Part IX

At ten, the door to his quarters opened, and closed, without anything coming through the door. Snape took a sip of his tea. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

The material of the cloak rustled and Potter's head appeared in mid-air. He smiled at Snape, "Good evening, sir. How was your day?"

"Fine. You're later than usual." Snape set his teacup down and shifted over on the sofa. 

"I'm trying to spend more time in the common room, as both you and Ron mentioned it was becoming a problem." Potter tossed the cloak over the back of the sofa.

"Very good." Snape watched him retrieve a book from his backpack and come to sit down beside him. "Are you getting your revising done?"

"As much as I can," Potter said, snuggling down against him with a sigh. "It's hard to be away from you for so long."

"I know." Closing his eyes, Snape bent his head slightly to Potter's messy hair, and breathed in the scent of him. Peace settled over him. "I had hoped it would fade with time and proximity."

"I think it's better than it was." Potter didn't sound completely convinced. "I wonder if there's more we should be doing to ease it."

Before Snape could answer, a searing pain shot through his arm, and he gasped.

Potter sat up, and looked at him, expression confused. "Are you okay? It feels stronger to me this time."

"I don't have time to discuss why you're feeling more now. I must answer the summons, now." There was no time to change his clothes, perhaps he'd get lucky twice. Even as he thought it, dread washed over him.

"Damn." Potter's hand reached out but didn't connect with his arm. "I wish--" 

"I must go," Snape said as his arm burned again, more deeply this time. As gently as he could, he pushed Potter away and stood. "Tell Dumbledore that I've been summoned, would you?"

Potter's expression was full of concern as he followed him to the door. "Is there anything I can--"

"No." Snape appreciated his concern. He drew his cloak out of the cupboard, and wrapped it around him. "I'll be fine."

The look on Potter's face said he didn't believe that. Wise boy. "I'll be here when you come back."

"It might not be for a few days." Voldemort was as unpredictable as he was malevolent and that made him all the more dangerous, especially to those who followed him. Or didn't as the case might be. "This might be an opportunity to be seen in your common room." 

"Yes, sir." Potter's tone was too obedient, and Snape knew better than to trust it. The silly boy would no doubt haunt his quarters waiting for him. If he had time, he'd change his password.

Hesitating for a moment, Potter stepped up to him and slid his arms around Snape. He said nothing, but Snape could feel him trembling. 

Holding him close, Snape buried his nose against Potter's neck. He wondered again if they had gotten too close, too quickly. "Go, now. You'll save me a few minutes if I don't have to stop to tell Dumbledore myself."

"Yes, sir." Potter held him for one more second and then let him go. "Stay safe," Potter whispered as a benediction.

Snape exhaled sharply and hurried out. *****

Harry stood before the Gargoyle, waiting, trying to contain his fear for Snape. "I must speak to the Headmaster," he told it again.

It looked at him, unimpressed. He truly hated that bloody thing. 

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's voice cut through the silence as she strode towards him. "Is there some reason you're out of bed this late?"

"Yes, ma'am." He turned to look at her, relieved at her fortuitous appearance. "I need to see the Headmaster. Now."

"And why would that be?" she asked, pulling her robe closer around her, and looking like she might already know.

"It's kind of private." He glanced at the gargoyle and then back at her. "Please."

McGonagall looked closely at him and then nodded. "Bertie botts." The door slid open and they both stepped on the moving staircase.

The door opened just at they got to the top, and Dumbledore stood there, wearing a bright green dressing gown that had horrible yellow polka dots on it. Harry bit back a groan at the headmaster's awful taste in clothes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Dumbledore gestured for both him and McGonagall to move into his office.

"Sir, Professor Snape asked me to let you know that he'd been summoned." Harry shivered, trying not to show how afraid he was.

"Did he say anything more than that?" Dumbledore sounded concerned and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing in comfort. 

"No, sir. He simply said that." Harry didn't know what else he could have said. "It all happened rather quickly."

Dumbledore nodded, but didn't elaborate.

They stood there looking at each other until Harry couldn't stand it any more. "Do you know how long he might be gone?" God, he hated the desperation in his voice.

Dumbledore glanced at McGonagall behind Harry and then back to him, sympathy in his eyes. "It's Friday night. That means it could be as long as Sunday before Professor Snape returns. Will you be all right for that long?"

"I'm not sure I'll have a choice on that, sir." Harry breathed out slowly as a sliver of fear slid into his heart. "I mean--"

"Mr. Potter should return to his dorm, now, I think," McGonagall said, cutting off what he was going to say. "There is nothing more you can do here."

Again, Dumbledore nodded, but he looked more apprehensive than he had. "I think you're right, Minerva. Will you see him back?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded. "Come along."

He wanted to say something else, wanted to know what was going on, but it was clear they didn't know or they weren't going to tell him if they did. He seethed with impotent fury and followed McGonagall out. 

*****

In the early dawn hours, Snape stumbled back towards the castle, trying to remain upright. Every nerve ending his body was inflamed, and painfully sensitive. When he knew he was going to be summoned, he usually took time to dress in soft clothes for such an eventuality, but yesterday, he'd had no chance to do so. Not with the ever-inquisitive Potter around.

Worse yet, he had gained nothing from being the night's entertainment. He left a brief note with the gargoyle for the headmaster, no sense in waking him up for nothing.

He pushed open the door to his quarters, and froze as Potter looked up, red-eyed and clearly as sleepless as he was. 

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. He was not in the mood to deal with the blasted boy, not when he had to deal with himself first. "Go away."

"No." Potter rose from the sofa, and came towards him. Surprisingly, he didn't try and touch him. "I felt it. What he was doing to you."

Snape sighed. Worse than he thought. Despite how badly it chaffed his skin to stand there, he had to know. "How much did you feel? Were you hurt by it?"

"No. No. I'm fine, but I could tell what it did to you." Potter looked down at his hands. "I could feel your fear. I can feel your discomfort now, it's why I didn't--"

That Potter knew of his humiliation made it all the worse. At least the boy had understood enough not to give in to his own desire for reassurance and touch him. "Go away, Potter. I must remove my clothes."

Without looking back, he stumbled into his bedroom, and shucked off his robes. He knew that Potter hadn't left yet, but he couldn't wait any longer, he had to remove what he was wearing before the irritation from his sensitized skin drove him mad. Everywhere his skin touched cloth chafed like sand paper rubbed on a sunburn, a thousand pin pricks of irritation. No matter what he did, he could not get away from the torment. If left untreated for more than a few hours, his skin would develop sores that would ooze, and become infected.

Stripping with as much efficiency as his shaking hands could give him, naked the cool air touched his skin and he sighed. Not in relief, that would come only with the application of his desensitizing potion. He needed to summon Madam Pomfrey to apply it. 

Potter would be good for something. Taking a soft sheet from his cupboard, and wrapping it loosely around him, he called, "Potter!"

Potter appeared in the doorway, looking wide-eyed at Snape. "Yes, sir."

"Summon Madam Pomfrey for me. Tell her as briefly as possible what has happened." Snape hitched the sheet a little higher around his shoulders, trying to make it fall so it covered all of him, and still didn't touch more of his body than was absolutely necessary. "Now."

Nodding, Potter moved away. Snape shuffled towards the bed, lying down gingerly on it as he heard his door snick shut. Finally.

As tired as he was, sleep was not possible, not with his skin on fire. He concentrated on remaining as still as he could, breathing in and out very slowly. Despite the coolness of the room, he was starting to sweat the beads coming up uncomfortably, and the irritation worsened causing him to sweat more. Merlin, how he hated this. 

Where was Pomfrey?

A knock on the door brought him out of his miserable reverie. Pomfrey stood in the doorway, with Potter behind her. He didn't have the energy to care any more. 

She moved across the room, carrying a glass jar that had his relief in it. Thank Merlin. "About time you got here."

The sound of the jar opening was possibly the most wonderful sound Snape had ever heard.

"Now, Severus," she clucked, "I came as soon as Harry asked me to."

"Please get on with it," he begged through his clenched teeth, and then let out a sigh as her fingers touched his skin with the gel.

To work, the potion required that every inch of visible skin be rubbed with the gel. That included his scalp and genitals. Pomfrey's touch was so clinical, even as she made her clucking comments, that he could not find it in himself to be humiliated by it. However, on the edge of his perception was Potter, watching from the door. 

As the irritation and pain lessened, he was more aware of Potter. Until Pomfrey was done, he would not be able to move and he'd found it better not to speak. With a final stroke on the bottom of his left foot, final relief washed over him.

"There now," she said, patting his foot. "I'm sure you feel better."

"Much," Snape said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Thank you, again."

"You should work at not allowing 'You Know Who' to cast Cruciatus on you."

"Yes, I'll tell him that the next time he wants to torture me." Snape remained lying prone. He ignored Potter, who still lurked in the doorway. "I'm sure it will make all the difference."

"You never know," she said as she left the room.

"Thank you." With his head buried in the pillow, Snape breathed slowly in and out. He couldn't quite bring himself to move yet. 

For several long seconds, Snape lay there, his face in the bedding, reveling in the relief from the after-effects of the curse. If he'd been alone, he might have given in to the need for emotional release, but he doubted Potter could handle that. He wasn't up to yet another explanation of how the Wizarding world's societal standards were different from the Muggle world's standards.

With a sigh, he sat up and regarded Potter. The reality of the situation did not escape him. He was sitting in his bed, naked, with Potter standing over him. From any angle, it looked appalling. However, the truth of it was, he was too tired, too emotionally drained to care any more.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Potter asked, still not coming into the room, but watching him closely nonetheless.

He supposed he should be grateful that Potter didn't look disgusted by what he was seeing. Not that there was a bloody thing he could do about it at this point. "I think it should be obvious. I'm sensitive to Cruciatus."

Potter's brow creased, his eyes glanced down Snape's body and then back to meet his eyes. "I didn't think Cruciatus affected anyone differently."

"It's been cast on me too many times."

Potter said nothing, but he closed his eyes and breathed out sharply. "I'm sorry for that."

"Enough. All right." He glared at Potter. "Get out so I can take my bath."

"Do you need help?" Standing up straight, Potter seemed ready to assist.

"No. I can take a bath on my own, I assure you." He moved to the side of the bed, sliding his legs down to stand. This was always the tricky part. His feet touched the floor, and he managed to make it upright, and then his knees sagged a little. He put his hand on the bed, and Potter was at his side in a second. "Didn't I tell you to go?" Snape asked, annoyed. 

"You did, but I don't listen very well, do I?" Potter grinned cheekily at him. "Besides, I want to help you."

"Don't you understand that being here is not helping?" Snape tried to put as much outrage into his voice as he could, but he suspected that Potter knew he was lying.

With another grin, Potter put a hand on his shoulder, and slid the other around his waist. "Come on, let's get you into the bath."

"Do you care that you are shredding my dignity?" Snape asked, with far less force than the question deserved.

Potter laughed. "You don't have any where I'm concerned any more."

Biting his lip to keep from smiling, Snape knew better than to encourage him. "Brat," he growled.

"Yes. Very true. But you love me anyway."

"I never said that," Snape snapped, irritably. And he wouldn't for some time to come.

"You don't have to, remember?" With a smile that should have been more smug, Potter pushed open the door and then let him go to turn his attention to the taps. Snape swayed, but managed to remain upright.

Ever gallant, Potter helped him into the tub. 

"Leave me," Snape ordered, as he finally settled into the water.

Silently, Potter did as he was told.

*****

Snape breathed out slowly as the door closed behind Potter. Picking up the soap, he scrubbed the gel from his skin, glad to be rid of the slick feeling. Then, for a long time, he sat in the hot water waiting for it to do its job.

As the water cooled, Snape spelled it hot again, annoyed, but not surprised that it wasn't working. When the Dark Lord was in a particularly bad mood, as he had been this past evening and he took it out on Snape, it always took more than simple hot water to relax him enough to sleep. Rolling his shoulders, he could still feel the muscles bunching and refusing to yield. 

Some part of it was physical, of course, the body wasn't designed to be tortured. But Snape knew most of it was mental: the humiliation of it, of submitting to it without a fight, of people watching him scream in pain, of knowing those same people were enjoying it. Merlin, how he hated it. His chest felt tighter than his abused muscles.

He leaned his head back on the rim of the tub and closed his eyes, sighing.

There weren't many options open to him for releasing the pent-up emotions in his body. Flying would take more energy than he had. As would most other physical activities that he usually indulged in when he needed something. What he wanted to do, what his body wanted, he couldn't imagine doing with Potter on the other side of his door. 

Perhaps if he cast a silencing spell. He snorted. Silencing spell or not, he was a fool to think he'd get away with it. It wasn't just a matter of silence or even their proximity. There was no way he could be sure that Potter wouldn't feel it.

They hadn't tested that area of the bond. Well, it wasn't part of the bond. Bloody hell. His life was too complicated to bear. He sat in his bath, needing something, some kind of release to counter the torture he'd been through, and all options seemed closed. If he didn't do something then he would not sleep.

Potter would just have to understand.

With a sigh of reluctance, Snape slid his hand down his chest, one finger drawing a slow circle around his nipple. He drew in a deep breath as the sensation sparked, and his body took notice of what he was thinking about.

Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't seem to do this quickly. If he were going to acquiesce to his body's demands, then he would do it completely.

He thought about Harry's hands, about what they would feel like running down his chest, carding through the sparse hair. His own hand stroked down over his chest, touching his nipple again, twisting it gently, just enough to cause a pleasant ache. Breathing out, he arched into his own touch.

He thought about Harry's mouth, what his tongue felt like sweeping through his mouth and then instead of stopping, moving lower, to his chest, to his belly, lower still. His own hand ghosted over his belly, fingers moving slowly, twining in the hair, and he sighed, giving in completely. Spreading his legs as wide as the bath would allow, he settled further into the water.

He thought about Harry's body, pliant under his, thrashing as he took him hard. His own hand moved around to his back, sliding slowly downward and then a single long finger went in. The water sloshed over the rim of the tub, and Severus bit down on a groan. Merlin, it felt so good. He shivered, opening his mouth to pant as the movement of his fingers touched off electricity inside himself.

He thought about Harry's cries of pleasure, about his little moans, about his soft sighs. His other hand moved to take control. Moving slowly, surely, he stroked himself, pretending that his hand was Harry's, that he was pleasuring him and being pleasured.

He thought all the Harry thoughts that he never allowed himself, and he reveled in them until he couldn't stand it any more. Breath short, his mind filled with image after denied image. He moaned, unable to hold back the sound or the desire, only just being able to hold back his cries of delight as the dual stimulation took him away. 

He thought about Harry, and lost himself in the myriad of pictures and fantasies and images, all denied him. His hands moved fast and hard, pulling the bliss from himself with a desperate intensity. It was good. Harry was good. Merlin, he needed it, wanted it, wanted Harry so badly he could weep from the hunger. 

The tension in him built and built and built until it had to find release or he could die from the pressure inside him. Groaning as softly as he could, but probably not soft enough, he came, "Harry," whispered on his lips.

Opening his eyes, he leaned forward, putting his head in his hands, his wet hair falling in his face. The physical ache was gone, but the emotional one lingered, reminding him that what he'd done was a hollow parody of what he could have, if he'd take it.

Someday. But not today.

With a sigh, he lifted himself out of the water, and wrapped a towel around his dripping body. He closed his eyes, trying to force away the residual ache. Weary to his bones, he put on his dressing gown.

*****

Snape stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a long black dressing gown, buttoned to his neck. Given what he'd just been doing, Harry thought the primness was out of place, and it annoyed him even more.

Sitting in the middle of Snape's bed, Harry had his arms wrapped around his legs and he could not remember ever being so aroused. "How could you do that?"

Taking a step back, Snape didn't seem to know what to say to him. He started to sneer, but then didn't. He just looked at Harry and shrugged. 

"I can't believe you did that to me." Harry slid off the bed, and stalked towards him. It was difficult to walk as hard as he was, and he was sure that Snape had no doubt of what that was in his trousers. "After I promised not to do anything to arouse you, to tease you. You did that to me."

"What exactly did you feel, Mr. Potter?" Snape took a step backward, but with the door at his back there was no place for him to go.

"You weren't thinking of me as Mr. Potter before, were you?" Harry pressed into Snape so that he could feel just how hard he was. "What do you think I was feeling?"

"I have no idea or I would not have asked you." Snape drew in a breath and tried to put a hand on his shoulder to push him back. 

Harry wasn't going anywhere, he pressed in harder. "No. I need you."

Closing his eyes, Snape shook his head. "Do not do this. I can't. Please."

"It's not going to work this time. I could feel you wanting me."

Snape just shook his head, not actually daring to deny it, but also not confirming it either.

"Fine." Harry put his hand on the back of Snape's neck and pulled him down to kiss him. Hard. Angry. He wanted Snape so badly he thought he could die from it and he wanted to know that Snape wanted him just as badly.

To Harry's surprise, Snape arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, leaning into the kiss, trying to make it deeper. Groaning softly, Snape moved his lips on Harry's, nipping his bottom lip, before pressing in again.

Harry opened his mouth wider, his tongue nudging Snape's thin lips, looking for more intimacy. Snape obliged, opening his mouth and allowing Harry's tongue to move along his. One of Snape's hands found its way into Harry's hair, as Snape took control of the kiss.

Easing back and then pressing forward again, Snape's kiss went from passionate to out of control in a matter of seconds. It was soft and sweet and then it was hard and spicy. Harry reveled in the taste and texture and passion. This was what he'd always dreamed Snape's kiss would be. This was perfect. It was brilliant. It was amazing.

The sweep of Snape's tongue in his mouth, the smell of Snape's skin, the feel of Snape's hands on his body, even through his clothes, inflamed Harry. It felt like he'd burn up in it like dry wood doused in fuel and then struck with a match. He wanted Snape so badly that he might come from just this kiss.

Yielding to it, to Snape and his desire, Harry moaned, maneuvering them to the bed, still kissing and touching as he went. Harry undid the dressing gown, but couldn't get it off without letting go of Snape. He had no intention of doing that at any time in the near future. Sliding his hands under the heavy material, Harry touched bare skin for the first time. Trying to memorize each separate touch, each texture, they were moving too fast to register properly. Snape cried out as his fingers found soft flesh, jerking toward him with each touch, leaning in to get more.

They fell on the bed, rolling over and over, as he and Snape fought for dominance. Harry ended up on top, his shirt unbuttoned, and half off his shoulders, his trousers open. Snape's long-fingered hands ran down his chest, over his nipples and Harry groaned loudly. So good. So damned amazing. Nothing ever felt this good before.

Straddling Snape, he pressed down, rubbing against Snape's naked body. Snape groaned, arching up against him. Sensation, pleasure, raging fire sheeted across him, and Harry pulled his mouth away from Snape's to pant.

"Merlin, Harry..." Snape gasped, reaching to pull Harry back into a kiss. "Please."

His given name, whispered with such passionate surrender sent more fire down Harry's spine, but the reality of it was like ice water, shocking Harry into awareness. He leaned down and kissed Snape gently, pulling back and waiting for his eyes to clear.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, knowing what the answer would be, but having to ask anyway. 

Closing his eyes, Snape shook his head, breathing out on what sounded like a sob.

Harry understood. With his body screaming for release, he gasped for breath, sitting back on his heels, bracing himself. Some part of him was shrieking in outrage, could not believe what he'd done, that he'd stopped when he wanted to finish it worse than he'd ever wanted anything. Looking down at Snape, who still had his eyes closed, and who was as hard as he was, he knew he couldn't stay in bed for another second. "I need a shower."

He didn't wait for an answer, scrambling off Snape and out of the room without looking back. Seeing Snape lying there almost naked would be too much, he'd never be able to go. Now that they'd stopped, he was sure Snape was back in control. In truth, he'd never expected Snape to lose control in the first place. 

Guess he's human after all.

As he closed the door behind him, Harry shucked off the rest of his clothes, and turned on the water. Cold wouldn't help, he already knew that. He climbed in and took care of his need as quickly and efficiently as he could, without thinking about anything beyond relief. 

Turning off the shower, he leaned against the wet tiles for a moment, feeling an emptiness crawl deep inside him. It had been the right thing to do, he knew it, but that didn't make him happy or like it any better than he did. With a heavy sigh, he dried himself off and dressed.

Coming out into the bedroom, he wasn't surprised to find it empty. They would have to talk about it and Harry hated the idea of that worse than he did having to stop. He squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.

Snape was seated on the sofa, fully dressed with his white shirt buttoned to his neck, and his black jacket buttoned over it. He stared into the flames in the fireplace then looked up at Harry. "That was very Gryffindor of you."

"You're welcome." Harry sat beside him, relaxing infinitesimally. "I knew...."

"I've said it often enough." Snape glanced down, seemingly intent on studying his own hands. "I would not have blamed you."

"Of course you would have," Harry said. "You would have blamed us both. Besides, I started it, if you remember."

Snape's expression was rueful, but he didn't meet Harry's eyes. "If we are being honest, then I think that I started it before you did."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I'll agree that set me off."

"Be that as it may, arguing over whose fault it may have been serves no purpose." Snape finally looked at him. "What exactly did you... feel?"

"That's just it," Harry said and then took a breath, searching for the right words. "I didn't feel, anything. Exactly. I knew what you were doing. What you were feeling."

"What I was thinking? How did you know--" Snape cut himself off as his voice started to rise. Harry knew he was upset and could feel him fighting for calm. 

Snape started again, "How could you know what I was feeling?"

"I just knew it." Harry shrugged, knowing he must look as confused as he felt. "I'm not sure how, but I knew you were fantasizing about Harry." He let himself smile a little at that. "I'm thinking that was me."

The look Snape gave him was pure exasperation "Don't be an idiot. Who else could it have been?"

"I don't know. I mean, there could be someone else." Potter knew he shouldn't tease about it, but it was so much easier than talking about what happened after. "You never even tell me you like me, leave alone love me."

"I think you are well aware of my feelings. Especially now." Snape looked back at the fire. Clearly, he was not going to give an inch. The stubborn bastard.

To be fair, Harry conceded, he truly didn't have any doubts any more. "Yes. I guess I am." Something inside him had eased. He didn't feel so frantic. "I'm okay with it now."

With lips pressed together in a thin line, Snape's whole expression showed his skepticism. "Are you? How exactly?" 

"After what happened... when...." Harry waved a hand between them, fighting not to blush again. "I know how you feel."

"You could tell through the bond how I felt." Snape gave him an inpatient look and then seemed to look closer, almost into him. "Are you saying you doubted what you knew?"

Harry nodded, not meeting his eyes and feeling like a fool. Worse, like that pathetic needy little boy who could never believe that anyone would love him. "Why should I believe it, when every single thing you said denied it?"

Snape snorted inelegantly, and Harry would have laughed at that, had Snape's look been any milder. His eyes bored into Harry's. "Every action I took, every thing I've ever done has said how I felt as clearly as if I'd yelled it at the top of my voice," Snape said, his tone outraged.

"You didn't say it." God that sounded even more pathetic than it did in his head. He was hopeless. He pushed on. "If you didn't say it, it wasn't true."

"You're not really stupid enough to believe everything you are told is true. Where is your sense, boy?" Snape actually pulled off the sneer, something he hadn't done in a long time.

Somehow, that made Harry feel a little better. "No, but--"

"Besides which, I still haven't said anything." Snape glared at him. "Nor will I for some time to come."

"You're always so controlled. Always dictating how everything between us should be." Harry knew that wasn't coming out the way he meant it.

"So, you required a practical demonstration," Snape said, looking at him thoughtfully. "Didn't my jealousy of Miss Granger tell you anything?"

"Not enough." Harry glanced down at his hands. "You lost control tonight."

"I'm very well aware of that." Snape did not sound pleased with himself for having done it, nor Harry for mentioning it.

Harry supposed he could understand it. "With me."

"I said--"

Harry cut him off. "No. You're missing my point."

"Did you actually have one?" His tone had gone back to its normal impatience.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Harry glared at Snape. "What I was saying was that because you lost control, I know... I understand." Harry shook his head. "I can't begin to explain how important it was. I feel like--" A shiver ran down his spine. "Like I know, truly know, that you're mine."

Snape looked down. "Do you need me to reiterate that in some way?"

As much as he wanted to hear Snape say he loved him, Harry knew what it would cost Snape to say it now. He didn't need to hear it, just to know it was true. "No. I think that's okay." Harry put a hand over his. "Why wouldn't you before?"

"I don't think it's proper." Snape looked at him. "I still don't. Besides which, you should have known."

"It might have saved us some..." Harry trailed off and waved his hand again. "I mean..."

"Oh, I think I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Potter."

It sounded wrong to him when Snape called him that. He hated the formality of it, the reminders of what was between them. "You're still going to keep calling me that, aren't you?"

"I just did." Snape regarded him gravely. "And yes, I will continue to do so."

Harry understood the necessity, but, "One day, I swear..."

"In about six months or so," Snape said, his tone wistful. "Until then, I think it best we keep what distance we can between us."

"How? We have to sleep together every night." Even as he said it, Harry wasn't sure it was true any more. Or if it was still true, it didn't seem as true.

"We shall endeavor to keep it as platonic as possible." Snape sounded like he hoped this would work the way he wanted rather than he actually believed it would.

There was no getting by the fact that they would be less likely to slip if they tried to kept their dealings as non-physical as they could. That seemed only fair to Harry. "All right."

"No arguments, Mr. Potter? I'm stunned." Snape's tone was mockingly incredulous, but his expression was amused and surprisingly grateful.

Harry laughed. "I'm sure you are. It's only six months. I can live with that. I know, I have no choice."

"You did have a choice tonight," Snape said, with a note of admiration in his voice. "That you chose to honor my wishes means a great deal to me."

"Yeah, well." Harry could feel his face heat. Doing what was right was important to him. Snape should realize that. "It was-- "

"The right thing to do." Snape actually smiled at him, a genuine pleased smile. "I think you shall be rewarded for your patience and forbearance."

His breath caught in his lungs, and he returned the smile in full measure. "What?" 

"When the time finally comes, I guarantee that whatever you want from me, you shall have." Something bright flashed in Snape's eyes and his voice was deep and rich with promise.

Harry's pulse started to pound and he felt arousal slide through him again. "Anything? Because that could cover a lot of ground."

The smirk on Snape's face sent Harry's blood pressure up several notches. "I sincerely doubt a virgin such as yourself could come up with something I haven't at least thought of, if not tried."

Grinning widely, Harry inclined his head, accepting. "Now there's a challenge, if ever I heard one." 

"Surprise me, Mr. Potter." God, Snape's voice was dark and soft and six kinds of sexy. He'd never heard him speak in quite that way before.

It sent a shiver of anticipation down Harry's spine. He grinned widely, wondering how he was going to figure out what to do. "Don't think I won't try."

"I'm counting on it." Snape laughed, breaking the tenseness. 

"It's still a long time away." Harry sighed. "I should go now."

"Can you?"

Harry nodded. "Something has changed. With the bond, I mean. I think I don't have to--" He wasn't sure how far they should push it, or more accurately how far the bond would allow him to push it. "I don't feel compelled to stay here tonight."

Looking surprised, but not overly disappointed, Snape nodded. "Then you should go. I think we are both very tired."

After what happened, Harry wasn't disappointed to leave. A bit of cool-down time wouldn't go amiss, he decided. "I hate to agree with you. It will be strange, though."

"Yes. I've grown--"

"Accustomed to me?" Harry stood up, and the put a hand on Snape's face, leaning down to kiss him very lightly on the lips. 

"That wasn't very platonic, Mr. Potter." His words held an accusatory sting.

Harry thought about pointing out that Snape had responded to the kiss, but decided that, given everything that happened, it might not be a good idea. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Snape squeezed his hand. "We will both have to work to achieve this."

Nodding, Harry straightened up. "Yes, sir."

He gathered his books together, and picked up the cloak. It would be weird sleeping in his own bed. Probably not good weird, either. "Good night," he said as he closed the door and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.