PART TWELVE – The Light Beyond the Cloud

He really should have expected it. Thinking back on the kinds of things that Harry had done in the past, since he'd realised that he could be somewhat independent without being sanctioned for it, he really should have seen it coming.

But he hadn't.

So now Severus Snape was magically restrained up against the wall of his own quarters, his wand nowhere to be seen, cursing Harry Potter and his need to do things alone, even as he prayed to gods he didn't even believe in that the boy – the man – would return safely.

He hung against the wall thinking, for there was nothing to do but think and wait and worry until Harry came back, or until someone came and find him with news, preferably of the good variety.

He thought about how Harry was out there, presumably all alone, against a wizard who may or may not, in his present form, be more powerful and of stronger wit than the younger man.

He thought about how Harry had kissed him before he left, and used Snape's moment of disorientation to take advantage of his guard being down so that he could stop him from accompanying Harry into battle.

Most of all, though, Snape thought about how much he wanted to fulfil the deal he'd made with Harry, against his better judgement, even though the part of that deal where Snape himself would be right there with Harry the whole time had already been violated. He almost wished he'd done as Harry wanted the previous night, now that his mind was screaming at him about the wrenching possibility that he might not actually ever see Harry Potter again (or not alive, at least), let alone get the opportunity to finally be with him.

Still, Snape supposed that at least this way they would either start their sexual relationship without Snape's conscience screaming at him and ruining the whole damn thing for both of them, or they would not start it at all. He told himself that that was a good thing. It was worth torturing himself over just a little.

When Harry walked into their quarters, Snape's sigh of relief was entirely audible. Harry exhaustedly flicked his wand in the older man's direction and the bindings evaporated like steam.

"You're back," Snape stated, kicking himself over the fact that his usual sharp tongue seemed to have taken a vacation from the dungeons at exactly the wrong moment.

"I am," Harry replied, collapsing on Snape's bed. Snape surveyed him from a few feet away, still leaning against the wall, for all that his legs hurt and he wanted to lie down beside the young man.

"How did you do it?" he asked instead.

Harry shook his head. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not say. It's over. That's all that matters. If I start blabbing my story about, I'll become really famous, won't I? I'd really rather not, if that's the case. I think I'd prefer to just go back to being a squib."

"What?" Snape blurted out, stunned. "But Potter, your future …"

"It's Harry, remember? And I remember correctly," Potter said with a mischievous smile, "my teacher once offered to allow me to help him with his potions, even when I couldn't use magic. I wonder whether that offer is still on the table."

Snape looked him over with piercing eyes. "You could do so much better."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Then he stood and leaned over, pulling Snape towards him so that Harry could kiss the other man softly on the lips. "Really? I could? I didn't think it got much better than this."

Severus Snape was not a soppy man. In fact, he detested sentiment. However, even he had to admit, as Harry pulled him down on top of him on Snape's own bed, that the younger man may well have been right.

That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

~FIN~