Fic: A Shared History
Title: A Shared History
Pairing/Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Word Count: 100 x5
Rating: PG
Challenge: snarry100 #630: History.
Summary: The past is where they live together...
Read at AO3 or below. I didn't realise I never posted this little fic here. It's one of my favourites ♥
Harry sees it sometimes when people ask to shake Severus’ hand. The tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes quickly seek the floor. He sees it when Severus shrinks from praise and gratitude he can’t fathom. The way he still flinches hearing the Headmaster’s name.
He sees it when Severus tosses and turns at night, gripped by nightmares. Or when he gazes at the full moon with a twinge of guilt and regret.
History reaches out like long fingers, curling around Severus’ neck until he’s breathless. He doesn’t mind, truth be told, but lets Harry pry them off nonetheless.
~
Severus sees it sometimes when Harry eats a little too quickly, shoveling meticulously prepared dinners down like a child who still worries about going hungry. He sees it in the way his hands explore lavish new robes with the cautiousness of one unused to nice things meant only for him.
He sees it when Harry cries silently for those who died. Then louder, for the fact that he lived. In the way he curls up beside Severus more often than is strictly necessary, seeking touch at every opportunity. Even fame not enough to chase away the lingering effects of neglect.
~
The specter of the past hangs thick and heavy between them. Harry suspects Severus takes comfort in it, clings to old bitterness, pain and betrayals because he never discovered who he could be without them and fears it’s too late to learn.
Harry despises it, longs to free them both of their ghosts. Itches to banish that empty, faraway look with an embrace.
He loathes it most of all those nights when, in bed, Severus says, “look at me.” Harry’s expression automatically turns to steel as he weathers the sting of knowing the other man still doesn’t really see him.
~
There are also, however, things Harry doesn’t see. Things Severus guards with as fierce a protectiveness as he once guarded the boy. A truth so simple it hides in plain sight.
That the burdens of loneliness, shame and regret are less painful when shared. That guilt and grief feel almost tolerable when mirrored in another’s eyes.
After all, theirs is a shared history, sparking like magic when their eyes meet, when their hands touch.
The past is where they live together, and for the first time in his life, Severus can look into another person’s eyes and feel truly understood.
~
Decades apart, the boy followed Severus’ path like a shadow, suffering the same indignities and tragedies, if not quite the same fate. That they now share a bed seems both incomprehensible and inevitable. Two sides of the same broken coin, gifted a second chance neither knows quite what to do with.
For now, Severus is content to continue as they are - taking comfort in the past until one or both find the strength to drag them into an uncertain future.
“Look at me.”
Perhaps tonight he’ll finally have the courage to confess he no longer sees Lily in those eyes.
Pairing/Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Word Count: 100 x5
Rating: PG
Challenge: snarry100 #630: History.
Summary: The past is where they live together...
Read at AO3 or below. I didn't realise I never posted this little fic here. It's one of my favourites ♥
Harry sees it sometimes when people ask to shake Severus’ hand. The tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes quickly seek the floor. He sees it when Severus shrinks from praise and gratitude he can’t fathom. The way he still flinches hearing the Headmaster’s name.
He sees it when Severus tosses and turns at night, gripped by nightmares. Or when he gazes at the full moon with a twinge of guilt and regret.
History reaches out like long fingers, curling around Severus’ neck until he’s breathless. He doesn’t mind, truth be told, but lets Harry pry them off nonetheless.
~
Severus sees it sometimes when Harry eats a little too quickly, shoveling meticulously prepared dinners down like a child who still worries about going hungry. He sees it in the way his hands explore lavish new robes with the cautiousness of one unused to nice things meant only for him.
He sees it when Harry cries silently for those who died. Then louder, for the fact that he lived. In the way he curls up beside Severus more often than is strictly necessary, seeking touch at every opportunity. Even fame not enough to chase away the lingering effects of neglect.
~
The specter of the past hangs thick and heavy between them. Harry suspects Severus takes comfort in it, clings to old bitterness, pain and betrayals because he never discovered who he could be without them and fears it’s too late to learn.
Harry despises it, longs to free them both of their ghosts. Itches to banish that empty, faraway look with an embrace.
He loathes it most of all those nights when, in bed, Severus says, “look at me.” Harry’s expression automatically turns to steel as he weathers the sting of knowing the other man still doesn’t really see him.
~
There are also, however, things Harry doesn’t see. Things Severus guards with as fierce a protectiveness as he once guarded the boy. A truth so simple it hides in plain sight.
That the burdens of loneliness, shame and regret are less painful when shared. That guilt and grief feel almost tolerable when mirrored in another’s eyes.
After all, theirs is a shared history, sparking like magic when their eyes meet, when their hands touch.
The past is where they live together, and for the first time in his life, Severus can look into another person’s eyes and feel truly understood.
~
Decades apart, the boy followed Severus’ path like a shadow, suffering the same indignities and tragedies, if not quite the same fate. That they now share a bed seems both incomprehensible and inevitable. Two sides of the same broken coin, gifted a second chance neither knows quite what to do with.
For now, Severus is content to continue as they are - taking comfort in the past until one or both find the strength to drag them into an uncertain future.
“Look at me.”
Perhaps tonight he’ll finally have the courage to confess he no longer sees Lily in those eyes.