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Chapter Text

Harry should have listened to Dumbledore when he warned him not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised. Instead, Harry stood across the room from it, less than 24 hours before from he and Ginny would officially be together until death do them part.

He shouldn’t be here, he thought as he walked to the mirror. He should be at home, getting a good night’s rest. What kind of groom spends the weeks up to his wedding tracking down a magical mirror that shows one their deepest desires because he’s so desperate for confirmation that he’s doing the right thing? Shouldn’t he know he’s doing the right thing?

Why did he feel such a strong urge to do this? He should already be sure of what he’ll see in that mirror. Ginny and himself, happy and in love. If not that, then his parents. Yet the hesitation to complete those last few steps had him wondering.

He loved Ginny. He’s always loved Ginny. The uncomfortable thought that he also loved Hermione but he didn’t want to marry her popped into his mind, but he pushed it away quickly. He loved Ginny. He’d step up to the mirror and see them together. 

Letting out a calming breath, and using his oh-so-talked-about Gryffindor bravery, he took the last few steps up to the mirror. He thought about Ginny, about her smile and her jokes. He thought about her fiery red hair and her soft skin. He thought about her determination and strong personality. He focused on having her by his side for the rest of his life.

The mirror started to shimmer and Harry waited. His focus shifted from Ginny herself and the life they would have together to the feeling all these things evoked, the thing that he was so desperately chasing: Utter happiness; Fulfillment; Love.

The mirror shifted and showed himself, staring back at him.

There was smile on his face, and eyes so bright and full of warmth that Harry almost let out a sob of relief. He watched as the mirror version of him tipped his head back smiled up at something.

Harry frowned. Ginny wasn’t taller than him. Maybe it was his parents?

Slowly the mirror revealed the person behind Harry. Black dress shoes, dark blue trousers, a black robe, and dark blue jacket covered arms shimmered into being around Harry’s reflection. He stared at the arms in the mirror, the hands that peeked out from white cuffs splayed across Harry’s hips, holding him possessively and protectively. He stared at those stark white cuffs until he felt ghostly lips brush across his cheek. Lips that were definitely not Ginny’s.

He froze as the thumb on his left hip rubbed softly in small circles. Slowly, he looked up and he found a pair of obsidian eyes looking back at him with a warm glow. The mouth was pulled into a knowing smirk. A dark gaze glanced back down to Harry’s reflected green eyes.

They’re in love, Harry realized as he watched the two men in the mirror. No, it was not Ginny that Harry saw himself in love with; it was Severus Snape.

Harry’s stared in shock as his mind replayed the last time they had seen each other. Snape, as always, was delighted to see him.

Harry stared at the man who, until three weeks ago, had been lying half-dead in the hospital ward. Harry visited once a week while Snape lay unconscious with countless spells and potions fixing him up as the mediwitches tried to bring him back from the brink of death. At times, Harry wondered if he would pull through. Professor McGonagall had told him not to get his hopes up.

Hermione had gone with him most times, as Harry wasn’t sure he could face it alone. While cleaning up the castle they had found a book in the remains of Snape’s classroom, in what used to be, before it was blown up, his desk. Hermione had saved the well worn book from being thrown out in the cleanup. Inside the cover was a message from Dumbledore to Snape. Hermione used to read it to him. Harry used to half listen as he watched Snape’s chest slowly rise and fall. It was the only sign of life that there was, and if he were honest, Harry clung to it to get himself through the aftermath of the war.

Ron had outright refused to see Snape. Nothing Harry said to convince him worked. Ron accepted that Snape was on their side, but he still refused to forgive him, claiming that he was a git regardless of his reasons. Harry gave up trying to drag Ron along with him to the hospital when he threatened to bring Weasley products with him as gift to Snape.

When Snape had woken up, Harry had been notified by McGonagall. He had rushed to the hospital only to find an empty bed and one very pissed off mediwitch. Apparently once awake, Snape had insisted he was fine and demanded to be released. Nothing convinced him to stay.

The last time Harry saw his former professor, it was after the trials. Snape, Draco, and Narcissa had been cleared of all charges. Lucius was on probation. Harry had gone to congratulate and thank Snape when their eyes met and Snape glared at him threateningly. Ever the stupidly brave Gryffindor, Harry ignored his obvious message of ‘leave me alone’ and approached him anyway. 

It did not end well.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Snape said, walking past him and brushing his shoulder with a thump.

“I just wanted to say I’m happy you got a full pardon, and to thank you for all that you did during the war,” Harry said and stuck out his hand for Snape to shake. The man didn’t even glance down at it.

“As I said: fuck off, Potter.”

Snape walked away before Harry could say another word, leaving The Boy Who Lived Twice to watch as he disappeared into a crowd of people. Hermione came up behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“That went well,” Harry sighed.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed.

“Just think, mate,” Ron’s voice came from his left as he joined them, “three more months and you’ll be seeing him again. This time you’ll be colleagues.”

Harry groaned as he imagined the reaction Snape would have when McGonagall finally told him she had given the Defense job to Harry. Not only would he have to see Harry every day, but he couldn’t even give him detention when he annoyed him. He would have to be civil to him.

Another brush of lips against his skin pulled Harry from his thoughts. He looked at Snape, who tilted his head up a fraction from Harry’s reflected self to smile against his temple. He watched himself look at Snape as the smile pressed into his skin.

Utter happiness. Fulfillment. Love.

There was a cold feeling in Harry’s stomach that felt a lot like impending doom.

Chapter Text

Harry had stayed staring at the Mirror of Erised all night. As he’d sat down before it, Snape in the mirror had sat down as well and curled around his body. Harry could almost feel his warmth. He was horrified to feel an ache of longing.

It wasn’t until the feeling got so intense Harry thought he’d break if he didn’t have it right now, that Harry remembered Dumbledore’s warning during his first year about people wasting away in front of the mirror. He forced himself to stand, watching Snape look up at him questioningly, endearingly. Harry swallowed thickly. He disapparated with his gaze still soaking up the look of pure love Severus Snape was sending him.

Harry landed in Grimmauld Place with a crack. He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. His wedding was soon. He had to find Ginny. He couldn’t marry her. It didn’t matter if Snape never looked at him like that in real life. He couldn’t marry Ginny when he so clearly loved someone else (apparently). He just wished he loved someone else.

A soft thud sounded from upstairs and Harry frowned. He should be alone.

Quietly, he made his way up the stairs, wand out. He could hear sounds of sniffling and muttering. As he approached the door with Regulus’s name on it, the muttering cleared up.

“Relax, you’re fine. It’s going to be fine. So what? You’re not even seventeen yet. You love Harry. This is how it should be. Everything is going to be great. You’re overreacting. Just breathe. Breathe.”

Harry knocked lightly on the door several times. The muttering stopped and he guessed so did her breathing. The room was deadly silent.

“Gin?” he called softly, “Ginny it’s me. Let me in.”

There was silence from within the room. As he readied himself to speak again there was a shuffling sound and the door slowly creaked open. Ginny stood half hidden behind it, tears making her eyes red and her skin blotchy. Her make-up was a wreck and she was shaking like a leaf.

“I think we need to talk,” Harry said gently.

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” she responded quietly. The door opened regardless.

“Nobody else is here,” Harry said.

He didn’t count Kreacher, who was somewhere within the house. He turned to face Ginny when she didn’t answer. She had her arms crossed, her hands clutching each arm and pulling them tight against herself.

“I can’t do it, Harry,” she said, her voice breaking at the end of it. The tears were racing down her lips and her breathing was unsteady as she tried to keep a sob in. “I know everyone expects us to get married but, I-“

She slid herself to the floor as her voice caught.

“Hey,” he prompted carefully.

Ginny didn’t look up. She kept her head down and her eyes staring at her lap. She sniffled and shook slightly.

“We don’t have to get married,” Harry stated.

Ginny let out a disbelieving laugh.

“No. Ginny, listen to me.” He waited for her to look at him. “We don’t have to do this. Neither of us even asked each other if we wanted it. We’ve barely had time together, and to be honest I don’t even know if I’ve taken you on a proper date. The last year or so has been a jumble of madness. I do love you, Ginny,” another pained whimper, “but I think everyone, us included, has mistaken it for something it is not.”

Ginny swallowed and looked back hopeful and scared.

“I think I’ll always love you, but I not as a husband should love his wife. More like a brother loves his sister,” he said slowly. He worried for a second if he had misunderstood. If it wasn’t like that for her. He himself had only just realized it as he saw her when he turned around.

“Me too,” was the hoarse response he got back. Harry sighed in relief. “Do you think it was ever more?”

“In the beginning maybe. I think we’d have realized eventually, even if things were different.”

“Mum’s going to be devastated.”

“She just wants us to be happy.”

They leaned back against the wall and sat staring at nothing for a while.

“So, what made you crack?” Harry asked. Ginny laughed and sniffled.

“I’ve been on edge all day. I looked out the window and that proved to be a big mistake.”

Harry looked at her expectantly. She blushed. Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Didn’t take you too long to move on,” he laughed. Ginny buried her head in her hands. “Go on, who is it?” he asked. She shook her head. “Someone I know then?” he guessed.

“I- I don’t know how it happened,” she confessed. “We were both helping clean up the school and we started talking and-“ she groaned in frustration. “I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“You love him?”

“No. But, I’d like to explore where it would lead us.”

“Does he feel the same?”

“Yes?”

Harry smiled. He supposed that in itself was a sign. If he really loved Ginny like that he would at least feel a little hurt that she’d moved on so fast.

“God I cannot believe that we’re sitting here talking about me liking some other boy on our supposed to be wedding day only,” Ginny checked the alarm clock on the bedside table, “a half hour before the ceremony,” she said shaking her head. “You’re late, you know,” she added casually.

Harry sighed. Now they’d be looking for the both of them. Ginny pulled her legs to her chest.

“So, who is?” Harry asked curiously.

Ginny buried her head in her hands again.

“Dhhrafghco.”

“What?”

“Drhfgacho.”

“Come again?”

“DRACO!”

Harry stared. She turned her head to see him and immediately turned it back with a groan.

“See, I knew you wouldn’t take it well.”

“Draco? As in Draco Malfoy? Blonde hair? Utter prat?”

“He is not!” she paused and groaned again. “Okay, he is.” Harry laughed, prompting Ginny to sit up and glare at him. “He’s not always.” Harry laughed harder and Ginny reached for a pillow close by and hit him with it, eyes still red and puffy. “Shut up.”

“I can’t wait until Ron hears this,” Harry laughed, tears springing to his eyes. Ginny took up her pillow-weapon and hit him again a few times. Harry moved away with a giggle that he would whole-heartedly deny ever making. Calming down enough to speak, he patted her knee. “I wish you luck,” he said and she rolled her eyes at him. “I expect a wedding invitation.”

“Gods. Don’t you dare mention a wedding. I don’t want to hear the word again until I’m thirty,” she said shuddering. Harry nodded in agreement. “What about you? What had you getting cold feet?”

Harry tensed. Ginny gasped.

“And you accused me of moving on fast!” She hit him with the pillow for again. He yelped and glared at her only to find her grinning back at him, her eyes slowly clearing of the red and her skin’s splotches receding. “Go on,” she prompted, “what’s his name?”

Harry blinked. Ginny grinned wider.

“But –“

“Please,” she sighed. “I’ve suspected since your fourth year.”

“But I-“

“Mum thought you were too,” she said as if that made it better. “Then Ron told her you kissed Cho, and we both started wondering about if I’d ever be Mrs. Potter,” she added.

“But I’m not gay!”

Ginny gave him a pointed look and Harry opened his mouth to argue against the accusation.

“I don’t blame you. I don’t think you were stringing me along or anything,” she continued. “Honestly, I think it was hard for you to really think about it with all that went on every year.” She patted his knee. “Just give it some thought. When you realize I’m right I’ll accept caramels and white chocolate,” she said seriously, with just a hint of a smile giving her away.

“Oh my gods,” Harry said as he covered his face with his hands.

“I know. You almost married me,” and then after a pause, “a girl!” she teased. Harry glared at her. “Be that as it may, you still haven’t told me who it is that made you all panicky.”

“Who said I was panicky?”

Another pointed look.

“Yeah, all right.”

Lying crossed his mind. Pick some celebrity he saw in a muggle magazine and claim to have started worrying at the attraction he felt; maybe make up a crush on a former classmate? He could even claim seeing Bill working to put up the tent the other day without a shirt. Harry internally frowned at that. No. Ginny would see through it all. He sighed.

“Remember how I hunted down the Mirror of Erised?” he asked lightly. “Well, I found it, as you know.” He sighed. This was harder than he thought it would be. “I didn’t see what I expected.”

“Let me guess: you weren’t alone?”

“Definitely not alone.”

“Who was it?”

Harry suddenly launched himself up with a nervous burst of energy. Ginny looked up at him from where she still sat on the floor. She waited for him to answer the question. Instead, Harry started to pace. He made four trips across the room before he stopped, looked at her, took a breath, and buried his head in his hands.

“Wow. That much worse than my Draco reveal?” she asked getting up. “I’m intrigued.”

“You can’t say a word!” Harry slightly yelled. “Not a word, Ginny!”

“Harry, you know you can trust me.”

They stared at each other for a good while.

“I can’t do it,” he finally said sinking to sit on the bed.

Ginny went over to him. She sat beside him and leaned her chin on his shoulder. The clock ticked loudly beside them. Harry focused on the sound, luling himself into a calm state. Perhaps one where he forgot about weddings and mirrors and former professors that hate him.

“It’s Snape isn’t it?” she whispered quietly.

Harry stopped breathing just to start hyperventilating a second later.

“Hey, relax.” She sat up and turned him to face her. “Oh, you poor thing you just realized it didn’t you.”

“I- I mean… He- How did-“

Ginny smiled sadly at him and shook her head. She brought him into a hug and Harry just let it happen, too shocked to move. She fruitlessly tried smoothing his hair down. “You were a bit obvious sixth year,” she said lightly. Harry groaned. Sixth year, before everything had changed at the end of term. He had developed a bit of a... crush? Was that the word? Must be. He groaned again.

“I didn’t even see him as often as usual. I was so busy trying to get on Slughorn’s good side for Dumbledore that I…” he trailed off with another groan.

“Well you know what they say,” Ginny said, pulling back to look at him. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

Harry glared at her.

“So what was in the mirror?” she asked. “Besides him, I mean.”

“Nothing,” Harry answered, flopping back on the bed and listening as Ginny moved herself up to sit further up to lean on the backboard. Harry flung an arm over his eyes. “Just him. And me.”

“That can’t be all,” she prompted. Harry sighed.

“He was holding me.”

“Holding you?”

“Yeah, like around the waist.” Harry removed his arm and stared at the ceiling. “Like how Ron holds Hermione sometimes. Or Bill holds Fleur.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Harry’s mind projected the memory onto his eyelids. “He, uh, kissed my neck I think. Then we just looked at each other. I don’t know, Ginny. That look... I’ve never seen that look on him or me before. It was… warm.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Harry looked at her. “What am I going to do? What could I do? Nothing. I can’t do a thing.”

“If you could though?”

“I can’t.” Harry turned his eyes back to the ceiling. “Great. I have to deal with him every day when school starts. How am I going to do it?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Ginny said softly. “What I do know is I’m always here to talk if you need to. This’ll be our little secret. And if you want, I’ll even help you with a plan to get him.” Harry laughed into the arm he had re-flung over his face. “You can help me with Draco,” she added. Harry made a face under his arm but laughed. “Operation SOS.”

He turned to her. “SOS?”

“Seductions of Slytherins.”

The room was quiet for a second before they both started laughing. “Right,” Harry said through the laughter bubbling out of him.

“Deal?” Ginny stuck her hand out to him. Harry grabbed it.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Harry,” Ginny said a minute later. He hummed in response to show he was listening. “We’ve still got a wedding to call off,” she reminded him.

“Can’t we just not show up?” he asked hopefully. Ginny sighed and rested her head on her knees.

“I wish.”

“What time is it now?”

“We’ve got ten minutes.”

Harry sighed and reluctantly got up before holding his hand out to Ginny.

“You’re telling your mother,” Harry said and Ginny cracked a smile as she was helped up.

Together they disapparated from the room. Reappearing a second later in the living room of the Burrow caused about seven yells of joy and eight sighs of relief as well as one “Thank heavens” from Mrs Weasley.

“Where have you two been?” she exclaimed in distress and already approaching them. ““Everyone’s already waiting outside, all seated. You’re not even dressed!” Her attention was caught by the tear-ruined face of her daughter and she immediately started fussing. “Ginny dear, what in heavens happened to your makeup?” She held Ginny’s chin, moving it this way and that as she examined her with a sharp gaze, mentally noting everything that had to be fixed or redone entirely.

Harry and Ginny shared a look as she smudged away a black streak of eyeliner that had trailed down Ginny’s cheekbone. Mrs Weasely tutted before looking to Harry and rolling her eyes.

“Fred, George, be dears, help Harry get ready,” she said in exasperation, already taking Ginny’s hand to pull her upstairs to get ready.

“Uh, actually, we’re uh-“ Harry tried as Fred made his way over to him with his brother. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could do it. It was the day of their wedding. How were they supposed to tell everyone it was cancelled now?

Ginny took one look at him and huffed out a harsh sigh. In a swift move, she dodged out of her mother’s grasp and grabbed Harry’s hand with a look of determination on her face. Harry let her take charge and thanked Merlin that it was a Gryffindor that he’d almost married clearly his courage was temporarily out of sorts. He blamed the mirror.

“Come on,” Ginny said, ignoring the well-meaning protests from her mother.

They walked outside together as Ginny spelled the ruined makeup off her face. The garden reminded Harry of when Bill and Fleur got married. His eyes scanned the backs of his guests' heads as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves. Ginny squeezed his hand.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Er…”

“Think of it as phase one of Operation S.O.S.,” she whispered as they approached the aisle. “Can’t get with Snape if you’re married to me,” she smiled and Harry laughed short and breathlessly at the absurdity of what was happening. “He doesn’t exactly seem like the sharing type,” she smirked.

“Same for you with Draco,” he countered with a whisper, before grinning at Ginny’s light blush.

The guests stood at once. Harry avoided looking at them as Ginny marched them down the aisle. There were murmurs already starting and from the corner of his eye, Harry saw the guests start sitting back down with confused hesitation.

Once at the alter Ginny and Harry turned to address them. It fell silent in record time. Harry looked nervously around and caught sight of Ron and Hermione running out the Weasley house with alarm. Harry locked gazes with Hermione for only a second or so but felt a lot longer. A physical wave of relief seemed to overtake her before she smiled and shook her head at him. The ease of her understanding, the seeming agreement in his and Ginny’s soon-to-be action, and the plain calm and casual look about her had Harry’s confidence springing back to him

“Good afternoon,” Ginny started. “I would like to thank you all for coming, it means a great deal to Harry and me that you all came out to witness our wedding. Only, the problem is, we’re not going to have it.”

The murmurs grew in volume and Harry could see a very confused Mrs Weasley at the other end of the aisle. Harry saw Hermione whisper something to Ron before Ron smiled and nodded in support to Harry and Ginny. Harry smiled slightly at his best friends before turning his attention back to his scandalized guests.

“We would like to apologize for this, but Ginny and I have decided that we both aren’t ready to get married,” he said. He looked to Ginny who smiled at him.

“Please enjoy the food and music. We’ll still be having the reception, only now it’s more like a break-up party. Thank you again for coming,” Ginny finished. With that Ginny and Harry both turned and left.

The guests, though it took them a while, got up and accepted the news rather well. The room around them transformed into a buffet-style dinner with music starting up. With some encouragement from the twins, people started to dance and eat.

Without a honeymoon to go on, Harry went to Hogwarts earlier than planned. He used the floo network to travel directly into Professor McGonagall’s office from Grimmauld Place. As per usual, Harry had a rough landing and sort of shot out of the fireplace, getting soot all over the rug of his former head of house and second in command of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He saw a cat sitting on a desk as he got himself up. He dusted himself off, taking his glasses off to wipe the lenses before putting them back on. The cat watched him silently.

“Sorry about that, Professor,” he said sheepishly to it. It watched him silently before transforming into McGonagall. She enveloped him into a hug before he could do anything. He smiled and hugged back. “It’s good to see you again,” he said sincerely. “I can’t believe I’m really here. As a professor.”

“Yes, well, at least now you won’t be getting in as much trouble,” she said, adding an expectant look. Harry smiled back. “Your quarters are ready; however since we weren’t expecting you so soon, I have not had a chance to inform the other members of the staff that you are our new Defense professor,” she said not so subtly hinting at what exactly that meant. Harry had a ridiculous urge to go back to Grimmauld Place and wait until she had told him them.

“So, he-uh, he doesn’t know?” Harry said, a bit hopeful that he had misunderstood and she had told Snape already. He had trusted McGonagall to hire any new professors. He might regret that now. The witch shook her head and Harry sighed with a nod. “Right. This’ll end well,” he breathed as various scenarios played through his mind, each one worse than the previous. They all had one thing in common: he’d be humiliated in front of the students as much as the man could manage per day.

“Do not let him bully you, Harry,” McGonagall’s voice sounded sternly, pulling him from the feeling of impending doom. She stood by her desk, watching the young wizard. “You’re his colleague now. He cannot give you detention nor can he deduct house points. It may leave him a little frustrated at times, but that does not give him any right to bully you. You stand up for yourself,” she lectured.

Harry nodded. It was a nice pep talk but it didn’t really matter. Snape was Snape and he’d find a way to pick on him. It might get more creative now, but Harry was certain Snape would discover some way to belittle him.

As Headmaster, he could always fire him.

A sudden frown found its way onto Harry’s face and he pushed the thought away before he could let it sink in further.

McGonagall’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. She gave it a light squeeze. “Don’t you go provoking him though,” she said gently, and Harry was about to argue that he was never the one to start anything, and that he was the one who tried to make amends and he was the one who got turned down. Before he could open his mouth though, McGonagall carried on. “I know to you it may not seem like it, but he’s still young and foolish – much like yourself – and although he might claim to know everything, he’s still learning a lot himself. I would not be averse to encouraging a friendship between the two of you,” she said with a small smile.

Harry tried very hard not to laugh outright at the thought of Snape’s reaction to being called young and foolish, especially my McGonagall.

“We aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Harry finally said.

“You could always ask him for teaching advice,” she offered.

Harry had a flashback to Potions class and with Neville Longbottom being scared witless that his toad was going to be poisoned.

“I think I’m okay,” Harry said as more memories came dancing across his mind.

“You seem to forget he was twenty one when he started teaching. He could help you more than you think,” she told him.

“Yes, of course, I’ll, uh, I’ll try asking him for some advice then,” Harry halfheartedly assured. He was sure if he asked he’d be giving the man ammunition enough for at least the next three years of his career. Harry stifled a groan as he thought about the long-term ahead, let along years.

And he hadn’t even seen Snape yet.

“Very well,” McGonagall nodded. “I’ve put you in Gryffindor tower. I thought it would be more to your liking there,” she said with a bit of a smile. Harry could not help the smile that dawned his face at the thought. His head of house gave him a knowing look, and what seemed to be a nod of dismissal. “Oh, and I expect to see you at every game wearing house colours,” she added as Harry turned to leave.

 Walking through the corridors, Harry tried to come up with questions he could ask Snape about teaching. I could ask about the best way to silence a class, Harry thought, but immediately rejected the question. It would be far too easy for him to twist that into an insult. He could just imagine the scathing remarks that would get him. Another possible question then. What should I base my point deduction values on?  No. That would lead to trouble as well. Possibly a question regarding what type of robes was best to wear to teach. Right. Asking Snape for fashion advice. That would end well.

A different question. He needed something relatively safe to ask, something that would not be easily manipulated to shoot back at him. Something maybe related to grading or test giving might work. Or perhaps-

“Potter!”

Shit.

Harry turned around to see Snape walking his way, a look that Harry usually saw right before the man gave him detention. It was not as if Snape could give him detention anymore. Harry was a professor now. He should stand up for himself. Fight back. McGonagall had even told him to do so.

No, a voice in Harry’s head said, sounding an awful lot like Hermione. Be calm. Be polite. Don’t give him anything to go off. He’s the fire and you’re the oxygen. Cut off the oxygen and the flames die away.

Was it going to work? Harry was sceptical, but as Snape all but stormed up to him, he might as well try. Especially if he had any hope for Operation S.O.S. (not that he had a plan in place anyway).

“Good afternoon, Headmaster,” Harry said, even putting on a small smile.

Snape stopped in front of him with obvious suspicion. Harry forced himself not to glare back as Snape suddenly narrowed his eyes. He remembered what Snape had looked like in the mirror. He still looked just as stern and serious, but when he had looked at Harry there had been a softness that eased into his eyes and transformed in such a subtle but stark way that Harry wondered how it was possible. He felt a pang of longing, which was ridiculous. Snape had never actually looked at Harry like that and with the way the man was looking at him now, that seemed utterly impossible.

Harry wanted to try though. He remembered the intimacy of their mirror selves and felt a flush heat up his cheeks. He really wanted to try.

“And what, may I ask, are you doing back at Hogwarts?” Snape asked, pulling him from his thoughts with a suspicious gaze that seemed to be picking Harry apart. He hoped he didn’t find many answers… at least not yet.

Harry thought about lying for a moment. Oh, just popping by for a quick chat with Professor Flitwick. Snape cocked an eyebrow in expectation. Harry froze as McGonagall's face came to mind. Right. So, to make his former Head of House proud, Harry plucked up his Gryffindor courage.

“I’m moving my things into my quarters,” Harry answered just as Snape took a breath to no doubt insult Harry’s intelligence in some way.

Harry would have to tell him the whole truth eventually, but for now not even his Gryffindor courage could get him to admit it all. It wasn’t that he was scared of his former Potions teacher, just the imminent boil over of that famed temper of his. Harry Potter may have been the Boy Who Lived Twice, survivor of the Killing Curse, hunter of Horcruxes, destroyer of Voldemort, but he was still a person and what person likes to be screamed at?

“Why, Mister Potter, would you be doing that?”

“Well, it would be easier to get to the school for lessons if I lived here rather than flooing in every day from Grimmauld Place,” Harry quipped before he could stop himself. Habits die hard. He froze, waiting for the venomous response. It seemed that Snape was going to ignore the sarcasm to indulge in a look of utter disgust at the mention of Grimmauld Place. Sirius Black, three years from beyond the grave, still managed to piss Snape off with just the mention of his home.

“Lessons?” Snape repeated, seemingly caught up with the rest of what Harry said.

Harry bit his tongue and mentally chided himself. It looked like he’d be telling him sooner rather than later. An impatient look from Snape made Harry feel like a first year again and he gave up on postponing the inevitable.

“I’m the new Defense professor,” Harry said with more bravery than he felt.

One eyebrow arched up at him and Harry held his breath.

“Another year of inept Defense professors. I see Minerva is keeping up the tradition then,” Snape said coolly. Harry dug his nails into his palm to keep from rising to the bait.

“I’ve been dealing with defending myself and others from the dark arts all my life, I am more than capable of instructing the subject,” he responded calmly. “I already taught a whole year of it, during fifth year. You probably heard of Dumbledore’s Army,” Harry added. Snape’s eyes clouded over slightly at the mention of Dumbledore.

“We’ll see,” was all Snape said before he abruptly turned and left, striding down the corridor.

Harry was in his future classroom the next time Snape and he spoke. His mind was replaying what he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised no matter how hard he tried to stop it. He was trying and failing to plot his next move. He really ought to owl Ginny and discuss what phase two of the plan was and how the hell he was supposed to implement it. Snape had ignored him for three days. If he didn’t know, Harry would say the man wasn’t in the castle at all. How was Harry supposed to sort his feelings out if he never saw the man?

No to mention constantly being on the lookout for him and flushing whenever he was mentioned was getting embarrassing now. He just hoped the rest of the staff thought he was nervous or intimidated. That wouldn’t be too far off anyway. Who wouldn’t be nervous and intimidated when trying to come up with a plan to seduce Severus Snape?

Harry told himself that he’d owl Ginny after he was done prepping for classes tomorrow. Whatever plan Ginny would come up with would be loads better than his own, which he struggled formulating at all. Harry got a flash of a scenario pop into his mind where he just pounced on Snape in the teacher’s lounge. He frowned as he moved a pile of books to a different shelf. No. That wouldn’t do at all. He’d be hexed and hospitalized within seconds. No point in risking bodily harm for a kiss until he was sure Snape was even interested.

Harry dropped the file he had picked up to put in the filing cabinet by the bookcase with a terrible realization. He didn’t even know if Snape was gay! He’d just assumed! That bloody mirror had no promises or guarantees. Plus, if Harry went off what he knew about the man, then Snape certainly wouldn’t be interested! Someone who loves one's mother does not have an interest in fucking her son.

“Oh, god,” Harry mumbled to himself in horror, covering his face with the file in embarrassment just as he heard a deep silky voice come from the doorway.

“Organizing, Potter? If only you’d have done that as a student,” said Snape with barely any venom.

Harry turned to look on instinct; it was a bit difficult as he was bent over and it probably looked highly unprofessional with his arse sticking out. Snape was standing in the doorway with a slight sneer on his face, arms crossed. Harry quickly turned back to his file cabinet, now red with embarrassment for two reasons.

“I wasn’t that badly organized as a student, despite what you think. After all, I had Hermione insisting I colour-coded my notes,” he answered with a small smile at the memory of Hermione explaining the importance of it. He added changed around a few files, focusing on his task to push the flush from his face.

When he was sure he wasn’t as red as his House’s colours, he straightened up and turned to face Snape.

Snape had yet to move from the doorway, his eyes watching Harry curiously. The man had his typical black teaching robes and royal blue suit on, unlike Harry, who was simply dressed in a crimson dress shirt and dark wash jeans. He saw Snape eyeing his outfit, his eyes scrutinizing each item of clothing he wore and waited for a scathing remark about his dress. He had never seen Snape in casual clothing before and assumed he didn’t own any. Snape in khakis and a polo? He couldn’t picture it.

“Is there something you wanted?” Harry asked, causing Snape’s eyes to snap up to his, the dark gaze narrowing slightly as he straightened himself. Harry let himself secretly appreciate the view of the man leaning against the doorway as he was. Snape had a seemingly constant sort of elegance that made Harry feel perpetually clumsy.

“I was simply stopping by to see if you’d blown the room up yet,” Snape said casually, his mouth quirking up.

Harry stared for a second. Did Snape just make a joke? Was this him trying to be friendly? Or was this another insult? It was hard to tell sometimes, but Snape was smiling (sort of) and he had a noticeable lack of venom in his voice. Was this McGonagall’s doing or was this genuine? Did this mean he would accept an offer of friendship? Did friendship include the odd shag? Harry distinctly remembered Fred mentioning the idea of “friends with benefits” the other day. It wasn’t what he saw in the mirror but it would at least be something.

No. Wait. Still don’t know if he’s gay.

“I guess you’ve come all this way to be disappointed then,” Harry answered lightly instead. That was friendly banter, right?

Snape’s lip twitched upwards again, and it sent a happy little zap along Harry’s nerves. He had done that. He’d made Snape smile. It was only their second conversation since he’d come here and he was already making him smile! This was good! Harry wanted to see him smile again, properly. More than that, he wanted to know if he could be the one to make it happen.

“I do have a question for you,” he continued instead. Snape’s amusement (if that was what it was) fled and was replaced with a look of intrigue and calculating suspicion. He was probably wondering what opportunity for an insult Harry would be giving him this time. “I was wondering if you had any advice for me?” Harry asked, trying to add a sheepish smile to get the mood back.

An unfairly perfectly shaped eyebrow arched back at him. Harry felt the smile he had on his face slide off. How the man managed to say so much with one damn eyebrow was magic in itself. Harry realized he had probably just walked right into a trap and cursed himself for asking such an open question. He probably just reminded the man of his youth and inexperience, and thus the fact that it was him, his former hated student, and son of the woman he loved. What a stupid, stupid thing to ask.

Mood ruined.

Snape was eying him again and Harry felt a rush of anger spout from his embarrassment. Before he could tell Snape to forget about it the man smirked at him, his black eye glittering.

“Perhaps wearing a pair of teaching robes would be a start,” he replied and Harry felt his face heat.  

“I have teaching robes,” he muttered back. He wasn’t dressed that casually. He thought he looked quite nice. After all, he had spent an hour picking out the outfit that he thought made him look good just in case he ran into Snape today. Harry never spent more than ten minutes deciding on an outfit usually! He clearly wasn’t good at this. He’d have to include outfit choices in his owl to Ginny.

Snape’s eyes were locked onto his clothes, scanning his shit and jeans. Harry huffed in annoyance.

“It was too hot while I was moving things is all,” he explained and gestured to the robes that were draped over his desk chair.

“So you thought it appropriate to strip?”

“It’s not like I’m naked!” Harry retorted, sending a glare back. A teasing smirk appeared on Snape’s lips and Harry immediately regretted his words.

“Harry Potter naked? That would certainly make the students pay attention,” Snape said all smooth and mocking.

Oh gods. Why did he have to say the words? Hearing his name and “naked” in the same sentence in that voice. Why didn’t he react this way when he was younger? How did it take this long for him to develop this type of reaction? He supposed it was good that it didn’t or he’d have spent a lot of potions classes feeling rather uncomfortable. Harry wondered how Snape would react to seeing him naked in his potions class. Oh god. No. Harry needed his brain to stop with this line of thinking. It was dangerous. Too dangerous. What if Snape managed to go back into his mind without Harry realizing? The things he’d see! The things he’d feel! No. No. No. Harry could not be thinking of shagging, kissing, or loving Snape at all in any way, shape, or form. At least not until he was in his quarters again.

The warmth that spread across Harry’s cheeks and neck added to the sense of embarrassment. Snape looked like he was enjoying the humiliation, which Harry did not doubt. He’d be surprised if he didn’t bottle the memory.

“Don’t you have things to prepare?” Harry asked, needing to escape to his rooms before anymore wonderful but terribly timed images popped up in his mind. Snape looked amused at the less than subtle switch of subjects.

“Actually no,” he answered. He met Harry’s gaze looking far too entertained by Harry’s discomfort to leave.

“Well, I do.” Harry looked at his watch. “The Welcoming Feast is in two hours and I’ve got to shower, shave, and change.”

More accurately, he had to shower, wank, shave, and change. But Snape didn’t need to know the wanking bit. Oh, great. Now Harry was thinking of Snape wanking. No. No. NO.

Well, yes, but later.

“Old enough to shave are we?” taunted Snape, and the satisfied smirk on his face had to be from his misinterpretation of Harry’s blush.

Harry, his mind a jumble of erotic thoughts, his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight, and his face burning as Snape’s eyes racked over his body yet again, decided to jump right to what Ginny would probably put at phase 500. He walked towards Snape, earning himself a confused look as he approached. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do but he had to leave. He had to say or do something. All he could think about was being near the man and maybe grabbing his face and seeing if his tongue tasted as sharp as it acted.

As Harry closed the distance between them he saw Snape tense but refuse to move. He saw the man trying to puzzle out Harry like a complicated potion. Then, he saw the brief flick of the man’s gaze go to his lips and Harry rode the wave of (possibly false) confidence and (definitely hormone driven) desire that washed over him.

“I’m old enough to do a lot more than that, Severus,” Harry said in a low tone as he flicked his own gaze to Snape’s lips before he walked right past him, practically running once he made it to the corridor.

Gryffindor courage was an illusion. It had to be or Harry would have stayed and kissed the man. To hell with logic.  

When he got to his quarters, he stopped himself from thinking about it until he was pruning in the shower. With the hot spray of the water massaging his muscles and easing his worries, Harry let the thoughts come. He let himself think about the conversation. He let himself think about those dirty-wonderful situations that had popped into his mind the whole time. He let himself think about what he’d said. He let himself think about what might have happened in an ideal world afterwards.

Harry was aching. Both emotionally and physically.

He took hold of himself, eyes closed and head thrown back as he pictured version after version. It always started off with kissing. Kissing was good. Harry would actually use that famed courage of his and grab Snape by his robes and kiss the man breathless.

Or maybe Snape would snap and grab Harry and kiss him breathless.

Either way, they’d be kissed breathless. Harry would be pinned to the wall. Snape and he lost in the throes of desire and rutting against each other like animals.

Or maybe they didn’t get that far even. Harry would drop to his knees. He’d get Snape out and swallow him down to the root. He’d seen it in a gay wizard magazine once. He’d choke a little at first. Snape’s hand would be tangled in his hair as he pumped himself in and out. Fucking Harry’s mouth. Harry would take it like wantonly. He’d moan around his mouthful. He’d suck and swallow and lick and hum. He’d make Snape come harder than he ever had and he’d swallow every. single. drop.

Harry came all over his hand.

With the haze of desire cleared from his mind, suddenly the gravity what he’d said became clear to him. He quickly washed away the evidence and got out of the shower. As he dried, dressed, and readied for the feast, he thought about how badly Snape’s retaliation might be. He wondered if he should look into buying one of those anti-hexing hats that Fred and George sell at their shop. By the time he was ready he had roughly fifteen minutes until the feast and was convinced he wouldn’t make it through the thing alive. What was he thinking? He wasn’t. He couldn’t have been.

He had all but flirted with the man. That was not how this was supposed to go! He needed Ginny. He needed Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. Maybe not Ron. He might gag if he found out what Harry had just wanked to. He definitely needed help because clearly he couldn’t be trusted to make any more decisions regarding these feelings and reactions he had to Snape.

When he arrived at the great hall, Harry had managed to push all panic over Snape’s reaction to the side. He surely wouldn’t kill him in front of the first years.

As he walked through the doors, he looked over at the Gryffindor table with fond memories. The rest of the staff were already there for the most part, save two or three. McGonagall was sat in the middle, with Flitwick on her left and Hooch on her right. Harry noticed that Snape was sat on the far right, a bored expression on his face. Harry’s heart constricted a little as he thought about Dumbledore missing from the staff table. He made his way up, pushing the thought away. A seat next to Hagrid looked preferable. McGonagall, on the other hand, caught his eye before Hagrid noticed his intentions. The Headmistress’s eyes flicked over to her right, indicating an open seat beside Snape. Harry almost groaned. He really did not want to face Snape. Just because he probably wouldn’t kill him in front of the first years did not mean he wouldn’t do something. A nasty hex or something, maybe. Or just glare at him and everyone knew if there was someone who could manage a look that actually killed, it was Severus Snape.

Whatever happened, Harry was sure there would be hell to pay.

What he had seen in the mirror flashed into his mind: Snape looking at him with warmth and Harry looking back the same way. The mirror showed a person’s deepest and most desperate desires, it did not show the future. Harry had to remember that. He had a crush on Snape. A rather active and sexual one. Snape was, as Harry recalled from the memories he had given him, as straight as an arrow. And in love with your mum, a little voice in his head reminded him. Right. Little gazes to his lips meant nothing. It certainly didn’t mean he should huskily offer an innuendo of any kind.

Feeling defeated, Harry sat down beside the man. Snape did not so much as glance at him. Even as students entered and took their seats, the potions master made no acknowledgement of him. Harry tried to focus on what was happening instead of the body heat he could feel coming from Snape. Did they really have to be so close together? As a student, it had always looked so spacious up here. He was happy that he’d gotten that wank out the way, but something told Harry he’d be just as needing by the end of the feast as he was two hours before it.

The first years were guided into the room by Sprout. Their round, innocent little faces stared at the room around them. A few of them were glued on Harry, the awe in their expressions obvious. Harry guessed he would have some autographs and pictures asked of him eventually. The sorting hat was ready on the stool and had just finished a speech about unity being important in and amongst houses.

Harry watched as the names started to be called. The first four were all sorted to Hufflepuff, which each earned a wide smile from Sprout. The next seven were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, with Ravenclaw getting the most of the lot. The first Gryffindor was a small dark-haired girl with bright hazel eyes that looked fiercely proud of her result. A loud whooping noise followed by a tall boy with equally dark hair and hazel eyes hugging her tightly told Harry the brother was clearly proud of his little sister.  

There were no Slytherins for the first twenty people called. The first was a boy with brown hair and blue eyes. He sat on the stool for a moment in shock and Harry noticed an older boy at the Ravenclaw table being nudged by a few friends. Apparently, this older brother did not get to share his house with his younger sibling. The boy, whose name had been Liam, looked nervously at his brother. Harry was relieved when the older sibling smiled and clapped. The look of relief on Liam made it evident that he too worried that the news would be a problem. Beside him, Harry was surprised to hear a sigh of relief from Snape as well.

“You were worried his brother would reject him, weren’t you,” Harry whispered through the side of his mouth as the sorting continued. Snape pretended he hadn’t heard. He watched as more students were sorted into Slytherin, his eyes alert for each one of his new house members. “You really do care,” Harry said in realization. Snape did glance at him then.

“Of course I do,” he answered venomously. “If I don’t care about them, then who will they have on their side? It’s not easy to be in the house everyone else is so set against,” he said stiffly. Harry thought back to all the times he and Ron had complained about his obvious favouritism towards his own house. He also thought about the times Slytherin was targeted by other houses.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. Snape didn’t reply.

It was in the middle of dessert that Snape next spoke to him. When he did, Harry wished they could have eaten in silence instead.

“I heard you were supposed to be married by now,” the potions master stated casually. Harry stopped mid forkful of trifle to his mouth. He quickly put it in his mouth and used the excuse of chewing to think of what he was supposed to say. He had never chewed a single mouthful of trifle so long in his life.

“We decided it wasn’t the right time,” he went with after swallowing.

“And how long is the postponing going to be?” Snape asked.

Harry got a suspicious feeling in his gut. Why would Snape care? He had not even bothered to RSVP to the wedding invitation to the first one. He must have heard by now. Hell, Harry was pretty sure every damn paper had his and Ginny’s breakup splashed across the front page. It must be Snape getting his own back for what Harry did. Harry had to admit, this was a far more effective avenue for revenge. He felt a flash of anger. This was going too far. Throwing something like this in someone’s face was not fitting to Harry’s crime. Snape was probably enjoying it. Well, he would be disappointed then because he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of seeing Harry upset.

“Indefinitely,” Harry stated flatly. No emotion, no revenge, and no details. He would not rise to his bait. He would not.

Snape paused before taking a sip of water.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“No, actually,” Harry responded. He did not elaborate and kept his voice casual as if he were discussing the weather and not his called off the wedding. If Snape wanted to be nosy, he would have to do the work. Besides, Harry did not feel like giving him the ammunition he would no doubt use to insult Harry about his relationship ending.

“The last I heard the two of you were blissfully in love.”

“That’s what they told us.”

He could feel Snape watching him. Harry kept eating his dessert. It was good, but Harry wanted to taste something else on his tongue instead. Something more male. He abruptly cut that train of thought before his prick could get interested and call up the fantasy he indulged in while showering. It did not help that Snape had his intense gaze on him and that body heat Harry noticed before was even hotter. He’s straight, the voice in his head reminded him.

Besides, as if he’d be interested in Harry even if he wasn’t straight.

“Cheer up, Potter,” Snape said suddenly. “I’m sure there are other girls dying to be with the man who took down Voldemort,” he said, completely misinterpreting Harry’s sudden turn for (apparently obvious) misery. Harry blinked at the fact that Snape had just called him a man and not a boy. What did that mean? Did that mean anything? “And if you bother looking, there’s plenty of girls for you to take a liking to as well,” Snape continued.

“Not likely,” Harry muttered into his trifle.

“Is the Savior of the Wizarding World that picky?” Snape taunted, doing what he liked best and throwing Harry’s fame in his face. “What’s the matter, no girl good enough to peek your interest?”

“Not unless she is a he,” Harry said to a spoonful of trifle before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

He froze.

Snape froze.

Anger rose in himself as he thought about how stupid he had just been. This was bound to cause jokes. The silence from Snape fueled his self-shame. He probably just made the man incredibly uncomfortable.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Harry said, pulling his napkin from his lap and placing it on the table next to his dish.

In his room, Harry slumped against the door as soon as it was closed. He ran a hand down his face while he let out a frustrated groan. He grabbed some parchment and a quill. Quickly penning a letter to Ginny in which he detailed the train wreck of a day, he made sure to emphasise the utter and completely uncharacteristic lack of reaction from Snape at his slip.

After attaching it to Hedwig, he opened the window and let her fly out to deliver his letter. Sighing, Harry decided it best simply to go to bed early. There was a staff meeting early the next morning anyway. Asleep he wouldn’t replay the day’s events, which was incentive enough.

Chapter Text

Soft lips traced the shell of Harry’s ear with hot wet puffs of breath that warmed his already heated skin. A tongue darted out causing the young wizard’s breath to hitch. The awareness of a hand moving down his skin had Harry tensing in anticipation as he waited for long calloused fingers to touch him. Their sweaty warm bodies were pressed together with Snape kneeling back onto his heels and Harry firmly seated on his cock, back pressed against the man’s chest. Snape kissed his neck as he had done in the mirror, gentle and loving, relieving all of Harry’s tension before pointedly hitting Harry’s prostate on his next thrust. Harry moaned raggedly and moved his hips in encouragingment. A bite to his collarbone had him rolling his head back to rest on Snape’s shoulder as he was thrust into faster and harder. Harry started to match the thrusts, adding an undulation of his hips to the up stroke. The moans and groans of the man behind him egged Harry on.

Snape pushed him forward and he fell on his hands and knees. Arching his back and pushing his arse out further, Harry begged Snape to take him harder. The man complied with a bruising grip on Harry’s hips that pulled a load moan from Harry.  Further encouragement came from his lover in filthy lovely words. Snape’s hips were pistoling in and out of him with a force that shook Harry to his core. Every inwards thrust pounded into Harry’s prostate, reducing him to blissful whimpers.

The orgasm building in Harry felt like fire coiling in his stomach.

“Oh, gods,” he moaned raggedly. “Fuck! Please, please, fuck me harder,” he begged. Snape growled softly behind him and his thrusts followed Harry’s desperate demands. “Gods, yes! Yes! Ugh. Yes. Please.  Don’t stop. So close,” Harry gasped, pushing himself back onto the hot and hard length moving inside him.

“Harry,” Snape called hoarsely. His thrusts came faster, harder, hands digging into Harry’s hips to slam the younger wizard back onto him. “Fuck, Harry,” the deep voice rumbled brokenly and Harry arched back further and made desperate noises.

A litany of swears and sweet desperate begging filled the air. Harry couldn’t stop the sounds tumbling out of his mouth: the breathy moans, the needy whines, the breathless gasps. He could feel his orgasm moments away, his mind a jumble of desperate need for everything Snape. “Severus. Severus. Severus. Severus, SEVERUS,” Harry chanted with a scream as Snape pounded relentlessly into him, his own lust-hazed mind spewing encouragements to his lover.

The thrusts started to come erratically then. Snape fucked into Harry and with one last broken moan of the younger wizard’s name, he filled him with his release. The warm, thick jets coated the inside of him, pushing Harry over the edge.

Harry screamed awake with his climax, Snape’s name on his lips. He lay panting in his bed, sheets sticky and his body hot and sweaty. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart. Images of the sinful dream played in his head and he groaned.

A lazy wave of his hand cleared the evidence away, but Harry felt consumed with the need to feel Snape’s lips on him. He felt the empty ache in his arse and wished he could fill it with Snape’s cock. He thought about going to Snape’s quarters and-

The events of the previous night came flooding back. Snape was straight. He was even uncomfortable just knowing Harry wasn’t and he was just starting to show some friendliness. Harry couldn’t ruin that. He just couldn’t.

His lust-fueled runaway fantasy stopped abruptly and he groaned in a mix of frustration and disappointment. He kicked the sheets off and got up to take a shower. Glancing at the clock before he went into the bathroom. He had about fifteen minutes before he would have to wake up anyway and maybe he could use the time to convince himself that Operation S.O.S was not only off to a shit start but a shit idea in general.

He pushed the dream from his mind and let himself wallow in self-pity for the entirety of his shower. He cursed that he was gay. He cursed his choice of man to lust after. He cursed Snape’s sexuality. He cursed the fact he would have to see Snape every day. He cursed his luck. Most of all, he cursed himself for being too weak to stop himself from wanting.

His morning classes had all been first and second years, which gave him an easy start. The students took a moment to settle down, most of them excited that Harry was their new teacher. One timid first year had raised her hand to ask if Harry would sign an autograph for her, and naturally, the rest of the class asked too. Harry had agreed to sign what they wanted after the lesson as long as everyone behaved. With that motivation, they had all buckled down quickly.

Harry hoped his other classes would go this smoothly.

When he walked into the Great Hall, he was starving and thirsty. Talking all day without anything to drink had been a bad mistake and Harry realized quickly that he would have to keep something in his office to sip between classes.

Taking a seat at the staff table, he noted with joy that there was water already in his glass. As he gulped it down a shadow cast over him.

“Thirsty, Potter?” Snape asked with amusement.

Harry put the cup down and turned to see the potions master take the seat to his left. A pleasant thrill went through him at Snape talking to him. Did this mean they were okay? That they could still try to be friendly? Snape wouldn’t initiate any conversation with him if he wasn’t right?

 “I haven’t drank anything all day,” Harry explained, glancing at the man. Snape’s face told him nothing. As usual. He wondered if he could get a conversation going and get a feeling for the man’s thoughts that way. Harry downed another glass of water.

“A mistake almost every teacher makes on their first day,” Snape answered, his eyes flicking from Harry’s neck to his face. 

Harry didn’t care if his drinking sounded like water going down a drain. He was bloody thirsty. As he sipped even more water, Harry mentally rechecked Snape’s mood. Definitely casual. Not asking more questions, though. But also not putting an obvious stop to it.

“Did you?” Harry asked.

Snape scoffed. “Of course not,” he said easily.

“So you didn’t think to tell me to bring some water or something?”

“When would I have had time to tell you that?” he asked, his lip twitching up in a suppressed smirk.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe when I asked you for advice?” Harry said, turning to watch the man. Snape hid his smile behind his glass, taking the excuse of sudden thirst not to answer. “You did it on purpose,” Harry accused.

“Why, Mister Potter, would I have done that?” he asked silkily.

Harry huffed out a breath in annoyance and turned to his lunch. Snape was bloody confusing and Harry was still too thirsty to argue.

Four people down from them sat McGonagall, who caught Harry’s eye and gave him an encouraging smile. He stared back in confusion. She subtly flicked her eyes to Snape and Harry almost groaned. She was not going to give up on the idea of him and Snape becoming friends. Harry wondered if she was opting to forget the seven years of rivalry between him and his former potions professor. Or was almost losing the house cup every year due to Snape taking every point he possibly could from Harry just his flawed memory?

A flicker of memory from his dream sparked in his mind. Harry felt himself flush and kept his eyes focused on his soup. A broken moan from fantasy Snape managed to break through and repeat itself in Harry’s head despite his best efforts. Actual Snape next to him reached out to a plate with some bread on it and suddenly a hyper awareness of the man shot through Harry. Snape, the real Snape, was right next to him. Harry could touch him (if he dared). He could kiss him (if he had a death wish). Snape. Severus Snape, the man who was wantonly fucking Harry raw in his mind at that very moment, was sitting right there.  Fantasy Snape moaned hotly in Fantasy Harry’s ear as he came.

Harry’s sharp intake of breath unfortunately coincided with his mouthful of soup, causing a spectacular fit of coughing to ensue.

A firm hand on his back hit him a few times before an annoyed deep voice sounded. “Honestly, Potter, can you not even eat soup without needing me to save you?” Snape asked.

Instead of answering, Harry was focused on the feeling of Snape’s warm hand on his back, the solid weight distracting him even as his eyes watered and his body calmed down from nearly choking.

“Went down the wrong way,” he mumbled when Snape removed his hand.

His back felt far too cold where it had been. He looked at Snape who was looking right back. Again, the last night’s  fantasy invaded his mind; images of himself being fucked hard by the man and Harry begging for it swirled around his head. The flush of Harry’s cheeks actually burnt.

Snape raised an eyebrow at his reaction and Harry hoped he thought the blush was from embarrassment. He swallowed, and tried to think of anything but the dream. Snape’s eyes darted to the movement of his neck before flicking back to his face. Harry subconsciously licked his suddenly dry lips, which were due to still being dehydrated and definitely not Snape, whose eyes followed his tongue. Harry knew it was his imagination, his pathetically wishful imagination, that saw Snape’s eyes darken.

He really hoped Ginny would owl him soon. Maybe she could at least help him get over this ridiculous crush. He could still help her with Draco. Operation S.O.S. would go ahead, it would just be the one Slytherin is all. Harry couldn’t go the rest of term like this. He’d explode. Possibly in his boxers.

Harry’s afternoon classes were far from the calm lessons of the first and second years. The students were restless and unlike the younger children, were not satisfied with the promise of autographs after class. In fact, they all but bombarded him with questions as soon as they had gotten started.

“Professor Potter, did you really ride a dragon?”

“Professor Potter, what is it like in a real battle?”

“Professor Potter, how many people have you cursed?”

“Professor Potter, is it true you wanted to be an auror?”

“Professor Potter, what’s it like to fight the imperious curse?”

“Professor Potter, didn’t you fight Professor Snape during the battle?”

Once the Snape question had been asked there was a deadly silence in the room. Everyone knew about their… volatile relationship before Harry came to teach. But now? Harry Potter and Severus Snape colleagues? Who sat together at lunch? And didn’t kill each other? It was the talk of the school and everyone knew it but nobody dared voice it to Harry or Snape themselves. One person breaking the silent rule not to mention it was seemingly all it took to open the floodgates. Of course it was a Gryffindor.

Everyone started crying out their questions about him and Snape. Was it true they hated each other? Did they ever get into physical fights? Have either of them ever tried to kill the other? Did they hate each other now? Was their sitting beside each other fake? Did Professor McGonagall make them sit together? Were they going to be friends? Had they secretly always liked each other or were they secretly plotting each other’s downfall (don’t worry nobody will tell Professor Snape what is said; what happens in defense stays in defense)? Did Snape threaten Harry for taking the Defense job? Did Harry need his food and drink tested for poisons now? Was Snape alive because of Harry? If so, did that mean he owed Harry a life debt? What would Harry make him do to call it in? Did Harry know that he was on their side the whole time? How did Harry get him exonerated so easily? Did he always plan to exonerate him or was he forced to? How did Snape feel about this? Is that why he liked Harry now? Wait did he like Harry now? What about the rest of the Gryffindors? Were Harry and Snape going to fight in the halls? Did Harry think he could beat Snape?

“Quite! Quite down!” Harry yelled.

The questions died down after a few seconds, the students squirming in their seats with more of them and barely holding them in. He looked out at all the wide eyes watching him intently. Harry sighed to himself. It would be easier to get it all over with today and be able to move on with lessons tomorrow. “Alright, I’ll answer some of the questions I heard.” The excited whispers exploded. “If you all pay attention and are quiet.”

Harry half sat on his desk, his leg dangling down as the class went silent.

“I did ride a dragon.” A few students looked mighty impressed by the statement. “But I don’t recommend it to anyone,” he added with a smile. It earned him a few laughs. “A real battle is nothing like school because in real life you don’t get to try again. It’s a dangerous and terrifying thing. You see friends die and you have to do things you never thought you could. It can be hard to live with after, and I hope none of you ever have to go through that.”

The class sobered at that. Many of them looked down at their desks, pain clouding their faces. It would not surprise Harry if they knew someone who died in the last battle.

“I did want to be an auror, but I’ve had enough chasing dark wizards for one lifetime. I enjoy teaching this subject and so when McGonagall offered me the job the decision was easy.” He skipped the question about how many people he had cursed, and to his relief nobody seemed to notice. It was a hard thing to think about and if he was honest, he didn’t know how high the number was anyway. “The imperious curse,” Harry started, “is fought off by strength of will. It takes immense will to break that curse, and it is a dangerous so please don’t try to see if you can fight it off. That curse is unforgivable for a reason. We’ll be talking about it more towards the end of the term.”

He waited for the silent nods from his students, sending them all expectant looks.

“Now, about Headmaster Snape,” Harry said. The students sat up straighter in their chairs, eyes glued to him. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought about the best way to approach the matter. “The Headmaster and I had our differences in the past,” he said finally. “We have never had a physical fight, but during the war we did fight. I never knew that he was on our side until I was just about to fight Voldemort for the last time.” There were a few shocked gasps from some students at the use of the name, which Harry knew was hard for some of them to repress, as it had been so ingrained in them. “With the help of my friends, I made sure Professor Snape got medical attention as soon as possible. After the war I was able to help exonerate him by simply testifying. The truth, as muggles say, will set you free. In this case it was quite literal.” The students were eating up every word he had to say. Harry hoped this would not come back to bite him in the arse. “While Professor Snape and I aren’t… the best of friends, we respect each other as colleagues,” Harry said carefully. It was half-true. He did respect Snape, but the feeling was most likely not mutual. “That means there won’t be fights in the corridors,” he added with a smile.

Probably. There probably wouldn’t be fights. Most likely.

“As for if I think I could take Professor Snape in a fight –” Harry started but was abruptly cut off by a cheer from the Gryffindors. He had to suppress a smile. “The Headmaster is a highly skilled wizard and I do not think it would be easy for anybody to beat him in a fight,” Harry stated, earning him a few light-hearted boos.

“How charming, Mister Potter,” an amused voice drawled from the doorway. Harry felt his face heat up as he looked to see Snape watching him with his arms crossed. The class was utterly silent as they looked from one professor to the other. Harry tried not to let himself prickle at Snape not addressing him as ‘Professor’ in front of the students. He forced a smile as he looked back at the man.

“Professor Snape,” he welcomed, “What can I do for you?”

The man waited a while to answer, his eyes sweeping over the students and classroom as a whole. “I need to borrow Miss Cosdon,” he stated. Harry turned to see the Slytherin Prefect sitting in the second row. She turned to look at her Head of House and gathered her things. As it was evident that this was less of a question and more of a demand, and the girl knew it, Harry saw no point in responding. He simply instructed the girl to read the chapter for the next lesson and bid her goodbye.

As the two Slytherins left, the awkward silence clung to the room full of students. Harry cleared his throat, drawing their eyes back to him. “Right,” he said before diving into the material for the day.

“Oh, Harry!” McGonagall’s voice called from down the corridor. “Might I have a quick word?”

“Certainly, Professor,” Harry smiled as he made his way to her. He had a planning period, so he didn’t mind the stop.

“If I remember correctly your second year you were in that dueling club, yes?” she asked. Harry nodded as he remembered Lockheart being sent flying by Snape’s simple expelliarmus, landing with a thud on his backside. Highlight of the day that was. Slightly marred by the exposure of his parseltongue and sudden belief of the school that he was the heir of Slytherin planning to eradicate the school of muggleborns.

“Yes, I believe Lockheart taught it.”

“Severus as well yes?”

“Yes,” Harry answered hesitantly.

He really hopped the conversation was not going where he thought it was going.

“I think it would be a good idea for the two of you to restart that club,” she said confirming what Harry thought. He bit his lip to stop himself from groaning. “You don’t have to look so pained,” McGonagall laughed. “From what I saw of the two of you seem to be getting on quite well, which I have to admit I thought would take far more time than it has,” she said with a triumphant smile.

Just then, Snape turned the corner. McGonagall spotted him before it was too late for him to get away.

“Severus!” the co-headmistress called. Harry watched as the man walked over to them, giving Harry a calculating look. McGonagall beamed at him, which got one raised eyebrow and very suspicious eyes looking at her in return. “I was just saying to Harry here that I’d like the two of you to restart that dueling club Lockheart and you had taught.”

Snape glanced over to Harry, who was hoping against all odds that he would outright refuse. He was co-Headmaster, after all.  

“Would it be open to all students or just certain years?” he asked instead.

Harry blinked. He was interested in doing this? He knew Snape liked the idea of dueling club, and would probably enjoy being in charge of it, but this deal came with Harry as his co-teacher. There was a difference between being friendly and signing up to voluntarily spend more time with Harry. What did this mean?

“Oh, I suppose all of them could join,” McGonagall said cheerily. Snape nodded and Harry looked between the two of them. “What is it, Harry?”

“I-I uh, I’m-“

“Eloquent as always,” Snape said with a roll of his eyes. Harry sent a glare his way, which got him one from McGonagall.

“I’m just wondering when this would take place,” Harry said, asking the first thing that came to mind and keeping his eyes on McGonagall.

“Big plans in the evenings, Potter?” Snape teased. Harry looked to McGonagall for help, but she either didn’t hear it (unlikely) or was ignoring it (definitely).

“No,” Harry said calmly.

“I don’t see why it can’t be after the day’s classes,” McGonagall said. “The children can sign up for it a week in advance so they’ll be able to make arrangements in their schedules if they want to participate.” Harry nodded. “Right, I’ll leave you two to discuss the details.” With that she excused herself from the conversation and left.

Harry turned to face Snape. They might as well figure out some of those details now while they both were there. Unfortunately, as he turned to the man, he was greeted by open air. Snape was already striding down the corridor.

He really was elegant. How did he manage to glide and keep that robe billowing at the same time?

News of the dueling club spread quickly through the school. By the time the first day of it came, there were two hundred and fifty students signed up. They had to split them into groups, older students on Mondays and Wednesdays and younger ones on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Harry and Snape both seemed to agree that they did not want to have dueling club on Fridays. Apparently, it was the only thing they could agree on.

“Pinning a pair of students against each other in front of everyone else is only going to lead to problems,” Harry was arguing. Snape was standing the other side of the room, arms crossed. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t pair them up as soon as possible. It’ll be more engaging that way and I’m a strong believer in a practical approach to learning defense.”

“By being in front of class they’ll be examples to the others around them,” Snape insisted.

“Yes, but it could humiliate them and be too much pressure,” Harry countered. Snape rolled his eyes.

“Then they’ll learn from their mistakes,” he said, turning his back to Harry and looking over the lesson plans they had planned for today.

“I think that dueling in front of the class would be better to use as assessments,” Harry tried again. Snape glared at him over his shoulder. “They should practice first!”

“These are fifth, sixth and seventh years, Potter, they should be able to handle themselves,” Snape snapped. Harry let out a frustrated groan.

“Would it kill you to call me professor? Especially in front of the students?” Harry asked in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Snape turned to face him, arching an eyebrow at his little outburst.

“Slip of the tongue,” he said, eyes glittering for Harry to challenge him.

“I might be nineteen and this may be my first year teaching, but that does not mean I do not deserve the respect of being called by my title. Whether you like it or not, Snape, we’re colleagues now and you have to treat me with some shred of respect,” Harry said in one breath.

“I seem to recall a number of times where you ‘forgot’ to address me as such,” Snape pointed out.

“I was a kid!”

“You still are, Potter.”

“Argh! You’re impossible!” Harry yelled, flinging his hands in the air. Snape narrowed his eyes at him and Harry knew they were about to undo any sort of civility they had between them. Luckily, it was then that the students started to trickle in.

As the last of the students found a spot in the room around the strip of stage, Snape got up onto it, effectively silencing the room. Harry wondered how he did it. However, he would never ask, lest he wanted a snarky comeback and insult about his ‘obvious’ lack of teaching skills. He’s say especially considering Snape’s current impossible mood but he knew by now that was just his personality.

“Today will be a demonstration,” Snape started, surprising Harry. “The next time we meet you will be paired off and have to practice before you are to duel in front of the class to show what you’ve learned; I suggest you pay attention,” he stated. Harry could not help but smile.

It was not anything they had planned for today, but it was what Harry had suggested they do from the beginning. Snape was listening to him! Implementing his ideas even!

”Professor Potter and I will demonstrate a duel, sticking to non-lethal spells, with an emphasis on shields.”

The class watched with anticipation as Harry took his robes off, and got on stage to join Snape. Snape eyed him from where he stood, no doubt mentally picking Harry’s outfit choice apart. He stood the other end of the platform in charcoal grey trousers, a deep blue silk shirt, a charcoal grey waistcoat, and black dress shoes. He both saw and heard the whispers coming from groups of girls huddled either side of the stage. A few boys stood watching him too, eyes wide and one Ravenclaw boy looked like he was about to drool. Harry fought a blush.

Harry didn’t know what Snape expected him to wear. Unlike Snape, if Harry tried dueling in a full suit it wouldn’t end well. He didn’t know how Snape managed to move in that coat of his. Didn't it restrict his movements? He should take it off.

Harry shook his head. Focus. He kept his eyes on Snape. The man had also removed his outer robes, but that damn jacket was still on.

Snape started walking towards the center. Harry met him there, locking gazes with the man. Snape had really nice dark eyes. They were link ink pools of mystery and intrigue. As they stopped opposite each other, a few feet separating them, they raised their wands in front of their faces. A quick bow was given, and then they turned and walked back to their ends.

“One,” Harry started as he spun around. Snape’s wand was raised at the ready and Harry thought it look disconcertingly like a snake ready to strike.

“Two.”

The anticipation in the room was like electricity flowing through each student.

Harry Potter vs Severus Snape.

“Three.”

“Flipendo,” Snape intoned, his wand emitting a blue light that was heading right for Harry’s chest.

“Protego,” Harry said, his shield coming up and causing the blue light to disappear into it. The students clapped. “Vermiculus,” Harry stated before Snape could send another jinx at him. Yellow light shot out of his wand. Harry was disappointed when Snape blocked the spell. He knew he would, but he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the imposing man turned into a worm.

“Impedimenta,” Snape said back, and as Harry was too busy smiling at the thought of worm Snape, his shield didn’t go up in time. Snape seemed a bit surprised when his jinx actually hit Harry. It was, after all, a simple spell. With his movements slowed down, and the students snickering (especially the Slytherins, who cheered their Head of House on), Harry knew he’d regret not paying more attention because Snape wasted no time aiming a leg locking curse at him with a far too happy, “Locomotor Mortis.”

Harry saw the purple light coming for him but thanks to the impedimenta that slowed his actions down, he couldn’t cast a shield in time. When the curse hit him, his legs bound together and he toppled over.

“That is why it is important to focus,” Snape noted to the students. “If Professor Potter had been focusing, he would have blocked both of those spells.”

Harry was grateful for the sixth year who subtly performed the counter curse. He sent a smile her way before Snape noticed and could take points for helping Harry. Getting on his feet, Harry aimed his wand at Snape and sent an instant scalping hex his way. The professor blocked it easily, but glared at him from behind his shield. Harry could hear the laughs trying to be muffled across the room.

They continued their duel, sending hexes, jinxes, and curses at each other. The longer they dueled the easier it was to forget that they had an audience. Harry started having fun. The stakes raised each time one of them sent a personal spell the others way. Snape smiled as he sent Anteoculatia Harry’s way, which if Harry hadn’t blocked it, would have made him sprout antlers. He got the message either way, and retaliated with a hair loss curse. Snape blocked it with almost a bored expression.

Back and forth they went, and as cliché as it sounded, Harry could only describe it as a dance. They moved past demonstrating shield charms and were soon dueling properly. There was barely a second between spells. Their wands never seemed to go down as they cast and blocked, cast and blocked. It was getting hot up on the platform. Harry felt trickles of sweat drip down his forehead. Snape was as into it as he was, and that meant Harry didn’t have a chance to let himself relax once. They were both breathing harder by the time they were slinging hexes faster than they could think about them. The spells surpassed what the students would need to learn for school. Neither wizard cared.

“Expelliarmus!” they both simultaneously shouted as the duel seemed to reach its climax, the scarlet light hitting them at the same time.

Their wands went flying, and the gasps across the room accompanied each student as their eyes followed the wands smacking into the walls far away from their owners. Harry and Snape looked back at each other. The students didn’t dare to breathe. Some of them wondered if it would come down to the two professors finishing the duel the muggle way with a few punches.

Harry broke the tense silence first. He laughed, sudden, loud and hard.  Snape smirked, and it was obvious he was barely stopping himself from joining in. The students looked at them with confused frowns. Snape turned to address them as Harry tried to get himself under control.

“That’s all for today,” he announced. “We’ll meet at the same time Wednesday,” he said, receiving an applause. The students walked out talking loudly about what they had just seen, their gestures large and animated, faces alight in excitement.

As the last one left, Harry managed to stop laughing. He wiped his eyes before going to collect his wand. Looking over to where Snape was, he saw the man still had an amused half smile on his face. His wand was already with him, sitting in front of him on the desk.

Harry watched as the man removed his jacket. Now that the students were gone, it seemed he was more comfortable to let the formality slide a little. That and he must have been boiling in that jacket. Harry was hot without one; he could not imagine what it was like wearing it to duel.

Snape had his back to him as he messed with his shirt. Harry took the opportunity to really look at the man. The dark blue fabric of his trouser went up his long legs, and Harry sucked in a breath at the first look at the potion master trouser clad arse. The simple black belt had evidently not kept his white shirt as tucked in as he liked, as he was in the midst of fixing it. Harry’s eyes dropped back down to his arse shamelessly.

Snape must have sensed Harry’s eyes on him as he turned around to face the younger professor. Harry eyes swept over his front before he could stop himself. By the time his eyes made it to Snape’s the man was arching an eyebrow at him in question. Harry felt his face go hot.

“Come now, Mister Potter, you of all people are not in a position to comment on my lacking state of formal dress,” he said. He gave Harry a once over too, though it was most likely to prove a point than for the reason Harry was doing it. Harry could feel his blush deepen, as he felt completely vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I’ve just never seen you in anything other than your robes,” Harry mumbled.

 Snape rolled his eyes, picking up his wand and putting it away. He walked towards Harry. Harry knew if the man had not seen his blush before he would notice it now. It made him blush further; he could feel it going down his neck even. He tried turning himself away as Snape reached him.

“What did you expect?” the deep voice asked with amusement. Harry didn’t answered, waiting for his blush to lessen. “Did you think I’d be naked?” Snape teased, causing Harry’s blush to come back full force. Harry turned and glared at him instinctively before he realized what he had done. He quickly turned away, but it was too late. Snape would have to be blind not to know Harry was blushing now. Harry felt frustrated at how easily Snape managed to ruffle him. “I would never have thought the great Harry Potter could play the blushing virgin,” Snape said with a cock of an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Shut up,” Harry said, refusing to show his reddened face that was taking its color from embarrassment more than blushing now. Snape’s amused hum came from behind him.

“Oh, but you blush so nicely,” he taunted and stepped closer.

Harry could not believe he would stoop this low just to get a reaction from him. He knew Harry was gay. Was this some kind of joke? Some cruel trick? Did he know Harry liked him? Was he looking for a fight?

“What’s the matter? Not capable of living up to your Playboy reputation? Performance shy around your girlfriends? Should I call the Daily Prophet?”

“You and I both know I’m not a Playboy, so give it a rest, Snape,” Harry snapped, turning around. He didn’t care about his heated cheeks anymore. What did it matter now? Snape already knew he was blushing. “Besides, if you don’t remember, I’m gay,” Harry said, his chin set high in a stubborn refusal to back down. That had shut Snape up the last time; maybe it would do it again.

Clearly their path to friendship was destroyed so what did Harry care if he made the bastard uncomfortable?

“Then what,” Snape asked, not blinking, “were you doing dating, and almost marrying, a girl?”

“It may have escaped your notice, but I spent my adolescents fighting off a psychotic murderer,” Harry said louder than he meant to. “I didn’t have the time to spend exploring my sexuality!”

“Don’t lie to me, Potter,” Snape answered matching Harry’s volume. “You were a teenage boy; surely it wasn’t that difficult for you to discover you didn’t like having sex with girls!”

“FOR YOUR INFORMATION I’VE NEVER HAD SEX!” Harry screamed back.

The three feet separating them was as close as Harry had been to Snape since visiting him in hospital. At least there, he had been unconscious. This Snape was awake, alert, and pissing him off. Harry felt wave after wave of anger course through his body, both at himself and Snape. The last thing he meant to say was that he was a bloody virgin.

Snape scoffed.

“Even if that were the case, you’d have to be an idiot not to realize what gender you were attracted to,” Snape said, his voice back to its usual soft and controlled tone. Their eyes were locked and Harry watched his dark ones narrow at him.

“Well, you’ve always been quick to point out my idiocy,” Harry retorted. “I was a teenage boy that wanted to live a normal life. All the other boys were ogling girls, so I didn’t stop to wonder if I wanted to or not. Besides, you seem to forget I was raised by the Dursleys. They weren’t that accepting of much. I grew up hearing how disgusting and wrong being gay was.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being homosexual,” Snape stated as if Harry were being ridiculous. As if he had just told him the sky was made of marshmallows.

“I KNOW THAT!” Harry yelled in frustration.

How was he having a conversation about sexuality, about his sexuality with Snape. Snape! Of all people. The one person he’d had a crush on since probably sixth year without even knowing it. One of the people who made him realize he even was gay (even if it took Ginny to point it out). The one person he’d been having embarrassingly erotic dreams about almost nightly. Snape, who was also straight.

Ugh. Harry was so sick of Snape being straight. Heterosexuality was ruining his bloody sex life, or lack thereof. It would all be so much easer if Harry was straight too. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this!

“Not all of us can be so lucky as to be born straight,” Harry snapped angrily. “At least you don’t have to deal with the muggle world’s disapproving view on your sexuality.”

Snape stared back at him silently. Harry’s words caught up with him and he realized he must have made the man uncomfortable. It was oddly easy to make him shut up when it came to this subject. Clearly he wasn’t as open to being gay as he pretended to be.

“What’s the matter, Snape?” Harry taunted, wanting to get his own back.

Snape had been difficult all day. He wanted to ruin this friendship? Then fine. Harry wouldn’t stop him. In fact, he was going to help do it because the last damn thing he needed was some homophobic asshole who happened to be the very same asshole he was in love with to make him feel like shit about something he couldn’t change.

“Not as comfortable with homosexuality as you thought?” Harry challenged, stepping closer. Snape didn’t back down but he didn’t reply either. “I’m right aren’t I?” Harry pressed on. “All that heterosexuality and ideas of masculinity of yours feeling threatened?” Snape didn’t move as Harry stepped closer to him again, only a foot of space between them. He kept taunting, taking out his frustration on the man who caused them. “Not able to handle the fact that I’m gay? That I’d like to take it up the arse? You’ve got nothing to say now then, do you?” Harry wouldn’t let himself look anywhere but Snape’s black eyes. “Coward.”

That seemed to jolt Snape out of his thoughts. The black eyes sharpened, and Harry waited for equally sharp words to come spewing out of the man. What he was not prepared for was the crushing of their lips.

His eyes slid shut of their own accord as he gasped into the kiss. Snape’s soft lips were firm against his, where Ginny’s were all soft. His body, which pressed against his, was hard and lean. He felt a hot tongue lap at his soft palate and realized Snape must have taken the opportunity to dive into his mouth when he’d gasped.

The tongue was relentless. It lapped at that same wonderful spot before dueling with his own tongue, wrapping around it and sucking, caressing. Harry moaned into Snape’s mouth. Snape’s hands were splayed one across his hip and the other on his lower back, holding him in place.

The kiss ended with a slow retreat of lips. Snape didn’t move his lips far. Harry’s tongue darted out to wet his lips automatically, and the tip of his tongue grazed Snape’s bottom lip. A spike of arousal lit up Harry’s nerves.

“I am gay,” Snape whispered harshly, but it may as well have been yelled for Harry.

Then he was  kissing Harry again. Harry was prepared this time. Sort of. He opened up readily, challenging Snape for dominance. Their tongues dueled for a moment, and Harry managed to dip his into Snape’s hot, wet mouth before the man took back control. Snape’s hands both slid to hold Harry’s hips in a way that reminded Harry of how he fucked him in his dreams. It made Harry moaned raggedly into the kiss and all of his blood to rush south that wasn’t already there.

His hands started pulling at Snape’s white shirt, untucking what the man had just finished fixing. Snape didn’t let up on his assault of Harry’s mouth. When he deemed Harry’s mouth fully explored, he moved on to bite at his bottom lip before going to his jawline. Harry halted in his attempt to untuck Snape’s shirt as the pleasurable assault caught him off guard. He’d never had that done to him before. Snape was licking, kissing, and biting along his jawline. When Harry arched his neck with a groan, Snape took advantage of the new parts of his exposed neck.

Harry’s arch had also pushed their bodies closer together, and he could feel a hardness pressed up against his thigh. He tilted his hips to share his corresponding hardness. Obviously feeling it, Snape growled lightly over Harry’s pulse point before attacking. Harry was gasping with pleasure. He suddenly had renewed vigor to untuck Snape’s shirt. He heard a groan of pleasure as his hands made their way under the white material.

He explored the hot skin he could, his hands pulling at Snape’s body. He tried to get a hand down the front of Snape’s trousers, but couldn’t due to the belt. It would have to go. Harry instantly went to work undoing the damn thing. He pulled at it desperately trying to loosen it enough to slip the prong out of the hole but Snape would not stop sucking on his pulse point and it was causing Harry problems in even thinking straight.

Snape’s hand went down to cup Harry’s arse. Harry shamelessly pushed back into the touch. He heard a dark chuckle come from Snape and felt the chest rumble. He did not care though, not when the man was making such pleasurable sparks shoot through his body. Finally, Harry managed to undo the belt. He was just about to shove his hand down the man’s trousers when a strong hand closed over his wrist.

Snape stopped his oral assault. He kept his head where it was, and Harry did not move, feeling the hot breath on his neck. The real life hot pants of a hard Severus Snape. Oh gods.They were both panting hard. Much harder than when they were dueling earlier. It felt so much better than in his dreams. Snape felt so much better.

“Do not call me a coward,” Snape said quietly against Harry’s sensitive neck. Harry almost whimpered at the feeling of it, the over awareness of Snape, and the arousal flooding his system.

When Snape leaned back and stepped away, Harry’s mind started to clear. Snape stood before him with his rumpled shirt half out of his trousers, his belt hanging open and his trousers riding lower than usual, an obvious bulge in them.

Harry guessed he was no better. He could feel his shirt was skew and his trousers, while buttoned and intact, felt impossibly tight against his erection. He knew his hair was probably even more of a mess than usual and his lips were most likely swollen and red. He would not be surprised if he had a few marks on his neck. He hoped he had a few marks on his neck. If for nothing else to assure himself tomorrow that this really happened.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry, bewildered. Snape started to put himself back together, not saying a word. Harry’s hand went to his neck, fingers lightly touching the spot Snape had last sucked. “Severus, you can’t just ignore me,” he insisted, approaching the older wizard. Black eyes darted to him before quickly averting. Harry did not give a damn about his ruffled appearance. He wanted to know what the hell had just happened.

“Mister Potter-“

“Don’t ‘Mister Potter’ me,” Harry cut him off quickly. “If you’re going to stick your tongue down my throat then you should at least bring yourself to call me by my given name.”

“It will not happen again, I assure you,” Snape said with a glare.

“I never said I didn’t want it to happen,” Harry countered.

“What makes you so sure I want it to happen again?”

Harry’s eyes went down to the bulge in the man’s trousers and then flicked back up to the dark eyes.

“It cannot happen again,” Snape said tight-lipped before striding from the room.

Chapter Text

Harry wanted to run after him but knew it would be to no avail. There was no point in arguing, at least not today. So, he let Snape go and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  In his quarters, with a glass full of scotch McGonagall had gifted him, Harry fire-called Ginny. She barely got in a quick “hello” before Harry jumped right into it.

“I kissed Snape,” he stated. Ginny’s jaw dropped. “Well, he kissed me first, but…”

“Stay right there, I’m coming through!”

Harry downed the scotch in his glass in two large gulps and closed his eyes gently to the hot burn down his throat.

Ginny stepped out of the floo a minute later. She threw her arms around Harry in a hug before they both sat down on the couch. Harry summoned her a cup of tea and filled his glass up, ignoring the worried look on Ginny’s face, and started recounting what happened.

“I don’t know what to do, Ginny!” Harry said, staring at the amber liquid in the glass, his hand cradling the cool glass.

 Ginny looked back at him in sympathy, her tea drank and her cup now holding a finger of scotch. She sipped gingerly on it. It wasn’t her drink of choice, Harry knew, but after the whole story, he wasn’t surprised she had requested some. He’d drank almost a quarter of the bottle himself through the explanation alone.

“He’s probably as confused as you are, Harry,” she said reassuringly.

“He doesn’t get to be confused! I’m confused! He could have told me! He just- I mean that news alone would have had me reaching for one of there,” Harry sloshed his glass of scotch, “but that kiss? What the fuck.” Ginny flicked him on the ear for swearing. “Ow,” Harry pouted and downed the rest of his glass in misery and stared into the flames of the roaring fireplace.

That kiss replayed in his mind like a taunt. A confusing taunt. One that hurt Harry’s head more so than this scotch would tomorrow morning. The look on Snape’s face when Harry’s words were so bewildering. He knew what the C word would do, that’s why he said it. It was a stupid thing to do, but Harry often acted stupidly in anger. He just wanted to hurt Snape as much as he was hurting him with all this… whatever it was. It was the utter confusion on the man’s face before utter blankness took it over when Harry had accused him of… of heterosexuality, he supposed. Like Snape was the one who couldn’t fathom what was going on. Like he was shocked beyond words that someone could think him straight.

Who the fuck looked at Severus Snape and thought, “yep, a total poof.”

Harry tipped his glass back as he slumped further down the sofa. It was empty. Figured. He sat back up and poured another two fingers, expecting to have Ginny try to take it off him. When he managed to get it filled and a mouthful swallowed, he glanced her way to see if she’d even noticed.

Deep in thought, Ginny was lost to the world. Harry watched her think through what she’d just heard. He wondered if she was trying to make sense of what happened or what to do next. What to do next. Now there was a bloody good question. What was he to do next? Harry was just so bloody shocked and confused he didn’t have the foggiest idea to figure out where to start on that train of thought. To put it mildly, he didn’t even know which direction the bloody train station was. Another mouthful of scotch. How was any of this salvageable? One burning swallow. It wasn’t. Why did he even tell Ginny? Last mouthful of scotch. He supposed he wanted her to tell him to toughen up or give him her shoulder to cry on. God that last swallow burned.

This was not how he pictured his nights after the war.

He sighed at the floor, empty glass in hand. Ginny was staring at the fireplace, a deep frown on her face and her eyes searching the flames. Her mouth was pursed and her fingers tapped lightly against her empty mug.

“Want another cup?” Harry asked. “Or finger?”

 Ginny said nothing so Harry took the mug and poured a finger of scotch in.

He was just about to pour yet another couple fingers of scotch for himself when Ginny jumped up from the sofa.

“He didn’t say the same thing,” she announced. Harry frowned at her. “Think, Harry,” she said, taking Harry’s glass away from him. “He said ‘it will not happen again’ the first time and ‘it cannot happen again’ the second.”

“So? ‘Will not.’ ‘Cannot.’ Same thing.”

Harry tried to grab the glass but Ginny stopped him with a hand.

“Not to Snape,” she said. “Snape’s a man who has had to choose his words carefully his entire life. ‘Will not’ and ‘cannot’ are completely different. ‘Will not’ implies that he doesn’t want it,” she explained.

“I get it!” Harry snapped. Snape didn’t want him. Fine. That bloody kiss and bulge said otherwise but fine! What did Harry care? Just because some dumb mirror made him realize he loved the bastard didn’t mean he had to be loved back. It was just a stupid mirror anyway. Maybe Harry just thought he loved him and it wasn’t a realization at all actually. What does a dumb enchanted mirror know about Harry’s most deepest desire anyway? It was probably broken or something. Or Snape was just a metaphor. Harry didn’t want the man. Why would he want someone who didn’t want him? Why would he want such a mean and snarky git? He didn’t. “I get it,” he repeated quieter.

“No, you don’t get it,” Ginny stated and sat right next to him, grabbing his hand and forcing himself to look her in the eyes. Harry glared at her. Could he not be left in miserable peace? “Saying ‘cannot’ means that there is something stopping it. It literally isn’t possible. It can not,” she said, her eyes wide as if talking to a child.

Harry thought for a second, through the suddenly quite hazy mind he had. Scotch must have kicked in. He frowned. Right. Will not. Want not. Okay. So he does not want to kiss him again. The scotch was making him feel queasy. Focus. Cannot. Can. Not. The ability to do is not possible. Like when he was a student and asked Snape to go to the loo and he’d said, “Can I go to the loo” and the git had replied, “I greatly hope so as you are fourteen but you may not because you’re supposed to be brewing right now unless you want Gryffindor to lose five points today, again.” Git. Can= ability. Cannot = no ability.

Oh!

“There’s something stopping us from being able to kiss?” Harry said after a good few minutes.

“At least he thinks there is,” Ginny nodded and suddenly started eyeing the rather depleted bottle of scotch. She’d caught on. Bollocks.

“What? The school?” Harry asked, distracting her and trying to sober up. Both were hard. He tried focusing on her but she kept going out of focus. It was quite rude.

Ginny rolled her eyes and reached into a bag Harry had not noticed she’d come with.

“Were you going somewhere?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But –“

“Drink.”

Ginny pushed a phial into Harry’s hand and he squinted at it. There was a little label he couldn’t read but he trusted Ginny wouldn’t poison him. He’d probably already poisoned himself. Oops. He knocked it back.

By the taste maybe Ginny was trying to poison him.

“Oh, really,” Ginny rolled her eyes again. “It’s to sober you up and it doesn’t taste that bad.”

“It really does,” Harry replied, nice and sober now. Clear-headed and no longer emotionally numbed by alcohol, the awfulness of his interaction with Snape came back full force. Harry bent forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he let out a miserable loud groan of despair. Ginny cleared her throat but he refused to look up.

“There are no rules against inter-staff relationships,” she said when it was clear Harry wasn’t surfacing again. He gave her a questioning look. She blushed faintly in response. “I may have come across it when looking up student-teacher relationships,” she admitted.

“Please tell me it wasn’t because of Lockhart,” Harry asked. Ginny sniffed.

“If you must know, Hermione and I were doing research on it together,” she said replied and sat up a little straighter. Harry scrunched his face up at the memory of Lockhart.

“Okay, fine. If it isn’t against school rules, then what is it?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” she said apologetically.

Harry took sighed, collapsing back into the sofa and letting his head tip back to stare at the ceiling. He snorted as a thought occurred to him. “Probably some self-sacrificing honourable bullshit,” he muttered at the cobweb in the corner. Ginny gasped. “What?” Harry asked sitting up.

“That’s probably it!”

“It was a joke.”

“This is Snape.” She had a point. “This is perfect!”

“Perfect?” Harry repeated. “How is this perfect?”

“S.O.S.! We can put it into action!” He stared at her. “Draco is supposed to be coming over and staying in the castle for the next few weeks anyway for that potions apprenticeship,” she said excitedly. “If I stay in the guest quarters, as your guest for a little while, we’ll be able to help each other out like we’d planned!”

“Ginny, that wasn’t serious!” Harry sputtered. “We aren’t supposed to actually- I mean it’ll never work!”

“Yes, it will! This is our chance. I’m telling you. Seductions of Slytherins is officially in operation.”

Harry watched her in mute horror as she rushed over to his desk and got out a quill and parchment to start planning.

Ginny had received permission from McGonagall the next morning.  By the end of Tuesday, she had moved her things into her guest quarters, which she would be staying in for just shy of a month. She’d also ran into Hooch in the halls and had agreed to help with the quidditch games while she was here. Harry was sure she was going to cause more of a distraction than he did. A player for the HollyHead Harpies refereeing and running training sessions. He’d be all but forgotten about. He hoped.

Harry was meeting up with her before breakfast on Wednesday.

Operation S.O.S. was all planned out, though Harry wasn’t allowed to see the plan. He was to do as told and not piss Snape off if he could help it. That was one thing Harry could actually do without effort because Snape had been ignoring him all week. Duelling club the previous afternoon had even consisted of being ignored by Snape. The man had taken charge the moment it began and barely let Harry say a word. It was like Harry wasn’t even there. He was just left in the back of the classroom, watching Snape teach and take points from Gryffindors. The Boy Who Lived to be part of the décor. The second he dismissed the students he disappeared. When Harry explained this to Ginny she gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“S.O.S. will just be a little more difficult with him,” she said as Harry recounted his interactions or lack thereof with Snape.

“More like impossible,” Harry muttered.

“Then we’ll just have to be a little more aggressive.”

“You said not to piss him off.”

“Aggressive doesn’t mean piss him off,” Ginny shook her head at him as they walked into the great hall to see most everyone already sitting and eating. Ginny smiled at the scene before her. “I missed this,” she said. “It feels like it used to when Dumbledore was headmaster.”

“Except now we sit up there,” Harry said, nodding his head at the High Table. Harry scanned the table for two specific people.

Snape was sitting in the middle with McGonagall three seats to his right, and Draco, looking uncomfortable, on his left. Harry understood the feeling. The first time he’d sat up there had felt…wrong. Draco hid it fairly well. Ginny’s eyes lit up when she saw him and she tugged Harry over to them. He’d have to get used to this. He supposed he’d have to strike up a friendship with Draco as well if he was going to be with Ginny. For those two, he had no doubts. For him and Snape… well, he hoped the Mirror of Erised knew what it was doing.

“Hello, Draco,” Ginny said with a small smile and, was that a blush?

 Harry was torn between wanting to laugh and be disturbed. This was his ex-fiancé who was smiling and drooling over someone else, right in front of him. The fact that it was Draco who had caught her attention was something he refused to let himself dwell on. Right. He had to make an effort for her sake. He smiled at Draco, who immediately looked suspicious. Not the best start, but not surprising.  

“Professor Snape,” Ginny greeted, her eyes reluctantly leaving Draco.

“I’m no longer your professor,” Snape said. “You may call me Severus.”

“Thank you,” Ginny smiled. “You may call me Ginny.”

Harry watched the exchange with a bit of envy. He worked with the bloody man and he was never asked to call him by his first name. Ginny gave him a look and he got the message.

“Draco,” Harry said, gaining a narrowed-eyed nod.

“Potter,” Draco replied. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the short tone. He was trying but Draco was such a prat he didn’t know how Ginny got past it.

“Professor Snape,” Harry said, looking at the man. To his relief, Snape did not refuse to look at him. “How are you this morning?”

Instead of a reply, he got one arched eyebrow. Right then.

Ginny nudged him to take a seat beside Snape as she took the one next to Draco. Harry wished Ginny would have sat with him. He did not want to start his morning off being ignored.

He went to take the seat beside McGonagall.

“Oh, actually I’m saving the seat for Professor Docks,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s his first day as well, and he doesn’t know anyone on the staff yet.”

“Of course not,” Harry said. He took the seat next to Snape.

 “What are you doing at the castle?” Draco asked Ginny.

“I’ve come to visit Harry.” Snape glanced at Harry before returning his attention to Ginny. “While I’m here I’m going to help Madam Hooch with quidditch and set up some training for anyone interested,” she added.

“Ginny is on the HollyHead Harpies,” Harry said. Draco smiled at her.

“You were always a good player,” he said. Harry tried not to chock on his coffee at Draco giving a compliment. Ginny had a light blush on her cheeks. It was soon obvious that their conversation turned private and Harry focused on his sausage and eggs. Snape did not utter a word to him but kept glancing his way out of the corner of his eye.

Harry had had enough.

“So, Professor Snape,” he said after swallowing a sip of coffee, “do you have any material you think we should cover for this afternoon’s duelling club?”

“I won’t be there,” the man said. Harry waited to see if he would say anything else but Snape simply took a sip of his coffee and went back to ignoring him.

“Care to elaborate?” Harry pushed. Snape apparently did not. “Am I going to be teaching duelling by myself then?” Harry asked angrily. The man was being downright childish now and he could have at least given Harry some more notice than the day of!

“Minerva has agreed to step in,” Snape replied.

“Actually, Severus,” McGonagall interrupted, “something has come up for me as well. I’ve asked Professor Docks to step in,” she said. She turned to Harry. “Have you met him?” she asked. Harry shook his head. “He’s taking over potions,” she explained.

“I thought you were still going to teach Potions,” Harry said with a frown of confusion as he looked at Snape.

“I can hardly be the headmaster, potions professor, head of house, and duelling club teacher at the same time. There are only so many hours in the day, even with Minerva’s assistance,” Snape spoke in a bored tone, the ‘you idiot’ not added but fully implied.

“Don’t worry, Harry, the students will be just as well taught with Professor Docks. He’ll be taking over as head of Slytherin house and I’ll be back to deputy Headmistress by the spring. It’ll all be back to as normal as we can make it soon, and I assure you Docks is fully capable of filling Severus’s shoes. I found him myself. He’s absolutely brilliant. About four years older than you,” she said with a thoughtful smile. “I think you’ll like him,” she added, leaning closer. “And single too,” she whispered with a cheeky look.

“Are you talking about Docks?” Draco interrupted the conversation. “I heard he’s a younger version of Severus,” he laughed.

“Why do you think I hired him?” McGonagall replied and they both laughed.

“Please,” Snape said, unimpressed with the conversation.

“Have you met him?” Draco asked.

“No,” Snape admitted. “I have heard good things about him. I’m confident in Minerva to hire a competent professor,” he said. He glanced at Harry, and his lip quirked up. “Though given the recent hire, I’m unsure if that confidence was perhaps misguided.”

“You’ll have to meet him,” McGonagall said, ignoring his comment. “He’s got a knack for Defense, just like Severus, so I thought he would be the perfect substitute for duelling club tonight,” she smiled.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Harry smiled, hiding his dread at dealing with two Severuses.

“Here he comes now,” McGonagall said in excitement, nodding to the front of the room.

Draco, Ginny, Snape, and Harry all turned to see a man in his mid-twenties who looked oddly similar to Snape walking towards them. His hair was shorter than Snape’s and was brushed back in a casual manner. His cheekbones were a little sharper and his skin a little tanner. He was a few inches shorter as well, but they looked alike. He could be his brother. A more conventionally attractive brother. Harry’s mouth went a touch dry.

The man took the seat next to McGonagall.

“Good morning,” he greeted them all. His voice was higher than Snape’s but he was definitely no tenor. He looked at them all with a sweeping of his dark eyes. He seemed slightly friendlier than Snape. Harry, Draco, and Snape were too shocked to say anything, but Ginny managed to compose herself.

“I’m Ginny,” she introduced herself. “I’m visiting for a while and helping out with Quidditch.”

“Draco Malfoy,” the blond piped up a moment later. “I’m apprenticing here for the year,” he told the look alike.

“Pleasure,” Docks replied. “Daniel Docks,” he said before turning to Snape. “I believe you are Headmaster Snape,” he stated. “I am honoured to work for such a war hero,” he said sincerely.

Harry was still gaping.

“You must be Harry Potter,” he stated then. Harry nodded. Docks’ lip quirked up in a smile. They were fuller than Snape’s. “I believe I will be helping you with duelling club later on?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, finally snapping out of it. “Thank you for stepping in, Professor Docks,” he said a bit breathlessly.

“Of course. You may call me Daniel if you’d like,” he said with a smirk.

Harry was suddenly looking forward to duelling club again.