Reconciling Lily's Eyes

CHAPTER FIVE



Ginny is out on the hill behind the old shed where Mr Weasley keeps his Muggle things, staring up at the stars with the broom Harry gave her for Christmas clutched to her chest. She looks so peaceful in the twilight, Harry almost hates to interrupt.



"Nice night," he says finally, and slides down beside her.



She starts and drops the broom. "Harry!"



He smiles and looks up at the sky, pulling his knees to his chest. "I\'m sorry, Ginny. Things just got... messed up. I never meant to hurt you. Please believe me."



She touches his forearm as though she\'s not sure he\'s actually there. "Are you back then? To stay?"



Harry smiles and brings her fingers to his lips. "Well, I couldn\'t stay with that greasy git forever, now could I?"



"Oh, Harry!" she says, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Merlin\'s sake, I missed you so much!"



Harry hugs her back and presses his lips to her forehead. "I missed you too, so much," he lies.



"But you\'re really staying this time?" she asks, disbelieving.



"Of course," he answers, pulling her closer. Her skin is warm in the summer night air, soft and smooth beneath his fingers. "Where else would I go?" He hates it.



Ginny smiles, stars shining in her soft brown eyes, and kisses him.



"Marry me," Harry says against her lips.



Ginny makes a noise in the back of her throat and presses her lips hard against his, her hands at the nape of his neck. She pulls back and runs her sleeve across her eyes, and he thinks she might be crying. "What about a ring?" she asks, sounding choked.



"We\'ll go first thing tomorrow morning, and you can pick one out, any one you want," he tells her, hand at the small of her back.



She laughs, and he\'s sure she\'s crying now. "I want a really big one," she says between sniffs.



Harry kisses her cheek and thinks for the second time today he might vomit. "Anything you want, Ginny, it\'s yours."



She laughs again and stands up, pulling him to his feet. "We have to tell Mum and Dad," she says. "And write to Bill and Charlie and..." she beams and kisses him again, hands squeezing his.



He pulls her back, pressing her cheek to his, and then shakes his head. "Not tonight, Ginny. Let\'s... let\'s wait until morning, and then we can tell everyone, and get your ring, and... all that other wedding stuff. Alright?"



She looks confused for a moment, her brow furrowed, and he adds, "I\'m just so, so tired. It\'s been a really long year. Please."



Ginny smiles, kisses his cheek, and leads him up to her room. The house is still, though Harry thinks Ron must be sleeping in an odd position because he can hear his snores in the hallway. He leans against the poster of the Weird Sisters as Ginny shuts the door, rubbing at his head, which is throbbing.



"You look exhausted, Harry," Ginny tells him, voice soft and understanding. "Here, let\'s get your things off."



Some time later, he finds himself naked and laid out on top of her duvet, Ginny naked beside him and pressing her lips to the scar from the locket Horcrux on his chest, her arms wrapped around him and palms against the back of his shoulders. He threads his fingers into her soft hair and tells her again how tired he is, and reminds her about the ring, and she kisses his cheek and settles into stillness beside him.



Harry sighs, despising how much he likes her warmth and the feel of her breasts pressed to him, wishing for something else entirely but refusing to let himself think of it, and doesn\'t get to sleep for a very long time.



They are awoken the next morning by Molly Weasley\'s eardrum piercing shrieks.



"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU THINK--"



"Mum!" Ginny answers, tumbling out of the bed, naked as the day she was born. "Mum, it\'s alright--"



"AND YOU, HARRY POTTER, THOUGHT OF YOU AS MY OWN SON--"



Harry searches in vain to cover himself, as though it will make the fact he\'s been caught naked with the woman\'s daughter somehow less obvious, but remembers he\'s laying on top of the blankets. "Mrs Weasley--"



"IN MY OWN HOME, UNDER MY OWN ROOF, JUST UP THE STAIRS FROM--"



Ginny waves her arms, shaking her head and making a dive for her jumper. "Mum, it\'s fine! We\'re--"



"What\'s going on, Mum?" Ron asks, peeking his sleep-mussed head through the doorway. "What\'s all the noise ab-- argh, Ginny! My eyes!"



"OH, YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME, YOUNG LADY! AND YOU, YOUNG MAN--"



"We\'re getting married!" Ginny shouts.



Ron, who\'s been cowering in the doorway with his face in his hands, hazards a glance at them, and Mrs Weasley\'s mouth halts mid-sentence, hanging open like a Quidditch ring. "You\'re what, dear?" she says blankly.



Ginny is holding her jumper to her front, glaring, and Harry has a pillow in front of his crotch. "Getting. Married." Ginny repeats.



"You\'re what?" Ron says. "Harry, what\'s going on? What are you doing here? Are you better now?"



"I said--" Ginny starts, teeth bared, but her mother saves them from her fury.



"Married! Married!" Mrs Weasley shrieks, and is suddenly covering Ginny\'s face in kisses.



"Mum, Mum stop!" Ginny protests, trying to shove her away but to no avail.



"My baby girl is getting married!" Mrs Weasley exclaims, and terrifies Harry by actually leaping onto the bed and pulling him into an embrace. "Congratulations, Harry dear! I\'ve always thought of you as my own son, and now you actually will be!"



"Er, right," Harry agrees, holding the pillow very firmly in place.



"Oh, just wait until your father comes home, young lady!" Mrs Weasley exclaims with glee, kissing Ginny again and bouncing out of the room going on about all the relatives she\'ll have to contact and whether they can get the same tents they rented for Bill\'s ceremony and what shade of white will look best with Ginny\'s skin tone.



"When did you get here?" Ron asks Harry, standing just inside the door looking dazed. "You\'re not sick anymore?"



"Um..." Harry says, "could we talk about this when everyone\'s clothed, maybe?"



"Oh," says Ron, "oh, right," and walks dazedly out, bumping the side of his head against the door frame. "Sorry," he tells it.



Ginny decides upon the first Saturday in October, and the months go by in a blur. There are flowers to order, meals to cater, invitations to send, robes to purchase, Honeymoon plans to make, the entire Burrow to clean, and twelve hours per day of Auror training for Harry. On top of it all, Ginny receives word she\'s been accepted as Reserve Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, to begin practice a week after the wedding.



"You\'ll have to get my things moved to Grimmauld Place before the wedding, Harry," Ginny tells him the moment he walks in the door one night, her hair tied back with a bit of cloth, and a scrubbing brush and her wand in her hands. "Mum\'s too upset about me leaving to do, and I\'m not going to have the time. Oh, and tell George he\'s not showing up in that awful green jacket of his, I won\'t have it," she orders, and stalks off to wreak havoc upon the bathroom floor.



"Great," Harry says, "no problem," and proceeds to collapse on the sitting room sofa.



The drama the week before the wedding consists of Harry being hit by an unknown Spanish curse that compels him trill all his r\'s and Ginny hating her dress. The curse is eventually lifted, but the dress remains awful.



"Mum, I can\'t wear this!" Harry hears her telling Mrs Weasley through the closed door of her bedroom, though he\'s not supposed to know anything about it. "It looks terrible on me!"



Mrs Weasley makes conciliatory noises. "It will look beautiful on you, Ginny, just like it did on the mannequin. You\'re just panicking--"



"Mum, no! It\'s hideous! I look like a deranged ballerina! A fat one!" Ginny exclaims, and Harry moves quickly away from the door before they mystically sense his presence, open it, pull him inside, and ask if he agrees. Because he thinks disagreeing with Ginny about anything at this point would be a really bad idea, and it\'s far too late to order a new dress.



The flowers are also an issue because their exact shade of purple ends up not matching the napkins. Harry pretends he thinks they look identical to avoid having to charm each individual blossom to match. He hates purple anyway. It turns out the bridesmaid dresses are also "too flashy," a fact which sends Ginny into a panic for some unknown reason. What does that mean anyway, "too flashy?"



One unforeseen side effect of the insane mess of the wedding plans is that Harry rarely has any time to spend alone with his bride to be. It should maybe be upsetting, but it\'s not; in fact, it\'s rather a relief, as he\'s been feeling really awkward thinking of sleeping with her again after so long. He\'s sure it\'s just nerves though, and exhaustion, and everything will work out fine in the end.



Married people hardly ever have sex anyway, right?



Right?



He can\'t seem to shake the uneasy feeling though, and he sits awake nights really wishing Professor Lupin were still alive. He always had a way of saying things that Harry understood, and Harry thinks Tonks seemed a bit like Ginny. He thinks of the Resurrection Stone, and feels a sudden compelling urge to comb the Forbidden Forest for it. Since that\'s not an option though, Harry attempts to broach the subject with the only marginally reasonable married person he knows.



"Nervous about the wedding night?" Bill asks, his scars pulling at the edges with his sly grin.



Harry\'s face was red before, but he\'s quite sure it\'s now turned a nice, brilliant crimson. "Er… a little…"



"Don\'t worry about it," Bill says, clapping him on the back. "It\'s just one night. Now I know this is my sister we\'re talking about here, but this is the same advice I\'d give anyone--"



"It\'s not," Harry interrupts, wincing, "it\'s not so much the wedding night as… the entire marriage. Thing. You know, every night. Or, I mean, not every night, but…"



Bill frowns. "Again, this is my sister we\'re talking about, so I\'d appreciate if you spared me the details, but… you have done it before, right?"



"Right!" Harry yelps, face burning. "Right, yes, of course I have-- I mean, we have-- I mean-- right!"



Maybe if he asks really nicely, he can convince Bill to Obliviate them both when this conversion is over. Or maybe right now. He\'s decided this was a really, phenomenally bad idea.



Bill eyes him suspiciously. "You going to be alright?" he asks. "You\'ve been under a lot of stress lately, maybe you should--"



"No," Harry says, "no, it\'s just… you always hear that after you get married… does it really…" he clears his throat, and says hopefully, "happen less often?"



Bill laughs and gives his shoulder a squeeze. "If it does, it must take a while to set in. I haven\'t had any complaints. None at all. Believe me!"



"Oh," Harry squeaks, "oh, good," and is so terribly flummoxed that he stumbles away before he can even think to ask about the Obliviation.



He sets about resigning himself to the situation, which is more difficult than he imagined it would be. He doesn\'t realize he\'s all but locked himself in George\'s room for two days straight when Hermione bustles in and scolds him.



"Harry, there\'s a lot of work to be done. If you want this wedding to happen, you\'re going to have to help out," she announces, hand on her hip. She is wearing something fuchsia coloured, frilly and awful.



"Hermione, what the hell are you wearing?" he asks from where he sits perched on the bed, throwing her a disgusted look. "That\'s not your outfit for the dinner tonight, is it? It\'s atrocious."



Hermione throws him a disgusted look. "This is my bridesmaid dress, I\'m trying it on one last time to make sure it fits right. Ginny hates them. I think she hates everything right now. Now come out of here and give us some help with the tents."



"Hermione," Harry says, "what if I changed my mind?"



Hermione sighs exhaustedly and fusses with a horrid fuchsia ruffle. "You haven\'t changed your mind, Harry."



"But," he insists, "but what if I have? What if I decided this whole thing was a horrible idea and I just want to go back to…"



But what does he have to go back to? Not Privet Drive. Not Hogwarts. Not Salem. Not Grimmauld Place all alone with Kreacher offering him sponge baths. There\'s nothing, he realizes with a feeling of despair, nowhere he can go back to. There is nowhere to go but forward.



Hermione sighs and sits down beside him. "You\'re just getting cold feet, Harry. Come tomorrow, you\'ll be fine. It\'ll be the happiest day of your life, I promise."



Harry shakes his head, which is hanging down and giving him a nice view of his messy, unchanged robes. "I don\'t think so, Hermione. I just… it feels like a mistake. I mean, what if I can\'t do it? What if it turns out it\'s not what I want after all, or even if I do want it, it\'s not what I need? What then?"



"Harry, stop second guessing yourself, please," Hermione says, a soft hand on his shoulder. "You love Ginny, and she loves you, she has since the first day she met you. What more could you possibly need?"



"Maybe if I just…" Harry sighs and picks a piece of lint off his sleeve, thinking Ginny loved him long before then. "I just wish I knew he was alright. My owls all come back unopened. What if he\'s miserable and I just leave him there, all alone, while I\'ve got married and have my family and... I just don\'t trust the French, Hermione. They wear berets and eat smelly cheese, for God\'s sake!"



Hermione sighs, and her hand falls to her lap. "Is that what you\'ve been sitting here all this time worrying about?" she asks.



"Well," says Harry, "well, yes. I mean, I guess so. Maybe. I mean, I don\'t know."



Even without looking up, Harry can tell Hermione\'s rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you should\'ve said something. He sent me an owl just last week saying France was awful, Beauxbatons students were just as dim as any other and the wedding was going to be a ridiculous farce. You don\'t have to worry, he sounded perfectly content."



"You don\'t…" Harry swallows, and takes a calming breath, his heart pounding in his chest, "do you happen to still have the letter? By any chance? Possibly?"



Several moments pass in silence, and then Hermione stands up. "I expect you outside and helping in five minutes, Harry," she says, and leaves him.



Harry charms the doors and windows shut with every spell he can think of, uses a handy jinx plus a couple of special wards he learned at Auror training to block anyone from Apparating in, and climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and determined to stay as long as it takes to get a look at that letter. He yells, "Go away!" unconditionally to Ron, Mrs Weasley, two of Ginny\'s random bridesmaids and anyone else who tries to talk to him.



Eventually, Ginny herself bangs on the door. "Unlock this door right now, Harry Potter!" she shouts. "I\'m not kidding!"



"Go away!" he tells her.



"We are getting married tomorrow," she shouts, "and you need to help with the tents! Get your arse out here right now!"



"No! Go away!" he shouts back, pulling the covers up over his head.



"Open the bloody door!" she screams, and starts kicking it.



"Not until Hermione gives me the fucking letter!" he answers.



Ginny gives the door one last sound kick and then goes storming down the stairs. Harry hears her screaming something, but the sound is blissfully far away and unimportant. The silence is so welcome, in fact, that Harry is nearly asleep when Hermione knocks lightly on the door.



"Harry," she says in a quiet voice. "Harry, you need to come out now."



"Give me the letter, and I\'ll think about it," he tells her.



"I\'m not giving you the letter, Harry," she says.



He sniffs. "Then I\'m not coming out. I want the letter."



"Harry…"



"Letter," he orders. "Now."



"I don\'t have it. Harry, listen… the rehearsal begins in a couple of hours. Why don\'t you just rest here until--"



"Fuck off."



Hermione sighs. "Harry, if you come out for dinner, I\'ll… I\'ll tell you where he is. But I\'m not saying a word until--"



She jumps when the door swings open and Harry appears in front of her. "He told you where he is?"



"Yes, for emergency purposes, but I will not mention a word of it until after dinner, and then only if you\'ve behaved yourself. This saving people thing of yours is entirely out of hand, Harry," she scolds.



He is so relieved he could weep. "Oh thank you, Hermione," he tells her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me."



"I think it means you need to take a shower. You really stink, Harry!" she says, shooing him away.



He laughs and kisses her cheek, a weight taken off his shoulders, and heads to the toilet.



Dinner goes by in such a blur, he couldn\'t remember it if he tried. He walks someone down an aisle somewhere and practices vows about something, and presumably eats and behaves himself well enough that no one scolds him, but all he knows is that Hermione\'s going to tell him where Snape is.



He wonders what sort of school Beauxbatons is, if the professors\' rooms are nice, if the food is good, if there are lots of books, if Snape\'s hair has gotten greyer, if he\'ll still regard Harry with that cold look of disdain that sends tingles up his spine…



Harry\'s so excited thinking about visiting that when Charlie reaches out to shake his hand after the meal, Harry actually kisses him. George is in hysterics and asks if he couldn\'t have one as well, keeping it in the family and all, and Harry kisses him too, full on the lips because really, why not? And then, just to be fair of course, he kisses Bill as well. Ron is nowhere to be found.



"I\'ve been good," Harry tells Hermione as the last of the guests are leaving. "I\'ve been entirely well behaved and pleasant. I even snogged the in-laws."



Hermione makes a noise that can\'t decide whether it wants to be amused or disturbed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a slip of parchment. Harry snatches it hungrily, memorizing the address in case she tries to take it back.



"Are you satisfied now?" she asks. "You\'re going straight to bed, right?"



Harry beams, stuffs the parchment in his pocket and runs off to kiss Ginny goodnight.



"You\'re going to bed already? It\'s still early…" she says, pulling him close, "and everything\'s all prepared…"



Harry shakes his head and kisses the tip of her nose, feeling giddy. "It\'s bad luck to see each other before the wedding," he tells her.



"That\'s only the day of," she corrects. "It\'s fine tonight. And I\'m so tense, I could really, really use a bit of--"



"The way I\'m feeling, we won\'t have finished by then," he says, stepping smartly away. "Best if we wait until tomorrow, Ginny. Now if you don\'t mind, I\'m going to go lock myself up before I\'m arrested for public indecency with Percy."



She laughs and blows him a kiss, suspecting nothing.



Aix-en-Provence is still warm even at nearly midnight when Harry arrives. A tan brick building with suspicious looking gargoyles poised beside the front steps, Beauxbatons lies only a half mile from the centre of town, two left turns and a back alley trek from the old Place de l\'Hotel de Ville.



The disgruntled old Gatekeeper, or whatever she might call herself, does her best to shoo him away in her quick, biting French, motioning toward the clock above the entryway and the rollers in her hair in turn when she finds he doesn\'t understand her. He eventually gains entry by repeating Severus Snape and Harry Potter and pointing to his scar. He is left in the entryway, which is small and cosy and lit by a sparse arrangement of candles.



When the woman comes back for him, she says "Alors venez," and motions for him to follow. He hopes that doesn\'t translate as, "I will strike you lifeless for waking me at such an ungodly hour, English dog," because it has that tone.



He\'s not sure whether he\'s shocked that Snape is still awake and fully dressed behind the desk in his classroom at this hour, looking prepared for his next class to walk in the door at any moment; if that explains the odd jolt that runs through him. After a moment of regarding the man, who is bent over a large, mouldering tome, he decides not.



"Professeur," the Gatekeeper woman says politely, and Snape nods.



The woman shuffles out, leaving Harry alone with Snape, who has yet to acknowledge his presence. It\'s hard to see from across the room, but he looks alright. Well, he looks awful, but in a normal Snape sort of way. Even in the candlelight, Harry can see his hair is noticeably greyer than before, his skin maybe a bit paler, but besides that, he looks about the same.



He looks amazing.



"I\'m getting married tomorrow," Harry tells him, and his voice breaks the silence like one of Dr. Filibuster\'s fireworks.



Snape pauses over his book. "If you are expecting my congratulations, your intentions are as misplaced as ever."



"You gave Hermione this address. Why?" Harry asks.



"I believe the true question would be, why did Miss Granger give it to you?" he states, flipping a page.



Harry sighs and takes a few steps further into the room and looks around, not sure what to say next. The interior of the building gives off an air of comfort, built in wood not stone, painted in light tones with large wooden beams traversing the ceilings. Snape\'s awful paintings are hanging on the walls. "Do you like it here?" Harry asks.



Snape snaps the book shut. "What do you want, Mr Potter?" he asks tiredly, fingers pressed to his forehead and eyes closed. This seems to be a favourite pose of his when it comes to dealing with annoying people he sometimes sleeps with, and Harry can\'t help but smile.



"I wanted to invite you--"



"Do not waste my time, Mr Potter," Snape orders.



Harry sighs. "I was worried about--"



"Again, Mr Potter. The truth or Irène shall escort you back out. Do not let the hair rollers mislead you, she is more than capable."



"I missed you," Harry says. He swallows hard and adds, "And I think I\'m making a huge mistake."



"Your mistake was in coming here tonight," Snape tells him, removing his hand from his temple but not opening his eyes. "You would be well advised to return immediately before anyone is the wiser."



"But I want to be here, with you," Harry insists. "I\'m not the same person I used to be, Professor. I did what you said, but nothing\'s the same… It\'s like I\'m marrying someone I don\'t even know anymore!"



"I am frankly disgusted that the most Gryffindor of Gryffindors is such a coward," Snape says, now looking coldly down at his book.



Harry bristles. "It\'s not cowardice! It\'s not cowardice and it\'s not cold feet, and it\'s not anything anyone is saying it is! I want to marry her! I do! I want a wife and a family and happiness, I always have! It\'s just… what I want and what I need are two different things now."



"They shall become one once more, with time," Snape says quietly.



"No, they will never become one ever again, ever!" Harry insists. "You\'re one of the most brilliant men I\'ve ever met, why can\'t you understand?"



At this, Snape finally looks up, expression guarded, eyes unreadable. "And what exactly, pray tell, am I meant to understand?"



Harry takes a deep breath. Maybe he didn\'t fully know what he intended to do when he came here, but he does now. Because this is his last chance. He swears to himself that if he fails, he will never look back because he will know he\'s done everything within his power. He will marry Ginny and be happy and never think of what might have been. But he has to do this first, and do it right.



"I followed you to America because… well, for a lot of reasons. I wanted to protect you, and learn from you, and understand you. I wanted to talk about my Mum with you, and hear stories like Sirius and Remus told me about my Dad, and tell you how much it means to me what you did," Harry says, and Snape remains silent, staring at the top of his desk.



"But along the way," Harry continues, "that changed. I mean, it changed… but it didn\'t. I still want to protect you-- even if you say you don\'t need protecting-- and I admit I\'d still like to hear those stories. Everyone thinks I\'m damaged and I\'ve been hiding with you this whole time to try to escape reality, and you pretend you believe it, but I know you don\'t. Yeah I needed a bit of a break, but I\'m stronger than that, and you know it. I left to be with you, I stayed there to be with you, I sat for weeks without setting foot outside our flat because I didn\'t want to miss seeing you walk in the door.



"I don\'t want my old life back, Professor. Not because I\'m running away, or because of my saving people thing, or even because I was once about three seconds away from shagging Draco Malfoy up against a rack of joke wands. I know things aren\'t perfect between us, and sometimes even the sex is horrible, but I\'m trying, Professor, I\'ve been trying so hard to understand all this and make things right, and… if I could only have one thing, that\'s what I\'d want, just that." He sighs and steps up to Snape\'s desk, kneeling down with his fingers on the top of the wood. "Do you have any idea what I\'m trying to say?"



"Perhaps you should state things more concisely, Mr Potter," Snape says, looking distinctly uncomfortable, "as it sounds to me like so much gibberish."



"Concisely, right. Perfect. So… I\'m in love with you," Harry tells him, "and I want to spend the rest of my life with you proving it."



It feels like absolution, and damnation, and everything perfect and wrong all rolled into one. So that\'s it, Harry thinks, relieved. I\'ve done it. This is what I needed to do, this is all I could do, and now it\'s over. Now it\'s up to Snape.



For a moment, the man only stares, dark eyes looking out blankly from between their curtains of black and grey. Then, comprehension registers.



"Have you lost your FUCKING MIND?!" he bellows.



Harry shrugs. "Probably."



Snape throws his book at him. "In love with me! IN LOVE WITH ME!" he rages. "Have you any idea how completely insane that sounds!? IN LOVE WITH ME!!"



"Don\'t forget the wanting to spend the rest of my life with you part," Harry reminds him, rising from the floor and rubbing at the knot on his head where the book hit. "You should definitely yell about that too."



Snape makes a strangled noise and throws another book, though luckily Harry dodges it this time. "This is insanity. Sheer, monstrous insanity! I will not have it!"



"I know you care about me, Professor," Harry says very calmly. "You wouldn\'t have put up with me living with you, or told lies to Hermione, or protected me from myself, if you didn\'t. You wouldn\'t have given Hermione the address so that I could get it from her. And you definitely wouldn\'t have slept with me. I know you want me to stay."



Snape looks ready to strangle him where he stands. "Get out!" he hisses. "Get out!"



"Hmm, let me think about that," Harry says. "Nope."



Snape pulls himself up to his full height, chest puffed and chin thrust upward in a way that would\'ve terrified Harry five or six years ago, and regards him with the most hateful of glares. "Mr Potter, if you thought for one instant that this overture had any chance of success whatsoever, you are even more of a fool than I could ever have imagined!"



"No, that\'s where you\'re wrong," Harry answers. "I\'d have been a fool not to try. What do I have to lose? What do you have to lose? Is your pride really worth this? We could be together! We could live here or at Grimmauld Place or Spinner\'s End or wherever the hell you want, and every night--"



"Every night, I could pretend you are someone you are not," Snape says. "Is that what you want with your life, Mr Potter, is that your grand plan? To become another man\'s fantasy of dominating his greatest rival, of looking into the eyes of his--"



He breaks off, turning his back, and Harry leans toward him across the desk.



"I don\'t care," Harry says in a quiet voice. "I\'ll be anyone you want me to be because underneath you\'ll always know who it is that\'s giving that to you. You don\'t have to feel guilty about it. You want to come all over my Dad\'s face after a long day at work? Fine. You want to wake up and gaze into my Mum\'s eyes every morning? I can give you that. I want to give you that! I… I need to. Please."



"And you see this as acceptable?" Snape says after a long pause. "As… normal?" He swallows hard and adds, "Loving?"



"Sure," Harry responds with a shrug Snape doesn\'t see. "Why not?"



Snape says nothing, his narrow back still as though he\'s not even drawing breath.



"Please, Professor. Say I can stay, and I\'ll never leave your side, I swear it on my soul," Harry says, because he knows now it wasn\'t his soul that felt lost before, it was his heart, and if it sounds like begging, he doesn’t care. "One simple word, and I\'ll call it all off-- the wedding, everything. She’s not where my heart is. It\'s you I want, every day until I die. Please."



When Snape turns around, there is that look in his eyes, the one Harry doesn\'t understand but likes, but his words are flat and cruel. "There is no one simple word, Mr Potter. There never was, and there never will be. You are welcome to wait here all night, or for the rest of your life, in hopes of hearing it, but you will not. Happiness, family, love… dreams of those things ended for me long before you were born. There is no word, Mr Potter. At least, none that I can give you," he says. "Now go home."



Harry wants to scream and cry and beg, cling to Snape\'s robes like a spoilt child, but he knows what little good it would do him. So instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to still the pounding in his chest. "The ceremony starts at three tomorrow. I have time. I know you\'ll change your mind and realize I\'m right. I know it. Because I am, and you want me just as much as I want you."



"And if I do not?" Snape asks, face schooled to blankness.



"You will," Harry answers, "I know you will."



But would he?







TBC