HP fic: Made-Up Lullaby #43 (REPOST)
Love Is Like A Bottle of Gin
"Potter! Potter!"
The edge of panic in Severus' voice sends Harry dashing down the hall and into the kitchen, toothbrush in mouth, white bubbles running down his chin and bare chest. Somehow his heart manages to fit in his mouth along with all the rest. "What is it!" he asks, summoning his wand and spinning wildly around, looking for an intruder or a malevolent baby bicorn or a particularly noxious nappy - whatever might make Snape lose his almost ever-present cool. He trips over his pyjama bottoms and dribbles toothpaste foam everywhere, but there is nothing to see except Snape standing by the pantry door, his expression stricken. "What is it?" he repeats, crossing the room to spit in the sink before he drowns in an ocean of minty freshness.
"Potter," Snape repeats, his eyes dropping to the waistband of Harry's pyjamas and hovering there suspiciously. "Something horrible has happened."
There is something off about Snape's voice. His words aren't as clipped and precise as usual. What's more, three buttons at the throat of his shirt are unfastened, and one of his sleeves is rolled to the elbow. He looks positively dishevelled by his own standards.
"How many doses of calming potion have you had today?" Harry asks, bending to rinse his mouth at the tap. He wipes the drool off his chest with a towel and leans one hip against the worktop, trying not to smile.
"Just the one," Snape says, glaring at him, "which I think is perfectly reasonable in response to ... that."
"You can't even say it," Harry says, giving in to the urge to laugh.
"I don't want to even think about it!"
"Snape, it was just a little p-"
"No! Do not say it!" Snape says, crossing his arms across his chest and shuddering. "You should have obliviated me, Potter. I've had three showers today and I still feel dirty."
Harry congratulates himself for not feeling even the slightest urge to dust off one of the old insults from his school years. Instead, he moves closer so he can pat Snape on the shoulder. "If it happens again, you have my word that I will obliviate you so hard you'll forget your own name," he says solemnly.
"Excellent," Snape says. "Promise me one more thing?"
Harry tries to lift one eyebrow questioningly, but it won't budge. He needs more practice in front of the mirror. "What is it?"
Snape opens the door of the pantry with a flourish and gestures to an empty spot on the middle shelf, leveling an accusatory look at Harry. "Replenish the bloody gin stores when you do the shopping tomorrow."
"That's what you were having a fit about?" Harry laughs.
"I do not have fits, Potter," Snape says, staring at Harry down his epic nose.
Harry opens his mouth to contradict him but Snape doesn't give him a chance.
"I would not recommend voicing that thought," he says in a warning tone, "until I have a gin and tonic in my hand."
Harry rolls his eyes. "Tesco's is open twenty-four hours, you know."
"Is it?" Snape asks, lifting one eyebrow with enviable ease.
Harry nods.
Snape slips one hand inside his trouser pocket, whispers something under his breath, and Harry suddenly finds himself fully dressed, shoes and all.
"Off you go then," he says, looking frightfully pleased with himself. "Don't forget the limes."
Tuesday morning, 9 o'clock
"I really can't believe she's gone," Harry says, leaning against the kitchen worktop. He scrubs his eyes with his fingers and looks away.
"I can hardly credit it myself," Severus admits, wrapping his fingers around Harry's upper arm and squeezing gently. "She'll be fine, you know. It's just a few hours at the nursery."
"What if she gets hungry?" Harry asks, his voice rising with emotion.
"She could barely lift her bag, Potter. You packed enough food to sustain her for a fortnight!"
Harry shakes his arm free and wipes his eyes again. "You know she has a good appetite, Severus."
Severus bites his tongue. It would be a supremely bad idea to speculate on Jessamine's genetic predisposition to voraciousness when Potter is so overwrought.
"Do you think she'll miss us?" Harry asks, a plaintive note in his voice.
Severus wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulls him close. "I am certain that she will pine almost as terribly as we will. I am equally certain it's the best thing for all of us. The deadline for my book has long since passed-"
"I know," Harry interjects, sighing and leaning into his side.
"And you really must get back to work."
Harry quirks a sideways glance his way. "Must I really?"
"Yes," Severus says firmly.
Harry turns to face him and reaches up to finger the button at his throat. "Must I get back to work today, Severus?"
"Oh," Severus replies, swallowing hard when Harry steps even closer and works a cool finger under his collar. "You might take one day off to catch up on ... personal projects."
"I might," Harry says, pressing hot lips to Severus' throat, his jaw, before finally touching the lightest kiss to his lips.
Severus sighs and threads his fingers through Harry's hair, pulling him in for a proper kiss, tasting his teeth and tongue, relishing the sudden burn of hunger in his mouth and hands and cock.
"I could help you catch up on your personal projects as well, if you like," Harry suggests breathlessly, pressing into him, fingers scrabbling with his shirt buttons.
"That's very generous of you." Severus pulls Potter's t-shirt up and smoothly off and leans down to mouth wetly at his neck and collarbone while unbuttoning his trousers. "I would have to thank you for that," he says, sliding his hand into Harry's pants and squeezing his prick.
Harry whimpers and flexes his hips. "Well you're off to a very good start."
"Thank you," Severus says, sinking to his knees and positioning himself in front of Harry's greedy prick.
Harry sags against the worktop and spreads his legs as far as the trousers around his knees will allow. "No, thank you."