Hope Has a Place
Part Seven
~ ~ ~

"Mr. Potter, please see me after class," Professor McGonagall advised Harry as she skirted between the tables checking everyone's work. Harry wasn't surprised that she wanted to see him, he was just surprised that it had taken this long. What was suddenly so special about today that she felt the need to discuss his behaviour?

When the bell rang, Harry lingered behind, receiving a sympathetic smile from Ron and a grimace from Hermione. She didn't approve of what Harry was doing, how could she? It galled him more than he cared to admit, that neither of them had asked him the reason why he was doing it. Not that he could tell them, but it would have been nice to have someone show some concern.

The professor sat down at her desk and waited for Harry to stand beside it before she spoke. "Mr. Potter," she said, steepling her hands and peering at Harry over the rim of her glasses. "What has got into you, Harry? You have been skipping your Defence classes for the past month. Professor Lupin is very worried about you, you used to be his best student."

"Is he?" snapped Harry. "That's big of him."

"Harry Potter!" McGonagall spluttered, standing up and towering above him. "You will not talk about one of your teachers that way. Show some respect."

"No."

"No? You think you can get away with such rudeness? You will go to your classes and you will address Professor Lupin with the respect he deserves."

"I do not respect him and I will not go to any classes he teaches."

"Afer all he's done for you, this is how you repay him? I am very disappointed in you, Harry. Very disappointed indeed."

"You can't make me go," Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

"This is a shcool Mr. Potter and your classes are not optional. You will go to Defence Against the Dark Arts or you will be expelled."

Oh, she knew him too well. Knew the only punishment that he really feared was expulsion, cast out from his home. For a moment he wanted to tell her everything in minute detail. Everything that Lupin had done to him, was still doing to him every night in his dreams.

But he imagined the look of disgusted pity on her face, or even worse the disbelief. For Harry was well known to tell tall tales, wasn't he? The Daily Prophet had a new story every week, each more outrageous than the last. The gossip would be round the whole school in hours. Harry remembered second year when half the school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and fourth year when the other half thought he'd put his name in the Goblet of Fire. No matter the truth of what happened, it would somehow be made out to be Harry's fault.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her this.

"I don't want to be taught by Professor Lupin," he said again, hoping against hope that this time she would listen to him.

"You do not get to choose your teachers, Mr. Potter, no matter how many rules you think are beneath you. The headmaster may have allowed this to go on unchallenged, but I will not. I am your Head of House and I will not have you undermining my authority in front of the other students. How would it be if everyone decided to skip classes whenever they felt like it? You will have detention every night this week with Mr. Filch and tomorrow you will go to Defence even if I have to levitate you there myself! Are we understanding each other, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am," sighed Harry, bristling at the unfairness of it all. It felt like white hot heat in his chest and he knew he had to get out of there before he lost control of his magic again. It had been happening more and more lately and he knew it was probably caused by stress.

"You're dismissed," said McGonagall, her voice as cold as Harry had ever heard. "Hurry if you want to be in time for lunch."

Harry hurried away, but he not to the Great Hall. He wasn't hungry, he was feeling a bit sick and knew there was no way he could sit at the Gryffindor table and pretend that everything was okay. It was far from okay and he was not in the mood to listen to his classmates praise Lupin to the rafters while he sat there silently seething. It was not doing his blood pressure any good and he wondered sometimes if he was heading for a nervous breakdown.

When he thought of having to face Lupin in a classroom, he didn't feel like a seventeen year old wizard about to come into his full power, he felt like the scared little boy Lupin had betrayed, even as he screamed at the top of his lungs for it to stop. His vision blurred and he realised he was crying.

Leaving the castle altogether, Harry shuffled towards the Forbidden Forest, his shoulders hunched so much he was bent almost double. The tears didn't stop flowing, but it didn't really help. His stomach hurt, an ache that wasn't hunger. The grief and despair was a solid weight in his chest and he knew it wouldn't disappear with a wash of salt from his eyes.

Reaching the shelter of the trees, Harry at last let go and bawled like a child denied a toy. He couldn't stop, his nose was running, he was gasping for air as he just wept and wept. This was all a nightmare and he prayed he could wake up soon.

"Potter, you are aren't at lunch," came a soft voice to his ear and Harry spun round, resisting the urge to fling himself into Snape's arms and seek whatever comfort they could provide. He wanted to be held and comforted like a child, the child his thirteen year old self had never been allowed to be. Lupin had stolen his innocence as much as fighting Voldemort had and Harry wanted it back.

"Neither are you," he said haltingly, trying to stop the tears but they wouldn't be denied. He tasted them on his lips, bitter and salty, the flavour of stolen childhood.

"Harry? What is it? Why are you crying?" Snape made no move to touch him, but Harry wanted those arms around him, he craved them like a man dying of thirst craved water.

"Why else?" he asked bitterly. He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to talk about him and how he'd ruined Harry's life. He didn't want his life to be ruined. He wanted to be whole and hale and physically cabable of pursuing a relationship with the man by his side. "I have go go to his classes or be expelled. And I've got detention with Filch for not going in the first place. Neat, huh? Lupin rapes me and I'm the one who gets punished!"

"Maybe you ought to tell the headmaster what happened," suggested Snape. It was a conversation they'd had before and Harry didn't want to go over old arguments again.

"He won't believe me, it's my word against Lupin's."

"If we give him Veritaserum?" Then Snape shook his head. "Oh, I forgot, it isn't effective against werewolves."

"I can't stand this!" shrieked Harry and slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree, howling in pain. God, that hurt, but it was a good hurt because he'd caused it himself. This pain was his, he controlled it. He could stop it whenever he wanted, or not.

He stared at the bark with renewed interest and began to pound his fists on it again and again. Every time his hand struck the wood, he imagined it was Lupin's leering face he was pummelling. He didn't stop until his hands were throbbing and blood dripped down his knuckles.

"Here, let me see your hands," said Snape and Harry glanced around in surprise. He'd forgotten the other man was even there. Snape healed the cuts with a mumbled spell, but the throbbing in Harry's hands didn't diminish, only increased as Snape held his hands in both of his. Snape's dark eyes lowered, sought his and their gazes locked for an eternity. The air around them was thick with tension and Harry's lungs gasped for air when Snape lowered his head still further.

They were close now, so close, their faces almost touching. Harry tilted his head up in response, his heart hammering an erratic rhythm on his ribcage. He wanted to yank open his own chest and give his still beating heart to Snape to consume or destroy, he didn't care which. He just knew he wanted it, wanted something. Snape was still holding his hands as he moved those final few inches and pressed his lips to Harry's.

Harry had dreamed of this moment, their first kiss. But nothing could prepare him for the reality of it, the wet heat as Snape's mouth moved against his, the roughness of chapped lips, the saliva flowing between them as they crushed their mouths together, not a space of air between them. Snape wasn't just kissing him, he was devouring him, setting him aflame and Harry just wanted to stand there and let Snape consume him so that there was nothing of him left but ashes.

Harry was getting lightheaded and leaned back against the tree. He found it difficult to breathe and kiss at the same time, but he didn't want to stop kissing Snape. Who needed air anyway? He could survive on Snape's kisses. There was a moan from somewhere as Snape's tongue pushed into his mouth and Harry forgot everything in that intensity. He could do little else but touch his tongue to Snape's as he tugged the other man towards him.

Harry pulled his hands away, but only so that he could wrap them around Snape's neck and Snape fell against him. Snape groaned into Harry's mouth, and Harry felt the vibration of that sound all the way in his own throat. He wanted more, wanted more of these sensations that fluttered round his tummy like butterflies too scared to land on an exotic flower. He was chasing them but they were as elusive as water trickling through his fingers.

His hands grabbed fistfuls of Snape's hair and he tried to get as close to Snape as possible without them sharing the same skin. Snape shifted suddenly and pressed his whole weight against Harry, moulding him to the tree. Snape groaned and ground his hips against Harry's stomach and Harry could feel the man's desire pressing into him.

He moaned at the thought he was making Snape hard, that his kisses were having such an effect on the man and he kissed back hungrily, his fingers clenching in Snape's hair. Snape left his mouth and rained kisses along his cheek and jaw. Harry arched his head back and was rewarded as Snape licked his throat, lapping like a cat at a bowl of cream. "Oh, God!" moaned Harry. "Please! Oh, please!"

"What, Harry? What do you want?"

"Please, oh please, do something!" wailed Harry, not sure what he should even be asking for.

Snape's hands skated along his sides, down his stomach and then lower still. His large hands caressed Harry's thighs before moving to the middle to cup Harry's cock through his trousers. His utterly useless, non-erect cock. Harry choked on a sob of despair. Oh, the shame of it. Lupin had to destroy this too. He couldn't even be normal in this, couldn't feel pleasure at the touch of the man he loved. He tried to wriggle away, but Snape was holding one thigh and the other hand was still cupping him and caressing him through his trousers.

"What are you doing?" Harry managed to ask.

"I'm touching you. Why, does it feel bad?"

"N- no. Just a little strange. Why are you even bothering? Nothing's going to happen."

"Nothing has to happen, Harry. I'm just enjoying touching you, all of you. It's part of you."

"But it's broken, what's the point?"

But Harry had to admit, even if only to himself, that he quite enjoyed Snape touching him there even if he wasn't hard. He enjoyed Snape touching him.

"I just want to touch you. Unless you'd rather I stop?"

His hand stilled and Harry knew that it was up to him, Snape was giving him control of how things should progress.

"I - I like it," admitted Harry with a shy smile. "But the bell's about to go and do you really want to be caught doing that?"

Snape removed his hand from Harry's crotch so fast that Harry couldn't help the chuckle emerging.

"I'd forgotten where we were," said Snape. "I'm sorry, Harry, I fogot myself. After promising you that I would do nothing like that until you'd left school."

"Please don't be sorry," said Harry. "Not for this. I don't regret it, you did nothing wrong. I wanted it as much as you. You're a wonderful kisser." Harry stood on tip toes and placed a soft kiss on the man's cheek, but he didn't move away, instead he turned to whisper in Snape's ear. "Can I come and see you tonight, after my detention?"

The man shuddered against him and Harry imagined he could feel the desire like an almost tangible thing between them.

"I don't know if that would be such a good idea, Harry."

"We don't have to do anything," urged Harry. "Just talk, if that's what you want."

"Merlin, Hary! You know I want to do to more than talk, but it is out of the question. You are still my student and I will not cross that line. Ever. Please do not make me into him."

"You're nothing like that," said Harry, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. "I know you wouldn't do anything I didn't want. But you will wait for me, won't you? Until I graduate?"

"How could you ever doubt it, Harry?" Snape traced a long finger across Harry's chin and tipped his head up, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. "I love you. There's no time limit on love." Snape cupped Harry's face in his hands and Harry's gasped at the expression on Snape's face. He felt cherised, adored. "Promise me, Harry that if Lupin tried anything ever again, you will come straight to me?"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak for fear that Snape would hear the lie in his voice.

For Harry was determined to take care of the werewolf problem on his own.

Part Eight