Until Last Night

II.

Harry had to take four portkeys to get to Hawaii. One from London to New York, then from New York to a place called Austin, from Austin to San Francisco, where he finally landed on Hawaii's Big Island. From there, he took a boat to Maui. By the time he arrived, he felt as though he'd been playing quidditch in the dead of August, and had been on a broomstick for three days straight. He fell into the first bench he saw, relieved to finally put down his travel bag and let it rest in the sand beside him, and realized that jeans, a pullover, and trainers, wasn't the best planned wardrobe for the trip. He stared, exhausted, across a span of satiny beige interrupted by a crashing wave of the rippling velvet sea. It didn't look like this back home. The water father north was a stoic sort of blue, the clear aqua was near-blinding by comparison. This Maui, even this little corner of it, was a wash of vibrant colors so stunning that it made his head spin. Then again, that could just be the four port keys he took over a span of 2 hours to get here. Either way, he had to admit, it was pretty. It beat the hell out of the dull gray of early winter, and it was a massive improvement on the constant fog and rain. Now that he was here, Harry could see the appeal. Maybe not forever, but for a while, it would be nice to just be surrounded by blue skies, basking in the warm sunlight, and busily not thinking. A vacation was very much in order.

He was pulled from his thoughts soon enough, by a dark shadow blocking the sunlight. For an instant, he imagined it was Snape, glowering down at him, and sneering, 'what in Merlin's name are you DOING, Potter?' Wait a damn second, it WAS Snape! Harry blinked at the man, towering over him, looking very out of his element in a white linen shirt and khakis. "Go home, Potter," he drawled.

"S-Snape!" Harry sputtered, scrambling to his feet.

Snape grabbed his bicep. "Keep your voice down, you fool boy," he sniped as he pulled the poor Potter to his feet. Harry barely managed to grab his bag by the strap before the older man started dragging him off into the relative seclusion of a nearby rock formation.

"H-how did you know I...?" Harry began breathlessly.

"Firecalls are quicker than portkeys," Snape answered flatly.

"Draco called you."

"Yes, when he should have been enjoying the birth of his new baby," Severus said tightly. "What do you want?"

Harry pulled himself to his full height, which startled Severus a bit – he was still of no impressive stature, but it struck Severus suddenly how much he had grown since the war had ended. He no longer bore any of the markings of the arrogant young boy he remembered. Well, not the 'young' or 'boy', at least. He still appeared to be plenty arrogant, or at least presumptuous enough to come all the way here uninvited. Severus wasn't sure there was much of a difference.

"I..." Harry sputtered. He hadn't planned this far ahead. He didn't know what to say. 'I don't know' and 'I missed you' wouldn't fly with Snape. He needed the real reason, and he wasn't even sure himself what that was.

"Spit it out. I haven't got all day to waste with you."

"Don't you?" Harry answered daringly. "You have some pressing obligation to get to in your flip flops?"

"I may," Severus answered tightly.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the still prominent scars that peeked out of the white color of Snape's shirt when he spoke and moved his head. When Severus realized what he was looking at, he let go of the firm grip he belatedly realized he still had on Harry's wrist and turned away. "Just leave me in peace," he said. His words came out as a sigh.

"I can't," Harry answered thoughtlessly.

Snape spun about with a look of mild distress. "Why in the bloody hell not?!" he demanded.

Harry's answer was impulsive. "Because there's no peace for me in a world without you, you arsehole!"

Snape was stunned speechless. Harry needed a moment to wrap his head around his own words, too. That's when he understood. Snape was a prat. He was a temperamental, hard to understand, pompous arsehole with an intellectual superiority complex, but he was also sexy, with a hidden sort of charm he didn't even know himself that he had. He still made Harry's pulse race, his head swim, his palms sweat, and his throat dry. He grabbed the front of Snape's shirt and pulled him close, burying his face into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of the man he missed – he realized – like he'd miss air, if he didn't have it. "Just let me stay with you," he begged. "Just for a while."

"I came here to get away from you, Potter," Snape sighed. "And all the drama and fanfare that trails in your wake."

"I want to get away from that, too," Harry pressed on. "I don't want any of it." 'I just want to be near you.' He wanted a little more than that, if he was honest with himself, but he doubted Snape would be open to any kind of affection from him. As long as he could stay by him, just until he got his head on straight, that would be enough, wouldn't it?

Snape's first instinct was to push him away, accuse him of playing some kind of cruel joke, and be done with it. But, he hesitated. He knew, from the way Harry was clutching his shirt, and from the fact he'd stalked Draco into revealing his location, and most of all, from the fact he'd actually come all the way here, what was going through Harry's head. He understood it probably better than Harry did himself. And, just for an instant, he thought of how he would feel in that situation. He often had felt just that way – though in retrospect, Lily's reactions tended to be the direct result of his own foolish actions. And so, much to both of their shock, Snape conceded. "I was about to make dinner. Get this all our of your system tonight. Tomorrow, you're leaving."