14

Chapter Fourteen

42

Harry spent the remainder of the summer brushing up on second and third year potions—he'd be taking over those classes as well. Apprentices usually added one year for each year they were teaching, but Slughorn was eager to return to retirement, so Harry's apprenticeship was accelerated.

At least once a week Harry and Severus would walk down to the field Severus had enchanted for flying and spend the night as serpents, just for the joy of being free. It wasn't perfect, but it was good. Harry resigned himself to good. Good was—well, good. Really good, actually. Almost none of his life had been anything even approaching good, and he knew he didn't have anything to complain about. Everything was under control, even if he didn't have the fairytale ending by getting the man. That was fine.

A week before classes started, a very, very nervous Harry took Ron and Hermione aside and told them about his condition. Hermione slapped him, then burst into tears and pulled him into a tight hug, saying she had known all along and couldn't believe it had taken him two years to tell her. Harry was baffled by this, but accepted the reprimand. Ron, who had been told by Hermione years ago, was less physical, merely clapping him on the shoulder and saying that he would always be his friend, no matter what. When Harry told them he and Severus had effectively cured his condition Hermione gaped at him, then demanded to see the potions, all the notes they had taken since their first attempts, and had to be cut off—repeatedly—from spending the entire night asking Harry about every little detail. When she heard about Os Grabatum, the potion that rendered his transformations painless, she insisted on taking a flask with her to the Ministry in hopes of getting it patented and out on the market. Harry tried telling her that he only tested it with his changes and not on any actual broken bones, but it fell on deaf ears.

The only way to stop the much too detailed conversation about the potions was to suddenly blurt out that Severus was now an Animagus. For Harry, because of his birthday. Hermione rolled her eyes and said she knew that as well; she did work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and she saw all new names added to the Animagus registry. Ron was more than a little disgusted by the fact, but even he had to admit that it was a sweet gesture.

Harry's second year of apprenticeship was better than the first. He lived with Neville in a sort of apartment, sharing just the living room, which was where they spent most of their time. Harry was very hesitant to tell Neville about himself, as Neville still hadn't fully recovered from being in charge of the Mandrakes, now keeping a few growing at all times, just in case. But when Harry disappeared for the third night in a row, arriving back just as Neville was waking up, he let out an exasperated sigh and said that Ron and Hermione had told him the summer after their eighth year. Harry felt like a complete arse, but Neville assured him it was okay and he didn't blame him, and when he did, he had a small beanbag with a picture of Harry's face that he threw darts at.

Harry still spent a significant amount of time with Severus; Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights were devoted to advanced potion lessons, finally in the comfort of the potions lab instead of the Chamber of Secrets. They went out as snakes at least once a week, keeping to the wee hours of the morning, though even then they inspired a new Hogwarts rumor. It was more of a boogeyman story to scare the first years—if you aren't in your dorm by curfew, the Basilisks will get you. Harry felt guilty about this, but while Severus refused to admit he found it anything other than inane, Harry saw him bite back laughter a few times when the rumor circled back to him.

The Wednesday before winter holidays during Harry's nightly potion lesson, halfway through a very long and rather dull explanation regarding the history of calming draughts, Severus cut himself off mid sentence.

Harry glanced up from his notes. "I was listening," he said. "The calming effects of lavender were first noticed in the Middle Ages when it was used as a condiment, and—"

"Are you coming to Spinner's End for the break?" Severus interrupted, meeting Harry's surprised eyes.

"Um," Harry replied intelligently. "I, uh, hadn't planned on it. I was going to stay here, but if you think I should, I wouldn't mind."

Severus shook his head, nothing more than a jerk to the left. "No. If you are staying here, that is your decision. As I was saying—"

"No, wait," Harry said quickly. "Are you? Going home, I mean? Don't you usually stay here?"

"For the first time in many years I have nothing holding me to the castle," Severus replied. "There are more than enough staff remaining to keep watch over the handful of students staying behind. I would enjoy the chance to brew at home in my real lab."

"Do you want me to come?" Harry asked, heart leaping into overdrive. "I'm not a reason to hold you here, but you want me to go home with you?"

Severus' eyes flashed. "I did not say that."

Harry smiled slightly. "Severus, really. After everything we've been through, I know how to read you. Sure, of course I'll spend the holidays with you."

"Fine," Severus replied sharply. "Where was I? Your infernal interruptions are no more welcome in private lessons than the classroom."

Harry's smile widened. There was something strangely comforting about Severus insulting him and blaming him for things that weren't his fault. "Condiments."

Harry had a bit of a panic getting ready for three weeks of vacation with two days notice, but he was relatively prepared by the time he and Severus left on Saturday. Severus refused to admit he wanted Harry to come with him, instead treating him like a burden the same way he always did, but Harry was so used to it he hardly noticed.

Being at Spinner's End wasn't much different than Hogwarts. Harry didn't have Neville to keep him company, but he got to brew far more than he would have if he'd been spending his time with a Herbology professor. Harry and Severus spent most of their days brewing, the vacation turning into an extended lesson, which spawned a few fights about holidays being holiday-like and not school, but for the most part they got along fine.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but they didn't spend the night as snakes until Christmas Eve. They had a late dinner that night, and instead of going back down to the basement Harry went outside, stretching out and relaxing as a Basilisk. It was cold, even colder as a reptile, but he didn't mind, at least not at first. The moonlight on his scales, the fresh air flowing through his altered lungs, the feel of just being.

The wind picked up, and Harry curled around himself, not ready to go in yet. He knew it wouldn't help, that he didn't generate his own body heat, but it felt like it would help. With closed eyes out beneath the moon, everything else melted away. As much as he enjoyed brewing, he had been looking forward to the break he wasn't getting. He was putting off both his grading and his planning for the coming term, and the nervousness of undone work was starting to encroach. His feelings for Severus hadn't changed or lessened, and while Harry had no difficulty hiding them or pushing them back, spending every waking moment with the man was starting to grate on him.

Basilisks didn't have to brew potions, they didn't have teaching duties, and they weren't in love with their mentors.

Well. They were. But the other things, those were true.

"It's Christmas." Harry opened his eyes. Severus was standing in the doorway, studying him. "I find such notions foolish, but it is past midnight and I know these things matter to you."

Harry smiled, as much as Basilisks smiled. "Thanks for the heads up."

Severus shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the clear sky. "Do you believe the date involves company?"

"Tomorrow, of course," Harry said, still smiling. "Weasleys, Longbottoms, then back here with you. Tonight I free you of holiday obligations."

Severus remained in the door. "It has been a while since I have been a snake."

Harry had to bite back laughter. "Y'know, you're right. It's Christmas, I need company. Stay out here with me."

"It is far too cold to be outside," Severus replied. "If you are so desperate for company, I will be in my study."

Harry gaped. "Are you inviting me into your study?"

"Of course not," Snape replied irritably. "You may fetch me from my study if you need to, at which point we would adjoin to the basement."

Harry changed back into a human. "Basement it is. I was getting cold anyway."

Severus rolled his eyes. "If you insist."

"You need to learn to ask for what you want," Harry said, following him inside. "Coming here for break, spending Christmas Eve with you—I don't mind. I like you, your company." That was a little close, but not too close, probably. "All you have to do is ask."

"I am not asking for anything," Severus replied stiffly. He paused in front of one of the cabinets in his lab. "Firewhiskey, finely aged scotch, or relaxation draught?"

"Whatever you want," Harry replied, heading into the basement room. He brushed his hand across Severus' back without thinking, then almost tripped over himself. It was Christmas Eve, Severus had been asking to spend time with him, and Harry was feeling affectionate. Combining that with alcohol was maybe not the greatest idea. "Relaxation draught," he called over his shoulder as he walked into the other room.

Severus joined him a moment later with two carefully measured glasses. He sat next to Harry, apparently hell bent on giving him a heart attack by the end of the night, and handed him one of the glasses.

"Cheers."

Harry clinked the glasses together. "Cheers." The familiar taste of lilacs, and then all his tension drained away, both physical and emotional. He hummed quietly, settling into the couch. He grabbed his woolen blanket—he'd brought it home from Hogwarts with him—and draped it over himself.

"This blasted room refuses to warm," Severus muttered, reaching for the blanket. It was large enough to cover both of them without a problem, but Harry was relaxed and happy, a combination which tended to make him silly.

"No," Harry said, pulling the blanket back. "If you want to share, you'll have to ask."

Severus glared at him. "You are very small and the blanket is very large."

"Mhm," Harry replied, not relinquishing his hold.

"I am cold, and it is Christmas."

Harry smiled. Severus' logic was slipping. "Then ask."

Severus mumbled something under his breath that Harry didn't catch. "May I use the two thirds of the blanket I bought you that you are not underneath?"

"Sure," Harry said amicably, holding it up so Severus could join him. "I don't even make you ask nicely, I just want you to admit that you're the one asking."

"Insufferable brat," Severus replied.

"Hmm, so it's Christmas," Harry mused. It occurred to him that relaxation draught wasn't much better than alcohol, and that he didn't particularly care. "That calls for physical contact, yeah? Isn't that what we've decided?"

"An unnecessary tradition," Severus said. "One that ought to be broken."

"I'd rather not break it, if that's okay," Harry said. It would be the first time they'd had extended contact since the kiss incident, and while Harry knew it was dangerous territory, he wanted it very much. "I'm short on traditions."

Severus let out an annoyed huff. "So you say. Fine. Come here."

Harry shuffled over, expecting to be allowed to lean against his shoulder and nothing more. Instead Severus was holding his arm open, and Harry ended up snuggled against his chest. He sighed in happiness. His body, mind, and soul were pleased.

Of course. Finally. Thank you.

"I've missed this," Harry said stupidly. "I mean, we still spend a lot of time together and everything, but—"

"We do not live together anymore," Severus finished. "I am aware." His arm was draped loosely around Harry's waist, but it tightened slightly at his words. "It's different."

Harry smiled to himself. "You used a contraction."

"Shut up." Severus lengthened the couch into a chaise, and they moved so they were lying down. As far as Harry was concerned, this night could last forever. "I have been thinking. These extended days of brewing are good for you, pushing you back into action and out of the comfort of teaching beginning potions. Starting next term, you will spend Saturdays with me as well."

Harry tapped a finger against his chest, the habit so engrained he didn't notice. "But Hogsmeade. And I've got papers to grade and lesson plans to make."

"If I can manage with a full course load, then so can you," Severus replied. "You are a professor, you may go to Hogsmeade whenever you chose. Saturday is irrelevant."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, but that's when everyone else goes, and Ron and Hermione and I meet up sometimes, plus everything closes early on weekdays."

"Then you will learn to manage your time better, a skill you have been far too lax in learning," Severus said. "In two years you will be teaching full time, a position you cannot acquire without becoming a Potions Master. You will be tested and, if you pass, registered with the Ministry. Teaching preadolescent idiots will get you nowhere."

Severus had only mentioned the title once or twice, and suddenly two years seemed like a very short time indeed. "Um, yeah, okay. Saturdays are fine."

"For Merlin's sake, stop your bloody tapping," Snape said suddenly, grabbing Harry's hand and holding him still. "I understand you are short a tail, but surely you can stay still under the effects of a relaxation draught."

Harry blushed. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"It is annoying enough when on a table or with your quill, but I draw the line with my person," Severus said, and Harry noticed that his hand hadn't been relinquished. His heart started pounding and he was acutely aware that if his palms started to sweat, Severus would be the first to notice.

"My feet are sticking out," Harry stated, which was true. He was warm enough given the fireplace, body heat, and blanket, but now seemed like a good time to mention his feet. "Can you widen the chaise bit? I can't get my feet under the blanket like this."

"Why you cannot perform an extendable charm on your own I will never know," Severus remarked dryly, though he did. "As soon as you are on the couch all spell casting duties fall to me. Just because you are lying down does not mean you are no longer a wizard."

"But you'll do it if I ask," Harry replied, stretching his legs out, maybe a little closer to Severus' than he had to.

"I spoil you so," Severus said, and Harry would have bet a hundred Galleons that he was rolling his eyes.

"Hey, I'm here," Harry replied. "I'm spending break with you and I've turned back to spend Christmas with you. The least you can do is give me a little leg room."

"Saturdays will be dedicated to inventing potions," Severus said. "Your apprenticeship will continue as is, but you must learn how to create your own as well."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, tilting his head up so he could see Severus. The angle was awkward, bringing their legs into contact, digging his elbow into Severus' stomach, and causing their faces to be much closer than Harry anticipated, making the rest of his thought quite difficult to remember. "What sort of potions?"

"The sort that have yet to be invented and thus cannot be explained," Severus replied, looking at Harry as though he were an idiot. "Kindly remove your elbow from my organs before I expire."

Harry lay back down, and once again his hand was taken, held firmly in Severus'. Harry swallowed dryly.

"To prevent a relapse of tapping," Severus said at Harry's silence.

"Yuh," Harry replied, then cleared his throat. "Yeah. Sorry, I've really got to get that under control." He rearranged his thumb slightly so it wasn't bent quite so uncomfortably, accidentally ending up so it was resting against Severus' fingertips.

Harry took a moment to assess the situation. Bodies pressed flat together, touching from head to foot. Holding hands, fingers touching, an arm wrapped firmly around his. Underneath a shared blanket. Going to sleep together.

Harry swallowed again. This was not going to be an easy night. A perfect Christmas, maybe, but not one with a lot of sleep.

Holding hands? Really?

He could get around the rest, but really? He knew that his tapping could be irritating, Severus had mentioned it before, so maybe his excuse was valid, but really?

Harry wondered how far he could take it. Stupid Gryffindor reflexes, always needing to push. But he had been so good, and it was Christmas, so maybe it would be okay. Severus' hold on his hand was tight, but with some maneuvering he managed to slide his pointer finger between Severus' pinky and ring finger. It was stupid, it wasn't like their fingers were laced together or anything, but he wasn't being rebuked.

Feeling an awful lot like a teenager holding hands for the first time, Harry carefully hooked his pinkie around Severus' pointer. Still no comment, no moving of hands, nothing to indicate that he should stop. Or go any further, but Harry focused on the first. He decided his intentions were obvious and he had given Severus enough time, and that he was being really bloody ridiculous about the whole thing, so he just went for it, inserting his fingers between Severus', properly holding hands in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with tapping. There was a brief moment of panic when Severus moved his hand, but he was just rearranging to a more comfortable position, still keeping their fingers together.

Harry let out a quiet pent up breath.

He also got braver.

Harry stretched his legs again, which wasn't terribly suspicious. It was another habit he'd developed from being a Basilisk, trying to lengthen himself in his human form. When he relaxed he bent his leg just slightly, just enough so his knee was very carefully not on Severus' leg but also not precisely not on his leg. He was being ridiculous again, but Severus wasn't stopping him, and he'd spent six months being so good, holding everything back, needing and wanting and craving and not having. It was Christmas, and he was going to push, and if that got him in trouble he'd just blame the potion and the holiday and Severus for asking him to cuddle in the first place, and everything would be fine.

Harry casually draped his leg over Severus' as if it was nothing. He decided that if he continued with the slowly sneaking it would be suspicious, but all in one movement, that was the same as Severus holding his hand, or even wrapping an arm around him in the first place. Just a casual movement that didn't mean anything. He waited with bated breath to be yelled at, kicked off, told never to touch him again, but none of those things happened.

Instead, Severus shifted. It could have been an innocent shift meant to get more comfortable, or he could have nuzzled Harry's head with his cheek. Against all odds, Harry thought probably the latter. He didn't know how to test the theory, though, nor could he think of any ways to push further without doing something drastic and irrevocable.

"Sev?" he asked quietly, not having any idea of what he was going to say.

Severus groaned, the sound rumbling delightfully through his chest. "You will never, ever be granted permission to call me that."

Harry bit his lip. "Severus, then?"

Severus sighed. "What? And do not ramble, I am tired and wish to sleep."

Harry found the idea of sleeping like this laughable. "Merry Christmas."

Hardly daring to believe his luck, Severus brushed Harry's fringe off his face with his free hand and kissed his forehead. "Merry Christmas. Now sleep."

43

Harry didn't register that he was awake at first. He was curled up in Severus' arms, legs twined together, still holding hands—though not the same hand, Severus had switched partway through the night. This wasn't a dream? It didn't seem like it. On the other hand, he was hungry and the clock said it was almost noon, so that pointed towards being awake. It also meant he had to get up if he didn't want to be late for Christmas at the Burrow.

Harry was not particularly interested in getting up, so he didn't. He rationalized that it was Christmas, and he had a right to give himself this as a gift. Besides, Severus would no doubt wake up any minute, he never slept this late, and without relaxation potion on his side, he'd be yelled at and leaving as quickly as possible would be extremely advantageous.

So he'd just stay in Severus' arms for another few moments and enjoy the feeling. Like how his fingers were rough from years of brewing, and his arm comfortingly heavy, and how warm he was, especially given Harry's reptilian tendencies.

"Don't you need to be somewhere?"

How deep his voice was, and how his chest vibrated as he spoke.

"Yeah, eventually," Harry replied, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. "I'm still tired though. Groggy, y'know, from the relaxation draught. I assume that's why you're still in bed?"

"Combined with being physically held down," Severus said sarcastically.

"You could've gotten up anyway," Harry replied, tapping his finger against Severus' hand.

"I am aware of what I can and cannot do," Severus said. "Stop tapping."

Harry stilled his finger. Lying like this, wrapped in and around Severus, did not go well with staying completely still, he was too antsy. "Sorry." The silence started to stretch on, and he thought he might be going crazy. How on earth did he manage to sleep like this? Merlin. He needed to say something, anything, otherwise he was going to explode. "Your Christmas gift is in my room."

"Shall I release you so you can fetch it?" Severus asked.

Dammit. Not the right thing to say, then. "Er, no." That wasn't enough. "Still tired. I can summon it, though, if you want."

"I do not see how I can be expected to open a gift while lying like this," Severus replied.

"Yeah, never mind," Harry muttered, feeling like an idiot.

There was pause, and then Severus asked, "Will I ever be allowed to move again?"

Harry started to tap again before forcing himself still. "Um, yes. Maybe not yet, though." What was he doing? Merlin, he needed to shut up, and now. Everything about this was suspicious, suspicious because of him, and he needed to get his act together. That might involve sitting up, but he would just have to live with that. Never mind the Weasleys expecting him, Severus would be expecting him to get off.

He would, too, if it weren't for their hands. Not that he didn't enjoy—could he really call this cuddling? He supposed so—but they had fallen asleep together before, however infrequently. It was their fingers twined together, holding hands as if they always did, that he couldn't give up yet. On the other hand, it wasn't something they always did, and if Harry knew anything about how to deal with Severus, it was not to push him.

Harry sat up, not particularly thrilled with himself. It would be fine, he knew that, it was just everything he had been pushing away sort of sneaked up to the foreground and he needed to let it go again. Disentangling himself from Severus was the first step in doing that. He felt every movement as Severus' arm dropped from his shoulder, his hand slid free of Harry's, and Harry retrieved his leg from between Severus'.

He also felt Severus's hand, the one that had been around his shoulder, come to rest gently on his lower back.

Harry ran a hand through his hair under the guise of waking up and attempting to smooth away any bedhead. It wasn't like anything was strange or abnormal, of course not. Weasleys, he was going to see the Weasleys, that was what he needed to focus on.

"I've got to get dressed," Harry said. "Get everyone's gifts together and stuff." He turned so he was facing Severus, who was looking at him like he always did: with mild annoyance and vague—very vague—interest. "We're still celebrating tonight, right? When I get back from Neville's?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I will humor your oversentimental appreciation for an unremarkable day in December, yes."

"Okay, good," Harry replied, smiling slightly. Severus was the same as he always was—except for the hand on his back. "Though we had relaxation draught last night; I know it's tradition and all, but there must be side effects, yeah?"

"Not particularly," Severus replied. "I would not recommend using it every day, but I would hate to interrupt your precious tradition due to your inane need to celebrate two days in a row."

"You were the one who wanted to do something last night," Harry said. "But yeah, tradition's good." The fact that he was terrified of what he'd do or say was in no way relevant, probably. "I'll see you tonight?"

Severus let his hand drop. "Do not hurry home. I have plenty to do that would not benefit from your presence."

Harry hid his smile as he got up. Severus' inability to admit he wanted company or cared what Harry was doing or where he—

Wait. What? Home? Do not hurry home. Not my home, not Spinner's End, but home. Harry paused in the doorway to the lab, a sudden, stupid idea demanding to be acted on.

"Do you want to come?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder but not fully turning around. "To the Burrow, I mean, and—"

"You're an idiot," Severus snapped. "There is nothing I would enjoy less. Not only do I have a life outside of you—which I already said, clearly you have yet to learn to listen—I am finally, finally free of every last Weasley. The last thing I desire is to be in a pathetically small room overflowing with blinding red hair and poorly knit jumpers. As for Longbottom, I see more than enough of that bumbling fool at school."

Harry didn't know what he had been expecting, but that was definitely the only possible reaction. "I'll tell them you say hi," he replied with a smile.

"You will not!"

44

Christmas at the Burrow was even better than usual. Fleur and Bill announced they were expecting their first child, which caused Harry to burst into laughter. It took him a few minutes to calm down long enough to explain what Severus had said about no more Weasleys, and how he would react to the news—on Christmas, no less—that there was another generation on the way. Then George accidentally proposed to Hermione on Ron's behalf, or at least he claimed it was accidental. He and Ron got into a shouting match over whether or not Ron told him he was proposing on Christmas Eve versus New Year's Eve while the rest of the family watched on in shocked silence. Eventually, after the shock wore off, Hermione interrupted by pulling Ron into a bone crushing hug and telling him that it didn't matter who proposed when because of course she would marry him. The combination of a new baby, an engagement, and Christmas resulted in a very loud, extraordinarily festive and slightly alcoholic lunch and gift giving.

Harry departed for Neville's a little before six, arriving just in time for dinner. Like last year, he was still rather full from Mrs. Weasley's feast, but he managed a helping of Mrs. Longbottom's not-quite-but-almost-as-delicious dinner. The three of them sat by the fire afterwards eating Christmas treats and attempting to play a game of chess, though it ended up being Neville's grandmother versus herself, given how much advice she was giving.

After the game Neville asked Harry to look over his curriculum, despite Mrs. Longbottom's protests that he shouldn't be working on Christmas. Harry, who was relatively certain there was something else he wanted to talk about, assured her that he didn't mind, and the two went to Neville's bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed, Neville turned to him, arms crossed.

"What's going on with you and Snape?"

Harry stared at him, last night and this morning's events flashing through his mind before remembering Neville didn't know about those. He frowned in confusion. "What're you talking about? Nothing, he's my teacher, that's all."

"Everyone assumes I'm daft about emotional stuff because I'm not dating," Neville replied. "I'm not. I watch, and I listen, and while I don't know what, there's something between you two. Eighth year was pretty much the same as always, then last year this thing started, and at first I thought it was just the mentoring and the Basilisk thing, but it's not. You live together during the holidays, you spend all your spare time together, and he smiles around you."

"No he doesn't," Harry replied blankly. "And, um, none of that other stuff is true either. Of course we spend a lot of time together, I have lessons with him four days a week, and Slughorn is useless at teaching how to be a teacher. Besides, we go out as snakes, you know that. It's not like I can do that with anyone else."

"Four times a week?" Neville asked. "Since when?"

"Oh, er, yesterday," Harry replied, stammering a little. "I've got to become a registered Potions Master, he's increasing my lessons. You spend time with Pomona. It's the same thing."

"It's not, but never mind that," Neville said. "Why're you at Spinner's End for break?"

"So I'm not at Hogwarts by myself," Harry said, which wasn't exactly a lie.

"He lets you call him Severus," Neville replied.

"I'm a professor," Harry replied resolutely.

"No, you're an apprentice," Neville corrected. "So am I. He doesn't call me by my first name."

"Well I'm sorry but he doesn't like you!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't know! The Basilisk thing, I guess. Why? What's all this sudden questioning about?"

"I was just wondering," Neville replied. "He smiles. It's disturbing."

"He absolutely doesn't smile," Harry said firmly. "He hasn't smiled once during break. He doesn't leave time for smiling. I'm chained to my cauldron all day being lectured and tested. He's not spending time with me, he's torturing me. There is no free time."

"That's how he spends time with people, by torturing them," Neville replied. "If he didn't care he wouldn't bother. And he doesn't torture you, not if he lets you call him Severus, which he does."

"It doesn't matter what I call him, I still haven't had a moment to myself all break," Harry replied, crossing his arms. He was feeling very defensive.

"That's my point," Neville replied. "Why are you even there? Have you spent any time at Grimmauld Place since the Basilisk thing?"

"Of course I have," Harry said irritably. Then he paused. "Well, no. But I don't like Grimmauld Place, it reminds me of Sirius. It's big and lonely and filled with paintings that yell and books that scream and things I've never seen before that try to kill me."

"Hogwarts isn't," Neville challenged.

"I'm learning!" Harry said. "I've got twice as many classes to teach as you, and I've got to get registered before I become a full on professor. I need to spend time with him."

This was a very bad time for this conversation. Harry still couldn't get the feel of Severus' hand in his out of his mind, or the comforting warmth of sleeping against him. He hadn't talked to anyone about his feelings and he wasn't about to start, only if Neville didn't get off his back very soon, he didn't think he'd be able to help himself.

"Are you doing something stupid?" Neville asked bluntly.

Harry tapped a finger against his arm. "No."

"You're tapping," Neville said. "You tap when you're nervous, everyone knows that."

"I tap all the time," Harry snapped. "I'm not doing anything and neither is he."

Neville was silent for a very long time. "My point, the reason why I wanted to talk to you, was to tell you that it's not necessarily stupid, what you're doing."

Harry stared at him. "I'm not doing anything," he repeated. "What you're talking about, that would be stupid. But I'm not doing anything."

"Well if you were, as long as you were careful, it might not be stupid," Neville replied. "I wouldn't, y'know, get your hopes up or anything, but something is happening, and not just to you. Or from you, or whatever. The stupid thing, that's not just you."

Severus holding his hand. Asking him to Spinner's End for the holidays. Coming to find him at midnight to tell him it was Christmas.

"Nothing stupid is happening," Harry replied firmly.

Neville shrugged. "If you say so. Though I'm going on record as saying the longer you avoid it, the stupider it'll get."

"Duly noted," Harry said irritably. "Curriculum?"

Neville waved his hand. "I went over it with Pomona before I left."

"Then come on, I want another game of chess," Harry said. "With you, not your grandmother."

Neville rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. "We can try."