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Okay, Harry thought to himself, they were both obviously freaked out by this, but both . . . interested, in spite of themselves. Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "I didn't know if you would want to see me again so soon – or at all."
Snape nodded. "I, too, thought the possibility of another such . . . night, unlikely."
"Looks like we were both wrong," Harry said.
"Indeed," Snape answered. He'd been standing straight and stiff as a prisoner facing an execution squad, but at Harry's words, Snape relaxed, leaning his butt back against the semen-splattered desk. He looked more human than Harry had ever seen him before, more approachable.
"Do you think . . . I mean, would you be willing . . . ?" Harry faltered, having no idea how to phrase the question he wanted to ask.
Snape held his gaze and said in a low, tentative tone that clearly revealed his nervousness, "If you were to find yourself at loose ends, you would not be unwelcome here, Potter. I'm home most nights."
Harry couldn't help the grin that claimed his face. "Thanks. That's . . . splendid. I look forward to seeing you again."
"When you're at loose ends," Snape answered.
"Yes, when I'm at loose ends," Harry said, still grinning like an idiot. "Till then, take care."
Snape nodded. "Good night, then."
"Good night," Harry replied, Apparating home with a strange sensation of butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with his mode of transportation.
*~*~*
Harry found himself at loose ends the next five nights straight. Remarkably, Snape made no protest about his taking advantage of the unexpected offer. During that time, they made it on every possible surface in the sitting room, and a couple that should have been impossible.
But when Friday morning dawned, Harry found himself in the grips of an unexpected dilemma. The sex was fantastic, like nothing he'd ever known, but . . . the minute they were alone together, they ended up all over each other. As wonderful as that was, Harry really wanted to learn a little bit more about the man he was fucking. With the way things were now between them, he didn't even know if Snape were working freelance or were employed by one of the larger research companies.
So, early Friday morning before he left for work, Harry firecalled Snape. "Severus?"
They spoke so infrequently that the name still felt strange on Harry's lips. As he manifested in Snape's hearth, Harry looked out at the familiar sitting room. Snape was nowhere to be seen.
Harry was just about to give up when a door at the far end of the room that he supposed was Snape's bedroom opened and Snape strode quickly to the hearth. He wasn't fully dressed yet.
Long and lean, hair still damp from the bath, Snape was an oddly sensual sight. Harry's gut clenched when he saw Snape buttoning his white shirt over a crisp white undershirt. Since when was watching someone get dressed sexy?
"Potter?" Snape sounded curious rather than annoyed.
"Hi." Words left his brain as he stared at Snape. He'd never understood the phrase 'dumbstruck' before, but that was definitely the only definition for what he was experiencing as he gaped at Snape's unexpectedly sensual appearance. "Sorry to disturb you so early, but, I, er, was wondering if you had plans tonight?" Harry stammered out before his courage could desert him.
He'd startled Snape again, although Harry could tell that the other man was trying very hard not to show it.
"No, I haven't any plans. Why do you ask? You don't usually . . . ." Snape's words trailed away, as though, he, too, didn't know how to address what they did together at night.
"I know. I just . . . the minute we're together, we always end up . . . in a clinch, and I just thought it'd be nice to see you before we, er . . . well, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner? There's this restaurant called Alfonso's on the corner of Diagon Alley and Widdershins Place that's fantastic. What do you think?" Harry hoped that Severus had been able to understand what he'd said; the words came out in such a nervous rush. He felt like he was fourteen again and inviting Cho to the Yule Ball.
Snape wasn't even attempting to conceal his shock. "You wish to be seen in public with me?"
That wasn't the response he was anticipating. Harry was pretty certain at this point that Snape wouldn't scorn him for asking a question that would have been utterly unthinkable a week ago. He didn't know if Snape wanted to have anything to do with him that didn't involve sex, and he wouldn't have been surprised by a rejection to his dinner invitation, but he didn't understand the 'being seen in public' comment. What it indicated about Severus' previous relationships was fairly disturbing.
Harry met those dark eyes. He could almost feel how hard Snape was working at holding back his suspicion, how carefully he was schooling his features.
Hoping he wasn't about to ruin everything, Harry softly admitted, "I, er, would like to see more of you . . . if that's agreeable to you. We both have to eat, so I figured we might as well do it together. But if the idea makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to. We can just – "
"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable and, as you say, we both have to eat," Snape answered, his shock still an almost palpable presence.
Hoping to ease Snape's nervousness, Harry smiled. "Fantastic. Does seven work for you? We could meet out in front, if you know where the restaurant is. If not, I could meet you here and we – "
"No, I know where Alfonso's is," Snape answered. "Seven o'clock is fine."
"Good. I'll see you at seven, then," Harry said, still unable to believe that Snape had agreed without an argument.
"Potter?" Snape called as Harry was about to pull back into his own hearth.
"Yes?" he asked, hoping Snape hadn't changed his mind.
For a moment, it seemed as though Snape had forgotten what he was about to say, or perhaps reconsidered whatever he'd planned, but then he seemed to force himself to say, "Thank you."
Confused by the grave tone Snape gave those two words, Harry gave a shy smile and said, "Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. I'll see you at seven."
Because Severus still had a shell-shocked look about him, Harry reached out and gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. What he really wanted to do was kiss that uncertainty away, but he didn't know how Severus would feel about that and didn't want to push things too far. Giving Severus another smile, Harry reluctantly pulled back to his own place and hurried to meet the day.
*~*~*
At exactly seven pm, Severus Apparated to the front of Alfonso's.
Harry, who'd been waiting on the busy, sleet-battered street since a quarter of, relaxed the instant that sombre, black-garbed figure appeared.
"Hello," Harry said, reaching out to touch Severus' arm.
"Potter," Snape replied with a guarded nod. He seemed nervous.
Harry could sympathize. He'd been debating the wisdom of this all day. The sexual chemistry they'd discovered was incredible. He didn't want to do anything to destroy it, and he knew that all it would take would be one of their old rows. But he still wanted to try to get to know this man who brought him such pleasure every night.
"Thanks for coming. I took the liberty of reserving us a table," Harry said, falling into step beside Snape as they moved towards the entrance.
"Harry!" the restaurant's portly, balding owner, Alfonso, exclaimed as they stepped in out of the foul weather.
"Hi, Al," Harry grinned, his stomach growling as he caught a whiff of the delectable, garlic-scented aromas filling the room. This was Harry's favourite London restaurant. The food was beyond compare, and the ambiance pleasantly hokey. Harry loved the human-faced, animated tomatoes painted on the ivory walls and the real grapevines dangling from latticework overhead.
"So good to see you again. And you've brought a guest tonight!" Alfonso's round face lit with delight.
"This is my friend, Severus Snape. Severus, this is Alfonso. He makes the best chicken Parmesan on Earth," Harry said.
"Harry is too kind," Alfonso denied. "My mother made the best chicken Parmesania; bless her soul. I make the second best. If you'll come this way, please."
Alfonso led them to the table Harry had requested, the one right in front of the blazing fireplace. There was a fresh cut rosebud in a small vase on the red and white chequered tablecloth and a merrily dancing votive candle in a crystal holder. The heat of the nearby fireplace quickly dispelled the chill of the sleety night.
Once they were seated, Alfonso gave them their menus and said, "Maria will be by in a moment to take your drinks order. If there's anything you need that's not on the menu, just let me know."
