Pains and Contradictions

Author's Notes: Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. Each and every one of them is lovely to me and I thank you all for taking the time to tell me you're enjoying my story.

Special thanks to Laurenke1 for a plot beta. Also to Torina Archelda for once again scrubbing the entire thing head to foot for grammar errors and to WhiteCotton for a canon and smut beta.  

As always a warm 'hello' goes out to all of the lovely people at the yahoo Snarry discussion group Severus Sighs. If any of you are ever curious about a chapter or would like to discuss it, you can find me there.

Also, I'm very pleased to say that the next chapter is almost completed. All reviews will be forwarded to Torina to encourage her in her betaing.

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"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence..." e.e. cummings


Walking into the Great Hall at the beginning of the welcoming feast was nothing like Harry had hoped it would be.

It was loud.

It was deafening.

It was everything the past three months hadn't been, and Harry hated it. He had expected to miss the dungeons, to miss Snape and the quiet, but he hadn't known that his desire to see the man again would become so great a longing only hours after leaving the place he had called home all summer.

Standing at the double doors Harry looked up towards the head table, to the man who was never far from his thoughts. Other than McGonagall, all the professors were present. Harry didn't even try to hide the fact that he was trying to get Snape's attention, but the man's gaze was fixed steadily on the first years coming through the side door to be sorted. Harry waited another moment before he took his eyes off the Potions Master. Snape might have had orders from Voldemort to get close to him, but he didn't seem inclined to let anyone else know their relationship had evolved into... Well, something else.

Harry moved to join the Gryffindors already seated at their table and was surprised at what he saw. He had thought that the table would be quiet, sullen; still mourning the member that had been lost to them not three months ago.

But aside from Hermione everyone seemed to be catching up and laughing; talking about how great their summers had been. Even Ginny was laughing with Dean Thomas, who had his arm slung around the youngest Weasley's shoulder. Harry looked over and met her eyes, watching as they dimmed at bit. She smiled at him sadly and then was distracted by something Dean was saying. He watched her interaction with the other Gryffindors for a moment, then turned away.

Hermione was sitting in her usual spot, and there were two seats left open near her; his own and what should have been Ron's. Harry felt a knot grow in his chest and attempted to smother it. He'd had the summer, and all the time that he had needed. He closed his eyes for just a moment, attempting to draw strength from the memories of Snape and the summer that had ended just hours ago.

He looked to the Potions Master again only to find the man looking right back at him.

Green eyes met black and for a moment everything was quiet. All the sound from the hall surrounding him was drowned out as he took in the words unspoken and silent comfort that came from the momentarily meeting of man's eyes with his own.

Snape nodded at him and the moment was broken as the dark gaze moved away from Harry and back towards the nervous first years.

Harry sighed.

He drew up all his strength, put on the bravest face he had, and sat down next to Hermione, who until that moment had been sitting quietly.

After a moment she noticed his presence and turned her head, and he was able to see the sadness in her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked thinner than when he had seen her last. There was an overall aura of depression surrounding her.

"Hi, Harry," she said softly, smiling the saddest smile Harry had ever seen.

Harry pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Hi," was all he could say.

The table suddenly got quieter, and Harry realized that the other Gryffindors were staring at the two of them. Harry gave them a glare worthy of the head of Slytherin himself and turned back to Hermione.

She looked as if she were about to burst into tears, and then suddenly the headmaster called the hall to order and the first year students were brought up to be sorted.

The sorting hat's song was similar to what it had been in Harry's fifth year; telling the school to stick together and that it would be necessary to put away old rivalries in the coming days.

Harry turned his head towards the Slytherin table, seeing the blond hair of Draco Malfoy and thought there was little chance of that.

The Slytherin had the attention of his entire table, paying no mind to the sorting or to the few students that had joined them after being sorted. He was regaling his year-mates with some story Harry couldn't hear, and Harry fought to rein in his disgust. He could imagine how Draco had spent his summer and shuddered both in disgust at the thought of being so near Voldemort for months on end and in fear at what the little ferret was plotting for Snape.

Pansy Parkinson, who was seated facing Harry, looked up and caught his eyes, and then leaned over the table to whisper something to Draco. Draco, who turned around slowly, saw Harry still staring at him. Harry nodded in greeting but Draco merely smirked and turned back, no doubt continuing whatever incredibly interesting story Harry had interrupted.

Harry's gaze turned back to the Gryffindor table and Hermione's curious stare.

"Later," Harry said quietly, and Hermione nodded and turned towards the beef Wellington that now lay on a large platter in front of them.

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It was nearly midnight before the rest of the Gryffindors went up to their dorms. Harry and Hermione had acquired a sofa near the fire and were sitting quietly, waiting for the moment they could be alone.

A sixth year girl finally got out of her chair, gave them a long look, and then turned to go up the stairs that led to the girl's dorms.

Harry finally heard a door close, and he turned to Hermione tentatively, waiting for something to happen.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, as she promptly burst into tears. Harry opened his arms and took her in, his face immediately buried in thick, bushy hair.

"I'm sorry... I just miss him so much. It's all I can ever think about..." Hermione trailed off as she began to sob uncontrollably on Harry's shoulder.

Harry just sat there, extremely glad that his friend wasn't looking at him because, if she were she'd see the shocked look on his face.

He'd known that Hermione would be sad but he hadn't thought it would be this bad. Had she not cried once since they had left the Burrow after Ron's funeral?

He just sat there, feeling awkward and patting her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.

The strangest thing, Harry thought, was that all he could think of in that moment was Snape. He thought about the conversation that they'd had on his birthday and remembered what Snape had told him. That it was normal for Hermione to be feeling this way and that he shouldn't feel guilty about it.

He held Hermione tighter as he thought of the Potions Master. He wondered where he was exactly and what was he doing. Would he be getting into bed by now or was he staying up, working on the polyjuice potion they had been brewing earlier in the day?

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head onto Hermione's and thought of the man, sitting alone in his dungeon quarters and probably relaxing for the first time in months, without Harry.

He shuddered.

Hermione pulled back.

Her eyes were red and puffy and tears were still trickling down her cheeks. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Harry nodded and patted her hair again. "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled at her to further the thought.

She wiped her eyes hastily and looked up at Harry. "Oh, God, Harry. I'm so sorry."

Harry frowned, confused. "What? Why are you sorry?"

"I'm just going on and on. I haven't spoken to you in months and now the first thing I do is cry all over you. Oh, look at what I did to your shirt..." She trailed off and cast a drying spell where she had wept onto him.

Harry smiled a genuine smile at her and said, "Really, Hermione, it's okay." The smile faded from his face as he realized that he had to openly address what had happened, for his own sanity if not Hermione's. "I know you're still hurting. It's not like we had a chance to talk about this. I mean, it just happened and then you were gone-"

She burst into tears again.

Harry backtracked, horrified. "I mean, I loved him too, just... Not the way you did. It's understandable that you'd still be sad." Harry echoed the words that Snape had spoken to him a month ago, hoping Hermione would know that he at least understood that she was suffering, if not the suffering itself.

Hermione's crying slowed so that she could speak. "No, I guess you didn't love him the way I did."

They were quiet for a moment, the two of them simply staring into the fire, neither talking but both very aware of the presence of the other. Harry was glad for the quiet, even if it only lasted a moment. In the silence, his mind drifted and he couldn't help but think that he would rather it was Snape sitting by his side. He thought it very unfair to his friend sitting next to him, but he couldn't help nervously playing with his hands, missing the Potions Master's own pale, warm ones.

His mind was drifting, replaying a dozen scenes from the summer when suddenly he realized Hermione was sniffling and probably had been for some time.

Looking down, he took in the somber expression on his friend's face, the way her hands were shaking slightly and how she possessed the overall air of someone trying very hard not to cry.

Harry quickly realized that if Hermione wasn't going to talk about everything that was bothering her on her own, he was going to have to coax it out of her.

"Talk to me," he said, his voice soft. She gave him a puzzled look and he smiled sadly at her. "Because you haven't, you know. At least not to me." Harry was silent for a moment, not wanting to push his friend. When she kept quietly sniffling, he prodded, "Wouldn't you like to talk about it?"

Hermione paused and then nodded. "My parents spent the summer trying to take my mind off of it. As if that were even possible. We traveled all over western Europe and I don't think I enjoyed one minute of it. All I could think of was him."

Harry remained silent as Hermione mentally prepared herself for whatever she needed to say.

She smiled sadly. "I don't know the exact moment I fell in love with Ron. It was like one day I just realized that I was happier when I was with him than when I wasn't. And it didn't matter if we were arguing or studying or doing absolutely nothing. Whatever I did, I wanted to be with him when I did it."

She looked over at Harry and he smiled at her, bidding her to continue.

"It was... Everything. If I could have, I'd have spent my every waking moment with him."

Harry blinked and felt a curious feeling beginning in the pit of his stomach, his heart began to speed up at Hermione's words. He tried to concentrate on what his friend was saying but his thoughts had turned to dark eyes and lank hair, all draped in black.

He shook himself when he noticed Hermione looking at him thoughtfully. He tried to think of something comforting to say. "He felt the same way, you know."

Hermione nodded and smiled. She didn't seem to have noticed that Harry had drifted off. "Oh, I know. It went unspoken but... We both knew."

Harry could feel a heat beginning to spread throughout his body as scenes from the past few months replayed in his head. Quiet moments by the fire, holding Snape's hand in his, Snape's hands running through his hair.

"He would always find some excuse to touch me, or I him." Her eyes opened wide and she sputtered. "Not like that! I mean, he would find a way to hold my hand or he'd put his hand on my back as we walked down a hall or something."

Harry was barely listening to Hermione. All he could think of were all the times he had sought out Snape's touch, grazed his hand over his or put a hand on his back. He didn't really understand why he liked doing it, just that he loved touching the Potions Master and never missed an opportunity to do so.

He loved touching his hands; they were so elegant and strong and beautiful. Exactly like the man himself.

Harry exhaled deeply and ran his own hand through his hair. Did he feel for Snape what Ron had felt for Hermione? How could that be? Harry had never been attracted to a man in his life.

But then why had he loved touching Snape? He looked over to Hermione, who was leaning back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling and saying words that Harry was incapable of hearing.

He closed his eyes and thought of the Potions Master. He tried to picture the man's body but all he could really see were his hands and his face. The rest of him was always covered.

So he thought of Snape's hands. His incredibly beautiful, strong, elegant, stained hands.

Hermione was still addressing the ceiling so Harry allowed his mind to wander. His thoughts flitted over the long, pale, potion-stained digits and Harry could feel himself grow warm. He thought of the time Snape had run his thumb over Harry's lips and ran his fingers through his hair; how warm his touch had been, how wonderful it had felt to be touched by the man.

And oh, gods, he thought of the embrace they shared just a few hours ago. Could he call that an embrace? Calling it a hug just didn't seem right somehow. A hug was what he had just given Hermione. He gave Mrs. Weasley hugs and had hugged Remus goodbye just a few hours ago.

Snape, on the other hand, had tried to crawl inside him. He closed his eyes and remembered the feeling; the way Snape had grabbed him and held him close. The way he had been brought toward the firm body, the smell of the man; how he had felt when he had smiled into the other man's neck.

Harry's fingers absentmindedly traced his lips as he thought of the man's neck. It was long and slender, just like his hands. Was the Potions Master's entire body like that? Was he warm and smooth all over? Would he let Harry touch him?

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and snapped his head back towards Hermione, who was looking at him with a very concerned look on her face. "I haven't upset you, have I?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, of course not. You were saying?"

Hermione smiled. "Oh, enough of that... At least for today. Do you have anything you'd like to talk about?"

Harry no longer had any idea how to answer that question. His mind was off in the dungeons as he looked at Hermione and said, "No."

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Harry ascended the stairs to the seventh year boy's dorm with just one thought on his mind- Snape.

Not only was his mind now filled with trace images of Snape's body, he was also missing the man something awful. This was the longest they had been separated for months. He felt the absence of the other man like he would that of his right arm.

Harry approached the door and resigned himself to sleeping in his own bed tonight, thinking longingly of the comfortable sofa that always smelled like the Potions Master.

Suddenly something occurred to him, and he lifted his shirt sleeve to his nose. He smiled as he realized it still smelled of the dungeons; still smelled of potions ingredients and Snape's musty office and the soap the man used.

He allowed that to comfort him and took a deep breath, walking through the door to the room and moved towards his bed...

Only to find that it had been moved.

There were now only four beds in the room and his roommates were already asleep, their curtains drawn.

Though the room was still the same size there really wasn't too much extra space; still, it felt to Harry as though there were a gaping hole in the middle of it.

He took off his shoes, shirt, and trousers and got into bed, pulling the curtains shut tight and ignoring the pain the change in the room brought.

Harry nestled down into his pillow, his mind wandering over a dozen memories of the summer- all of Snape- and eventually ending on that parting embrace they had shared earlier. He ran his fingers over his lips one more time, ignoring the heat that was threatening to build. He rolled over and smashed his face against the pillow, desperately wishing it smelled like the dungeons.

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For the past two weeks Harry had taken up a hobby he liked to call Snape-watching. Activities involved in Snape-watching included monitoring Snape during all meals in the Great Hall, routinely asking various house elves to make sure that no one slipped any potions in the Potions Master's food, and making sure that Draco Malfoy was never within ten feet of the man.

Even though Snape had told him in no uncertain terms that he was welcome in the dungeons, between quidditch practice, taking care of Hermione, studying for his classes, and Snape's own grading and detentions he was still only able to see the man twice a week- for their continuing Occlumency and Defense lessons.

And he was hardly counting those. As much as he tried to linger before and after Snape was all business, still trying to hammer the theory into Harry in some hope that he would eventually understand. The Potions Master used every moment of the evening attempting to teach Harry, even going so far as to write a pass when he had once stayed after curfew. Though Harry continued to loathe Occlumency, he enjoyed the other man's presence too much to ever complain.

He rubbed his temples, feeling a small headache coming on. Harry was sure it would have him wincing in his chair during their lessons tonight.

Harry walked from the greenhouses to Potions class, trying to ignore how closely Hermione was walking next to him these days and thinking of the Potions Master.

Ever since his conversation with his friend two weeks ago, Harry had been desperate to find just a little time alone with Snape. He had no idea what he was feeling for the man.

Harry really didn't think he was gay. He'd never been attracted to a man before, and in the past two weeks since, he'd taken a good look at who most girls said were the most handsome guys in his class.

No, Harry didn't think he was gay, and he was more than a little embarrassed at having forced himself to take a really good look at Justin Finch-Fletchley's arse.

But then what exactly did he feel for the Potions Master? Intense friendship? Did people sometimes just really love holding their friends? Harry liked the feel of Hermione in his arms but that was for her sake. She was soft and she smelled nice, and it was no burden to give his friend any amount of comfort. But it never invoked any of the emotions that holding Snape had.

Harry jerked as he felt Hermione's hand bumping against his. He honestly didn't mind touching her at all, but he couldn't help think of what Remus had said in June after Ron's funeral. That his friendship with Hermione might be odd now that it was just the two of them. He was glad that Remus had thought to talk to him about it; that he'd gotten his feelings for his friend out in the open. He really didn't want there to be any confusion.

But the way Hermione kept bumping into him made him think that her understanding of her own feelings wasn't as clear.

He smiled at her and stepped away, giving himself some more space.

No, whatever he felt for the Potions Master, it wasn't the same thing he felt for Hermione. He didn't crave his friend's touch the way he did Snape's.

When he had been held by Snape it had felt like he was home; like he was holding the most perfect thing and if he spent his life in those arms that would have been fine with him.

Harry shook his head for perhaps the sixth time just that afternoon and continued toward the dungeons.

He forced himself to focus and he pushed all thoughts of Hermione and his odd feelings for Snape to the back of his mind.

Out of all the places in the entire school, Harry felt that Snape was at the most risk in Potions class. Although Snape monitored every student carefully, Harry didn't think it was safe for him to teach a class with Draco Malfoy in it. It would be far too easy for some 'accident' to happen. Harry had to walk a fine line; listening to Snape's lesson, tending his potion, all while watching Malfoy like a hawk.

If Hermione had noticed that Harry was especially attentive in potions now she hadn't said anything. Maybe she thought it was out of a newfound respect for Snape after all the help he had given Harry over the summer. They turned the last corner and walked the remaining steps to Snape's classroom.

The man was standing by the door, his head covering the small window cut into the top of it, arms crossed and expression schooled. "Potter," he nodded in greeting.

Harry was immensely glad that they didn't have to pretend to have some gross animosity between them any longer. In one of the few, short conversations they had been able to have after their Occlumency lessons, Snape assured Harry that the children of the Death Eaters were still watching him and needed to be sure of Harry's acceptance of Snape's friendship.

"Professor," Harry nodded in answer. Hermione smiled at Snape as she passed and Harry thought it was very kind of him not to scowl openly at her.

Harry turned to walk towards the desk they shared and met Malfoy's eyes on the way. Gray eyes seemed to study him for a moment before they turned to the book laying open on his desk. Harry moved to sit down and turned his attention to the board. He was trying very hard to be outwardly friendly to the little ferret as Snape had advised in the beginning of the summer. 'Become very good at deception' Snape had said. Harry was trying his hardest but it was growing increasingly difficult.

"Today we will be preparing blood-replenishing potions to stock the infirmary. Any potion that does not meet my standards will receive a failing grade. You will find the instructions on page two hundred and thirty seven of your books. You may begin."

Harry let Hermione begin reading the notes in the book while he went to get the required ingredients.

Malfoy stood up at the same time and Harry walked in-step with the Slytherin, eyes on him the entire time. Harry glanced to his left and met Snape's hardened glare, but Harry ignored it. He knew he was running the risk of losing the tentative truce between Malfoy and himself, but he didn't care. Harry ran his fingers down the wand in his pocket with one hand while the other reached out to grab what he needed for his potion.

Just as Harry was about to turn back, Malfoy turned towards Snape and began to walk towards his desk.

"Problem, Mr. Malfoy?" the Potions Master asked politely.

Harry tensed and gripped the wand in his pocket tighter. He knew what he looked like, and he didn't give a damn if Snape thought he was being reckless. Malfoy had something horrible planned for Snape and there was no way Harry was going to let him go through with it.

"Potter? Do you require directions back to your seat?"

Harry shook his head, frustrated, and went back to his desk. He lowered his head but kept his eyes on Malfoy, who had leaned over Snape's desk to murmur something Harry couldn't hear.

Snape shook his head at whatever Malfoy had said and pointed back to the younger Slytherin's desk, clearly dismissing him.

Harry kept a keen eye on Malfoy for the entire class, and Hermione was distraught when Snape declared their potion to be "barely passable" at the end of the period.

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"You cannot use the same shield each time you are attacked. There are far too many ways for your enemy to use their knowledge of your defenses to their advantage; ways to chip at a shield, and darker curses that will render it useless over time." Snape paced the floor of his office in front of Harry, who was listening intently to what the Potions Master was saying. "This time use the modified Selinger shield. You have had more problems with that charm in particular."

"I've gotten better," Harry said as he moved his body into position.

Snape scoffed, determined to knock Harry down a few notches. His performance in defense was far more than acceptable but that did not mean he had the right to be cocky.

"Better has nothing to do with it, Potter. It must be perfect. Furnunculus."

Harry erected the requested shield and the curse dissipated harmlessly. He looked up and smiled at Snape.

The Potions Master turned away. "Adequate. We will practice this more during your next lesson. Rest for five minutes before we begin with Occlumency."

Harry winced and lowered his head. He fidgeted and rubbed at some nonexistent dirt on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

Snape took in Harry's reluctant stance and could not help but issue a mental sigh. He knew that the Occlumency lessons were bordering on pointless but he could not give up on Harry, no matter how much the young man wanted him to. Giving up on Occlumency meant giving up on Harry's chances for survival, and that was something Snape could not do. Occlumency was far too important for him to take lightly. "Only two weeks into the year and already so frustrated, Potter?"

Harry looked up, his green eyes full of hesitation. He opened his mouth but then snapped it shut, averting his eyes and looking around the room nervously. What did the young man have to be so fearful of? "No, it's not that, just... Um..."

Snape crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for whatever excuse Harry would give as to why he did not want to have his lesson tonight.

"I... um..."

"Spit it out, Potter."

"Could we just... talk?"

The eyebrow inched higher.

"I've, um..."

"You've, um..." Snape repeated, his tone growing irritated.

"I miss talking to you," Harry said, his eyes meeting Snape's with confidence that he obviously did not feel.

Snape felt his heart beat quicker at the object of his affection's confession but he said nothing. Not wanting there to be a misunderstanding, he allowed Harry to prattle on.

"I... Well, it's not that I have no one to talk to but... I miss talking to you." His green eyes were wide and his gaze seemed to bore into Snape. "Do you ever miss talking to me? The way it was this summer?" he said, his voice sounding far too desperate for the Potions Master's liking.

Harry looked as though it had taken every ounce of courage he possessed to confess what he just had. As much as Snape wanted to deny him, wanted to discourage any kind of affection the young man might have held for him, he could not leave him looking so forlorn. Not when he was the one Harry missed, as unbelievable as that seemed.

"Your presence..." Snape stopped himself. As much as he wanted to comfort Harry he did not wish to reveal too much, and he knew that the rigid control he kept of himself tended to slip when Harry was present. "You resided in my quarters for nearly three months, Potter. Of course your absence has been noticed."

The smile Harry gave him was blinding.

"So do you think we could just- for a little while- talk?"

Snape wanted to say no, say that Occlumency was too important. And it was. Far more important than any desire either of them may feel simply to be with the other.

No, Snape thought. It would not do to allow Harry to become too attached to him. Regardless of Lupin's ridiculous conclusions, Snape knew that Harry would never return his affections. And that was the way it should be.

He looked into green eyes, ready to deny him. But the look Harry was gracing him with was so hopeful, yet obviously fearful of being denied.

And it seemed that once again, Snape could deny Harry nothing.

"As you wish," spilled from his mouth before he had even fully decided on how to answer.

Harry smiled at him and it was as though the sun had risen in the dungeons.

Snape hesitantly pulled the chair away from his desk to sit in front of Harry, giving himself a few feet of distance.

Harry immediately sat down, looking as if Christmas had come early. The happiness in his expression was contagious, and the Potions Master was tempted to smile himself.

He fought that desire and struggled to begin a conversation. As often as they had conversed during the summer, it had always happened naturally; as such things usually do when two people live together. This was the first time they had actually sat down for the purpose of conversing. Snape realized his social skills were likely lacking, so he began the only way he knew.

"How is the school year coming along for you, Potter?"

Harry's smiled faded somewhat, but did not leave completely. "About what I expected, I guess. Hermione-" Harry cut himself off.

Snape grimaced, perturbed by what Harry had just said. Had the young man made this request simply to speak about Granger? Well, regardless of why Harry had requested this discussion, it was clear by the look on his face that her problems were troubling him.

"Continue. What has Miss Granger done that has affected you so?"

Harry grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, a tale-tell sign his apprehension. What did Harry have to be nervous about?

"She's just sad, still. You know-"

"Yes, but I believe we have already had this discussion."

Harry played with the hem of his robe with his fingers and nodded. He did not look up at Snape but sighed, beginning a thorough examination of a stray thread. "Oh, yeah. I'm alright, I think." Harry looked down at his hands and released the fabric now resting in his lap. "I mean, it was still really horrible; sitting down in the Great Hall with just Hermione, going up to my dorm to find a bed missing, going to classes without Ron. But I mean, I'm alright. I'm not, you know, going mental or anything."

Snape leaned back and gave an internal sigh of relief. At least Harry wasn't suffering unduly from Weasley's death.

"Then what about her has you so disturbed?"

Harry looked around the room, his eyes shifting, looking even more unsure of himself than he had before.

"She's been really-" Harry buried his face in his hands and spoke so quietly through his fingers that Snape had to strain himself to hear. "God, no matter how I say this it's going to sound awful."

In that moment, Snape wanted nothing more than to take Harry's face out of his hands and ask him what had him so troubled. He wanted to grab Harry's hands and hold them still, to not allow the object of his affections to suffer in his presence- he could not stand to see Harry suffer! But in the end all he could do was encourage the young man to speak.

"Talking about it will undoubtedly help, Potter," the Potions Master said at last.

Harry looked up through the fringe of his hair and nodded. "I know. It's not that I mind it so much it's just... She's been really... clingy lately."

Snape shifted in his chair. Clingy? What did that translate to exactly?

"She never leaves my side. We've always been close. But with Ron gone... I don't know. It's almost like Remus was right."

Snape stiffened at the mention of the werewolf. Lupin had been right about what? "I'm afraid you will have to speak in a language I understand. What was Lupin right about?"

Harry looked surprised, as though he had expected Snape to know instinctively what he was speaking of. "Oh, I never told you about that, did I?"

"Told me about what, Potter?" Snape growled.

Harry's neck turned red and he shifted in his seat. "He told me that I needed to be very sure of my feelings for Hermione. That it would be strange now that it was just the two of us, what with Ron being gone."

Snape lifted an eyebrow, not liking where this conversation was going. "And what prompted Lupin to give such advice?"

The redness spread from Harry's neck to his face and he averted his eyes. "Hermione... um... After Ron's funeral... She, um, kissed me."

Rage that Snape had never felt before overtook his entire being and he struggled not to allow it to take over his expression. He forced himself to sit still and not react to what Harry had just said.

Granger had kissed Harry? Had kissed his Harry? Had dared to touch what Snape-

Snape brought a hand to his temple in an attempt to squash down the thoughts that were coming to his mind. He had no claim over Harry, none at all. What right did he have to be angry at another's advances towards him?

He stilled himself and breathed calmly, attempting to force his anger out. It would not do to allow Harry to see him in such a state. He could never know-

"It was like kissing my sister."

Snape's head snapped up involuntarily at the beyond wonderful words that had just come from Harry's mouth. But while he couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief, he also realized that this was a short reprieve. Harry was a good and very handsome young man and it would only be a matter of time before some irritating chit of a girl took him away from the Potions Master.

"You did not enjoy her attentions?" he asked innocently, his voice betraying none of the rage he had felt only a moment ago.

Harry looked in Snape's direction for the first time since he had buried his head in his hands. "No, it's not that. It was just... strange. She hasn't tried anything like that since. It's not like I'm repulsed by her... It's just- She was my best friend's girl. And I really don't see her that way." Harry hung his head low and took his eyes off Snape, apprehension apparent in his voice. "Haven't really felt that way about any girl."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. An unwelcome feeling of hope began to grow in Snape's chest. Although he quickly quashed it down, he could not keep himself from asking, "Could it be that you simply do not prefer women in general?"

There was far too much hope in his voice, Snape belatedly realized. Why had he even asked that? Even if Harry did deign the question appropriate enough to answer, it was beyond improper and danced far too close to topics that Snape had forbidden himself to broach.

Harry frowned and looked directly into Snape's eyes. His face grew impossibly redder and he shook his head. "I, um... Thought about that but... I don't really think I like guys in general. I mean, I've never tried it or anything but... The idea of just any guy doesn't appeal to me."

Snape nodded and felt his heart sink low in his chest.

There, he thought. That was all you needed to know that Harry could never be yours. It was not as though he had ever truly entertained the possibility, but knowing that nothing would ever occur between them brought a sense of hopelessness that even he had never known.

He struggled to keep his face blank as he told himself that he should not be so surprised. As if life would ever be so kind.

A thousand cutting remarks came to the forefront of his mind. He hated that the young man had this kind of power over him. He had lived his entire life alone and he had been content until Harry had come and muddled everything up. Three months in his dungeons and Harry had completely undone Snape, just as he had known he would. He did not wish to hurt Harry but found he could not keep himself from lashing out.

"Your godfather would be eternally glad to hear you say that, Potter."

Harry's head snapped up. He looked horrified. "Sirius hated gay people?"

The Potions Master scoffed. "Well, he certainly hated me."

Snape's eyes widened.

Time stopped.

Oh, gods.

Why had he said that? What had possessed him to say such a thing? To reveal that fact about himself to Harry, who would no doubt be disturbed by such a revelation?

My kingdom for a time turner, Snape thought, attempting to overcome the cowardice that had him looking anywhere but Harry.

He refused to add cowardice to his many faults, however, and forced himself to meet Harry's gaze-

Only to find green eyes wide open in shock. Harry's expression was almost comical.

"Oh..." Harry said, eyes unblinking. "Um... I'm sorry. I didn't know he-"

Snape closed his eyes for just a moment, unwilling to watch as his tentative friendship with the young man he so loved slipped away for but the slip of the tongue.

It became all too apparent that Snape no longer had any control over himself where Harry was concerned. Not where it counted, at least.

Harry fidgeted in his chair and cast his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry he acted that way towards you. Did he really hate gay people?"

A sarcastic remark was on Snape's lip but he forced it back. Not wanting to drive Harry away further, Snape told him the truth. "No, I do not believe he did. Hatred of homosexuals is a long-standing tradition among purebloods but he was very friendly with the few gay members of the other houses. I believe my orientation was simply another avenue for him to belittle me. And do not apologize. It was a long time ago."

Harry shook his head, looking very upset. Snape watched as the young man fidgeted awkwardly in his chair.

He had done this. Harry had come to him to talk, seeking solace and comfort and Snape had shattered that. He had made the young man uncomfortable in a place that had once been a refuge for him.

"Um... Would you mind if I used your bathroom for a moment? Please?"

Snape looked over at the young man who so obviously needed an escape, and gave it to him. He waved his hand towards the door that led to his quarters and gave him leave to do as he wished.

The door closed quietly and Snape took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come and his necessary course of action.

****************

Harry quietly closed the door that connected Snape's office to his quarters before sprinting toward the man's bedroom, ignoring how good it would feel to simply luxuriate in the place that held several good memories, flying past the bed, and went flying into the bathroom.

He slammed the door behind him and put his back against it, trying to calm himself and failing.

Snape is gay.

Harry was panting, though not from his recent excursions. No, something far different was taking hold of him now. Something he hadn't felt in a long time and, if he was being honest with himself, had never felt as strongly as he was feeling it now.

Arousal.

Harry ran a hand over the front of his jeans and felt his cock stir at what he had just discovered.

Snape is gay.

Just the thought of it, said in the Potions Master's voice, made his cock throb even harder and Harry shifted himself with his hand. He held himself and tried to get his head about him.

He was sure he had never been this hard in his life. Harry tried to clear his mind; tried to understand what was happening.

It wasn't as if he hadn't been aroused before. He was a healthy seventeen year old and felt arousal the way any seventeen year old would. But he had to admit, at least to himself, that the deep depression he had fallen into over the past few years had taken its toll on his body.

It wasn't as though he had never masturbated, felt frustration, or attained an embarrassing erection in class. No, he was fairly sure he was totally normal when it came to bodily functions. But any bodily functions he'd had over the past few years had simply been reminders that while he might have been sick in his heart, he wasn't sick in his body.

But that's all it had been. His guilt over Cedric's and then Sirius' deaths had put a damper on his libido and while Harry's body functioned normally, he'd never felt something like this before.

Desire.

But why was he reacting this way? So Snape was gay? What did that mean for Harry? It wasn't as if the man was offering himself to him.

But what if he did?

Snape is gay.

Would he let Harry touch him? Was the rest of his body as elegant and long and slender as his hands and his neck and...

Harry's cock throbbed harder and he found himself unbuttoning his pants. He reached inside his boxers and took himself in hand.

What was the rest of Snape's body like? Would it be smooth like his hands were or-

Harry's thoughts broke off as he belatedly realized he was stroking himself in the Potions Master's bathroom, thinking about what Snape looked like with his clothes off.

Oh, gods.

Harry had no idea what was happening to him. How could he be so aroused by Snape's admission if he wasn't gay himself? Was it only the Potions Master that aroused him so?

Harry's cock twitched in his hands and answered for him.

He looked down, confronting the evidence of his feelings for Snape. His cock looked large and red in his hand. The foreskin was pulled back to reveal the weeping head; a tear-drop of pre-come posed to drip onto his fingers. He rubbed his thumb over it and pulled back the foreskin, stifling a groan as he felt arousal flow through his body to settle in his groin. So unexpected and new was the strength of his reaction that awe rose and surged in a tide equal to the physical sensations.

Oh, Merlin, yes.

Wait.

No, Harry thought. This is wrong. So wrong.

Harry tried to will himself to calm down. He looked longingly at the bath, wondering if a cold shower would help. But no, a shower would take too long and Snape would know he had used it and wonder why.

Harry's hand began to move over his throbbing erection even as his mind screamed repeatedly, 'I will not masturbate in Snape's bathroom. I will not masturbate in Snape's bathroom.'

Except he was. His hand was moving faster over his aching cock as he took a deep breath through his nose, allowing the smell of the Potions Master that lingered in the room to invade his senses. He thought of dark hair and dark eyes and pale, flawless skin as he stroked his erection.

Suddenly images from his time in the dungeons invaded his mind. He recalled the way he had knelt in front of Snape and how the Potions Master had caressed his hair, touching him in ways he had never been touched before. He thought of the man's lips and his hands and the way the long potion-stained digits would tap his mouth-

His knees nearly buckled as he came, almost painfully, into his hand. He bit his lip to maintain his silence and continued to milk his deflating cock.

Panting, he allowed himself to slide to the floor, pants around his thighs, hand full of his own semen.

What in Merlin's name was happening?

*****************************

Harry quickly washed himself off and straightened his clothes, making sure Snape's bathroom was as clean as it had been when Harry had entered it. He had to put off thinking of what he had just done until he had talked to Snape and had their lesson. The thought of returning to the man's office as though nothing monumental had just occurred seemed impossible, but Harry knew he had to do it.

He opened the door and entered Snape's office only to find it empty.

Confused, he wandered through the next door to the Potions Master's private lab and then through the next, leading into the potions classroom.

There he found Snape bent over a cauldron, not seeming to notice that Harry had just walked through the door.

"Um... Snape?" Harry felt beyond awkward as he stood there in the Potions Master's presence, still trying to forget that he had just been wanking in the man's bathroom.

"Your lessons are over for the day, Potter," Snape said in an icy voice.

Harry frowned and moved so that he was facing the Potions Master from the other side of his cauldron.

"What? But why? I thought we were going to-"

"Then you thought wrong. I have a potion to see to and it would be foolish to attempt an Occlumency lesson when you have no desire to do so."

Harry took a step back in confusion, taking in the man that had affected him so strongly.

Snape wasn't meeting his eyes. Although his face was bent over his cauldron, his back was as stiff as a board and his expression was cold. What had changed in the five minutes Harry had been gone?

"Um... Are you alright?"

Snape didn't look up to face him. "I am fine, Potter. Do not trouble yourself over your reaction to such an... unpleasant revelation. After spending so many years among purebloods I assure you I am used to it."

Harry frowned, confused. It was only after he replayed the last few minutes in his head that he realized what Snape was talking about. His eyes opened wide in shock as he realized what the Potions Master had thought had just happened.

"Wait, no. It wasn't like that at all-"

Snape looked up at him then. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, and he was looking at Harry with loathing. It was even worse than before this summer, worse than before he had gotten to know the man.

He was looking at Harry like he truly hated him. Not the Boy Who Lived, not James Potter's son- him. Harry.

"Spare me your false platitudes, Potter. I have no time for them and I assure you I have no interest in listening to you. I am the one who was at fault for assuming your muggle upbringing had spared you from pureblood prejudices. I see now that I was wrong. Now leave."

"But Snape, I-"

Snape moved quickly around the table and took Harry by the collar of his shirt. "I said I do not wish to hear it." He waved his wand and opened the door to the classroom, the little window shuddering with the force of its impact with the outside wall.

He forcefully escorted Harry out of the room, but Harry stuck his foot in the door before the Potions Master could close it.

"No, wait. Please, Snape. It wasn't like that. I-"

Snape pointed his wand at Harry and cast a wordless spell that pushed Harry out into the hallway, his back hitting the wall with a thud.

Snape then closed the door, but not before Harry stole one last glance at the man. There was pain in those dark eyes and Harry shuddered to think he had put it there.

Harry went back to the door and attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He tried every unlocking spell he knew but the door just wouldn't open. Resigned, he looked through the window and saw the man back at his cauldron, his posture slumped.

He looked like a man defeated.

Harry ran a hand over his face and mentally berated himself for being so stupid. How could he have done that? He knew the answer- that he had been so worked up by Snape's admission that he hadn't been thinking at all.

He looked back through the window only to find Snape was looking back. He pointed his wand at Harry again and the window blacked out.

Harry spun around and leaned against the door, willing himself not to break down.

Oh gods, what had he done?

More than anyone else in his life, Snape was the one he would rather cut out his own heart than hurt. And he had hurt him. The coldness he'd heard in Snape's voice and the look of betrayal in his eyes was burned into his memory, and was more than enough to show Harry the harm he had done. His heart was breaking and he wanted nothing more than to pound on the door and demand that Snape listen to him.

But then his common sense kicked in, and he realized that this wasn't the place to lose his head. Someone could come around the corner at any moment- down here, most likely a Slytherin- and with Harry's luck they would be more than happy to tell Voldemort that Harry had been on the outside of Snape's door begging to come in.

He forced himself out of that train of thought and willed himself to move away from the door; away from Snape and the dungeons. This time there was no consolation; no thoughts that he would be returning soon enough.

His body shuddered and his heart was heavy with the knowledge of what he had just lost.

********************

Draco Malfoy watched from behind a suit of armor in the potions hallway as Harry Potter composed himself and walked away. Gray eyes followed Potter up the stairs, and it was only when he was no longer in sight that Draco allowed himself to consider what he had just seen.

Severus and Potter had been trying to pass themselves off as friends since the beginning of the school year. Only the fight he had just witnessed hadn't looked like a fight between two friends. He had seen the pain in Severus' eyes as Potter had tried to explain away whatever stupid thing he had done to hurt the Potions Master.

It hadn't been the pain caused by a friend's betrayal. Severus had looked as though his heart had been broken by whatever fool thing the Gryffindor had done. Potter had looked like his entire world was falling apart.

Draco sneered. Apparently Potter had grown closer to Severus over the summer than Draco would have liked. Well, that just wouldn't do. Severus was his. He was meant to be his.

Draco had watched Potter come down to the dungeons for his 'lessons'. Whatever they were practicing, Potter wasn't doing very well if his attitude at the end of the night said anything. And that made Draco very happy.

But they always went into Severus' office, which was heavily warded. This was the first time he had been able to see them interact with each other.

And damn, had he seen. The interaction between the two men had been very revealing, even if they themselves hadn't known it.

A lovers' quarrel.

Draco gritted his teeth and fingered the piece of parchment in his pocket.

Draco had known the Potions Master all his life, and had been in love with him for the majority of it. And now after three months Potter was trying to move in on the man he had spent years waiting for?

Draco was not going to let that happen. He'd been patient long enough. He had waited long enough.

Draco left his hiding place and made his way back to his dorm. Severus would be his, and there was nothing that Potter or anyone else could do about it.