FICLET: Dream Upon Waking (Severus/Barty Jr.)
Title: Dream Upon Waking
Character Pairing: Severus Snape/Barty Crouch, Jr.
Prompt: "au contraire"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 650
Summary: "'It’s not about her sodding blood! It’s about you!'"
Author's Notes: There's still the angst to deal with, as well as minor language, and "Parties" and Tenacity should be read first. I didn't mean to develop a narrative thread between stories, but it happened.
Link to Prompt Table: Link!
Barty comes to in the Hospital Wing, which, even though is vision goes in and out of focus for the few minutes he’s awake, he recognizes immediately. It’s too white and sterile-looking to be anywhere else. Swimming visions of the previous night flit before him ominously before he slips back out of consciousness.
It’s afternoon and warm when he wakes up again. The wing is lonely enough that Pomfrey isn’t even bustling about, and through the lethargy is the stinging sensation that Barty is missing several classes for this rubbish. Good thing Slughorn likes him and will argue emotional distress. He’d never get away with it otherwise. Come to think, there’s still a chance that he’ll be punished, but Mum’s too sweet to punish him, and Father doesn’t care enough to do so. He’d make his secretary send the Howler and, at that, she’d no doubt send a box of sweets along with it. Just as a treat.
Sighing, Barty rolls onto his side. His peace is punctuated by a long, skinny figure, with dark hair and a prominent nose, sitting on the other bed and staring at him quite intently.
“You’re not in any danger,” Severus says calmly. “At least none that isn’t easily repaired with sleep and sustenance.”
“You’ve been here-”
“All night. Slughorn rather helped me get you here, and got me the day off as well. Seemed to think you needed someone with you, and I was quite available. I do not think that Lestrange approved-”
Barty sits and stays up, even though his head is spinning. “Rab was here?”
“Around lunchtime. He tried to rouse you until Madam Pomfrey threw him out, but you would have none of it.”
“What’d he - did he say…”
“He’ll come back after Quidditch practice.” Severus pauses to make perfect eye contact; the look makes all of Barty’s organs squirm. “I don’t suppose you can explain why on Earth you thought this was a good idea?”
Barty looks away, to the window, and then down. His voice is small, mousy. “No…”
Severus’s eyes follow him perfectly. “I was afraid that you’d be reticent. Because I am merely proceeding on inference, but it would seem to me that you are having an issue with some part of your life, and that you are trying to ignore it through effectively drowning in parchment and work.”
“I’m not,” Barty says in the same small voice. Defiant, he lays down and pulls the covers up.
More defiant, Severus kneels by the bedside. “Your refusal to talk is very damning evidence to the contrary.” For once, he actually looks… hurt. “What is it?”
Before Barty can stop himself, the question comes: “What’s so great about Evans?”
“I could ask the same of you about Black the younger.”
“He’s been my friend since we were kids. What’s so-”
“As she has been mine. As I’ve already explained to Avery and Mulciber, Lily is a brilliant witch, and a better friend.”
“But what’s so great about her? She’s just another girl, there are loads of them, she isn’t good enough-”
“If this is about her parentage-”
“It’s not about her sodding blood! It’s about you!”
When Severus doesn’t pull away, Barty’s left with the suspicion that he doesn’t fully understand the reality of the situation. It’s strange, really. He’s so circumspect, he sees into the truth behind facades without much apparent effort on his part, he pegged just what Barty was doing and what it was doing back to him when no one else did - and yet he missed this simple thing that strikes Barty as being so obvious.
“If you wish,” Severus starts slowly, and only after a lengthy pause, “to cease our friendship-”
“No! Not that. Never that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Before he can consider the consequences, Barty answers him with a kiss.
Much to his surprise, Severus makes no effort to retreat.
Character Pairing: Severus Snape/Barty Crouch, Jr.
Prompt: "au contraire"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 650
Summary: "'It’s not about her sodding blood! It’s about you!'"
Author's Notes: There's still the angst to deal with, as well as minor language, and "Parties" and Tenacity should be read first. I didn't mean to develop a narrative thread between stories, but it happened.
Link to Prompt Table: Link!
Barty comes to in the Hospital Wing, which, even though is vision goes in and out of focus for the few minutes he’s awake, he recognizes immediately. It’s too white and sterile-looking to be anywhere else. Swimming visions of the previous night flit before him ominously before he slips back out of consciousness.
It’s afternoon and warm when he wakes up again. The wing is lonely enough that Pomfrey isn’t even bustling about, and through the lethargy is the stinging sensation that Barty is missing several classes for this rubbish. Good thing Slughorn likes him and will argue emotional distress. He’d never get away with it otherwise. Come to think, there’s still a chance that he’ll be punished, but Mum’s too sweet to punish him, and Father doesn’t care enough to do so. He’d make his secretary send the Howler and, at that, she’d no doubt send a box of sweets along with it. Just as a treat.
Sighing, Barty rolls onto his side. His peace is punctuated by a long, skinny figure, with dark hair and a prominent nose, sitting on the other bed and staring at him quite intently.
“You’re not in any danger,” Severus says calmly. “At least none that isn’t easily repaired with sleep and sustenance.”
“You’ve been here-”
“All night. Slughorn rather helped me get you here, and got me the day off as well. Seemed to think you needed someone with you, and I was quite available. I do not think that Lestrange approved-”
Barty sits and stays up, even though his head is spinning. “Rab was here?”
“Around lunchtime. He tried to rouse you until Madam Pomfrey threw him out, but you would have none of it.”
“What’d he - did he say…”
“He’ll come back after Quidditch practice.” Severus pauses to make perfect eye contact; the look makes all of Barty’s organs squirm. “I don’t suppose you can explain why on Earth you thought this was a good idea?”
Barty looks away, to the window, and then down. His voice is small, mousy. “No…”
Severus’s eyes follow him perfectly. “I was afraid that you’d be reticent. Because I am merely proceeding on inference, but it would seem to me that you are having an issue with some part of your life, and that you are trying to ignore it through effectively drowning in parchment and work.”
“I’m not,” Barty says in the same small voice. Defiant, he lays down and pulls the covers up.
More defiant, Severus kneels by the bedside. “Your refusal to talk is very damning evidence to the contrary.” For once, he actually looks… hurt. “What is it?”
Before Barty can stop himself, the question comes: “What’s so great about Evans?”
“I could ask the same of you about Black the younger.”
“He’s been my friend since we were kids. What’s so-”
“As she has been mine. As I’ve already explained to Avery and Mulciber, Lily is a brilliant witch, and a better friend.”
“But what’s so great about her? She’s just another girl, there are loads of them, she isn’t good enough-”
“If this is about her parentage-”
“It’s not about her sodding blood! It’s about you!”
When Severus doesn’t pull away, Barty’s left with the suspicion that he doesn’t fully understand the reality of the situation. It’s strange, really. He’s so circumspect, he sees into the truth behind facades without much apparent effort on his part, he pegged just what Barty was doing and what it was doing back to him when no one else did - and yet he missed this simple thing that strikes Barty as being so obvious.
“If you wish,” Severus starts slowly, and only after a lengthy pause, “to cease our friendship-”
“No! Not that. Never that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Before he can consider the consequences, Barty answers him with a kiss.
Much to his surprise, Severus makes no effort to retreat.