Part Four - That Night

Harry looked up into the deep pools that were the eyes of his co-professor. He waited to be yelled at, but instead he got a chuckle. A small laughing sound, and half a smile. A smile!
He had been working side-by-side with Snape for nearly a year. Every day he had to meet up in the dungeons before breakfast to discuss the dawning day. He hadn't been a minut late once. And nevertheless, he did't snare or yell. He laughed, and smiled.
And then he realized, it didn't feel like morning, it was surely late night. Someone had to have messed around with his alarm-clock, it surely had rung fifteen minutes ago..
An innocent grin from Snape kind of gave him away, but why?
The door shut closed behind him. Harry felt the tension grab him by the heart, and closed his eyes. He realized Snape was still holding his hand, and felt shivers down his spine as he was lead into the room. He was sat down on a chair, and ordered to talk. In a way only Snape could pull off, he was ordered to tell what he had been thinking about for these last couple of weeks. What had taken his mind of everything, so that he had overlooked students, forgotten them in locked up classrooms, skipped dinner on a few occations, and forgotten that he hadd hallguard yesterday evening. (Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He had noticed, and missed him at dinner. Missed_him.)
And he talked. Somewhere deep inside, he dug up some courage to tell him everything. Tell him about the last four years of admiration and worship. About turning fair into attraction, and hate into something indescribable. Something scary and powerful. About shame and secresy. And about the agony of keeping the secret from Ron and Hermione.
He didn't dare to look up while talking. Even though he had found the strenght to tell, he was scared to death and pretty sure that this wasn't at all what Snape had been prepared to hear. He was sure, that the moment he drew his finishing breath, he would be yelled at. Showed out of his dungeons, and back to bed. Turned down. Both personally and professionally. He would have to get another job. But he kept talking. He was way past the point of turning back, and the entire story had to be told.
After talking for an hour or so, Harry took a deep breath and tighgtened his closed eyes, as if he was trying to hear Snape's frowning. Instead, he was kissed. A sweet, gentle kiss. That one kiss he had been longing for. The whole thing was surreal. He opened his eyes, and yet again he met the pools of Snapes eyes. Those immensely huge dark brown eyes, that had frightened him to death for several years, that now made him loose his breath entirely. This was real. He was sitting in the dungeons, in the middle of the night. He was wanted there. He had been kissed. By him.

The following weeks had been the worst weeks in Harrys life. Without doubt.