Fic: If You Ask Me Why Title: If You Ask Me Why Author:gorgeousbowneye Giftee:proftlb Word Count: ~6820 Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Harry/Snape Warnings: Death (not a main character), M/M sex scene, possibly chan with Harry as 16, angst. Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: “If you ask me why, I couldn’t answer. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. It just happened.” A love story. Author's Notes: Thanks to B, E, and Y for the beta. This was inspired from a recent death in my family, my grandmother who passed away recently. I was quite close to her and so dealing with that was hard. In a sudden hit of inspiration, this came out of me. I don’t quite know how, but it did. So I hope you enjoy it, and Merry Christmas for 2008.
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If You Ask Me Why
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If you ask me why, I couldn’t answer. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. It just happened. Slytherins are notorious for being cunning, so perhaps I can put it down to their manipulative ways. It still doesn’t change anything.
-
“Mr Potter, please tell me what colour a proper mood-altering potion should be by the end of the third stage,” came the sneer over his shoulder.
“Silver, Professor Snape.”
“And pray tell, what colour is yours?”
“Puke green....”
“Indeed. One would think that it isn’t too much to ask for a sixth year student to be able to read. I have it written on the board, have said it twice, and it is in your text. The Mandrake is to be crushed to a complete powder before adding, otherwise the potion will be completely ruined due to its rough texture. This is the third occasion this term where you have utterly destroyed a potion, Mr Potter. Detention, tonight, eight o’clock. Do not be late or there will be more where that came from.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, Snape walked away, off to terrorise Neville no doubt, as his cauldron was practically bubbling over. Harry sighed. Potions had been more tense and frustrating than usual, with Snape constantly in a foul mood around him. And now he had detention. Honestly, he could have sworn his Mandrake was a powder, but oh well. This potion was a complete failure, considering it took five lessons to brew and there would be no chance of catching up. Might as well just sit and waste time for the rest of the lesson.
Finally it was over and he could escape. Bloody Snape, bloody detention.
-
They say seeing death does funny things to people. I’ve seen death, and it changes you. There isn’t anything funny about it. It’s just cold, harsh, final. It really is the end.
And then he was there. Just there.
-
Harry walked through the mostly empty corridors on his way to detention. Most of the students were tucked up in their common rooms by now, doing their homework, chatting. The usual. He huffed in annoyance that Snape had to drag him out of his common room and down to the dank, dirty dungeons for a late detention. Just like him to ruin a cosy evening.
He reached the bottom of the steps to the dungeons and was heading over to the Potions classroom when a crash sounded in Professor Snape’s office, followed by cursing. Not the magic kind of cursing, the average swearing kind of cursing. Coming from Snape’s office.
“Weird,” Harry thought. He knocked on the classroom door and found there was no answer, so wandered on over to the door to the office.
Knock knock.
No answer.
“Hello?” Harry called. “Professor Snape?”
There was a muted pause like someone hovering on the other side of the door, wishing the person would go away.
“Professor Snape?”
“Blast it! Damn it, Potter, can’t you take a hint! I’m not in. No one’s at home, come back later!” came the dulcet tones of Snape through the door.
“But sir, you assigned me detention for this time and – ”
“I don’t care, Potter! Go back to your common room.”
“Snape, come on, let me in. Damnit!” Harry sighed and turned away from the door. He hung his head and pressed his face into his hands in exasperation. He took a deep breath and turned back to the door. “You can’t just do that and then block me out of your life! You’re a part of me now whether you like it or not!”
The door opened in a hurry and a very angry Professor Snape was now in the doorframe, robes billowing. His face was whiter than normal in fury. “That never happened! I suggest you put it out of your mind and never speak to me again, because you are a stupid little boy playing in things you don’t understand!”
“A stupid little boy? How can you say that after everything you know I’ve been through?”
“Easily. What you saw was just tip of the iceberg. Now get out of here. If anyone asks, you served detention washing caldrons.”
Harry scowled in frustration and ran his hand through his hair. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll just go shall I? No point in keeping around a stupid little boy to be a pain in your arse.” With that he turned on his heel and stomped off.
-
It started with a noise. A scream to be exact. One of those blood-curdling, ear-splitting screams that you only hear when something is terribly wrong. Of course I went running. That’s what I do. I run head on into trouble, try to save people, no matter the cost to my own person. This time, I wished I hadn’t. This time, everything changed.
-
“Harry! Harry! Wake up!”
Harry woke with a start, nearly crashing head into Ron.
“Whoa, not so fast,” Ron steadied. “You were having one of those dreams again weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered.
“Are you ever going to tell me what they’re about?”
“No.”
Ron sighed and walked back to his bed to get back to sleep.
“Whatever it is, Voldemort, whatever, you have to face your demons sometime. It’ll only get worse otherwise,” Ron said as slipped under the covers.
“And how do you suggest I do that, Ron? Just walk up to my dream and say, ‘Stop bothering me?’ It’s not that easy.”
“I never said it would be, just that you need to face it.”
There was silence for a long while until Ron’s breathing evened out and he was fast asleep. Only then did Harry let one tear fall, and whisper, “I tried. Oh God, how I tried.”
-
There was a girl. No one I knew, just a nameless student, another face in the crowd. And there was him. He had her by the throat, knife to her neck. I’d never thought physical violence would be his style, but there you have it. He smiled at me, and slowly dragged the blade across her jugular, deep red blood spilling over his fingers and soaking her white uniform shirt. He let her go, and she fell to the floor, limp. He pointed to two Death Eaters, and I only just now noticed them. They moved to the body, more knives in hand. I watched as they cut her open, and her entrails spilled onto the floor. The stench made me sick. I felt like falling to my knees and heaving. None of the training they gave me had prepared me for this.
And Voldemort laughed.
-
Harry walked down the aisle between the tables, heading for a seat on the Gryffindor table near Ron and Hermione. He glanced around at the students and saw a familiar blonde at the Slytherin table. Their eyes met, played battle for a few moments, then both looked away, back to their own lives.
“Hey, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, waving him over to their table. He shook off the feeling that comes with Malfoy and took his seat. “Ron tells me you didn’t sleep well again last night?”
Harry glared at Ron, as if to say ‘you traitor.’ Then he looked back to Hermione.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s always the same thing. You know, Voldemort and stuff.” He had become good at lying ever since the incident. Lying to his friends just didn’t seem to be such a big offence anymore. Nothing did in comparison.
“At least he’s gone. All that’s left are our memories,” Hermione said softly.
“Sometimes I think they’re worse than the real thing.”
“Harry – ”
“Look, don’t worry about it, all right? I’ll be OK, just like I always am. Forget it.”
“Mate, we’re just worried is all. Hermione and me have been trying and trying to bring you out of this shell and it just seems to be getting worse!”
“Please, Harry, we’re just asking you to trust that you can confide in us. We know that these things take time, but surely a problem shared is a problem halved?”
Harry just looked at them both with a hard stare and stood up and walked away.
-
It was the start of the year. I didn’t think anything would happen, especially not in the first week. All holidays the press had been going crazy with acts of violence that Voldemort had committed and not once did we think he would attack the school so soon. We all thought we had time. We thought wrong.
It was a Wednesday. I used to like Wednesdays, but now they just bring dread. First week back, Wednesday. That was a month ago. When it happened, everything was in an uproar for the first few weeks, but now, everything seems normal once again. But the rock is still there, still simmering under the surface, no matter how calm the water appears. People have break downs in the middle of class, nightmares in the dark. They jump at the tiniest noise. He may be gone, but he still won.
-
“Mr Potter, since you are no longer in line with the rest of the class after ruining your Potion last lesson, you may sit there and write me an essay on the proper preparations for the ingredients of the mood-altering potion and how the different variations affect the end result.” With that, Snape swarmed away.
He barely spared a glance for Harry.
Harry sighed. Just another regular Potions class. He bent to pull out parchment and a quill from his bag, but as he did so he noticed a slight twitch of his professor’s eyes in his direction. Having been caught looking, Snape quickly shifted his gaze, surely intending to dock more Gryffindor points.
But it meant something. It meant he was thinking about him. Maybe all was not lost.
Or maybe he was imagining things. Snape had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with him. What happened was just all part of the incident.
-
After killing and mutilating her, they just left her lying there, guts separated from the body, covered in blood and shit. I was still gagging on the smell. Voldemort walked towards me, blood covering his hands, which were outstretched, as if in supplication. It wasn’t though. He was showing me the blood covering him. The damage he’d done, how powerful he was. I fell to my knees, sobs in my throat.
And then he came. He walked in front of me, head held high, black robes swirling. Voldemort smiled, thinking a faithful servant was returning to his master. But he stood in front of me, and held his ground against ten Death Eaters and Voldemort. They talked. I don’t remember what was said. Probably useless pre-battle taunting and revealing of evil plans. I was too busy choking to take much notice, snivelling on the ground on my hands and knees.
I was the snivelling coward. He was the hero.
-
“Harry, come on! You’re the hero of the wizarding world, you can have any girl you want!” Seamus exclaimed.
“What?” Harry said, surprised, and looked up from his homework as Seamus and Dean sat down near the trio. “I’m just saying, you’ve been moping for ages now, and I figure it has to be over a girl or something. I know that kicked-puppy look.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about, Seamus,” Harry replied, bending back to his books.
“Well, if it is a girl, surely you know that any girl ... well, except maybe Hermione ... would jump to have a roll in the sack with you!”
“Seamus...” Ron threatened.
“What, I’m just saying is all.”
“What did you mean, besides me?” Hermione said, looking up suddenly.
“Er- well, I just meant because, um. Dean? What did I mean?”
“Dunno mate, this one’s up to you.”
“Well?” Hermione pushed.
“Well, partly because everyone knows you’re with Ron, and partly because it’s common knowledge you don’t put out...” Seamus winced, expecting some kind of throttling from Hermione.
“Ummmm... Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Hermione blushed.
“OK people, moving on!” Ron exclaimed.
“So yeah, Harry, who’s the girl, then?”
“Seamus, will you just drop it? It’s not about a girl, all right?” Harry ran his hands through his hair and there was a big awkward silence in the group for a few moments. Seamus stood, walked to Harry and put his hand on his shoulder.
“So it’s a guy, then?”
“SEAMUS!” Ron jumped to his feet and went at Seamus as if to punch him, pulling him by the shirt. “You know bloody well it’s not about romance and whether it’s a guy or girl, this is about Voldemort, and I think we’ve had just about enough of your bloody questions!!”
“Ron – ”
“And what’s more, just because you’re bisexual and think someone is gay, doesn’t mean you can hit on them without confirmation. Harry doesn’t want anything from you, he doesn’t need diseases, thank you!”
“RON! God, do you ever shut up? Seamus is right, it is about a guy. Damnit!” Harry ran his hands through his hair again, serving to mess it up more than it already was. Then he noticed that the entire common room was listening to the argument.
Ron looked around, and let Seamus go. Seamus dusted his shirt off, brushing out the wrinkles and stepped back a pace.
“Harry?” Ron said in a soft voice.
“Yeah, he’s right, I’m gay. Get over it.” Bed was looking pretty good right now, so Harry packed his stuff up in silence and headed to the boys’ stairway.
“Harry! Wait,” Hermione called out, grabbing his arm. “I’m still your friend. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can promise you I’ll be there for you if you need me.”
Harry turned. “Thanks, Hermione.” And then he was arms full of bushy-haired girl who sobbed into his neck a few times and then released him, wiping away a few stray tears.
-
The tears stopped. My head cleared, the smell lingered, but I moved past it. Snape was talking to Voldemort. Voldemort was angry. I had to do something.
I stood.
I lunged.
I cursed.
Green light escaped my wand and hit Voldemort by surprise. I had jumped from behind Snape’s back and killed him. And then there were ten Death Eaters coming at us and yet we couldn’t move. He was frozen in shock, having watched the Dark Lord fall. I was starting to lose consciousness, the smell of death returning full force to sicken me. I fell unconscious to the ground at his feet.
The next I knew, I woke up in his bed.
-
Harry glanced back at the boys after Hermione’s show of support, and Ron stepped forward.
“Harry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to do the right thing by you. I honestly don’t care which way you sway.”
Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “All right, apology accepted. I’m going to bed.”
Walking into his dorm, Harry started pulling off his school uniform and getting ready for bed. Seamus was right, it was about a guy. But not just any guy. This was all about Professor Snape. Snape had been in his thoughts ever since the incident. He couldn’t get him out of his head.
His nightmares were of horror, death, blood and gore. Of someone’s body tearing apart and the insides spurting all over him. That is why he woke screaming every night.
But his dreams. They were something different. All he could see was Snape, saving him, holding him, touching him, kissing him. His dreams were few, but they were pure bliss.
And then he came back to reality and realised it was just a dream. In reality, Snape had shunned him ever since.
Ever since the incident.
Harry sighed. Time to face sleep once more. He didn’t know what was worse, the dreams or the nightmares, so sleep was often a most dreaded part of the evening. If only he could just lie unconscious, no dreams, no nightmares. Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t give him any more Dreamless Sleep potions, unwilling to allow him to become dependent on them. Apparently they were addictive.
He got into bed and pulled the bed curtains shut, locking out the world and hoping he wouldn’t wake, screaming, once more.
-
Green silk sheets. They felt divine. The lighting flickered, the only illumination coming from the fireplace. It cast an eerie but comfortable mood throughout the room. I woke surrounded by this, the soft crackling of the fire and a gentle breathing beside me the only noise.
And then it hit me. Green sheets. Fireplace. Breath next to me. I was not in my dorm room.
I rolled over in a rush and came face to face, almost body to body with Snape. I jumped back a little, but he was still sleeping soundly, and I didn’t want to risk waking him. I slowly rolled onto my back and looked at the canopy of green velvet above my head. Typical Slytherin. How had I gotten to be in this position, in bed with Snape of all people? I wracked my brain for an answer, to find out how I had gotten here. I noticed I was stripped down to my undershirt and boxers, while Snape was in black silk pyjamas, so I could rule out anything untoward having occurred.
Blood trickled into my memory, a smell so foul. Death. Pain. Him, saving me. And then blackness. My mind was a mess, I could barely remember the events, everything was choppy and all over the place, and my memories started to rush and information hit me like a bullet. I cried out, not wanting to see her face, the nameless girl who died. Her image was imprinted on my psyche, and the look in her eyes as the blood poured out of her neck.
And then a hand was stroking my hair and someone was making shushing noises, holding me close to stop me from thrashing.
I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried. And cried some more. It felt like it was never going to end. The someone held me tight to him and I cried into a warm, hard chest. A musky scent, spicy almost, radiated from that black silk chest.
I’d seen people die before. I lost Sirius not too long ago. A year before that was Cedric. And even before that was my parents. But never before had I seen someone cut into pieces. It tipped me over, everything came out, all the loss, the hurt, the pain. Everything. All onto his black silk chest.
Black silk chest? I wondered who on earth was made of black silk. And then I realised it was a shirt. I pushed the fabric to the side and saw stark pale skin, an extreme contrast to the colour of the shirt. I pushed my hand into the gaps between the buttons, tears still streaming down my face, and rubbed over that smooth skin, over every inch of his chest, until I came to rest upon the beat of his heart. A steady rhythm. An alive rhythm.
All the while he continued to stroke my hair, to hold me to him. He let me cry it all out. I swear I was there for days. It must have only been mere minutes.
I looked up into the eyes of Snape. For a moment I paused, my sobbing caught in my throat as I realised just what I was doing. My hand was in his shirt, I was crying, he was holding me. I didn’t quite know how to react. Something in his eyes reassured me. And I saw him jumping in front of me, standing against the Dark Lord, while I collapsed. And then I didn’t care that he was Snape. He was more than that, he was so much more to me and I cried again, cried for my losses, for what I’d seen, but now I cried because after all the pain my heart went through it started to feel alive again and it hurt. The steady beat that reached through me and to his own heart was like a punch, every time it hit, I felt pain. And I wept for it.
He just held me tighter in his arms, and I put my head back to his chest. Only it wasn’t a ‘somebody’ anymore. It was him, it was his black silk chest. It was Snape. And I was OK with that.
-
Harry sighed and got out of bed. The good dream lucked out during the night, and he’d just woken feeling lost and bereft. Why was life so complicated? He had Potions again first thing that morning and it was almost torture to have to get up and get ready, knowing he’d be within touching distance of him and not be able to do anything about it. He heard Ron yawn, Neville trip on his trunk, and Dean throw a pillow on Seamus, and turned to face the day.
“So Harry!” Seamus said, sleepily rising from his bed. “Did you dream about Mr Sweetheart last night?” He winked predatorily.
“Not really any of your business, Seamus,” Harry said grumpily.
“Come on Harry, I’m just teasing, no need to get nasty. Who is it, anyway? You never got around to telling us yesterday.”
“Again, none of your business.”
“Well, see, it is my business, because whether you know it or not, you’re extremely attractive, Harry. I wanna know who you’re crushing on so I can emulate them. Perhaps then you’ll fall into bed with me!”
“I’m not interested.” Harry glared at him and stomped down to the common room. Hermione was waiting for him and Ron followed him down the steps a few minutes later, having freshly come from yelling at Seamus some more. They headed off to breakfast together.
Despite the dreams, despite the dull brokenness of his heart, things appeared normal. An outsider would see just another day.
-
My tears subsided. My heart stopped wrenching, I stopped gasping for breath. I took a deep breath in, my eyes shut, inhaling his scent, feeling his touch on my hair, his breath on my shoulder, his skin beneath my fingers. I was the most comfortable I’d ever felt. It was the first time I’d ever been held that way, lying down with someone side by side, cradled in their arms like their dearest possession. I opened my eyes and looked up into obsidian orbs. They looked at me with distant warmth, like he wanted to cry too, but was unable to because holding me made him happy.
It just happened. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it. It just happened.
When I looked up, he looked me in the eyes, and neither of us could resist the pull. Our lips met. Soft, gentle. A touch here, tentative, both unsure. A tongue pressed on my lips and I opened my mouth to him. And suddenly it was hot and warm and moist. A meeting of tongues, some of the softest ever human flesh. I tilted my head back and felt his hands run through my hair, as his tongue circled my mouth.
It turned heated. Desperate. A battle of who can touch the other the most. Our hands were roving, his on my back and in my hair, mine beneath his shirt, and our mouths evenly matched. It didn’t take long for us to want more. We didn’t think, I couldn’t think, it was natural. Perfect.
Somehow we lost our shirts. His mouth had progressed to my chest and was worshipping his way downwards as I arched up into him. Now I had a hand in his soft hair and one roaming his back, and as he found a nipple to tease I tensed up and pulled his hair a bit. He nipped a bit harder in punishment for the pulling, which just made me arch more, tense my grip on him ever so much more. He let it go from his mouth and licked it a while. Softly, gently. And then he moved onto the other and I felt that frenzy again, felt every nerve in my body respond as he bit down and I let out a strangled gasp.
I tugged him back up to me and kissed him hard. It was vicious this time, no space for breath, no time for teeth, nothing could stop us from devouring each other. He rubbed against me as he hovered on top of me and I reached for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, slowly sliding the elastic down his backside. It slipped off and he kicked them away, now naked above me. He knelt up and hovered over me, pulling my boxers off just as I had him. Slowly, sensually. He dragged them down all the way to my feet before pulling them off and throwing them over his shoulder. His hands followed their trail back up my legs, stroking their way up my ankles, calves, knees, thighs, hips. There they stopped, holding my hips and caressing them with open palms.
I was trembling for him. He made me feel so alive, after feeling so broken.
It felt so right.
I lay there on his bed, naked before him, spread out like a meal, his hands on me and his eyes ... his eyes. They never looked away from me. He held my gaze, and I held his like never I’d thought to be able to before.
“Kiss me,” I whispered, and he does, without hesitation, his hands moving to cup my face and hold me. Love me.
His hands move back down my body and towards my desperate erection, locking eyes with me as if to ask permission before touching. I smile and cock my head to the side, and he takes it as a yes, as I meant it. He strokes me softly, merely a tease, but I feel the power in his hands. I reach out to him, but he slaps me away, and I’m slightly confused for a moment but he’s still looking at me like that and I trust him implicitly. His other hand moves to cup my balls, rolling them through his fingers, and the moving downwards to that soft patch of skin, and then my entrance. I feel a finger circling there, my legs open and quivering, waiting, urging him on.
It’s my first time. I’ve never done this before. I thought I would be scared, embarrassed, self conscious, maybe even hysterical. But I’m none of those things. I’m happy. I’m content. This feels right and good and even though yesterday he was Professor Snape, Potions Master and icky vampire bat hated by all, today he’s perfect. Today he’s my Snape. Or should I call him Severus? Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter. Words are just that, words. This is a feeling indescribable through the human language and must be expressed through touch. I stroke his arms, his chest, his back, anything I can get my hands on, really. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that I can’t screw up. No thought of stopping ever enters my mind.
He’s preparing me ever so gently. He treats me like I’m a fragile doll, something that can easily be broken, and it makes me feel wanted, cared for. He takes his time, driving me crazy, and himself no doubt. But he wants to make sure this is as good as it possibly can be, and so he’s careful. He wants it to be perfect, just like this feeling.
Finally he moves his hand away and he’s moving up my body so he’s level with me. His eyes bore into me, and I see the questions there: do I really want this? Do I want you to stop? If I say the word you’ll do whatever I want. And I just smile and put my hands to his back, pushing down ever so gently. This is exactly where I want you. I see the recognition in his eyes and then I feel something enter me, slowly, again taking his time, and it’s a whole lot bigger than what I expected and I arch into him and he holds me. I cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he fully seats himself within me and he pauses, holding me, stroking my hair back, whispering sweet nothings.
When I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, he starts to move again, and oh God, it’s so good. My nerves are on edge, the movement within me the greatest feeling I’ve ever known and we fit so perfectly. I know it can’t last very long, it’s way too intense and my head is giddy over the height of emotion swirling about the room.
A few more minutes of this intensity, and then it builds again, impossibly so and I know I just can’t take it much more, and then I burst and I cry out and I’m done for and I think I must have died because everything is black and I can see tiny pinpricks of light that must be the stars. I hear an answering strangled moan in his deep voice and know I’m alive, know that he’s in this abyss of pleasure with me and that everything is right in this world.
We collapse in a heap, and he falls asleep quickly. I’m surely not far off sleep myself but yet the day flashes before me again. I know things are right. Voldemort is gone. Severus is lying here beside me, my perfect specimen of a man. A glimpse of hope for the future makes itself known.
And then I fall asleep.
-
He walked into the Potions classroom and looked to the front of the room. Snape was sitting there, at his desk, marking something. The room was almost full, and the bell was about to ring. Harry walked to his desk and took his seat. He looked up again, but this time caught his professor watching him. The end of his quill was resting against his chin, almost touching his bottom lip, as if in contemplation. But he was definitely looking at Harry. Their eyes met for a second, and Harry looked away quickly in shame. He heard Snape rise and walk to the front of the class.
“Take out your texts, this lesson we’re starting the next topic. Turn to page 214.” Harry tried to tune out the words and just listen to the sound of his voice, but Snape was in full teacher mode, and besides, there were not many happy memories linked to his voice.
Hermione nudged him and he jumped, the sudden contact breaking him from his stupor. The sudden movement and noise drew Professor Snape’s attention and he looked over to see the cause of the racket. Hermione looked at him apologetically, she had just been trying to get him to pay attention and open his text. He’d already failed the last unit, he couldn’t afford to do so in this one as well.
Snape stalked towards Harry’s desk, sneer firmly in place, cold eyes shining.
“Mr Potter. Once again, not paying attention I see. First with you making a disruption to my lecture, and then I find you haven’t even opened your text. Tell me, has the education board thought of a new way of learning that involves not reading?”
“No, sir.”
“Or perhaps you have developed a technique that only the Chosen One could possibly possess, such as being able to read a text while it is shut. Some kind of magic sight, no doubt?”
Harry looked at him with an evil, dead glare. “No, sir.”
“Or maybe you’re just a lazy Gryffindor who expects to get everything he wants because he’s the Boy-Who-Lived?”
“DAMNIT, NO! You know that’s not true!” Harry burst out, standing in anger and almost coming face to face with his professor. “I hate you! How dare you! How dare you talk about me like you know me. You know nothing!”
“So self-centred. It’s always about you isn’t it. I don’t need to know you, Potter. Detention, every night this week, and fifty points from Gryffindor, for yelling at a teacher and back chatting.”
-
I woke in the same bed, the same sheets, the same room. Everything was exactly the same as the night before. Except that he was gone.
I sat up with a start. It took me a while to clear my head and focus upon waking, but now that I had, I realised I was alone in this room. I looked around the room from my seated position among the pillows and blankets, and it registered I was in the dungeons, as there were no windows.
I was in Snape’s bedchamber. And last night we...
Oh God.
I moved to get out of the bed and a slicing pain ran up my backside, and I gasped in shock as all my muscles protested movement. I sat still a moment until the pain stopped, and then began sliding ever so slowly to the edge of the bed, trying not to jar myself as much as possible. I got my feet off the edge, and looked around for some sign of my clothes. My uniform was stacked neatly on the chair near the door... but my underwear was in front of the fireplace across the other side of the room. I remembered it being thrown any which way the night before. I got up and started moving across the room slowly, hoping against hope that no one would come in right now.
Of course, as luck would have it, Snape chose then to enter the room. I turned at the sound of the door opening, forgetting my nudity momentarily to stare at him, like a deer in the headlights. I saw him and remembered everything I’d felt last night; the safety, the support, the trust, and quite possibly the love. I relaxed slightly as those feelings washed over me, and I felt no need to cover myself, as I’d previously thought to do. I stood there, staring into his eyes, him staring back, and I just knew he felt it.
And then he broke me.
-
“That’s not fair!” he yelled. “You can’t do that! Just because you hate me and will do anything to hurt me doesn’t mean you can take it out on my house, you fucking bastard!”
There were gasps around the room, and then all fell silent, waiting to see their professor’s reaction to this outburst.
“Potter,” he started in a very, very quiet voice. “You will desist this behaviour immediately and – ”
“Don’t you even THINK of telling me what to do, after what you did!” Harry slammed his fist on the desk, his breath heaving, almost turning into a sob. There was a tense pause as Harry tried to collect himself, tried to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. He won the internal battle and he seemed to calm somewhat.
“You made me believe I could trust you,” Harry whispered, but still the whole class heard.
-
His eyes tore away from mine and he looked to the side.
“Cover yourself,” he ordered. I was confused, I looked at him, and down at me, and saw nothing different from last night, although he was dressed once more.
“What? I... why?”
“Just do it,” he demanded.
I hurried as fast as my muscles would allow and put my shorts on, then to where he was standing, but going for the chair with my clothes.
“Get dressed and get out.”
“W-w-what?”
“You heard me. Out. Now.”
“But ... I don’t understand. Severus?”
“DON’T call me that. It’s Professor Snape to you. Now out, Potter.” With that he picked up my clothes and shoved them into my arms. Then he turned me and pushed me hard in the lower back, so I went sprawling out the door, onto my hands and knees, clothing falling everywhere.
“Go to Dumbledore. Tell him about Voldemort, that you killed him and we took out his best ten. Tell no one of what happened last night. Now go, I don’t ever want to see you again!”
“Sev-, Snape, Sir, wait! What’s going on, what happened?” But my protests went unheeded and on a slammed door. I collapsed against it, so far having ignored my physical pain as the emotional turmoil far outweighed it. And now it all hit me at once and I sobbed, in just my boxers, against his bedchamber door, my clothes strewn about me.
What happened to him? Where did my lover go? The one who protected me and comforted me and took me to heaven?
-
They were hanging on every word, the entire classroom listening in to their saviour’s breakdown. Harry was brokenly calm, the type that comes about when a person is too hurt to cry, too broken to scream.
He looked up and into Snape’s eyes. “Where did you go?”
“Potter...”
Harry started moving around the desk, almost like stalking down his prey, while Snape took a few steps backwards.
“What happened to you?”
“Mr. Potter, stop this behaviour at once, or I’ll – ”
“Or you’ll what? Take my virginity? You’ve done that. Pretend to love me and then kick me out on my arse? Oh wait, you’ve done that too. Or maybe you could make me love you so that every time I look at you I see the person who isn’t there anymore? Or give me detention and then refuse to even talk to me, pretend I don’t exist! What is with you?” Harry panted, catching his breath after his outburst. There was stunned silence in the classroom.
Snape had looked away from Harry’s eyes when he had started his rant, unable to look him in the eye.
Harry made as if to keep going with the tirade. “Or what about when you – ”
“THAT’S ENOUGH.” Snape was angry, furious, but that look was in his eyes when once again Harry looked into them.
“I tried to make you hate me so you could fall for someone normal, someone your age,” Snape ranted, walking up to Harry, and grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him like a rag doll. “You’re supposed to hate me, so why don’t you already! I’ve given you every excuse to do so! HATE ME, damnit.”
Once more silence. And then a sob. From him. From Snape.
And then it all clicked for Harry.
-
The summer after fifth year I was a mess. I stayed only as long as I had to at the Dursleys, a mere two weeks, before Dumbledore took me off to Order Headquarters. I was miserable, depressed. Sirius had just died, and I felt all alone.
I don’t know how it started. If you asked me why, I wouldn’t be able to say, but every night I would sit in the drawing room and he would bring tea. We would talk. Respect for him grew in me, and something else I never recognised. I’m sure he did though. During that summer, love was formed. That’s why he put himself in harm’s way for me. That’s why he protected me. I didn’t know it, but he loved me, and knew it, long before I knew what love felt like. But now I do.
-
He stroked his hands along the Potions Master’s shoulders and down his chest, under his chin. He lifted it slightly and saw the tears in his eyes.
“You’re a fool, Severus Snape. I love you, and nothing, not even you, will make me stop. There is no one else.”
A strangled sob escaped his throat, followed by a shaky, but definite, “I love you, too.” Suddenly Severus found himself with an armful of Harry, the boy’s arms wrapped around his neck and just as suddenly a pair of lips was ravishing his own.
There was a thud from the back of the room, but neither of the pair noticed as one Ron Weasley fainted.
They broke apart. “I’m sorry,” Severus whispered, only just loud enough for Harry to hear.
“I understand. You were trying to protect me, or save me, or whatever. But I don’t need it. I need you. Just you.”
-
So just don’t ask me why. I love him. End of story.