Desperation

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It simply didn't pay to save the world.

Well, it did actually. A one-time gift from the Ministry of Magic and several smaller bequests from wizards and witches the world over. But, after that, Harry was back to being a seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He quickly found that normal was over-rated.

For the most part, he caused little to no disruption as he completed his work with apathy. Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different issue. Professor Lupin was unable to obtain a single response or bit of effort within his class.

No homework, no participation, no tests, not even an answer to questions asked directly by the professor. Remus had even considered the possibility of failing his student. Until, that is, the Board of Governors singed his fur for even suggesting such a thing.

Apparently, slaying a Dark Lord would have to be worth enough points for a passing score. It had been suggested that taking the NEWT for DADA was unnecessary in light of Harry's more extreme test.

It couldn't even be said that Remus hadn't tried to talk to Harry. He had. He had reasoned that a man had needs, that even a werewolf wasn't automatically an alpha male in the bedroom, and that his personal losses needed more effort to bury around the holidays.

Harry had only stared at him oddly before walking out.

It took only a few months before the wizarding world tired of their withdrawn savior and focused on the frenzy of life without the pall of threat. Harry became a wraith, a silent broken figure that appeared in classes and followed the required curricula. For all that he lived, he might as well have died with Voldemort.

And then came the day that Harry Potter's last tie to his expected life was ripped free. The other seventh year Gryffindors, high on the glory of association, were applying nearly en masse to Auror training - except for Harry. When it became clear that he had no intention of making an application, such a fight ensued that Harry continued to take classes with the Gryffindors, but sat apart. And his former friends made no secret that they believed he intended upon wasting his life.

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"Professor McGonagall?"

The professor in question looked up from grading an essay at the far too lifeless voice. She mustered a smile at the first contact freely initiated by Harry in this term.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shifted, his school bag a defensive shield before him. "I understand that you're taking applications for an apprentice and associate professor, Ma'am."

Minerva nodded, stripping off her reading glasses to focus more fully on the young man before her. "Yes," she replied after a pause.

Harry slipped a roll of parchment from his bag, placing it quickly on the desk. "I'd like you to consider me for the position."

The witch picked up the scroll, holding it tentatively. "Is this why none of your professors have been asked to recommend you for Auror training?"

Harry flushed. "Partly, Ma'am. Even if you choose someone else, I don't want to be an Auror."

"Professor Lupin is also seeking an apprentice to the DADA position."

Minerva was not aware of the cause of the falling out but it was confirmed when the young wizard's face hardened.

"I'm not interested in the Defense position. Honestly, Professor McGonagall, I've had a lifetime of Defense already."

She nodded, gesturing with the parchment roll. "There are more qualified applicants, Mr. Potter. But, I will take yours under advisement."

Harry's face fell slightly and he nodded carefully. "Thank you."

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Harry had been told once that something was a secret so naturally the whole school knew. Once again, that truth was carried out with his career decisions. He had barely sat for the evening meal before Ron was leaning across the table.

"What's this about you applying to teach instead of Auror training?"

Harry blinked, confused at the anger on his friend's face. "I just didn't want to, Ron."

"Didn't want to?!"

Ron's voice tapered off into wordless noises of protest. Hermione leaned into the table to carry on the discussion. "Harry, the three of us were going together."

Harry shrugged. "It's nothing because of you two. I just don't want to be an Auror."

"But, Harry…"

Harry stood as he realized he would find no peace at the Gryffindor table. "No. I'm not going to do it. I'm tired of the risk. I'm tired of fighting."

Ron found his tongue in time to rebut with, "But you're the Boy Who Lived!"

Harry shook his head, turning to walk away. "I just want to be Harry."

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Severus Snape had paid little attention to the disruption at the Gryffindor table over the meal. He was pleased when he'd been able to escape, the noise of the brats bringing on a raging headache. He slipped into his private quarters, the tension fading within the undisturbed peace of his rooms.

Then he turned, his attention caught by the flickering of the fire. It was customary for the house elves to tend the fire while he ate. It was not customary to find a nude young man kneeling before it when he returned.

Harry's knees pushed into the cold stone in front of the fireplace. The soles of his feet and his back absorbed the warmth of the fire as he waited. His hands were flat on his lightly haired thighs, framing the dark hairs nestling his quiescent prick. He had heard the Potions Master enter but was not able to look up immediately. When he did, his emerald gaze shone with need behind his glasses.

Severus had stared for a long moment, blinking and dry-mouthed. Finally, he forced terse words through the angry set of his jaw. "What in the bloody hell are you doing, Potter?!"

Harry didn't shift, frozen by some unnamed need. "I'm waiting for you, sir."

Snape paced forward, but stopped before the edge of his robes would brush the bared skin. "Why?"

Harry held the demanding gaze even as he responded, "I want you to help me forget."

"Excuse me?"

That direct gaze dropped with Harry's head, his focus shifting to the tips of shined half-boots. "Remus said he went to you to forget. I want you to help me forget."

The Potions Master sighed. "Why me?"

The younger wizard knew if was likely rhetorical, but he answered anyway. "I want to forget that no one will ever see Harry. You've only even seen Potter but that's better than the Boy Who Lived."

Severus stared down at the tousled raven hair and shook his head. "Get up and get dressed, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up as Snape stepped back, his eyes pleading. "Please!"

The professor ignored the desperate tone as he crossed the room. "You know not what you ask nor what you offer, Mr. Potter. Get out."

Harry didn't move and his silence caused the Potions Master to turn back. His emotions had always been writ upon him and now was no different. Harry was crushed by Severus' rejection but still forced out his next words through a choked throat.

"I give myself to you, Master."

The Potions Master froze. "You can't possibly have any conception of what…"

"I do! When you were teaching me Occlumency and Legilimency, I saw what you enjoy."

"That does not mean I want you, Mr. Potter."

"But…" Harry almost gave up but forced himself to speak past the tears running down his face. "I just want somewhere I don't have to be a hero. If you give me that, then you can me however and whenever you'd like."

Severus stepped closer to the young man, his Slytherin core intrigued by the offer. "Are you volunteering to be my pet?"

"If that is what you want from me."

Severus shook his head, tossing away the fantasy. "No, Potter."

"But why?"

"You forget that I too saw what you desire. Don't confuse what you offer me for the loving companionship you crave."

Harry's hands moved for the first time, scrubbing at the liquid on his cheeks. "I can't have that if no one sees Harry. I'll accept the physical."

His voice went very faint for a moment as he continued, "It's better than nothing."

Severus again stepped closer, evaluating. "I will not take you ignorant. You will report to me here Saturday at two. Fully clothed."

Harry nodded quickly in agreement.

"Now get out."

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