Dear Severus Snape (Snarry Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty Four

Notes: I know I just updated yesterday, but I have the flu and I'm quarantined to my room, so I have nothing better to do! Hope you enjoy it!

Harry couldn't sleep. It was 2 in the morning, and he was still staring up at the ceiling, pondering his existence. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't get his thoughts to quiet. They rattled around his mind constantly, and it was beginning to give him a headache.

He rolled over and angrily punched his pillow. This was ridiculous, really. He had to get up in 4 hours to go see the Weasley's, and even though it was Ron's birthday, he was still dreading the encounter. He hadn't even really had the time to get Ron a proper birthday present, not that Ron would mind that much.

Harry rolled over again, and eventually gave up on sleep. Skipping one nights worth of sleep wouldn't kill him. He had done more on less, after all.

His thoughts drifted back to 7th year, when he had been horcrux hunting. He thought about all the sleepless nights, the tension between him and Ron and Hermione. Even through all of that, they had managed to destroy all the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. Yes, he had certainly done more on less.

He continued to think about 7th year. It was the year that everything had fallen apart, yet come together at the same time.

The year Snape had been headmaster. The year he had faked his own death. The year Harry had watched far too many people die.

He took a deep breath. It felt like all of that had happened ages ago, instead of a mere few months ago. How had so much changed since then?

Sure, he had wanted things to change. He had wanted to defeat Voldemort. He had wanted to get on with his life. But he had always assumed his life would consist of having Ginny as a wife, and having the children that everyone expected him to have. He expected to become an Auror, not end up working with Draco Malfoy in an Apothecary, of all places. He certainly never expected that he would live with Snape after the war.

Yet he couldn't feel disappointed. He really couldn't. He tried.

Sure, he had envisioned that his life would be different than it was now. But it was hard to feel regret, when everything felt so.... right.

Well, besides the Death Eaters that were after him, of course.

With a sigh, he slipped out of bed. What was he going to do about the Death Eaters? It didn't seem like there was much he could do, besides placing his faith in the Ministry.

He resisted the urge to snort at that thought. Right. The day he trusted the Ministry was the day that Voldemort would rise from the dead.

Harry slipped on his glasses, and made his way out of his bedroom. If he was going to be awake, he might as well do something useful. Perhaps he would study for his Potions mastery, though, with the way things were going, it seemed he would never get around to completing his mastery.

He stopped briefly in the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich. There was no use studying on an empty stomach, was there?

Just as he was about to retire to the library, he heard a quiet bang come from the basement. Harry narrowed his eyes as he abandoned his sandwich and headed for the basement door.

It was four-in-the-bloody-morning. There was no reason for Snape to be awake at this hour.

He crept down the rickety stairs, trying very hard to ignore the way his heart pounded as he did so. There was no reason for him to be afraid of Snape. So what if he had feelings for him? That was no reason for him to be afraid.