Outside The Fire

Outside The Fire

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or events that appear in the book series or movies. If I did, I would already know that Snape is going to turn out to be a wonderful person in the end and that they all (except Old Voldie) live happily ever after. Oh, I would also live in a very large mansion (with a hot tub) and drive a really nice car. (Since I am not getting a single red cent, I’ll just keep reading about JKR’s house, etc.) JKR, various publishing guru and a movie mogul group own absolutely all rights to this wonderful universe. They did not give them permission to play. The characters just stopped over for tea, and well, I convinced them to get into a little trouble. Don’t worry Ms Rowling, I’ll have them back by curfew (I hope).

Song included here is “The River” sung by Garth Brooks on “garth brooks / the hits”. The album is under license to Capitol Nashville of Nashville, TN.

WARNING: I wish to remind everyone that this is a slash story (men are, or will be in love with other men). If you have any problems with this, please DO NOT read this. I cannot be held responsible if anyone’s sensibilities get injured. You have been warned.


Chapter 1: A Musical Malady


Harry sat quietly as the car raced through the streets of London. He had never learned to drive himself. Never saw much reason. However, she had. ‘Why didn’t I learn how to drive?’ He asked himself over and over as light telephone, and electrical poles dove out of their way.

She wasn’t very good at driving, Harry had to admit. But hey! Who was he to complain? Harry apparated everywhere. She, on the other hand, thought that driving was exhilarating. He could see how she found it so exciting. He has flying, she has driving.

They darted in and out of traffic at a rate of speed that certainly should have gotten the attention of the muggle police. Grinning like the fool Harry knew her to be, she had proudly announced to him that the muggle police ‘don’t notice anything, do they’. Harrsumesumed it was similar to the night bus. There had to be some type of charm on the car that allowed then to go unnoticed.

A very large and red phone boxed suddenly dove out of the way of their car as Harry heard, “Harry! Har-ry, are you even listening to me?” Actually, no, he was not.

“Um. Oh, I am sorry,” he said with a weak smile.

“I was saying,” she continued. “You received an invitation to the end of year gala at Hogwarts. Ya going?” She asked casually.

had had never gone before, and she knew that. Why on earth would she think that he would want to go this year? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes as she took a sharp corner.

“I really think that you should go,” she said. Harry just gave her a ‘stay out of my business’ look.

This did nothing to halt or even slow down her insistence. “It’s been to long Harry. You should go. This avoidance is not the way to handle anything!” She took another corner at such a rate of speed that the car used only two wheels to make it through the turn.

“You really need to learn how to drive!” Harry snarled at her. “And how to stay out of other peoples affairs.”

“Well that’s just it isn’t it?” She snapped at him. Her cheeky smile never left her face. “You don’t have any affairs!” Her eyes twinkled.

Harry glared at her. He wasn’t really angry at her. He could never really be angry at her. He just wanted her to stop this line of conversation, or interrogation, or whatever it had become.

She seemed to acquiesce since she asked him to pull her CDs from the glove box of the car. Harry leaned forward and removed the black case.

“Which one?” He asked.

“There is a new one in there,” she smiled at him. “It is in the first sleeve.”

Harry glanced down at the CDs in his hand. He unzipped the case and opened it to the first CD. ‘Garth Brooks and others’ was written in her tidy scrawl across the top of the CD. Harry rarely asked anymore about her music. She had successfully introduced him to so many new sounds in music that he simply could not keep up.

He removed the CD from the sleeve and held it up for her to glance at. She nodded at it. He popped it into the player. A low melodious sound began to waft from the car speakers. Then a guitar entered into the melody followed shortly by a deep male voice. Harry tensed a little. For some reason this voice reminded him of someone. He listened to the words.

“You know a dream is like a river,
ever changing as it flows.
And a dreamer’s just a vessel,
that must follow were it goes.”

Harry allowed the voice to wash over him.

“Trying to learn from what’s behind you
and never knowing what’s in store.
Makes each day a constant battle,
just to stay between the shores.”

He allowed his mind to drift off to other places and other times.

“And I will sail my vessel
till the river runs dry.”

He never noticed the tear that slid down his cheek.

“Like a bird upon the wind,
these waters are my sky.”

But she did.

“I’ll never reach my destination,
if I never try.”

She smiled softly.

“So I will sail my vessel
till the river runs dry.”


That night Harry’s dreams were filled with memories and fantasies. The haunting music with its deep melody drifted continuously through his dreams. Guiding him to all the places it wanted him to go.

The next morning Harry stumbled into the kitchen. Lexi was already awake and cooking their breakfast. Harry dropped into a chair and grunted at her.

“Coffee,” was all he said before his head landed on the table top. “Must have coffee.”

She smiled at him. “Well good morning sleepy head!” She sang, way too cheerfully.

Harry looked up and scowled at her. “Coffee,” he grunted again.

She smiled again and slid a cup of hot, black coffee onto the table in front of him. Music was not the only thing that she had managed to introduce him to.

“Looks like someone woke up one the wrong side of the bed this morning,” she said in that horrible sing song voice.

Harry looked up again and glared at her long enough to pick up the cup and begin gulping the black gold from the too small cup. “We need to buy mugs,” he grunted out around another gulp. “Big mugs,” another gulp. “Great big mugs.” He took the last drops of the coffee from the cup and presented it to her for more. “These cups are too small.” She laughed softly at him as she refilled his cup.

“And,” he stated grouchily, “I still do not understand what that stupid saying means.”

She chuckled louder at him. She knew that laughing at him when he was like this was never a great idea. She bit her lip and watched him.

“So did you sleep well?” She ventured to ask him.

“Do I look like I slept well?” he snarled at her.

“Well at least it is the week end.” She smiled as she turned back to the bacon she was frying on the stove. “You can go back to bed and have a lay in.” With her back turned to him, she smiled ‘like the cat that ate the canary,’ she thought to herself. She giggled softly and began to hum.

The entire weekend went the same. Harry went back to bed and tried to sleep in. His dreams were again filled with memories and fantasies. Always, the same memories. Always, the same damnable fantasies. He would awaken feeling just as tired as when he had gone to sleep.

Sunday evening came and found Lexi sitting on the couch watching a movie. Crying her eyes out.

“What’s the matter love?” Harry asked as he slid into the couch next to her. She sniffed and buried her head in his shoulder.

“It’s so romantic,” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the fresh tissue Harry handed her.

“I don’t get why you insist on watching those romance movies.” She glared at him through her tears. “They just make you cry.”

“Oh! But that’s the beauty of them!” She insisted. “Love is so wonderful! To feel the pain and the exquisite anguish that goes with love!” Harry just shook his head.

“To anguish for love is so…” she blew her nose. Harry cringed a bit. “It’s just so beautiful!” She squealed as she burst into tears again.

Harry just shook his head again. He knew that he did not understand women, at all. But Lexi, she confused him even more than other women. Harry and Lexi had lived together for two years now. He was no closer now to understanding her than the day they first met. Actually, if he was truthful with himself, he was further away from understanding her now than he had been that first night.

“Harry,” she sniffed at him.

“What?” He asked softly and held her closer.

“Don’t you think that it’s just so romantic how they found each other,” she sniffed again, “up there, at the top of the Empire State building? And on Valentines.” Tears streamed down her blotchy cheeks.

Harry had not seen the movie so he really had no idea what she was going on about. So, he did what every good male would do in this situation. He lied.

“Yes. Extremely romantic,” he said with as much feeling as he could muster.

“Don’t you think,” sniff, “it would be romantic for you to meet him,” Harry flinched, “at the top of a tower of Hogwarts?” Harry clinched his jaw. He did not want to talk about this. She had not brought him up in over a year. Why now?

“Why do you ask?” He bit out between clenched teeth.

“Oh, please don’t be mad at me Harry,” she pleaded.

He couldn’t be mad at her, but he really did not want to have this conversation. Not now. Not ever. He let go of her and began to get up from the couch.

“Harry please!” She pleaded again as she grabbed his hand.

Harry looked down at her. His face softened. “I am not mad, love. I just do not want to talk about this.”

“Harry,” her voice was almost a whisper. “Please don’t sit upon the shore.”

Harry searched her eyes, eyebrows furrowed. How had she known that he could not get that song out of his head? He turned and left the room and headed for his bedroom.

“Harry, your letting him slip away!” She pleaded after him.

Harry shut and locked his door. He flopped onto his bed fully clothed. Tears began to slide down his face to caress the pillow his arms curled around. His mind slid into blissful memories.


Harry, Ron andmionmione were sitting on the shore of the lake at Hogwarts.

“Come on Harry! You have to invite someone,” Hermione pleaded with him.

“Why?”

“Why?” She asked incredulously. “Why?” Hermione looked from him to Ron. “Harry, you have to! You just have to!” Her eyes held tears. “Ron, speak to him.”

“Come on mate,” Ron tried to help Hermione. “Mione’s right. You have to take someone.” Harry glared at him. Ron gave his shoulder a friendly punch. “It won’t be hard to find someone to go with you.” Harry threw a stone into the water.

“What if I don’t want to?” Harry snarled between clenched teeth.

“Oh Harry! Please!” Hermione begged. “I... I mean Ron and I have worked so hard to get Dumbledore to allow an end of year gala.” She looked again with pleading eyes to Ron. “You have to come!”

“Come on Harry.” Ron looked down at his feet. “You know this means a lot to Mione.”

Harry was frustrated. How could they do this to him? How could they be so horrible to him. “No!” He said angrily. “I am NOT going to this stupid gala!”

Ron looked shocked. Hermione squeaked as she leapt to her feet and then turned to run back up to the castle. Ron looked pleadingly at Harry.

“I mean it,” he spat as Ron leapt up and followed his girlfriend back into the castle.

Night slowly fell over Harry as he remained sitting next to the lake. He was not going to let them push him into this one. The dance in his fourth year had been humiliating enough. He was not going to allow something like that to be the last thing everyone remembered about him after they left school.

“It would be the of of all the wizarding world,” Harry grumbled to himself. “Imagine their amusement to find out that the boy who lived, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, defeater of the Dark Lord,” he spat throwing another rock into the lake, “can’t even dance.”

“Well. Well. Well…what do we have here?” Harry jumped at sounsound of the voice behind him. He knew that voice.

“Good evening, sir,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Potter. You would do wise to watch your tone!” The voice sneered.

“Yes, professor.” Harry simply could not hold his sarcasm back. His day was going from bad to worse at lightning speed.

“So, our resident celebrity,” he smirked, “is out here licking his pitiful wounds?” The voice sneered at him.

Snape and Harry had never managed to get along. This was awful! Harry knew that Snape would enjoy this one. He had heard. Harry knew he would enjoy using this against him. This would just make Snape’s year.

“Why do not you do something about it?” Snape sneered at him again.

“What?” Harry stammered out. What was he talking about?

“If you do not know how to dance,” no sneer, “then why don’t you do something about it?” Harry looked up at Snape, shocked. Snape smirked at him.

“Would it not be easier to simply just learn how to dance?” Harry was speechless. “Gryffindors!” Snape snorted. “You never think about the easy way,” a look of disgust. “Do you?” Harry bit his lip trying to contain his anger.

“I don’t know anyone that can teach me.”

Snape snorted at him again as he looked out across the lake. “Get up Potter!”

Oh. Here it was then. Snape was going to take points and give some type of detention to help round out his last year nicely. ‘Great!’ Harry thought. ‘My last weeks at Hogwarts will be spent in the company of Filch!’

Snape regarded Harry, and then gently flicked his wand. Suddenly, Harry could hear soft music wafting across the grounds.

“Put you right hand up,” Snape snapped. Harry was confused. He stared at him, unmoving. “I’m going to teach you how to dance,” Snape sneered at him. Harry just stared, his mouth gaping.

‘Must be a nightmare,’ he thought. ‘That’s it! I fell asleep next to the lake.’

“Don’t look so surprised Potter.” Snape stepped toward him and took one of Harry’s hands and placed it on his hip. “Now,” Snape began.


Harry’s dream trailed off with Snape and Harry dancing under the stares next to the lake. Harry had revisited this night and others just like it in his dreams every night over the last two years. Every moment they were together. Every touch, every movement, every word replayed itself in Harry’s dreams at night.

Harry had spent the last weeks of school learning to dance with Snape in their free time. It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough. Harry had fallen hopelessly and helplessly in love with the greasy git of a potions master over those weeks. He never asked Snape why he had helped him. He didn’t want to know.

Harry’s dream slowly made its way to the last time he had seen Snape. It was the night of the leaving feast and the gala. The memories played their way like a bad movie through Harry’s sleeping brain.


The gala was packed. Harry had invited Luna. Ginny had already been asked by someone else by the time Harry got around to asking. Luna was the only other girl that Harry felt ‘safe’ with. He was afraid any other girl would take the invitation wrong. He did not want to explain to a girl that he was not interested in them, in that way.

Harry danced with Luna most of the night. Other girls tried to cut in or ask him to dance, but Harry refused. There was only one person that he really wanted to dance with. Snape stayed outside most of the night rousting young lovers from bushes filled, once again, with glittering fairies.

Near the end of the night, Harry told Luna he needed some air.

“Harry,” she looked at him through thoserly rly large eyes. “Why don’t you just go outside and talk to him.”

Harry blushed and tried to look confused. “I…,” he stammered. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Harry,” she smiled lopsidedly at him, “you are not now, and have never been good at hiding your feelings.” He looked at his feet sheepishly. “Now go outside and speak to him.” She smiled at him with those overly large eyes again. “What have you got to loose?” She shrugged at him. Harry gaped at her.

As he walked silently outside, he thought about that. ‘What do I have to loose. We leave tomorrow. I will never have to speak to or see him ever again. If I don’t want to.’ Harry stopped in his tracks. ‘I’m never going to see Snape ever again!’

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks falling from the sky. He felt like he wanted to cry or run screaming to him. ‘I’m never going to have the chance to speak to him ever again,’ Harry thought to himself. Suddenly, he knew that he had to see Snape. He had to speak to him just one more time. He felt as though his very life depended on it.

Harry frantically searched every where for Snape. He was determined to find him and tell him how he felt. He would never have this chance again if he didn’t.

Harry found Snape in the bushes rousting out students.

“And don’t forget that I can still take house points, for next year,” he snarled at the fleeing students.

Harry approached him cautiously. His hands began to sweat, his pulse quickened. He felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t remember feeling this frightened when he had faced Voldemort each of those times. ‘This man makes me crazy,’ Harry thought to himself. He stopped behind his former potions master. Snape turned slowly to look at him.

“Professor.” Harry stepped forward.

“Potter. What have you done with your little girlfriend?” Snape sneered at him as he moved to brush past him.

“Professor,” Harry tried again. “I…”

“Well Potter?” Snape glared down sat him. “I don’t have all night.” Harry felt a lump in his throat.

“I wanted,” Harry looked down at his feet. “I wanted to say thank you,” he mumbled.

“Potter!” Snape snapped. “Speak up! I can not here you when you mumble. At least have the courtesy to look up at me.”

Harry looked up into Snape’s face. Harry’s face showed fierce determination. “I wanted to say thank you,” he spat at him, a little harsher than he had intended.

Snape looked at him confused for a moment before the sneer was firmly back in place. “For what Potter?”

Harry looked out toward the lake. His voice was softer. “For everything Professor.” He paused. “For teaching me how to dance, for watching over me,” he took a deep breath. “Mostly for saving my life all those times.” Harry looked back into those dark eyes. It felt like falling. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“No need to bother, Potter,” Snape said, breaking their eye contact. Harry hated that name. “Just doing my job,” he snapped as he pushed past him.

Without thinking, Harry grabbed his arm and looked up at him trying to see his face. To look into the depths of those eyes just one more time. Snape froze. Harry tensed.

Snape glared at him through dangerously flashing eyes. “I don’t know what you are thinking, Potter,” his eyes where black whirlpools of anger and hate. “I would strongly advise you to remove your hand from my arm.”

“I…,” Harry tried to force himself to speak the rest. He had to tell him. “I think…”

“You think what Potter? Spit it out already!” His voice was icy and dripping with disdain.

Harry began to loose himself again in the black depths of his former Potion Masters eyes.

“I think I am falling in love with you.” Harry said suddenly.

Snape’s face showed no emotion. He did not say a thing. Suddenly, Snape swirled and stalked away with out ever saying a word. Harry could only stand there and watch him go.


The dream ended abruptly. Harry sat up suddenly in bed, sweat pouring down from his face. His breathing was erratic, his head pounded. He felt as thought he had just been running a marathon. A marathon which he lost.

The next day and the days that followed found Harry growing more and more detached from the world around him. The dreams continued to haunt him. Fantasies that seemed so real visited his every sleeping moment, and through it all, that damned song would NOT leave his head. Over and over again he heard the words.

too many times we stand aside
and let the waters slip away
till what we put off till tomorrow
has now become today
so don’t you sit upon the shore line
and say your satisfied
choose to chance the rapids
and dare to dance the tide

A/N: I would love to have a beta reader for this and possibly future works. I only ask that you be 18 or over, patient and dedicated. Send me an email if you would like to help with this.