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Sadness of Eros	By : LoupGarou1750 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her business associates own the world of Harry Potter. I make no money from this, nor anything else. The words 'The open palm of desire wants everything' are from the Paul Simon song 'Further to Fly'. He owns those.

Chapter List
- 14
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15

Harry gasped and shivered as needles of ice-cold water beat down on his head and shoulders. He couldn't remember ever being so tired for so long and lately a cold shower seemed to be the only thing that shocked him into movement before noon. Living a double life had been draining: trying to act as if his attention wasn't absolutely elsewhere; walking the razor's edge between honesty and deceit; summoning the desire to make love to Ginny with the same frequency they had before Snape; finding the energy and stamina to deal with an increasingly rebarbative Snape who ended nearly every encounter by throwing Harry out. But none of it compared to the difficulty of trying to mask a broken heart.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry could not stop thinking about Snape, and it was horrible that simply remembering was enough to make him hard, even while being battered by near-freezing water. Poking his head out, he peered myopically around the bathroom. Of course he was alone; once she was dressed for the day, Ginny rarely came into the en suite when Harry was in it. These days it seems she rarely comes into any room I'm in. Not that she'd necessarily think it strange to find him masturbating even if she did come in, but hard and taking a cold shower would make her suspicious – and the lack of steam would be a dead giveaway.

That wouldn't do. Harry turned on the hot water, trying half-heartedly to keep his thoughts from straying back to Snape. He gave another quick peek around the shower curtain, briefly contemplating locking the bathroom door before realising that would be suspect as well. His cock twitched, reminding him he had a job to do. Sighing, Harry relaxed against the tile wall and began to stroke himself slowly. Any number of things had gone by the wayside in recent months, giving a damn about where he tossed off was only one. His difficulty fantasising without his mind straying off topic was also long gone. All he had to do was think of Snape, touch his cock, and he seemed to be effortlessly transported – sights, smells, words, tastes, feelings all heartbreakingly clear.

Harry bit his fist to keep from crying out as his legs gave way and his spunk splattered and dripped down the tiled walls. He knelt on the shower floor, breathing hard, watching the water swirl his seed down the drain.

It should have been a relief, but instead it was torture. Miserably, Harry stepped from the shower and towelled off. He couldn't delay the inevitable indefinitely. The point always came when he had to go downstairs and face the day, pretending that everything was fine even in the face of Ginny's coldness. Clearing a spot of the steam-clouded mirror with the side of his clenched fist, he stared at himself and practised smiling until he was reasonably sure it looked sincere. He dressed quickly, then paused at the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before slipping on the mask, and stepping out into the hall.

He clattered down the stairs, jumping high off the bottom step to slap the ceiling as James always did. "Did you see what I left on the hall table?" Harry fairly bounced into the kitchen.

Hands cradling an enormous mug of coffee, Ginny peered tiredly over the bags under her eyes. "What?"

"The brochures from Wayfaring Wizards. The travel agency?" he added helpfully as she stared at him blankly.

"Oh. No, I didn't." She looked away.

"I thought we could take a holiday," Harry said snappishly. It was difficult holding on to his feigned cheer in the face of Ginny's complete indifference.

"Don't be ridiculous! Al–"

"Al is fine. He's fine. I thought you talked to Minerva yesterday."

"We don't know that there aren't lingering complications."

"Yes, we do. The Healer said he was good as new. Come on, Gin. Worrying isn't doing you any good. It's been almost two months. He's fine. I was thinking we could go some place warm. Majorca, or something."

"How can you think of leaving? You don't even care! Damn it, Harry! We almost lost him. And–"

"Don't say it was my fault. Just don't. I made a mistake. I can't change it. But what happened is in the past."

"Is it really?" Ginny asked snidely.

Angry, Harry leapt to his feet. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It doesn't mean a damn thing."

It was obvious to Harry she was lying, but he let it go. "So, what do you think? A Spanish island? Or what about Morocco?"

"Just let it drop, can't you? Now is not a good time!"

"OK. All right. Sorry I brought it up." Harry threw up his hands in exasperation, then became twice as annoyed when Ginny acted as if she hadn't noticed.

He boiled water for his tea and toasted bread while it steeped. The silence in the kitchen was deafening.

"Any plans for today?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"I thought you might see Severus. You haven't said anything about him for awhile." Ginny's back was to him and Harry couldn't tell what she was thinking.

For awhile after their good-bye, Harry had kept up the pretence that he was still going to visit Snape, gradually tapering off until he never mentioned him at all. It had seemed to be the best way.

"Yeah. Well. You know he was pretty narked at me that time for getting drunk. Never really got over it. He said I was a self-centred, egotistical, little prick and he was tired of me." It hurt to remember it. It hurt to know it had been true. And somehow it hurt that Ginny didn't know it hurt. Harry sighed.

"Well you behaved horribly. I don't blame him for being mad. It's a wonder I ever spoke to you again, and no wonder he didn't want to. But that was months ago; you'd think the bastard could have got over it enough to at least write a letter when Al got hurt."

"He came to St Mungo's," Harry said, trying to keep the snarl from his voice.

Ginny looked at him accusingly. "Did he? I never saw him, and you never told me."

"You weren't exactly speaking to me at the time."

"Well, I would have spoken to him, had he bothered to approach me."

"Maybe he thought he would be intruding."

"Right!" Ginny scoffed. "As if he'd let something like that stop him."

"You know, Gin, you don't know what you're talking about, so maybe you just shouldn't talk about it at all." Harry's fingernails dug into his palm.

"That was completely uncalled for!" Ginny snapped.

"Was it? Well for your information, Snape was there every goddamn night! He didn't talk to me either, but he was there. I finally asked him why and do you know what he said? 'Because you might have needed me.'" Harry was appalled by what he'd just admitted. He searched his mind frantically for something else to say. "He meant both of us. He was there just on the off chance that there might be something he could do. Angry at me as he was, he still showed up. So maybe he's not such a bastard as you think!"

"Fine. I was wrong. Are you satisfied? God! I'm so sick to death of fighting with you!"

Harry wanted to retort that she'd started it. He counted to ten. "I don't want to fight with you either. Look, let's not talk about Snape anymore. I'm sorry. I think I'm angry with him because he won't speak to me."

"Well, don't take it out on me because you managed to alienate him." Ginny tiredly rested her chin on her hand and stared at her coffee. All the fight seemed to seep out of her. She looked up at Harry and said quietly, "You do have other friends."

"Christ!" Harry shoved back his chair, not caring that he nearly upended the table. "Can you not speak to me as if I were a child? I said I was sorry! What do you want from me? And what friends do I have? Who's speaking to me since you told everyone Al's accident was my fault?"

"Poor pathetic you. You can be a right prick sometimes, Harry. I'm not going to fight with you. And if you don't want me to treat you like a child, maybe you should stop acting like one!"

"Fuck off!" Harry stormed out of the room, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing Ginny yell, "Been precious effin' little of that lately!"

***

Harry put a handful of notes on the bar. "Let me know when I've spent that. Whisky. No, wait. Got any of that new stuff I've been hearing about? Er, Snow Vodka."

"We just got a case in. I'll break open the first bottle for you."

Harry smiled. He was pleased to see his Muggle distributor was doing her job. Discovering that he could "Muggle-ise" Snow Vodka had been a real breakthrough; it didn't snow in the glasses, but it did freeze exceptionally well, and his distributor assured him that Yellow Snow was a terrific name for lemon-flavoured vodka. He'd devised a spell based on the ones that hid wizarding buildings from Muggle eyes. Too bad he couldn't tell Snape about it; Harry thought he'd have been impressed.

"Um, I was wondering if you'd seen a friend of mine. Older bloke, short grey hair, rather greasy." Dangerous territory, Potter.

The bartender laughed. "We get any number of chicken hawks fitting that description."

"Right. Well, he's about this tall." Holding his hand a few inches above his head, Harry added, "Thin?" The bartender just shrugged. "Oh bugger it! He's got a nose you could puncture a tin with." Harry's hand described Snape's hooked-nose in the air.

"That I'd remember." The bartender laughed. "You know what they say–"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, not wanting to think about how true that was in Snape's case. "I know."

Leaning against his side of the bar, the bartender asked, "If he comes in, who should I say was looking for him?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry waved him away. "Never mind. I don't think he comes here anymore." It had been a dim possibility at best. Could be in the loo. Harry shook his head as if responding to someone saying the words aloud. "I've changed my mind," he said, standing up and sliding a couple of notes towards the bartender before picking up the rest of his money from the bar top. "I should be getting home."

Quick slash?

NO!

Just look. Where's the harm in that?

I'm not going! But Harry was already walking to the back as he thought it.

Harry's heart seemed to skip several beats and then started pounding hard. The door to the far stall was closed. He knew it was so improbable as to be nearly impossible, but what if Snape was behind it? Approaching cautiously, as if there were a trap waiting to be sprung, Harry gingerly pushed open the door of the vacant stall. Empty. He slipped inside, carefully, quietly slid the latch home and leant heavily against the wall, fighting down the sick feeling of hope mingled with despair.

There was a soft rustle on the other side of the painted wood. Harry's heart stuttered again; he nearly bolted, but he had to know. He knew it was absurd to take such care to be quiet. Whoever was on the other side of the wall surely already knew he was not alone. Harry had done this fifty, a hundred times over the years. There was nothing to worry about.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Harry changed his mind. It didn't matter if Snape was there. It didn't matter that his cock was swollen and aching. He was not going to do this. He would not! Slamming back the latch, he bolted from the stall and head down, made his way out of the bar.

***

Harry rolled over, his mind dimly registering that the sheets on Ginny's side of the bed had already grown cold. Through the window, he could see the pale, thin light of the day just dawning. He groaned and closed his eyes again.

"Get up, Potter," Ginny said, her tone light and unusually friendly. "I'm making breakfast. All your favourites, and it won't keep until noon. Come on, lazy boy."

"Won't," Harry mumbled, burrowing his head in his pillow.

"Will," Ginny laughed, stripping the sheets from his naked body.

Harry sat up groggily, clutching his pillow protectively lest she decide to take it as well. "You're cheerful this morning," he commented. "It's a bit disgusting this early." Feeling happy in a way he hadn't for a very long time, he patted the sheets. "Come back to bed."

"Can't. The sausages will burn. I only came up to roust you. You've fifteen minutes before I toss it all out," she called as she left the room.

After a quick shave and shower, Harry entered the kitchen cautiously, wondering if Ginny's rare good mood would have vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Smells good. I'm so hungry I could eat a thestral raw." Thestrals made him think of Snape, which made his cock twitch. He smiled wanly and then quickly sat down before Ginny could see he was hard.

"Eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes and toast. Think you can manage all that?"

Harry's stomach rumbled in the affirmative and Ginny laughed. "I don't know what's got into you lately. You're eating like a teen-aged boy. I thought I'd got shot of the last of those when we packed the kids off to school."

It's true. Keep piling it on like this and I'll get fat and Snape won't want me. Just stop! He doesn't want you now. It's over. Your decision, your choice, and it was the right one! "Not my fault you could cook for England," Harry said with a grin. He speared a fat sausage from the platter. "What's the occasion?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Glutton. You're worse than James. No occasion really. More of an apology." Ginny brushed her hand across Harry's shoulder.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," Harry lied.

"Nice of you to say, but I've been horrible."

As long as she was being so nice and apologising, Harry thought he could be magnanimous. "You've been worried about Al." She had been acting like a complete bitch for months though. And you've been acting like a spoiled brat. Don't ruin it, Potter. "It's been a rough time for everybody."

"And I've just made it that much worse."

"Well, every day's a new chance, isn't it? Maybe we can just leave the past in the past."

"I got an owl from the owners. They've scheduled several exhibition games around Europe. I have to be in Manchester in the morning. By five o'clock. Somebody in that organization is a bloody sadist."

"Must be, scheduling exhibitions in the dead of winter. How long will you be gone?" Harry pushed back his plate, suddenly unable to choke down another bite. His heart had momentarily soared at the idea of having time to see Snape, and then crashed back down again at the thought he couldn't.

"Two weeks. I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, but the owl just came this morning."

"And the reason for this luxury dining experience becomes evident," Harry smiled sourly. "So where are you playing?"

"Scotland. France on Tuesday. Then Tunisia."

"Heavy schedule. I'll miss you. Be dead quiet here." Harry let some of his misery show, knowing she'd mistake its source.

Ginny walked over and put her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek on his head. "What's the matter with you, Potter? It's only two weeks. I've been gone longer than that in the past."

"I know. It's just–"

"I'd beg off. They don't really need me, but there have been rumours that there are going to be cuts. I'm the junior member of the coaching staff. I really don't want to make it easy for them if the rumours are true." Ginny shrugged her shoulders, her expression suddenly irritable.

"Well then, you have to go. I'll be fine. Two weeks? At least you'll be home for Christmas. It could be worse."

"As if I'd leave you and the kids alone for the holidays! I haven't sunk that low!"

"Whoa! Easy. I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. For what it's worth, I don't think they'll cut you. You're too good."

"Don't patronise me, Harry."

I am not going to lose my temper. I am not going to lose my temper. I am not</em> going to lose my temper.</em> "Look, is there any way I can help? Do you want me to talk to somebody? Maybe I could sponsor the team or something. The Snow Vodka Winter Tour. They wouldn't dare sack you then." As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew he should've bit his tongue in two before saying them.

"NO! I DON'T FUCKING WANT YOU TO FUCKING TALK TO ANYBODY! And I don't need your patronage to keep my fucking position!"

And here we go again! Harry sighed and debated whether he should try hugging her. He decided not to. "Is there anything I can say here? Anything at all? Something you won't think sounds patronising, or condescending? Because I am sorry you might lose your job. I think it's crap. I think you're a terrific coach and they'd be fools to let you go. And somehow I'm not managing to get any of that across to you."

"Maybe I wouldn't think you patronising and condescending if you weren't so fucking condescending and patronising!" Ginny clutched her hair tightly in both hands and paced irritably.

Harry held his arms open and was a little surprised when Ginny walked into them. He stroked her back. "If the worst happens, there will be other jobs. You'll see. There isn't a team in the world that wouldn't be lucky to have you."

"Well, nothing's happened yet. Perhaps I'm worried about nothing. Or maybe I should just quit Quidditch altogether and go help Charlie with his dragons," she said miserably.

"Oh, now you sound like James used to: 'I'll just go into the garden and eat worms. See if I don't.'" Harry chuckled.

"I hate you, Potter."

"I know you do."

"I wanted to make today special because for once I woke up not feeling miserable, but then the owl came, and I tried to pretend it didn't matter, and now I'm not fit company. I don't suppose you could make yourself scarce for the day? Oh fuck. I'm the one in a snit, I should be the one who goes."

"No!" Harry said quickly. Here, finally, was a clear opportunity to be the concerned, supportive husband he'd sworn he would be. "You stay. Have a nice long bath. Read. Frump around in your least sexy, most comfortable underwear. The white cotton ones would do."

Ginny laughed and hugged him. "You really don't mind? Because that sounds perfect."

"No. I need to do some work anyway. Oh, damn! I never told you. I wanted it to be a surprise. I was going to be very casual about it, take you to a Muggle restaurant or bar and just casually order."

"What are you going on about?" All the tension seemed to have left Ginny's face. It was so good to see her like this – almost like old times.

Harry told her about 'Muggle-ising' Snow Vodka, sure she would be as excited and proud as he was.

"I suppose Snape helped you with that," she said sullenly.

Fucking hell! This is what I get for telling Snape to bugger off?

Be reasonable. She doesn't know you did that.

Sod that! It's not worth it. All we do is fight! I'm fucking sick of it! At least with Snape I always fucking knew where I fucking stood!

You were usually standing on your ear, after he tossed you out.

Fuck. I fucking miss him.

It's over, Potter. She's your wife.

Harry sighed and rubbed his head until his hair stood up like straw. "Ginny," he said with exaggerated patience. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you need to stop. I haven't seen Snape in months. We haven't spoken, or communicated at all in that time. I don't know why you think I'd lie to you about that. So no, Snape didn't help me with it. I'm going to leave now, before this turns into something stupid. Enjoy your day. Maybe, if you try, you can recapture you good mood of this morning. I hope so. For both our sakes."

"Go to hell."

"Already there," Harry said. He left hurriedly, churlishly pleased to have had the last word.

***

That time, going to the bar felt like coming home.

***

Forever after, Harry would think of them as The Three Maulings. They were all equally horrible.

"Ginny thinks there's something going on between you and–" Hermione paused; she rarely used Snape's name and never quite knew what to call him. "–Severus Snape."

"Don't beat about the bush that way, Hermione," Harry said sarcastically. "I haven't seen Snape in months. I have neither firecalled nor owled him nor sent him a romantic missive via the Muggle post. Ginny's wrong. There's nothing going on between me and Snape."

"Harry." Hermione's voice deepened on the second syllable, indicating both censure and disbelief.

Harry's jaw tightened. He ground his molars together. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply and his cheeks filled as he exhaled through pursed lips. He began pacing and, as he clasped his hands behind his back he suddenly became uncomfortably self-conscious – he must make a ridiculous picture, striding back and forth like a mad scientist lecturing his half-witted assistant. Or like Snape when he was teaching. Harry grimaced and pushed the irrelevant thoughts aside. He stopped suddenly, halfway across the room, and whirled on Hermione.

"Pay attention. He was a friend. I liked being around him. He's changed. Or maybe he hasn't changed as much as I have, or the way I see him...saw him has. Anyway, I liked talking to him. He's smart and he's actually very funny, in a skin-peeling sort of way. He kept me on my toes. But he got angry, and, as you well know, he's a man who can hold a grudge. Forever." Harry paused, feeling as if his last statement was somehow a betrayal of Snape. "He was my friend. He's not now. I don't know why Ginny thinks there's something going on between us – me and Snape, not her and me – but there isn't."

"My God, Harry. Do you ever listen to yourself?"

Hermione was rubbing her eyes and her hands obscured most of her face, but to his surprise, Harry could see the corners of her mouth curving upwards slightly.

"Of course I listen to myself. I know exactly what I'm saying. Snape was my friend and if, after twenty years of–" Harry raised his hand and thumbed his gold wedding ring, "– Ginny is suddenly going to go 'round the twist over absolutely nothing, well, maybe I should never have put the ring on." He didn't mean that, of course; he was simply angry at Hermione's prying.

"You don't mean that!" Hermione practically screeched.

"No. Of course not. But seriously, Hermione, the way she's behaving, it doesn't make any sense."

"You've got a crush and your wife's jealous and you're an idiot. But then you always have been."

"Stop it. Just stop. I do NOT have a crush on Snape. That's just stupid. Get it through that gigantic brain of yours. I haven't seen him in months. Not since Al's accident, as a matter of fact."

"Harry."

Harry would have liked very much to smash something.

Talking to Ron was even worse.

"What do you want me to say, Ron? That there's nothing going on between me and Snape? There isn't. Do you want me to tell you I still love Ginny? I've never stopped." Both things were true, and not. Harry had promised himself he wouldn't lie anymore, but it seemed so pointless to admit to things now, when they were over. There were times that the truth was overrated.

"Did you ever–?" Ron wasn't going to let it go.

Harry couldn't do it anymore. He could feel the anger that thickened Ron's features reflecting in his own chest. You want to know the truth? I don't think you do. I really don't. "Yeah, we did. It was terrific." Harry pugnaciously stuck his chin out. "Go ahead. Hit me. Hit me or fuck off! What, if anything, happened between me and Snape is none of your business."

"She's my sister!"

"She's my wife! And our private life is exactly that, private!

Once again, Harry didn't even see Ron's fist coming.

Somehow, facing Neville was the worst of all. Harry didn't know why that should be true. The best idea he could muster was that it was some kind of gay guilt thing.

"Charming atmosphere," Neville said with ironic humour as he looked around the bar.

"I had the feeling I wasn't going to want to be someplace where I might bump into someone I know. Your summons was ominous." Harry was chewing the inside of his lip again, something he did often enough these days to raise a painful bump. He really, really didn't want to be there.

"It's about Ginny."

"I figured that much out by myself. Look, I don't know who you heard it from – Ginny herself, or Ron, or Hermione – but–"

"She was bound to suspect, Harry. You usually are up to something." Neville smiled, but it didn't take the sting out of his words. "And it would be a hard thing to keep to oneself."

"But why now? When it's over? It doesn't make any sense and it's fucking unfair!"

Neville laughed. "I don't think under the circumstances you get to complain about things being unfair. You're like the kid who gets accused of taking the last biscuit the one time he isn't guilty of it."

"Sod off," Harry said grumpily, tacitly accepting Neville's point.

"And no matter what pap you're feeding yourself, it isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Intent on letting himself think about the possibilities in Neville's last statement, Harry let his eyes wander the length of the bar and settle on the dark-headed man who perched on a stool at the end.

"And distracting yourself with strange men isn't going to take your mind off Snape."

"Wanna bet?" Harry said.

"So you're going to continue cheating on her, just not with Snape?"

"Come on, Nev. You, of all people, should understand!" Harry was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"You did not just imply that because I'm queer I would just naturally cheat on my partner?" Neville was as close to angry as Harry had ever seen him.

"That's not what I meant!" It was though. "I just...oh fuck! I don't know what I meant. I'm going to say this to you one more time, and I hope it's the last time I have to say it to anyone: there is nothing going on between me and Snape!"

"Go ahead and tell yourself that, Harry, but you know the truth as well as I do. And one more thing," Neville said, rising and putting some money on the table, "I'm not telling you to fuck off, but you need to remember that I'm Ginny's friend too, and I won't just idly sit by and watch you tear her heart out."

Harry sank back in his chair as Neville walked away and then stood as soon as he passed through the crowd and disappeared from view. Well, as long as I'm here...

~*~*~*~*~
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Sadness of Eros