Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Pairing: Severus/Harry.

Rating: R

Warning: Graphic description.

Summary: For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

Thanks: To Pearls-x-pills who sent me in search of music, Silverphoenix69 who is always willing to read for me and Tyleet27 who shared her most beautiful fandom with me.

Author's note: Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so updates may be erratic.

Author:Spirit

o

The Cinderman's Kiss

o

CHAPTER 10

o

Harry tapped his fingers against the glass of the window that he was standing before. In its reflection he could see his mentor still bent over the stone bowl that looked very much like a pensieve. It wasn't. The stone bowl contained his entire thesis on Intabescopestis and his case study. The few minutes that she had been looking through it, should have torture but Harry spent the time thinking of how to respond to the questions that he knew would come once she emerged.

"This is very good Harry."

Harry spun around at the sound of her voice.

"Thank you Healer Kelley." He smiled politely, making his way back over to where he should have been sitting.

The senior Healer smiled at him, but there was the curiosity that Harry had expected to see in her eyes. She was far too kind to just rudely ask what she wanted to know though and Harry had no intentions of saying anything incriminating, so they both sat in mild silence, waiting. She gave him a look of exasperation.

"How is he?"

Harry shrugged. "He's doing okay, all things considering. His muscles ache him, so I started him on a more intense physio to keep them active. I'm building a pool in the backyard, which I'm assured will relax him and make his exercises seem less strenuous."

"Isn't Doctor Stetingson away at the moment?"

Harry nodded. Daryll had indeed called him recently with heartfelt apologies that he was needed in Mauritius for six months. He was very willing to keep up with the floo travelling if Harry could contact someone at the Wizarding Embassy there. Harry however, declined the offer, telling Daryll that he would be fine on his own. The next day an older man had showed up outside the door claiming to have been asked to perform a favour for Daryll and since he too had a wizarding background, it would be no trouble to look after Severus. Harry had called Daryll. Daryll told him to stop being an ass and accept the help. Harry told him to mind his own sodding business. All in all, by the end of the evening they had decided to do the whole conversation all over again every two or so days because Daryll wanted to know the second that Severus was well enough to have his bones jumped by Harry.

"Dr. Peter Wilton is working with him now," Harry said with a smile. "His style is vastly different from Daryll's but the patient has no complaints so far."

Healer Kelley gave him another searching look and sighed softly when she couldn't figure out his expression. She looked over at the stone bowl again, a little lost in thought as to what she had seen in it. Then she sighed again.

"You know that you have always been a part of St. Mungo's staff in everything but title. You're already respected by the other Healers and that's not only because of your name. This study of yours will yield great information for the Healing community and I'd be a fool to deny that I'm not excited at the prospect of having it published under St. Mungo's name. Are you sure that this is what you want to do though? This glory should be yours alone, not covered under the reputation of the hospital."

Harry nodded, although his eyes slid downwards and away from her as he responded softly, "It is what I want. He deserves to be honoured for his work as a spy and he should be revered for his sacrifices. St. Mungo's reputation as an institution of healing is greater than my reputation as a Healer. I want him to have the best care there is, even if it means that I have to hand him over to the care of the hospital and give up my sole right as his Healer."

"Is that the only reason?" Harry's eyes jump back up to meet his mentor's but she merely looked at him and continued. "I know that you believe in St. Mungo's, otherwise you probably would not even have agreed to write your thesis on him. I know that you feel that you're still too new to really be able to figure out on you own the kind of care that he needs. But you've done all the difficult parts. My curiosity lies in the fact that you're doubting your competence as a Healer with him when you and I both know that you've helped him far better than many others could have. So my question is, what else lies beyond this decision to not be his Healer anymore?"

Harry turned away, not meeting her eyes, not knowing how to answer and not answering at all. He heard her shift in her seat and draw in a deep breath as if she already knew the answer to her question.

"Harry." Her voice was not quite stern but the possibility was still there. "Off the record, should I be worried that you've vastly overstepped some boundaries with this patient?"

"Not yet," Harry murmured.

"But you're afraid that you could?"

Harry nodded.

She shook her head. "I knew about your altercations with him when you were at Hogwarts. I find it very strange that of all the conversations that I could be having with you about Severus Snape, it is this one. Especially, now when I've already had the shock of finding out that it's not some random wizard that you've been hiding in your house, but a fugitive." She raised her hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "A fugitive Potter, until I let you out of this office so that you can wrangle a meeting with the Wizengamot. And now I hear that you, who have already bonded with him as his Healer, is unwilling to continue in that vein because you are afraid of your feelings towards him."

Harry smiled. "Are we still off the record Healer?"

She looked like she wanted to give him a good cuff about his ear for that, which just made Harry laugh softly. That made her smile too.

"Off the record," she said pointedly. "I think that this is a very wise decision that you're making. Business and pleasure don't go too good together, but if the possibility is there for you to get Snape to do anything but snap at you, I'd tip my hat off to you and tell you to go for it with your whole heart. So I'll grant you permission to transfer his healing to St. Mungo's and whomever we appoint, and I'll wish you luck and tell you that though this is the last thing I expected of you Potter, I'm a happy for you. I'm also very proud of you for being responsible like this and coming to me before you blurred that line of your duties as his Healer too much."

"Thank you." Harry nodded his gratitude.

She nodded too. "Now that that's settled, there is only one thing left to do it seems."

She handed him a scroll to sign. When he was finished, she gave him a pin of of St. Mungo's insignia and smiled. Harry stared at it for a very long time before he looked up grinning in a very un-healer-like way.

"Welcome to St. Mungo's staff Healer Potter. Your reputation precedes you and so I trust that you'll bring with you the same level of dedication and hard work that I know you're capable of. I know that you won't disappoint me."

o

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity for Harry.

On those rare days when he stayed home it was spent in his new library pouring over books and scrolls for hours as he researched curses and cures. He spent hours writing and transcribing, practising and pondering everything that had to do with healing, anxious that he was not ready for the responsibility of being a fully trained Healer. It didn't matter that his mentor had not been exaggerating when she said that he had been a part of St. Mungo's staff long before he had even been considering a thesis scroll. The fact that he now carried the title caused him intense bouts of nervousness. Luckily for him, once he got into the rhythm of St. Mungo's it was to realize that his life wasn't going to be drastically different. Then he was able to fit right in with the other Healers.

Fitting in meant that he spent as much time as he could on duty in the hospital, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night.

"Go home Harry," he would hear from Healer Kelly, once she understood what he was doing.

He would smile tiredly at her, giving her a pleading look and asking if he could just spend one more hour, because didn't he just see someone come in with the effects of a spell gone awry. She would give him an exasperated look, searching his tired green eyes and not understanding what she was seeing in them, except for the silent, unspoken pleas in their depth not to let him face whatever waited for him at home. But it wasn't her place to ask. Inevitably she would nod and he would smile gratefully at her, though the sadness remained, and she was left confused and worried.

Harry would be grateful for the extended opportunity to lose himself in his work. He didn't have to think about the fact that ground had been broken on the construction of the new pool and the work was going by so quickly that he had to be careful not to absent mindedly walk into the huge precipice in his backyard that was to become said pool. When he worked, he didn't have to pass the recovery room often and be tempted to peak inside or to walk by the guest room and pay his guest a visit.

He didn't think about Severus for hours when he worked. He told himself that this was a relief.

"Good morning Healer Potter," he would be told each morning as he opened his door and the new Healer would be standing in almost the exact same spot that he had bid her goodnight the night before, as if she never slept.

He would nod at her, ignoring the way her eyes followed his every movement even though she was decidedly a good six or so years older than him. Smiling a smile that always felt like a grimace, he would wish her a good morning also. Then he would walk past the guest room, refusing to look in. Refusing to walk into the room. Refusing to climb into the bed, if only to feel Severus and smell Severus and just remember what it felt like to wake up next to the other man. Refusing, to acknowledge Severus' presence in his house.

At precisely nine o'clock the doorbell would ring and Harry would sigh in relief. Shuffling quickly to the door, much quicker than he needed to actually, he would open it with another half grimace, for Doctor Wilton to step in. Then he would proceed to direct the physiotherapist to the guest room, only remember half way through the instructions that the good doctor had a perfectly fine memory and was capable of recalling the location of a room that he visited every day.

"Is he awake?" The doctor always asked and as always Harry would pretend to consult with the white space in his head for a second before nodding.

"Should be." Sometimes he wondered if the good doctor could always tell when he was lying and knew of the fact that he didn't have a clue as to Severus' state of consciousness, most days.

He would Apparate to St. Mungo's half an hour early for his shift but beginning his rounds anyway. He was always grateful for the distraction. Soon the hours began to melt together, sometimes without him even noticing how much time had gone by. Once Healer Kelley noticed, she would send him home immediately. He was grateful for nights like those when he would Apparate to his front lawn, his fatigue catching up to him at an alarming speed, so by the time he got to the door he would be yawning repetitively.

Those were usually the nights when he was too tired to fight and so he would indulge himself, making no excuses and having no pretences as he padded his way along the corridor to the guest room. He pressed his cheek against the hard wood, fancying that he could hear Severus' breathing through the barrier, laughing at himself for his ridiculousness. Yet, aching terribly from the need to just walk in and press his cheek against Severus' forehead so that he really could hear Severus breathe. He knew that if he had half of a good sense he would face that fact that he knew that the way he felt about Severus had nothing and perhaps never did have anything to do with the time he spent being his healer. But he couldn't be absolutely sure without doing what he was doing. So he stayed away, giving himself and Severus some space, to think.

Lying alone in his bed, missing the sound of Severus' voice in his head and the sight of Severus' eyes piercing him, usually made him want to both laugh and swear at himself because absence really does make the heart grow fonder. If he hadn't been falling in love with the snarky, grumpy, lump who was taking up good bed space in his guest room, well the time spent forcing himself away was certainly feeding the flames and making it more possible.

So the hours became days. The days became weeks. Soon, the weeks had become a month and then two months.

Harry got an official Owl from the Wizengamot stating that his court date was coming up and to please confirm if he still wished to have an audience with the members of the court. Harry responded promptly that he would indeed still like to present a case to the court. Not a day too soon it seemed because a week later his thesis paper was added to St. Mungo's Archives where anyone with good connections and a sizeable curiosity could look up the account which for all the world, was afterall public knowledge and fair game to speculate upon. The fact that even though St. Mungo's was officially named as responsible for the healing, Harry's name appeared as the Healer to treat the inflictions of the Intabescopestis curse on Severus Snape, was fodder enough for the papers and the rumour mills.

"Is it true that Severus Snape bear the marks of the Intabescopestis curse?" The Speaker-spells would come at him from all angles as he worked his way through crowds of curious reporters.

"He did. His Healer told me recently that the burns are being treated satisfactorily." Harry wiped a hand across his tired eyes. "I haven't seen him yet."

"Haven't seen him!" They screeched in outrage. "Does he not live with you?"

"Yes."

The murmurs would rise dramatically even though Harry was pretty sure that they knew everything about the situation and could not possibly have been as shocked as they seemed.

"The report says that you cured him of the curse. Is this true?"

"Yes," Harry would respond again, tired and monotonous.

"Are you still his Healer then?"

"No, I just said that his new Healer spoke to me about his burns." That would get them for asking questions to which they already knew the answer.

From there the inquisition often took a turn for the worst. They were never just satisfied with the fact that he was responding to the medical questions and someone inevitably brought up Snape's past. Wanting to know if Harry wasn't afraid of the Death Eater in his house. Did Harry have proper security at home? Was there an emergence floo that Harry could escape by? Wasn't it dangerous for the Muggles and Squibs involved, to be so near to a murderer? Wanting to know about the rumoured meeting with the Wizengamot and the fact that Harry had been casually looking around for a new wand. Was the wand for Snape? Did the Aurors break it? Did that mean that Snape was soon well enough to brandish a wand again?

It was mentally draining to face them each day.

So when Harry wasn't trying to avoid his own house, he spent time avoiding everyone else. He volunteered at a centre for troubled youths, all of two towns away and was usually found distracting himself on his days off at St. Mungo's or during his lunch hours, or just generally when he found that he was distracted by a random twinge of emotion from Severus. He told himself that it was better for him to run to people who needed help than to run to Severus who was in as capable hands as money and fame could buy.

o

It came as a genuine surprise to Harry when the pool was finished and one day he looked out his window, into his backyard to see the vast expanse of shimmering water.

He had gotten the bill for it of course, but since he hardly stayed home, to be confronted with the finished product was startling. The fact that the day he chose to look out just happened to also be one of those days where Severus was immersed in the cool water, meant that he couldn't stop staring. Watching the way that Wilton held up the unresponsive body, wrapping Severus' fingers on the metal rails that lined the walls, and had to patiently guide Severus through the exercises, made Harry wish that he was down there giving moral support. Watching as the proud ex-professor smiled every time he curled a limb on his own and struggled every time he couldn't, made Harry rest his fingers harder against the glass pane, smiling through his unshed tears and biting his lower lips, silently begging and encouraging.

He opened his mind as widely as he could, feeding off the jolts of joy and determination and fear. He felt like his whole being was focussed on Severus and he wanted to wrap the older wizard in his own fears and warmth and strength. His breath caught every time he felt a response and he wondered if Severus could feel him watching. But if he couldn't stand by him and be his light, he could be there in the shadows watching. It made him ache, but he didn't want to tear his eyes away.

"You're mental you know."

Harry didn't have to turn around to know his best friend's voice. It didn't even seem to be expected as Ron went to stand beside him, gazing down at the pool and the men who seemed to be dancing within it. It was quite comforting actually, when there was the unmistakeable sound of the Floo opening again and his other best friend went to stand on his other side. Hermione pried his fingers from the glass and grasped them comfortingly in her own fingers, marking invisible circles on the back of his palm, pressing a kiss to it when he didn't even look away to acknowledge her presence.

They stood in silence for a long time and Harry liked that too. He couldn't seem to think of anything to explain himself or why they hadn't been able to get a hold of him for months. He wouldn't put it pass Daryll to set them on his trail, but it was good to be with them, knowing that they understood even without the explanation.

"Man, you don't even fall in love like everyone else," Ron griped softly. "Anyone else would be swoony and gushy, but you get all distant and quiet. And look who you chose."

Harry chuckled but it came out sounding like a cross between a gasp and a choke.

"So I've been thinking, while I've been standing here, that maybe it's time I stop hiding from how I feel," he declared, finally, finally turning away. "Maybe I owe him an explanation."

"Sounds good," Hermione said, giving him an encouraging smile. "Whenever you're ready. He's been very patient. I've never seen him so calm and accepting. I think he understands that you needed to be sure of how you felt."

"I don't think that I believed that I could ever feel so empty without him," Harry admitted softly. "I've spent six years hating him, wishing the worst possible things upon him, and now...now I just want him to be better. I need him. I miss him."

Hermione tilted her head upon his shoulder. Ron shuffled, in a slightly uncomfortable manner but still, he was the one to respond.

"I'm thinking that maybe that's a good thing, mate." He gave Harry a pointed look although he was turning slightly red. "You look like shit. Like you're only half here. If he is what you want, I'm thinking that that's okay."

o

Despite his discussion with Hermione and Ron, Harry's routine didn't change much. He still spent as much time as he could at the hospital working himself weary or hopping over to the centre where he could be even more useful. The one difference was that he spent more time with his hands against Severus' door, telling himself that he would enter only when he had a good reason and missing him was not good enough.

An opportunity arose when the Wizengamot decided to hear the case on Severus Snape. They had heard the rumours, but to retain their unbiased stance, many of them claimed to not have read the report in St. Mungo's on Snape's condition. Harry therefore, had to present the entire scenario all over again, where Voldemort cast the curse and Snape stepped in front to save Harry. Being that it was such an obviously nasty curse that the Dark Lord had been especially fond of in the later day, Harry thought that they took their own sweet time to make their ruling. He was bombarded with a load of unnecessary questions while on the stand, that he had to grit his teeth and answer anyway.

"Please note that the defendant is not in the courtroom to hear his own case. Seems bloody irresponsible if you ask me!"

Harry gave the wizard who spoke a death glare. "You bloody prick you know he can't be here!"

Scrimgeour gave Harry a warning glance and told everyone to get on with the questioning instead of voicing disparaging comments. The other members of the Wizengamot muttered to themselves but soon another interrogator spoke up.

"Where were you on the night in question where it is alleged that Severus Snape showed signs of bravery in the sight of clear and unmistakeable danger?"

"Saving your sodding arses," Harry muttered, but since they were still all staring back at him he shifted in the chained chair. "On the night in question I was somewhere in the highlands of Scotland fighting Voldemort. I don't know where exactly. Voldemort didn't exactly serve up tea and show me around. Do you want proof of that?" Harry held up his pensieve which contained all the evidence he needed, and more. "I'm sure if we dig deep enough in your memories too you'll remember that you couldn't be sitting here, right as rain, if the bastard was still alive."

"Mr. Potter, please refrain from derogatory comments and calling the late Dark Lord's name out loud," Scrimgeour chided. "We'll uh accept that you did indeed kill him on that night. Now was Severus Snape there?"

And so the questions went on until finally everyone seemed to run out of things to ask or say and the ruling was finally given.

"We the Wizengamot hereby rule that Severus Snape has been acquitted of all charges of being a loyal Death Eater as it has been proven that he sacrificed himself in the hopes of allowing Harry Potter, the time to dispose of He-Who-Must-Never-Ever-Be-Named." Scrimgeour's voice was proud and official. Harry gave him a look worthy of hell.

"What about the Order of Merlin!"

The Wizengamot exploded in noise. Scrimgeour ruffled some papers, squirmed in his seat, cleared his throat a couple times before he was finally able to meet Harry's eyes again. When he did he quickly looked away with a frown.

"Fine," he muttered. "We the Wizengamot hereby declare Severus Snape a war hero and allot him the Order of Merlin First Class for his actions against Voldemort, declaring him a full and acceptable member of the Wizarding community again whereby under no circumstances should aspirations be cast upon his character condemning him as a Death Eater as it has been proven that he did his duties under the cover of being a spy."

Harry waited, eyebrow raised. Scrimgeour squirmed some more then inhaling a deep breath he exhaled it in a rush of words.

"He can get his damn job at Hogwarts back if he wants or anywhere he fancies next, as no one's going to bloody stop him! The Ministry will pay half his medical expenses and reward him with one thousand galleons for his pain and suffering and whatever else he endured in his years in exile outside of the Wizarding community. He can be fitted for another wand on us too, because we're already going to be paying out of our arses for this anyway so why the hell not!"

o

Two weeks later, when Harry got the official papers to prove that he had won his case, he immediately took them home to Severus.

He stood outside the door feeling like an idiot but not knowing where to find the energy to face those dark eyes again. Turned out that he had nothing to fear as Severus was asleep. Harry didn't want to risk waking him, knowing that Severus' days were exhausting with all his physical exercises and the healing that he had to slowly be enduring. He meant to just put the scroll down on the bedside table and leave but he couldn't resist taking a long look at the man on the bed.

And there was the face that he knew so well.

It wasn't entirely healed, but the wrinkles of the skin was gone, leaving only the pinkness that appeared only mildly blotchy. Harry could see the sharp widow's peak, could trace the curve of chin and jaw and throat. It was too much for Harry to find the energy to resist so he reached out to lightly glide his fingers along the pink flesh.

"It's not fair," Harry whispered. "You tell me to be brave but protect me from myself. You call me a hero but turn out to be more heroic than I could ever imagine. You make me run from you but hide when I seek you out. It's not fair that you should be hurt when I'm the one who was too young and too naive."

He fell to his knees, laying his head on Snape's chest and listening to the steady heartbeats that echoed within.

"I did something right today," he murmured. "I got you your freedom back."

The fingers in his hair startled him.

Harry raised his head slowly and looked into the dark eyes that gazed back at him looking more confused and more stern than ever before. Harry smiled shyly, not knowing if words were expected. There didn't seem to be as Snape threaded the fingers of both his hands deeper into Harry's hair, gently massaging his scalp. One set trailed down the side of his face. The previously abused fingertips felt warm against Harry skin. Harry wondered if the warmth was just as addictive to Severus, who traced every curve and angle that he could touch.

Harry caught the other hand in his hand, aligning Snape's palm with his palm and loving the contrast between the colours of their skin and the texture of their flesh. Harry's hand was by no means small, but it felt tiny in comparison to Snape's. The heat of their combined palms, felt amazing to the younger wizard. Harry shifted, his gaze falling away as he hid the curl of desire that he was sure was tinting his iris.

Severus wouldn't allow it. He grazed Harry's lips with the back of his knuckles. Harry's mouth fell slightly open. He raised his eyes again but Severus' eyes were focussed on his mouth and on that point where his knuckle disappeared beyond the cherry-coloured lips. Harry opened his mouth slightly wider, scraping his teeth against the nearest joint, smiling when he saw Snape's eyes narrowed. The fingers slid away until just the nail of the index finger teased Harry's bottom lip.

Harry flickered his tongue, lifting the unresisting tip into his mouth until the nail balanced on his teeth and his tongue could play with the rest of the finger.

Severus licked his own lip. Harry almost moaned aloud. Severus shot him a glare, pulling his finger away and Harry could only grin and shrug. The hand that had been quietly cradling his face, moved to slowly cover his eyes. Harry's smile got wider. A second later it was wiped away as Severus sat up in the bed, obviously struggling with the effort but managing to get his stiff hips to cooperate. Harry waited in the silence, wondering what Snape planned.

He didn't expect the finger that insinuated itself inside his mouth, spreading the wetness from his tongue upon his lips. He didn't expect the warm stream of air that followed that was gently blown to cool the fluid. Harry gasped silently, clutching at the sheets with his hands. The hand over his eyes slid away and Harry was faced once more with dark eyes, closer but now a little hesitant. Harry shook his head, hoping that Severus understood that it was okay. Raising his hand, he used his index finger to trace a line down the centre of Severus' face, following the curve of the burn mark.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shattering the silence. "I didn't mean to abandon you. I really wanted to be the one to fix your burns and get you on your feet again. But you're doing okay, right?"

'If you were any other man, Potter, I might have been offended.' Severus responded, catching Harry's hand in his. "I find however that spending nearly half a year away from you gave me adequate amount of time to deal with whatever confusing feelings that you evoke in me. No doubt, this was your plan. But I understand that you needed space and I needed to figure out what you mean to me.'

"And what have you figured out?" Harry smirked, lacing their fingers together.

"That although I like you on your knees before me, it is not your place."

Severus tugged on Harry's hand. Harry got the message and slowly slid properly onto the bed. Severus gave him a pointed look and lifted the covers. Harry hesitated briefly, not knowing just how mobile Severus was these days and afraid that he could set the man back a few months if he wasn't careful. Severus' legs felt warm and strong as Harry shifted beneath the covers to sit at Severus' side. He smiled when he felt Severus slowly slide his legs over until their legs were pressed together.

'I have never given any of myself to anyone before. I'm not sure if I understand how to let go entirely and allow someone else in, but I crave your presence. I feel, when you're near me and ache when you are not. I don't know if I know how to love beyond the emptiness inside of me, but I know that should I not try I will lose those feelings that you evoke that make me feel complete. I missed your voice. I missed your hands. I never thought it was possible to miss the feel of you in my arms but that one time that I held you is burned into my memory. I need what you do to me when you are near."

Harry forgot how to breathe but Severus turned away, not noticing the way that Harry's fingers tightened around his hand.

'These are the most beautiful words that I will ever be able to give you but if you want me, I give my word that you will never doubt my affections in other ways." Severus continued, but Harry interrupted with a groan, pressing his face at the crux of Severus' neck and shoulder.

"I'm not sure that I deserve such beautiful words in the first place," he whispered. "I missed you too."

'Stay?' The word lingered, soft and guarded.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked him. "I don't want to tire you out."

Severus scowled, though he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist as the younger wizard snuggled up to him. 'I am always tired. Always weak. Having you remain for an extended period could hardly do much damage. I'm told every day that it will be another few months before I can even attempt walking on my own as my leg muscles are still very weak. But, my arms work just fine as you've no doubt noticed. Will you require me to jump through hoops if you do remain? Tell me because I'll need to prepare myself mentally you see."

"Prat," Harry breathed. "I'll stay."

Together, they manoeuvred Snape's body back into a lying position. It was obviously easier to drag his body into a sitting position than it was to slide back down. No amount of concentration and determination could get his legs to work again like they had earlier. Once they began to shake with fatigue Harry told Snape to stop trying and he rearranged the limbs into a comfortable position. All that was left then was for Harry to lie down beside him and use him as a human pillow, which Harry was only too willing to do. He pressed a quick kiss to Snape's chest, smiling when he saw the confusion in Snape's gaze again.

'You'll have to tell me how you do that some day.'

Considering that he had spent months in mostly silence where parts of him began to crave the sound of Severus' drawl in his mind, Harry was only too willing to prolong conversation between them.

"Do what?"

Severus' eyes shuttered briefly. 'Look at me like you don't see the burns and smile at me as if you don't notice my disfigurement and my useless body parts.'

Harry would have protested, and in fact was already trying to sit back up into the bed so that he could properly look at Snape, but Severus stopped him, trapping him against his body and lightly brushing his fingers over Harry's lips.

'I said to tell me one day,' he chided. 'Not now. Right now I think you need more sleep than I do and that can't be a healthy thing.'

Harry pouted, but he knew when to let an issue go.

Besides it felt good to be lying half draped across Severus' chest once more. He found however that it was difficult to just fall asleep after that. He laid there lost in thought, listening to Severus fall asleep with deep slow breaths, and stiff muscles finally relaxing. Harry lightly played with the cloth covered chest beneath his fingers, reminding himself yet again of how much he had missed this room and this man.

oXo