Third Place - Romance

Severus was having a bad day. His classes had been horrendous, filled with noisy little brats that all seemed determined to make his life miserable. He had a headache which was making a valiant effort to hammer it's way out of his skull, and the potion he had taken for it wasn't providing much relief.

Harry hadn't come round that evening. This meant there was no one to calm his tense frustration, no one to soothe his nerves like the boy seemed to do instinctively. No sound of laughter to drive away the buzzing which filled his head.

He stared into the fire, but that just made his eyes hurt as well. He was having a really bad day. He tried eating cookies, but found that apparently they did not have anywhere near as potent an effect when not shared with Harry. He still felt awful.

For lack of anything better to do, he went into his bedroom, where the light was gentler on his eyes since it was not reflecting off the silver floor. He distractedly poked at some of the things lying on his shelves, knowing that he really should organise them someday. After a few minutes he gained purpose, and began searching for a book he had mentioned to Harry. It had to be buried in there somewhere.

Bottles of potions. Notes. Books, some with so much dust covering them that Severus almost choked. He quickly cast a general cleaning spell before attempting to sort them. No, the one he was looking for wasn't there.

Next shelf then. All of the things found on the last one were here too. Plus a dead moth. Lovely. Severus put it to one side to take to the lab later. He could always use it's antennae in a potion.

Souvenirs, from his younger days. Letters. Cards.

A photograph album. He hadn't seen that in years. Hadn't even known it was there. He moved back to the bed, sat, then reverently opened it.

Faces stared up at him. Faces spanning the whole of his life. His parents, looking happy in this picture, though that hadn't lasted after they became divided over his sister.

His sister. She smiled up at him, looking so peaceful, so innocent, so young. She did not deserve what fate had dealt her, did not deserve to be born into such a family.

A picture of her and Simion, on their wedding day. He had his arms wrapped round her, and she would occasionally turn her head and gaze adoringly into his eyes. Both dead now. Severus had failed them both. They should be alive. He would have gladly traded their lives for his. What was his life worth anyway?

Malfoy. Looking smug and superior. Occasionally reaching out to hex Severus, who would playfully do so in return. They had been friends once. Had their differences, but stayed close for a long time. But then Severus had found out that Lucius had been one of the party sent to eliminate his sister. Lucius had had no choice. One did not disobey Voldemort. But still, Lucius had never apologised, though he knew what she had meant to Severus. He merely said that she was weak and had to be punished. Severus hadn't been sure if he really knew Malfoy any more after that. Lucius seemed to have become the living embodiment of a Death Eater. Severus was still just himself. And he had been scared.

He flipped back a few pages, found one of him leaving school. Shaking hands with Albus. The image of the Headmaster looked up at him and winked, but he had not the heart to smile at it. Neither did his younger self, as he scowled and gave the impression of wishing to be a million miles away. No, he was not sure if he could forgive Albus, who had manipulated him to untold lengths. Who had caused him so much pain. Who had made him leave Simion to die.

He flicked through the rest of the book casually, seeing the faces of friends flash by. All dead. Or in Azkaban. Which could be counted as dead.

Then he found a photo of himself, standing at a railing, staring out into the distance. His long black hair whipped around him in the wind, and tears could be seen running silently down his cheeks. He remembered that day. Oh, how he remembered. His own eyes started to water. Losing his lover to the Aurors had been a hard blow. This picture showed the only time he had ever let himself mourn. But who had taken it? He did not recall having seen it before, and was certain he had not been watched. He would not have wanted a photo of this, it was too painful to see the raw grief etched onto his face. Something that he had never shown to anyone. A part of him that no one knew existed.

"Severus?"

He looked up hastily. Harry! Harry standing in the doorway.

More than aware that tears were leaking from his eyes he cast the book to the side and stood, turning away from the boy and moving to one of the shelves to pretend to be busy whilst composing himself.

"This really isn't a good time. If you will excuse me."

His mind was swirling with all the pent up emotions which had recently been stirred, and he was definitely not ready to hold a civilised conversation. He wanted to yell at Harry to go away. But he couldn't. He mustn't. Taking in the quiet from behind him he turned, expecting to find an empty room.

But the boy was there. The boy was looking at the photo.

"No!" he roared, lunging forward and slamming the cover down.

A startled face looked up at him. "What's wrong? Severus?"

"Please, just leave now," he said, trying to contain himself.

"Severus, won't you tell me..."

"Leave!" he shouted, harsh and hard. He glared menacingly at the shocked boy, then turned back to the wall.

A slight sound of shuffling, then nothing. He leaned heavily against the wall. And panted as the force of his despair crashed over him. He had nobody. Everyone he loved was dead. Everyone except for Harry, his inner voice told him. And he had just driven the boy away again. He groaned in heartfelt pain.

Then he felt a hand come to rest hesitantly on his shoulder.

He turned his head slightly towards the source of the touch, and opened his eyes a fraction. Another stood there. Harry. Harry hadn't left. The boy did have some of his Gryffindor guts left after all then.

"Why are you here?"

Silence apart from his slightly ragged breathing for a moment.

"I came to see you. And I couldn't leave you. Not when I didn't know what was wrong."

The hand stayed on his shoulder. Severus drew strength from it. From Harry.

"What was wrong?" came the timid voice again.

Harry. Who would not leave him to suffer alone.

"Memories. Memories that haunt me."

The hand dropped as he turned to face the boy. He looked into the emerald eyes.

"Surely you can understand that?"

The boys' eyes dropped for a second, before locking back onto his. He saw that Harry did understand. Was possibly one of the only people who would.

A slight nod. Harry moved back to the bed, picked up the photo album. Severus had to consciously override his urge to protect his secrets. The boy began to flick through the pages.

He couldn't take it. He moved towards the bed. Harry looked up and gave him a challenging look. Of all the times for him to grow a backbone. He reached out towards the book, meeting Harry's eyes as he did so. The boy appeared to measure his intentions before handing it over.

Severus found the page he had been on before. He then gave it back to Harry. He tried to ignore the way that his hand was trembling, ever so slightly.

His gaze remained fixed on Harry's face as the boy stared down at the picture. Harry reached out with a finger and gently stroked it down the picture, as though trying to wipe the tears away.

That won't help, thought Severus. Those tears were engraved on his heart. A lot was imprinted on his heart. Which accounted for it's battered and now almost unreachable state. The fingers once again ran down the photo. Severus looked down.

The younger version of him in the picture was looking up. It hadn't done that before. Had been far too involved in it's own suffering. But now it was staring up at Harry, totally bewildered. Severus wondered if it could see the boy, if it was confused over someone trying to comfort it. Or if it was thinking something else entirely.

Harry looked up at him then. There was no pity in those eyes. Just a depth which spoke of a comprehension of loss. The boy carefully closed the book and lay it down.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Severus nodded mutely. He could do with some company. With Harry's company.

His headache still hadn't gone

They moved out into the living room. Severus noticed that Harry seemed unsure of how to act around him. Probably never expected to have to deal with a professor breaking down. Severus was glad that the boy had stayed to try though. Had known to ignore his wish to be alone. Had known what Severus needed better than he did himself.

"Do you want some cookies?" Harry asked.

He gave a half hearted attempt at a smile. The boy had taken his usual comfort line and turned it round on him.

"No, I already tried that."

He hadn't meant to say that. That made it sound like he'd been sitting around crying for hours. No, because how it actually was was so much better, said his little voice with scorn.

"Do you want to play chess?"

He had a feeling that the chess pieces would just depress him today. After all, the set had been a gift from Simion.

He just shook his head.

"Do you want to make a potion?"

This time the smile was genuine. The boy really did know him. And there was that rare moth he'd found... but no. He didn't feel like doing anything.

He moved to the couch and sat back with a weary sigh. Harry came to sit beside him.

When he finally lifted his eyes from the fireplace he saw that Harry was unabashedly staring at him. The boy was obviously curious, but just as obviously afraid to push Severus. He was thankful that Harry had learned when not to talk. That was as important a skill as knowing what to say, and when to say it. "What did you want to talk to me about anyway?"

Harry blinked. Severus almost laughed. That the boy would be so amazed at the simple evidence that he could indeed speak.

"I just wanted to talk. No reason. Do I need one?"

"No, I just wondered if you were having trouble sleeping."

As Severus suspected that Harry did most nights. Unsurprisingly. While they had managed to stop the majority of the boy's nightmares, the problem now was getting him to sleep in the first place.

"No." That earned Harry a sceptical look, one that said remember who you're talking to. "Well, maybe. Yes. I just wanted to talk for a while. Or not talk, since you don't want to. Sitting is good."

Harry realised a long time after Severus had that he was rambling. Sev could see the embarrassment flood over the boy's face, as he stumblingly ground to a halt.

He had to say, he was feeling better already.

"That's all right. It's good to have some company."

Harry looked relieved.

"So, tell me about your day," he said. If the boy wanted to talk, then he could do that.

"But... I thought." Harry's stammering came to a halt. Severus raised his eyebrows. That seemed to do the trick. The rest of the sentence came out in a rush. "Don't you want to talk about what was wrong?"

"I told you, memories. That I don't want to talk about," he added sharply, anticipating what Harry would say. "Would you like me to remind you of all the bad things in your life?"

Understanding dawned. Along with determination. Severus could just smell it.

"But you made me talk about all of my bad memories. You said it would help. Wouldn't it help with you?"

"Thank you so much for the kind offer but Albus already dragged it out of me."

Inquisitive look. "I can't see you talking to him."

"I did say dragged didn't I? It wasn't pleasant. He believed that he was doing what was best. And it did help. But it was... painful. It was what I tried to avoid with you. Tried to stop him doing to you."

Harry nodded. Please be sensitive enough to let this go now, Severus silently thought. He didn't want to relive that again.

"It's all in the past," he said, trying to tell the boy that talking about this topic was over

For a second he was sure that Harry was gazing right into his soul, then those piercing eyes flicked away and the boy provided some light relief to the conversation, updating him on the progress of the ongoing saga of Ron's hair. Apparently Granger had persuaded him to turn it back to green.

Now that was something that he could laugh about.

The real exams passed. With the amount of studying Harry had been doing, they barely registered. He found them no harder than the usual tests in class. There were far more challenging things to think about, like his work in potions. And far more interesting ones, such as Quidditch. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup. Again.

When Severus congratulated him private on his success in the game, Harry felt so proud that he could have burst. After all, it took a lot to impress his professor.

His friend. For Severus was definitely a friend to Harry. They spent time together, they laughed and joked, Harry felt truly comfortable around the other. He got the impression that no one had ever been comfortable around Sev for a long time. They wouldn't see past the sarcastic exterior. But then, Severus was very skilled at projecting it.

When he was called up to the Headmaster's office a week before the end of the year, he assumed that it was to discuss arrangements for over the summer.

Severus was there. Harry wondered if he would get his own room this time, if he was staying for the whole summer. If he would be allowed to decorate it. If Sev would laugh if he copied his fireplace.

"You will not be staying at Hogwarts over the holiday Harry."

Had he just heard that right? Not staying at Hogwarts? But there was no where else for him to go. Where would he go?

Severus seemed to be thinking the same thoughts. "Albus..."

"Now, I know that you were expecting Harry to stay with you, but I have placed him with Remus Lupin for the summer instead."

Harry watched as Sev's jaw shut with an audible snap.

"I thought that Remus was still on the run?" he ventured.

"No, now that the Voldemort situation has been entirely cleared up he is free of danger. However, I think it best that the two of you stay quiet, no point in attracting unnecessary attention."

Severus seemed to have marshalled his arguments. "Albus, the boy is my apprentice. I have the care of his instruction. I will not allow him to go haring off and forget everything," he snarled with ill concealed vexation.

"I'm sure you can give him a reading list." The mild tone of the Headmaster's voice seemed only to irritate the professor further.

Truth be told, Harry would have preferred to stay here too, and work on his potions. He noticed that no one was asking his opinion. Dumbledore continued, "Also, Remus will be able to give him instruction in Defence Against the Dark Arts while he is with him."

"I could do that," exclaimed Severus.

Harry almost laughed. Although he now knew that the rumours of Sev wanting that position were unfounded, given his love for his current subject, it was true that he was more than qualified.

"It has all been arranged," spoke the headmaster soothingly.

"Yes, all been arranged without Harry's consent I might add. Did you never think of what he might want?"

That was one of those little moments that reminded him Sev cared. He'd thought that the two others had gone off into their own conversation and completely forgotten about him, then Severus hooked him in again. Severus, unlike the Headmaster, actually seemed to mind what he wanted.

"I'm sure that he'd be more than happy to stay with his godfather's closest friend. Wouldn't you, Harry?"

The guilt factor again. They were both looking at him. What could he say, if Dumbledore had already organised it all? If he said no now then the Headmaster would be disappointed. As would Remus. After all, when Lupin had come to see him while he was in the infirmary, Harry hadn't even said hello.

He was sure it would be fine.

But he didn't want to go. Didn't want to leave this safety.

"Whatever you think is best," he eventually answered, turning his head away slightly. Whatever was the least trouble for them. He hated the thought of other people having to accommodate him.

"It's all settled then. I'm sure you'll have fun Harry, it's a brand new world out there, after all."

Severus would be on his own too then. Harry looked over at him to see if could read those eyes, if he could see any disappointment. They were blank.

Maybe Severus was inwardly rejoicing. Thanking the gods that Harry would not be able to ruin this holiday as he had the previous one. After all, the man did like his privacy. And Harry knew that he had been a burden.

"Stop thinking bad thoughts," hissed Sylrissin. She always seemed to know when he was becoming depressed. Perhaps she could smell it. Fine, he would be brave. He could take this summer. He would do what they all wanted him to until they finally left him alone again.

He wondered if Remus played Quidditch.

Harry went down to the dungeon the day before he was due to leave. Serminysa let him in without any of her usual chatter.

Things were slightly awkward. Then more awkward. The bite of Severus' wit became progressively more harsh over the evening. Harry could take it, knew what caused this reaction in the other man, and tried to give back as good as he got, but when he was roundly scolded for something he had forgotten to add to the cauldron, even though it still wasn't too late to do so, he had to stop and take a breath to compose himself before continuing. He compared the cutting comments to the usual casual corrections that he would get.

When they finally finished the potion to the professor's satisfaction and left the lab, Harry headed for the exit. He did not think that there would be any talking tonight.

"Goodnight, sir."

How long was it since he had called Severus sir? Yet it was more than appropriate for the way he had been treated today. He could not reconcile this hard taskmaster with the friend who had fought for Harry's right to choose what he did.

He did understand, on some level, why the other was doing this, but that didn't make it feel any better. Sev didn't know how to act any differently after all. So Harry would do as he had always done, and suppress everything. Obviously he could not share now.

"Stop."

He halted instantly. The word had been a command, of the type he had been subjected to all evening, but the rasping tone underlying it was far more compelling to Harry than the actual order.

A presence behind him. For a second he tensed, the ghost of the expectation of a blow overtaking him, then forced himself to relax again. He hadn't needed to do that in a while. The effect that Severus' cruel behaviour was having on him was bigger than he liked.

A hand, on his back between the shoulder blades. He thought for a minute that it would propel him forward out in to the corridor, but it remained still. They stayed like that, an impasse, for at least a minute. Harry could feel his hair being ruffled slightly by Severus' breathing. He could practically feel the air space between them thrumming with unspoken words. Feel something being relayed through the point of contact between them on his back.

Softly, so softly as to almost be unreal. "I'm sorry."

The voice was so hesitant, sounding almost broken. Harry had heard those words from Severus before. But they had not meant so much. Had not been so heartfelt as they were now.

He did not turn. Just gave the slightest nod of his head to show acceptance. To let Severus know that his message had been received. The hand slipped from his back, the communion between them ceased, and he left, not looking back.

In the morning, he found that a huge pile of books had been delivered to the foot of his bed during the night.

He didn't see Severus again before he left. He hadn't expected to. That didn't stop him looking around for a glimpse of swirling black robes.

He said goodbye to his friends. Hugged Hermione, and handed her a supply of the green hair potion, which, when not combined with the green skin effect, had to be regularly administered. He and Draco just shared a smile, the other boy was staying with some friends of Dumbledore over the summer who were apparently going to train him in non-lethal curses, the only kind missing from Draco's repertoire.

Remus looked better than he remembered him. Slightly more cheerful at least. They took a portkey, to Harry's extreme distaste, to the village where they would be staying. Small, isolated, middle of nowhere. Safe.

Just because there were supposedly no Death Eaters left didn't mean that being Harry Potter was without dangers. He still had to be careful of being mauled by fans wherever he went. The fact that his scar was gone made his life somewhat easier, but since there had been an article about it published along with a new picture of him he was still afraid of recognition.

He wanted to change his appearance. At the very least it would reflect externally the internal changes that he had been through. One thing had already gone, the glasses. The next, he decided, should be the hair. It had always stayed determinedly the same length and style, a carbon copy of James Potter. But Harry was no longer trying to be his father. He had his own style. He began researching a way to change it. It wasn't as though he didn't have enough books.

Remus was really nice. It made him feel guilty that he had not wanted to come, guilty for the way he had treated this kind man, who was after all lonely too. When Lupin locked himself away in the cellar for the transformation a few days after they got there, Harry had to admit to being more than a little scared as the howls resounded through the house. He could understand why Severus had been so terrified.

Most of their time was spent doing nothing. Other than the hour or so of shielding training that Remus made Harry do, he wasn't strict at all. He was very playful in fact, always wanting to play games and romp around and do silly things. Very much a marauder. But then, he was the only one of them left, so he probably felt he had to represent all of them. It made him fun to be around.

Harry beat him at chess. All that training finally paid off. He discovered that he missed Severus' wicked chess pieces, their twisted little comments added zest to the game. He missed playing chess by that fireplace. On that rug. With cookies.

He missed Severus.

Sylrissin was there for him to talk to, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't talk to Lupin. He got to know him quite well, but he didn't connect with him. Not like he had with Severus.

He really missed Severus.

Especially late at night, when he couldn't sleep. There was no one to talk to here. Remus generally went to bed quite early and slept like a log. Harry wouldn't want to wake him. And it was harder talking to someone who didn't know things without asking, the way that Severus always did.

He had his books. He spent a lot of the days reading, determined to do well. He found one that might do for his hair, it was a good thing that he had brought all of his things with him. Remus abandoned the house when he started making it, saying that the smells were too horrible for his delicate nose. Harry brewed for seven hours straight.

It was worth it. He woke up the next day and his hair was a little longer. The day after that it was longer still. It progressively grew until it was a couple of inches past his shoulders, then it stopped. It had also developed slight kinks, and become wavy, almost curly. Harry liked it, and took to tying it back in a thong. It was a pain when he was trying to play Quidditch. Which they did fairly often.

Remus had brought his broom with him. They usually just played catch in mid-air with a muggle ball, but it was still great fun. Flying was always fun for Harry. Something he never grew tired of.

But he missed Severus.

Like when he was reading the books he had been given, and thought of a thousand questions he wanted to ask as he went along. They had no owl at the house, and were supposed to remain out of general contact, so Harry could not confer. Harry missed being able to talk to Severus. Although sometimes he felt doubtful as to whether the professor would even reply had he sent an owl. After all, he had practically thrown Harry out the last night there. But he had apologised. And meant it. Harry knew that he had meant it. But that didn't stop his lingering uncertainty.

Remus must have noticed his slight depression, for he did everything possible to bring Harry out of it. Even though the other man must still be downhearted over losing Sirius. His best friend. Lupin was really trying. But sometimes Harry would rather have just been left alone. Severus would have understood.

The first time he lay awake for the whole night, Sylrissin tried to hiss him to sleep. It didn't work. Obviously she was not all powerful. Another one of his illusions dispelled. He couldn't stand it, lying there in the dark. Thinking. He couldn't stand it.

As though she realised what was going through his head, and some things he hadn't even known were in there himself, she tried to talk him out of the pit he was mentally digging.

While what she actually said was full of wisdom, and couched in fancy language, what it basically amounted to was, don't kill yourself, it's not worth it, and 'the other one' would be really pissed off if he did do something stupid.

She couldn't have been talking about Lupin, she didn't like his wolf smell at all. At first he thought she meant Draco, for she had mentioned him before. It wasn't till a few weeks later, as he came to realise how deeply he missed Severus, that he knew the Potions master was the one she thought would be most distraught. They were good friends. And they provided comfort to the other. But Snape had made him leave. But Severus had apologised.

His mind went round and round in frustrating, never ending circles, broken only by working and playing with Remus, sporadically managing to find sleep, and sometimes becoming so absorbed in his texts that he forgot to angst about the man who gave them to him.

He had to admit, that apart from the brief moment when Sylrissin reminded him of her previous teasing, he hadn't thought of Draco at all, except to wonder if he was generally all right. There were no more dreams of him. Maybe it had just been a passing thing. Maybe he wasn't gay? Okay, maybe he was, after all, some of those dreams... Even if the feelings hadn't lasted, he was pretty sure that there had been something there.

He didn't really have a problem with this discovery. He hadn't been expecting it, but it did explain the awkwardness with Cho. And his embarrassment at girls chasing him in general. He knew that it was considered perfectly natural in the wizarding world. Look at Crabbe and Goyle. Okay, bad example, very bad example. Moving on. Seamus. Better. Far less distressing. And also... available? No, he really didn't think of him that way. Really didn't think of anyone that way, despite his acknowledgement that Draco was, well, gorgeous.

But no, there wasn't anyone in his year that he thought he could give his heart to. They were all too immature. Hadn't seen a fraction of the things he'd seen. He would just have to wait, till he found someone that he could really relate to.

Harry returned to Hogwarts early, about a week and a half before term started, as Remus had to go on a mission abroad for the headmaster.

Severus was waiting for him in the entrance hall. When he saw Harry his brooding expression lifted somewhat.

Harry just grinned. He was home again.

Flawed Lines - Chapter 18

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