(no subject)
ship_manifesto is so the best thing ever. It's mostly BtVS at the moment, but the waitlist is promising (There's an HP week coming up, and then q_skud_ is doing Aubrey/Maturin! That one'll be an exercise in redundancy.) It's great to see such a postive outpouring of shippery.
On to fic!
Be on Caution Where Lovers Walk
part two
"Your Echo Will Launch an Avalanche"
HP
Harry/Snape
Happy endings and questionable motives.
R
7.
Despite what Ron keeps insisting, Severus is a kind man, the kind of man who spends weeks finding just the right birthday present, and cooks breakfast even though Harry wakes up after noon, and slides a comforting hand over when Harry's nightmares start.
This comfy fireplace-and-a-picket-fence life is not something Harry ever expected, especially not with the dreaded greasy potions professor, especially not with their history. But it's something he deserves, he tells himself when the faces of people he's killed won't leave from the insides of his eyelids, when his hands won't stop shaking.
6.
Harry stands in front of Severus for at least two minutes before he notices and looks up and says, "What is it, Harry?" in that impossibly put-upon voice, even though he's only doing cryptograms.
"I was thinking maybe we could...go to bed early tonight."
"Still in possession of that Gryffindor subtlety, I see."
And that's all he says, even though Harry's still standing there waiting for the followup. Two minutes later, Harry takes the hint and leaves.
5.
"I miss Hogwarts," he says sometimes, but really he means I miss how you used to hate me so hard it hurt.
Severus doesn't catch it, just goes 'mmm-hmmm' and flips a page in his book. That's the right attitude, of course, because they're partners now, lovers now - in love now - and who would want to remember wanting to kill the person you shared a bed with?
But still Harry takes cold showers, leans his head against the tiles, water running over his ears and eyes and tries to banish the memory of his skin bruising under Professor Snape's fingers, purple blotches spreading and the sharp edge of the oak desk cutting into his belly.
4.
Severus is up waiting when Harry comes home, even though it's nearly three o'clock in the morning. "Where were you?" he asks, fury underlining his words, but Harry just mutters "Out for a bloody drink" before staggering up the steps and collapsing on the bed. He pretends to be asleep when Severus pointedly takes his pillows to the guest room.
3.
Harry thinks, if I had a knut for every time this happens, but stays silent as Severus crawls angrily around the house, slamming doors and leaving a trail of hurt as thick as crucio.
"I will not stand for this, Potter," Harry says under his breath, and five seconds later he hears Severus shouting from above: I will not stand...
He stomps back down the steps, paces in the hallway, then turns with a flourish to Harry, his robes whipping around. "Why? Why do you do this?"
Harry shrugs.
2.
He's tied down again, ghost-ropes crackling around his ankles and wrists and neck, eyes held open. Severus sits on the edge of the bed and holds his wand lightly between his fingertips, but Harry can feel his concentration, and is not entirely suprised when crucio rushes through him so quickly that the pain is more of a memory than anything. The ropes buzz and Harry pants, his eyes watering, and Severus leans over him, one thin hand outstretched to brush against his inner thigh.
"I don't want to hurt you," Severus whispers, but there's no mistaking the slight sarcasm in his voice, even if sometimes it seems like Severus honestly doesn't know it's there. "I do nothing but what you make me do."
1.
The ash-haired boy under his thumb right now is writhing, twisting, coming right now and Harry's already wiping his hands on his jeans, licking his lips and looking for someone else. All the glory-hole rooms are taken and Harry waits and leans against a wall, sipping the drink he brought from home and watching the men walk by.
Some guy with short blonde hair and tight blue jeans slides up next to him, gives him a grin, and Harry doesn't even bother to check him out before slipping his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans.
When the club closes, Harry shuffles out the back door and runs a hand through his hair, breathing in the cold air so quickly his lungs hurt. He takes out his pocket mirror and flips it open, ignoring its little queeny cry of darling, you look simply awful, and makes sure that there's still a smudge of someone else's body glitter on his cheek, that his tie's pulled down just enough, that his shirt is rumpled and sticky.
Severus will be up waiting. He always is.
On to fic!
Be on Caution Where Lovers Walk
part two
"Your Echo Will Launch an Avalanche"
HP
Harry/Snape
Happy endings and questionable motives.
R
7.
Despite what Ron keeps insisting, Severus is a kind man, the kind of man who spends weeks finding just the right birthday present, and cooks breakfast even though Harry wakes up after noon, and slides a comforting hand over when Harry's nightmares start.
This comfy fireplace-and-a-picket-fence life is not something Harry ever expected, especially not with the dreaded greasy potions professor, especially not with their history. But it's something he deserves, he tells himself when the faces of people he's killed won't leave from the insides of his eyelids, when his hands won't stop shaking.
6.
Harry stands in front of Severus for at least two minutes before he notices and looks up and says, "What is it, Harry?" in that impossibly put-upon voice, even though he's only doing cryptograms.
"I was thinking maybe we could...go to bed early tonight."
"Still in possession of that Gryffindor subtlety, I see."
And that's all he says, even though Harry's still standing there waiting for the followup. Two minutes later, Harry takes the hint and leaves.
5.
"I miss Hogwarts," he says sometimes, but really he means I miss how you used to hate me so hard it hurt.
Severus doesn't catch it, just goes 'mmm-hmmm' and flips a page in his book. That's the right attitude, of course, because they're partners now, lovers now - in love now - and who would want to remember wanting to kill the person you shared a bed with?
But still Harry takes cold showers, leans his head against the tiles, water running over his ears and eyes and tries to banish the memory of his skin bruising under Professor Snape's fingers, purple blotches spreading and the sharp edge of the oak desk cutting into his belly.
4.
Severus is up waiting when Harry comes home, even though it's nearly three o'clock in the morning. "Where were you?" he asks, fury underlining his words, but Harry just mutters "Out for a bloody drink" before staggering up the steps and collapsing on the bed. He pretends to be asleep when Severus pointedly takes his pillows to the guest room.
3.
Harry thinks, if I had a knut for every time this happens, but stays silent as Severus crawls angrily around the house, slamming doors and leaving a trail of hurt as thick as crucio.
"I will not stand for this, Potter," Harry says under his breath, and five seconds later he hears Severus shouting from above: I will not stand...
He stomps back down the steps, paces in the hallway, then turns with a flourish to Harry, his robes whipping around. "Why? Why do you do this?"
Harry shrugs.
2.
He's tied down again, ghost-ropes crackling around his ankles and wrists and neck, eyes held open. Severus sits on the edge of the bed and holds his wand lightly between his fingertips, but Harry can feel his concentration, and is not entirely suprised when crucio rushes through him so quickly that the pain is more of a memory than anything. The ropes buzz and Harry pants, his eyes watering, and Severus leans over him, one thin hand outstretched to brush against his inner thigh.
"I don't want to hurt you," Severus whispers, but there's no mistaking the slight sarcasm in his voice, even if sometimes it seems like Severus honestly doesn't know it's there. "I do nothing but what you make me do."
1.
The ash-haired boy under his thumb right now is writhing, twisting, coming right now and Harry's already wiping his hands on his jeans, licking his lips and looking for someone else. All the glory-hole rooms are taken and Harry waits and leans against a wall, sipping the drink he brought from home and watching the men walk by.
Some guy with short blonde hair and tight blue jeans slides up next to him, gives him a grin, and Harry doesn't even bother to check him out before slipping his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans.
When the club closes, Harry shuffles out the back door and runs a hand through his hair, breathing in the cold air so quickly his lungs hurt. He takes out his pocket mirror and flips it open, ignoring its little queeny cry of darling, you look simply awful, and makes sure that there's still a smudge of someone else's body glitter on his cheek, that his tie's pulled down just enough, that his shirt is rumpled and sticky.
Severus will be up waiting. He always is.