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Love is Cold	By : CruelHero Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 9167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with the Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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                                                                   Chapter Eight

Monday morning. Harry’s first class helping Snape was coming faster than he thought he was ready for. Butterflies racked his stomach. He was excited. He was nervous. But, most of all, he was worried about his condition.

Harry stood in front of his bathroom mirror examining his bare chest and arms. The nails of his left hand shined like polished opals. The blue tint no longer stopped at the tips of his fingers but spread past the bones of his wrist. And the iridescent shimmer that started at his nails now reached just past his elbow.

Harry had been forced to modify his Dragonhide glove to include a sleeve that could cover everything up to his shoulder. He’d had to make an attachment that wrapped around his chest to keep the apparatus in place. It wasn’t wholly uncomfortable but it made his arm stiff and he didn’t like how it slowed his reflexes.

Harry hovered his hand over his skin, feeling a definite drop in the temperature of the air surrounding his arm. He cursed, lashing out at the mirror with his foot. A long crack formed at the bottom corner and Harry didn’t bother to repair it. Instead he pulled his sleeve and shirt back on and leaned close to his reflection.

He’d made the mistake of touching his tainted skin once, and only once. An ice burn welted his fingertips for weeks. It was a right pain to collect ingredients and he couldn’t brew a single potion properly. After that Harry took precautions.

He poked at his skin with the glove, narrowing his eyes, then scrubbed at the missing translucent patch. His brow furrowed and, holding his breath, he dared to touch the spot that used to be there with his bare fingers.

Nothing happened.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his reflection. He glanced at his fingertips and then patted his collarbone some more. Still nothing.

So the ice on his arm may have spread but the spot developing on his chest had gone away. Perhaps it was something he could find hope in.

Harry could definitely work with that.

Smiling now, Harry dressed the rest of way and flattened down his hair only to watch it spring up again. He bit his lip, sighing. It would have to do if he wanted to be comfortably on time for once.

                                                                     *****



Snape’s first class that day was a quiet group of nervous fifth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Harry’s job was to fire off mild, non-dangerous hexes so they could practice using the proper counter-curses. They did exceptionally well, he thought.

Snape hardly said a word to him, and nothing that wasn’t an order as his assistant. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed when it was over and the Professor left without any response.

Harry ate lunch in silence. Snape sat in his regular seat across from him, paying far too much attention to his plate. Harry wanted to catch his eye so that he could smile at him but Snape refused to acknowledge that anyone else was around him. He left carrying a cup of tea, his nose in the morning paper.

Harry was to old to pout, but still he wanted to.

After that, the rest of his day was a breeze. Potions exploded on cue and he was on them with expert handling. His students liked him and he was happy. He was starting to feel like life was slowly getting better.

And then he made a stupid mistake.

His last class that afternoon was Snape’s double defense with Slytherin and Ravenclaw seventh year students.

Allan was one of them.

                                                                      *****

Harry carefully checked his watch as he passed through the open classroom door. He had ten minutes until the bell. Miraculously, he’d managed to be on time, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel excited or proud. His insides were twisted too tightly by the fear of making a mistake in front of Snape. All he could think about was his magic failing him or someone getting hurt because of him.

He walked quickly past groups of chattering students and nodded a distracted greeting when he came to a duo of simpering girls.

I’m fine, he told himself, dragging a hand through his hair. But he didn’t really know if he believed that.

Stopping at his lone chair, banished to the corner out of Snape’s sight, Harry felt a shiver run through him. An unnatural feeling had crept over him, following him all the way to his corner. It caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and made his body tingle all over. A distinct impression that he should be cautious ebbed its way into the back of his mind.

Shuttering involuntarily, he turned to survey the room before he sat down, but his eyes only met those of Allan Blackwater’s.

The boy had been standing uncomfortably close behind him and now even more so in front of him. Harry choked back a startled yelp, using every muscle in his body not to jerk from the shock. He hadn’t even noticed the other boy’s prescience.

Allan smirked.

Harry hated how much the guy reminded him of his boyhood rival. He was arrogant and cruel just like the younger Malfoy. Weather or not he had money as well, Harry didn’t know, but he definitely had the same Slytherin cunning and ego. And Allan might think he was fooling his fellow students, with the way he just barely hid his vicious comments through sweet words, but Harry could see right through his innocent and charming act. Allan Blackwater was just another stupid child who believed they had a right to get whatever they desired using whatever means they possessed. And Harry wouldn’t be tricked so easily.

Allan tilted his head, his smirk sliding with ease into a gentle smile, yet he said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to acknowledge him first.

So he is also conceited, Harry thought, aware that he had been silent for too long. He sighed, restraining an irrational anger bubbling in his gut. He reminded himself that he had no reason to be rude. Though, if Allan made a habit of popping up behind him without warning, he would start docking points for creepiness. Rudeness be damned.

Harry gave Allan a small questioning smile. He spoke with a calmness he didn’t really feel. “Did you need something?” he asked.

Allan bit his lip. “Professor?”

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Mr. Blackwater, class is about to start. What can I help you with?” he said, trying hopelessly to keep the exasperation from seeping into his voice.

Allan took a small step closer. His words were soft and falsely hesitant.

Harry eyed him suspiciously.

“I was hoping for a moment of your time after class has ended. There is something rather important I wish to discus out of earshot of others.”

Harry took an equally small step back then. He didn’t think there was nearly enough room between them but his chair bit into the backs of his legs and he couldn’t retreat any further. He shook his head a fraction, praying for a bit of patience. Allan was staring at him expectantly, a sharp, peculiar glimmer flickering in his cobalt eyes. Harry felt his cheeks turn hot. “I’m no–“

The starting bell echoed magically throughout the castle’s rooms before he could finish his sentence. Allan didn’t wait either. He inclined his head in a slight bow, a pleased smile turning his angelic features as he spun gracefully on his heels and back to his seat.

The blush crept further into Harry’s skin. He slumped down into his chair, frowning, eyes following the blond’s back until it crossed behind Professor Snape’s robes. Harry snapped to attention. He tried to rub the blush from his cheeks before Snape noticed and couldn’t bring himself to look the other man in the face. He would have to wait to worry about the blond until after class. He couldn’t afford to be distracted while casting.

When Snape stepped up to the front of the class it was with his same old ways. He paid no notice to Harry except for a short flash of his bitter gaze. The Professor folded his arms across his chest sneering, looking with an intense hate down his crooked nose at the students. It was just like Harry remembered in his Potions classes… only the hate wasn’t directed at him this time- for the most part.

In the days that Harry had been able to observe his colleague he had come to notice that the man wasn’t always so hateful. Severus Snape had his good days and bad just like any other normal person. Granted, a good day was considered one where he didn’t do much more than frown and glare. It seemed to Harry that Snape was a lot less…grouchy since the end of the war.

He supposed he should be grateful that Snape preferred not to talk to anyone more than he had to. More so that he made it a point not to talk to him. He had no idea what twisted conclusions Snape might have come to from seeing him brought to blush by a male student. Teasing him, reprimanding him, it didn’t matter; Snape would be merciless whatever way he put it.

Harry had a hard enough time gaining respect as a teacher from the older students as it was. The age difference between them just wasn’t great enough and if a respected - however hated - teacher like Snape were to pick on him then they would as well. There would be anarchy in his classroom. He would have to turn into a Snape to control it.

Harry shuddered. He didn’t think he could be that mean without feeling bad afterwards and he’d had enough of feeling bad for one lifetime. He was still working on loosening one strangling guilt and didn’t need to add another.

He sighed. Still, it always stung when Snape treated him like he wasn’t worth his time. He could at least afford him a meager hello when they crossed paths. Even now, would it have killed him to say ‘Good afternoon, Potter’?

Harry looked up. The classroom had gone silent except for the rustling of materials and once every quill was paused in waiting over a blank scroll Snape motioned for him to come forward.

He swallowed hard, stepping up beside the Professor as straight and respectable as he could manage.

Snape still ignored him. “Notice the fluid and precise motion required in casting,” he spoke. “Pay attention to the direction, the hand rotation, where those particular actions influence the incantation, and the like. Your focus should be on recognition and execution. I suggest your notes be very detailed, you are going to require them for next week’s test.”

Snape silently pushed everything backwards, leaving a large gap in the middle of the room for Harry to work in. He then retreated beside his desk, scowling dangerously. “Professor Potter will cast the shields Lithophagous, Listocardio Alemega, Aquamentium Prolato, and Dilatoalgo-” he glared at Harry from the sides of his eyes, “- but not in that order. These are spells you should be able to recognize by now. You will list them at the top of your parchment in the proper order that Potter has cast them. Wrong answers lose house points.”

He waved his hand dismissively, “Begin.”

Harry forced a smile to the class, dropping his wand from the arm holster he had fastened along with his glove.

Students murmured to each other, whispering with their heads together. The less impressed students, including Allan, sat still, staring at Harry expectantly. He felt a renewed stab of nervous fear and desperately hoped his magic would hold out. All of the days casting had put a strain on it and if he had to push himself too much harder he wasn’t sure the outcome would be pleasant.

Harry took a steadying breath to calm the twitching in his hands. Then, raising his wand to eye level, he adopted an evenly balanced stance, his legs firmly apart. He drew a half circle in the air with his wand. With a swish, three flicks, and a silent incantation of Listocardio Alemega, a shadowy opalescent-red swirl ebbed outwards. It flowed in every direction in steady pulses like the beating of a heart and gently blew a heated gust with it. The swirls broke and dissipated upon contact with the outer walls of the room completing the spell.

Harry cast again, allowing a short pause for feverish note taking. He then repeated the process for all of the other shields.

Fifteen minutes of moderate casting had Harry covered in a light sheen of perspiration. It hadn’t occurred to him just how uncooperative his magic really was when he used a great deal of it in a single day. Before he’d left England he had been able to withstand much more of a physical drain than that, but too much more would find him panting from overexertion. Someone was bound to notice that things were not right and he didn’t like the idea of having his secret exposed.

Harry straightened his back, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He ignored hushed clapping and cheers from several fame-struck girls, in favor of looking to Snape for his approval. The man said nothing, keeping an indifferent gaze as he stalked forward, though he raised an eyebrow at the beads of sweat reforming on Harry’s face.

He barked out new instructions. They were simple enough. Snape was going to fire random curses at him and he was supposed to demonstrate to the class the proper shield, of the four used, to block those curses. Then each student would get a turn to try producing the shields themselves before finally having them tested.

Snape started with a simple jelly-leg jinx.

Harry defended himself with an equally simple Protego. He hoped things kept on this way.

Snape smirked. There was a devilish gleam in his eyes as his spells followed Harry from place to place. He began firing hexes faster, more complex, even several at a time, until finally he sent a barrage of tiny blunt rocks barreling in front of a tripping jinx.

Harry barely managed to recognize the trap. Some of the rocks hit his side as he jumped out of the way. He crouched on the floor beside a large chest, rubbing his shin and ankle vigorously.

Snape ground out a harsh laugh. “Is that the best you can do, Mr. Potter?” he sneered, refusing Harry any more time to rest. He raised his wand yet again, slashing his arm though the air to the side.

Harry ran. He dodged another tripping jinx and brought up an Aquamentium Prolato just in time to keep all but the very tips of his hair from being singed by fire. Harry growled. Snape was being vicious on purpose. “Easy for you to say Snape,” he shouted, ducking his head to miss a small fireball, “your not the one with curses flying at your face, are you?”

A flood of magic rolled towards him then. Panting, and mindful that his job was to show the students the shields in action, Harry cast a silent Dilatoalgo spreading out his own defense magic to engulf and swallow the oncoming sheet.

Snape’s next spell slipped beneath the wave. Harry didn’t even notice it. It caught him in the gut, slamming him against the wall and taking his breath away. He could vaguely hear some of the students gasp thought the cheering at their display. It must have been something to see their Professors dueling under the guise of a demonstration. Harry frowned, looking from the class to Snape.

He smiled unapologetically.

Harry stood up straight, regaining his balance and stance. He saw Snape’s hand twitch. Not wanting to give him another change for tricks he immediately threw up the last of the shields to be covered and with a sly smile, threw the same blast wave he’d just been hit with back at Snape.

The Professor landed on his back. The room went deathly silent and then the students began to whisper among themselves. Harry ran across the room, horrified. Snape had already brought himself to a stand and was making a show of brushing off. His glare was darker, more menacing, than Harry had ever seen it to be.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t mean to…” Harry pleaded for forgiveness and reached out to grab Snape’s arm.

Snape slapped his hand away. There was a murderous hate in his eyes. “Class is dismissed,” he said coldly. “Everyone get out.”

The students gathered their things immediately and dashed for the door.

Harry recoiled. Balls, what have I done? His mind screamed. “Sir, really, I thought you would deflect it. I thought that you would have expected-“

Snape turned his back to Harry. “Leave, Potter. I do not require your pathetic, empty apologies.”

Harry sighed. He opened his mouth to apologize again.

Snape clenched his wand at his side. “If you say another word to me I shall cut off your tongue. Get. Out.”

Harry bit his lip. He turned to the empty classroom, and then glanced back to Snape. What more could he do?

He reluctantly left. The hallway had already been evacuated. Harry was alone. He shut the door quietly behind him and wandered slowly down the hall. A ghost crossed past him and through the walls biding him good day. He ignored it, stopping to lean against the wall for support. He felt weak. Sick even. He needed to sit down.

Allan came to stand in front of him. He raised an eyebrow, glancing slowly over Harry.

Harry pushed his back into the wall. “Look, Blackwater, now isn’t really a good time. Can we just do this later?”

The blond smiled. “Your miniature timepiece has stopped working,” he said, taking a step closer to Harry, just as he had before, barely leaving a foot between them.

Harry frowned, his brows coming together in confusion. His shoulder blades bit painfully into the stones as he pushed back harder. “What?”

Without warning Allan reached out and took his hand, bringing it up to his chest. “The clock has stopped,” he repeated gently, tapping Harry’s wristwatch with a black, painted fingernail.



Harry looked down, flushing for the second time in the same hour by the same person. He tried to lightly wrench his hand from Allan’s grasp, but the blond only held on tighter.

Harry hadn’t even known his watch was broken. Or when it broke. How had Allan?

“I saw one of Professor Snape’s pebbles hit it,” Allan said, seemingly able to read his thoughts. “Shall I fix it for you, Professor?” he asked softly and without waiting for a reply, he took out his wand. He hovered it over the glass housing the clock face, his lips parted slightly as he cast a silent spell. There was a look of smug satisfaction on his face when the ticking of the second hand thundered to a start between them.

Harry held his breath and tried to pull back from Allan again. A cold chill ran though him from head to toe, but the burning in his cheeks refused to go away. He had a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Allan shouldn’t be able to cast wordlessly yet. That kind of work wasn’t taught until the end of the year. That he knew how already suggested he knew wandless magic as well. Harry tugged his arm back again. Allan wasn’t exactly breaking any rules but it made him someone to be cautious of.

The blond swept his thumb gently over Harry’s skin before letting go upon Harry’s last insistent tug.

Harry clenched his hands into fists. “What exactly do you want Blackwater?” he asked.

Allan wasted no time in replying. “I would like a date.”

“Wh-what?” Harry stammered, raising his hands. He’d been completely caught off guard. “You can’t be serious?”

Allan simply shrugged. “I like you, Professor. And I can tell that your preference is towards men. So why not give me a chance? I’ll treat you better than anyone else can.”

Harry stared, shocked. “Even if I do like men, you’re a student. Going on a date with you would be against policy. I would be fired before I had a chance to open my mouth.”

“No one has to know its us. I am very good at charms.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “No, Mr. Blackwater. I can’t, in good conscience, go on a date with you. I’m sorry.”

The sound of a door clicking shut echoed loudly down the hall. Both Harry and Allan turned their heads to meet it.

Professor Snape glared, turned, and continued walking in the opposite direction.

Harry’s legs felt impossibly weak. He just knew Snape had heard it all. Every bit. He had probably been standing with the door open listening to every word. Harry was mortified.

Allan put his fingertips on Harry’s cheek, forcing his attention back to him. “I’ll give you some time to think about it, yeah? ” he said and inclined his head, smiling sweetly. It was much the same way that one lover would to another and then he left in the opposite direction that Snape took.

Harry frowned, wrapping his arms around himself. He watched the blond walk away. “My answer will still be no,” he shouted.

Allan ignored it, disappearing around a corner.

Harry clenched his hands into his robes. How dare Allan make him feel like a fool! What exactly was he getting at anyway? Asking for a date. He scowled, running a hand tiredly though his bangs and dared to peer through his shaggy fringe where Snape had been.

He was gone. Harry was alone in the hallway for real this time.

He shouted a curse and set off to find Hermione for comfort.
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Love is Cold