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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
V.
'Cause you don't see me, and you don't need me, and you don't love
me, the way I wish you would'

Harry turned his gaze back over
his shoulder once more. Snape was sleeping soundly now, his fever
broken. He wished he could stay. He wanted to be there holding
Snape's hand when he woke up. He wanted Snape to understand that
someone was worried about him and appreciate the gesture, but he knew
he couldn't put feelings inside of his love's heart. If he could,
they wouldn't mean anything. Snape was an unattainable dream—he
had to accept that.

Still, there was so much about
the man he wanted to know. 'What am I trying to find? Something
that can make me stop wanting him?' Even as the thought crossed
his mind Harry knew that was exactly what he was looking for. His
obsession with Snape's past didn't come from a desire to know the man
he loved, but from a desperate need to find anything that might serve
as a wedge, some deep, dark secret that he couldn't forgive Severus
for.

The image of young Severus
hunched over the floor—bitter and angry, seemed to have burned
itself deep into his eyes. To do that just because someone
acknowledged you? It seemed like too much. He wanted to convince
himself that on some level maybe Snape was in love with that bastard,
because if Snape was in love with someone else—someone
alive—then maybe he could let it go. 'No such luck
though, huh?' Harry thought bitterly.

He realized he was still
standing there with his hand on the doorknob. It wasn't like him to
get this depressed, but he just had this overwhelming feeling that if
there was anyone who could get through to Snape, weasel into his
heart and make him realize he wasn't alone—that person wasn't
Harry, as much as he wished it could be. They had nothing in common,
after all. And it was pathetic, chasing after a man at least twice
his age like this.

He found his legs carrying him
back to the bedside in spite of what his brain told him. He looked
down at the older man, brow slightly furrowed, causing a slight
wrinkle at the bridge of his nose, lips hanging just slightly open.

Love really makes you see
things, he realized. Severus wasn't much to look at—that's what
everyone kept saying, but Harry found himself infatuated with that
little crease between his brow, and the way his hair fell in tendrils
across his cheek when he turned his head. The prominent nose only
made it impossible to ignore his face, but he thought it was a
dignified looking nose. The muscles in his long throat led into deep,
shadowed depressions above his collarbone that Harry couldn't help
but think he really wanted to kiss. As for the body under the covers,
well Harry tried not to think about that.

He leaned forward and just
barely grazed his lips across Snape's forehead. There was a slightly
salty taste on his skin—a glisten of sweat from his recently
broken fever. Harry kissed the forehead again before he realized what
he was doing and pulled himself back.

“It
wouldn't kill you, you know, to let someone help you out once in a
while. If you feel like you're all alone, it's because you keep
pushing people away, stupid. I just...wish you'd let me be of more
use to you, somehow.” Harry laughed at himself softly, then
sighed. “Why is it the only time we can have a meaningful
conversation is when you're unconscious and I know you can't hear a
word I'm saying? Well, that's fine I guess. Stay in bed until
tomorrow, at least. I'll take care of anything really important. I
can check your lecture notes and assign reading for your classes—I
know you'd throw a fit if I tried to actually teach Potions, and I'll
reschedule any appointments you have for today and tomorrow. I'll
figure out the rest as I go. In the morning, you can find out I've
put everything in the wrong place, and you can yell at me for it. I'm
sure you'll enjoy that. I always thought you looked like you were
having the most fun when you were giving me hell.”

Harry sighed, pulled himself
from the bedside, and left with only one more backward glance. Once
he was gone, Severus opened his eyes. His hand came up tentatively to
touch the spot of warmth left by Harry's lips. He considered the
gesture for a long time, but couldn't begin to understand it. Worry,
at best, he decided, or pity at worst. He lowered his hand, but
decided to stay in bed anyway. He really wasn't feeling nearly well
enough to be up and about today, and he supposed if all Harry planned
to do was assign reading and reschedule appointments, even he
couldn't do too much irreparable damage. 'At least I hope
not.' It was the last thought Severus had before drifting into
another fitful slumber.

*

When Harry entered the
Headmaster's Office the next morning, Snape was sitting there in his
usual oppressive robes, frowning at his appointment book. Harry had
not only rescheduled his appointments, he'd spread them out so that
there were huge chunks of the day in which Severus wasn't doing
anything in particular at all. Harry had thought he could do with
some time to relax, but Severus pursed his lips as he studied the
book as if he was none too pleased with the changes. He sighed and
put it down.

There was something different
about the office that Harry couldn't put his finger on at first. It
was when Severus reached for his quill—normally obscured by the
insurmountable heap of papers that Harry was expected to get
through—that he realized said stack of papers was notably
absent.

“Uhm...”
Harry began, but was cut off rather abruptly.

“Today,
you will be meeting with a representative from the Ministry of Magic
on my behalf. You are to give him a tour of the grounds, including a
brief overview of the curriculum. Avoid running into Professor
Trelawney at all costs, and do
try not to make a fool of yourself. When he inevitably suggests the
Great Hall for lunch, try to impress on him how crowded it is, and
suggest firmly that the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade may be more to
his liking. After lunch, you will be cutting up potion ingredients
for a lecture I am to give the fifth year students regarding the
hazards of mixing tonics. It will be laborious work, so I suggest you
wear something comfortable.”

'How about nothing at all,'
Harry thought. 'You can
join me, and we can do something laborious that would be far more
pleasant for both of us.' He
shook his head and blushed. He knew Snape was looking at him like he
was completely deranged. “I, er, right!” He very nearly
saluted. “So, uh, when am I supposed to meet his
representative?”

“Half
an hour,” Severus said. “For the moment, you can make me
a cup of tea. One sixteenth of a cinnamon stick, finely ground, and
three drops of honey. No more, no less.”

Harry
wrinkled his nose. One sixteenth? “Perfectionist,” he
mumbled under his breath. Still, he couldn't help but think even that
was charming in its quirkiness. 'I'm sick. I'm a disturbed,
lovesick, freak of nature. There's something severely wrong with me.'

He held his breath when Severus
took the first sip of the tea and set it down. Was it good, did he
like it? “Er...is that...uhm, was that okay?”

“It
will do, Potter. Stop hovering.”

“I.
Oh. Right.” He continued hovering, but a step further away now.
Snape's hair fell forward, obscuring his dominant profile, and Harry
resisted the urge to tuck it behind his ear so he could watch the
older man's brow furrow at him in annoyance. 'Sick,'
he
reminded himself, 'Twisted,
and with a number of bizarre fascinations, if I even find his
annoyance irresistible.'
“Uhm...”

Snape sighed. “What is it
now?”

“Well,
I...yesterday...”

Snape's normally perfect script
faltered a moment at the memory. It was foggy, but not foggy enough.
He clearly remembered the kiss to his brow. He more vaguely
remembered Harry's petulant expression at being dunked, and being
dragged along bare-arsed to bed. He gave pause, very deliberately
dipping his pen into the ink anew and letting the excess drip off
before beginning again. “Are you planning to finish that
sentence some time this year, Mr. Potter?”

“I—oh!
Er.” There were actual words in that ramble of syllables
somewhere, he was certain of it. “How are you feeling, sir?”

“At
the moment, I believe the best word would be 'aggravated'. If you
absolutely must
make
a nuisance of yourself, can't you do it somewhere else? I have quite
a bit of work to do. If I did not, I would not be trusting you with
the Ministry Representative, but as things stand I have no choice. Do
not keep him waiting, please.” He made a shooing gesture with
his hand and dipped his head over the parchment on his desk again.

Harry's shoulders slumped and he
sulked his way out of the office. Snape didn't even like him much, he
didn't know why he'd managed to delude himself into thinking that
maybe, somehow, he'd wear off on the man. That they might grow to be
friends, and from friends something far more. It was absolutely
hopeless. He just couldn't figure out what went through Snape's
over-used brain.

Alone in the office, Snape
sighed and lowered his quill. He really didn't have anything pressing
to attend to. His fingers trailed lightly over his forehead where
Harry had kissed him again, then dragged further down his face and
across his lips. He leaned forward with a thoughtful sigh, fingers
forming a steeple at his chin.

'You want to be useful to me,
Potter? Well, this is your chance to prove yourself. Don't disappoint
me.'
- 4
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You Don't See Me