A/N: For those of you who wanted me to pick up where I left off…I apologize. To those of you who said to go with what felt right…thanks. To all of you, thanks for reviewing, and enjoy the update!

"Close your mind, Harry."

Severus rubbed his aching temples and flicked his wand lazily at the boy. The boy made only a token attempt to repel the attack, before allowing his defenses to crumble.

Harry's mind was a disorganized disaster, but it was familiar to Severus, and he sped down synaptic connections without thinking.

Severus sifted through the contents of the teenage mind with the same efficiency that he used in potion making, trying to find something that would give Harry the incentive to push him out.

Memories of a miserable childhood…he skirted those. There were only so many times Severus could watch the damned muggles without wanting to boil them alive in undiluted bubotuber pus.

The Chang girl closing the distance between them, her eyes puffy, lips moist…

He skirted that too, keeping a derogatory laugh to himself. Idiot child.

And there, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. It was whisked away almost immediately by Harry, and Severus noted wryly that it had the same overtones as the Chang memory.

And if Harry did not want him to see it…

He dodged a memory of a scowling Sirius Black, and whispered furiously to Harry, "you're not trying. You've let me in already. Now get me out!"

More feeble mental shoves.

The body of another Griffindor boy swam into his vision. Harry seemed very eager to get Severus out now, but this memory had caught his interest. Dean Thomas's face was flushed and well kissed, and his arms were around Harry's neck.

"You love me, Harry."

Obediently, laughingly, Harry's voice agreed. "Sure thing."

Severus watched dispassionately, as Harry frantically pushed at his mind. "Try harder, unless you want me to see the rest of it."

At last, as the other boy was leaning forwards again, licking his lips nervously, Severus was literally catapulted out of Harry's mind.

He blinked, once, and locked eyes with a seething Harry. Despite his pounding heart (Harry had not pushed him lightly, that last time), Severus forced himself to sneer.

"Again you let me in. I may serve you to the Dark Lord on a platter myself if this continues."

Harry was breathing heavily, and his wand was out. With a visible effort, he lowered it, and spoke in measured tones.

"You know, I may love you, but you're honestly the most sadistic bastard I've ever met."

Severus allowed his lip to curl slightly. "Petulance will get you nowhere, Potter. Learn to keep me out of your mind, and you won't be embarrassed again."

He crossed quickly to his desk and poured them both a shot of Firewhiskey. "Here. Down this." His tone was not unkind.

Harry took it, with a mutinous look, and gulped it down, gasping as it seared his throat. "You're getting better."

Harry gave him a sneer. "Right. And Dumbledore's joined the Dark Side."

Severus sighed and sat down, gesturing for Harry to do the same. He felt a pang of guilt when the boy opted for another straight-backed chair, as opposed to his preferred position on Severus's lap. These lessons, the constant fights, his constant bombardment of the boy's mind, were doing their relationship little good.

Harry was still glaring at him, and Severus closed his eyes, unwilling to have yet another discussion, yet another fight. Better to ignore the look.

I'm doing the right thing, he thought wearily. He's got to learn.

And then, desperately, but why from me

Severus was so tired…so very tired. When he woke up in the mornings, his back ached, and he groaned at the thought of teaching his classes. The Dark Lord looked through him now, favoring other Death Eaters with secretive looks, and Severus managed, just, to be grateful for that.

And Harry.

He was always grateful for Harry.

Even if the boy hated him; even if the boy thought he was a sadistic bastard. Severus was grateful because Harry kept him alive. Harry kept him from dying inside.

Severus felt old and ugly. He could feel warmth from the fire on his skin, but it didn't penetrate to the dull chill inside him. His hair felt greasy on his neck, and he knew there were dark circles under his eyes.

Circles that matched those under Harry's eyes.

Neither of them slept well these days. Severus knew that, on the other chair, Harry would be in the same, half-aware state that he was in. Neither of them ever really slept now. If it wasn't spending all hours of the night with each other, for that craved extra second in the company of a lover, it was the dreams that frequented their beds. Severus dreamed nightly now, and he knew the signs in another person, although he and Harry never discussed it.

Severus could sympathize with the boy, but only to a certain extent. After all, the horrors he saw in his nightmares weren't happening. He could always wake up. The things Harry saw, the torture sessions he was forced to watch, were all too real.

Severus didn't think he could cope with that.

And he didn't think he could cope without Harry, which made these frosty silences all the more painful.

And then he felt a hand touch his own.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry caressed the smooth fingers and smiled into black eyes as they snapped open. Gently, lovingly, he pressed a kiss to Severus's cold lips, warming them with his own chapped ones. Before his lover could deepen the kiss, he pulled away, stroking Severus's cheek with his hand, very lightly.

Severus seemed to struggle momentarily to get his breathing under control, and then spoke with his usual wry humor. "I was unaware that anything I'd done recently merited such a display. Not, of course, that I'm complaining."

Harry smiled again. "You're not a sadistic bastard. Well," he amended, "not really. I know you're doing it to help me, and I am grateful, when I get over the shock of having you invade my mind like that."

Severus closed his eyes again, and Harry plonked himself down on the older man's lap. "I'm sorry…I've got a bit of a temper these days, in case you haven't noticed."

One eye cracked open, and one long-fingered hand crept across his thigh. "I noticed." The dry voice verified.

Harry kept his voice even, despite the hand. "But you know that I love you, even if you are horrible sometimes."

"Haven't you learned anything at this school?" Fingers danced across his groin, and Harry shuddered. "I'm always horrible. Just ask any of those nattering, idiotic First Years."

"You are a bit harsh." He bit back a moan. "But you make up for it in other areas."

"Other areas?" Severus was in full seductive mode, speaking in a harsh whisper. "Which areas would you be referring to…Mr. Potter?"

The other hand had ghosted up across Harry's chest, and at these last words, tweaked one of his nipples, making Harry gasp out loud.

Finally, Harry leaned forwards and kissed his potions master eagerly, reveling once again in the taste of the other's mouth, obediently parting his lips for Severus's tongue.

As always, the feeling of well being radiated from each point of contact, spreading until every part of him seemed to glow with happiness, the word Severus echoing in his ears.

But all too soon, the man under him pulled away.

Harry grasped at the thick robes beneath him and met Severus's eyes, disoriented. The man chuckled and freed his robes from Harry's grip, deftly rising to his feet and placing the boy to the side in the same movement.

"What did you do that for?" Harry asked indignantly, swirling his tongue over his teeth to catch every last taste of Severus. "I was just getting started."

Severus leaned forwards for a chaste kiss, but pulled back the instant Harry tried to deepen it. Harry glared mutinously up at him under his eyelashes, trying to look furious and cheated.

He had a sneaking suspicion, though, judging by the quiet chuckle he drew from his lover, that he was only managing to look rumpled and cute. This was confirmed by Severus's next comment.

"You look like a cat who's just been pushed off his favorite chair, Potter. I would very much like to entertain you further, but I need to shower."

"That's pretty much what you are…my favorite chair."

"I suspected as much."

Harry saw the smirk and pouted. "But I want you."

"You don't want me greasy, boy."

Harry might have disagreed, but he found himself pushed firmly into a chair, and handed a quill and parchment. "You can survive fifteen minutes without satisfaction, I'm sure. Might I suggest you spend the time industriously writing your potions essay?"

Harry sighed, but nodded and bent his head to the empty paper. He heard Severus shut several doors softly, and then the rustle of clothes sliding off skin. He closed his eyes, listening, imagining the course fabric dropping to the floor, the lithe form stepping into a shower stall.

It wasn't until he heard the light pattering of water that Harry began to get ideas.

At first he simply shook them off, dismissing them as more fantasies. But the longer he sat, listening to Severus in the shower, the more he liked the thoughts he was thinking.

Harry didn't make a decision. It was more that the idea grabbed him, and he suddenly found himself standing up, folding the parchment and slipping through the door to Severus's private quarters.

He inhaled the smell of the other man, the vanilla and sandalwood that seemed to follow his lover everywhere. Harry wanted a perfume that smelled like this. He'd keep it in his underwear drawer and open it whenever he felt lonely.

He snorted at the thought, and them moved stealthily through another door, following the sound of running water.

And then, through another door, glass paneled this time, with a blurring charm done on the colored pane, and he was in the bathroom.

Before he could change his mind, Harry silently disrobed and slipped into the shower stall.

And found himself face to face with a very surprised Severus, who was having a very cold shower.

With a yelp, Harry stumbled backwards. He'd been half hard from their snogging session, but it was embarrassing how quickly he shriveled. In his hurry to escape the shock of cold water, he tripped over the shower lip and went sprawling, banging his tailbone hard on the tile floor.

The pain in his backside, however, was nothing to the embarrassment he was feeling. This was very different from what he'd envisioned. For one thing, he thought, blushing, the shower had been warm.

Severus was staring down at him, having concealed his primary reaction of shock, with a measured expression.

Well, Harry assumed he'd been shocked. He would have been shocked, had a naked Severus jumped into one of his showers, shrieked, and jumped out only to go sprawling across the floor.

He might have been a little annoyed, too.

Harry tried a winning smile, but he was afraid it fell rather flat, since a drip of water fell from the end of his nose in the midst of the attempt.

Severus turned the shower off, stepped out, and snagged a towel from a nearby rack, apparently shaking with rage. Harry gulped and tried to get up.

Unfortunately, since his left foot was still tangled in the shower curtain, he simply slipped again, jarring that sensitive spot on his tailbone. He shut his eyes, expecting the wrath of Severus Snape, Potions Master and Terror of Hogwarts, to descend upon him. He expected to hear nothing but a cold, furious voice hissing at him to get out, and stop making a fool of yourself.

But what he heard was quite different.

Laughter.

Not the cruel snicker, or the dark chuckle he was used to. Not even the sharp bark of laughter he managed to extract from his lover when he said something really funny.

No.

Severus Snape was laughing. Helplessly.

Harry cracked open one eye, half expecting to be cursed into oblivion, to see Severus sitting on the edge of the spacious bathtub, his lower half wrapped in the towel, face in hands, laughing with complete abandon.

Harry flushed a brilliant red. He wanted to die. This was absolutely the most humiliating moment of his life. Severus glanced at him, eyes streaming tears of mirth, and disappeared behind his hands again, absolutely howling with laughter.

Harry stayed where he was, wanting the floor to swallow him, until the laughter died down a little, turning into little chortles that broke out occasionally into full bodied laughs.

Then, painstakingly, he unraveled his feet from the curtain and stood up, flushing. "I'm glad you think it's so funny!" He began, taking a painful step towards Severus, who had managed to meet his eyes at last, but still seemed to be holding back laughter, "but I'll have you know that my arse feels like it's—" But that was as far as he got. With a gasp of horror, he felt his feet began to slide out from under him, his arms pinwheeling. And then he was on the ground again, cracking his head (and his much abused tailbone) on the hard floor.

This time Severus did not remain composed even for a second. The older man laughed hysterically, waving his hand at Harry and trying to speak coherently through his chortling.

Harry didn't think he'd ever move again. He would die here, and that would show Severus. He'd always remember this as the day his lover died on his floor while he fell about laughing.

Severus finally managed to calm himself slightly, and gasped out, "Get up, you ridiculous boy." More laughter. "You are making a spectacle of yourself. Is it really so impossible for me to shower in peace, without you performing misguided suicide attempts on the floor of my washroom?"

Harry blushed and picked himself up, yet again. He managed to stay up this time, and forced himself to meet Severus's eyes.

"It's not really that funny, you know."

Severus nodded seriously, his eyes twinkling. "It is, in fact, very serious, Harry. Let's talk about this need of yours to cavort around other people's rooms and give them cardiac arrests whilst they shower. Perhaps we have found the way for you to defeat the Dark Lord? You can simply offer to show him your own unique style of dance, and he will die laughing."

Harry had heard about enough. Still flushing red, he turned around and retrieved his clothes, and, still facing the other direction, spoke furiously. "Look, I've made a right idiot of myself, and I think I'll go back to the common room and find a corner to die in."

There was no answer, and he began to pull his robes on. Two hands, though, one on his hip and the other gently taking his robes away and dropping them to the floor, stopped him.

A voice in his ear made him start. "Now what would you want to do that for? Didn't you come in here for a reason?"

Harry turned around, to face a more serious Severus, who pulled him close. "Well maybe, but I'm really more fond of warm showers, thanks."

"I had noticed." Came the wry answer. Harry tried, and failed, not to blush again.

"And I don't think you can stop laughing long enough to do anything really interesting."

Harry ran his fingers over the smooth chest in front of him, pleased at how Severus came out in goosebumps where he touched.

"I beg to differ. I shall be very serious." Harry felt his lips caught in a searing kiss, and he melted into the cold arms surrounding him.

When they broke apart for air, he murmured softly against Severus's lips, "I still don't want to get back in that shower." And received a quiet chuckle.

"A bath then."

Another soft kiss and Harry heard the rush of water pouring into the bathtub behind Severus. He was more interested, however, in the hands that were sliding down his body, pinching and caressing, soothing and chafing. He pressed into Severus's side, mewling, and was gently rebuffed. Strong arms held him still, forcing his hips to remain stationary.

"Patience."

Harry gasped as his legs turned to jelly, thankful that Severus was holding him up. "I hate being patient."

"Yes…I can tell. One simply must observe what happens when you are told to wait whilst I shower to see that."

Severus's hands seemed to have warmed a little, and they felt amazingly good against Harry's skin.

Even better was a second later, when Harry felt himself tugged gently into the pool-sized bathtub, the hot water closing over his shoulders. And all the while, Severus's talented fingers were caressing, teasing every inch of his skin.

It was so perfect that it was almost painful. This touch, this caress, this moment. Severus was lounged on a bench that was built into the bathtub, and Harry was sprawled across his lap, weak-kneed.

"Who do you belong to?" Severus whispered, licking a trail across Harry's collarbone, hands busy below his waste.

Harry, delirious with happiness and lust, managed to pant out, "You. No one but you. And—" He paused, arching against the hand that brushed his swollen cock. "and I'd do anything for you, I swear."

"Good boy." Came the silky answer. Harry felt himself turned slightly, felt a finger press slightly against his entrance. He moaned and wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, holding on for dear life. The combination of hot water, and Severus's finger, now moving slowly in and out of his arse, was making him light-headed.

"More." Another finger joined the first, filling, stretching, and Harry gasped with pleasure.

"You are mine, and don't you ever forget it."

"Yours." Harry squirmed delightedly against the fingers, now scissoring inside him. "Just yours."

"And I'm going to take you, right here, and you are never going to let anyone else do so. Is that understood?"

Severus looked so utterly threatening, and the searing kiss he delivered was so possessive, that Harry smiled faintly. He didn't feel threatened…not really. He felt protected, and the deep growl coming from his lover's throat made him shiver pleasantly.

Something else replaced the fingers, and Harry felt his legs thrown up over Severus's shoulders, as the man thrust deeply into him.

Their eyes met, and Harry kept the contact as long as he could, until he had to close his eyes against the wash of feelings. Severus was hard inside him, and each thrust rocked Harry backwards.

When they came, together, it was with the incredible, earth-shattering feeling that threatened to tear Harry apart. He wondered if it were possible to die of sheer happiness.

He lay there, caressed by the water and Severus's arms, his eyes closed, unwilling to open them and come back to the world.

It was into this self-enforced blackness that he whispered, unable to hold it back, "I love you."

There was, as he'd expected, no answer. Not a verbal one, anyway. Instead of words, Harry felt a hand ghost over his hair, lips pressed gently to his forehead.

For now, that would do.

A/N: Ok…Go me! That was definitely one of my longer updates, and it was probably the most fun to write. I like having Harry make an idiot out of himself. :-)

Anyway, this was my gift to you…after this chapter, things are probably going to get ugly for Harry and Sev. I needed to get in some kinky sex in the bathtub before we moved on to serious matters. :P

Review! I want to know if you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Side note: Interestingly enough, I planned on them having their fun in the shower, but the scene took over on me. I think it's better this way anyway.