Languages of Love

Monday morning came quickly, and with it came the last pieces of the plan. Harry had Owled the editor of the Daily Prophet - using Hedwig, of course - and arranged for the day's crossword puzzle to be changed; it was all part of the plan. The editor had been all too eager to help, signing the silence and secrecy pact without a moment's thought; Harry knew the document, which meant the information it covered - in this case, the change in the crossword puzzle - would be withheld from everyone else, including Muggles, squibs and magical creatures as well as witches and wizards, was just legal rubbish, but it had to be done. If word got out about Harry and Snape's relationship, things would get very ugly, very quickly, and the Potions Master would have no reason to trust Harry when he said that he really cared.

Entering the Great Hall, Harry felt butterflies of apprehension fluttering in his stomach, stealing his appetite; he hadn't eaten much all weekend and Ron and Hermione had a tight grip on him, so Harry was kept from forsaking breakfast altogether. Instead, he sat down with his friends in the middle of the Gryffindor table, robotically eating whatever Hermione put in front of him and watching the owls fly into the hall, carrying the post and copies of the Daily Prophet for students and teachers alike.

Harry knew that Severus did the Daily Prophet crossword during the free period he insisted on having every morning. Snape's refusal to take a class during first period was always attributed to the idea that the students were not awake enough to refrain from blowing up the laboratory first thing in the morning. Harry, however, knew otherwise; and Severus would be finished with the crossword by the time their own Potions lesson began. Harry and the other Gryffindors had Potions at the end of the day, although only a handful of them actually matched up to Snape's standards.

***

Severus Snape was more irate and short-tempered than usual. Once again, he had ended something that had been making him happy in order to avoid possible future pain. Snape wasn't quite sure when Potter, the golden hero, had become Harry to him; not the James Potter/ Sirius Black clone, not the boy-who-lived, not the boy who killed Voldemort twice, but just Harry. Snape now thought of him as just Harry, who was young and hadn't yet lived his life enough to know what he wanted. He didn't want to see the emerald-eyed boy tied down by someone much older and much more selfish than the martyr-prone boy was. The notion that Severus had no idea that Harry would one day find someone much more suitable than himself insulted his intelligence.

Harry was not only young, but also wizened beyond his years, and admittedly attractive, his physique defined but still too thin. Anybody, Severus determined, with a set of functioning eyes could see that Harry was attractive. The question, therefore, was: why would Harry, especially being the person he was, want to be with him? The logical answer was that he wouldn't. Snape was hook-nosed, usually greasy-haired, mostly friendless, snarky, and generally unpleasant to be around; there was no reason to believe that young, attractive Harry Potter would actually be interested in him. Snape had therefore taken the preventative measure of removing the younger male from his presence, ensuring they didn't have to see each other any more than necessary. The action would save them both, or at least himself, any pain in the coming months.

Snape swept into the Great Hall, obsidian robes billowing behind him. He stepped up to the head table and took his place between the Headmaster and Minerva McGonagall. Severus filled his plate and began to eat just as silently as he had arrived, staring at the Gryffindor table with more vehemence than usual. His eyes swept over Harry, the onyx orbs glittering with contempt; they focused on the younger male, as he picked at some toast and made general conversation with the other Gryffindor students.

The owl landed beside his breakfast plate and waited for him to pay the delivery fee, a paltry two knuts, before dropping the paper in his lap and flying off. As he retrieved the crossword section from the paper and tucked it into his robes, Snape noticed something awry with the way Harry was looking at him; the boy bore the countenance of a frightened rabbit, before he turned back to his plate. Harry hurriedly gulped his food and fled the room, almost as though he was going to be late for something. Severus finished his food in no great hurry, watching as Ron and Hermione abandoned their breakfasts to go after Harry. Once the two of them had left, Severus finished his own plate and stood, leaving the hall to go to the staff room, where he intended to read the Prophet and do the crossword.

***

Severus found nothing particularly fascinating about the contents of the paper: a few veterans from the war giving testimonials, the Weasley twins taking out a full page advertisement, but nothing incredibly interesting or eye-catching. Sighing, he started on the crossword. Most of the clues were difficult enough that he had to think, but not so difficult that they frustrated him. However, four questions were so blindingly obvious that he knew Harry was behind them, although he knew most of the public would call it a fluke and he was certain that Harry would too, depending on how he approached the boy about it. Nonetheless, he circled the numbers and changed the colour of his ink to Slytherin green, so that it would stand out when he presented the paper to Harry after class.

***

Harry grew increasingly fidgety as the hours passed, occasionally remarking to Hermione that he shouldn't have implemented the first part of the plan. However, everyone knew Harry was brash and rarely thought things through before he carried them out. While Harry was expecting the order to stay after class, he wasn't expecting the conversation that followed.

"Potter, what games are you playing?" Severus demanded, a low growl in his tone.

Incredibly, Harry looked calmly at the newspaper, taking note of the circled numbers and the green ink.

"Games, professor?" he queried, before his voice took on a serious tone and he looked into Severus' eyes. "I'm not playing any games."

It seemed as though Severus didn't believe him; instead he began to recite from the newspaper. "Number twenty-four: Vos Amo in English. Number twenty-five: Current Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Number twenty-six: Not to, but blank. Number twenty-seven: The boy-who-lived." Severus looked at Harry dryly. "You cannot honestly expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this. It is not just a mere coincidence."

"But it's true. I do love you, Severus, and I'm willing to do anything to prove it," Harry replied quickly, his green eyes sparkling determinedly.

Severus sneered in contempt. "You are a mere child. You know nothing about the affairs of the heart. Remove yourself from my presence at once."

Disheartened, Harry physically sagged. "Yes, professor," he replied. Harry turned and gathered his belongings, before walking out of the classroom, looking dejected. Hermione gave him a hug, whilst Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"That's alright, Harry. We'll get him with the next one," Hermione consoled, as they walked away from the dungeon.