Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was colder than Harry expected so deep in the woods, though it had been a warm autumn day, with students in their shirtsleeves as they cheered on the Quidditch match. Slytherin had won by a narrow margin after Malfoy made one of the most brilliant catches Harry had ever seen. Scorpius looked so like his father that Harry couldn't help thinking of the past whenever he looked at the boy, yet they were very different in temperament. In many ways Scorpius behaved the way Harry thought Lupin must have done at the same age, intense and a bit uneasy, as if someone might ask him what his grandparents had done during the war.

The war was never far away, though Harry's scar had long ago stopped burning. The memory of that pain rather than the pain itself woke him now at night. It called him to retrace his steps in those last hours, when Unforgivable Curses had fallen from his lips as easily as the Patronus charm. He glanced back in the direction of the castle, but what lights were still burning could not be seen from the Forbidden Forest. His own room was dark. Ginny was at Grimmauld Place, and his children were in the dormitories.

Perhaps coming back to Hogwarts had been a mistake, after all. Harry had thought that teaching would fill the gnawing unease that woke him on nights like this ever since Albus had left for school. Even with Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister of Magic, politics continued much as usual, and the Auror office had become tense and uncomfortable. All along Harry had believed that the children would need to be taught from a young age to respect the centaurs and work with their elves, but so long as he worked for the Ministry, he couldn't do much on that count except within his own home. Everyone had agreed that it made sense for him to want to teach, he'd been good at it, and even Ginny had encouraged him to go.

So what was he doing standing inches from the spot where he had died, once, to keep others alive?

His children always teased him about his habit of walking around the house at night. It was harder to sleep, knowing that he had pieces of his heart walking around outside his body. Each of them was his favorite and he loved them more than he had ever imagined possible.

It went a long way to compensating for the conflicts he had with Ginny. He still loved her, but he had to admit that it was a relief to live apart. Being the youngest of seven and the only, precious girl had shaped her character, not always in the most positive way. It was true that she loved James, Al, and Lils, and treated them with a gentleness that Molly never showed her own children. But why shouldn't she? They were wonderful children, and he and Ginny had the money that the Weasleys had lacked. There was no strain on her as a mother.

So why was she so demanding? She always wanted sex, and Harry wasn't in the mood. She got tetchy when he turned her down; it was almost easier just to lie back and think of England. But she wanted so many other things, too. He hadn't thought of staying at home with children as a sacrifice, and now she wanted to train for a career. Why had he gone to work and left her at home, when she would have liked to be an Auror and he would have liked to see the children more? She felt stifled by all the things he wanted and he felt as though she blamed him. This wasn't what he'd imagined marriage would be, fifteen years ago when he'd asked her.

There was a sound in the underbrush. He did have a reason to feel that something might happen tonight. Even knowing his own power did nothing to stop the feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach. Becoming a father had done that to him.

"Potter." It was a familiar voice, deep, and it carried in a tone only a little louder than a whisper.

"Magorian?"

"Potter, you imbecile, when is the last time a centaur snuck up on you?"

He smiled again as he recognized the tone, dissipating the fear that had gripped him. Usually, when he talked to Snape, Harry started the conversation in his head, so it was a bit strange to have his thoughts interrupted by someone of whom he hadn't been aware of thinking. Besides, that murmur had been real, vibrating the air around him. Perhaps he was near the spot where he had dropped the Resurrection Stone or where Dumbledore had hidden the Mirror of Erised.

"Severus," he said. "Come out where I can look at you."

Another sound, rustling leaves and a cracking twig, then a shadow fell across the feeble light making its way into the clearing. Yes, that was Snape as Harry remembered him, dark and intimidating. In the dimness he could not see the lined face nor the lanky hair, but they were as easy to conjure in memory as the voice.

"It's good to see you, Severus."

"Indeed?" The sarcasm was not lost on Harry. "Why is that, Potter? Have you longed to regale me in person with tales of your triumph over the Dark Lord?"

Still smiling, Harry moved closer to the black outline. He had never had such a vivid conversation with Snape since the war -- usually, when he tried, he had to go back and revise what he wanted to say or how he expected Snape to respond. "If you know I won, then you know that your death was not in vain," he began.

A noise cut him off, so strange that Harry felt his fingers close around his wand before he realized what it was. Snape had laughed.

"Are you -- you're not a ghost, are you?" Snape laughing! That was nothing from Harry's head. He had nothing rehearsed for such a reaction.

"How you managed such high grades in Defense I will never understand. Did you somehow steal my old textbook from that class, as well?"

"Lumos!" Harry cast silently. His guts were frozen again. Was this an Inferius? Drawing on all the power he had, he cast a wall of flame between the two them and the castle.

"Potter, Inferi can't speak. Who is left who could animate an Inferius, and why would there be only one?"

Harry let the flames burn out. The night was cold and dark once more. "Are you alive?"

"Yes."

"Have you been alive all this time?"

"I cannot believe you are thirty-eight years old. Yes, I've been alive all this time."

All of the clever things to say that Harry had rehearsed in his head were gone. He stumbled forward and threw his arms around Severus Snape. "I thought you died!" he said.

"And that bothered you, did it?" Snape's dry tone had no bite in it. "It seems that absence does make the heart grow fonder. Potter. Stop."

Whether Snape meant to stop embracing him or stop babbling, Harry didn't know, but he didn't seem to be able to do either. He did manage to keep his fingernails from gripping Snape's shoulders through his robes.

"Of course it bothered me! You gave me your memories -- not just the things I needed to know, so I'd believe you. He killed you for no reason..." Harry's eyes were wet. For all these years he had wondered whether he might have done something differently in the Shrieking Shack, something that might have allowed Snape to live. "How?" he asked, then stopped talking before the tears reached his voice.

"I would prefer to have this conversation without you stepping on my foot," Snape announced.

Likely Snape had always been so infuriating just so that no one would ever get this close to him. Swallowing hard, Harry stepped back. "How did you survive?" he asked again, pleased that his voice was steady.

"I had witnessed the Dark Lord murder in many ways. Apart from your mother's sacrifice, there is no known antidote for the Killing Curse, but preventive measures could be taken for many of the others. No one questions a Potions master when he brews blood thickeners and venom neutralizers."

"But you were dead. You weren't breathing. Hermione thought you were dead too. And you didn't come back. When your body disappeared we thought it had been something -- something the Death Eaters did..."

Snape pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here. I don't remember you being so weepy as a child, Potter."

Harry laughed. "I wasn't, then. I've just fantasized about you for so long--what I wish I could have told you, if I'd had the chance."

"What would you have told me?"

"Snape, have you been living in the forest outside of Hogwarts all along?"

"No. Don't be silly. I want to hear what you wanted to tell me, Potter." In the pale wandlight, Harry could see Snape's mocking smirk.

"Where were you, then?"

"This may amaze you, but there are other countries than this, other places one could travel. I was your age, twenty years ago, and I'd only been across the Channel once. I took the opportunity to see some of the world."

"What brought you back?"

Snape paused. "Potter."

"I wanted to apologize to you for not -- for doubting -- because you had to do such terrible --"

"I can tell you've rehearsed this."

"Damn it, I admired you for being so brave, and now you're here and as much of a bastard as ever!"

"Yes, well. Thank you ever so much."

"You let me think you were dead for twenty years!"

"I'm not accountable to you." Snape looked at his nails. "I did, however, need to check on the school, and on your safety. It's quite a good thing you are such a powerful wizard, since you're still so impulsive and incautious."

"Did you even think you were going to die? You gave me all of those memories. You looked into my eyes, and --"

Snape nodded. "Yes, I did think I might die."

Harry brought his wand up, and in its light, saw the two deep scars indented in the side of Snape's neck. He reached his hand out to touch one, and Snape shivered. He was looking into Harry's face.

"How much did it hurt?" Harry asked.

"The bite? Not nearly as much as you might think. It was far more frustrating to fall to the floor, knowing that I would never see the Dark Lord again, without being able to express my loathing even as he thought I lay dying." Harry's fingers had moved across to the other puncture mark, and Snape shivered again. "You timed both your entrance and your exit very well, for a change. It would have been exceedingly difficult to give you my memories had you not been present."

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell anyone you were alive." The betrayal felt more personal than it should have. Snape had given him not only a weapon to defeat Voldemort but a glimpse of his mother he had never hoped to have. "What could it have cost you to send a message?"

"And risk it being traced back to me? With the possibility of a life sentence to Azkaban or a visit from the Dementors?"

"You must have known I wouldn't have allowed it!" The appraising look Snape gave him made Harry feel very small. "All right...why couldn't you tell me, at least?"

Beneath his fingers, Harry could feel the steady thudding of Snape's pulse. "I had no idea you'd become so sentimental," Snape said dryly. "You owe me no debt, Potter. As you must have realized, you were not the member of your family to whom I felt an attachment."

"I heard you tell Dumbledore that. In your memories. When he thought maybe you had come to care about me." Harry felt his cheeks warming and dropped his hand. "For a long time I couldn't figure out why you would have included that conversation."

"I didn't want Dumbledore to lie to you," Snape said. "I thought he meant to sacrifice his life, and mine, and yours."

"You weren't willing. For any of us."

"No. That was one thing Albus and the Dark Lord had in common. They were willing to waste everything and everyone, no matter how much potential, no matter how irreplaceable."

Harry was going to protest, but he realized that in spite of Snape's flat tone, his eyes were brimming.

"Like my mother."

"Yes, she had magic to burn, but it was more important to Dumbledore to-- Her death meant more to him than her life. Yours, too."

"But I didn't die."

He still had his hand on the side of Snape's neck. He reached over to touch the tear that had spilled onto his cheek. Snape grabbed his wrist.

"You misunderstand, Potter, if you think I had altruistic reasons for telling you. Sparing you pain was never my..."

"I know that." The wetness on Harry's finger felt scalding hot in the night air. A shiver wracked him. It was growing even colder, and he had not brought a jumper. "Can we walk? If there's no enchantment so you can stay hidden here?"

Snape released his wrist as if he thought Harry might try to walk hand in hand with him. Turning away from the castle, he moved in the direction of Hogsmeade. "What brought you out here tonight? Can't stand the thought that the best Seeker at Hogwarts might be a Malfoy?"

"He won't be the best Seeker until stops looking over his shoulder for Bludgers once the Snitch is in sight," retorted Harry automatically. "And I understand why you didn't want Dumbledore to lie to me. I don't understand why you let me see the rest. The part about my mother, and your Patronus, and how you never cared about me."

"Did I hurt your feelings, Potter, or your pride?" There was satisfaction in Snape's voice.

"Neither. I never thought you could stand the sight of me. But you always intended to disappear, didn't you, if you didn't die? And you made sure I wouldn't feel guilty, or obligated."

A small noise that might have signified amusement or disgust burst from Snape. "Not everything I did had to do with you."

"Right. But you're the one who decided to reappear tonight."

Ahead of him by half a pace, Snape shrugged. He wasn't wearing wizarding clothing, Harry realized, but a long, black coat with buttons. "I've been home a few times. This is the just first time I've let you see me."

"Why?"

"You're alone." He stopped. Harry put a hand on his arm. "You keep touching me. Why are you touching me, Potter?"

"You're alive. I've wanted to talk with you. You knew my mother. Sirius and Remus really only knew my dad."

"There's Petunia."

"Right, well, she hated me. She's in her seventies now, and she won't see my children."

Snape looked down at Harry's hand, obsessively smoothing his coat sleeve. "You still bite your nails. You defeated Voldemort and you still bite your fingernails."

He reached over and pushed Harry's hair out of his eyes.

"I felt a premonition, tonight, that told me to come out here," Harry said.

"I still don't like you," Snape said, and bending slightly, kissed Harry on the mouth. He was not a good kisser, though his lips were soft, but Harry was, and he pulled the other man very close.

It was much warmer standing pressed against Snape. Still, Harry shuddered softly, feeling his lower body tighten with a sort of arousal he had not felt in many years. Snape must have felt it too, because he released Harry's lips.

"If you don't like me, why did you wait to catch me alone?" Harry asked him.

"Your hands are cold," Snape muttered. "You should be indoors." For a moment Harry thought he was about to be dismissed and sent back to the castle as Snape turned and continued on his path. "This way."

It was easier to follow than to question where they were going. Harry still felt a bit like Snape might vanish into nothingness. "We held a funeral," he offered. "Even without a body."

"If the Death Eaters had found my body, they would have left it where it lay."

"Lucius Malfoy tried to tell us that but we didn't listen." The memory of that funeral was as clear as if it had been the day before. It had not been so cold as now yet Harry had been numb. Some of the others had thought the Malfoys should have been given to the Dementors. Harry knew that if Snape had been alive, even with his own testimony, they might have planned the same for Dumbledore's murderer.

"I think I understand why you didn't come back," he said. "But I wish I had known." Snape whirled, batlike, to look at him.

"Why?" Snape asked. "Why should I have told you anything? Why did you kiss me? Why?"

"You kissed me." Harry couldn't believe it.

Snape looked furious, just like in the old days.

"Because I saw your memories and I understood that you loved me," Harry explained.

Snape sputtered. "I didn't love you. I didn't like you. I don't like you now."

"Fine then, I loved you for being so brave and dying for me."

Snape strode ahead of him, into the wood, until they came to a wizarding tent. "You're catching cold. You're an adult and the father of three and you can't work out to put on a hat and gloves in northern Scotland in October. Can't you at least cast yourself a warming charm?"

"Your criticism used to be crueler -- now you sound like my mother-in-law."

The tent had a fireplace inside, and Snape cast a spell that built a fire. He stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed.

"I thought I saw you die," Harry said. "You finally looked at me and saw me, and then --"

"And then passed out. Thank God we were counting on your magic and your self-sacrificing, slightly suicidal tendencies and not your abilities as a healer."

Harry came close to him and looked into his eyes, again. When he wasn't Occluding or despairing or both, Snape had ordinary dark brown eyes, with long lashes and bushy brows. His face was a little weathered and there were smile lines by his eyes--probably not from smiling, Harry thought.

"Don't--" Snape said, apparently to himself, right before he bent his head and kissed Harry again.

Harry had been hard since Snape had kissed him earlier. He pressed firmly against the older man's body so that Snape would know it too. The buttons on the long coat resisted his icy fingers.

"Stop making things difficult," muttered Snape against his mouth and the buttons popped open all together. Harry wondered why Snape didn't use a spell to warm his hands, too, but then Snape picked up the fingers in his own and brought them to his mouth.

"Oh, God, Severus," Harry groaned, thrusting himself awkwardly against the leg exposed as the coat fell away. He felt seventeen all over.

Snape was rubbing his mouth over two of Harry's fingers. "This is mad," he said as he moved from one to the other, sucking on it. He wasn't careful with his teeth.

"Tell me again that you don't like me."

"Be quiet." As if to be certain, he dropped the fingers and crushed his mouth over Harry's once more. He was hard as well, and they ground together with the urgency of much younger men.

Kissing Snape wasn't anything like kissing Ginny had been, back when it was all Harry had thought he wanted to do -- it wasn't like sunlit afternoons or Honeyduke's. It wasn't like kissing Ginny now, either, even though it was just as demanding. Snape's mouth was harder and his teeth felt uneven and Harry couldn't get enough.

"This is going to ruin everything," Snape gasped when Harry put his palm against Snape's flies, feeling his erection through his clothing.

"What?" Harry continued to lick and kiss the other man's neck, laving the scars where the snake had bitten him. He was slightly dazed. "You're alive. I want to -- I can't believe it."

Harry got Snape back onto the bed in the corner. He unbuttoned his flies and leaned down to take his cock in his mouth. "Oh God, oh God, what are you doing?" Snape's voice was low, but Harry could hear the note of panic.

Harry grinned and moved up his body to kiss him, still pulling on his prick. "I thought it was obvious."

"I'm old enough to be --" Snape protested.

"I am, too," Harry said, and went down on him again. God it was good; Snape's cock was quite a mouthful, and he moaned as Harry ran his tongue over the sensitive vein.

"Potter--" Snape said. Harry heard his voice as though from underwater. He looked up. Snape's face was flushed. "You haven't seen me for twenty years. Why are you doing this?"

"I spent more time in your memories," Harry said. "I wanted to see my mother, and I saw --"

"You felt sorry for me."

"I identified with you. I loved you. I --"

"And this is how you want to show it?"

"It's a good way," Harry said. He leaned down and kissed Snape on the mouth, trying to convey something. He looked into Snape's eyes. "You were afraid I would feel sorry for you and couldn't stand for me to know."

"Shut up," Snape said softly. "Take your clothes off. If we must do this, we'll do it properly."

"Oh, we must," Harry said. He had to get up to undress. Impatient as he was, he recalled the note of panic in Snape's voice and forced himself to strip slowly, without using magic. Snape watched him. "Wanted to do this for such a long time," he told Snape, tossing his trousers over a chair.

"What would your wife say?"

Harry squirmed, but he did not try to evade Snape's gaze. "She'll be angry. I doubt she'll be surprised though. Things haven't been...I don't want to talk about her." Snape was looking at Harry's cock as Harry climbed onto the bed, straddling him.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to fuck you." No point beating around the bush.

Tension ripped through Snape's body. "Did you ever learn a proper lubrication charm?" asked Snape gruffly.

"No...I've never done this with a man," admitted Harry. He felt rather than heard Snape sigh and thought he seemed relieved.

"Good thing one of us has done this before," Snape said under his breath, and Harry must have registered surprise, because Snape rolled his eyes. "Potter, I'm 58 years old, did you think I was a virgin?"

Harry looked down at him. "Have you had many lovers?"

Snape looked disgusted. "Lovers -- hardly. I have had many encounters with men. I don't think this is a good idea." Though he was obviously still erect, he rolled out from under Harry and stood up. "Your idea of me is distorted. Your idea of love is --"

Harry got to his feet, naked, and put his arms out to block him from leaving. He was nearly as tall as Snape, but not quite. "All right, then, you can fuck me. Or I'll suck you off. Or we -- I just want to do something to show you. You suffered so much and I want to give you pleasure. Please let me."

"Potter --"

"Could you please -- I'm naked -- could you please call me Harry?"

Snape slid his shirt-sleeved arms around Harry's body and kissed him on the mouth. His mouth opened tentatively and their tongues touched. They kissed a long time, mouth on wet mouth, Snape making delicious small sounds. When the kiss broke, they leaned their foreheads together and Snape looked into Harry's eyes. "Harry," he said. "This wasn't how I meant for it to be. I thought you would be angry with me for having hidden away for twenty years, and we'd have a good shouting match, and I would just -- go." They kissed again. Snape let his wand fall into his hand from his sleeve, and did a wordless spell to take off his shirt and vest. "You're imagining sex will make everything --"

Harry kissed him again, trying to put as much feeling into it as he could. It was very exciting to be chest to chest with a man, and to have his heart beating so close. Snape's body was hairy.

He moved back on top of Snape on the bed, and rooting around his chest. He got one of Snape's nipples into his mouth, and teased it with his teeth and tongue, listening to the tightening of Snape's breath. He had his arms around Snape's body -- strange how it was all straight lines.

When put his hands on Snape's buttocks, Harry could feel the gluteal muscle shift under his hands, and he grasped and squeezed and pushed the cheeks apart, shoving Snape's hard cock up against his own belly. He worked his finger into Snape's arse, feeling the heat. They kissed and groaned, tongues touching.

"Do you want me to--" Harry whispered.

"God help me, yes."

"Teach me the spell." Harry's own wand was over with his clothes. He picked up Snape's. It was not the dark wand Snape had had as a Hogwarts professor -- the wand that had killed Dumbledore.

Snape's fingers closed over his and Harry felt his wrist being bent as Snape turned the wand in his fingers. "Demadesco," Snape said.

Now when Harry slid his finger into Snape's arse, it was smooth and slick. He felt around, bending the knuckle, wondering whether he would be able to tell if he was rubbing the right spot. His fingertip brushed across something firm and Snape cried out.

"That's not so hard," Harry whispered, smiling as Snape writhed and squeezed around his finger. It felt almost too tight when he pushed in another one but Snape shoved down and clutched at Harry's wrist.

"It's enough."

Harry was afraid that wasn't true, but he didn't think he should be hesitant, so he spat on his hand and rubbed it on his prick. He half-expected Snape to tell him he should use a spell for that too, but Snape only watched him as he moved against him.

"Not too fast," Snape warned, rolling onto his belly. His voice was ragged and he was breathing harshly. Harry had had sex this way with Ginny but that had been completely different -- he knew her body, he knew how to make her come. As soon as he trusted himself to let go of his own prick, pushing it slowly inside, he wrapped his fingers around Snape's.

"I love you," he said.

"No you don't."

"Stop telling me how I feel." Sweat was dripping down Harry's forehead as he pressed over Snape's back. "You don't know how I feel."

Twisting, Snape tried to kiss him, making small noises in his throat.

"You're determined to get in your argument," Harry said, grunting with effort. He lunged forward and kissed him thoroughly, then slid back and began to thrust as hard as he could.

"Good," Snape said, "ah, good. Ah!" Harry was very close to coming, but he wanted Snape to come first -- habits of sex with Ginny -- and he had to focus. He pulled on Snape's cock, which took concentration, but it was also exciting. Leaning forward, he licked Snape's shoulder. Snape kept groaning, and his limbs trembled, and then his prick began to spurt in Harry's hand.

Harry gave two more hard thrusts and on the third groaned in his throat and came. He slumped over Snape's body, mouth too slack to kiss the skin his lips were touching. He breathed against Snape's shoulder.

Snape was also breathing hard, and flushed in the face. He looked embarrassed. He pulled Harry out slowly, and grabbed his wand from where they'd left it. "Have to clean up," he said, and cast something wordless.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, still naked. Harry sat up too and put on his glasses. Snape's chest hair had gray in it, and the back of his neck had faint, barely visible lines. Harry put his arms around Snape from behind.

Snape cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"I want to hold on to you."

"I'm not your wife."

"She has nothing to do with this."

"For your sake I hope she would agree." Snape shivered as Harry's tongue slid along the crease where his neck met his back. "Harry. What do you think this changes?"

"Everything." Harry settled his face rest in the curve between Snape's neck and shoulder. "You're alive. You just let me..."

"Perhaps I intend never to see you again."

Harry's fingers scraped against Snape's chest as his arms tightened. "Even then. You hadn't seen me for twenty years and you kissed me and took me to bed. I may not know why you did it but you can't tell me it doesn't mean anything."

The muscles beneath his chin had relaxed. Snape was not resisting him, not physically at least. Harry kissed the side of his throat up to his ear. It was too soon for his body to be ready but for the first time in longer than he could remember, he wanted to make love again right away.

"Why did you want to shout at me?"

"What?" Snape's voice was low and languorous.

"You said you expected me to be angry and we'd have a shouting match and you would go away again. You didn't need to speak to me at all."

"Curiosity, I suppose." Snape shivered again as Harry bit down on his throat, forgetting, for an instant, the scars from the snake. He licked and kissed the spot.

"Was kissing me curiosity too?"

"Oh, Potter, just leave it," Snape answered low enough to be talking to himself. "You're young enough to be my son. You could have been my son." He put his head in his hands. "This is so perverse."

"But -- aren't you -- don't you like men?"

"She was my only true friend. No one else ever said, 'You're my best friend.' She had so much magic and she was so beautiful. I've never loved anyone else. I don't -- do this."

"What?"

"This kissing and cuddling -- it's not something men generally do."

"Do you dislike it?"

Snape looked at Harry's knee. "No. I like it," he admitted.

"Can I tell you again?"

Snape looked up into Harry's face again. "Tell me."

Harry took a breath so that he wouldn't sound so foolish, this time. "When I saw your memories in the Pensieve, I realized how brave and good you were, and I loved you. I wished that you were still alive, so that I could love you, could give you something back --"

"You're not Lily."

"I know," Harry began to say, but Snape had turned and was kissing him.

Smiling, as much as his mouth would allow while it was kissing back, Harry let himself be borne down onto the bed again. It was Snape who had initiated the kissing all along.

"Where were you planning to go after tonight?" he asked during one of the moments when they came up for air. Snape was rocking against him, but he wasn't hard, and Harry knew that at Snape's age it might be quite a while before he was again. "Do you have a house somewhere? They cleaned out the one at Spinner's End...you know that. I have a few of your books."

"You always were sentimental."

"I'm not the one who was snooping around checking up on people." They kissed again with the rising heat of the quarrel. "Come back," Harry whispered. "You're the only one who... Come back into the world with me."

"No." Snape said. "We could never live together. We don't get on. I wouldn't be able to stand the kind of fame you've had all these years."

"That's what magic is for," Harry said. "Coping with fame, I mean. You can hide using--"

"Magic doesn't enable people who are habitually at odds to get along. Haven't you noticed that?"

Snape's harsh words were at odds with the gentle touch of his hands in Harry's hair.

Snape was quiet for a moment. "And your children. Do you want to break up your marriage to their mother in order to go after a churlish man twenty years your senior, to go on the run?"

Harry feared he might weep again. "I -- Severus --"

"Your fantasy came true. I came back from the dead, but I can't stay. I can't let you enslave me any longer, and I can't make another mistake that ruins your life."

"I have left my wife, though. She's back in London and I'm here for the year, and we haven't been sleeping together." His heart beat hard; it was painful to admit it out loud. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. I needed to be at Hogwarts, near my children."

Snape's expression was impenetrable. Harry shook his head.

"Will you stay the night here with me?" Harry asked him.

"I've never shared my bed."

"It's all right, I don't snore too badly. It's much warmer this way."

Snape nodded. His Adam's apple moved against Harry's face where he was pressed against Snape's throat.

"I didn't mean come back just for me," Harry added after a few minutes, listening to Snape's pulse and feeling his chest rise and fall. "There must be other people you knew once who you've wanted to see."

"I have seen them." Harry's head popped up, looking at him. He felt an absurd sense of betrayal, not only from Snape, if one of the others had known where Snape was and hadn't told him. Snape glanced at him seeing Harry's anger. "I didn't talk to anyone, I saw them. You wouldn't have wanted a message from anyone else."

Oh, so Snape had been keeping an eye on people from the other side as well. That wasn't altogether surprising. "Malfoy."

"I have seen Malfoy. I have no particular wish to speak to him. You insisted that his father should be spared."

The words contained an accusation. Harry wasn't sure why. "His father could have run away at the end but didn't. The only thing he wanted was to find Draco safe. You know why I did it -- you told Dumbledore to save my father and me with my mother."

Snape made a small uncomfortable noise. "You know why I did that. It was for Lily, not for you. I'm still the same man you despised."

"The man I hated wouldn't have kissed me or told me he couldn't make a mistake that would ruin my life."

"What do you know," Snape muttered. "I'm not promising to stay. I probably snore, myself."

"That's all right," Harry said. He yawned. "I usually don't sleep very well. I like to hear other people sleeping, so I know they're safe."

Snape stroked his hair away from his forehead.

"I do that for my son," Harry said, "when he has trouble sleeping."

"Your face is like hers, even with your eyes shut," Snape whispered. He said something else, too, something important, but Harry was too relaxed to respond or remember it after a minute.

Though it seemed he hadn't felt this way in a very long time, maybe not since he was a baby, Harry was aware that someone watched over him, and would take care of things, if he slept.