20

Chapter Twenty

55

The rest of the week was, all things considered, pretty good. Only three students dropped out of his classes entirely—the two Slytherin second years he had scared in detention and a Hufflepuff who was the younger sister of one of the Prefects—the letters slowly dwindled, both supportive and angry, with the last Howler arriving Thursday at breakfast, and the stares and general novelty seemed to wear off.

Wednesday morning Harry fetched more teaching robes from his room and brought them to Severus' quarters. He started to put them in his bag when Severus snapped that he was so wrinkled and disorderly he looked worse than Remus after a full moon, and he might as well hang them up properly in his closet. Harry decided not to have a heart attack over this, and calmly moved them to the closet before going down to breakfast. Wednesday was also the day he resumed his private lessons with Severus, which wasn't so much a lesson as taking stock of Harry's potions, throwing out the old ones, and then doing the math and figuring out exactly how much he could have on store at any moment, and replenishing.

Harry continued to share a bed with Severus and to fall asleep wrapped in his arms, both of which went unmentioned. Harry couldn't think of anything to celebrate on Wednesday, and since he was already in good spirits and didn't need comforting, there was no excuse to ask for a kiss, so he didn't. He had no idea what Severus thought about the situation.

Harry was officially caught up with his work by his last class on Friday and fully enjoyed his free time before dinner. He joined Neville in the greenhouses, tagging along as his friend pruned and watered and gave explanations that flew over his head.

"So things with you and Snape," Neville said suddenly as he collected pus from a Mimbulus mimbletonia. "How's that?"

"Fine," Harry replied nonchalantly. "No different than usual."

Neville glanced at him. "You're living together and nothing's changed?"

Harry shrugged. "We lived in the Chamber for all of my eighth year, and I've stayed with him at Spinner's End for the holidays. If we couldn't coexist by now, we'd have killed each other ages ago."

"So does he have a second room or something?" Neville asked, carefully squeezing a pustule into a vial.

"No, I've been on the couch," Harry said evenly. He'd been prepared for these questions, especially that one. "It's not the comfiest thing ever, but it's fine."

"And you'll be back on Sunday?" Neville pressed.

"I haven't talked to Minerva about it but yeah, I think so," Harry said. "Dunno why I wouldn't be. My well-being has been established, I've dealt with the students, parents, and papers, and my first report will go in Sunday morning. I'll probably be back after breakfast."

Neville was silent for a few moments. "That's what you want?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry lied. "I miss my own room and my things and my bed." One of those things was true. He was apparently incapable of remembering everything he used on a day-to-day basis and had to continually go back to his rooms to get a particular book or a new pot of ink. "Besides, you're better company than he is."

Neville snorted. "I might be easier to live with, but I know whose company you'd prefer. It's fine, I like having you around. I'm just saying you might be happier staying with him."

"Even if that was true, which it isn't, that's not going to happen," Harry said. "I've only lived with him out of necessity. As soon as he's no longer obligated he'll kick me out."

"If you say so," Neville replied dubiously. "Rather, I'm sure he will because he's incapable of expressing himself or coming off as anything but an arse, but if you asked, I bet he'd let you stay."

"I don't want to stay," Harry said again.

"You're a terrible liar," Neville replied. "What was that business with the maple syrup the other day? Last time I asked you, Snape poured syrup all over the table and you vanished the whole thing."

"I dunno, I was thinking about other things," Harry said defensively. "I'm sure he was too. Why do you care so much anyway? You're making way too big a deal out of this."

"I told you over break," Neville said. "You're doing something stupid; I'm just checking in on your progress."

"There's no progress because there's nothing stupid happening," Harry insisted. The kisses flashed through his mind. Those wouldn't be considered stupid, not in the slightest, of course not.

"I don't know why you're so upset because someone cares about you," Neville said, moving onto the next plant. "It's good. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy," Harry said irritably. "Everything's fine and nothing stupid is happening."

"You'd be happier if you talked to him about it."

"I wouldn't because there's nothing to talk about!" Harry exclaimed. "Even if there was, he doesn't talk about things, but there isn't, so stop going on about it!" He kicked the leg of the table, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia shot pus in all directions, covering both himself and Neville.

"Real convincing, that."

56

Harry ended up sending Minerva the list of his potions Saturday night. He'd had a particularly unsuccessful day in terms of brewing—the Felix Felicis was getting too runny and it took all morning to fix, and he spent the afternoon poking through the apothecary chest looking for inspiration and not finding any—and he figured as long as he was doing annoying, mindless tasks, he might as well get that out of the way, too.

It was only after he sent the letter that the implications occurred to him.

Severus was on the couch. Harry stood from the desk and walked over to him, repressing the urge to fidget.

"I sent the report to Minerva," he said. "And left you a copy on your desk."

"Good," Severus replied, not looking up.

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. Technically he should leave. He was free. He could move back to his own quarters with Neville and everything would go back to how it had been. "Is there, er, anything else I should do?" he asked, leaning on the armrest.

"Do not ruin my furniture," Severus said, and Harry jumped up. "Beyond that, the night is yours."

Harry chewed on his lip. Apparently Severus didn't remember, or maybe the terms of his living arrangements had been changed, or—

Severus sighed. "What, Harry?"

Harry's stomach fluttered slightly at the use of his first name. No matter how many times Severus said it, he always had the same reaction. "When am I supposed to go back to my room?" he asked, really not wanting to. If Severus had forgotten, that would mean—mean that Harry was overanalyzing.

On the other hand, judging from the way his eyes widened just slightly and his grip on his book slackened for no more than a quarter of a second, he had indeed forgotten. "If the report has been submitted, you may leave." Severus' words were hard and cold, but no more than usual.

Harry glanced at the clock. "It's kind of late," he said, which was true. Ten thirty was definitely "kind of" late; not actually late, but kind of. "Would you mind if I stayed an extra night? I'd rather not deal with moving all of my things back now, and I don't want to bother Neville. He's usually in bed by now." That was definitely true, though he wasn't sure how bringing an overnight bag through the living room had anything to do with his sleep schedule.

Severus eyed him. "I assume you also feel the need to celebrate the week?"

Harry couldn't believe that hadn't occurred to him. "I did do a lot," he replied with a bit of a smile. "And I'm pretty sure you promised me last weekend we could do something."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I did not. I offered the possibility of next weekend, nothing more." He paused. "Additionally, I believe we did celebrate that night, however small it was."

Harry's heart was pounding in his throat. "That was when we thought I'd be busy all weekend," he countered. "I'm not. I've got the rest of tonight and I don't have to get up tomorrow. And." He tried to tap his finger but it was trapped in the confines of his pocket. "That was pretty small."

Severus set his book down. "What did you have in mind?"

Harry had an opening. He could say that what they had done before was small, so they should escalate that celebration. It would almost make sense for him to say something like that. He even knew the words to use: Why don't we start where we had been and go from there? But that sounded like a cheesy, sleazy cliché even in his head, and was far too risky anyways. Besides, he didn't think Severus had meant to offer an opening, so he should just let it go, no matter how tempting it was.

"A game of chess?" Harry suggested.

"All right." He summoned the board and pieces as Harry sat on the couch, thinking very hard about how much room to leave between them and not doing anything particularly clever about it. In fact, he ended up on the divide between two cushions, which wasn't comfortable at all, and had to rearrange himself, all while looking like an idiot.

The game wasn't particularly celebratory, at least on Harry's end. He was too busy not wanting to move back to his rooms and thinking about the kisses and what they might mean, especially since Severus had called them small (not that they weren't, physically, but Harry didn't think the physical part was most relevant), not to mention feeling absolutely daft for letting those things get to him after the week he'd had. He should be celebrating, he had every right to celebrate, and instead he was sulking. It was pathetic.

Severus destroyed him, no doubt due to his distraction.

"Again?" Harry asked. "It's my celebration, I ought to win at least once."

The corners of Severus' lips turned up. It wouldn't count as a smile on anyone else, but for Severus it was akin to an ear-to-ear grin. "If you do not play better, I am afraid we will be here all night."

"Does that mean I can stay over?" Harry asked lightly, setting his pieces back.

"I am aware you consider physical affection to be an integral part of any celebration," Severus said. "You may stay."

That wasn't a bad answer, not necessarily. "You were the one who started it last time," Harry replied, and that was really, very stupid.

Severus' voice cracked in the middle of making his first move, and his pawn crossed its arms and glared at him, situating itself between two spaces. Severus snapped directions at the piece and kept his eyes on the board. "You were in equal need of celebration and sleep. It seemed simplest."

"I know, I'm just saying," Harry replied. "I'm not the only one who starts these things."

"You are the one who needs them," Severus said. "It is your move."

Harry moved a pawn forward. "Are you saying that every time—"

"I am not saying anything!" Severus interrupted irritably. "You are forever trying to draw conclusions from the smallest of actions. If you insist on such a conversation, I would remind you that particular form of celebrating was instigated by you last summer."

"No, that'd be you on New Year's Eve last year," Harry countered.

"A brief kiss on the forehead on New Year's is not the same as what you did," Severus replied, eyes dark and burning. Harry would have given anything to know why.

"Which isn't the same as ordering me into bed and kissing me there," Harry said, walking a line he didn't want to be anywhere near. He'd specifically decided not to have this conversation. "You're right, it doesn't matter. It's your turn."

Severus briefly addressed the board. "What was your point?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, an edge starting to creep into his voice. He was nervous and scared and had way too much resting on this. "That I'm not as pathetic as you think I am. I might like physical contact, but so do you, even if you'll never admit it."

"I am sick of words," Severus said angrily. "They are useless, unnecessary and tiresome. You are repeating that which we both know, and for what? A verbal confirmation of what is shown far better with actions. If you have something to say, make sure you do not already know the answer and are not merely reiterating."

"Do I have to go back to my room?" Harry blurted out. "I mean, after tonight?"

"No," Severus replied shortly, still sounding angry. "Pay attention to the game. Once again it is your turn."

Harry thought that a very apt statement and one that had nothing to do with chess. He was relatively sure Severus hadn't meant it that way and was genuinely annoyed with him for holding up chess, since of course that was the only game they were playing. Then again, Harry was almost positive Severus said he could move in with him, so everything else seemed rather unimportant. He forced himself back to chess. Unsurprisingly, he lost that game as well. Harry felt it reasonable that he was a bit preoccupied.

"When I stated we would be up all night waiting for you to win if you did not pick up your game, I was not implying I would enjoy such a thing," Severus said, resetting the board. "At least make an effort."

"I've been making an effort," Harry replied. "They might not have been impressive, but I've been trying."

"No, you have been distracted," Severus said. "Pawn to e4."

Harry couldn't argue with that, and focused on the game. Actually focused, which made it all the more embarrassing when he still lost. He still wasn't as good as Severus, but over the years he had become a fairly decent player, and it was rare that he lost three games in a row, especially each one so catastrophically. The first two were excusable but he really had been paying attention during the last game.

"It is after midnight and I am going to bed," Severus announced. "Three games is celebratory enough; it is not my fault if you are incompetent."

"I'm not sure if calling me incompetent counts as celebrating," Harry replied with a smile. "Rematch tomorrow?"

"I have work to do," Severus replied. "Just because you do not teach on Mondays does not mean all of us are so lucky."

"Well, after work," Harry said, following Severus into the bedroom.

Severus paused for a moment before answering. "I thought you might want to go into the Forest tomorrow night."

Harry jerked to look at him. "You think Minerva would let me?"

"I see no reason why not," Severus replied.

Harry saw a lot of reasons but he kept them to himself, opting to go to the bathroom rather than argue against himself. Halfway through putting on his pajamas—quite literally, he had one leg in his flannel bottoms and one out—a thought struck. If Severus had actually invited him to move in, and if they continued to sleep as they were and Severus didn't add a room to his quarters for Harry, would he be stuck changing in the bathroom forever? It wasn't a problem, it just seemed like a short-term solution, and if the problem was going to become long term… Harry shook himself and finished dressing. He had no idea if that's what Severus had actually meant and if it was, he would almost certainly get his own room, and he would change there and sleep there in his own bed, which definitely didn't defeat the purpose of moving in at all.

Harry pushed the thoughts away as he went back to the bedroom. Severus had already changed and was in bed, and Harry was amazed that it already felt normal to get into bed with him. The thought that this might be the last night sharing his bed was incredibly disheartening, and he moved into Severus' arms without his usual reserve or hesitation, the usual worry over what he would think replaced with a need to be with him as long as he could.

A considerable while later Severus spoke.

"Harry?"

Harry tilted his head up to look at him. He was using Severus as a pillow as usual, one of Severus' arms around his shoulder, his other hand holding Harry's, and so while the angle might have been awkward, he was in no hurry to rearrange himself to see an expression he wouldn't be able to understand in the first place.

"Yeah?"

"I feel rather hypocritical after lecturing you regarding the value of silence, but I require clarification," Severus said.

"About what?" Harry asked, starting to tap nervously.

Severus tightened his grip on his hand, stilling his finger. "After tonight."

Harry waited for the rest of the sentence before realizing there wasn't one. He supposed saying he needed his own clarification before he could answer Severus' question wouldn't earn him any points. "Er, yeah," he said, not knowing if that was a real answer or not.

A brief silence. "Well?"

"Um," Harry tried. "What about after tonight?"

"That would be my question," Severus replied. "What were you asking?"

Harry wished he could tap. It wouldn't actually help, but it felt like it would. "Er, well. If I could stay. Here, after tonight."

Severus sighed irritably. "That is what you said before. Are you requesting to do your work tomorrow in my quarters? Do you wish to spend the evening here instead of in the Forest? Would you like to spend one more night? Were you asking for a more permanent move?"

"I can work wherever," Harry replied quietly. "I'd love to go out. And, er." He fidgeted. "I wouldn't ask that. You need space?" It came out as a question, which was not intentional.

"I have survived living with you for quite some time," Severus said, and Harry was thrumming with excitement and nerves and hope and fear. "In the Chamber and at Spinner's End. If it was important to you, arrangements could be made."

"You started the conversation," Harry said nervously. "What do you want?"

Severus was filled with silences, and it took him quite some time to answer. "It would be acceptable."

"Acceptable isn't enough for something like this," Harry replied, ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him to shut up and take what he could get. "If you don't actively want me here, I'm fine with Neville."

Severus let out a quiet groan, sounding as if he thought himself to be the most put-upon person to ever have lived. Then again, he probably did think that. "I do not take this lightly. Acceptable is—"

"All you can manage?" Harry supplied before realizing how rude that sounded. "I mean—no, I thought—I was—"

"Shut up," Severus snapped. "If you wish to live here, I would—" He broke off and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. "Yes. You may live here. I want you here."

Harry relaxed and exploded at the same time. "That'd be good."

"Fine."

Harry spent a few moments trying to formulate as few questions as possible to get as much information as he could. Now didn't seem like a good idea to annoy Severus. He supposed it boiled down to two issues, and he wasn't going to bring up the kissing again. "Am I going to stay in your room?"

"Yes," Severus replied firmly, and the conviction in his voice was enough to make Harry bold. He twisted further around and gently pressed his lips to Severus' cheek.

"I'll get my things tomorrow, then?"

In the time it took between his question and Severus' answer, Harry realized how incredibly stupid that had been. He had just been granted permission to move in—and not only move in, but share a room and a bed—and then he had kissed Severus. Could he have been any more obvious?

"Yes, if you have time," Severus replied.

"And, er, places for—?"

"You will have accommodations," Severus said.

"Right, thanks," Harry replied faintly, settling into his arms. He didn't trust himself to say anything else without saying everything, or at the very least spewing out several thousand questions. He'd already pushed his luck. It was officially time to quit while he was ahead.

57

After breakfast Harry followed Neville back to their rooms—Neville's room, he reminded himself. Not his. Neville went to work watering one of the many plants on the windowsill while Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying to figure out how to tell Neville he was moving out, especially when the day before he'd insisted that was the last thing he'd wanted. Probably best to just be out with it.

"I'm moving in with Severus."

"Yeah, all right," Neville replied, moving onto the next plant. "I think this is where I should say I told you so."

"No," Harry said stupidly. "No, it's not stupid. I'll be closer to the lab and have more time to work."

"Says the person who complains he's perpetually overworked," Neville said. "Are you going to live on his couch for the rest of your life?"

Harry probably should have prepared for that question. "I'm, uh, I'll have my own space."

Neville glanced at him. "You have become a very unconvincing person, Harry Potter. Please don't tell me you're so stupid you're trading your own room for a couch."

"I'm not," Harry snapped. "I'm not stupid and I won't be sleeping on the couch. Look, I've got to pack so I can unpack and work and hopefully go out tonight, so—"

Neville's eyes widened and he almost dropped the watering can. "Oh Merlin, are you sleeping together?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "No, of course not! I'm going to pack." He quickly went into his room before Neville could ask any more questions. He thought it probably didn't matter, that Neville had formed his own conclusions and wouldn't be dissuaded, but he also thought that he could only make things worse.

There was also the fact that Neville's conclusions weren't incorrect.

Harry focused on packing instead. He put an Extension Charm on his trunk and, with a sweep of his wand, all of his things flew into the trunk, neatly folded and organized. He did the same in the living room and bathroom. He really loved magic. Neville didn't say anything else, just watered his plants in silence as Harry went around and checked that nothing had been left behind.

"Okay," Harry muttered to himself, casting a levitation spell on his trunk. "Neville, we're okay, right?"

Neville gave him a bemused smile. "Yeah, we're fine. Go on, enjoy whatever it is you do with Snape."

"It's not what you think," Harry replied, starting out the door.

"Not yet, maybe."

Harry got maybe ten feet down the hall before abruptly turning around and sprinting back to Neville's rooms. He opened the door and said, "He almost told me—ow—he loves me last weekend." He rubbed the place where his trunk had crashed into his leg. "That's all."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "That's all?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you at lunch."

"Bye."

Harry hurried down to Severus' quarters—his quarters now, too? maybe?—wondering exactly what it was that made him tell Neville that. Nothing good could come of it. He thought it probably came down to either convincing Neville he wasn't the one doing stupid things, it was Severus, or that he was trying to cement the words in reality; if someone else knew about it then it had to have happened, right?

The door between the lab and the living room was closed. It usually was; the lab tended to get very warm and smell strangely. But right now, standing in front of the door leading to—yes, his—quarters, nothing had seemed quite as intimidating as opening this particular door. The last time he had been this nervous about a door was when he first told Severus about his condition three and a half years ago and he'd gone to his office during lunch. So much had changed since then.

He should just go in. Really, what else would he do? Knock? He hadn't knocked in ages, and now was not the time to start. He lived here. He could just go in. That was all. Just go in. Open the door and go in.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry jerked around. Severus was standing in the door to his lab looking mildly amused. "Sorry, I was just—ah—going in."

"Have you forgotten how to use doorknobs?" Severus asked. "You have been 'going in' for quite some time now, and yet the door remains closed."

Harry flushed. "I was lost in thought," he said, finally going inside.

"Evidently so," Severus replied. "As you have already invaded my closet, I have extended it further. There is a second dresser, and the bookcases will expand as necessary. Is there anything else you require?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said nervously. He sat his trunk down and tapped the lid twice, using a spell he had picked up at Grimmauld Place the summer before fifth year when people were constantly coming and going. The trunk opened and his things flew across the rooms, putting themselves away where they saw fit. It generally resulted in a few misplaced items but it was far easier than actually unpacking. In retrospect he probably should have warned Severus, who let out a surprised yelp and stepped to the side to avoid being hit in the head with the small portrait of Dumbledore that whizzed over to the mantel, which was suddenly long enough to hold the additional item. Harry's foot was trod on in the process and he nearly fell over trying to retrieve himself, having to grab Severus' shoulder to avoid crashing down. The few potions books he hadn't kept in the lab zoomed behind him, and once again Severus had to steady him.

"Already a hazard, and you haven't yet been here for two minutes," Severus said as a flurry of Harry's socks passed by.

"Sorry," Harry said again, tapping the side of his leg nervously. When the trunk finished unpacking itself it shrunk and scooted into the bedroom and under the bed. "I've got, um, grading."

Severus gestured to the room. "You live here. You may do as you wish."

Harry collected his grading things and sat on the couch, wondering when it was going to sink in that he actually lived with Severus, because right now it didn't feel any different from last week. Only it was, because he lived here. He wasn't visiting, he wasn't staying for a few days while things blew over, he actually lived here. The word strange didn't begin to cover it.

"I'm going to make tea. Would you like any?"

"Sure," Harry replied distractedly. He paused. "You used a contraction."

Severus let out an irritated huff. "I am sorry if my speech patterns fail to meet your standards. It is the weekend and I am home. Occasionally I contract. Sometimes I wear slippers instead of shoes. I have even been known to slouch. Are such things permissible?"

"Yeah, sorry," Harry said, marking the moment. That, right there, would be when it sunk in. He was sure Severus must have done some of those things over the course of their time together, but now it was suddenly different. Practically speaking, if he wanted a chance to go out as a Basilisk tonight he needed to finish his grading, not contemplate Severus' living habits, so he turned back to his essays.

Being brought a cup of tea officially confirmed the situation, and the warmth spreading through him had very little to do with the heat of his beverage.