(no subject)
Found two more stories, saved somewhere on my computer. And I suddenly realised I have never posted them ... ^_^"
So, here they are.
The first one is an Alex Rider drabble. FoxYassen. Asked by
lhune
The second one is SnapeHarry.
And I vaguely seem to remember that I've written them for Christmas ... *sweatdrop*
sakitokun
, you requested a Snarry, prompt Lost with Happy ending... Well, now that I've found it again, I remeber writing two drabbles with that prompt... So ... ^^;
Hope you guys might still enjoy it! ^^
Can I touch you to see if you’re real?
Fox POV
Yassen Gregorovich… The Russian Assassin.
A good one? The bad guy? A bit of both? No one really seems to know.
He has worked with John Rider. Alex’s father.
He has worked for Scorpia. The ones who killed Alex’s father.
And he has protected and saved Alex more than once.
I put down my pen. Leaning back in my chair. Letting my head fall backwards and my eyes close.
I need sleep. I need some decent rest. Some time to relax.
Rubbing my eyes I sigh softly. Silly! My job does not allow me to.
I don’t seem to have the power to prevent my thoughts from going back. After everything that has happened… I came to care for Alex. Like a father. No, perhaps more like a uncle. Yet I’d give my life for him if it could save him. Without any doubt.
I look around the empty room. Home. Yet so unfamiliar.
There is only one other I would have blindly given my life for…
Though I am trained, hard, I can feel strong emotions resurface. Tears I never knew I’d be able to shed are shimmering behind my eyes.
Not even a proper burial. No place, no grave to visit. Nothing to let other people know. Nothing to let others remember…
A small brush of wind against my neck. All my senses immediately on high alert. It only takes me one second to jump up and to turn around. Gun ready.
However, nothing I have learned, nothing I have gone through, could have prepared me for what I saw.
“You …”
My voice is hoarse.
Slow steps bring you closer and I lower my weapon. It makes you raise your eyebrows and I can read your eyes clearly.
‘Never let your guard down.’
“Ben.”
Your voice is soft, unlike the warning in your eyes. You’ve always loved it to call me that. My real name. Not what they made me.
“You … You died.”
My voice trembles and my answer brings a sad smile to your lips.
“Ben…”
I take a step backwards. Not wanting to believe my eyes. Not wanting to hope and to see that hope being crushed. Not wanting to let my heart be shattered again.
You halt when you see my movement and I can see you hesitate. So unlike you…
“Ben.”
There is a desperate edge in your voice. And it is that tone that does make me hope.
Tentatively I reach out a hand. I just have to know, need it to be confirmed.
I know you can read my eyes.
‘Can I touch you to see if you’re real?’
The smile that suddenly graces your lips is enough to make me melt. To make my knees go weak.
I made a mistake loving you once. I’d gladly make the same mistake again. And again. And again.
My fingers grace over your cheek, your skin feels warm.
“Yassen …”
I know you hear the longing in my voice.
‘Don’t leave me.’
I smile when your lips cover my own. Familiar touch. And I can feel the upward curving of your own lips answer mine, when my arms wrap around you in a desperate grip.
“I’ll never …”
The End
Lost.
‘What happened?’
His eyes open slowly, revealing emerald green orbs.
“Where am I?”
The forest around him is thick and suffocating. It emits danger and hatred.
He shivers slightly. Half because of the night’s cold. Half because, hell yes, he’s a bit scared.
He can’t remember what has happened yesterday. At least, he thinks it was yesterday. Has he been drugged?
Hesitantly his fingers reach up and touch the back of his head. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t feel anything. So yes, it must have been some kind of poison, because he hasn’t been knocked down.
But who? And when? And why? The war was over, wasn’t it? Voldemort had been defeated. People were safe…
Grunting he tries to get up. Still noticing the effect of the drug. His legs are weak and trembling.
Eyes open in fear when realising what else could have happened. Quickly one of his hands reaches for the inner pocket of his muggle’s winter coat.
‘Please, don’t let them have taken…’
Relieve crashed over him when his fingers close themselves around his wand.
Either the ones who attacked him had not bothered to look for it, or they had, in a miraculous way, not found it.
The wand he was now holding made him feel a little comfortable again. It lessened some of his fear and allowed him to cast a simple spell to knock of the remaining effects of the sleeping draught.
Looking up he discovers pieces of the black sky. His feeling telling him it was near midnight, yet the stars and the moon were covered by the clouds that predicted a nasty storm.
“Lumos.”
The soft mutter leaves his lips. A clear light illuminating the spot around him and he sighs even softer.
He doesn’t recognise the place. There is no way he can find the way out. A bit defeated he starts to walk in the eastern direction. It’s what his feeling tells him to be the right road.
-
He has walked for an hour when soft white snowflakes start falling down. Looking up, he notices the clouds are even darker than before.
He sighs. The place still looks the same. So either he has been walking I circles, or this forest looks the same everywhere. It’s probably the last.
A curse leaves his lips when he stumbles over a branch. The sleeping draught seemingly still has some effect on his, because his inner feeling of balance can’t help him from falling down.
Grunting he tries to get up. The only result is a flash of pain that shoots through his foot and leg.
Discouraged he sets himself back down, untying his shoe.
His hands carefully examine his foot, winching every now and then when he comes across a painful spot.
‘Damn, why haven’t I learned yet how to heal things? How to cure?’
He lets his head fall backwards so that it touches the tree he’s leaning against.
“But I have no wood.”
“No wood? Are you a witch or not?!?”
A soft chuckle escapes his lips and silently he blesses the memory to suddenly pop up.
Still smiling he takes his wand. True, he has not yet learned how to heal his ankle, but he can make the pain less by making a splint. After five minutes he tries to stand again and to take a couple of steps. He winches slightly, but if he limps, the pain is bearable.
Now the only problem remaining is how to get home.
The sound of footsteps reach his ears. A hurries walk. The person is nearly running.
Taking a few steps backwards, he lets his back rest against the tree. Not entirely sure if he should trust the approaching person. His wand raised in defence.
A flash of dark wizard robes pass by between the trees before him. It has only been a second, but he has recognised that way of walking. Snape. However he can’t bring himself to call out for help. Not to him.
The professor suddenly stops and turns around. Their eyes lock and the man steps closer.
“Well well…”
A soft velvet voice. Taunting.
“The saviour of the world. Lost in a forest?”
Stubbornly Harry does not reply.
“Very well. I see you are not going to be talking. That means silence and it is much preferred over whatever you might have to say.”
Green eyes flash dangerously and for a second he can see a twinkle of victory in the other one’s orbs.
“The way out it that way. Follow me, I’ll guide you through.”
Abruptly Snape turns and starts walking, seemingly not bothered that Harry doesn’t move.
“Are you still coming? Or have you decided to stay?”
Sighing softly he follow the older man, still limping with every step he takes.
-
They have been walking for at least half an hour already before Snape turns to look at him. All this time Harry has stayed behind him.
“You are hurt.”
With two steps he crosses the distance between them. His hands gently taking Harry’s arms.
“Sit. Let me take a look at it.”
Surprised the boy obeys. The professor’s fingers are careful when they examine his foot.
“It’s just sprained. Heavily sprained, but just that. It is not broken. I can heal it when you’re at home.”
Harry just nods and when the other one looks up, their eyes meet for the second time that night, and for the first time since Harry has known the man, he can see emotions in his orbs. Hidden feelings.
Though it vanishes as soon as he registers it.
Without another word Snape helps him up again and together they continue their walk.
“Thank you… For searching me.”
The potion master does not react. Yet when Harry looks aside, he can see the tiniest of smiles gracing the other one’s lips.
Perhaps being saved by this man was not as bad as he thought.
And with that in mind, Harry allows a smile on his own face.
The End