Languages of Love

The seventh-year student was not amused; he had been forcibly ejected from his lover's rooms earlier that morning and was still brooding about it. Honestly, it had been such a stupid fight, and over his youth no less! Subsequently, he had been removed from the irate Potion Master's rooms with a spell. He had been accused of youth and immaturity, yet he was neither young nor immature, at least mentally. He had defeated the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake. You would assume that, after having accomplished such a feat, he would be considered old enough to know what he wanted. Well, he certainly did know what he wanted: Severus to realize that nothing was going to happen to either of them, excepting the notion that Severus maintained his opinions and he found himself someone his own age. However, he doubted that would happen; not many people could see the subtle charm in the Potion Master, especially when he was cleaned up and had been away from the cauldron for a day or so.

Still, he wondered how he was going to get Severus back. It was going to have to be something clever, something so clever that he would never doubt their relationship again. But how could it be done? He had to do something before the holidays, which were fast approaching; only a fortnight or so remained before Hogwarts broke up for Christmas. As usual, he would be staying at Hogwarts, but he needed a plan before that, and the plan had to prove that he wouldn't tire of Severus, that he loved the older man despite his many flaws. After all, love wasn't perfection; it was seeing all of the imperfections perfectly. That, he decided, was the basis of true love.

Nonetheless, he needed to come up with a plan, and one more substantial than relying on luck, at that. Something solid and stunning was needed, something that would make the surly Potion Master soften up. The question was: what?

"Harry, are you alright? You look a bit... distressed," Hermione asked, sitting beside him on the couch, a book in her arms.

Had he been looking distressed? The predicament with Snape was obviously getting to him more than he'd thought. Harry looked around the common room, half expecting to notice people staring at him, while he thought about the dark-haired male. Thankfully, the common room was empty, its normal occupants in Hogsmeade. This realisation made Harry wonder.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Where's Ron?" he asked, trying to divert her attention from him and sacrificing the youngest Weasley male to the bookworm beside him in the process.

Hermione's face took on a thoughtful expression. "He said he needed to go to Hogsmeade alone," she replied.

The thoughtful look turned to anger, as she continued. "If he's out shopping for Lavender Brown..."

Hermione menacingly left the sentence unfinished, gripping on the leather-bound book even tighter. Harry, for one, knew that if Ron was out shopping alone, the gift he was buying would be for the girl beside Harry, not Lavender. One crisis had been averted, but it appeared as though another was about to begin. The lesser of two evils, however, was having Hermione pester him about the Snape situation. On the other hand, maybe Hermione could help him.

"Hermione, I need your help," he said, after a paid and a sigh.

Hermione looked at him, mouth open, the question on her tongue ready to burst forth. Harry silenced her with a wave of his hand, looked around them and put a silencing charm around them for good measure.

"It's about Snape," he said quietly, causing Hermione's eyes to soften.

Hermione leant over and pulled him into a hug.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured forlornly.

Ron and Hermione both knew about him and Snape, mainly because Harry's affection for the older man had been unrequited and seemed hopeless. However, after the war, it had taken on a hope and then blossomed into something which made Harry happier than when he was playing Quidditch. This was quite a feat for someone whose nicknames were 'Great Bat' and 'The Greasy Git', but Harry was one of the few who saw Snape's subtle good looks for what they were - subtle. Harry thought the professor looked rather nice when his hair was drying immediately after a shower. Standing over a cauldron all day made Snape's hair rather greasy, but when it was clean there was a shine to it unlike the grease; it was a healthy shine.

"He thinks he'll lose me after graduation, so he's pushing me away," Harry explained, leaning against Hermione in defeat. "But he won't... I wouldn't leave him, unless he really wanted me to, unless I was making him unhappy."

He was at a loss, anyone could see that; Hermione looked at him thoughtfully.

"You love him." It wasn't a question, but more a slightly surprised statement.

Harry knew that his friends hadn't thought it was entirely true, until this moment. All three of them had seen the way he talked about Snape, but Harry supposed the fact that Ginny talked about each of her boyfriends with the same admiration and affection in her voice - and she went through at least a boy a week - had diminished the significance of it. He merely nodded miserably in response to Hermione's statement.

"Well, then there's our answer," she replied.

Hermione removed the silencing charm and pulled him up and in the direction of the portrait hole.

"Hermione, where are we going?" he asked, a little startled.

A returning look from Hermione revealed a determined glint in her eyes, indicating that Hermione-style torture was soon to follow.

Four book-filled hours later, the pair of Gryffindors had come up with a plan; more accurately, they had come up with a series of plans, all of which were related to a central goal: the proven love of one Mr. H. J. Potter towards one Mr. S. T. Snape.

The first part of their aforementioned plan was to be effected the following Monday morning.