Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

New Beginnings	By : VSBree Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15636 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling and company. I am not receiving compensation for this fiction.

Chapter List
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AN: Hey all! Taking a little break from my previous story (hit writer’s block) and bringing you this little gem I thought up recently due to such an overwhelming request to continue “To Protect”.
Chapter One
*
It had been a couple years since the demise of Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters. Harry had since developed an understanding about himself; he no longer felt the so called passion he had felt before the war with Ginny. Instead, their relationship had grown rather platonic and only six months after the war, they split ways as lovers and instead became the closest of friends.
“Did you reply to the Headmistress?” Ginny asked over tea one morning.
“Not yet,” Harry replied sheepishly. “It seems a little odd that Snape would be recommending me for the DADA position when it is all he’s ever wanted to teach.”
“Maybe because you only defeated the darkest wizard to have ever existed, perhaps?” she teased. “I mean, you have been corresponding with Professor Snape since our leaving Hogwarts, correct? You no longer despise each other, isn’t that true?”
“Well yeah,” Harry agreed hesitantly, “but I hardly think that makes us friends – more like acquaintances. I think he just feels indebted to me since I saved him from Nagini’s bite. I definitely know he felt indebted to my mother. I think, maybe, this is his way of somehow making things up to me.”
Ginny set her cup aside with a small look that spoke of the oncoming lecture. Harry sighed and set aside his cup as well, prepared to listen to the same lecture these conversations would often lead to.
“When are you going to stop making up excuses for why you can’t be close to Professor Snape, Harry?” She questioned angrily. “I know that you want to ignore these growing feelings that you have for him, but isn’t it about time you face them, and him for that matter, head on? You should take the offer and go get that dark, sarcastic dungeon bat.”
He laughed minutely before smiling softly at his friend. “It’s not that simple, Gin. I can’t just storm through there and say, ‘we should be mates!’ to Snape. I have never seen the man laugh, but he might be thoroughly tempted to should I have such an outburst.”
“Well, it’s not as if you have ulterior motives…” she trailed off and then winked. “Actually, you sort of do, don’t you?”
Harry’s face flushed with heat at the suggestive eyes that Ginny was fixing him with. “I…I would never act on them. Y-you know that. Besides, even I don’t know what these feelings are. I haven’t really felt this way for anyone else, Gin.”
There was a twinkle in her eyes befitting of Dumbledore himself. “Of course, Harry. Accept the offer. Stop sitting idly by.”
And that is how Harry had come to be the newest addition of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry faculty.
*
“The school year is to commence in two weeks’ time,” Headmistress McGonagall stated simply. “I have given you a few of the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher’s curriculums to aide you with yours. Use the next two weeks to get your syllabus together and any possible materials. Should you need anything, I am always available. Professor Snape has also generously offered to aide you over the next few weeks with anything you might not understand.”
“Thank you, Headmistress.” Harry smiled at his previous Head of House with a fondness that was returned immediately with her own smile.
“I think it appropriate you call me Minerva, Harry. I am truly grateful for your acceptance of the position.” Her spectacles glistened as she fashioned him with a gaze that only intensified the feelings of welcome Harry was already feeling being back in the home he once knew all those years ago. Harry was suddenly unable to keep his own smile at bay.
“Thank you, Minerva. I look forward to being a part of the staff here.”
There was a sharp knock at the door before Severus Snape was entering in his usual billow of robes – as if there was always some sort of stray breeze to give them flight at any given moment. He was just as imposing as Harry had remembered. Nothing had changed about that unchallengeable demeanor of his; however, now when Harry looked at him, instead of his previous fear and intimidation, he felt only respect with a subtle hum of desire. It was this uncontrollable desire inside him, instead of the previous intimidation, that caused the subsurface fear.
Snape had kept his long raven locks at his shoulders, silky in appearance rather than their previously greasy texture. The aristocratic lines of his face seemed a bit more defined, but his previously unhealthy complexion was now robust, speaking of how much the demise of Voldemort had truly done for his overall physique.
“Headmistress. Mister Potter,” the tall wizard greeted as he easily came to stand beside Harry who was seated opposite of the headmistress.
“Thank you for coming, Severus,” she responded graciously. “I have finished discussing my expectations with Harry. If you would be so kind as to show him to his living quarters.”
“Indeed,” Snape said evenly before glancing down towards Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry, however, could barely get his breathing under control. His body had become stiff, and he was having a hard time returning the man’s gaze without the heat flooding to his cheeks. “Follow me, Mister Potter.”
“Er, yes sir,” he managed as he shot up from his chair and clumsily stumbled after the incredibly tall man, internally cursing his own inability to appear in control and unaffected by the man’s presence. He glanced back towards the headmistress and smiled his farewell before following Snape out of the office.
They traveled along the vast corridors, the clicking of their heels the only sound breaking the long silence between them.
Finally, Harry spoke up albeit breathlessly, “Uh, professor?”
“What is it, Mister Potter?” came Snape’s curt response.
“Thank you, you know, for recommending me for the position.”
Snape kept his pace as he replied simply, “It seemed the logical choice, Potter.”
“Still,” Harry added quickly as he did his best to keep pace with the taller wizard -- the man had such bloody wide strides. “I appreciate you even considering to work with me. I know, um, that is, that we didn’t quite get along during my school years.”
He was suddenly stumbling into the broad backside of his former Potion’s professor. He rubbed his nose gingerly as he stepped back and was rounded on by the intimidating gaze of the man who had been the sole reason for his sexual discovery.
“And here I was beginning to believe that our correspondences were of a mutual camaraderie, Mister Potter.”
The heat suffused nearly instantly into his cheeks, and he was finding it increasingly harder to keep eye contact. “Well…I…yeah, I had started to think—“
“That, Mister Potter, is what one would refer to as sarcasm,” Snape interjected expressionlessly.
Harry’s stomach dropped before Snape was once more stalking down the corridor only pausing when he stood before a painting of the previous headmaster, Dumbledore.
Harry’s chest suddenly grew tight as the smiling face of the man who had once mentored him. It stared at him expectantly.
“Well, if it isn’t Harry Potter,” the painting stated calmly. “My boy, it is truly a joy to see you.” Harry’s mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“Acid pops,” Snape said shortly before the painting swung open. “You may change the password to a word of your liking,” he began as he led Harry down to a large doorway. “You may also decorate and design your living quarters to your particular tastes.”
The large rooms within were decorated in reds and golds with a large number of tall bookshelves and expensive, comfortable furniture. A well-carved cherry wood desk sat in the west corner of the room. Several doors, which he assumed led to the bedroom and lavatory, were on the east wall. Large paneled windows, sun streaming in a joining of colors, painted the north wall. Simply, it was a beautiful place to dwell.
“It’s gorgeous,” he whispered in awe.
“I will leave you to settle your belongings,” Snape said in a very business-like manner. “When you are finished, come to the dungeons for further instruction.”
“Oh,” Harry uttered as Snape quickly stalked past him. “Um, sir?”
“What is it, Potter?” Snape responded with exasperation.
“Uh,” he had nearly forgotten what it was he wanted to say as those fathomless eyes settled on him. “Thank you.”
Snape scowled slightly before a look of distaste morphed his face. “I was simply following orders, Mister Potter. Finish quickly. Do not keep me waiting long.” With that, the man disappeared from the rooms, and Harry was finally breathing out all the building anxiety from being in the man’s presence.
Despite their correspondences, Snape hadn’t changed at all. He still carried an air of unreachable, as if there was little Harry could possibly do or say to have any sort of relationship with the man. He knew. He had always known that his befriending the socially reclusive wizard was going to be a challenge, but he was determined to do so. Their letters, even if brief and superficial, had always given Harry a small hope that maybe, in some small way, Snape was unconsciously seeking a relationship with him as well.
*
Severus walked briskly towards the dungeons, his body nearly coiled with tension. The boy had certainly matured over the years. It would seem that those horrid spectacles he had once fashioned himself with were discarded during that time. The unmanageable locks were still, unfortunately, quite the mess about Potter’s head. However, the years had morphed the once scrawny, emaciated boy into a lithe, slim and beautifully formed man.
Not that Severus would ever entertain ideas of discovering just how much said body had matured with the-Boy-Who-Lived. It was simply that he noticed that the boy was no longer wearing clothes three sizes too large or wearing unattractive bottle-glass spectacles that hid the true luminescent beauty of Lily’s emerald eyes.
Severus berated his straying thoughts. This was Potter. Despite their continued communication over the years, he had not changed his overall dislike for the boy. He was NOT entertaining ideas of getting to know Potter on any level aside from a colleague relationship.
He had simply thought that Potter was the best suited for the position.
After hearing that the boy had refused an offer of becoming an Auror, Severus had believed that the boy would appreciate a career that put him in a familiar place with familiar peers; the boy’s life had been far from normal, so a career as normal as a professor at the school you had once made a home at seemed the logical choice. Not that he cared if the Golden boy had a normal, happy life. He cared nothing for the boy. He was merely indebted to him. He had only survived the war because Potter had saved his miserable hide and saw fit to continue their relationship after their professor-student relationship had ceased to be.
Severus entered the dungeons, his thoughts becoming increasingly scattered as he took his seat at the desk that had long been his companion over the years at this particular establishment. It was his haven when surrounded by mindless, babbling brats.
Rubbing the tension from his brow, finding that the returning feelings of stress that Potter brought about were debuting quite intensely a mere few minutes after leaving the boy, he did what little he could to relax the tension inside of him.
There was a tight feeling in his stomach as he sat in waiting for Potter to his chagrin. He hoped that Potter had at least understood the increasing importance not to waste Severus’ precious leisure time. He was a busy man and had very little patience to spare.
The boy still lacked manners – and coherent speech for that matter. Was the boy incapable of forming sentences without those incredibly infuriating utterances that he was unfortunately prone to whilst nervous? It was alarming that despite aging into a young man, fit to be a professor at this school, he would find it difficult to speak articulately. Had his exposure in the lime light done nothing for his verbal skills?
Potter. Severus could recall the way those emerald eyes regarded him with both fear and respect. It had caused a sudden heat to form in his chest, and that in itself was alarming; Severus was not, in any circumstance, prone to uncontrollable physical reactions aside from the occasional rage when dealing with particularly idiotic imbeciles incapable of keeping their opinions to themselves.
To his dismay, he was having a plethora of unrecognizable reactions to this matured version of the Potter boy.
He valued his unrivaled control. Somehow, that control would slip ever so slightly when those emerald eyes gazed at him: innocent, pure, and open. Potter still carried his heart on his sleeve it would seem. It was especially easy to deduce his inability to keep anything to himself by the nearly novel replies Severus was forced to partake in.
At first, the correspondence, rather the reply, he gave to Potter was merely out of duty. He replied simply as it was the mature, adult thing to do. He had ensured his response would leave little that Potter could reply to; essentially, it was a means of ending the boy’s uncomfortable attempts at starting any sort of relation to his person. However, Potter continued to send responses with very little to urge him to do so, and Severus had slowly found himself unable to turn them away; even going as far as to look forward to them, loathe as he was to admit such a discovery to himself.
He had explained away such feelings, attributing this growing anticipation of said letters by saying it was simply that he had no one that he currently spoke with on such a level – aside from the occasional conversation over tea that Minerva forced upon him nearly every week. She believed if not for their continued sessions, Severus would truly become some sort of recluse.
It was innocent enough that a man who valued his privacy found he could be rather charitable to a person who had saved his life. It was the least he could do for Lily’s son. Potter had proven to be less infuriating than James which was welcomed. He had discovered that Potter was also quite entertaining, although most of it was unintentionally done. The boy’s reactions to his sarcasm proved quite humorous indeed.
However, Severus was normally a very private man. Having Potter here would mean that he would have to keep their meetings brief and without conversation. He did NOT intend to have the boy believing there was any sort of relationship between them, especially one that meant tea and conversation.
But was it so astounding to the world that he would actually enjoy concocting tonics and spend what leisure time he did have immersed in literature of his liking? What about Severus spoke to this ongoing need to be in another’s company? He was quite content with having no relations aside from his colleagues.
But now, Potter was to be one of those colleagues. And these sudden uncomfortably unrecognizable feelings he had in face of the boy were beginning to make him question whether the recommendation was truly the right choice.
He was starting to regret having ever suggested the boy to Minerva. These unexplainable feelings were making him quite uncomfortable; though, he would never mention it to anyone other than himself. However, he was Severus Snape; nothing could possibly make Severus Snape fearful. He had survived spying on the Dark Lord all those years, facing death at every meeting, and even the bite of that sordid snake, Nagini; he hardly believed some emerald-eyed boy wonder could unhinge him.
No. He was simply battling the contradicting images Potter displayed. The spitting image of his father but with the eyes of the woman he once loved.
The soft click of shoes drew Severus sharply out of his thoughts.
“Get lost on your way here, Potter?” Severus inquired sarcastically.
Emerald eyes connected with his, and for a moment, Severus found it difficult to breathe. Were they always this luminous, this full of emotion that it was nearly dripping from them? Then the boy was smiling sheepishly, causing Severus to falter as he was about to berate the brat for his inconsiderate actions. His chest felt hot. Dear Merlin. What was this sudden heat in his chest?
*
“Sorry sir,” Harry offered softly.
He had gotten lost, actually. He was mortified to acknowledge it. It had been years since he was at Hogwarts and despite having been here for years, making it his home, he had lost his way to the dungeons mostly because he was lost to his thoughts.
He stood as stiff as a board in the face of Snape. Harry wasn’t quite sure how to proceed when everything about the man seemed to keep any attempts he might make at a relationship seem futile. Despite that, he still had an overwhelming urge to do so. He wanted to become someone who knew Severus Snape, knew the man he had been, the man he currently was, the man he intended to be in the future. He scoffed at his romanticized thoughts. If Snape discovered his thoughts, he was sure to blanch were he sat.
“You said you had instructions?” he inquired after a long moment of silence.
It would seem he wasn’t the only one who had been lost to his thoughts. Snape was watching him with intense interest, causing his heart to palpitate unevenly in his chest, and the eyebrow that regarded him as he spoke was starting to make his skin crawl with anticipation.
“Indeed.” Snape rose from his desk and rounded it quickly, pressing his back against it and crossing his arms as he regarded Harry with an impassive stare. “You are aware that you are to create a syllabus by the beginning of the school year. For someone whom did not take lessons in the proper ethic and guidelines for schooling children, I assumed you would be unaware of what expectations the headmistress might have for it. I have taken the liberty of creating a draft of an acceptable syllabus,” he stated as he removed a parchment from the desk and easily offered it to Harry.
Scrambling forward, Harry took the proffered syllabus and read briefly through the contents. It was scripted beautifully; Snape really had beautiful handwriting. Harry was envious as he once more gazed at the older wizard.
“Thank you, sir.”
“That is another thing, Potter,” Snape said as he gazed unwaveringly at Harry. His chest felt tight, and his stomach churned at the intensity of the gaze. “You and I are no longer professor and student. I feel that it would be prudent for you to refer to me by my given name.”
“Snape?”
“Severus,” the older wizard offered while pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.
“Um, S-Severus?” Harry stuttered out uncomfortably.
“Yes, Potter. With a little less stuttering, perhaps? Unless you are unable to overcome your fear of me,” Snape said with a small upturn of the side of his lip. “I cannot, unfortunately, control your intimidation of my person.”
“Oh, I’m not,” Harry quickly denied. “I’m not afraid of you, that is.”
Snape regarded him with another look of amusement, probably finding Harry’s inability to form coherent, smooth sentences entertaining.
“How comforting that notion is, Potter.”
“Oh, I’m gla—oh,” Harry quickly recovered as he recognized that Snape was once more being sarcastic. He shut his mouth and swallowed down the heat that was surely starting to flood his cheeks. Bloody hell. All he wanted was to have a relationship with this man, even if it was just a superficial tea mate. Harry would settle for anything at this point, if only it meant that he could get to know the wizard before him.
“I do believe that you are drooling, Potter.”
Harry gasped, rubbing his mouth with his forearm briefly, and staring with slight disdain when he felt nothing. Snape’s dark obsidian depths danced with barely controlled amusement. His lip twitched, obviously finding it difficult to maintain his impassive expression. Harry shrugged, discarding his anger in face of causing this great expressionless wizard to have a hard time not cracking a smile.
“Well, I should probably get started,” Harry said as he emphasized his point with the raising of Snape’s syllabus. “Wouldn’t want to take any more of your time, sir.”
*
There was this sudden necessity within Severus to stop the boy from leaving. Call it a passing fancy, but he was actually quite intrigued to hear more about what the boy had been doing in the recent years. Save the few letters, he knew very little about Potter. What he read in the daily tabloids was hardly the truth, as were most articles about the recent war.
“Today I find myself with time to spare, Potter. If you are not otherwise engaged, we could,” he was having difficulty keeping his tone even when there was this growing anticipation inside of him that he wanted to quash down with vehemence, “speak over tea. I expect you have questions about your position.”
He was entirely disgusted with himself. What possessed him to invite Potter to tea, he would never know.
Sure to be scowling, he did his best to remain aloof and appear as though either way the boy might find himself answering would be inconsequential to Severus. He was merely curious. Severus was not one to divulge his curiosities, so it would seem appropriate that given the opportunity to do so with the boy wonder, and the spare time for that matter, he would at least offer such an affair to take place. He was merely human, despite the overall consensus that he was, in some small way or another, a vampire that fed on the fear and misery of others.
The boy was fidgeting. Unbecoming as it was, there was a feeling Severus couldn’t quite place at the nervous ticks the boy was prone to as he battled for a response in that feeble brain of his. Sure that the boy was short-circuiting, Severus added, “There are things in which I would like to address, if you can spare the time, Mister Potter.”
“Harry,” the emerald-eyed wizard finally said.
Severus controlled the sudden sneer he was sure to make at the boy’s impertinence. “Harry,” he finally repeated shortly. “Do you intend to make me wait all day for an appropriate consent or rejection of my invitation, or do you fancy your time more precious than mine, Potter?”
Potter was fidgeting again, and Severus was unable to keep the scowl from erupting at the pure irritation said action caused.
“I’d like very much to join you, sir.”
“How kind of you,” he quipped before leading Harry back towards his office.
*
Harry was still having a hard time believing that Snape had been the one to offer they talk over tea. His response had taken as long as it did only for the simple fact that Harry was trying to discern if he was dreaming or not. I mean, Snape, cold and elusive recluse Potion’s Master who despised others impeding on his privacy, had just suggested, without prompting from Harry, to have tea together. It seemed a little bit far-fetched. So, Harry had looked for any sign that he was possibly dreaming this entire thing.
He followed after the taller wizard, doing his best to keep his steps steady and confident, but he was having a hard time breathing. His face felt flushed, and his heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest. He was completely overcome by anxiety. The very thought of somehow manifesting a relationship with this unfriendly man seemed quite the task. It also seemed that Snape viewed the communication over the last few years as little more than a communication between two persons with little to nothing in common but the time to spare.
How was he possibly going to have anything stem from a relationship like that with a history that gave very little to persuade Snape to its creation?
Harry tightly clasped his hands in his lap as he took a seat across from Snape. The older wizard conjured a tray of tea and cakes, offering the first cup to Harry. He took it with a slightly bemused look on his face. It was…cordial of Snape which seemed entirely out of character.
“The headmistress frequently demands our taking tea together,” Snape went on to explain. “It is merely out of habit, Potter.” Harry’s face hardened with the sudden realization that Snape might actually be reading his thoughts. He was a master Legilimens, Harry wouldn’t put it past the man to read his thoughts. “I am not reading your thoughts, Potter. You have this unfortunate inability to keep said thoughts from your expression.” Harry gave him a slight look of disbelief before his eyes trailed down to his lap in shame. He was increasingly worried that his deepest secrets would be discovered just over tea. “As much as I may seem a man incapable of consideration, Potter, I will strive to keep your thoughts as such. Private.”
“Thanks,” Harry replied softly, keeping his tone even despite his need to drip every word in sarcasm. “So you said you had something to discuss?”
Snape took a small sip from his tea before fixing his gaze on Harry. Suddenly, the air became dense and hard to swallow. Harry did his best to keep anything that might possibly disclose his attraction to Snape from his face.
“Indeed,” the man said placing his cup back onto the plate. “It has been a few months since our last correspondence, if I remember accurately.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, relieved to hear that the topic was relatively easy and superficial to talk about. “I got a little busy,” and had indecent thoughts about you nearly every day, “and thought you would appreciate the quiet,” while I sat away at home with certain fantasies that nearly drove me mad.
Snape was watching him with an intense gaze that made Harry want to readjust nervously in his seat. Writing letters to one another was free from the scrutiny of being in another person’s presence. If he wrote something, he could ignore how Snape might react to it because never being forced with the visual of his reaction. Now, he was forced to return the man’s gaze almost in challenge. He had nothing to hide, or so he told himself.
“I imagine so,” Snape commented lightly. “Being the savior must mean engagements to appear in the public eye, associations to those whom you might never associate with. I can imagine that to mean your schedule must be kept quite occupied.”
“Well, not really, no,” Harry disclosed hesitantly. “I mean, I do have to appear once and a while at a function or two, but for the most part, I keep to myself. Otherwise, it might have been difficult to take this position.”
Something seemed to flash in the other wizard’s eyes, but the moment it appeared, it was gone. Harry watched on with intensifying interest.
*
Fishing for topics was not something Severus was accustomed to, especially not with someone like Potter. However, here he was, fishing and failing quite comically to keep a conversation alive between them. Not that he cared if their conversation tapered off; he absolutely would not concern himself with keeping company with Potter. This was mere curiosity.
Why was it, however, that he found this almost dire desperation within to keep the boy there, talking and smiling as if there was some sort of relationship between the two of them? Why was it that he was almost compelled to invite the boy again and again until there was a normalcy to their meeting?
Severus was falling increasingly deeper into despair as a result of his own actions. He was becoming unrecognizable to himself. He was almost tempted to send the boy away in an effort to dispel his thoughts. However, he was incapable of it as those vivid green eyes regarded him with open interest.
“Sir?”
Severus snapped from his thoughts, realizing belatedly that Potter had spoken. “Do you have any concerns about your position?” he asked as a way of concealing his lack of attention.
“Uh,” Harry uttered with the suddenness of the questions. “I, not really, sir.”
“Very well.” Severus was internally berating his inability to focus. This was entirely unlike him. He was starting to despise this new development in the presence of Potter. Surely he could return to himself if he were to distance the boy from himself. “Then,” he started, fully intent on dismissing the boy and putting an end to these uncomfortable changes, “I should like you to return this evening.” Severus’ mouth closed tightly when he realized just what he had said which was entirely opposite of what he had intended to say.
“I…I would like that very much sir,” Harry replied sheepishly, the soft pink flush filling his cheeks in an entirely indecent way to which Severus’ body reacted treacherously indecently. Dear Merlin, what was happening to him?
“Then I shall expect you at seven,” Severus added evenly. Years had honed his control in such circumstances as these despite his internal panic of inviting the boy, personally, to his quarters. He would need a sordid amount of Fire Whiskey by the end of this evening.
*
Harry left Snape’s office feeling as if he had been made witness to a miracle. It was the last thing he had expected to occur on his first day back. He was sure that he and Snape would dance around each other for months before he would get to share a drink and some light conversation with the older wizard. He certainly had never expect to be able to see the man TWICE in the same day.
Their conversation had been lacking, granted; however, he was sure that this could be the start of something between them. He could never hope that the man would return his affections, why would he when Harry was the son of his school nemesis, but maybe, just maybe, they could be friends in the future.
Harry was suddenly eager for seven to come around. There was a definite lift in his step as he made his way back to his quarters. He was really beginning to hope that something might blossom between them; it was all he could even possibly wish for.
TBC
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New Beginnings