First Place - Angst

Author notes: Written for Reddwarfer's Remarry challenge...

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

To almost everyone I�ve loved in my life, all I'd ever been was a mistake. I don't say this out of pity or some form of angsty repressed teenaged feelings. I say this because it's true. It's never bothered me, not really. Not even when my father, drunk and bitter, told me about my birth.

I had just celebrated my sixth birthday and curiously, I inquired about the only mother I had ever known. The photo of a red-haired woman up on our mantle.

"She made the ultimate sacrifice for you, Harry," my father slurred from his place on the sofa. "She died giving you life." My father's eyes slid closed and he began to murmur, "Could've made another just as easily. Could've saved her."

I didn't know exactly what those words meant. To my six-year-old brain I just thought he was upset. I didn't understand the pain of loss or death yet. But I would. And his words would come back to haunt me full force.

It didn't matter six months after that, however, when the tumor appeared. It was in the middle of winter and I'd been ill, so when my hearing abruptly stopped in my right ear, I didn't think anything of it. When I got better, though, and my ear did not, I went to my father.

He couldn't tell whether I was doing it for attention, though I know now that's what he suspected, so he let it go. A fortnight later, however, I was in excruciating pain. It felt as though the whole side of my head was going to explode with a strange sort of pressure and all I could do was scream.

Terrified, my father rushed me to the hospital and they confirmed that I had been right all along. Something was wrong with me. A malignant tumor had attached itself to the inside of my ear, right against my eardrum.

After the biopsy to determine whether the tumor was cancerous or not, I was lightly sedated but my good ear picked up the conversation my father and the doctor were having at the edge of my bed.

"Is it terminal?" my father questioned in a subdued voice.

"It doesn't have to be," the doctor replied. "With the removal of the tumour and some radiation treatments he should be fine."

"Sounds costly," my father replied.

"It can be as well," the doctor said with a shrug. "There's also a good chance Harry will lose a significant amount of hearing during this process. You might want to look into another form of communication for him."

"You mean..." I saw my father waggle his fingers in the air out of the corner of my eye. "That sort of thing?"

"Precisely. I can't say what he will and won't be able to hear at this point. I won't be able to say what will happen until the radiation is complete but I would still be prepared."

"And if we opt to refuse treatment or removal of the tumor?"

The doctor paused at this. My father's tone was odd, though I couldn't put my finger on it. "He will die."

With a nod, my father leant against the doorframe and crossed his arms in thought.

"The procedure is simple," the doctor said in a more insistent voice. "Mr Potter, this is your son's life here. It's a simple procedure. He need not die from something so simple."

"Childbirth should have been simple. A woman need not die from such a thing either."

The doctor paused and let out a loud breath. "There are some things we can't prevent, and some things we can."

"Where do I make the appointment," my father eventually asked and the doctor led him out of the room.

I suppose at that moment I should have been both angry and relieved at my father for his hesitance and decision, but I was too young for that. Most of what I'd heard were Grown-up Words. Things I would understand when I Got Older.

Of course I understand them now. The meaning behind it all, the way my father waited and hesitated to save my life. But in the end he did and I suppose I owe him at least that much.

The surgery took place a fortnight after the initial hospitalisation. From that point to the end of the radiation therapy things were blurry. It was a mixture of frustration, pain, illness and anger for both my father and me.

I could barely hear, which irritated me. I was ill from the radiation and slept most of the time. My father was frustrated at the world for killing his wife and then giving his son a tumor that would change his life in such a way.

As the weeks wore on, my treatments stopped and I was finally allowed to recover and be a kid again. I had been out of school and my father had to hire a tutor to help catch me up on things. A conversation with the doctor and a fear of a tumour reoccurring in my other ear prompted my father to seek out a school for the deaf.

I was unhappy about this. I missed my friends and I could communicate fine, but my father's word was law. After seeking one, a boarding school in northern Cambridge, my father bid me farewell and left me to my own devices.

And I was terrified.

It was frightening to see all of these students, none of them hearing, most of them not speaking. I didn't know their language and I was different. I could hear their footfalls on the corridor tiles, I could hear the teacher talking as she instructed them on how to properly form words along with their hand signals.

I could hear. Not well, but I could still hear.

Yet, I wanted to fit in. I wanted to belong somewhere and not be so different. So I took my lessons in earnest and began to sign. I quickly learnt that some of the students were like me. Some could hear things, just not well. Some could speak perfectly, some could not speak at all. But they accepted me as I was.

I'd actually made friends there. I'd actually met people who spoke like me, felt about things the way that I did, liked the same sport and movies and one day wanted to become a world famous football player.

It was great.

But my father seemed to have other ideas. After another tumor scare in my left ear, this one not taking much of my hearing at all, I sat my exams and expected to move on with the rest of the other students I'd grown up with. To another school for the deaf where I belonged. Where I spoke the language. Where I was happy.

"Harry," my father said when I arrived for the summer holidays. He'd never learnt to speak sign language and I could hear well enough not to bother him about it.

"Yes?" I asked. Words were strange on my tongue. I had to speak them in some classes but for four years I had primarily spoken with my hands.

"I've been thinking about your exams and I've decided to put you in a school closer to home."

My face prickled with panic. I didn't want to go to a school closer to home. I wanted to be with my friends. It was the only thing I had to hold on to. My father didn't love me. By that point in my young life I could sense it. He felt obligated to care for me. He helped create me, but he didn't have to love me. He just had to make sure I didn't die.

"But..." I said, stopping when he held up his hand.

"I'm sorry but clearly you aren't deaf and spending this extra money on teaching you a language you don't need isn't really what I need to be doing. I've enrolled you in a school just up the road."

My head bowed and I accepted his words. I'd long ago learnt never to argue with the man. He was kind but he could be cruel when he wanted to. I knew it well. I had the same instinct, born and bred in me. I had to exert extreme force just to keep it under control.

"Fine," was the only word I spoke to him for the next month. Retreating to my room, I composed letters to my friends and promised to know them forever. All the usual rubbish one writes to young playmates who had to move away or who you thought would be your best mate for life.

I don't think I saw a single one of them again.

By my second year at the new school, I didn't even remember their names. I'd made new friends, new enemies, had new favourite teachers, and new hated teachers. Life fell into place. I became the interesting kid who could speak with his hands, new a sort of life experience no one else did. I had survived cancer, the death of a mother and had gone to a school none of the other students had heard of.

I joined my footie team and ended up captain by my sixth year there. I'd made life-long friends and learnt one thing about myself by the time I turned seventeen. I was gay.

That was a fact I had to keep hidden from my father at all costs, but that didn't bother me. Not in the slightest. I never shared anything with the man, so why should I share this?

Instead I got a boyfriend, a snobby pretty-boy called Draco Malfoy. I was the envy of every girl who seemed to think being gay was the sexiest thing to exist. We were followed and made a show of our handholding and corridor snogging.

It was the most exciting time of our lives. Of course we were both still virgins to most of the sexual acts I now know quite well. Snogging and hand-jobs were the most thrilling thing of the time and we were content with it.

It didn't last though. Just after we'd sat our very last exams, Draco and I found an abandoned cottage, took our bottle of scotch nicked from his father's stores and set off to consummate our lifelong relationship. Our promises had been loud, flowery and full of eternity.

When the scotch had been consumed and we finished with the painful, messy and overrated act called sex, Draco sat up and fixed me with hooded grey eyes.

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about," he said as we dressed.

"Okay," I answered, struggling with my jeans, still rather pissed and a bit confused.

"I just... have been thinking that all of this was a mistake."

My face fell just a little and it felt as though I'd swallowed a rock. "A mistake?" I repeated.

"You're great, really, but I think our relationship was a mistake."

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Well father is a very important man, you know."

And I did know. Lucius Malfoy worked for the Ministry and was likely to be Prime Minister one day. He was political, powerful and dangerous. I'd always known he had his sights set on Draco's future but I didn't know our relationship would matter to him.

"What about your father?" I finally retorted.

"He doesn't think this whole gay thing is good for his career and I agree with him. It was a mistake to think it would go anywhere."

My face burned with anger and I rose rather unsteadily. "So what was this? A goodbye fuck?"

"Mostly," Draco said with a slight shrug. "You deserved at least that much."

"To lose my virginity to a man who doesn't love me?" I bellowed. "That's what I deserved?"

"Well you wanted to do it!" Draco retorted, now rising to meet me.

"I wanted to do it because I love you!" I shouted.

Without warning, Draco cocked his fist back and landed a blow directly in the centre of my face. Fury rose in me with a force I didn't know I had. Without thinking, without breathing, without speaking, I pounced on him. When I finally regained my senses I backed off and scrambled toward the door. One glimpse was enough. I'd smashed Draco's face bloody and I was sure he was unconscious.

Still, in the end, it didn't matter to me. He hurt me at that moment worse than I'd ever been hurt. Worse because I'd always known my father didn't love me. I'd always known the rest of my family and the people in my life didn't much care whether I lived or died.

I thought Draco had. We made promises I thought were to last a lifetime.

When I burst into the house, my father was awake, chatting to his best mate and my Godfather, Sirius Black. They both looked at me as I stormed to the kitchen sink and attempted to wash Draco's blood from my fist.

Neither of them said anything about the blood or the way I staggered from the amount of alcohol I�d consumed. I thought at the time they just didn't care what I had been doing. Really, they both suspected me of being a fairy-boy and were secretly pleased to learn I had been out into the wee hours of the morning drinking and getting into fights. To them, fairy-boys didn't do those sorts of things.

Fairy-boys made eternity promises, wore tight trousers and fraternised with girls in a platonic way. They didn't need to know that my life was both of those things. They didn't need to know that in the wee hours of that morning I had beaten the person I claimed to love, almost to death.

I didn't see Draco after that. He left to attend Oxford so he could become a political entity like his father and join the ministry. My best mate, Blaise Zabini, told me that Draco's nose had gone slightly off centre. His prized nose, his revered face. I was secretly pleased. He was likely to marry a woman so every time she commented on that fact, he would have to remember me.

Like I said before, the behaviour was born and bred. I couldn't control it all of the time and I allowed myself the one sick pleasure of knowing Draco was scarred for life, and not just on his precious skin.

Two terms into University and I wanted to drop out. I was unhappy, I'd attended classes with the worst sort of professors who seemed to know nothing and Blaise and I couldn't keep matching timetables. Eventually though, I met Professor Severus Snape.

He happened to be the biggest asshole, the most feared professor and taught my favourite subject. Greek Mythology. It was a tired subject for most. Everyone knew Greek mythology inside and out. I had studied it on my own since I could read, but I couldn't resist taking the course.

The moment he walked into the class, I knew things were going to be very different. He was tall, skinny with sallow skin, lank black hair and onyx-coloured eyes that seemed to look right through you. His thin lips were set in a sneer and his black clothing made him look all the more ominous. I heard Blaise suck in his breath as Professor Snape set his things on the table and looked over the names of the students in his course.

"As you should know, my name is Severus Snape. This is an introductory course so you're likely to hate it as well as hate me. I don't care what you think of the course or me so long as you turn in the papers I wish you to and attend each class. I do not have high expectations of you all, since most of you lot are likely to spend your days working in a seedy restaurant or begging on the side of the street but I am going pretend you are intelligent beings and expect your work to be done properly. Discussions will be encouraged during this course provided they stick to the topic and don't make my head ache. Any issues with this you can happily leave my class. If you choose that route I advise you not to return. You won't like me when I'm angry."

I caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see Blaise sign hastily, We won't like him no matter what.

Snape saw the entire thing and turned to me with a smirk. "That is also likely Mr..."

I swallowed nervously, "Potter."

Snape's smirk slowly melted away and he continued his lecture. I, however, didn't hear much of it at all. Snape knew sign language. He knew it. He recognised it and knew exactly what Blaise had signed to me.

I didn't know where I was going with these thoughts and didn't have much time to explore them. After the first day, Snape became a relentless asshole, never giving us the benefit of the doubt, never marking my papers fairly and never having faith in our intelligence.

By the third week only half of the students were left in his class. I wanted to leave as equally as I wanted to stay. My thoughts were centered on Snape when I was at work, when I was studying, when I was in my other classes.

"I know what it is," Blaise said one night as we lounged on the sofa, drinking a bit.

"What is it?" I asked with a laugh.

"You fancy him."

My eyes widened and something in me shifted. Impossible. I couldn't fancy Snape. Not Snape. "No I don't," I finally choked out.

"You're an idiot," Blaise said and reached for another unopened bottle. "You fancy him. It's not a strange thing."

"But he's Snape," I gasped out, sitting up straight. "He's... ugly."

"You've always had odd taste, Harry."

"But he's... an asshole."

Blaise gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like Draco. "And I think you have an asshole fetish."

"No, I don't."

"You don't have to be on the defence, Harry. I don't think there's anything wrong with Snape. He has a sexy voice."

"I can barely hear it," I snapped, which was true. Snape spoke in such low tones most times that I had to focus on reading his lips. I praised my learning at the school for the deaf when it came to my lectures with Snape.

"Well it's still sexy. And he has this thing about him, dark and brooding. He's an asshole but there has to be more to it. He's overly intelligent, too good for his job and you have to admit, you like it that he speaks sign language."

My face flushed on that one. It wasn't often that I found another hearing person that spoke BSL. I taught Blaise a fair amount of it, but that was so we could cheat on exams and tell secrets. Draco could never be arsed to learn and I never thought twice about it. But the fact that Snape knew...

"I think I just like the BSL bit," I finally said, hoping Blaise would believe me. I was utterly terrified that Blaise was right. I fancied Snape. What the hell was I supposed to do about that?

"Why don't you invite him out for a coffee. Say you want to discuss something about the essay."

"He'll never buy that, he's not stupid," I snapped.

"Yes I know," Blaise said with a laugh, "but if he's likely to fancy you back, he'll say yes to the coffee and then you can shag him."

My chest tightened a bit at that thought and I suddenly grew nervous. I hadn't had a single sexual experience since Draco. I hadn't dated a bloke or even fancied someone after the Draco fiasco and I wondered for a time whether I was just non-sexual.

But now, the thought of Snape... Severus...

My face flushed harder and I shook my head. "It's mad. I can't do it."

"Coward," Blaise said with a shake of his head, finished his last beer and retired to bed for the night.

I stayed awake, lying on my stomach on the sofa, unable to get Snape away from my thoughts. Would it be possible? Would he fancy me? Could I be more than one of the ignorant, useless, brainless students he's forced to teach year after year?

Could I be more than just the interesting one to him? Could I be more than just a mistake?

The night passed quickly with those thoughts swirling round my head. Just after two o'clock I drifted off and an hour later, the shrill ringing of my mobile woke me. Jolting awake, I fumbled along the darkened floor until my hand came in contact with my small phone.

Pushing random buttons in my sleepy haze, I eventually answered. "What?"

"Harry?" The voice was familiar, choked and soft.

"D-dad?" I asked.

"It's Sirius, Harry. He's... he's had an accident. I'm at the hospital."

I sat upright, very awake and suddenly frightened. "What happened? What's going on?"

"Can you get down here?" my father asked in a deadened tone.

"Give me ten minutes," I all-but shouted and ended the call. Jumping up from the sofa, I bolted into my bedroom, toed on my trainers, grabbed my jacket and raced out the door. Luckily our town was quite small and on foot I made it to the hospital in five minutes.

My father was waiting for me outside, leaning up against the wall, puffing on a cigarette. His face was drawn, tired, his eyes bloodshot and when I embraced him I could smell whiskey on his breath.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We were at the pub," my father began in a shaking voice. "Both of us were too pissed to drive but Sirius didn't want to leave his motorbike there. I remember telling him not to go and we rowed over it a bit. Eventually I think he promised not to go, or something like that. He excused himself to the loo and never came back. I was really pissed, Harry, so I didn't think twice about it but when I started walking home I saw the ambulance racing by and I just knew. By the time I got to the scene he was already on his way here but I saw the bike." My father put his face in his hands and gave a dry sob. "Christ Harry, he's such a mess. The bike was in pieces, practically wrapped round a tree and� and his face... his head..."

My head was swimming with the news. I knew Sirius well enough to know he would never wear a helmet. He would never be un-cool, never think that fate could have something like a drink driving accident in store for his death. No. Not Sirius.

"Is he..."

"Coma. They don�t think he'll live out the night."

I felt as though someone had stolen all of the oxygen in the immediate area. Taking a few steps away from my father, I gasped a bit and pressed my hand to my forehead. It was too much. Sirius had never been much of a godfather really. He'd spent most of his time trying to coerce my father into shagging random birds at the dingy pubs and when he saw me he focused all of his energy into making sure I wasn't gay.

I'd always avoided the topic with him. I didn't care to tell him what I was. I didn't need his love. I had it though, so long as he didn't know about me and secretly I craved it, just like I craved the praise from my father.

It mattered whether Sirius and my father thought I was a good son. And now this. "Can I see him?" I eventually asked.

"You probably don't want to," my father said softly. "But if you must."

"If he won't live out the night I think I need to," I said.

"I'll take you up there, but you won't like what you see."

My father was right. Sirius' face was in shreds. Bandages covered him from head to toe and I could see blood and puss oozing from the spaces that weren't wrapped tight enough. His breathing was assisted by a large, loud machine and tubes were inserted almost everywhere there was a hole in his body. There was a machine just above his head with lines and I vaguely heard someone explaining to me that it monitored his brainwaves.

There were none. Just little blips indicating that he had a pulse.

Even in my shocked state I could tell there was no life left in him. Turning away, I looked at my father. "I can't stay here for this. I can't watch him die."

"He's already gone," my father said in that frighteningly dead tone he'd used when he rang me.

"I have to get out of here," I responded.

My father said nothing as I pushed past him and the nurse, raced into the corridor and left the hospital. It was too much. I couldn't just stand there as he died. As his heart slowly stopped beating, as a machine breathed for him. I couldn't. Whatever he had been to me, he was family. He'd been the only thing to keep my father afloat after my mother died. Now all he had was me. The mistake, the cause of her death. So what would happen to him now?

Rushing toward the sea, I eventually found myself curled up on the sand against the wall, my small flat barely in view. The beach was empty, the weather cold and slowly reaching toward winter. The water looked icy and the rain, as it began to fall, numbed the outer part of me.

I didn't bother to cover up better, and only noticed the approaching dawn when a figure suddenly appeared at my side and pressed a hot cup of coffee into my hands.

"I'm going to assume this isn't a Snape sort of crisis," Blaise said as he settled himself down next to me.

"It's not," I replied. Taking a couple grateful sips of the hot, sweet liquid, I told Blaise the entire story. By the end, tears were falling down my cheeks but they were silent. It was hard to mourn someone who would never love the real you. It was hard to be sad for a person who wanted everything to be like them. Everything to be like the things I hated in the world.

"When will you know?" Blaise asked, and as the words left his mouth, my mobile sang, signalling that I'd a text message.

I looked down at the screen. HE'S GONE.

"I suppose I know now," I replied and tucked the mobile back into my pocket.

"I'm sorry Harry," Blaise whispered and shifted so his arm was around my shoulders. "Anything I can do?"

"Take me out for a drink," I replied and then shared a slightly pained laugh with the only person who cared.

By the time I returned to classes, a week had passed. Snape had threatened to chuck me out of his class and fail me but Blaise pleaded my case. In the end, still unsure about my welcome, I sought Snape out. His office was on the highest floor and I took the stairs to buy time and help me gather my thoughts. It was the oddest feeling, fancying him and mourning the loss of my godfather.

I knew I should be only sad, but I couldn't help the small bit of excitement that settled in the pit of my stomach as I approached his office door. He wasn't alone when I arrived in his corridor. I could hear the low murmur of his voice as he lectured a student for their poor work. I couldn't make out the words but the tone was enough.

Five minutes passed before the pale-faced student passed me, hurrying for the lift that was just round the corner. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the doorway of his office and absently adjusted my hearing aid to better make out his words.

His eyebrow lifted when he saw me, and he crossed his arms. "So kind of you to grace me with your presence. Finally."

"I'm sorry sir. There was a..."

"Death, I'm aware. Your little hero was fighting for your cause. I'm not inclined to give you my sympathy, Mr Potter. I knew Sirius Black quite well and feel the world is better off without him."

I opened my mouth, but not out of defence of my dead godfather. My jaw dropped in shock. Snape knew Sirius. It was an impossible thought. "So do you know my father?"

"James?" Snape asked with a sneer. "Well enough. Pity he wasn't on the motorbike as well."

My face coloured and I took a step back. "Am I allowed back in the class?"

"Only this once. See to it you keep your personal matters out of your studies."

"I'll try," I said in a hardened tone. Well this answered my question. There would be no sympathy, no mutual attraction for us. He hated my father and likely hated my father's mirror image.

"You aren't the same as him," Snape said suddenly, just as I was about to back away. I paused and looked at his mouth, wanting to make sure I had all the words properly. "Revel in that, Mr Potter. Be happy."

"Yes, sir," I replied quietly.

"And..." Snape said and then hesitated, "if you need a sympathetic ear... I take tea here in my office at two o'clock, in between classes."

My face burst into a blush and I nodded. "Thank you, sir." And not wanting him to retract the invitation, I hurried off.

I wasn't sure when I should take Snape up on his offer and Blaise was of no help whatsoever. I was torn between wanting to pour my heart out to Snape and wanting to check up on my father. Without Sirius, who did he have?

"Have you ever wondered if Sirius and your dad had something... you know... more going on besides pub crawls?" Blaise asked one night after I'd brought up my concerns.

I frowned. "Don't think it's possible, mate. They hated that sort of thing."

"I know they thought it was wrong, but maybe they hated it because they thought it was wrong yet they... you know... did it."

I rolled my eyes. "Not bloody likely," I snarled, but deep down I realised the thought had occurred to me too. Not once, in all the years I'd known my father and Sirius, had they ever dated a single woman. They talked a lot about them, about what they could do to them, about the new birds now frequenting their favourite pubs. But they never brought one home and they never stayed out late.

But now wasn't the time. Sirius was gone, buried in the ground and my father was a wreck. "I think he needs to go on holiday," I replied eventually.

My father seemed to have the same idea a week later, but this one was a bit different than mine.

"I'm moving," my father said to me over lunch. "I've secured a job and I'm taking it. It will mean a lot more money for me and I can help you with your tuition."

My eyes widened. "Where to?"

"Ahem... the States," he mumbled.

Unsure if I'd heard him right, I tapped his arm so he'd look up. "Sorry?"

"The States," he repeated more clearly. "It's a good job, Harry. I know this might be difficult for you but..."

I shook my head. "Whatever makes you happy."

His face softened a bit. "You can always come with me. They have two Universities where I�m going and I'm sure you can get in."

"I'm happy here, dad," I replied quietly. We fell into a tense silence as I finished up the rest of my sandwich. The Sirius question was pressing on my conscious and I couldn't let my father disappear into another country without asking. "Uhm... dad," I said hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"You and Sirius..." I paused and plucked up the courage I'd need to say the next few words. "Where you lovers?"

My father choked a bit on the water he was drinking and he fixed me with cold eyes. "Where did you get a mad idea like that?"

I shrugged. "Just... paid attention to you these last few years."

His face coloured red, seemingly guilty and he downcast his eyes. "It's none of your business what he was to me, Harry. Point is, he's gone and everything's changed. I need a new start on things. Sirius kept me in a place I never wanted to be and now I can move on."

Well that was a shock. Here I thought my father was falling apart when really he felt trapped by Sirius' presence. "But dad... you loved him."

"Yes, I did, but it was... difficult. You have no idea what it was like when I lost your mum. Sirius was the only thing that kept me sane but... after a few years... things became too much. I didn't think I could let him go, no matter how much I wanted to. Now I'm given the freedom and I intend to use it well."

For the first time in my entire life, I felt close to my father. I felt kindred to him, and felt that my admissions would not disappoint him. Pushing my empty plate to the side, I leant over the table and said very quietly, "Dad... I'm gay."

My father's eyes widened. "Don't joke like that, it's not funny."

I shook my head. "Not a joke, dad. Remember that night I came home bloody and upset?"

"The night you finished your exams?"

"That one. Well... Draco... you remember him?'

"The poncy blonde one."

"He and I were lovers. He and I had... sex that night and then he told me I was a mistake. I was angry so I hit him. A lot. But I'm still gay, and I wanted to share it."

For a moment he said nothing. Then, his gaze hardened and he pushed his chair away from the table. "For fuck's sake, Harry! I could have gone my entire life without hearing that from you. You're too fucking young to know what you want!"

My heart sank. "Dad..."

"NO!"

"Please. I know what I want. I'm twenty-one, I'm not an idiot"

"Yes you are," he roared.

"I'm not!" I shouted back, now rising to meet him. "I'm gay, and I think I'm in love."

Without warning, my father's hand shot out and landed against my cheek. Stumbling backward, I clapped my hand over the pain and looked up at him.

"You. Are. Not. Gay."

Swallowing, I gave a small nod. "I'm sorry I thought I could confide in you. I think I should go. Have a safe flight."

I didn't see or speak to my father for the next seven months.

With a brilliantly bruised face, I made my way to Severus' office the next day. It was just two o'clock and when I stood in the doorway I saw Severus pouring out two cups of tea.

"I saw you out the window," he said, nodding toward the window that had a view of the entire courtyard. "Cream?'

"Please," I said and lowered myself into a seat.

"I've always thought you could do with a bit of colour," Severus said as he pushed the tea across the desk toward me, "but I'm not sure about the purple. It makes you look a bit ill."

I glowered for a moment until I realised he was joking. Rolling my eyes, I leant back in the chair and allowed my gaze to wander. The walls of his office were covered in books, his small computer sat in the corner and there were no photographs to show his family or potential lovers.

Severus took a small sip of his tea before saying, "I think your father means to land the blow on the eye but he always misses. His aim needs a bit of work."

My face reddened. "It wasn't my father," I defended hotly, lying and unsure why.

"Well it wasn't your godfather. Not only is he dead but Black tended to favour the lower regions of the body." Severus took another sip of his tea. "Why defend him?"

"I don't know," I confessed.

"I know the beatings well, Potter. Don't think you can lie to me about them. I just don't know why he'd beat his precious son."

"Gay son," I retorted hotly and then shut my mouth quickly. I hadn't meant to blurt it out and suddenly felt a bit of an idiot. What if Snape wasn't gay? Odd how that thought hadn't occurred to me. And what if he was like my father?

"Ah. Too familiar, then."

I frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I wasn't the only one subject to those types of beatings. I just didn't realise Potter would be the one to carry it on to the next generation. I assumed that would be your job." Severus paused and then smirked. "And knowing your father, I can't believe you told him."

"Well he's a hypocrite," I snarled, too angry to care who I told.

"I always knew he and Black had a thing. Lily was never enough woman for Potter."

"Don't talk about my mum like that," I hissed.

"Why not? You didn't know her," Snape replied, and he was right. I didn't know her. She could have been one of those idiot simpering girls constantly fawning over my father. She could've been a snob, or a bitch or a thousand other horrible things. I didn't know. All I'd ever known was that her life should have been saved, not mine.

"I didn't come here to discuss my parents," I eventually retorted weakly.

"Why did you come here, then? Not for the pleasant company, I take it."

"What if I did come here for the company?" I asked.

Severus snorted. "Then I'd say you have very poor judge in character."

I shook my head. "You're an asshole, but that's not all. I think you can be good conversation when you're not trying to get the other students to commit suicide."

Severus sat silent for a moment before letting out a small chuckle. "I am failing at that this term. Only one death and it wasn't even my fault."

I let out a small laugh and shook my head. We finished tea with a sort of new companionship that I realised I could happily live with, if only he would give it to me.

The weeks passed and it stayed that way. As happy as I could be, I was almost euphoric when Severus invited me over for a dinner. He didn't give a reason why he wanted the dinner but I was all too happy to accept.

Ignoring Blaise's slagging, I dressed as casually as I could, never mind I tried to wear my tightest t-shirt and my most flattering jeans, and I hurried off to Severus' house.

He lived just round the corner from me, though our town was so small that everything was just round the corner, and I made it to his door in five minutes.

Pausing to gather my bearings, I knocked and wasn't made to wait long. Severus' house was rather nice. A bit small and rather like his office. His walls were covered in books, his furniture was rather sparse, worn but comfortable.

The dinner smelled wonderful and was ready just as I arrived. Severus set us up at the table with liberal amounts of red wine and pleasant conversation. To this day I can't recall exactly what was said over the meal but I can remember the feeling of being happy.

Both of us drank a bit much and by the time we retired to the lounge we were almost too comfortable with each other. He didn't mind that I put my shoulder up against his as we sat on the sofa and he answered my questions about his personal life with a loose tongue.

"So there's no one for you right now?" I asked, prodding him a bit with my elbow.

"I'm not shagging anyone at the moment, if that's what you mean," he replied.

I turned to face him fully and tried to focus, though my eyes were crossing. "And why did you invite me here, Severus?"

He let out a short breath and before I could react at all, his mouth was pressed against mine. Giving a small moan, I moved to wrap my arms round him but that seemed to jar him out of our drunken daze.

"No," he said, pushing me away.

"Why?" I panted. I wanted him more than I ever had.

"You're... my student."

"I won't tell anyone," I vowed. "Please. I've waited for so long."

Severus shook his head and moved away from me. "Not yet. Term is almost up, Harry. When it is..."

"What if you find someone else?" I asked, feeling petulant and nervous.

"If three years of abstinence isn't indication enough for you, I shall make a promise. I will wait for you."

It had to be enough. Term was finished in less than two months. I'd waited this long for him, I could wait a little longer. "Okay," I eventually agreed.

"I'm sorry," he said just as quietly.

Shaking my head, I stood up and adjusted myself. "The promise is enough." And with that, I left.

Of course through the rest of my classes I had a bit of fun with him, letting him squirm a bit as I chewed seductively on the end of my pencil, or the way I wore my clothing as he liked it. I also found great pleasure in asking difficult questions and teasing him a bit in his office after hours.

It was the most comfortable I'd ever been. I was in love, I was sure of it. My heart had been guarded so long after Draco and letting it go free was the best thing I could've done.

Eventually the term ended and I was no longer his student. We celebrated that night with a long round of passionate sex, complete with sweets, wine and the best orgasm I'd ever had. Never mind I was practically a virgin.

None of this seemed to bother Severus until one night, just as dinner was finished, I brought up my new timetable. "Severus," I said carefully, "there's something we should talk about."

"What?" he asked, seeming to be a bit irritable.

"I was looking over the class catalogue and I realised to finish up my History Degree I'm going to need two classes... that only you teach."

"No," he said firmly.

My heart sank. I wasn't lying, I needed the classes. There wasn't anything I could do about that. "I don't have a choice."

"Well I'll give you one, me or the classes," he said, his voice icy.

My eyes widened. "I need my degree. Surely you of all people realise how important this is to me! I can't choose between you and my education."

"Yes you can," he snarked. "Attend a different University."

"W-what?" I sputtered. "It doesn't work that way! I can't just swap Universities."

"Yes you can. It might take some time but you really, really can."

"That's stupid!" I shouted. "Severus... I can't choose between my education and the man I love."

Severus froze and turned to face me fully. "Did you just say love?"

I nodded. "And don't be an arse. You know I love you."

"Harry... I don't believe love exists. Love is... is for fools. Love is a trick of the brain chemicals."

I felt my throat tighten at this but I wasn't quite sure how to react. "Then what is this? What are we? A good shag?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Relationships are about finding someone who you can companionably get along with for the rest of your life. It's not about love."

Drawing my lower lip into my mouth, I took a few steps toward him. "I love you, Severus. I don't care if you think love is a trick. I love you."

Severus shook his head. "This was a mis-"

"No!" I shouted, stopping his words. "Don't... don't say that. I'm begging you. Don't." My voice was choked with tears and I tried to pull away as he grasped my wrists.

"But I have to be honest. I tried to fool myself into thinking someone your age could be compatible with me. I was clearly wrong. If you can't respect our relationship enough to stay out of my classes and if you persist in this ridiculous love notion..."

"It's not ridiculous," I interrupted.

"Then this was all a mistake."

I ripped my arms away from his grasp and took a few steps back, shaking my head. "No. No. I don't want to be your mistake!"

"We all make them."

"But why me?" I shouted. "Why am I always the mistake?" Turning on my heel, I rushed out of Severus' house and ran home.

As soon as I reached my lounge, I pulled out my phone and placed the call I never thought I would. "Dad... I'm sorry. I need you. Is there still room for me with you?"

Greatest Mistake - Chapter 2

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