Porcupine (PG, HP/SS)
Porcupine
In the long run, it wasn’t their past or the gap between 1960 and 1980 that did it. In fact, that particular subject always united them against the senseless fools who dared to bring it up.
It wasn’t what they used to be to each other before becoming what they were today. It wasn’t the disparities of their upbringing or their daily habits. It wasn’t what people said. It wasn’t even the difference in height, although that could cut deeper than the rest if one used an appropriate jibe.
It was, one might even say, a normal, ordinary reason that could’ve put an end to any relationship.
It was Harry, ever the hero, meddling in things that didn’t concern him and digging up the broken pieces of the past - heavy, damaged things that were tucked away in the deepest corner and forgotten - all with the noble but impractical intention of fixing them for good.
It was Severus raising all ten thousand of his protective, stinging quills at once like a cautious old porcupine encountering an adventurous lion cub.
It was Harry, persisting and pushing on still, ever the playful cub who had had his nose poked once in warning, yet who kept on attempting again and again to probe the prickly ball of needles with a tentative claw, in order to return the favor.
It was Severus - scared of losing the last shred of control to the little, bossy runt - gathering up all his sharp, hurtful words and soaking them in bile over time, in order to fling them all at once when least expected.
It was Harry, running out of answers and breaking glass instead.
It was Severus barking Reparo only to levitate the newly-restored items over Harry’s head and break them again.
It was Harry slamming the door to his flat in Hogsmeade.
It was Severus asking himself just as he had asked many times before, “What am I still doing here?” and Apparating away with a dry, resounding pop.
Those were the reasons that never made it to the Daily Prophet’s gossip column cleverly disguised as a credible front page. “It’s over, thankfully. Poor lad.” the readers said and moved on to the more scandalous affairs.
*
In the end it wasn’t their past or the time between 1998 and the present that did it, although it was a good enough reason to hold on to.
It wasn't done to spite the smug, opinionated fools with “I told you so” written on their faces. It wasn’t something they had in common from the start, long before realizing what they could be to each other. It wasn’t what was left unsaid. It wasn’t the way their bodies fit together.
Perhaps it was Severus altering his Hogwarts floo to let in one more person.
Perhaps it was the week’s wait to cool their tempers and calm their minds.
Perhaps it was Harry breaking in through the door without trying the fireplace first.
Perhaps it was Severus, choosing that exact time of day to Apparate into the Hogsmeade flat.
The fights didn’t matter. The angry departure didn’t matter. It was the unwavering belief in each other’s return that mattered most.
That's what got them this far.
If the lion cub has the patience to stay long enough, the porcupine will lower his sharp quills, will stick his cautious, soft nose against the cub’s, and then will give it a inquiring, mischievous nip.
And that will mean that everything is back to normal again.
In the long run, it wasn’t their past or the gap between 1960 and 1980 that did it. In fact, that particular subject always united them against the senseless fools who dared to bring it up.
It wasn’t what they used to be to each other before becoming what they were today. It wasn’t the disparities of their upbringing or their daily habits. It wasn’t what people said. It wasn’t even the difference in height, although that could cut deeper than the rest if one used an appropriate jibe.
It was, one might even say, a normal, ordinary reason that could’ve put an end to any relationship.
It was Harry, ever the hero, meddling in things that didn’t concern him and digging up the broken pieces of the past - heavy, damaged things that were tucked away in the deepest corner and forgotten - all with the noble but impractical intention of fixing them for good.
It was Severus raising all ten thousand of his protective, stinging quills at once like a cautious old porcupine encountering an adventurous lion cub.
It was Harry, persisting and pushing on still, ever the playful cub who had had his nose poked once in warning, yet who kept on attempting again and again to probe the prickly ball of needles with a tentative claw, in order to return the favor.
It was Severus - scared of losing the last shred of control to the little, bossy runt - gathering up all his sharp, hurtful words and soaking them in bile over time, in order to fling them all at once when least expected.
It was Harry, running out of answers and breaking glass instead.
It was Severus barking Reparo only to levitate the newly-restored items over Harry’s head and break them again.
It was Harry slamming the door to his flat in Hogsmeade.
It was Severus asking himself just as he had asked many times before, “What am I still doing here?” and Apparating away with a dry, resounding pop.
Those were the reasons that never made it to the Daily Prophet’s gossip column cleverly disguised as a credible front page. “It’s over, thankfully. Poor lad.” the readers said and moved on to the more scandalous affairs.
*
In the end it wasn’t their past or the time between 1998 and the present that did it, although it was a good enough reason to hold on to.
It wasn't done to spite the smug, opinionated fools with “I told you so” written on their faces. It wasn’t something they had in common from the start, long before realizing what they could be to each other. It wasn’t what was left unsaid. It wasn’t the way their bodies fit together.
Perhaps it was Severus altering his Hogwarts floo to let in one more person.
Perhaps it was the week’s wait to cool their tempers and calm their minds.
Perhaps it was Harry breaking in through the door without trying the fireplace first.
Perhaps it was Severus, choosing that exact time of day to Apparate into the Hogsmeade flat.
The fights didn’t matter. The angry departure didn’t matter. It was the unwavering belief in each other’s return that mattered most.
That's what got them this far.
If the lion cub has the patience to stay long enough, the porcupine will lower his sharp quills, will stick his cautious, soft nose against the cub’s, and then will give it a inquiring, mischievous nip.
And that will mean that everything is back to normal again.