13

Chapter Thirteen

39

Harry still hadn't changed by summer, and returned to Spinner's End with Snape at the end of the school year. To be honest, he had almost forgotten about his condition. He spent his days brewing with Snape and nights relaxing. He still saw Ron, Hermione and Neville on a regular basis, and was only a little jealous when Ron started talking to him about how to propose. He knew it was only a matter of time, but it made him realize how difficult finding a girlfriend would be for him; Spinner's End wasn't exactly bustling with available girls, nor was Hogwarts.

Harry turned into a Basilisk the week before his birthday. He didn't change back right away, instead spending the night stretched out in Snape's backyard, basking in the moonlight and loving the freedom. The backyard was blanketed in a concealment charm, his eyes were deactivated, and he could change back whenever he wanted. For the first time since the first attack, he felt safe in his snake form.

He changed back when Snape woke up, and they spent the day adding the final touches to the next generation of potion. There was a lot of anxiety that night. They both stood in front of the potion pretending to work on it for several minutes after it was completed, assuring themselves they weren't procrastinating.

"Okay," Harry said finally. "Okay, I'm ready."

Snape poured out a carefully measured flask and handed it to Harry. "There is no reason to get your hopes up," he cautioned.

"Yes there is, stop psyching me out," Harry said, and downed the liquid, followed by a dose of Oculos Ius. They stood frozen in place and stared at each other. "I want to be a Basilisk," Harry hissed. Never had he been happier for the searing pain of the change. He swished his tail over Snape's feet, and then said, "I want to be a human again." He ground his teeth against the pain as he changed back.

Snape broke into a grin. A large, genuine grin. "It worked."

Harry threw himself into Snape's arms, who hugged him back just as tightly. "Merlin fucking Christ, we did it," Harry exclaimed.

"It would appear so," Snape said. "We still have some—"

"Fuck that," Harry interrupted. "We've got nothing left. We did it." And then, unable to contain himself, he burst into tears. "I can't—you—what we—" His only excuse was that he was entirely focused the potion; otherwise there was no way he would do something so stupid. He leaned up on his tiptoes and pressed his lips against Snape's. A celebratory kiss, Harry rationalized.

Heat flooded through him. Excitement and adrenaline and an overwhelming, terrifying sense of rightness spread to every end of his body, everything that had been in pain from transforming was tingling with Of course. Finally. Thank you.

Harry broke away as soon as he remembered that he had to. Snape's eyes were wide, staring with disbelief. He didn't look upset, exactly, just shocked. Harry brushed his tears away, laughing nervously. "Sorry. I was, uh—Vita Salvus," he said firmly. "I want to call it Vita Salvus. I checked the Latin dictionary, I'm almost certain those are the right words." He was speaking so quickly it was a wonder Snape understood him at all.

Snape nodded, seeming to clear his mind. He ignored the kiss entirely. "They are. I caution you against getting your hopes up; while I admit I cannot find a flaw with the potion and it would seem we have created a success, there is still much to investigate. We need to test how long it works, and will be doing nightly checks, but even if it lasts only a day—"

Harry pulled Snape into a hug again, the excitement overtaking whatever insanity had momentarily possessed him. He tucked his head beneath his chin as he said, "I can't celebrate with anyone but you, and I am so in the mood to celebrate. After all this time…"

Snape kissed the top of his head. That was a celebratory kiss, not what Harry had done. "Celebrate we shall."

40

Harry said he needed a few minutes to himself, so Snape bottled the remaining potion and cleaned their stations. Harry went outside, sitting on the back steps. He forced thoughts of the potion and his condition out of his mind; he would have plenty of time to go over that with Snape tonight. Now he needed to figure out what the hell had just happened and what to do about it.

Harry had known he loved Snape for quite a while. After all they had been through together it would be strange if he didn't feel some sort of attachment. It was the same sort of love he felt for Ron and Hermione, for Dumbledore and Minerva—the sort for a friend, someone who he had been through hell and back with. Of course he loved Snape, that wasn't the issue.

Another sort of love, this sort; it had never even crossed his mind.

Well, that might have been a lie. There was the time when he had leaned against Snape in front of the fireplace, but he'd attributed that to being drunk. The first time Snape had asked him to stay at Spinner's End, when he'd realized Snape did care about him, and for more than the potion. When he had fallen asleep on his lap after his breakdown and the calming draught. Deciding to stay on as Snape's intern, and then that night sleeping together—snuggled on the couch, that was, not sleeping together. The times they had referred to each other as family, however vaguely.

So maybe, a few times, it might have occurred to him. Sort of. Fleetingly, that was the word. He had continued to think about girls, or really the lack of girls, but never about the lack of boys. He'd never thought about boys that way. Then again he hadn't really thought about anyone that way in quite some time, but that was because he was busy with being a Basilisk and inventing a cure. There was certainly no reason to think that he hadn't been looking because he'd already found someone.

He didn't love Snape. Rather, he loved him, but he didn't love him.

It was just that kiss.

It was more than a matter of arousing or exciting. It was right. It was perfect, a spark, something amazing he hadn't known he'd been missing until now. It was exactly what he had thought at the time—of course. The potions were done, his changes were under control, he was teaching and loving it, and the last piece had fallen into place.

Of course. Finally.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, leaning his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. That was all well and good, assuming he trusted his feelings and didn't attribute this sudden rush of emotion to the sudden potion success. Which he did, because if he'd learned anything in his life it was to trust his instincts, no matter how strange. The problem was that Snape did not feel that way. Family, he had said at graduation. Well, Harry had also said family, but that was—was different, or—he had made a mistake, rather. Snape? Snape did not make mistakes.

What the hell was wrong with him? He finally had a chance at happiness, a shot at normal life, and he had to go and fall in love with Snape.

Only, well. The Of course and the Finally and the Thank you.

That wasn't really a sudden falling in love. It was more a sudden realization of a long-term situation. Hermione had always said he was daft about this sort of thing, that he was the last to know when it came to his emotions. It wouldn't surprise him. The problem wasn't surprise. The problem was reciprocity. The problem was ruining his newfound happiness and normality and freedom. The problem was pushing away the one person who cared about him.

The kiss had been perfect.

Harry hated himself. It was just like him to ruin everything at the last minute.

The door behind him opened nearly soundlessly; if he hadn't had Basilisk hearing, he would've missed it entirely.

"Everything is cleared and the alcohol is out," Snape said. "If you need more time—"

"No," Harry interrupted. "I'm good. Celebrating, I want to celebrate." He broke into a grin, and only then did he allow himself to turn around, once he was absolutely certain any other emotions wouldn't show. "C'mon. We cured me. Let's drink."

Snape returned the smile, albeit not with a full-fledged grin. "Let's."

By two in the morning conversation had slowed. Harry was too drunk for chess, they had been over his condition and the implications of the potion over and over again, and now they were relaxing in the basement on their separate couches. Harry was basking in the warmth of the flames—warmth was still hard to come by—and pleasantly sleepy. Not ready to go to bed, just not quite fully there.

"So're you going to explain that kiss?" Snape asked suddenly.

Harry's heart stopped before kicking into overdrive. "No," he replied. "I mean, I was juss' eggsited. Nothin' to esplain."

"Are you certain?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He was too drunk for this. "Yes. Mossly."

"Mostly?" Snape echoed.

Harry frowned. "Stop it. 'M drunk. An' eggsited. An' cured! Now's not th' time."

"So there's a time," Snape replied quietly. "There's something to talk about."

"No," Harry said irritably. "There's nothin'. You've kissed me a few times. New Year's an'—an' today, beckash you're eggsited."

"Not like that."

Harry knew that. He might have been drunk, but he did know that. "Yer wrong." He yawned loudly and snuggled further beneath his blanket. That Severus had gotten him. "'M tired. G'night, Severus."

"Don't call me that," Snape said.

Harry threw his pillow at him to disguise the sudden hurt. This was why he hated himself, because an innocent remark that meant nothing suddenly meant everything. "We're cellybratin'. I c'n call you Severus if I want."

"You can call me Severus when you explain the kiss," Severus replied. "I'm not comfortable with you using my first name when I don't know your motives."

"Leave me alone," Harry grumbled. "'M drunk. So're you. You're usin' concatrions an' everything."

Snape snorted. "Just because I'm letting my speech patterns fall into a less structured—er—structure doesn't mean I'm drunk."

Harry laughed. "Liar." Then his heart squeezed as he remembered what they were arguing about. "'M goin' to sleep, I told you. G'night. Severus. An' of course you mean somethin' to me, it'd be weird if you didn'." Utter silence. That's not what he was supposed to say. "The sort of meanin' that means I was cellbraytin'."

"The sort of meaning that means celebrating isn't the same sort of meaning that generates that sort of kissing," Snape replied.

"Severus, you're not makin' any sense," Harry said. "Aside from your sentenss struck—trucktrure, you know what you mean to me, I think. An' what you don' mean. But you're drunk. I'm dunk."

"I'm looking out for you," Snape said. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Then give me back my pillow," Harry replied. "So I c'n get some sleep." Snape tossed it at him, and Harry snuggled back into the couch. "What'd it mean t' you? If yer so inten' on knowin' my every motivashun, I shoul' know yours."

"I have no motivation, I didn't kiss you," Snape said. "I thought you were going to sleep."

"You did," Harry said firmly, just now realizing what it meant. "You did, affer I kissed you. Tha' means more th'n a firs' kiss."

"Go to sleep."

"Why're you sleepin' down here anyway?" Harry asked. "The motives—motivashuns, those, tell me."

"Good night, Harry."

"An' you called me Harry," Harry pointed out. "But fine. 'M tired. An' drunk. G'night, Severus."

When Harry woke up the next morning, Snape was already up. He had stayed downstairs and was reading calmly.

"I want to try Vita Salvus during the day," Harry said, yawning as he stretched. "I don't know why I've only changed at night, and it's probably a bollocks idea to be a Basilisk during the day, but I should know if I can, don't you think?"

"By all means," Snape said, then switched to hisses. "Change into a Basilisk."

Harry did, and he swished his tail in excitement. "This is brilliant," he said. "I have control over this. Actual, real control."

"It only took two years," Snape mused. "If this was not such a secret, it would be quite impressive. We need to talk."

"It's still impressive," Harry said. "Even if it's just between us. No we don't."

"Yes, but I would not mind submitting a paper on the process to Practical Potions Quarterly," Snape said. "Just when I think you have surpassed your inevitable daftness, I am once again proven wrong. Of course we do."

Harry had just woken up and didn't feel this was the time for such a conversation. "I'm sorry you're so self-centered you can't appreciate the work for what it is," he said. "If you want to talk, you start."

"I do appreciate it," Snape said. "I should not have complained. I was also not the one who started this, and as such you will begin."

"I'm not beginning anything," Harry replied. "There's nothing to begin. I was excited, I told you. Excited and celebrating and I wasn't thinking clearly because I have control over my form, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Of course I noticed," Snape said. "It is hard to miss a giant snake in my basement. Change back." Harry did, agonizingly. When his screaming subsided, Snape continued. "If there is nothing to begin, why do you refuse a conversation?"

"Because I want a potion to make the change painless," Harry said. "Can't we focus on that?"

"You have the skills to create such a potion on your own," Snape said sharply. "You do not need my help."

Their relationship was slipping away, everything they had accomplished disappearing. Of course Harry had suppressed his feelings, he was ruining everything. "I don't know what to do," he said, not knowing if he was talking about the kiss or the potion.

"What do you think?" Snape asked, slipping into his lecturing voice. "What is causing your pain?"

"Turning into a giant snake," Harry replied irritably.

Snape rolled his eyes. "If you do not wish for my help, do not ask."

Harry sighed. This was his fault, not Snape's. He knew that. "It's essentially sped up Skele-Grow. Everything is stretching and breaking and moving."

"How do you cure broken bones and other internal injuries?"

"Lenimen Curatio," Harry said. "That's too simple, though, isn't it?"

Snape shrugged. "It is up to you to test."

Harry tapped his fingers. "Okay, then. I'll get to work on that. Or, wait, I guess I should learn how to brew Vita Salvus first."

"A wise decision," Snape replied. "It takes two days to make, but it can be made in bulk, and I do not believe it will go bad."

"Okay," Harry said again. "Let's get started."

They did, and the conversation ended before it began.

41

Harry was surprised how quickly he learned to make Vita Salvus. It seemed he actually did know what he was talking about when it came to potions. He had mastered it by his birthday, and was thrilled to have Ron, Hermione and Neville over for birthday dinner and drinks and, for the first time, not have to kick them out at eight. They were just as happy as he was, and Harry used the excuse that, at twenty-one, Snape considered him old enough to make his own decisions, and if he wanted to fall behind, that was his choice. It was the perfect distraction, too—he'd spent far too much time wallowing for his own good. He wasn't an angsty teenager anymore, he was twenty-one, and he needed to grow up.

By the time his friends left around two in the morning Harry was exhausted. Even though he was already in the basement—it was much larger, and easier to hang out there than in his room—he dragged himself upstairs to sleep in his proper bed, just because he could.

He was in bed and about to turn out the lights when there was a quiet knock on his door. Eyes mostly closed, still more than a little buzzed, he said, "Come in."

Snape opened the door and leaned against the frame. "How was your first night free from worry?"

"Brilliant," Harry yawned. "Exhausting. I'm in bed."

"I saw your light on," Snape said. "I have a real present for you tomorrow, but, even though it pains me to say it, I know how much it means to you."

Harry frowned to himself. He was tired and drunk, but he still didn't think Snape had actually said anything. "What?"

"I think, given the significance of your birthday, the success of your potions, and your teaching position, it would be appropriate for you to call me by my first name," Snape said tightly.

Harry closed his eyes the rest of the way. Snape thought he knew things and so he was humoring him. The fact that Snape was right about those things didn't help. "If you're sure."

"I am."

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling slightly despite the pain. "Now let me sleep, would you? I'm fucking exhausted."

"Good night, Harry," Snape said. "And happy birthday."

"Mm, you too," Harry mumbled, letting the alcohol take over. He was asleep immediately.

Harry, who had forgotten to charm the Firewhiskey hangover free, woke up feeling awful. He stumbled downstairs, pasty and nauseated, unsteady on his feet, collapsing into a kitchen chair.

"Drink this," Snape said, handing him a flask.

Harry did without question, and sighed in relief as the hangover disappeared. "Thanks," he said, setting the flask on the table. "Merlin, that's better."

"I assumed you would not be clever enough to remember on your own," Snape replied.

"You're such an arse," Harry said, though he was smiling. "I can call you Severus?"

Snape had his back to him, cooking. "Do not say it like that. In fact, do not say anything at all. I believe I have told you repeatedly how little I like to discuss such things."

"Yeah, fine," Harry replied, relatively unconcerned. It didn't mean what he wanted it to, but it was still good, much more than he had any right to expect. "Is that bacon?"

"Such a keen sense of smell, Potter," Snape said sarcastically. "Basilisk senses kicking in?"

"You know I've got them," Harry said.

"You needn't announce something so obvious," Snape replied. "Lest you spend the rest of your life listing all the items in my kitchen."

Harry huffed. He was supposed to be the one who was upset, not Snape—er, not Severus. That would take some getting used to. "You're in a mood. What's wrong?"

Severus came over to the table with two plates, each filled with bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. "I—" He cleared his throat. "I may have gone overboard with your birthday gift."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Now that it had started, he couldn't unstart it. Everything was overanalyzed, the most innocent of things were turned into something huge. "Yeah? What'd you get me?"

"I will show you after breakfast," Severus said. "Eat while it's hot."

"You're an arse," Harry said again, digging in. "Don't tease me like that." He fidgeted all through breakfast, and even more so as Snape led him outside. "Well?" Harry prompted after a few moments of silence.

"I could not think of something I would rather say less, but I was—" He flinched. "—inspired by your father and his friends."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Severus closed his eyes. "Happy birthday, Harry." He started to change, and for a second Harry nearly had a heart attack when Severus' nose receded, leaving Voldemort-like slits on his face. But it didn't stop there, and a moment later a python was in front of him, reared up so it was nearly his height. "Do not ask for an explanation," Severus said in Parseltongue. "I really do not wish to discuss this."

Harry muttered to himself, he changed as well, and two giant snakes dominated Severus' backyard. "This is—you—" This really was more than anything he could have asked for. For the first time since that stupid, idiotic kiss, he thought things might be okay with Severus.

"Shut up," Severus hissed. "My job is to watch out for you, and that includes all your forms. If you wish to go out as a Basilisk, I can keep up with you, and make sure you do not get into any more trouble than possible."

Harry slithered over and wrapped the tip of his tail around Severus', as close to a hug as he could manage. He was almost as thankful for the unsaid explanation than the gift—Severus didn't feel any way about him other than a guardian. Harry wasn't thrilled, but he knew, knew for sure, and that would have to be okay. "You're brilliant. Thank you."

Severus changed back to a human. "I do not wish to speak of it," he said. "Now did you want to work on your pain potion, or lie around and do nothing all day?"

Harry told himself to change back, and he did. Excruciatingly. "Yes, brewing," he said. "Really, absolutely brewing."

Harry had a sudden revelation in the middle of lunch. An unpleasant revelation.

"Am I moving back to Grimmauld Place now that we've got everything under control?"

Severus' eyes locked with his, then jerked away. "It is your decision."

"No," Harry said. "This is your house. You invited me here so we could work together. Now that I don't need to be quarantined…"

"You are still my apprentice, Potter," Severus said sharply. "Unless you prefer apparating back and forth every day, I recommend remaining at Spinner's End. You are well aware of the hours I expect from you. If going back to Grimmauld Place for a few hours of sleep is worth it, then by all means return. I think it would make your life far more simple to remain here, but I will not force you to do anything."

Harry had to bite back a smile. "I'll just stay here, then."

"Fine."

Harry had the first batch of Lenimen Curatio finished just before dinner, and was eager to test it. He took a draught of Oculos Ius, then a flask of the curative potion, and moved into his basement room before changing. He didn't need to scream, which was an improvement, but he was still wracked with pain.

Severus stood in the doorway. "A success?"

"An improvement," Harry corrected. "It needs to be stronger. And, hmm, I think powdered rosemary."

Severus nodded. "Very good."

Harry changed back, wincing as he got to his feet and returned to his potion station. He set about powdering the dried herb, adding it and stirring clockwise.

"Do you wish to let it simmer, or are you going to try it immediately?" Severus asked.

"Simmer," Harry said, knowing he was being tested. "For—uh—I added three tablespoons of rosemary, which is a dried muggle herb, so each teaspoon needs—bloody hell, what was it?—twenty eight minutes, so that's nine teaspoons, so…252 minutes, or…four hours and twenty minutes."

Severus smiled. "Very good."

Harry smiled to himself. That was twice in one day Severus had complimented him. Their relationship was going to be fine. Harry set a timer, and they went upstairs for dinner.

The Vita Salvus had worn off when the timer for the anti-pain potion went off. "Eight days," Harry said, taking a draught of Vita Salvus. "And Oculos Ius lasts through a single change. I'm going to be chained to a potions bench for the rest of my life. Never mind teaching, I'll be stuck making sure I don't kill anyone."

"Do not be so dramatic," Severus said, following him into the other room. "You need to learn to brew in bulk, and preservative protocols. Go through the ingredients of each potion. What needs to be added to each to keep them fresh? How will they stand to being frozen? How large a cauldron would you need to brew how much potion?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, then hissed, "Change." A pause as he turned into a Basilisk. "Almost," he said. "Just a few twinges. I think I'll add 25 milliliters of horsetail. Merlin, it was stupid not to start with that. Why didn't you say anything?"

"This is your potion," Severus replied. "I have nothing to do with it. All decisions are yours." He coughed slightly. "You may wish to rethink the dosage, however."

Harry thought for a moment. "Right. Muggle doses are irrelevant compared to Basilisk. Er, two hundred milliliters, then. With more on reserve."

Severus nodded. "A better decision."

Harry changed back, added the horsetail, and calculated how long it would need to simmer. Then he cursed himself.

"I've got to get up at quarter of four to take this off the fire."

Severus smiled wryly. "Another lesson learned."

Harry muttered angrily and set an alarm.

On the bright side, it worked.