"Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight."
     - Benjamin Franklin

"Just when were you going to tell me about this?" Snape greeted Harry irritably as he came through the Floo. "Going for a bit of sun and sand, are you?"

A crumpled bit of parchment was waving in one long, thin hand, and Harry snatched it out of the air like any other small, fluttering object. He took one look at the seal and swore; they weren't supposed to have sent the equipment list to the house, dammit! "I wanted to tell you tomorrow, actually," said Harry as calmly as he could manage. "I was waiting to discuss it with you until after I got all the details of the offer."

"If they're sending you a list of what to bring, you've obviously already decided to join up with that wretched Weasley on his newest treasure hunt," said Snape, drawn up to his full height and looking utterly furious in the way that only recently had Harry realized meant his feelings were hurt. "Or are you the newest treasure?"

Any sympathy that Harry had been working up to vanished at that last, which Harry was fairly sure was Snape's intention. "You and I both know that Bill's happily married and has no desire to hunt for anything except actual Egyptian artefacts," he said angrily, adding, "This is the first time he's been able to go out in the field since the war, and it's a huge honour to be offered a place on the expedition."

"What precisely is honourable about risking life and limb just to rob the dead with your new boyfriend?" said Snape, his voice mocking and snide.

The light went on in Harry's head; he should have known the stuff about Bill was just an excuse. Harry was tired of Snape's constant attempts to shield him from his own life -- it might have been necessary and even appreciated when he was in school, but he was a fully-fledged Cursebreaker now, and a damned good one. "Oh, so that's what this is about. I am not made of china! I defeated bloody Voldemort for fuck's sake, and I am not going to die of a stubbed toe while I'm in Egypt!" he yelled, losing his temper at Snape's insinuating tone.

"Language," said Snape, snapping it out as though Harry were still his student.

"I'm twenty-two and I'll fucking well swear if I bleeding well want to!" Harry yelled, a small part of him aware that he'd allowed Snape to goad him into completely overreacting. Again.

Things degenerated quickly after that, into the sort of fight that brings up uncertain parentage, youthful indiscretion and yesterday's uncapped toothpaste. It ended when Harry huffed his way upstairs and downed a dose of Dreamless Sleep as the only hope he had of getting any rest at all, dinner uneaten and stomach roiling with tension and the volatile concoction taken on an empty stomach. Fortunately for Harry it worked quickly, and soon he was curled up in a little ball all the way on his side of the bed, snoring softly.

---

Snape took much longer to venture up to the bedroom, gratified that at least it wasn't locked and warded against him once he did -- his real fear was that one of these days he'd let his mouth drive Harry away completely, and this thing with Egypt felt very much like the start of that. Harry would be far away from him, surrounded not only by the damnably attractive eldest Weasley, but any number of lithe, bronzed Egyptian boys eager to offer whatever service a visiting English wizard might desire. The worst part wasn't even that Harry would be doing very risky work, possibly coming up against some truly vicious ancient magic, but that he'd be doing it thousands of miles away and leaving Snape all alone for months or even years while he did.

Snape was feeling quite small and sorry for himself by the time he slipped into his nightshirt and under the covers in the wee hours of the morning, noting the empty bottle and already planning to make up a whole kit of first aid and other such potions for Harry to take along to Egypt. In the end, Snape knew he'd give in and let Harry go, if only to avoid learning that he hadn't the power to make Harry stay by his side. He propped himself up on his elbow to watch Harry's face, relaxed in sleep as it never was during the day, though usually it was a smile that animated those boyish features rather than tonight's angry frown.

Unable to resist as always, Snape reached out and smoothed Harry's hair off his forehead, pleasantly surprised when Harry nuzzled up to the touches in his sleep. Harry had always been thus, eager for any bit of kindness, any iota of affection he could glean from Snape's forbidding ways, and it often pained Snape to know that he was by long habit so stingy with both. Right now, with regret weighing his heart and Harry sound asleep, it seemed easier to give what Harry craved so sharply, stroking his hand over one sleep-softened cheek and pressing a kiss to the smooth forehead.

Harry made a little sound and rolled over onto his back, limbs loose and sprawling, naked skin inviting Snape's hands to pet him, stroking over his whole body from neck to knee as though Harry were a pet that particularly loved having his belly rubbed. Harry had left his pants on, which he only did when angry, just as Snape never wore his nightshirt anymore unless he was concerned about being properly received should he try to slip naked into their shared bed. Not that Harry had ever denied him, but he'd learned long before Harry to protect his brittle heart from harm in any way he could, not to mention his other tender parts.

Harry arched into the caresses, a small sound escaping his lips that could be mistaken for contentment by someone who hadn't resorted to name-calling and other such foolishness mere hours ago, when it seemed he was going to lose the fight and possibly Harry with it. "I'm just afraid to lose you," he said softly to Harry's sleeping face, pressing a kiss to lips that were slack with sleep, the mouth not nearly as responsive as the rest of Harry's body. A gasp escaped them both when Snape's fingers bumped one by one over a nipple, the bud tightening just a bit with each touch until his thumb found it peaked and eager.

If only Harry wasn't so eager to part his company and hare off to the desert with a Weasley, he thought uncharitably, but then, Snape had never been a charitable man. "Don't leave me alone here," he whispered against Harry's lips, then trailed his mouth up the strong jaw to nibble at an earlobe, his hand finding the other nipple and teasing until it, too, wrinkled and hardened. Harry let out an irresistible little moan, shifting his hips and turning even more into Snape's warmth as if in answer to the quiet plea.

Snape found himself kissing Harry's mouth again, coaxing a response with lips and tongue, his hands sliding along Harry's ribs and down into the loose pants to cradle Harry's thin hipbones against the curve of his palms. Harry moaned and started kissing back, his hips straining upward into Snape's touch, and Snape found himself growing far too warm under the covers with Harry. He shucked his nightshirt and then, before he could convince himself not to, slipped Harry's pants off lax legs, discarding both into the darkness beyond the bed before blanketing Harry's body with his own.

Harry spread his legs wide to accommodate Snape's slender form between them, stretching delightfully and smiling in his sleep. "Sev'rus," he slurred, causing Snape to pause and calculate how long it would have been since Harry took his dose; it was well past midnight now, and it had been barely seven when they fought, long enough that Harry would wake if sufficiently stimulated. Snape smiled and kissed him, putting his fears aside to bask at least once more in his lover's presence; if Harry was going to leave him behind for his desert adventure, Snape wanted them both to have a memory that would last through the cold, lonely nights.

"My Harry," he said softly, leaning in for another kiss, letting his own heavy prick glide along the length of Harry's, teasing with the promise of future pleasures. Decision made, it was a simple matter now to allow himself to touch and taste, memorizing the tang of sweat at Harry's throat, the texture of a nipple on his tongue, the scent of musk as his prominent nose edged its way into the tangle of curls around Harry's prick.

Snape used his own hands to prepare Harry using a potion he'd brewed only days ago, having emptied the previous vial the last time he'd offered himself to Harry -- he'd been ready and waiting when Harry had arrived home from work, a sharp contrast to this evening's strident greeting. Tonight he wanted to be the one inside Harry, just like the first time, like most of their times together truth be told, feeling Harry's body open first to his probing fingers and then so very soon to his cock.

Harry moaned and writhed, each touch drawing him further up out of his enchanted sleep, each caress both inside and out bringing Harry closer to wakefulness. Snape's patience didn't last through more than two fingers however, the silken clasp of Harry's body too much to resist with his heart so full of fear and longing, and the quiver of still-closed eyelids heralding Harry's transition from dreamless slumber into the reality of his lover's embrace.

Snape slipped carefully into Harry's body, wrapping Harry's legs around his hips as he sank deeply inward, then gathering the smaller body close to his own, pressing kisses to the open circle of Harry's mouth. "I love you, Harry," he whispered, words he was still terrified of saying in daylight, but far more afraid of never getting to say again.

Harry's eyes fluttered open, two confused blinks and then a smile bright as the dawn, and his arms came up to wrap around Snape's trembling shoulders. "I love you, too, you great git," he said, pressing a warm, willing kiss to Snape's mouth.

This seemed an excellent cue to move, Snape's body undulating with Harry's at a languid pace well-suited to the hour, the setting. Harry made delicious sounds, not a single drop of shame in him in this state as he treated Snape to a chorus of moans and gasps of delight; even Snape let out the odd sigh as his need began to build. Snape's hips sped up, gaining force and momentum even as his breathing quickened and heartbeat sped. "I don't want you to leave me," he said in lieu of the charming little whimpers Harry was making at the height of each thrust.

Harry shook his head, and Snape's hands found their way down, gliding from shoulder to arse and then around to take Harry in hand. "Never... never be without you," Harry managed to gasp out, though it seemed to cost him the last of his coherence. His head fell back against the pillow, throat bared for Snape's voracious mouth to nibble and suck, leaving love bites for the morning, for remembrance.

"Never without me," Snape agreed hoarsely, swallowing the hope that welled up from his chest, hot and bright like fresh blood. He thrust harder, faster, and Harry came with a sweet little cry that reminded Snape of innocence, and the day he'd taken Harry's.

Snape kept moving, not even slowing as Harry's release shuddered through him, drawing it out to exquisite lengths until the boy was spent and pliant beneath him once again, his limbs gone lax as if he'd fallen back asleep now that the deed was done. "Harry," Snape breathed out, not so much an exclamation as exhale, the word formed of everything that had been clamouring to be free of Snape's breast. The heat that had pooled in Snape's spine found its own egress, pouring out with his seed as he came, letting himself hope it wouldn't be the last time he felt himself spilling into the beautiful boy beneath him.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry was smiling up at him with the sort of open joy that always made Snape want to turn and see what could possibly have put that expression on Harry's face. "You've gone and spoiled your Valentine, you know," said Harry conversationally. Snape's brows knit in confusion, but Harry's finger covered his lips before he could speak. "I've been authorized by Gringott's to offer you a position as Potions Master and secondary Dark Arts expert in the upcoming expedition to Egypt, assuming you're willing to share quarters with the primary Dark Arts expert and not mock his theories too much in front of the help."

Suddenly everything rearranged itself in Snape's head, and he couldn't do anything but laugh, his forehead pressed against Harry's shoulder as his whole body shook. It had all seemed so suspicious, the weeks of long meetings, Harry's insistence that they have a lush dinner out on Valentine's Day, the secret owls and ridiculously abundant equipment list that Snape had intercepted. Instead of going to Egypt and leaving Snape behind in their lonely home, Harry had wanted to lure his dungeon-dwelling lover out into the desert sun to share in his adventure.

"Does this mean you'll go?" Harry asked, pressing a kiss to Snape's hair.

Snape managed a deep breath, then two, and fixed his gaze on Harry's hopeful eyes. "Yes," he said, kissing Harry sweetly. "This means I'll go, if only to protect your virtue from all those exotic, sloe-eyed concubines."

Harry laughed and kissed Snape again, and then once more for good measure. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said, carding his fingers through Snape's hair.

Snape felt the last of the tension leaving his body as he held Harry close, his mind already ranging ahead to the future and everything they'd need for their time in the desert. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," he replied, nuzzling at Harry's neck as he felt exhaustion slipping in to take place of the banished anxiety.

Harry shifted them carefully until he was holding Snape more obliquely, in a position that would be comfortable for them both until morning, then fumbled for his wand and cast the simple cleaning charm that got rid of the worst of the mess. Snape was just beginning to drift off to sleep when Harry suddenly asked, "There's a spell to get the sand out of things, right?"