21

Chapter Twenty-One

58

Minerva granted Harry permission to change in the Forbidden Forest on the stipulation that Severus join him. She said the arrangement wasn't permanent but it would placate the Board, and for the moment they were in need of placating. Harry was mostly fine with it; he could have used time to process his move, maybe to prepare himself for wherever their relationship went, but he would have plenty of time for that later.

The real frustration was that Severus wasn't as fast as he was. Harry would end up having to double back like an overexcited puppy, which wasn't nearly as much fun as just going. Eventually Severus yelled at him to slow down or go back inside, and after that the pace was considerably more leisurely, more of a stroll than the racing Harry usually did. At first he found it unsatisfying and confining but then it occurred to him that he was effectively on a moonlight walk through the forest with Severus, and that was considerably more exciting than anything he could have done on his own.

They entered into a snowy clearing and Harry swished a section of ground clear. "I'm giving you time to rest," he said, curling up and relaxing. "A short break, and then I want to go faster."

"It is cold and late," Severus replied. "If you wish to rest fine, but afterwards we are going back."

Harry glared at him. "No. It's my first night out in ages, I want to stay out."

"I want to be well rested," Severus retorted. "I am sure you will not be tethered to my side for very long and then you can stay out however late you'd like, but tonight we are going back now."

"Do you even know what time it is?" Harry asked.

"Do you?" Severus countered. "We left the castle a little before ten and we have been out for several hours. I will need to shower before going to bed—as will you, I won't have you tracking whatever is lying around in the Forbidden Forest into my bed—and—"

"Our bed," Harry interrupted, taking advantage of the fact that reptiles can't blush. "It's our bed, not yours."

It was easy enough to tell Severus was caught off guard even when he had the expressive range of a large python. "Fine, whatever. My point is that it is late, I am cold and tired, and it is time to go back."

Harry's anger had been overtaken by the revelation that it really was their bed, and he decided that the prospect of snuggling with a freshly showered Severus outweighed a pointless argument. "All right," he said, starting back towards the castle. "But if you insist on going so slowly we won't get back for another hour or so. We're pretty far out."

Severus hissed angrily. "Fine."

Harry took off, listening to make sure Severus was keeping up with him. The man might be nearly silent in human form, but Harry had Basilisk reflexes as well as hearing, and he could quite literally slither circles around him. It felt so good to stretch out and race like this, and knowing that he was racing towards the bed he shared with Severus only heightened the sensation.

"Hurry up!" he called back, pushing himself a little harder. "You're so slow!"

"Watch your mouth," Severus snapped, and Harry thought the sound of an out of breath snake was rather hilarious.

"Think of your shower," Harry replied. "That'll get you to speed up."

"Potter, I swear—"

"Don't call me that," Harry interrupted. "Use my first name."

"Or what?" Severus asked snidely, the sound of leaves crunching and sticks snapping growing louder as he tried to keep up.

"Or I'll call you Sev," Harry shot back. "Didn't you tell me never to do that?"

Severus apparently needed to use all of his lung capacity to focus on breathing and chose not to reply.

They arrived at the edge of the Forest no more than twenty minutes later and Harry changed, grinning wildly as Severus caught up and joined him. There was very little that felt as madly wonderful as streaking through the Forest as fast as he could. The cold from being a snake in the snow was replaced with sudden heat from being warm blooded, and he was flushed. Even as a human his eyes had improved, and the moon was just on the other side of full, providing more than enough light. He ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging any forest debris that had stuck to him, practically bouncing in place.

Severus was brushing himself off and muttering angrily, and didn't notice that Harry's attention had turned completely to him. He was flushed as well, probably more from exertion than temperature, his hair slightly damp from the snow—Harry's was too, but he was no longer paying any attention to himself—and, cliché aside, the moonlight was reflecting off his eyes in a way that Harry had never seen before. He had a leaf sticking out of his hair, but somehow that only made him more attractive. Harry was aware that leaves weren't sexually appealing, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"We need to celebrate," Harry said suddenly, speaking too quickly and in a weird range that sounded too high and too low at the same time. Severus glanced up at him, and the burst of electricity was nearly enough to physically knock Harry back. It definitely made him forget what he was going to say next because Severus had finally, probably accidentally, let his guard down, and Harry could easily read his expression.

His own, mirrored back at him.

Harry forced his voice to come back. "Celebrate," he repeated. "Being out as snakes. The end of the week. Moving in together. Moonlight." Whoops. "There's a leaf in your hair."

"We are celebrating a leaf in my hair?" Severus asked, reaching up and coming nowhere close to it.

"Yes," Harry said, closing the distance between them and taking it out. "And now we can celebrate that you don't have a leaf in your hair."

Severus' eyes were on fire. "What, exactly, do you propose as celebration?"

Harry licked his lips. "Words are stupid and unnecessary, right?" he said, and, without waiting for a response, put a hand on the back of Severus' neck and pulled him down into a kiss. A real kiss, filled with passion and electricity and moonlight. Severus took a moment to respond but it was well worth the wait. He let out a quiet growl and anchored Harry to him, burying one hand in his hair and grabbing his hip with the other. Harry gasped, and Severus slipped his tongue into his mouth, meeting Harry's and then moving on to explore his mouth. Harry's world narrowed to this one moment with this one man, open only to the feelings he was given from Severus. Tongues danced, every crevice of his mouth was explored, the hand in his hair pulled just enough to be noticeable but nowhere near painful, their bodies were pressed together, almost painfully hot compared to the Forest. Harry's other hand went up to cup Severus' face, finally memorizing physically instead of visually.

A nearby owl hooted loudly, breaking the spell. Severus jerked away, Harry immediately feeling the loss. He could see Severus rebuilding all of his walls, his expression guarded, eyes once again impenetrable. Panic raced through him; Severus was going to pretend this never happened, he was going to be angry and irritable and ornery, he would probably toss Harry out except that involved admitting something had happened, and Harry had no idea how to stop any of it from happening.

"Severus—"

"No," Severus interrupted sharply, turning and sweeping towards the castle. "I told you, it is late and I am tired. Keep up."

Harry nearly tripped over himself as he tried to match his pace. "I know, but—"

"You said it yourself," Severus snapped. "There is nothing to say."

"No, I said—"

"Shut up!" Severus yelled. "Just stop talking!"

Harry did, still hurrying to keep up. He thought he might cry, or possibly explode from joy. The fact that it had happened was enough, it had to be enough. Their relationship moved so slowly, and he had moved in today. It was unreasonable to hope for anything else, yet something else had happened, and a really big something else at that. He needed to be calm and patient and wait and remind himself that things did move forward. He couldn't get his hopes up, that was all. He couldn't push.

All very wise, but he still felt like something crucial to his existence had been forcibly torn from his body.

Merlin, that was pathetic.

Harry hadn't felt so unwelcome in Severus' rooms, either at Hogwarts or Spinner's End, in a long time, and that it was his first night of officially living there only seemed apropos. It also seemed miserable and like he'd really rather be back with Neville right about now.

"You should shower first," Severus said.

"I thought—"

"You are filthy and I do not trust you not to impart your mess to everything within my walls," Severus replied coolly. "Be quick about it, I want to get to bed."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, covering his upset with a yawn. "I'll be right out."

His shower did nothing to improve his mood. He washed as quickly as possible, threw on his pajamas, and came back out. Severus was in the bathroom before he could make an attempt at conversation, so he just went straight to bed. It didn't feel particularly like his bed, or his room, or his flat. The addition of the dresser did nothing to change his mind.

It was a joke to think he could fall asleep before Severus came to bed, and thankfully he didn't take long. The time between the water shutting off and Severus walking into the bedroom seemed eternal, and even longer until he joined Harry in bed, all without saying anything. Harry was lying on his back, and Severus made no move to cuddle. Harry snuck his hand over, and Severus immediately pulled away.

Anger flashed through him, burning away sadness, self-pity, and even lust.

Harry sat up, yanking himself away from Severus while turning to face him. "Do you remember last weekend?" he asked angrily. "When you opened up to me and then yelled at me for not saying anything? What I just did was a hell of a lot more than speaking, and for someone who places such a high emphasis on actions, I'd think you'd respect that. So, in your own bloody words, why the hell are you ignoring me? I get that it was big, I know I pushed, but I know you wanted it, too. I know you hate talking, but I also know you know that sometimes you have to, so talk."

"It's a school night," Severus replied, still facing away. "We will talk later."

"No!" Harry yelled. He took a deep breath. "No. We're going to talk now."

"No, we are not," Severus said sharply. "Lie back down and go to sleep. Or, if you would prefer, you may spend the night on the couch." Harry lost what little patience he had and swatted Severus' shoulder. At least now he had his attention; Severus spun around, furious. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to get you to listen to me!" Harry exclaimed. "You've finally got your way, I want to talk about the kissing. You've been trying to say something for, what, seven months now? So fine. Go ahead. Say something."

Severus was seething, seemingly too angry to form words. Harry tightened his jaw and reminded himself that Severus had said he could move in, that Severus had kissed him back, that Severus had asked him to come to Spinner's End for the holidays and had invited him into his bed and had, in fact, kissed him in bed. He was angry now, and Harry wasn't exactly sure why other than maybe the sort of upset stomach that comes with trying to suppress too many emotions for too long, but Severus didn't hate him. Severus had even sort of tried to start saying that he loved him last weekend. Eventually he'd get over himself and things would be okay. Better than okay, even. He shouldn't have pushed, that was all. He shouldn't have kissed Severus—even in the moonlight—and he shouldn't have insisted on a conversation that apparently wasn't going to happen.

Harry swallowed, refusing to admit he was anywhere close to tears. The feel of Severus' lips, that's what was important, and how he'd tasted. Harry could wait. Well, he couldn't really, but he had no choice. So he would.

"Answer me." Or he wouldn't, one or the other.

"You failed to ask a question," Severus said, eyes black lightening.

Harry tapped his finger violently against his pillow. "I don't have a question. Answer me anyway."

Severus didn't, not right away, but Harry thought he was thinking and not ignoring him. His hand darted out, closing around Harry's, and Harry shivered uncontrollably. "You have to get that infernal habit under control," Severus said almost absentmindedly. "I can't think when all I can hear is your tapping."

"Maybe, but you're still holding my hand," Harry countered. "You've been holding my hand all week."

"I am aware," Severus replied irritably. "Shut up." Harry did, the test on his resolve ending much sooner than he expected. "Lie down," Severus said. "Come here and lie down."

Harry hesitated, ignoring the part of his brain that was threatening to kill him if he didn't get back into Severus' arms as quickly as possible. "You have to say something," he replied. "I know you don't want to, but I need something to go on."

Severus closed his eyes briefly, seeming to gather himself. When he reopened them the lightening was gone, replaced with equal parts annoyance and affection. "I can give you only what I have," he said. "You have pushed and pulled more out of me than I would have imagined possible, but I cannot give you words. If you cannot accept that, you need to stop this now."

Harry had no idea how that could be romantic, but the way the words washed over him promised that nothing else ever said to him, past, present or future, could compare. "Okay," he said quietly. "Later, I—" He stopped himself. Now wasn't the time. Later might not be either, but definitely not now. "Okay, no words."

Severus ran his hand through Harry's hair under the guise of pushing his fringe out of his eyes, settling on the back of his neck. "Now would you please lie down so we can sleep?"

Harry did, curling himself around Severus, who accepted him with open arms and open hands. Harry twisted his neck uncomfortably and Severus immediately responded, chastely brushing their lips together. "Sleep."

Once again Harry didn't think sleep would be possible, and once again he was out before he could even remember why.

59

Harry kept himself as busy as possible that Monday. He sat in on both of Horace's classes, graded, made lesson plans, adjusted his Felix Felicis, thought a lot about inventing but failed to come up with any ideas, asked Poppy what she needed and brewed several vats of Pepperup, spent an hour or so in the greenhouses with Neville who had sworn not to mention Severus, and generally doing anything he could think of to keep his mind occupied. In fact, he was so busy being busy he forgot he had lessons with Severus until he was walking out of the Great Hall after dinner and Severus joined him.

"Tonight you will make Draught of Living Death," Severus said. "As you no longer have my book to correct the mistakes in the textbook, I expect you to find them yourself and annotate any changes you make."

"Okay," Harry replied, trying to remember Severus' changes. Something needed to be squished instead of cut, or maybe the other way around? It released the juice better, he knew that.

"When you take the Potion Masters exam, there will be a section on identifying incorrect instructions, both for known potions and for theoretical ones," Severus said. "You must always examine each ingredient and each instruction and ask yourself whether or not it makes sense. Depending on the age and obscurity of the recipe you are following, the likelihood of a written error or one in thought can be very high."

"Right, okay," Harry replied. There was something oddly comforting about being lectured; at least he knew where he stood in a lecture. Words were used in lectures. Lectures were clear. "Should I make a Wiggenweld Potion too?"

"It is always wise to have the antidote on hand for anything you brew," Severus said. "If a bottle were to be mislabeled or a student to break in and think themselves clever, there is always potential for catastrophe. However I will not assign it; the choice is yours."

How very Severus-like. Practical, yes, but it didn't have to be said so pessimistically. "I'll just do it, then," Harry replied. "I've caught up with the rest of my work, I should have time. It's only, what, six-thirty?"

"Something like that," Severus said. He paused for a moment. "I cannot stay up as late tonight as I did last night."

Harry glanced at him. "I can make them on my own. That's the whole point, to brew on my own, right? Or are you saying it would wake you up if I came to bed after you?"

"Merely informing you I may not be able to check your work," Severus replied. "Nor able to fix any mistakes."

"I don't expect you to," Harry said. They arrived in the lab, and Harry flipped his book open to Living Death and started gathering ingredients. It was the sophophorus that needed to be crushed, that was obvious. Chopping would get you nowhere, he was confident about that. On the other hand, he was certain there was at least one other inaccuracy in the textbook that he didn't remember. He mixed the water and salt together, set the beaker aside and carefully read through the text.

Suddenly there was a hand on his lower back and he jerked, nearly knocking a pile of valerian roots to the floor. He turned around, wide eyed, to see Severus giving him a disdainfully amused look.

"Work on your startle reflex," Severus said. "As well as your listening skills. I would not have thought it possible to sneak up on you."

"I was—er, reading," Harry stammered. Severus' hand was still on his back and Harry was acutely aware of the light pressure and warmth through his shirt, his teaching robes abandoned before he went to the greenhouses. One of the few benefits of being partially cold blooded; other people's heat, people like Severus, was always noticeable and was a special form of comforting a pure mammal would never understand. "Sorry, what's up?"

"Only informing you I will be in the living room if you need me," Severus replied, still looking amused, the disdain slipping away.

Was he—communicating? With words? Harry didn't understand. He'd just said the opposite, that he wouldn't be available, at least later on. So what was this? Maybe it was that it was a lesson and he was teaching, but he hadn't directly supervised Harry's weekday lessons in quite some time. Was it a part of living together, letting Harry know where he'd be? Nothing about that sounded right; aside from the fact they'd never done that before, this was Severus. He wasn't accountable to anyone.

Harry was at a loss for words. He thought he should probably say something anyway.

"Okay."

Severus gave him a look, the one that meant he was daft, and left, closing the door behind himself. Harry turned back to his station. Trying to figure out what was wrong in the instructions for Living Death, that's what he was doing. Nothing about Severus. He summoned a quill and started annotating, which was sufficiently distracting that he forgot about the water and salt. He sighed, rinsed the beaker out and started over, hoping it was one small mistake and not too inauspicious.

It wasn't. Everything went wrong. The only thing that didn't go wrong, and Harry was actually rather proud of this, is that he successfully fixed each mistake. The potion took twice as long as it should have, used way more ingredients than called for, and generally looked like someone had intentionally left at least four or five different kinds of juices go moldy before mixing them together, but when Harry dropped a spare beetle eye into the concoction, it fizzled away just like his leaf had in sixth year. He bottled it, labeled the bottle, including a note that said No antidote on hand, do not drink! in very large letters, and put it away. He'd make the Wiggenweld tomorrow; right now all he wanted to do was collapse on the couch and warm his feet by the fire. He'd been standing far too long.

Harry walked into the living room just as Severus came out of the bathroom clad in his black silk pajamas. Harry swallowed. He'd need to have a word with him about those. Then again, how exactly would he phrase the question? Please don't wear those because it turns me on too much? Not likely.

"I was just turning in for the night," Severus said. "Did you complete your potions?"

"The Living—" Harry's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "The Draught of Living Death. It took longer than it should've, but I taught myself to fix every possible mistake that could ever go wrong with it, so that's good. I'm going to brew the antidote tomorrow."

Severus nodded. "Are you coming to bed?"

Harry gazed longingly at the fireplace. He was still in his shoes so he could sit much closer than he should, practically with his feet on the burning logs. It would be so warm and relaxing. So would getting a good night's sleep, though. And being with Severus.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said, giving the fire one last look before going for his overnight bag to get his pajamas. He frowned. It wasn't by the bathroom door where it should have been. "Severus, did you move my bag?"

"What bag?" he called, already in the bedroom.

"My overnight, with—oh. Merlin, never mind!" Feeling like an idiot, Harry went into the bedroom and fetched his pajamas from his dresser. "Clearly it's time for bed."

Severus didn't comment, which was significantly kinder than anything he could have said. Harry changed in the bathroom, again wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life doing so and again deciding he didn't need to bring up the question at this particular moment. A new question occurred to him as he was brushing his teeth in front of the mirror and looking particularly scruffy: he slept in an old tee shirt and flannel bottoms. What if he wanted revenge? What if he bought himself a set of silk pajamas? The odds of Severus noticing were approximately zero. The only time he'd looked at Harry with anything even slightly resembling lust was last night, and that had nothing to do with his clothes. Maybe that meant something, though. Maybe he should put in more of an effort. It was just that pajamas were for being comfortable and sleeping, not showing off. He'd feel ridiculous in silk. Besides, it would be too silky and smooth and rub against places that shouldn't rubbed against in bed.

Rather, they should be, but only if Severus was involved, and not by accident.

He finished brushing his teeth but didn't leave yet, continuing to appraise himself in the mirror. His hair was a wreck, his shirt was baggy and peppered with small holes, and his flannels were frayed around the cuffs and had a singed hole from the fireplace. No wonder Severus didn't look at him; there wasn't anything to see. There wasn't an immediate solution either; he didn't have anything else to sleep in, and there wasn't anything he could do about his hair, there never was. Last night aside, he didn't know if Severus even thought about him that way at all, so all of this was an exercise in futility. But last night had been pretty persuasive…

Harry shook himself and walked to the bedroom. He was being ridiculous. Just because Severus was mouthwateringly delicious didn't mean that he had to change his wardrobe to please him. He didn't even know what he would find attractive. He slept in silk; did that mean he liked to see silk on others?

Harry stopped himself just outside and to the side of the bedroom door where Severus couldn't see him and spent a moment or two willing his semi down. This was not the time.

His work was undone as soon as he rounded the corner. Severus was propped up on a pile of pillows, hands laced behind his head, the low glow of the fireplace glinting off the silk. Harry had no idea why he wasn't lying down but Merlin he looked good. He had been doing such a good job of not noticing such things, or more accurately pushing them to the back of his mind, but the past week had taken its toll. Sharing a bed, brief kisses followed by a not so brief kiss, all the silk. It wasn't fair.

Harry quickly got into bed and pulled the covers over himself before Severus saw anything. Then Harry remembered how he usually slept involved being flush against him, and he had to take a deep breath and calm himself again.

"Are you going to lie down?" Harry asked nervously. "You don't seem comfy."

Severus opened his eyes meeting Harry's, and calming himself was not easy. "Eager for company?"

That was one way of putting it. "Um, no, not if you don't want it," Harry stammered. "I just thought—usually, I mean, or lately—never mind."

"I was lost in thought," Severus replied. "I apologize for the great sin of putting my mental capacities to use rather than being used as an oversized pillow. How would you have me?"

Harry briefly closed his eyes. "Think away," he said, voice remarkably even. "I was just making sure you were comfortable before I settled down."

"It is far too late to be thinking," Severus replied. "Contemplation is notoriously difficult to corral, but you are right; lying down would certainly improve the situation."

Harry watched with amusement and nothing else as Severus rearranged his pillows and slid beneath the blankets. "Not talking like a thesaurus would probably help, too," he said with a smile.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Simpleton."

"Stuck up prick," Harry countered. He tried to snuggle against Severus but as soon as he touched the silk he realized he would have to be very, very careful. He still used him as a pillow, Severus was right about that, but he angled his body out sideways. There was no denying it was obvious and awkward, but Harry was quite sure it was less uncomfortable than Severus feeling his obnoxiously stubborn erection.

Severus let out a huff of annoyance. "What are you doing?"

"Er," Harry said. "Um. Lying down?"

"In a position that forces me to decide between raising my arm all night like I wish to be called upon or dislocating my shoulder?" Severus asked.

Harry couldn't help a snort of laughter. "That wasn't my intention, no."

"Then kindly rearrange yourself."

Less funny. Harry scooted closer, still being careful to keep his groin away from Severus. "Better?"

"Not particularly," Severus replied dryly. "Why has this suddenly become so difficult?"

Harry tapped his finger on Severus' chest. "I'm just stiff from—" His voice cracked again as he realized what word he had used. "Brewing for hours. My neck and my back, they're crinkly." Which was true.

"This requires you to sleep sideways, taking up the entire bed, all of the blankets, and bending my arm at an unnatural angle?" Severus asked.

"Yes?" Harry tried.

"For Merlin's sake," Severus muttered, pushing Harry up and sitting himself. "How is it you have come this far and not found this to be a problem before?" he asked, hands coming to rest on Harry's shoulders. "You must learn to live with this. There are ointments, but—"

Harry interrupted him with a low groan as he started to knead his shoulders. The sound was completely involuntary and entirely embarrassing, but he didn't think he'd ever gotten a shoulder rub before, let alone one from Severus. He was surprisingly skilled, strong fingers easily finding knots and working them out. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, completely surrendering to him. Severus could have asked him anything and he would have answered without a second thought. Massage: a poor man's Veritaserum. At least when it was performed by one Severus Snape. His hand moved to his neck, loosening the tense muscles with an ease Harry still could barely believe. How on earth was he so good at this?

Part of it was undoubtedly the little jolts of electricity that shot through Harry with each movement of his fingers. Of Severus' fingers. It was almost backwards; the knots were disappearing but the longer it went on the more he had to actively work to keep his muscles from tightening. The fact that it was so good was providing the opposite result, or it would have if Severus weren't so stupidly good. Yes, of course having Severus touch him like this would make him tense, he couldn't help it, but Severus seemed capable of relaxing the stiffness he caused. Not all of the stiffness, of course, he just made that worse, but what was in his back and shoulders.

Then Severus did something to his spine, holding his shoulder in place as he pressed down causing a series of loud pops, and suddenly Harry was reduced to a melted puddle. He let out a breathy sigh, again not a noise he meant to make, and slumped backwards. It was a completely unplanned action, and the fact that he ended up leaning against Severus with his arms wrapped around him was only an added bonus.

"Saturday morning you will focus your energy on creating a muscle relaxant," Severus said. The words barely penetrated. The way Harry was laying meant that Severus' mouth was next to his ear, and the combination of his low, soft, velvet voice and his breath tickling his ear was too distracting.

"Okay," Harry sighed. One word was difficult enough; there was no way he could come up with a complete sentence.

"Get up, would you? You are incapable of listening when I tell you I am tired and want to sleep, which I cannot do while sitting up supporting you," Severus said with only a hint of bitterness.

Harry sort of slithered back under the blankets, too relaxed to move intentionally. Severus wrapped himself around Harry, holding his hand the way he always did, pulling him against himself. Spooning, Harry thought vaguely. Would anyone believe Severus Snape spooned? Or held hands? Harry decided he didn't care as long as it didn't stop.