Visiting Hours Part 2 of 2: Not a Social Call (Snape/Harry)
Title: Visiting Hours Part 2: Not a Social Call
Author: rickey_a
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: ~7,500 (~13.5k total)
Notes: See Part 1 for full explanation :) livelongnmarry consolation Fic for accioslash

I love betas. Super duper thanks to thevina, tjwritter, and alisanne along with a shout to the gang at FFC and I.Smith for looking over the preliminary concept for me and offering some advice.



August 2003

Harry's heart sank like lead as he entered the room in St. Mungo's. The irony that it was the same exact room he'd spent the majority of his free time all those years ago was not lost on him. This, too, was his fault.

Molly and Arthur sat beside the bed in parental vigil, giving him faint smiles as he approached the bed where Ron, a corpse of solid gold, lay.

"For once he's finally worth something," George joked as he entered the doorway.

Molly burst into tears and buried her face in her handkerchief.

"Now is not the time…" Arthur admonished weakly. Since Fred's death, everyone had always given George a wide berth for his morbid humor.

"Cheer up, Mum. It's going to be fine, you'll see," George said, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I just saw Hermione in the hallway. She'll have this all sorted in no time."

"Hermione's outside?" asked Harry.

"Talking with the Healers. It sounded like good news."

"That's great," Harry said, and felt his heart return to normal beating for the first time since he Apparated in with Ron three hours earlier. "I'll go see if I can help."

He found her in the hall outside showing two healers a page in a large tome that she balanced on top of her protruding stomach. She was due with hers and Ron's first child, a boy, in September. The guilt flowed like ice water through Harry's veins. She looked tired, yet steadfast and determined in that 'Hermione' way. Her husband had been cursed into a solid gold statue, yet she was the first one digging in the archives for counterspells and cures for the Midas Curse.

The Healers nodded and walked off down the hall.

"You've found something?" Harry asked, as he took the large book from her hands and examined the open page.

"Yes, a potion. The Healers have gone to fetch Smelton."

"He's the St. Mungo's Potions master?"

"Yes, he's supposed to be excellent. I'd do it myself, except…" She looked down at her stomach. "Many of the ingredients produce toxic fumes. I can't risk…" Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Smiling at her, Harry reached out and wiped her cheeks with his thumb. "He wouldn't want you to risk the baby."

"I know. I know." She nodded.

Harry resumed looking over the potion – Reynack's Restorative. It was supposed to work to reverse the transformation of any living organism from any metallic state. Gold, silver, copper, bronze and platinum were all named. Apparently turning enemies into statues was popular in ancient wizarding culture. "Will this work?"

"I think so, but we only have one week to change him back. The potion takes several days to brew. We won't get another chance. I wanted to start a back up brew, but…" She burst into tears. "It's very complex, and dangerous. I doubt anyone we know can do it."

Harry put the book down and took her in his arms. "Shhh. Shhh. It's going to be all right."

"I need to do something," Hermione said through sniffles.

"No, I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to ask him to brew the potion."

Hermione looked up into Harry's eyes. "Who?"

"You know who."

"You haven't spoken to him since just after he woke up. Hell, you won't even let anyone mention his name around you."

"I know."

"He's a recluse. Does he even brew anymore?"

"He brews for Minerva and Poppy's Hogwarts stores. He's better than anyone else in Britain."

"How do you know that?"

"Dumbledore's portrait."

"Oh." Hermione pulled away and studied Harry carefully. "Do you think he'll do it?"

"I'll make him if I have to."

"Harry, you never talk about what happened between—"

"And I still don't want to discuss it, but Severus Snape is going to do this for me."

"I'm not sure this—"

"Whose potion would you trust?"

"What?"

"If it came down to it and you had St. Mungo's potion and Snape's in your hands, whose would you give to Ron?" Harry asked with the utmost urgency.

"Snape's," she whispered.

"It's my fault Ron is in there. I'm going to Snape."

Hermione frowned. "It's not your fault."

"It sure feels that way." He gave her an awkward hug around her belly and kissed her cheek.

~*~*~*~

The front door swung open just as Harry lifted his hand to knock. Snape stood with his wand at the ready and with an ominous expression that morphed into honest shock for a split second before shifting into a fierce scowl.

"I realize that this is a surprise," Harry said, then took a large swallow to try and push down the acid eating away at his stomach. "I need to speak with you."

"Obviously." Snape didn't give an inch, nor did he lower his wand.

"It's urgent. May I come inside?"

Snape squinted as he stared Harry down. It was hot outside, and Harry was sweating from both the heat and his anxiety. Five years was a long time, but Snape had never truly been far from his thoughts.

"Very well," Snape said suddenly, then turned in the doorway. His black robes, much too heavy weight for summer, billowed as he spun.

Always so fucking theatrical. Harry followed Snape inside to a small sitting room, while over and over in his mind he kept repeating, It's for Ron.

The inside of the house was cool and Harry felt a bit of chill on his exposed arms.

"Well?" asked Snape with an over arched eyebrow.

"There's been an accident. Umm, could we sit?"

Snape gestured to the settee before settling himself into a tall, ornate Louis XIV chair that gave the impression of a throne, as Snape sat back comfortably waiting for Harry to proceed. Harry noted that Snape still had his wand in his hand.

"Ron and I were out on a case and there was this booby-trap. He was hit with the Midas Curse."

Snape's face revealed no emotion.

"And… um." Harry was a seasoned Auror, but somehow talking to Snape made him feel like a fifteen year old again. He pulled out the parchment with the copy of Reynack's Restorative instructions, and held it out to Snape. "This is the cure."

Snape snatched it out of his hand and gave it a once over before turning his attention back to Harry.

"I'd like you to brew it," Harry said, hoping by some miracle Snape would simply say yes.

"You'd like?" Snape asked evenly.

Harry mentally admonished himself for even believing for one second that this might have been easy. "It's an extremely complex potion and—"

"Yes, I can see that."

"And Hermione wants to do it, but the fumes… she's pregnant."

"Surely there is someone at the Ministry or St. Mungo's capable? I imagine all of Britain would be ready to take up the charge for you."

"There is, but time is of the essence and we need a back up."

"So I'm your back-up plan?"

"No, you're my first choice. Hermione's first choice."

That got Snape's attention. Finally some sort of emotion flashed across his schooled features. What it was, Harry couldn't tell, but he decided to appeal to the man's ego.

"You're the best. Ron's life is on the line, and we want the best."

"I do not need your empty flattery."

"Do you want me to beg? Is that it? I'll beg." Harry dropped to the floor on his knees. His heart pounded as if it would explode straight out through his ribcage. "Oh please, great and powerful Severus Snape, please we need your omnipotent potion brewing skills. I beseech you."

"Stop it! Get up you absolute imbecile!"

Harry stood and looked Snape straight in the eye. "I need you to do this for me. I don't care what it is you want from me."

"I want nothing from you." In one elegant movement Snape rose to his feet. "That is what you have always failed to comprehend."

"What do you—?" Harry suppressed the urge to throttle the other man.

"Nothing! Nothing. I will brew the restorative."

Harry took a step back as if the air had been let out of his sails. "You will?"

"I know you think me a monster, but I assure you that I am human. I know what Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley have contributed to our society. I also value human life, despite what you may believe."

"I never—"

"Enough! I do not wish to discuss this, and as you said, time is of the essence. This way." Snape walked down the hall and opened a door that led to a narrow downward staircase.

Harry followed him to an elaborate potions laboratory that looked much like the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape unfurled the parchment out on a wide table and held the corners down with small flasks. For the first time during the visit, Harry was able to truly look at the other man and see the change of five years time. There were a few more lines on Snape's face, especially around the eyes, but his skin was a bit darker and his hair less greasy. It was still dark as night and a bit stringy, but it hung nicely on Snape's shoulders. His body language was that of unhindered confidence, but that was nothing new. Harry couldn't help wonder if Snape saw changes in him. Surely they were noticeable, if the other man ever bothered to look.

"There are many ingredients here that I will need to procure. Professor Maelstrom keeps many of these items at Hogwarts, but a few you will need to acquire from Ministry or St. Mungo's sources."

"Whatever you need, I'll get."

Snape Summoned two pieces of blank parchment and a quill, and then began to write furiously. "You're lucky you didn't ask Maelstrom. He's as clumsy around a cauldron as Longbottom. I can't imagine what Minerva was thinking."

"He's not that bad, but you're right. I wouldn't ask him. I know you’re doing all the brewing for Hogwarts potions stores. And just so you know, Neville has quite a successful greenhouse business."

"Yes, I am well aware. I purchase many of my herbals from him."

"Oh, you've seen Neville?"

"One typically inspects the plants and roots they are purchasing, so, yes."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure why, but the fact that Neville had never mentioned Snape bothered him.

"Here," said Snape, thrusting the parchment at Harry. "Obtain these items. I won't need to add them to the potion until tomorrow."

"I'll get them by tonight. What about the other things?"

"Winky!" Snape bellowed. She instantly appeared.

Harry hadn't seen the oft-inebriated house-elf since the days after the final battle. Snape handed her the second list. "Ask Professor Maelstrom for these items, and be quick about it."

She vanished before Harry couldn't even say hello to her. "Winky?"

"Yes, the miserable creature was driving Minerva insane. She hated being a free house-elf and kept begging to be bonded to another wizarding family. Minerva suggested that I take her in. I am alone here, and it would also make my communications and transfer of materials with Hogwarts far simpler and faster than owl post."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

"I didn't ask for your approval."

Harry took a deep breath. "Can't we have a normal conversation without you accusing me of judging you? Five years and you haven't changed."

"Change is for the Knight Bus," Snape said as he filled a large cast-iron cauldron with water.

"Clever as ever. I don't know why I bothered."

"You bothered because you want me to save Mr. Weasley's life."

Unfortunately Snape was right, and Harry had no reply. He'd avoided Snape all this time, only to come to him now when he was desperate. Many times Harry had thought about how an accidental encounter with Snape might go. Harry was an Auror and he desperately wanted to be cool and strong and show Snape how much he had grown – how much he had changed.

Harry turned away and decided to look over his list before he left. The last item confused him. "You need a piece of Ron?"

"I need a piece of the cursed metal. The restorative can't work without being tuned to the exact metal that it's trying to reverse. A few grams should do."

"But that's… Ron."

"I assume that he was clothed when he bounded into the trap."

"Yes, of course. What—"

"Well then, when he returns to the living, he will have suffered nothing worse than a hole in his robes."

"Oh."

"Be off, Mr. Potter, I have work to do." Snape took a small glass cauldron and placed it inside the iron one.

"Is that glass?"

"Yes, highly tempered. The restorative is highly reactive with metals and must be prepared in a glass cauldron."

"So you make it in like a double boiler thing?"

"Have you brewed a single potion since your Hogwarts days?" Snape asked, clearly quite annoyed.

"Um, no."

Snape let out a long sigh. "Let me work, Mr. Potter."

"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I tingle in anticipation."

~*~*~*~

It was early evening before Harry was able to return to Spinner's End with all the ingredients. He found Snape standing over his cauldrons. He was stirring with an intense look of concentration. Harry placed his items on the workbench and took a seat in the desk chair across the room. He knew better than to interrupt Snape at work.

"What about the fumes?" Harry asked after Snape had finished fifty clockwise stirs and backed away from the cauldrons. "Hermione said they were toxic."

"They are," Snape replied without looking at Harry. Instead he turned his attention to the inspection of the ingredients that Harry had brought.

"What about you?"

"There is a protective barrier around the cauldron to minimize the permeation of the fumes into the house."

"But when you're working over it?"

"I'll have some exposure, but I'll make sure to get fresh air when I can."

"But—"

"Potter." Snape finally turned to face him. "Shouldn't you be with the Weasleys at St. Mungo's?"

"I can't face them. It's all my fault."

"Surely Mr. Weasley is a well-trained Auror and responsible for his own actions."

"But it was my case, and he didn't want me to go alone. He was looking out for me. He's always looking out for me."

"Do you do the same for him?"

"I…"

"Would you have gone with him? If it were his case, would you have gone with him?"

"Of course," Harry said defensively.

"Then stop this utter nonsense."

Harry had to acknowledge it, Snape was right. "Fine, but I need to do something."

"And I need to work. It will be two days before the restorative is ready. Go. I will owl you."

"There must be something I can help with."

"You want to help?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Go fetch some take away. There's a pub down the road with a decent shepherd's pie. I'll be able to take a dinner break in about an hour."

"Okay," Harry replied getting to his feet. "Anything else?"

"I suggest a bottle of Firewhisky."

"Should you be drinking while you're brewing?" If Snape's look had been a spell, it would have been Dark Magic, and Harry would have been reduced to a small pile of ashes easily swept up and scattered over the purple asters lining the front walkway to Spinner's End.

"It's for you."

"Oh."
~*~*~*~

They ate in silence, and when they were finished, Snape poured a large glass of Firewhisky and handed it to Harry.

"Drink. It might help."

"Help what?"

"Make you less annoying."

"Ha fucking ha." Harry swallowed the drink in one go, and then let out a deep breath.

"Now if you want to help with the potion, you may come downstairs and chop the tarantula legs while I complete the next set of stirs."

"Lucky me," Harry said, and followed Snape from the kitchen.

Harry was so desperate to do something with his hands that he accepted Snape's disgusting and menial task. When the next stirring cycle was complete, they went to sit outside in the back garden.

"Nice night," Harry said in an attempt to make small conversation. When Snape didn't reply, he continued. "I just want to say that I truly appreciate what you're doing. I know that it must have been a surprise to see me after all this time."

"I always knew you'd come when you needed something from me, but not before. Selfish as ever."

"What?" Harry turned to look at Snape. It was dark, but the moon was almost full so he could make out Snape's profile. "You told me to stay away. You made that perfectly clear."

"I do not wish to discuss this. You should go. I'll bring the restorative to St. Mungo's when it's finished." Snape walked into the house and slammed the door behind him.

"Fuck." Not knowing what else to do, Harry Apparated home.

~*~*~*~

Winky opened the front door the next morning. "Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Winky is honored, sir." She was honored, but blocking his entry into Snape's house.

"Thank you, Winky. Is Sn—"

"Harry Potter remembers Winky's name!"

"Yes, of course I do. May I come in? I'd like to see Professor Snape."

"The Master is brewing. The Master does not wish to be disturbed." Winky looked distressed, torn between her Master's orders and trying to please Harry.

"I've been helping Master Snape. I've brought these for him." Harry held up a small brown bag that contained croissants, but Winky was welcome to assume it was potions ingredients.

"Yes. Yes. Harry Potter was in the Master's company yesterday. Come in. Come in. Winky is most honored."

"Thanks, Winky. I know my way." Harry set off down the stairs and found Snape working diligently. "Good morning."

"I told her that I did not wish to be disturbed. Apparently I should have been more specific."

"I brought breakfast," Harry said, ignoring the obvious taunt.

"Set it over there. I have five more minutes." Snape continued to stir the potion— six times anti-clockwise followed by twice clockwise.

Mesmerized by the rhythm of it, Harry watched in silence.

Snape washed his hands and then peered in the proffered bag. "I'll take these upstairs with some tea."

Figuring that was an engraved invitation in Snape-speak, Harry followed him to the kitchen. A pot of tea and two place settings were waiting on the kitchen table. With the flick of his wand, Snape poured two cups and took his seat.

"I thought I might help again today."

"Because you were so helpful yesterday." The sarcasm dripped from each word.

"Because I want to help. Please."

It was the 'please' that got Snape's attention.

"Very well." Snape took a bit of his croissant. "This is good." He seemed surprised.

"Brilliant French bakery opened up down the street from me last year." Harry took a bite of his own croissant.

"I must pay them a visit."

Snape was almost smiling. The croissants had been the right call.

"I used to look for you."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean these past years. You told me to keep away, so I did, but I used to look for you when I was out in London, especially Diagon Alley, but also in Hogsmeade. I used to think that maybe I'd bump into you and we'd have a friendly conversation like normal people."

"We are not normal people."

Harry laughed. "You're telling me." He took a long sip of tea and thought about it. "I wish I were, though. Normal."

"It is foolish to wish for things we can not have. I'm surprised you haven't learned that by now."

"Oh, that I've learned, but it doesn't mean I can't dream about it. It would be nice."

"Nice? How so?"

"To walk down the Diagon Alley without everyone turning to look at me. To go on a date without the papers writing a three page article about my sordid love life. To… to… I don't know, be normal."

"Most people would trade their entire Gringott's vault to be you for a day."

"They can have it," Harry replied, the taste of bitterness burning on his tongue.

"Pardon me if I withhold my pity for someone who deserves it." Snape took a long sip of tea, without diverting his gaze from Harry.

"Yes, I know that most people think I have it all, but I never wanted fame. I certainly never wanted to be The Chosen One. I only wanted…" Harry suddenly realized that he was in too deep. It was far too early in the morning for such a heavy discussion, and he hadn't meant to be bare his soul to Snape.

"Wanted what?"

It came as a surprise, but Snape actually seemed interested. Only a minute earlier the man had chided him for feeling sorry for himself.

"Wanted what?" Snape asked again.

"A family, but that's never going to happen. I've been alone my whole life, and that's not going to change."

Suddenly something unexpected flashed across Snape's face. There was a look in his eyes that Harry had never seen on the other man: empathy.

But then it vanished, as fast as it came. "I must return to the potion."

"Of course," Harry said, relieved by the abrupt end to the conversation.

Harry picked, chopped, smashed, ground, de-pussed, squashed, and whatever other messy and disgusting duties Snape assigned. He knew Snape was testing him, and half of things he had him do had absolutely nothing to do with the potion for Ron, but he didn't care. He kept his thoughts focused on saving Ron and away from any past and present feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

They took frequent breaks outside in the back garden where Snape had many herbs and magical plants.

"Did you get these from Neville?" Harry couldn't resist asking.

"Mr. Longbottom planted them, yes."

"Oh. I had heard that you became reclusive. Nobody sees you."

"That's an exaggeration. I admit I don’t go gallivanting about town, but I have a life. It may be a quiet life, but I do get out." Snape sounded a bit defensive on the last remark.

"But I've never seen you, not even at any Ministry remembrance functions."

"Perhaps I don't wish to remember."

The thought lingered in the air between them like a golden snitch flitting around just out of reach. Harry had had five years to contemplate that he and Snape had quite a lot in common. Perspective had evolved and shaped itself into the revelation that Harry's strange and spontaneous attraction all those years ago to someone he had always hated was the result of a feeling of commonality. It all made sense in a sad and pathetic sort of way, and it was what Harry always ended up thinking about after every one of his failed relationships, both with women and men.

"Are you lonely?" Harry was lonely, very lonely, and he honestly wondered if Snape was lonely too.

"I like living alone, especially after all those years of having to live with three hundred adolescents, many of whom liked to roam the corridors after hours."

"Good try at changing the subject, but that's not what I asked. Has there… umm… been anyone?"

"What about you?"

"I asked first."

"That's hardly a convincing argument."

"Fine." Harry took a deep breath. He was really going to go ahead with this conversation. "Yes, I've had a few relationships – mostly short-lived and always something missing."

"The Weasley girl?"

"Ginny and I are still friends, but yeah, soon after the war we came to realize that it wasn't going to happen for us." Harry thought back on that night by the pond. Ginny had had tears in her eyes, and had never been more beautiful. "I've only been with men the past few years, but I've never truly connected with anyone. I don't think any of them have understood me."

"As if you understand yourself."

"I'm getting there."

"Indeed." Snape looked at him, and Harry saw genuine want flicker across the man's features. Harry had been around enough that he'd seen the effects of desire improve the attractiveness of another person. Suddenly Snape looked human, even vulnerable, and Harry liked that. It suited Snape quite well and drew Harry in like a moth to a flame.

"Well, what about you?"

"I'm not young, handsome, or even moderately desirable to have around in good wizard company."

"Now who's having a pity party?"

"It's not self-pity, I'm merely explaining the facts regarding my situations. So, no, no romantic entanglements." Snape might have been blushing, but Harry couldn't be sure.

"Are you lonely?" Harry asked again.

"I prefer living alone."

"There's a difference, and you know it."

"Why do you suddenly care? Five years go by without so much as scrap of parchment from you and now you crawl out of the woodwork with more probing questions than a Muggle psychologist." Snape looked serious, but not angry. Harry took that as a good sign.

"I didn't know what I could say, but I thought about you. I thought about why you did what you did. I thought about why I sat beside your bed at St. Mungo's for all those months. I'm not sure. I guess some answers aren't simple."

"Perhaps you have learned something after all."

Snape worked on the potion until late into the evening. It wasn't until Winky had brought down a tray of sandwiches that Harry realized that Snape had sent him out for take away the previous night just to get rid of him, or maybe the pleasure of ordering him around.

It was after midnight when Snape was more than ready to retire for the evening. Harry bid him a friendly goodnight and promised to return late morning after he checked in on Ron and Hermione at St. Mungo's. As Harry was about to Apparate from the front yard, he realized that it might have been the first time that he had ever left Snape's presence amicably.

~*~*~*~

Smelton had been unable to start the potion right away and was at least twelve hours behind Snape. Still, it was going well and the wizard was confident that it would turn out well.

Hermione was less confident. Perhaps sitting for days next to her husband's lifeless body was taking its toll on her. Molly was holding things together and making sure that Hermione ate and rested. The thought of her baby growing up without a father loomed heavily on everyone's mind.

They seemed to perk up a bit at the news that Snape's potion would be ready that evening. Bill and George had distrust and suspicion written on their faces, but they said nothing as Molly and Arthur expressed their relief.

Snape was sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea when Harry arrived. The man looked paler and there were dark circles under his eyes that had not been there the day before.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, taking the seat across from Snape.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Snape sneered at him.

"Is it the fumes?" asked Harry, his concern growing rapidly.

"I am quite experienced with noxious vapors. I am taking adequate precautions."

"If you say so, but I could help with the stirring. Take some—"

"You can do nothing of the sort. You want Mr. Weasley to recover, don't you?"

"I thought we were past the taunts and insults."

"I quite enjoy them."

Harry chuckled and swore he saw Snape crack the barest hint of a smile. There was a spark of something, something mutual. Harry found himself looking forward to spending some time with Snape after Ron was healed. Still, he was quite worried as Snape headed downstairs to complete the final stage of the restorative.

~*~*~*~

"It's almost ready," Snape said as he added the final ingredient. "One more hour."

"That's great, really great."

"Go to Zelia's in Hogsmeade. We will need one sheepskin cloth. No dyes."

"All right," Harry answered slowly. "What if she doesn't have one?"

"She will have over a hundred to choose from. Nothing too large, we'll be using it to wipe the potion over him. I'll meet you at St. Mungo's."

Unable to make a final selection, Harry purchased three cloths: a small sponge sized white sheepskin, a medium washcloth sized white sheepskin, and a medium sized black sheepskin.

Hermione was alone with Ron when he arrived at St. Mungo's. He greeted her with a warm hug and held her close for several minutes.

"He's going to be fine," he whispered into her bushy, unkempt hair.

She pulled away with a forced smile and tears in her eyes. "Molly and Arthur just went for a cuppa, but they should be back any minute."

"Snape will be here soon. I brought these to rub on the potion." Harry held up the sheepskins.

"And just how many people are going to be rubbing my husband?" she said with a real smile.

Harry laughed. "Sorry. Snape said to get one and I couldn't decide. He only said no dyes. Last thing I wanted was to have brought something unusable." Harry did his best Snape impersonation. "Mr. Potter only you would be idiotic enough to—"

"Do a weak and feeble attempt at an impression of me," Snape said as he strode into the room, his long robes following in his wake.

Harry blushed to his toes. "Sorry… Sir."

Snape rolled his eyes at the formal address.

"Severus," Arthur said as he, Molly, and Healer Walker, the head Healer on Ron's case, entered the room. "I can't thank you enough for offering to brew the restorative."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Snape replied. "Shall we get on with it?" He withdrew a large brown glass bottle from his robes and snatched the medium white sheepskin from Harry.

"Hermione, you should wait by the doorway," advised Healer Walker.

Hermione nodded and backed away from her husband.

Snape poured the potion over the sheepskin completely saturating it, and then began to rub it all over Ron's golden surface. Snape repeated the process several times, and then instructed Arthur and Harry to turn Ron over. Once Ron was on his stomach, he thoroughly coated Ron's back side with the restorative. Harry noticed that Snape looked quite gaunt and unsteady on his feet.

"It shouldn't take long for the Restorative to react," Snape said as he set the bottle and sheepskin aside.

"Are you all right?" asked Harry, but didn't hear Snape's answer. There was a fizzling sound and a mist began to rise from Ron's body.

"It's working. It's working," said Arthur.

The fizzling noise grew louder and louder, as did the mist surrounding Ron's body.

There was a thud, and it took Harry a moment to realize that Snape had fallen to the ground.

"Snape! Severus!" Harry dropped to his knees and patted Snape's face.

"Snape? Huh?" It was Ron's voice.

"Oh, my Ronny!" Mrs. Weasley said, bursting into tears.

"What's going?" asked Ron. "Hermione?"

"Right here," Hermione said, rushing into the room.

"Snape?" Harry whispered, and tried to revive him.

Healer Walker levitated Snape to the empty bed on the other side of the room and quickly began casting Diagnostic Spells.

The next ten minutes passed in a blur. Ron got out of bed and walked out into the hall like nothing had happened. Healer Walker cast an oxygen bubble around Snape's head to help him breathe. Apparently the fumes from the potion had affected Snape's respiratory system. Healer Walker told Harry that normally it shouldn't take long for the toxins to clear, but with Snape's history, he wasn't sure what would happen.

~*~*~*~

The clock chimed four. Not that the time mattered. Harry had been unwilling to leave Snape's side since the previous evening, and the Healers and mediwitches left him alone. Both Ron and Hermione came by just after lunch and brought him a sandwich. It was great to see Ron up and about and the relief on Hermione's face was a beautiful thing. His friends meant the world to him, and Harry was beginning to realize that Snape was included in that small and precious circle.

The sandwich sat untouched on the bedside table.

"Potter," Snape said, "You're holding my hand again. Did we become engaged while I was unconscious?"

Harry couldn't help but smile and squeeze Snape's hand. "You've been out for almost twenty hours. Anything could have happened."

"That long?" His voice caught on the last word, and Snape coughed violently.

"Here. Have some water. Sip slowly."

Harry reluctantly agreed to leave Snape in the night mediwitch's care. He didn't want to go, but Snape seemed to be recovering, and Harry desperately needed his own bed.

~*~*~*~

When Harry arrived at St. Mungo's with a bag of croissants the next morning, he found Snape's bed empty. Panic immediately took hold.

Harry rushed into the hallway and grabbed the first mediwitch he saw. "Where's Severus Snape?"

"I'm sorry, he's gone," she replied softly.

"Gone! What do you mean gone?" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, no, not… I mean… he left. He was quite rude about it at that. Healer Walker tried to get him to stay."

After a steadying breath, Harry thanked her, and then headed to Spinner's End.

Snape, dressed in his usual heavy black robes, was in the kitchen with a pot of tea. Harry tossed the bag of croissants onto the table. "You scared the hell out of me."

Snape raised a curious eyebrow.

"I got to the hospital and you were gone. I thought… never mind." Harry shook his head and collapsed in a chair.

"Tea?"

"Why the hell not?" Harry threw up his hands in surrender.

Snape Summoned a teacup and saucer.

"How are you this morning?" Harry asked, after his anger had subsided.

"I'm a little weak, but I suspect that I'll make a full recovery. Are these from that same French bakery?"

"Yes." Harry sipped his tea. "Ron and Hermione came to see you yesterday. He's going to be fine. I imagine that they'll want to stop by to thank you in person."

"I suppose I can endure a short visit."

"Thank you… Severus," Harry said, and meaning it from the bottom of his heart.

"Pushing it a tad far, aren't you?"

"No, I don't think so. And now that Ron's going to be okay, and you're going to be okay, it's high time we talked."

"I've suffered your non-stop vapid chatter for days."

"You know what I mean." Harry was determined not to fall for Snape's verbal pitfalls.

"Yes, I know what you mean." Something softened in Snape's expression. "But I'm tired and need to rest."

"Tonight then? I'll bring take away?"

"Nothing spicy."

~*~*~*~

They dined on fish and chips. Snape approved of the selection. The conversation was light and easy. Snape asked about the case that Harry and Ron had been working on when Ron got cursed, and Harry answered him. Harry asked Snape about what he had been working on these past years, and much to Harry's surprise, Snape told him about some of his research.

After dinner they took a walk in the back garden. The moon was almost full and shone bright in a starry night sky. A cool breeze blew through the apple and persimmon trees that lined the outer bounds of the garden. The smell of fresh mint lingered in the air.

"You're looking better," Harry said, keeping close to Snape.

"The sleep did me well."

"You knew what you were risking when you decided to brew the potion. You knew that you didn't have the tolerance, didn't you?" Harry stopped walking, and Snape stopped with him.

"I knew nothing of the sort."

"Still, thank you for saving Ron's life."

"It took a lot for you to come to me. I recognized that."

Hope thrummed through Harry's heart. Snape was giving him an opening. "I have another request, a small one."

"Full of demands, aren't you?" Snape said it with a light chuckle.

"I'd like you to kiss me."

Snape froze.

Harry continued. "All those years ago, you kissed me. I've always tried to make sense of it: what it meant, what I felt, what I… I just want you to kiss me again."

"So you can understand?"

"Yes. That, and find an answer."

"An answer?"

"Yes, I think that kiss was a question."

Harry expected Snape to say something else, but instead he was seized by his shirt collar and lifted onto his toes. The kiss wasn't romantic or tender, but it wasn't forceful either. It was inquisitive. Warm lips pressed against Harry's own. Harry answered by opening his mouth and urged Snape to do the same. Wrapping his arms around Snape, Harry pulled him close and held him tight.

"Did you find your answer?" Snape asked after gently breaking the kiss.

"What? You can't feel it?" Harry teased, pressing his rapidly growing erection against Snape's thigh.

"I'm still recovering."

"Oh," Harry said, knowing his disappointment must have sounded obvious.

"I'd like to take this inside where it's warmer."

"Oh. Yes, I'd like that." Tentatively Harry reached for Snape's hand, and felt a small victory when Snape took his.

They resumed kissing before they were completely through the doorway. They stumbled, kissing and groping each other, through the house to the small sitting room. A fire was blazing and so were they. Things were moving faster than Harry had anticipated, but alarmingly close to what he had longed for.

Harry pulled his shirt off over his head and stared at Snape in the firelight, hoping somehow to convey to the other man just how badly he wanted this and for how long. When Snape pulled him into another kiss, it was passionate and possessive. Snape was kissing him like he owned him, and Harry relished every second of it.

"Need this off," Harry murmured against Snape's neck as he tried to unfasten the multitude of clasps on his robes.

With a wave of Snape's wand, the fastenings popped open. Once again, Harry mentally proclaimed his undying love of magic as he snaked his hands inside Snape's robes and sampled the hot skin underneath.

Snape had dropped his wand and his hands were deftly working the zip of Harry's jeans. In seconds they were down around his knees. Snape pushed Harry back onto the sofa and covered his body with his own. They kissed and grabbed, all the while trying to kick off their own shoes.

"Fuck, want you so bad," Harry confessed in between rough kisses. I probably have for years.

"I need…" Snape's thick cock was grinding against the top of Harry's hip.

"Take. Take what you need."

Snape incanted the hygiene spell that any homosexual wizard worth his prick knew how to perform wandlessly. Harry dragged Snape's robes off and Snape repaid the courtesy by pulling down Harry's jeans and pants. Harry pushed himself up so that he was sitting back against one arm of the sofa and watched in awe as Snape licked the head of his cock.

When Snape sucked him down to the root, Harry moaned, "Oh, fuck." No doubt about it, Severus Snape's mouth was good for something else besides slinging insults.

Snape licked and sucked, and Harry balled his fists so tight that he was sure there'd be four small cuts in each palm the next day.

Supporting Harry's arse to lift it into the air, Snape licked over Harry's bollocks and down to his crack.

Harry had never been a big fan of being on display, but he grabbed his knees and spread his legs wider. It felt so fucking good that he couldn't imagine how he was going to last. Snape's tongue was wicked and unrelenting. Snape lathed and sucked on Harry's hole, until Harry was outright begging to be fucked.

Snape sat up, incanted the other spell that all homosexual wizards knew intimately, and positioned the tip of his cock at Harry's hole.

"Please," Harry begged shamelessly.

Leaning over Harry, Snape gradually pushed himself in. Each inch felt like a mile to Harry as Snape stretched him wide. When he was completely sheathed, Snape paused for a moment.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Impatient as ever," Snape said with a lascivious smile. "I'm not exactly at full strength. I was merely catching my breath."

Snape pulled back a few inches, then easily slid back in to the root.

"Yessss," Harry hissed.

Snape leaned down, captured Harry's lips in a passionate kiss, and then gave one particularly hard thrust. What started out as a slow and methodical fucking soon became wild and desperate. Snape fucked Harry with hedonistic abandon and brought Harry to the edge of orgasm several times. Each time the bastard either slowed down or completely stopped before Harry could come.

They were both sweating heavily from exertion, and Snape needed to recast the Lubrication Charm, twice.

"Let me turn over," Harry suggested. The couch was becoming a tad uncomfortable.

"No, I want to see your face when you come undone, and I want you to see that it's me breaking you apart."

Snape pulled one of Harry's legs over his shoulder, and Harry spread the other one out wide to the floor. Then Snape did something that Harry had never seen before, never mind done to him before. Snape arched his neck and upper body over and took the head of Harry's desperate cock into his mouth. He sucked lightly for a few seconds.

"Oh god!" Harry's toes were tingling, and it quickly spread up his legs towards his groin.

Snape slid in and out of Harry's arse several more times, then leaned forward again and sucked on the end of Harry's prick again.

"How the fuck are you doing that?"

Snape smiled, and sucked him in again. Harry threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He thrust up violently into Snape's mouth.

"Fuck, I'm so close. I want to come. Please. Please."

Snape fisted Harry's cock and worked it in a slick, fast rhythm as he fucked him senseless. All self-control was long gone. Harry was at the mercy of his own body and Snape's ministrations. He panted and moaned uncontrollably as he came with intensity the likes of which he had never experienced before. Snape stroked him gently through his orgasm, and then resumed pumping furiously into Harry's arse, until finally he came with a primal groan.

It took several minutes for their breathing to return to normal. Harry shifted and allowed Snape to settle behind him. Despite the tight fit on the sofa, it was comfortable in Snape's arms.

"If this is you infirm, I can't wait for you to fuck me when you're healthy."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere. Besides, I've fantasized of this for years; I had a lot to live up to."

"In your own mind?"

"In my own mind."

"You really fantasized about me?"

"Don’t ask foolish questions."

"Well, flattery or not, you said you've been alone, and that was mighty impressive for someone who hasn’t… umm."

"I said that I've lived alone. I didn't say I was celibate."

"Oh." It was difficult to imagine any wizard not wanting to keep Snape around after that performance. Maybe Snape was breaking hearts all over the wizarding world – probably not.

"You have a bed somewhere in this house?"

With some awkward maneuvering, Snape managed to extract himself from Harry and the sofa. As he stood up, he held out his hand to Harry. "I sleep on the left side."

~*~*~*~

May 2004

He feels as if he's been hit in the head with a Bludger. Everything is dark. He cannot move, not even his eyelids. He cannot speak.

But he can remember.

Images flash across his consciousness like dreams: yelling, jagged red light, Aurors Apparating all around him, and blood.

There is so much blood.

He's unsure if he is alive or dead and he drifts in and out of self-awareness.

At some point, he realizes that he can hear. They are the muffled voices of strangers, but he hears them. Then one voice achieves clarity. Ron.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

"Please, Auror Weasley, these things take time."

"Shouldn't you be doing something?"

"We gave him the blood replenishing solution. Now we wait."


Harry fades back into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~

Harry smells antiseptic and bleach. He is nauseous, and tired, so tired. He hears a soothing baritone voice.

"Any change?"

"No, sir."

Harry feels a light tug on his arm. He feels someone gently holding his hand. He squeezes back.

"That's it. Wake up, Harry," says the warm voice.

Harry lifts his eyelids a fraction. Bright white light fills his narrow field of view, but he knows whose hand is tethering him to this world. "Severus," he rasps.

"I'm here."

The clock chimes three.

~ The End ~