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Harry whistled a little tune as he walked away from Hagrid's hut. Coming back to Hogwarts was one thing that he would never regret, Hagrid's rock cakes aside. Since the end of the war, Hagrid had openly embraced her true self, her feminine side, and was living her best life as a mummy to all of her beloved (i.e. terrifying) magical creatures, but cooking was still not her strong suit.
Since he'd returned to the school to teach after Madam Hooch's retirement, she'd become something of a mother to him, too. Although he supposed that, really, she always had been; he had just never thought of their relationship in those terms before. Still, for all her love and affection, he thought she could probably benefit from a few cooking lessons from Molly Weasley.
Immediately, he shook his head, banishing that thought. There was no need to remember Molly right now, no need to think about another lost mother-figure in his life. He wouldn't have thought there was anything he could do to make Molly dislike him. She'd always been there for him, no matter what. But apparently, breaking up with her youngest child had done the trick. Molly had taken it even worse than Ginny had.
It wasn't as though he could help the fact that he found himself picturing one of her brothers instead every time he was with Ginny, that his eyes were drawn to men's arses more than they were to hers. He supposed he could have realized he was gay much sooner, but he'd been under rather a lot of pressure for most of his life, ta everso. Ginny had understood, at least, happy to offer her support and friendship even though their relationship didn't turn out as she'd hoped. Molly, though, not so much.
And really, it didn't matter greatly. He'd rather surround himself with people who loved him as he was than people who loved him for who they thought he should be. But that didn't mean that her rejection didn't sting a bit. At least he still had Ron and Hermione and Hagrid and Ginny. He had the other professors at Hogwarts now, too, though, living on the school grounds instead of within the castle itself, he wasn't as close with any of them. Regardless, he had all the friends and chosen family that the little orphan boy he'd once been could ever have dreamed of.
Determined to finally get the broom shed sorted out before the students arrived that evening, Harry headed to the Quidditch pitch, still whistling. "I wonder if I'll ever find love," he mused. His friends were incredible, of course, but he still longed for something more sometimes. For a person he could belong to, a person who would belong to him. Most of the Hogwarts teachers were single, for good reason. It was hard to maintain a relationship when you spent ten months of the year at a boarding school for magical children. He was happy and content with his life and would remain so if this was how he spent the rest of his days. Not many people were as lucky as him. But he certainly wouldn't mind finding someone to love.
He was half-way across the grounds when he passed by Snape kneeling on the ground near the lake, his black robes pooled around him, his long fingers offering bits of meat to a mangy-looking orange cat.
The first time he'd seen Snape doing that, he'd been a little concerned, wondering if Snape was going to shave the poor thing or pluck its eyes out for potions ingredients. But he hadn't, of course. He'd only fed it and rubbed its scruffy head for a while. Even when he'd noticed Harry watching him, when they made direct eye contact, he hadn't moved except to keep petting the little cat.
It was then that Harry acknowledged that the war's end meant changes for more than just himself and Hagrid. The end of the war meant freedom for everyone to be who they were always meant to be. There was no more need for fighting or spying or prejudice; that space had been newly occupied by growth and rebuilding and acceptance.
Of course there were still outliers, those who were resistant to change. Harry had never expected that Molly Weasley would be one of them, but her refusal to accept him made him all the more driven to not be that way himself. So when he'd seen Severus Snape feeding a stray cat that first time, when they had locked eyes, Harry had just given him a sheepish smile and gone on about his business. Who was he to say that someone must always remain the same person they'd been during the darkest times of their life?
This time, though, he was passing so close to Snape that he didn't think a sheepish smile would be quite enough. They were coworkers now and there was no reason that they should be anything less than cordial and, perhaps more than that, Harry wanted to speak with Snape. He wanted to reconcile the Snape he'd known at school with this Snape who hand-fed stray cats on the school grounds.
"Good morning, Professor," he greeted him, careful to show a level of respect that he'd never shown as a student here. He felt compelled, for some reason, to prove to Snape that he, too, was not the same person he'd once been.
"I'm not your professor any longer, Potter," Snape replied, nodding at Harry before allowing his dark hair to fall over his face in a way that Harry had witnessed before in pensieve memories.
Recognizing that the man felt uncomfortable or perhaps threatened, Harry bent down next to him and scratched the cat's head. It was softer than he'd expected such a mangy little thing to be. "What's his name?" he asked in an attempt to make this less awkward.
"I haven't any idea what his name is, Potter," Snape replied, offering the cat another bit of meat and not even glancing at Harry. "He is not my pet. He was left here by some careless student who will, with any luck, collect him when they arrive this evening. It happens every summer. Cats, injured owls, lost toads… someone's familiar is always abandoned here." Harry felt a pang in his heart when Snape mentioned injured owls. "Someone must care for them," he finished, finally meeting Harry's eyes, shaking aside that curtain of dark hair.
"Well, I'm sure Hagrid could…" Harry began, suddenly surprised to see that, outside of a dimly lit dungeon room, Snape's eyes weren't black as he'd always assumed they were, but a rich, deep blue.
"She has no interest in caring for something so mundane as a cat," Snape said as he gathered his robes around him and stood. Harry grinned at his apparent easy acceptance of Hagrid, at the use of her proper pronouns.
"I'm sure she would if you told her about them," he started, but Snape cut him off.
"There is no need, Potter," he snapped as he began to walk away. "I think I can manage to care for a cat or an owl on occasion."
"Of course," Harry said, still grinning as he made his own way toward the Quidditch fields, leaving the cat behind to do whatever it is that cats do when they're alone. "Nice talking to you, Professor!" he called after the man.
He smiled the whole way to the broom shed and he continued smiling even as he cleaned, trimming bent bristles and organizing Quidditch supplies, because he had learned some interesting things about Severus Snape. He had learned that Snape was, deep down, much kinder and more accepting of others than he'd ever have imagined, and he had learned that Snape secretly liked taking care of those abandoned animals.
It was sweet, he thought, to know some hidden, wonderful side to his cranky old potions teacher. He wondered how long Snape had been taking care of left-behind pets for and the more he speculated on it, the more happy it made him. Because if it had just begun since the end of the war, that was such a sweet kind of personal growth for Snape; a way that he could express his softer side now that he wasn't burdened by stress. And if it was something he'd been doing all along, then it had been a precious private outlet for him; something that he'd held onto through the darkest times that maybe still brought him comfort and peace now that he was free.
And most precious of all, to Harry, was that Snape had allowed him to see that side of him at all. It was a rare gift from an unexpected source and it made him happier than he'd been in a long time. That happy feeling followed him for the rest of the day and into the welcoming feast.
Once there, he took his seat, a soft smile still on his face, and stole little glances at the potions professor for the rest of the evening.
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Days went by and Harry found that he was missing the sight of Snape on the grounds. The students were back and had claimed their lost familiars. Cats returned to their owners and life moved on.
"Yer bein' awful quiet, Harry," Hagrid said, setting a cup of tea down in front of him before taking her own seat. "Somethin' on yer mind?"
Harry dropped a few sugar cubes into the cup. He still hadn't figured out the exact right ratio of sugar-to-tea in Hagrid's Hagrid-sized cups. "Just thinking about Snape," Harry said, stirring his tea absently and hoping for the best.
"Harry James Potter, don't you start that up again!" Hagrid admonished him loudly, causing Harry to jump. "After all we been through, I think ye'd know better than to think that Sev'rus is up ta somethin' now!"
"Oi!" Harry shot back defensively. "I wasn't thinking that! I saw him taking care of a cat over the summer." Harry wasn't exactly sure what to say next. That was really all that had happened and he wasn't sure why his mind was so stuck on the thought of it. "I was just thinking about it is all," he finished mildly.
"Ah that!" Hagrid chuckled and picked up a large lumpy knitting project. Harry had no idea what she was working on and he didn't dare ask for fear that Hagrid would begin talking about her plans to make dozens of spider cozies for the upcoming winter or something. "Sev'rus has been doin' that ever since 'e came here to teach," she said. "I offered to help him with it once, but 'e said there was no need so I jus' left 'im to it. Can't stand to see anythin' sufferin', that one." She paused then said, "Sev'rus and me are a lot alike, ya know?"
Harry stared at Hagrid for a moment – at her garish floral-printed muumuu, at her grey utility vest all covered in giant pockets full of Merlin-knew-what, at her bushy beard and her kind black eyes – and bit his lip to hold back his amusement. "Hagrid, I'm not sure…" he began, but Hagrid cut him off with her loud booming laugh, leaving him feeling comfortable enough to join her. He wasn't trying to poke fun, of course, but the thought of Snape sitting down to knit in a bright floral muumuu was objectively hilarious.
"Not in looks and pastimes, Harry," she said, still laughing. "Merlin, no. What I mean is that people assume things about us jus' as soon as they meet us. They know we're not like 'em righ' away and they judge us for it, always assumin' the worst." Her laughter died down as she explained it to Harry. "The big diff'rence," she said, " is that I do what I can do to show 'em they're wrong straightaway. Show 'em that even though I'm big an' strong an' not always the brightest, I'm also kind an' friendly an' caring. Sev'rus, though… he leans into it. Those perceptions. Wears 'em like an armour. Not that either way is wrong, mind. When people treat ya like an outcast, ya do what ya gotta do to survive. But you know all abou' that, Harry."
She smiled kindly at him and gave him space to process what she was saying. He'd never thought of Snape in that light before, even when he'd been thinking about the man taking care of the abandoned animals and how sweet it was, he never considered the fact that maybe that's who Snape was inside. That maybe his whole dark and mean persona was a mask he wore to protect himself. He thought about the sensitive young Snape in the pensieve who'd promised Lily Evans that they were best friends, who'd tearfully begged her to forgive him, who'd been beaten down repeatedly by James Potter and friends and he realized how much truth there was in Hagrid's words. And he ached to think that it was his own family who had pushed Snape to be that way.
"Harry," Hagrid tentatively cut into his thoughts. Harry looked up at her but she was staring down at her lumpy knitting. "If Sev'rus showed ya what's behind his armour… it's because he wanted ya ta see it. Jus' wanted ya to remember that."
Harry nodded solemnly. Of course, that was true. Even Harry could recognize that. Snape was an extremely private and cunning man. He'd been a spy, for Merlin's sake. If he didn't want to be seen, he surely wouldn't be.
Those thoughts were heavy on Harry's mind throughout the rest of their tea, though Hagrid turned their conversation to easier topics after that. Apparently she was making mittens for the giant squid. Harry offered to cast water-proofing charms on them, though he had no idea what a squid might need mittens for, but apparently Snape had already made a potion for that.
Harry was beginning to wonder just how close Hagrid and Snape were. Not that he wanted to picture them together. Godric, what an unwanted mental image!
Hagrid caught his eye just then, a smile playing on her lips, her beard quivering with mirth. "I'm not seein' anyone special at Hogwarts, Harry. I like 'em a bit sturdier than anyone here is," she said without giving anything more away. How did she know what he was thinking? Had he spoken out loud? "You didn't have ta say it out loud," she said, no longer even trying to conceal her laughter. "Mums always know. Besides, you wear all your thoughts right on yer face, Harry. Ye'll wanna be careful o' that if you go pursuin' anythin' with Snape."
Harry stared at her incredulously.
"Yeah, I could tell that too," she laughed, laying aside her knitting and giving him a hug that was rather too tight but still welcome. "Get outta here, now," she said, smiling warmly. "Ya got better stuff to do than listenin' to me jabber on. Go on an' polish yer brooms or summat."
Face flaming, Harry said a quick goodbye to Hagrid and hurried out the door, smiling when he heard her laughter as he closed the door behind him.
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That evening, Harry arrived to dinner early to make sure to snag the chair beside Snape. He gave a little wave and a wink to the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain as he sat; she was staring at him with wide eyes as he took his seat beside the snarky potions professor.
"Good evening, Professor," he said quietly while the Headmistress made the evening announcements.
"I am not your professor any longer, Potter," Snape said automatically.
Harry gave a friendly laugh. "What would you have me call you, then?" he asked after McGonagall finished speaking.
Snape looked at him with one eyebrow raised, his expression sarcastic. "My name is Severus. You have known me more than half your life. I would have expected even you to grasp that by this point," he said without any bite. His dark eyes were full of dry mirth.
"Alright… Severus," Harry replied, slowly testing the name, somewhat nervous that he was about to get hexed. It was a good name, a wizard's name, unique and sibilant. He liked saying it and, judging by the slight upturn of Severus' lips, he liked hearing it. "Hagrid said that you've always taken care of the stray animals here," he said, trying to make conversation.
"They do not deserve to be abandoned or neglected," he said simply. "I am merely doing the right thing. It's nothing to get excited over."
Harry laughed. "Who said I'm excited?" he asked, though he sort of was. There was something thrilling about learning something so unexpected about Severus Snape.
"Who indeed?" Severus mused as he began filling his plate with the food that had appeared on the table. He passed dishes to Harry who absently took something from a few dishes, paying no attention to what foods he was piling onto his plate.
"She also said," Harry lowered his voice a bit, "she said you wouldn't have let me know you were doing it if you didn't want me to."
Severus looked at him for so long that Harry started to think he wouldn't reply at all, but would merely keep looking until he'd stared a hole through Harry's head at which point there would be no need to answer. Finally he smirked and said, "Eat your sprouts and gravy, Potter." He turned to his own plate then, mumbling, "Hagrid is far more observant than she lets on."
"Harry," he shot back, pleased that his Gryffindor boldness – or stupidity, depending on how you looked at it – had paid off in some sort of way. "If I'm going to call you by your name, you should call me by mine. I'm not my father, you know." Turning to his plate, he frowned then shrugged. Sprouts and gravy would not have been his first choice, but he'd live. He'd had Hermione's cooking, after all, and nothing could be worse than that.
"Very well," Snape agreed. "Harry."
Harry could feel those dark eyes looking at him again, but he didn't look up. "Why did you let me see you, then?" he pressed on. In for a sickel, in for a galleon, he figured. If Snape hadn't hexed him by then, he figured he was not likely to do so. At least not in front of so many witnesses.
"Perhaps, Harry," he said his name pointedly, "after all that we have been through, I tire of being friendless."
That statement stopped Harry in his tracks. He did look up then, but found Snape no longer looking at him. His own plate looked far more appealing than Harry's did and he seemed very focused on it. Harry'd never considered the fact that Snape – Severus – had no friends, but when he did stop to think, he couldn't deny the truth of it. With the things that Severus had done during the war to save their people and way of life, he had likely alienated his friends on both sides, if he'd ever even had them to begin with. Harry had spent the first 11 years of his life friendless; he didn't wish that on anyone. Least of all on Severus Snape, caretaker of lost pets and true saviour of the wizarding world.
"You, of all people, shouldn't be lonely, Severus," Harry said without really meaning to. Sometimes he wondered why he seemed to lack the filter that everyone else had between their brain and their mouth. Maybe that had been the real reason the Sorting Hat agreed to not put him in Slytherin.
Severus gave a bitter little laugh. "I could say the same of you, Pott- Harry," he said. "It seems that the things we are forced to do in times of darkness are the things that alienate us in times of light. We can't be trusted because those around us know what we are truly capable of."
The conversation was getting rather deep for a Tuesday dinner in the Great Hall, but Harry found that he wasn't bothered by it. The world around them seemed to fade away as Severus spoke. Harry had never really listened to the man before. "That's probably true," he said reflectively. "And it doesn't help that I'm super gay." He could have slapped himself. There was that lack of filter again.
Severus didn't seem bothered though. On the contrary, he burst into laughter, a sound Harry had never even imagined before. "You'll find that most of wizarding society does not care about that," he said. He turned an intense gaze to Harry, seeming to look right into his soul. "Although," he continued slowly, "I'm certain that you'll find some who are particularly bound by tradition and family who will oppose you. That is their problem to deal with, not yours."
Shocked by Severus' sudden burst of intuition, Harry deflected. "People like Lucius Malfoy, you mean?" he asked, really not wanting to discuss Molly at that moment.
Severus chuckled. "One might think so, but no. Lucius is not a stupid man. He knows how muggles think and act. In this case, his bigotry outweighs even his sense of tradition," he said. "He does not wish to hold the convictions of a religious muggle, so he doesn't concern himself with other people's love and sex lives. He thinks it beneath him."
Harry's forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He had a strange mental picture of Lucius Malfoy dressed in drag and waving a flag on a Pride float just to stick it to the muggles. He'd make a pretty drag queen. "That's… weirdly progressive of him," he said finally. "In a really shitty way, I mean."
"Quite," Severus replied with a smirk. "People often make little logical sense."
"True," Harry said, turning back to his plate and admitting to himself that the statement was true even of him. Logic would have meant asking the house elves for a fresh plate since mistakes had been made with his first one, but pride had him eating sprouts and gravy in spite of himself. He didn't want Severus to know just how focused he'd been on him. It could make their tentative friendship awkward and he really did not want that.
"Hagrid and I meet for tea most days," he said, deftly changing the subject. "And then for cards and drinks most evenings after dinner. You'd be welcome to join us any time if you like." Since Severus had reached out to him in his own strange way, Harry wanted to offer something in return. "We always meet in her hut. My cottage isn't exactly comfortable for her," he said with a little laugh.
Harry lived in a small stone cottage near the Quidditch pitch. It helped him to keep an eye on the Quidditch practices that often happened at odd hours of the day and enabled him to make sure that no mischievous students snuck out for an unapproved fly. It also left him close enough to Hagrid to visit often, which he appreciated. He had never lived so isolated from those he cared about since he had first come to Hogwarts at age 11. Being nearer to her made it easier.
"I am not sure that would be possible with my schedule," Severus said, but Harry thought he sounded a bit disappointed about it. "If it is ever convenient, I will be there," he said, not exactly committing himself to anything, but still proving to Harry that he was right.
"Any time," Harry said. Then the pudding course appeared on the table and Harry chose some treacle tart, grateful for the opportunity to stop picking at the sprouts on his plate. He and Severus continued to talk casually until they both headed out of the Great Hall for the evening.
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Weeks went by and autumn arrived in Scotland with its usual display of colour, but somehow it seemed better to Harry than ever. Perhaps it was because he was living on the school grounds now and was better positioned to see it in all its red and orange glory.
Or perhaps it was because of Severus.
They'd been sitting together for most meals lately and Severus had even come by for cards with him and Hagrid a few times. He made a great addition to their evening ritual. Though he generally won every game he played with them, Harry wasn't bothered by it at all. He just liked watching the way Severus' eyes would narrow as he looked over his own cards, the blank mask he wore as the others made their moves. Playing gin rummy with a semi-professional spy was never going to result in anything but a loss for Harry, but he enjoyed the journey anyway.
Their friendship had progressed so smoothly that, at times, Harry forgot that they'd ever been anything other than friends. It was easy between them. Both had less than wholesome childhoods, both had been through hell and back during the war, both had been outcasts at one time or another in their lives; they got each other on a deeper level than most.
One night, their game ran so late that Hagrid had fallen asleep in her chair. The Firewhiskey they'd all been sipping may have contributed to that, but it was no matter. Harry and Severus had tucked her into her bed as best they could, aided by magic and sheer willpower, then walked the grounds talking for a bit, the Firewhiskey having loosened their tongues. Harry told Severus about the easy acceptance of his friends and of difficult time he'd had with Molly when he'd come out.
"I am not much surprised," Severus had answered carefully. "Molly is a very traditional woman and doesn't respond well to those who don't behave just as she wants them to. Look at how she treated her twins when they wanted to create joke products rather than focus on their schooling."
"She was fine with that, though!" Harry protested. "She even took us all to their shop once they'd opened it."
"Hmm," Severus considered. "That was after they had become successful, though. When something happens to open her eyes, her mind can be changed. But until then, she is not likely to consider the validity of anything outside of her own worldview. I can't say that I'd want my children running a joke shop, of course," he chuckled. "But when you have children, or when you take them in, you're signing on for whatever they become, whether scholars or pranksters." He paused. "Heterosexual or not."
"I've never even been with a man though," Harry complained. "It just sucks that she can judge me for it. Not because of anything I've done, but just because of who I am."
"I understand," Severus said. "My parents, for better or worse, paid little attention to what I did. But I once dated a boy whose mother was much like Molly, only far more violent. You had the pleasure of meeting her portrait at Grimmauld Place, I believe. It was very bad for him when she found out. It was… not wonderful for me either, to be honest."
Harry's mind began to buzz and whir as that knowledge seeped into his brain. "You dated Regulus??" he asked, quickly coming to the conclusion that Severus couldn't possibly have dated Sirius. "I didn't know you were gay!"
Severus' mouth tightened and he looked down at the ground as if cursing himself for revealing too much. "I believe," he said softly and slowly, "that muggles would call me bisexual." He rotated his shoulders, loosening up as he explained himself there in the moonlight. "I myself have never felt a need to wear such labels. My romantic prospects, such as they've been, have never amounted to much."
Quickly, Harry reigned himself in, though thoughts and possibilities were still bouncing through his mind like gobstones. "That makes sense," he said, aiming for casual and praying he pulled it off. "I haven't had much luck in that area either."
Their friendship hadn't changed, except perhaps to grow closer, but Harry had been somewhat distracted ever since then. Does Severus like me or are we just friends? Do I like Severus or am I just desperate? Am I falling in love with Severus Snape? What would Molly say about that? Merlin, what would Ron say?? His head had been buzzing for days, but he did his best to function as normal.
Perhaps it would not have happened if the grounds hadn't been so lovely. Perhaps it would not have happened if he hadn't been so distracted. Perhaps it needed to happen to stop the buzzing. Sometimes a near disaster is how magic begins.
The morning was bright and golden, the weather was perfect for flying. Warm but not too warm, the air calm, the sky blue. Harry had the first year Hufflepuff class all on brooms and in the air for the first time. They were all flying slowly, cautiously – Harry expected nothing else of the diligent Hufflepuffs – but mistakes could happen to anyone, so Harry was in the air on a broom with them, coaching and encouraging them as they got their bearings.
Everything was going smoothly until one boy swerved on his broom ever so slightly. The bristles of his broom clipped another child's broom and they lost control. In just the blink of an eye, they were spiraling rapidly to the ground, shouting, panicking, unable to regain control. Harry didn't stop to think. He just dove.
He felt the wind against his face, the rush of adrenaline as he flew toward the unforgiving ground, closer every second. This time there was no joy in it though, no golden snitch flitting away from him. There was only terror as he imagined the golden-robed child hitting the ground just in front of him. Was this what his own professors had felt each time that he had fallen? How had they dealt with it time and again??
Just in the nick of time, he reached the child, thrusting their broom away from the ground with one hand and hastily casting a featherlight charm on them with the other. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw them drift down gracefully and land lightly on their feet. It was the last thing he saw before he hit the ground himself.
Merlin, it hurt. He had forgotten just how much a fall like that could hurt. Someone was screaming and he rolled over to his back, calling for everyone to stay calm and land as safely as possible. Rubbing his face, he slowly sat up and saw the students all safely on the grass, brooms in hand, looking at him with concern. Still the shrieking continued.
He counted the children and found them all present and safe. Shaking his head with relief that none of them were injured or panicking, he listened closely and located the source of the sound which was finally quieting a bit. It was coming from just by his left knee.
A little brown mountain hare sat there, shaking and squeaking with fear and pain. When Harry had fallen, he had apparently come down right on its hindquarters, leaving it alive, barely, but unable to move.
"Merlin," he breathed as he stared at the pitiful little thing. "Class dismissed," he called. "Don't worry. I'll get him taken care of," he said hastily, knowing how prone to worrying the Hufflepuffs would be about an injured animal, knowing how much he was worrying about it honestly. He didn't give any of them another glance, nor did he bother to look over his broom though it was likely damaged in some way. All that mattered at that moment was protecting the hare. He didn't want to see it suffer. He wanted it healthy and free.
Carefully, he cast a silencing charm on it so that it wouldn't disturb the classes that were in session. He levitated it, not wanting to harm it any farther, and laid it on a tiny stretcher that he'd conjured. Limping, he made his way into the school and down to the dungeons, the little stretcher floating alone behind him.
Once there, he pounded on the door of the Potions classroom. "Professor Snape!" he called desperately, praying that the man was only grading papers or something and not actually lecturing.
Shortly, the door flew open and Severus appeared. "What is the meaning of…" he started, his eyes dark with anger. Then he noticed Harry standing there. "You're bleeding, Mr. Potter," he said softly in a slightly less irritated tone.
Harry's face was wet and he wasn't quite sure if he was crying in pain or crying for the injured hare. "Can you help him?" he asked, meeting Severus' eyes.
Severus glanced at the tiny stretcher, his eyes narrowed questioningly. Then he rubbed his forehead and turned around. "Cast stasis charms on your potions," he said sternly. "I trust that you are all capable of that. If not, be prepared to receive a 0 on your work. Class dismissed." He stepped back into the room and the students hurried out of it. "Come along, Mr. Potter," he said impatiently.
Once inside, Harry sank into a chair while Severus took over the stretcher and began casting diagnostic charms at the hare. "Can you help him?" he asked again, never taking his eyes off of Severus.
"No," Severus replied, his voice almost amused. "I can help her ." He went to his potions cupboard and came back with a dropper and a few bottles. "You should have Madam Pomfrey look you over, Harry. You are bleeding on my floor."
Harry snorted with incredulity. This infuriating man! "I just want to make sure she's okay. Mountain hares are a protected species, Severus!" he insisted. "I'm fine. I've had worse."
"I've no doubt," Severus said, slowly dripping a purplish liquid into the hare's mouth and running his wand gently over its crushed legs. "She will be fine too, though." He paused. "Why did you bring her to me rather than to Hagrid? She was closer."
Harry stopped short. Why had he come here instead of to Hagrid? It would have saved him a lot of time and effort. He ran a finger over a cut on his arm. "I didn't think about Hagrid," he said finally. "I only think about you." No filter.
Severus took a step backward and looked hard at Harry. Their eyes locked on one another's and neither said a word for a long moment. Harry wished that he could know what Severus was thinking. He hadn't exactly planned to say that, but he didn't regret it. It was the truth.
"I like you thinking of me," Severus finally said, so quiet it was nearly a whisper.
Harry grinned at Severus. "Really?" he asked in a teasing tone. "You like me?"
Rolling his dark eyes, Severus said, "Don't go getting a big head, Potter. Even Hagrid's hut will be unable to accommodate you then."
Harry laughed. "Fair," he said. "I'm going to go get this healed. Come get me when it's time to release her?"
"Very well," Severus replied. "Only if you calm yourself down, though. I'm not snogging you in front of the children. Or the hare."
"Come on, Severus," Harry said, brushing his fingers lightly over Severus' hand as he limped back toward the door. "Just a little snog?"
Severus sighed deeply, but a small smile played on his lips. "We shall see," he said.
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Harry whistled a little tune as he walked toward Hagrid's hut, hand in hand with Severus Snape. His skin was flushed, his robes were torn from his fall and rumpled from, well, other things. And he was as happy as he thought he'd ever been.
"No need to look so smug, Potter," Severus teased as they walked.
"I'm not smug!" Harry protested, pulling Severus close and turning to face him. He wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in, gently kissing his mouth. "I'm just excited to introduce my boyfriend to my mum," he said laughing.
"Merlin, help me," Severus said dryly, rolling his eyes. "I'm far too old to be anyone's boyfriend." But he kissed Harry back, his deep blue eyes shining in the sun. "Let's get on with it then."