Aspen Sunlight - A Summer Like None Other

"All right." Harry wondered how Dudley was doing, and how it felt for him, having to abandon the house he'd so recently got rebuilt. Hmm, probably Draco was right about it being better to have things to do. He headed for the pile of presents on the table. "Let's get this lot put away before Dad comes back."

They almost made it, but they might as well not have bothered, since after leaving Dudley with Marsha, Snape had gone to Devon to collect all their things from there. He'd thought better than to send it all through the Floo, though. Instead, he'd shrunken their belongings to fit in his robe pockets.

"My XL," moaned Draco, cradling it as it popped back to normal size.

Harry leaned over. "It looks all right."

"But what a way to treat a fine broom."

Snape cleared his throat. "I dare say you'll forget about that when I tell you that there was a letter waiting for you in Devon, Draco."

"A letter?" Draco swallowed. "Oh, no. The Ministry wasn't the whole plot, last night, then? Something's happened to my mother, and it's probably that fucking werewolf's fault, and--"

Snape thrust a hand into his robe and pulled out a Muggle envelope. "Show some decorum, if you would, instead of jumping to hysterical conclusions."

"Rhiannon," gasped Draco, snatching the envelope from Snape's fingers. Or trying, rather; Snape held fast to it.

"I insist that you inform her at once about your plan to conceal letters," said Snape sternly. "Muggle stationery is decidedly ill-advised."

"I'll tell her in my reply, yes." Draco nodded, the motion a little frantic.

The instant Snape let go of the envelope, Draco turned with it towards their bedroom, the door almost slamming behind him, he shut it so quickly.

"Young love," said Snape, shaking his head, though the words had been said with more fondness than ridicule.

"Were you ever . . ." Harry abruptly shut himself up. Asking that was probably an even worse idea than demanding information about Hostilian Snape.

"Was I ever in love?"

"Uh . . . yeah. I mean, if you don't mind the question, if . . . erm."

Instead of answering, Snape ordered a pot of tea, then sank into a chair in the living room and sipped at his cup for a moment. Finally, he looked at Harry, his eyes shadowed.

Shite . Harry quickly poured his own cup, keeping his back to his father. By the time he sat down, he felt like he'd got his expression under control, so then and only then, he met his father's gaze. "Sorry, sir. I shouldn't have asked, not something personal like that."

"No, you certainly should not have," said Snape in a biting tone as he set his cup down with a clatter. "It's not as though we have any sort of relationship. Now, if I had ever, for instance, adopted you as my very own son, things might be different, but as they stand, Potter, you have absolutely no right to presume--"

"Potter!" exclaimed Harry.

"Are we not on formal terms, then? You called me 'sir,' and I certainly don't see a classroom in the vicinity."

"I don't understand you," exclaimed Harry, tea sloshing as he set his own cup down. "Look, you don't talk about your past so much, and I should have remembered that before I asked, and . . . why are you so angry? Just because I accidentally called you 'sir?'"

"No, because I've scarred you, it seems." Snape folded his hands in his lap, but his fingers were tightly curled, Harry noticed.

"Scarred me, how? All I mean by 'sir' is that I respect you, you know."

"I know," said Snape heavily. "I don't like that tendency of yours, but I do understand it. I'm more concerned about this distance between us. I see now that I've encouraged it. A less-than-pleasant realisation, I assure you."

" What distance?"

"What would you call it?" Snape's nostrils flared. "You practically quake at the thought of asking me about a trifling personal matter. Well, suppose you did offend me, Harry. Suppose you seriously offended me. What do you believe would happen next?"

"I don't know--"

Snape's voice was sharp and to the point. Almost cutting, in fact. "You aren't still worrying about unadoption?"

"No!"

Snape stared at him for a long moment more, and then appeared to relax. "Ah. Well, that's good to hear, at least."

"But I wouldn't call have you ever been in love a trifling kind of question," Harry went on. "It's, you know. Really personal."

"I should think that you could ask your father a personal question, though."

"Not that one," muttered Harry, looking away.

When he looked back, Snape's gaze on him was a bit quizzical. "Harry . . . is there something you would like to tell me?"

"You sound like Dumbledore when you ask that."

Snape stared at him for a moment longer, his dark eyes looking like they were coming to conclusions about . . . well, something. Harry wasn't sure, and before he could ask, his father was speaking again.

"Sometimes I forget what it was like to be your age. I suppose, at the time, I would have felt that falling in love was a sensitive topic. Now, though . . ." He gave a low chuckle. "Yes, I've been in love, Harry. Or at the very least, in lust. Who hasn't?"

Harry hurriedly snatched up his tea and took a big gulp of it. Good thing it had cooled down, by then. In lust?

He didn't mean to ask, but he had to say something. "Er . . . so, somebody here at Hogwarts, then?"

"Several somebodies," said Snape dryly. "I had a bit of what you might call a wandering eye. But then, that could have been because I was no more attractive then than I am now, and when the object of my . . . affection was clearly looking elsewhere, I tended to, as well. Slytherin pragmatism."

"You're not unattractive--"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "And to think, Poppy swore those new glasses of yours were the right prescription."

Harry tucked a finger under his collar to loosen it. When had it got so hot? "Uh . . . no, I can see just fine. I meant, well, now that I know you, I see you sort of differently, and you know, if you'd just, er . . . "

He stopped himself before he mentioned shampoo.

"I came to terms long ago with the fact that I'm hardly every woman's ideal," said Snape, shaking his head.

"But you're so clever, at all sorts of things, and you're really brave, spying all those years, and so loyal, saving me like that, and--"

"Oh, do go on. This is fascinating; I'm apparently a member of every house except Slytherin--"

"And you're so funny, all the time, just like that!"

"You needn't try so hard to spare my feelings, Harry." Snape glanced away, as if considering what to say, then gave a slight shrug. "As you say, I have some traits that compensate. It's not as though I've never partaken of the joys of . . . feminine companionship, shall we say."

That was better than in lust, Harry decided. He blushed a little more, even so, as he asked in as diffident a voice as he could, "Anybody I know, then?"

"I do believe you're acquainted with Irma Pince, yes."

Harry almost spat out his tea, he was so shocked. As it was, he managed to swallow before gasping out, "Oh, my God. "

"Have I mentioned how much I admire your gift of tact?"

"That wasn't tactful," said Harry ruefully, ashamed of himself, by then. Well, nothing for it now but to try to erase the gaffe. Polite interest might be the tack to take. "Uh, well, I guess it didn't work out? Is it hard having her on staff, now?"

"She was on staff then, too," said Snape, his mouth lilting up a little at the corners, his voice rich with fond remembrance.

Too rich, Harry suddenly realised. "You're having me on!"

Snape's smile widened. "Of course I am, you idiot child. Ah, but there's a good question. Will you object to being called that, now that you've passed your seventeenth birthday?"