry and attempted to make his life miserable for no good reason.

"In that case," Snape said, "one has to wonder why you would have bothered to come here at all." His tone was mild, but his eyes locked on Harry's and seemed to bore into them, seeking an answer. In that instant, Harry felt certain that Snape was as perceptive and calculating as ever.

Willing Snape to see his sincerity, Harry held his gaze steady and said, "We might not have got along when I was your student, but later I came to appreciate everything you'd done for me. For all of us."

Snape's expression didn't change. He was silent for one brief moment before he nodded his head slightly then turned his attention to McGonagall. "So Minerva. Tell me the latest news from the school at which I used to teach. How is the search for a new Herbology professor going?"

Just like that, Snape changed the tide of the conversation, and the rest of the visit was spent with Snape and McGonagall pleasantly chatting about the recent goings-on at Hogwarts. McGonagall carefully avoided any reference to the war or the ongoing rebuilding efforts at the school, and Snape gave no indication that he was aware of any such events. As Harry sat in silence, he found himself studying Snape, fascinated by the ways in which he was both similar to, and distinctly unlike, the harsh professor that Harry remembered.

As the brief visit drew to a close, Harry couldn't say what possessed him to abruptly ask, "Professor… Would it be all right if I came again sometime next week?"

Harry held his breath as he waited for Snape's reply. After a long pause, Snape said, "I cannot think of any reason to deny you such a request."

"Great," Harry said, oddly relieved. "Then I'll see you again soon."

As they rose from their seats, Harry extended his hand to Snape. He couldn't help but be a bit surprised when Snape accepted the gesture and they shook hands for the first time in all the years of their acquaintance. Harry looked across at Snape and suddenly realized that they were of a height now. When had that happened?

Perhaps Severus Snape wasn't such an imposing figure after all.

* * * * *

"What?!" Harry said. "What do you mean he's alive? How? Where is he? How many people know about this??"

"One thing at a time," McGonagall said, firmly taking charge of the conversation once more. Harry sat back in his chair, anxious to have his questions answered but aware that he would not be able to rush the information out of his former Head of House.

"After you reported Severus' death to me, I discreetly asked Kingsley Shacklebolt and Madam Pomfrey to investigate," McGonagall explained. "They went to the Shrieking Shack immediately and found Severus alive, but barely. Poppy later determined that he'd been taking an antivenin in anticipation of just such an attack. So it would seem you weren't entirely wrong about Severus not going into situations unprepared.

"Nonetheless, he'd lost a great deal of blood and his recovery was very difficult. We nearly lost him a number of times. If Kingsley and Poppy had arrived any later than they did, or if Poppy were not so skilled as she is, I'm certain Severus would no longer be with us."

"But he is. With us. Right? So where is he?" Harry asked, glancing around the office as though he expected Snape to materialize out of the shadows.

"Someplace safe," McGonagall said. Crossing her hands on her desk, she leaned forward and fixed Harry with a severe look. "Only four people are aware that he is alive; Kingsley, Madam Pomfrey, myself, and now you. It must remain that way. If the wizarding world at large were to find out that he's alive, it could put him at terrible risk."

"You think so? Even though I've made sure that everyone knows about everything he did for us and which side he was really on all that time?"

"Not everyone is convinced of his heroism. The Wizengamot would almost certainly still want him to stand trial for his use of an Unforgivable curse. That is, assuming one of Voldemort's former supporters didn't find him and kill him first."

"I suppose you're right," Harry said, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Still, knowing Snape, I'm surprised he hasn't marched right into the middle of the Ministry and demanded his Order of Merlin."

"Perhaps he would if…" McGonagall frowned. "Harry, there's something else you should know."

Concerned by those ominous words, Harry looked at McGonagall questioningly.

"When he finally woke up, he didn't remember anything," McGonagall said.

"Oh. Well that's not too unusual, right? I've heard lost of stories about people having accidents and waking up in hospital and not remembering what happened or how they got there."

"No, Harry. I mean he doesn't remember anything."

* * * * *

"So you've returned."

Snape spoke from the front doorway of his home. He stood with one hand on either side of the doorframe, his body blocking the entrance, and looked out at Harry with an inscrutable expression. Apparently he was back to being imposing.

"I told you I would," Harry said, trying not to sound too defensive.

"Indeed you did."

As Snape continued to stare at him without saying anything more, Harry grew distinctly uncomfortable. "So. Er. Did I come at a bad time? Are you busy?"

"No," Snape said, and shook his head slightly as though he were clearing it of a persistent thought. "No, of course not. Please, come in. I was just about to make tea." He stepped aside smoothly and gestured for Harry to enter. Harry was caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor, but he quickly followed Snape inside.

As before, Harry sat on the sofa while Snape disappeared into the kitchen to make tea. Snape returned a few minutes later, this time levitating the tea tray ahead of himself.

"Oh," Harry said, "You remember how to do magic!"

"As you can see," Snape said, lowering the tray to the table smoothly.

"Why is it you can remember that if you can't remember anything about your life?"

Snape took a seat across from Harry. "For the same reason that I can remember how to speak or make tea, I would assume."

"Oh. Right." Although Snape didn't seem especially put out, Harry felt foolish for having brought up the potentially touchy subject of Snape's memory loss without thinking. Embarrassed, he busied himself with preparing a cup of tea.

The pair sipped their tea in silence for what felt like an eternity to Harry. Desperate for a topic of conversation that wasn't off limits, he finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I have a wedding next week."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You're getting married?"

Harry nearly choked on his tea. "No! No, not me. My best friends are getting married. To each other. It's about time, really. They've been mad about each other since we were kids."

"You've known them that long? Then I suppose these friends of yours were the bane of my existence when I was a professor as well."

With a humorless smile, Harry replied, "Not as much as I was, I'd say."

"Do they know you've visited me?" Snape asked, suddenly looking interested.

"No, I haven't told them anything." Belatedly realizing how his words might be taken, he added, "Not that I'm ashamed of it or anything. Professor McGonagall has just asked me to keep quiet about it for now. She doesn't want too many people, er, bothering you."

"Yes, she does seem rather… protective," Snape said, frowning.

"It's only fair, really," Harry said, shrugging. "You looked out for all of us all those years. I suppose she's only trying to return the favor."

"Hmm," was Snape's only response before he looked away and appeared to consider Harry's words.

Worried that the conversation would lapse into uncomfortable silence again, Harry quickly resumed talking. "I'm the best man at the wedding. Which is an honor, of course. But I'm terrified I'm going to lose the ring or something equally stupid and disastrous."

"Yes, I see your point," Snape said.

"And I have to make the toast to the couple!" Harry went on. "I'm terrible at public speaking and have no idea what to say."

"If the wedding is next week, you'd best figure it out quickly."

Harry groaned, set his tea cup down, and buried his head in his hands.

"It can't be that difficult. Why don't you just say the same thing you said to me?" Snape suggested. "That they've been "mad about each other," as you put it, for years, and this union is long overdue. They deserve each other, I'm sure…"

Grinning, Harry tilted his head up to look at Snape. "That's pretty funny."

"What is?" Snape asked, sounding as though he were a bit peeved to not be in on the joke.

"You giving advice to me," Harry said. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hmph. I shall endeavor to refrain from doing so in future."

Snape suddenly sounded very much like his old self, and oddly, it set Harry at ease. "Professor," he said, "Would you mind if I came again next week, after the wedding? So I can tell you how it went?"

"You're not bored with me yet?" Snape asked.

"I've called you a lot of things over the years, but "boring" has never been one of them," Harry said.

"Then once again I cannot think of a reason to deny you."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sorry about that."

* * * * *

"Well, how was the wedding?"

It was the day after Ron and Hermione's wedding, and Harry once more found himself sitting in Snape's home with a cup of tea in his hands. He'd received a warmer reception from Snape this time -- as warm as Snape ever got at any rate, Harry figured -- and he felt considerably more at ease.

"It went really well," Harry said. "Ron was so nervous that I didn't have time to worry about myself. He looked so awful, for a while I thought he would sick up all over the cake! But there were no serious blunders in the end. And no, before you ask, I didn't lose the ring."

"Thank goodness for small favors," Snape quipped. "And how was your speech?"

"Everyone said I did great, so it must have been all right. Thanks for your advice on that, by the way. It really helped. I was definitely over-thinking it."

"You're welcome," Snape said. "But don't expect it to happen again."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Somehow it was comforting to know that Snape, although he had lost his memories, had not lost his sarcasm in the least.

"What about you?" Snape asked. "Will you be next to follow in your friends' respectable footsteps and immerse yourself in matrimonial bliss?"

"What, me?" Harry said. "No, definitely not."

"There's no serious girlfriend, then?" Snape pressed.

"There's no girlfriend at all!"

"Hmm. How very unexpected."

"Well, there was a girlfriend, for quite a while, actually. But," Harry shrugged, "I guess it didn't work out."

"Oh? And why didn't it?"

Harry looked into his tea cup while he decided upon an answer to Snape's question. At last he said, "You know, when Ginny and I split up last year, we told everyone it was because we weren't ready to settle down yet. We were too young, we both wanted careers first, that sort of thing. But the truth is…" He looked up from his tea to Snape once more. "Have you ever wanted something really badly for a very long time? But then, when you got it, you realized it wasn't what you wanted after all?"

Snape met Harry's gaze for a drawn out moment before he replied, "I wouldn't know about that, regrettably."

"Oh. Of course not," Harry said, shaking his head. He was startled at how quickly he had forgotten that Snape had lost his memories -- or that the man sitting across from him was Snape at all, really. The very notion of relating his relationship woes to Snape the snarling, Gryffindor-hating Potions Master made Harry grin at the absurdity.

"What?" Snape asked, frowning at Harry's change in expression.

With a chuckle, Harry said, "Nothing. It's only that there was a time when you would have just as soon dumped a jar of lizard spleens on my head as listened to me mope about my love life."

"Preposterous," Snape grunted. "That would have been a dreadful waste of lizard spleens."

* * * * *

"Anything?" Harry asked. "You mean… Are you saying he has complete amnesia?"

"I'm afraid so," McGonagall replied. "We don't know the precise cause. We can only assume it's a result of the terrible physical shock his body sustained. Poppy initially thought that it might wear off fairly quickly, but it's now been well over a year, and he has shown no sign of regaining any memory whatsoever."

"So he doesn't remember the war, or Voldemort, or Professor Dumbledore, or being a spy. Or my mum, or Hogwarts, or me." Harry's mind whirled as he attempted to process this information. He couldn't imagine Snape being Snape without those things.

"No," McGonagall said. "And to be honest, Harry, I believe it might be for the best."

Harry nodded slowly. He didn't need to be told that Snape would have very few pleasant memories to regain.

"I need to see him," Harry said.

McGonagall sighed. "I expected you would say that." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but McGonagall held up her hand, silencing him. "I will allow it. Under two conditions. First, you must not let anyone know that he is alive or that you have seen him."

"Of course," Harry said.

"Second, you must not talk about the war or attempt to remind him of his prior life. If he regains his memory, he will do so in his own time. For now, he has earned the repose."

* * * * *

"…but of course, they thought you were trying to kill me. So Hermione snuck up behind you from beneath the bleachers and set your robes on fire. Not exactly subtle of her, but it was definitely effective!"

"Well, I am given to understand that subtlety is not a Gryffindor's strong suit," Snape said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smirk.

"As much as I might like to, I suppose I really can't argue with that," Harry chuckled.

Harry never would have dared to bring up such topics with the old Snape for fear that he'd be hexed inside out before he could say "oops, bad idea." However, the new Snape (as Harry sometimes thought of him now) seemed to be amused by the tales of Harry's more dubious exploits. Harry, too, enjoyed recounting the stories to Snape, since it was a bit like confessing his misdeeds and reliving fond memories at the same time.

Over the past weeks, Harry had continued to return to Snape's home, and his visits had gradually become more frequent and longer in duration. Somewhere along the way, the usual tea had begun to be replaced by beer or wine from time to time. While Snape was still as sarcastic as ever, Harry had developed an appreciation for his quick wit, and he found himself increasingly drawn to Snape's company.

Yet, it was growing more and more difficult for Harry to talk to Snape without making reference to the war. For better or worse, it had been a huge part of his life for many years, and it wasn't easy to simply omit it. And, although Harry didn't wish to dwell excessively on those events, he sometimes thought that it might be nice to be able to discuss them with the person who was probably best able to understand what Harry had endured.

Except that Snape wasn't that person anymore. Harry still couldn't decide how he felt about that. On one hand, Snape never would have allowed Harry to set foot through the front door of his home, let alone visit repeatedly, had he remembered who Harry was. But on the other hand, without his memories, Snape could never know how thankful Harry was for everything that he'd done.

With a sigh, Harry set his half-empty glass of beer aside and leaned back in his seat. "Professor," he said, "Don't you ever wonder about your old life?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you never ask me about the past. It's like you're not even trying to remember."

"Trying to remember doesn't seem to have any particular effect, and in fact appears to be a rather fruitless endeavor," Snape said, his tone dry. "I prefer to simply engage in something that passes for normal conversation. All things considered, I should think you would prefer that as well."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry said. "Even so… Look, there's something I want to say. I know Professor McGonagall doesn't want me to talk about this, but…" He trailed off and shrugged.

"Ah. I'd suspected she'd given you some instructions of that nature. I am also given to understand that a Gryffindor is not prone to following instructions terribly well. I suppose you'd best just spit it out, whatever it is."

"Professor, that's the first time you've ever given me permission to break a rule!" Harry laughed at the irony.

"Judging from the stories you tell, this is the first time your rule-breaking hasn't been directly injurious to me."

"Point taken." Harry grinned briefly, then turned somber again. "There was a war," he said. "Against a powerful dark wizard and his followers. You were a hero of that war. You did more than any of us, sacrificed more than anyone to stop Voldemort. I know you don't remember it, but I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did, even if you didn't do it for me. I think you're probably the bravest person I've ever met."

Snape steepled his fingers and looked past Harry at some distant point. He was silent for so long that Harry began to worry that he'd said something terribly wrong. "Professor..?" he asked tentatively.

"Harry," Snape said, abruptly focusing on Harry once more. "I've not been a professor in some time. You may call me Severus."

* * * * *

Harry yawned again.

"Am I boring you?" Snape asked in that tone which Harry had come to interpret as amusement rather than true ire.

Flashing a groggy smile, Harry said, "'Course not. Told you before, boring's about the last thing I'd ever call you. 'S just really late. I ought to go, I suppose."

Harry's visits with Snape had grown longer still, and the two frequently talked late into the evening. The conversation seemed more relaxed now that Harry didn't have to be constantly wary to avoid any mention of the war. This time, however, Harry had lost track of the time and had stayed longer than he'd intended.

He'd also drank more wine than he'd intended. He realized the latter when he rose to leave and the room spun sharply to the left. Harry leaned to the right to compensate, and it was only Snape's quick reflexes that prevented him from ending in an ungainly sprawl on the floor. As he stumbled into Snape's outstretched arms, Harry giggled. "There you go saving me again. My hero."

"Old habits die hard," Snape said. "Next time I should let you fall on your scrawny arse."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "My arse isn't scrawny!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I stand corrected." He placed one hand on Harry's chest and gave him a firm shove, sending him flopping back down onto the sofa. "You're in no condition to Apparate. Your ample arse will end up in Aberdeen."

Head lolling back into the cushions, Harry said, "Be damned if I'm taking the Knight Bus."

"You're sleeping here," Snape declared. In a muttered tone, he added, "I hope my sofa gives you a backache."

"I'm sure I deserve it," Harry said, already stretching out and making himself comfortable. As he closed his eyes, he heard Snape snort lightly, then felt a blanket being tossed over him. A thought came to him then and he said, "Hey, Sev'rus. Why were you surprised when I told you I didn't have a girlfriend?"

"I assumed you were still in denial," Snape deadpanned. "Go to sleep, you inebriate."

"Ha. Ha," Harry managed to mumble, already following Snape's order.

All was darkness and silence for some time, and Harry thought he might have dreamed it when he heard Snape say, "And because I simply cannot imagine anyone not wanting you. Miss Weasley is a colossal fool."

* * * * *

When Harry awoke on Snape's sofa, he didn't care about much of anything besides the herd of hippogriffs tap dancing on his skull. Once the pounding subsided, however, he remembered Snape's final words from the night before. Although the memory was vague, the more Harry thought about it, the more he was certain he hadn't dreamed it.

Again and again Harry turned Snape's words over in his head, but no matter how much he examined them, he kept coming back to the same conclusion. There was only one possible way to interpret Snape's declaration. Yet the notion was completely absurd. Snape couldn't honestly be attracted to Harry… could he?

Under any other circumstances, Harry would have declared it impossible. But Snape no longer remembered ever having hated Harry; no longer remembered their past animosity and many confrontations. Over the last few months, they'd come to know each other as friends and equals. It wasn't entirely out of the question that Snape could have developed some… feelings.

The question, then, was how did Harry feel about Snape? And what, if anything, should he do about it? They seemed to get on well enough now, but if Snape ever regained his memories, he'd almost certainly hex Harry into oblivion. Harry wasn't sure it was worth the risk. Despite appearances to the contrary, he didn't have a death wish.

"…so I've decided that the best course of action would be to give up modern comforts, move to New Guinea, and run naked with the native wildlife for the remainder of my days."

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry said.

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. "Exactly when did you stop paying attention? Was it before or after I said, "Good evening, Harry; do come in?""

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Severus, really. My mind has been on something else lately."

"Whatever it is, I do hope it's at least--"

"Did you mean what you said the other night?" Harry asked suddenly.

Clearly taken aback, Snape blinked. "I don't suppose you could be more specific?"

"Did you mean what you said when I asked you why you were surprised that I didn't have a girlfriend?" Harry clarified.

"What, when I implied that you came across as a flaming shirt-lifter upon first meeting?" Snape asked. "Yes, I'm afraid it's true."

"No, the part that came after that," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're on about." Snape sounded just a bit too defensive to Harry's ears.

"Yes you do. You said that you couldn't imagine anyone not wanting me, and that Ginny was a fool."

"I most certainly did not," Snape insisted, but the flush blooming on his pale cheeks said otherwise.

In that instant, Harry knew with complete certainty that he hadn't imagined Snape's answer that night, and that he'd interpreted it correctly. He also knew what he wanted to do about it. "You did." Harry spoke the words very softly, but with absolute conviction.

Slowly, Harry stood and took two paces forward, coming to a stop before Snape's chair. He leaned down until his hands met the armrests of the chair and his face was mere inches from Severus'. Again he asked, "Did you mean it?"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest and his legs trembled as he waited for Snape's response. Gryffindor courage only went so far. He watched as something like uncertainty flashed through Snape's dark eyes. Then, barely above a whisper, Snape said, "Yes."

It was all the encouragement Harry required. He moved forward until his lips met Snape's, the barest of brushes, a question more than a demand. In answer, Snape brought one hand up to cradle the back of Harry's neck, held him firmly in place, and deepened the kiss.

Then Snape was grabbing fistfuls of Harry's clothing, pulling Harry to him roughly. Harry complied eagerly, climbing into the chair until he was straddling Snape's thighs. Suddenly Snape's hands were everywhere, tugging at Harry's clothing, tangling in his hair, and it was all Harry could do to just hold on to Snape and remember to breathe.

The speed with which Harry's cock rose only served to prove how right this was, how much Harry wanted this. With a low moan, he rocked forward to rub against Snape's body, seeking friction, and immediately found an answering hardness. Snape gasped at the motion, and Harry's cock throbbed in his denims.

Losing any semblance of patience, Harry tore at the fastenings of Snape's robes, unmindful of the possibility of lost buttons or ripped fabric. Apparently determined not to be the only one exposed, Snape reached for the placket of Harry's trousers, popped the button and pulled down the zip. In the race to see who could get the other's prick free first, Harry won. As he wrapped his fingers around Snape and felt him twitch in his hand, he wasn't certain whether the resulting groan came from Snape or himself.

Harry began to stroke Snape, running his thumb over the tip, smearing the copious fluid he found there. Snape's head dropped back and his fingers dug hard into the arms of the chair. Harry's own neglected cock bobbed and jerked in the air, and abruptly Harry developed an idea.

Shifting forward a bit, Harry aligned his cock with Snape's and encircled them both in his hands. Harry looked down, fascinated by the view of the two of them pressed against each other in his grip. He quickly found a rhythm, their mingled precome making everything slick, making hot, wet sounds to accompany moans and pants.

Snape closed his own hands over Harry's, increasing the pressure. Breathing hard, they moved together, thrusting up into Harry's grip. Harry felt Snape tremble beneath him, every muscle taut as a bowstring. "Harry," Snape gasped. "I…"

"God, yes," Harry groaned.

Snape made a strangled noise in his throat as he came hard. Hot fluid spurted up, landed on Snape's chest, flooded Harry's hands. It was too much for Harry. Releasing Snape, he wrapped his fingers around himself and tugged frantically. "Oh god, oh god," he chanted mindlessly, just before he bucked forward and added his own come to Snape's.

Harry collapsed against Snape, utterly spent. Some indeterminate amount of time passed as their pulses slowed and their breathing returned to normal. At some point, Snape had the presence of mind to cast a cleaning charm and readjust their clothing. It was fairly impressive, really, since Harry was still attempting to remember how to speak.

"Wow," Harry said at last. "That was… I just… wow."

"Indeed," Snape said, running his hands idly up Harry's back. "As eloquent as usual, Mr. Potter, but in this instance I have to agree with the underlying sentiment."

Chuckling, Harry rested his forehead against Snape's shoulder. Then the import of Snape's words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Abruptly tensing, Harry slid off Snape's lap and began backing away slowly. "Mr. Potter?" he repeated, shaking his head. "I never told you my last name."

"Harry, wait," Snape said, not moving from the chair.

"You bastard! You've been faking it! All this time?!" Harry continued to back up until he was stopped by the front door.

"Harry, listen to me--"

"No!" Harry shouted. "No, I've listened to you enough! I've listened to you for months while you've lied to me!"

"I haven't lied to you," Snape said.

"Oh, sure! You haven't lied. You've just failed to include a few minor details!" Fuming and completely unable to articulate how very manipulated and betrayed he felt, Harry settled for shouting, "Fuck you, Snape!" Then he spun and reached for the doorknob.

Before Harry could fumble the door open, Snape vaulted from his chair and flew across the room. "Harry, wait, please," he said, grabbing Harry's arm. "It wasn't my intention to deceive you. Don't leave. I'm sorry!"

Startled by Snape's ardor, Harry released the doorknob and turned. As he looked into Snape's openly anguished face, he suddenly remembered a vision of a much younger Snape standing outside the Gryffindor common room, begging a red-haired girl to forgive him. "I'm sorry," Snape said again. Harry's ire melted away.

"Okay," Harry said. "Okay. But… Severus… Why?"

Dropping Harry's arm, Snape sighed and began to pace the small room. "Self-preservation," he said. "When I first awoke, I truly didn't recall much of what had happened. Minerva and Pomfrey assumed my memory loss was greater than it was, and I didn't see any reason to dissuade them in this belief. By pretending amnesia, I could ensure that they would keep my existence secret while supplying me a certain amount of information about the wizarding world."

"And if you ever decided to disappear without a trace," Harry said, "you'd catch them completely off guard and no one would ever find you."

"Yes, that as well," Snape conceded.

"So why didn't you tell me the truth?" Harry asked.

"I didn't expect you to keep coming back."

"But I did," Harry said.

Snape shrugged. "And then I grew… accustomed to things the way they were."

Feeling his anger spike again, Harry said, "You continued to lie to me because you were accustomed to it?"

"I didn't lie," Snape insisted. He huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms, but the gesture looked defensive to Harry. "We were getting on well enough. I didn't see the point in complicating matters. You seemed to be content with our association."

Gradually, Harry began to understand what Snape wasn't saying. "You thought it would ruin everything if you told me you remembered it all. You thought I'd see you differently," he said.

Snape issued a faint snort, but did not argue with Harry's assessment.

As Harry left the front door and moved towards Snape again, he asked, "Why did you care that much?"

For several moments, it seemed as though Snape wouldn't answer, but at last he said, "You were the only one who didn't wish to coddle me, nor did you attempt to use my "amnesia" for your own benefit. You were always surprisingly forthright."

Harry couldn't help it. The hilarity of the situation struck him, and he nearly doubled over with uproarious laughter. Snape's frown deepened to a full-fledged scowl. "I'm pleased to know I've provided you with such an ample source of amusement these past months," he said, his voice dangerously cool.

"Severus, no, it's not that," Harry said, shaking his head and attempting to gain control over his mirth. "It's just… You have to see the irony. You came to likeme because I was honest with you, so you tried to keep me around by being dishonest? I think there might have been a tiny flaw in your plan!'

"I do not need you to point out the irony to me, you cheeky brat. I'm shocked you even know what the word means," Snape groused. However, Harry could tell that his true anger had been defused.

Still snickering, Harry said, "Oh, it must have killed you when I showed up on your front doorstep and you had to be nice to me!"

"You have no idea," Snape said.

"You completely deserved it, you know."

Snape's features softened as he looked at Harry and said, "No, I'm quite sure I didn't."

Feeling his face heat, Harry slid his arms around Snape. "So what happens next?" he asked.

"Next? You continue to visit me on a regular basis. Sooner or later, I imagine your presence might trigger a resurgence of my memories. Perhaps the strain of keeping our association a secret will eventually prove too great for you, and you'll tell a few trustworthy individuals that I am alive. You'll confess this to me, of course. And then, if those individuals have taken the news reasonably well, maybe -- just maybe, mind you -- you'll be able to convince me to reveal myself to the rest of the world."

Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment. "You've actually thought about this," he said.

"I've merely considered a variety of possibilities."

"Well. I'm better at taking things one step at a time than thinking several moves ahead, personally," Harry said. "For right now, I'll just settle for spending the night. May I?"

"Once again, Mr. Potter, I cannot think of any reason to deny you," Snape replied. Smirking, he added, "Besides, if I haven't managed to rid myself of you these past months, I don't imagine you'll take no for an answer and leave now."

"Under the circumstances, I imagine you're right," Harry said. "And don't you forget it."

END