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Title: All That I Can Ever Need
Author: papered
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Harry/Severus
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1730
Summary: You don't realize how important some things are until after you lose it.
Notes: For the 31_days April 3rd prompt: "Lemon-flavoured kisses."


I.

Severus Snape walked into his quarters to find a certain green-eyed monster lounging on the couch, feet propped up on his coffee table and a cup in hand. "What are you doing here, brat?"

The young man merely grinned at his acid tone, standing up to greet him with a kiss. "Hello to you too, Severus. I was going to go see Minerva about meeting up one day to do a combined Transfiguration and Defence class, but she wasn't in so I came here instead."

"Don't you have your own rooms to go to? And your own tea to drink?" He peered into the cup of lemon-flavoured tea Harry so favoured.

"I like your rooms. And your tea. It doesn't taste the same when I make it." He had the audacity to grin at Severus' expression. "Plus, it reminds me of you. You always smell like lemon tea. Probably because you drink too much of it."

Severus didn't have the heart to look as annoyed as he would have liked.

"I've been meaning to tell you though – I got a letter from the Head of the Auror Department yesterday, requesting a meeting for Saturday." The young man worried his bottom lip. "I wonder what they want? Do you think it'll have something to do with the recent Death Eater activities?"

"Stop worrying, brat. I'm sure they just want to ask the Great Harry Potter's opinion."

Harry flashed him a grin. "Why in the world would they want my opinion? Although you're right, of course – I'm just thinking too much."

"And for the first time too. Don't strain yourself."

The Gryffindor sputtered at him, and Severus allowed himself an amused smirk. It didn't last for long though.

"Oh, Severus, look! It's only five thirty, since you ended early." Green eyes sparked with mischief. "Do you want to go down to Hogsmeade for dinner tonight? We have lots of time!"

Severus grunted.



II.

"You want me to quit my job at Hogwarts to help you?"

"We're very sorry, Mr. Potter, but if you could, it would make such a difference. With Lestrange trying to continue You-Know-Who's cause and so many new inexperienced Aurors, we need all the help we can get. It would only be for a little while – around a week or two."

"Please give me some time to think about it."



III.

"You are fucking kidding me."

His silence all the answer that was needed.

"You are not going."

The sentence was delivered in that dangerous tone Harry had come to know so well from his many years at Hogwarts, but as much as a part of him wanted to, he couldn't back down. This was one of those things he knew he just had to do. "I have to. It's my fault Bellatrix Lestrange escaped in the first place, and now she's killing all those Muggle children. You read the papers! That was the third orphanage this week."

"I. Don't. Care. You've done your job and gotten rid of Voldemort - it's time for you to stop being the hero before you get yourself killed. Leave the fighting to the Aurors for once."

"I know it's dangerous, but Lestrange's risen too high - they need as much help as they can get. They need me."

"You complete simpleton. If you still haven't gotten it into your head that I need you -"

Severus abruptly fell silent, as if he'd revealed too much, and knowing the Potions Master as he did, Harry could appreciate what it must have cost the man to say that out loud.

But even so. He would never be able to live with himself if he didn't do this.

I'm sorry, Severus.

His thoughts must have been evident on his face, because without his having to say another word, the shutters slammed down on older man's face. Harry looked pleadingly into the black eyes for any hint of understanding or compassion, but Severus' expression held nothing but blank apathy. Whatever hint of concern he'd seen was gone without a trace.

Something inside his chest felt like it was suffocating.

"I'm leaving tonight," he whispered, suddenly numb. "Dumbledore's agreed to let me off the DADA job for now. I don't know how long it'll take, but if all goes well, I should be back in a week..."

Still seeing no response, he trailed off before giving up altogether. With a suppressed sigh, he turned to leave -

- and then he was slammed into the wall by the taller man, lips forced open almost roughly. With a surprised gasp, Harry tensed up, but relaxed again almost immediately, yielding to the Potions Master. Wrapping his arms around the pale neck, he pulled the two of them even closer, inhaling the familiar scent of citrus and herbs and trying to memorize the texture of the long silky hair under his fingers.


Faster than he would have liked, strong hands were pushing him away. However, looking up, Harry could see that Severus' expression was no more agreeable than before. Before he could get a single question out, the Potions Master spoke.

"Choose."

"W-What?"

"I was clear when we got together Potter, that I wasn't going to tie myself down with a partner who could go and get himself killed any minute on whim." The once-so-familiar sneer was back. "So choose. Us, or this idiotic suicide mission of yours?"

Harry flinched at the harsh tone, the way his last name was spat out like a foul word, before his mind registered the last sentence. He frozen, then opened his mouth, ready to say something - anything - but all he could do was stare at the older man in disbelief.

Choose.

Choose.

The one syllable sounded foreign to his ears, and his heart was suddenly pounding against his ribcage as if he'd been running a marathon. His throat went dry, choking down anything he might have said. Choose? How could he choose between the best thing that had ever happened to him and what he knew was right?

How can this be happening?

At his silence, something twisted in Severus' face. "So this is how it's going to be, is it?" he snarled, dark eyes glinting. "I hope you're pleased with your choice, Potter."

The door slammed behind him with a resounding bang.



IV.

A month passed, and still, Severus heard no news. A new fool of a Defence professor had been temporarily hired, and Albus had stopped him a few times in an attempt to console him, but Severus had coldly brushed the Headmaster off each time. As if he needed any consolation from the man who'd practically given the stupid boy permission to run off.

Not that he cared, of course. He didn't.

He swept into the second year Gryffindor/Slytherin potions class, the whispers swiftly dying down at his entrance. The students had quickly learned that talking about Harry Bloody Potter in front of him was not appreciated.

Not that not doing it would spare them any grief. "The potion for today is in your text," he barked. "What are you all waiting for, an engraved invitation? Get moving."


He took sadistic pleasure in taking thirty points from Victoire Weasley for powdering the unicorn horns too finely.



V.

The brought the body in one day, two months later.

He'd known from the moment he'd stepped out of the dungeons after receiving a note from Albus, requesting his presence, that something was wrong. There was a tension in the air, and the students scattered around him, avoiding him like he was A plague. Which wouldn't have been too unusual, except for that fact that even his own Slytherins were making that extra effort to stay out of his way.

It was as if everyone was just waiting for him to explode.


Albus explained everything after he'd reached the office. How the raid had been successful in the end, but not before a large portion of the Aurors had been captured. How Harry had made a deal to give himself up in exchange for the lives of everyone else. Of course, Lestrange had agreed, ecstatic for the chance to end what her master had been unable to finish.

Whatever unrealized hope Severus had been harbouring died at the words, and he hated himself all the more for hoping at all. For allowing himself to be charmed by the green-eyed Gryffindor in the first place.

He should have learned long ago that there was no such thing as happily ever afters for Severus Snape.


"I'm sorry, Severus. The students already know – they saw the Aurors bring back the body."

"Where is it?"

"They placed him on the Quidditch Pitch. The funeral will be in three days. ...Did you want to see him beforehand?"

"... No."

He escaped down to his dungeons as quickly as he could afterwards, slamming the doors behind him and storming into his lab.

A few minutes later, he collapsed against the wall, chest heaving, the ground littered with shattered potions and broken glass.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he recalled some of his final words to the Gryffindor.

"So choose. Us, or this idiotic suicide mission of yours?"

He'd known even then that he was being purposefully cruel, and yet he'd hoped that it would be enough to shock Harry out of his ridiculous thoughts and see reason. Unfortunately, the young man's silence hadn't been something he'd expected – and instead of turning back, being more understanding, he'd allowed his wounded pride to guide him out of the room.

It was all too late now, and he had no one to blame but himself.

I'm so sorry.

That's the story of your life, isn't it?



VI.

He crawls into bed later that night, joints aching, unable to fall asleep for a long time. Over the years, he'd gotten used to the presence of a warm body next to his, and even as he tries to forget, his subconscious won't let go.

The dungeon draft ghosts over his skin, and he shivers.

When he finally does sleep, it's a restless slumber. Unconsciously, he reaches out to the image of a young man with bright green eyes and a teasing smile that's burned into his mind.


Somewhere in the distance, the owls are hooting.

On the kitchen table sits an unfinished cup of lemon-flavoured tea.



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Unfortunately, he would. :\ Thanks for reading!