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Unlovable	By : Buumkin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 16281 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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Summary: Severus is alone, as life goes on without him after the war, and only the boy who ended all this mess is there to help.

Unlovable

Snape dragged his body out of bed. Another day of life on Spinners End greeted him, so he viewed bothering to get up as quite an accomplishment. He staggered to the bathroom, not turning on any lights on his way, the entire morning ritual happening on auto pilot.

He had not left Spinners end since he was first released from St. Mungo's. As he washed his hair and gave himself an extra twenty minutes to soak in the grimy bath tub, he thought with heavy disdain about his upcoming hearings with both the Ministry and the Order. It had been eight short months since his neck had been skewered by the hypodermic fangs of the foul beast Nagini, and only five of those had he been out of the intensive care ward at St. Mungo's.

His things had been all shrunk and stuffed into one box, left by the door of his office when he went to Hogwarts to gather his things after his medical release. It wasn't that Minerva had herself chosen to terminate his position as potions master, he had owled her ahead and told him that he would be by to pick up his things.

It was a loss, in his mind, that he hadn't had the chance to dig backwards through the years of his life that he had spent there. Honestly, a little perspective would have been nice.

He reluctantly lifted his aching body from the tub, old injuries, old scars, old traumas all worked together throughout every muscle to make him feel old. He had turned thirty nine once he had just gotten settled back into Spinners End, and he did nothing to celebrate. One OWL came, from Minerva, with a nice, generic message of good tidings and new beginnings. It was also somewhat of a New Years card.

It occurred to him that no one else that he knew had any reason to believe he was still alive. And all those that wouldn't mind him staying that way weren't gathering the hounds to search him out.

So he had sat back. Ready to... To what? Spend his life here, in Spinners End? To... To what? He thought about it for hours and hours while he was unpacking, trusting his clever mind to come up with something by the time he was done.

But the last picture had been placed on the mantle. The last vial had been sorted with its fellows, and he had not a clue. He felt as if a chapter had ended, and he was absent from the following pages. He had done his part. He had given everything, everything he could possibly give to the heroes. The people whose names would forever go down in history, without even the footnote of Severus Snape, the lackey who made it all possible. Only Severus Snape, the man of dubious intentions that just as well died piteously at one of his betrayed masters hand.

He had a role in this story. He did see it now, looking back, but it was over. Every way in which he could still be of use to anyone, was over.

There was no narcissism to the mind of Severus Snape, he knew that this was post traumatic stress disorder, in a rather manageable state, and that many others were probably suffering much worse than he.

But he really didn't feel that way.

And for once in his life, his feelings were entirely different from and unaffected by what he knew.

He opened his wardrobe, his finest robe almost glinted at him, as if begging to be brought out from the damp and dark and into the real world.

Unluckily for the optimistic robe, things were never very far from damp and dark around Severus Snape these days. He had once prided himself on always looking nice. His robes never stained with potions, or frayed, or graying with age. While other professors dressed themselves in ways that would be unacceptable for even the students to present themselves, he had always strode from his quarters with every button polished, every hem trimmed and ironed, all of his clothes meticulously cared for and entirely immaculate.

It did occur to him, even before this shameful bout of depression, that he much preferred what was on the outside to what was on the inside.

The purple, grotesque scars on either side of his neck now ruined what he used to be able to achieve, elegance. They were not elegant, and graying purple streaks ran up to his face from the side where the venomous fangs had been, all the way down to his shoulder and collar bone. All the scars bundled and webbed together around the raised purple lumps of the injection points. It made him ill to look too closely at them.

He could let the scars be seen, and have all know of his injury, and disfigurement, or button the collar all the way to his chin, leaving all judging eyes to wonder about the odd veined scars on his left cheek.

He buttoned the collar. He gathered his Cloak, not bothering to use his usual billowing flair as he donned it, and he set towards civilization, hoping it was nothing like how he left it.

The Trials had not been nice. They had been decidedly very mean. Wizards and Witches he had once essentially died for looked at him as if reviled, none of them knew quite where the slippery Severus had been on the War's Radar.

Except one. One pair of shining green eyes, on both councils. Snape didn't see the trials as he usually interpreted his life and things around him, he saw them as nets, webs, traps. And he saw those eyes as fire, that burned through all of the brambles and lit all the dark corners, and made some sort of exit visible, even in the far distance.

Severus was barely aware of his own body throughout the trials, but he knew that he was still attached to it by the end of them. He didn't come back to himself though, until the room around him was emptying, quiet murmurs filling his ears that had once been completely drowned in the sound of roaring flame.

Someone was behind him. A hand touched his shoulder and all reality seem to snap into place from that point, unable to keep spinning with the strong anchor of someone touching him.

His eyes slowly trained upwards, looking up at a face he never thought he could feel relieved to see.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Snape.” The boy smiled , as if Severus had given him a smile to reciprocate. Severus, wilted and scarred by the war felt only pure envy, masked by nothing else, at how the boy now shined. His hair shined in the low light of the ministries court room, his eyes shined when there was nothing to reflect, his teeth glinted in the half a second they were bared for a radiant smile.

Severus felt like a puddle, in comparison. A muddy one.

“Got to say, Professor, I was surprised to see your name on the docket, amazed, actually.” Snape realized that Potter was above him, and would no longer be if he stood. Bringing himself out of the chair to mark the accused, he drew himself up to his full height, bringing Potter's downward gaze to an upward one. That was better.

It was now time to retort. He had to in some way reply to the boy. But he really didn't feel like it, and the boy had given him no short answers to be derived from his statement. Severus simply made to move around him, towards the exit.

Potter's hand grabbed his, and the shock of flesh on flesh alone caused him to falter. “You fancy grabbing a pint with me? Trials went on a bit, shame they scheduled them like that, you must be starving.”

Was it a drink or dinner invitation? Severus quirked his brow and looked at a clock on the wall. He had arrived here just after noon and it was almost eight at night. “Perhaps a bit to eat before drink, I am feeling a bit tried.”

Again he shined. Severus wondered how he could avoid setting off that shine, but the more he unwillingly basked in it the less he could bring himself to be truly disturbed by it.

Potter brought the older man to a pub just down the street, and presented him instantly with a menu filled with things that, after a steady diet of 'whatever was around' looked like unconquerable heaps. Everything was complex and looked absolutely mouthwatering. Even though he did want a small taste of everything, he settled on the Baby Beef Liver and Onions, and Potter ordered the Aylsbury Duckling, which Snape had also been eying.

“So, Professor, what have you been doing all this time? I haven't seen hide nor hair of you.” Potters attention was now fixed on him entirely, exactly what Severus had been weary of when they chose a booth over sitting at the bar.

“Healing. Getting my affairs in order. Your life must be very busy now in the aftermath.” Severus tried to get out of the question in two short sentences, and luckily the boy took the bait.

“Oh you have no idea. Me and Ginny got hitched couple months ago. Hoping no ones gonna notice the little one that'll come along seven months after the fact.” Potter widened his eyes almost as if to roll them before fiddling with the menu, “I would have invited you, you know. If I knew you were... around.”

Snape waved his hand, “It is in my best interest not to be in the public eye. As good and evil factor in less and less I find myself with more and more personal enemies.”

“I can believe that.” Potter shined again, and Snape's fingers twitched with the desire to bring up the menu to shield himself.

Potter sat up in his chair, “Well lets see to some alcohol, why don't we? What do you prefer?”

Hard alcohol or wines and beers? Potter you imbecile the question is entirely too open. So Severus just picked up the menu, ignoring the boy.

Harry stared at him, silence filling between them. Snape would have given anything for the boy to stop looking at him. Even in the dim bar lighting he could feel the young prodigy's eyes tracing the spider web scars marring his cheek.

“Did it hurt?” He asked.

Snape snapped the menu down and flagged down a waiter, asking for a dry vodka martini, and whatever his friend would have.

Harry stuttered for a moment, before asking for the same, but with extra olives.

“Separate tabs or together?” The bouncy female waitress asked.

Potter snapped Together a second before Snape could wring out a Separate. She giggled a little and walked away.

“Potter. What am I doing here? There will be no jovial 'catching up' as there are no pleasant memories between us. You want to reminisce of good times? Do you wish to know what I have been 'up to'? Well, Potter?”

Harry then faltered, and Snape had a glimpse of what his expression would be without the mask he had also just become aware of, the boy was tired, waring thin on patience and even a little angry, but he retrained his face into patience and understanding, leaned in and hissed, “I just watched you fucking sit there as if in a trance while for eight hours every person you've ever fucking been acquainted with denounced your every virtue. I had to listen to hours and hours of crimes you've committed, and subsequently crimes against you-”

Snape had a visceral reaction to that statement, standing up abruptly only to be yanked back down into the booth by potters demanding hand around his forearm. His shoulder felt wrenched and he almost hissed at Potter.

Potter was now blissfully silent, just studying Snape. Severus studied right back with an intensity.

Their food and drinks came together, and they cut their staring contest to eat.

“You didn't know. Did you? You really were out of it for the trials.” It wasn't actually a question. Snape just continued to eat, savoring a caramelized onion. “Was it a potion? Did you just not want to relive any of that?”

Snape was done being childish, he spoke in between bites, without his mouth full as Potters was, “No. I do not believe I was ready for my Trials, and subsequently I lost any strong connection to reality for the duration of them. I do know that you spoke for me. And I thank you for that. As to the subject of you now knowing all of my criminal history, I believe as many would say, whats past is past.”

“Oh okay. Just seems like. If you're at a trial and you pretty much pass out sitting up, that there may be something you need to talk about. You being raped by some death eaters that you later poisoned to death really seems like-”

“That was over a decade ago.” Severus waved his hand, “And the world of Death Eaters is much like that of the animal kingdom, or perhaps some drug addict subcultures. Its a violent, sexual, predatory world. I was part of that world, and participated fully in it. Just because I chose poison instead of physical force or a bloodier retaliation does not mean that it wasn't a feral, brutal act as well.”

“Well when you put it like that it doesn't seem disturbing at all.” Said Harry, smirking meekly at his dish.

“If you wish to talk, I assure you that there is little in my past that I have a difficult time talking about. I am not one to make decisions and take actions without considerable forethought. It probably has not occurred to you that I would willingly put myself in such a situation under my fellow death eaters to gain a suitable reason to kill them without repercussion or suspicion. But I assure you that the three men that I poisoned on that occasion would have caused the world more damage than they caused to me had I not taken them out of the picture.”

There was a stunned, sad silence as Harry pushed the food around his plate, “Is that Noble or Twisted?”

“It is what it is.” Severus snapped without a seconds paused. “And I was told what to do, and that was a way to do it. Anything else you'd like explained to you? Any other part of my past you need written out in front of you?”

“No, I'm good for now.” The eighteen year old trained his eyes down, “Just. You said little about your past... What is little? What can't you talk about?”

Snape gave him a cold, cold stare, “I have problems talking about. Issues concerning. The life and death of Lily Evans.”

Harry didn't say anything more, they finished their food in silence, and sat in silence as Snape added a few more drinks to the tab.

“Well this has been just so invigorating, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid an older man such as myself daren't drink past mid night lest the consequences be dire in the morning.” Snape set down what had once been a long island iced tea and stood.

With that, Snape glided from the bar, leaving one Harry Potter with an ominous expression on his face, and a surprisingly large tab.

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