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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
IX.
'Is this how the book ends? Nothing but good friends?

It had been a week since Harry
had so shamelessly come on to his former professor, and he still felt
just as stupid as he had the second he stormed out of the room. Snape
hadn't brought it up again, but he'd gotten Harry his own
desk—pressed front to front against his own. It even had a
nameplate.

To Harry that desk was a clear
line in the sand that he was not permitted to cross. Snape's uses for
him didn't cross the boundaries of 'strictly business'. Even so,
Harry had to admit that the man had been easier to talk to since his
blow up. Once, he'd asked a question about belladona, just to hear
Snape speak, really, and was rewarded for his efforts. Snape spoke at
length about belladona and other poisonous plant extracts. Harry
found he was actually intensely interested in the subject halfway
through, and not just the way the man's thin lips moved when he
spoke, or the way his tongue would dart out to moisten them
periodically. It was that Snape was so interested in potions that
made them so interesting—amazing how that can happen.

He'd been returning letters and
scheduling appointments all morning. He'd had to talk to the Minstry
through the fire this morning—he didn't think he'd ever get
used to it. Now he stared down at the book glad that he managed to
arrange Snape's schedule so he didn't have more than two appointments
a day, and on Friday, he only had one meeting and 4^th year
potions. It would be a nice, light day for him. Maybe he'd spend the
bulk of it in his office where Harry could try to strike up another
conversation.

Severus walked into the room and
scooped the appointment book up from in front of Harry, flipping
through it. He was standing just behind Harry's shoulder, making the
hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.

Harry cleared his throat. “What
did Madam Pomfrey say?” he asked.

“The
same thing I did,” Severus answered tersely. “That I am
perfectly recovered and you should stop fussing over me as if I'm a
three-year old.”

Harry smirked. “I bet she
lectured you.”

“She
tried,” Snape conceded. “But it is rather difficult to
lecture a person who has done nothing wrong.” He lifted the
quill from Harry's fingers and scratched something into the 'Friday,
8 pm' slot of the appointment book before dropping both on the desk
in front of Harry and moving on toward his chair, picking up a scroll
that included details on all recently disciplined students.

Harry picked up the appointment
book to see what he'd just written down in that perfect script of
his.

Friday, 8 pm: Dinner with H.
Potter, my quarters.

Harry's
eyes bugged out a bit as he read the sentence again. 'Dinner?'
“I, you, this...” he
stuttered.

“Do
try to be on time, would you, Potter.”

“I,
but why, sir?”

Severus hadn't been sure about
that little note, but now he was glad he'd taken the risk. Harry's
stuttering really was rather charming. Startling the boy was one of
his few pleasures in life, really. He tilted his head slightly to the
side, leaning back with his knuckles grazing his chin.

“Is
it so unusual to invite a friend to dinner?” he quipped. “We
are friends, aren't we? That is, after all, what you said you
wanted.”

“No.
Yes. I mean. No, it's not unusual and, er...yes, I'd like to be.”
He'd like to be a lot more than that, but he'd take friends. Dinner.
In Snape's quarters. Friday night at 8 pm. That sounded so much like
a date, but it was 'just friends'. Harry was going to have to remind
himself of that every five seconds between now and then. He still
couldn't repress the goofy grin. “I'll bring the champagne,”
he said happily.

Snape quirked a brow.

“Madam
Pomfrey finally gave you a clean bill of health. I know you've been
fighting with her about it for weeks. We should celebrate.”

'Fool boy,' Severus
thought. He hated that Harry knew he and Poppy had been having it out
for a while now, but that idiotic Gryffindor grin kept him from being
too angry about it. “Champagne, then.”

*

The
next three days were complete agony. Torn between absolute joy at his
impending date, and intense depression when he reminded himself that
it wasn't really a 'date', Harry could hardly contain his energy. He
took to coaching the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in his spare time
because if he didn't do something to
burn off the excess energy he was going to combust. It hadn't helped
all that much.

It
was Friday now, 7:45, and he'd just changed his shirt five times.
He'd finally settled on a simple black polo shirt and blue jeans, and
was now combing his hair for the fifth time. Why couldn't it ever lay
flat? Tonight was important. 'More to me than to Snape,
though.'

For something that wasn't a
date, he knew he was putting a ridiculous amount of effort and
nervous energy into it. He slammed down the brush and sighed. If he
didn't leave now, then he was going to be late and Severus would be
annoyed.

*

Snape frowned and peeled off his
tunic. He'd just dipped his sleeve in the lobster bisque as he was
setting it on the small table he'd set up in front of the fireplace.
Two bowls of soup, some bread. A bucket of ice with a bottle of wine.
He picked up his wand to siphon off the stain on the sleeve when he
heard the knock on the door.

“Coming,”
he called.

But what Harry heard was “Come
in.” He pushed open the door. The first thing that hit him was
the delicious scent. The second was Severus Snape standing topless by
the fire. He blushed. All the heat in the room seemed to seep
straight to his lower abdomen. If this wasn't a date, why wasn't
Snape wearing a shirt?

Snape looked up and sighed.
“Just give me a moment to change my shirt,” he said,
putting down his wand and heading into an adjoining room. When he
returned he was wearing a stiff-collared white tunic with the sleeves
cuffed to just beneath the elbow (he wasn't going to make the same
mistake of dipping his sleeve into his food again). No thick black
robes, though.

Harry had quickly chilled the
champagne with a spell and was pouring two glasses. In the firelight,
it was hard to think of him as a boy. The light subtly marked off all
the little differences that age had made—the adult firmness of
the jaw, the barest hint of a crease beside his eye. A sudden sense
of guilt overwhelmed Severus. Why was he holding Harry here, calling
him his 'assistant' but just not willing to let the man go. He should
be seeing the world, doing something of value with his life, not
this.

He managed to repress it and
gestured at the table, taking a seat. He lifted the glass of
champagne. “Well, to my health, then,” he said, taking a
sip.

Harry grinned and took a sip
too.

They didn't say much while they
ate, soup first, then steak. When Snape spelled the dishes to the
kitchens to be washed, and replaced them with tea and biscuits, Harry
was still trying to think of something to say. He was spared the
effort.

Snape put his tea down
thoughtfully and finally said, “Harry.”

Harry's
stomach lurched hopefully. 'Harry...oh, please say my name
like that again. No, wait. Don't. If you do, I'll have to kiss you.'
“Uh, yeah?”

“Why
are you here?”

“Er.
You invited me, sir.”

“Not
here in my quarters, Harry. Here at Hogwarts. You know as well as I
do that you should be doing something more with your life than
scheduling my appointments and keeping track of the kitchenware.”
Which was a completely pointless endeavor, but he'd never mentioned
that to Harry.

Harry wasn't sure how to answer.
'I was worried about you,' he didn't think would go over well. 'I
want to be near you,' would be even worse. “Well, I...Hogwarts
is my home,” he stuttered.

“And
it will still be so if you spend some time away from it,”
Severus replied. He understood that. Hogwarts was his home, too.
Perhaps, when he was older, Harry would want to come back as a
teacher, but that wasn't something that he could know now.

Harry bit the inside of his
cheek. Was Snape telling him to get lost? That now that he was well,
he didn't need him anymore? If that was true, then why all of this?
“Are you firing me, sir?” he asked tensely.

“I'm
advising
you,
Harry, as a friend. You have your entire life ahead of you. You
shouldn't be wasting it like this.”

“Do...
do you feel like you've wasted your
life?
Is that why you always go out to the lake? Are you thinking about the
past?”

Severus
stood. “It's late, Harry. Just consider what I've said. A few
offers have come across my desk.” He moved to a small table in
the corner and pulled a few letters from the drawer. “At the
time, I was still not at all well and asked their indulgence, that I
required your assistance for a bit longer. I can no longer say that I
need you to stay here. I have been
arguing with Poppy about my health, but it's been the opposite of
what you thought. I...enjoyed having the company.” It was hard
to admit, especially to Harry. “Even if you're still an
insufferable, nosy, little brat.” He shrugged. “I suppose
we all have our flaws.”

He pressed the letters into
Harry's hand. “Do something with your life, Potter. Find
something you enjoy. After all you've done for everyone else, you owe
yourself at least that much. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to
get some sleep.”

“You'd
like to get rid of me, you mean,” Harry muttered, clutching the
letters hard in his hand. “Fine. Whatever. I get it. You can
stop pretending to be nice, now.” He took his letters and
stormed out of the room. Why did Snape have to be like this? Why did
he always have to build up Harry's hopes only to destroy them in the
end? He used to think the man got some kind of sick pleasure out of
it. Now he just thought normal, human relationships were far beyond
what Severus Snape knew how to deal with. With friends like Lucius
Malfoy and Lord Voldemort, it was really a miracle the man was even
remotely sane. 'And
'remotely' is about as much as I can attribute to him. Even so...'
He
still adored the big, stupid jerk. He adored those deep eyes staring
down that prominent nose and the long, greasy black hair, and that
pale skin that made the man look like he hadn't been out of the
dungeons in years. And he adored the sarcastic sense of humor, even
though the derisive jokes were usually at his expense, and all that
pride and dignity and bitter maturity that Harry was sure he,
himself, would never have no matter how old he got. And he hated all
of those things, too. He hated that no matter how close he got to
Snape, they'd always be standing between them like an invisible wall
he couldn't force his way through. 'Friends?
Yeah right. Friends don't tell friends to get lost.'

He stormed into his room and
threw the letters on the desk with as much force as he could muster
before collapsing on the bed. “I love you, you stubborn git.
Why can't you believe that?” he rolled onto his side and buried
his face into the pillow, screaming out his frustration, then flopped
onto his back and stared up at the canopy with a heavy sigh. “Men!”
- 8
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You Don't See Me