Always and Forever

Summary: Despite Harry's obvious advances, Severus is still twenty years his senior. Can they get away with a relationship? SS/HP

Warnings: Rated M for graphic male/male sex and sex with a minor. Mentions of self-mutilation and past Harry/Ron (neither are described in any detail).

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me and I am making no money.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. They really make my day. There was a bit of a mix up, I won't really be discussing the events in book four at all, because this fic is all and only about Harry and Severus's relationship. What I meant was that if you want to imagine for yourself that book four is going on at the same time, you pretty much can. That's just how little I go in to their daily lives and interactions with other people. This chapter is a bit sad, but it's not the end, so don't worry.

Always and Forever Part II

Severus watched the amber-colored scotch swish about in the glass as he twirled it. It looked almost golden with the light reflecting from the fire in front of him. Alternatively, the firelight on his face made him look sallow and gaunt, and did everything but hide the circles under his eyes.

He had been drinking a lot more as of late, telling himself it was only because his students had become more annoying and ignorant. He would never sincerely admit that it was what had happened with Harry that was tearing him up.

"PleaPleaseplease…" Harry whimpered, rocking his hips against Severus's. "Unh… unh… ProProfessor, please…"

He downed the rest of the scotch and set the glass on the small table beside him.

"Potter," Severus said sternly, "This can't happen again."

"…What?"

Leaning back slightly in his chair, he stared blankly into the crackling fire and he replayed what had happened over and over. Any inclination that the boy didn't want him, any feeling of his own that didn't long for him as well, anything that could make him feel better, he racked his memory for.

He knew he wouldn't find anything.

But at least it isn't causing me to drink myself into oblivion every night—I have all my other students to blame for that.

Severus stood and walked over to the dark wooden cabinet where he kept his liquor and glasses. He pulled down the decanter of scotch and filled his glass before setting the bottle down with a noticeably emptier 'plunk' than yesterday. Absently, he looked into the glass panes of the cabinet, his reflection flickering in and out with the firelight.

Harry only very recently turned fourteen years old. I'm thirty-four for Merlin's sake… How could I have even thought about doing those things with him, let alone…

He placed his face in his hand and exhaled shakily before combing his hand through his hair. Downing the scotch, he set the glass down and went to his bedroom for another night of fitful sleep.

The next day Severus didn't see Harry at any of the meals, and he didn't have him in a class until tomorrow. He saw that Hermione was sneaking food out with her, which was for the boy without a doubt.

I wonder if he's eating it though… No, no, he's fine; most likely avoiding me because he's so ashamed of what happened.

He didn't see Harry at the next day's breakfast or lunch either. In fact, he didn't see the boy at all until his class the following afternoon.

Harry shuffled into class and slumped into the seat at the very back of the classroom, never taking his gaze from the floor.

I know he's ashamed… He can't miss me…

Severus noted the bags under his eyes and the especially disheveled appearance. His chest felt weighted when he concluded it was all his fault.

But what else could I have possibly done?

He watched sadly as Harry continued to struggle through the rest of the class (He had been doing so well before…) until it ended and he dejectedly shuffled out.

Severus continued to spend his nights drinking alone and thinking about Harry. He ached at the positives—how devoted he seemed, how cute he was, his desperation and longing, how intense his brilliant green eyes could be, how he oozed sex… And then he felt shame.

Harry Potter is fourteen years old. He's a minor, hasn't even finished school… I'm the same age as his father…

He disgusted himself. He felt nausious. But then his thoughts turned to the positives again and he felt despair at all that he couldn't have. After many restless nights he came to a solution: shut Harry out completely and give up all hope—it was the only thing he could do.

Weeks past, and Severus succeeded in avoiding the boy. He skipped meals, ignored him in classes, and made a large effort to never pass him in the school's corridors. He even attempted to remove him from his thoughts, but this proved to be much more difficult than expected.

One night he sat in his comfy, brown chair, drinking and thinking about Harry like usual. On days like this he would often roam the dark hallways looking for rule breakers, but he didn't want to risk running into Harry. He felt a great deal put-off by this.

Who is a boy like Harry Potter to dissuade me from even my hobbies?

Decidedly, he used the now Godforsaken locating charm (which started this whole mess) on the boy, and was not a bit surprised to find him roaming the hallways, very much after curfew. He was still up by Gryffindor tower, however, so after making a simple map and attaching the locating charm to it, he set off down the cool, dark, dungeon halls.

His black eyes slowly adjusted to his equally dark surroundings as he sauntered along. He quieted his mind and soaked in his senses. He could feel the dungeon air, slightly heavy and damp, as well as his robes swishing around him. There was an organic scent: refreshing like water, but rotting like the dirt around an old log. He could hear the tapping of the rubber soles of his shoes on the stone floor, and the ripple of his robes billowing about him.

Despite these pleasant distractions, he couldn't keep his quieted mind from drifting to Harry.

His smooth tanned skin…

He could almost feel it: young, taut, with muscles rippling underneath.

His black hair…

It was so soft and so adorably messy… and just the right length to grab and pull…

His gorgeous mouth…

His tongue was so soft and wet and pliant, and his lips so cute and plush and pink…

And Merlin, his eyes…

He wouldn't be surprised if they glowed in the dark, they were so vibrant… And gazed so intensely and hungrily at him that he could do nothing but give in… and then when they were tearful, so pleading and desperate they broke his heart.

He looked at his make-shift map to see where the boy was; he was in an empty classroom about a hundred meters down the hall. In Severus's reverie they had both traveled quite a ways. He stared at the boy's name scripted above the little dot. It caused him such anguish to know that Harry was hurting too…

But truly I don't know if he's been hurting… I'm sure a boy his age would have moved on to something more exciting by now.

Disheartened, he sat down against the wall and stared sadly at the little dot. They had only been together once—and truthfully they hadn't gone very far—but Severus ached for him. His cock was hard and calling for attention because of his earlier thoughts, and he wanted more than anything to be deep inside Harry, to feel his warm body pressing against his, to plunder his cute little mouth, and to make him pant and moan in ecstasy.

Despite his longing, however, he knew it could never be. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself before opening his legs and undoing his fly. He traced his fingers up and down his erection, teasing himself as Harry would have done. As his grip grew tighter, his pace increased. His cock grew warmer and firmer in his hand, and he tried to imagine it was the Gryffindor making him feel so good.

He could never truly make himself believe it—he was too logical for that. He was improving though, having been pleasuring himself much more than usual as of late in addition to the drinking.

It wasn't because of Harry though—his students had been more annoying and frustrating recently and he needed to relax.

Remembering when he had caught Harry doing this very act in his supply closet, he thought of how sexy he had looked—pants around his ankles, shirt falling open revealing sleek stomach muscles, and how he pulled so desperately at his cock for release. And then the boy came, tired, flushed, and with an expression of bliss.

And when Severus recalled the sound of the boy calling his name s he came, the man climaxed as well, the pressure at last becoming too much. He twitched as his orgasm rolled through him before slumping back against the wall and muttering a lazy cleaning charm.

Despite the charm, he felt dirty.

He sighed and glanced down at the map again. Harry was still in the un-used classroom down the hall. How long had he been there now? He checked the time—it had been almost a half an hour since he noticed Harry was there, and Merlin knows how long he had been there before then…

He really didn't want any sort of contact or confrontation with the boy, but it worried him. Severus fretted over the options, but decided he really should check on him—he just wouldn't take the disillusionment charm off yet.

He crept down the hallway, treading as softly as possible. All of a sudden, when he was almost to the door of the classroom, Hermione Granger suddenly appeared out of midair and went inside.

Severus was thrown off for a moment, wondering if he was seeing things.

A fourth year shouldn't know the disillusionment charm yet…

He noticed that she had left the door fairly wide open, however, and took the chance and slipped inside.

Harry sat on a table to the far left side of the classroom, holding his knees to his chest.

Hermione's voice: "Let me see it."

Harry's voice: "I'm sorry…"

He was crying. Severus moved further into the room. Hermione was holding his hand.

"How could you do this Harry?" she said sadly.

"I've never felt like this before 'Mione." Harry said quietly.

Severus moved closer still. There was blood on Harry's hand.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" she said, tears in her eyes.

Harry's eyes shimmered in the dim light in the room. Tears began running down his face.

"It just hurts so much…" he sobbed, collapsing and holding on to Hermione desperately.

"It's okay…" she said, rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, I'm here."

"I just… I-I… I just ache for him all the time… it hurts 'Mione…"

"I know it's hard Harry… You can't do this to yourself though…"

Harry sat up and held his wrist in his hand. He stared down at the wound with an eirily empty expression.

"But it doesn't hurt as much."

Severus couldn't stand anymore. He left the room and went to bed, but never managed to fall asleep.

It was days later and Severus still felt sick with guilt. Harry was cutting himself because of him.

It really is entirely my fault...

He hadn't eaten yet today, but his stomach still wanted to empty its contents. He curled his body tighter into the fetal position and pulled his blanket over his shoulders—he hadn't gotten out of his bed yet. Thankfully it was a Saturday and he had no obligations.

The day had been spent curled up into himself, muscles tense with worry, guilt, disgust, and nausea. Then he would sleep fitfully for a few hours, only to awake again, tense with another emotion. If it weren't for the clock in the next room chiming softly every hour he wouldn't know that time was even passing. He tried to will himself out of bed, but his usually conclusive mind came up with no reason for why he should.

The clock chimed three times; Severus found himself wondering which 3o'clock it was.

Despite his disgust with himself, his hunger pains eventually broke his resolve and forced him out of bed.

He pulled on one of his floor-length black robes over the boxers he was wearing and charmed the dozens of buttons closed. He left his rooms and began a trek to the kitchens through the dark dungeon halls, pretending not to wonder where Harry was.

When he reached the kitchens he scratched at the pear in the portrait to open it and stepped inside. As he hadn't passed any windows, he demanded any leftovers from the most recent meal "and some coffee for Merlin's sake!"

The elves scuttled about and Severus began to wonder what time it was.

"Modus tempus," he muttered.

He was a bit surprised to find it was just after four in the morning. After eating some chicken and a roll with butter, he took his cup of coffee and left the basement.

The clicking of his boots was soon echoing through the entrance hall. He stood in the large room, feeling small but still at home. He glanced at a window at the top of a staircase to his left that curved out of view. It was still dark, and he felt the urge to go outside. He needed the freshness of the wind and the stars.

Slipping through the large front doors, he stepped out of the castle and into the refreshing night air. He took a deep breath—slowly in, slowly out—and began slowly walking to his left. His boots were accepted softly into the grass, and he took a drink of his coffee, feeling the warmth in his throat, then chest, then stomach. Soon he sadly emptied the cup and banished it to the kitchen, slipping his hands in the pockets of his robe.

As he walked along he passed a small alcove in the side of the castle in which the grass was pressed flat. Assuming it had been used as a gathering place for students earlier that day, he continued past it.

"Professor?"

Severus turned immediately, his wand poised. None other than Harry Potter blanched and stepped back.

"Potter! Why are you out after curfew? Do you like losing house points?" Severus shouted.

"No Sir, I just... I just couldn't sleep..."

"You couldn't sleep," Snape snapped sardonically. "So you thought you'd just roam the grounds in the middle of the night!"

"Well... what are you doing?" Harry asked tentatively.

Severus stared angrily at him. The moonlight highlighted the tops of his cheeks and his nose, touched bits of his dark, messy hair, and shown in his brilliant green eyes. He turned to leave, but a meek "Professor?" hindered him.

Harry nervously stepped up to him.

"I've missed you, Sir," he said softly.

Severus stood rigidly.

"I know."

Harry looked up at him for a moment in surprise and hope before his eyes became downcast in realization of what he must have seen.

"I just..." He reached up and placed his hand on the man's chest. "I can't stop thinking about you. Your hands, the way you walk, the way you move, your voice, how your skin felt, th-the way you looked at me... I—" His voice broke. "I tried so hard!" he cried, slumping down in the grass. "I tried so hard to forget you, but you were everywhere! In the Great Hall, in your classroom, in the hallways, in the stands at the Quidditch pitch—I couldn't do it!" Harry continued to sob in his hands and Severus knelt down to comfort him.

"Harry... there's nothing we can do," he said softly.

"How can you say that?" Harry said angrily. "I know you're hurting just as much as I am!"

"I know..." Severus whispered, looking away sadly.

"We have to do something. I can't do this anymore... I thought... I thought maybe if I took some sort of private lessons from you..."

"I've never done any remedial potions or independent studies in my life, and you're too young for an apprenticeship..." Severus stated. He stood and pondered on what they could do to hide a relationship.

Harry stood nervously, looking up at the brilliant man in hope.

They stood in silence.

After too long of a pause Harry broke down and clutched desperately at the man's robe, burying his face in his chest.

"Professor, you have to think of something!"

"I know Harry, I know," he said, holding the boy's waist with one hand and petting his head with the other. He pulled Harry's chin up to look at his face and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. That's when he saw Harry's scar.

"Occlumency..." he murmured.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Occlumency! It would work perfectly... He would certainly believe... And I'm the best—probably the only decent one even..."

"You have a plan?" Harry wiped his eyes.

"I can give you weekly Occlumency lessons," Severus said. "Occlumency, which only I excel in here, is the practice of blocking off your mind. It wouldn't be difficult to convince Albus that there is a connection to the Dark Lord through your scar, and that you must learn Occlumency before he discovers it. You could request lessons, and you would have no way of knowing that I would be the only one who could teach you."

"I could blame my being upset recently on nightmares about Voldemort!" Harry said, the sky slowly lightening.

Severus looked down at the boy, the soft dawn light creeping into his rich eyes.

"You should get some sleep before classes," he said, combing his hand through the boy's soft, mess hair.

Harry smiled.

"It's Sunday morning, Professor."

Severus smiled softly as quiet pink light spilled on the horizon.

Harry grabbed Severus's robes and, on his tip-toes, touched his lips to his teacher's chastely.

The boy's lips were so soft and fit so perfectly with his own. When Harry pulled away, Severus could still feel a tingle of where they had connected. He stared into green eyes that were sparkling with the fresh sunlight and the need for his feelings to be returned. Embracing, he pulled their mouths together again and again, Harry nipping at his bottom lip ever so often. Severus parted his lips and led the boy's tongue into his mouth—it was so soft and satisfying. The kiss ended reluctantly and Severus looked down and the boy in his arms. The new sunlight that felt cool and soft on his face glistened in the eyes of Harry Potter.

I don't think I've ever seen him so happy.

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