Harry wasn’t sure what it was about that particular night, but he couldn’t sleep no matter what he’d tried. The stubborn gryffindor had even resorted to counting sheep - as stupid as that made him feel - but all it had accomplished was giving him a headache. After hours of restlessness, Harry rose from his bed with a sigh, deciding he’d go for a walk up to the astronomy tower.
Grabbing his father’s cloak, he slipped out into the hallway and snuck past the prefects and Filch. When he felt the cool open air on his skin, he let out a deep breath and sat down. He closed his eyes for a moment, just listening to the wind and cooing owls.
“And just what do you think you’re doing out here, Potter?”
Harry’s eyes snapped open and he looked back to see Snape standing by the staircase with a pleased smirk. The gryffindor could only roll his eyes.
“Good morning to you too, Snape.”
“It is hardly morning at 2 in the m-” Snape suddenly stopped talking and instead just glared. “What are you doing out here?”
Harry couldn’t suppress the smirk that rose to his lips at the man’s redirection. “I couldn’t sleep. I just came up here to draw.”
“Draw?” Snape repeated in a mocking voice. “How quaint.”
Harry gave Snape a look of annoyance before holding up his sketchbook.
“Is that meant to prove something to me?” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Harry grumbled, putting the book back down. “If you let me stay out here another hour, I’ll draw you," He offered hopefully.
Snape scoffed in amusement. “As if I care for your no doubt pathetic attempts at art.”
Harry flipped through the pages stubbornly, then stood up and shoved the book in his face. Snape glared at the gryffindor, then looked down at the page being shown to him, the irritation fading from his expression for a moment. He snatched the sketchbook from Harry’s hands and narrowed his eyes at the sketches before glancing back up suspiciously.
“What on earth inspired you to draw me?”
“I draw everything I see, Sir,” Harry replied bluntly.
The man just let out a growl and shoved the book back into Harry’s chest. “It is of no importance. I have no desire for you to sketch me and I’d advise you not to do it again.”
“Whatever, Snape.”
Snape scowled. “Do not ‘whatever’ me, Potter.”
Harry sat back down on the ground and pulled a pencil out of his wand pocket. He began to write.
“I thought you were an artist,” Snape mocked loudly from behind Harry.
“I write too. Poetry mainly.”
Snape was silent behind him for a few seconds, so Harry turned back to look at him and was taken aback by the genuine surprise on the man’s expression.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Snape cleared his throat. “I can only assume your poetry is abysmal at best. Some romantic drivel.”
Harry chuckled, turning back to the page. “Actually my poetry is usually pretty depressing.”
“Depressing?” The slytherin repeated incredulously.
Harry nodded, his hand beginning to move again as he wrote. Snape stood still behind him for a few moments, then leaned against the wall on the boy’s left. Harry glanced over at him, but the man just looked back at him with an unreadable expression. A moment of silence passed before Snape finally spoke. “I wish to see the pathetic end result of your...creative genius.”
Harry looked at him suspiciously, but continued writing. Snape just stood and watched as the gryffindor wrote new lines and scratched others out. About fifteen minutes of this passed before Harry held the page out in front of him and scanned it. He then flipped the page over and copied the final draft onto a clean page on the opposite side.
“Done?” Snape asked impatiently once his hand had stilled again.
Harry nodded hesitantly and stood, slowly approaching Snape and handing it to him. They made eye contact during the transfer.
“It’s not…what you’ll expect.”
The man scoffed and took the book. “I highly doubt that.”
Harry fiddled with the loose strand on his jumper, glancing back and forth between Snape’s focused eyes on the page and the black cover of his sketchbook. He watched closely as the expression changed on the professor’s face and impassiveness turned into mild shock, possibly even intrigue. Snape’s dark eyes met Harry’s and his long fingers gripping the book slowly brought it down to his side.
He stared at Harry, as if studying him. His eyes were more open than the gryffindor had seen them before; wide, curious, and almost a bit frantic.
“You wrote this?” He asked in a low voice. “Just now?”
Harry nodded.
“What- or should I say who, is it about?” He tilted his head as he leaned in, pressing Harry for answers with his stare.
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, but he cleared his throat and forced himself to hold eye contact. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Snape clearly didn’t like that response, because his nostrils flared and his brows furrowed, his pale skin going a bit red. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? A mockery, a-”
“What? No!” Harry interrupted quickly, shaking his head and holding up his hands defensively. “Did- did you even understand what it was about?”
Snape’s face was filled with fury. “It’s an offense to my person, a disgusting portrayal of- of-.” He suddenly gripped Harry’s collar harshly, pulling him close so their noses were almost touching. “Don't you ever act like you know even the slightest thing about me. You know nothing.” He hissed in a dark and barely audible voice. Some of his spit sprayed Harry’s cheeks but the gryffindor was too shocked to push him away.
“Snape…”
“Don’t.”
“Snape…” He began again carefully after a few moments. “The poem is meant to be complimentary, not mocking.”
Snape froze, his eyes narrowing again. “How is this meant to be complimentary?” He demanded.
Harry swallowed, gently prying the sketchbook from Snape’s fingers and opening it to the page again. The man averted his eyes, still seething with rage.
“This poem, it’s meant to depict you as human. Everyone seems to think you’re incapable of emotion and that you’re, er, selfish, but I think you are who you are for a reason. And I don’t think you’re evil, people just want to villainize you so they can have a bad guy. If everyone liked everyone, our lives would be way more dull than they are now. I just think people don’t give you enough credit for just being who you are.”
Snape stared at Harry in awe and repeated his words from earlier. “Is this a joke?”
“No…” Harry answered truthfully. “I mean…I knew you’d be annoyed, but it wasn’t meant to mock you. I really just wanted to make a point.”
“And what point is that?”
“That your…intensity…is what makes you so beautiful.”
Harry could hear the breath catch in Snape’s throat.
“Potter-”
“Don’t make this a thing, Snape. You wanted to read my poetry and now you’ve read it.”
Snape looked at Harry with a somewhat vulnerable expression.
“I don’t hate you, Snape.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
“And I know you don’t hate me.”
“You’re wrong,” he said bluntly. “I do hate you.”
Harry glared. “Well fine then. But my opinion of you isn’t going to worsen just because you don’t share it.”
Snape seemed surprised by this too, but he kept his expression hardened.
“You should hate me, Potter. I’ve done things you can't even begin to imagine.”
“Oh I’m so scared,” Harry mocked, exaggerating a full-body shiver.
The slytherin’s eyes darkened again. “You should be.”
Harry just rolled his eyes. “Look, Snape, I know you think you’re scary and all, but I already know everything.
“You think you know everything, but you don’t.”
“I know you’re the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy.”
The man didn’t even correct Harry on his use of you-know-who’s name, he just looked at him with horror written all over his face.
“And do you see me making a fuss and blaming you for my parents’ deaths? No. I’m not. So get over yourself for once and stop acting like a brooding old git. Not everyone hates you as much as you hate yourself. Some people are actually capable of forgiveness.”
“You shouldn’t forgive me…” The man’s voice was quiet and his expression was guilt-ridden.
“Oh stop that. Enough with the shouldn’ts. I do, so just accept it.”
Snape shook his head and let out a deep breath, stepping away.
“Snape,” Harry pleaded with him.
“You should go back to your dorm.”
“No,” the boy protested.
Snape flipped around, staring Harry down with a fierce look. “GO!” He bellowed.
“No!” Harry yelled back, refusing to back down.
“You stupid, stupid boy,” The slytherin grit his teeth, shaking his head and running fingers through his greasy hair.
Harry just looked back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving. I don’t care how cruel you are or how loud you yell at me, I’m not going.”
Snape raised his head and stared back at Harry’s defiance. “What do I need to do to make you leave?” He pleaded desperately. “Nothing I say ever scares you off. Why?”
“Because I’m neither of my parents!” Harry yelled. “I’m not going to take advantage of you like my father and I’m not going to abandon you like my mother!”
Snape stared at him with a vulnerable look on his face, seeming almost in tears. “She did not-”
“Yes she did!” Harry practically screamed at him. “She left you for the man who hurt you most because you were mentally ill and in pain and she wanted something easy! I’d have never left you there with him like she did in that memory! I wouldn’t have cared what you called me, I’d have stayed by your side anyways! Because you weren’t an unlovable person, Snape, you were just a boy who needed to feel valued!”
Tears fell down Snape’s cheeks as he stared and listened, his shoulders drawn in and his eyes wide like a child’s. His body shook as he tried to hold himself together.
“Snape…” Harry murmured, taking a step closer. “You…you’re okay.”
The man shook his head, his eyes shut and unable to look at Harry any longer. The boy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing Snape’s eyes to fly back open and meet his.
“I know this is a lot…but I really do love you, Snape. As insane as I sound, I know how much I need you. I’m not going away for anything.”
Snape let out a shaky breath, in complete shock.
Harry sighed. “Just…tell me I matter to you too. Please?”
The man looked down. “You matter. Of course you do. Because I’m an old fool who- who…”
Harry looked at him questioningly. “Who what?”
“Nothing,” Snape replied in a shaky voice.
Harry stared at him for a moment, at his red cheeks and the tears in his eyes and the desperation in his expression. At that moment, it all suddenly made sense.
“Snape…” Harry began, then caught himself. “Severus…” Snape raised his eyes slowly. “I…feel the same way.”
Snape looked like his heart had been struck by lightning, all of his body becoming focused on Harry at once.
“Severus…” He whispered again, eyes low-lidded as he leaned in. “Just stop hesitating.”
Snape’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he matched the gryffindor’s movement and inched forward. Harry moved in, his hands cupping the man’s cheeks and gently wiping away his tears as their faces met. Snape’s lips were chapped, rough from the cold and had taken on a slightly salty taste from the crying. Snape’s lips were just like the sea.