Finding Love
Status: In-Progress
Pairing: SS/HP, Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: -
Summary: To find love is like to seek for a treasure. You have to take courage to find it, added with a small dose of foolhardiness.
Chapter 16
The relatively mild weather had taken a worse turn, later that evening.
Wind and snow were roaring furiously, promising a sure death to anyone who was stupid enough to brave the elements.
Occasionally, the window rattled like it was going to break under the pressure. Inside, the light from the heating stove - hospital’s emergency measures after the electricity went out - was casting strange, sinister shadows that danced along the wall as if it was the embodiment of the living beasts of darkness.
The notion was, of course, rather far-fetched.
Not only because the two men who occupied the room were too old to believe about the imaginary monsters under the bed, but rather due to the fact that even if there was one monster or a horde of it, really, these two could take care of it easily. For both of them had more magic in their little finger than any ordinary Muggle could dream of.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Potter?” A voice smooth as silk broke the silence.
The one who was called Potter, obviously the younger of the two, looked up from the board with a frown. “Come again?” he asked.
“If you make that move, Potter,” the older one paused briefly, “though, I assure you, it’ll be the greatest pleasure if you did…” And then with a glimpse of infuriating smirk on his face, went on, “you’ll surely lose.”
Color stained the younger fellow’s cheekbones at hearing that.
XxXxX
“Wasn’t mind-reading against the rules?” Potter demanded with a bemused expression.
Severus snorted. “Potter, have your learnt nothing? Should I remind you that the mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure?” He said. “The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter - or at least…” He paused, flicking his gaze back at the boy. “…most minds are.”
“Wow,” Potter said, his tone dry as sand. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
Severus smirked.
“Speaking of chess…” Potter eyed him closely. “You and Ron should hang out together, you know. You two would hit it off in no time,” The boy replied smugly, smirking back at him.
XxXxX
Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner here!
He thought as he saw the look of pure horror on Snape’s face.
Ok, fine, he lied. So far, the score was even.
But in a battle of wits, every winning should count for something, right?
It was a dirty game-yeah, it is fairly dirty (i.e. all’s fair in love and war, yes?), though, he’d assure anyone who would have bothered to listen that it was mostly harmless (seriously, it’s Snape we’re talking here) because the point of the wager was, on whose emotions would explode first.
And he was proud to say that he was holding his own quite well.
“Merlin save me from fools,” Snape muttered.
Stifling his laugh, he spoke in a singsong voice, “Never say never, Professor,” his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Honest. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man twice over.
XxXxX
Severus would never admit it to anyone but he had enjoyed the evening more than he thought he would.
Potter was being charming, unreasonably charming.
And that was the starting point of his downfall.
Should Potter sweetly say, “Please?” He would gladly fetch the sun, the moon, and the stars above for him.
Of course, he was just being ridiculous about it.
Potter might not mean anything special about bestowing such attention to him as it was probably Potter’s original demeanor to be sweet (and irritatingly playful) to his friends and acquaintances alike. But it was the first time Potter to look at him like that; like his presence was wanted, even valued.
He couldn’t help but wanting it to last, perhaps if it was possible, forever.
However, wishing was best left to the fools, and he was no fool.
Although, the thing about life was that it took too much and gave him too little.
So if he was given this one chance, why should he let it slip away?
Tomorrow would still come, but today… today, Potter was all his.
XxXxX
“What she’s like?” he asked, making Snape shift his focus from the chess board.
As Snape looked at him questioningly, he knew almost immediately he probably should take back his words before the damage was properly done, but curiosity got the better of him. To tell the truth, he had been wondering about it since he had seen the bits and pieces in Snape’s memory.
The vague answer he got from Dumbledore didn’t help at all.
He knew that once his mother and Snape had been childhood and best of friends, but there was too little in Snape’s memory about his mother to know what kind of a person his mother was.
Seeking an answer from someone who knew his mother best, seemed to be the most logical thing to do.
So he cleared his throat and pressed on. “My mother… what she’s like?”
Snape blanched as if he’d slapped him, his face was drained of color.
Suddenly, Harry had a sinking feeling that he was making a big mistake.
It had been ages since his mother had died. One would have thought Snape had time to get over it.
Merlin knew, he had, but it seemed that Snape still hadn’t.
And in his haste, he forgot that Snape wasn’t like Sirius or Remus who would humor him with his questions and give him assurance when he had doubts-Snape was just a man who was forced by circumstances to interact with him; nothing more, nothing less.
That he expected Snape to behave the same way Sirius and Remus had been, was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
“Sorry,” he blurted out, ashamed of being too forward, overstepping his bounds. He had conveniently grouped Snape in the same category as his father’s best friends. “I hadn’t been thinking… I…” His voice wobbled. “Sorry…”
After what seemed to be forever, Snape opened his mouth. “Exactly.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You are an idiot.”
“Er…” What should he reply to that?
Yes, he was? No, he wasn’t?
“Potter, I’m going to say this only once...” Snape’s black eyes glittered with powerful emotions he couldn’t hope to understand. “Don’t you dare to doubt her; Lily, your mother, had the kindest of hearts. She was the truest friend anyone could possibly have-,” then with a wistful look, Snape continued quietly, “-and for me, she was the only one.”
Harry frowned.
Snape’s assurance about his mother’s character should make him happy. But instead, he felt kind of sad.
Snape had said that she was his friend, his only friend.
He was sure that Snape wasn’t trying to garner pity from him when he said it, only stating the obvious fact which… in a sense, made it even sadder.
He really didn’t envy Snape.
It had sounded more like a curse than a gift to feel that way towards anyone.
He opened his mouth then closed it again, thinking hard the right thing to say to repair this unsalvageable situation. Yet, his mind came up blank.
Fortunately, he was saved, from having to say anything, by the bells.
XxXxX
Severus could hear the bells tolling and realized with a start that it was already midnight.
He had totally lost track of time.
Beside him, Potter had whipped his head around to stare out the window with something akin to wonder on his face. “Holy…” Potter’s bespectacled eyes widened and his mouth flew open, looking as surprised as he was. “It’s Christmas already…”
“Er…” Potter turned back to face him. The boy said sheepishly, “Well… Happy Christmas, Professor.”
Any scathing reply he might have, evaporated.
“Happy Christmas, Potter,” he said quietly.
Then, with a long sigh, Potter uttered the first sentence of his doom. “I hate to say this… I know we haven’t even finished the game, Professor…”
Severus could predict with certainty what would come next. He felt a pang of loss, already.
“But I’ve, er, I’ve an early shift, so…” Potter’s voice trailed off.
So Potter had to go home.
He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, even more than when Potter had asked him about Lily.
He knew reality would eventually intrude and every Christmas would come to an end.
But here he was, he thought ruefully, being reminded again, that there was a vast distinction between knowing and accepting.
Careful to keep his expression deceptively bland, he magically tidied up the Muggle chess board with his wand.
“Thanks,” said Potter, picking up the chess board which had been borrowed from the hospital’s recreational room.
He remained silent.
Slowly, Potter got up from his chair.
Severus forced himself to glance away, his chest was heavy. He didn’t want to get caught mooning after Potter like a lovesick schoolgirl. One confession in a day was already too much.
Unexpectedly, Potter called out to him. “Professor.”
He didn’t reply, wishing Potter wouldn’t torture him like this and would just leave.
“You’re wrong about one thing, you know…”
He tensed. Was Potter trying to pick a fight?
“She’s not your only friend.”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise.
Before he could ask, Potter had walked away, leaving behind those enigmatic parting words to ponder.
End of Chapter 16
Pairing: SS/HP, Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: -
Summary: To find love is like to seek for a treasure. You have to take courage to find it, added with a small dose of foolhardiness.
Chapter 16
The relatively mild weather had taken a worse turn, later that evening.
Wind and snow were roaring furiously, promising a sure death to anyone who was stupid enough to brave the elements.
Occasionally, the window rattled like it was going to break under the pressure. Inside, the light from the heating stove - hospital’s emergency measures after the electricity went out - was casting strange, sinister shadows that danced along the wall as if it was the embodiment of the living beasts of darkness.
The notion was, of course, rather far-fetched.
Not only because the two men who occupied the room were too old to believe about the imaginary monsters under the bed, but rather due to the fact that even if there was one monster or a horde of it, really, these two could take care of it easily. For both of them had more magic in their little finger than any ordinary Muggle could dream of.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Potter?” A voice smooth as silk broke the silence.
The one who was called Potter, obviously the younger of the two, looked up from the board with a frown. “Come again?” he asked.
“If you make that move, Potter,” the older one paused briefly, “though, I assure you, it’ll be the greatest pleasure if you did…” And then with a glimpse of infuriating smirk on his face, went on, “you’ll surely lose.”
Color stained the younger fellow’s cheekbones at hearing that.
XxXxX
“Wasn’t mind-reading against the rules?” Potter demanded with a bemused expression.
Severus snorted. “Potter, have your learnt nothing? Should I remind you that the mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure?” He said. “The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter - or at least…” He paused, flicking his gaze back at the boy. “…most minds are.”
“Wow,” Potter said, his tone dry as sand. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
Severus smirked.
“Speaking of chess…” Potter eyed him closely. “You and Ron should hang out together, you know. You two would hit it off in no time,” The boy replied smugly, smirking back at him.
XxXxX
Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner here!
He thought as he saw the look of pure horror on Snape’s face.
Ok, fine, he lied. So far, the score was even.
But in a battle of wits, every winning should count for something, right?
It was a dirty game-yeah, it is fairly dirty (i.e. all’s fair in love and war, yes?), though, he’d assure anyone who would have bothered to listen that it was mostly harmless (seriously, it’s Snape we’re talking here) because the point of the wager was, on whose emotions would explode first.
And he was proud to say that he was holding his own quite well.
“Merlin save me from fools,” Snape muttered.
Stifling his laugh, he spoke in a singsong voice, “Never say never, Professor,” his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Honest. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man twice over.
XxXxX
Severus would never admit it to anyone but he had enjoyed the evening more than he thought he would.
Potter was being charming, unreasonably charming.
And that was the starting point of his downfall.
Should Potter sweetly say, “Please?” He would gladly fetch the sun, the moon, and the stars above for him.
Of course, he was just being ridiculous about it.
Potter might not mean anything special about bestowing such attention to him as it was probably Potter’s original demeanor to be sweet (and irritatingly playful) to his friends and acquaintances alike. But it was the first time Potter to look at him like that; like his presence was wanted, even valued.
He couldn’t help but wanting it to last, perhaps if it was possible, forever.
However, wishing was best left to the fools, and he was no fool.
Although, the thing about life was that it took too much and gave him too little.
So if he was given this one chance, why should he let it slip away?
Tomorrow would still come, but today… today, Potter was all his.
XxXxX
“What she’s like?” he asked, making Snape shift his focus from the chess board.
As Snape looked at him questioningly, he knew almost immediately he probably should take back his words before the damage was properly done, but curiosity got the better of him. To tell the truth, he had been wondering about it since he had seen the bits and pieces in Snape’s memory.
The vague answer he got from Dumbledore didn’t help at all.
He knew that once his mother and Snape had been childhood and best of friends, but there was too little in Snape’s memory about his mother to know what kind of a person his mother was.
Seeking an answer from someone who knew his mother best, seemed to be the most logical thing to do.
So he cleared his throat and pressed on. “My mother… what she’s like?”
Snape blanched as if he’d slapped him, his face was drained of color.
Suddenly, Harry had a sinking feeling that he was making a big mistake.
It had been ages since his mother had died. One would have thought Snape had time to get over it.
Merlin knew, he had, but it seemed that Snape still hadn’t.
And in his haste, he forgot that Snape wasn’t like Sirius or Remus who would humor him with his questions and give him assurance when he had doubts-Snape was just a man who was forced by circumstances to interact with him; nothing more, nothing less.
That he expected Snape to behave the same way Sirius and Remus had been, was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
“Sorry,” he blurted out, ashamed of being too forward, overstepping his bounds. He had conveniently grouped Snape in the same category as his father’s best friends. “I hadn’t been thinking… I…” His voice wobbled. “Sorry…”
After what seemed to be forever, Snape opened his mouth. “Exactly.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You are an idiot.”
“Er…” What should he reply to that?
Yes, he was? No, he wasn’t?
“Potter, I’m going to say this only once...” Snape’s black eyes glittered with powerful emotions he couldn’t hope to understand. “Don’t you dare to doubt her; Lily, your mother, had the kindest of hearts. She was the truest friend anyone could possibly have-,” then with a wistful look, Snape continued quietly, “-and for me, she was the only one.”
Harry frowned.
Snape’s assurance about his mother’s character should make him happy. But instead, he felt kind of sad.
Snape had said that she was his friend, his only friend.
He was sure that Snape wasn’t trying to garner pity from him when he said it, only stating the obvious fact which… in a sense, made it even sadder.
He really didn’t envy Snape.
It had sounded more like a curse than a gift to feel that way towards anyone.
He opened his mouth then closed it again, thinking hard the right thing to say to repair this unsalvageable situation. Yet, his mind came up blank.
Fortunately, he was saved, from having to say anything, by the bells.
XxXxX
Severus could hear the bells tolling and realized with a start that it was already midnight.
He had totally lost track of time.
Beside him, Potter had whipped his head around to stare out the window with something akin to wonder on his face. “Holy…” Potter’s bespectacled eyes widened and his mouth flew open, looking as surprised as he was. “It’s Christmas already…”
“Er…” Potter turned back to face him. The boy said sheepishly, “Well… Happy Christmas, Professor.”
Any scathing reply he might have, evaporated.
“Happy Christmas, Potter,” he said quietly.
Then, with a long sigh, Potter uttered the first sentence of his doom. “I hate to say this… I know we haven’t even finished the game, Professor…”
Severus could predict with certainty what would come next. He felt a pang of loss, already.
“But I’ve, er, I’ve an early shift, so…” Potter’s voice trailed off.
So Potter had to go home.
He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, even more than when Potter had asked him about Lily.
He knew reality would eventually intrude and every Christmas would come to an end.
But here he was, he thought ruefully, being reminded again, that there was a vast distinction between knowing and accepting.
Careful to keep his expression deceptively bland, he magically tidied up the Muggle chess board with his wand.
“Thanks,” said Potter, picking up the chess board which had been borrowed from the hospital’s recreational room.
He remained silent.
Slowly, Potter got up from his chair.
Severus forced himself to glance away, his chest was heavy. He didn’t want to get caught mooning after Potter like a lovesick schoolgirl. One confession in a day was already too much.
Unexpectedly, Potter called out to him. “Professor.”
He didn’t reply, wishing Potter wouldn’t torture him like this and would just leave.
“You’re wrong about one thing, you know…”
He tensed. Was Potter trying to pick a fight?
“She’s not your only friend.”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise.
Before he could ask, Potter had walked away, leaving behind those enigmatic parting words to ponder.
End of Chapter 16