Author's Note: Set 10 years after DH.

Rated M for language. Slash, but no smut.

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter. I'm not making any money. ...gosh that disclaimer is depressing...

An Innocent Question

Harry entered the potions' lab with a feeling of instinctive foreboding that had never quite faded since he'd been a student. Granted, that wasn't too surprising. The man presiding over the lab hadn't changed in that time.

"You're late, Potter!" a deep voice snarled from the private potions' cupboard.

Harry cast a quick glance upward, silently entreating the Gods to explain how he'd ended up getting roped into assisting in the potions' lab three nights a week. Minerva had somehow managed to make it seem reasonable. That had lasted until the first time he'd walked into the lab and been treated exactly like he was still a student. In the five previous years that Harry had been teaching Defense, he'd mostly avoided the potions' master's cool disdain outside of meals and staff meetings. That was now impossible.

Harry had his theories as to why Minerva had harangued him into serving as Severus' lab assistant, but he had no idea whatsoever why Severus had agreed. In the two weeks since the arrangement had begun, Harry had begun to question his wisdom in accepting, but he wasn't about to back out now. He was quite certain that Severus would soon demand his removal, if the man's snide denouncement of Harry's intellect was any measure of his satisfaction with his new "assistant".

Though Harry's feelings on the matter were mixed, he knew that part of him would miss it when it was over.

Harry cast a wandless Tempus. "I'm half a minute late, Severus," he informed him mildly as he moved to lean against the workstation table that had already been set up for the evening's potion.

"And that, Professor Potter," the snide drawl replied, "is why you are incapable of brewing a decent potion. Details matter."

Harry resolved to arrive early for their next appointment and stand outside the door so that he could enter exactly on time to the second. See what the surly git had to say about that!

"When it comes to potions, I defer to your wisdom, as always, Severus," Harry replied in his most bored tone.

The potions master swept out of the cupboard like a thunderstorm, black robes billowing, scowl articulating his wish to practice an Unforgiveable or two, a little cloud of potions' ingredients drifting along behind him. "For your sake, Professor, I am going to pretend I did not hear that sarcasm," he sneered viciously as he began arranging ingredients among the tools already spread across the table.

Severus was never particularly pleasant, especially if you were Harry Potter, but he seemed in quite the mood tonight. Harry wondered what had managed to make him so angry, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. It wasn't like he'd get an answer anyway.

Harry forced himself to swallow his smirk before Severus looked at him. There was something rather magnificent about Severus Snape when he was angry. He was like a force of nature. Harry had always known that. It was only in the last few years that he'd discovered how much he enjoyed it. Maybe the evening wouldn't be so bad after all.

"What are we brewing tonight?" he inquired politely.

"It's a new formula that I'm developing for the Ministry. As you are only assisting and providing absolutely no intelligent contribution, do not get any ideas about being included in the patent," he growled.

Harry dismissed the jibes as he always did now. Really, after years of fighting for his life and being smothered in the public spotlight, he'd quite learned not to take aspersions to his intellect or character to heart. He examined the ingredients thoughtfully. Whatever Severus said about his intelligence, he actually knew quite a lot about potions – even if brewing them would probably never be a strength. Recognizing ingredients, scents, colors, and consistencies of potions was extremely important to Defense. How else could one tell the difference between a harmless potion and a poison, a goblet of wine and a goblet of death?

These ingredients looked similar to a truth potion – Veritiserum, particularly. A few of the ingredients though, were common to the best love potions. He considered that for a moment, weighing the most likely goal of such a combination. There were many, but he was able to narrow it down with two important factors. First, this was Severus Snape, who detested everything about love potions if his grumbled monologue at meals every Valentine's Day was anything to go by. Second, it was for the Ministry.

Love potions – and these specific ingredients – were most notable for the ability to create compulsory mental reactions nearly as strong as an Imperius, if only for one general purpose rather than detailed tasks. And a truth agent.

Harry pulled in a short breath as he made the connection. "A compulsory truth serum?" he asked warily.

Severus looked up sharply. "Correct," he said, his eyes scrutinizing, but Harry couldn't tell if he was impressed that he'd managed to figure it out or annoyed that it had taken him so long. Considering this was Severus, it could actually be both.

Despite himself, Harry shifted uncomfortably under that unreadable gaze, turning his attention to the ingredients. A compulsory truth serum was scary. At least with Veritiserum, it was possible to avoid answering, if not answer untruthfully. This would remove that option entirely, and he highly suspected that the recipient would be compelled to enumerate answers fully as well.

Already, he'd identified a dozen times during his two years as an auror when such a serum would have been invaluable for the more polite interrogations. If it worked – which it would, this was Severus Snape, after all – Harry was certain that its use would be tightly regulated by the Ministry. And it would likely be even more reliable than the Ministry's Legilimens, which were always subject to relative Legilimency/Occlumency prowess between interrogator and suspect.

Feeling a combination of excitement and trepidation, Harry took extra care to follow Severus' directions with the attention to detail that he did not ordinarily possess in quantities to satisfy the potions' master. Well, there was a reason that he was a Defense professor and not a potions' master, he commiserated. He had plenty of attention to detail when it came to his subject. It was just rare that brewing could hold his attention very well.

Today was the exception.

He did so well, in fact, that Severus actually seemed to forget his bad mood while they were working. Harry was so absorbed in the brewing that he hardly even noticed the absence of the usual scathing remarks that generally marked these sessions every time Harry even thought about interacting with the potion or ingredients.

When the potion was complete, Severus ladled a small sample into a tiny vial and swirled it carefully while using several complex spells to analyze what he couldn't discern by sight and scent alone. "Perfect," he finally declared. "Your assistance was actually adequate for once, Potter."

Harry shook his head just slightly at the backhanded compliment, but he'd take what he could get with Severus.

Just when Harry was opening his mouth to reply with one of his usual dry comments, the potion in the cooling cauldron began to boil. He blinked at it in pure shock and realized that it wasn't boiling, but releasing increasingly large amounts of vapor that should not have been there. The potion was unstable, he realized, and was just beginning to comprehend that they might be in danger when it exploded.

Something slammed into him and he was knocked to the floor right before the deafening clang of the rupturing cauldron filled the room, and a shower of what felt like cool water doused him.

He blinked in shock as he looked up into the gorgeous black eyes of the man lying on top of him.

Slowly, he realized that Severus had actually tackled him to protect him from the exploding potion. Saving him must have become an ingrained habit, Harry thought, watching the scowl form on the other man's face as he shoved himself up again.

"What the bloody hell did you manage to do wrong, Potter?!" Severus shouted at him.

"I have no idea! You're the potions' master extraordinaire!" Harry shouted back indignantly as he pulled himself up. "Why don't you tell me!?"

"I don't know what you did wrong! Even a potions' master is limited by the incompetence of those around him! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it was nice that you almost complimented me for once, and that coming from you 'adequate' was as much as I was ever going to get!"

"Stop talking!" Severus shouted, the alarm in his eyes silencing Harry more surely than the command.

"What is it?" Harry asked warily.

Severus growled at the question, but answered quickly. "The potion evaporated, you dunderhead. We're breathing it."

Harry's jaw dropped in horror. They'd both been dosed with a potion to make them tell the truth? He quickly tried to tug his mind away from how magnificent Severus was when he was angry. "What exactly does this potion do?"

The potions' master grimaced furiously, "It compels those who imbibe it to answer any question with complete honesty," he growled through his teeth while he drew his wand. He cast a quick, complex spell.

There was a strange pressure, and Harry's ears popped painfully.

"I've purified the air, but we've both received a significant dose. It should last no more than a few hours. In the meantime, for Merlin's sake, Potter, do not ask me any questions."

Harry nodded. That was reasonable. He didn't want to answer any questions if he didn't have the ability to refuse either.

"I highly recommend that you return directly to your rooms and stay there until morning."

Harry sighed but nodded. What a night. Well, at least Severus was certain to end their arrangement now. He tried to convince himself that he truly was happy about that. He was almost to the door when something stopped him. "Why didn't you shield us instead of knocking me down?" he wondered.

Severus hit him with a murderous glare and Harry realized his mistake. How he could have forgotten the "don't ask any questions" rule in less than half a minute, he wasn't sure. He just wasn't used to guarding himself like that. Severus was generally exemplary at sneering away any question he didn't wish to answer.

"I didn't have time to think, Potter," Severus said despite the fact that he clearly didn't want to explain himself.

Harry felt extremely guilty for asking.

"Just be glad that I had the presence of mind to cool the potion before it hit us, or we'd both be suffering from serious burns in addition to an annoying need to be honest. Now get out of here. I swear if you speak again, I will silence you."

Aware that he was blushing, Harry made haste toward the door. Only to find it locked. He huffed and turned around again, raising his eyebrows rather than trying to speak.

Severus glanced from him to the door and frowned. He crossed the room quickly, his stride as graceful as ever despite their predicament. He, too, tried the door, to the same effect. He sighed heavily. "The castle has locked us in," he announced with extreme annoyance. "It's a precautionary measure to prevent the rest of the castle from being exposed to a dangerous substance. It will open again when it is convinced that we're not contagious. Probably when this infernal potion wears off." He finally turned to face Harry. "It appears we are to be confined here together for a few hours. They will be hours of silence. Voluntary, or otherwise."

Harry nodded, keeping his mouth shut.

When Severus returned to the work station and began clearing up the mess, Harry silently joined him. He couldn't help but stare a bit at the cauldron. There were several long tears running vertically down the sides, but it hadn't completely exploded. Several fairly harmless questions occurred to Harry, but he forced himself to keep them to himself.

They finished clearing up the mess rather quickly and Severus moved around behind his desk where he began reading essays without a word.

As he had no work in the potions' lab with which to occupy himself, Harry perused the bookshelf behind the potions' master's desk. Finding a book about lethal poisons that he hadn't read before, Harry selected it and moved back to a seat in front of the desk.

Two hours later, they were still locked in, and Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his book. Though he knew and even agreed with the perfectly rational reasoning for silence, one thought kept rising to the surface. This was probably the only chance Harry was ever going to get to receive an honest answer to the question that had been turning in his head for the last seventeen years.

He knew it was wrong to ask it when Severus couldn't refuse to answer, but, really, if the man wasn't such a stubborn ass, Harry wouldn't have felt it was necessary to take advantage of the situation. Summoning his resolve and preparing to deal with the consequences, Harry closed his book and opened his mouth.

"Silencio."

Harry's jaw dropped indignantly as he was silenced.

"I knew it was only a matter of time, Potter," Severus said without looking up from his marking. "You will not be extorting any more answers from me today."

Harry glowered furiously at the man. Honestly, he was less insulted by what he'd said and done than the fact that he actually expected it to work. Harry was a former auror and professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at one of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world for Merlin's sake! Not to mention the whole killing Voldemort and saving the world thing. Did Severus really believe that a Silencio would render him helpless?

At least in small part just to prove that he could, Harry wandlessly and wordlessly lifted the spell. As he didn't expect to get more than a sentence out before Severus took more drastic measures to silence him, he asked his question. "Why do you hate me?"

Severus' head snapped up, eyes rounding in what was more horror than mere shock.

Harry felt the first pang of regret as he studied the other man's face as he fought the compulsion to answer. He had a feeling that he was going to wish he could forget this answer.

The potions' master's whole face was turning red, jaw muscles twitching as he struggled to keep his mouth shut. His glare seemed to be trying to cast a wandless, nonverbal Avada.

Harry cringed slightly as he waited for the outburst that was clearly coming. Merlin, he'd expected the answer to have to do with his parents, his fame, or even his personality. What could it possibly be that Severus wanted to conceal it this badly? He was starting to get seriously worried.

Finally, the dam burst. Severus surged to his feet and at last opened his mouth to roar the answer. "I hate you, Harry Potter, because you are nothing like your father! Because you're not a rude, entitled, swaggering fool! I hate you because I can't see Lily in your eyes anymore! Because your unflappable virtue is a constant fucking reminder of how flawed she was! Because you're deceptively intelligent, and powerful, and utterly gorgeous, and every bloody thing I want! I hate you, you insolent, infuriating man, because you're one more thing that I will never have."

He still looked utterly furious, but at least he wasn't shouting anymore.

"I hate you, Harry, because I am in love with you. And now I hate you for asking me that question."

The moment that he finished speaking, he stalked around the desk, strode into the ingredients' cupboard, and slammed the door behind him.

It was a relative eternity before Harry remembered how to breathe. Sometime longer before he could close his mouth. "Holy shit…" he finally breathed in disbelief as that whole speech ran through his head again.

Severus put his back to the door and closed his eyes, his mind running through the afternoon again as he tried to figure out how the fuck he'd ended up hiding from Harry fucking Potter in a godsdamned ingredients cupboard. Clearly he should have stunned the man instead of silencing him. Better yet, he should have stunned him the moment he realized that they'd both been exposed, then dosed him with a Sleeping Drought until he could send Harry away.

Thinking that his life had been utterly ruined thanks to his morbidly detailed and ridiculous confession did seem rather juvenile given the fact that this was far from the worst thing he'd encountered in his life. The thought, however, remained.

Severus loved Harry as he'd never thought it was possible to love. He wanted him the way he wanted air. And he could never, ever have him. Attempting to woo Harry would be as futile as Icarus attempting to touch the sun – and as deadly when the inevitable rejection shattered what fragile bits of his sanity remained.

And now Harry knew, having borne witness to what had just taken first place for the most humiliating moment of his life, trumping rather spectacularly, that day after his OWLs when the entire school had gotten a nice look at his underpants right before Lily had…

Lily. Severus had thought he'd loved her once, before he'd realized that he'd never truly be able to love a woman that way. But even her memory was nothing next to Harry. And it was wrong, Severus knew, that he should feel that way for Lily's son. He couldn't imagine what she would think if she could see him now. He truly didn't want to.

Severus had fought his attraction to Harry for a long time. He'd identified all of the very good reasons that it was a terrible idea. The age difference, Harry's relation to Lily and James, the fact that the Savior of the Wizarding World loathed him quite thoroughly, that Harry was a beautiful, funny, vital, completely irresistible young man and Severus was the greasy old bat of the dungeons… There had been other reasons, but he'd actually forgotten them over the years. Every day it seemed to get harder for him to think about anything except how he coveted what he couldn't have.

It had started in Diagon Alley seven years ago. Severus hadn't seen him face-to-face in three years, and the transformation from boy to man had been completed during that time. He'd been shocked that day, to discover that he was actually attracted to Harry Potter. Naturally, that had caused him to be even more unpleasant to him than usual.

Over the next two years, Severus' opinion of Harry had gradually begun to change despite the fact that he'd not truly realized it until his next meeting him when he'd come to apply for the DADA position.

The five years that followed had been hell. Continually forced into proximity with Harry at meals, passing him randomly in the halls, somehow always when he was least prepared to deal with it. And somehow, in the midst of this pervasive torment, attraction and infatuation had grown into respect and longing. And then, at some indeterminate point in the last few years, it had become love.

It had been, of all things, a dream that had awakened him to the depth of his attachment. He couldn't remember much of it anymore, but one bit was crystal clear. Harry had been in Severus' house, leaning back slightly over a kitchen counter while Severus pressed himself against him, kissing him lightly. He'd drawn back, looking into Harry's green eyes – not Lily's, but Harry's – and he'd seen love shining back at him. Then Harry had lifted his hand to Severus' cheek, the glint of a wedding ring on his finger, and kissed him again with a sweetness that was almost impossible to believe.

That was it. He'd woken with the startling knowledge that that was exactly what he wanted. A simple life with someone who could love him that deeply. But not just anyone. Harry Potter. The one man that there was no way he could ever have.

He'd known immediately that it was a dream that would never be. The very idea that Harry would ever feel that way for him was utterly absurd. The fact that Harry was actually gay was just salt in the wound.

Harry didn't sleep that night. Severus had not emerged from the ingredients cupboard in the hour before the castle lifted their quarantine, and Harry had had no mind to disturb him.

He spent the entire night thinking about what Severus had said. One line in particular, actually.

I hate you, Harry, because I am in love with you.

Severus was in love with him. The very idea should have disturbed him at the very least. It didn't. No, as a matter of fact, it was rather the opposite. There had been this warm, nervous, fluttery thing dancing around in his chest ever since he'd heard those words.

Men had told him that before – rather frequently – but the statement had never affected like that. In the eight years since Harry had finally admitted that he was gay, he'd never had a boyfriend more than a few months at a stretch. He'd never been in love, and he was rather convinced that none of them had really loved him either, despite what they said. He'd never returned the sentiment, and it had invariably led to the end of each brief relationship.

Severus was different in every way. Convinced that the man hated him bitterly, Harry had never even allowed himself to consider what it might be like to date Severus Snape. Tonight though, he could think of nothing else.

Severus was a man that Harry had always respected. Even when he'd hated him the very most, he'd always respected him. His power, the magnificent strength of his presence, courage utterly beyond belief to spy on Riddle for so long… And then he'd finally come to understand him at the end of the war, and that respect had become something of an entirely different level.

Something that he'd never let himself examine before that night…

Despite the fervent desire to lock himself in his rooms and never emerge again, Severus knew that what was left of his dignity would not survive the blow of hiding from Harry again. That was why he found himself on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast after a completely sleepless night thinking about the laugh Harry and his friends would get out of that debacle.

Occluding for all he was worth, Severus was just approaching the Great Hall when he heard steps behind him, the familiar pattern of the gait making it none other than the object of his brooding.

"Severus!"

Severus kept walking. He was nearly to the door. Surely Harry wouldn't press whatever conversation he had in mind if they weren't alone.

"Severus, wait!"

A hand on his arm forced him to stop and he spun on the younger man with a furious scowl.

"Just hear me out before you yell at me!" Harry said quickly.

Severus clenched his jaw and made a point of waiting, silently counting out ten seconds in his head. He'd give him ten seconds, and then he was walking away. He'd-

"I'm in love with you, too," Harry said in a rush.

Severus' silent count stopped, along with the rest of his brain activity.

Silence filled the corridor.

Harry grimaced. "You can yell at me now, if you want," he allowed warily.

Severus studied the younger man, desperately searching for any sign of duplicity, the slightest twitch of his lips or twinkle of his eyes to suggest the declaration was part of some ill-conceived jest. He could see none, but surely that was simply his own desperate wishes staining his good sense. "I do not find you amusing by the slightest degree, Potter," he ground out.

Harry shook his head, "It's not a joke, Severus," he said with quiet intensity, advancing by a small step.

Severus watched him warily as he took another step closer, and flinched slightly when Harry's hand came to rest very lightly on his arm, trailing tentatively up to his shoulder before squeezing lightly, the pressure absurdly reassuring.

"I've never meant anything more in my life," Harry whispered, now so close that their chests were nearly touching.

Severus struggled to remember how to breathe, frozen to the spot while his body responded to Harry's proximity, and his mind tried to deny the reality of Harry's words and protect itself from the crushing blow sure to come as soon as he let down his guard.

And then Harry's lips touched his. Warm and almost painfully gentle, a wordless plea for reciprocation spoken plainly in that soft touch.

Without really meaning to, Severus found himself returning the tender kiss. His mind went blank as the dream flashed before his eyes again. He deepened the kiss with silent urgency, any thought of duplicity abruptly forgotten. This was Harry Potter. There was a fantastic list of reasons why it was wrong to be kissing him, but he couldn't remember a one of them at the moment. He couldn't think of anything beyond the fact that he was kissing Harry and Harry was kissing him and nothing had ever felt more perfect.

Harry's fingers slid up Severus' neck to tangle in his hair, and Severus was distantly appalled at the fact that the sensation literally weakened his knees.

A quiet gasp abruptly drew him out of the moment and he jerked back at the same time as Harry. They both turned to find the door to the Great Hall open, a very startled Minerva gaping at them. Harry, Severus noticed, was blushing, but the younger man was having very little luck suppressing a grin.

Harry cleared his throat quietly, "Severus, perhaps we should continue this discussion over a private breakfast in my quarters?"

Severus gave a sharp nod, "Yes, I think that may be best. Minerva," he added curtly before turning around and striding briskly toward the Defense tower.

Just before he rounded the corner onto the stairs, he distinctly heard the annoying witch mutter, "About bloody time."

Thoroughly insulted at the insinuation that she'd anticipated this evolution, Severus made a mental note to devise a proper repayment. But that could wait, he concluded as Harry fell into step next to him, flashing him a small, hopeful sort of smile. Oh yes. It could most certainly wait.

Harry led the way into his private chambers without a word, but the door had no sooner closed behind them than Harry had pinned him to the wall.

Half-heartedly cursing his foolish knees, Severus did his best to avoid sliding down the wall while he returned the kiss with interest. For the first time in his life, an exploding cauldron had turned out to be a very good thing.

[Edited: 21 May 2014]

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