Fairy Boys Dance

Occasus

I hated this job. I hated it. I hated the fucking teenaged fairy boys that frequented this place, I hated that they actually thought this place is good enough for them. Of course what can you expect when you lived where we do? Little town with nothing more than a church, small Catholic boarding school which, of course, produces these little drugged up children. Who knew a place of God would produce such creatures.

I stood behind the small make-shift bar in the small, hollowed out house. The sound system is complete rubbish, the lights are dim and it's impossible to hear over the shite music they insist on playing. Why did I work here? Did I actually have a reason? Perhaps it's because it's the only place that would accept me as I am. Once a fairy-boy myself, but so much older now. I didn't particularly enjoy watching them parade around in their pretty leather pants and multi-coloured hair. I wasn't fond of fixing them drinks while they fondle each other in front of me.

But here I was ignored, and so long as I wasn't singled out, I was happy. Wait, not happy, that's far too strong a word. I haven't ever been happy, but I was no longer mal-content. And that was enough for me.

I grew up here, this horrid little town. Went to the small school, beat over and over by sadistic nuns in their ugly little habits, taken for our other 'punishments' by the older boys in the school. It's no wonder everyone around here is so fucked up.

I leaned on the dirty counter, an empty bottle of vodka resting on the counter top and I twirled it idly. The most frequent patron had just arrived. Draco Malfoy. Such an arrogant little shit. He was wearing an impossibly tight white t-shirt and his black vinyl pants. His platinum locks were spiked up in that new, stupid trend, faux-hawk or some such thing. The tips are painted an ugly purple colour. He thinks he looks good. I suppose in a way he does, but I would never consider him.

No, it's not the age and it's not really his drug use because I, myself, had fallen into that at one point. Honestly, there aren't many ways around here to escape. But, I can't handle it anymore, not exactly something that strikes the fancy of an almost forty year old man. I get by with my books, both writing and reading them. No one is ever going to buy them. They're all homo-erotic. I'll never be signed but I've got enough money to get me by and besides, I don't write them for anyone else. Not that I wouldn't appreciate a fan base though, even if it is small.

Draco approached the bar with a grin, his pupils so dilated that there was just a bear ring of silver left. He gave me a large grin. "Snape," he said, stretching out the A sound in my name. He was so high I found it amazing that he even remembered my name.

"Draco," I said with a nod. Is it sick that at one point in my life I went to school with his father? Perhaps a little.

"Fix me something sweet, I don't care what. I need some sugar tonight." He turned back to the pretty little boy on his arm. I doubted the boy was of legal age, probably still in school but I didn't say a word. Anything goes in this place.

Reaching for a glass, I quickly mixed up something sweet for Draco. I didn't even know what it was, I just wing it but no one has ever complained about my drinks before. Not that they would notice if I mixed up sludge and shit, they're always too high to care.

Draco took a long drink and set the glass down. "Thanks," he said and as if in a trance he began to move to the rhythmic, unchanging beat of the music blaring. He probably was in a trance by now, the ecstasy running rampant through his system. The younger boy was so captivated by Draco's movements and I must admit that the arrogant blonde moved fluidly to the music.

I watched idly for a moment before going back to twirling the empty bottle on the counter. I stopped watching them, the people moving on the dance floor. My head was off again, just like always, planning and plotting the next move of my characters. I have so many stories started and so many unfinished but that's how I've always worked.

()

C'est ma vie. My life, boring mundane and mine. It was the same, night after night. The club never closed and since it was so far on the outskirts of town we were never bothered. No one mentioned it, we liked things undisturbed and quiet. Our demons were all mute.

It wasn't until in the dead of winter when things changed.

The club was slightly less frequented in the winter. The cold and snow were harsh and very few people wanted to brave the small dirt road that led to this little house. The heat rarely worked, though the heat from the many bodies kept things tolerable for me.

It was well into the night when he walked in. I'd never seen him before and that wouldn't have been note-worthy had he been a bit younger. There were plenty of teenagers coming in and out week after week, I hardly recognised their faces but I knew every person over the age of twenty-five that stepped through those doors.

It was hard to tell his age right from the off. His face was round and young looking but his bright green eyes held a strange kind of wisdom in them, like he'd lived through a lot. He surveyed the room easily, seemingly undisturbed by the music or the bodies pressed against each other. He spotted me standing behind the bar and with slow, deliberate steps, he made his way over.

I quirked an eyebrow when he drew closer. He looked terribly familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was the hair, it was black and unruly, and perhaps the mouth as well. It was set in a straight line, looking almost as if he'd never smiled before. When he set his hands up on the top of the bar, I noticed that his fingers were stained with various colours, paints most likely. That was...different.

I waited but he said nothing for the longest time. I didn't feel like humouring some drugged up artist who was looking for inspiration so I heaved a sigh. "Can I fix you a drink?" I asked a bit harshly.

He seemed un-fazed by my tone. "Something....strong," he said. I couldn't really hear him over the music but I'd learned to read the patrons' lips fairly well. It was always hard to hear in here.

"Strong?" I asked and tried not to snicker. Strong I could do, impossibly strong. Taking out a myriad of liquor bottles, I fixed up a drink and handed it to him.

His fingers curled around the glass and he gave a nod of thanks. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a note and slid it across to me. There weren't really set prices for the drinks, everyone knew that.

I slipped the note into my pocket and gave a cold shrug, letting him know that he'd just wasted his money but he didn't seem to care. His drink was finished and before I had the chance to refill it, he was gone. I didn't think I would care, why should I care? But I was curious. I didn't even catch his name and I always found out who people were.

Three weeks straight this continued to happen. He would come in, I would fix the drink, he would pay me, drink and then he would leave. I never tried to engage him in conversation and after the first two words he spoke that first night, I never heard a sound coming out of his mouth.

I became irritated though, that I couldn't place where he came from. He still looked so damn familiar and I wanted to know. But I wasn't about to ask him. He had a strange sort of arrogance about him. Not quite like Malfoy, not stuck on himself. More like a strange kind of indifference, or maybe even peace, but that thought didn't occur to me right away. Peace? What it peace anyway? I hated that word. Useless. Stupid. Weak.

Finally one night, Draco and his latest boy-toy arrived as the strange man was drinking his drink. Draco usually refrained from the place until well into the night while the stranger seemed to prefer early evening.

Draco eyed the green-eyed man before stopping at the edge of the bar. "Something sweet?" I asked with a smirk.

"Yes," Draco said absently as he ran his hands up and down his boy-toy's back languidly.

I ignored this, slightly sickened by Draco and I fixed the drink Handing it to him, I was tempted to send him off but I was far too curious about the man. "Draco," I said loudly, stopping him before he walked away.

Draco frowned, unused to having me address him beyond drink orders, and he turned. "Snape," he replied.

"He looks about your age," I said and nodded towards the man. "You know who he is?"

Draco looked over at the man and smirked. "Potty," he said with a snort.

"Sorry?" Potty? What the hell was Draco on about? He didn't seem crazy to me, just quiet.

"Well his name's Harry Potter but we all call him Potty. He was in school with me for a few years but he couldn't make it though."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, he's completely barmy. Remember Riddle?" Draco waggled his eyebrows and I shuddered. Yes, fuck yes I remembered Riddle. It's not often one can forget a maniac like that. Recruiting men into his little order, ranting about racial purification and the like. Something Draco's father gotten me both in and out of. Fucking wankers.

"Riddle killed his parents...attempted to kill him too. Blew up his house, you know the night Riddle was killed, or so father told me. Didn't kill Harry but it gave him a pretty little burn scar across his back and made him deaf."

I raised my eyebrow. "Deaf?"

"Yeah," Draco said rolling his eyes. "He was brought up by his Aunt and Uncle. You know the Dursleys, don't you?"

I snorted. Yeah, couldn't forget that lot either. Vernon Dursley, fat whale of a man, always had a "thing or two to tell fags like me". Yes, I knew him. It was hard to believe that Harry had been brought up by them.

"What did you say his last name was?" I asked again.

"Potter. You know, the son of Lily and James," Draco said with a laugh.

Oh lovely. James fucking Potter. He was never going to stop haunting me, was he? Tormented me in school, he and his best mate Black outed me in front of three nuns. The beating was a lovely one, one I would never forget. All because I fancied their other mate who was indeed gay but in deep denial. Never knew what happened to Lupin though I knew James had died and Black ended up in prison for some petty crimes linked to Riddle.

Draco had wandered onto the dance floor with his boy in tow, moving to the music. I saw Harry watching the blonde with a strange expression. Not quite loathing...maybe bitterness. I knew the expression well. It was one of my favourites.

And it made me even more curious about the man. What the hell was he doing here? Harry was brought up by the most homophobic family in the bloody town, he was nearly killed by a maniac and I suspected that he was tormented heavily at school...most likely by Draco. Wouldn't surprise me if Lucius encouraged Draco's behaviour towards Potter, Lucius was bitter on my behalf. I appreciated it at one time but I'm too old for that petty shit anymore.

()

I don't know how I found myself in town during the day a week later but there I was, walking the streets, ignoring the stares. They all knew who I was, the once-bad boy. The one who had done some very bad things and got away with it all because the Magistrate, Albus Dumbledore had known me and known that I'd reformed. I never had to pay for my crimes. I don't think the people liked it much. That, and I was gay. Openly so and I refused to attend church. I didn't need God, I needed a book deal and I think God is far too busy with the troubles of the world to give me that.

I had a purpose for being in town. Draco became so high I was able to extract the information about where Potter lived without him remembering the next day. He lived on Godric's Hollow, the dodgy street, if you want to call it that. Don't really have a dodgy part of town here.

It was a small cottage, I noticed, as I drew closer. I really hoped that he was home. It was fucking freezing and my thick jumper was not keeping out the cold as I thought it would.

As I drew nearer, I noticed a dead, snow-covered, unkempt garden with dead vines hanging all over the place. I suppose that while in the winter it looked horrid, in the spring it would be absolutely amazing. I loved the way wild things looked. I can't stand the tidy little gardens, the flower beds and patches of grass looking ever-so proper. Made me want to puke. Haphazard was far better in my opinion.

Ignoring the puffs of breath coming from my mouth, I trudged through the snow and made my way up the path to the front door. Just as I reached for the knocker, I realised that it was pointless. He was deaf, how was I supposed to get his attention. Sighing heavily, I looked around and suddenly noticed the buzzer. I remembered once reading about a deaf person who attached lights to the buzzer so they could be alerted if someone came to call. Perhaps Potter was clever enough to do that.

Well, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

I reached out with a gloved finger, pressed the buzzer twice and waited. I tapped my foot, crossed and un-crossed my arms. It seemed to take years. Maybe he was sleeping, maybe he wasn't home. Maybe Draco was too high and didn't know what he was talking about. God I was such an idiot.

I was about to turn and stalk off when I heard the click of the lock and the door slowly opened. What should I do? Smile? Absolutely not.

Potter blinked in surprise when he saw me standing on his doorstep. He was clad in draw-string pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt that was splattered with paint. He held a thick brush in one hand and his other was coated in a collection of reds, blues and greens.

I raised my hand curtly by way of greeting, unsure if he could read lips or something. I roughly knew finger-spelling but it was shaky.

Potter raised an eyebrow and I think he realised how cold it was outside because he opened the door wider and beckoned me inside.

"Thanks," I muttered as I stepped past him, knowing he couldn't hear me but what the hell else was I supposed to do? I have manners, if not tact.

Potter shut the door quickly and moved past me to a large bowl of water where he dropped the brush. Dipping his hands into the stained water, he began to scrub off some of the paint.

I took the opportunity to look around the house and found it...unusual. It was warm, thank God, cos I was freezing. There were no paintings on the walls but several finished works were lying around on the floor. There was a small amount of furniture, three chairs and a couch. A small telly sat in the corner, off of course, and there were a large amount of plants that seemed quite well-kept. I didn't see photos of anyone, no friends or family but I wasn't sure he would want to keep any of the Dursleys. They were unpleasant to look at as well as to speak to.

To my right was a long, unlit hallway and I managed to make out three doors that were closed. A doorway led to a small kitchen and next to the wall was a round, scrubbed wooden table that held his water, paints and brushes. Next to the table, a large easel was set up and he was painting something that looked like the inside of the club but it was hard to tell. It was half finished, some paint, some pencil sketch.

I looked at Potter who was now watching me with his intense green eyes and I found myself forced to look away. What the hell! I don't look away! I have almost twenty years on this man and a load of bitterness towards his father. Why should I look away?

With that thought in mind, I turned my gaze back to the man and shrugged. What was I supposed to do? Could he read? I thought he might be able to, he had several books strewn about that I only just noticed.

Harry made a small noise in the back of his throat, like he was clearing it. "Tea?" he asked. The word was un-clear, muted due to the fact that he couldn't hear himself and I had a feeling he rarely spoke.

I nodded and waited in the same spot while he went into his kitchen for a few moments. Returning with two cups of tea, he handed one to me, picked up a small pad of paper and gestured towards the couch.

I turned away from him, feeling nervous doing so for some reason, and I moved around the paintings to sit down. Potter took a seat on the oposite side from me and faced me.

"Why are you here?" he asked in his strange speech. It was slightly un-nerving but it was also different. And I've always fancied different. I'm very different.

"I don't know," I said, trying to form my words clearly. "I was watching you at the club. My name's Severus."

"I know," Harry answered and took a drink of his tea. He picked up the note pad and sighed. "I hate talking," he said carefully. "Do you mind?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. Can you understand me okay?"

Harry nodded and quickly scribbled on the pad before handing it to me.

I know who you are, Ron Weasley told me about you. He told me what happened with Riddle and everything. I didn't know you worked at the club.

I read the note and frowned. "You don't care?"

Harry let out a breathy chuckle before writing again.

Of course not. If anything, I'd expect you to mind me. Remus Lupin told me what happened between you and my father in school.

My jaw clenched and I nodded curtly. "Right," was all I could say. Part of me wanted to blame Harry suddenly but I'm too smart for shit like that.

Why are you here?

I looked at the pad and then up at Harry's curious green eyes. "I think I just wanted to know why you come to the club."

Because.......it's quiet there. That doesn't make sense to someone who can hear. But all I have are my thoughts, and there, I don't have those. Everyone needs a break now and again.

I chuckled at this and nodded. "Very true," I said. I escaped mine with my writing. I was able to be alone when I was writing and that was a strange thing because I've always lived alone. I suddenly realised I didn't belong in Harry's house. It was clear that he didn't need me around, nor did he often entertain company. "I should go," I said and placed the cup on the table.

"Nice too meet you Severus," Harry said. My name sounded so strange coming from him. It was obvious he'd never said it before and it would have been impossible to tell what he'd just said had it not been my own name. He extended his hand and I took it briefly.

"See you," was all I said and then I left.

What was the fucking point? Why did I pay him a visit? Nothing came of it, I didn't feel better about James, I still didn't forgive him and I knew nothing about Harry. Well, almost nothing. He had asked about me. Why did that make me feel better?

()

Harry didn't show back up at the club for a straight week. I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to show up again and the thought that he might made me feel slightly sad. Why? I have no idea.

It was a Thursday night when Harry finally showed up again and I had to use conscious effort not to smile. God, I hadn't wanted to smile in I don't know how long. He gave me a short nod before approaching the bar and I fixed him his drink, this time taking care to make sure it tasted good. I refused the note he put on the counter.

"Unnecessary," I mouthed.

Harry shrugged, his face indifferent as he slipped the note into his pocket. He sipped on his drink while I leant across the top of the counter near him. We said nothing, we merely watched. In the quiet loudness of the club I suddenly understood what he had meant by his words before. The pulsing crowd as they moved against each other made me forget, it made me stop thinking. Eventually the music fell into the back of my mind and things began to meld together.

The music really was loud in the club. Draco loaned a bit of money and produced decent speakers and while it was louder, it stopped sounding if someone was playing in a tin can. I wondered if Harry could hear the music at all and eventually my curiosity won.

I tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you hear the music at all?" I mouthed.

Harry frowned and set his drink down. He made a series of signs with his hands that I didn't understand and he graced my confusion with a crooked grin. Taking my hand, he pressed it to the top of the counter and it was then I noticed the vibrations. The counter hummed with the bass of the song, pulsing and vibrating with the beat.

A smile lit my eyes for a brief moment and Harry let out a chuckle. "I hear it like that," he said.

I understood how to read lips, I had to do it in the club and I wondered what it would be like to do in complete silence. Then I noticed that Harry's hand was still pressed on top of mine and I drew my bottom lip into my mouth.

Harry followed my eyes and gave me another smile before removing his fingers from mine. "You understand it?" he asked.

"Yes," I said with a nod.

Harry leant back against the counter and sipped his drink again. "If I could do one thing," he said carefully though I had trouble understanding him and had to lean in very close, "I would dance."

"You never dance?"

"I can't dance to music I can't hear," he explained with a shrug.

I had nothing to say to that.

()

I found myself sitting with Luicus Malfoy on his balcony a fortnight later. We were sipping supposed-to-be-hot chocolate and Lucius was smirking sadistically knowing how much I hated being cold. The balcony was covered but it didn't stop the wind from blowing snow into my face with each gust.

"Shut it," I snapped when Lucius laughed while I was attempting to remove snow from my eyelashes. "Why the hell are we out here?"

Lucius shrugged. "I like to sit out when it's snowing."

"You're such a bastard," I snarked.

He chuckled and took a long drink from his cup. "That is true, but you've known that since we were children."

I snorted into my cup before taking a drink. Grimicing at the temperature of the liquid, I set the cup on the table and pushed it away from me. "So why am I here?" I demanded. I had no idea and I really hoped it wasn't about Draco.

"I spoke to Draco the other day, he's still frequenting your club," Lucius said mildly.

Fuck. Why does he come to me about this shit? I'm not Draco's fucking charge and besides, Draco's twenty three. He can do what he pleases.

"Yes Lucius, that's nothing new," I ground out eventually.

"Severus, why are you still there?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

My eyes widened. What the fuck? Honestly, he and I had been over this so many times I'd lost count. "You know why Lucius," I snapped.

"Severus, you have a degree, you're writing is brilliant and you're one of the most intelligent people I know. Why are you still here, in this little hole pissing your life away while you write books that no one's ever going to read?"

My face reddened just slightly though I could easily blame it on the cold. I didn't blush, from anger or otherwise. "Lucius, you know I absolutely refuse to vomit out a pile of crap for some publisher that insists I write what the masses want. I won't do it, it's an insult to my writing."

"I know it is Severus," he said patiently. "I'm not asking you to write what you don't want to. I'm trying to tell you I've found you an agent that might be able to help you."

Well that was unexpected. An agent? Interesting concept but I had doubts that it would work. I'd tried things like this before but it never worked out.

"I know what you're thinking," Lucius said, "but I think this might actually happen."

"How do you know?" I demanded, my arms crossing in a defencive position. I absolutely refused to get my hopes up again.

"Because he's done it twice already. There's just one catch."

HA! I fucking knew it. "And that would be?" I asked with my patented smirk.

"It's in France."

I quirked an eyebrow. "France?"

"Er, yes. It seems that the uhm...genre you tend to favour is a bit easier published over there. Not to the French mind you, but that's where he works and that's where he will demand that you be."

I didn't know. I used to vow that I would move out of this little hole one day, just as soon as I had the opportunity but suddenly it seemed so hard. Fuck, why should it be hard to say yes? No, no. Not the green eyed man. Absolutely not. I refused to believe that I might give up my dream because of one man who likes to sit with me at the crap club and watch the fairies dance. Fuck that. But I couldn't stop thinking of him. Of the way his hand pressed mine to the counter. Of the way his distorted voice said my name.

"Severus?" Lucius said after the long silence.

I startled out of my thoughts and sighed. "I don't have the money to up and move to France Lucius, and I won't let you put me up."

"I know that," Lucius said impatiently. "Actually what he wants you to do is to send in one of your works. He'll have a go at it and if he thinks it will sell, he'll fund you."

I drew my bottom lip into my mouth and shrugged. What the hell? Couldn't hurt and I'd been rejected before. This time I wouldn't expect anything to happen. With a curt nod, I followed Lucius into the house to get the information I would need to send in my book.

()

It was sent. I couldn't believe I'd sent it. It was...well hard to believe really. No one had read one of my works before, not in it's entirety anyway. Just samples and they had never been good enough. But I needed to forget about it. It would take three weeks at least to get a response and I was completely on edge. I said I wasn't going to get my hopes up about it. What a fucking joke.

So I went back to the club. The club opened at five o'clock each evening and while it never really closed it was empty by five in the morning, sometimes six on the weekends. The house was owned by the Weasley twins. The Weasleys being one of the most known families in the bloody town, all identified by their red hair and by the women's ability to produce more children then ever thought possible. There were so many I had lost count. But the twins, God even thinking about them made me shudder at times.

They were quiet for the most part. They made the music, provided the alcohol and most of the time made the drugs. If you ever needed anything, they were the ones to go to. They had both been in and out of trouble though they were left alone for the most part. I shudder to think how school would have been had I attended it with them. It was bad enough with Potter, Black and Lupin. Didn't think many could rival their marauding, fuck but upon meeting Fred and George I learnt I was so wrong.

The twins were lazing around, Fred with his short strawberry blonde locks was lying on his back on top of the make shift stage and George with his longer, blood red coloured hair was sitting cross-legged with his back to his brother. They were smoking a joint lazily while planning something that I didn't care about.

"Snape," George said by way of greeting when I entered.

I nodded, feeling no need to interact with them further. They let me be and I returned the favour.

"Draco's waiting for you," George said as I walked behind the counter to deposit my jacket. "He's upstairs."

Oh great, Draco wanted to see me, and upstairs. Just bloody wonderful. The last thing I wanted today was to cater to one of Draco's insane plans, or favours, depending on the drug he had used.

With a small frown, I went up the stairs and found Draco seated with a short, purple haired woman. She was petite, pretty in the face with several piercings and she was clad in a tight t-shirt sporting a Bikini Kill logo and patched jeans that were far too wide for her small frame.

When Draco spotted me, he stood up and smiled around the fag he had in his mouth. "Snape, this is Tonks," he said cheerfully.

I raised my eyebrow, refusing to go further into the room and I leaned against the door frame. "What do you want?" I asked irritably. I wasn't in the mood to entertain one of his little "projects". Every now and again Draco would find some fag-hag he found cute and demand that I school her in "the ways of the fairies", or so Draco liked to call it. Right stupid if you ask me, but no one ever did.

"She needs a job and I thought you could let her assist you at the bar," he said excitedly.

I rolled my eyes. I never needed help at the bar, no one really drank there. "Why should I?" I asked with a withering glance at the girl who seemed completely un-bothered by my attitude which only irritated me more. If I couldn't drive people away with my snark, what would become of me?

"Because you love me," Draco cooed, batting his lashes at me.

I snorted. Love. Not bloody likely and especially not Draco. "Not good enough," I said.

"For the fuck of it," Tonks offered with a laugh. "I won't be stepping on your toes or anything."

I sighed, tired of everything all of a sudden. Besides, I was going to need a replacement if I did move to France. I looked her up and down. She was cute, and her eyes shone with intelligence which meant I wasn't going to be repeating myself, something I absolutely detested. "Fine," I snapped. "Why don't you go downstairs now and get everything set up."

Tonks did as she was told and I watched with a sneer as Draco bounced up and down, clapping his hands. "Yay, thank you Severus," he said and kissed my cheek.

I stepped away and glared. "You're such an idiot Draco," I said scathingly. "You give gay men a bad name."

"Oh what do you know Severus. Besides, you're just jealous that I'm so pretty."

I had to laugh at that. "Pretty? For fucks' sake Draco, you're a walking stereo-type. It's morons like you that keep me from being properly published."

Draco slung his arm around my shoulders, unaffected by my remarks. "Someday the world will understand us Severus. Someday they'll all be gay."

"I have my theories about that," I quipped sarcastically and pushed the blonde away. "Don't you have some drugs to do or some boys to shag?"

Draco checked his watch and gasped. "Oh no! You're right Sev, I have to be outside the church in ten minutes! I'm meeting Guido!"

"Guido?" I asked as I followed Draco down the stairs.

Draco grinned back up at me. "Isn't it a lovely name? His real name's Michael but I thought Guido was so much prettier. He's like my faux-Italian sex slave!"

The thought sickened me and I headed for the bar while Draco made for the door. "Just keep that shit away from me and I can die in peace," I called as Draco made to leave.

The blonde pulled a face and made a rude gesture with his hand. "You know what you'll be doing tonight you bitter old man!" he called and slammed the door behind him.

"Hope it hit him in the arse," I muttered as I went behind the bar to pour myself a drink. It was rare when I indulged but today called for it. I was going to be "training" some fag-hag Draco found in town who was likely to be one of the fucked up little girls who hated straight men because she had been raped more times than I wanted to think about. Then she would have a sudden urge to bond with me half way through the night when her drugs kicked in. She would end up harbouring some romantic fantasy that I would suddenly fancy her and give up my love of men to shag her senseless in a gentle way and romance her for the rest of our days.

It happened too many times around here and I really wasn't in the mood. I just wanted to hear back from that man...what was his name? Albert Colaind or something like that? Well if he would just hurry up with my book I could possibly be out of here, or at least I would be able to get rid of this horrible feeling of not knowing. Besides, it was something I would like to share with Harry, as weird as that sounded. I hoped he would be coming to the club tonight.

Which of course he didn't.

Draco showed up half way through the night with "Guido" on his arm. The poor kid couldn't have been more than seventeen. Draco had him clad in some ridiculous outfit with a billowing white poet's shirt, a black velvet vest, black leather pants tucked into soft boots like some fucked up film version of an Italian aristocrat from the sixteen hundreds. Horribly historically inaccurate and it looked bloody ridiculous. Where in the seven hells did Draco manage to find an outfit that stupid? Of course leave it to Draco to actually find it at all.

Draco paraded his boy-toy around the room, showing him off to Blaise Zabini and the gorilla twins, two boys un-related but equally thick and almost impossible to tell apart. Crabbe and Goyle is what they were called, I think. I didn't really know which one was which, they were always together.

By the time Draco had made it up to the bar I managed to down a few shots of vodka. He gave me a white toothy grin and ordered his usual sugary drink. "Isn't he lovely?" Draco cooed as he ran his fingers through the boy's black, curly locks.

I had to admit, his features did look Italian, or maybe a little Greek. But he was obviously one of our lovely British troubled youths who was trapped in this shit town just like the rest of us.

"What the hell is he wearing?" I finally asked.

"Oh something I managed to put together," Draco said proudly. "Isn't it perfect, my little Italian lord. Wouldn't it be brilliant if he were castrated and could sing opera?"

"Stop reading Anne Rice Draco," I demanded, "it's corrupting your already too-foul mind. If I even hear a whisper of you attempting to castrate anyone, your father will hear about it and you won't like what he'll do."

Draco pouted and put a possessive arm around "Guido's" waist. "I wouldn't hurt my little Lord, would I?" he asked, blinking owlishly at the boy.

"No," the teen answered with a shrug.

I shook my head and signalled for Tonks to hurry with the drinks. Bounding over, Tonks handed Draco his drink and leaned on the counter to kiss his cheek. "You look good Michael," she declared.

The teen flushed, making me feel ill again. I shouldn't have had the vodka. I wanted to go home and after I thought about it, I realised there wasn't any real reason why I couldn't. Taking a breath, I opened my mouth to tell Tonks I was going when she interrupted me.

"Ever notice how you can feel the vibrations of the music on the counter?" she said pressing her palm to the smooth surface.

I blinked in surprise, my thoughts travelling to Harry and I found myself sorely wishing he was here. That is so wrong but God, I think I was falling for him. How stupid of me, I hated when I fancied someone. It made me feel so damned weak.

Draco was pressing his face to the counter, wearing an idiotic smile. "It's so cool," he said with a giggle.

It was retarded and I was going to puke if I didn't leave. "You can close up Tonks," I said. "I need to get out of here."

She shrugged and tipped me a wink. "Say hi to Harry for me."

I froze. I hadn't mentioned Harry and I had no idea she knew him at all. Why the fuck would she think I would be seeing him tonight. "Sorry?" I said.

"Oh I just thought you were headed there," she said with a shrug. "My mistake."

I said nothing as I walked out of the club and headed down the street. My breath was coming out in great white puffs that shone eerily in the hazy light of the street lamps. There were actually only two lamps and they were a sick yellow colour. I hated looking at people under them.

My car was parked further away from the house to keep it safe from the others. It had been robbed twice and replacing the windows was fucking expensive. I wasn't in a hurry to deplete what little money I had saved up.

It was colder in my car than it was outside. Strange that, but it seemed to be the case every winter. The heat in my car was rubbish and usually didn't work properly until I pulled up to my little house. Fuck I needed a new life. This was just ridiculous. Can't believe she thought I was going to see Potter.

But...oh what the hell was wrong with me? I actually pulled onto his street as I was thinking that. I wondered if he would mind me visiting him. We hadn't had any interaction outside the club since that first day and when I was at his house it had been so awkward. But I liked him. Couldn't deny it now. If I hate anything more than repeating myself, it's blatant ignorance and trying to deny that I fancied Potter would be disgustingly blatant ignorance. Besides, what did I know if I didn't know myself?

With a mental shrug, I switched off the engine and got out of the car. I could see a heavy stream of smoke billowing out of Harry's chimney and I breathed in the scent of burning wood. I liked winter and the smell of the burning fireplaces always stirred something in me. It made me want to sit outside and just smell it. I always came up with strange scenes to go in my books when I was doing that. Of course once I went inside the moment was ruined and the added scenes would usually be rubbish.

Maybe if I made some money off this book deal I could afford a laptop and I could take it outside with me. I really did produce my best works in the winter. It vaguely reminded me of some strange film I'd seen years ago where surfers chased summer around the world. Could I do that with winter? Possibly.

Pulling away from the very odd train of thoughts, I pushed the buzzer and waited, shivering slightly as I clutched my poufy jacket closer around my body. I could see a dim light flicker on moments after I pushed the buzzer and soon the door opened and Harry graced me with a smile.

He gestured me inside and I nodded gratefully. Fuck I hated being cold. A lovely warmth washed over me as I stepped inside Harry's house and I was grateful for his roaring fire that was blazing in the corner of the room. Harry shut the door and bolted it tightly before gesturing towards the lounge.

The paintings had been cleaned up since I'd been there last and the floor was blessedly free of clutter. The telly in the corner was on and a book was sitting upside down on the arm of the couch, marking the page he must have been reading. I sat down in the chair closest to the fire, the one that happened to be facing the couch and I gave Harry a strained smile.

"Miss me?" Harry joked in his strange voice.

I grinned. Why did I like his sound so much? It was so strange. Oh well, I'm strange, I suppose it fits. "A little," I said forming my words carefully. I wonder if he can tell the difference between when someone is speaking and when they just mouth the words.

"Drink? I have tea," he said carefully.

I shook my head. I was still pretty drunk, shouldn't have been driving if I bothered to think about it and I realised that it was terribly late and it was very rude of me to call at such an hour.

"I can leave if you're busy...or sleeping," I said suddenly.

He chuckled a little, marked his book with a small piece of paper and set it on the side table. "I rarely sleep."

"Why?" I asked, though I shouldn't have. It was none of my business really.

"Nightmares," he said with a shrug. "Mind if I get my pad of paper?"

I sighed. My vision was slightly crossed and I doubt I could read properly. "Can't read right now," I said with a shrug, "pretty pissed."

Harry laughed genuinely and for the first time I heard his voice unmuffled by his tongue, or whatever it was that caused his words to be muted. It was nice. "Pity you can't sign," he said after he recovered.

I can spell, I fingerspelled, my cold fingers working out their stiffness. I wondered for a moment if I had gotten any of that right.

Harry was watching me, his eyes wide and a small smile formed on his mouth. Can you understand me, he spelled out.

I took me a moment but considering I was a writer, letters formed words very quickly in my brain, even when thoroughly sloshed. Yes, I spelled back, but I have to tell you I am very drunk.

Harry graced me with another laugh and it made me smile. Alcohol always loosened me up and I wondered if that was actually such a bad thing at the moment.

Coffee perhaps, try and sober you up a bit?

Never works on me, I spelled back. It was getting easier by the moment though I was suddenly very sleepy. I couldn't suppress the yawn and I smiled apologetically. Sorry.

He waved his hand and shook his head. It's late and you look tired. You should stay here.

No, I spelled back, that would be too much.

Why?

I don't know really. Why would it be too much? Sort of seemed the thing to say really. Shrugging, I looked back at him, laughing a little because I now saw double. Vodka is hitting me harder, maybe sleep is good.

I'll help you to a bed, he spelled and stood to take my arm.

I could feel the heat radiating off of him as he held my arm even though my arms were covered with the thick sleeves of my jumper. I couldn't stop the smile and I had a sudden, mad urge to kiss him. I licked my lips and found it impossible to chase the thoughts away. But I wasn't going to, I wasn't that drunk.

Harry was looking at me intently and I realised I had been staring at him for several moments. I shrugged and allowed him to lead me down the dark hall. He entered the last door on the left and it led into a dimly lit bedroom. Seeing all of the personal effects I realised that this must be Harry's own bedroom.

"No," I said firmly, "I can sleep on the couch, or just go home or something."

Harry shook his head firmly. "You're fine here and you're not driving."

God, even drunk I loved listening to him talk. What the hell is wrong with me? Isn't it wrong? It feels like it should be. I'm so twisted, but I was falling for him hard.

"You keep staring," Harry finally said.

I nodded and sat down unceremoniously on the edge of the soft mattress. I like you Harry, I spelled out carefully.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. Why?

I had to laugh at that. Why? I had no fucking clue why. But I had to tell him something. You just...I spelled and stopped to think. My brain really didn't want to function. Bloody vodka, why did I have to drink so much? I hate telling the blunt truth. I'm excellent at masking my words without lying. You make me want to smile, I spelled finally. My brain just wasn't going to co-operate.

Harry stared at me sharply before dropping into a squat in front of me. He brought up his hands and spelled very carefully. If you don't smile much, how can I make you want to?

I shrugged. I don't know how to explain it and I don't think now is a good time to try.

Harry chuckled throatily and brought his hand up. His fingers ran down my cheek, making me shiver and I suddenly hated myself. It was the weakness taking over, the want to kiss him, to tell him things. I never told people things, but God how I wanted to tell him everything. Everything he already knew, everything he didn't know.

Will you kiss me, I finally spelled out.

He frowned and took my hands in his. "You're drunk," he said, sounding like he took great care to be understandable. "Do you really want a kiss from me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, my head starting to clear just a little. It wasn't much but I wasn't completely gone, I knew what I wanted now. It was the same thing I had wanted since he touched my hand at the club. His hands on mine were searing, the heat sending sparks shooting up my spine. It was almost unbearable but I think it would have been worse if he wasn't touching me at all.

"I'm just some deaf artist that comes to your club to drink and watch you," he said slowly and my heart began to race.

He watched me? I didn't know why he came there, the answer before had been somewhat cryptic. He said he needed to get away from his thoughts. "Why me?" I finally asked.

He squeezed my hands tightly in his. "Why not you?"

What the hell kind of answer was that? I snorted inwardly. It was my kind of answer and I suddenly adored him for it. God, he was amazing and I barely knew him. I needed to kiss him.

"Kiss me and I will know if it's real," I said suddenly. I don't know why I phrased it like that. It was something I would have said when I was high but I wasn't really high. I was...what was I? Not lost because I knew exactly where I was, and my feelings weren't masked. But what I said seemed right. It makes no sense to me still but understanding dawned in his green eyes and he smiled. God his smile was so fucking beautiful.

He held onto my hands tighter and he leaned in to gently press a kiss to my lips. It was chaste but that's how the first kiss should have been. His lips were soft and the tip of his nose was cold as it pressed into my skin, just to the left of my slightly large nose. I felt his breath hit my skin, hot and moist and it made me shiver. God, I was hard and I wanted him badly but I was still so drunk and I didn't want our first time to be like that. Not some fumbling act performed in the dark followed by awkward conversation the next morning. No. Not with Harry.

He drew me out of my thoughts with a warm hand on my cheek. "You need sleep," he said carefully.

I do, I spelled out carefully.

He chuckled again and pressed another kiss to my lips, this time letting the tip of his tongue gently ghost across my bottom lip. It took me by surprise and I didn't allow the kiss to deepen but he honestly didn't seem put out by it. Instead, he rested on his knees and proceeded to remove my boots from my feet.

God, what a gesture. I'd never done something like that for someone and it's certainly never been done for me. His smile lit his whole face and I couldn't help but smile back. Fuck I was glad no one was around to see me like that. Once the offending boots were removed and shoved to the side, Harry rose up and helped me out of my jumper, revealing one of my normal, white t-shirts.

Will you stay with me, I spelled out suddenly.

He froze for a moment, a frown creasing his brow. You would want me to sleep in bed with you, he spelled out cautiously. "That is very intimate," he said slowly. "I can't imagine you would actually want that."

I smiled gently and reached out for his hand. It was so not me but I didn't care anymore. Fuck it, I wanted him so badly, even if it was simply to sleep at my side. "I won't press you to but I am asking if you will. Please," I added, stressing the please. Holy hell, I very nearly begged him. My life had officially turned upside down.

He made the sign for Ok. That was one of the few I recognised, besides I love you, hello and good bye. I couldn't suppress my grin, I was happy and that was such a foreign feeling. Happy. How long had it been, and why was I allowing happiness? It wasn't going to last. It never lasted.

But there I was, crawling under the soft duvet, my head falling on one of the impossibly soft pillows while Harry changed in the dim light of the desk lamp.

He seemed to unembarrassed by the act of changing. He removed all of his clothing save for his boxers and moved to his tall wardrobe to pull out a pair of drawstring pyjama bottoms and he pulled them on. When he turned around, I saw the large, wrinkled scarring over most of his back and I found it...well nice to look at, as strange as that sounded. Throwing a loose t-shirt that had paint stains all down the front, he turned to me and graced me with his beautiful smile.

Beautiful smile? I honestly never thought I would be using those words to describe anyone who was about to crawl into bed with me. He raked his fingers through his hair though it made no difference in his messy mane and walked towards me.

I pulled back the duvet for him and he slid inside. He leaned up on one elbow and looked down at me for a long moment. It made me feel so intensely vulnerable all of a sudden but you know something, I really didn't mind.

Harry raised his hand carefully and reached out to run his fingers through my hair, his fingertips lingering on my scalp. His hand rested on my shoulder and his hand snaked up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers applying gentle pressure to my skin.

"You are very beautiful," he said very slowly, taking care to form his words so I could understand them.

And I blushed. I honest to God blushed. I fought it, fought it hard but no one had ever called me beautiful before, not with honesty, and his eyes were so bloody honest. Drawing his hand away from my neck, he trailed his fingers down my cheek and leaned in towards my face. I closed my eyes as I felt his breath ghosting across my skin, his lips pressed lightly to my eyelids, down to the tip of my nose before resting on my mouth.

I allowed the kiss to deepen, sighing at the extreme tenderness he was showing. I couldn't get enough of his hand, his thumb that caressed my cheek. God it was so...fuck it was almost too much. I wasn't used to this at all, I had never been shown this kind of gentleness and I didn't know what to do with it.

Finally Harry pulled away and I noticed that I was breathing very hard. He chuckled a little and kissed the tip of my nose again. He made a sign that I didn't recognise and when he saw my confusion he ran his hand down the side of my face and said, "Sleep."

I wanted to argue, I wanted to stay up watching him or something, anything else but sleep, but my traitorous body decided that Harry had the right idea and soon my eyes were closing. Falling asleep next to him was both amazing and frightening. When you're asleep you're vulnerable and damn it I'd felt vulnerable twice tonight and I hated it. But I also, God knows why, trusted him and when I felt his arm snake around my waist I gave a small sigh and let sleep carry me off.

()

The next morning I woke free of a hangover, as usual, and alone. The depression in the pillow next to me was still warm signalling that Harry hadn't been up for very long. Sitting up, I raised my arms above my head in a long stretch. God the bed was comfortable and getting out of it was such an un-appealing idea. I pondered on my options for several moments but before I could make a decision, Harry walked into the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a stack of toast.

He graced me with a smile as he climbed back into the bed and situated the tray over his lap. "Hungry?" he asked.

Yes, I spelled out.

Harry laughed and handed me my cup of tea. He manoeuvred so that we were sitting shoulder to shoulder and the toast and tea was eaten without any kind of conversation. Finally, when both cups were on the tray next to the empty plate, Harry moved the items aside and turned to face me.

"Can I ask you something," he said slowly. "Yes," I said. Wonderful, excellent. Here comes the questions. The why's, the what

now's. Exactly what I didn't want because honestly I didn't have any answers to the questions.

"Do you want to learn signs?" he asked, surprising the hell out of me. Do I want to learn signs?

Then I realised the kind of question it was. Was I going to stay long enough to learn? Did I care enough to learn his language properly? Jesus, did I? I did know then, didn't I.

"Yes," I said finally. "I would love to."

Harry smiled again and made a series of signs. "I'm happy you want to learn," he translated.

"Why didn't you talk before?" I blurted out. I wanted to know and it was such a rude question but I was so curious.

He cocked his head to the side. Because my voice is strange, he spelled carefully. No one likes it. It unnerves people and sometimes I'm hard to understand.

I brought my hand up and touched his lips with my fingers for a moment. His lips were so soft, all of his skin was soft. He let out a breath as I touched his face and I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my face. I like your voice, I spelled back.

His eyes widened. You do, he spelled back.

"I do," I confirmed and took his hands so he couldn't spell. "I won't make you speak if you don't like it."

"Most people don't like the sound," he said with a shrug. "I don't know how loud I'm speaking. I can't remember the sounds of voices so it's hard to learn new words."

"Like my name?" I asked.

He nodded. "Was it wrong?"

I shook my head. "It was perfect."

A flush crept into his cheeks and I found it almost unbearably endearing. He was blushing for me. I've never made anyone blush before. Lord, I was falling so hard and I was starting to feel the fear. I didn't want to love because I didn't want to hurt when it ended. Life was never fair for me and I wasn't going to give the sadistic Powers That Be any kind of open to toy with me any further than they already did. But damn it I wanted to fall for him.

Harry pulled his hands out of mine. "You're lost in thought again," he said and signed.

I took care to watch his hands move. The language was so fluid and beautiful. It was fitting that he was an artist, he was so beautiful, his face, his language. Why the hell would he choose me? I was not beautiful, not even remotely attractive.

"There's a lot to think about," I responded.

"Me?" he asked and signed.

I nodded. "And me." Taking a deep breath, I decided not to plunge into it straight away. Not just yet. I wanted to enjoy this a little bit, even though I was certain fate was going to muck with my life soon enough.

And it hit me. The book deal. The fucking book deal. I would have to move to France if it worked out. I would have to leave Harry, leave this town and damn it, it was so unfair. Well, assuming it worked out. My whole life I wanted to get the hell out of this place, to be free of the magnet that constantly pulled me back here and now that there might be an opportunity to do so, I was going to be forced to make a bloody choice.

"Thoughts?" Harry asked softly, his fingers touching my chin lightly.

I sighed. There are things I have to decide, I spelled out. There are things that might happen that could change my life.

Things that are not me?

Things that are not you, I spelled back. But I would like to forget them for now.

Harry smiled softly and leaned in to kiss me. This time the kiss was deep, his tongue slipping into my mouth ever so gently, touching the roof of my mouth before he pulled away. He licked his lips and drew his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked at me, his green eyes slightly clouded.

"I will help you forget them if you would let me," he said though the words were hard to understand this time.

My prick twitched. Of-fucking-course it did. But hell, why not? He wanted me, I could tell though God knows why he did. And I wanted him.

Before I could talk myself out of it or ponder so much that the mood was lost, I found my hands snaking their way up his sides. He let out a breathy sound and brought his own arms around me, his hand resting on the back of my neck, his fingers curling around my hair slightly.

I couldn't resist anymore and I leaned my head in to kiss him. It was a searing kiss, passionate, my tongue probing his hot mouth with fierce abandon. He groaned and tightened his grip on me which almost sent me over the edge right there. Oh God, he was just too much.

I wrapped my hands around his back and pulled him closer, his body lowering on top of me gently. He used one hand to keep himself steady while he moved his other so his palm rested against the side of my throat. It was a strange feeling, I hated pressure on my throat.

He noticed my sudden tension and how I kept swallowing unconsciously and he pulled away. "It's how I can hear you," he explained, his voice even thicker than usual. "The vibrations when you moan," he whispered. I actually did moan right then and his look of desire was complimented by a large smile. "So beautiful," he said and leaned down to kiss my throat.

Suddenly the pressure was not uncomfortable, it was wonderful. I almost wanted to feel it. I pressed my mouth back to his, my desire taking control and I slipped one of my hands in between his legs to confirm his hardness.

Thank God he wanted this as much as I did. I didn't think I could live with myself if it had been one-sided. The loss of pride would probably drive me to suicide. When my hand ghosted over his hard cock, Harry's hips bucked slightly and he groaned loudly.

I slid my hand around his waist, cupped his arse firmly and pressed his groin into mine. Our erections rubbed together through the clothes we wore and a heavy flush flooded my body. God, I was going to come on the spot if I wasn't careful.

"Clothes off?" he asked as he fumbled for the buttons on my trousers. He wasn't even going to give me a chance to argue, and before I could assist him, my trousers and pants were off, tossed somewhere into the corner of the room.

I was able to gather my wits long enough to divest him of his own pyjama bottoms before we climbed under the sheet which now felt blissfully chilled against my hot skin.

Harry lowered himself on top of me with extreme care, one of his hands supporting his weight while his other lifted my shirt, exposing my chest. Lowering his head, Harry's talented, and delightfully hot mouth ghosted over my torso until it came to rest over my nipple. He worked it gently with his tongue for several moments before gently worrying it between his teeth.

I had never been too terribly fond of that act but his mouth was so amazing that I actually did moan aloud. He chuckled against my skin and quickly moved to pay the other nub an equal amount of attention.

When he finished, my face was impossibly red, my eyes blurred and my body was aching with desire. He slowly crept up to my face to devour my mouth for several moments. I brought my hands around him tightly, my hands creeping up the back of his shirt.

His skin was so hot under my fingers, the scar coarse and bumpy. His face was flushed and his eyes were so unfocused. It was sinfully beautiful and I wanted to make him scream. Taking his shoulders, I gently manoeuvred him off of me, rolling him onto his back and I straddled him. His face was light shade of pink and his breath was coming in short gasps.

I gave him a very soft smile, one that reached my eyes, before I lowered my head to devour his mouth. I only stayed in that spot for a moment before I moved to nibble along his jaw line. I nipped at the skin just below the ear and was rewarded with a gasp. He liked that did he? I could work with that.

Laving the skin with my tongue, I quickly sucked and bit, leaving a small love bite and I grinned against his skin when I felt his hips buck against my groin.

That sent a sharp wave of pleasure coursing through my body, almost curling my toes and I had to pause in my ministrations briefly. Taking a deep breath, I slowly lifted up his shirt, pulling it over his head, though I left his arms pinned by the sleeves above his head while I paid his nipples special attention.

One thing I'd learned was that what people did to you was usually what they wanted done to them and I think this time I was right. A loud groan escaped his mouth as I worried the nub between my teeth and I felt his arms struggle against the make-shift bonds. I didn't like BDSM, that just wasn't my cuppa and I quickly let him go.

Raising my eyes, I saw no fear in his eyes, just a thick, almost incoherent desire and I smiled again. Using my tongue, I drew a long line down his torso, pausing to probe his naval. Now that was something I enjoyed myself but it was a rare treat when a lover did as I wanted. I wasn't complaining though, not when I had this beautiful creature moaning beneath me.

As I moved slightly lower, I trailed my eyes up and I saw him, his eyes closed, his breathing laboured, his hands fluttering with incoherent signs which I found to be the most amazing thing I had ever seen. God, how did I manage to end up here? But now was not the time to be thinking of such things.

I brought my mouth lower, my hand sneaking in between my body and his to cup his balls. He bucked slightly when I ran my tongue along the shaft of his prick and I felt it throb against my lips. His coarse hair brushed up against my nose and I breathed in the slightly musky scent of him. So fucking amazing.

I proceeded to tease him just a little with my hand before giving into my own urge and I took him into my mouth in one swallow. I had done that so many times I couldn't even count anymore and if I knew one sure thing about myself, I knew that I was fucking good. My tongue was strong and my throat was relaxed enough to take him completely in. I sucked, licked and hummed and within moments he shot his load down my throat.

It tasted so good as I swallowed every drop. I pulled away very slowly, breathing in his scent once more before I crawled back up his body. When I reached his face I saw his eyes barely slit, just a bare ring of green left around his dilated pupils. His hands reached up very slowly and cupped my face. He pulled me down and shared a kiss so sweet, so tender and so full of affection it actually made tears prickle in the corners of my eyes.

I would be damned if I would actually let them fall but the point really was, he was the first to produce that reaction in me. When the kiss finished, he pulled my head down into the crook of his neck and he held me so tightly, his fingers digging into the skin on my back. He was holding on to me as if he feared I would suddenly be gone and I found myself wondering if maybe he wasn't as jaded and perhaps as lonely as I was, if I actually bothered to admit it.

Nearly overwhelmed by the emotions, I brought my hand up to his face and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. I wanted to say something to him but his eyes were closed so I settled for conveying my emotions in the affection I was showing him. I ran my fingers through his hair gently, kissing his cheek and neck every now and again. We stayed like that for so long, so long I had lost track of time.

My desire hadn't been taken care of physically but I was amazed when I realised that I felt sated simply from the release I gave him. Well shit, that was definitely a first. I mean, I was used to my needs being neglected but this was the first time I felt it without the inevitable frustration from non-release.

Eventually Harry's eyes slid open and he looked a bit more composed than before. "Thank you," he mouthed and I smiled.

"Of course," I mouthed back. God the silence, it was intense but it was perfect. A thick wave of exhaustion suddenly flooded over me and I felt my eyes to close. I tried to fight it but Harry began to run his fingers through my hair and eventually sleep took me.

I woke some hours later, not sure how many really. The sun was shining through the window, falling across my back and it was actually pleasantly warm. I blinked away the blur in my eyes and looked around for Harry. It took me a moment to find him but eventually I spotted him curled up in the corner of the room, on the floor with his back against the wall. He had a notepad in his hand and a block of black drawing charcoal between his fingers.

His face was slightly scrunched up, his bottom lip between his teeth and his brow was furrowed. His hand moved across the paper in a such a fluid moment and I wondered if everything he did was so graceful.

I watched him for several more moments before he looked up and noticed I was awake. He graced me with his soft smile and set the pad and charcoal down next to his feet.

"You slept a long time," he said carefully.

I gave a great yawn and peered at the small, digital clock on the nightstand. Fuck, it was already past noon. I never slept this late, never. It was such a lazy thing to do. It was actually most likely an idea that had been drilled into me from school. The nuns were very cruel to those who decided to have a lie-in, even on the weekends. I think the habit stuck with me though it had been so long since I'd been in that school.

Sitting up, I stretched and reached to the floor for my discarded clothes. Unmidful of my nudity, which was an odd thing for me, I dressed slowly and smiled when I felt Harry's hand arms wrap around me from behind. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck before I manoeuvred around so I could face him.

"You are so beautiful," he said again, his words unclear but so fucking lovely.

"You keep saying that," I said with a small frown, "but I'm not. I know I'm not." It was true, I wasn't diluted about my looks. I knew perfectly well what I was and what I wasn't.

Harry looked so sad suddenly and he brought a hand to my cheek. "Whoever convinced you of such a thing was an awful, awful person Severus," he said, clearly trying to keep his words understandable.

I blinked for a moment and sighed. "Harry," I started to protest but he pressed a finger to my mouth, effectively silencing me.

No, he spelled carefully. There are so many levels to beauty Severus and my God you are so beautiful. You don't believe it but give me time and soon you will.

I didn't really know what to say to that, not wanting to argue for fear of sounding petulant or self-pitying so I decided to say nothing at all. Harry watched me carefully for several moments, pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose and beckoned me out of the room.

I padded after him into the lounge and he motioned me towards the couch while he went into the kitchen. I took my seat, my head still slightly groggy and I could feel the urge to write building slightly. Jesus Christ, I was going to have to go home. I had to write soon, there wasn't anything I could do about that. My feelings would eventually become too much for me to handle. But the thought of separating with Harry, even for a few hours was not an idea I wanted to entertain.

God, this man I barely knew had already worked his way into me so deeply. I couldn't get enough of him and we'd only been together a few short hours.

I sat in my silent musings until Harry came back into the lounge carrying a large plate of sandwiches balanced on top of two tall glasses that looked full of a cola. Damn, my secret indulgence. Coke. I loved that shit and no one knew about it.

Harry saw me eyeing the glasses and he smiled, looking apologetic. "Sorry," he said slowly, "I just really love Coke and it's all I've got."

My eyes widened. "You do?"

He laughed. "It's so wrong but I just love it."

My head swam with the irony of it all. Well, perhaps not irony but I didn't want to call it fate or coincidence. I didn't want to think about us being meant for each other. No, because I might have to end this and the thought of allowing myself to belong to Harry was frightening. Besides, it was just Coke, loads of people loved the stuff.

I took the offered glass as Harry sat down next to me and he put the plate on the cushion that separated us. My stomach gave a loud rumble, embarrassing me until I realised he couldn't hear it and I smiled.

"I'm starving," I said, answering the question in his eyes when he saw my embarrassment. "My stomach growled."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "So am I. Tuck in."

I didn't need any more prompting and soon we had devoured the entire plate of food. I drained my glass quickly and set it aside as Harry replaced the empty plate with himself, making sure he was facing me slightly.

He leaned in to steal a kiss and I found myself not minding the slightly sweet taste of the Coke on his tongue. He feathered kisses along my jaw line before pulling back and smiling at me sweetly.

I was falling so hard. God I needed to write but I really didn't want to go home. "Do you have a computer?" I blurted suddenly.

Harry's smile widened and he nodded. In the other room, he spelled.

Do you need to use it?

I breathed a sigh of relief. I am a writer, I explained. Just like

you need to paint, I need to write, very badly actually.

He chuckled and took my hand, pulling me up from the couch. Fingers intertwined with mine, Harry led me down the hall. "Loo," Harry said pointing to the door on the left, "bathroom is in my room and that is the computer room," he said nodding towards the last door.

I realised that my bladder badly needed to be taken care of and I flushed. "The loo?" I asked.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on my cheek before allowing me to tend to my business. When I walked out, I noticed that Harry had opened up the door to the computer room. Walking inside I noticed a large desk with a computer resting on the top. It was already on and I smiled at Harry's consideration. Part of me wanted to turn away from the computer in favour of making Harry mine again but I knew I needed to write.

Sitting down in the surprisingly comfortable chair, I started up the word programme and eventually lost myself in my writing again. When I finished typing, I peered at the clock and realised I had been at it for the past three hours. I quickly saved what I had and pushed myself away from the computer. I had vented well enough and I was ready to rejoin Harry if he wanted me.

Oh God, I was worried if he wanted me or not. Great, just brilliant. I was hooked. Yes, that fear had been repeated over and over but hell, I really wasn't used to all of this and it truly went against everything I thought I was. I was Severus Snape, the snarky arse who would bend for no one, who conceded to no one. Everyone knew I lived for myself and took care to keep it that way. Thank God no one in this town was a mind reader or I'd be painfully outed for the second time in my life.

Harry was in the lounge, reading on the couch. The smell of paints was fresh and I noticed that a completed piece was sitting on the easel near the small table. I didn't pause to look at it, it wasn't my place. It was like someone reading something I'd written without me showing them first.

I walked up to Harry who didn't look up from his book and I realised he couldn't hear me coming and he was probably lost in the pages. I didn't want to startle him but it felt so wrong to stand here staring at him until he did notice me. Finally, after the irritatingly long inner debate, I placed my hand on his shoulder and he looked up casually.

I was glad he didn't start at my touch and I figured he must have been expecting me at some point. Closing the book, Harry patted the seat next to him and I found the couch terribly inviting all of a sudden. Instead of sitting primly, however, I gave into my childish urge and curled up at his side, sighing with contentment when I felt his arm come around me.

He brought his hand up to caress my cheek, his fingers moving up to comb through my hair before he dropped them down to trace my lips. His fingers were replaced with his mouth and I melted into the kiss. Lord I was becoming so weak at his touch. I knew I should fight it but I really didn't want to.

In all honesty, was it really so wrong to want to give yourself to someone? Though the hurt most likely would kill me if Harry ever left. Then again, I might have to leave. How would that be? I didn't even want to think about it and instead I let my thoughts dissolve into the kiss.

Harry allowed his hands to wander about my body for the longest time, his fingers gently caressing my arms and back, lingering on my neck and face. It felt fucking heavenly and I wanted more. I moaned into his mouth and he smiled around my tongue.

It took a few moments but he managed to pull away from the kiss, only to favour my neck with light nips. His hands reached around me and slowly pushed me onto my back so I was splayed out on the couch with Harry lying on top of me. I shivered with desire as Harry's warm hands pulled my shirt up and began to kiss down my torso. He didn't linger on my nipples for long this time, instead his mouth trailed down my stomach to favour my naval. My hips bucked against him hard when he dipped his tongue into the hole and I gave a loud groan. He did it again, only this time more forcefully while one of his hands began to work the button and zipper on my trousers. Eventually he had opened them and he pulled my rock hard prick out of my pants and was stroking it firmly but slowly.

My groans turned into pants as I felt his hot hand working on me gently. He was so fucking talented. I closed my eyes as I felt him lower his mouth to my hard cock and he swallowed it agonisingly slowly. He wasn't as experienced as I was, though few are, really. He couldn't take it all into his mouth but it was okay because he knew to use his hand. His other hand slowly snaked up my body and I felt his fingers splay out across my neck while his thumb pressed against my lips lightly.

I wondered for a moment what he was doing and it dawned on me that he was "hearing" me as he had described before. I was unable to ponder on it further as he began to work my cock with fast and furious motions. I thought of nothing as his talented mouth worked on me, his hot tongue pressing my prick to the roof of his mouth gently while he sucked and hummed. It didn't take me long, not with his mouth and his hand working together.

With a muted cry, I bucked my hips and shot my load down his throat. In the post-orgasmic euphoria I barely registered him swallowing thickly, making sure to lick me clean before crawling to rest his head on my chest.

I flopped one of my hands across his upper back, my fingers lazily curling around the short hairs at the nape of his neck and I know I looked utterly ridiculous with a stupid smile plastered across my face but right at that moment I didn't care.

As I caught my breath, I looked down at Harry who had his eyes closed as I continued to twirl my fingers in his hair gently. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he reached out and took my free hand, in his, gently twinning our fingers together.

The feeling of our palms pressed together made me shiver a little, my very being unused to the affection. The idea of not having this anymore made my heart clench painfully and it made me just a little angry with myself for allowing it but it really wasn't worth the anger. I stopped touching Harry's hair and instead I wrapped my arm around his waist and held him tightly.

At this, Harry's eyes opened and he lifted his head to look at me curiously. "Something wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing wrong," I mouthed. "I just want to hold you."

The look in his eyes was intense. I could see tears swimming in them, making the green shine even brighter and he looked almost...almost awed. Harry drew his lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a moment before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to my lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I didn't have to ask why he was thanking me. I knew already because I was thanking him for the same thing. I brought my head up to press a kiss to his mouth gently and used the hand that was holding him tightly to press his head back down to my chest to I could continue holding him. It just felt so good, I wasn't ready to let it go, and I couldn't stop the smile from making another appearance when I heard Harry sigh contentedly and snuggle back down into me.

()

But eventually things had to change. I didn't want them to, damn it I was finally happy. I had gone back to my home twice, for clothes and files from my own computer. Harry asked me to stay or else I wouldn't have. Neither of us felt any urge to return to the club and I knew they didn't need me. Strange that Tonks came 'round when she did though I knew the twins would have handled things just fine.

I had to tell Harry about the book deal though, the possibility that I might have to leave. A flicker of pain or maybe regret flashed in his eyes when I told him. It was on the second night that we were together and it was post-shag. Eventually he sighed, placed his hand over mine and smiled. "I hope your dreams come true Severus," he said slowly.

I shrugged. "I won't go if you wish it," I mouthed.

Harry shook his head firmly and let go of my hand. You must go, he spelled. Don't let anyone keep you here Severus. This is not the place for you.

You are the place for me, I spelled back, appalled that I had admitted it but hell, it was true. You could come with me.

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head. "I could not," he said and signed very slowly. "This is my home, this is where I work this is where I love. Perhaps it was just meant to be this way."

I shook my head. No, I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I was supposed to have just a few short weeks with Harry before I was forced to move away to fucking achieve my dreams. It wasn't fucking fair! Not that life was ever fair, not for me anyway.

"We won't think on it," he said and signed before leaning in to kiss me. Pulling back, he sat back a little, pulling his knees to his chest. "I want to teach you something."

I sat up against the headboard. "What?"

"It's how we can talk when my eyes are closed, or if it's dark."

My smile lit my face. That's what I had wanted to do, especially when he would lie across my chest with his eyes closed. How, I signed.

With a light smile, Harry proceeded to teach me now to fingerspell onto his hand. He explained that the deafblind used the method to communicate and really it was quite easy. The method was simple and I was able to get it down in about an hour.

As it was night and both of us were completely exhausted, Harry switched off the light and we snuggled into the pillows.

Taking his hand in mine, I decided to give it a try. Can we stay like this forever, I spelled very slowly.

Harry chuckled and spelled back into my hand. If we can manage. It took me a few minutes to get it but when I did, I smiled in understanding and laced my fingers with his. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck and we fell asleep.

Things went on in that way for the longest time. But then again, I was in agony. At first the three weeks of waiting for a response for my book seemed like an eternity but now it was barely a moment. Harry and I lulled into a comfortable void and I lovingly forgot the rest of the town existed.

I forgot until the shrill ringing of my mobile sounded through the house. I was sitting on the couch reading, my feet touching Harry's who was on the other side sketching in his book. He felt me start and looked up with curious eyes.

Phone, I signed to him and quickly found my little mobile that I'd plugged into the wall. Switching it on, I answered. "Hello?" God my voice sounded so weird since I'd spent the majority of the time signing and spelling with Harry.

"Severus where the hell are you?" It was Lucius, fucking brilliant.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I've been trying to reach you for three days," he snapped at me. I rolled my eyes at his arrogance. "Haven't you checked your messages."

I almost laughed. No, I hadn't checked my messages, I had completely forgotten about them and only remembered to switch my phone on that day. "I've been busy," I said lightly.

"Whatever," he said impatiently. "Alan Colaind has been trying to get a hold of you. He's decided to sign you and he wants to make arrangements for you to fly out there."

My face paled rapidly and my eyes flickered to Harry who had gone back to his drawing. This was it, I was going to have to decide because I knew Harry wasn't going to come with me. But this was my chance, this was my fucking chance. I had always wanted to be published, God it was like my fucking ultimate drug.

"Snape?" Lucius said after I didn't answer.

"Yeah, I'll ring him. Thanks Lucius."

"Severus, what are you doing?" He demanded. "Draco says he hasn't seen you in almost three weeks."

"It's none of your concern," I snapped.

"Just don't let anything stop you from achieving your dream Severus. This is a once in a life time opportunity. Don't fuck it up."

I switched off the phone without saying goodbye. Leave it to Lucius to point out the bloody obvious. Bastard. I tossed the phone on the table and took a deep breath. Okay, well I had to decide now because I knew the man wasn't going to wait long.

Harry had stopped drawing and he was watching my thoughts play out. "What is it?" he called aloud, drawing my attention.

I quickly walked over to the couch and took my seat again, hooking the tops of my feet around the back of his heels. That was Lucius, I spelled out, he says the man who was looking at my book is ready to sign me.

Harry's eyes widened and he looked both afraid and happy for me. Taking a slow breath, he put his sketch book aside and leaned forward, situating himself in between my legs. "When do you have to leave?" he asked very quietly.

I shrugged and brought my hands up, lacing my fingers around the back of his neck. "I have to ring him and work out the details."

Harry nodded and put his hands on either side of my face. "I am happy for you," he said very slowly.

I shivered at the intensity of his gaze and swallowed back tears that tried to surface. "Why would you be? Harry, I don't want to leave you."

He leaned in and kissed me so sweetly it made my heart clench. Pressing his forehead against mine, I felt his breath ghost across my face. "You will be following your dream Severus," he said though it was hard to understand him because he wasn't being careful with his speech. "I would never stop you from doing that."

I put my arms around him and held him to me tightly. Putting my hand in his, I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Will you miss me, I spelled out onto his hand.

"Yes," he whispered. "Unbearably so."

I will not go.

"You have to, you'll never be happy unless you go. I will get on with my life, as will you."

I want to keep you Harry.

"And I you, but we can't always have the things we want. I'm used to it Severus, and I think you are too."

We shouldn't be Harry, not when it's the two of us together.

"We do what we must Severus, and perhaps it won't be forever."

I knew what he was saying. He was telling me that I needed to be strong, to do what I had always dreamed because that's who I was. He knew who I was and it was time for me to remember. I held him even closer, content just to hold him for the rest of the night. Alan Colaind could wait just one more day.

()

Of course the agent wanted me to fly to France in two days time and he wouldn't wait. I expected it to be as such and so did Harry. I spent the day at my house packing what I would need to bring with me, planning on returning to Harry's house in the evening to spend my remaining time with him. I halfway considered not going back to Harry at all, in hopes that it would lessen the pain a little but I knew that was stupid. I couldn't give up any of my time with him.

I arrived back at his little cottage just before dinner and we ate in complete silence. He took great care to cook for me and I showed him my appreciation by devouring it all. After the dishes were cleared up, Harry switched on the radio as he knew I liked to listen to a bit of music late in the evening. Sometimes it inspired me to write, sometimes it just stirred emotions that were trying to hide, and I really didn't want to hide things from Harry, not tonight.

It didn't take long before he had me pressed against the wall in the kitchen, his mouth devouring mine with complete abandon. His hands roamed my entire body as his hot tongue probed my mouth. God he was so fucking beautiful. I can't believe I was willing to give this up, but I didn't really think Harry would have let me stay, even if I begged and I really don't beg.

So instead, I responded to his actions heatedly, my hands tearing, pulling at his clothing until he had me turned around, hands splayed on the wall, bracing myself as he pounded into me. The orgasm was beyond intense, I was unable to keep from shouting his name as I heard mine coming from his mouth, muffled by the skin on my shoulder as he bit down. It was beautiful. So many things were now that I'd found Harry and I was about to give that up.

Somehow in our post-coital bliss, we made it to the couch, the music coming from the cd player as I absently listened to one of my favourite cd's. It was actually something the twins had made for me, some of it was rubbish and all of it was new music but I found myself able to listen to it more often than not.

I held onto Harry tightly, terrified of letting him go and knowing I was going to have to catch an impossibly early flight the next morning and who knows when I would see him again. Did I love him? I kept wondering that and honestly I think I did. I think that I was falling deeply in love with him but I didn't think I was going to be able to profess it. It wasn't fair, not to me, not to him but damn it, I couldn't help it. My first instinct when I'm on the defence is to hide and bloody hell my defences were running high.

I think Harry could sense all of this because he started to rub small circles over my bare stomach with his fingertips and he feathered kisses all along my jaw. Nuzzling into my neck, he took his free hand and placed it in mine in case I needed to say things. Which I did.

I don't want to leave you, I spelled onto his palm.

"You have to go," he said slowly, sounding muffled and sleepy. "We've been over it before and you know you need to be strong."

Do you love me? I have no fucking clue why I asked that, but part of me wanted to know. Would I answer him if he asked me. I don't know but I really hoped he wouldn't. I didn't care if that's unfair.

His fingers laced with mine and he propped himself up on his elbow, taking care not to hurt me. "Yes Severus, I do love you," he said, tears swimming in his eyes. He said nothing further, his eyes slowly sliding closed and he buried his face in the crook of my neck. It took a few minutes for me to realise that he was crying, his body slowly shaking against mine. I felt his hot tears dripping against my shoulder and I barely noticed that a few of my own had began to fall, tracing a path down my cheeks.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could and I tried to ignore the intense pain clenching my heart, though it was bloody impossible. Fuck, I'd fallen in love and I was going to walk away from it. Life was so fucked up.

My eyes began to drift closed. I didn't want to sleep, not when I had few precious hours with Harry left but my body was not going to obey. Reaching out blindly, I grasped Harry's hand in mine, content not to say anything, just happy with knowing I could.

Just as I began to drop off, I felt Harry's hand move. Closing my fingers around it, I felt the three fingered sign of I love you. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and sighed.

()

The shrill alarm on my mobile woke me ten minutes before I needed to leave for the aeroport. Harry was still wrapped around my body, his breathing even in his sleep. I didn't want to wake him so I moved slowly, taking care to keep him warm and settled on the couch.

My clothes were lying in a heap near the entrance to the kitchen and I dressed as quickly as possible. Raking my hand through my long hair, I quickly tied it back, uncaring if it was tidy or not. Once all of my bags were properly situated in the boot of my car, I went back inside and took one last look around.

The paints were still near the table, Harry's things were lying in odd places as if he didn't care which he really didn't. It looked agonisingly like home and I didn't want to go. Looking back at my lover who was still sleeping soundly on the couch, I hated to wake him but I knew he needed a proper farewell. I loved him enough to do that.

Kneeling down beside his head, I gently pulled one of his arms out from under his cheek which caused his eyes to flutter open. The emerald orbs were bleary, unfocused from sleep and a small smile graced his mouth.

I have to leave now, I spelled into his hand.

"I will miss you," he confessed, his voice thick with sleep and maybe a little sorrow. I know I wouldn't be able to speak if I tried.

I'll keep in touch if you would like me to, I offered.

"I'm not sure if you can," he said softly. "It will likely hurt you as much as me Severus. But we can hold out hope that we'll be together again."

A few traitorous tears escaped my eyes for the second time in twenty-four hours and I sighed when Harry's gentle fingers brushed them away. Then this is good bye, I spelled shakily.

He nodded, leaned up and shared a last kiss. It was deep but so bloody gentle that a sob escaped me. God, what had he done to me? I was a miserable git before but now I was full of anguish and loss. Fuck, life was so unfair.

Harry finally pulled away, tears present on his own cheeks and he settled back against the cushions. "Go now," he urged.

I nodded and before I moved away, I gave into my urge, pressed my hand into his palm and signed, I love you.

He merely nodded as I stood to walk away. Pausing at the door, my fingers curled around the handle, I looked back at Harry who was leaning over the back of the couch watching me. He graced me with one last, beautiful smile, raised his hand and signed the endearment back. I love you.

I raised my hand in a farewell and then I was gone.

()

France is fucking cold in the winter. It might not have been so bitter if I wasn't but the streets of Paris failed to produce any kind of reaction in me whatsoever. Alan Colaind was a nice enough man, short and ugly with a bald head and beady blue eyes.

He put me up in a small flat near Notre Dame, over looking the Seine. It was comfortable enough and I didn't want for anything while I was there. The book I had given to Alan was good, he said, but not good enough. I was now commissioned to write something else, something that held actual emotions, not wishful ones.

Arse. It was bad enough that all I thought about was Harry, now I was being forced to drudge up all of the happiness and pain I had experienced in our disgustingly short time we had together. But damn it, this is what I was here for and I was going to give it my fucking all. Even if it did drive me to drown myself in the freezing waters of the Seine once I was finished.

It didn't take me long actually, four months to produce the seven-hundred page novel for the publishing company. Alan sent the book off to the editors and before I knew it, it was fixed up, slightly re-written and published.

The first time I held the book in my hands, I nearly cried. The cover was simple, dark and brooding. Reminded me of the club where I'd met Harry which was fitting because that's what it was about really. The title, Dancing With the Fairies, very fitting.

The character in the book had his happy ending though, and I wondered if I was going to have mine. I kept strictly to myself and eventually Alan pointed it out to me.

"I can't expect you to produce more good work if you're ready to kill yourself," he said one day while he was over for tea. "Having you live here is utterly pointless."

"Besides the large amount of money constantly growing in my bank account," I snarked. Yes, the book had actually done well, especially with the growing acceptance for all things homosexual. It gave me some semblance of accomplishment but I was far from happy.

"Go home Severus," Alan said plainly.

"Sorry?" I said, my eyebrows rising towards my hairline. Go fucking home? He was the one who insisted that I stay here in France and write.

The fat man let out a small, barking laugh and set his teacup down. "Go home and write from there Severus. Your publishers will be content with where you live so long as you keep doing as they ask. You don't need me anymore."

I smirked at him, realising that it was indeed, quite true. "I really can leave, can't I?"

And then it hit me. I could be with Harry again. God it had been so fucking long, six months without contact. Of course I had sent him a copy of the book, a small inscription in the front cover from a song that achingly reminded me of him.

Light up, Light up
As if you have a choice
And even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

I signed my name simply, wrapped it up and sent it. I never heard from him but I honestly didn't expect to. I only hoped that perhaps, if given this opportunity to return to him, he would be waiting for me still.

It only took one day to purchase the aeroplane ticket. One day to pack my things, and I was on my way back home. I had given my car to the twins, knowing I would have no use for it so when I arrived I had to hire a car to take me back to the town. I had kept my little home of course, it still had everything I owned and didn't use while I was in France and that was my first stop. I didn't know how I was going to greet Harry.

I didn't think I should just show up at his door and expect to be welcomed with open arms. Then again, that was the only thing I could possibly think of doing.

I decided to take a shower before attempting anything, aching to wash the aeroport smell off of me. Looking around at my little house I had forgotten what a hell hole it was. The water took a long time to warm up and it didn't last long at all. Thank God it was in the middle of July now and not fucking freezing.

I quickly dressed in a pair of fitted trousers and a loose, button-up black shirt. I decided to let my hair loose, un-caring if I didn't look tidy, Harry never minded how I looked. God, but would he still care? Would he still love me? Oh bloody hell it hurt so bad thinking that I might have missed my chance. I was such a fool for leaving, and probably a bigger fool for expecting him to still love me after all this time.

What was three weeks of our relationship compared to the six months of my absence?

Stepping out of my house, I didn't bother to lock the door and I quickly jumped into the hire-car. The little digital clock told me it was already nine o'clock at night and I wondered if Harry was in. What if I showed up and he was with another lover? Fuck, I wasn't sure if I could take that.

Godric's Hollow was still a dingy little street, barely lit though my head lamps did a fair job of keeping me oriented. It was strange, I hadn't seen Harry's little cottage when everything was green and it was exactly as I had imagined it to be. Wild, over grown and fucking beautiful, just like everything about him.

There weren't any lights on in his house but I took a chance and went to the door to ring the buzzer. Oh God, what if he didn't live here anymore? Anything could have happened, I hadn't bothered to keep in touch with anyone.

Plucking up my courage, I walked to the side window and peered inside, my eyes straining to see in the darkness of the room. I was searching for something, anything familiar. There, I spotted his easel still in the corner by his little table and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. There was even a few teacups scattered about the lounge and it showed that he had been there somewhat recently.

There was hope yet, though I wasn't sure how much.

And now came the task of finding where he was. I didn't really see Harry as a social butterfly and I was fairly certain he wouldn't have been visiting the Dursleys. The only place I could possibly think of was the club and I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go back there. I really didn't miss it.

But it was worth a try. I didn't come all this fucking way to give up now. Getting in the car, I rolled down the window, turned up the radio, some horrid music blasting out of the speakers and I drove up the long, dirt road towards the ugly little house that sat on the hill.

As I pulled up, I noticed the thumping of the music and the blinking lights beyond the dingy windows and I knew nothing had changed. There were a few more cars outside than last time I was here but that's how it always was during the summers.

I managed to find a spot just below the house in the cover of the thick trees and I locked the car up tight. I had money now but I really didn't want to be responsible for the car if someone wanted to be an arse and rob it. Though it wouldn't surprise me in the least.

My hands flew to my clothes, unconsciously adjusting them as I headed for the door. It was cracked open slightly and the familiar smell of cigarettes and pot drifted in waves as I stepped inside. Nothing had changed, though I really hadn't expected it to. It had only been six months and I had worked at the club for three years before and it never fucking changed. This town would always be the same.

Scanning the crowd, I noticed the twins lounging on one of the couches with a pretty little boy in between them. They were paying special attention to his neck and chest, the boy's head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes closed.

They didn't notice me, thank fucking God, and I quickly disappeared into the crowd as I headed for the small bar. As I expected, Tonks was still there, leaning over the edge talking to Draco who was, surprisingly enough, alone. Draco was laughing with her and suddenly his grey eyes caught sight of me and he shot out of his seat, bounding towards me.

"Sevvie!" he squealed as he threw his arms around my neck, planting a large kiss on my cheek.

I shoved him off roughly, pleased to see my feelings for the little shit hadn't changed a bit. "Draco," I said coldly.

He was unperturbed by my icy demeanour and continued to talk animatedly. "What are you doing here? I never expected to see you back here again! You're a famous author now, and you know we've all read your book."

"Brilliant," I said absently. My thoughts were so far from the chattering blonde I barely registered what he was saying.

"You're looking for him aren't you," Draco said suddenly, "for Potter?"

Hearing Harry's name caught my attention and I turned a sharp gaze towards Draco. "Is he here?"

"Yes," Draco said, "as usual, pining away for you." His head nodded towards the dark end of the bar where I finally recognised my beloved. His back was towards me, a drink in his hand and his eyes were fixed on the far wall, if they were open at all. My heart clenched painfully and it was all I could do to keep from racing towards him.

"He pines for me?" I finally asked, just making sure my voice still worked.

"Every fucking night, stupid sod," Draco said with a shrug.

"He's not...with anyone else?" I chanced.

Draco snorted, "Who the fuck would want to shag that Snape?"

I actually had to physically stop myself from hitting the blonde. "Good, thank you, now fuck off Draco," I said and ignoring everything and anything else, I walked towards my beloved.

He still didn't notice my presence, and I really didn't expect him to. One of his hands was curled around his drink that rested on top of the counter while the other hung limply at his side.

I was struck by and idea and approaching very carefully, I made the three fingered I love you sign and carefully slipped it into his hand.

Harry started almost violently but he didn't turn. Instead, his soft fingers curled around my hand lightly. Eventually his hand relaxed and he traced the lines of my palm. I could see his breath visibly hitch, unable to hear it over the loud incessant beat of the music but it wasn't important.

It took several agonising moments but eventually Harry turned around to face me. His drink abandoned, his hands dropped to his lap, his green eyes questioning and swimming with tears. I wanted to hug him so fucking badly but I waited, calmly if not patiently.

You're here, he spelled very slowly. I noticed a slight shake to his fingers.

I am.

It took a moment, as if he was waiting for the shock to pass but eventually his face broke out into a smile. For me. My beautiful Harry with his beautiful smile. I couldn't stop myself this time and I reached out and gathered him into my arms, pressing him against my chest. I buried my nose in his hair as he sagged against me and both of our bodies shook with sobs that couldn't be heard over the music.

Eventually his hand worked its way up my face, his fingers touching my cheek as if to confirm that my presence was real. I grabbed his hand in mine and pressed his palm to my lips, kissing it sweetly.

Why? he spelled. Why are you here?

"I love you Harry," I mouthed. "My life is with you, not there."

He nodded and slowly brought his face in for a kiss. It was like I had never left all of a sudden, the familiarity of it. The six months of separation all but vanished with that kiss and I was finally home again.

Thinking back on it, I couldn't quite remember how we got back to his house. Everything was so hazy until the moment where he was lying on top of me, his cock buried inside my arse, his thrusts hitting my prostate every fucking time. His face was so blissfully beautiful with his orgasm and when his warm hand wrapped around my cock, urging me over the edge with him, I let go and followed.

Collapsing against my chest, Harry feathered kisses along my jaw line, his breath hot against my skin though it still made me shiver. His hand found mine and I quickly took advantage.

Harry, I can't leave you again.

"Even if you can't get published again?" he asked aloud. He hadn't spoken aloud yet and his voice sounded unused and it sent waves of pleasure up my spine. God, his voice was only for me and I fucking loved it.

I was given permission to write from wherever I wish it, I spelled slowly. I wish to be only here Harry, because here is where I am whole.

I felt a hot tear drip onto my chest and I lifted his chin with my fingers. His green eyes were red-rimmed and he looked amazing. "I love you," I said aloud, needing to hear it just to make sure it was real.

"And I love you," he said back to me and with another gentle kiss, I knew it was going to be forever.

BSL

Fingerspelling

It was never going to be easy for me, was it? I found love, I gave it up. I got it back and now this. Now I'm staring at the gravestone of a person too fucking young to die. A death I could have prevented if I had bothered to pay proper attention. I just didn't fucking know! How the fuck was I supposed to know these things?

I couldn't stand them, the towns' people. They were there only for appearances. I'm sure they all believed the death was for the best.

()

It was about six months after my return when the phone calls began. I switched on my mobile once every three days to check messages, only really caring to talk to my publishers and occasionally, Alan Colaind if he had news for me. My second book was on its way, currently at the editors while they chopped and hacked at the contents, re-writing, re-naming until it only vaguely resembled my work, but I didn't care really. I had the original copy and that was good enough for me.

If the masses soaked up what the editors vomited out, good for them.

Harry was curled up in his favourite chair near the window sketching when the shrill ringing was heard through the house. I had become so bloody un-used to noises being heard that it literally made me jump in my seat.

My beloved was un-affected, lucky sod, and continued to draw. I loved watching him when he was in his own little world like that. Still so fucking beautiful and I rather imagined he always would be. I really hoped I told him enough.

Pulling myself away from the delightful novel I had recently purchased, I sauntered over to the table where my hideously tiny mobile was sitting and I looked at the small screen. It was a number I didn't recognise and I'd be damned if I was going to pick it up.

I waited a full minute after the incessant ringing stopped before checking the message and it turned out to be Draco. Of-fucking-course it was. The little ponce just didn't want to leave me in peace.

"Sevvie, it's me Draco. Haven't seen you in ages and I really wanted to know where you've been. Still shacking up with Potty then, are you? How unlike you Sev! Really, come back to the club, we miss you here. Please. Love you and I know you love me! Bye!"

I switched the damned thing off and banged it down on the table, not really minding if it broke or not. What the fuck was that anyway? Visit that God-forsaken shit hole just to please that spoilt little child. What the fuck did he want with me anyway?

Problem love? Harry inquired when I finally looked up at him. I wondered how long he'd been watching me. I had stopped schooling my face into a mask of indifference around Harry, as he couldn't hear the different inflections in my voice and I wanted my lover to be able to read me.

It was Draco, I answered back. I could sign perfectly well now. Took me a while to get it down but I did well enough. I think he thought my mistakes were bloody hilarious and they probably were. Bloody well pissed me off but I let him enjoy making an arse out of me. He deserved it, he was such a fucking saint. God I loved him.

What did he want? Is there a problem?

He was asking me to come to the club. Isn't that a bit odd? I flopped down back down onto the couch, twisting sideways so that my back rested against the arm. I looked over at Harry with as much of a pleading expression as I could possibly muster....I wasn't kidding when I said that I didn't beg...ever.

My beloved looked at me playfully for a few minutes before breaking out into his beautiful smile and within seconds I found myself with a lapful of Harry. He situated himself in between my legs, his body facing mine. His hands travelled down my arms to my hands where our fingers intertwined and he pressed one of his almost painfully gentle and affectionate kisses to my mouth. He was and would always be, the only person on the planet who could reduce me to tears with just one kiss. Hell, he was and would always be the only person who could make me shed tears at all.

I squeezed his hands gently and feathered kisses all over his face. His eyes closed as I worshiped him for several moments before he sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, fingers still firmly clasped in mine.

"Perhaps he really does miss you Severus," he said thoughtfully after a long pause.

I shrugged. "Or he wants a favour....which I'm not willing to do."

Harry chuckled and cocked his head to the side. "That was your life for so long Severus, maybe it's just hard for him to see you go."

I pulled my hands out of his and scowled. He wasn't like this when I was in France, I signed. Why would he be like this now?

I don't know but you could always go to the club again to figure it out.

I scowled harder which only made him laugh. Bringing a hand up, he reached out and trailed his fingers down the side of my face before leaning in to give me a kiss.

"Just a suggestion, love," he whispered against my ear.

The feeling of his hot breath against my skin made me shiver and, of course, my cock twitch. I bit down on my lip hard, almost breaking the skin and couldn't stop the moan from escaping when I felt one of his ever-fucking talented hands work its way up the bottom of my shirt, caressing my chest gently as he worked his way up to pinch my nipples.

My eyes closed, I threw my head back and allowed him access to my neck. He began to nip and suck playfully yet languidly, worshiping my body just as I worshiped his.

His other hand slowly snaked down to my trousers and before I was able to focus, the zipper and buttons were undone and he had my hard prick in his grasp.

"My love," he whispered against my neck as he began to stroke me hard and firmly, exactly the way I loved it. I reached around him tightly, pressing him to me as much as I could manage. My fingers dug into his back as I held on for dear life. The strokes became faster and a little rougher, all coherent thought left me as I pressed my forehead against his shoulder.

He grabbed onto me tighter, one hand working my cock furiously while the other simply rested against the side of my throat. My breathing became laboured and soon I was coming, hard. The orgasm ripped through me, always intense and powerful with my beloved, and my body gave way to tremors for a moment as I recovered.

I heard the softest chuckle and felt a kiss pressed to my temple as he eased me down back against the couch cushions. His green eyes were wide, his smile reaching them completely. He brought his cum covered hand up to his mouth and licked the sticky fluid slowly, making me groan.

Once finished, he lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me gently. For some reason I adored the taste of myself on his lips, could be some sort of strange possessive thing, or perhaps it was just knowing that the two of us hand merged. Who knows, but whatever it was, I bloody well loved it.

Harry collapsed onto my chest and ran his hand up and down my arm, his bright green eyes looking up, fixed on my face, an expression of complete and total adoration, the exact same way I felt about him, even if I didn't always show it.

"You seem stressed," he said finally.

"I just don't want to be hounded by Draco if he has some fucked up idea in his head. He can be so stubborn."

Just like you my love.

I laughed and captured his hands, pressing kisses to each one of his fingers. "But I'm not a moron."

Harry laughed loudly and snuggled into my arms, letting out a contented sigh when his giggles subsided. "Just wait and see then, perhaps he'll forget."

I could only be so lucky, I spelled onto his palm and proceeded to try and forget Draco completely.

()

Of course the little blonde ponce wouldn't just let me be and by the time the weekend rolled around there were at least seventeen messages on my mobile. They were all the same, though the last two were almost frantic, begging for me to meet with him at the club on Saturday.

Harry was the ever-fucking patient one and calmed my rage with his sweet kisses. "I don't think he means you harm love," whispered as we cuddled in bed Saturday morning.

I shrugged and pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew if I didn't deal with Draco soon I'd wind up finding him standing on my doorstep and I didn't want to chance Harry having to deal with him.

I've decided to go to the club, I signed. I just want to get this over with and get on with my halfway decent life I've only just started.

"Only half-way?" Harry asked coyly as he rolled on top of me.

"Maybe a little more than half-way," I choked out as one of his talented hands snaked its way down my chest and headed for my half-hard member who was always ready to be brought to attention by Harry. Closing my eyes, I allowed Harry to work his own special kind of magic.

We lazed around in bed for a good hour before Harry insisted that we get up and shower. He agreed to go to the club with me which made me both nervous and comforted at the same time, a disconcerting mix of emotions that I really didn't want to feel.

I took to my old habit of shutting myself up in the computer room to write for the bulk of the day, only interrupted when Harry brought me a bit of food. Placing a swift kiss on my temple, he left me to my venting, knowing the only way I'd be satisfied was if I could get it all out on paper.

It still amazed me that Draco could have such a profoundly strong affect on my emotions and I was even more surprised that he could invoke any kind of reaction out of me at all. I mean, what was the little sod to me? Nothing. He was part of an un-happy past that I dearly wished to forget and all I wanted to do was let it fucking go.

Harry and I dressed casually for the club that night and took my car up the hill. It was winter again, January to be exact. Of-fucking-course it would be January when I finally agreed to head back to the little club and damn it, I was freezing by the time the car was properly parked and we slipped inside the door.

Big fucking surprise, not a thing had changed. Not one small thing. The lights, the sounds, the music. All the same. Even the people were the same though luckily most of them were too far gone to recognise me and those who did knew better than to approach me.

Looking towards the back I saw the small bar I used to run and I was struck by a strange emotion. Something akin to longing which was utterly ridiculous, because what was there to miss about this place? Fuck-all, I was certain of it.

Tonks, with her hair now some outrageously pink colour, was leaning over the bar talking to the boy who Draco had once decided to call Guido. Michael, I think was what he was really called, and they didn't notice me.

Harry tugged on my arm to get my attention and I fixed him with a pained smile.

Do you want to get a drink or just look for Draco?

I shrugged. I don't really want to drink anything they have here. Why don't we find him and get this over with.

Anything you wish, he signed and leaned in to kiss me gently. Do you want my company? he asked when he pulled away.

Perhaps not, I signed with a small shrug. Who knows what he was on about and he wasn't being very nice about you. I'd hate for a row to occur.

Ok, I'll be in my spot, he signed, kissed me and started towards the bar.

I was a little unnerved that it would still have been titled 'his' spot. I wasn't sure what to do with that emotion so I tucked it away for later examination. The best thing about having Harry, he could always help me sort out how I was feeling and I never felt like I needed to hide or honey any of my emotions. That was brilliant and I intended to keep it that way.

Unsure of where to look, I settled on wandering about the club until I happened on one of the twins. It was George, knowing that by his broader shoulders and by the small scar on his chin. I could have been able to tell by the hair had I been around in previous months but they both changed so often I could only tell by the subtle differences now.

"Snape!" George cried, pulling me into a tight hug. I almost gagged when I felt his erection brush up against me through his tight leather pants and I pulled away.

"I've been looking for Draco," I shouted irritably over the music. "He's been ringing my mobile for fucking days and I'm tired of it."

"Oh, he was hoping you'd show. Did you bring Harry or did you come alone?"

"I brought Harry," I said with a slight smirk. "He's over by the bar hopefully not drinking anything."

"Hopefully," George agreed with a laugh, "though Tonks always liked him. She's always defending him when Draco tries to have a go at his deafness or his potty tendencies."

"He's deaf yes," I said through gritted teeth, "but he's far more sane than Draco will ever be."

George smirked. "I know but hey, that's why we love him, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ok whatever. Where is he?"

"Upstairs," George said, "with Fred."

"Jesus Christ, I really don't want to see any of that," I moaned, putting my hand over my face.

"Not like that you pervy old fool," George said clapping my back, "they're just dosing."

"Brilliant," I griped, "now I'm going to have to council him through whatever this is while he's fucking high."

George checked his watch. "If you talk to him within the next twenty minutes I'll bet you'll get a decent conversation out of him."

"No such thing," I snarked as I headed for the stairs. Decent indeed? Yeah fucking right, not with Draco in the same sentence.

Heading up the stairs, I heard voices coming from a door to my right. Pushing it open, I saw Draco leant over a large pouf on the floor, lazily puffing on a fag while Fred was typing furiously on his computer.

"Snape!" Fred said without taking his eyes off the screen, "didn't think you were going to make it."

"Yes well," I said irritably, "here I am." I turned to Draco who had brightened considerably. "What do you want Draco?"

"You got my messages?" he asked with a grin.

Leaning on the door frame, I nodded curtly. "Now what is this about?"

Draco stood up and slowly walked towards me until he was close enough to reach out and touch me. I fought a mad urge to turn and run out of the room. If I didn't finish this now it would never be done.

"I missed you," he said with a pout. "You went off to France and when you came back you started shacking up with that freak and never came back to see me."

My eyes narrowed as I felt my rage build up. "Don't...ever....call him that," I hissed. "He's no such thing Draco and I will hurt you."

"You could never," he said with a smirk. "You know you couldn't."

My hands clenched at my sides. "Okay Draco, what is this about? I'm not joking you, I will fuck off and never speak to you again, I swear to God."

Draco's face fell and he took one more step forward. "I just missed you," he said dropping his voice.

"What the fuck?" I demanded angrily. "You missed me? You know I can't stand you."

Tears sprung into his eyes and he blinked them back. "This is so wrong," he whispered, "When I pointed Harry out, I was just trying to get you shagged, so you'd have a bit of fun. I never thought he'd be that good."

"Draco," I said as I tried to remain patient, which was really fucking hard, "I love him. I don't need to justify my love or life to you. You aren't part of it and I don't want you to be."

"But you've known me forever," he whinged.

"Yes," I ground out, "I have, which doesn't actually fucking matter."

Without any kind of warning, Draco launched himself forward and pressed his mouth to mine. My lips slammed shut, knowing the little shit would try and dose me if I allowed his tongue in my mouth and I shoved him away roughly. Scrubbing at my mouth with the sleeve of my jumper, I glared at him.

"Draco, I will hurt you, I don't want to but I fucking will," I hissed.

His eyes were wide and his pupils were beginning to dilate. "But..." he said and moved towards me again.

I took a step forward and shoved him back, hard. He stumbled backwards, tripping over the pouf and landed on his back. He looked up at me, tears now falling down his cheeks and he let out small sob.

"Severus," he whispered.

"No, Draco. This is the end, stop ringing my mobile, stop leaving messages. Just fuck off." With those parting words, I turned on my heel and stormed down the stairs. The club was horribly loud, the music irritating and repetitive as usual. I spotted Harry sitting at the bar nodding politely to Tonks and Michael who were chatting animatedly.

Walking briskly towards them, I approached Harry and put my arms possessively around his shoulders. Pressing a kiss to his temple, I glared at the two drugged-up youths and nodded. "Time to go," I said and signed.

Everthing okay?

I sighed and shook my head. Not really, I just want to go home. You didn't drink anything did you?

Yes, I had a glass of sparkling water.

My eyes narrowed and I turned to look at Tonks. "You gave him water?"

"It's cool Severus," Tonks said easily, "relax, okay?"

Turning back to Harry, I sighed. Let's go, I signed and took his hand.

Harry waved his hand in a farewell and we headed out of the club. Getting in the car, I quickly grabbed Harry's face and pulled him into a searing kiss. I love you.

Is something wrong? he asked. How'd it go with Draco.

He's a little shit, I signed angrily, and I don't trust him.

Let's go home then, he signed with a soft smile.

Nodding, I quickly switched on the car and started back home. The drive was quick and soon enough, Harry and I were stepping into our warm home. I hung the keys up on the hook near the door and shed my coat. When I turned back to Harry, I saw him staring at the floor, looking a little bit strange.

Fuck.

Reaching out, I touched Harry's arm and he turned his head to look at me. I feel strange, he signed.

Fuck.

What's wrong?

He pondered on that for a moment. Things feel strange, he signed, watching his own hands intensely.

"Ah fuck," I said aloud. They did it, I fucking knew they would. Gaining Harry's attention, I raised my hands. Describe to me what's happening. Use words, not signs.

Chewing on his lip, Harry looked at me closely before answering. "I feel..." he said slightly unclearly and trailed off. "Like my head is fading," he whispered.

Fuck.

And, I pressed, making sure he continued to look at me.

"Colours," he said with a shrug. "Things are........breathing."

Acid, just fucking wonderful. My lover, my virgin-to-drugs beloved, was tripping. What the fuck was I going to do. I knew I had to keep him calm, distracted and keep him from fighting it. It could be ten times worse if he tried to fight it off, to keep his sober mind.

Ok, I signed, come with me Harry. Reaching out, I took his hand and pulled him down the hall towards our bedroom. I had done this shit before, it was hard to remember but I think I could keep him distracted.

Sitting him on the bed, I knelt in front of him and looked at his eyes. They weren't dilated but not everyone's eyes reacted the same. I could see the green eyes darting back and forth and I did my best to gain his attention.

"Sev this scares me," he said very unclearly.

Shit! Shit! Those little assholes. I'm going to kill them all. "Who gave you the water Harry?" I asked very slowly.

"The boy," he said absently. "Why are my thoughts leaving?"

Damn him. I knew Draco put him up to it and I would be damned if I let this go unpunished. But at that moment I had to think about Harry. I had to keep him away from his fleeting thoughts and distracted. But what?

My eyes scanned the room and suddenly fell on his little travelling art case. Yes, that would do just fine. I used to spent hours as a teenager, tripping on acid and drawing with coloured pencils. It would do.

Standing up, I quickly fetched Harry's art pad and little case of pencils. I helped him sit back against the headboard and I put the sketch pad in his lap. "Just draw for a while Harry, okay?" I said softly.

He nodded. "What's wrong with me?"

I sighed. He had to know or else he would be even worse off. "Can you understand me Harry?" I asked slowly.

"A little but it's fading," he said with a shrug.

Figures. "Draco had that kid Michael put something into your drink," I said.

"I've been drugged?"

"Yes, with acid."

"Am I going to be okay?" he asked.

Fuck if I knew. I had no idea how much he'd been given so I didn't answer, not that he noticed. Making sure he was secure, I went back into the lounge and started pacing. It was the boy, Michael, I was sure of it. I'm sure it was on Draco's orders and the little shit was going to pay. That boy would obviously do anything for Draco and what made me fear was that the boy was so young. I doubted he realised that Harry had never taken drugs and Harry could have been given too much.

"Okay," I said aloud, "I just need to ride through this with him, get him to a hospital if need be, but damn it he's going to be alright."

And that is what I was fearing, wasn't it? That the little idiots had given my beloved too much and he could be in danger. I wasn't even really certain it was acid. It could be a combination of anything, really. Fuck, I needed to be up there with him. I didn't care if I had to stay awake for five days, so long as he lived.

Turning on my heel, I walked back down towards the bedroom. Just before I reached the door I heard a small moan. Feeling my heart clench, I burst into the room and found Harry curled up in the corner of the room. I couldn't make out what was happening in the dim light and I rushed forward.

Oh....shit....

Harry had a pair of scissors in his hands and he had put a large gash in his forearm. He looked up at me with glazed eyes as I knelt in front of him. "I had to help it out, it was trapped," he said though it was very hard to understand him.

My fingers itched to sign to him but I knew it would only distract him so I used simple gestures, motioning for him to hand me the scissors. He did so, without hesitating and I grimaced as I realised everything around him was smeared with blood.

The gash was deep and was going to need treatment. Fuck, I should have never left him alone. Standing up, I set the scissors on the very top of the wardrobe and dashed to the hall cupboard where we kept our basket of supplies. Grabbing a bottle of iodine and a large pack of bandages, I hurried back to Harry's side.

He was staring at the blood dripping along his skin with wide eyes. I began to grow nervous as I noticed his eyes start to trail a little, the pupils now heavily dilated and I could see him slipping from reality more and more.

Acid was a strange kind of drug, it changed one's perception of things and I was thankful for that at the moment because he most likely wouldn't feel the pain when I cleaned and patched his arm up.

He wasn't watching me as I slowly wiped the blood away. He gave no indication that he knew I was there as I smeared a large dollop of the iodine on his wound nor did he blink when I fastened the bandage around his arm.

It would do but he was likely to need stitches.

I pondered on my next move, my eyes trailing to the bed. He wasn't going to sleep and if I tried to drug him with a sedative that could produce even worse side effects.

A loud thump brought me out of my thoughts and I jerked my head around towards Harry. My heart leapt into my throat when I saw my beloved.

Shit, he's dying.

Harry's eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he was slumped over. His body had gone completely ridged and his hands had curved into fists which were shaking slightly.

Fucking hell, he was seizing.

"Shit Harry, come on, wake up my love," I whispered, my hands hovering over his body, afraid to touch him but afraid not to.

It seemed to last forever. Finally his breathing evened out slightly and his muscles began to relax. Gathering him into my arms, I rushed him to the bed and placed him on the pillows. He wasn't really conscious, his eyes half lidded and heavily glazed.

I had to think, to pull out of my shock because this wasn't normal. I'd heard of people having heart attacks during acid, or even committing suicide but never seizing. It had to be something else.

Before I could think more, Harry made a guttural sound and I realised that he was puking. Racing to his side, I rolled him over and held his head so he didn't choke. He heaved out everything in his stomach. It took several moments but when he finally finished, his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness completely.

Fuck. He was going to die on me.

Securing him on his side, I raced to the phone and shakily dialled 999. It seemed like I was out of my body, like I was hearing someone else frantically explaining the situation. I didn't even feel like me as I raced behind my beloved to the hospital that seemed so fucking far away.

When I finally came back into myself, I was seated in the hallway just outside of Harry's room as the doctors and nurses frantically worked on him. I could hear stern orders barked out but the words made absolutely no sense to me. There were a series of beeps and buzzes, the sound of compressed air. It was all so surreal.

I had no idea how much time had passed when the young-looking doctor finally came out and pulled me aside. "Follow me," she said curtly and led me into a small room. "This is a conference room," she explained as she took a seat in one of the four chairs.

It was about as big as a cupboard and I hated it. I was slightly claustrophobic and the look on her face merely increased my anxiety.

"What the hell is going on with him," I demanded when I finally found my voice.

"He's alive," she said after a few moments. "His heart stopped twice but we were able to bring him back fairly easily. His breathing is erratic and we've put him on a respirator to be safe."

"Is he awake?" I managed to choke out.

"I'm afraid he's slipped into a coma," she said gravely. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight because honestly I have no idea how this happened."

Taking a deep breath, I quickly ran through the events of the night, from the meeting with Draco to patching up his wound and then onto the seizures and the vomiting.

She listened to me carefully, her eyes calm and easy. "And you're positive he didn't take these drugs willingly?"

I bit back a sharp retort, knowing she was merely doing her job. "Absolutely. He's never had any kind of street drug."

"Well I'm going to have to report this Mr..."

"Snape," I said absently.

"Mr. Snape. You'll be questioned of course, and charges will most likely be brought against whoever is responsible." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Do you have any idea what he might have been given?"

I shook my head. "I suspected LSD but I've never seen a reaction like that before. It could be a combination of things really." God that didn't sound like me. I sounded so fucking lost.

"We've run a few tests on him and I'll order a few more. We should be able to tell what he was given, how much and perhaps figure out how long he might be in his coma."

Letting out a long slow breath, I looked up at her. "I need to see him," I whispered.

"Under these circumstances only immediate family is allowed," she said softly.

"I'm all he's got," I whispered brokenly.

"I'll see what I can do but I can't make any promises." Her voice was kind and sympathetic but not very hopeful.

Damn it. Damn them for not allowing me to be family. I was, I was part of him and he was part of me. Fuck, he was damn near all of me. I couldn't lose him like this. No fucking way.

As I pulled back out of my thoughts I realised that I was back in the hall outside Harry's room. It was quiet now, just the simple sounds of the hospital could be heard. The walls were such an ugly, harsh white and it made me shiver. I wanted to see him, to just walk through the door. Fuck, even a peek through a window would have helped but there wasn't one.

I fought the urge to begin pacing again when the doctor, who's name I still didn't know, approached. "You may see him for ten minutes. Then I suggest you go home and wait for someone to ring you about the events that went on tonight. Pressing charges will ultimately be determined by Mr. Potter but an investigation will most certainly be done."

I nodded mutely and turned towards the door. It seemed like I was moving through water as I reached for the handle and pushed the door open. There was a small light over head that was switched on but the room was still quite dim. An ugly blue curtain surrounded his bed, shielding my beloved from the rest of the world and I could hear the mechanic puffs coming from the machine that was keeping him breathing, keeping him alive I suspected.

Finding the opening in the curtain, I stepped into the enclosed area and suppressed a gasp. Harry was lying on the bed, his eyes shut, his face pale. A small tube was attached to a bigger piece that was taped to my love's mouth. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the of the machine and I could hear a soft beep, the telltale sign that all was well for the moment. If you wanted to call it that.

God it fucking hurt seeing him there. I felt like my heart was going to burst.

His arms were lying pliantly at his sides, an I.V. sticking out of one and I assumed it was filled with a drug to keep him sedated and probably to prevent him from seizing again.

Shaking my head, I fought back the tears that desperately wanted to fall and I moved forward to take his hand. Leaning over him, I trailed my fingertips down his cheek before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

There wasn't anything I could do and that feeling was so fucked up. I wanted to just shake him a little, just press a kiss to his temple and see his bright eyes open, shining happily as they always did. I wanted to see his intense smile and feel the achingly sweet kisses he reserved only for me.

Fuck.

I started to cry in earnest as I turned his palm over and rubbed it gently with my fingers for a moment.

You have to wake up soon Harry, I spelled. Wake up and come back to me because I know now I can't live without you.

No response but I hadn't really expected one. I merely continued to hold his hand until a nurse came in and told me I had to leave. Pressing a last kiss onto his cheek, I put my hand back in his.

I'll be back as soon as I possibly can Harry, I promise. I love you. You are my everything.

And then I left.

It was all I could do. I had to be strong for him because if I wasn't strong, what was I? I knew he would do the same for me and that fuelled my ability to go home and wait.

I tried to write but my mind was hell bent on revenge. I wanted to kill that little shit, Draco and I wanted to make Michael watch. I wondered if they had any kind of clue as to what they had done and I doubted they did, really.

()

It was early the next morning when the detective called me and asked me to meet with him. I invited him over and it only took him twenty minutes before he was at my door.

He was a tall, stern black man with a bald head and almost impossibly deep voice. Extending his hand, I took it as I let him inside.

"Pleased to meet you," he said as I showed him to the lounge. "My name is detective Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Severus Snape," I said sounding tenser than I had intended to.

"I'm just here to ask you a few questions and then I'll be on my way. Not much can be done until Mr. Potter wakes up but I have a feeling you might know what his wishes might be regarding this incident."

I was shocked, to say the least. I sure as hell didn't expect the detective to behave like that. If anything, I was expecting snide remarks and perhaps a bit of suspicion. No one had ever wanted to recognise a gay relationship, no matter how much the couple loved one another.

It aided my comfort, his words, and when he began the questions I answered them in earnest. I explained my long, and unwanted relationship with Draco, the twins and everything that had gone on in the clubs. I delved, just slightly, into the move to France and back to give him a better understanding of Draco's motives. I concluded with the half kiss and then the incident when Harry and I returned home.

Taking short notes, Shacklebolt got the gist of everything down before looking back up at me. "I'm going to assume that neither you or Mr. Potter would like this to be brought to the courts."

"I can't say for certain about Harry," I answered honestly. "This has never happened before and I'm not sure how he'll feel once he wakes up." If he wakes up, but saying that would make it seem so fucking real.

"I'll hold off on pursuing the investigation though I might have a word or two with Lucius."

"You know him?" I asked though I was unsurprised.

Shacklebolt chuckled. "Don't we all?"

"Hmm," I said as I knew he was remembering the nonsense with Riddle. At least Lucius was able to clear his name...and mine, though our reputations were forever tainted. Mine far more than his but of course I didn't have nearly the social class that Lucius did.

"I doubt that Lucius will be able to do anything about his son," Shacklebolt mused, "but it might be worth him giving his son a good scare."

I smirked, knowing that Lucius was fully capable of doing such a thing and I shrugged. "So long as our names aren't dragged into the papers or any of that rubbish, I could care less."

"Do I have to warn you of what will happen should you attempt violence on either of those two men?" he asked carefully.

I snorted. "Of course not, I know well enough what would happen to me. That won't stop me from finding out who did this and why, though."

"Of course not," he said with a secret smile, "just take care in your actions."

"I always do," I responded easily, still shocked at his behaviour. Part of my mind wanted to suspect him but the other part of my mind knew that he was probably an associate of Dumbledore and therefore was ultimately on my side. Meddling old fool, getting me out of trouble even when I didn't deserve it.

Shacklebolt shook my hand before leaving, handing me a business card and promising to ring me as soon as he found anything out. The next thing I did was ring the hospital. There had been no change in Harry's condition and they were still waiting for the blood results to come back from the lab. I would be allowed to visit during the allotted hours, as Harry's family had been contacted and the hospital had been curtly told to "fuck off."

The visitation hours weren't for a while and I did the only thing I could possibly think of. I headed for the club. I knew Fred and George were going to be there and I was determined to find out who knew what.

Getting in my car, I barely noticed how fast I was driving. I pulled into the makeshift car park haphazardly and didn't even bother to lock my doors. Heading for the entrance, I found it unlocked and I stormed inside.

No one was downstairs but I could hear noises coming from the upstairs. As I headed for the stairway, I heard a pounding on the floor and Fred dashed down towards me. "Snape," he said sounding shocked.

I opened my mouth to begin my rant when I noticed that his face was bruised. He was sporting a black eye, split lip and swollen cheek. "What the hell happened to you?" I finally bit out.

Fred looked down. "Come here," he said and pulled me into the small room to the left of the bar. Switching the light on in the windowless room, he flopped into a worn chair while I leant against the side of the door.

"Well," I demanded.

"We heard what happened," he said in a low voice.

"Did you now?" I drawled. "How convenient."

"How is he?"

I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted to hit something...hit him even. "Alive, barely." Taking a calming breath, I glared at him. "What do you know."

"It was Draco and Michael," Fred said with a sigh.

"And you knew about it?"

"Heard about it about an hour after you left," he confessed. "I hit Draco for it and when I tried to leave to warn you, Crabbe and Goyle held me back and beat the shit out of me."

My eyes widened. Fred defended Harry? Impossible.

"They did this to you?" I asked suspiciously.

Fred nodded. "My brother and I were no match for them cos we were so fucked up. George is still stuck in bed, think they injured his kidneys but we're not sure and it's not a good idea for us to go to the hospital."

I nodded, knowing he was spot-on. If they showed up it would likely just cause more trouble. "What did they give him, Fred?"

He sighed. "From what I know, they gave him a combination of things, X, Cid and prolly a bit of G though honestly I can't be sure. No one knew they were doing this. "

I frowned. Dangerous combination, no wonder Harry was barely clinging to life. "How'd they manage to get that into his drink?"

"From what we were able to find out, Draco had a bottle of the shit already mixed and Michael just told Harry it was sparkling water and served it to him."

"Any idea how much he drank?"

Fred shook his head. "You'll have to ask Tonks."

My eyes narrowed. "Why the fuck would she do that to Harry? I thought she liked him."

"She does," Fred insisted. "She had no clue Snape, honestly. She only found out when we did. She's the one who managed to get Draco and Michael out of the club without further incident. Believe me Snape, if they ever show their faces 'round here again, they're dead."

"Not if I see them first," I hissed. "My lover is lying in the hospital near death. Do you have any idea what he went through?"

Fred shook his head, going paler than he already was. "No," he whispered.

I proceeded to explain every moment that Harry suffered. Not to frighten or upset him, simply because I had to say it. It had to be said, it had to be heard. When I finished, Fred was enraged and shaking.

"He's as good as dead Snape. No one but Draco ever minded Harry and fuck, we were just pleased to see you so happy."

I bowed my head and sighed. "I'm going back to the hospital to be with Harry. Draco will pay and if I see him again, believe me..." I trailed off, letting the silence speak volumes.

Fred nodded and said nothing as I turned and walked out.

The chill of the air hit me full in the face and I gave a small shiver. Pulling the sleeves of my jumper over my hands, I climbed back into my car and headed for the hospital. I paused at the little take-away coffee stand and got myself some hot cocoa to chase away the chill before heading for my beloved's room.

The nurses merely gave me a few curt nods as I moved past their little area and went inside. Keeping the door firmly shut, I pulled a chair up to the side of Harry's bed and put my hand in his. He looked exactly the same, still peaky, still half-dead.

This couldn't be fucking happening. If anyone deserved to be in that bed it was me? Harry had done nothing, nothing to deserve any of this. Nothing but love me. God, life was fucking colossally unfair and cruel.

Leaning my head against the railing on the bed, I ran my fingers up and down his palm and forearm lazily as I lost myself in my thoughts. There was too much going on, too much ache when there should be overwhelming happiness. I thought it would end, or ease up a little, but it hadn't.

God, life was less fulfilling but a fuckload less painful before I met Harry. But would I give him up for the sake of that? Hell no. Not unless he asked me. If he asked me, of course I would walk away. I couldn't deny him anything, even if it meant leaving him.

And I wouldn't blame him after this.

I sat there for the longest time until finally the doctor walked in. It was a different physician this time, an older man with wispy white hair and a sharp face. He gave me a curt nod before approaching Harry and checking all the machines, marking on a chart every now and again.

Eventually, he moved to Harry's side and pried open my beloved's eyes. Using a small light, he peered into them before allowing them to close. Pulling a chair up, he took Harry's pulse manually and marked it down on the chart.

I wanted to demand answers, to demand when my beloved was going to wake up but I knew that would have been a useless thing to do. Instead, I sat in stony silence and waited for him to speak.

"We've gotten the test results back," he said softly as he opened another folder he had been carrying. "From what we can determine, the main cause of Mr. Potter's condition is an almost fatal dose of G.H.B. You know what this is, correct?"

I nodded softly. "Unfortunately I do," I said with a grim smile.

"Had Mr. Potter's trip here been delayed any longer I doubt he would be with us right now. As it is, I'm not positive he will walk away from this unscathed, if he does at all. His brain activity had decreased greatly since last night and it seems he's falling into a deeper coma."

It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice on my head. My heart began to pound so hard that I was sure the doctor could hear it from where he sat. Licking my lips, trying to chase away the dryness that had taken over my mouth, I looked at my beloved. "How long before we know for sure?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm afraid I have no idea, but the chances of him waking decrease every day he's in the coma," he said almost kindly.

I nodded dumbly, afraid to open my mouth again. I was afraid to cry and I was afraid not to. But if I cried...wouldn't that mean I was starting to mourn him? I couldn't let that happen, he wasn't gone yet.

"You can talk to him," the doctor said. "Sometimes people who fall into comas will respond to voices of their loved ones."

I looked up at the doctor and glowered fiercely. "He's deaf," I spat. "He couldn't hear me even if I shouted."

The doctor blanched and looked down at the chart. "Oh," he said stupidly. "I was just assigned him today, I must have missed that."

"Right," I drawled. My anger was taking over, making me defencive and I knew it would be a stupid thing to do, insulting Harry's doctor but I was hurting so badly.

I think the doctor realised this because he merely favoured me with an apologetic smile before standing to leave. "If you need anything or if there are any changes, please feel free to alert one of the staff. Mr. Potter's monitors are attached to a computer out there which will alert us if something goes wrong but feel free to ask questions."

I nodded and said nothing as I watched him leave. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand in Harry's and without another thought, simply began to tell him about my day.

()

This went on for about a week, me spelling to Harry while he lay there motionless. I didn't cry, I was true to my word. I wouldn't mourn him until he was gone, and if I had anything to say about it, he wouldn't be leaving me for a long time.

I couldn't write any longer but I think my publishers understood because the calls to my mobile eventually stopped. The only place I went besides the hospital was home. I made sure to keep the house up, to eat properly and to keep myself clean and tidy. It wouldn't do for Harry to become cross with me when he woke and I wanted to make sure all was just as he left it.

It was a Monday, I was waiting for the visiting hours at home and looking at Harry's sketch book. There were the most beautiful sketches of the two of us together. Some were in almost embarrassingly intimate positions but I didn't mind him drawing those.

The thing that struck me was how he managed to capture the intensity of love in our eyes in the simple charcoal sketches. It was almost heart breaking and I did feel one traitorous tear escape.

Just before I made to close the book, the lights flickered which signalled that someone was at the door, ringing the bell. My first thought was that it was that detective and I quickly got up to answer it.

Throwing open the door, I was given quite a shock when I found Michael standing nervously in front of me.

My first instinct was to lash out, to hit him, to cause him pain but I collected myself quickly. I think he sensed it in me and he took a couple of steps backwards. My hand on the doorknob was clenching the brass so tightly that my knuckles were white.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.

"I er..." he said softly.

"You what?" I snapped. "Make it quick, I have absolutely no patience for you."

"I wanted to say sorry," he muttered.

My eyes widened in disbelief. The fucking nerve of this child, the fucking bollocks he possessed, coming here to say that. "You're sorry?" I repeated.

He nodded meekly, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I had to, but I feel so bad about it."

Giving into my urge, I reached out and yanked the boy inside. Slamming the door, I pressed him against the wall, hard, uncaring when his head hitting the plaster, gave a loud crack. "You feel bad about it?" I hissed, my face dangerously close to his. "You little shit, you have no idea what you did! What the fuck did Harry do to deserve that?"

"N-nothing," he stuttered, now terrified as my hand pressed his shoulder to the wall.

"So you believe your actions were justified?" I asked in an icy tone.

"I had to," he whispered.

"Or what?" I nearly shouted. "You nearly killed my lover because of what?"

"Draco," he admitted. "He...he wouldn't love me if I didn't do what he asked."

I blinked in surprise. "Out of love? You tried commit murder out of love?" I gave a harsh, bitter laugh in his face .

"He-he's not dead, is he?" Michael asked, his eyes wide with intense fear.

"Not yet," I said, sounding so fucking jaded.

Michael swallowed hard. "It wasn't supposed to be like that. Draco said that Potty-er Potter would make an arse out of himself, act like a git on drugs and you would leave him. "

"Any idea why Draco wanted him to leave me, Michael?" I asked carefully.

"So..." he said and trailed off, shaking his head. "No."

"Because he harboured some sick fantasy that I would love him."

Michael shook his head. "Draco loves me, he just wanted Potter to piss off so things could go back to normal."

"Little fool," I spat. "You have no fucking clue, you're so fucking blind. What makes you think Draco could ever love you?"

Michael blinked a few times, his eyes wandering around the room. I noticed them fall on the open sketch book I had set on the table and he was looking at a sketch Harry had done of the two of us. It was a close up sketch, me lying propped up on my back and him over me, almost nose to nose. It was another one of the intense look in our eyes.

With a small smirk, I let Michael go and swooped up the book. Shoving it in his face, I leant in to his ear. "Does Draco ever look at you like that Michael? Does he?" Michael shook his head mutely as he stared at the picture. I snapped the book closed and smirked. "Exactly. Draco doesn't love you."

Michael blinked back tears that were pooling in the corners of his brown eyes. "But...but he said..."

"He's a good liar Michael, a very good liar," I said with a shrug. "And because of those lies you attempted murder against an innocent, kind and wonderful man. How does that make you feel?"

"But I love Draco," he whispered in disbelief. "I live for him, I live for his love."

Ha. I had uttered those words about Harry before, but my love wasn't an illusion. With a bitter smile, I shrugged. "Then you have nothing to live for Michael. If Draco is what you live for, you're not really alive. Now get out before I lose control and actually do kill you."

With a last, lost look, Michael bolted out of the house, slamming the door behind him. With a loud shout, I slammed my fist into the door frame, ignoring the crack of the wood or the pain exploding in my fist. The physical pain was far better and far more tolerable than the emotional pain and it provided a nice, momentary distraction.

Little bastard. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

With a deep calming breath, knowing Harry wouldn't want me to behave like this, I attempted to let my anger go and decided to proceed with my life as it was now, unsure if it was ever going to be the way it was again.

()

The funeral was held exactly four weeks after Harry was admitted into the hospital. The death had come as a slight shock to me, it seemed rather sudden but knowing all that had gone on, I suppose when I gave it enough thought, it really had been expected.

Staring into the open grave where the coffin had been lowered, I gave a loud sigh. So fucking young, so fucking pointless.

Pulled out of my thoughts by a warm hand, I turned and and saw Harry's slightly troubled green eyes watching me. Pulling him into a hug, I pressed a kiss to his temple, thankful that I still had him. With his hand in mine, I looked back at the gravestone and sighed.

Michael Iain Wilson
Date of birth 13 November 1984
Date of death 13 February 2004

Too fucking young.

Harry and I walked back to my car silently, headed for the small club where a funeral reception was being held. The only reason we agreed to go at all was Draco wasn't going to be there.

No, Draco was serving a nice little stretch in Azkaban prison for the attempted murder of Harry Potter. I wasn't satisfied but it was enough.

Harry didn't wish for charges to be pressed but Lucius wouldn't hear of it. Lucius knew how happy I was and when he heard what his son had done, he pushed for the trial. Of course with Dumbledore in my pocket, there was no way Draco was going to win, and he didn't.

The suicide of Michael Wilson was something I blamed myself for. He was found in the school garden, lying in the snow, dead from a drug overdose. He'd taken what he'd given Harry, just in a far greater amount and undiluted. There was no suicide note but I knew the cause. It was because of what I had told him.

Harry woke two days after Michael had come to visit me at the house. His rehabilitation had gone far better than anyone could have expected and while he did suffer from occasional seizures, he would live.

I thought my heart was going to burst when he first opened his eyes and signed I love you. It was all I could do not to smother him with kisses.

When he was allowed to come home, I thought I would die of happiness, which of course I didn't but the love making nearly did kill me.

The message about Michael hit me hard and I quickly confessed to Harry what I had said.

My beloved, my saint, my angel.

He did his best to keep me from blaming myself but I couldn't help it. I had driven that poor boy to punish himself and honestly, Draco deserved it, not the ignorant fool who was merely a pawn in Draco's game.

Walking inside the club caused a pang of fear in my stomach and sensing it, Harry stuck his hand in mine. I found it to be slightly ironic that he was comforting me in this place but perhaps he just knew that my demons ran deeper than the one incident that had taken place.

There was no loud music to be heard this time, the lights kept dim A tray of drinks circulated which we rightfully yet politely refused. The twins were mingling with a group of people and Harry and I simply stayed near the door, holding one another, both lost in thought.

As I ran my fingers through Harry's locks, my eyes caught the sad face of Tonks as she slowly made her way over. I had yet to speak to her since the incident with Harry but I made sure the twins let her know I didn't blame her.

Her eyes were puffy from crying and her normally smiling mouth was drawn down though she attempted a smile. "Hey," she said with a nod.

Harry turned to face her so he could read her lips and I nodded to her. "How are you?"

"I've been better," she said with a slight laugh.

I sighed softly and absently trailed my fingers across Harry's palm. "I'm sorry it was like this Tonks," I said sadly.

"It wasn't your fault," she said tensely.

"It was," I bit out. "He came to me and..."

"I know," Tonks said, interrupting me. "He came to me right after he left your house. We went to see Harry right after that, to see if you were right. He was still in shock about it all and I think that woke him up." She paused and swallowed back tears.

God I was such an ass. "Still, what I said to him was unforgivable," I said. I felt Harry's hand squeeze mine slightly and I looked down into his green eyes that had been reading my lips.

"I love you," he mouthed.

I leant down and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "I love you," I whispered.

"It was Draco's fault," Tonks said after the moment between Harry and me was over.

"Sorry?" I said, startled by her words.

"Michael didn't want to believe that Draco didn't love him. We went in search of him and...found Draco with some other bloke. They were uhm...well you know, and when Michael confronted him, Draco laughed and mocked him. Told him he was just a worthless kid that would never be worthy of anyone's time. I tried to convince Michael that Draco was a liar, a bastard. I actually thought he believed me. I wouldn't have left him alone if I thought he would..." she trailed off and let out a small sob.

Harry let go of my hand and quickly pulled Tonks into a hug. My heart swelled at the sight of my lover and his intense kindness. Harry held her tightly, rubbing her back and murmured kind words to her. Eventually Tonks' tears stopped and she pulled away.

Harry gingerly wiped the tears off her cheeks and she gave a small, sad laugh. "Thanks," she said, blushing a little.

"Of course," Harry said slowly.

"If I had known," she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out and took Tonks' hand. I didn't hug anyone but Harry, but I knew the world of suicide a little too well. My sister had died in such a way and I knew the feeling of helplessness and the what-ifs that came along with it. "There wasn't anything you could have done Tonks. If Michael wanted to die, he would have found a way, even if you had stopped him that night."

"He just...should have felt as loved as he was," she said in a heart-wrenchingly sad tone.

It struck me suddenly, how she was feeling and I squeezed her hand. "You were in love with him," I stated.

She nodded. "I was," she whispered. "I should have told him but...he and Draco..." she trailed off and looked down at her feet.

"I wish there was something I could say but there isn't," I finally offered. It wasn't helpful. Fuck, it was the antithesis of helpful but there were no other words.

Harry smiled at me gently before putting his arm around her. "If you ever need us...ever...you know where we will be. For anything, anytime," he said, taking great care to assure he was understood.

Tonks stared at him, tears shining in her eyes. "Thanks," she said. Before more could be said, one of the twins spotted us and called Tonks over. With a last hug, she bounded off towards them.

Harry turned to me and looked deep in my eyes. His emerald orbs seemed so troubled and I hated to see my lover like that. Do you think she really will be okay?

I shrugged. I can't say my love. No one really knows and there isn't anything we can do about it.

Harry sighed and reached his face up for a kiss. I obliged, deepening it slightly and smiling when I felt his hands reach around me, holding me tightly to him. "Let's go home," he whispered against my ear.

I agreed and before long, I was in our bed, Harry in my arms, moaning against my hot skin. I realised that despite all that had gone on and all that would happen in the future, with Harry, I would always have this little bit of happiness.

What can I say, when I'm happy I'm optimistic. What a ridiculous thing to say but I can't help it. I can't help the stupid grin plastered on my face when I think of Harry and the blissful quiet that we share.

It wouldn't last.

dbdbdb

I was sitting in the computer room, typing away on my newest novel, when the lights flickered, signalling that someone was buzzing at the door. I was fully prepared to let Harry answer it, or simply ignore it myself, when I heard the three taps on the wall. It was Harry's request for me to answer.

"Bugger," I cursed and purposefully took my time sauntering to the front door. With a heavy sigh, and expecting it to be Tonks again, I opened the door.

My jaw dropped. I sure as fuck hadn't expected to see this person. The long black hair, the nose frighteningly like mine yet set on a thinner and younger face. It was my sister, my fucking sister.

I nearly bashed my head on the door with annoyance. Jola had gotten involved in the whole business with Riddle as well, but instead of taking a leaf out of my book, the little brat went into hiding, moving to Scotland to live with our parents.

Now she stood before me, clad in some ridiculously tight dress, looking happy as ever with a smile I wanted to slap off of her face.

"Jola," I hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jola smiled and leant on the door frame. "Aw Sev, you're not happy to see your wee baby sister?"

"Not really," I snarked, crossing my arms. "What do you want?"

Jola shrugged. "Missed you, missed here. Since dad died, mum's been out of her fucking tree and I got tired of playing nurse maid."

My eyes widened. My father had died? I didn't know. Of course I wouldn't mourn the bastard, he'd always hated me and made my life a living hell, so why should I be sorry his bitter arse was no longer on this planet. Still, you'd think someone would've contacted me.

"When did he die?" I finally inquired.

"Er... last year," she said with a lazy shrug. "Round March or something. Anyhow.." she said and before I could stop her, she breezed past me, walking into the lounge. She let out a low whistle as her eyes roamed round the room. "Nice."

I rolled my eyes and slammed the door. "Thank you, now speak your piece and get the fuck out."

Jola turned around and did her best to pout at me, not that that shit actually worked on me. I didn't find her cute or endearing. "Why don't you want me here? Hiding something? You and Lucius still up to no good, hmmm?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut it," I spat. "I don't want you here because whenever you're in my life, you cause trouble. And I'm happy now, so kindly bugger off."

Jola simply smiled at me and flopped into a chair unceremoniously. I felt bile rise into my throat at the thought of my sister sticking round. I couldn't stand the idea of Jola and Harry interacting. Lord, what would he think of her ridiculous personality?

Luck was not on my side at that moment, however, and Harry walked into the room. He looked almost edible in his loose white, paint-covered t-shirt and jeans. His hair was sticking up, as it always did, and his hands were stained with various colours.

He looked over at Jola with a raised brow before smiling at me. "Severus," he said carefully.

I sighed and fought the urge to scream and throw things. "Harry, my sister Jola," I said. I was tempted to sign to him everything she was and why I detested her, but I decided to wait until we were alone.

Harry, ever the saint, approached her and stuck out his hand. "Pleased," he said with a soft smile.

Jola's eyes lit up and I could practically read her mind. I wanted to bodily chuck her out of my house when she stood and batted her eyelashes at him. " Very pleased to meet you," she drawled in her, aren't-I-sexy voice.

Luckily the tone was lost on my beloved, and I moved to his side swiftly, lest she make more of a fool out of herself. Pressing a soft kiss to Harry's cheek, I turned to her and shot her the, see-he's-mine expression.

Jola pouted for a very brief moment. "So you two are... buggering?" she asked with a wink.

Harry chuckled. "Among other things," he said.

You could tell he was deaf, his speech wasn't clear and I waited for her to notice. She really was thick, though. "You foreign?" she asked with a half smile.

Harry shook his head. "I don't have an accent because I'm deaf."

Jola's eyes widened. "Really? Wow."

Wow ? Lord, how embarrassing. I put my arm around Harry's waist and rested my forehead on his head. "Jola, why are you here, and I really don't want any of your nonsense answers."

Jola blinked and then sighed, her smile falling slightly. "I... I got into some trouble," she confessed.

I snorted. "Nothing new. I'm not going to give you any money."

"Money isn't what I need," she said softly.

Harry, following the conversation carefully, elbowed me in the side and scowled. She's your sister , he signed angrily, show a little compassio n.

You don't know the half of it , I responded swiftly. We'll talk after I get her the hell out of here.

Jola was watching our exchange with wide eyes, a small smile on her face. "Class," she said softly.

"Shut it," I growled. "What is it you want from me if it isn't money?"

Her face reddened slightly and she looked down at her feet. "I'm sort of.... pregnant," she said softly.

Harry, having been un-able to read her lips, looked at me and I translated what she said. I, myself, was still in shock. Jola could be a bit stupid, but I never thought she'd be so careless with her body. "Christ, Jola," I said finally.

My sister looked up at me, tears shining in her black eyes. "Look, I know it was stupid of me. I know I should've been more careful and all that other shit. I've had the lecture Severus, and now I need help."

"An abortion?" I asked.

"No!" she cried heatedly. "Never. I just need... just need some sanctuary, away from all the hectic shit I live with so I can figure out what to do."

Harry bit down on his lip and looked at me. She should stay here for a bit.

No , I signed sharply. No way. You have no idea the kind of shit she can bring into this house.

She's your sister , he stressed. "Severus," he said aloud, "please."

I rolled my eyes and looked at Jola who was watching us, an apprehensive expression on her peaky face. "Harry and I need to talk," I said sharply. "Go ahead and settle in... for a bit. There's tea in the kitchen. We'll be back."

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him into our bedroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I turned to face him and he was ready for me.

Damn it, Severus, don't be an arse , he signed angrily. That is your sister out there.

Yes, the sister that has done nothing but make my life difficult, I replied with a glare.

Harry rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and took a deep breath. The point is, she's your family. He lowered his eyes to look at me, the emerald orbs shining with tears. I didn't respond as he approached me slowly and backed me up against the wardrobe. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he trailed them down my arms and laced his fingers with mine.

"Severus," he said softly, "I grew up an un-loved orphan. Do you know what I would have given to have some sort of family member to turn to?"

I sighed, feeling my resistance wavering. Damn him. "I don't understand fully, though I know well what it's like to be un-loved. Jola, however, was a spoilt brat, her every want catered to by my parents and I'm not going to continue to pamper her."

Harry smiled very softly, as I'm sure he saw my resolve fading. "It doesn't matter. What will she do if you don't help her? Go into the streets? Shack-up with some bloke worse than Draco? And what of the baby?"

I sighed heavily as he brought his face just millimetres from mine. I don't know , I spelt into his palm.

Harry nodded. "Nor do I, but we have to do it... for the baby if nothing else."

I groaned and pushed him away just a little. "You have to understand that inviting her into our home is inviting a world of trouble in as well. She won't stop acting like... like she does, and it won't be pleasant."

Harry nodded and rained kisses across my mouth and cheeks. "It doesn't matter, I love you Severus Snape, and I want to help her because she is part of you."

I glared. "A very small part, mind. Miniscule, even."

Harry chuckled throatily and kissed the side of my throat. "I love any part of you, no matter how small."

Damn him, damn him for being such an angel. I would have easily chucked her out of my house and never thought on her again. But not my Harry.

Damn him for making me a better person.

dbdbdb

After the talk with Harry, I spoke with my sister and informed her of our decision. I also informed her that under no circumstances was she to allow any of her 'friends' in our home nor was she to endanger the baby in any way... including with drugs.

She grudgingly agreed, though she was a bit put out by the rules. "I'm twenty-four years old, Severus. You can't bloody well tell me what I can and can't put into my body."

"If you're going to give birth to a health child then you damn well better obey my rules," I said heatedly. "You either take care of the foetus or you abort it. It's up to you."

Narrowing her eyes, Jola gave me a curt nod and stormed out of the house. "Good riddance," I spat and stormed into the computer room to write out my frustrations.

I had been in there for nearly an hour, typing like mad, when I heard it.

Bam!

Thump! .

It sounded like something had crashed in the cupboard in our bedroom. I waited for Harry's knock signalling that all was well, but it never came.

A wave of panic flooded through me and I raced from the room. Entering our bedroom, I saw the cupboard door open and Harry lying under two large boxes that had been filled with books. Dashing to the doorway, I threw the boxes and spilt books aside and looked into Harry's face.

His body had gone completely ridged and his eyes had rolled back into his head. His jaw was closed tightly and his hands were clenched into fists. He was seizing.

A bit of blood trickled out the side of his mouth, which caused me to panic for a moment until I spotted the cut on his lip.

Knowing I shouldn't touch him, I waited carefully until the seizure passed. As he came round, I slowly reached down and gathered him to me. Carrying him in my arms, I walked over to the bed and set him down gently.

His breathing had evened out completely, though his face was peaky and his forehead was covered in beads of sweat.

Fuck. It was moments like this that I could kill Draco. He hadn't killed Harry, but he'd made just one more part of life difficult to live with.

Running my hands through Harry's locks, I waited patiently until he was coherent enough to understand me. That took some time, though he was visibly calmed by my touch and kept his body pressed very close to mine.

Eventually, he lifted his head and gave me a tentative smile. "Hi," he whispered.

I chuckled and pressed a fierce kiss to his forehead. I was relieved at this moment, often with his fits, Harry couldn't remember anything for at least twenty minutes. This time, however, he seemed a bit more coherent. Taking his hand in mine, I spelled out, I love you .

Harry said nothing, he simply took my hand and pressed it to his chest. I could feel the rapid beating under my fingers and it reminded me of just how much I loved him, and how my heart beat only for him.

dbdbdb

A few hours later, I woke from a kip I hadn't realised I was having, and reached out for Harry. My hand met empty bed and I frowned. I had no idea what the time could be, all I knew was that the sun had set and I was starving.

Padding to the door, I pulled it open and blinked against the harsh light from the lounge. I could hear the telly on, which meant that Jola was most likely back. Bloody fucking brilliant. Just what I needed, her dramatics.

Peering round the corner into the smallish room, I spotted Harry in the corner, curled up in his favourite chair, sketching in his little book. Jola, I spotted, was sitting in front of the telly, some god-awful film on, eating.

Harry didn't notice me and not wanting to draw my sister's attention, I swiftly walked into the kitchen to fix myself a cuppa and a sandwich. I wanted to talk to Harry, we'd fallen straight to sleep after he recovered from the seizure and not much had been worked out. I was still frustrated beyond belief with my sister and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to tolerate her presence for the duration of the pregnancy.

It was such a fucking pain in the arse, this rubbish I had to deal with now. Why Harry had to be such a saint was beyond me. Of course, secretly I was glad for it, but I wasn't about to admit it.

Ever.

With a heavy sigh, I acquiesced to the fact that Harry and I wouldn't have any alone time until bed, so I headed into the lounge.

Harry looked up as I entered and graced me with his beautiful smile, making my heart beat just a little bit faster. Jola, who was still watching the film, simply nodded. It was clear by the look in her eyes, she was still frustrated at me. Like I gave a shit.

Harry put his sketchbook aside and beckoned me over. I was more than happy to oblige and I quickly situated myself half in his lap, snuggled against his side with my feet on the arm. It looked bloody ridiculous, me sitting like that with him, but it felt so damned good, especially when he put his arms around my waist and nuzzled into my neck. I could have drowned there, had it not been for the small derisive snort from my obnoxious sibling.

Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "What?"

"Nothing," she said with a small smirk. "You just look a bit... cramped in that seat."

"Comfortable," I retorted with a half shrug.

"Well if Harry's uncomfortable, there's plenty of room by me," Jola drawled.

She was constantly after Harry, the little bitch. All the sweet smiles and the absent minded-touches in passing all made sense to me and I had to physically restrain myself to keep from throttling her.

Putting my hand in Harry's I spelt out, Tired, ready for bed ?

Harry, frowning at my use of fingerspelling, gave a small shrug. Ok , he signed and turned his attention to my sister who was watching us with the most irritating smile I have ever seen. "We're going to bed," he said very slowly, "do you need anything."

"Not at the moment," she drawled, "but I'll let you know."

Rolling my eyes, I didn't give them a chance to exchange a pleasant goodnight. Taking Harry's hand, I pulled him into our bedroom, locked the door and stormed to the wardrobe.

As I pulled out our pyjama bottoms, I felt Harry's arms come around my waist and he manoeuvred me around so that I was looking him straight in the face.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

My sister , I signed, still in a snit.

All she said was she didn't need anything.

You missed the bit where she said there was room by her on the sofa , I retorted, my hands signing angrily.

Harry took my fingers and pressed them to his lips, kissing them gently. My anger receded to a dull throb in my temples, and I wanted to kiss him and smack him for the effect he hand on me.

Damn him.

"She was only joking, she jokes like that a lot," he whispered as he brought his arms up around the back of my neck.

"She fancies you," I growled, holding him tightly, possessively. Harry was mine, I might not have deserved him, but I wasn't going to give him up willingly. I pressed a firm, heavy kiss on his lips, pouring my insecurities and my love for him into that single gesture.

It was clear that Harry felt every bit of it because he cupped my face in his hands. "Severus, I love you, more than I thought possible. I feel dreadful that your sister has had such rotten luck, but nothing... and I mean nothing... will come in between our love."

"Something did once," I whispered, thinking of my little flat in Paris, and how cold and completely alone I was there.

Harry smiled gently and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. "We all do stupid or useless things a few times in our lives. We learn from those mistakes, Severus." He pulled away and raised his hands. Nothing matters but you , he signed.

I captured his hands and kissed his palms. The chaste pecks turned into caresses with my tongue as I mapped out every line on his hands. He became a puddle of desire in my arms as I lowered him to the bed, my tongue still laving at his digits. With my free hand, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt and then mine, discarding the cloth onto the floor beside the bed.

Before long, the two of us were under the sheet, writhing in pleasure as we kissed, nipped, licked and suckled on each other's skin. Our groins made contact, our hard cocks finding a fierce friction and I felt Harry's fingers dig into my hips as he pressed me against him, desperate for more.

Our breathing became laboured and our mouths pressed together, though we weren't really kissing anymore. Eventually, my body shuddered as my climax ripped through me, Harry soon to follow. Our sticky fluid mixed together on our chests and stomachs, and I collapsed down on top of my beloved.

I felt his hot breath ghosting across my face as I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and his fingers began to draw lazy circles across my back.

I basked in the beautiful afterglow of our love making, taking a bit longer to move than usual, though eventually I had to reach for one of our discarded shirts to clean us up.

That done, I snuggled back up to Harry who reached over me with a loud grunt and managed to switch off the bedside lamp. He rained kisses all across my face as he resumed his position tucked up into my side and my hand found his.

Thank you , I spelt.

Harry chuckled throatily and pressed a kiss to the underside of my chin. I love you, and I don't want you to forget it.

Funny thing was... as much as I feared not knowing, or perhaps as much as I feared thinking he loved me more than he actually did, every time he looked at me, every time he touched me, I was reassured.

And even though the sex was mind-blowingly brilliant, so much so I really didn't want to go without, it was the simple gestures that reminded me of how lucky I was to have him in my life.

With that last thought, I allowed myself to drift off into a comfortable, and very sated, sleep.

dbdbdb

Things lulled into an uncomfortable routine, Jola annoying the piss out of me, Harry putting up with her flirting and antics with a solid grin. I'd taken to disappearing in the evenings, going on walks and often ending up at Tonks' flat to vent. I'd grown rather fond of the young woman, and was surprised to learn she was actually a cousin of Draco's.

Surprised in the way that she and him were nothing alike. Finding relatives in this little town was nothing new. Bloody inbreds, the lot of them.

When I wasn't out walking or rowing with Jola, I was locked up inside the computer room, completing my third novel. It was going well enough, and my need to isolate myself away from my obnoxious relation helped aid the book even further.

I trusted Harry, more than I trusted anyone or anything, but I didn't trust my sister... and the flirting really was getting absolutely out of control. It reached its peak one night, after I walked into the lounge, tired from spending six hours on the computer.

The lounge was empty and I heard Jola and Harry chatting quietly in the kitchen. The room smelt quite nice, indicating Harry was cooking our dinner, and I slowly padded to the doorway.

It wasn't long before I was furious, and inwardly I was glad I'd only caught the last bit of the conversation.

Jola was leaning against the fridge, Harry standing next to the cooker, stirring something in a pot. His head was towards her, watching her lips as she pleaded in her obnoxious whinge.

"I saw you and Severus doing that the other night," she pleaded. "It just looked so interesting. I mean, I know you usually use regular signs, but I wanted to know how to do the bit on your hand."

No, my head cried out. That was for no one else besides me. I opened my mouth to retort, but Harry beat me to it.

"Severus and I only use it when I can't see his mouth and his hands. Often when we're lying in bed in the dark. There's really no point in you learning it."

"Oh please," she begged, batting her eyelashes at him.

Lord I wanted to smack her. Clenching my hands into fists, I strode into the kitchen and cleared my throat. Jola's head whipped round towards me, and seeing her sudden reaction, Harry turned as well.

Breaking into his beautiful smile, he moved away from the cooking food and embraced me slowly. I kissed him, languidly and deeply, purely for Jola's benifit, and for once, Harry allowed it. After pulling away, I took Harry's hand in mine and we walked back to the food.

Pointedly ignoring the simpering bitch who was still pouting, I glanced at the food. Potatoes, leek soup and on the counter, some seared fish.

Looks wonderful , I signed.

Harry frowned just a little. "Thank you," he said aloud, pointedly looking at Jola.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes and acquiesced to his unspoken request. "Fine. When's it finished?" "Ten minutes or so," Harry said with a small chuckle. "Go busy yourself with the table settings."

Kissing his cheek, I quickly gathered the necessary items for our meal and quickly set everything out on the table. Jola stood next to Harry, pointedly refusing to actually do anything with herself, which wasn't really a surprise.

The meal was enjoyed in a tense sort of silence and Jola continued to pester Harry about learning new signs. I didn't want her speaking his language. I didn't want her here at all.

After the meal, the three of us retired to the lounge where Jola put on some ridiculous programme that I ignored, Harry took up his sketchbook and curled up against my side, losing himself in his art.

Jola relaxed in a chair, her hands resting over her now-swollen belly and I found myself dead happy that there was only two months to go before this baby was out and she was gone.

Losing myself in my thoughts, I didn't notice when Jola suddenly gasped. "Oh! It moved."

Rolling my eyes, I looked over at her. "And?"

Harry, spotting my movements looked up at me and then at Jola. "What?" he asked.

"The baby moved," she said with a grin. "I know you wanted to feel it before, but it always quieted. Go on then, Harry, touch it."

I clenched my jaw as Harry extracted himself from my arms, lowered himself to the floor and walked on his knees to Jola's side. His hand slowly stretched out and he allowed her to place his fingers where the baby was moving.

Smirking at me, Jola kept her hand firmly pressed to his and she laughed aloud when Harry gasped at the sudden movement.

I wanted to kill her. I would have, had I the opportunity. She honestly thought she was going to win him, just because of this fucking foetus growing in her ugly, tainted body.

I knew I shouldn't be so bitter, but I couldn't help it. Not when I came so close to losing him before.

Harry, however, drew me out of my angry, downward spiralling thoughts, when he looked up at me, his green eyes positively glowing with excitement. "It moved," he whispered.

His smile, his whisper, his eyes. It was all too much. With a curt nod, I stood up and walked out of the room, lest either of them see me fucking cry over this mess.

Why cry over such a inane thing as an expression? Why?

Because...

Because a family, a baby, the one thing Harry truly wanted, was the one thing I couldn't give him. The one thing I couldn't provide, and here it was, being shoved in his face for nearly seven months now. And Jola made it fucking obvious that Harry could have such a thing with her.

Slamming the door to our bedroom, I threw myself onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow. My tears were silent, hot and bitter. They showed my true insecurities and my still belief that I wasn't good enough for Harry. Because fuck, I wasn't. Neither was Jola, but she could give him what he wanted.

Wallowing in my deep self-pity and fear, I didn't hear the door to our room open. In fact, I didn't notice Harry until he startled me with a warm hand pressed to the small of my back. With a small grunt, Harry leant over me and switched on the small lamp, bathing us in the soft yellow glow.

"Severus," Harry whispered, trying to roll me over.

I was being dead stubborn about it. I didn't want him to see me like this, lost in my own world of fear and pity. It was pathetic and he didn't need to see me that way.

"Please," he begged a little, and it was my un-doing.

Rolling over slowly, I sat up and forced myself to meet his imploring green eyes. "Sorry," I mouthed.

Leaning forward, Harry pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose before drawing away. What happened?

It was nothing , I signed, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on my hands.

Harry took a finger and put it under my chin, raising my eyes to his face. "You're hurting, Severus. What's wrong?"

His eyes, his beautiful eyes, bore straight into my soul and before I could stop myself, tears were flowing and I had my face buried in the crook of his neck. "Oh Harry, I don't want to lose you," I sobbed, knowing full well he couldn't hear me.

Feeling the vibrations against his neck, Harry grabbed my hand and placed it over his palm. "What?"

I'm sorry. I.. it's.. . but I couldn't continue. I didn't know what the hell to say to him about this.

Waiting for the tears to subside, Harry eventually pushed me away, looking at my mouth carefully. "Tell me, Severus. Tell me."

With a deep breath and a nod, I opened my mouth and let it all out. "I love you, Harry. I love you with all of me. I know you love me, but I can't give you what Jola can. I can't give you a family, a baby. I saw the look in your eyes, the look of wonder and amazement when her fucking child moved against your hand. I can never give you that, Harry. And..." I trailed off, unsure where to go from there.

Harry watched my mouth very carefully and took all of it in. When he finally caught my gaze, his eyes were so full of love it almost hurt. Tenderly, he reached up and placed his warm palm against my cheek. "You give me just enough, Severus. I may adore the idea of a family, but all that really matters to me.. is you. You, and nothing else. There isn't anything on this earth that anyone could possibly offer that would make me consider, even for a moment, leaving your side. I... love... you. And that's it."

Taking a deep breath, mentally kicking my own arse for the emotional display, I nodded and captured his mouth in a kiss. "I love you," I said when I finally pulled away.

With suddenly heated eyes, Harry lowered me back onto the pillows. "Show me how much," he whispered.

And with a wicked grin, I did.

dbdbdb

I thought it might end there. I was wrong. Dead fucking wrong. I don't know now, whether to say it was all for the best. Saying that might be cruel, especially after what happened but... perhaps it all was. How was I to know?

I'd been at Tonks' flat for several hours when I decided it was time to return home. I'd been at Tonks' because that day Jola and I had been rowing for hours. Eventually, sensing that I was about to lose total control, Harry sent me out of the house.

I was put out at first, even left without kissing him goodbye, but after my second cup of chocolate at the younger girl's flat, I was suddenly grateful for my lover's decision.

Still, it was getting late and I'd left poor Harry in our home, all alone with a hormonal, pregnant woman. Bidding Tonks a swift goodbye, I drove back to the small cottage and switched off the car.

It was strange when I pulled up, the house was dark except for the slight flickering of the telly in the lounge. Pushing open the door, I walked inside but didn't see Harry or Jola anywhere. Dropping my coat on the back of the chair, I walked to the entrance of the hallway and saw the door to Jola's bedroom open. Walking down a bit, I peered round the corner and saw something that nearly made my heart stop.

Harry was sprawled across her bed, his shirt half-way off, his eyes barely open and glazed. Jola, having not seen me, was bent over her desk with a small dropper poised over a glass of what looked like scotch.

Whatever she was doing, it was clearly not good. "What the bloody hell?" I hissed as I stormed into the room.

Jola, thoroughly startled, let go of the dropper and spun round. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me, and her hands clenched into fists. "I'm doing what should have happened ages ago," she hissed. "He's such a stubborn prat, even after all that shit I gave him, he still wouldn't give in to me. Just a bit more though, and I'll have him in my bed... he'll feel so guilty in the morn, he'll leave you for me." Her eyes were wild and mad.

"You insane bitch," I hissed, my fearful gaze turning to Harry. Fucking hell, he was drugged. Fuck, it never bloody ended for him! "You honestly think he's going to leave me for you after you fucking drug him? Fucking psycho!"

"I'm not!" she screeched. "You have no fucking idea, and you don't deserve him you bastard!"

It was my undoing. Striding forward, my hand reached out and grabbed her round her neck. "Get... out. Out of my house, out of my life. I don't give a shit where you go or what happens to you. Get out... before I do something I will regret. And not for my sake, but for Harry's."

Jola, sputtering for breath against my firm grip, ripped my hand away from her body. "This isn't the end of things, Severus. You know he's going to leave you... you're ugly, horrid and worthless!" With that, Jola dashed out of the room and a moment later, I heard the front door slam. The sound of a car staring up signalled that she'd left and I breathed in deeply.

Gathering my bearings, I quickly raced to Harry's side and attempted to rouse him.

"Sev.." Harry whispered as his eyes cleared just a little. The slur indicated that he hadn't been drugged yet, he was just drunk. "Vodka... tea," he slurred.

My gaze fell to a pot of tea and I reached over. Upon inspection, I found that Jola had simply spiked Harry's evening tea. That was the thing responsible for his current state.

Pressing a fierce kiss to his temple, I quickly carried my beloved to our bedroom, put him into the bed and prepared for a careful night of watching my lover, making sure nothing else was wrong.

dbdbdb

I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but I had. I didn't wake until the shrill sound of my mobile roused me and I sat up. Harry was still sleeping, looking a bit pale but his breathing was even.

Comforted by that fact, and grateful that nothing else had happened that night, I dragged myself from the warmth of the covers and found my mobile on top of the wardrobe.

"What?" I snapped, irritated and half-expecting it to be Jola, simpering an apology.

"Mr Severus Snape?" came a slightly familiar voice.

"Yes," I answered with a frown. A feeling of dread built in the pit of my stomach and I noticed that my hands were shaking just a bit.

"This is Detective Shacklebolt, we'd spoken a long while ago."

Of fucking course I remembered him. The business with Harry's near-death experience, how the fuck could I forget him. "Right," I answered.

"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news, and I wasn't sure who else to phone," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling in my ear.

"What is it?" I demanded. I sure as hell didn't want to prolong this moment.

"You have a sister, a Miss Jola Snape, correct?"

"Yes," I said. Unfortunately, I nearly said, but I wasn't about to drudge that up. What had the little tart done now?

"I'm afraid that at midnight last night, your sister crashed her car into a tree and was killed upon impact."

Fuck.

It hit me hard, very hard and I felt as if the breath had been knocked from my chest. "What? How?" was all I could manage.

"We tested her blood and found her to have been extremely intoxicated," Shacklebolt confessed. "There is more, however."

"Right... the baby," I all but whispered.

"The child is alive," Shacklebolt said.

Another blow to the gut. "What?" I demanded.

"The child is in the hospital right now, in an incubator, but I don't know much apart from that. We do need you to provide a positive identification for your sister's body, and if you would, claim the infant."

I nodded mutely, forgetting that he couldn't actually see me. "Right... right then," I said, in complete and utter shock. "Right..." and I rang off.

Dropping the mobile, my fingers went to my temple and I let out a sharp breath. Holy fucking Christ. She was dead? I hated her, probably could have killed her the night before. But fucking hell... fucking hell ....

In my shock, I managed to wander to the bed, and sitting down hard, I woke Harry.

My beloved started and sat up, looking at me. I think he must've sensed my distress because he was immediately drawing me back to the pillows and attempting to gain my attention.

"Severus," he said softly. "Severus, look at me. What's happened?"

I trailed my eyes to his face, but my head was still swimming with disbelief. "She... she died," I said airily. "She died... the baby lived but..." I trailed off and Harry gasped.

"Who? Jola? What's going on?" he demanded, his voice unclear and rushed.

Blinking out of my shock, I raised my hands. Jola was drunk driving... hit a tree. She's dead, but the baby... the baby is alive. The detective said... said I had to identify the body... clam the infant.

Harry grabbed my trembling hands and looked at me, tears streaming from his green eyes. "When do we go?"

"Don't know. Soon.. never."

Sensing my complete and utter shock, Harry pressed kisses to my hands and face, comforting me despite his grief. "We'll go now. Come on, love, let's get dressed."

Forcibly pulling me from the bed, Harry helped me dress in trousers and a thick jumper. Combing my hair for me, my beloved phoned for a taxi, knowing I wouldn't be able to drive in this state.

It was all a complete blur, the drive to the hospital, but before long, Harry was leading me to the neo-natal intensive care floor. A nurse was speaking, but I wasn't really listening, and after a few spoken words from Harry, we were led through a set of doors and into a very white, very sterile smelling room.

In the corner, there were large lights, machines beeping and hissing, and a small, clear box. Inside, I could just make out the tiniest human I had ever seen in my life. It was a slightly purple colour, the veins visible through the thin layer of skin. It's eyes were swollen shut and there were so many bloody wires and patches all over the small creature. God, it had to be the most pitiful thing I'd ever seen in my life.

"It's a boy," the woman was saying. "Should live, but you can never be too sure about these things. He can't leave the hospital until he's gained a lot of weight, of course, and then all the paper work will have to be filed."

I half-listened to the woman, and when she finally shut up, I let go of Harry's arm and approached the small case. God... my nephew and potentially my ward. I pressed my hand against the plastic and sighed just a little. "What the fuck," I whispered. "This is so bloody wrong."

I felt Harry approach me and he placed a soft hand on my arm. "He's beautiful," Harry whispered.

I gave a short nod. He was. Worth Jola's death? That was a question I'd probably always struggle with.

dbdbdb

The funeral was short, my mother attended, though she didn't seem to notice much of it. She didn't seem to recognise me and I made no attempt to gain her attention. Harry, ever my angel, stayed quietly at my side as the service continued.

Once she was in the ground, the two of us stopped off at the hospital to see the child. We'd not named him, but I was now the legal guardian as no one else in my family wanted to claim him. Not a surprise, really.

He was very quiet, the nurses said he probably wouldn't cry at this age, not really. Pressing my hand against the plastic, I knelt down and peered at his tiny face. "Your mother is dead... in the ground today, and you are mine." It was a strange thing to say aloud, I had no idea what to make of it. He was mine, mine and Harry's. I hadn't cared for him before, but seeing what a tiny, helpless being he was...

Harry's heavy hand on my shoulder drew me out of my thoughts and I turned to him. There were heavy tears in his eyes when he signed, I need to go home . So we did.

Later that night, I held him against my chest as he cried. I said nothing, my reassurance wouldn't be worth much in the mourning of my sister, but my comfort was enough for him, just as his comfort was enough for me.

Oh my beloved, I could not breathe if you were no longer near me.

It was well over a month later when the hospital finally phoned us about the child's condition. Harry and I both agreed to hold off on a name, for a while, at least until we could hold him. And that was the news for that morning.

Bursting into Harry's studio, I signed swiftly, He's ready to be held .

And that was all that needed to be said. Readying swiftly, the two of us raced to my car and I drove as fast as I could to the hospital. In a fierce sort of anticipation, Harry and I entered the small room of our now-son. A nurse was standing by and she gave us a small nod.

"If you'd feel more comfortable in the chair.." she said, and nodded to the one sitting in the corner. I looked over at Harry who smiled at me gently.

Go on then, you first , he signed.

With a curt nod, I complied and sat down. With wide eyes, I watched as the young woman opened the plastic cot, extracted the small bundle that was swaddled in white blankets, and with practised ease, she walked over and put him into my folded arms.

Oh he was so bloody light, so effing tiny. One wrong motion and I could break him in two, I was sure of it. Oh and he was so beautiful. His eyes cracked open slightly and he mewled a bit, his small fist clenched round the edge of the blanket.

With a soft sigh, I beckoned Harry over. Harry waited a moment before dropping to his knees beside us and placing his palm on the baby's chest.

"Ours," Harry whispered.

I nodded and placed my free hand over Harry's. "Ours," I repeated.

"And what should we call him?" Harry wondered.

"Lucky," I said with a laugh, "but that won't do when he gets older."

"Indeed," Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Any name you fancied?" I mouthed.

Harry shrugged and shook his head. "Not particularly, though after reading your book I became rather fond of the name Basil."

I smiled gently, Basil having been the 'me' character in the first book I wrote. "Wouldn't want to curse him," I said softly.

Harry laughed and pressed his palm to my cheek and kissed me gently. "Blessed, and I think Basil is a perfect name."

"Basil then," I said.

Harry nodded, made the sign for the name and then grinned. "Family," he said, then signed.

And we were.

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Epilogue

I remember the first time Basil approached me about his mother. He was only eleven, but he had been rather inquisitive from a very young age. I, of course, found it irritating and blamed it on Harry. My beloved, as he would, happily took full responsibility for it.

Basil grew up looking quite a bit like me. Same black hair and prominant nose, which I apologised for early on. His demeanour was different though, which I realised at some point, was due to the fact that he had two parents who loved him more than anything on this earth.

I was lounging outside in a chair, laptop open, working on a little drabble I had started for Harry ages before, when Basil approached me.

He didn't say anything at first, merely took the seat next to me and kept his inky, black eyes fixed on the neighbour's garden.

When I had finished typing out my thought, I shut the top and turned to face him. "Something wrong?" I asked.

He gave the smallest of sighs and turned his gaze towards me. "What happened to my mum," he said softly. "I know she died when I was born, I know it was a car crash but... what happened to her?"

I frowned slightly and leant back in the chair. "What do you mean? What happened to her when the car hit the tree or..."

"You hate her," Basil said pointedly. "Every time I bring up her name you get that look."

"What look?" I demanded, knowing full well what look.

"The one you get when Dad suggests we go to the circus, or to the cinemas... or anything that doesn't involve sitting inside and being quiet," he said in a teasing tone.

I rolled my eyes. "Right that look." This was a line of questioning I didn't want to answer, but I was going to have to. For Basil's sake, if not mine.

"I just want to know what happened. You've never said anything, I've not bothered to ask because I love you and dad so much but... well, obviously I had a mum, she was your sister, and she died before she got to meet me. I'd just like to know... to know stuff."

I cleared my throat. "Stuff?"

Basil grinned. "Yeah stuff, like what was her favourite drink, or colour, or film. Why'd she move here when she was living with Gran in Scotland? And why was she drunk driving the night I was born?"

Reaching out, I tucked a short lock of hair behind Basil's ear. "Your mum and I didn't get on when we were kids, so I couldn't tell you her favourites. I remember she did love your Dad's cooking, she greatly enjoyed watching that dreadful AbFab, she moved here after your Gran got sick, and as to why she was not at her best the night you were born..." I took a deep breath and sighed. "Well, we'd had a row and she wasn't thinking straight."

"Obviously," Basil retorted, and for the first time, I heard heat in his voice. He was angry and I wasn't sure what that meant.

"You ought to talk to your dad about this," I said softly. "Your mum and I weren't ever on the best of terms and your dad had a far better understanding of her than I did."

"Just like everything else," Basil joked. Standing up, he pressed a kiss to my cheek and grinned. "Thanks papa..." and with that, he flounced back inside to find Harry.

I re-opened my laptop and continued on with the drabble until I couldn't continue. Saving the document, I headed into the house and found Basil and Harry seated at the table, hands fluttering animatedly as they discussed what I couldn't.

My sister.

Basil's mum.

She loved you , Harry signed with a soft grin. She talked about you a lot, and she was always sitting on the sofa, hand over her stomach, feeling you kick.

Did she name me?

Harry sighed. No, love, she didn't. Your mother... sometimes didn't think of things as a normal person was.

Was she a bad person.

No. Never think that, Basil because it's not true. We all make dreadful mistakes, but it doesn't mean we're bad.

Basil drew his bottom lip into his mouth and thought on it a moment. I could always tell when he was thinking, his brows would furrow and he would chew on the tip of his finger. Eventually, he looked up and spotted me in the doorway.

With a small smile, I walked in and took my customary place beside Harry. Your mum and I didn't get on, but I do know she loved you. She almost did something very stupid to make sure you were safe.

Basil frowned and turned his gaze to Harry. What stupid thing?

Harry sighed and answered the question as best he could. She loved you so much she was willing to put someone else at risk to make sure you were brought up safe and happy.

Who?

I rolled my eyes at the demand and looked at Harry. The answer was up to him.

He smiled at me softly and leant over to kiss my cheek before turning his eyes back to our boy. "She nearly hurt me, to make sure I was the one who cared for you," he said aloud.

Basil frowned. Why you?

Taking his hands, Harry looked Basil straight in the eye. "Because she knew I would love you as much as I do."

"But..." Basil said softly, "that just doesn't make sense."

I know, I signed, deciding it was time to enter the conversation again. Sometimes things just don't make sense.

Basil pulled a hand out of Harry's and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well... alright then," he said and shrugged.

Rolling my eyes and laughing, I got up to fix our supper. Basil and Harry were quickly engaged in another conversation about Basil's up coming exams and which school he was going to attend for the remainder of his education.

It struck me as strange, just at that moment, how normal everything seemed. Even with the strange and slightly tense conversation, it was us. It was home, life and fuck all if I wasn't happy as I could possibly be. Who knew?

Well I think Harry did, and it just took me this long to see it.

Damn him... my angel, my love, my forever.

End.