Severus had given a guarded reply to his morning greeting when Harry had entered with Ron and Hermione. He'd wanted to sit down beside the man, but had ended up following his old friends to their usual seats down the table, rather than making an issue of moving to sit closer to his . . . well, to whatever it was Severus was to him now. The explanations to Ron and Hermione would have been awkward, to say the least. He knew that Severus would hate that kind of scene, so he'd just carried on as though everything were normal.
Normal, right. As if it was normal for him to get a hard-on watching Severus Snape eat his toast.
At least Severus hadn't acted as though last night were a giant mistake or regret. Business as usual had to be better than hiding out in the dungeons. Or, so, Harry hoped.
Breakfast had been a trial, as had lunch and dinner, being so close to the man, and yet separated by years of social convention. Harry simply didn't know how to handle casual sex with a co-worker. Well, not just any colleague. It wasn't like he'd taken a stroll with Angelique Sinistra on the Astronomy Tower. He'd had sex with Severus Snape, for God's sake. That had to be the strangest thing to happen in Hogwarts since the Chamber of Secrets had been reopened. Only, Severus was acting like nothing untoward had occurred, as though this were just another sleepy November Sunday.
It was a sad state of affairs when Severus was more emotionally grounded than he was, Harry wryly acknowledged. Snape was infamous for flying off the handle. Yet, Severus had been cool and controlled all day. Could what they did have mattered that little to him, Harry wondered. For all he knew, maybe Severus shagged Flitwick, Gavin, and others on a regular basis and he was just one in a long line of conquests.
The insane thought stopped him cold, and then Harry laughed out loud. He really was losing it if he thought that Severus Snape was conducting himself like a randy sixth year. He knew the man. Severus wasn't . . . forward. For all that Harry was learning to like him, he knew Severus could barely hold a civil conversation. Everything about Severus' attitude last night told him that what they'd done was as out of character for Severus as it had been for him.
Harry wondered where that left him. He thought back on Severus' behaviour towards him in the Great Hall today, or lack thereof. Severus had given him a polite nod of acknowledgement at each meal, but had otherwise seemed his usual distant self, minus the sneers.
The lack of aggression had to be a positive sign, Harry decided. Severus hadn't even made a snipe when Minerva had welcomed Ron back to the table. Instead, he had remained as quietly isolated as he had since Professor Dumbledore's death. Only, Harry had felt Severus watching him when Severus had thought him occupied. And, if he told the truth himself, he'd been aware of every bite and sip Severus took, even though Harry had been deep in conversation with Hermione and Ron the entire time.
Harry wondered if Severus were feeling the same way. It had to be just as strange for him to have had sex with someone he wasn't completely sure he even liked, and Severus had the whole added complication of having to deal with how much he looked like his dad. Thinking about it, Harry decided Severus was probably even more upset by what had happened than he was.
They really needed to talk, but before he went down and forced the issue, Harry knew he had to decide what he wanted to do about this new development. If he showed up at Severus' door confused and emotional, they would only end up quarrelling. The one thing he'd learned over the last six weeks of détente was that he had to be totally centred when dealing with Severus or else they fell back into old patterns.
It really all came down to one question – did they want to continue what they'd stumbled into last night? Did he want Severus Snape for a lover – if the other man would even have him. There were no givens in this situation, beyond the fact that it was an explosive issue.
Harry knew any sane person would run at the very idea of taking Snape on as a lover. He'd seen cornered rats with more social skills than Severus displayed, and as for physical appeal . . . .
Harry tried to take the easy path and remind himself how hideous and ugly Severus was, only . . . only the man really wasn't that bad looking. He'd come to see that over the last six weeks. When Snape dropped that pinched, sneering expression, his face was almost striking. If he ever did something with his hair and dumped the mortician's clothes, he'd be . . . .
The word 'devastating' echoed through his mind.
Harry sighed, recognizing how foolish he was being. Severus Snape – devastating? Gods, but he was in bad shape.
Harry gave himself a mental shake and tried to see things realistically. Perhaps Severus wasn't the utter horror he'd thought him in youth, but that didn't mean the man had turned into a sex symbol overnight. Severus was . . . what he was.
He desperately tried to figure out exactly what that was. Snape had been a cipher to him for his entire life. The view of black-garbed comic book villain that Snape had occupied for so many years no longer felt right. Harry knew the man too well to think of him as evil. Severus would always be difficult, but his was a petty kind of meanness, as opposed to outright villainy.
When Harry thought about Severus now, his dramatic dark style felt almost like camouflage, especially when he remembered that black was considered a protective colour. That's why so many objects exposed to dark magic were black, not because the colour itself was evil, but because the colour protected the wizard from the effects of the power he was using. Was it possible that Severus' dark clothes, dour demeanour, suspicious and cynical outlook were all some kind of protective shielding, deliberate efforts to keep others at a distance?
Severus' antisocial behaviour could be viewed as an attempt to keep himself from being hurt, Harry realized. Nothing he'd learned about Severus' life indicated that the man had ever been loved or even particularly liked. Harry recalled the abusive childhood he'd glimpsed during his fifth year Occlumency lessons. Then there was that pensieve memory of Severus being bullied at school. After Hogwarts, Severus had joined the Death Eaters and become a virtual pariah in decent Wizarding society for that youthful mistake. Even though Severus had spent the better portion of his adult life trying to make up for that error, he was still viewed with barely veiled suspicion and dislike wherever he went.
Upon reflection, Harry realized that nearly all Severus' interactions with other humans that he'd seen appeared to be immensely painful. Was it any wonder that the man did everything he could to avoid contact?
He didn't really know anything about Severus. Anything and everything was possible, Harry supposed, but the bottom line was, did he want to deal with it? This wasn't some one night stand he'd picked up in a pub. He'd known Severus Snape for most of his life. If things didn't go well, he wasn't going to be able to just walk away. The fact that he was taking this kind of risk in his proverbial backyard was reason enough for abandoning the idea.
There was also the physical attraction issue. Whatever the cause, there was no getting around the fact that Severus was not a sexually attractive man. He had potential, true enough, but he did nothing to realize it. He'd worn the same out-dated style of clothes for the last thirty years. For all Harry knew, it could have even been the same set of clothes, magically cleaned and repaired. Though Severus' body never smelled bad, it was obvious that he used cleansing charms rather than bathing, because his hair was always a wreck. The clothes, the dirty hair, the yellowed teeth and fingers . . . Severus' entire image was painfully unpleasant, the stuff of schoolboy jokes.
But did any of that really matter, Harry wondered. How important were looks? He'd had pretty. While it was true that he'd enjoyed every one of the handsome men he'd had sex with, had any one of them ever blasted him into the stratosphere like Severus had last night? He only had to remember the sight of that dark, oily hair feathering out around his cock as the kneeling Snape deep throated him to go rock hard. When was the last time anyone had moved him like that?
He was back to square one, Harry realized. Bottom line – did he want this?
Weighing the pros and cons, the cons definitely outweighed the pros. Harry knew that not a single one of his friends would understand if he pursued this relationship. All anyone was ever going to see was the Greasy Git from their school days. He also knew Severus well enough to understand that the man would never do a single thing to dispel those misconceptions, if misconceptions they even were. He had no illusions where Severus was concerned. Harry knew the man could be a bastard. This could be a disaster on all levels.
Then there were his own issues to overcome. Did he want to date someone who used sarcasm as a weapon, who took less interest in his appearance than a first year? Tall, dark, and brooding might look romantic on paper in a Muggle novel, but when those traits were coupled with a vicious tongue and temper, they were hard to live with.
Harry knew that it was highly unlikely that Severus would ever change in any way. Nor was it particularly fair of him to enter into any kind of relationship with the hidden agenda to transform the other person into something he wanted, he shamefully realized. If he approached Severus, he had to do so with the understanding that he'd be getting what he saw. If he couldn't take the sneering, greasy haired bastard as was, it would never work.
What would never work? What could he possibly have with Severus Snape, his rational mind demanded.
Harry tried to laugh at the question that should have put everything back into perspective, that should have stopped this insanity dead in its tracks, but the memory of that enticing, completely impulsive kiss and the teeth-rattling sex that had followed it reminded him that he had no idea at all as to what he could have with Severus, because he didn't know the real Severus Snape. All he knew was the grim fa?ade Severus presented to the world. The Snape he thought he knew would never have gotten down on his knees and given him head like that.
Harry thought back on the last six weeks and all the things he'd learned about Severus: the unsuspected sense of humour, the quickly hidden bursts of compassion, the wide-ranging intellect. There was just so much he'd never seen hiding behind that gloomy front. He never would have imagined his former teacher capable of the kind of spontaneous passion they'd shared last night. Harry couldn't help but wonder what more Severus might be hiding behind that forbidding exterior. But he really wanted to know.
Well, it was settled then.
His brain seemed to falter as he realized he was seriously considering entering a sexual relationship with Severus Snape.
Since his brain was rarely of any use in his love life, Harry decided to leave it behind in his quarters. The men his common sense had told him would be the best kind of lovers had all dumped him because of his nightmares, his frightening power levels, or the pressures of dealing with his celebratory status. At least Severus was infamous in his own right and accustomed to bad press. Perhaps someone his rational side urged him to avoid like the plague would turn out better than the others had.
That didn't seem the soundest of logic, but Harry was used to fighting battles with impossible odds and very little understanding of what was truly going on. Decision made, he safely secured the papers he was grading in his desk drawer, ran a hand through his untidy hair in a useless effort to smooth it down, and rose to his feet. The bottom of his stomach seemed to drop out from under him as he realized that he was seriously intending to go down to the dungeons to proposition Severus Snape. And they used to accuse him of having a death wish in school.
Well, there was no time like the present. The sooner he sorted this out, the better.
It was sheer Gryffindor courage that carried Harry down to the dungeons. As he walked along those dim corridors, the Slytherins in the portraits seemed to eye him suspiciously.
The Potions lab and Severus' office proved empty. It was after nine o'clock on a Sunday night during the school year. It was only after he'd checked both that Harry remembered that Severus usually spent Sunday night grading homework for Monday's classes.
His stomach muscles clenching in a tight knot, Harry approached the heavy wood door at the end of the corridor that he knew to be the entrance to Severus' private chambers.
His knock was answered by an unwelcoming bark of, "It had better be urgent. Who the devil is it?"
The door didn't open.
Smiling at the rudeness, Harry called out as cheerfully as he could, "It's Harry. Harry Potter."
The utter silence that followed his name told him Severus hadn't been expecting that. After an exceedingly uncomfortable and long pause, the door swung open and Severus quietly ordered, "Come in."
Harry took a quick look at his host as he entered. Severus was clothed in a dark green dressing gown, over what looked to be a white shirt and black trousers. He was wearing fleece slippers, which seemed completely incongruous. Even so, Harry was intensely aware of the other man on a physical level, especially Severus' height and glittering dark gaze.
Severus' hair looked freshly washed as it fell against the shoulders of his robe. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Severus had washed it for him, because of what they'd done together last night.
Wanting to distract himself from the sensual shiver that trickled down his spine as he thought of running his fingers through that gleaming length, Harry concentrated on the out of character slippers.
Before he could remark upon the footwear, his attention was grabbed by the room. Quietly stated elegance was the description that came most readily to mind. The sitting room was walled with bookshelves on three sides. The fourth wall was taken up by a hearth, which had a huge fire crackling in it and a long, comfortable green velvet couch in front of it. A portrait of Albus Dumbledore in his bright lilac robes with the silver stars and a matching pointed hat stood over the mantel. The old wizard winked at Harry as he entered.
It was the only portrait or picture visible. That the notoriously suspicious Snape would have feelings strong enough for Dumbledore to risk the inevitable invasion of his privacy by hanging his old friend's portrait told him a lot about the man, as did the luxury of the place.
