Pains and Contradictions

This is not chapter sixteen. This is the promised interlude. The last time I did an interlude I posted it separately from the main story but since a few people have only begun to read it, I'm putting it here.

Response to a challenge from my beta, Torina: Show the last scene of chapter sixteen from Snape's POV. And I just love her so much I *had* to.

Please review and let me know if you're enjoying the story...

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It was late in the morning of September first, and Snape was glad he had decided to cancel Harry's lessons for the day. He didn't want Harry to be fatigued when the Express arrived, and truth be told he had no desire to invade the boy's mind on today of all days.

Harry sat next to the Potions Master on the sofa, close enough for the older man to feel the heat coming from his companion's body. Normally he would attempt to lean away from Harry but today he allowed himself to indulge in feeling the younger man against him.

He had no idea if he would ever have this again.

He had known this would happen. When Harry first came down to stay with him. He knew it would tear him apart to see the younger man leave.

Merlin, Snape hated being right all the time. He knew this would be impossible.

The man wanted nothing more than to keep Harry here with him. To physically hold him here, safe from the world, safe from the Dark Lord and any other person who would ever even so much as look at the young man he so loved.

Snape mentally scoffed. He had a difficult time admitting he loved Harry even to himself.

Looking at Harry he realized that was something he could not do. How could he be responsible for removing something so beautiful from the world? Locking away that which he held most dear...

He turned his body to face Harry, the young man's face pale and grief-stricken. He couldn't be lamenting his return to Gryffindor Tower so much, could he?

"Potter..."

If Snape didn't know any better he would say Harry was close to panic.

Snape sighed. "Really, Potter, you are acting as if someone has died."

Harry flinched.

Snape winced as his own cruelty hit him in the face. "I apologize, that was uncalled for."

Harry just shook his head and tried to smile, still not looking at Snape. The Potions Master had to quell the desire to wrap his arms around the young man and never let go; to comfort him, tell him everything was going to be alright.

But everything wasn't going to be alright.

The only person he had ever truly loved was leaving him, and he had no choice but to let him go. Lupin was right about one thing- Snape could never be what Harry needed. Keeping Harry locked in the dungeons would be akin to trapping some beautiful bird in a cage and then denying it basic sustenance. If he were a different person, less tarnished, less sullied, more worthy of someone so beautiful- maybe then he would have asked Harry to stay.

But he wasn't. And such thoughts never helped anyone.

Snape sighed again. He had seen this coming a mile away and allowed it to happen anyway.

He looked again at the sad young man sitting next to him. Occlumency lessons would still continue on into the year... But if Harry was worried about his place in the Potions Master's life...

"Do not act as if it is the end of the world, Potter. I am still under orders to obtain your friendship, and the Dark Lord's spies will be watching me to make certain I am doing his will. I imagine you will be spending time here quite often... If you are amendable, of course."

Snape had no idea why he had just said that. He might as well have gotten down on one knee and said 'I await your return with baited breath.'

Snape looked fearlessly into green eyes that were bright with hesitation and nervousness, and made a decision. Harry would not suffer if he could help it.

"I bought those dragon hide gloves for a reason, Potter. You did not think I would make such an investment only to have you leave a month later?"

Harry gave a soft smile, and Snape felt as though his foray into insanity had been worth it. "No, I suppose not," he croaked out.

Snape couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face, and he watched in wonder as Harry's face lit up.

"I think it's time you went back to Gryffindor Tower. The werewolf is waiting to say goodbye or some such nonsense."

Harry nodded, slowly rose from the sofa, and began to slowly march toward the door.

It felt as though he'd never see the young man again.

Harry picked up his trunk, cast a shrinking charm on it, and put it in his pocket. Then he opened the door, Snape right behind him.

The cold air of the dungeons hit the Potions Master's face and it was all he could to not pull the young, firm, Quidditch-toned body towards him and keep him from leaving forever.

Did the young man have any idea how close he was to completely undoing the man?

Looking at Harry, still so unsure of himself, Snape knew he did not. Harry had no idea that he lit up the room with his presence or how beautiful he was or exactly what he did to Snape.

The Potions Master had to do something.

"Potter." Snape cleared his throat. "It will be several hours before the Welcoming Feast. If you would like, once you return from settling in, you can assist me in restocking the Order's supply of polyjuice potion. I believe you and the werewolf consumed the last of it on your latest adventure."

Harry turned around and looked at Snape's face. The Potions Master tried his best to offer his usual stoic expression but knew that he was more nervous now than when he was last in the presence of the Dark Lord. It made no sense; it was completely illogical. He was leaving himself completely open for ridicule but it mattered not. He needed to give something to Harry; anything to make him happy again.

And quite suddenly, as though he had slipped into one of his dreams, he found himself accepting the young object of his desire into his arms. He held his arms out at a distance as the young, slim figure seemed to wrap his entire body around the Potions Master and held on for dear life.

Oh, and it was like torture. The sweetest, most agonizing torture to have his arms filled with this beautiful young man, to see the top of his head and feel that firm young body curl all around his and smell... Oh, gods, the smell of him.

He should resist this. He should not be allowing it at all in the first place and he most certainly shouldn't encourage it.

But how much could any man resist when who he wanted most in the entire world was throwing himself into his arms?

And so with no small amount of hesitation, Snape's arms encircled Harry, feeling the smaller body around his, Harry's head tucked perfectly under his chin like he was meant to be there.

It was too much for Snape. Suddenly images of pulling Harry inside, throwing him on his sofa, divesting him of all his clothing, and mapping every inch of his body came to mind and Snape used every ounce of his wayward self control to deny it.

Instead, his arms grasped Harry tighter and he allowed himself to hold him the way he had wanted to for months now. The scent of the young man was in his nostrils. It smelled liked soap and his own sofa and most importantly, a smell that was all and only Harry.

Thinking that he would never hold this beautiful creature in his arms ever again, Snape did the only thing he could and lowered his head onto Harry's hair, allowing himself to capture the beauty of the young man in every way he could.

He inhaled.

Intoxicating.

He had managed to control his well-trained cock up until that moment. It would not do to have Harry feel the evidence of his desire and frighten the young man away. But then suddenly, Harry lifted his head slightly and smiled against Snape's neck, the slight upturn of his lips pressed against the Potions Master's flesh.

All the blood in his body seemed to flow downwards and he could not control the physical reaction as his cock rebelled openly and sprang to life, going from docile to hard in an instant.

Snape immediately dropped his arms and pulled himself out of Harry's embrace. He took a step back and put a hand on the door. "I will see you after you are settled in, Potter." And with that he promptly closed the door in Harry's face.

Snape threw his back against the door, fumbled the clasp on his trousers, reached inside his shorts, and pulled out his achingly hard cock. It had been a very long time since he had felt arousal as strong as this and as much as he wanted to luxuriate in the pleasure of holding Harry, he knew that his conscience would return sooner rather than later. And so he made quick work of himself, putting his long fingers to use as he held himself tight, imagining he had taken Harry back into his room, into his bed. Imagined it was the younger man who was gripping his hard, leaking member, running his calloused thumb over the head. Imagined it was Harry's firm grip that was bringing him to completion so quickly he barely managed five strokes before he was coming onto his hand and grunting like he had just run a mile.

Looking down onto his tainted hand his conscience returned, just as he knew it would.

What would Harry think if he knew that the Potions Master was using the idea of him in such a horrid manner? Or if he had known that the innocent, friendly embrace they had just shared had inspired such feelings in Snape?

He cast a cleaning charm and tucked himself back into his pants and thought, no.

He would keep his promise to Lupin if it killed him.

Harry would never find out.