Chapter 2

I ignore his angry exclamation as I roughly push past him. Stupid Draco Malfoy and his pretty face and perfect body! How could a runt like me be expected to compete with that? Sure, he's a jerk, but maybe that's what Snape wants? I don't know anything anymore. I'm just confused and angry and I feel like I've been used.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sex was supposed to fix things between us. All this animosity was supposed to turn into love. Yes, love. I, Harry Potter, wanted to be loved by Severus Snape. I've wanted it for two years. I wanted him so badly that it consumed all my thoughts. And now I don't know what was worse – having him once and knowing it meant nothing to him, or never having him at all.

I feel alone. He should be holding me right now. We should be curled up in his bed, and he should be stroking my hair, and I should be feeling his heartbeat against my hand. For just a little while he would have made me feel safe and protected. I want that so much it hurts.

I move through the castle aimlessly, my heart colder than a Dementor's breath. I take a few more turns and realize I'm close to the Gryffindor dorm room. It's grown late outside, and I missed dinner. Ron and Hermione will be worried. I don't feel ready to answer their questions. I don't want any one looking at me. Surely, everyone will be able to see the way his touch is still emblazoned on my chest like a scarlet letter.

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Immerging from my bedroom, the first thing I notice is the drawing half in the fire. Hurriedly, I pull it out with a spell and look around for Potter. Did he leave? Surely he didn't burn it on purpose...

"Uncle Severus, why was Potter here?" Draco asks, childish jealousy in his eyes. He's so young sometimes that I can barely stand to be around him. He's too blunt, too loud. When his father was that age, he was already perfectly poised and in control of every move. Draco wants that, but he will never be the cold aristocrat that his father is. He has too much of Narcissa in him. He speaks with her temper and he inherited her vainness.

Still, he's my godson, and he's been spying with me for the Order for a year now, and I must admit he's made me proud. He can control himself if it's necessary.

He has the worst timing though. Right now I just want to figure out what happened with Harry. Merlin, what if he had regrets? I've completely fucked things up. As usual.

"Uncle Severus? Severus!" Draco refuses to be ignored.

"Sit down, Draco, and close the bloody door!" I bark at him. The drawing was burned badly. Half of the chair is gone, along with my lower half. All that is left is my shadowy torso and my head rolled back, a slender arm hanging behind me. Gently, I cast a spell on the parchment to preserve it and carry it into my bedroom. I catch Draco's curious glance, but I don't let him see the drawing. After I've safely tucked it into the desk that's in my bedroom, the one I use most often now, I go back into the living room to face Draco.

I pour myself a brandy. I only meant to sip it, but I end up drinking it in one go. When I lower the glass, Draco is giving me a shrewd look.

"You only drink alcohol and cuss when you're upset, you don't have a shirt on, and Potter just left here crying. If I didn't know that the two of you hated each other, I'd say you just..."

"You'd say nothing because if you do, you'll wake up with foul smelling boils in places you won't want them. Am I clear?"

He swallows thickly and his eyes widen slightly. He nods his head almost imperceptibly.

For a single second I'm proud of the fear I've inspired in him before his comments register.

"He was crying?" I ask sharply. Draco raises an eyebrow, as if surprised I seem to care, and then smirks.

"Bawling like a baby," he says smugly. I want to slap him.

Glaring, I locate my shirt from behind the couch and tug it on.

"Did you come here for a reason?" I ask coldly. He quits smirking.

"I was just wondering if you'd been summoned, or if you'd heard anything from my father. It's been almost three weeks. You almost seemed to be avoiding me." His tone is challenging. I realize I must have been more wrapped up in certain...thoughts than I should have been.

"I haven't been avoiding you. I merely have had...other things on my mind."

"I can see that. But with Potter?"

"It's none of your business, Draco. And to answer your question, I haven't heard from your father. I don't think he suspects anything though. No news is good news in this case." I pause to button up my shirt and then move to the door. "Back to your dorm, Draco. I've got something to tend to." Sneering unpleasantly, he waltzes through the door.

"Don't you mean someone?"

He didn't even notice the hex I sent at him as he walked up the stairs. He'll sure as hell notice it tomorrow morning. Stupid boy.

The realization occurs to me that I don't know where Harry would go. Ordinarily, I would give him some time to himself to think about things, but the delicate nature of the situation demands that we speak. No matter what he may be feeling, he can't tell Dumbledore or any of his friends.

And as long as we're having a talk, it wouldn't hurt to find out what upset him so much. I don't think it was because I repulsed him. The drawings, at the very least, would show that he didn't find me disgusting. Stealthily, I make my way to Gryffindor tower. Hopefully, he will have spent some time walking the castle and I'll beat him to the tower. I don't realize until I pass a window that it has fallen dark outside. We both missed dinner, and a look at my pocket watch reveals that it's past curfew.

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I have it all planned out in my head by the time I reach the Fat Lady's portrait. I'm going to confess everything to Hermione. Surely she'll be able to shine some logic on this when I'm too emotional to see it. She'll tell me that I don't love him, and it was just experimenting that all boys do, and my attraction to Snape is merely because he's an authority figure. And all of that will make sense, and everything will fix itself.

Yeah, and Snape's going to sweep me up in his arms and confess his undying devotion.

"Potter," his deep voice warns me before a strong hand grips my shoulder and pulls me into a shadowy alcove. I turn to face him, surprise and hurt evident on my face. There's an awkward silence, and then his hand raises to my cheek and brushes at it gently.

"Are you alright? Was it something Draco said?" He finally asks, not giving me time to answer. Still, his confused questions give me a ray of hope. Maybe I misunderstood the letter...maybe Draco's arrival was just a coincidence. My heart is begging for an explanation other than the obvious one.

"Draco...do you love him?" I can't bear to look at his face.

"He's my godson, if you didn't know, and I suppose we get along alright." His voice sounds completely confused. Warily, hopefully, I look into his eyes.

"So the two of you aren't...in a relationship? I saw the letter, the love letter signed Malfoy, and then he showed up..."

His brows scrunch as if he's thinking hard, and finally comprehension dawns on his face.

"I know what you're talking about now. That was a letter from a Malfoy, but not from Draco. It was from Lucius. I didn't honestly know it was still in there. I haven't used that desk for quite awhile, and the drawers are filled with old letters and receipts. Lucius and I, well, we...err..." I can't help but smile when he blushes. I've made him blush twice in one night.

"Were old lovers?" I prompt, no small amount of hope in my voice. He looks relieved that I've said it for him. He smiles a bit crookedly, as if glad it's all been settled.

"Yes, but that was a long time ago – before he and Narcissa were even married. I suppose, in typical Gryffindor fashion, you fled in tears before you'd even thought to check the date on the letter." He says this in a teasing tone, and I don't mind the jab at my impulsiveness. Tentatively, I grab the front of his rumpled shirt and pull him towards me. Suddenly, I remember the drawing.

"I threw it into the fire!" I exclaim, angry at myself for doing something so rash. He gives me a stern look.

"I managed to recover about half of it. I suppose you'll just have to draw a new one. Rather inconsiderate of you, but it wouldn't be too great of a hardship to pose again."

"And the portrait of your mother, too. I'll have to spend lots of time practicing in your living room." I make the suggestion tentatively. I don't know if he's really interested in a relationship or not.

"My bedroom is much more comfortable. I'm afraid I must keep my living room looking unwelcoming. Acquaintances that don't know me very well tend to drop by from time to time, and I must keep up appearances. I'll be sure to clean out that writing desk, though. The last thing I need is someone else stumbling across all that old trash and getting the wrong idea."

As he's been talking, we've moved closer together until I'm resting comfortably in the circle of his arms. I yawn, and his lips ghost over my forehead.

"You should get to bed. Come to my rooms tomorrow night. Finally put that cloak of yours to good use."

I smile, my heart melting down to my feet, and capture his lips in a much more romantic kiss than the ones we shared before. I feel sheltered and cherished, and it's a feeling I could get used to real fast.

"Goodnight, Severus," I whisper quietly when the kiss is over.

"Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you in the morning."

The morning won't come fast enough.

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A/N: I'm not heartless! I wouldn't have left Harry so unhappy! This chapter was a bit rushed though, so I apologize if it isn't as well written as the first one. Still, hopefully it gave you all closure. Thanks for reading, and the reviews were wonderful.