FIC: gift-giving woe
Title: Gift-Giving Woe
Artist: the_kinky_pet
Rating: PG (sorry, no porn-feel free to write it in the comments section…)
Warnings: attempted humor, utter fluff, possible OOC
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. etc. are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing and make no profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Don’t sue! It’s just for fun!
Summary: Harry is out of ideas, but needs a good present. . .
Note: This fic is for The Abstract Concept. She wrote me Cornerstone, the AMAZING forced bond fic, for Christmas and ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out how to write her a thank you fic. I’ll spare you the gory details, but they all failed miserably. So, here it is: a meta-thank-you fic! (Sorry it isn’t NC-17)
Part I
Harry was in a bleak mood when Hermione dropped by, knocking briskly and letting herself into the little flat.
“Ready?”
“What?” Harry snapped as he stopped pacing for a moment.
“The movie,” she prompted with an encouraging smile.
“What movie?”
“The History Boys.”
“What?”
Hermione frowned. “The movie you said you’d go to at 4 pm with me and Ron.”
“Oh, right. Look, Hermione, I . . .”
“No! Don’t you dare!”
“It’s just that . . .”
Harry felt and heard Ron bound up the stairs before he burst into view.
“Hey, what’s taking so long?”
“Harry’s trying to ditch,” Hermione said crossly.
“Oi!” Ron cried. “Come on, mate, it’s seemed like ages!”
“It’s only been five days,” Harry protested.
“Yeah, AGES!” Ron repeated. “Besides, Hermione said it’s about a professor who gropes the boys in his class so-“
“Ron!”
“ . . . I figure it’s right up your alley.”
“Ron, I’ve told you a million times: HE NEVER-“
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said grabbing Harry’s coat and throwing it at him, “tell me for the million-and-one-th time on the way to the theater. Remind me how you just first-based it with his text book.”
“Oh, shut up,” Harry muttered, throwing his coat back at Ron who missed and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. “Really, though, I can’t go out, ‘cause see-“
“Harry,” Hermione said, “if you’d just manage you time a little better and it isn’t as if-“
“LET ME FINISH A SENTENCE!”
The windows shook and Harry flopped onto the couch in the ensuing silence.
“Honest, I’ll go on Thursday or Friday,” he promised, “but, you see, I don’t know what to get Severus for tomorrow so I really have to figure it out and I don’t have time for a movie.”
“Is that all?” Ron asked, sinking into the adjacent armchair. “Flowers and candly,” Ron announced definitively.
Hermione snorted. “Oh, honestly,” she said, taking her usual seat to Harry’s left. “It’s an absurd consumerist holiday and I wouldn’t dignify it with remark. I’d wager Severus feels the same way.”
“She’s lying,” Ron stage whispered. “She’s wild about Valentine’s day. And flowers. And chocolate.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry glared at each of them in turn and sighed.
“He gets back from the Asian Potions Alliance Conference tomorrow afternoon,” Harry told them, resisting the urge to wring his hands, “and I’ve had all this time to think of something really amazing, something really brilliant, like he did for Christmas, but I just . . .” Harry spread his hands helplessly.
“It was pretty brilliant, wasn’t it?” Hermione said with a smile. Ron nodded and Harry sighed again.
“I mean, everything he got me was SO perfect. It was just what I asked for and then some, not to mention he gave me things I didn’t even know I wanted until they arrived.”
Harry gnawed at his chapped lips before continuing, “But, I mean, I’m not talented like that-I can’t brew a potion for all the twelve days of Christmas or craft a personalized protection amulet. I don’t have those kinds of talents and it’s not like he has a bunch of snitches that need catching.”
Ron snickered and it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.
“How about a potions book?” Hermione asked. “It’s not very romantic, but . . .”
“He has them all.”
“He can’t.”
“He does. I checked. I even used the ‘I’m-famous-Harry-Potter-&-I-Need-A-Rare-Potions-Book bit. Nothing.”
“How about decorative bottles? Lots of people collect those,” Hermione suggested.
Harry drew himself up and crowed his arms over his chest with a scow and a disdainful sniff. “An absurd waste of aesthetic energy in the hopes of enticing the gullible toward shoddy brewing masquerading as quality goods. Loathsome frippery!”
Ron mock-shuddered. “Harry, mate, you’re getting scary-good at that, you know. You even start to LOOK like him for a second!”
Harry smiled and sank back down into the couch.
“Oi!” Ron cried suddenly, “What about rare potions ingredients?”
“Like what?”
“Er, I dunno. Rare stuff.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I don’t know what he needs or wants or where to get it.”
The three friends fell silent for a few moments before Ron said with a sigh, “flowers and chocolates.”
“You could cook him dinner,” Hermione suggested.
“No. He’s a better cook and he knows it.”
“So go out to dinner,” Ron suggested.
“No,” Harry insisted, “That’s as bad as flowers and chocolate. It has to be personal. Not something clichéd. It needs to show him how much I . . . how much . . .” Harry’s voice broke and Hermione sat by him on the couch, putting her arm around him.
“I’m not very good at saying it, you know?” Harry confessed. “And, I should be, I mean after all the horrible things I-“
“Mate, you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, when he starts staring and gets that . . . that distant look, I get so afraid he’s thinking about things that used to be different and the . . .” Harry frowned at his feet. “Oh, nevermind. I just wish I could erase it, and show him how deeply I-“
“I know!” Ron exclaimed, “Make him a scrapbook! You know, with pictures of you together and write stuff about happy memories or poems or stuff.”
“What pictures? I’ve only got a few and he keeps his back turned or hides behind me in all of them.”
A grim silence fell over the living room.
“Tell you what,” Ron said, “Only ten minutes till the movie. We’ll go, get your mind off it and then figure it out at the pub.”
Harry rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sighed gustily. “Okay,” he agreed feebly, picking his coat up from the floor.
“Well, before we go, I’ll just use the loo,” Hermione said and dashed upstairs.
“I was goading Hermione earlier,” Ron said quietly.
“Huh?”
“I’d never give her chocolates and flowers.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Er, well, not anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Nah, I got us ballroom dance lessons. Ten weeks. Something we could do together. Starts tomorrow. Say, maybe you could. . .”
“Can YOU picture him dancing?” Harry asked with a frown.
Ron snickered. “Um, nevermind.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, buttoning her coat as she came down the stairs. “Let’s go!”
Part II
Harry fidgeted outside 21 Parker, a dozen red roses in one hand and a gift bag of chocolates and champagne in the other hand. Harry rang the doorbell again awkwardly with his knuckle.
“Severus!” Harry cried the instant the door opened and he flung his arms around the Potions Master’s neck. The cellophane crinkled and the champagne bottle whapped Severus in the back. “I missed you,” Harry whispered into the older wizard’s ear.
“Harry, you’d better come in.”
Harry drew back and followed Severus gaze over his shoulder. A middle-aged couple stood staring, frozen in mid-dog walk, though Harry couldn’t tell if they were staring at the sight of a gay couple or the sight of Severus in full robes.
Harry blushed and followed Severus into the living room.
“What’s all this?” Severu asked, waving a hand at the packages. “Drink?”
“Yes, please,” Hary said, standing awkwardly as Severus poured two brandies.
He hadn’t said anything about the Valentine’s day presents.
“I’m sorry, Severus, I know it’s clichéd, but I wasn’t sure and I mean . . . I just . . it. . .”
“Harry, you’re babbling,” Severus said using his low-watt glare.
Harry hurriedly set his offerings on the coffee table in front of Severus and nervously took a sip of his drink, glancing between Severus and the cliché. His heart was hammering nervously. God! He was such an idiot and maybe he was going to mess things up. They’d only been together since his birthday so maybe it was too soon or it would look too much like Harry was a little boy or . . .
“Harry?”
Severus stepped closer and Harry fidgeted, his mind still running in loops, wanting Severus to say something . . .something . . . Valentine-ish.
Severus kissed him gently on the mouth, nose bumping Harry’s cheek for a moment. Harry’s heart was pounding, brain racing.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Potter! Sit down and unwind!”
Harry bit his lip and settled on the sofa next to Severus who took a long sip of brandy.
“So what is that? Were you speaking at one of your dreadful ministry affairs again? Officiating for an opening? Receiving the gifts of a grateful nation?”
Harry stared.
“Those? That. . . . that. . . they’re for you.”
“For me?”
“Um . . . Happy Valentine’s day?”
“Valentine’s day.”
“Um, yeah.”
“It’s Valentine’s day?”
“Um, yeah.”
“And those are for me?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Articulate as ever, Potter,” Severus said softly, staring unblinking at the roses.
“I, um, made reservations for dinner too,” Harry said hesitantly. “At Liason, that little French spot you said you were curious about.”
Severus was silent, still staring.
“Sorry, it’s also clichéd and predictable. I tried to-“
Severus grabbed Harry’s face between both hands and crushed his lips to Harry’s. Startled, Harry’s lips parted and Severus’ tongue thrust into his mouth, hot, wet and possessive. Harry shivered and sagged back on the couch, all the blood rushing to his groin so quickly his head buzzed. Severus pressed against him, guiding him down until Harry was flat on the couch, rubbing his body desperately against his lover.
Harry moaned as Severus pressed his hard cock against him and trailed kisses and bites along his jaw and down his neck.
“Not at all predictable,” Severus whispered with a nip to Harry’s earlobe.
“Wha?” Harry mumbled, trying to think coherently.
“I did not predict this at all,” Severus said as he pulled back to look straight into Harry’s eyes, then over to the flowers and then back at Harry.
“Well, it’s clichéd,” Harry said, squirming uncomfortably under that gaze, not to mention rubbing against his lover.
“Potter?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Severus swooped down on him again, nipping, sucking, licking and rubbing until Harry thought the room might be spinning out from under him.
“You-“ kiss “-really-“ kiss “--like it--” kiss “--even though it’s-“ kiss “-clichéd?”
Severus drew back and looked at Harry who said with a vague gesture and a sheepish smile, “I mean, everyone does that…”
“Not for me,” Severus said seriously.
“Oh, i thought . . .”
“Potter, you are the first person to bring me roses on Valentine’s day.”
Harry smiled and the concern in Severus’ eyes vanished. “Oh!” Harry exclaimed. “Well good. You’re the first person I’ve given them to.”
“Good,” Severus said and took a quick, fierce kiss.
“Potter?”
Severus nimbly unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and raked his nails across his lover’s nipples.
“Ah! Hmmm?”
“What time is that reservation?” Severus asked, running his right hand down Harry’s chest towards his trousers.
“Not ‘til seven.”
“Good.”
The End.
Artist: the_kinky_pet
Rating: PG (sorry, no porn-feel free to write it in the comments section…)
Warnings: attempted humor, utter fluff, possible OOC
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. etc. are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing and make no profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Don’t sue! It’s just for fun!
Summary: Harry is out of ideas, but needs a good present. . .
Note: This fic is for The Abstract Concept. She wrote me Cornerstone, the AMAZING forced bond fic, for Christmas and ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out how to write her a thank you fic. I’ll spare you the gory details, but they all failed miserably. So, here it is: a meta-thank-you fic! (Sorry it isn’t NC-17)
Part I
Harry was in a bleak mood when Hermione dropped by, knocking briskly and letting herself into the little flat.
“Ready?”
“What?” Harry snapped as he stopped pacing for a moment.
“The movie,” she prompted with an encouraging smile.
“What movie?”
“The History Boys.”
“What?”
Hermione frowned. “The movie you said you’d go to at 4 pm with me and Ron.”
“Oh, right. Look, Hermione, I . . .”
“No! Don’t you dare!”
“It’s just that . . .”
Harry felt and heard Ron bound up the stairs before he burst into view.
“Hey, what’s taking so long?”
“Harry’s trying to ditch,” Hermione said crossly.
“Oi!” Ron cried. “Come on, mate, it’s seemed like ages!”
“It’s only been five days,” Harry protested.
“Yeah, AGES!” Ron repeated. “Besides, Hermione said it’s about a professor who gropes the boys in his class so-“
“Ron!”
“ . . . I figure it’s right up your alley.”
“Ron, I’ve told you a million times: HE NEVER-“
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said grabbing Harry’s coat and throwing it at him, “tell me for the million-and-one-th time on the way to the theater. Remind me how you just first-based it with his text book.”
“Oh, shut up,” Harry muttered, throwing his coat back at Ron who missed and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. “Really, though, I can’t go out, ‘cause see-“
“Harry,” Hermione said, “if you’d just manage you time a little better and it isn’t as if-“
“LET ME FINISH A SENTENCE!”
The windows shook and Harry flopped onto the couch in the ensuing silence.
“Honest, I’ll go on Thursday or Friday,” he promised, “but, you see, I don’t know what to get Severus for tomorrow so I really have to figure it out and I don’t have time for a movie.”
“Is that all?” Ron asked, sinking into the adjacent armchair. “Flowers and candly,” Ron announced definitively.
Hermione snorted. “Oh, honestly,” she said, taking her usual seat to Harry’s left. “It’s an absurd consumerist holiday and I wouldn’t dignify it with remark. I’d wager Severus feels the same way.”
“She’s lying,” Ron stage whispered. “She’s wild about Valentine’s day. And flowers. And chocolate.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry glared at each of them in turn and sighed.
“He gets back from the Asian Potions Alliance Conference tomorrow afternoon,” Harry told them, resisting the urge to wring his hands, “and I’ve had all this time to think of something really amazing, something really brilliant, like he did for Christmas, but I just . . .” Harry spread his hands helplessly.
“It was pretty brilliant, wasn’t it?” Hermione said with a smile. Ron nodded and Harry sighed again.
“I mean, everything he got me was SO perfect. It was just what I asked for and then some, not to mention he gave me things I didn’t even know I wanted until they arrived.”
Harry gnawed at his chapped lips before continuing, “But, I mean, I’m not talented like that-I can’t brew a potion for all the twelve days of Christmas or craft a personalized protection amulet. I don’t have those kinds of talents and it’s not like he has a bunch of snitches that need catching.”
Ron snickered and it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.
“How about a potions book?” Hermione asked. “It’s not very romantic, but . . .”
“He has them all.”
“He can’t.”
“He does. I checked. I even used the ‘I’m-famous-Harry-Potter-&-I-Need-A-Rare-Potions-Book bit. Nothing.”
“How about decorative bottles? Lots of people collect those,” Hermione suggested.
Harry drew himself up and crowed his arms over his chest with a scow and a disdainful sniff. “An absurd waste of aesthetic energy in the hopes of enticing the gullible toward shoddy brewing masquerading as quality goods. Loathsome frippery!”
Ron mock-shuddered. “Harry, mate, you’re getting scary-good at that, you know. You even start to LOOK like him for a second!”
Harry smiled and sank back down into the couch.
“Oi!” Ron cried suddenly, “What about rare potions ingredients?”
“Like what?”
“Er, I dunno. Rare stuff.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I don’t know what he needs or wants or where to get it.”
The three friends fell silent for a few moments before Ron said with a sigh, “flowers and chocolates.”
“You could cook him dinner,” Hermione suggested.
“No. He’s a better cook and he knows it.”
“So go out to dinner,” Ron suggested.
“No,” Harry insisted, “That’s as bad as flowers and chocolate. It has to be personal. Not something clichéd. It needs to show him how much I . . . how much . . .” Harry’s voice broke and Hermione sat by him on the couch, putting her arm around him.
“I’m not very good at saying it, you know?” Harry confessed. “And, I should be, I mean after all the horrible things I-“
“Mate, you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, when he starts staring and gets that . . . that distant look, I get so afraid he’s thinking about things that used to be different and the . . .” Harry frowned at his feet. “Oh, nevermind. I just wish I could erase it, and show him how deeply I-“
“I know!” Ron exclaimed, “Make him a scrapbook! You know, with pictures of you together and write stuff about happy memories or poems or stuff.”
“What pictures? I’ve only got a few and he keeps his back turned or hides behind me in all of them.”
A grim silence fell over the living room.
“Tell you what,” Ron said, “Only ten minutes till the movie. We’ll go, get your mind off it and then figure it out at the pub.”
Harry rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sighed gustily. “Okay,” he agreed feebly, picking his coat up from the floor.
“Well, before we go, I’ll just use the loo,” Hermione said and dashed upstairs.
“I was goading Hermione earlier,” Ron said quietly.
“Huh?”
“I’d never give her chocolates and flowers.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Er, well, not anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Nah, I got us ballroom dance lessons. Ten weeks. Something we could do together. Starts tomorrow. Say, maybe you could. . .”
“Can YOU picture him dancing?” Harry asked with a frown.
Ron snickered. “Um, nevermind.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, buttoning her coat as she came down the stairs. “Let’s go!”
Part II
Harry fidgeted outside 21 Parker, a dozen red roses in one hand and a gift bag of chocolates and champagne in the other hand. Harry rang the doorbell again awkwardly with his knuckle.
“Severus!” Harry cried the instant the door opened and he flung his arms around the Potions Master’s neck. The cellophane crinkled and the champagne bottle whapped Severus in the back. “I missed you,” Harry whispered into the older wizard’s ear.
“Harry, you’d better come in.”
Harry drew back and followed Severus gaze over his shoulder. A middle-aged couple stood staring, frozen in mid-dog walk, though Harry couldn’t tell if they were staring at the sight of a gay couple or the sight of Severus in full robes.
Harry blushed and followed Severus into the living room.
“What’s all this?” Severu asked, waving a hand at the packages. “Drink?”
“Yes, please,” Hary said, standing awkwardly as Severus poured two brandies.
He hadn’t said anything about the Valentine’s day presents.
“I’m sorry, Severus, I know it’s clichéd, but I wasn’t sure and I mean . . . I just . . it. . .”
“Harry, you’re babbling,” Severus said using his low-watt glare.
Harry hurriedly set his offerings on the coffee table in front of Severus and nervously took a sip of his drink, glancing between Severus and the cliché. His heart was hammering nervously. God! He was such an idiot and maybe he was going to mess things up. They’d only been together since his birthday so maybe it was too soon or it would look too much like Harry was a little boy or . . .
“Harry?”
Severus stepped closer and Harry fidgeted, his mind still running in loops, wanting Severus to say something . . .something . . . Valentine-ish.
Severus kissed him gently on the mouth, nose bumping Harry’s cheek for a moment. Harry’s heart was pounding, brain racing.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Potter! Sit down and unwind!”
Harry bit his lip and settled on the sofa next to Severus who took a long sip of brandy.
“So what is that? Were you speaking at one of your dreadful ministry affairs again? Officiating for an opening? Receiving the gifts of a grateful nation?”
Harry stared.
“Those? That. . . . that. . . they’re for you.”
“For me?”
“Um . . . Happy Valentine’s day?”
“Valentine’s day.”
“Um, yeah.”
“It’s Valentine’s day?”
“Um, yeah.”
“And those are for me?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Articulate as ever, Potter,” Severus said softly, staring unblinking at the roses.
“I, um, made reservations for dinner too,” Harry said hesitantly. “At Liason, that little French spot you said you were curious about.”
Severus was silent, still staring.
“Sorry, it’s also clichéd and predictable. I tried to-“
Severus grabbed Harry’s face between both hands and crushed his lips to Harry’s. Startled, Harry’s lips parted and Severus’ tongue thrust into his mouth, hot, wet and possessive. Harry shivered and sagged back on the couch, all the blood rushing to his groin so quickly his head buzzed. Severus pressed against him, guiding him down until Harry was flat on the couch, rubbing his body desperately against his lover.
Harry moaned as Severus pressed his hard cock against him and trailed kisses and bites along his jaw and down his neck.
“Not at all predictable,” Severus whispered with a nip to Harry’s earlobe.
“Wha?” Harry mumbled, trying to think coherently.
“I did not predict this at all,” Severus said as he pulled back to look straight into Harry’s eyes, then over to the flowers and then back at Harry.
“Well, it’s clichéd,” Harry said, squirming uncomfortably under that gaze, not to mention rubbing against his lover.
“Potter?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Severus swooped down on him again, nipping, sucking, licking and rubbing until Harry thought the room might be spinning out from under him.
“You-“ kiss “-really-“ kiss “--like it--” kiss “--even though it’s-“ kiss “-clichéd?”
Severus drew back and looked at Harry who said with a vague gesture and a sheepish smile, “I mean, everyone does that…”
“Not for me,” Severus said seriously.
“Oh, i thought . . .”
“Potter, you are the first person to bring me roses on Valentine’s day.”
Harry smiled and the concern in Severus’ eyes vanished. “Oh!” Harry exclaimed. “Well good. You’re the first person I’ve given them to.”
“Good,” Severus said and took a quick, fierce kiss.
“Potter?”
Severus nimbly unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and raked his nails across his lover’s nipples.
“Ah! Hmmm?”
“What time is that reservation?” Severus asked, running his right hand down Harry’s chest towards his trousers.
“Not ‘til seven.”
“Good.”
The End.