The Iridescent Conclusion

For Daniel Litworth, time seemed to speed past and almost before he knew it, Easter was upon him. Or rather, it was upon them, he corrected himself as he looked across to where Lucius slept beside him.

Things – situations – had changed since Thomas’ death. Jenna had moved up to Scotland as she was working with some kid who attended Hogwarts, and she’d taken Alison with her. Alison, Daniel thought sourly, was still keeping secrets from him. At Thomas’ funeral, she’d almost told him what she’d been doing for months on end but Jenna had interrupted, stupid cow, and the moment had passed.

Anyway, with Alison living with Jenna in Scotland and Daniel’s flat sold from under him by the worst of muggle landlords, Daniel was renting Alison’s house in Southampton. And Lucius had practically moved in with him.

“You’re awake early,” Lucius murmured with a soft sigh. His grey eyes opened and regarded him from the adjacent pillow.

“Hm... the sun woke me up. We forgot to close the curtains last night.” Daniel replied with a smile.

“Ah. Well, if I remember correctly, baby boy, we had other things on our minds.” Lucius purred and rolled towards him.

With a slow, lazy smile, Daniel welcomed the other man into his arms and gave a soft sigh as the solid weight of Lucius’ long body settled on top of him. He parted his legs and opened his mouth, surrendering to the kiss and revelling in the delicious heat and dance of sensations, even as his lover reached under the pillow for the phial of lubricant.

“We need more,” Lucius observed as he slid glistening, coated fingers over himself and drew those same fingers down past Daniel’s balls and down further.

“Perhaps we should use less?” Daniel suggested, biting his lip as those searching fingers entered him one at a time.

“That wouldn’t be pleasant.” Lucius replied.

“Perhaps we should make love less frequently?” Daniel proposed a few minutes later when he’d managed to recall how to form words. The play of fingers sliding and pressing over his prostate had ceased for the moment.

“HA!” Lucius’ warm breath ghosted over his chin and throat, “Says he with his feet on my shoulders and his sweet arse... oh Merlin!” This last as he shifted and pressed the head of his cock inside.

Daniel threw his head back and groaned whilst arching his back to encourage his lover to go deeper, to sink all the way in and take up permanent residence.

“You like that?” Lucius grinned, panting slightly as he acceded to Daniel’s wishes and slid in further.

“You... have... to ask?” Daniel gasped. “Gods, Lucius, just fuck me. PLEASE!”

But Lucius had that dangerous expression on his face. The look that announced that he had every intention of taking this so slow that they’d still be here come tea time.

“Tell me, baby boy,” he growled, withdrawing and pushing in again with torturous languor. “Tell me what else you’d like me to do to you.”

“I... oh fuck... ” Sweat beaded Daniel’s brow but his lover continued to gaze expectantly at him. “I want you to fuck me, to pound into me, make me crawl, make me yell. Dammit, Lucius, move! I want to feel you come inside me and I want you to come, screaming my name!”

“Anything else?” Lucius grinned as he finally started moving a little faster.

“N-nothing... just that. Always... just that!”

With a guttural sound, low, deep within his throat, Lucius gave in to his lover’s demands, by moving up onto his knees, tightening his hold on Daniel’s hips and thrusting sharply, deeply and inexorably towards a loud, messy conclusion.

*~*~*

“Alicia? Alicia, I can’t find Seraph’s bridle and I thought... oh!” Narcissa halted, mid-call as she wound her way up the spiral steps to the little loft room above the tack store. Sitting on a pile of hairy old horse blankets, Alicia was rubbing industriously at a leather bridle with a soft cloth and a tin of saddle soap rested beside her.

“It’s here,” she smiled, lifting her dark brown eyes to where her friend stood at the top of the stairs. “You said you were going to ride him today and I’d noticed before that his tack could use a little TLC so...”

“So you thought you’d come and do it for me?” Narcissa returned the smile. She shook her head a little and came into the room. From below, came the occasional snort and stamp of horses shifting about within the stables.

“Why don’t you put Sonny, China and Crow out in the field,” Alicia suggested as she returned her attention to the assortment of straps and buckles, “and I’ll finish up here.”

“Just the three? What about Leon?”

“I thought I might ride him – if you wouldn’t mind the company?” the other woman looked up again.

It had taken the two women a little time to get used to one another; to settle into a comfortable, easy going atmosphere that even Narcissa’s fears of her husband’s retribution couldn’t damage. Though, truth be told, Lucius had made no attempt to reach Narcissa and it seemed that the man wasn’t even attempting to find her.

“Shall I pack us a bag?” Narcissa asked then, interrupting Alicia’s thoughts, “I’ll put in some coffee and sandwiches -”

“No,” Alicia shook her head and then smiled again, “let’s push the boat out and get some lunch in the pub. It’s going to be a nice day – we’ll eat outside where we can keep an eye on the horses.”

And with a bit of luck, she thought to herself, there might even be an opportunity for them to talk. There was, after all, something she’d wanted to discuss with Narcissa for a while now.

*~*~*

Really, Sirius thought to himself, it was amazing how quickly kids grew up, changed and developed. In just under four months, Oscar had gone from a little boy who could barely string three words together, to a holy terror who could not only tell you he didn’t want to get dressed yet but could also list a number of reasons why not.

Thankfully, however, it was Alison’s job to get him up, showered and dressed in the mornings – unless she was working or if she’d been working late the night before. In which case it was Jenna’s job. He and Remus were on bedtime duty, which to be honest wasn’t much easier.

“Honestly,” Remus shook his head as he closed the kitchen door on Oscar’s raging, “we fight tooth and nail to get him into his pyjamas in the evening and Ali then has to wage war to get him dressed in the mornings.”

“Maybe we should just let him live in pyjamas all day and all night?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow as he accepted a kiss to the right temple and poured his lover a mug of tea.

“Hm... well I wouldn’t suggest that if I were you. You’re not in their good books, right now.” Remus smiled grimly and tapped the toaster with his wand.

“What’d I do now?” Sirius looked up with wide, innocent grey-blue eyes.

“Oscar’s new favourite phrase is ‘Sod it all to hell!’” Remus returned succinctly.

Sirius said nothing but sipped his tea and winced as a particularly loud thud echoed from the bedroom above.

“He’s getting powerful too,” Remus observed quietly. “Have you noticed that when he flies into one of these raging tantrums, things get broken – even when they’re nowhere near him?”

Sirius nodded and wondered if Harry had ever shown similar tendencies as a toddler. Probably not, he thought sadly; considering that the poor little git had been with magic-fearing Muggles who would have banished him to the cupboard for even squeaking.

He and his godson had reached an uneasy truce lately and Sirius was hoping that Harry would decide to come and stay for the long Easter weekend. Alison and Jenna were heading south with Oscar to spend some time with Daniel and so the house would be nice and quiet with just the three of them.

“Wouldn’t you and Remus rather have the place to yourselves, though?” Harry had asked with a sly little smile and for a moment Sirius had been able to do nothing but stare in amazement at him.

“Oh, come on,” Harry had shaken his head, “even if I hadn’t worked it out months ago, the fact that you’re living together tells it all.”

“Sharing a house,” Sirius had attempted to correct him, “and with two witches and a small fiend... I mean, boy.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever.” Harry had retorted and had smirked in an irritating impersonation of Snape. They’d left it open, in the end, with Harry promising to think about it, depending on what his friends were going to do.

The Three Broomsticks was holding a special event on the evening of Easter Saturday, for which sixth and seventh year students could purchase tickets. It seemed that Ron and Hermione were going, as were Dean, Ginny, Neville and Luna but Harry wasn’t keen to go somewhere where all his friends would be in couples, while he remained single (much to Sirius’ consternation).

He worried that Harry was still hankering after the odious Potions master and wished fervently that Draco would drop his over-large boyfriend and come back to Harry. After all, Sirius pondered, Draco clearly adored Harry, the feeling was mutual and what with the Nameless spell and everything...

“Siri,” Remus interrupted his thoughts. With a little jump, Sirius looked up into his partner’s amber eyes and smile apologetically. “I said, has Harry decided whether he’s going to come and stay yet?”

“Um…” Sirius shook his head to clear it, “actually that’s just what I was thinking about. He’s going to hang on and see, I think. He wants to go to the Three Broomsticks but doesn’t want to play gooseberry to any of his mates.”

“Understandable,” Remus nodded and then tilted his head to one side. “Why don’t you go with him?”

“What? Just me? What will you do?”

“Oh, I’d be all right. I’ve got these intercepted codes to decipher for Albus and you and Harry need to spend some time together. Rebuild some bridges, Siri,” he added gently with a smile.

*~*~*

Harry lay on his back, staring up at the canopy above his bed and fought a snigger as his silent argument with Draco continued. The Prince of Slytherin was also lying in bed still but, being Saturday, this was perfectly all right and even to be expected.

‘I’m telling you, Potter; that Quidditch Cup is ours! Without you on the team, Gryffindor are nothing! Slytherin beat them by thirty points, last October, and then we wiped the grass with Hufflepuff’s collective arses.’

‘Oh, you are so full of it, Malfoy!’ Harry chuckled, trying to remain silent behind his curtains. They’d fallen to calling one another by their surnames about twenty minutes ago. ‘Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff too – they’re hopeless this year! But Ravenclaw are dead strong with that little third year – what’s her name? – as Seeker, that they’re going to leave Slytherin standing!’

‘Torbien?’ Draco’s voice filled his head in outrage. ‘That poisoned dwarf who wears black nail varnish and too much eye make-up? Oh puh-lease! You’re delusional! She should learn that whilst she might look good in black eyeliner, there are those in this school that think she’d look good on toast!’

At this, Harry did laugh out loud and, by the sounds of it, disturbed his room-mates from their late, lie-in dozing.

“Harry?” Ron’s voice called and a moment later, the curtain twitched aside, revealing his friend in the customary pyjamas that showed too much wrist and too much ankle. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Draco,” Harry tapped his right temple, “reckons Slytherin are going to win the Quidditch Cup this year because he thinks their team can eat that third year Seeker - Torbien - for breakfast!”

“No way!” Ron shook his head and crawled onto Harry’s bed with a look of disbelief. “Tell him he’s barking if he thinks Slytherin can beat Ravenclaw. Anique Torbien is almost as good as you! And even if they can beat Ravenclaw, we’ll beat them by more points and will steal the Cup away at the last moment!”

Harry duly repeated all of this for Draco’s benefit and then winced as his friend filled his head with loud, vociferous arguments.

‘And,’ Draco concluded, ‘you can tell Weasley that he should ditch that sorry excuse for a Gryffindor Seeker and put you back on the team!’

‘Er...no...’ Harry responded at once, ‘that wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘Why not? You love Quidditch! And you’re brilliant – the only way Gryffindor stand a chance at the Cup is with you playing.’

‘So you think we’ll win it if I’m back on the team, then?’ Harry asked with a bit of a grin.

‘No, Potter!’ Draco retorted indignantly, ‘There’s no chance of that but, without you, they’ll stand no chance, whatsoever!’

Harry paused for a moment, thinking about flying for his team again. He missed the feeling of flying, with the wind in his face, his robes flapping and fluttering around him and the ever-elusive Snitch inches from his fingertips. But it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing was the same.

‘And it won’t be,’ Draco said, quieter now, ‘unless you make the effort to rebuild your life again. So think about it, yeah?’

‘Next year,’ Harry said softly. ‘I’ll think about it next year.’ Next year, he could maybe put things behind him; he could find some peace, move on and maybe get his life organised without thinking about...

‘Oh, Harry,’ Draco sighed, sharing his thoughts. From right across the castle, from umpteen floors below, Harry caught the sense of concern, compassion and sorrow from his best friend. In addition, for just a moment, came a fleeting sense of guilt and pain from Severus.

*~*~*

Their ride took them up onto the moors, winding with almost no fixed direction between colossal monolithic stones that bore moss with an age old dignity. The horses moved sedately, happy to plod on with only the occasion trot or canter over the lush, springy ground.

The grass up here was a patchy mixture of long, wind-torn stems and soft, bright green moss. None of it was particularly good to eat but as Narcissa drew Seraph to a halt, he nibbled at it and then chewed and jangled the bit before dripping green tinged foam to the ground.

“So,” Alicia began as she halted Leon beside her friend, “do we head down that way,” she pointed to the left, “go over the ford and stop at the Green Dragon? Or do we go that way,” and she now pointed to the right, “go over the bridge and ride on into Clarbeston Road to the Cross Inn?”

Narcissa sighed and turned her head into the breeze. “I think,” She said slowly, “that we should have brought a picnic.”

Alicia laughed and shook her head. “You’re impossible! I give you a choice of two excellent pubs where the landlords are friendly and willing to put up with horses in the car park and you want a third choice. One which, I might add, we don’t have!”

Narcissa grinned and tucked a lock of white blond hair behind her ear. “All right,” she said brightly, “I choose the Green Dragon because they make the best steak and kidney pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’ll never understand how a woman with your taste and appetite for food can keep such a tiny figure,” Alicia shook her head again. The decision made, however, she nudged Leon forward and to the left; leaning back in the saddle as he negotiated the steep decline.

*~*~*

“Wanna play outside!” Oscar repeated, this time slightly louder and punctuated by the stamp of a foot.

“And I said no,” Alison told him firmly. “It’s raining, your wellies are still wet from yesterday and I don’t know what you did to them but they’re resisting all drying charms. If you’re so bored, go and fill them with newspaper.”

“NO!” Oscar retorted and Remus only just caught a figurine as it toppled off the mantelpiece.

“I felt that one,” he murmured to Sirius.

Sirius, however, was already moving to crouch on the floor and, within the space of a second, transformed into the shape of a large black dog.

Oscar eyed him with an attempt at cool disdain but dropped all pretence when Padfoot swiped him with a long, pink tongue.

“Padfoot!” he giggled, grabbing onto the dog’s neck to keep from toppling over backwards.

Padfoot made a low, rumbling noise in his throat and mouthed at the boy’s hands.

“You wanna play outside too?” Oscar asked sweetly, glancing very swiftly at Alison and Remus.

“No,” they said together. To head off another loud and powerful response, Padfoot turned, pushed his shoulder into Oscar’s midriff and wagged his tail when the boy fell over in a heap of giggles.

“Take Padfoot into the den,” Alison urged. “There’s enough space to play fetch or something.”

“But keep the noise down,” Remus called after them. “Mrs Edwards already thinks there’s a ghost in this house because she hears things and everyone knows that the house is empty.” That was how a house under the Fidelius charm appeared – empty, abandoned and possibly unsafe. “Are you listening, Padfoot?” he added.

The dog halted mid-stride and turned his massive head to regard the man sitting on the sofa. There was such a look of reckless mischief in those dark eyes that Remus laughed out loud.

*~*~*

“So,” Narcissa began as she finished eating and place her knife and fork side by side on the empty plate. “Have you decided whether you’re going to ask me or not?”

“What?” Alicia looked up sharply, here brown eyes wide, “Ask you what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the blonde woman asked with a little shake of her head, “whatever it is that’s been on your mind for the past few weeks. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to come with me today?”

“Perhaps,” Alicia replied archly, “I simply wanted to enjoy your company.”

“Perhaps,” Narcissa nodded. “Or perhaps you were going to ask me something far more personal but you’ve lost your nerve.”

At this, Alicia sat up straighter and glanced around. There was no one nearby, however. Choosing an outside table so that they could be nearer the horses and opting for a table that was partially hidden from view from the pub, they were entirely alone.

“I’m sorry,” Narcissa offered a slight smile, “I shouldn’t put you on the spot but,” she shrugged. “If you were going to ask what I thought you were going to ask…”

“Yes?” Alicia caught her lip between her teeth.

“Well, I think I’d respond like this,” Narcissa finished, leaned across the table and took the other woman’s mouth in a kiss.

*~*~*

Three months and three weeks. That was how long it had been since Harry had heard Snape’s voice within his head. One hundred and eleven days. Two thousand, six hundred and sixty-four hours. One hundred and fifty-nine thousand, eight hundred and forty minutes…

‘Harry,’ Draco’s voice interrupted him, ‘stop it and come down for dinner.’

Harry lingered in silence, staring at the dormitory door and trying very hard not to think about anything. Saturday had gone well, although just as Draco had predicted, Slytherin had crushed Ravenclaw at Quidditch. Then Sunday had rolled around, as it always did and Harry had sunk once again into dark, brooding deliberation over his future without Snape. It all stemmed, he decided then, from having to face yet another torturous Potions lesson on Monday morning.

‘It all stems,’ Draco snarled, ‘from bloody interfering do-gooders who think they know what’s best for you. Sev’s in just the same state as you, although he’d never admit it. If you two would just talk to each other…’

‘No.’ Harry shook his head, even though no one was there to see him. He’d sent Ron and Hermione downstairs ages ago. ‘This is what he wants. I won’t beg. Jenna says -’

‘I don’t give a rat’s arse what that woman says,’ Draco’s voice exploded angrily, ‘I know you and I know Sev. I know you’re both hurting and I know the simplest remedy-’

‘Draco,’ Snape’s voice cut in then and Harry was so shocked and unprepared to hear it within his mind, that he gasped aloud and felt sudden tears fill his eyes. ‘That’s quite enough,’ the Potions master declared. ‘As Potter knows full well, some things simply cannot be.’ And, as quickly as he’d arrived, so Snape’s presence vanished again, leaving Harry gasping for breath and feeling as if he’d been plunged into icy water.

*~*~*

The Potions lesson on Monday morning was about as bad as Harry had anticipated. Still vaguely miffed with Draco, he sat down beside Dean, behind Ron and Hermione and concentrated on preparing his cauldron and ingredients while Snape wrote their assignment on the board.

Thinking about the previous evening’s telepathic conversation, Harry picked up a flicker of discontentment from Draco and caught a sense of sympathy coming from Snape for the blond young man. Sympathy. Plonking his bottles of ingredients down on the desk with rather more force than necessary, Harry seethed quietly over the injustice of it all. Wasn’t he the injured party? Wasn’t it he who had been unceremoniously dumped? Why should Draco get Snape’s sympathy?

He sighed then, realising that he was being childish and stupid. After all, Draco hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d only wanted Harry to stop brooding and talk to Snape. It wasn’t Draco’s fault the Potions master was about as unapproachable as a Norwegian Ridgeback on caffeine and that Harry wasn’t inclined to get his fingers burnt a second time.

“I’ve written today’s potion on the board, Potter,” Snape’s voice cut in as the man stalked malevolently towards him. “Why haven’t you started?”

Harry lifted calm eyes to regard his former lover and tilted his head to one side. He wasn’t inclined to answer and nor was he in the mood to be bullied or harassed. Instead, he met the Potion master’s gaze and saw how the man’s eyes widened in surprise before swiftly narrowing.

“Get on with it,” Snape hissed and strode away again.

Harry felt Dean’s eyes on him, even as he felt Draco’s questioning awareness in the back of his mind. Dean, of course, couldn’t know what had transpired between Harry and Snape back in December and so he was immensely curious to know how Harry had avoided a public showdown with the formidable professor.

“He looked like he was going to faint,” Dean whispered in amazement as he stirred his potion. Harry added six lacewings to his brew and said nothing. “I mean, he’s barely said two words to you in months, decides to have a go at you today and then promptly changes his mind. How bizarre is that?”

“If you haven’t got any chameleon tongues, will gecko do instead?” Harry asked quietly, desperately hoping to get Dean onto a different subject.

“What? No, but I think you can use salamander – but only half as much.” Dean replied. He continued stirring and then nudged Ron in the back. “Did you see him? What do you think Snape saw in Harry’s eyes then? Reckon he realised he’d met his match, maybe?”

Ron gave Dean a nervous smile, nodded half-heartedly before glancing at Harry and turning away again.

“Mr Thomas, if you spent a little more time concentrating and a little less gossiping, perhaps you would realise that your potion should be bright green by now and not,” Snape paused to peer into the cauldron, “pale blue.”

“Sir,” Dean bowed his head and then held up a fistful of petals, “I haven’t added these yet, Sir.” Upon throwing the petals in, the potion promptly altered hue and Dean offered the Potion master a wide smile.

Unperturbed, Snape then moved towards Harry’s cauldron and sniffed, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Potter, what is that?” he demanded coldly.

“A mess, sir.” Harry responded instantly, whilst struggling not to attempt silent communication with the man. The potion, true enough, had gone hideously wrong. Evidently, salamander tongue wasn’t a suitable substitute, he thought sourly.

“Indeed, Potter. Can you tell me – and the class – what you did wrong, please.”

‘You mean aside from falling in love with a man who doesn’t return my feelings?’ Harry asked silently, without looking up. He didn’t expect an answer and so was slightly taken aback when Snape snarled silently at him.

‘Of course I returned your feelings, you self-absorbed, ego-centric idiot! But there are greater things at stake than our tender emotions.’

Harry chose not to respond to this, however and lifted his chin to glare defiantly at Snape whilst answering his earlier question. “Sir, I neglected to include chameleon tongue in my assorted ingredients. Rather than attract your wrath, sir,” he added with hard hitting sarcasm, “I thought I would attempt to salvage the potion by including salamander tongue.”

He was expecting a reaction. He was expecting Snape to deduct house points, to throw him into a month long detention with Filch or perhaps even to be thrown out of Potions for good. He wasn’t expecting the wave of shared terror as the Potions master grew suddenly even paler than usual, gave the blackish orange potion a horrified glance and then yelled, “EVERYBODY DOWN!”

The class reacted with lightning response, no doubt shocked into action by Snape’s unusually loud holler. Harry felt a familiar, long-fingered hand press the back of his head down under the desk and then the world went eerily silent for a split-second before all hell exploded out of his cauldron.

Glowing hot liquid rained down upon the desks and a few students shouted or cried out in pain. A minute later, Snape pushed Harry further under the desk, conjured an invisible umbrella for himself and stood up to survey the damage.

‘It’s not that bad,’ Draco advised from his viewpoint across the room, ‘Harry’s cauldron is fairly small and there wasn’t that much in it.’

Snape appeared to agree with him and Harry picked up on his hope that the damage wouldn’t be permanent.

“Listen carefully,” the Potions master commanded then, silencing the class once more, “do not stop to retrieve your belongings, do not pause to look around at the destruction caused by the saviour of our wizarding world.” Harry winced at the caustic edge of Snape’s words. “Please make your way carefully to the door and then kindly assist those who need Madam Pomfrey’s attentions. Potter, don’t move!”

“Like I was going anywhere,” Harry grumbled as Dean, Ron and Hermione cast him sympathetic glances before crawling cautiously out and peering up to where just a few drops of cooling potion were dripping onto the floor.

A moment later and Draco crept into the space beside him as the door closed behind the last of the students.

‘Draco, go with them,’ Snape sighed, peering up at the burnt and blistered ceiling.

‘I think I’d rather stay,’ Draco returned calmly. He started to say something further, perhaps to express his concern that Snape might hex Harry into next week for destroying his precious classroom.

‘Out, Draco. Do as I say. No doubt Goyle would have more to say about you staying to protect your pet Gryffindor again?’

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry but obediently crawled out and made his way towards the door. As he left, he sent back, ‘If you’re going to shout, fair enough; but no hitting and no hexing!’

Harry sighed and pressed his forehead against his bent knees for a moment.

“Come out, Potter.” Snape said wearily, walking gingerly towards his desk.

“What did you mean about Goyle? And what was that about me being Draco’s pet Gryffindor?” Harry asked sullenly, as he stood up to look around at the devastation. Most of the desks had what appeared to be acid burns in them and several books were smoking as the potion slowly ate its way through the pages.

“Here,” Snape sighed and handed him a potions textbook – undamaged – with the open page showing a magical reversal spell. “Kindly exercise your foolish wand waving and start clearing up.”

Harry did as he was asked but repeated his question concerning Goyle and Draco.

“They’ve had a few problems,” Snape growled. “You didn’t know?” he asked then with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “we don’t…he doesn’t talk about Goyle. He doesn’t…” He shook his head again. “So what kind of problems?”

“Goyle evidently thinks, quite rightly, that Draco is in love with you still.”

“Well that’s just stupid,” Harry declared hotly and then made a little gesture with his hand, “I mean, I know he does. And I love him too, but...” he shrugged, “It’s complicated.”

“And Goyle is amazingly simple.” Snape responded. He cast the reversal spell at the worst of the damage on the ceiling and then lowered his eyes to where Harry was trying to reach some potion that had sunk a huge whole in Hermione’s exercise book. “It’ll stop when it reaches stone,” he advised.

“Hermione’s going to kill me,” Harry moaned.

“I’m in touch with that emotion,” Snape sneered.

“You?” Harry raised an eyebrow, “In touch with emotions? Please.”

‘Potter, for your information,’ Snape retorted silently, ‘I happened to love you every bit as much as Draco does.’

‘And yet you still love Draco,’ Harry replied with a little shrug, sharing the man’s emotions as they rose to the surface. He shook his head sadly then, ‘But you don’t love me – if you ever loved me in the first place.’

“Oh, for the love of -!” Snape exclaimed aloud, turning and pinning Harry with his dark glare. He stepped slowly closer, “Potter, considering that you’ve just destroyed my place of work, it’s a little hard to be over-brimming with love and devotion right now!”

“Careful!” Harry cautioned in a whisper as he cast his eyes towards the closed door and reached out automatically to cover the other man’s mouth with his free (and mercifully clean) hand. The gesture was poignantly familiar and each of them recalled a time, a hundred years before (or so it seemed) when Harry had covered Snape’s mouth with his hand, just so that he could say his piece and convince the man to love him.

Snape recoiled, looking almost frightened, and abruptly turned away.

‘I notice you’ve gone back to calling me Potter.’ Harry stated with forced cool indifference. And for the sake of his own mental state, Harry had reverted to calling the man Snape – the name Severus simply wasn’t synonymous with a cruel, often vindictive man whose only pleasure was in deducting house points from Gryffindors. But that just wasn’t true, was it? Harry shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He’d seen this man – up close and personal – as he’d thrown back his head in the ecstatic throes of orgasm. He’d heard the man – Severus – cry out his name, murmur heartfelt endearments and whisper delicious sweet nothings in the dead of night.

This was so complicated… such a mess…

With a shake of his head, he looked imploringly at the back of the Potion master’s head and then turned away. The worst of the cleaning up was done and just as well, because he didn’t think he could linger much longer with Snape; not right now. Not without turning this into a full scale row of shouted words, screamed defiance and further inevitable damage.

“I’ll see you,” he said in a low, tense voice and headed straight for the door. Pausing briefly, he looked over his shoulder to where the Potions master was standing in the centre of the room, looking somewhat lost for a moment. “I’m sorry about the explosion,” he offered, feeling lame.

When Snape made no comment, Harry slipped out into the corridor, feeling sad and confused and aware that he wasn’t the only one to feel like this.

And as he reached the steps leading up from the dungeons, Harry heard a very faint murmur from his former lover.

‘Harry,’ Severus murmured, as if it caused actual physical pain. It wasn’t a summons back to the classroom, however, and so Harry kept on walking away.