Devils and Angels

This story is an ongoing birthday gift to my wonderful friend who lives in London by the Sea! You know who you are! Happy Birthday, and enjoy!

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Note: If you do not condone/like/tolerate slash, then don't read this story. If you are only here to nit-pick and cruelly tear down any author's story because of slight spelling errors, then leave my story unread. Writing any story, be it slash or otherwise, is not an easy process for anyone, and it should be understood as such. It takes a lot of effort to accomplish and much more courage to allow others to read what is in the private confines of one's imagination, and I applaud anyone who does just that. If you catch spelling errors, then please let me know, and use some tact when you do so. I shall correct them immediately. In other words, if you have an attitude - don't read.

As for my readers out there who like/condone/tolerate slash and want to read my story, then by all means do so. If you want more, then I shall do the best within my power to make it so. Thank you Hambares, Marille, Sparrow, Enemywithin7, WanderingKnightsFire, MidnightLilly, GryffindorToy, Jan, Leeann_pitbull, akuma_river, AislinnNicole, MsBentleySnape, Mistress Vamp, Extraho, Mystero, never_tempt, slashslut, antipyrofan, Leentje, Morgaine Malfoy, BL_psyche, and Chinu for being faithful readers, and for your kind reviews.
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PART ONE




Devils and Angels

By

PotionsMistress



It had started out innocently enough.

He had been invited, much to his surprise, to a birthday party for none other than the saviour of the wizarding world. If he had been the type to roll his eyes, he would have done so, instead he settled for a smirk as he tossed the invitation to his desk. The day was July 31st, and it was just like Potter to send out invitations at the last minute, which didn’t surprise Snape in the least. What was really astounding was that the boy – no, young man had seen fit to include him in the festivities.

The Potions Master arrived not one minute early, nor one minute late – he arrived at precisely the time his presence was requested. Standing on the steps of Grimmauld Place, present tucked under his arm Severus Snape waited, like a great black glowering bat. Of course the batness always referred to his primary choice of dress and colour, and the glower was more intensified due to the gentle pressure Albus Dumbledore was capable of rendering when he wanted his potions master to acquiesce to something that bordered on the ridiculous. This time he knocked on the door itself instead of the doorpost, and the door swung open with a slight creak.

Frowning, he peered inside. The boy who lived, sat sprawled in a chair by the fire. He had a bottle of scotch in one hand, and a glass in the other. He didn’t even acknowledge Snape’s intrusion on his privacy, in fact it appeared he ignored it, which would have been hard to do since obviously no one else was about. He stepped across the doorsill, package still under his arm, and surveyed his surroundings. Harry had set up the dining table in the main room with many festive decorations for the purpose of enjoyment, but there wasn’t a single friend around to see it - not even the other two-thirds of the golden trio.

Snape continued to wait as Potter kept staring into the fire, and he cleared his throat slightly to drag the young man’s attention from the flames.

“You don’t have to do that, I know you’re there,” Harry said quietly.

“Then is it beneath you to show some common courtesy to invite your guest inside?”

Harry raised his head and gazed back at the professor, who wasn’t his professor any longer, and reddened eyes met black. Snape’s mouth opened slightly as he took in the sight.

“Are you ill or drunk, Mr. Potter?”

“No, just tryin' to get drunk.”

“Don’t state the obvious, Mr. Potter. It denotes poor mental capacities to be redundant.”

Harry snorted, “Well, at least you showed up.” The birthday boy turned his head away again, and his eyes settled once more on the fire.

“Abandoned, Mr. Potter?” Snape sneered the question as he approached the table and set down the gift. “Apparently, as I’ve said before, fame clearly isn’t everything.”

“Do you have to be so damned snide all the time?”

“I wasn’t aware I was being ‘snide’ Potter – I was merely pointing out the truth, just as I did years ago.”

Harry ruminated over that remark, and then smile bitterly, “For some reason, that makes sense now.”

“Then I take it you understand what I meant all along.”

“Sure do. Fame doesn’t get you anything, except an illusion.”

Snape nodded, and raised a questioning brow.

“What?”

“Forgive me, for a moment I sincerely believed you had accomplished the feat of clarity of thought.” The older man looked at him for a moment, then he added, “It is customary to invite a guest to sit.”

“Oh – sorry. You can sit down.”

They sat thusly for quite some time, Harry gazing dismally into the guttering fire, and Snape waiting patiently for the other to speak.

“May I ask, why your friends chose not to indulge themselves by coming?” He asked finally breaking the silence when he realized he was not going to get an unasked for explanation.

Harry sighed, and looked quite reluctant to say anything, then decided to forge ahead. One more loss wouldn’t matter, even if it was the man that made his life a hell with past detentions and scathing remarks. “Ron – found out – this is so hard for me, professor.” Harry swallowed hard, with an almost audible gulp, then continued, “Ron found out that I’m not attracted to women. I mean – I like ‘em, and I think they’re great, but I don’t want to be with one.” There, he’d said it, and he waited for the abrasive remarks that he was sure to follow.

Snape’s face was an unreadable mask, and Harry was sure the derision would begin at any second, but he was surprised that his former teacher continued to sit and look as if he had just heard a comment about the weather. “Potter, tell me something that I do not already know.”

“You’ve known all along?” Harry was shocked.

“You’re being redundant again.”

“I’m not disgusting to you?”

Snape sighed tiredly, as if the burden of explanation was temporarily too much for him. “Potter, whatever you may think of me, and I’m still not clear as to why I was invited, but let me offer a piece of simple wisdom. Love, and I know you sincerely think that is something I can’t fathom, is simply what it is. True love, be it that of a lover or friend comes without expecting something in exchange – except love in kind returned. An honest love accepts all the foibles and mistakes we mere mortals commit, and forgives – yet not overlooks, but tries to understand.” Snape paused, wondering whether or not he should continue – decided to throw caution to the wind. “You see, some years back, I was very much in the same predicament as you now find yourself in. When what few friends I had found out, I was left out of their lives as well.”

Snape watched the younger man perform some sort of mental gymnastics to assimilate the information he had just been fed, and once done, he looked as if ready to burst with a multitude of questions.

Sighing again, Snape said, “Mr. Potter, if you do not relieve your brain of its curiosity, I fear it shall explode.”

“You – you mean you don’t like women?”

“I -,” he paused to choose his words carefully, “am not intimately attracted to females – but I do value their friendship.”

“How did – never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“How did my friends find out? I was caught in the middle of a liaison – simple as that. Now that you know about me, how did Mr. Weasley find out about yourself?”

“Er – you don’t want to know sir,” Harry said a little too quickly. He really did not want to let that one get out, most especially he didn’t want Snape to discover it.

“Try me,” Snape said flatly, and folded his arms.

Harry looked down, his cheeks pinking slightly as he mumbled something vague.

“Oh do speak up Potter. You’re a grown wizard now, not a bashful pubescent child – or am I to take it that hasn’t changed?”

“Play Witch.”

The older wizard’s lips twitched slightly in amusement, “So Mr. Weasley caught you drooling over a centrefold?”

Nod.

“What issue?” Snape asked laconically.

“August1979,” Harry jumbled his words together and rose quickly from his chair with every intention of making himself as scarce as possible.

Several seconds passed and Harry was nearly a half-meter from the nearest exit when Snape suddenly stiffened. It all came back to him in a rush. He had graduated Hogwarts and had needed extra funds. He was working on a potion, and his money was limited. After trying to obtain a loan, and doing everything short of stealing to get the necessary amount he needed, someone he was vaguely acquainted with approached Snape, and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Most especially since being that month’s centrefold meant a lot of galleons. Besides, at the time, the magazine had just started publishing, and the young wizard truly believed the rag would fail in no time at all. Sadly, little did he know back then that now his decision would come back to bite him in the arse. Of all the bad choices he had ever made, even though some of them had horrified him, this one definitely embarrassed him.

Snape called out sharply, “Not one more step, Potter!”

Harry froze as if his feet had become glued to the floor. He really didn’t want to turn around and face Snape at the moment. Not only was he friendless, he was sure he would be hexed into the next century or beyond, and he hung his head in shame.

“I’m sorry professor. This day has just went from bad to worse – I shouldn’t have even woke up this morning.”

Snape sat there steaming as he stared at Potter’s back, but seeing the look of defeat in the way his shoulders sagged caused him to feel some pity – which certainly surprised the dark wizard given the fact he usually never felt compassion for any one let alone himself. Finally calming enough to speak without sputtering incoherently in anger he asked, “Why me Potter?”

Standing with his back still turned toward Snape, and mustering up all the courage he had, and that was very little at that exact minute he replied with a question of his own, “Why not you?”

The older man opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. For once in his life, he could think of nothing to say, or retort with. Instead, he sat there staring incredulously.

Harry slowly turned around, and all the hurt that he had ever experienced shown clearly on his face. “You know what it’s like to be alone – really alone. Sure, you’re surrounded by tons of people wanting you to do something for them, but where are they when you’ve done what they want? Where are they when the night gets to be too much?”

Snape knew and understood exactly what Potter was speaking about. He himself had spent far too many nights with the only thing to look forward to was another dull copy of Potions Quarterly, and a stiff drink. Without really knowing the reason why, he abruptly stood, and crossed the floor in but a few sure strides, he folded the younger man into his arms and said, “I’m so - sorry Harry.

“Please don’t leave me,” Harry’s voice was filled with uncertainty and doubt.

“Harry.”

“Please – I don’t want to be alone tonight – not this time.”

Taking Harry’s hand, he led him back to the chair and knelt before him. “Don’t rush something like this boy – not in the state you’re in now.”

“Don’t make me beg for you to stay.”

“I’m not – making you beg. It would be inadvisable for me to bed you like this, but I will stay with you.”

“Then sleep with me. Just let me feel someone beside me – so I won’t feel so alone.”

Snape considered him, then said quietly, “All right.”