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You Don't See Me	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11703 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm not making any money off of writing fanfiction for it, either. Obviously.

Chapter List
- 1-I
- 2-II
- 3-III
- 4-IV
- 5-V
- 6-VI
- 7-VII
- 8-VIII
- 9-IX
- 10-X
- 11-XI
- 12-XII
- 13-XIII
- 1
- 2
Warnings:
Slash, Snarry – you know, the usual suspects. Snape both tops and bottoms in this story. Those of you who are exclusively 'top Snape' fans, consider yourselves warned.

A/N:
I've been sick to death of the penname 'KohakuShadow' for ages now,
so for the moment I'm changing it to 'Kohrin' which I just think
sounds infinitely less tacky—trying it on for size, as it were.
It may change again. Sorry if this confuses anyone who's been
following my work.

“You Don't See Me”
is a song from the 'Josie and the Pussycats' soundtrack. Some lyrics
have been left out (I didn't see any reason to repeat the chorus more
than once), and some others altered to suit my needs.

As
always, don't expect any miracles of grammar. I'm skimming through as
I upload each chapter, but not bothering to do any proper editing.

You
Don't See Me

I.
'This is the place where I sit. This is the place where I love you
too much.'

“So,
now that Voldemort's been defeated, the public wants to know what
you're planning, Harry. Perhaps settling down at long last? I think
we can all agree you've earned a bit of time off. So, what sort of
qualities to you look for in a potential love interest?”

Really,
the public had been way too interested in Harry's love life all
along, but they also had a miraculously short term memory. Now that
they weren't so worried about being killed, the paparazzi were having
a field day with the fact that Harry was perpetually single. They'd
determined there must be some very good reason and they had every
intention of finding out what it was. At this point, Harry was hardly
listening anymore. He was staring out the window towards the Black
Lake where the faint billow of a dark cape past the trunk of a
weathered oak tree told him the current Headmaster was trying to
escape some of his responsibilities for a while. Again. Not that
Snape would ever admit to it.

“Reticent,”
he muttered.

The
reporter currently interviewing him blinked. It wasn't Rita Skeeter
this time at least. Some lumpy looking woman wearing a petticoat two
sizes too small and a pair of dragonskin boots. Harry could barely
remember her name—Millie something or other, he really couldn't
bring himself to care. He had much bigger concerns than the
Daily Prophet.

“Reticent?”
The woman asked, wetting her zebra-striped quill. “So then, do
you mean that you prefer a quiet woman? Someone without much to say?
Or is it that you aren't ready for a commitment, and therefore don't
feel interested in learning more about a possible girlfriend at this
point in time?”

Harry
startled. What was he telling the woman? “Huh? Er, no, I
meant...” he stumbled to correct his error. “Courageous,
I guess. Intelligent. I mean, it's probably true that you don't need
words to communicate every little thing, but that's not really what I
was saying. My mind was on something else.”

“Oh?
Something? Or Someone?”

“Something,”
Harry snapped, although he damn well knew it was a lie. “I was
just thinking that if I don't get some work done before the
Headmaster gets back from lunch, he's going to give me hell. I'm
sorry, but I really don't have any more time for interviews today.”
He hurried from the room before the woman could stop him. He kept his
pace measured and abrupt as he made his way to Snape's office. It was
still strange to think of it that way. Headmaster Severus Snape.
Bizarre. What was even more bizarre was that the man had agreed to
hire Harry on as his personal assistant after graduation.

Severus
had been horribly unwell after the final battle. For a time, they
didn't think he was going to make it. Professor McGonagall was acting
as headmaster in his place, but she seemed to have no interest in the
post and handed it back the moment Snape could sit up again. He'd
accepted it without a word, but he hadn't had many words for anyone
once he was released from the hospital into Madam Pomfrey's care.

Harry
just couldn't bring himself to leave the man alone. He knew that Ron
and Hermione—as much as they claimed otherwise—didn't
really understand. There was so much left unsaid, and Harry couldn't
bear to run from it. He also had no choice but to grudgingly admit to
himself that he might just be in love. Snape was all he thought
about. It was almost impossible to keep his mind focused on anything
else for more than five minutes at a time.

Harry
flopped into the chair across from the headmaster's desk and glared
at the ever-growing stack of paperwork. He had to at least start it.
It was the only thing Snape seemed to trust him with. 'Do
try not to get a papercut and bleed to death in my office, Potter.
Blood is such a nuisance to get out of the carpet.' He
said that all the time.

Harry
fidgeted with his quill for a moment then sighed, threw it down, and
leaned back in the chair. How was he supposed to work when he was so
worried about Snape? The man pushed himself too damn hard. He'd only
been released from the infirmary last week. What was he doing walking
down to the lake all the time? It was November, and even those thick,
billowing robes couldn't be warm enough if you were standing there
for hours like Snape did. Just standing there. Staring off into
space. Harry desperately wanted to know what he was thinking about.
What did a person usually think about after being on the verge of
death?

Harry
knew Snape still wasn't well, because even his scathing insults
lacked their usual luster. The bitter delight Snape had once seemed
to take in them had been replaced by a sort of exhausted complacence.
'Maybe I'm just reading into things too much,' Harry
thought. It wouldn't be the first time. He'd finally learned to
accept that it was just in his nature to be paranoid and freak out
over the tiniest things that no one else would even notice. Sure,
that had saved his arse more than a few times, but it had also gotten
him into more than a few giant heaps of unnecessary trouble. It was
time to grow up. His brain knew it, but it wasn't as if you could
wake up one day and determine yourself an adult. These things sneak
up on you. He could see the people around him growing and changing,
but mostly he wondered how the hell he was supposed to keep up. He
felt like, now that he'd defeated Voldemort, the world was leaving
him behind. Everyone else had gone to school and grown up along the
way. He was still running around in circles. The only thing that
still made sense was Snape. He knew that to be a pure, irrefutable
truth.

And
yet, Snape was the biggest enigma of all.

Harry
groaned and buried his head in his hands. He was on shaky ground. If
he didn't find some way to be useful to Snape soon, he knew Snape
would walk into the office one day and say 'I no longer require an
assistant.' At first, he'd needed one badly. It had been menial
labor: lugging books to and from the library, delivering mail,
reciting announcements and taking dictation. Snape had been sitting
stir-crazy in a hospital bed, barely able to hold a quill, let alone
try to write with it. He was glad the man had made such incredible
progress, but he was terrified of the day Snape said his presence was
no longer required. It wasn't as if Snape had chosen him. He'd been
in no condition to. McGonagall had given Harry the job, Snape just
never bothered to argue the point. Maybe he didn't know what to do
about what had happened between them either—those precious
memories he would never have shared if he thought, for an instant,
that he would somehow survive. Harry had needed to see those memories
so badly, but they changed his perceptions so drastically that he
knew, somehow, he had to stay by Snape's side just a while longer,
and in that staying, had developed a crush that had taken over his
entire life. Now it was just a matter of owning up to it.

He
sighed, glared at the paperwork, and left the office.

“Not
working again today, Potter?” Phineas Nigelius chided from his
portrait.

“Bite
me.” He would come back to do some work. He just needed a few
minutes to clear his head. A walk, some quiet time alone, maybe. He
wandered the halls far longer than he ought to and found himself up
in the tower. It was getting cold. He was relieved for the baggy
sleeves of his sweatshirt now and burrowed his hands into them before
leaning on the rail. His gaze trailed toward the lake, but he
couldn't see Snape from here. A shame. He realized he'd secretly been
hoping for a better view.

'I
wonder if I could get him to try to teach me Occlumency again. I'd
love to have a chance to get inside his head.”

Harry
sighed and rested his chin on bent arms. 'My reticent,
courageous love... Damn him, making me worry like this. Why couldn't
I just love Ginny? It would have been so much easier. But no, things
can never be easy for Harry Potter. God Forbid. Defeated Voldemort
and life's still a mess. I just had to turn out to be gay. For a guy
twice my age, no less. A straight guy twice my age. A straight guy
twice my age who spent his whole life being in love with my mum.'

Harry
groaned and buried his face against his forearms. He'd gone over this
entire thing in his head a million times. At first he'd tried to
delude himself: maybe Snape was bi, maybe now that he was officially
an adult the age difference wouldn't matter, maybe piled on top of
maybe piled on top of maybe piled on top of probably not until he
felt like his world would dissolve. He couldn't help but find it kind
of ironic that Snape would have spent his whole life suffering for
unrequited love only to become the object of someone else's. Harry's.
Merlin! It was completely perverse! He shouldn't feel this way.

If
Snape ever found out, he'd probably laugh at him—or be so
insulted as to hex him on the spot. The hex would be something
really, really nasty. Harry thought it would be nice if he laughed,
though. He'd like to hear Snape's laughter, someday.
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You Don't See Me