Severus stilled as he read Harry's confusion, abruptly uncertain of the impulse that had brought him here.
But then Harry's eyes lit with a sleepy smile and the mouth beneath his own came to life and practically absorbed him. Still seeming more asleep than awake, Harry's hands found their way into his hair as the kiss deepened.
Severus was shocked to feel that tiny flicker of desire flare as Harry's strong morning flavour flooded his system. So good, Harry tasted so damn good.
Going with the flow, Severus let that kiss claim him. As that sweet feeling of rightness spread through him, he kissed back with everything he had.
The kiss was proceeding wonderfully. There was no terror, no icy withdrawal, nothing but Harry's irresistible flavour. Severus was just beginning to relax and believe that things were finally right with him, when everything changed in a heartbeat.
The fingers carded through his hair tightened. Still locked in the kiss, Harry rolled on top of him, the way he would the hundreds of times they'd made love in the past.
The minute Severus felt that warm weight crush down on him, his entire body turned to ice. He knew it was Harry. He knew he was in absolutely no danger. Yet the feel of the heavier body pressing him down sent the visceral memory of being held down and forcibly entered ripping through him.
Although he was still locked in the kiss with Harry, he was no longer an active participant. His mind was withdrawing, seeking out that sheltered place deep inside where he'd gone to hide when Burke had done his worst to him.
Most of the men he'd known in his younger days would neither have noticed nor cared about what was happening to him. They would have just continued doing what they wanted, regardless of his participation.
But mere seconds after that freeze claimed him, Harry pulled back from the kiss to stare down into his face with a confused sounding, "Severus?"
He couldn't answer. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and attempt to calm his breathing and his panicked heart as he struggled to master the instinctive terror that was gripping him.
A heartbeat later, the bulk crushing him rolled clear.
"Sorry . . . I'm sorry, so sorry . . . ." Harry was chanting in a panicked mutter. "Severus, please, look at me?"
Unable to ignore the raw fear in that familiar voice, he forced his eyes open and met Harry's frantic gaze.
Harry looked about as frazzled as he felt.
"Are you all right?" Harry questioned, still sounding uncharacteristically frightened.
Now that the oppressive weight had stopped crushing him, normality was gradually returning. Severus gave a slow, mortified nod, unable to believe how badly he'd mucked things up again.
The wall sconces all came to life around them as Harry sat up in the bed, muttering a soft, "Thank God."
Hating the scene he'd caused, Severus sat up as well, barely able to meet Harry's eyes in his embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry was saying, his confusion palpable. "I . . . don't know what came over me. Did I . . . try to molest you in my sleep?"
Severus gave a negative shake of his head and looked for his voice, finally managing, "No . . . I fear that the fault is mine."
"Huh?" Harry still looked completely befuddled, and guilty as hell.
"I must apologize. You were asleep and I . . . I kissed you," Severus tried to explain. He felt like the worst kind of tease.
"You kissed me?" To his astonishment, there was no anger in the question.
Severus gave a tight nod. Reading only confusion in Harry's face, and something gentler that eased the tension gripping his gut, he attempted to explain, "I was watching you sleep. You looked so . . .I thought I could, but I couldn't, and . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . . ."
"Of course, you should have," Harry gently corrected, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on his shoulder. "I think it's wonderful that you even wanted to try."
"But I couldn't . . . ." He felt too ashamed to continue.
"So, you couldn't this time. Maybe next time, you'll feel better. We're taking baby steps here, remember?" Harry asked in the light, near-joking tone that always made him feel at ease.
Seeing that there really wasn't any recrimination in those watching eyes, Severus took a deep breath and hesitantly confessed, "I . . . I hate this. You must hate it, too."
"No. Hate's the last thing I'm feeling right now. You wanted to kiss me. That's what I'm concentrating on here."
"But I couldn't follow through," Severus pointed out.
"So you couldn't follow through today. It's no big deal. A month ago, you wouldn't have wanted to kiss me at all. Maybe a month from now, you'll be able to follow through. Or the month after that. This is a real breakthrough."
Unable to stand that shining Gryffindor optimism, Severus averted his gaze and softly countered, "Then why does it feel like a failure?"
"Because you're too hard on yourself," Harry firmly stated, reaching out to lift his chin up and make him meet his gaze again. Once their eyes met, Harry continued with, "Do you know how happy it makes me that you even wanted to kiss me? That you felt that way about me?"
The emotion shining in Harry's face was unmistakable. Severus felt so unworthy of it at that moment that he could barely withstand Harry's gaze. No matter what Harry said, he knew what an utter failure he was.
But Harry wasn't treating him like the pathetic loser he felt. To the contrary, Harry was watching him with such a soft expression that it practically stole his breath.
"We'll get there, Severus. Just give it time," Harry assured and then leaned over to place a light kiss in the centre of his forehead.
His hands reached out of their own volition and settled on the soft, green cotton covering Harry's shoulders. The heat and scent of Harry seemed to fill him. With no conscious thought, he leaned towards Harry, drawn by a force he couldn't resist.
Strong arms settled firmly around his back and he was drawn into a hug.
Wishing with all his heart that he could be what he'd once been, Severus closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, willing to stay there forever.
*~*~*
"Hey, do you feel like going over to the Three Broomsticks for lunch?" Harry's voice interrupted Severus' moody contemplation of the dancing flames in the hearth.
Severus looked over to the other end of the couch where Harry was reading yet another Muggle thriller. He still wasn't sure what the designation 'thriller' meant.
"No," Severus answered. "It's raining again. I would rather not deal with the damp."
"You live in a dungeon. It's always damp," Harry pointed out in the light tone he used to jolly him into things.
"But the dungeon isn't dripping and muddy," Severus replied.
"You're not still upset about this morning, are you?"
Severus couldn't understand how Harry wasn't upset. To have someone wake you with kisses and then bail on you the instant you began to respond . . . that had to be more than frustrating. But there had been no trace of resentment in Harry's behaviour towards him all morning. If anything, Harry had seemed incredibly cheerful, as if it really had pleased him that he'd wanted to kiss him.
"No," he lied.
"Right," Harry answered in a completely unconvinced tone. "You're not upset. You've just spent the entire morning glaring into the hearth for no reason."
Severus turned that glare on his companion. "I'm cold."
"We could try talking about it," Harry offered, so gentle that it made him want to scream.
Severus ignored the suggestion. As much as he appreciated Harry's efforts to cheer him, right now he just wanted to be left alone. Two months ago, he would have snarled at Harry and driven him away, but these days he was doing his utmost to refrain from needlessly hurting Harry. Stars knew, the sexless life he was living here with him had to be hurtful enough.
"Severus?"
Taking a deep breath, he once again dared those concerned green eyes. Sometimes, he wished that Harry would just shout at him to get over himself.
"It really was a breakthrough, not a failure. I wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself." When his words brought no reaction, Harry sighed. After another few minutes of silence, in which the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the crackling of the burning wood, Harry asked, "Would you like to play chess?"
Recognizing that Harry would probably spend the entire afternoon attempting to draw him out of his black funk, Severus rose to his feet. "I have papers I have to grade."
He could feel Harry's gaze upon him as he crossed to the mahogany desk in the corner, where he usually stored the homework that needed marking. The desk was depressingly empty.
"It seems that I have once again left them in the Potions classroom." He tried not to let his frustration show, but it was the third time this week he'd made the same kind of oversight. He was supposed to be getting better. Yet, it seemed that at every turn there was some gaping evidence that he still wasn't functioning normally.
"I do that all the time," Harry said in a soothing tone.
Staring at that depressingly neat desk, Severus said, "In the thirty years I've worked here, I never forgot to bring the homework home with me until recently. I'm not getting better. I'm getting worse."
On that cheery note, he turned and stalked to the door. He could feel Harry's eyes on him the entire way.
Harry's concerned "Severus?" was ringing through the room as the door slammed behind him.
Thankfully, the corridor was empty. It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Not even the miserable weather would keep the students here.
Grateful to be alone, he leaned against the wall outside his door, squeezing his eyes shut. Part of him knew that Harry was right, that the type of healing he needed was going to take time, but that was a very small part of him. Mostly, he felt like an utter failure.
He wanted so badly for things to be normal with Harry again . . . which was why he'd just stalked out on the man in a snit. It seemed he could do nothing right these days. As he started for the Potions lab, he glumly acknowledged that he was going to owe Potter yet another apology.
The moment he opened the door to the lab, he could see the homework stacked on the corner of his desk. It was nearly two inches high. He had no idea how he could possibly have overlooked it when he left after detentions last night.
Frustrated with himself, he crossed to the desk and retrieved the stack of papers. As he did so, a flash of white paper sticking out of the corner of his green blotter caught his eye.
It was the card Hermione had given him months ago when she'd come here that awful morning after Harry had regained his memories. The analyst's card.
As happened every time he noticed the card, his instincts rebelled at the idea. He'd been telling himself for months that he'd get through this on his own, that he didn't need help, but this morning's disaster had driven home how little true healing had taken place. Oh, he might be functioning better. He was sleeping straight through the night now. He might be teaching his classes without any emotional breakdowns. He might be able to converse with people and even go out for the occasional drink, but he couldn't kiss the man he loved without turning to stone. And, he didn't see that situation changing any time in the near future, for all Harry's assurances that it would improve.
Harry had been very patient with him this morning. He knew how lucky he was that Harry was still around, still willing to try. But how long could even the most patient man's forbearance stand this morning's kind of disappointment? Harry was a healthy and virile man. When they'd been together, they'd made love every single night. For all that he never complained or acted unhappy, Harry had to be missing the sex. It had been nearly five months now and Severus was no closer to functioning in bed than he'd been the night Harry rescued him. Sooner or later, Harry was going to get tired of this situation. And then he'd leave.
Barely able to credit the panic that rushed through him at the thought of Harry leaving him, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
He knew he was overreacting. He knew Harry loved him. Only . . . how long could even Harry's love withstand the kind of frustrating scene they'd endured this morning?
Harry deserved better than that. Severus had wanted so much to please him, to make him happy this morning, and all he'd managed to do was create another crisis.
He had to get better. That was all there was to it.
Only, clearly, he wasn't managing it very well on his own.
Perhaps it was time to consider extreme measures? Hermione had said that this analyst friend of hers helped wizards through 'difficult periods'. Severus had never endured a more difficult period than the last five months. Although everything inside him rebelled at the idea of bringing his personal problems to a stranger, he didn't think he could take another failure like this morning's. For his own sake, as much as Harry's, he had to get past this.
His stomach knotted with dread at the very scope of what he was considering. If he went to this analyst person, he was going to have to tell him about what happened with Burke. He never even discussed that with Harry. Hell, he was going to have to tell him about Harry and everything else for the situation to make any sense to an outsider. He didn't know if he were up to that.
The one thing he did know was that he wasn't up to a repeat performance of what happened this morning. No matter what it took, he needed to fix what was broken inside him, and if that meant talking to a stranger, then it meant talking to a stranger. His faults were legion, but until quite recently, cowardice had never been among them.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the innocuous little card.
The inscription was refreshingly simple. The man's name, his title, and contact information. Severus knew what the Muggle word 'psychiatrist' meant, but he didn't understand the line of letters following Penbroke's name. Still, the card stated that he was on both the floo and owl networks. That, he did understand.
