Fancy and Foolishness
Author=Snape_girl16
Prompt-Harry truly loved Snape since he was young, at age 15 he realized that fact after the incident with the pensieve, but he never dares to approach him. When Harry turns of age and the war is almost over he promised himself that he is going to tell Snape what he feels before the final battle. Fluffy from Harry and an extremely suprised Snape.
Rating:Mature
Warnings-Snarry, Snape and Harry Potter together.If slash bothers you or thr paiting does, don't bother to read further.Swearing also.
Notes-This is a response to the facebook Snarry page prompt contest.
Snape-*Smirk* "Oh this should be quite....entertaining."
Harry-"Oh stop being so dramatic! You know, you are not nearly as scary as you think you are."
Snape-*Eyebrow raise*
Harry-*Gulp*
Me-"On with the fic!"
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Fancy and Foolishness
Harry Potter stood watching a scene of humilation that he would give anything to unsee. If he could, he would have forced himself out of the Pensieve.
Alas, he could not. And he was forced to watch as a defenseless and very angry young Snape was hoisted into the air by his ankle. All the while students had gathered below and were laughing at him as he thrashed.
That was not the worst part though. His stomach dropped to just about his feet as he it registered to him who Snape's tormenter was.
His dad, James Potter.
His heart clenched painfully as he watched James taunt Snape, and look back at his friends for encouragement. It made him sick to watch.
He had always looked up to his father, idolized him. Bonded to him because of the Quidditch skills they both shared, amd the stories his friends had told Harry about him.
He could hardly believe that this was the same James Potter. And that knowledge threatened to overhwhelm him.
He saw his mother run up and intervene, and then Snape's words towards her. And though those ugly words filled him with rage, a moments pause gave him perspective. Hermione had rubbed off on him in that way.
Snape had just been humiliated. Beyond humiliated really. And had lashed out in anger and wounded male pride. It must have been horrible to be so humilated in front of someone like his mother, he realized.
And just when he realized that he felt a nasty, sudden jerk. Seconds later he was lurched back into Snape's Office and thrown against the wall. His head hit the wall pretty hard and he slid down it slowly. He felt a mounting sense of dread as he slowly looked up at the figure towering over him. A solid column of black.
Harry had faced down a fully restored Voldemort, but even then he hadn't been as terrified as he was now.
When the green eyes met the black they found the latter seething with rage. They looked like black flame. Harry's eyes moved to his mouth almost without thought, and found that it was thin as Mcgonagalls were when she was angry. His entire frame was shaking, his pale white hands clenching and unclenching as if he wished to wrap them around Harry's throat and squeeze.
With a movement that was so quick he had no time to react, Snape grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hand balled into a fist. He pressed closer, so that Harry was forced entitely flat against the wall.
Harry was petrified. He couldn't will himself to move, almost as if he was in a full body bind curse. He should probably consider himself lucky that Snape hadn't cursed him yet.
He still had ample oppurtunity though. And reason.
The thought made Harry's heart pound against his ribcage.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Snape mouth the words to whatever curse he had in mind.
What he hadn't expected was for Snape to suddenly release him. His legs were so unsteady that he could easily have fallen. Luckily, he managed to keep his feet.
He didn't even want to think of the ridicule Snape would throw his way if he couldn't keep his feet.
No sooner had he opened his eyes that his chin was grabbed forcibly and yanked uptight to meet Snape's eyes again.
Those black orbs were as full of menace as before, and Harry's own eyes widened.
"You will never speak a word of this to anyone." Snape said with a deadly calm, which was even more terrifying than if he had yelled. Harry's legs threatened to buckle under him again.
"No-" he said weakly, hoping to appease his furious Professor.
Snape abruptly let go of his chin, acting like simply touching him was painful beyond endurance.
Harry felt his heart break a little, but he didn't know why.
"Get....out."
Those two growled words had him running for the door to Snape's office, which he abruptly threw open and bolted out the door.
He didn't stop running until he reached Gryffindor Tower.
He did not see the man clad in black collapse onto the chair behind his desk, trembling.
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*Two Years Later*
Harry Potter was now 17.
The battle with Voldemort was looming, and the atmosphere in Hogwarts reflected that sobering fact. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort attacked Hogwarts.
In anticipation of that fact,Dumbledore had ordered that he began training with Snape at the beginning of his sixth year. He had dreaded the very thought, and had protested at first.
Of course, Dumbledore had ended up convincing him. He had sweetened the deal by saying he could spend his summers at The Burrow, since it would make it easier for Snape to train him during the summer. The thought of not having to go back to The Dursley's was almost too good to be true. And so he had gladly accepted.
Though spending his summers in a place he was actually wanted was not his main reason for agreeing. His other motivation was positively Slytherin in nature, and Harry began to understand why the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him there.
*Flashback*
After his confrentation with Snape over the pensieve memory, Harry bolted back to Gryffindor Tower like Voldemort was right on his heels. He practically yelled the password at the Fat Lady, who protested at being spoken to so rudely. He rushed into the portrait hole and through the Common Room, ignoring Ron and Hermione's greetings and then startled questions as he hurried past them.
He rushed up the stairs to the Boy's Dorm and slammed the door shut behind him. He collasped on his bed then, head in his hands and shaking.
It had just been too much. Between learning this new, unwelcome information about his father, Snape's fury....
A flush of heat warmed his cheeks as he thought about Snape.
The way his hands had grasped him. His long fingered hands so elegant looking.
His height, towering over Harry as he glared down his long nose at him. Not really and ugly nose, he mused. But dignified, distinct.
That long but undeniably muscled body, pinning him to the wall. As if his dark gaze hadn't pinned him already.
And his voice. Merlin, that voice. It washed over him like phoniex song, except instead of filling him with peace, it filled him with longing. It overwhelmed him, this longing.
It made longings he'd had before pale in comparison.
That had made him shake for an entirely different reason.
*End of flasback*
A sharp elbow to his ribs had him wincing as he tiredly looked over to where Hermione was seated next to him.
They were in NEWT Potions now, and Hermione had just saved Harry from Snape's wrath. Which he knew better than ever was formidable.
He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, as a certain dark haired man had throughly invaded his dreams. Stroking, caressing, gasping-
"Harry!" Hermione tried to warn him, but it was too late. A large shadow loomed over them both, and Harry felt that familiar pool of dread threaten to drown him again.
"Mr. Potter." the baritone voice drawled, voice seeming to caress every word before it left his mouth.
Snape's eyebrow raised, and a smirk that could only mean trouble lit his face.
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair in a show of nerves.
"Ms. Granger cannot always be expected to make up for your incompetence. Know-it-all or not. Fifty points from Gryfindor, and detention with me tonight."
Snape strode off to the front of the class after that, Ron making rude hand gestures behind his back. When Snape turned around and took more points, Ron could be heard mummuring that the greasy bat did have eyes in the back of his head.
Hermione leaned over to him, whispering so Snape wouldn't hear her. She seemed genuinely troubled, and Harry feared her observant personality at times like this.
"You haven't been acting like yourself Harry. What's wrong?"
Harry sighed before forcing himself to look at his friend.
"Just exams coming up, and Voldemort you know it's a lot to deal with."
Hermione seemed to understand, and backed off after that.
He was getting too good at this lying thing. He really should have been in Slytherin.
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When Harry found himself outside Snape's classroom door precisely on time, he found himself hesitating. He had been dreading this as soon as he had left Snape's class that day.
He had been avoiding Snape as much as possible since he had discovered his feelings, since he wanted to admit them but didn't dare to. The very thought was terrifying.
There was no bloody way that Snape, bastard that he was would return his feelings. Everyone thought he was incapable of feeling anyway. Atleast feeling anything remotely positive. Harry knew from firsthand experience that he could feel rage.
Plus, who even knew if Snape was interested in blokes? He was so incredibly private, and most students thought he had no sexual impulses at all. He had never shown interest in anyone, male or female.
And Harry didn't think he was anything special to look at. Sure, he had filled out some from so much time playing Quidditch, and the feasts Hogwarts provided. But years of near starvation at the Dursley's had left their mark, and he knew he'd always been on the smaller side.
His hair was always going to be hopeless, and he wore glasses.
In fact, the only things he had ever liked about himself were his emerald green eyes, which everyone always said were just like his mothers, and his lightning bolt scar.
Of course, that was before he knew what a horrible, heavy weight of a legacy that scar would force on him.
He knew he couldn't put it off any longer, so before he lost his nerve he knocked several times. Then he waited.
"Enter!" A familiar deep voice called, and with an audible gulp Harry pushed open the door.
He treaded carefully as he stepped into the classroom, and Snape kept him waiting for a solid five minutes as he finished grading papers. Harry caught a sharp looking T being scrawled on a students paper befote it was pushed aside.
Snape looked at him full on then, and Harry's heart started racing again. Bloody hell....
"Mr. Potter." Snape spoke softly, and that familiar flash of heat swept over him again.
Snape gestured with those elegant hands towards a row of filthy cauldrons.
"Without magic." was said with a smirk, amd Harry had to stifle a groan as he trudged towards the cauldrons, already dreading it.
As he was scrubbing his fourth cauldron he though vaugly that things could not be much worse right now. He was sweating profusely from the steamy environment that was the potions classroom, combined with his current activity. He decided to strip off his robe two minutes later for that reason.
Snape cleared his throat, and Harry turned his head to study him from beneath partially closed eyes.
The man in question has his head bent foreward as he graded papers, which made his somewhat lanky hair obscure his face. His posture was tense, ptobably due to the fact he was reading a paper thzt was not up to his standards. Harry snorted, extremely high standards indeed.
Snape's head snapped up at his snort, and his eyes narrowed as he took in Harry on his hands and knees blushing.
"Something amusing, Potter?" Snape grit out, and Harry hastily ducked his head.
"No sir." he said with conviction, and went back to scrubbing his cauldron vigorously.
Then he heard a snort, and he froze. Had that....come from Snape? The utterly devoid of humor Severus Snape? He didn't dare look, so he just continued scrubbing.
"Enough Potter." came a curt order from Snape, and Harry rose unsteadily. He had been on his hands and knees so long that they felt numb. The cold dungeon floor was completely unforgiving.
Snape gestured towards the seat directly in front of his desk, and Harry took it. He hadn't been nervous scrubbing cauldrons, but now-
"Distraction in my class is not tolerated Mr. Potter, as you very well know." Snape began, and Harry almost smiled at the irony. The man who was responsible for his distraction was sitting across from him commenting on it.
"Neither is-" Snape frowned at this, "Almost falling asleep." Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you ill, Mr. Potter?"
Harry felt suprised at this. He would never havr pegged Snape as one to care. But then he realized, he was Slytherin Head of House. He was reaponsible for all of them, and probably had to intercede for their welfare on many occasions.
Harry tried to swallow past the nervous lump in his throat.
"No Sir, not ill." he tried for some strength in his voice, but it was faltering.
Snape's eyebtow raised at this. "No? Then what is it?" Snape seemed genuinely cutious, and Harry thought for sure that Snape was toying with him. Why this sudden interest in his welfare? He couldn't allow himself that hope-if Snape crushed it it would destroy him.
"I-" Harry tried, but the rest of the words died on his tounge before he could force them past his lips.
Snape finally seemed to be losing patience, which was always vety limited anyway.
"Mr. Potter, you are perfectly capable of speech. Cease this foolishness at once, as I do not have the time for-"
A wave of fury hit Harry, the likes of which he had hardly ever felt before. Who the hell was Snape to tell him to hurry when he was going through such emotional upheavel? His words had been stuck, but now they sped out of him like water rushing through a break in a dam.
"I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU, YOU GREASY GIT!" Harry yelled, slamming his fist down on Snape's desk. "Merlin knows why, you've treated me like dirt ever since you laid eyes on me, but I do!" He was so filled with self rightous rage that it barely registered to him that Snape sat as if frozen in his chair. Not even his hands moved. His face was like a mask.
It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on Harry, or like he'd accidently walked through one of the ghosts. His eyes were wide and no doubt fearful looking as he stared at the stunned man in front of him.
Harry didn't say a word, he just bolted. Out of his seat and to the door in seconds. He threw it open and was rushing down the hallway in a few seconds more.
"Just one more turn and I'll be out of the dungeons-" he thought, Just as he got there he suddenly froze. He fell backwards and would have hit the dungeon floor, had a pair of strong arms not caught him. He looked up and saw a pair of black eyes staring down at him.
He expected many things to be in those eyes, but not concern. It suprised him just as much as the full body bind had. Snape hadn't even said a word. Harry then remebered Snape knew wandless magic. Of course.
Snape reversed the curse and then picked him up carefully, not saying a word.Harry allowed it, only because he was so emotionally drained. Atleast thats ehat he told himself. In reality, he knew it was because it felt good to be in Snape's arms. It made him feel protected. For once in his life he felt safe, cared for even.
They were not heading towards the potions classroom Harry noted, and Snape answered his unsaid question when he turned right and took them both into his private quarters. He walked Harry over to the sofa and settled him on it comfortably. Then he flicked his wand at the fireplace which set it roaring.
He moved over to the cabinent on the side and took two small glasses from it, as well as a bottle of amber liquid. He poured enough into two glasses and shoved one into Harrry's hands.
"Drink." he ordered, but Harry looked at it nervously.
Snape snorted and took a sip of his own drink.
"I've worked far too hard all these years keeping you alive to kill you now, Potter."
That made Harry smile a bit, so he took a sip. And immeaditely started coughing.
"Firewhisky?" he gasped, and Snape smirked.
"The boy who lived can't hold his liquor?" Snape taunted, but then raised his glass.
"May you live long with yout foolish, Gryffindor sentimentality. And may that Gryffindor bravery continue to give me grey hairs."
Harry chuckled, and to Snape's suprise raised his glass. He took a second sip, and this one went down smoother.
"Potter-" Snape started, but Harry stopped him.
"Harry please. I'm just Harry." he said it calmly, but Snape seemed unerved.
"Harry-" he said grudgingly,"I think you will find that I am....ameable to your inclinations...."
A spring of hope bloomed in Harry's chest at Snape's words, but he was still a bit cautious. It all seemed too good to be true. Which in Harry's experience, it usually was. He hardly dared himself to hope. And yet-
"Really?" he said, and Snape frowned st this. He was clearly uncomfortable.
"Yes really, you foolish Gryffin-" Snape never got to finish, because he was cut off abtuptly by Harry. The younger man had flung himself into Snape's arms and pressed his lips to his.
What Harry hadn't expected was Snape's response. A sttong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him against a firm chest as harsh lips dominated his own. Harry felt like his head was spinning, and he never wanted it to stop.
When Snape finally pulled away, Harry looked like he was in a daze. Snape smirked and pressed Harry's head to his chest gently. Harry complied, feeling too dreamy at the moment to protest. He wznted more kisses, but it could wait. Instead he listened to Snape's heart beat steadily against his chest. Snape's hand was stroking gently through his hopeless hair, the other hand on the small of his back.
"What a fool I am, falling for a Gryffindor." Snape sighed dramatically, but Harry could hear the humor in it.
"Not as big a fool as I am, falling for a Slytherin. Ron will go bonkers."
Snape scowled at that.
"Cease speaking of Mr. Weasley, it ruins the moment. And besides-" Snape looked down at him, evil smile in place. Harry gulped.
"You won't be returning to Gryffindor Tower any time soon. I intend to keep you with me, and vety occupied my little minx."
Harry's smile was positively mischevious.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" he asked lightly, but Snape could hear the tremor in his words.
"Both."
-Fin- <3 <3
Prompt-Harry truly loved Snape since he was young, at age 15 he realized that fact after the incident with the pensieve, but he never dares to approach him. When Harry turns of age and the war is almost over he promised himself that he is going to tell Snape what he feels before the final battle. Fluffy from Harry and an extremely suprised Snape.
Rating:Mature
Warnings-Snarry, Snape and Harry Potter together.If slash bothers you or thr paiting does, don't bother to read further.Swearing also.
Notes-This is a response to the facebook Snarry page prompt contest.
Snape-*Smirk* "Oh this should be quite....entertaining."
Harry-"Oh stop being so dramatic! You know, you are not nearly as scary as you think you are."
Snape-*Eyebrow raise*
Harry-*Gulp*
Me-"On with the fic!"
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Fancy and Foolishness
Harry Potter stood watching a scene of humilation that he would give anything to unsee. If he could, he would have forced himself out of the Pensieve.
Alas, he could not. And he was forced to watch as a defenseless and very angry young Snape was hoisted into the air by his ankle. All the while students had gathered below and were laughing at him as he thrashed.
That was not the worst part though. His stomach dropped to just about his feet as he it registered to him who Snape's tormenter was.
His dad, James Potter.
His heart clenched painfully as he watched James taunt Snape, and look back at his friends for encouragement. It made him sick to watch.
He had always looked up to his father, idolized him. Bonded to him because of the Quidditch skills they both shared, amd the stories his friends had told Harry about him.
He could hardly believe that this was the same James Potter. And that knowledge threatened to overhwhelm him.
He saw his mother run up and intervene, and then Snape's words towards her. And though those ugly words filled him with rage, a moments pause gave him perspective. Hermione had rubbed off on him in that way.
Snape had just been humiliated. Beyond humiliated really. And had lashed out in anger and wounded male pride. It must have been horrible to be so humilated in front of someone like his mother, he realized.
And just when he realized that he felt a nasty, sudden jerk. Seconds later he was lurched back into Snape's Office and thrown against the wall. His head hit the wall pretty hard and he slid down it slowly. He felt a mounting sense of dread as he slowly looked up at the figure towering over him. A solid column of black.
Harry had faced down a fully restored Voldemort, but even then he hadn't been as terrified as he was now.
When the green eyes met the black they found the latter seething with rage. They looked like black flame. Harry's eyes moved to his mouth almost without thought, and found that it was thin as Mcgonagalls were when she was angry. His entire frame was shaking, his pale white hands clenching and unclenching as if he wished to wrap them around Harry's throat and squeeze.
With a movement that was so quick he had no time to react, Snape grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hand balled into a fist. He pressed closer, so that Harry was forced entitely flat against the wall.
Harry was petrified. He couldn't will himself to move, almost as if he was in a full body bind curse. He should probably consider himself lucky that Snape hadn't cursed him yet.
He still had ample oppurtunity though. And reason.
The thought made Harry's heart pound against his ribcage.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Snape mouth the words to whatever curse he had in mind.
What he hadn't expected was for Snape to suddenly release him. His legs were so unsteady that he could easily have fallen. Luckily, he managed to keep his feet.
He didn't even want to think of the ridicule Snape would throw his way if he couldn't keep his feet.
No sooner had he opened his eyes that his chin was grabbed forcibly and yanked uptight to meet Snape's eyes again.
Those black orbs were as full of menace as before, and Harry's own eyes widened.
"You will never speak a word of this to anyone." Snape said with a deadly calm, which was even more terrifying than if he had yelled. Harry's legs threatened to buckle under him again.
"No-" he said weakly, hoping to appease his furious Professor.
Snape abruptly let go of his chin, acting like simply touching him was painful beyond endurance.
Harry felt his heart break a little, but he didn't know why.
"Get....out."
Those two growled words had him running for the door to Snape's office, which he abruptly threw open and bolted out the door.
He didn't stop running until he reached Gryffindor Tower.
He did not see the man clad in black collapse onto the chair behind his desk, trembling.
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*Two Years Later*
Harry Potter was now 17.
The battle with Voldemort was looming, and the atmosphere in Hogwarts reflected that sobering fact. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort attacked Hogwarts.
In anticipation of that fact,Dumbledore had ordered that he began training with Snape at the beginning of his sixth year. He had dreaded the very thought, and had protested at first.
Of course, Dumbledore had ended up convincing him. He had sweetened the deal by saying he could spend his summers at The Burrow, since it would make it easier for Snape to train him during the summer. The thought of not having to go back to The Dursley's was almost too good to be true. And so he had gladly accepted.
Though spending his summers in a place he was actually wanted was not his main reason for agreeing. His other motivation was positively Slytherin in nature, and Harry began to understand why the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him there.
*Flashback*
After his confrentation with Snape over the pensieve memory, Harry bolted back to Gryffindor Tower like Voldemort was right on his heels. He practically yelled the password at the Fat Lady, who protested at being spoken to so rudely. He rushed into the portrait hole and through the Common Room, ignoring Ron and Hermione's greetings and then startled questions as he hurried past them.
He rushed up the stairs to the Boy's Dorm and slammed the door shut behind him. He collasped on his bed then, head in his hands and shaking.
It had just been too much. Between learning this new, unwelcome information about his father, Snape's fury....
A flush of heat warmed his cheeks as he thought about Snape.
The way his hands had grasped him. His long fingered hands so elegant looking.
His height, towering over Harry as he glared down his long nose at him. Not really and ugly nose, he mused. But dignified, distinct.
That long but undeniably muscled body, pinning him to the wall. As if his dark gaze hadn't pinned him already.
And his voice. Merlin, that voice. It washed over him like phoniex song, except instead of filling him with peace, it filled him with longing. It overwhelmed him, this longing.
It made longings he'd had before pale in comparison.
That had made him shake for an entirely different reason.
*End of flasback*
A sharp elbow to his ribs had him wincing as he tiredly looked over to where Hermione was seated next to him.
They were in NEWT Potions now, and Hermione had just saved Harry from Snape's wrath. Which he knew better than ever was formidable.
He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, as a certain dark haired man had throughly invaded his dreams. Stroking, caressing, gasping-
"Harry!" Hermione tried to warn him, but it was too late. A large shadow loomed over them both, and Harry felt that familiar pool of dread threaten to drown him again.
"Mr. Potter." the baritone voice drawled, voice seeming to caress every word before it left his mouth.
Snape's eyebrow raised, and a smirk that could only mean trouble lit his face.
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair in a show of nerves.
"Ms. Granger cannot always be expected to make up for your incompetence. Know-it-all or not. Fifty points from Gryfindor, and detention with me tonight."
Snape strode off to the front of the class after that, Ron making rude hand gestures behind his back. When Snape turned around and took more points, Ron could be heard mummuring that the greasy bat did have eyes in the back of his head.
Hermione leaned over to him, whispering so Snape wouldn't hear her. She seemed genuinely troubled, and Harry feared her observant personality at times like this.
"You haven't been acting like yourself Harry. What's wrong?"
Harry sighed before forcing himself to look at his friend.
"Just exams coming up, and Voldemort you know it's a lot to deal with."
Hermione seemed to understand, and backed off after that.
He was getting too good at this lying thing. He really should have been in Slytherin.
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When Harry found himself outside Snape's classroom door precisely on time, he found himself hesitating. He had been dreading this as soon as he had left Snape's class that day.
He had been avoiding Snape as much as possible since he had discovered his feelings, since he wanted to admit them but didn't dare to. The very thought was terrifying.
There was no bloody way that Snape, bastard that he was would return his feelings. Everyone thought he was incapable of feeling anyway. Atleast feeling anything remotely positive. Harry knew from firsthand experience that he could feel rage.
Plus, who even knew if Snape was interested in blokes? He was so incredibly private, and most students thought he had no sexual impulses at all. He had never shown interest in anyone, male or female.
And Harry didn't think he was anything special to look at. Sure, he had filled out some from so much time playing Quidditch, and the feasts Hogwarts provided. But years of near starvation at the Dursley's had left their mark, and he knew he'd always been on the smaller side.
His hair was always going to be hopeless, and he wore glasses.
In fact, the only things he had ever liked about himself were his emerald green eyes, which everyone always said were just like his mothers, and his lightning bolt scar.
Of course, that was before he knew what a horrible, heavy weight of a legacy that scar would force on him.
He knew he couldn't put it off any longer, so before he lost his nerve he knocked several times. Then he waited.
"Enter!" A familiar deep voice called, and with an audible gulp Harry pushed open the door.
He treaded carefully as he stepped into the classroom, and Snape kept him waiting for a solid five minutes as he finished grading papers. Harry caught a sharp looking T being scrawled on a students paper befote it was pushed aside.
Snape looked at him full on then, and Harry's heart started racing again. Bloody hell....
"Mr. Potter." Snape spoke softly, and that familiar flash of heat swept over him again.
Snape gestured with those elegant hands towards a row of filthy cauldrons.
"Without magic." was said with a smirk, amd Harry had to stifle a groan as he trudged towards the cauldrons, already dreading it.
As he was scrubbing his fourth cauldron he though vaugly that things could not be much worse right now. He was sweating profusely from the steamy environment that was the potions classroom, combined with his current activity. He decided to strip off his robe two minutes later for that reason.
Snape cleared his throat, and Harry turned his head to study him from beneath partially closed eyes.
The man in question has his head bent foreward as he graded papers, which made his somewhat lanky hair obscure his face. His posture was tense, ptobably due to the fact he was reading a paper thzt was not up to his standards. Harry snorted, extremely high standards indeed.
Snape's head snapped up at his snort, and his eyes narrowed as he took in Harry on his hands and knees blushing.
"Something amusing, Potter?" Snape grit out, and Harry hastily ducked his head.
"No sir." he said with conviction, and went back to scrubbing his cauldron vigorously.
Then he heard a snort, and he froze. Had that....come from Snape? The utterly devoid of humor Severus Snape? He didn't dare look, so he just continued scrubbing.
"Enough Potter." came a curt order from Snape, and Harry rose unsteadily. He had been on his hands and knees so long that they felt numb. The cold dungeon floor was completely unforgiving.
Snape gestured towards the seat directly in front of his desk, and Harry took it. He hadn't been nervous scrubbing cauldrons, but now-
"Distraction in my class is not tolerated Mr. Potter, as you very well know." Snape began, and Harry almost smiled at the irony. The man who was responsible for his distraction was sitting across from him commenting on it.
"Neither is-" Snape frowned at this, "Almost falling asleep." Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you ill, Mr. Potter?"
Harry felt suprised at this. He would never havr pegged Snape as one to care. But then he realized, he was Slytherin Head of House. He was reaponsible for all of them, and probably had to intercede for their welfare on many occasions.
Harry tried to swallow past the nervous lump in his throat.
"No Sir, not ill." he tried for some strength in his voice, but it was faltering.
Snape's eyebtow raised at this. "No? Then what is it?" Snape seemed genuinely cutious, and Harry thought for sure that Snape was toying with him. Why this sudden interest in his welfare? He couldn't allow himself that hope-if Snape crushed it it would destroy him.
"I-" Harry tried, but the rest of the words died on his tounge before he could force them past his lips.
Snape finally seemed to be losing patience, which was always vety limited anyway.
"Mr. Potter, you are perfectly capable of speech. Cease this foolishness at once, as I do not have the time for-"
A wave of fury hit Harry, the likes of which he had hardly ever felt before. Who the hell was Snape to tell him to hurry when he was going through such emotional upheavel? His words had been stuck, but now they sped out of him like water rushing through a break in a dam.
"I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU, YOU GREASY GIT!" Harry yelled, slamming his fist down on Snape's desk. "Merlin knows why, you've treated me like dirt ever since you laid eyes on me, but I do!" He was so filled with self rightous rage that it barely registered to him that Snape sat as if frozen in his chair. Not even his hands moved. His face was like a mask.
It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on Harry, or like he'd accidently walked through one of the ghosts. His eyes were wide and no doubt fearful looking as he stared at the stunned man in front of him.
Harry didn't say a word, he just bolted. Out of his seat and to the door in seconds. He threw it open and was rushing down the hallway in a few seconds more.
"Just one more turn and I'll be out of the dungeons-" he thought, Just as he got there he suddenly froze. He fell backwards and would have hit the dungeon floor, had a pair of strong arms not caught him. He looked up and saw a pair of black eyes staring down at him.
He expected many things to be in those eyes, but not concern. It suprised him just as much as the full body bind had. Snape hadn't even said a word. Harry then remebered Snape knew wandless magic. Of course.
Snape reversed the curse and then picked him up carefully, not saying a word.Harry allowed it, only because he was so emotionally drained. Atleast thats ehat he told himself. In reality, he knew it was because it felt good to be in Snape's arms. It made him feel protected. For once in his life he felt safe, cared for even.
They were not heading towards the potions classroom Harry noted, and Snape answered his unsaid question when he turned right and took them both into his private quarters. He walked Harry over to the sofa and settled him on it comfortably. Then he flicked his wand at the fireplace which set it roaring.
He moved over to the cabinent on the side and took two small glasses from it, as well as a bottle of amber liquid. He poured enough into two glasses and shoved one into Harrry's hands.
"Drink." he ordered, but Harry looked at it nervously.
Snape snorted and took a sip of his own drink.
"I've worked far too hard all these years keeping you alive to kill you now, Potter."
That made Harry smile a bit, so he took a sip. And immeaditely started coughing.
"Firewhisky?" he gasped, and Snape smirked.
"The boy who lived can't hold his liquor?" Snape taunted, but then raised his glass.
"May you live long with yout foolish, Gryffindor sentimentality. And may that Gryffindor bravery continue to give me grey hairs."
Harry chuckled, and to Snape's suprise raised his glass. He took a second sip, and this one went down smoother.
"Potter-" Snape started, but Harry stopped him.
"Harry please. I'm just Harry." he said it calmly, but Snape seemed unerved.
"Harry-" he said grudgingly,"I think you will find that I am....ameable to your inclinations...."
A spring of hope bloomed in Harry's chest at Snape's words, but he was still a bit cautious. It all seemed too good to be true. Which in Harry's experience, it usually was. He hardly dared himself to hope. And yet-
"Really?" he said, and Snape frowned st this. He was clearly uncomfortable.
"Yes really, you foolish Gryffin-" Snape never got to finish, because he was cut off abtuptly by Harry. The younger man had flung himself into Snape's arms and pressed his lips to his.
What Harry hadn't expected was Snape's response. A sttong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him against a firm chest as harsh lips dominated his own. Harry felt like his head was spinning, and he never wanted it to stop.
When Snape finally pulled away, Harry looked like he was in a daze. Snape smirked and pressed Harry's head to his chest gently. Harry complied, feeling too dreamy at the moment to protest. He wznted more kisses, but it could wait. Instead he listened to Snape's heart beat steadily against his chest. Snape's hand was stroking gently through his hopeless hair, the other hand on the small of his back.
"What a fool I am, falling for a Gryffindor." Snape sighed dramatically, but Harry could hear the humor in it.
"Not as big a fool as I am, falling for a Slytherin. Ron will go bonkers."
Snape scowled at that.
"Cease speaking of Mr. Weasley, it ruins the moment. And besides-" Snape looked down at him, evil smile in place. Harry gulped.
"You won't be returning to Gryffindor Tower any time soon. I intend to keep you with me, and vety occupied my little minx."
Harry's smile was positively mischevious.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" he asked lightly, but Snape could hear the tremor in his words.
"Both."
-Fin- <3 <3