A/N: Inspired by Sarah McLachlan's song Answer.

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Harry reached feebly to the body across from his, he had to reach him, had to touch him. The black robe the man wore was drenched in blood, a puddle steadily growing out away from the body. Harry couldn’t let him die. The darkness seemed to press on his body as he pushed himself forward, a kind of army crawl, his fingertips extended toward the pale hand flung out from the Potion Masters body. Finally, his fingertips brushed the sleeve and a flash of light then darkness.

Harry woke up alone. The infirmary was dark, Harry would have thought something had happened while he was passed out had it not been for the flickering of candle light from Poppy Pomfrey’s office. Harry looked over to his right, trying to fight the darkness to see beyond his own nose. He had to know if he was there. The exhaustion was too overpowering and Harry was eventually fighting the falling of his eyelids. Desperation grew in his belly like a tidal wave. He needed to know.

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He was alone. Severus Snape was nowhere to be found. But he was alive. That, however, did nothing to help Harry. He needed the man to be with him. He needed Severus because he needed to feel. He never really felt unless the snaky man was around. Ever since the beginning of the war, Harry had been with the man, scouting, plotting, negotiating and fighting. He became Harry’s partner, his friend. Harry had learned how to truly be happy with the older man despite his biting wit. His friendships from the past were dim in comparison, especially since the loss of Ron and Hermione. Harry needed Severus because he needed to feel love again.

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His flat felt more like a cave when he returned to it. His body felt hollow. He had searched, for days he had searched. Each day he grew more and more helpless, his heart hurting exponentially each day, the fight being drawn from him. The world looked grey around the edges and food all tasted the same. Harry let himself sink into his couch and cry.

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He was watching him, watching him search for his whereabouts like a starved man looking for food. Severus was confused, stunned by the reaction his disappearance had on the younger man. He watched for three months; he had been gone for four, he watched and eventually followed Harry on his search. He watched as Harry cried himself to sleep at nights, as he mechanically ate his food, as he tossed and turned in bed, crying in his sleep. As he whispered Severus’ name in his few moments of unconsciousness, pleading for Severus to return, and finally, muttering three very powerful, painful words.

He followed Harry back to his house, watched as he sunk onto his settee and cried himself to sleep. He was there when he woke up too, sitting in the armchair across from the Gryffindor.

Harry opened his eyes and stated at the man sitting across from him. He didn’t react, just remained in his position, watching the man. “Are you real?”

“I should hope so, Potter.”

A pained smile crossed Harry’s face as he sat up. “Would you like some tea?”

Severus looked at the sullen man and nodded. “Tea would be nice.”

“Come to the kitchen with me then.” Harry stood up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle, filling it with water and putting it on the stove to heat up. He stayed facing away from Severus, staring out the window, watching the stars flicker in the sky, watching them shine.

Severus waited a moment, waiting for Harry to turn back around, so he could explain, something he rarely, if ever, did. But Harry remained stationary, staring out the window, up at the stars. Severus reached out his arm slowly, his fingers stretching, finally brushing the younger man’s shoulder.

Harry turned, eyes shining like the stars above them. He grabbed Severus’ hand before he could pull it away. He pulled the tall man a little closer and pressed the potion-stained hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes and a liquid star fell, trailing down his face.

Severus stood, entranced. He was overwhelmed, frightened, amazed, conquered. This man who had so little, who had been given so much reason to distrust and hate, this man, overwhelmed him with so much… feeling. “Harry.”

Harry opened his eyes and dropped his hand away from Severus’. “I’m-”

Severus had put his hand behind Harry’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. The moment seemed as though it would last forever and would have if breathing were not necessary. Severus pulled away and the kettle began to whistle. Harry turned angrily to the kettle, moved it off the burner, and turned off the flame. He turned back to Severus who was staring intently at him.

“Why?”

“You make me feel,” Harry said simply.

Severus grabbed the green-eyed man again, pulling him close and whispered into his ear, “And you I.”

Harry lie naked on his side. Severus brushed a finger down his arm, over his hip, arse and thigh, sending goose bumps along Harry’s flesh. He gasped slightly and the sensation and closed his eyes as Severus’ hands became familiar with the planes of Harry’s body. Severus finally pulled Harry to him, and slid himself inside the young man’s prepared body. He moved slowly, letting Harry feel.

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Harry turned to face Severus’ sleeping form and repeated what he had told himself as he fought to find this moment. “It’ll all be worth it,” he whispered as he brushed his fingers over Severus’ closed eyes, “in the end.”