Harry Potter Lessons in Public Displays of Affection

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Lessons in Snogging and Public Displays of Affection

By: Unscathed

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just knock them over and play with them, and dress them up in funny clothing and make them talk in funny high-pitched accents. They belong to J.K. Rowling and her gang of heartless publishers. (Just give me the fifth book and I'll forgive all past sins…until I'm finished with it.)

Warnings: Severus Snape/Harry Potter. That line between their names is a slash. It means they are _together._ They might hug, they might kiss, they might have hot, wild screaming monkey sex (But not on FFN!). If this thought nauseats or sickens you…go away. If you chose not to heed my warning and send me nasty letters, all the more fool you are.

Notes: This wasn't meant to be a chapter when I began it, it was just supposed to be a little tack-on to the back of _'Lessons in Reputation and Job Hunting'_, so it's rather dependant that you read that, before you read this. The entire series was only meant to be a trilogy, but it's become a rather deformed trilogy—it will have four parts (_only_ four parts…hopefully).

Oh, and this was written because my best friend declared there to be a significant lack of snogging, and told me I had better make a 'Lesson in Snogging' chapter. Thank her for the deformities in my *_trilogy*_. Tanja, this one is yours. Jerk.

***

Severus Snape was cursing as they stepped off the curb into the traffic of Diagon Alley. Harry had the man's elbow in hand, and was no small amount amused at the wide birth the witches and wizards gave them as they passed. Wide eyes followed Severus's dark- and Harry's green-clad forms. Harry wondered if it all would make the cover of _Witch's Weekly_. That would give Madame Birdie something to chitter about. He rolled his eyes, halting in the middle of the street. In his pocket the love potion banged against his thigh.

"Sev," Harry growled, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Severus stopped cursing, but glowered over Harry's shoulder toward Birdie's shop. Harry sighed, touching Severus's cheek. Black eyes darkened, but the severe expression diminished, and Severus met Harry's eyes. Harry tried to smile without either laughing or crying. He was partially successful.

"Harry," Severus responded slowly.

Great, Harry thought to himself. He didn't know what to say. Harry exhaled slowly, biting his lip. Damn. "Sev." How sappy was that?

Severus Snape smirked suddenly at Harry's silence, and solved the dilemma by leaning down, lips close to Harry's. Harry's breath dissapeared, his brain stopped working, and he felt his eyes widen. He could feel Severus's warm breath on his mouth. And Severus _stayed there_, less than an inch away. For a moment Harry thought he saw a sparkle of laughter in the man's eyes before Severus straightened. "Yes, Harry?" Severus repeated in a rough voice, raising an eyebrow.

Harry could have groaned. That had to be payback for the smile in Birdie's shop. _Public_, he admonished himself. They were in _public,_ dammit. Harry cleared his throat and tried for coherent thought. Who would have known that Severus Snape went for public displays of affection? Or was it humiliation? Dammit. Coherent thought. Coherent. "Nothing, Severus. Are…are you alright?" What kind of question was that?

Severus leered. "I'm fine, Harry. Why do you ask?"

Jerk. Harry sighed, he wasn't sure if he, himself, was alright. "Just wondering." He started forward, but the love potion didn't bang against his thigh when he moved. Harry halted again, blinking back up at Severus, his thoughts clicking into place. "_Sev_." The sneak!

The man held up the potion, glittering in his long fingered hand. Harry wondered if Severus had spelled it out of his pocket, or just pick-pocketed it, Muggle-style. Harry stepped back to resume his place at Severus's side. He cleared his throat again. Too much had changed. Nothing was simple anymore. There was probably a time when Severus would not even have pretended to care about the potion, or at least pretended not to. Harry wondered if he should be worried about the look Severus gave the vial. Love potions merely inspire _lust_, the man had said_._ Lust. As if they didn't have enough of that already. Harry winced, shifting from foot to foot. Public, dammit.

Amazing at how well the smile had worked, back there in the shop. Harry smiled to himself and wondered if he'd ever be able to use that trick again.

"Love Potions," Severus drawled calmly, and Harry wondered if the same thoughts were swirling around behind those dark eyes that were inside his own head. Something resembling a smile touched Severus's eloquent lips. In a quick movement that even Harry—who had once been a Seeker—was unable to follow, Severus tossed the potion away. It arched, glittering in the air, spinning silver rainbows, and landed in the cauldron of a passing wizard. The poor old man stopped cold, staring into the pot as if a bomb had just been dropped and if he so much as moved it would go off. War did that to people. Harry grimaced, but couldn't bring himself to attempt a remedy for the situation. He'd been a Seeker once, _once._ Thoughts of Quidditch made him cold and sad all at once. He tried to smile, but his face felt stiff.

"We don't need it," Severus said, eyes recalling the arc the potion had taken, and nodded his head almost politely at the old wizard's terrified expression. The poor man looked from Severus to the cauldron, shivered in fear, and tottered away.

Don't need it? Harry felt something warm and damp flutter in his chest. Oh, he did not need to think about that. He put thoughts of Quidditch aside and willed Severus's eyes to return to him. What had he meant by that? Why did they have to be in _public_, dammit? Harry cursed aloud.

Startled black eyes turned to Harry. Startled looked good on Severus Snape. Harry launched himself at the man. It was called 'public display of affection' for a reason. Affection? Harry stopped thinking, and let his lips move over Severus's. Severus returned the kiss with far more alacrity than Harry had expected. He needed to stop expecting things, really.

Well.

Hmm.

Apparently they were speaking the same language after all.

Harry pulled himself back for air, wondered if his own eyes were sparkling the way Severus's were. What the hell had the man meant when he'd said they didn't need the bloody love potion?

The passersby around them had slowed to a crawl, and all the witches and wizards were looking at them out of the corners of their eyes, curiosity on their faces. At least they dared to look. At least they cared. Harry sighed in content. The war was over. He wanted to do a little dance, right there in the street, but it would have meant loosening his death-grip on Severus Snape. The war was over, and he was going to Academe, just like Severus had done.

Harry unwound his arms and stepped back, wishing his brain would just stop working for a minute or an hour. He remembered the look on Neville's face as he fell, and his stomach soured. Dammit. Why couldn't the war just be _over_? Why couldn't he forget? The bloodiest bits replayed in his head, reminding him once again just why he shouldn't, couldn't ever be happy. Not ever, not again. Not after what had happened.

"Harry?" Severus asked in a damp whisper, a question in his eyes.

"I'm fine." Let's go, he didn't add, not wanting to snap. Let it go. He couldn't forget, not in the middle of Diagon Alley. Nobody wore red robes, here, nearly nobody—with the exception of Severus—wore black. That had obvious implications. No blood, no death. Somehow violet and emerald got caught up with fear in Harry's head and for a moment he swayed, lost. Severus's hand cupped his elbow, pulled him back.

"Harry," Severus repeated.

"What do you mean, Severus?" Harry asked, not meeting his eyes.

"What?"

"You said…" Harry searched for courage, for cunning. His hands shook as he remembered more than he wanted to. It had been a while since he'd been to Diagon Alley. There were no more Death Eaters there. There was no death. Harry cleared his throat. Lust or love? Love or lust? "You said that we didn't need it…the love potion. What did you mean?" 

Severus laughed, a soft gust of air, but there was no amusement in the sound, and his black eyes still glimmered with worry. That indefinable something had strengthened, and for once Harry didn't want to know what it was. He had to know. Severus's strong, fine hands wrapped around Harry's waist, drawing him ever closer. "What did you want it to mean?" Severus asked, and silenced whatever answer Harry could have fabricated with his lips.

Public Displays of Affection. Whoever would have thought? They were most definitely going to merit the cover of _Witch's Weekly_ if they kept on with it. Stupid question it was, too, because a small part of Harry's brain started hypothesizing. What did he want it to mean?

Lust or love? Love or lust?

Harry pulled back. "What are we doing?" It felt too much like comfort, it felt too familiar to be real. Severus's hands were strong on his back, too heavy to be the weight of dreaming, too soft to be hostile. For once in far too long, Harry realized that he was comfortable. He'd slept, ate, drank sugared tea, been held. It was so close to happiness that Harry couldn't tell the difference.

"I don't know," Severus replied, but the sparkle in his eyes suggested that he did. "Maybe we should leave before we cause a scene?"

They had already caused a scene. The slow-walkers had finally just stopped, a few mouths were open in shock, and a discontent muttering was going up from the crowd—from those that couldn't see. Harry drew back a little further, thought about blushing, but thought better of it. Severus was giving the crowd a haughty look, hampered by the fact that he hadn't taken his hands of Harry. Harry realized with a shock that Severus's gaze was proprietary, 'mine, don't touch.' He almost blushed again.

"Hn," Severus said finally, looking back at Harry as if he had just made a very important point to the large throng. Looking at the wide eyes surrounding them, Harry figured he probably had. "Shall we go?"

"Um," Harry said eloquently as they started forward. "I need to buy some things."

"Such as?" Severus asked, without halting his pace.

Harry faught down the urge to say 'um' again. . Silence and wide eyes coiled around them, trailed behind them like a train, formed ahead of the pair like a committee. Rumors spread fast in Diagon Alley. This one was _sure_ to make _Witch's Weekly_ and the _Daily Prophet_ at least. "Scales, my old set is pathetic," Harry said with as much force as he could manage, trying to slow Severus. "I'm nearly out of witchhazel, and I need more beetles—"

Severus stopped, turned. His eyes were nearly opaque. Harry tried hard not to tremble. There really wasn't anything the man could do to him but stare, but it felt as if the look alone was a knife in his chest. "Scales," Harry repeated. "My old set is pathetic."

"You don't need them," Severus said after a pause.

"Severus—"

"You _don't need them_," Severus repeated, with emphasis. "I'm not letting you go out and buy a set of cheap tin scales." _Cheap!_ "I'll give you a proper set."

Words bubbled to Harry's lips, but he faught it down frantically before he could say something stupid about 'owing.' That was not a discussion they needed to have. Ever. Memories of Wizards Bonds and Peter Pettigrew tried to rise up in his head, but Harry faught them down. "Um. Thank you…The ingredients?"

Severus rolled his eyes. It was a remarkably childish expression, and the cold lump in Harry's chest dissapated seeing it. "I've got plenty," the man said in a rough tone.

_What's mine is yours_? Harry filled into the silence, and for some reason the thought made him warm. "An apartment?" Harry said belatedly. "I was looking for an apartment." The day before. He'd been looking for an apartment and a job and some sort of grip on his life the day before, then he'd gone over for tea with Severus Snape. The tea had sugar, the second time, and the little snake on the mantle reminded him of Nagini. Harry's breath caught. Would wonders never cease? Really.

Severus's eyes darkened, and he looked at Harry with something like worry in his expression. "You'll stay with me, of course," the man said with a arrogance Harry could see was feinged. "I'll even let you pay rent and redecorate." Because the house was in green and silver, tastefully done, but very Slytherin. It would grate on a Gryffindor, right? It was a large house, big enough to get lost in. How had Severus guessed that paying rent was important? The apprehension in Severus's eyes deepened as Harry remained silent.

Harry let the thoughts tumble around in his brain, knowing what the answer was, but needing to justify it. Shouldn't, wouldn't, could never be happy? What was happiness, anyway? Was sleeping with the nasty old potions master, who reminded him of the war, happines? Living in a green and silver house, using the man's extra scales for a job just a door away from Knockturn Alley? Subjecting himself to even more schooling? Harry felt a smile growing and didn't bother to quell it. "Sure," he said, when he'd meant to ask how much rent he'd have to pay. "It sounds good." Well, but it did.

The anxiety vanished, and Severus swooped down, claiming Harry's lips for a third time in public.

Harry raised his eyebrows in a Snape-like expression when Severus had finally pulled away. His breath was short, and the crowd was thicker. "What now?" Job? Check. Home? Check. Grip on Life?

Severus's lips twitched, and the man stepped away. "Home." He Dissaparated.

Harry blinked, suddenly alone in a crowd of colour. He glanced around, cleared his throat nervously. The scar was probably very, very visible. He Dissaparated before he could even think of blushing again.

Check.


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor, Romance