38. Knowing me, knowing you

 

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you*

 

Harry woke up. He looked around the dark interior, wondering where he might be, and only when his sleepy mind finally started working did he remember everything.

He came to Snape at night, and the man let him stay.

He didn't remember when he fell asleep. He only remembered lying in the dark for a long time, listening to the man's calm breathing and enjoying the warm embrace of his hand. But now Severus wasn't here, and Harry had no idea what time it might be. He looked around the room and saw a clock on the bedside table in the dim light of a few candles. He put the glasses on his nose and looked at the indicators. It was a quarter past six.

He sighed and fell back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

He woke up in Severus' bedroom. It was... a wonderful feeling. He felt as if this was where he belonged. Oh, what he would do to wake up here every day... Even if Snape wasn't next to him.

Actually, where could he be? In the living room?

Normally, Harry would be too sleepy to force himself to get up, but this definitely wasn't a normal situation. He felt too awake, too agitated with the place and circumstances in which he found himself. So he quickly jumped out of bed, grabbed his things and headed to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, during which he couldn't resist enjoying the aromas surrounding him, he got dressed and left the bedroom with a smile tinged with nervousness.

Snape, dressed in his casual black robes, was waiting for him, sitting in an armchair. Or at least that's how Harry's excited mind imagined it. Especially when he noticed two plates of stuffed eggs and toast and a carafe of white wine standing on the table. The man was looking into the fire and didn't seem to notice Harry's entrance at all, but the boy knew it was only an appearance.

"Good morning, Severus," he said quietly, trying to gauge the ground and find out what the man's mood was today. How different this word sounded from the usual "good night". This was something completely different. Now they were starting the day together. They didn't just finish it.

"Sit down, Potter. I prepared breakfast."

Harry obeyed, with only one thought in his mind: He will have breakfast with Severus!

The man took a carafe and poured a clear liquid into two glasses. Harry reached for the fork and after a few bites he heard the words uttered seemingly casually. "How was your night, Potter? Did you dream again?"

Harry froze with the fork in his mouth.

"N-no," he mumbled after a moment. "No, everything's fine. I didn't dream of anything. I? I took the Dreamless Sleep Potion last night," he said, deciding it was better to confess it now because Snape would probably find a way to get it out of him later anyway.

"Hmm." Severus took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. Harry tensed, waiting for the next question. He knew Snape wouldn't leave it, that he would want to find out. It was only a matter of time. "How did I die?" he finally asked, looking Harry straight in the eyes.

Damn it! Did he have to be so direct?

Harry didn't want to remember this. Not now, not at this perfect moment. They were together, eating breakfast together and it was so nice... But he knew that with this man, these pleasant moments never lasted longer than a few minutes. Gusts up to a dozen or so.

"You... uh..." he started, not really knowing how to describe something that made his blood run cold just remembering it. It was just a dream! He must remember that it was just a dream! This wasn't really happening! "We were at the graveyard. Me and Cedric. When Voldemort returned. But then... Cedric turned into you and... and they..." Why didn't he want to say it? "...killed you..." he finished almost inaudibly, lowering his head and staring at his lap.

"Have you ever dreamed about this before?" Severus asked.

"Yes. I mean no. Not like this. I mean... Many times after those events at the graveyard, I dreamed about them. About Cedric's death and his return. The Dursleys were mad at me because... uh... I screamed in the night. But now it was different. Now for the first time I dreamed that they were killing you, not him. And this was... much more terrifying."

Harry was now unable to lift his head and look at the man. He stared at his breakfast, but all he could see in his eyes were images from his dream.

"Tell me about it." Snape's voice was strangely strained. "Tell me about those events. About his return. What really happened there, Potter?"

Harry lifted his head and looked at Severus in surprise. "I thought Dumbledore told you."

"Yes, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Harry hesitated. Something in Snape's voice, in the expression on his face, bothered him. Why was he so interested in this? He wanted to forget about it and never come back to it. But it was Severus. If he asked Harry to tell him about it, he must have had a reason.

"The cup transported me and Cedric to the graveyard. Tom Riddle's grave was there. The moment my scar started to hurt, I figured Voldemort must be somewhere nearby. And then... and then Wormtail came out of the darkness, carrying him in his arms. And Voldemort ordered him to kill Cedric. He said kill the spare." Harry involuntarily shuddered, remembering these words and the terror he felt when the green beam hit Hufflepuff's body. And then also... into Severus' body. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. "Everything happened so fast. I was tied to the monument, I couldn't move. Wormtail used my blood, bones from Tom Riddle's grave, and his severed hand to bring him back to life. And I couldn't do anything. I just watched as Voldemort took flesh, as... he stood before me and summoned his Death Eaters." Harry hesitated for a moment as a thought appeared in his head. "Did you... did you feel that he was back?" His eyes involuntarily wandered to Severus' left arm, resting motionless on the back of the chair.

"Yes, Potter. I felt it," the man replied calmly, and a strange, sudden thought flashed through Harry's mind that he had said it too calmly. As if...

"But... what did you feel at that moment?" He didn't know why he asked that question, but he had to know it. He stared at Snape's face, which didn't move a single muscle. It looked as if it was carved from stone.

"I felt that my predictions had come true," the man finally replied in a dispassionate voice, slowly turning his head towards the fireplace and looking into the fire. "I didn't have time to think about it in depth then. I told Dumbledore everything right away. We had to take appropriate steps. And make some important decisions. What happened next, Potter?"

Harry blinked at the sudden change of topic. He concentrated on recalling the details of the events at the cemetery.

"Voldemort mentioned several Death Eaters by name. There was Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, Avery, Macnair and Nott. And he began to speak to them, and then..."

"What did the Dark Lord tell his Death Eaters?" Severus asked, interrupting him, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was taking a special interest in this. But after all, he was a spy among them. It was normal for him to want to know such things.

"He... said that they abandoned him, that no one tried to find him, that they were disloyal traitors who disowned him to keep their freedom and only the Lestranges were loyal to him until the end and they will be rewarded for it." Harry became lost in thought, trying to remember exactly what Voldemort had said. "He also said that only Wormtail returned to him, although he is just as much a traitor as the rest, but he was the only one who helped him and..."

Severus leaned even closer. He looked as if he wanted to lunge at Harry and tear the words right out of his throat.

Memories flashed in his mind. Someone had asked him similar questions before and he reacted similarly.

Fake Moody.

"...and he said that one of them had betrayed him and would pay for it with death, and one of them, the most faithful one, was at Hogwarts and following his orders," Harry finally managed to say and held his breath, watching as Severus' expression relaxed and the man turned his head towards the fire. Harry could have sworn he saw a faint smile on his face before he did so.

"Dumbledore says he meant Karkaroff and Barty Crauch Junior," Harry said loudly, having no idea why. Snape must've known it. Right? It's as if Harry was trying to convince himself.

"What happened next, Potter?" Snape asked dully, not taking his eyes off the fire.

Harry swallowed.

"Voldemort freed me. He told me to fight him. I knew I had no chance against him. I've never been so afraid in my life..." he whispered quietly, lowering his head again and looking at his lap. "I hid behind a tombstone, but I knew I couldn't stay there forever. I had to do something." Involuntarily he looked into the fire. He had a strange feeling that he was at the graveyard at that exact moment. Everything was so clear. Every thought that was passing through his mind at the time. "I thought to myself... it's either him or me. This is it. This is the moment. I have to face him. I knew it would happen someday, but I didn't think it would be so soon. I didn't know anything yet. I had no chance and... I knew it. But that was my task. My destiny." He looked away from the fire and lowered his head again. He felt pain in his chest, and fear. But it's over now. He's safe. At least for now. "I accepted the challenge and faced him. I cast Expelliarmus against his Killing Curse." Was it his imagination, or did Severus snort quietly? "And then our wands connected in a strange way, and I saw Cedric and my parents. They stopped him and I ran to the portkey and... returned to Hogwarts."

Severus nodded, letting Harry know that he knew the rest of the story.

There was silence for a long time. Harry struggled with his thoughts, which came to the surface of his mind uninvited and gave him no peace, but he couldn't stop them. He had to say something. He looked at the man sitting in front of him, lost in his own thoughts, and wanted to somehow let him know that he was also here.

"Severus..." He leaned forward, swallowing. "I... you... I know... I think I know what he's telling you to do..."

Snape turned his head and Harry leaned back, seeing the ice burning in the man's eyes.

"Believe me, you don't know and you probably wouldn't want to know," Severus replied quietly.

The boy hesitated. He couldn't tear his eyes away from that dark gaze. He felt shivers down his spine. But he won't act like a coward, he won't turn around, he won't run away. Because he cared about him. He wanted to catch the darkness, tear it away and see sparks in its place. Sparks of fire, not ice.

"I just... I want you to know that if you want... you can tell me anything. And everything. I... I'll understand." He raised his hand and touched his scar. "I'm marked by him too. I know how it is."

Something sparkled in Severus' eyes for a moment.

"I'll remember that," he finally said, and Harry heard softness in his voice for the first time since the conversation began. "Now, I would appreciate it if you could finish your breakfast quickly."

The Gryffindor took a fork in his hand and managed a faint smile. "What are we going to do later?"

Snape frowned and looked at him in surprise. "Later? Later you'll go back to your place because I... I'll be very busy today."

Was it just his imagination, or did Severus' eyes turn for a split second towards the workshop hidden behind the bookcase?

Harry looked at his breakfast, digging into it with a fork.

"Uhm... I see," he murmured quietly. He knew that his dreams of spending the whole day with Snape were just vain hopes, but he really wanted to spend some time with him today. They now have a unique opportunity to get to know each other better, without being disturbed by anyone. "But maybe I could come in the evening? Even for a little while? I'll bring books, I'll be studying, you won't even notice me. I won't be disturbing you. Just for a moment." Severus gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Please," Harry added, knowing it almost always worked.

"Fine," the man finally replied. "Maybe I can find some time for you between seven and nine in the evening. But you have to be on time."

Harry smiled. "Of course."

He didn't know why, but eggs stuffed with mushrooms seemed much tastier now.

 

***

Harry put down his divination book and yawned. His eyes were closing on their own. Not only did he sleep very little at night, because the fact that he was lying next to Severus was enough to keep him from sleeping, but he also decided to finally start studying since he had nothing else to do today anyway, and divination could put anyone to sleep in a very short time.

He glanced at the clock. It was four in the afternoon. Surely it won't be a big deal if he takes a little nap? He made an appointment with Severus at 7 p.m. He would rather go there well rested. Besides, he can study at his place, since he'd told him so. He didn't feel like doing it, but if it was the only way for the man to let him come, then so be it.

He put his glasses on the table, rolled over and quickly fell into a pleasant sleep.

*

When Harry opened one eye, his blurry vision revealed a bedside table and a clock on it. It ticked quietly and reassuringly. The boy stared at it for a moment, trying to break his mind from the soft cocoon of sleep. Important information slowly came back to him: who he was, where he was and, most importantly, what he was supposed to do.

He was supposed to go to Severus. Oh yes. What time was it?

He reached out and felt around the table top, looking for his glasses. He rolled onto his back and put them over his nose, then turned his head again and stifled a yawn and looked at the clock face.

And at that moment he felt as if someone had poured ice water on him and thrown him off the bed.

It was almost a quarter past seven.

He jumped up from his bed and staggered forward.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" he was cursing under his breath, while flipping through his trunk and trying to dig out a textbook on Potions, Spells and the History of Magic.

He could have predicted it. Why did he even do this? He just wanted to take a nap, not sleep half the day! Damn it!

He grabbed his cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, put his books under the arm, and ran out of the dormitory.

He took two steps at a time as he ran down the stairs, unable to shake the vision of Snape grabbing him and throwing him out the door for being late. And the whole plan will go to hell!

He accelerated even more, trying to jump three steps at a time. He balanced precariously on the edges of the stairs, only occasionally catching the railing with one hand because he had to hold his books to keep them from falling. At one point, he almost slipped his Potions textbook. Harry let go of the railing, grabbed a book as it slid out, and at that moment his foot sank into a false step in the stairs that he had completely missed. He flew forward with all his strength and speed, the books fell out of his hands and rolled down the stairs, and Harry hit the knee of his other leg on the sharp edge of the step below, saving himself from hitting his face only by stretching his arms out in front of him at the last moment. and broke the fall. There was a crunch in his left wrist, his arms flexed, and his elbows cracked against the wood. His face stopped millimeters from the edge of the step.

He panted heavily for a moment, too shocked to make any move. He lay upside down on the stairs, one foot still trapped in the step, and tried to calm his racing heart. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head, trying to get rid of the spots in front of his eyes. Only now, when the shock and adrenaline had subsided, did he begin to feel stabbing and burning pain in almost every part of his body. The worst thing was his trapped leg, the knee of the other leg and most likely his dislocated wrist. He tried to move and gritted his teeth as the wound on his leg brushed against the edge of the hole his foot had fallen into. Grunting, groaning, and supporting himself on one hand, he began to trudge backwards up the steps, trying to stand up, or at least straighten up enough to regain control of his body and try to stretch his leg out.

But before he managed to do so, Peeves emerged from the ceiling above him, laughing loudly.

Potter is a poop, coming down the staircase
He forgot about the hole and fell on his face
He chucked himself down, almost broke his teeth
And I can have fun and I can laugh at him!

Harry pursed his lips. Not him on top of that!

"Shut up!" he growled at the apparition flying above his head.

He wasn't afraid of being discovered. He can always say he went down to the library to study.

"Potter is a poop..." the ghost continued to chant, not discouraged by the strings of curses that the imprisoned Gryffindor was shooting at him. Trying to ignore the malicious spirit's crude jokes, Harry finally straightened up and sat on the higher step, breathing heavily.

Everything hurt him, he was late and, on top of that, he had Peeves above him, who probably wouldn't let go too quickly and would follow him to the dungeons, singing his new song to the entire castle. And Peeves can't figure out where Harry is going.

He reached into his pocket and took out his wand, pointing it at the ghost:

"If you don't shut up and get out of here, I'll petrify you!" he shouted, trying to break through Peeves's heartbreaking singing.

It was a bad move.

The ghost began to cackle, then howled horribly and moved straight at Harry. The boy tried to shoo him away and in his struggle he dropped his wand, which rolled down the steps and landed several meters below.

"Oh, great," he groaned, glaring furiously at Peeves staggering with laughter. "I swear if I get out of here, I'll find a way to break your annoying neck."

"Potter is a poop..." the ghost intoned again, and for a moment Harry felt like ripping out the floorboards and throwing them at him.

He tried to free his leg. He tugged once and twice, gritting his teeth as the ragged skin rubbed against the broken wood. He braced himself with the other leg, ignoring the burning sensation in his knee, grabbed the railing and began to pull and tug, trying to free his foot, but it didn't move. The only result was increasing pain in the injured leg. The ghost chanting above his head was infuriating him. His foot didn't move, he couldn't use his wand and he felt like he was going to go crazy. He felt like everything was getting out of control.

And then he remembered an almost identical situation from his fourth year. For a moment he wanted to facepalm of how dumb he was.

Of course!

"Dobby!" he shouted into the ether and almost jumped when, at the same moment, with a loud crack, an elf materialized right next to him.

"Oh, how glad Dobby is that Harry Potter called him! Does Harry Potter wish for something? Obedient Dobby, Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter," the elf chattered, staring at the Gryffindor with almost divine adoration.

"First of all, Dobby, could you please free me?" he asked, pointing to his trapped leg. He was getting more and more tired of this whole situation. He just wanted to get out of here and go to Snape. Is it that much?

Dobby glanced quickly at Harry's trapped leg and snapped his fingers.

Harry felt as if the wood were sliding apart, freeing his foot. He carefully pulled it out of the hole and set it on the step below. He winced as he felt an unimaginable burning pain.

"Oh. Harry Potter is injured! Harry Potter needs to go to the hospital wing to have his leg bandaged! Dobby can help!"

"No, that's not necessary, Dobby." Harry waved his hands, trying to stop the elf's chatter. "Thank you for your help. I'll be fine, really, it's just a minor scratch."

"Potter is a poop..."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Peeves' screeching voice once again.

"But I have one more request, Dobby. Could you find the Bloody Baron and tell him that Peeves is looking for him?"

The ghost fell silent as suddenly as if someone had put a pouffe over his mouth.

"You sneaky, disgusting idiot!" Peeves screeched. "I'm not looking for him! I'm not looking at all! Not for him! NOOO!"

"Of course! Dobby will fulfill Harry Potter's every request!" the elf replied, ignoring Peeves' terrified screams, and then disappeared.

Harry looked back at the ghost hurling curses at him, which did a few somersaults and disappeared extremely quickly into the nearest wall.

He sighed, enjoying the silence that had finally fallen, and tried to get up. It wasn't easy. He could barely walk on his right leg, and his left leg was also bruised. His pants were torn at the ankle, and through the torn material he saw a bloody gash surrounded by torn skin. It wasn't looking too good, but he couldn't go to the hospital wing now, because he wouldn't be able to get to Snape at all today. He wasn't as good at healing magic as Hermione, he couldn't even heal a bruise, let alone something like that, so all he could do was grit his teeth, gather his books, pick up his wand from the floor and limp towards the dungeons.

When he reached the ground floor, he hid behind a statue of an angry ghoul, put on his invisibility cloak, and laboriously moved on. With each step he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning or making any other noise. The journey to the dungeons took him twice as long as normal, and with each step he took, he became more and more afraid of how would the man welcome him. He was sure of one thing - Severus would not be pleased.

When he finally arrived at the door, he was almost exhausted, both physically and mentally, from constantly worrying about what Snape would say or do to him for being so late.

He took a deep breath several times and touched the door, which immediately opened to him. He limped through the office and stood in front of the living room door. He took off his cloak, put it in his pocket, adjusted the books that were slipping from his hands, swallowed and knocked.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when the doorknob turned and the door burst open. Harry only needed one look at the Potions Master's face to see that his predictions about how angry Snape would be were only half true. It was much worse.

Harry had the impression that in a moment the man would slam the door in his face and all his evening plans would be completely ruined.

But that didn't happen.

Severus stepped aside and let him inside without a word. Harry straightened up and gritted his teeth, trying to endure the pain as he crossed the threshold.

The moment the door slammed behind him, Severus's voice vibrating with rage filled the room.

"Are you so dense that you don't understand what the word 'punctuality' means, Potter? Or do you think you are the center of the world and everyone should stop what they are doing and wait with angelic patience until the Chosen One honors them with his presence? If you had such important matters that prevented you from arriving here on time, why don't you go back to them and stop wasting my time?"

Harry was standing with his head down, waiting for Snape's tirade to end, but it looked like the man was just getting started. There was a fury in his voice that Harry hadn't heard in a long time, and he knew that at this moment, any word from him would only be the igniter that would light the fuse and cause an even bigger explosion and he would end up behind the door, banned from entering Snape's chambers for the next few weeks. So he was just standing silently and simply waiting for the man to get out all his fury.

"But what could be expected from an abderite like you?" Harry had the question who? on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself at the last moment. "You inherited your father's worst traits! Recklessness, self-righteousness, arrogance and hauteur!" Snape continued, his voice becoming more and more hissing. Harry clenched his fists. He expected something like this. He cannot be provoked! "Therefore, your time here will be reduced accordingly since you don't care about it anyway. You have half an hour. Does this satisfy you?"

Harry sighed quietly and nodded. He was too exhausted after everything that had happened to him to even have the strength to argue with Severus. He'll just have to wait until it passes.

Severus turned on his heel and, with a furious rustle of robes, moved towards his armchair by the fireplace. Harry looked at the two glasses filled with something clear on the table and felt stupid that their wonderful evening had gone to waste because of him.

Snape was right. At least partially.

"You have twenty-nine minutes left, Potter. Are you going to stand there this whole time?" the man growled, turning his head and looking at him. "If you wish, I can put a chair by the door for you. I really don't care what you're going to do now."

Harry shook his head and slowly moved towards the armchair in front of the fireplace. Very slowly. He clenched his fists, trying to walk as normally as possible, but it was impossible. One leg buckled beneath him, and every time his injured foot touched the floor, he couldn't stop the grimace of pain that spread across his face.

He saw the man frown and his eyes wandered down to Harry's legs. He felt even more stupid. He didn't want another tirade or ridicule. He really had had enough.

He struggled to get to the chair and sank into it with relief. However, as soon as he sat down, he heard Severus' voice. "What happened to your leg, Potter?"

Harry felt himself blushing. He put the books in his hands on the table and, without looking the man in the eye, turned his face towards the fireplace.

"N-nothing," he mumbled. He didn't want to tell him about it. It's no fun telling people that you're a loser who can't even run down the stairs without hurting yourself.

"Potter, I asked you a question." Snape's voice became sharper.

Well, it seemed that there was no point in persisting. He couldn't hide it, he couldn't lie, because Severus would probably find out the truth eventually and that would expose Harry to even more anger of the man.

"I..." he began, without taking his eyes off the fire. "I didn't want to be late. I was running down the stairs and... I fell on this false step. I always avoid it, but this time I was really in a hurry. I fell and couldn't get free. And then Peeves showed up and I dropped my wand and had to ask Dobby for help and... I'm sorry you had to wait for me just because I'm so clumsy," he said quietly, feeling the burning shame warm his cheeks. "I wanted to come as soon as possible, but... it hurt so much that I couldn't."

Fine. He said it. Now Snape can continue to insult him and make fun of him, just like Peeves, for being a poop and a loser. Now he didn't care. He felt tired. Very tired.

He heard the man getting up, instead. He was relieved that Snape wasn't going to drag him down the drain. Harry sank into the chair and stared at the flames shooting from the fire.

It was all supposed to turn out differently, but it turned out completely wrong. He was supposed to come here and study, they were supposed to talk to each other, have a nice time, maybe even... do something more interesting. And it ended with screams, anger and shame. And it's all because of him! If he hadn't gone to sleep, he wouldn't have overslept, he wouldn't have had to rush, he wouldn't have fallen into the hole, he wouldn't have had to chase Peeves or call Dobby for help, and...

Suddenly his thoughts stopped and he almost jumped in his chair, feeling something or someone grab his injured ankle. He took his eyes off the fire and looked down, and his heart stopped.

Severus was kneeling on the floor in front of him. In one hand he held a jar of some clear ointment, and with the other hand he carefully rolled up his trouser leg. After a while, he put the jar on the floor, grabbed Harry's calf and pulled the shoe off his foot, and then, much slower and more carefully, he also took off his sock. Harry gripped the armrests of the chair, feeling the burning pain as the cotton brushed against his injured skin.

But these feelings were gradually replaced by one extremely clear and distinct thought that screamed straight into his ear: Severus was kneeling in front of him! He was kneeling. In front of Harry. He really was kneeling. And he was going to bandage his leg.

Harry didn't know he could feel so many different emotions at once: relief, shock, joy and excitement. And the strangest thing was that the sight of Severus kneeling and leaning forward especially aroused this last feeling and made his cock become more and more interested in the situation.

Harry couldn't clearly see the man's face, partially hidden by the black hair that fell over it, but he could see the concentration and consternation on it as his squinted eyes carefully examined the wound. The dark eyebrows furrowed even more and Harry knew what that meant. That the wound didn't look good.

Severus reached for the jar and scooped a large amount of the clear substance onto his fingers, then carefully lifted Harry's foot, rested it on his thigh (at that moment Harry saw an extremely clear vision in his mind and something in his loins jerked) and touched the wound gently.

Harry sighed, feeling the pleasant coolness soothing the painful burning sensation as Snape spread the ointment over his skin, but moans escaped his lips from time to time, even though he tried to stifle them. Every touch, even such a soothing one, brought him pain as well as relief, but every time he made a louder sound, Severus paused for a moment and touched the injured spot even more carefully.

"Have you hurt yourself anywhere else?" the man asked quietly when he finished, and Harry was surprised at how soft his voice sounded.

"In the knee," he whispered quietly. "The other one," he added as Severus touched his right pant leg to pull it up even higher.

The man moved and rolled up Harry's trousers past his knee. The boy saw torn skin and a hint of purple, which was already turning into a bruise. This time it didn't hurt so much and Harry could focus on contemplating this amazing sight and imagining everything that Snape, kneeling on the floor, might be doing to him. And he had a really vivid imagination.

"Is anything else hurting you?" Severus asked again, once he had thoroughly rubbed the cool substance into Harry's knee.

"I think I did something to my wrist," Harry muttered, holding his hand out in front of him. He felt a little stupid for thinking that, but he would have loved to hang around a little longer if he could just enjoy the view longer.

Severus pulled up the sleeve of his shirt.

"It's sprained," he said briefly, and before applying the ointment, he took out his wand and placed its tip on Harry's wrist. He didn't utter any spell. He just closed his eyes and his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, Harry felt a tickling warmth enveloping his hand and he saw a bright beam wrapping around his wrist and tightening on it. For a moment, it felt as if a warm bandage had been wrapped around his hand, locking the bones in place and moving them into place. He winced as he felt a flash of pain, but it only lasted a moment.

The glow was gone, but the warmth remained. Severus opened his eyes, put away his wand and reached for the ointment to apply to the injured area. It was only then that did Harry notice how swollen his wrist was. After gently rubbing the ointment into his skin, Severus placed the jar on the floor and leaned down to close it.

Harry held his breath, struck again by the stimulating images. What if... if he asked him?

Hell no! Certainly not now, when Snape was so furious with him! He would only laugh at him and Harry would humiliate himself again. No, maybe some other time. He will do it, but another time. As soon as he gathers the courage.

Severus picked up the jar and looked up at Harry. Their eyes met and when the man frowned slightly, Harry realized that the desire he felt was all too visible in his shining, wide eyes, staring at Severus with delight. He quickly turned his head.

Damn it! What will Snape think of him? He wants to help him, but Harry only has one thing in mind! Damn it!

However, even if Severus noticed his desire, he did not comment on it. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll give you this ointment," the man said after a while, placing the jar on the table. "You are to apply it to all injured areas three times a day. Apply the thickest layer to the cube."

Harry nodded, unable to look Severus in the eye yet. If only he could calm down that stupid heart and the flames crawling on his cheeks...!

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much." He managed a weak smile and only then raised his head, but at the same moment the man turned and moved towards the bedroom. Harry guessed he must have gone to wash his hands. He was assured of this by the sound of the bathroom door opening and, after a while, the sound of water in the sink.

He looked at the clock hanging on the wall. True to Snape's words, he still had fifteen minutes. He leaned forward to put on his shoe. He put the sock in his pocket.

After a while, Severus returned from the bathroom and, without a word, walked through the living room, heading to the office. Harry could hear the clinking sounds of bottles being moved around. He looked at the door, curious about the man's behavior, but quickly turned his head away as soon as the wooden door moved. Severus stopped in front of him and held out a medium-sized bottle towards him. The glass was so dark that Harry couldn't see the color of the substance inside.

"Drink half of it now and the other half tomorrow morning," Snape said, handing him the potion.

Harry looked at the label curiously.

Wiggenweld Potion - it was written on it, in Severus's sharp handwriting.

Harry uncorked the bottle and took a few sips. The mixture turned out to be so disgusting that at first he wanted to spit it out. It was slimy and bitter. However, he forced himself to swallow the entire portion, then corked the potion and put it in his pocket.

"Thanks," he choked out, grimacing and trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

"How do you feel now?" Severus asked, sitting back in his chair. He said it seemingly casually, but Harry sensed genuine interest in the question.

"Much better," he replied, smiling slightly. He reached for the glass of white wine on the table and drank it in one gulp. As he set the empty vessel down, he noticed Severus' dark eyes staring at him, and a raised eyebrow.

"I wanted to get rid of this disgusting taste," he explained quickly." Listen..." he started, not really knowing what he wanted to say. "Thank you for everything you did for me. I didn't want it to look like this. I thought I'd just come here today and... have a nice evening. I didn't want to upset you, and I certainly didn't want to fall down the damn stairs. But it turned out as it turned out. I hope you're not angry anymore?" the last, hopeful question hung in the air like a balloon that could burst at any moment.

Severus looked at Harry with irritation.

"No, I'm not angry anymore, you stupid boy. Do you need my written testimony to see this?"

Harry shook his head, feeling the tension drain from him. He breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed and leaned back in his chair. At the same moment, the man got up and went to the office, from which he returned a moment later, carrying a clean piece of rolled parchment in his hand. He placed it on the table and took a book from the bookcase, bound in a black cover without any embossing, so Harry couldn't recognize it. He placed it next to the parchment and went to the bar for a carafe of wine. He poured Harry half a glass and set it on the table, probably so he could use it again later without having to get up or summon it with magic.

After all these preparations, he fell into an armchair, took a quill in his hand, dipped it in the ink, grabbed a glass of wine with his left hand, drank a little and leaned over the parchment.

Harry looked at the clock. Time to go. His half hour had passed and Snape seemed to want to let him know that he was going to mind his own business now and Harry should leave.

He sighed quietly and slowly, laboriously began to get up from the chair. He leaned forward, took all his books from the table with his left hand and turned towards the exit, but stopped when he felt a burning gaze on the back of his neck and heard a sharp voice behind him. "Where are you going, Potter?"

"Uh..." Harry turned to the man. "I wanted to go back to the dormitory. You said I could only stay here for half an hour and I thought..."

"Your problem is that you only start thinking when it's unnecessary. Sit down." It sounded like an order, and Harry sank into his chair, completely surprised by the turn of events.

"I don't want to bother you..." he said quietly.

"If I decided you were bothering me, you wouldn't be here a long time ago. If I remember correctly, you wanted to study here. You didn't take those books with you just to practice lifting weights over a distance, did you?"

Harry felt an involuntary smile spreading across his lips. Severus wanted him to stay. This means everything is back to normal. He put the books back on the table, then stood up and slowly walked around it. Ignoring the suspicious look, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around Snape's neck. Before the startled man could make any move, Harry closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the man's cheek. Tightly.

He heard Severus' rapid breathing next to him, felt the warmth of his face and the gently scratching of his stubble. And that was enough to make him forget everything that happened today. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as he could always go and just hug him. Just like now. And kiss him on the cheek. Oh, just like that...

He tore his face away and pressed his lips against the warm skin. When he pulled away, Severus was watching him with narrowed eyes and a grimaced expression, and in one fleeting moment Harry wanted to kiss that wry smile from the man's lips. Although he still considered it the most beautiful in the world.

He smiled at Snape, then wordlessly turned around and made it to his seat with little difficulty.

"I know you couldn't help yourself, but I would appreciate it if you would just focus on your job now and let me do mine, as long as it's not such a big sacrifice for you."

Harry nodded and pulled out his Potions textbook. Severus glanced at the cover but made no comment. However, Harry saw a faint gleam in his eyes and explained it to himself that the man was probably glad that out of all classed Harry had decided to study this one first.

He opened the book to the chapter with Warming and Cooling Potions, leaned back in his chair and started to read.

Learning about Potions with the Potions Master sitting only a few feet away from him was a strange experience. Why, instead of focusing on the text in the textbook, did he choose to focus on the man's profile when he turned his head towards the book and leaned forward, or on the way his hair fell over his face? Harry wondered if there was some way to transfer his interest in Snape to Potions, but it seemed unrealistic.

Every now and then, when he glanced at Severus, he saw a mischievous smirk on his lips. And he understood what it meant exceptionally quickly. Snape was preparing a test. A test that he will probably give them on the first day after returning from the Christmas break. And it looked like he was going to make it hellishly difficult.

Harry smiled to himself and went back to reading. The chapter he was trying to get through seemed understandable until he got to the side effects. He didn't have Hermione next to him, who was usually helpful with these types of problems, but he had Severus. Maybe he won't be angry if Harry asks him something?

"Severus..." he began quietly. The man looked up, apparently waiting for the next part of the sentence. "Can I ask you something? I don't understand one thing."

"That's something new," Snape snorted. Harry pursed his lips.

Really, he could hold back a little with all this mockery.

"Forget it," he replied with a grunt and went back to reading.

"Potter, don't act like some offensive child."

Harry looked up and looked hard at Severus.

"I just wish you would refrain from making malicious comments about my knowledge or anything else from time to time. I would really appreciate it."

The Potions Master stared at him steadily for a moment. Harry didn't look away. He has to finally sort this out, he can't just ignore it every time. He knew Snape had this way of being and nothing would change it, but he could hold back sometimes. At least sometimes.

?I'll think about it,? the man replied after a while. "I'm listening, what did you want to ask?"

I'll think about it... After all, it was some spark of hope in this line. Harry actually thought for a moment that Snape was going to laugh at him for voicing his concerns. He was glad the man didn't.

"What is anaphyclectic shock? It's written here that the elixir should not be given to people allergic to hedgehorns roe, because they may experience this shock."

"First of all, it's anaphylactic shock, Potter, and secondly... do you know anyone who is allergic to anything?"

Harry quickly searched his memory. He remembered how one time Dudley had been stung on the cheek by a bee, it had swelled up terribly, had some convulsions and had to be taken to hospital. Aunt Petunia later made him wear a net that looked like a veil over his head for the entire holiday, and Harry had great fun when someone made suggestive comments about Dudley's new headgear.

He nodded.

"Anaphylactic shock occurs when a person allergic to a given allergen comes into direct contact with it. The body goes into shock, which may manifest itself in convulsions, hemorrhages, swelling, life-threatening rash, shortness of breath and pain."

Harry nodded again, remembering his plans to let some bees into Dudley's room. Good thing he didn't. Even Dudley didn't deserve this.

"Anything else?" Severus asked with impatience in his voice.

"No, thanks," Harry muttered and went back to reading. But after a while, halfway through the next page, he frowned. "I don't understand," he muttered to himself. He felt Snape's eyes on him. He raised his head and noticed that the man's lips were unnaturally tight. "It's written here that the rhizomes of the lop-spawnes need to be cut and chopped."

"Yes?" Severus finally asked when Harry said no more, staring at the text with a frown.

"It's the same thing," Gryffindor finally said. "How can you cut and chop something at the same time? I understand if it was something like 'cut and crush' or 'cut and grind'..."

"Potter..." the man said slowly, interrupting Harry's chatter. "Have you really learned nothing in these six years? I'm starting to worry that in your case even fifty years wouldn't be enough."

Harry grimaced. Well, obviously Snape would rather bite off his tongue than refrain from mocking him.

"It's not about that. It's just... doesn't make any sense. And then you yell at us for brewing the potion wrong."

The Potions Master closed his eyes. It was as if he was asking the spirits for patience.

"Can you tell me what slicing is?" he asked as he lifted his eyelids.

"You take a rhizome and cut it into small pieces."

"All right. And what about chopping?"

"Well... it's the same thing, only you make smaller pieces. But why cut into larger pieces and then into smaller ones? Can't chop it right away?"

"At a time. When does a rhizome or anything else release more sap? When you're cutting it or chopping?"

Harry became lost in thought and tried to remember the activities in class. Somehow he never paid any attention to it. He just cut everything into pieces.

"Well... uh... while chopping, I guess."

"Exactly, you press the plant harder and partially during this process you crush it with quick movements of the knife. When cutting, you do it more delicately - you saw the rhizomes, not massacring them so much, so you squeeze less juice from them. But if you combine slicing and chopping, then the overall amount of juice extracted from the plant is greater than when you simply cut and chop, and what is left is not the one big pulp that usually remains after your "chopping" method. And this is how the prepared rhizomes of the lop-spewnes are later suitable for use as an ingredient of an elixir. Otherwise, they will either have too much juice or they will look like a gummy bear pulled out of the stomach. And because of this, the mixture will lose its color and even consistency. When brewing potions, the most important thing is to strictly and precisely follow the rules. Every, even the smallest, action is very important and if it is performed incorrectly, imprecisely or sloppily, then all the work will be wasted."

Harry listened with great interest. Much more than he ever showed in class. Here, now that they were completely alone, it all seemed so much more interesting to him. Especially when Snape talked about it.

"I understand," he replied. "Thank you for explaining this to me. Now that I know it's so important, I shouldn't have any problems preparing potions properly," he grinned.

"We'll see," the man muttered and returned to his work, which Harry took as an extremely clear sign that the conversation was over. At least for now.

Once he finished Potions, he moved on to History of Magic. After a few pages, he found himself starting to fall asleep, so he quickly put the book aside and moved on to something much more interesting and involving more of his brain ? to the Charms.

After reading the introduction and general description of how the copying spell works, he put the manual aside and got up from his chair. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Potions book on the table.

"Geminio," he said, making two quick movements in the air as if shaking something off his wand. For a split second, the outline of a second book appeared in the book, but it flickered and quickly disappeared. "Geminio!" he repeated louder and pulled his wand harder, but the only reaction was a slightly more distinct shape of the book, which, however, disappeared as quickly as the first time. "What's going on?" he muttered. "It's not that difficult. I saw Hermione doing it."

Severus paused writing and raised his head, looking at Harry.

"Read the instruction about the movement you should make with your wand again, Potter."

The boy looked into the open book lying next to him.

"Point the wand at the object and perform two separate, vertical wand strikes. Remember that they are to be separated from each other and delivered with great force and precision. Well, that's what I do. I tap my wand, like this." He flicked his wand in the air. "I take a break and hit again." He moved again and looked expectantly at Snape, who put down his quill, leaned back in his chair and stared at him with a half-irritated, half-amused look.

"Have you thought about the fact that separate does not always mean separated by a period of time, but also, for example, by space?" Harry looked at him blankly. Severus leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Tell me, Potter, how are you going to create a duplicate book in the same place as the book itself?" Harry frowned and looked at the table. And then understanding hit him like a branch of the Whomping Willow.

"I'm supposed to make this second stroke next to it, pointing to the place where the copy should appear" he said in a tone as if he had just discovered a new law.

"Bravo," the man said jovially, and Harry felt extremely stupid for not having guessed it himself.

He cast the spell again, but this time following Severus' advice and he smiled broadly when a second, identical book appeared next to the Potions book.

He practiced various spells for the next half hour, and when he did something wrong, Severus gave him hints every now and then.

When he finished and sat back in his chair, he took a deep breath, feeling satisfied with himself because he had really done a lot of work.

"Thank you, Severus," he said, watching as Snape rolled up the last piece of finely written parchment. "I didn't expect you to have such extensive knowledge. I'm really impressed. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to learn all this on my own. I wish I could always have you on hand when I don't know something. You're amazing," he grinned. The man gave him a vague look, and Harry could have sworn his eyes were radiating... something warm, and if it weren't that impossible, Harry could have sworn it was also radiating something... joyful. He was surprised to see a barely suppressed smile on the man's face, but perhaps he was just imagining it, because after a moment Severus' face returned to its usual stern expression. The corners of the mouth were only slightly raised. It seemed like it was just a simple mocking grimace.

However, after a moment of thought, Harry realized that no, he couldn't have imagined it. He already knew Severus, had learned to read his face. He understood what this reaction meant. Severus was happy with the compliment. Simply happy. After all, no one had ever praised him, or at least Harry suspected so. Snape felt happy when the boy told him all this, when he appreciated his knowledge and skills, and it seemed like it was very rare for anyone to actually say something like that to him.

Severus was the type of person from whom something was always expected, required or demanded, without asking whether he wanted it or was ready to do it. And once he complies with a command or request, it is taken for granted. As if it didn't cause him much trouble, as if every task, even the most difficult one, was a piece of cake for him. It seemed that everyone just thought of him as someone to whom you could entrust anything without having to worry about whether he could handle it. And no one cared, nobody cared about him. Harry felt ashamed because he, too, had always seen Severus this way.

He bit his lip as he watched the man drop a small stream of wax conjured from his wand onto the joint of the rolled parchment.

"Thank you again," Harry repeated, as if to emphasize his gratitude. "You really helped me. I am very grateful to you."

"I've understood," Severus replied, setting the rolled parchment aside, and although he only said that one word, Harry could hear the satisfaction in his voice. He smiled broadly in response and reached for his glass of wine. He took a few small sips and looked at several rolls of tests for different classes lying on the table. Or at least that's what he suspected they were.

"These are our tests, right?" he asked, carefully observing Snape's face as he was taking the parchments one by one and stuck them together with wax.

"How did you figure that out?" the man snorted under his breath, but it didn't come out as mocking as it should have. He seemed to still be pleased with the compliment Harry had given him, and the boy, after a whole evening of studying, finally wanted some entertainment.

"Severus..." he began, drawing out the syllables a bit. "Maybe you could tell me what will be on the next test?"

The man gave him a stern look.

"Apparently you also hit your head when you fell off the stairs if you think I'm going to tell you," he snorted.

"Too bad... It would be nice to get Outstanding again. I could stay after class again..." He watched with Slytherin glee as Severus' head snapped up and his black eyes pierced him. Harry chuckled in the back of his mind, well aware that Snape might not show it, but his cock certainly remembered that day clearly. And maybe it's reminding him of that, judging by the sudden flash of flames in his black irises.

"Well... if you insist, I can tell you that the questions are between pages one hundred and seventy-nine and three hundred and thirty-four of your textbook," Severus replied, smirking.

"You're mean, you know that?" Harry muttered, but he couldn't stop the wide smile that spread across his lips.

"And you're annoying," the man replied, setting aside the last roll of parchment.

"I know."

"Really? I'm surprised to hear that you know something."

"But I bet not as much as if I told you what else do I know."

"Yes?" Was it just Harry's imagination, or did he hear the tension in Severus' voice?

"Yes. For example, I know..." that I love you "...where you will be tomorrow."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Where?"

"In me," Harry replied and allowed a happy smile to completely take over his face. And it seemed that a part of him had somehow rubbed off on Snape, too, because the corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up with something incredibly stimulating.

And Harry knew that he was the only person who could surprise and amuse him at the same time, and this thought made him feel a very pleasant warmth in his chest.

A happiness.

***

The relationship with Severus Snape was not like an ordinary relationship. Only someone who was not ordinary himself could endure it.

Harry Potter wasn't an ordinary person.

From the time he was born, he began to show unhealthy inclinations towards being something truly extraordinary. First, as a one-year-old baby, he defeated the most powerful and dangerous wizard in the world, and then, as if it was not enough, it turned out that he could talk to snakes and he was a wizard whose name was known to everyone who had any contact with magic, even if it involved a 'magic' of pulling a rabbit out of a hat or cutting people into pieces.

It doesn't mean that Harry Potter didn't try to be a normal boy. It took a lot for him to constantly convince himself that he was as ordinary as the slush that littered the streets of London every winter. But it seemed that some particularly malicious gene or particularly malicious spirit had decided to prevent this from happening, causing Harry - completely despite his will - kept getting involved in situations that made him more and more unusual. In his first year at Hogwarts, he fought a henchman of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and surprisingly managed to defeat him. Later he discovered that he knew the language of snakes, he even fought one, exceptionally large and nasty, and which was able to kill victims only by sight, and he survived. Later he met his godfather, who apparently preferred to be a dog, and just as quickly he lost him, he fought demons that could suck out his soul, he took part in the most dangerous wizarding tournament in the world, where he fought a dragon and a whole host of various types of creatures whose sole purpose was to eat him alive or torn to shreds. He dueled the Dark Lord himself and once again escaped unscathed, and so on and so forth. Later he discovered that he was gay, and a little later that he was in love with the most dangerous, disgusting and most hated teacher in the whole school. After everything he's been through, a relationship like this shouldn't be too much of a problem for him. And yet.

However, if Harry Potter wasn't Harry Potter, this relationship probably wouldn't exist at all. And only he was able to find himself in it enough to maintain it. After all, Harry Potter couldn't go for moonlight walks with his significant other, holding hands, doing homework together, going on dates to Hogsmeade, planning children and a future together. Something like this could have been done by Ernie Macmillan or Michael Corner - normal people who did not have the "extraordinary gene".

No, Harry Potter preferred constant tenseness, fear, nervous atmosphere, stinging retorts, quarrels, struggles, fighting for the smallest gesture, subjugation, submission, toxicity, danger and the best sex in the world. Well, it's hard to say whether the latter didn't prevail, but the truth is that he wouldn't be able to find himself in a completely normal relationship. But that doesn't mean he didn't want affection, no. This was extremely important to him, but he was not used to receiving it for free. It had a much fuller flavor if he could fight for it. And as his entire past shows, he was used to fighting like a fish to a water, and if he ran out of it, he would quickly fall into stagnation and find another pond full of fresh water just for him to stir it up a little.

However, it cannot be said that he didn't desire peace, rest or a sense of security. Just like a sailor returning from the sea who, after greeting his wife and children and drinking a few beers, begins to stare longingly at the sea, Harry Potter wanted it all, yes, he wanted it all, even very much, but in the long run, he would not be able to persevere in a monotony so different from his previous life.

So he found someone who could give him everything he dreamed of. And the fact that he had to go through a lot to get what he wanted, but couldn't get was just a minor detail. But his name was Harry Potter after all. He could do impossible things.

Severus Snape was a difficult man. Private, cutting himself off from everyone, eternally dissatisfied, demanding, full of moods and whims that change faster than the weather, strict and completely unpredictable. And let's not forget about his sadistic tendencies and penchant for humiliating anyone he didn't like, which is approximately ninety-nine percent of the population. And combined with the constant venom oozing from his mouth and a mocking view of the world, he seemed to be a man who could not find his way in any relationship. Unfortunately, Harry Potter stood in his way. A stubborn, annoying kid who didn't know what the word "failure" meant and wouldn't stop until he achieved what he set out to do, even if it meant taking a good beating. And he didn't want to let go.

This really wasn't an ordinary relationship, and it will certainly never resemble one. But when you are extraordinary, the only way to be normal is to engage in something equally extraordinary. And it must be admitted that it was probably the best decision Harry had ever made. Even if he might regret it someday.