Chapter 10

I count the times I bang my head against the table.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

"Harry, are you deliberately trying to give yourself a concussion?" Hermione asked.

Fourteen. "Yes." Fifteen.

"Why?"

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. "Because my life is one bloody mess." Twenty-two. Twenty-three.

Hermione seized a pillow and put it under my head as I'm bringing it back down. Twenty-six—no. Wait. Do over.

"What happened?" she snapped. "You've been beating yourself up for some reason since you got back to the common room."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then study."

"Don't wanna."

Hermione opened her mouth to snap at me again, but something rapped at the window and she went to let it in. Hedwig dropped a letter onto the table and perched on the seat. I stare at Snape's tidy scrawl.

I'm afraid to open it. He's probably pissed at me again and things were finally starting to get better. But I pick it up and open it.

H,

What happened? Why did you run away? Come talk to me.

-S

That's it? I thought he was going to spare me a howler. But the script is not harsh or angry.

Come talk?! I was just there and could barely think! Hell, I think I could barely breathe. Talk? I don't think I'd manage.

I write a reply:

S,

I'm sorry. I can't. I have to study for U's, F's, and FF's class for tomorrow. Busy week, remember?

-H

I send it with Hedwig.

Hermione frowned.

"What?"

"Are you trying to avoid him again?" Hermione asked.

"And if I am?"

"Didn't you come to the conclusion that that's pointless?"

I did. But I decide to ignore her and I stand, picking up my bag and leaving. I'm going to the Room of Requirement to think, freak out, calm down, and whatever else I may need to do.

And once I'm there, the room is a bedroom with a punching bag. Well, I'm not sure I need to hit anything, but it's nice to have it ready just in case, I guess.

I set my bags down and lay on the bed. I thought exchanging letters with him would help. Not that it didn't: I know more about Snape today than I did a month ago.

I don't know what I expected from the letters.

Am I afraid to be alone with him? Or am I afraid of what I'll do if I am alone with him?

I get back onto my feet and ram my fists into the punching bag. It hurts my hands, but I ignore it. I ram fist after fist into the bag until my energy is spent and my fingers are bruised.

I slide to the ground, crying. Whether because of the pain in my hands or chest, I don't know. My hands refuse to open and it hurts to try.

The door opened and I look up, startled. Doesn't the room allow for privacy?

Snape entered, frowning.

"How did you get in?" I ask.

"Apparently, the Room deemed it necessary to let me in for some reason. I've been looking for you. I see your talking again."

I turn away.

"What happened to your hands? Was it her?"

I shake my head. He kneels down and takes them in his. I don't recall noticing how large they were. Or maybe I did and I keep marveling at it.

"You're a fool."

That bit, even though he isn't saying it cruelly. It still hurt. "What do you mean by that?"

"For one, if you don't know how to box, you probably shouldn't." He pulled his wand out. "Episkey," he said. My hands set back in place. The pain ebbed.

"Ouch."

"You'll live." He pockets his wand. "Two, you drive everyone who cares for you mad with worry. It's selfish of you, Potter."

I don't have anything to say about that. That's probably true. "I've always had to rely on myself, so…"

"Not always. After all, you've mentioned that you have a tendency to make Granger help you with your homework as she's a walking encyclopedia."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"I don't know."

For a few minutes we don't speak.

Snape plays with my hands, making sure they healed properly though we both know they did.

"We're screwed."

I look at him. I've not heard him swear before and I'm, quite honestly, shocked.

His eyes, which were staring at our hands, dart up to meet mine.

"Professor?"

He stands. "You should get back to your house. Curfew is in an hour." He leaves.

What just happened?

#

I lie awake in bed. I can't sleep for the life of me.

My hands still feel his touch, though it's fading.

What happened in the Room of Requirement? I've got a few ideas, but I don't want to read too much into it in case I'm wrong.

After all: there's no way that Snape has fallen in love with me like I have with him, right? It'd be too much to ask for. I try to clear my mind instead. Clear it of all thought, of all emotion…I focus on emptying it out—"

And I feel something.

It feels like tentacles sliding around inside my head. It's gross! Gross!

Get out! Get out! GET OUT!

I envision the lake as I remember it from when I was in the Triwizard tournament last year. The murky green water surrounding me. The brown muddy bottom teeming with kelp and other inhabitants. But it's calm, peaceful, at ease…

The tentacles groping around my head vanishes, leaving an itch I cannot reach.

And as that dies away, the serenity of the lake blanketing me seeps throughout my body.

So this is what occlumency is supposed to do. Is it?

Finally, I can sleep and it is the most peaceful sleep I have without aid of potions.

#

"Thank Merlin!" Ron said as we left the Astronomy tower two days later. He stretched. "I thought we were going to die!"

"They weren't that bad," Hermione said, yawning. "I thought they'd be much more difficult. Besides, the actual tests will definitely be much harder."

"Ack! Don't tell me that, woman!"

I ignored them, staring at my feet. I stop and look up. I want to go ask Snape was he was talking about earlier when we were in the Room.

"Harry?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Go on ahead. I remembered I need to talk to Snape about something. I'll be fine," I smile reassuringly at them before heading down the stairs to Snape's office.

I knock on his door and wait for him to open it. When he does, I stride inside.

"Tell me what you were talking about in the room."

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now," he scoffed.

"I may have, but I don't want assume anything just yet. So tell me the truth. Professor, are you in love with me?"

He winced, but it's gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. But after a moment, I'm convinced I didn't. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad.

"You already know I'm in love with you, so you can just tell me."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is."

He sits down, massaging his head. "You're such a child! You may be comfortable with taking on the risks being in love with your teacher entails, but I'm not."

I avert my gaze, trying to school whatever anger or sorrow is trying to come out.

"Potter, look at me."

I obey, trying not to glare.

"If you're still interested when you're of age then all right…but not a second until then," he said. "Not a moment before."

"So," I count on my fingers. "Its mid-April now…so just a little more than a year?"

"Yes."

I can't stop grinning. I feel lighter than air and my heart is fluttering. "Professor, can I kiss you?"

"Potter, you're fifteen and a half months too early!"

I ignore him, coming around the desk and kissing him. "Was that so bad?"

He glares at me. "You're still insufferable. Cheeky to boot."

I grin and hug him.

A little more than fifteen months, huh?

I can wait.

Fin