Stars After the War

One Shot

The night sky above Hogwarts was adorned with stars, as if nature herself was trying to offer some kind of solace after the war. The Great Battle of Hogwarts was over. Voldemort had fallen. Yet, despite the quiet, the world was far from peaceful. The scars of war ran deep, especially for those who had fought on the frontlines. And no one bore more scars, literal and figurative, than Harry Potter and Severus Snape.

Snape had survived, much to everyone's shock. It was Harry who saved him, calling upon Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, to heal the gash Nagini's venomous bite had left on the man's neck. The soft glow of the tears had worked their magic, restoring Snape to the world of the living, though it had left him with a thin, pale scar that curved along his throat.

Snape had returned to his position as Potions Master under the watchful eye of Headmistress McGonagall, while Harry—who had discovered teaching suited him—had taken on the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. His best friends, Ron and Hermione, had married shortly after the war, with Ron becoming an Auror and Hermione working in the Ministry of Magic, overseeing magical law reforms. Life had resumed at Hogwarts, but for Harry, it felt like it was running on a knife's edge.

Since the war ended, Harry's feelings toward Snape had shifted dramatically. The revelations of Snape's sacrifices, his secret love for Lily, and his double life weighed on Harry. But as the months went by, it wasn't just respect or gratitude that swelled within him. It was something deeper, more intimate, something he didn't dare name until he was forced to confront it: he was falling in love with Severus Snape.

Coming out as gay wasn't the hardest part. He'd told Ron and Hermione during one of their frequent visits to the Burrow, and after some initial shock, they had supported him wholeheartedly. The challenge was Snape himself—how could Harry confess his feelings to a man who had spent most of their shared history either sneering at him or saving his life from the shadows?

Harry thought about it constantly, his heart a confused mess of longing and frustration. He couldn't escape Snape's presence, not that he wanted to. Each meal in the Great Hall, every time they passed each other in the corridors, there was always something left unsaid. Harry tried to put it out of his mind, to focus on his teaching, but it was impossible. He had to say something.

One crisp autumn evening, Harry sent Snape a note by owl, asking him to meet in the Astronomy Tower, the very place where Dumbledore had fallen. It was quiet there, isolated from the bustle of students and other staff. Harry paced anxiously, running over his words a hundred times. He would tell him. He had to.

When Snape arrived, cloaked in his usual black robes, his expression was unreadable. "Potter, you said this was urgent," he said, voice as cool and cutting as ever.

Harry swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "It is. I need to tell you something."

Snape raised an eyebrow, his patience evidently thinning.

"I—I've developed feelings for you," Harry blurted, the words tumbling out ungracefully. "I know it sounds ridiculous, after everything that's happened between us, but I... I can't help it. I've thought about it for months, and I can't keep it to myself anymore."

For a moment, Snape was silent, his dark eyes searching Harry's face for something—an answer, a joke, perhaps a way to dismiss this as some foolish, post-war confusion. But Harry's expression was sincere.

Snape's response, however, was far from what Harry hoped for.

"No," Snape said bluntly, his tone firm. "This... isn't appropriate. There is far too much between us—age, history, and quite frankly, Potter, you deserve better than an old, bitter man like myself."