18

Chapter Eighteen

51

The only good thing about Monday was that Harry dedicated the rest of his life to performing good deeds because he learned what hell was like and he didn't want to go there. It combined the press conferences and private interviews with Rita Skeeter from his fourth year, the disbelief and anger from fifth year, and somehow still the hero worship from the summer after he defeated Voldemort. Harry had no idea how those could all be happening at the same time, but apparently they could.

The speech at breakfast was relatively successful in that he wasn't cursed or interrupted. On the other hand he was met with nothing but blatant disbelief. No matter how many details and specifics he reeled off it seemed the student body of Hogwarts was incapable of believing their savior could be a Basilisk. After a brief whispered conversation with Minerva, Harry carefully arranged himself, took the altered Lenimen Curatio and Oculus Ius, and changed. It was terrifying for everyone involved. The students didn't entirely panic, but there were still screams and a young Hufflepuff fainted, and Harry's habit of nervously swishing his tail resulted in accidentally knocking Filius Flitwick out of his chair, which resulted in even more panic before he announced that he was neither petrified nor stone. Harry learned changing in the Great Hall was very different from streaking through the woods at night, and he didn't like it at all.

He also realized that students were idiots. It didn't occur to him until later because he had been so preoccupied at the time, but he couldn't fathom why anyone would think he was faking something like that. Of all the things to lie about, the ability to turn into a hated and deadly monster was nowhere on his list.

Harry didn't have any classes on Mondays, which meant he spent the days grading and planning and brewing. Sometimes he would shadow one of Horace's upper level classes. Instead he spent the morning catching up on the usual work that he hadn't done over the weekend, as well as what he had expected to do today. At least he could do those things in the comfort of Severus' quarters; he wasn't sure when he would be allowed back into his rooms, but while he did enjoy living with Severus, he was too busy to care.

Lunch was the same sort of okay as breakfast. No curses and no exploding food, but a lot of terrified looks were thrown his way, especially from the Slytherins. He thought that was a combination of upset at him for emotionally scarring the second years and the same jealously Phineas had yelled about. They clearly didn't understand what it was actually like otherwise they wouldn't be jealous, and he wasn't feeling particularly kind towards them. At the beginning of the meal Minerva informed him the reporters would be arriving at two, which successfully destroyed his appetite.

Harry really did not want to talk to the papers by himself. He also didn't have a choice in the matter. Severus and Minerva both had classes, Neville offered but Harry wouldn't let him ruin his reputation, and having Hagrid by his side would help nobody. He spent the time between lunch and the meeting going over what he was going to say, which amounted to nothing more than pacing nervously and starting a Pepperup potion ten minutes before he had to leave even though he knew he wouldn't have enough time to finish. He vanished the few minutes of progress before heading back down to the Great Hall, which had been opened off-hours for the occasion.

The room was way, way bigger than it needed to be. Rita Skeeter was there, of course, looking as revolting as always. The rest of the reporters he didn't know; the introduced themselves as being from various papers Harry hadn't heard of. Three had their own cameramen, including Rita Skeeter. Still, there were only twelve people including himself, and that hardly seemed to warrant the Great Hall. The emptiness was more imposing than if the entire room had been filled.

They sat at the end of the Gryffindor table. Harry told the story from start to finish. It was a long story and he'd told it a lot already and while he supposed the practice was good, he was getting sick of it. He had purposefully seated himself as far away from Rita Skeeter as possible but he could still see her Quick Quotes Quill flying across the page and the sight made his stomach shrivel. He had discussed it with Minerva, and after he was done talking, he changed. A lot of pictures were taken. Then he changed back and answered questions.

Rita Skeeter was the first to talk, of course.

"Tell us about the girl you rescued," she said, voice shriller than he remembered. Other than that she looked the same, down to her trademark bejeweled glasses and screamingly red nails. "Miss Jenny Weatherby?"

"Ginny Weasley," Harry corrected. "She was in the Chamber and when I stabbed the diary she was freed."

"Weasley, that would be the sister of your best friend?" she pressed.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"And how did she feel about the great Harry Potter coming to her rescue?" Rita Skeeter asked. "Surely she could not escape your charm and magnetism?"

Harry ground his teeth together. "We're friends," he said tightly. "That's it."

"Hmm."

One of the other reporters, a woman from Japan, spoke next. "After killing the serpent belonging to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, how did—"

"That was Neville," Harry interrupted. "Neville Longbottom. He killed Nagini, not me. He beheaded her with the Sword of Gryffindor."

"The same sword you used to kill the very Basilisk that attacked you," Rita Skeeter said. "The parallel cannot be ignored."

"Yes it can," Harry replied. "Nagini has nothing to do with me."

"Hmm," Rita Skeeter said again, her quill flying across the page.

"How does it feel to have killed one of your own kind?" a French man asked. He was wearing a beret and it made Harry want to punch him.

Harry sighed. "Neville killed Nagini," he repeated. "She was a snake and nothing more, and I'm glad she's dead. The Basilisk that used to live here was an uncontrolled monster and deserved to die. I have no more affiliation towards it than a werewolf has towards whoever bit him."

"The contrast between yourself and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is undeniable," the Japanese woman said. "Do you believe your relationship with him contributed to your condition?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "No, absolutely not. He's got nothing to do with this."

"The attacks in 1992 and 1993, those were the original Basilisk and not yourself?" the French reporter asked.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"But the ones three years ago were you," he continued.

Harry tapped his leg. "They were accidents, like I said."

"Do you still consider yourself the savior of the wizarding world?" Rita Skeeter cut in.

Harry glared at her. "Those were your words, not mine. You'll have to answer that one yourself."

"Going back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she continued, "the help you received regarding your 'condition' was from none other than a Death Eater, was it not?"

"Severus Snape is not a Death Eater!" Harry yelled. The reporters looked at him quizzically with the exception of Rita Skeeter, who looked like she had discovered the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. "He saved me. End of story."

A small, round man with an accent Harry didn't recognize spoke softly as he asked, "It seems the journey has taught you a great many things. Knowing what you do now, would you change how you handled the situation?"

Harry could have hugged him. Finally an actual question. "More than anything else I thought about running away. Ultimately I think it's better I stayed; it has been pointed out to me that, regardless of how I think of myself, the wizarding community looked towards me as a beacon of light and hope after Voldemort was defeated. My disappearance would have done more harm than good, and by the time the world had quieted, I was under control."

"How do you think your parents would feel about this?" Rita Skeeter asked.

Harry's jaw tightened. "The same as any other parents, I'd imagine."

"And Dumbledore? Do you think he would be proud of how you handled the situation?" she asked.

"I don't know, you'd have to ask him," Harry replied tersely.

She changed tactics. "You told us about the facts of the las three years but not the emotional effects. How does it feel?"

"Not great," Harry said. "This isn't exactly the life I would've chosen."

"Ah, but you are the Chosen One," she replied with a crafty smile. "Do you view this as another chance to prove yourself? Another obstacle to overcome to remain in the spotlight?"

"I haven't been," Harry said. "I kept it a secret as long as I could. I'm not saying that was the right thing to do, but even you can't say I'm trying for publicity."

"How would you describe your relationship with Severus Snape?" she asked.

Harry continued to tap the table angrily. "I told you, he saved me."

"How has your condition affected your other relationships?" she asked. "You said Miss Weasley is nothing more than a friend; is there another lucky girl behind the scenes?"

"No, I'm not—" Harry took a deep breath. "My friends have been nothing but supportive and my love life is none of your business."

"Would you have been able to save yourself without the help of Severus Snape?" Rita Skeeter asked. "After all that you've done, would your tortured soul have stood up to the torment?"

Harry was never good at dealing with that sort of question. "I, uh—"

"That's enough."

Harry turned. Minerva was standing in the doorway, eyes burning and lips white with anger. "You were invited into our home to learn, not to torment. Any further questions will be directed to me and will be passed on to Professor Potter only if I deem them appropriate. Harry, you may leave."

"Thanks, but I'll stay if it's okay with you," Harry said.

"Only under my supervision," Minerva replied, seating herself next to Harry.

"Is that because you don't trust him to project the image of Hogwarts you want the public to see?" Rita Skeeter asked eagerly.

"No, it is because you are a pathetic twat who asks questions of that nature," Minerva replied, and Harry had to snort back laughter.

The interview continued on. Minerva decided what Harry would and wouldn't answer, and while Harry felt a little babied, ultimately he was grateful. For the most part her presence was enough to stop the worst of the questions; Harry's parents weren't brought up again, nor was Dumbledore. Rita Skeeter toned down as much as she could. He was asked about the difficulties he faced while testing potions and how he planed to incorporate what he learned into teaching, as well as specifics about how his conditioned worked and what it was like.

Minerva stopped the interview at four-thirty so the Hall could be readied for dinner. Harry had no idea how he'd managed to spend two and a half hours talking, and found the ability kind of embarrassing. He went back to Severus' quarters to take a shower as Minerva escorted the reporters off campus. He felt sleazy and slimy and thought he probably reeked of what Rita Skeeter called perfume despite sitting as far away from her as possible.

Dinner was worse. Harry had let his guard down against curses and jinxes, and just as he was starting to relax a series of small snakes rained down on him, wriggling through his food, getting stuck in his hair, and falling down his shirt. They were easily banished and he supposed it was good that it was sort of a joke rather than something designed to hurt him, but he was not amused.

Then owls started to arrive. Owls carrying letters from angry parents. The letters weren't too bad, it was the Howlers that got to him. He got four, and Severus received one, which Harry thought was a particularly bad decision on the part of whoever sent it. The Howlers were humiliating, and by the end of the fourth Harry was nearly in tears. Filius was sitting next to him and when he saw how upset Harry was, he charmed the letters to sort themselves into two piles, one for hate mail and the other for letters of support. Harry was shocked that there was any supportive mail at all, let alone that the pile would actually be bigger than the hate mail. The hate mail was banished, and Harry was forced to open at least one of the kind letters so he could see for himself that there were people on his side. As he was reaching for whatever letter happened to be on top an owl swooped down and dropped a letter from Dean in front of him. Time slowed as he waited for the letter to sort itself. When it landed in the good pile he nearly had a heart attack. He read the letter with shaking hands and left dinner as soon as he finished.

52

Monday night, on the other hand, was different. Harry was only a few feet out of the Hall when Severus fell in step beside him.

"Your lesson for tonight is cancelled," he said.

"Thanks," Harry replied. It had never even occurred to him he might have his class with Severus, and had actually forgotten such things existed.

"Minerva informed me the interview went well," Severus said.

"We'll see tomorrow," Harry replied hollowly. "Merlin knows what Rita Skeeter will say about me."

"Howlers aside, you mostly received good mail, did you not?" Severus asked. "Including from Dean Thomas?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I've got no idea why. Why from Dean, why from anyone, why I'm still here, why any of this."

"Have you decided between Germany and Brazil?" Severus asked lightly.

Harry glared at him. "Don't tease me. I'm not leaving and I don't want to be reminded of all the places I could be instead of here."

"Yet here you are," Severus reminded him. "Your resolve speaks volumes."

"Resolve is stupid," Harry said petulantly.

"Do you remember what I said about intention?" Severus asked.

Harry did. Vividly. He understood the theory behind it but the fact was that he still didn't know Severus' intentions and it was going to drive him insane. That was probably not what Severus was referring to now, though. "Yeah."

"Then stop complaining," Severus said.

They reached Severus' quarters, and Harry wavered in the doorway between the lab and the living room. "Did Minerva mention how long I'm staying with you?"

"Sick of me already?" Severus asked.

Harry was astounded. Was he—joking? About emotions? "No," he replied carefully. There was definitely a right and a wrong answer and he had no idea what those answers were. "I don't want to impose and my things aren't here and you don't want to spend all your time taking care of me, so it'd probably be better if I didn't stay too long."

"You are not due to submit your first report until Sunday, so no earlier than next weekend," Severus replied.

"When do you suppose I'll start having my life taken over with chores?" Harry asked nervously.

"I would imagine you will not," Severus said, settling on the couch. "Everyone is on your side, Harry. You will not be taken advantage of."

Harry had to suppress the sudden urge to yell at Severus that he should be taken advantage of, Severus should take advantage, and do it right now. "And the students withdrawing from my classes?" he asked. "Is there a deadline for that, or will I be waiting around all year knowing that any one of them could walk out at any minute?"

"Friday by noon," Severus replied. "Minerva made the announcement at breakfast after your speech."

"Great," Harry said.

"Are you going to stand in the doorway all night?" Severus asked.

"Maybe," Harry replied moodily.

"I refuse to speak to you when you are like this," Severus said, picking up his book. "If you return to the land of the intelligent and capable, I will be here."

Harry wanted to be upset about everything that was happening. The Howlers, the interview, the rain of snakes, but he couldn't make himself focus. He was still upset, very upset, but it had nothing to do with being a Basilisk and everything to do with Severus.

He needed to know how Severus felt and what he was doing. He could live with them being close friends and nothing more and he would love to be in an actual relationship, but they had entered this weird in between state that wasn't okay. He couldn't fall asleep spooning with him and not wake up in his arms the next morning. There could be no kisses on the forehead if there weren't also kisses on the lips. He couldn't have Severus tell him he was glad he was here without knowing where here was. It was too much to ask.

More than anything, Harry wanted to go out into the Forest and spend the night as a snake. There was no chance of getting permission now, and even if for some bizarre, inexplicable reason Minerva and Severus told him he could go out, he knew it wasn't a good idea. The school needed time to adjust to his condition and flaunting wasn't the way to go about it. Short of that he wanted his own room, and he didn't even have his own bed.

Then he remembered all of the work he hadn't done yesterday or today, and for once he was grateful to be behind. It gave him something to do, something to focus on that wasn't excruciatingly painful. He finally came inside and settled on one of the chairs, summoning his pile of essays.

Harry should have known Severus would notice.

"You have not once sat on a chair rather than the couch," he remarked.

"Well I've only been here for a few days," Harry replied. "And there were only couches at Spinner's End and in the Chamber. I sit on chairs sometimes."

"You are upset with me," Severus countered. "You are very easy to read."

"You're wrong," Harry said, and that wasn't really true at all. He was upset with himself and the situation but yes, it was mostly Severus. "I'm upset about grading. I'm so far behind it's not funny." He paused. "Unrelated, but I think I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight. I miss having my own place, y'know, and if I am then I'm sure you are, too."

Severus didn't reply. Harry sort of wanted to examine his lack of response and sort of wanted to pretend it never happened. He went back to his essays. Thoughts of Severus kept floating in, and while he knew he should be worried about teaching tomorrow, it seemed insignificant in the face of the current hole he'd dug himself into.

The later it got the more he worried. The thought of teaching rose but Severus didn't wane, so he was filled with equal amounts of worry for both, and that was not good. His corrections grew fewer and messier as his focus drifted. Eventually he gave up entirely; it would be better to hand them back a day or two late than bollocks them up. He set his quill down on the coffee table and returned his essay to the unfinished basket and leaned back, heaving a deep sigh and closing his eyes.

"Would you like me to leave so you can go to sleep?" Severus asked coolly. Harry hadn't heard that tone in quite some time, and he didn't like it.

"No, it's fine," Harry replied. He went to the bathroom, changed and brushed his teeth, and came back out.

"Do not sit in the chair," Severus said. Harry looked at him but he was still reading his book. Of course he wasn't really, but apparently that wasn't something to acknowledge.

Harry stood awkwardly. "I'm tired," he replied. "I'd like to sit somewhere."

"There has been an unintentional consequence of your condition coming to light," Severus said. "I have been forced to speak at great length. I do not like speaking, and I especially do not like speaking about things I consider private. You came to me three and a half years ago. You closed my door and you told me your secret. Everything you, and to a lesser degree myself, have gone through is private. I have said what I had to do, but I did not like it."

Harry glanced at him. "Thank you?" he tried.

"I spoke to the Board of Governors and I spoke to Minerva," Severus continued. "I have also spoken to you. I comforted you and harassed you as the situation demanded. I told you things I never intended to share. I have opened my life to you and I have told you things."

Harry was having trouble processing. "I told you that you don't have to do that," he said. "Any of it."

"I have also repeated myself extensively because you refuse to listen, and there is very little I hate more than repeating myself," Severus said sharply. "Stop talking. I do not want to say this either, but that is my point. There are times when things need to be said regardless of whether or not I want to say them. I—" He let out an irritated sigh. "I have to repeat myself in order to tell you I am going to repeat myself. You are insufferable."

Harry sort of smiled. His heart was pounding and he was sweating and aware of each and every breath. This was it, actually it. They were going to have the conversation and then it would be done with. It would be horrendously painful and excruciatingly humiliating but then Harry wouldn't have to fall asleep with someone who didn't love him and he wouldn't be obsessed with kisses that meant nothing.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll listen."

"I want you in my life," Severus stated. He finally looked up from his book and the intensity in his eyes was enough to make Harry's knees weak. "I want you on my couch and I want you in my bed. These past few days have been extraordinarily difficult and I could have distanced myself from you and laid the blame on your shoulders but I did not, and I do not want to. I am not easy or pleasant, I told you that, but I am here and I want to be. If you choose to sleep on the couch tonight, know that it is entirely your decision and has nothing to do with me. I will not be hurt or offended, but it is not my preference."

Harry's finger was resting against his leg, still. He didn't know how to tap his finger anymore. He was suspended. He was waiting for the rest, the part where Severus said he wanted him, that he wanted to do more in bed than sleep, that he wanted real kisses. He didn't say anything because he was waiting. It had to come. It had to.

The silence stretched on.

"I would expect a response," Severus said, and Harry's stomach dropped. He didn't have anything more to say. It wasn't going to come. "You are usually incapable of shutting up; do not tell me you have lost your ability to speak when it matters."

Harry swallowed. "Sorry," he said vaguely. "I thought… You don't like talking. I thought I'd be doing you a favor not to respond."

"I hereby give you permission to speak," Severus replied expressionlessly.

Harry forced words out of his mouth. "I have to teach tomorrow," he said. "It's my first day teaching since this and I need to get a good night's sleep. Would you mind giving me the couch for the night?"

Severus stood without a word and swept into his bedroom. Harry sat numbly on the couch trying to convince himself to be happy. Yes, the Basilisk business was a huge mess, but if he thought about it logically, signs pointed to a good ending. No, Severus was not in love with him but what he had said, that was more than Harry could ever want from anybody, let alone Severus. He needed to be happy. He needed to get up and go apologize to Severus. There wasn't anything Harry could have said that was worse than what he'd done. If he didn't go fix things this second, everything would be gone.

The door behind him slammed open, and Harry turned. Severus was standing in the doorway, absolutely furious. Harry thought he had seen him angry before but he had been wrong. This was angry. It was beyond angry, beyond fury, beyond words. He should probably give Severus a dose of Oculus Ius before he turned Harry to stone. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He couldn't tap his finger and he couldn't look away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Severus hissed. "You have spent three and a half years trying to get me to open up, to tell you how I feel and what I'm thinking, and when I finally do you don't even have the courtesy to acknowledge me?" His voice was steadily rising. "After everything I've done for you and everything I've said, how dare you ignore me? I have put aside my entire life for you, and you're tired and going to sleep on the couch. I am exhausted. What I have done for you in the past few days alone is monumental, never mind taking you on as an apprentice or curing you of a condition that hadn't previously existed. I have never given away what I have given to you. Everything that has happened between us has been instigated by you. You have pushed and demanded and insisted, and when I finally give in, you turn away. Tell me, Potter, what heinous crime have I committed to be suddenly so deserving of your scorn?"

"Nothing," Harry said flatly. "You didn't do anything. You've been brilliant, absolutely incredible. I couldn't ask for more."

"Then what's the problem?" Severus yelled.

"I'm an idiot!" Harry exploded. "That's the problem! It has nothing to do with you, it's all me, and I'm doing my best to stop being an idiot but it's hard, it doesn't just go away. When you say things like that—" He cut himself off, turned away, and steadied himself. "What you said means everything to me, far more than what you meant. That's why I didn't say anything, because telling you would only make it worse. I can't ask for more and I won't ask for more, but just give me a night to myself, okay? I want you too, I want to be here, but I need a night to get myself together."

There was complete and utter silence. At first Harry thought Severus had just left, but then he remembered he knew what his footsteps sounded like. He knew exactly, no matter how quiet he was, and Harry would've heard if he had moved. He wanted to leave himself, wanted to be the one to get up and walk away, but he was emotionally and physically exhausted, and if he couldn't even tap his finger there was no way he could walk.

"Tell me," Severus said, words so quiet Harry could barely hear him. "After everything you have demanded from me, you owe it to me to tell me this."

"I'm so tired," Harry said. "I'm exhausted and I have to teach in the morning and I'm fucking terrified. All I want to do is go to bed with you because that's pretty much the only thing that I can count on to make me feel better. And I can't. I can't tell you why, either." His insides were shriveling and twisting and churning and he wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he had told Severus he loved him. Not in so many words, but Severus was clever, he would have figured it out.

Another long silence not quite as long as the first followed his words.

"You are my apprentice," Severus stated. "I have been assigned to watch over you until next weekend. Additionally, your punishment dictates that, as a staff member of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I can order you to do whatever I please. Get up and come to bed with me."

Something hot exploded through Harry, starting in his chest and radiating out. It didn't help him think. "You used contractions," he said. "Before, when you were yelling. You used contractions."

"It has been known to happen when I am upset," Severus replied. "You will become intimately familiar with that particular speech pattern if you do not get up and come to bed. Today was long and stressful, as were the days before it, and there are no signs your life will become easier anytime soon. You need to sleep. I need to sleep. I am not in the mood to argue. Do as I say."

Harry stood. Then his knees buckled and he sat back down. It was the exhaustion and the stress and Severus and he was saying things and doing things and so apparently Harry couldn't stand anymore. He laughed nervously.

"I can turn into a giant deadly snake and I can't bloody walk to the bedroom," he said, standing again and finding this time he could hold himself up. He couldn't, however, look at Severus, and kept his eyes on the floor as he walked through the bedroom and to the bed, which had to be at least half a kilometer away from the couch and quite possibly more.

"I would not recommend changing now," Severus replied, lowering the fire. "Make yourself comfortable, I will be right back. That is an order."

"You're ordering me to be comfortable?" Harry asked, and he would've smiled were the situation not so strange. He got into bed as Severus left, and spent the entire time until he returned trying to figure out how to position himself. Should he face the middle of the bed? That was how they used to sleep, with Harry lying on him. Or he could lie on his right and hope Severus took the hint and spooned him again. He thought, astoundingly, Severus probably would take the hint because, again astoundingly, Harry thought he might feel the same way.

The thought washed over him. Against all odds, it seemed like Severus might love him. Be in love with him. Even if he wasn't, it was undeniable that he cared about him. A lot. More than Harry had ever been cared about before. Severus wanted him. He admitted that he wanted him. Harry couldn't grasp the concept.

Which is why he was still sitting on his pillow with only his feet under the blankets when Severus came back in those infernal black silk pajamas.

"Do you find that position comfortable?" Severus asked, crossing the room.

Harry licked his lips. "Um, no."

"Then rearrange yourself," Severus said, getting into bed and lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand, watching Harry, whose primary thought was that he looked incredibly erotic like that.

Harry scooted under the blankets and lay on his back. It wasn't particularly clever or comfortable, but he couldn't figure out what else to do. Severus moved next to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, still supporting his head in the other. It meant he was looking down at Harry, studying him, and Harry couldn't breathe because even though the light was very low Severus' eyes were still burning but more of a warm fire than a blazing inferno and Harry was trapped and he didn't know what to do.

"Iwanylithss," Harry said all in one breath.

Severus frowned. "Sorry?"

Merlin, he hadn't sounded so daft since he had asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball. He was twenty-one, not fourteen. There was no excuse. He tried again.

"I want—this," Harry stammered, and that was almost right, except he had left out a few words. "I mean." He cleared his throat. "I want you. Like this."

"Then it is a good thing I am here," Severus said softly.

Harry was trying very hard to say something. He didn't think he could stand another day of not knowing where he stood, but he was so tired and kept thinking about his classes—he'd be starting the day with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first years, which hopefully wouldn't be too bad—but really those were just excuses. He was scared and didn't want to risk losing everything, and there was an awful lot to lose now.

Harry swallowed. He was lost in Severus' eyes—again, no excuse for thinking something that stupid—but he was, and he needed to anchor himself in reality and not slip away into some fantasy world. "I think I did today wrong. Tonight, I mean. I should've celebrated getting through the day, don't you think? The interview? Instead I was responsible and graded papers, but even that I didn't finish, so maybe we should've played chess or something."

"Perhaps, but it is too late," Severus replied.

"Or, y'know, sometimes we drink to celebrate," Harry said, and he wasn't going to say what he meant and Severus had to know.

"Not on a school night," Severus rebuked.

"Then—maybe a—hug, or something?" Harry stuttered. "That's celebratory, we've celebrated that way before." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized that Severus already had an arm around him and that was probably considered a hug.

But still, Severus squeezed him, momentarily tightening his grip before relaxing. "A physical manifestation does not matter," Severus said. "You and I both know the significance of your actions. Why can you not leave it alone?"

The answer to that was obvious and Harry was absolutely not going to say it. Good things happened when they celebrated. They made progress, their relationship moved forward, there was physical contact, and currently most relevant, they had kissed. Rather, Harry had kissed him and it had been very awkward and not a good idea, but maybe this time it would be okay. On the other hand, it wasn't going to be anything if it didn't happen.

"I dunno, most of the time when I do something good it gets covered up or blows up in my face," Harry said instead. "It's just—for everything I've done, my life has been rather anticlimactic. Aside from, y'know, killing Voldemort."

Severus laughed. An actual, real laugh. "Harry, you are so moronic it is physically painful to be around you. To think I once thought you arrogant; I could not conceive of someone more insecure than yourself. Grow up and stop seeking approval from anyone other than yourself."

Since that hadn't been Harry's point in the first place, it wasn't a particularly helpful response. "I don't want approval," he replied. "That wasn't my point. I want—" He couldn't say a kiss. "We've been through this. I want to—forget it. You've never understood the concept of celebrating."

"We have established I do indeed understand the concept," Severus said. "We will celebrate when this is over. Next Sunday when you have completed the last of your duties, we will do whatever you see fit."

"But I thought—" Harry slammed his mouth shut. He didn't think anything, he wasn't going to say what he hadn't been thinking, absolutely not.

Severus sighed. "What, pray tell, did you think?"

Harry tapped his leg. That was good, at least, that he'd regained the power of tapping. "Well, I thought I was going back to my rooms on Sunday?"

Severus tensed. It lasted less than a second, but Harry noticed. "You are correct. The following weekend, then."

"See, that's too far away," Harry said, teasing and terrifying himself with his boldness. "Then we'll just be celebrating a normal week, and while I suppose that's not a bad thing, it's not—"

"Oh, just shut up," Severus interrupted. "If there is something small and quick that can be done without getting out of bed, fine. Acquiescing to your ridiculous demands is easier than arguing. What would you have me do?"

Harry wondered if Severus had any idea of what he had just said. "Um." There had to be a way of asking without asking. He couldn't let the opportunity slip away but he couldn't ask. He could just do it, he supposed, that's what he had done last time, only last time he hadn't been thinking and hadn't been invited to do something small and quick and without getting out of bed, so he thought last time might not be relevant. Then again, how many things could be categorized as small and quick and without getting out of bed? Maybe that was Severus asking without asking, maybe he should just do it, and then he could always blame Severus if he got yelled at. "What did you have in mind?" Shit.

"I have sleeping in mind," Severus replied, and that was drastically disheartening. "I also have everything you must do this week in mind, and if you truly need to celebrate each and every accomplishment, then you must decide on a reward that is simple and brief." He paused. "A decision that is becoming worthy of its own celebration, given how difficult you are."

Now Harry definitely couldn't kiss him because then he would be implying he'd want it to be a regular thing, and of course he did, but that wasn't the point. He let out a loud sigh. "Fuck, Severus, I don't know. Forget it. Lie down properly so we can sleep."

"Harry, I told you to get comfortable before I came into bed, and again when I joined you," Severus replied, smiling slightly yet still managing to look annoyed. "What do you want?"

Harry wanted to never make a decision ever again. Possibly also to never speak again, since that only seemed to get him in trouble.

When Harry didn't answer write away, Severus added, "If you do not make a decision and let me sleep I am relegating you to the couch."

Harry rolled over so he was lying on his side facing Severus. He hadn't really thought it through; he wanted to be close, and he thought it would be close. It, um, was close. Very, very close. In fact, his entire body was pressed against Severus almost literally from head to toe, and Severus tightened his hold on him, drawing them closer, which shouldn't have been possible. Harry reciprocated, draping an arm over his waist, trying to avoid registering the silkiness beneath his hand. Severus moved his arm so he was using it as a pillow rather than propping himself up, and then their faces were also very, very close, and Harry thought he should probably move before he did something.

Severus kissed his forehead. "Good night, Harry."

Harry wanted to cry. If Severus kissed his forehead while they were like this, then there was officially no situation in which he would actually kiss him. They had never been closer, physically or emotionally, and nothing had happened. Harry rationalized that it was fine, reminded himself to stop being selfish and that this was more than he could ever hope for, and closed his eyes. He would sleep, that's what he would do, and then get up and go to breakfast, deal with whatever hate mail and Howlers arrived, teach whoever showed up, grade for the rest of his life, and then go to sleep again in Severus' bed, again in Severus' arms, again without—

Lips brushed his, so softly he barely felt it and gone so quickly he had no chance of responding. "Try to relax and get some sleep."

Severus was telling him to relax. Now. After kissing him. That was funny.

Harry decided enough was enough.

He tilted his head up and was shocked by how little he had to move to be kissing him again. Harry sighed quietly in relief and Of course. He had no idea what was going to happen next or what he was doing but it was worth it. Everything was worth it for this one moment. His lips were warm, soft, and the tiniest bit cracked from cold winter air. Severus moved slightly and for a moment Harry thought he was pulling away and panicked, but then he realized there was no longer an uncomfortable pressure on his nose and Severus had just shifted so the kiss was more comfortable. It sent Harry into a state of complete and utter disbelief, enough that his lips parted reflexively. Severus' lips moved with his, and then his tongue met Harry's for just a second. Then he pulled away, resting a hand on Harry's face and leaning their foreheads together.

"Sleep," he said softly.

Harry needed a few moments to catch up. He licked his lips and tasted Severus. "I—before, sleep," he stammered. "I need—what…"

"Words cannot say more," Severus replied.

"Stop it," Harry said. "You're impenetrable. Just—" He pressed their cheeks together, and Severus' hand slid to the back of his neck. "Please."

"You know," Severus answered. "You have known for a long time."

"No," Harry insisted. "No, really, I haven't, so please, just—"

Severus kissed his cheek, and Harry sighed quietly. "You do. It is very late, Harry. Sleep. We will talk later."

"We won't," Harry replied, starting to feel frantic. Everything was wild and crazy and spinning out of control and he needed an answer now. "You never talk, we have to—" He didn't know what. "Nothing, I mean, we should sleep, you're right, but before sleep, I—you, you have to say—"

"That I love you?" Severus interrupted, and Harry was on the edge of a cliff, barely balancing. Everything was suspended as he waited to see if he would fly or crash back to earth. The wait stretched on, and Harry thought he might be supposed to say something.

"If you—I mean, not if—" Finding words apparently wasn't an option at the moment. "You know."

"You are cheapening this with your half-spoken words and ill-equipped demands," Severus said. "I told you, words are irrelevant. I want to sleep and I do not want to leave us a mess. If I kiss you again, do you promise to stop talking?"

Harry nodded. He couldn't have said anything if he wanted to.

Severus stroked his cheek. "Okay." He kissed Harry again, capturing his lips and gently holding him in place. Harry's eyes closed and everything shut down, leaving room just for the kiss, for the falling and flying and anything but crashing to the ground. It wasn't any longer or deeper than before, but it was Severus and it was not only of course but yes. At some point Severus broke away and returned his arm to around Harry's waist, and Harry curled against him, tucking his head beneath his chin, and slept.