Dear Severus Snape (Snarry Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty Five

Snape sat rigidly on the living room couch, his posture perfect. He flipped through a Potions magazine, though it wasn't very interesting. He felt as though he knew everything there was to know about Potions at this point.

It was nearly noon, and Harry was still asleep. Snape debated waking him up, but eventually decided against it. Harry hadn't seemed to sleep very well the night before, so he probably needed to catch up on sleep. Besides, he was just injured. His entire chest was still cut up, even with the healing Potions.

He frowned as he took a small sip of his scorching hot coffee, burning his tongue. He swore quietly under his breath. For some reason, he always made it too hot. Harry always seemed to make it perfectly, though.

He felt a pang of guilt as he replayed Harry's words from the following night. He shouldn't feel guilty. He had done nothing wrong.

So that's it? You're leaving?

I'd miss you, you complete and utter wanker!

He couldn't stay here forever, he knew that. Even though he had come to enjoy Harry's company somewhat, he still didn't belong here. He was holding Harry back, and he didn't want that. As soon as he was healed and prepared to take his Potions mastery test, Snape would leave. It was the only option.

Part of him wished that he'd be able to contact Harry after he moved, but he knew that wasn't possible. If Harry found out where he lived, he'd surely come over and pester him all the time. Harry would never be able to move on and focus on his friends and career, and Snape would never be able to be alone again.

Why is that such a bad thing? A voice in his head wondered quietly. You don't mind spending time with the boy, and he gives you plenty of space. He gives you everything you need.

It doesn't matter. He snapped back at the voice. I can't give HIM what he needs.

With a sigh, he closed the Potions magazine and threw it onto the coffee table. Yes, he would miss Harry, but he'd certainly get over it eventually.

A sudden green light interrupted his thoughts, and he scrambled quickly to his feet, ready to defend himself against attackers. It was too late, though. Neville Longbottom was already stumbling out of Harry's fireplace.

Snape froze, and pressed his body up against the nearest living room wall. He drew his wand, and pointed it straight a Neville's chest.

Neville glanced around the room for a second, disoriented, before his eyes landed on Snape.

"Don't. Move." Snape hissed.

Neville flung his wand out of his robe pocket, and whimpered slightly.

"Harry!!" He screamed loudly. "You have a boggart in your house!"

Snape took a step forward, his wand never once wavering.

"You foolish boy!" He snapped. "Stop yelling!"

"Riddikulus!" Neville wailed, flinging his wand wildly.

Snape glared when nothing happened, and Neville screamed louder.

"HARRY! HURRY UP, MATE! THERE'S A BOGGART IN YOUR HOUSE, AND I CAN'T GET RID OF IT!"

There was a loud crash from upstairs, and then Harry suddenly appeared, his hair sticking up and still wearing flannel pajamas.

His glasses where screwed sideways, and his green eyes were filled with alarm.

"Neville!" He gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Obviously sticking his nose into places he doesn't belong." Snape snarled.