15

Chapter Fifteen

45

Severus was in his study. Harry hated bothering him when he was in his study. Especially when it was almost midnight and he might be asleep. Harry felt a little guilty for coming back so late, but he and Neville had gotten themselves embroiled in a particularly vicious chess tournament, and it hadn't ended until Harry remembered he was due for Vita Salvus at midnight and didn't have a vial on him. He took the potion before disturbing Severus; the last thing he needed was to break down his door by turning into a Basilisk.

Eventually he knocked. It was only the second time he had even touched the door. "Severus?"

"Come in."

Harry nudged the door open, afraid to do more than stick his head through the crack. Severus was sitting in the same black leather chair Harry remembered from last Christmas, reading an old book. "I know it's late but I'm back, so if you want to do gifts and relaxation draught and stuff, I'm around."

Severus nodded. "I told you, come in."

In, in? In, as in inside the room, in? Harry sneaked around the door, feeling very much like he was intruding. Severus' study was much as he expected; books lined the wall, shelves and shelves of ancient, dissolving texts. A large desk stood on the opposite wall with a window behind it, letting in grey winter light. The chair was in front of a small fireplace, the only other chair in the room behind his desk.

"I don't want to—I mean, interrupting—your space—" Neville's words kept bouncing around his head, making thinking very hard.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Your inability to form a coherent sentence is not as endearing as you seem to believe. The shelves next to you, the top three to the left of the door."

Harry turned and looked at the books. The first three were standard Hogwarts textbooks: Magical Drafts and Potions, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Advanced Potion-Making. Then Moste Potente Potions, and Harry was pretty sure it was the copy that had been confiscated from the Hogwarts library, the one he, Ron and Hermione had used second year. There were the books he and Severus had used as references for the Basilisk potions and the books Severus was using to teach him now. The second half of the second shelf and the third were filled with books Harry didn't know. He looked at Severus.

"What is this?"

"Your Christmas present," Severus replied. "Keeping your books tossed haphazardly around the basement, the lab, and your room is an offense to the art. While I have no control over your actions in your flat at Hogwarts, or your office when you have one, I can make sure you treat your books with the proper care and respect they deserve while you are my apprentice."

Harry stared at him in shock. "Shelves?" he asked. "Shelves, in your study?"

"Mind you do not think of it as anything but," Severus replied. "It is my study, and you are forbidden from even looking at anything beyond those three shelves. When we return to Hogwarts, your shelves will be moved to my lab until I can trust you to take proper care of your belongings, or you become a professor and I no longer have a say in the matter."

"So I can, er, come in?" Harry asked. "Into your study?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I am not holding your books hostage, Potter. They remain yours, and you have access to them."

"Thank you," Harry said dumbly. "Thanks. A lot. I, um. Your gift, it's not—goddammit Severus, you keep getting me things like becoming an Animagi and letting me into your study, how am I supposed to compare?"

Severus smirked. "You are not. I will always be better and more impressive than you. Consider it a gift to myself."

Harry smiled weakly. "Yeah, right. Of course. Well still, I've got yours." He summoned the gift and it landed neatly in Severus' lap. "Neatly wrapped again. I had the shop do it."

"Hardly impressive," Snape replied dismissively as he unwrapped the package. Harry didn't bother being nervous; there was no way his gift could match what Severus had gotten him so there wasn't any point in worrying. It had seemed like a good gift, but no, not anymore. He looked on with mild interest as Severus exposed the plain, wooden box and opened it, revealing seven compartments, each with a small sample of the different varieties of truffle. They were rare and expensive, some of them had to be imported from America, and they could be cooked and eaten or used in potions or simply bragged about, if Severus was in that sort of mood. The whole outfit had cost him an unreasonable number of Galleons, and it didn't matter because Severus had organized his books.

"These will be very useful," Severus said, closing the box. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry replied. "It's not—but good, I'm glad you'll be able to use them."

"Do not concern yourself with reciprocity," Severus said. "I enjoy your gifts. You know I would not lie to spare your feelings."

"Okay," Harry replied, smiling slightly. "So relaxing draught? Or should I let you read?"

"No, we will drink," Severus said, putting his book away—sending Harry a pointed look as he did—and leading them downstairs. "Your traditions may be foolish, but they are important to you."

"This is more ours than mine," Harry said, a little nervously. "You started it, actually. Our first Christmas together."

"Merlin, don't say it like that," Severus snapped. "There is no 'our'."

Harry's stomach twisted angrily as Severus poured them servings of the potion. "Then why am I here? You invited me. I had Christmas with the Weasleys, Christmas with the Longbottoms, and now Christmas with you. Our Christmas. With our traditions."

Severus shoved the tumbler into his hand. "You talk too much," he stated. "You always have. We have shared Christmases out of necessity, and I found spending the day with someone was not as unpleasant as I anticipated. Drink."

Harry drank the potion and set the glass on Severus' station before leading them into the basement room and collapsing onto his couch. "Bill and Fleur are having a baby."

"Who?" Severus asked irritably, sitting at the end of the couch by Harry's feet.

"Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur," Harry said. "You know her, from the Tri-Wizard tournament. She's pregnant."

"Ah yes, the incompetent one," Severus replied. "Why are you telling me this?"

Harry smiled. "You'll have another Weasley in your classroom. Not for a while, but eventually."

Severus groaned. "That is not a relaxing Christmas thought."

Harry's smile widened into a grin. "Sorry. What is a relaxing Christmas thought? I didn't think you even knew the definition, let alone had any of your own."

"I don't, but I know the prospect of an additional Weasley is not one," Severus replied.

"What about Ron and Hermione getting engaged?" Harry asked, grinning.

Severus winced. "Don't."

Harry found he didn't have anything to say about his time with Neville. Almost nothing. "Chess?" he asked. "Neville and I got into a cutthroat war, and I'm still feeling competitive."

"I should have gotten you a chess set," Severus said, summoning his and setting it up with a wave of his wand. "My pieces suffer far too much violence at your hands. Have you never heard of a civilized beheading? There are ways of killing beyond bludgeoning."

Harry laughed. "But nothing so satisfying. Are you staying over here?"

"I can command as easily from this couch as the other," Severus replied. "Pawn to e4."

Harry stretched his legs, a genuine stretch, and the fact that his feet ended up on Severus' lap was unintentional. "Pawn to e5. You've become affectionate. It's weird."

"I most certainly have not," Severus replied sharply, directing a second pawn forward.

"Whatever," Harry said easily. He was relaxed, and Neville thought something strange was happening. He was content with Severus denying it. They played for a while, Harry making sure to destroy Severus' pieces as thoroughly as possible, though the distraction resulted in losing. Harry became less content as it became clear he was going to lose, and he broke the silence as Severus reset the board.

"Things have changed, y'know."

Severus glanced at him. "What things?"

"Between us," Harry said, knowing he was digging his own grave and finding he couldn't stop himself. "Since we started working together."

"I have grown used to you and you are not as incompetent," Severus replied. "Are you surprised? Relationships evolve."

"Mm, but my feet are on your lap," Harry said, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment before locking gazes with Harry. "Are you aware of where this conversation will go if you continue to push the matter?"

Harry's heart raced. "No. I'm just saying. We're close."

"You kissed me," Severus replied. "Pawn to e4."

Harry froze. He thought Severus had forgotten. "It was celebratory," he said.

"No, it was not," Severus insisted. "Make your move."

"Pawn to e5," Harry replied. "So what was last night? Celebrating a holiday you hate and won't admit is worth celebrating in the first place?"

"It was for you," Severus said. "Knight to f3."

Harry's heart twisted. Was it really? Had Severus only allowed what contact they had to placate him? The hand holding, that was—it wasn't pitying. "I thought you were keeping me from tapping. Knight to c6."

"I never said I was not," Severus replied. "Bishop to c4."

"You did, you said it was for me," Harry said, ordering a random pawn forward, no longer paying attention to the game. "Why would you think I'd want that?"

"You have always pushed for physicality," Severus replied, continuing with an actual strategy than Harry's random movements.

"Not out of pity," Harry said angrily, taking his feet back. "Merlin, Severus. Is our entire relationship pity? I know you're not my biggest fan, but you've said you cared about me, you've asked me to spend the holidays with you, you—you do things and you say things."

Severus looked at him, and Harry had to work to meet his gaze. He was blushing, but he thought that could be excused by awkwardness. "As do you."

"That's what I'm saying," Harry replied. "Things have changed."

A few moments of silence. "What are you looking to hear?"

Harry let out an imperceptible sigh. "Nothing, sorry." He looked at the board and moved a bishop. "It's the holidays. I get sentimental. You know that."

Severus captured his bishop. "You may put your feet back."

"No, not to pacify me," Harry said. "I'm fine. I do want physical contact and I do want someone to care about me, but because they want to, not out of obligation. The war is over, my Basilisk form is under control, there's no reason for a relationship of any kind. Pawn takes bishop."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Severus asked, and there was something in his voice Harry couldn't identify. "You are more than capable of taking care of yourself. You have your friends and your surrogate families, you do not need me."

"Of course I do," Harry replied quietly. "That's the thing, that's what I was saying. Things have changed, and I need you. I don't need you because I don't have anyone else, I need you because you're you. That's why I can't put my feet back, because I need you and you only care because—I don't know."

"Fucking Merlin," Severus muttered. "Potter, don't start—you know I don't talk about this sort of thing. Words are irrelevant; intention is all that matters. So put your goddamned feet back."

Harry had no idea how to feel about that. "You didn't give me a reason to." He looked at the chessboard. "Whose move is it?"

"Yours. My words implied intention, for Merlin's sake." Severus' jaw was clenched, but Harry thought—probably—that was a reason, so he stretched out again and put his feet on Severus' lap.

"Right. Uh." He studied the board. "I just took your bishop, it's your turn."

Severus frowned. "You did?" He let out an exasperated sigh. "This is why I don't speak of such things. Rook takes pawn."

"Because it screws up chess?" Harry asked. "We could pause the game and have a real conversation."

"Don't even suggest such a thing," Severus replied. "Make your move."

Harry was about to do something, he thought maybe with his queen, when Severus rested a hand on his feet. That was intention. He didn't know what the intention was, but it was positive. It had to be. He blinked. "Queen to b7. Check."

Against all odds, Harry won the game. He was amazed; his concentration was shot, which could only mean that Severus just as lost in thought as he was. It also meant Severus insisted on another game, as he refused to go to sleep directly after losing. The third game was mostly quiet, interspersed only with talk of potions. Harry lost again, and declined a fourth game.

Rather, he yawned as Severus asked. "It's been a long day, and two relaxation draughts. Time for sleep."

Severus waved his hand, sending his chess set back to its rightful place, and moving the coffee table off to the side. Harry frowned, sleepy enough that he didn't understand the implications.

"What're you doing?" he asked, stretching and standing.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "You are dedicated to your traditions, yet you plan to sleep alone in your room on Christmas?"

Harry stared back. "After what we said—or what you didn't say, really—you're offering to spend the night with me."

Severus winced. "Don't say it that way. How is it you always phrase things as difficultly as possible?"

"Because I need to be clear about what you're saying," Harry replied. "I'm blunt and bullheaded and a Gryffindor, and I need you and your difficult Slytherin self to stop slinking around and get to the point."

"I do not slink," Severus said irritably. "Yes, that is what I am offering."

"All right, yeah, I'd like that," Harry replied, heart pounding wildly again. He sat back down, lifting his feet in preparation for the chaise. Instead the whole couch changed beneath him, turning into a bed. Harry was flooded with confusion and need and love and idiocy.

"I'm much older than you, I can't sleep on a couch two nights in a row," Severus explained.

"You're using contractions for the second night in a row," Harry stated, kicking his shoes off and sliding beneath the blankets—a sheet and a bedspread as well as the woolen blanket.

"Relaxation draught two nights in a row," Severus replied, joining Harry. "Perhaps you were right, maybe it was a mistake."

"No," Harry said nervously, not sure what to do with himself now that they were officially going to bed together rather than happening to fall asleep on the couch. "Relaxing is good, especially for you. You need to relax more. We've done nothing but brew and study and learn all vacation. Two nights not focused on work isn't a mistake."

"Anything that increases your need to talk is a mistake," Severus replied. "Especially two nights in a row. I can only handle so much of your incessant rambling before going insane. Are you going to come over here, or was the transfiguration a waste?"

Harry shuffled carefully into his arms, not knowing what to expect. Definitely not that he would immediately be moved so he was half lying on Severus the same way he had been the night before, an arm wrapped around his chest, or that Severus would twine their legs together, or take his left hand in his right and wind their fingers together, or that his left arm would support Harry's neck, brushing the hair off his forehead before coming to settle at his waist.

No, that was definitely not what he had been expecting.

Harry thought sleep was probably off the table. He had thought that last night, true, but after what Severus had said about intentions, there was no hope. Harry was fine with the concept that words didn't matter in the face of intentions, but actions might have been a better word, though of course actions could have a whole variety of intentions behind them, which he thought was probably Severus' point. It's just that words really did matter when intentions weren't clear, because otherwise how were they going to become clear, and this seemed like one of those times when intention really, really mattered.

"Is this because—"

"Shut up, Harry."

Harry did, biting his lip. Severus waffled between his first and last name depending on the circumstance, and the use of his first, especially when earlier he had been strictly Potter, that meant something. Harry didn't know what, but definitely something.

He realized for the second night in a row he was sleeping in his day clothes. The blankets, the fire, and Severus' body heat kept him warm enough that he didn't need his flannel pajamas for warmth, but the point was the button on his jeans was digging uncomfortably into his skin in exactly the same spot it had been last night. Also, he hated sleeping in socks. At least those were easier to fix, though it did involve a lot of squirming, especially given how Severus was holding him and that one of his legs was between Severus'. Halfway through the second sock Severus finally spoke up.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Harry flushed. "Taking off my socks," he muttered, hooking his toes beneath the band and trying to maneuver the sock past his heel. "They make my feet feel fuzzy."

Severus let out a quiet puff of air that Harry thought was probably a suppressed laugh. "I see. Does anything else need to be removed?"

His heel finally relinquished the sock and Harry flung it off the bed and halfway across the room with the force of his surprise. "Um. No. I mean, well. This isn't how I usually sleep, but it's fine." Before Severus had a chance to say anything he rushed on. "I have flannel bottoms, they're comfier than jeans, that's all."

Severus said something under his breath, and suddenly Harry's jeans had been replaced with his flannel pajamas, the ones he could always tell were his by the frayed bottoms from late-night walks through the castle and a small hole in the knee from sitting to close to the fireplace and being burnt by an exploding knot.

"Now will you stop moving so I can sleep?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, rather dumbfounded. "Yeah, sorry for bothering you." It took a minute before he realized he should say something about Severus' clothes, which was particularly uncomfortable because Harry had no idea what he slept in even after living together for three years, and so had no idea how appropriate it was. "You can change too, if you want."

"How kind of you to grant me permission," Severus replied dryly.

But now Harry's curiosity was peaked, as well as a more magnanimous concern for Severus' comfort. "It's just that, well, I didn't want to say anything, but…" He trailed off, only half faking the stammering. "Your buttons? They're right beneath my ear, and they're not really comfortable."

Severus heaved a sigh. "You are far too demanding," he said, but Harry was rewarded, frankly amazed that it had been so simple. He had been prepared to reel off a long list of reasons as to why Severus should change, but no, apparently a button in the ear was all it took.

On the other hand, Harry was absolutely not going to sleep. Severus was as covered as always in long bottoms and long sleeves, only now he was wearing a single layer of black silk, and it was extraordinarily distracting. Not only was it slippery and smooth against Harry's skin, but it was thin, and while it wasn't in a position to feel anything, he thought he probably could be without too much difficulty.

Harry was not going to allow himself that option, nor was he going to let Severus see—or feel, rather, since they were under blankets—how much Harry enjoyed his sleepwear. He shifted, rearranging himself so he wasn't quite as close, and while that was a shame, at least there wasn't a chance of certain body parts that were suddenly taking a keen interest in the situation would be noticed.

"I was under the impression you were done squirming," Severus said wryly.

"I am," Harry replied, raising his finger to tap against Severus' hand before remembering that wasn't okay. "Just getting comfortable."

"It's impossible to sleep with you wiggling around," Severus said, then smoothed his hair again, which entirely negated his angry tone. "Not only are you a physical hazard, but your hair keeps dislodging itself and fluttering into my face."

Harry smiled slightly. "Sorry. I can move if you want. You're the one who brought up this tradition, not me."

"If you would stop moving it wouldn't be an issue," Severus replied irritably. Apparently satisfied with Harry's hair he returned his hand to his waist, and Harry was almost sure he purposefully brushed his fingers along his side before settling down, but only almost.

The thing, Harry realized, was that it was very hard not to fall asleep like this. He was too warm and comfortable and of course.

46

Harry woke up alone on the couch. He would've assumed last night had been a dream were his jeans not neatly folded on the coffee table. If he had changed into his pajamas and not remembered, his jeans would be in his room, or at least in a crumpled pile on the floor.

And if he hadn't found Severus brewing in his pajamas. Harry licked his lips and swallowed; even from behind, he looked incredible. Black silk certainly suited him.

"So what're we making this morning?" Harry asked, standing next to Severus and blinking blearily at the cauldron. "Pepperup? Really?"

"I am making Pepperup," Severus replied. "Your assignment is at your station."

Harry examined his ingredients. "There aren't any instructions," he said. "Or a name or anything."

"You must learn to recognize a potion from ingredients alone," Severus replied. "I am going to dress and make breakfast. If you brew correctly, you should be at a stopping point when the food is ready."

He swept out of the room, leaving Harry to nervously start what he thought was probably a Girding Potion. Probably.

Beyond the change in his lessons, nothing changed. He'd come down to ingredients laid out and no instructions, and make do as best he could. It came down to small mistakes, for the most part; he knew what to make, only were Shrinking Solutions supposed to have one rat spleen or two, and how many puffer fish eyes went into a Swelling Solution? These were things he knew perfectly well, things he had taught, but without the safety of a recipe and the tension of Severus testing him, he found it much more difficult to concentrate.

They still ate together and played the occasional game of chess after dinner. Once Harry dared to retrieve his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi from Severus' study, who told him sharply to return the book when he was done with it and otherwise didn't acknowledge what Harry felt was a very brave and difficult act.

There was no talk about what happened on Christmas.

New Year's Eve fell on a Monday, and Harry was planning on spending the day going over everything he needed for the coming term. His intention was to brush up on any potions he didn't remember and finally get started on grading the heap of essays that he had yet to even unpack, let alone look at.

Instead he came downstairs to find his station already set up.

"No more lessons," Harry said, gathering the porcupine quills and starting to put them away. "I've got to work."

The quills flew out of his hand and back over to the bench. "You may work when the potion is complete."

Harry glared at Severus, who had his back to him. "I've been putting it off too long as it is. I've got essays, and I need to look up poison antidotes for the third years."

"It is not my fault if you have fallen behind," Severus replied. "You are aware you are a student as well as a professor, and—"

"And it's break and I'm not having lessons over break!" Harry interrupted. "I'm relaxing and on vacation, not that you could tell it from what you've had me doing." Severus remained quiet as Harry took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. "Look, I like brewing, and I even like our lessons for the most part, but I've got other things I need to do." He waved his wand, returning the ingredients to the apothecary. Severus hated when he used magic on ingredients, but Harry thought he'd forfeited that right by forcibly removing the quills from his hands.

"Neglecting your lessons is your choice," Severus said stiffly.

Harry didn't respond. He went into the other room and opened his book to antidotes. He stared moodily at the page for a minute before calling out, "It was an Elixir to Induce Euphoria. You start with the peppermint until it's red, shrivelfig until it's turquoise and stir until it's blue, then—"

"You have proven your point, Potter," Severus said, cutting him off. "If you choose not to brew what I have set out for you, at least focus on what you are doing."

Feeling a little better, Harry returned to his book.

After dinner Harry switched over to grading. What he really wanted to do was go out in the moonlight and change, but Severus' backyard was pitiful, and even the nearby field was tiny compared to the grounds and Forbidden Forest. Besides, he was going back to Hogwarts on Saturday, so he only had to wait another five days for real freedom.

Alternatively, he only had five days to grade papers and finish preparing, as well as squeezing in whatever Severus wanted him to do. He stretched out as much as he could and set to work, telling himself if he finished one classes worth of papers he could spend the rest of the night relaxing. It was New Year's Eve and he could be a Basilisk if he wanted to.

If he finished his work.

Severus joined him an hour or two later, and Harry was chagrined to see that his pile of essays was much larger than his own, and still half done. He didn't point it out, knowing what the response would be: "Manage your time better." Severus graded while his potions were simmering, planned lessons over breakfast, didn't have to do any practicing for teaching because he was the bloody Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, of course he wouldn't, and still managed to have free time at the end of the day.

Harry glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. He silently bet himself a chocolate frog that Severus would be done for the night by midnight.

At least they were on the same couch.

Harry smiled to himself as he went back to his papers.

He wasn't really sure if he won or lost the frog since the bet was with himself, but Severus did stop grading around quarter of midnight. Harry expected him to go to bed but instead he summoned a book and read, staying where he was. Harry glanced at the title and silently cursed him; he was rereading Moste Potente Potions, the first edition Slughorn had gotten him for Christmas last year. It wasn't that Harry would've preferred reading it to grading, but the idea of reading anything for pleasure was one Harry greatly resented if for no other reason than he wouldn't have to correct a book.

He had a paragraph left when the clock over the mantel started ticking. Harry jerked up in surprise, leaving a large, red blot on the parchment.

"It's almost midnight, Harry," Severus said, sounding bored. "No need for panic."

Harry winced. Of course it was. Merlin, he had been grading for too long. He set the essay and quill down and stretched, watching with mild interest as the second hand drew closer to midnight. He was trying to decide if this was an excuse to stop working for the night when a trumpet sounded and confetti burst over the fireplace, disappearing before it reached the ground.

He turned back to his essays. He really ought to finish at least this class. If he got through one class a day, then he'd only have one left at Hogwarts, and if he finished preparing in time and if Severus wasn't too demanding, maybe he could have Sunday off and go to Hogsmeade with Neville or hang out in the teacher's lounge or do absolutely nothing and just relax.

Harry pulled the essay back over, sighing. "Happy New Year," he said somewhere between dutifully and sarcastically. "Cheers to last year's work, this year's work, and all the coming year's of work."

"You are even less enamored of the new year than I," Severus remarked, sounding amused. "Last year you were all but in tears over Vita Salvus, and now you complain about work. This night is no different from any other."

"It feels dramatic," Harry muttered, though his stomach started twisting nervously. Last year was also the first time Severus had kissed him, though of course it was only on the forehead. If Harry had planned it, he probably could've gotten away with another kiss, even if it was just on the forehead or cheek. He sighed loudly. "Fuck it, I'm done working tonight. I don't care if I get behind, I don't want to start out my year like this." He sighed again. "Then again, maybe starting out productively would be a good omen." He ran his hands through his hair. "Merlin, I don't know."

"Harry, the fact that this minute happens to occur in a different year is irrelevant," Severus said. "What you do this moment will not effect the rest of your life. The fact that it is late and you are clearly tired and irritable is a far better reason to put your work aside than the date changing."

Harry was feeling very worked up, the combination of the New Year, all his work, the kiss he had missed and Severus using his first name proving too much. He swept the essays into a basket he conjured just in time to catch them, and leaned back. "Fine. I'm done for tonight." He paused. "Why are first years so bloody stupid?"

Severus smiled. "At last you understand."

"I understood last year," Harry muttered. "Maybe the question is why are last year's first years still so stupid?"

"Potions is a subtle science and—"

"Exact art, I know," Harry interrupted, though he started to smile. "Not many will understand. But really, have they got to be such idiots about it?"

Severus sent the basket of essays out of the room. "Stop thinking about work. Relax. As you have so frequently pointed out, you are on vacation. What were you planning on doing with your free time?"

"I don't remember," Harry replied. "I've got a headache, I should just go to sleep."

Severus frowned slightly. "I do not like to see you upset on a holiday. It is paramount to a sudden declaration of allegiance to the Dark Lord."

Harry laughed. "That's not going to be a problem, promise. And really, this whole holiday thing is new. Before I came to Hogwarts I spent holidays locked in a broom cupboard. I might be whining about having things to do, but at least I can do them wherever I want."

Severus' frown deepened. "I do not wish to hear of you in such a situation. It was hard enough when you were confined to the Chamber at night, never mind a cupboard for eleven years."

Warmth flooded through him. "I didn't know you cared," Harry said lightly, trying not to make a big deal out of it because Severus would close off completely if he realized they were talking about emotions.

"Of course you did," Severus replied tightly.

Harry didn't, but he wasn't going to push the matter. He knew Severus cared about him, yes, but not that he'd thought about what his life had been like before Hogwarts, and definitely not that he actively avoided thinking about it.

"Okay, well, it's the New Year," Harry said, sitting up and facing Severus. "It's a holiday, so I insist on making a big deal about it. Champagne?"

Severus winced. He looked disgusted, but at least no longer upset. "I despise champagne."

"We've already had confetti," Harry mused. "Noise makers?"

Severus flinched. "Please. I thought you had a headache."

He had a point. "I don't know," Harry said, exasperated. "What do people do on New Year's? You're right, last year I complained, and then we sat around reading. I suppose I could fetch a book if you want."

"If that is how you wish to spend your holiday, by all means," Severus replied.

Harry didn't understand what was happening. "Do you want to celebrate?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," Severus said.

Harry was actually tired and he really did have a headache, but there was clearly something that he was supposed to do. "If I'm celebrating, I want to play chess," he said firmly. "One game, and then I'm going to bed. Even if you lose."

"I won't," Severus replied. He summoned the set and draped the wool blanket over himself. "White or black?"

"White," Harry said automatically. "I'm cold too. Mind if I share?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "It is your blanket, I cannot prevent you from using it."

"You're so kind," Harry replied with a small smile, scooting over and sliding under the blanket. "Pawn to d4."

"You always begin with a pawn," Severus remarked. "Knight to f6."

"I don't like starting with knights," Harry replied. "Pawn to c4."

"You would benefit from proper lessons rather than late night casual matches," Severus said. "Pawn to d6."

"I don't have time for more lessons," Harry said. "I'm teaching and learning to teach already; chess is for fun. But fine, if you want me to move a knight, knight to c3." He yawned, slumping back against the couch. "I'm tired. Please don't make me learn."

Severus smiled slightly. "Pawn to e5. I promise not to make any attempts to increase your intelligence."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling back. It suddenly occurred to him that Severus was, in fact, smiling. Neville had been right, at least about that. Severus never smiled, but he was smiling now. Harry's next move was more than a little haphazard.

"If you are truly too tired to play, we do not have to continue," Severus replied, moving his bishop in place to take Harry's knight. "I have the advantage, it would be a win in my favor."

Harry frowned. "You do not." He stretched as he considered his next move. "Pawn takes bishop. How'd you miss that?"

"Queen takes pawn," Severus countered. "Check."

Harry cursed. It was easy enough to get out of, but still. The first check of the game coming so quickly was embarrassing. He readjusted himself, stalling as he thought. He supposed it was intentional on some level, but he accidentally settled much closer to Severus than he meant. After much too long he moved his knight between the two pieces.

A few moves later Harry gave up and leaned against Severus, though it was more of a snuggling than a leaning. He wasn't pushed away, and after that he focused much better on the game. Just as the game was drawing to a close, Severus wrapped an arm around him, drawing him closer. Harry missed his move entirely.

"That's a new strategy," Harry said, mostly joking. "Exploiting my need for physical contact to win a chess game."

"I am appalled at how little you think of me," Severus replied. "Your move."

"Maybe, but I'm right," Harry said before ordering his rook forward.

Severus advanced his knight. "You are not."

"But you're above things like talking so we're just going to pretend this isn't happening, right?" Harry asked, feeling brave. He captured Severus' queen. "Check."

"Shut up," Severus said irritably. "King to b6."

There wasn't any point in pressing the matter. Harry returned his focus to the game, and he won by an impossibly small margin. He watched anxiously as his knight demolished Severus' king, beating it until the piece turned to dust.

"I told you, stop being so hard on my chess set," Severus snapped, waving his wand and returning his pieces to their former glory, though the king did have a new chip in his helmet. "I will not play you again until you buy your own."

"You've said that before," Harry replied with a small, nervous smile. "I don't believe you."

Severus glared at him. "Try me."

Harry thought that was a rather bold thing to say to someone who was curled up against his side, wrapped in his arm. "You're just bitter you lost," he replied. "I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted."

"You've said that before," Severus echoed.

"Well I am," Harry said, though he was still very uneasy and didn't think now was a good time to get up. "I'm going to bed."

"So go," Severus said, only it sounded like a challenge.

Harry remembered what people did on New Year's Eve. He turned Severus so they were facing and brushed his lips against his cheek, lingering just slightly longer than he should have. "I know it's after midnight," Harry said, pulling away and trying really, really hard not to blush. "But you've been asking about traditions, so happy new year."

Severus gave him a bizarre, impenetrable look. "I feel so blessed," he said caustically. "You were going to bed?"

"Yeah," Harry said, removing himself from Severus' arms and standing. "G'night, then." He paused. "Assuming holiday traditions have been tradition-y enough?" He tapped his finger against his leg. He needed to remember to think before he talked.

"More than enough," Severus replied tightly.

"Right. See you tomorrow." Harry left, wondering exactly what had happened.

47

Harry spent the rest of the week working on his curriculum, grading, and, when he had time, brewing with Severus. Not actually with him, because Severus still had him brewing from ingredients sans instructions. They didn't talk much, though the silence wasn't exactly uncomfortable. Harry found time to go to Diagon Alley and pick up his own chess set and broke it in Wednesday night with a truly catastrophic loss.

When Harry went down to the lab Friday morning he found ingredients set up as always. At first he thought his lack of understanding was due to having just woken up, but as the minutes slipped by and he still had no idea what they were supposed to be, his confidence slipped.

"I have no idea what this is," he said eventually. He was already nervous from going back to teaching in a few days, and this didn't help him feel competent.

"Figure it out," Severus replied.

"I've tried," Harry said, almost whining. "Really. Billywig stings and daisies don't go together, I'm positive."

"Perhaps not yet," Severus replied lightly.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You—you want me to invent something? On my own. Now. With these ingredients."

"Potion Masters are expected to do such things," Severus said.

"Yeah, but…" Harry trailed off, once again going over the ingredients. "Can I have a hint as to what I'm supposed to make?"

"Make whatever you desire," Severus replied.

Harry didn't want to. Especially not today, not when he was only half packed, still had a pile of essays to grade and was feeling incapable of doing anything, let alone inventing his own potion. "You thought today was a good time for me to do this?" he asked.

"The earlier you start the more prepared you will be," Severus said. "You have done this before, Harry. Examine the ingredients. Dwell on their properties. What would benefit from that particular combination?"

Harry conjured a stool, sat, and stared. For a while. He moved the piles around, grouping them one way and then another, trying to decide how to start. He took a break to finish packing and have an early lunch, then returned to his bench, flicked on the flame and started on what he hoped would be a sort of magical champagne. He tried to work through dinner but Severus made him stop to eat. Harry added the juice of three currants before he was physically dragged upstairs. He fidgeted all through the meal, mind on his potion, and practically leaped down the stairs.

His potion was simmering beautifully and gave off a tart but sweet smell. Exactly what he had been hoping for. Harry grinned. He turned the heat down further and practically floated over to Severus, looking over his shoulder into his cauldron.

"Draught of Peace?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Severus asked.

"Telling," Harry decided. "Clear turquoise, that's Draught of Peace."

Severus nodded. "Good."

Harry went into the other room and went to work grading. His potion had another hour of simmering before he needed to do anything, and for once he had the will to grade without feeling like punching someone. He only had a few left, and when his timer went off, he only had half an essay to go. He could get that done tomorrow over breakfast and be free when he got back to Hogwarts.

And, well. A few days ago he had kissed Severus' cheek and he hadn't been yelled at. He hadn't been anything-ed at, but that was better than a screaming match or an ill-fated conversation like they'd had on Christmas. Probably. In any case, he had planned this kiss, and had a much better memory of it than the July kiss. Severus' face had been soft beneath his hand and warm beneath his lips, his skin a little dry but pleasantly so. Harry decided it was enough to last until next New Year's, if only because it had to be.

Harry returned to his cauldron, gave it a few quick stirs, and added the peppermint. Still going well. He grinned, and relaxed.

Relaxing wasn't a good idea. His mind wandered, and he didn't know exactly what happened but stirring had gotten more difficult, and when he looked down he was no longer greeted with the sight of a happily bubbling, mildly alcoholic drink. He had sludge. Dark, unhappy sludge. He stared at it for a few moments in a panicked shock before sprinting over to the apothecary and grabbing a vial of pomegranate juice, and when the potion immediately turned to a hardened cement, at least he knew why. He had added the juice too quickly, and stirred in the wrong direction.

It was amazing how quickly his mood dropped. He hadn't felt great when he'd woken up, had felt hopelessly lost when he saw Severus' assignment, and had only rallied due to the unexpected success of his potion. Realistically he knew that it was all but impossible to get a potion right the first time, but he couldn't even remove the stirrer from the cauldron.

The realization that it was his special gold-with-a-tungsten-lining cauldron from the Weasleys and Hermione was the final straw.

Harry whipped out his wand and yelled, "Reducto!" The potion didn't even crack. "Confringo!" Nothing. "Expulso!" The cauldron flew backwards and slammed into the stone wall, but the potion remained. Harry didn't know what spell he was going to try next, only that he could feel the anger, resentment and upset building to a point where casting anything would be a hazard. He didn't particularly care.

Severus' hand closed around his wrist so tightly he dropped his wand with a cry of surprise mixed with pain. "Stop," he said softly. "Irreparably damaging your favorite cauldron will not help."

"I can't get it out!" Harry yelled, trying to twist free.

"Evanesco," Severus said, and the cement vanished. "Reparo," fixed the dent from crashing into the wall. "Why are you so upset?"

A thousand answers flew through Harry's mind. He fucked up his potion. He wasn't done grading. He wasn't ready to teach poison antidotes; aside from bezoars, he had more experience healing damage from curses than poisons. He hadn't had a proper night in the Forbidden Forest in ages. One kiss on the cheek wasn't enough for a year. He needed to relax and there wasn't any sign of relaxation in his future. His chess set hadn't responded to him the way he wanted it to. Of course, what he ended up saying he hadn't even realized until he spoke. "I don't want to go back to Hogwarts."

Severus' eyebrows shot up. "I thought you loved it."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I do. That's not what I meant. I meant—ugh, I don't know. I don't want to live with Neville anymore."

Severus continued to look at him as though he had gone insane. "You are very good friends, are you not? You spent Christmas with him. What is the problem?"

Harry yanked his hand free and rubbed his wrist. "I don't know. I'll miss having my own lab. Your lab, I mean, but this lab is more my lab than the one at Hogwarts. The other basement room. The quiet." While those things weren't untrue, they had very little to do with living with Neville and even less to do with not wanting to go back to Hogwarts. He did want to go back, that had been a slip of the tongue, but no, he didn't want to live with his friend anymore.

Snape let a very small smile sneak onto his face. "You cannot hold all potions labs to the standard of mine or you will be very disappointed. As for the makeshift living room, you have your own in your quarters, as well as the staff lounge and the Gryffindor common room, where I am sure you will be more than welcome. I always believed Neville to be a quiet person, perhaps his only positive quality, but if it is an issue, you can speak with him and come to an arrangement."

"Neville's fine," Harry muttered. "He's not loud, the castle is. But that's not—" He tapped his finger against his leg. "Forget it, I'm sorry. It's just the potion, it threw me off. I'm fine. I'm going to finish grading and then go to bed early."

"I will join you," Severus said, turning his cauldron off. "I have finished grading, but my potion is complete and I haven't the time to start a new one."

Harry's stomach clenched. Did Severus know? Had he guessed that was why Harry didn't want to move back in with Neville, because he wanted to stay with him? Probably, he was Severus, he knew everything. At least he was being nice about it instead of berating him.

They settled on the same couch, Harry with his half an essay and Severus with a book. Yes, Harry was going to miss this. It was stupid, they weren't even interacting, but he would miss the nearness.

Merlin, Harry was screwed.

The rest of the paper dragged on for ages, and Harry decided he didn't need to go to sleep quite yet. It was quarter past nine; it was too early even if he was going to bed early. He thought about changing, but tomorrow night he'd have the whole Forest at his disposal, and it'd be better just to wait. He could read, but all of his books were packed, as was his chess set. His chess set that didn't like him, which wasn't fair given the amount of money he spent on it. The thing wasn't even properly sentient, just was charmed to behave. Behave, not complain.

Severus had invited him over for break. There had been no preamble, no excuse, just an invitation.

Harry reminded himself that didn't mean it was okay for him to ask Severus if he could move in with him at Hogwarts. Three weeks was not the same as permanently. He had only been in Severus' quarters to use the bathroom, and only then because his quarters were off the potions lab and thus closest. They had never spent any time together there, had never just hung out like this, hadn't even had a cup of tea after a long night.

Harry supposed that was sort of the problem. It wasn't giving up living together, it was giving up free time together.

…Harry supposed that was probably the same thing.

He sighed quietly and lay down on the couch, resting his head in Severus' lap. It was kind of awkward, but he wasn't turned away and, after a few minutes, Severus put a hand on his shoulder.

Yeah, Harry was going to miss this.

Harry supposed he dozed off because a moment later Severus was telling him that it was late and he wanted to spend his last night at home in his own bed. Harry blinked blearily and sat up.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Was I asleep?"

Severus smiled slightly. "You were. I apologize for waking you, but I am not interest in sleeping on the couch."

"No, it's fine," Harry replied, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not either." They walked upstairs together, and as Harry was about to go into his room, he asked, "When are we leaving again? Eleven?"

"Yes," Severus replied. "Perhaps earlier if you are ready. As long as we do not miss lunch, it doesn't matter to me."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Lunch is good. And the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night?"

"After dinner, yes," Severus replied.

Harry tapped his finger against the doorframe, trying to figure out what he was going to say rather than what he wanted to say. "Okay. G'night."

"Sleep well," Severus said.

Harry walked into his room slowly, hoping for—

"Harry."

He smiled. Hoping for that. He returned his expression to one of tired neutrality and poked his head out his door. "Yeah?"

Severus was at his own door, one hand on the knob, turned so he was looking at Harry. His expression was one of confusion, irritability, and things Harry couldn't identify. "I do not want to ask, but—"

"Yeah," Harry interrupted. Severus jerked to meet his gaze, and Harry tightened his grip on the doorframe. "I mean, if you were offering to—er—" Severus continued to look at him and Harry was suddenly sure he had gotten everything wrong. Then again, it was only one night, and it wasn't like he hadn't asked before. It wasn't three weeks, it wasn't permanent, it was a night. He could ask for a night. "I'm tired," he said. "I'm tired and it's not a holiday, but I'm still upset, so maybe…"

"Hurry up," Severus snapped. "I'm tired and I wish to sleep."

Harry had to fight against a grin. "Yeah, give me a second to change and go to the bathroom. I'll be right there." He sped through what he needed to do, and knocked hesitantly on Severus' door even though it was slightly open.

"Hurry up," Severus repeated. "I do you a favor and you are insufferably slow. I told you I am tired."

"Sorry," Harry replied, closing the door and looking around nervously. The room was relatively Spartan, containing a dresser, more bookshelves—Harry had no idea how one man could have so many books—a large fireplace with a low fire, a closet, and a nightstand next to a large four poster bed. Heart pounding, thinking he might be going insane, Harry walked over to the bed and slid beneath the blankets. Silk sheets, thick blankets and surprisingly soft pillows. He would've thought Severus would have firm pillows but no, these were soft.

Severus was holding his arm out so Harry shuffled over, snuggling against him. It was like Christmas only completely different. They were in Severus' bed, his own, personal bed in his room. They were here because they acknowledged, if not verbally, that they would miss living together. Harry was thinking other things, too, and he suspected Severus was as well, not that he had the slightest idea of what those things were.

Harry set to work memorizing exactly what it felt like to be held in Severus' arms in his bed and curled up against him. He fell asleep before he got much farther than Of course.