All I Want For Christmas, for centaury_squill Title: All I want for Christmas Author:scap3goat Giftee:centaury_squill Word-Count: 7475 Rating: NC-17 (for sex and drugs) Pairing: Snarry, mentioned Ron/Hermione and former Harry/Ginny Warning: A few DH spoilers but not DH all the way, language, sex, frequent alcohol consume and mentioning of excessive consume. Summary: Harry works at Hogwarts for a while. Everything seems to have changed, Severus Snape is still irritatingly hostile. Harry feels it's his duty to get the man to open up a bit. How much he didn't expect at first.
“Could you please refrain from leaving your things lying around,” Snape drawled, a terrible strain in his voice giving away his annoyance. A few moments later he decided that he had every right to be annoyed by the youngster occupying the staff room as if it was his alone.
Severus had spent the better part of the last two years in the castle. However Minerva had mistrusted him, hated him, she fulfilled Dumbledore's last request regarding Severus. She had hidden, protected and defended him. She had let him stay at the castle since his home at Spinner 's End – home, the house didn't deserve that description – had been seized by the new Ministry. The castle was his home. Now stumbling over books and getting quills and parchment scrounged off him...
“It breaks your monotony nicely, believe me. And Albus would have wanted you to get along.”
Oh yes, she was going directly for the kill more often and often lately. “Albus would have wanted...”
“Didn't you hear me, scallywag?” Severus now asked, the book at his feet still trying to gnaw at the leg of his trousers. “Put your books away. Especially this one. You leave this place in an absurd disarray and expect me to...”
Now the youngster's head shot up. “You found my Monster Book of Monsters!”
One of Severus' eyebrows slowly climbed up his forehead, a comment “Really? I was of the impression that it had found me.” already on his lips. A mixture of anger and disbelieve mixed in his gut and chest. This... he couldn't find a term for him any more.
He wasn't a boy or teenager any more, but Severus couldn't think of him as man, either.
Harry Potter was the one thing in his life that wasn't black or white. That one disturbing blotch of colour in the monochrome world he was living in ever since he had woken up in the infirmary after his almost-death. How humiliating to find out that he had given his thoughts and memories to that Potter-brat for nothing. The humiliation of having to look into those green eyes again.
He tried to avoid that.
Harry was a bit confused by his former teacher and now almost colleague. Whenever he saw Snape the man was hostile but avoided direct eye contact. Picking up the old school book, Harry accidentally brushed his elbow against Snape's leg and took a startled breath.
An overall bad idea. Snape still liked to complain about him, but his triads were less angry and had a less lasting effect. Somehow being near Snape and smelling that unique combination of damp stone and dried herbs had an even more lasting effect now – although indirectly frightening.
Irritation crawled up Harry's throat when Snape seemingly shook off that touch with a rigid straightening-up motion.
Ever since Voldemort was gone Harry hoped his horrible feelings had, too. But being around Snape tended to shake up his emotions pretty badly. It wasn't what he had used to feel around Snape, that sense of being treated unfairly... well, that had stayed. But he didn't hate Snape for it any more.
It just annoyed the hell out of him to be treated like a unruly peace of furniture.
“Bad wardrobe! You mixed up my socks again.”
That thought almost made him laugh out loud and not for the first time he asked himself if going mad was an option or a fact here.
“I still would prefer an orderly staff room. You are no student any more, I think I can expect a little more retentiveness on your behalf.”
Harry nodded. These discussions first had him curious, then annoyed and then exhausted.
Snape walking in, Snape talking, Snape walking out again. Meals alone in their rooms or together in the staff room – but always in silence.
“See you at dinner,” muttered Harry and collected as many books as he could carry at once. Not looking back he more or less staggered to his makeshift rooms a few corridors away.
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Dinner was served in the staff room by a pale, thin and silent Winky. Ever since the clear-out of Azkaban by Voldemort and thus the death of the last Crouch and later Dobby's death she had stopped her butterbeer habit and seemingly had stopped having feelings, too.
Harry had stopped trying to talk to her after a few nights. Roundabout the same time he had stopped to be friendly with Snape. The constant scowl on the Potions Master's face made it almost impossible to be sociable.
“Are you still here?”murmured Snape when he entered the staff room.
Harry looked up from watching Winky and raised his eyebrows. “Why shouldn't I?”
“Just leave me alone. Spend some time with your girlfriend.”
Harry sat down as soon as Winky was gone and started to load mashed potatoes and peas on his plate. “Not really.”
Snape sat down with less haste. “As far as I recall the youngest Weasley was very fond of you.”
“I fear those times are over. Anyway, Ginny and I were quite civil about it.”
A somehow shallow sneer tugged on Snape's lips. “How very disappointing. And here I thought our boy wonder would have more luck with the ladies.”
For a moment Harry wanted to say something, but quickly spooned a large amount of peas in his mouth to stop his comment. The look on Snape's face told him how obvious his initial thought had been.
“Don't be shy, Potter. Just spit it out. I'm the right one to talk about lasting relationships.”
Harry shook his head and tried to swallow as much as possible before speaking. “I didn't want to say that. I would never...!”
“Spare your breath,” muttered Snape before starting to eat.
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“We've been over this so often. I want to stay here for some time and I want the experience. I want to learn how to teach someone first handedly. Hagrid needs someone to take over the Care of Magical Creatures and there isn't much you can do wrong with it.”
Hermione sighed. “Harry, you promise that you're not slacking?The danger of getting too caught up in the past...”
“We've been over this ever so often, too! I'm fine, I'm not slacking and there is no day, no hour in which Snape doesn't remind me that everything's different now. He is different.”
“You are, too, Harry.”
“But he scares me and I'm worried at the same time. Maybe there isn't even a difference between that. Snape is being difficult and annoying and I don't even know why I care.”
“You've grown up, Harry. Snape probably hasn't changed but your attitude to him has.”
“You should see him, though, Hermione. He's really different. He's changed, too.”
Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but then turned her head. “I got to go, Harry. Ron just came back and there is still a lot he has to learn for the exams. Don't forget about that!”
Harry nodded. “Yes, of course Hermione. I gotta meet Hagrid before he's going on his travels.”
Hermione broke the floo-connection and Harry sighed. His old friend was not fond of his idea of the placement at Hogwarts, as a teacher in Care of Magical Creatures until Hagrid would return from the giants, and later as a teaching assistant in various classes.
He grabbed his coat and strolled down to the grounds to get his last instructions from Hagrid. The half-giant prepared his journey to the various tribes living in Britain to negotiate. The news of Voldemort's death travelled more or less fast and finally had reached the giants. Gwap had played his part in the final battle and helped Hagrid, although that mostly meant protecting Hagrid from too much giant-love.
“Ah, Harry! Make yerself at home.”
Harry sat down, smiled at the two huge tea cups on the table and allowed himself to “slack” for one night and lose himself in a few memories of his days at school.
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The last two weeks till the school year started went by in silence. The tension between Snape and Harry stayed the same, but when the school slowly filled with first all the teachers and then the students Snape and Potter didn't meet that often any more.
Harry had to find out that Snape was still not popular with the students, nor the teachers and many doubted Snape was all that innocent. He had been redeemed, but almost one year of Snape as headmaster acting as Voldemort's right hand had left them wary of the Potions Master.
But McGonagall had received a letter from Dumbledore, to be dispatched in case of his death and Voldemort's downfall.
A letter describing Severus' involvement as a spy, their plans regarding Draco, the Elder wand and leading Harry and his friends on the journey to find the Horcruxes – and finally Harry finding out who and what he (probably) was.
That and the memories Snape had left Harry had the Wizengamot decide he was not guilty.
That obviously didn't interest Snape, though. He jut roamed the school like and oversized bat, taught a few lessons after it was deemed appropriate again and commented or rather lamented once – only once – to each staff member or class who drove him to a certain point how his life was still less worth than the word of a dead man.
Harry sometimes supposed he was keen on keeping it so by withdrawing even further.
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“You wanted to talk to me?” Harry asked when entering the dungeons. Three days to Hallowe'en and Harry had metaphorically held his breath since the school started. It was almost like old times when the waiting for Snape to get him into detention for something often was worse than actual detention. But the dread he had felt then didn't return with the waiting. His feelings for Snape were smoother now. He didn't hate him any more, everything about Snape seemed to have less depth. Not that deep-running hate any more, not the earth-shattering contempt, not even the helpless disdain after Snape had treated him so unfairly again.
Harry could still remember the sting he had felt when he had found out how similar Snape's youth had been to his own but Snape refused to acknowledge it. Of course even then Harry had known Snape could possibly never change but some part of him had hoped for Snape to understand and to realise and to say something that would stop Harry from feeling so bad.
Snape looked up from the essays he was grading. “Yes, indeed. Do you remember what supplies I asked to bring me?” Snape stood up while Harry tried to recall the complete list. “Don't try to think. It might make your head hurt. Anyway, I requested toads.”
Harry nodded and felt awfully like a student again. “Yes. Three dozen. I brought them down here this morning.”
Snape stiffly walked over to two boxes and came back with a toad in hand. “What do you think when you see this toad?”
Harry just blinked. “It looks like a toad?”
“What about its colour and size?”
“Remarkably... toad-coloured and sized?” muttered Harry and wondered if the blush he felt rising was showing on his face already. He was torn between embarrassment and anger.
“Its too small and not regularly coloured. What are you feeding them? They obviously lack protein.”
Taking a deep mental breath and trying to ignore his heart starting to pound in his chest like mad Harry schooled his features. “I fed them exactly what Hagrid told me and he told me he had been feeding the toads with this mixture of snails, flies, bugs, cockroaches, worms and pixie eggs. For years now. However, I did leave out the advised crumbles of stone cake since I have by no means the experience to duplicate their stony-ness.”
The Potions Master just stared at Harry with his dark eyes.
“And I think they lack any nutrition anyway. I wouldn't have left them out if I though otherwise.”
Snape's answer to that still left Harry speechless.
“They are still the wrong size and colour.”
After only seconds Harry stepped forward and hissed, “Then deal with it!”
The disturbing feeling he had almost forgotten, this sudden excitement he felt being close to Snape was – for a moment – concealed by his anger. Leaving the room and Snape behind the anger vanished quickly and a strange feeling lingered. Sometimes it almost drove Harry nuts and he desperately wanted to find out what it was. At least he hoped he wanted to find out.
Though, something Snape had said tonight seemed right to Harry. Thinking was overrated.
He officially needed a drink now.
It was a quiet evening. Not that the Hog's Head had ever been crowded – apart from that one evening when the future DA had met there. Harry was quite miffed of all the trouble with Snape and sipped on his second glass of fire whisky.
“Ah, boy,” Aberforth began after some time and Harry reluctantly looked up. “Just get on with your life. You can't spend all your free evenings sulking.”
Harry murmured something. “Yeah, tell Snape.”
“Oh, guess what I do every Hogsmead weekend when he's down here getting drunk alone before he has to bring the kids up to the castle again.”
Harry straightened up. “So? Well, then he does have a problem and he's only my problem.”
The barkeeper rolled his eyes. “Why don't you get on with it then? You're worse than Albus was on his worst days. And believe me, usually I was the one to suffer through those with him.”
Harry was torn between annoyance at the rough attitude and relief that he could just talk to someone without restrictions of any kind.
“Couldn't you just tell him to go and cry on someone else's shoulder?” Harry asked and sipped on his whisky again.
“Nah. After that Grindelwald business he never dared to love anyone again. Poor Albus got his heart broken. Served him right for being a twat.”
For a moment Harry wondered if the proper reaction wouldn't have been to spit out his whisky instead of just sitting there and blinking. He shrugged his shoulders and downed the rest of his drink. “Well, whatever. What do I care? I'm sick of caring.”
Without asking Aberforth refilled his glass. “Listen, boy. In my opinion, you spent far too much time with my brother. But whatever. If you start to pollute my bar with a mixture of his goat shit and a bad impersonation of his other toyboy Snape... you know where the door is. Maybe sulking together would lead you somewhere. If you know what I mean.”
Harry nodded solemnly, downed his whisky and paid. “See you around,” he muttered and left the Hog's Head.
The night was freezing. Harry rubbed his hands together and started to walk back to the castle. He and Aberforth used to have discussions like that almost every time Harry was there. He didn't think much about it and never assumed Aberforth was really angry at him. Aberforth was like that and Harry enjoyed this honesty every time.
That Snape went to the Hog's Head on a regular basis, too, was new to him, though.
Back at the castle – the staff room, to be specific – Harry flung himself into the armchair next to Snape. “So, you spend your Hogsmead afternoons in the Hog's Head? I didn't know you were such a fan of tacky interior design and bitchy barkeepers.”
One of Snape's eyebrows rose. “Mh, not that I would have thought about that. But I happen to like the atmosphere and the whisky.”
Harry fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. “And the Three Broomsticks doesn't have that? Or are you afraid that Madam Rosmerta would make you feel a little too alive?”
Snape didn't look up from his book. “You are drunk, Potter.”
Harry groaned. “I would know, wouldn't I, Severus?”
“You are drunk, go to bed.”
The young man shook his head and laughed out. “Really, I'm fine. And I'm sick of everyone patronising me. At least Minerva leaves me mostly alone, but how could I have expected...”
Now Snape closed his book rather loudly. “Go. To. Bed. You are annoying the hell out of me – Harry - and if there is one person in this whole school to know about patronising it would be rather me. Even beyond the grave Dumbledore is deciding what I have to do with my life.”
Harry giggled. “Quite fitting, isn't it? Why are you going to the Hog's Head then? Or are you getting off on reminding yourself of what you did?”
“Are you? Don't you remember? The sixth annual anniversary of the Heir of Slytherin returning is close. For the first time in your life you were not the all-loved one, right? Oh, but I forgot the Triwizard Tournament, of course! Potter, presumably smuggling his way into the Tournament, was hated by everyone in the school. Even Hufflepuff. That is one big achievement.
“I almost forgot what happened almost seven years ago. Triumphant victor in a fight three against troll. How...”
Harry reckoned Snape would have found a few other examples of what had happened on the various Hallowe'ens of his life. He didn't want to remember any of them, especially not the one 19 years ago. That was why Snape had to shut up.
That kissing was probably a bad idea in the long run didn't occur to Harry.
He just kept his hands on either side of Snape's head and lips on lips. That and how the kiss evolved neither of them seemed to realise while it happened. Anyone watching might have been wondering why they were not repelling each other like magnets with the same magnetic polarisation.
Their sudden breaking apart when they did realise was nothing like the initial guess to the outcome of the event.
For almost half an hour they just continued to stare at each other, not talking, not doing anything. Just staring and both probably lost in their own thoughts.
Suddenly Snape's silky voice broke the silence. “Why did you do it?”
“I did it because I didn't know how to shut you up otherwise.”
Obvious was that it had worked for both of them. That it somehow had worked out for both them – not so much.
“I think I'll crash. Night, Snape. Pleasant dreams or whatever you prefer.”
Either both were acting all mature and male about it or it was only the calm before the storm.
“The only good thing about it was that you couldn't talk either.”
Of course Harry couldn't let it rest. He had been poking and prodding and throwing hints and cues and blunt comments in Snape's direction whenever they were reasonably alone. During breakfast at the staff table, for example.
Right now they were in Snape's lab, Snape checking a batch of new ingredients for his potions.
Harry grinned and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Are you trying to tell me I'm a crappy kisser?”
“Let me guess, you never had complaints before? I would assume so because teenage hormones are not commonly known for their taste-increasing qualities. Neither are they well-known for improving ones power of judgement.”
Harry felt a little overrun by his former teacher's dry comment but also had expected it. After a few years it was easier to deal with. It was more like a challenge, Harry reckoned. Could he outwit Snape? Rather not, but he could it make harder for Snape to get rid of him.
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Why Minerva had them doing night duty together Harry could only guess. Maybe because everyone was so pissed off by Snape that the new one had to deal with it. Or maybe she presumed that surviving the Summer at the school with Snape meant Harry could survive at least three night watches a month with Snape, too.
Night watches went smoothly. Patrolling the corridors before the four houses, the library and other main and secret paths, being present in the staff room until midnight and often only correcting essays or tests.
“What are you doing on Christmas?” asked Harry one night, his first patrol over, Snape half way through a pile of second year essays.
“What I do every year on Christmas,” was the short answer.
Harry grinned. “Getting drunk?”
Snape didn't even look up. “Maybe.”
It was infuriating. Not for the first time Harry was fed up with the defiant demeanour. All he wanted to do was make Snape feel a little more content with his own life here at the castle. Voldemort was defeated, things were looking up again.
The three following hours went by rather slowly and Harry mostly spend them by staring at Snape (unless either of them was patrolling). If Snape noticed he didn't say anything.
At 12 o'clock sharp Harry darted out of the room, a strange feeling in his guts.
This was followed by a night of strange dreams, all involving Snape and various situations that might or might not be described as sexual. Harry was not so much weird out by it as turned on. That officially warranted for a cold shower – not that he had missed them since his official teenage-days.
At breakfast he made a mental note to avoid Snape until further notice, though.
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It was a surprise and not much of a surprise to find Harry Potter in the Hog's Head on Christmas Eve. How tragically ironic for the saviour of all things magical and with so many admirers, fans and even suitors to be on his own drinking in a pub. Not only on his own, he was positively alone and maybe even lonely. Something in Severus made him wonder why something else in him thought it was wrong. But in the end that part won – followed closely by the part feeling smug at Potter's lonely sight – that just wanted to get drunk on another lonely holiday. No matter what his colleagues at the castle – or the Hog's Head! – thought of him.
Suddenly Potter moved. “Abe, get my friend here one of his usuals.”
“One, Abe is commonly the abbreviation for Abraham, not Aberforth. Two, usual does not have a plural. Three, you are drunk.”
“Four, Abe doesn't care either way. Five, neither do I. Six, get me another one, as well, Abe.”
Snape came to the conclusion that Potter couldn't be too far gone if he could still be sarcastic, but wouldn't leave Severus alone, either. Maybe if they were drinking together Potter wouldn't have the urge to call out to him every few seconds.
“Will ya sit down now?” drawled Aberforth, and might have amused by the display of the two wizards before him. But then the last surviving Dumbledore was very unlikely to sell the story of a drunk Potter to any paper – so it didn't actually matter. Somehow, the Potions Master had to confess, he still believed a little in Albus' story of his illiterate brother. Even if only a little.
“Cheers, Potter,” Snape drawled, sat down next to the young man and received his whisky with a curt nod.
If Snape had had a pet, a house elf, a owl or just about anything living in his quarters, it would have been started by rumbling in the corridor, then a mock-knock on the door and it crashing against the wall when it suddenly was opened with more force than needed.
“Uff!” was the only comment when something, someone or somebody the size and probably weight of more likely two humans fell on the large leather couch in the combined sitting room and study.
“I always knew you had one of these,” muttered Harry Potter, illuminated by the fire in the fireplace coming to live on its own, buried underneath Severus Snape and not really unhappy about it.
“A leather couch? Your fantasies about me are shockingly sketchy.”
Harry tried to defend himself. “It isn't a fantasy. More like an asset to one.”
Truth was that Harry hadn't even been aware that he had had fantasies about Snape. Or maybe he hadn't had them at all. But if Snape thought they were important Harry knew he could pretend. Or be vague about it.
Or he could tell the half-truth, he realised when teeth and lips worked their way up his neck to his ear, and say that nothing could compare to the real thing.
“Oh, do that again!” he groaned, pulling Snape closer – if that was even possible.
“Do what again? This?” Again, Snape ran the tip of his tongue along the outside of Harry's ear, his breath tickling Harry. “Or this?”
He kissed along Harry's jaw and down his neck.
Kissing, nibbling and sucking they wrestled out of their clothes, first their heavy coats and robes, then Snape pulled Harry's shirt over his head and Harry nestled at the buttons of Severus shirt and trousers. His hands brushed against Snape's growing erection and for a moment Harry felt like falling into a void. All he could hear was his own beating heart. What the hell had he been thinking when he had let himself...? Oh what the hell had he been thinking when he had fallen in love?
“Snape. Snape!” whispered Harry, breathlessly.
The potions master grumbled a little. “It's Severus, Harry.”
Harry bit his lip. “Sev-Severus. Just... stop for a moment, please.”
Snape stopped immediately and his head shot up. “Is something wrong?”
Inwardly Harry rolled his eyes at the frown on Snape's face. “No, don't worry,” he answered, needing a moment to compose his thoughts. “'S just the thing... I've never done this with a man before. Just...”
Harry got a little distracted by the lips in just the right kissing-distance. The thought made him chuckle a little. Snape was confused.
“Wait a moment, Harry,” he muttered, separating from Harry enough to get a glimpse at his whole face. The younger wizard's cheeks were flushed, his eyes a little distant and his lips slightly parted and smiling. “Are you serious about this? You had never sex with a man before...?”
“Ah, Sev! Do you really need more alcohol to finally get that stick out of your ass? Or do you happen to like that?” grinned Harry. Somehow it was strange that Snape just kept staring. “Ah, anyway. I've had friends. Friends who happened to like stuff. You're the first who's a bit more than attractive, I think.”
It wasn't clear to Harry whether he was as clear as he hoped to be because Snape was still staring. Just staring. It unsettled Harry.
“I've done the guy on guy thing,” he finally muttered again. “Just not much of it. 'Nd nothing too special. It should be, though, shouldn't it?”
Snape nodded and managed to lift himself and Harry off the couch. “Yes, it should be, Harry.”
He also managed – much to Harry's amazement – to manoeuvre them to what was obviously the bedroom and to get lost of further clothing. Harry found himself in his underwear in front of the bed and decided that sitting would be better if he wanted to avoid falling over. What a mess!
But a mess involving him almost naked and Snape almost naked and this wasn't quite as obscure as some of his dreams had been. So there was a fair chance this dream was true. What was Christmas Eve for if not miracles?
Snape was finished folding his trousers and putting them on a chair and Harry grinned. “Are you thinking practically or just naughty?”
“I just hate unnecessary restrictions. I was slave to them for far too long?”
“Underwear or evil overlords?” Harry shot back only to be shut up with a kiss not long after that.
For a while they just lying on the bed, making out, some time Harry's underwear vanished under mysterious circumstances and Harry was pleasantly surprised that the alcohol seemed to have less effect on his body than on his brain. Not that it was the fastest or the hardest erection he had ever had, but it was undoubtedly an erection.
Just when the last insecurities he had had left seemed to have vanished Snape let go of him and instead of groaning dirty stuff just groaned into a pillow. Half of his weight was still on Harry, though not too unpleasant, the younger wizard figured.
“What's wrong?” he slurred, one of his hands running through Snape's hair.
After a moment Snape dared to look Harry into the eye. “I want you. I really want you but I can't take advantage of you,” he muttered.
“Oh, take away,” Harry answered. “I wouldn't be here if that sounded too horrible...”
A silver glow from the lamps was slightly illuminating the room and gave Snape the chance to look at Harry. He felt somewhat shy, but also horny – and then, although Harry had lost his first doubts concerning touching, that still was no carte blanche to fucking him while he was drunk.
Harry grew a little nervous. He ran his hands over Severus' shoulders and down his back. Contemplating what to do Harry bit his lower lip. With a mischievous grin Harry turned Severus on his back and kissed him. He then slid a little further down, nibbled only shortly on one nipple, lost his interest and went even further down.
Severus drew a sharp breath when Harry first licked over the head of Severus' penis, then along the vein on the underside and without much hesitating almost sucked it all the way in. He was quite eager and yet found it somewhat funny to be right here right now. The giggling sound he made at the back of his throat translated into vibration that made Severus moan with pleasure. Even though it was for the fact that they were together because they were drunk Severus regretted just how drunk he was. He knew he wouldn't last long now. He already felt the surge towards the edge. He still meant to warn Harry but the last thing he was aware off was his own guttural cry and how Harry was suddenly at his side and snuggling close.
“'m sorry,” Severus slurred, the rest of the sentence lost somewhere between his satisfied libido and his tuning out brain.
Harry woke up and blinked. His head hurt and it was darker than he remembered his quarters to be. But then looking around this was nothing like his quarters. The same moment when he realised he was with someone everything came back to him. Or almost everything.
Some things remained hidden in the mist of alcohol. He remembered the Hog's Head, the drinking, their singing on the way back to the castle and the eerie... well, the strange situation that had let to them being together in the bed.
For someone as drunk as he was Harry felt relatively sober. Or maybe that came after the drunk? A little more important was the feeling of heat rising in him when he felt Snape getting closer.
He tried to withdraw a little to be able to think at least a little but kept babbling all the time. Suddenly he slipped on a patch of ice and went down with a cry.
Probably the alcohol prevented him from feeling any pain, he didn't pass out, though.
Snape helped him up and suddenly they were rather close. Harry blushed and thanked Snape.
The strange feeling he tried to shake off returned with full force when Snape slung one arm around Harry's waist.
“We don't want you slipping again, do we?” he murmured the wizard and a shiver ran down Harry's spine.
When they had reached the castle doors they stopped and turned around to look at the quiet and dark grounds. The snow drowned every sound out and apart from their steps it was untouched.
“A beautiful night,” whispered Harry and watched the small clouds his breath formed disappearing. He caught Snape staring when he turned his head. It didn't feel half as disturbing as Harry reckoned it should. It didn't feel any more disturbing than the arm around his waist.
All in all everything felt rather nice.
“Lovely, indeed,” muttered Snape. “Very pretty.”
And suddenly they were so close again...
Snape hadn't woken up, yet. But examining the strange clock-like thing on the far wall – after he had found his glasses – told him that he should be at the Weasleys' in about an hour. He was invited to a Christmas Lunch, even though he and Ginny were no longer an item. He was still Ron's best friend and Ron seemed to be relieved even when he didn't have to chose between “Harry's friend” and “Ginny's older brother”. Also, Mrs and Mr Weasley had made it quite clear that they had lost enough. To be honest Harry would have missed Mrs Weasley and her cooking and Mr Weasley's strange questions about muggles.
Right now Harry realised that he had been lying on his back for ten minutes – telling himself that he should stop trying to delay making a decision. Either to wake Severus up or let him sleep. Risking rejection or risking oblivion?
Harry would rather risk oblivion. He tried to get out of bed without disturbing Severus and dress without making too much sound. The still somewhat comatose Potions Master turned around and groaned a little. A frown appeared on his face and Harry turned quickly around. He sneaked into the living room with the fireplace and found floopowder in a little box on the mantelpiece.
Casting a few spells to put his clothes into order and a little glamour to conceal his stubble he grabbed a pinch of the powder and threw it into the fireplace.
“The Burrow,” he mumbled and was reasonably relieved to really step out at the right place.
The greeting he received was quite enthusiastic. Hermione and Ron had spent the whole week there already, Ginny and Percy had arrived the night before. The rest was still to be expected or didn't know if they could manage.
Mrs Weasley had a hard time to make it feel like Christmas for everyone. Decoration was all over the place, a Christmas tree, a big bird for lunch and loads of sweets all over the place.
It wasn't the getting reminded of loses that Harry dreaded most.
It wasn't meeting Ginny – not primarily the meeting...
As he had suspected she was gesturing for him to follow after lunch and most people had already formed small groups and were exchanging news of the past few weeks.
Harry was somehow sorry to part from the merry spirit in the living room but followed his ex to her old room.
“So, had a nice night out last night?” Ginny started when she had closed the door. Less obvious than a silencing charm, she always had said. “You're a little obvious, because the anti-wrinkling charms start to wear off and you look a little beat.”
“Yeah, I think so,” answered Harry and wondered whether Ginny was angry or just overly caring and worried like her mother.
“Well,” she began, sat down, motioned for Harry to do the same and blushed a little. “I would ask if it was something serious but the way you look you're not... did you at least use protection then?”
Harry blinked, wondering what was just happening and what part of the discussion he had obviously missed. It was like falling asleep in class just to look up to find Snape standing in front of you and you haven't got a clue what he had asked. “What? I think so. Ginny, I thought we...”
Now she jumped up, obviously embarrassed, but worried. “Oh, that's not about us! I'm just worried about you! You come here and I can't figure out if you're just beat, or in trouble or...”
“Who died and made you my Mum?” Harry asked, his words and tone well-chosen but then still a little sharper than he had intended. Ginny had always tried not to mention Lily Potter.
Ginny blushed with anger, clenched her fists, took a deep breath and sat down again. “I'm sorry, Harry. But I... I just presumed 'cause you don't look like yourself.”
“It's complicated, Ginny,” Harry confessed. He was still annoyed that his ex tried to mother hen him but then it was probably in her genes. “Yeah, I slept with someone. Yeah, we had fun. Yeah, it's not just that. Yeah, it probably won't work out.”
Thinking about how Severus might have woken now, wondering why he was naked and everything, yet not remembering what exactly had happened – or worse, Severus not wanting to remember and keen on keeping their night together a one-time thing...
“Seriously fucked-up situation, Gin. He'll blame it on the alcohol or just flat-out reject me. It's a disaster and I don't know what to do.”
Ginny seemed to have flinched a little but kept her face neutral. “Well... sounds like a difficult person. I guess... I guess I know him?”
Now it was Harry's turn to flinch. “Sort of. Know is such a vague term. I think no one really knows him.”
“If you're serious about this you gotta beat him in his own game.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. I know you don't want to listen to me, but I have six older brothers. To get what I wanted I always need to use tricks and play games. Oh, Harry. You really have to learn something about guys and people in general. You don't want to be rejected, reject him first. He's a drama queen, be dramatic. Make him angry, make him fight you.”
“Make him fight me? Are you crazy? I have left until June, I cannot wait, I cannot risk having to wait. Oh, never mind! Why did I even...”
“You stupid, stubborn... male!” Ginny called out. “Just because it's not in your book it's not going to work. Fine! Go and waste some time trying to beg your way into his life and get your heart broken. See if I care?”
Somehow Harry felt beat and wondered if he still cared.
○♣○♥○♦○♠○
It was already Boxing Day when Harry returned to Hogwarts. Minerva was a bit reserved when she confronted him about staying out over night without notice. Harry felt a little confused as his mantra had been “I am teaching at this school, I am his colleague, I can confront him about this without repercussions”. He had added the “repercussions” to actually feel a little more mature than he did. Now his former house teacher basically told him off like a student out after curfew.
It took him some time to gather the courage to go down into the dungeons. Some time and some calming draught later he finally managed to wander down into Snape's world.
Of course the potions master was working. At least if the sounds coming from the laboratory he kept next to the usual classroom.
Harry knocked.
He knocked again.
When still nothing happened he simply opened the door and walked in. Snape comparing notes and observed a simmering cauldron.
Harry cleared his throat, then added a silent, “Severus?”
Snape looked up. “Are you here to declare your undying love, Potter?” he sneered.
Harry tried to look unaffected. Right, going with Ginny's plan. They had actually practised. It had been more of a joke but Harry could still hear her, trying to make her voice sound deeper and silkier. Strangely enough at least her/his story of explaining (s)he was not the unlikely hero, about to marry the cute hero-prince and bed him – both had blushed and burst out in laughter after that.
Back to reality, though. There could be nothing embarrassing any more – the drunk sex could be topped by nothing. Never.
“Ah, no. Rather the... the opposite. I just came here to tell you... that you shouldn't get your hope up too high. It's really not like I fell in love with you and can't live without you any more.” It got a little easier, Harry thought. His heart was still beating wildly in his chest but as soon as the first words were out... “Look, I'm sorry, but it was just a little fuck. I don't even remember everything. I was drunk. I often do like people too much when I am drunk.”
The look in Snape's eyes shot through Harry like a poisoned arrow. He had to turn to the shelves and pretend to study the jars. “Well, then. You just proved that you are the...”
“... little son of a bitch you always thought I was? Yeah, probably.”
Harry had been wrong. It got worse. The invisible hand around his neck, over his mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. How could he possibly go on and tell Snape what a loser he was? That it would be impossible to be with him when Harry just wanted him with every fault he had?
“Severus,” and Harry hated himself for the sympathetic tone in his voice. “You got to understand that I'm just so young. I need time to find myself. You are probably a reasonably fine choice for someone... your own age – but not me! You're simply to old. I want a life. A life outside the dungeons. I can't spent my time with someone as... composed as you are.”
Concentrating on the jar Harry hadn't seen Snape drawing closer. Suddenly he was jerked around and was shoved into next wall. Pain shot through his back and a swift wave of triumph through his head. “You still hate me, don't you? But that doesn't matter anyway...”
Harry stared into two obsidian eyes, his gaze wandering to pale lips forming the sentence, “How dare you tell such lies to me?”
“Ah, remember how you treated me in the past?! I was always your favourite, wasn't I?”
“I was anxious!” Snape screamed. “I was anxious to see who you would grow up to be but on the other hand I feared it. I feared what you might become but because I would maybe start to like you too much. I was appalled by my own thoughts about a young able wizard with Lily's eyes in my NEWT class. My only chance was to hate you for all that you could be so I could still respect myself.”
For the next sentence Harry didn't even have to pretend anything, “So it's true. Everything has been just a game. Everything has been about my Mum.”
Snape 's face was eerily distorted. “You! It has always been about you.” He paused for a moment and when he realised how he must be frightening Harry and hurting him, his voice became softer, “The urge to protect you from the very first day, the need to make you different from your father, the longing to see you grown up one day and the hope that you would never have to face the horrors your mother and I did. But you defied me by fighting me, by being so similar to myself, by being such a mature child and a childish adult! You made it so much easier for me to hate you.”
Now Harry suddenly was all calm inside. “Then you do hate me.” Maybe all this had never been a good idea. Yeah, he really had jumped in feet first without thinking about whether there was even any water in the pool.
Soon the void he felt was swallowing all he was, was replaced by anger. So Snape hated him. Fine. Whatever. The question remained, what would be more (un)dignified? Bitch slapping him or stomping on his foot? For a moment Harry wondered if he tried to push Severus away but the realised he was kissing him.
The potions master's hands wandered from Harry's shoulders to his throat and grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt. For a moment Harry was too distracted by them to also realise how Snape was kissing him back. It suddenly didn't matter any more how some low shelf pushed into Harry's side.
“Over there,” mumbled Snape when they parted for a moment to catch their breath. He pulled Harry with him and towards the big desk. With a sort of amazement Harry watched some papers fly when he was lifted onto the desk. Severus continued the kissing and nibbling and Harry began to wonder what was so special about his neck that Sna-Severus always ended up there.
But that only led to a thing was more important right now.
“Does that mean you're willing to try?” grinned Harry.
Snape grunted and looked up for a moment. “Only if you stop thinking right now!”