Shattered

"Fuck Cupid, just hand over the candy and no one gets hurt!" Harry Potter sighed and rolled his eyes, inwardly cringing at his best friend's utter lack of decorum. The two of them were standing in front of the counter at Weasely's Wizard Wheezes, attempting to purchase a Valentine's gift for Hermione. The twins were having a field day, offering Ron all sorts of sexy, lewd, and downright disturbing Valentine's Day paraphernalia, including the self-pleasuring Cupid statuette they were currently dangling in front of his face.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, switching his weight from one foot to the other, praying the twins would for once in their lives be compassionate and just let them get the hell out of there.

No such luck.

Fred held up a pair of pink panties that sang "Love Me Do" every time a man came near. Harry couldn't imagine why anyone would actually want to wear the horrid things, though Ron looked slightly intrigued before blushing scarlet and shaking his head. After another excruciating 25 minutes, the twins grew tired of humiliating Ron, and allowed him to purchase the relatively tame, though in their opinion, boring, box of candy.

Clutching the ridiculously frilly heart-shaped box under his arm and folding up the guarantee stating the candy would not turn his girlfriend into any sort of woodland creature or cause her to suffer from strange appearance-altering diseases, Ron was finally satisfied with their excursion to Hogsmeade. He and Harry made their way quickly back to Hogwarts, just managing to squeeze through the door with the last trickle of third-years attempting to make their little holiday last as long as possible.

Ron ran up to Gryffindor tower to hide the candy from Hermione's prying eyes, while Harry lagged behind. He had always hated Valentine's Day, as it seemed something bad happened every year, and this one was shaping up to be no different. It was February 2^nd, and already Dumbledore had the halls decked out with floating hearts, house elves dressed as cupids, and spells everywhere that made kissing noises whenever a student was unlucky enough to walk through one.

To make matters even worse, Harry had received a letter saying he would begin wandless-magic lessons the very next day. That in and of itself was not the problem. The problem was the one who would bestow these lessons on him: Professor Snape.

Harry thought Dumbledore had finally lost his marbles. Hadn't he learned anything from the Occlumency disaster? He and Snape did not work well together, period. This was bound to be a huge fiasco that would haunt his nightmares for years to come. He seriously considered mailing Dumbledore all the therapy bills he was sure to accumulate once he graduated in June.

But like it or not, he was due to meet Snape in the dungeons the following morning at 7:00 sharp. They were to meet every morning before classes until Snape was satisfied Harry had his magic under control. Lately, Harry had been causing more and more accidents without even realizing he was doing so. Of course, that had happened before, back when he didn't know he was a wizard, but it was always in times of extreme emotional duress. Now, they seemed to be happening randomly, at the most awkward times. And they somehow usually involved glass. It would crack, shatter, or disappear completely, depending on Harry's mood.

Madame Pomfrey thought it was hormones, but Harry was fairly sure he had hit puberty several years before. Many people said it was related to Voldemort - that he was gaining more power, and Harry was experiencing the effects of that.

Snape's job was to help Harry harness this magic, and use it constructively. And though even in his seventh year Harry still detested Snape, he vowed to himself that he would at least try to work with him, if only to get his little problem under control. Lately, a glass would shatter every time Cho Chang walked into the room, and it was beginning to get embarrassing. He wasn't still interested in Cho, but there had always been some bitterness between them ever since fifth year.

Harry shook his head and made his way up to the tower, hoping he had dawdled long enough that everyone would be in bed by the time he got to his dormitory. He wasn't in the mood for playing "20 New and Sadistic ways Snape will find to Torture Harry." Lucky for him, Ron and Neville were already snoring, and Seamus and Dean were nowhere to be found.

Harry changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, placing his glasses on his night stand and shoving his wand in the holder just over his headboard. He attempted to read up on some archaic old book Snape had assigned him on wandless magic, but it was difficult to follow, and Harry found it more conducive to sleep than to magic. Yawning, he put out the light and was asleep in seconds.

Next morning, Harry was at the dungeons right on time, not wanting to give Snape any reason to criticize him. This only seemed to irritate the man as he barked at Harry to follow him, and led him to his own private quarters. Harry followed without a word, though he was dying to ask why they were having their lessons in Snape's rooms.

Snape paused at the door and whispered a password. Harry stood back a polite distance, though he thought he heard Snape say Draco's name. Harry found this odd, but thought better of mentioning it. The door swung open and Snape walked briskly inside. Nervous, Harry hung back until Snape returned to the doorway and snapped, "Well? What are you waiting for, an embossed invitation?" Harry flinched but quickly headed into the room.

How unfortunate for Snape that he kept a large portion of his potions ingredients in his private rooms, all of which were contained in vials, beakers, and flasks of glass.

***

"Severus, what on earth happened to you?" Snape glared daggers at the concerned werewolf across the table.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Make-my-Life-Hell happened, Remus," Snape said through gritted teeth.

Remus smiled softly. "I see. And what horrible torment has Harry inflicted upon you this time?"

"The little bugger shattered nearly every piece of glass I own. Lucky for him I keep my rarest ingredients locked away in a different room. Otherwise, he'd think Voldemort's wrath was a childish tantrum next to mine."

Remus continued to smile. "Have you figured out exactly what's causing all this unconscious magic?"

Snape frowned. "No. Although I do think it's somehow related to emotions. Whether it's his or Voldemort's I'm not sure. And why are you still carrying on with that infernal grinning?"

Remus laughed aloud at this. "It's nothing, Severus. I just think this will be a good opportunity for you and Harry to put aside your differences and work together. As much as you pretend to hate one another, I know beneath it all lies respect and perhaps a little bit of admiration."

Snape snorted. "Perhaps you've never hated anyone before, Remus, but trust me when I say, that's not pretend."

Remus just grinned once again and murmured, "We'll see." Snape, thoroughly irritated at Remus's total lack of sympathy, left the teachers' lounge without so much as a goodbye and stalked back down to the dungeons.

***

Harry was in a panic. Snape hadn't said a word when all his glass containers exploded, sending shards of razor-sharp glass flying through the room. He hadn't even glanced at Harry as he stalked out of the room, leaving Harry completely alone in his private quarters. Harry, feeling the pit in his stomach growing steadily heavier, left Snape's quarters for the safety of the Hogwarts kitchens. Dobby was more than happy to ease Harry's embarrassment with a large portion of shepherd's pie and a lemon tart.

Feeling not quite so ill, Harry trudged back to his dorm room and vowed to hide there until graduation.

Which isn't too far from what actually happened.

***

June came fast and quiet, with no significant disasters (unless you count Draco Malfoy's unfortunate encounter with a very put-off hinkypunk) and no overt threats from Voldemort. Graduation was anticlimactic, to say the least. Harry and friends received their diplomas, along with a swift kick into the real world.

Ron and Hermione immediately moved into a cramped but charming little flat outside Muggle London. They were short on material possessions but long on love, which, to Harry's utter dismay, they exuded from every pore of their over-infatuated bodies.

As for Harry, he moved into Sirius's old house at 12 Grimmauld Place. Though he was excited about inheriting the home he had shared with Sirius for far too short a time, he was less than thrilled about inheriting the portrait in the front hall.

"... an abomination! Blood traitor! Bringing that Muggle-lover into my home! It's an -"

"SHUT UP MRS. BLACK!" Harry yanked the curtain violently in front of the portrait of Sirius's mum, muttering curses to himself as he dashed into the kitchen.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he yelled as the shrill ringing of his telephone vied for attention over the dying screams from the hall. He'd had the phone installed for the sake of maintaining appearances, not to mention the fact that he hated communicating by fire. It also amused the hell out of Ron whenever he came to visit.

Just now, Harry was regretting the decision to have the bloody thing. He swore loudly as his feet, clad only in a pair of old socks, slipped on the tile floor and sent him crashing into the dinette. Groaning, Harry grabbed the phone and muttered an angry and somewhat breathless "Hello?" He was met with silence. "Hello?" he said again, disentangling himself from a wooden chair. "Look, I don't have time for -"

"Potter?!?" The voice sounded faraway, as though the speaker was shouting from a great distance.

"Hello?" said Harry again. "Who is this?"

"Potter! Are you there?" The voice was strangely familiar, but Harry couldn't place it.

Puzzled, he said, "Yes, this is Harry Potter..."

"POTTER!" Harry winced and held the phone away from his ear. There was something about that voice... something in those low, even tones...

"Snape?!?" Harry's exclamation was met with muffled grumbling from the other end. "Professor, what on earth...?" Snape didn't respond. Harry could still here him muttering, but he sounded so far away - he couldn't have been speaking into the mouthpiece.

And then Harry figured it out.

"Professor!" he yelled. "Turn the phone around!" There was no response. Harry sucked in a breath. "TALK INTO THE OTHER END, SNAPE!"

There was a long moment when Harry thought Snape had hung up, but then he heard a small, dignified cough.

"Professor?" he said, trying not to laugh.

"Hello, Potter," Snape said in a clipped tone. Harry waited, but Snape didn't continue.

"Professor, are you still there?"

"Yes, of course," he snapped.

"Ah, well, I was concerned the telephone had gotten the best of you."

"This is no time for your insolent jokes, Potter."

"Sorry," Harry said, attempting without success to sound contrite. "What's the matter?"

"It's Voldemort."

Harry felt a chill run through his veins, freezing his very blood. Of course, he knew Voldemort would return someday, but he'd gotten so content in his normal, mundane lifestyle that he'd almost been able to forget about the terror Voldemort had wreaked on him and those he loved. He found himself completely unprepared to deal with this news.

"W-why are you contacting me this way?" he asked, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"It seemed to be the least likely to be intercepted, as Voldemort has yet to decipher the mysteries of the Muggle telephone system," said Snape.

Harry wanted to reply, "Neither have you," but he couldn't bring himself to make light of the situation. Instead he said, "What are we going to do?"

"You are going to stay in your house and keep your nose out of trouble, Mr. Potter, while the rest of us try to figure out Voldemort's plans."

"You can't expect me to just sit here and do nothing!" Harry was upset that after all these years, the Order still thought of him as a helpless child.

"Oh, we can, Mr. Potter, and we do." Snape said, and Harry could just hear him smirking. "Besides, that isn't all you'll be doing."

"What?"

Snape sighed and hesitated, as though he also wasn't too thrilled about what he was going to say next.

"Dumbledore wants us to continue your wandless magic lessons."

"WHAT?" Harry nearly dropped the phone. Was Dumbledore going senile? Would he never learn? Harry plus Snape did not equal a happy mix.

"It isn't exactly my idea of a holiday either, Potter, but those are Dumbledore's wishes. Besides, Voldemort's power is growing stronger by the minute, and we've got to get you ready to face him. If you aren't at the absolute top of your game, he will crush you."

Harry had to admit the truth in that statement, but he wouldn't do it easily. "Fine then," he grudgingly conceded. "Floo over here whenever you like - I've nothing better to do." Without saying goodbye, Harry hung up the phone and leaned his head against a cupboard door. These were the times he missed Sirius the most - missed having someone paternal to go to for advice and comfort. He was just beginning to feel really sorry for himself, when a loud thump issued from the living room.

Harry ran in and gasped.

Severus Snape was lying on the floor in a tangled mass, and he was positively seething with anger.

***

"You could have warned me that your fireplace was boarded up," Snape said between clenched teeth as Harry handed him a cup of tea.

"You could have warned me you were coming the second you hung up the phone," Harry replied bitterly. He took his own cup and sat down in an armchair, casting an angry glare at his glasses, the lenses of which were now shattered. Fortunately, there was nothing else around made of glass when Snape had tumbled into his living room.

Snape followed Harry's eyes to the broken glasses. With a flick of his wand and a murmured spell, the cracked lenses shimmered and flowed together, flawless again in an instant.

"Thanks," Harry muttered sulkily.

"I see your little problem hasn't gotten any better," Snape said, smirking slightly.

"Actually, that's the first time it's happened in ages," Harry said thoughtfully. "Odd..."

"No time now for speculation, Potter. We've got work to do."

Snape, ever the professor and authority (in his opinion) on pretty much everything, got down to business immediately, setting up a workshop in Harry's little-used sitting room. Harry spent every lesson attempting to generate and then harness his magic, without the aid of his wand. At first, the lessons were grueling and frustrating, and Harry would flop exhausted into bed at night, but after some time his magic came more easily, and he began to gain control over it.

The days flew by, turning into weeks, and eventually months. Members of the Order came and went, bringing news of Voldemort's growing army. Snape stayed in a nearby hotel during this time, Apparating over to 12 Grimmauld Place every morning to begin his training with Harry.

Until the week before Valentine's Day.

It was February 9^th, and Snape was pulling on his cloak, preparing to return to his hotel. The winter had been fierce, which was a blessing in that it slowed down Voldemort's attacks and allowed the Order to gain some ground in preparing to face him, but a curse in that Harry had been snowed in for weeks and was beginning to go stir-crazy.

Snape gave him a polite nod before Disapparating, and Harry held out a hand. "Wait!" he said, and Snape's eyes snapped up to meet his, surprised. Harry, not really sure what he was going to say, began pacing around the kitchen.

"W-would you like to stay for tea?" he asked, yanking two mugs out of the cupboard. "I thought maybe since it's so cold out..."

Snape looked at him curiously for a moment before saying, "That would be very nice, thank you." His tone was guarded, but not unkind. In fact, Harry couldn't remember either of them using any harsh words toward one another since the first week of their lessons together.

Harry nodded and set about making the tea. A moment later, he stopped, feeling the uncomfortable presence of Snape still standing behind him.

"It's getting late," he commented, not turning to look at Snape. "Why don't I fix dinner instead? It won't take long." He heard Snape slip into one of the chairs gathered around his small kitchen table, and took that as the older man's consent. "Okay, dinner it is. Actually, I was thinking, maybe you should just stay here for tonight. I mean, it's so cold and snowy outside, and I've so many bedrooms in this house." Harry found that he couldn't stop talking, even though he was sure he had no control over the words pouring out of his mouth. He wanted more than anything for Snape to say something, anything, to shut him up.

No such luck.

"Anyway, you might as well stay. Actually, maybe you should just stay all the time. Well, you know... not like, forever or anything... of course I wouldn't... that would be weird... but I mean, just until this whole thing with Voldemort is over. We could... you know... continue our lessons... and you wouldn't have to stay in that horrible hotel anymore. But maybe that's a stupid idea... don't know why I brought it up, actually. Oh, god."

Oh god, indeed, Harry thought to himself. He certainly mucked that one up. Harry leaned against the sink heavily, suddenly feeling quite ill.

"Harry," Snape said slowly, and Harry felt a strange quiver in his stomach at the use of his first name, "there's almost nothing more I can teach you." Harry's throat constricted inexplicably.

"Right. Of course. Erm... thank you. And thanks for all your help. I've appreciated it quite a lot."

"I didn't say I'd taught you everything, you arrogant young fool," Snape said in his familiar, biting tone. Strangely, this calmed Harry immeasurably.

"No, of course not, sir," Harry said softly.

"I suppose," Snape said, seeming to choose his words very carefully, "I could remain here with you at least until we finish our lessons. And besides, it might be best for you to have a member of the Order here at all times, for protection."

Harry couldn't help the grateful grin that broke across his face at Snape's acceptance of his offer. Snape returned it with a small smirk of his own.

"Alright then, after dinner I'll get your room ready." Snape nodded, and the two spent the evening in companionable silence. Once they had finished their meal, Snape returned to the hotel to collect his belongings, while Harry sat at the kitchen table and attempted to collect his thoughts.

Severus Snape is staying in my house. Severus Snape is going to be sleeping in my house, in one of my spare beds, just down the hall from my room. He'll be sleeping less than twenty feet from me.

And for some reason, I'm happy about that.

Harry flinched as the glass door of the oven cracked and splintered, showering the tile floor with tiny shards of glass.

"Oh, bollocks," Harry murmured, and went to retrieve the dustpan, refusing to acknowledge the reason behind the reoccurrence of his little "problem."

***

"You want me to do what?"

Snape sighed, rolling his eyes. "I want you to kill the spider," he said slowly, as if talking to a small child.

"I know that," Harry said impatiently, "but I don't understand how."

"Potter, why am I here?"

"What?"

"Why am I here?"

"Erm.... to teach me wandless magic."

"Very good," Snape said patronizingly.

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "I know you want me to use the avada kedavra without my wand, but I don't know how. I didn't think it was possible to do that kind of magic without a wand."

"It's not." Harry stared at him, confused. Snape continued, "It's against the laws of magic to use such a powerful spell without the aid of a wand, but you have up to this point in your career paid little attention to rules. You defy magical law, Potter. I have no doubt you have the ability to cast the Unforgivables without a wand - you need only learn how to direct your power."

"Thank you," Harry said softly, touched by the somewhat veiled compliment. "Okay, might as well give this a try." Harry took a deep breath and tried to focus on the magic energy within him, attempting to call it to the surface. He felt a vague buzzing in his veins, rushing through his body and pounding in his blood. It grew stronger and stronger as he concentrated all his power on the small black spider scuttling along his desk. He opened his mouth to whisper the two words that would take the spider's life, and felt the magic surge out of him in a great wave.

Harry was shaken by the force of the spell, while Snape was knocked back against the wall, looking surprised and approving. Harry stared down at the spider, now laying impossibly still against the smooth wood beneath it. He had taken its life. The full impact of this realization washed over Harry, leaving him weak and nauseous. He had ended a life, however small, by the sheer force of his will. That type of power was sickening, and Harry felt his knees begin to give.

Snape was there in an instant, grabbing him about the waist and holding him up. "Harry," he said, peering concernedly into the younger man's face. "Harry, you're alright. Don't worry, I'm here."

Harry looked up into the familiar dark eyes without really seeing, his mind still reeling with shock. Snape reached a hand up to touch Harry's cheek, running his knuckles lightly along his jaw.

There was a distant crackling noise, followed by the tinkle of shattered crystal as Harry's abandoned glass of water disintegrated.

In the midst of his overwhelming emotional distress, Harry made a mental note to purchase some plastic cups.

***

Remus Lupin sipped his tea without comment, though inside he was dying to say something. Snape sat across from him in Harry's kitchen, looking tired and overworked. Harry had just left to pick up some groceries when Remus stopped by to drop off some news regarding the resistance against Dumbledore. He had found Snape in quite a state, looking as though he hadn't slept in days.

Which, he found out soon after, he hadn't.

"So why don't you tell me what this is really about?" Remus said after a few moments. Snape had made some excuse about having a touch of the flu, but Remus wasn't buying it. He was determined to break down Snape's walls, no matter how long it took.

"It's Harry," Snape said.

Well, that was easy, Remus thought.

"What about Harry?"

"He told me when we first began training together that he hadn't had any troubles with his 'condition', but ever since I began staying here, it's been out of control. No, I take that back. Ever since... well, suffice it to say it's gotten worse in the past few days. I thought I had gained his trust, Remus. But we've had to replace three windows in the past week. I don't understand why he's so afraid of me."

"Maybe he's not afraid of you," Remus said softly.

"What?"

"Well, you think the problem is definitely connected to his emotions, right?"

"Yes, which is why I'm so confused. I haven't done anything to provoke him." Snape was clearly upset by Harry's reaction to him, and Remus felt quite sorry for him.

"Maybe not in the way you think." Snape looked at him sharply, but Remus merely smiled. "Listen Severus, I've got to be going. I'll be in touch later this week. And do let me know if Harry gets any worse." Snape nodded, resigned. "I'm sure the two of you will be able to work it out," Remus said, with a squeeze to Snape's shoulder. "Oh, and Severus? Happy Valentine's Day."

Remus smiled slyly to himself as he Disapparated.

***

Harry had never felt so miserable. He had spent the entire day avoiding Snape, without really knowing why. He only knew that something broke every time he was around the man, and he was getting sick of buying new dishes.

Harry flopped onto his bed, burying his head in the pillow. He was upset he had missed Remus's visit, and even more upset when Snape announced he was going to be out for the evening. The good news was he wouldn't have to hide in his room all evening. The bad news was that he was too depressed and frustrated to do anything else.

Just when he was beginning to feel really sorry for himself, there was a soft rap at the door. He bolted upright on the bed, his breath suddenly coming fast and shallow.

"Come in," he said softly, knowing without a doubt who would be on the other side of the door. Sure enough, when the door creaked open, it was Snape standing somewhat uncertainly in the doorframe.

"Harry, I..."

The water carafe on Harry's bedstand shattered, sending sharp pieces of glass and drops of water flying in every direction. A small shard embedded itself in Harry's hand, drawing a line of dark crimson blood across his palm. He sucked in a sharp breath, staring transfixed as the drops of blood trickled down his wrist.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Snape muttered, stalking over to the bed. "Honestly, Potter, this is getting ridiculous. Here, let me see." Without waiting for permission, Snape grabbed Harry's hand and, after examining it carefully, healed it with a brief spell.

"Thanks," Harry whispered, refusing to meet Snape's gaze.

"Harry," Snape said, still grasping Harry's hand. Harry continued staring at the bed. "Harry, look at me."

"I.. I can't," Harry said finally, feeling his cheeks flush with color.

Snape sighed. "Why not?"

"I'm afraid I might break something else."

"Oh for the..." Snape got up and went around the room, collecting several small glass trinkets. He shoved them all in a drawer of Harry's chest, and drew the curtains over the window, hoping to muffle the force of Harry's power. He then returned to the bed, sitting tentatively on the edge. "Harry, we need to talk."

Finally, Harry met his gaze, his emerald eyes wide and frightened. The sight broke through what was left of Snape's cold exterior. "Harry, I don't understand why you're afraid of me, why you feel you can't trust me. I thought we had worked past all that."

"I do trust you," Harry said. "And I'm not frightened of you. At least not the way I used to be."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," Harry said, and Snape knew he was telling the truth. The boy was obviously struggling with something, though Snape didn't know how to figure out what that was.

Snape sighed deeply, feeling an incredible and unexplainable sadness. "Harry, I -"

"I love you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, god." Harry buried his head in his hands, wishing desperately he could just sink into the floor. He couldn't believe he had just blurted that out, though suddenly he knew that it was absolutely and irrevocably true.

"Harry," Snape said, placing his hands on the younger man's slim shoulders. Harry flinched, but Snape didn't move away. "Harry," he said again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I don't... I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"What?" Harry looked up quickly, tears glistening in his eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry. I feel... I feel the same way."

Harry nearly fell out of the bed. "You what?"

Snape very nearly laughed, startling Harry even further. "I have for some time, though I never would have told you. I assumed you still hated me, particularly since something explodes every time I come near you. Last week, after the incident with the spider..."

"You touched me," Harry said quietly.

"What?"

"You touched me. I'd wanted that for so long, and then it finally happened. I was already so emotional... I guess it was just too much. After that, I couldn't seem to control my feelings. That's why I avoided you for so long. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Snape said, now beginning to smile in earnest. Harry discovered Snape was actually quite handsome when he wasn't scowling. "Harry," Snape said, raising a hand to trace the contours of Harry's face.

"Yes?" Harry whispered.

"I'm going to kiss you now." Harry said nothing as Snape leaned in slowly, but he placed a hand on the older man's chest at the last second.

"I'm afraid of breaking something," he said softly. Snape laughed.

"Harry, you own the only thing at risk of breaking now," he said.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"My heart."

Harry smiled and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Oh, is that it?" he said, running a hand down Snape's chest and stomach. "And here I thought you meant..."

Snape had him pinned against the bed before he could blink.

The bedroom was nearly silent for some time, until the entire house erupted in a crystal symphony as every piece of glass within fifty feet shattered.

***

Many hours later, Harry lay twined with Snape - Severus - in a sweaty tangle of limbs on his bed. He made a mental list of items that would need replaced after their explosive session, but finally resolved that from then on, he would buy everything in plastic.

Severus nuzzled softly against Harry's ear, and Harry could feel his smile.

"What?" Harry said, grinning.

"Oh, nothing," he whispered, nipping Harry's earlobe.

"What?"

"Happy Day-After-Valentine's-Day."

Harry chuckled. "Why Severus Snape, you hopeless romantic! So, was it good for you?"

"Mmm," Snape agreed, leaning into Harry's inquisitive touch. "I would almost call it earth-shattering."