It was the first time he'd faltered whilst making a potion since he'd been a wee firsty. That time he'd gotten confused between two similar looking ingredients and accidentally put the wrong one in. It hadn't gone ka-boom as Longbottom's were inclined to. But he'd never made that mistake again, in fact he'd gone from strength to strength and in the end became the youngest Potion's master in at least the past century.

Having all this accolade behind him though could never have stopped him of faltering in this moment though. He doubted even being under the Petrificus Totalus could have stopped him faltering. He'd just added the last ingredient, it was as perfect as any other potion he set himself on making, every ingredient prepared more finely than any textbook directed, simmered a few degrees hotter or colder than anybody else thought to brew them, turned with a practiced strength that had left him with reasonably strong arms.

But he must have made a mistake, must have, must have. It was the only option! Because he needed to make sense. But it none of it was making sense: Not the fact that it smelt like anything, not who it smelled like. It wasn't an option. Not this potion, not this scent. Voldemort was gone, surely it was time for the world to stop punishing him? He thought he has paid for his past sins, but maybe he never could.

Yes, Severus Snape was doubting his own brewing for the first time in twenty years because he had just brewed a batch of Amortentia for his seventh grade potioneers, and for the first time since he'd ever seen it brewed, or had brewed it himself, it had a distinctive scent. The potion that smelled of whoever you desired most had a scent, a scent he recognised immediately. One he was sure that was shared with half the wizarding world. And he was terrified. And it had never happened before.

He was more terrified than when he'd knelt before his evil Lord and promised himself to him despite the misgivings that twisted in his gut. He was more terrified than when he realised that the likelihood was that he was going to die by the hand of a sadistic snake, the ultimate price for the dangerous game he had lived his life by. The only thing that had ever terrified him more was when he'd found out that the terrible prophecy he'd overheard meant that his Lily would be targeted. The bright woman who picked a terrible choice in husband yet he stilled loved with all his brotherly might.

Because right now, as his class blushed and looked surreptitiously at people who they obviously scented from the potion, to him, the potion smelt of one particular person. It smelled heavily of Quidditch, Treacle tart and something else, something nameless yet distinctive to one Harry Potter. The son of his nemesis, the son of his beloved (non-biological) sister. The saviour of the wizarding world at least eighteen years his junior.

And despite his year having graduated a year late, despite it being three years since the war, he still had to face the boy... man. Because Harry was nothing if not a man after everything he had faced.

Yes Potter had been the one to save him from Nagini, he had been hiding in the shadows, seen the Lord's unprovoked attack and whilst Severus had lay waiting for death to take him, a boy had swooped in. With the face of his nemesis but the eyes and heart of his sister.

Severus had pleaded out to the boy, shared what needed to be shared to see an end to this war. The boy had looked at him oh so sadly despite the animosity that had existed between the two. He had searched for something, and then a fiery determination had entered those Avada Kedavra eyes, oh so similar to his mother. He had settled down, removed Severus's hand where it gripped the bleeding wound. He inspected it with gentle worried eyes before working furiously. Potions were swallowed, salves rubbed in, all he was sure from his own potions store. And then there came Fawkes, still desolate without her master but she came at the call of a desperate boy. She cried fiercely, still in mourning of her master, she cleansed the wound of the snake, did what potions could not. Whether she knew it or not, she saved the life of her master's murderer. A mercy he had not deserved but was nonetheless thankful for to this day.

And then she had chosen a new master, like her species she would rise through the ashes of her grief. When her work was done, her tears dried and her song became cheery for the first time in at least a year. And she'd settled on the saviour's shoulder. He had smiled first at Severus with pride and relief, pride in what he had managed to pull off and relief that the man was living, and then at the gorgeous bird that had chosen him, never a replacement for his beloved owl, just another option that he would come to love in its own way. And he had stood then, more graceful and lithe than he had appeared in everyday life.

"I'll be back, but this has got to end now and for good." And he had heeded both promises strongly, and Snape's only regret was that he wasn't there to see Voldemort fall at the wand of a 17 year old boy.

When the war was over Harry had shied away from the fame and the fights, he spent his last year in training with Poppy in the infirmary before doing a year's placement in St Mungo's to get his qualifications. Two years after the war Harry had returned to the infirmary, helping Poppy diligently in the only home he truly knew.

And of course they were now colleagues, Harry had offered a hand of friendship towards the older man. And, as to not look petty or immature, Severus had accepted the hand. Things could still be icy at times but they were now firm friends. And clearly, though he had not being consciously aware of it, Severus wished it was more than friendship. And due to the impossibility of such a notion he wished it had remained outside of his consciousness.

Harry loved his job as a healer, he loved being in Hogwarts all the time, seeing the generations to come rising above the ashes that was the great war. Apart from first and second year muggleborns the war waged a shadow over everyone there in some way. But they were also determined to not let it define them, they had realised life was too short for such things. People had let the war end petty rivalries, They were pointless, especially seeing where hate led them to. Yes, even Harry had put aside his own petty rivalries. He had profusely apologised to Draco for the Sectumsempra incident and everything else. Clearly swallowing his pride, the Malfoy heir had extended his own apologies and they now met at least once a month for a butterbeer as understanding melted into friendship.

Another person he had made his amends with was Severus Snape. Oh he was still as acerbic as ever but Harry had learnt to find the amusement and familiarity from the harsh words. It helped they were much less often directed at him and were genuinely witty. Yes he would call them close friends, uneasy at times but he knew that he could rely on the older man to be there for him if he ever needed it. Like he had always been he supposed. His favourite benefit of befriending the surly Potions Master though had to be the stories about his mother. People waxed lyrical over his father and he felt that his mother was too often over looked.

But Severus had cared for his mother whilst hating his father, for once he was happy for the bias. To know someone who had been close to his mother. Loved her for her, rather than as an extension of his mother. Yes between Sirius, Remus and now Severus he had seen sides to both his parents.

Today there was a real lag in the infirmary. Which technically wasn't a bad thing but it meant that both Poppy and Harry were relatively bored. Poppy on a stroke of idea for something to do went to the storage cupboards. She opened and started to take a stock check. When she had finished she turned to Harry.

"Will you go down to Severus' and ask him if it is at all possible to make some burn salve before the weekend, we only have one pot left. If anything comes in I'll send my Patronus." Harry nodded, glad to have something to do, to be able to move. Now that he wasn't actively playing quidditch he had a lot less time for the sport and he often missed it, as well as the exercise it provided.

He followed the now familiar path down to the dungeons. He took turn after turn, a maze that once made him dizzy, down to the front of the Potions classroom. He knocked surely on the door, waiting for the familiar welcome.

The class was quiet, then again nothing else would be accepted by the stern Professor, Severus may have softened in private but he still ruled his classroom with an iron fist. His art was too dangerous not to. A pot boiled at the front.

"Yes, Harry, you are aware it's classtime?" Harry nodded quickly, he was sure Severus still thought him one of his 'dunderhead students'. It was surprising that Severus had called him Harry, he usually stuck to the more formal Professor Potter in formal settings. He smiled.

"Yeah, I know it's class time. The infirmary's dead so Poppy sent me down to ask if you could make some burn salve sometime soon please?" The professor in question nodded in return.

"That's agreeable, now off with you. Unlike you, I actually have a job to do at the minute." Harry smirked in return. The action causing him to breathe in. He almost laughed. He had no idea how the man had managed it but that amazing Potions Master had managed to make a potion that smelled like himself. Like the sweetest potions ingredients, dried grass, then something muskier with a hint of coffee. He turned to leave.

"I'll leave you to it then Severus. By the way, congrats on being egotistical enough to make a potion that smells just like you." And then his laughter followed him down the corridor as he made his way back up to the infirmary.

For the second time in a single hour Severus was sent reeling by exactly the same person. Instead of it just being a falter though, it was a full scale reel. He stumbled a few steps back until his knees hit the front of his desk. His hands reaching blindly behind him for some kind of stability. The blasé way the words came out implied he did not know what was being brewed, did not understand the implication of his words. Even a 100 more years as a spy wouldn't have allowed him to hide his emotions in this situation.

His class watched his breakdown with amused fascination. None of them had ever seen the man as anything but stoic, stern, emotionless. And yet a few careless words had sent him reeling, almost as if he'd been slapped. And the class just wanted to laugh because slowly but surely they put together what they were brewing with what Harry had said. They were brewing Amortentia and the young man had announced to the whole class that to him it smelled like Snape! And that could only mean that the person their Hero desired most was Snape. And to them that was both unbelievable and hilarious.

Then again the notion of Harry's words was as equally unbelievable to Snape as it was to his gob smacked class. Maybe the man had been mistaken. Maybe he thought certain aspects were similar, maybe he knew another potions master. Either way Snape could not believe that Harry, the Hero Of The Wizarding World, could desire him in any way. Then again he thought the idea of anyone desiring him preposterous.

Knowing it would cause more talk but really not having any more options he quickly dismissed the class. He needed to think, and desperately. He also needed a large glass of Firewhiskey. Thank god it was the last lesson before lunch.

Harry wasn't in nearly as much turmoil. He had arrived back to Poppy with a smile on his face and the odd chuckle still escaping him.

"What's got you so happy Mr Potter? And did you get an answer off Severus?" Harry looked up at the older woman, his face still bright but his chuckles slowly dying away finally.

"Yeah, Sev has no problem with it. And I just thought it was quite funny because he's managed to brew a potion that smells like himself." Poppy had been only half listening once she'd received the affirmative from Harry. However she quickly tuned in again at the boy's last words. She was almost positive it wouldn't be something Severus would be able to manage nor desire to do, especially not during class time. She could only assume, as she smirked on the inside, that today's seventh years were brewing one particular potion.

"Interesting Harry. Do you happen to remember what potions you learnt about in your final year?"

Harry was quickly puzzled by the random question. What had that got to do with the potion he had just seen? But like most of his time in the infirmary he humoured the matron.

"Yeah sure, there was the Draught of Living Death, that Liquid Luck stuff, a few poisons and I think Amorten - ah shit! That didn't smell like Severus to anybody else in that classroom did it?"

And all Poppy could do was shake her head with a smirk. She couldn't wait to tell Minerva. She hoped the Headmistress would also tell her Predecessor's portrait. He would definitely be most... intrigued by the development.

Harry was worried when Severus didn't turn up for lunch. It was an agreement between them. Neither of them were particularly healthy in the fact they ate far too little. Severus had pulled Harry up on it one day, so argumentative as ever the younger man had countered the observation. From there they had agreed that they would make sure each other ate a healthy meal.

Severus was a man of his word and had yet to miss a meal without presenting a reason before hand. He was also disconcerted from all the stares he seemed to be getting from mostly the Gryffs and Snakes. He turned to the headmistress at his side.

"Minerva have I got something on my face? And where on Earth is Severus?" For someone who could be so stern, Minerva had a notoriously prankish mind, she loved a good practical joke. And now she definitely couldn't hide her smirk.

"I imagine the stares are coming from the rumour mill starting in seventh year potions. I also imagine that's why Severus is... hiding." Harry blushed at that. Yes he'd figured out what he'd scented earlier meant, but he'd forgotten that everyone else could have also figured it out. For the thousandth time in his life he was sure most of the school was talking about him and his private life. The fact that they knew what was being brewed must have definitely made it easier.

"Oh shit. Wait, he's hiding from... me?" He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice. Everyone knew how he felt anyway.

"Take him some food Harry, the likelihood is yes he is hiding from you. Maybe not for the reason you think though." Harry nodded with a heavy heart. Before he left though Minerva had a few more words for him, "You know, he never even let Lily call him Sev. And that's saying something. He practically worshipped the ground she walked on."

Harry wasn't quite sure of what to make of what Minerva had said. That didn't stop him from pondering all the way down to Severus' private rooms. It also didn't stop him from working through all the worst case scenarios that could happen.

Still he summoned the little Gryffindor courage that remained as he knocked swiftly on the door. He received no reply.

"Severus?" Still gained no reply from the usually quick potions master. "Sev. Please? Let me in. I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were brewing Amortentia. I'm sorry for spoiling everything but please, I beg you, eat for me. Or for mum. Just please. I'll leave it outside the door." With a heavy heart he placed the tray on the floor. Just as he was getting back up though the door opened up.

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen the man look so dishevelled. Not since that nightmarish time in the shrieking shack. But he hadn't been bit by a snake this time. His hair rivalled his companions, his eyes were bloodshot and dilated. His usually immaculate robes were gone and the suit underneath was creased. And there in his hand was a full glass of firewhiskey. Harry's heart broke at the sight. Partly for himself and partly for the usually infallible man before him.

"Did it honestly horrify you that much? The idea of me wanting you? You're drunk, and you hate being drunk." Harry couldn't look into those bloodshot eyes a moment longer, something deep within him broke. He'd been aware of where his affections were starting to fall, he wasn't surprised that it was Amortentia, not horrified either, and yet here was Severus drunk as hell, something he despised due to his upbringing, and it killed Harry.

"I'm not horrified, I'm just confused." Or it sounded something like that between the slurred words. And then Harry was let in. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea but he couldn't help himself. Then again this could be the last time he was permitted into this room.

With a sigh he went to the man's personal potions cabinet and pulled out sobriety potion and a hangover potion. With another sigh he pulled the firewhiskey from the older man's hands, replacing them with the two potions. Looking more confused than he ever should Severus slowly drank the offered drinks. It was at that time that Harry noticed that the room smelled more heavily of it's owner than usual.

It quickly became clear why, there was at least ten cauldrons full of Amortentia sat static around the room. It made absolutely no sense. Not to Harry at least. Maybe Severus was trying to improve it. But then he would never drink whilst brewing, not even a sip. And why Amortentia? Why that potion in particular?

Severus blinked after drinking the potions that had appeared in his hands. He was disorientated at first, wondering where he was. It didn't take him long to surmise he was in his own chambers. It took him a while longer, and a flashback to earlier, to realise why his room smelled so heavily of Harry. When he noticed the firewhiskey as well he couldn't resist the need to bang his head against the nearest solid surface and utter a small 'Fuck'. Which quite honestly summed up everything that had occurred.

"So did you manage to improve the Amortentia?" Severus' head snapped up. Of course it was Harry. Sat on his couch, such a sad, sad look on his face.

"You knew what it was and you still made that comment in front of my class? Did you make it up to make a mockery of me?" His voice was a harsh whisper, the paranoia of Harry finding out about what Amortentia smelt like to him and his disbelief at the situation mixed to make a volatile combination. If possible the sad look increase. Tears pooled in the boys eyes and his head ducked. His voice broke as he spoke.

"Do you honestly think that lowly of me? That I would do that to you? Risk this friendship over something so stupid? I didn't realise it was Amortentia until afterwards." At the hurt in Harry's voice Severus felt a stab of guilt.

"You don't seem surprised or horrified! It has to be some kind of trick!" Snape's voice was desperate. Looking anywhere for some kind of explanation. And then seconds later Harry was there in his personal space, all floo-fire-eyes, just fucked hair, and that scent that bathed the room.

"I wasn't surprised or 'horrified' because I didn't need a stupid fucking potion to tell me that I wanted you. To tell me that I care about you, care about you more than a friend. I already fucking knew." And then oblivion fell in the form of perfect lips meeting his. A rough fiery passion pressing against him, hands winding into his hair, tugging just slightly. And he gave in, and he returned it just as desperately. Hands pulling roughly on hips bringing the other man closer, so close. He was drunk again he was sure. And he let out a moan, deep appreciation drawn forth from his throat. Too much yet it would never be enough.

And then it all was gone, all the warmth, all the passion, all the fire. There was just a retreating black mass. But Severus didn't want it to go.

"Oh god, I'm sorry Sev." Then almost as an afterthought, "I meant every word though. I..." And then he was gone.

There was nothing else for it, his knees gave out. He fell in a fluid lump to the floor, his head hit back against the wall. Amortentia sat around him, surrounding him, suffocating him with Harry's scent, a bitter reminder of what had being in his grasp for entirely too short a time.

Oh god... what had he done? Severus would never speak to him again he was sure. He needed to talk to someone, but who? Surprisingly it wasn't Hermione or Ron who came to mind. Hermione would lecture too much and Ron would hit the roof for sure. No instead he stuck his head through the fireplace and called out 'Malfoy Manor'.

Draco looked up at the sound of his fireplace flaring. He was surprised to see the messy head of his ex-nemesis. The hair instead of looking lazy-messy looked just-snogged-messy, and his eyes had a wild look in them.

"Aren't you a week early Harry?" He wasn't complaining per se, but they had never met up outside their arranged time before. He put aside his work and opened up the floo connection.

"I just needed someone to talk to. And a lecture I could really do without." Draco laughed at that, free of the shackles of war and his father the sound came a lot easier than usual now.

"I feel honoured to be chosen over Granger. What about the Weasel?" Yes Harry's decision to befriend Draco had not being backed by Hermione and Ron. There was still a lot of animosity between the two parties. They had not took the same mind-set of letting bygones be bygones.

"Ron? He'd fucking hit the roof, he can't even cope with the fact I'm gay. He keeps looking at me as if I might molest him at any point. He's not even the best looking of that family!" Again Draco chuckled. He couldn't fault Harry on that comment being as he was straight and didn't find the Weaselette attractive then he really wasn't one to make much of a comment.

"So is this about a guy, by the sounds of it?" Harry nodded quickly.

"Before I say anymore, are you still comfortable listening to me knowing that it concerns your godfather?" He received an eye roll for his considerations.

"So you finally realised you liked him? Took you fucking long enough. Come on then let's hear it."

So hear it he did, Harry repeated the whole debacle, from Amortentia to the kiss. Draco just sat there, letting Harry vent all the fear and frustration. And when he finally finished, Draco laughed.

"You know you two deserve each other. Severus fire-called mother today, he hated to admit to it, but he was brewing Amortentia today. It's never smelled of anything to him before, but today it smelled like you. Oh that was hilarious to listen to." Well it was until he received a sharp glare from his companion, "Okay maybe it wasn't that funny. But seriously, his impeccable Amortentia smells like you, and he clearly snogged you back. He's just terrified. Seriously, don't leave him there, you'll never get a happy ending that way."

Harry nodded, his hand already in the floo pot above Draco's grand fireplace. He had just given his destination when Draco called his name.

"Harry. I wish you the best of luck. But that's my godfather, and if you hurt him..." And he didn't need any more warning, he didn't need to hear the graphic details because he could imagine them.

And anyway he was back in Snape's chambers.

He saw the other man straight away, slumped against the wall looking desolate. He didn't even look up when his fireplace flared. Draco was definitely right about tomorrow being too late to salvage this.

Harry joined Severus against the wall. For a few minutes he just sat there whilst he collected his scattered thoughts.

"I'm sorry for leaving. I thought I was taking advantage, I thought I was forcing myself on you. A wiser person than me explained that I would only look so... dishevelled if there had being some reciprocation." He didn't look up, but his voice echoed in the room.

"And who may this oh so wise person be? Your Know-it-all or maybe the Weasel?" Not that Severus actually believed that was an option.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here now if I'd gone to Ron? No, it was Draco. He also told me of a conversation he overheard. Between you and Narcissa. He said that you smelled me in the Amortentia. That's why you looked troubled wasn't it? It was why you were hiding, mass brewing Amortentia? Were you horrified or terrified?" He needed to know, he could work with terrified. But horrified would kill him.

"I was terrified. I still am. Logically I knew the potion was correct but... I couldn't do that to you. You're twenty years younger than me for God's sake! And plus I thought I knew it was only one side. And then you come in, make that offhand comment, and swan off like you'd said nothing. And I didn't know what to do. So I ran. I'm relatively good at hiding. And I analysed my feelings, and then I got bladdered because I couldn't cope with what my answer was to my questions." A hope filled Harry. He'd never heard Severus talk so much about his emotions before.

"I already knew that I was attracted to you before the Amortentia. But please don't think that I just want you physically Severus. I know I'm probably going to terrify you even more but I need to say this. I love you. I love your sarcasm, and how your so caring and yet try desperately to try and hide it. I love how talented you are at potions, occlumency, duelling and pretty much anything you put your mind to."

He had been expecting Severus to run away, or kick his out or anything but what he did do. Harry found himself flat on the floor on his back, Severus hovering over him. Lust and another undefinable emotion. Harry smiled as lips met his, feverish, exploring, tender. Hands were running over his body, rough with callouses from the man's work. After a minute he pulled away, looking down on his young lover.

"You should know, I'm still terrified, I will probably try and push you away on occasion, but in my drunken, post Cissa chat I realised that I think I love you. And I want to try this." A small smile was shared, the emotion in his eyes now defined. And then they returned to their kissing. The night melting away without them even noticing.