Author: kira-nerys
Title: Too Young To Fall In Love
Rating: PG, barely.
Disclaimer: Severus Snape, Harry Potter and all the magic belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me. No infringement on her copyright is intended, and I make not a single pence on this.
Feedback: kira at kardasi dot com
Summary: Severus Snape sends Harry away.
Notes: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q-Fest, run expertly by the lovely and skilled T'Boy and Luthien. Kudos girls, for doing such a great job. The fest is located here: http://www.sockiipress.org/~luthien/snapeff/index.html
Archiving: The Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest Archive, and Inkstained Fingers when the exclusivity period is up.
Spoilers: None
Challenge reply: Three-word challenge: looking-glass, queen and mirror.
Beta reader: Alysun and Rapparee. Thank you! They've been great and all remaining errors are entirely my own.
URL: http://www.kardasi.com

Too Young To Fall in Love

"I love you, Severus."

The words of this teenage boy set him aflame. Snape even forgot to scold Potter for using his first name, and the clumsy kiss from wet, eager and young lips was almost his undoing. Seductive and strong, the need sizzled through his mind and body like fiery flames he could barely withstand. Eager hands pulled at his robes and wanted to rid him of them. But as was his habit, Severus stomped on the flames ruthlessly. He grabbed Potter's hands by the wrists, hard enough to cause pain, and pushed the boy away.

"You have no idea what you're saying, Mr. Potter," he sneered. Where Potter found the courage to even touch him in this manner, he couldn't fathom. Had he been so careless that even a young boy like Potter had noticed his yearning looks? Had he been so obvious in his burning desire for this infuriating child?

Potter, however, didn't seem to be even remotely deterred by his resistance. He should have known that the Boy Who Lived would not yield so easily. Harry looked at him with the same stubborn petulance that he always did whenever Snape said or did something he didn't like. Snape winced when he realized that his mind had started to think of the boy as "Harry" rather than Potter. That was beyond bad.

"I know exactly what I want. I want you," Potter persisted, lips wet from the kiss Snape had barely managed to extricate himself from.

"You're a child," he pointed out, his voice strangled. "For what reason this infatuation has occurred, I do not know, but it will pass."

The words surely hurt him more than they hurt Potter.

"I'm not a child. I know what I want. I've known what I've wanted for a long time!" The protest was violent and the green eyes shot angry sparks at Snape.

"Have you now?" Severus laughed. "You know nothing."

The laughter was bitter and cold, and it echoed the emptiness he felt. But he must use whatever weapons he possessed to push Potter away. It was better to cut this madness off, now rather than later. Before he started to hope ... before he released the passion that lived inside him. For when he did, the raging beast would not be easily subdued. He'd fought against a similar need before and suffered from having to do so. But it had been so long ... and he wanted, wanted so desperately to listen to the seductive words coming from Harry's lips, and to give in.

But he had not, not then and he would not now. Snape turned his back and left the boy standing in the classroom. It was the last lesson of the last day of the last year of Potter's education at Hogwarts, but Severus knew that Potter was still too young to know what he wanted. He was only seventeen, so Severus now forced himself to say everything he knew was necessary.

"Tell me one thing, Severus," Potter asked, just as Snape was about to leave the classroom.

The name sizzled through him, uttered by that still young but very male voice. How tempting it was ... Potter no longer sounded like a child.

He stopped right at the door, considered Potter's words and then turned around, allowing himself to drink in the sight of that beautiful young man. He is a child, Severus's inner voice insisted, the voice that kept the beast tightly reigned in. Severus allowed himself to enjoy this vision once more, before Harry left Hogwarts and would be gone forever.

"I have not given you permission to use my first name, Mr. Potter," Snape said, trying to keep his voice as cold and distanced as always, even though he shivered each time his given name passed over Potter's lips. When Potter said nothing in return, Snape felt impatience creep up his spine.

"What?" he ground out. "What is it you wish to know?" He could not let Potter leave without knowing the question. It would drive him mad.

"If I weren't a ... child." Potter's voice caught on the word, as though it tasted like Hippogriff piss. Then he lifted his chin and met Severus's eyes levelly. "Would there have been a chance?"

Severus sighed, knowing that even that sigh was enough to give away how he truly felt. And sure enough, he saw the green eyes flash with hope.

"You will find others to love. Others who are more appropriate, who will make you feel true love and not infatuation with a man old enough to be your father."

Potter seemed stunned, as though the words were something he had not expected from Snape, and perhaps his reaction was not so strange. Severus Snape had not said many kind words to Harry Potter during the seven years their lives had crossed each other's paths.

"I will prove to you that I'm not as young as you think," Potter said and turned on his heel.

That was the last time Severus Snape had seen Harry Potter.

*  *  *

A soft hoot disturbed Severus Snape from his deep concentration and he turned his head to see a white owl at his desk. Her talons clicked against the surface of his desk as she edged closer and then stopped a few inches away. She sat, watching him with soft, big eyes, the kindness nearly painful in its intensity. Then Severus Snape realized whom the owl belonged to.

Harry Potter.

The memory of their last meeting came flooding back and with the memories, the pain he had felt at pushing the boy out of his life, for his own sake – yes – but mostly for Potter's.

The white owl stuck out her leg to offer the parchment that was attached to it.

Severus wasn't exactly surprised to see that his hands were trembling. Why was Harry Potter contacting him now, after all this time? Nearly five years had gone by since they had last met, and not a single message had reached Severus Snape, save for the numerous articles in the Daily Prophet telling about the famous Harry Potter's life, his adventures – amorous or not – and his current whereabouts. Considering Rita Skeeter's less than trustworthy pen, Severus did not take much of what the articles said about Potters amorous adventures to heart, however. At least, he tried not to. Save for this gossip, there had been no contact between them, so why now?

Snape unrolled the parchment with sweaty palms while the owl waited. She seemed to not expect any kind of treat, although it was customary to feed an owl that brought mail. Probably the insufferable brat had told her not to expect such kindness from Severus Snape. Just to shut up Harry's voice in his head, Snape pulled out some extra tasty treats for her. She hooted, her demeanour friendly, and nipped his finger as he offered her the luxurious treat. In truth, taking care of the owl was only a way to stall what he knew he had to do.

"You can leave now," he muttered, refusing to hear the hope in his own voice. If she left, that would mean Harry didn't expect an answer. But the snowy owl only tilted her head to the side and looked at him with reproach in her yellow eyes. 

"No," he sighed. "I didn't think so." Of course, the famous Harry Potter wanted an answer –and he wanted it now. 

Snape turned his gaze toward the parchment. It was filled with Potter's abysmally careless script with words tumbling over themselves. He put his back to the owl, not wanting her to see his reactions as though she could report back to her master and give away all of Snape's secret hopes and deepest desires.

Professor.

Snape admitted to himself that he would have liked it if the letter had started with his given name. Insolent was the way he remembered Potter, and the way Snape preferred him. Most of his students acted like frightened rabbits, but Potter never had, and the formality now did not bode well.

I just want to say thank you. I understand now why you wanted me to leave. I still don't know if you wanted me. I thought so at the time, but now, so many years later, I keep telling myself that it was merely the wishful thinking of an adolescent boy.

Maybe you still think I'm young, but I've seen a lot more now. I've seen the world; you might find it amusing to know that I even met the queen that the muggles hold in such high regard. I remember your sneer when you heard about that the first time. I've also worked my way through many different positions, and I'm an Auror now. I even followed your advice. I found pleasure with the beautiful men that I suspect you wanted me to fall in love with, and you were right; I was too young to really understand what love was. I had no experience, and I had nothing to compare with. Perhaps in time, I would have resented you for not letting me spread my wings and see if I could find different kinds of love elsewhere. Now, I have experienced all those things you wanted me to see, and I will be eternally grateful to you for making me leave you, no matter how much it hurt me then.

Snape put the parchment down on the desk and swallowed. Knowing that he had done the right thing years earlier brought little comfort right now. A voice inside him cried: "Fool, you let him go!" insisting that had he allowed the boy to show his affections on that day, he would at least have had that.

Potter had hated him before, it would not have made much difference to Snape if he had left in anger some days, weeks or even years later, when he realized that what he'd felt for his "greasy Potions master" wasn't love after all, but Severus would have had the experience ... but despite what many people might think of him, he was not a monster.

He regretted for a moment that he hadn't given in, but some part of Snape found comfort in knowing that he had done the right thing, the right thing for Potter at least, and Snape admitted to himself that it was the most important thing after all. 

I have seen other kinds of love. It's been grand, but it's enough now. I gave myself five years to find the kind of love you told me about. I promised myself I wouldn't contact you before then, but if you were still alone and I still cared for you, I'd write after those five years. So here it is, and here I am. I'm offering you my heart in the letter I've so desperately wanted to write ever since the day you left me standing in your classroom. Nobody else has been able to fill the void you left behind. In my head, I've written this letter so many times, and now I find it so difficult, but what I truly wanted to say – all that I wanted to say is:

I still love you, Severus.

Snape swallowed deeply once more. A quick glance in the looking-glass showed him a bitter man, with greasy hair and potions-stained fingers, a nose that was still too big for his face, thin lips and eyes that could freeze anyone with a glare, but if this was what Harry Potter wanted, who was he to argue?

Let me know by return post if you would welcome me. Send a note with Hedwig, please.

Yours, always,

Harry.

Severus felt as though his throat were filled with sand, but he reached for the quill at his desk, and an empty piece of parchment. With a hasty glance at Hedwig he wrote a single word.
 
As Harry's owl flew out the window with his response and disappeared, Snape buried his face in his hands. He would have rather died in the agony of a thousand Cruciatus curses than let anyone know that his eyes were stinging. How long he had been sitting there he did not know, and when the door to his office opened he blinked furiously, expecting to see anyone but the young, absolutely beautiful man who stood there with a tentative smile on his lips.

Harry Potter.

Snape rose to his feet and claimed the kiss he had so desperately wanted five years earlier. It was heaven to finally feel those luscious lips open underneath his own and know that now, Harry knew what love was and he had chosen to share it with Snape.

As he wrapped his arms around Harry, a piece of parchment fluttered toward the floor landing with its script facing the ceiling. There was only one word written on its creamy surface in Snape's distinct handwriting.

Come.

The End.