Fic: A Time for Healing
Dec. 22nd, 2011 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mini_fest_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mini_festTitle: A Time for Healing
Author: ???
Characters: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, EWE, swearing, slash, male/male sex, frotting, hand-jobs.
Words 9,712
Summary: Some people need to leave the madness behind in order to find healing. Some people stay behind and think they have healed. Harry has found contentment after the war, until someone shows up, and everything changes.
Notes: Written for Mini_fest 2011 on Live Journal.
Prompt: 2011 prompt- Harry Apparates to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve, where he overhears Snape "talking" to Lily, telling her about Harry, who is shocked by the praise. Slash or Gen
Betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brighty18 geek6 kibatsu and mk_tortie on Live Journal
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter fandom or its characters, I just like to play with them. Harry Potter, its characters and situations are created and owned by JKRowling. No money is being made and no copyright or infringement is intended.
A Time for Healing
With his collar pulled tight up around his neck and his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets against the biting winter cold, Harry strolled along the snow-covered road leading back to the inn at Godric’s Hollow. The evening’s delicate snowflakes swirled gently around him, creating an atmosphere of serenity that Harry relished every time he visited during Christmas Eve. The soft layer of freshly fallen snow muffled his footsteps as he turned through the wooden gate into the cemetery for one last visit to his parent’s graves before heading in for the night.
At first, Harry didn’t see the tall, hooded figure standing silently in front of his parents’ headstone until he was almost half way up the snow-covered walkway. Surprised that anyone would be visiting his parents other than himself, Harry silently slid behind the nearest tree. Wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak, he crept carefully closer, finally stopping behind the wide trunk of an old oak. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he pressed up against the rough bark. Hands braced against the trunk, he cautiously poked his head out from behind to catch a view of the stranger.
Surmising the unknown person was a male from his height and posture, Harry observed as the man opened his dark cloak, reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a perfect white lily. He then bent down and carefully placed it beneath Lily’s name on the carved grey tombstone. The stranger stood silent with head bowed and arms hanging still at his sides, the only sound the faint chatter from the inn in the distance. Finished with his moment of silence, the man began to speak, his voice deep and resonant.
“You would be proud, Lily. Your son destroyed the Dark Lord. I protected him as best I could. I did it for you, Lily. Everything I did was for you.”
Snape! He’d recognize that voice anywhere. But it couldn’t be him, could it? What the hell was he doing here? Harry edged further around the trunk to get a better view. Snape was alive, but how could that be? He had seen Snape die. Even though his body had never been found, no one expected to find him alive, especially after seven long years. Harry strained his ears for Snape’s next words.
“He’s an Auror now. I understand he’s ‘headed for the top.’ At least that’s what the Daily Prophet says.” Snape paused, took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, the vapor from his exhalation clouding in the frosty air. “Sometimes I wish things could have been different. He was impulsive, disobedient, and reckless. But as much as I made him think he was stupid, he was not. He has a good mind, like you. If only he’d focused, it would have been easier for him to learn Occlumency and he…” Snape broke off and bent down to gently brush away a light layer of snow that had settled on the tombstone. “That is neither here nor there. What’s done is done,” he said almost in a whisper.
Barely able to discern Snape’s last words, Harry leaned far out from behind the oak.
Snape straightened up and his shoulders stiffened. “You may as well come out from behind that tree, Potter,” he said without turning. “You were never very good at remaining hidden without your cloak.”
Harry dove back behind the trunk. Shit! Taking a few deep breaths to calm his sudden nerves, Harry stepped out from behind the tree.
Lifting up his hands to the hood that partially hid his face, Snape pulled it back and turned around. Sharp features came into view, accentuated by the cemetery lanterns. The large hooked nose hadn’t changed in the slightest, but the angular face with the defined cheekbones was now framed by dark hair that reached past Snape’s shoulders, giving him a distinguished air. Graceful snowflakes drifted back and forth in the shifting breeze and settled on Snape’s hair and cloak as he surveyed Harry.
Rooted to the spot, his heart racing like a captured bird’s, Harry drank in the sight of Snape. Physically, Snape hadn’t changed much, he had filled out a little so his face was no longer as hollow - and he had a few more wrinkles. Other changes were harder to identify. Snape’s eyes, always piercing, no longer resembled dark tunnels, and he stood taller, appearing... lighter, as if he’d shed layers and layers of oppressive clothing that had pressed down upon him.
This wasn’t the man that Harry’s fantasies had centered around when he’d returned to Hogwarts for his final year of study after the war. This Snape far surpassed all of Harry’s fevered dreams that had been sparked by Snape’s untimely death.
“Are you going to stand there and gawk, or did you intend on saying something?” Snape asked pinning Harry with his stare.
Startled out of his trance, Harry said, “You’re alive.” He could have kicked himself. Even in the faint light of the lanterns, he could see the eyebrow that arched at the remark.
“A very astute observation, Potter,” Snape drawled. “If that is all you wish to express, I will leave you alone to visit your parents.” Drawing the hood back over his head, Snape stepped toward the path leading back to the road.
Not pausing to think, Harry strode forward and reached out, laying a gloved hand on Snape’s arm. “No, wait. Don’t go. Stay. I want to know where you’ve been. What happened...” Snape looked down where Harry touched his arm, and Harry dropped his hand.
“I have no intention of standing out here in the cold merely to satisfy your curiosity.”
“We can go to the inn. I rented a room for the night. I’m returning home tomorrow. We can talk in my room. Have you eaten? I’ll get us a meal and drinks,” Harry poured out in a rush.
“Inviting me back to your room already, Potter?” Snape said, his tone teasing. “You certainly work fast.”
Heat flared in Harry’s chest prickling his skin as it crawled up into his neck and face and his eyes widened. Shit. Fuck. Snape knew about the fantasies. No, he couldn’t possibly know, could he? “I… I… It’s not what it sounds like, I swear.”
After a slight pause, Snape replied, “Very well, if you insist.”
Relief swept over Harry and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Great. That’s great. The inn’s this way.”
“Yes, Potter. I think I can find it.”
Neither spoke as they strode quickly to the inn. Laughter grew louder the closer they approached, and square panes of light shone from the windows, illuminating the snowflakes as they settled to the ground. The inn’s warmth engulfed them as Harry opened the heavy wooden door and they stepped inside. He led them through the reception area, into the dining room, and over to the polished dark wood bar.
“Evening, Harry, what can I get you?” greeted the bartender.
“H’llo Sean. Could I have a menu, please? I’ll take my meal upstairs with my friend.”
“Hadrian Marcus,” Snape said, moving up to the bar and offering his hand.
Harry stared at the glamour Snape wore. A man with short, sandy hair and grey-blue eyes stood next to him. Even the nose was smaller and no longer hooked. No one would ever recognize this man as Severus Snape.
Sean took the offered hand and smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Marcus. Any friend of Harry’s, is a friend of mine.”
“The pleasure is mine,” replied Snape.
“I’ll come back down and give you our order in a few minutes,” Harry said, taking the menu.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Giving Snape and Harry a nod, Sean moved on to the next patron.
Harry walked back through the reception area and down a short hallway. Checking behind him to make sure Snape was following, he climbed the stairs up to the next floor and to his room.
“Lumos,” Harry said as he stepped inside. Brass wall sconces and spiral-shaped candlesticks, their dried wax trickling down the curved paths to their crystal holders, flared to life about the rustic, open beamed room. Moving aside, Harry let Snape enter, then shut and locked the door behind them. With practiced skill, Harry cast Muffliato and set up the wards.
“We should be able to talk privately now,” he said, only to watch as Snape, with quick, sharp flicks of his wand, modified all the wards that were cast. Attempting to lighten the mood, Harry said, “You’ll have to teach that to me sometime.”
Without a reply, Snape strode over and took a seat in the high-backed leather chair by the stone fireplace, where a dancing fire warmed the cosy space. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked over at Harry and waited.
“Um, right. Here’s the menu,” Harry said walking over to Snape and handing it over. “Let me know what you’d like, and I’ll nip down and order for us.” As Snape browsed what was available for dinner, Harry removed his gloves, unbuttoned his coat and unwound his muffler from about his neck, hooking them on the wooden coat rack next to the door.
“The roast beef with vegetables and tea will suffice,” Snape said handing back the menu.
“OK, I’ll be right back.” Harry made a move for the door and stopped. “You won’t leave, will you? You’ll still be here when I get back?”
Letting out a slow breath, Snape replied, “I would hardly rush to leave if I agreed to visit your room. Unless some dire emergency happens, I will be here when you return.”
Harry nodded. “Good, OK. I’ll be right back,” he repeated and left. He felt the wards rise when the door closed.
“I’d still better get back to the room soon in case he changes his mind,” Harry muttered to himself as he hurried downstairs. Stepping back into the bar he caught Sean’s attention.
“You and your friend decide what you’d like for dinner?” Sean asked.
Harry nodded. “Could I have the roast beef and veggies for my friend and fish and chips for myself, along with a pint of the house beer and a pot of tea sent up?” Before turning away he added, “Oh yeah, I’d like the largest bottle of your best brandy.”
“Sure thing.” Sean reached under the counter and pulled out two tulip glasses, then retrieved a bottle of Hennessey Cognac XO from the locked glass case behind him. Placing them all on a tray, he pushed the tray across the bar toward Harry. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“Thanks,” said Harry. Levitating the tray ahead of him, Harry hurried back to his room where he found he couldn’t open the door.
He leant forward and whispered where the door met the jam. “It’s me. Open the door.”
The wards dropped and slowly, the door swung open. Following the tray into the room, Harry glanced in the direction of the fireplace and found the chair empty. He quickly scanned around him, turning abruptly when he heard the door click shut.
Snape stood with his wand levelled squarely at Harry’s chest.
Heart slamming against his ribs, Harry gasped out, “Shit! You surprised me. I almost dropped the brandy. What’s going on?”
Lowering his arm, Snape slid his wand back up the sleeve of his robe. “One can never be too careful, Potter,” he said, returning to take a seat in the chair. “It appears that you need to brush up on your skills.”
“My ‘skills’ are fine thank you, very much,” Harry asserted as he guided the tray over to the small mahogany side table next to Snape’s chair. “None of my partners have ever complained about my skills,” he said setting down the tray. Opening the bottle, Harry poured them each a glass.
Taking the offered drink, Snape quirked an eyebrow. “Are we discussing the same subject, or did you want to talk about something more personal?” Dark eyes bore into Harry’s.
Caught off guard again, Harry opened and closed his mouth foolishly for a few seconds.
“Very funny,” he finally managed to get out. That was the second time Snape had made that kind of innuendo. What might he be sensing? What if Snape was practicing Legilimency? Harry’s ability to occlude had improved over the years, but he was still no match for Snape’s skill at probing Harry’s mind. Shit. Heat infused his face once more. Pushing aside his suspicions, Harry toed off his shoes and settled onto the plush, brown sofa.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Snape had removed his heavy cloak and Harry noted that he wore a similar style of dark, buttoned attire to the robes he wore when teaching at Hogwarts, although the tailoring was less restrictive and had fewer buttons. The sleek lines emphasised Snape’s long legs and the robe’s cut displayed Snape’s lanky frame to advantage, inviting Harry to reach out and run his hand over the lean body. That however, was probably not a welcome idea, as Snape still sat as stiff and formal as usual, his feet planted firmly on the floor, as if he was ready to jump up at any moment. One of his hands gripped the chair’s armrest, while the other grasped his drink tightly. The neutral mask that normally covered Snape’s face was set in place as he watched Harry observing him.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Harry blurted out, “So, why are you here?”
Snape arched his brow. “Direct and to the point, aren’t you, Potter? No time for subtle pleasantries before...”
“OK, fine,” Harry conceded. “How have you been? Long time no see. What have you been up to? How’s that?” Maybe it was the firelight reflected in Snape’s eyes, but they twinkled like Dumbledore’s.
“I’ve been fine. Yes, long time no see. I’ve been busy. Yourself?”
Frowning, Harry said, “You aren’t going to make this easy for me are you?”
“Where would be the fun in that if I did?” Snape replied, taking a sniff of his cognac, then swirling it around, coating the inside of the glass. He took a second slow inhalation over the drink, then lifted the glass to his lips for a sip. His eyes watched Harry closely over the rim.
Fun? Snape? Those two words certainly didn’t go together. Was this some new kind of head game? Fine, he’d go along with it as long as it got him some answers.
Harry leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. “Since you don’t seem to want to answer my questions, you may as well ask some of me. I’m sure you must have a few.”
Setting his glass on the side table, Snape clasped his hands in his lap. “Why don’t we alternate? I’ll answer as much as I consider necessary, and you may do the same.”
“Um, okay.” Harry agreed, taken aback by Snape’s compromise. “That’s fair. So, do you want to go first?”
“No,” Snape said, motioning to Harry. “Be my guest.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Paying my respects to your mother.”
“How come I haven’t seen you here before? Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re alive?”
“That’s three questions, Potter. My turn now.”
Harry pursed his lips and nodded.
“I’ll ask you the same question shall I? What are you doing here on Christmas Eve instead of enjoying it with your friends?”
Bugger. How did he do that? “Visiting my parents.”
Snape sat silent, waiting for Harry to continue. Harry let out an annoyed sigh. “I’ve come here the last five years on special occasions, Christmas Eve being one of those times. I still spend time with my friends, but they know I need to be left alone now.” Harry picked at a loose thread on his jeans, before continuing. In a low voice he said, “It’s peaceful here during Christmas, and it makes me feel connected to my parents when I visit.”
A hint of sadness flickered over Snape’s face, then disappeared just as quickly. “What would you like to ask next?” Snape said, reaching for his cognac.
Phrasing his question more carefully this time, Harry asked, “We thought you were dead when we left you. What happened and how did you survive?”
“That’s two questions, Potter. But, as they are related, I shall answer both,” Snape sat up straighter in his chair. “I was not dead when you and Ms Granger left me. I’d merely passed out from loss of blood.” Barely a whisper Snape said, “He never could stop meddling, even after his death.” Snape smoothed a hand over his trousers absentmindedly. “Albus instructed Fawkes to come to me if I required help.”
Harry’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. “Fawkes healed you and transported you from the Shack,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“But how did you know Professor Dumbledore sent him?”
Snape didn’t answer for quite some time, but simply stared into the fire. Harry wondered if Snape might not answer, so he waited patiently until Snape turned back to him.
“About six months after I ‘died’, I received a small envelope from Albus’ brother, Aberforth. In it was a letter from Albus, amongst other things.” Downing the rest of his drink, Snape set the glass aside. “The rest of the story is more involved, but that is all you need to know for the present. I believe it’s your turn to answer a question, or two,” he said.
“All right,” Harry replied, “I’m ready.”
“Very well,” Snape said, his eyes piercing. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement must have been overjoyed when you joined their ranks,” he said. “I am wondering how you became an Auror without completing your N.E.W.T.S. Did they have someone coddling you throughout your training?”
Harry had gotten used to people thinking he got a free ride in his goal to become an Auror. The assumptions didn’t upset him like they used to. “Hardly,” he said. “After Hogwarts was repaired, a lot of us students returned and finished our final year. Ron and I worked on our Auror exams and physical agility tests at the same time, so we shared a room at Hogwarts and reported to the Ministry on weekends. No one coddled either of us. I wasn’t going to have anyone say that I was given special allowances just because of who I was, and neither was Ron.”
Although Harry was glad to never have another class with Snape ever again, Hogwarts just wasn’t the same without running across him in the halls, or evading him. After he’d seen Snape’s memories and all that he’d done to protect Harry while he was at Hogwarts, Harry’s views on Snape’s motivations had changed. Snape had loved Lily enough to keep him safe and had worked behind the scenes without thanks. Harry’d wanted to thank Snape and try to mend bridges after he’d seen the memories, but he never got the chance, and each passing day at Hogwarts had reminded him of all that had been lost when Snape died.
Refocusing on the conversation, Harry said, “What’s your next question?”
Steepling his fingers under his chin, Snape observed Harry in silence for a few moments, then lowered his hands. "I'm surprised you and Miss Weasley have not wed and produced three and a half ginger-haired hooligans by now,” he said. “Did she find that her fantasy of being in love with the saviour of the wizarding world, did not match up to the reality?”
Harry scowled, maybe they’d broken up a long time ago, but that didn’t give anyone the right to talk about Ginny that way. “Ginny is a great person,” he snapped, “she’s a good friend, but it would’ve never worked.”
Snape’s eyebrow rose in question.
How much should he tell Snape? Harry debated with himself. “Our breakup had nothing to do with Ginny, it had to do with me, and what I wanted. Or rather who I wanted.”
“Ah, I see. Another woman.”
Harry snorted. “No. It wasn’t another woman.”
“Indeed?” Snape said, curiosity lacing his voice.
Drumming his fingers on the sofa arm, Harry hesitated. “I don’t know if I should even tell you this,” he said continuing to mull over the idea. “Only a few of my friends know.” Why did he even feel the compulsion to tell Snape of all people? Especially since they’d only met again after many years? Not one to delve deeply into the consequences of why he did or didn’t do something, Harry took a deep breath and said, “I’m gay.” He watched Snape intently and readied himself for a cutting remark.
Resting his elbow on the chair’s armrest, Snape raised his forefinger to his lips. Mesmerised, Harry followed the movement as the long finger traced around and over the thin lips. Many of Harry’s fantasies had centered around kissing those lips and what that mouth would do on his body. What would it be like to kiss those lips for real? he wondered. Unconsciously wetting his own, Harry shifted on the sofa and caught Snape’s eyes narrowing. Snape looked like a fox that had spotted a hare. “Interesting,” Snape said, his voice a low purr.
Harry’s breathing hitched at Snape’s vocal caress. Shit, why was he reacting this way? He was sure he’d gotten over his childish crush, but he hadn’t been able to suppress the old fantasies since Snape showed up. Swallowing, Harry gathered his thoughts. “Is that it? Just ‘interesting’? I would’ve thought you’d make some comment about the Chosen One being a flaming poof.”
“Who you choose to take to your bed, does not alter my opinion of you in the slightest,” Snape said, lowering his arm. “However, despite the vaunted Gryffindor reputation for courage, I find it interesting that you have not chosen to divulge the information, but instead choose to hide.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry said sarcastically. Raising his hand he ticked off each reason on his fingers. “For one, I’m not hiding. I’ll decide when the news gets out. Second, Skeeter would have a field day with the information, and I’m going to make sure the Quibbler gets the story before she does. Thirdly, I’d not only have fangirls chasing after me thinking they could turn me straight, I’d have fanboys climbing over each other to date me because I was the Chosen One. I wouldn’t know who was after me for being the wizard that killed Voldemort, or just Harry.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “No thanks. When I meet the right person, he’s going to know me, without all the trappings that go a long with who I am, even if I have to move to another country to find him. Once I find him, then I’ll let everyone know I’m gay.”
Snape’s brow climbed in disbelief, his expression skeptical. “Your plans are highly idealistic, but not unexpected coming from a Gryffindor. What if your partner does not wish to date someone who is famous and hounded every step he takes?”
“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “It hasn’t happened yet, but I guess I’ll just have to deal with it when it does.”
“It hasn’t happened yet?” Snape asked, his tone one of surprise. “You’ve never...”
“What?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing until understanding dawned, making his eyes grow wide. “No, of course I have. It’s just... been a while,” he said dryly. Quite a while actually. Except for the two months he’d spent with his first boyfriend, a Muggle, his few and far between encounters had all been with Muggles he’d met at wine bars and restaurants that catered to the Muggle gay community. “I meant that I haven’t had a serious boyfriend or told any of them who or what I was, so I don’t know if he’d want to go out with a famous wizard.”
“I see,” Snape said refilling his glass. “I gather from your comments that your encounters have only been with Muggles then? Do not disregard the possibility of finding a wizarding partner. Not all will be star-struck with your accomplishment of killing the Dark Lord.”
“Yeah, well I don’t know many wizards who wouldn’t be, except maybe yourself,” Harry replied. If he hadn’t been staring straight at Snape, he would have missed the flash of interest that passed through the dark eyes and the brief parting of his lips before Snape closed them. Recognizing body language clues was a requirement of all Aurors, but he must’ve mistaken surprise for interest. Snape couldn’t possibly be interested in him. He’d always think of Harry as the annoying spawn of James Potter. A knock at the door interrupted Harry’s train of thought.
“Harry, it’s Erin. I’ve brought your dinner.”
Rising from the sofa, Harry walked over to the door. He glanced back at Snape and saw the non-descript glamour wash over his features. After Snape gave him a nod, Harry opened the door.
“Hi, Harry,” Erin said as she entered the room. She smiled in Snape’s direction. “I’ll put everything over here on the table, shall I?”
Harry nodded and followed the young woman over to the carved mahogany card table that butted up against the back of the sofa.
“I hope you’re having a good Christmas Eve,” Erin said as she levitated the plates of food and drink from the floating tray onto the table.
“Brilliant actually,” Harry replied, looking back over his shoulder at Snape, who lifted an eyebrow in response.
“Since you’ve got company, I’ll come clear everything away tomorrow after you leave.”
“Sounds good,” Harry said digging into his pocket for some galleons. “Happy Christmas,” he said handing her the tip.
“Happy Christmas, Harry, Mr Marcus.” Erin waved as she left, and closed the door behind her.
Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly as he inhaled the delicious aromas wafting up from their dinners. “Get it while it’s hot,” he said pulling out his chair.
Snape removed the glamour, rose and strode over to join Harry at the table.
Fish and chips were one of Harry’s favorite meals, and he was starving after his long, brisk walk that evening. “This place has the best nosh,” he said, his mouth full. “I think that’s part of the reason I stay here. Not because it’s new - it was just built about five years ago. I mean I could stay in one of the rooms at the old pub, but I really like this place, you know? The people are friendly and don’t bother me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone…”
A heavy sigh escaped Snape’s lips causing Harry to look up from his food. “Potter, I have lived alone for many years now and have grown accustomed to silence during my meals. If you would be so kind as to oblige me with ceasing your chatter, it would be appreciated,” he remarked dryly.
Harry stared at Snape. That had to be the mildest request for silence from the man Harry had ever received. First joking, now this. Had Snape changed that much? “Oh, right. Sorry,” Harry said, around his mouthful of food.
“And don’t talk with your mouth full,” Snape added.
Harry readied to make a retort, when he caught the teasing smile tugging at the corner of Snape’s mouth. Giving a soft chuckle, Harry shook his head and went back to his meal.
They finished their dinner in a comfortable silence.
☆.•´¯`•.☆.•´¯`•.☆
“I have to admit, Potter,” Snape said, relaxing back into the leather chair, “The food here is actually quite good.”
Harry refilled his drink and stretched out on the sofa, making himself comfortable on the plump cushions. He nodded in agreement and stared into his glass. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could live here, away from all the reporters and hero-worshippers back home.” He let out a sigh. “But if I did, they’d just follow me here permanently, and everything I enjoy about this place would be ruined.”
Feeling he was being watched, Harry looked up to find Snape scrutinizing him. Those intense eyes were focused sharply on his own, never wavering. “What?” Harry said fidgeting. He wished Snape wouldn’t stare at him like that. It didn’t feel like Snape was rummaging around in his mind, but the idea that he might be sifting through it, seeking information, was making Harry nervous.
Breaking eye contact, Snape reached into his robe and, without a word, pulled out a rectangular package neatly wrapped in red paper and tied with brown twine. He leaned forward and held out his arm, offering the package to Harry. He waited as Harry eyed the package with suspicion. “Go on, take it,” Snape said. “I promise it isn’t cursed.”
Harry swung his legs to the floor and tentatively accepted the package, setting it on his lap. A present? From Snape? He stared at the package, then at Snape and back at the package again. Why was Snape giving him something? Then it occurred to Harry. “You knew I was here,” he said accusingly.
“Your whereabouts during this time are not exactly secret knowledge,” Snape said matter-of-factly.
“Then why did you show up?”
“As I stated, I am here to pay my respects to your mother - and to give you that.” He nodded toward the present.
Snape’s behaviour this evening confused Harry more than he cared to admit. He continued to stare at the package in his lap.
“Do you plan on unwrapping it? Or stare at it all evening?” Snape asked wryly.
Harry gave Snape one last baffled look and set to unwrapping the package. Unknotting the twine he set it aside and carefully folded back the paper, only to stop dead still. A grey, leather album with the word ‘Photographs’ printed on the cover in silver lettering, stared back at him.
Heart pounding, Harry flipped back the cover and turned to the first page. Silver lines traversed the paper and on those lines in neat black script he read-
This is the property of Lily Evans
Beginning Date - December 25, 1970
Ending Date - _______________
Unable to speak, Harry ran his fingers lightly over the writing. This was his mother’s. Snape had just gifted him his mother’s photo album. Harry didn’t know how long he sat there staring at the writing before he turned the page to the first photograph.
“The pictures don’t move,” Harry said, looking over at Snape.
“No. Those pictures were taken with a Muggle camera your mother received for Christmas. That album was also a gift,” Snape said, watching Harry closely.
Harry gave a distracted nod as he stared at the album. “How did you get the book?” he asked.
“Your mother allowed me to take it home a few days before my birthday.” Snape paused as he remembered. “I was to return it when I saw her on my birthday, but that was the day I received my letter from Hogwarts, and soon after, your mother received her Hogwart’s letter. The album was forgotten in our excitement. I’ve had it in my possession since.”
“Why are you giving it to me now?”
Snape sat silent for a few moments, then softly said, “I think your mother would like you to have it.”
Not knowing what to say, Harry Accioed one of the candles closer in order to examine the first photo better. A slim woman in her thirties, dressed in a pale yellow frock with tiny peach flowers stood in front of a blue door. Her auburn hair was done up in a French twist and she held a small, fluffy white dog that looked like it thought it was the centre of the universe. “Who’s this woman?” Harry asked, pointing at the picture. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her.
The leather chair creaked and Harry lifted his head to see Snape rising from his seat. His long steps carrying him over to the sofa, Snape sat down next to Harry and with slender hands, reached over, pulling the album half onto his lap.
“That is your grandmother, Helen. Even though your mother invited me to visit their home many times, I didn’t go, so I never met your grandmother, but Lily told me about her.”
Harry stared at Snape in disbelief. He had no idea that Snape knew anything at all about Harry’s relatives, other than Aunt Petunia.
Excitedly, Harry turned the page. Several photos of the same white dog in different poses peered back at him. “Who’s the dog?”
“That dog was the family pet. You’ll find many pictures of him in there,” Snape said leaning back against the sofa. “Your mother enjoyed taking his picture. I believe his name was ‘Julius Caesar’.”
Harry laughed. “That’s an awfully big name for such a small dog.”
“Yes, I told her something quite similar,” Snape said in agreement. “She said that Caesar was a very dignified dog, and that the name suited him perfectly.”
Harry imagined his mother defending Caesar’s name and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Did my mother argue with you a lot?” he asked, curious.
Snape carefully considered his response before answering. “Your mother had many questions about magic and the magical world. My answers did not always satisfy her and she often questioned my conclusions. She was also very strong minded and our discussions lead to many heated debates.”
Before Harry could stop himself he said, “Kind of like me, huh?”
Giving Harry a long look, Snape nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You are more alike than you know.”
Pleased with Snape’s answer, Harry flipped to the next page and stared in surprise. Sitting on a playground swing, was a young Severus Snape. He was dressed in black trousers that rode high above his ankles exposing black, woolen socks, and a patched, brown, button-down jacket. Snape sat stiffly, his hands gripping the swing’s chains and he wore an expression of utter boredom. “What’s this picture all about?” Harry asked, amazed that Snape had left a photo of himself in the album.
“Your mother insisted that a photo of a playground was dull without a person sitting in the swings,” Snape said, stretching out his arm along the sofa behind Harry. “She directed that I go over and sit on one and look ‘interested’ in what was going on around me. As you can see, I found nothing of interest.”
“Sounds like my mom could be kind of bossy,” Harry said grinning.
Snape gave a crooked smile. “She could be,” he said nodding.
Harry’s eyes travelled down to the crooked smile and the unexpected urge to place a kiss on it overcame him. His faced burned at the thought. Embarrassed once again by the resurgence of feelings he’d thought he was long over, Harry lowered his head to examine the photos.
A blurry picture followed the photo of a bird’s nest containing three nestlings. “What happened with this picture here?” Harry asked.
Leaning close enough so that their shoulders touched, Snape reached over and ran his fingertips along the edge of the photo. “Your mother saw that nest and insisted on climbing the tree to get a photo of the birds. Unfortunately, she slipped and fell.”
Harry followed the movement of Snape’s long, slim fingers as they traced the photograph. Snape was so close, he could hear Snape’s soft breathing and smell the warmth of fresh herbs on his robes. Giving himself a mental shake in order to focus, Harry asked, “Was she hurt?”
Snape looked up at Harry’s question, his face a mere handspan away. His eyes moved down to Harry’s lips and lingered momentarily before returning to meet Harry’s eyes. “Only a few scrapes and bruises, but she was more concerned about the camera. She insisted she rush home to have her mother check if it was broken.” Snape stared into the fire as he remembered. “I should have known then, that your mother was destined for Gryffindor.” He turned back to Harry, his smile melancholy.
As Snape went back to enjoying the photos, Harry observed the surprising change that came over his features. The tense scowl he always seemed to wear, even during normal conversation, smoothed out and the corners of his mouth pulled upward in a slight smile. Harry watched Snape turn the pages of the album with a reverence that surpassed even his care with potion making.
Interrupting, Harry asked, “Do you have to leave soon?”
“Why do you ask?” Snape said curiously, drawing back from perusing a photo.
Harry shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d like to hang around and we could talk some more. We could play some wizard’s chess,” he offered. “I think there’s a travelling chess set in the card table’s drawer.”
Snape was silent for a moment. “I have no pressing engagements,” he finally said.
“Great, that’s great,” Harry said. Everything that had happened so far this evening was extraordinary, Harry thought. It called for a toast. Rising to his feet he walked over to the side table and refreshed their drinks. He sat back down and handed Snape his cognac. Raising his own glass, Harry looked deep into Snape’s eyes and hoped that his former professor could see his sincerity. “Cheers,” he said. “Thanks for everything, and I mean everything.”
Snape’s eyes searched Harry’s for a moment, then nodded. He raised his glass in response, “Cheers. You’re welcome.”
☆.•´¯`•.☆.•´¯`•.☆
The rays of the early morning sun peeked through a crack in the curtains and onto Harry’s face. He scrunched up his eyes at the intrusion and burrowed further beneath the layers of covers, tightening his hold around the warm body that lay next to him. Smiling to himself, Harry savored the tiredness of his muscles and the achy-stretched sensation that still remained in his well-fucked ass. He drifted drowsily between wakefulness and sleep as the previous night’s events replayed themselves in his mind.
“Checkmate,” Snape had said as his black Bishop moved into position before Harry’s King.
Harry’d sighed, as once again his King had opened his hands, releasing his hold around the sword’s hilt. The sword had fallen to the board where it landed with a clatter, laying still in defeat. “That’s the third game you’ve won tonight,” he’d said looking across the table at Snape.
Snape gave him a satisfied smirk. “I suggest you ask Mr Weasley to teach you some strategy.”
“I don’t know if he can,” Harry answered, resetting the chess set. “It goes over my head like Arithmancy.” Once all the chess pieces were back in position, Harry asked, “Want to have another go?”
“I think not. It’s late,” Snape said looking over at the clock on the fireplace mantle, “I do not wish to overstay my welcome.”
He followed Snape’s gaze and saw the clock hands reading 2:10am. He’d no idea it was that late.
Pushing back his chair, Snape rose to his feet and walked over to retrieve his cloak hanging by the door.
“You don’t have to go,” Harry suggested.
“I’ve stayed much longer than I had anticipated, and there are likely no rooms available here on Christmas Eve.”
Snape couldn’t leave. “You don’t have to leave, you could stay the night. I mean you don’t have to, but I’d like it if you did,” he prattled. Crap, that was a clumsy invitation. Snape likely thought him a right idiot after that.
Pivoting, Snape said, “There is only one bed, and I do not intend on sleeping on a transfigured sofa. My own bed is far more comfortable.” Reaching for his cloak he added, “Unless there is a significant enough reason for me to stay, it is time I left.”
Harry needed to give Snape a reason. Taking a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers he said. “I’d like you to stay. I’d like you to spend the night... with me. If you want that is.”
The ticking mantle clock and the faint crackling of the fire were the only sounds that filled the silence stretching between them. Snape’s hand halted as it touched his cloak and he slowly turned to stare at Harry, a look of surprise flashing across his face before his mask of neutrality fell into place. Harry waited for Snape’s answer and when no reply came after several moments his heart sank to his stomach. His fantasies were just that, fantasies. Snape had no interest in men, or maybe it was just him.
Shit. How could he have forgotten? Heat rushed to Harry’s face. Snape had been in love with his mother. “I... I thought maybe you might be... Never mind, what was I thinking? You’re not gay, you loved my mother,” he stammered out, shaking his head at his flawed presumption. “Look, forget I said anything.”
Jumping up from his chair he hurried over to the cognac on the small side table. He definitely needed a drink after that embarrassing speech. Picking up the bottle, he found it empty and set it back down. He walked over to the sofa and plopped himself onto the cushions, resting his elbows on his knees. Shoving his hands up under his glasses, Harry scrubbed at his face as if to erase the memory of his offer. God, he’d made a right ass of himself and spoiled a perfectly pleasant evening.
He didn’t hear his name called, until a weight settled on the cushions next to him.
“Potter,” Snape said. “Harry.”
Harry heard that. Raising his head, he adjusted his glasses back into place and looked over his shoulder to meet Snape’s intense gaze.
“Your instincts are correct,” Snape said. “I prefer the company of men in such matters.”
Sure his face showed his confusion, Harry replied, “I don’t get it, you loved my mother.”
“Yes,” Snape gave a short nod. “But, even though I loved her and still love her, I never was, nor am I, ‘in love’ with her, any more than you are ‘in love’ with your friends. Unless I assume incorrectly and your feelings for your friends, notably Mr Weasley, are more than you’ve indicated?” he said raising a speculative brow.
“What?” Harry sat bolt upright, flabbergasted. “Ron? You must be joking! No, no way,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “We’re just good mates, there’s nothing between us.”
“That clears that up,” Snape said, the Dumbledore-like twinkle appearing in his eyes once again.
“So,” Harry said, rubbing his palms on his pants, his stomach fluttering with anticipation, “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
“Yes,” Snape said, his voice growing deep.
Feeling like the cat that got the cream, Harry couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Great, that’s great.”
The next thing Harry knew, Snape cupped his hand behind his neck and pulled Harry’s face towards his.
Warm, thin lips pressed against his own, teeth nipped at his lower lip, and Snape’s tongue traced languidly over Harry’s lips. Craving more of the cognac flavored kisses, Harry pressed forward, his hand finding its way to Snape’s inner thigh. Inching his hand upward he felt for Snape’s crotch and cupped the semi-erect cock through the trouser fabric, kneading it insistently, but carefully.
At Harry’s touch Snape’s fingers had tangled tighter in his hair, his other hand grabbed Harry’s upper arm and yanked him closer. Snape’s kiss had grown more urgent, his tongue slipping between Harry’s lips, demanding entrance. Harry had opened to him willingly, eagerly, and let Snape explore every inch of his hungry mouth.
Head resting in the curve of Severus’ shoulder, Harry poked his head out from beneath the covers and opened his eyes. His stiff cock rubbed pleasantly against Severus’ warm hip. “Mornin’,” Harry mumbled.
His voice resonating deep in his chest, Severus said, “I see you’ve finally decided to show yourself.”
“I was thinking about last night,” Harry replied, rutting against Severus’ leg.
“Is that so?” Severus said raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly where you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I’d like a repeat performance.” Harry threw back the covers and climbed onto Severus where he stretched himself out. Pressing himself down onto Severus’ warm skin, Harry wiggled and glided his body over Severus’ torso like a dog itching its back on a carpet. The scratchy feel of Severus’ chest hair as it rubbed against him, tingled Harry’s skin awake and he hummed at the delicious friction.
Harry hoisted himself up on his hands and peered down. He aligned their cocks and rocked his hips, enjoying the sight of their morning woodies sliding along each other. Glancing up at Severus, Harry found him with his hands folded behind his head.
“You plan on letting me do all the work?” he asked breathlessly, continuing to rock.
“I am enjoying the view,” Severus answered, his gaze intense.
Getting off in the mornings was always easy for Harry, and today was no exception. “Oh, yeah, that feels good,” he said pressing his now leaking cock hard against Severus’ larger and thicker erection. His breathing growing sharp and quick, Harry’s eyes fell closed, and he concentrated on the building pressure in his groin. He rolled his hips and rutted faster, he was so close. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna...”
Severus’ arms shot up enveloping Harry’s torso like a Seeker grabbing a Snitch, and flipped them over, trapping Harry beneath him.
Harry blinked up into Severus’ amused face. “Hey,” he exclaimed after catching his breath. “I was almost there.”
“I am aware of that,” Severus said smirking. “But I’m not ready for you to come yet.” Sitting upright, Severus positioned his knees to the outside of Harry’s hips, effectively pinning Harry’s thighs down to the mattress. He Accioed the glass of water sitting on the end table, catching it easily as it floated towards him. Waving his hand over the glass he murmured, ”Gélifier”.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry watched fascinated, as the water curled and folded in upon itself, coalescing into a thick, clear gel before stilling. “That’s pretty handy. Did you invent it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Severus said, dipping his fingers into the gel and scooping out a generous amount before sending the glass back to the end table. “It’s not as effective as traditional versions, but is better than conjured lubricants.” Wrapping his long nimble fingers around his thick cock, he took himself in hand and stroked, spreading the lube over his entire length.
In a blatant display for Harry’s eyes, Severus ran his hand over his rigid cock. Up and down he pumped, drawing his fist up over the head and twisting his hand sharply before bringing it back down. Stilling his hand, Severus thrust his hips in a lazy rhythm, sending his glistening prick through the tight channel of his fist. Harry’s breathing quickened as he stared at the large, red glans, clear drops of pre-come leaking from its tip, vanish and reappear between the tunnel of fingers. His cock twitched at the thought of sucking that hard prick into his mouth again, sticking his tongue deep into the slit and licking out the salty pre-come. He tore his eyes away from the arousing sight to find Severus’ heated gaze locked on his face. “My turn,” Harry said a bit breathless, thrusting in the air a few times as best he could.
Placing his free hand in the middle of Harry’s chest, Severus pressed him back onto the mattress. “Such the impatient Gryffindor,” he chided, the corners of his lips twitching upward. He reached down with his gel-covered hand and took Harry’s heavy balls between his wet fingers rolling them carefully in his palm. Harry inhaled sharply as the cool lube came in contact with his skin.
Severus’ warm hand caressed Harry’s lean, well-toned torso. He ran his fingers lightly through the trail of dark wiry hair above Harry’s pubic bone, over the taut stomach and over the muscled chest, honed into shape by rigorous Auror training. He brushed his fingers over and around the dark nipples teasing them gently and Harry arched upward, his eyes fluttering closed. Taking the nipples between his fingertips, Severus tweaked and pulled them until they stood at attention. “More,” Harry pleaded, his breath hitching. Severus obliged, twisting and pinching them roughly until Harry gasped, squirming against the bed in pleasure, his hands twisting the sheets in his tight grip.
Leaving his eyes closed, Harry felt the bed shift and long hair wisp across his heated skin. A moist tongue circled and flicked over his hardened nipples before sucking and squeezing them between warm lips. Harry whimpered and lifted his arms, wrapping them around Severus’ torso as Severus lowered his lanky body onto his. Severus’ erection pressed into the hollow between Harry’s hip and groin. Pre-come from the thick cock dripped onto Harry’s skin, slicking it as Severus thrust slowly into the shallow crevice.
Letting go of Harry’s balls, Severus slid his palm leisurely upward over the swollen prick, pressing down firmly when he reached the center. Harry bucked his hips helplessly into the open palm, his aching cock begging for friction. Severus resumed his gliding torment until he reached the large mushroom head where he stopped. Carefully his fingertips tugged Harry’s foreskin up and over the leaking head and pinched closed. Up and down, up and down, Severus drew the skin over the sensitive glans in quick, short movements. Harry made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and writhed against the mattress.
“Oh fuck. Stop teasing,” Harry moaned, pumping his hips and trying to push himself further into Severus’ hand.
“Patience,” Severus replied his voice deep and husky. A cry escaped Harry’s lips and he arched his hips upward as Severus curled his long fingers around his hard length and circled his thumb around and around the satiny head. Keeping his hold intentionally loose, Severus lazily stroked Harry’s cock. Harry growled in frustration as he futilely attempted to get him to grip harder and stroke faster.
“Fuck patience,” Harry gasped, straining upward into Severus’ hand.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Have any of your partners ever mentioned that you are a pushy bottom?” he asked.
Harry opened his mouth to reply and Severus dove forward, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss. Groaning, Harry reached up and tangled his fingers in the long hair, pulling Severus in. Severus’ tongue plunged deep into his mouth and Harry sucked long and hard, the similarity to their previous night’s activities running through both their minds. A low moan echoed in Severus’ throat.
“I can be a pushy top, too,” Harry replied breathlessly after they broke apart. “Let me prove it to you.”
“I prefer you right where you are,” Severus said, equally breathless, as he licked the soft hollow of Harry’s throat.
Lifting his chin, Harry tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. He sighed as Severus nipped and lathed along his jaw to the soft spot under his ear. Severus continued upward, his lips and tongue tracing around the shell of Harry’s ear with light flicks and kisses. Working his way back down to Harry’s collarbone and throat, Severus licked and nibbled the soft flesh only to stop above the pulse point, where he sucked lightly, then bit down, sinking his teeth deep into the delicate skin in what was sure to leave a bruise. Harry moaned, tightening his hold around Severus’ body.
Severus brushed his warm lips lightly over Harry’s ear. “So very responsive,” he murmured, his voice rumbling smooth and deep like distant thunder.
A shiver travelled down Harry’s spine and his cock jumped at the comment. Fuck! He could come just listening to that voice.
His cock throbbed as it lay heavy in Severus’ hand and his world narrowed to his groin and the talented fingers wrapped around his prick. Severus continued the maddeningly slow pace of his strokes and Harry couldn’t stop the needy whimpers that escaped his throat. “Please,” he whispered. “More.”
Raising himself up on his elbow Severus took their cocks in one hand, wrapping his long fingers around the hard, engorged shafts. Harry moaned at the sight of the purplish cock heads appearing and disappearing into the tight channel of Severus’ fist, their slits stretching lewdly open, dripping long strands of pre-come and coating their pricks as they pushed through Severus’ firm grip. The sound of wet flesh pressing together as their cocks slid through the hot hand sent shivers racing down Harry’s body and he groaned.
Harry dug his fingers into Severus’ arms as the pressure built in his lower abdomen. Desperately thrusting his hips, his movements grew erratic, frantic, his breaths turned into open-mouthed gasps. “I need... please,” he begged, his voice breaking. Severus’ hand squeezed tighter around their pricks, the tempo of his strokes increasing, his hips undulating faster.
Tension wound tighter in his groin until Harry stiffened, a choked cry catching in his throat. He arched his back and his world exploded, his orgasm sweeping powerfully through him. His body jerked sharply and ribbons of pearly come pulsed from his cock, landing on his chest and stomach with every wringing pass of Severus’ tight fist around their pricks. Severus’ hand flew faster as he finished them off, and he soon followed Harry over the edge. His body shuddered as he thrust once, twice, then groaned, long, ropey spurts of come shooting from his cock to coat his hand and mingle with the spunk already on Harry’s skin.
Harsh, ragged breathing and the warm, musky scent of man and sex filled the air around them like a heavy cloud. Utterly spent, his skin slick with sweat and his heart racing, Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as Severus’ hand, soaked with their come, rolled and rubbed their slippery red cocks together. Harry moaned at the sight and gave a feeble thrust of his hips.
Severus released their spent cocks and trailed a forefinger through their mingled come on Harry’s stomach, coating his finger thoroughly with the thick essence. He lifted his wet finger to Harry’s lips and Harry, locking eyes with Severus, sucked the finger into his mouth. Humming his pleasure, he swirled his tongue around the bitter, salty digit, sucking and licking it clean with long swipes, never taking his eyes from Severus’ face. He was rewarded when a red flush bloomed over Severus’ cheeks and his mouth parted. Severus slowly withdrew his finger from between Harry’s puckered lips and leaned down for a kiss. He thrust his tongue into Harry’s open mouth and relished the taste of their blended come, then lowered himself down on his back to the bed. His breathing calmed, he glanced over at Harry and said, “You are going to be the death of me yet.”
Harry barked out a laugh. “Yeah, and you’ll probably take me with you this time,” he said with a grin.
Rolling onto his side, Severus propped himself up on his elbow and waved his free hand over them. “Tergeo Liquidus”, he said, cleaning them both off. He trailed his hand languidly down Harry’s muscular chest, over and past the firm, concave stomach to come to rest on Harry’s flaccid penis, where he palmed it gently.
His skin still vibrating, Harry sighed at the light touch trailing over his body and the warmth radiating from Severus’ hand as it cupped his limp cock. He reveled in the sense of possessiveness and protection from Severus’ touch as a burgeoning warmth unfolded in his chest, growing and spreading throughout his entire being, reaching out to soothe and heal his soul. He’d made a decent life for himself after the war and Harry’d thought he’d been content, dedicating himself to his work, visiting friends and hooking up with blokes every once in a while. Now, everything he thought that had made him happy these past years, paled in comparison to how he felt since he spotted Severus the previous night. His world had flipped upside down and he didn’t want to go back. Turning his head to look at Severus he said, “Come back to my place? You can teach me patience and we can celebrate a proper Christmas.”
The corner of Severus’ mouth quirked up. “My, you do move quickly, Mr Potter.”
Harry gave a carefree laugh. “Yeah, especially when I know who I want,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
Severus’ hand moved to stroke languidly up and down Harry’s arm. “What about your friends? Won’t they wonder where you are?”
“I’ll just tell them I’m spending the holidays with someone,” Harry replied reaching up to run his fingers through the dark hair on Severus’ chest. “They’re always bugging me about spending too much time alone, so they won’t interrupt. Except maybe Hermione and Ginny. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out whom I’m with. I’d better block the floo just in case. So, how about it?” His eyes searched Severus’ face.
“The Chosen One inviting me back to his flat?” Severus quipped, his brow raised in amusement. “How can I possibly refuse?” he said. “Of course, the idea of driving Ms Granger and Ms Weasley ‘bonkers’ as you say, is also an attractive incentive.”
Harry couldn’t help but grin.
Bells tolled loud and clear throughout the village and shouts of ‘Happy Christmas’ echoed through the streets.
Severus brushed back a wayward strand of fringe from Harry’s forehead, then placed his hand under Harry’s chin. He tilted Harry’s face upward and bent down, capturing Harry’s lips in a gentle kiss. Tongue met tongue with soft caresses as they explored each other’s mouths. Not wanting to break the kiss, Harry lifted his hand and cupped it behind Severus’ neck holding him close. When Harry needed to breathe he let go and Severus pulled back.
“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Severus said, a slow smile curving his lips.
His heart spilling over with joy, Harry’s smile grew from ear to ear. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”
All was well
Author: ???
Characters: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, EWE, swearing, slash, male/male sex, frotting, hand-jobs.
Words 9,712
Summary: Some people need to leave the madness behind in order to find healing. Some people stay behind and think they have healed. Harry has found contentment after the war, until someone shows up, and everything changes.
Notes: Written for Mini_fest 2011 on Live Journal.
Prompt: 2011 prompt- Harry Apparates to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve, where he overhears Snape "talking" to Lily, telling her about Harry, who is shocked by the praise. Slash or Gen
Betas:
brighty18 geek6 kibatsu and mk_tortie on Live JournalDisclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter fandom or its characters, I just like to play with them. Harry Potter, its characters and situations are created and owned by JKRowling. No money is being made and no copyright or infringement is intended.
With his collar pulled tight up around his neck and his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets against the biting winter cold, Harry strolled along the snow-covered road leading back to the inn at Godric’s Hollow. The evening’s delicate snowflakes swirled gently around him, creating an atmosphere of serenity that Harry relished every time he visited during Christmas Eve. The soft layer of freshly fallen snow muffled his footsteps as he turned through the wooden gate into the cemetery for one last visit to his parent’s graves before heading in for the night.
At first, Harry didn’t see the tall, hooded figure standing silently in front of his parents’ headstone until he was almost half way up the snow-covered walkway. Surprised that anyone would be visiting his parents other than himself, Harry silently slid behind the nearest tree. Wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak, he crept carefully closer, finally stopping behind the wide trunk of an old oak. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he pressed up against the rough bark. Hands braced against the trunk, he cautiously poked his head out from behind to catch a view of the stranger.
Surmising the unknown person was a male from his height and posture, Harry observed as the man opened his dark cloak, reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a perfect white lily. He then bent down and carefully placed it beneath Lily’s name on the carved grey tombstone. The stranger stood silent with head bowed and arms hanging still at his sides, the only sound the faint chatter from the inn in the distance. Finished with his moment of silence, the man began to speak, his voice deep and resonant.
“You would be proud, Lily. Your son destroyed the Dark Lord. I protected him as best I could. I did it for you, Lily. Everything I did was for you.”
Snape! He’d recognize that voice anywhere. But it couldn’t be him, could it? What the hell was he doing here? Harry edged further around the trunk to get a better view. Snape was alive, but how could that be? He had seen Snape die. Even though his body had never been found, no one expected to find him alive, especially after seven long years. Harry strained his ears for Snape’s next words.
“He’s an Auror now. I understand he’s ‘headed for the top.’ At least that’s what the Daily Prophet says.” Snape paused, took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, the vapor from his exhalation clouding in the frosty air. “Sometimes I wish things could have been different. He was impulsive, disobedient, and reckless. But as much as I made him think he was stupid, he was not. He has a good mind, like you. If only he’d focused, it would have been easier for him to learn Occlumency and he…” Snape broke off and bent down to gently brush away a light layer of snow that had settled on the tombstone. “That is neither here nor there. What’s done is done,” he said almost in a whisper.
Barely able to discern Snape’s last words, Harry leaned far out from behind the oak.
Snape straightened up and his shoulders stiffened. “You may as well come out from behind that tree, Potter,” he said without turning. “You were never very good at remaining hidden without your cloak.”
Harry dove back behind the trunk. Shit! Taking a few deep breaths to calm his sudden nerves, Harry stepped out from behind the tree.
Lifting up his hands to the hood that partially hid his face, Snape pulled it back and turned around. Sharp features came into view, accentuated by the cemetery lanterns. The large hooked nose hadn’t changed in the slightest, but the angular face with the defined cheekbones was now framed by dark hair that reached past Snape’s shoulders, giving him a distinguished air. Graceful snowflakes drifted back and forth in the shifting breeze and settled on Snape’s hair and cloak as he surveyed Harry.
Rooted to the spot, his heart racing like a captured bird’s, Harry drank in the sight of Snape. Physically, Snape hadn’t changed much, he had filled out a little so his face was no longer as hollow - and he had a few more wrinkles. Other changes were harder to identify. Snape’s eyes, always piercing, no longer resembled dark tunnels, and he stood taller, appearing... lighter, as if he’d shed layers and layers of oppressive clothing that had pressed down upon him.
This wasn’t the man that Harry’s fantasies had centered around when he’d returned to Hogwarts for his final year of study after the war. This Snape far surpassed all of Harry’s fevered dreams that had been sparked by Snape’s untimely death.
“Are you going to stand there and gawk, or did you intend on saying something?” Snape asked pinning Harry with his stare.
Startled out of his trance, Harry said, “You’re alive.” He could have kicked himself. Even in the faint light of the lanterns, he could see the eyebrow that arched at the remark.
“A very astute observation, Potter,” Snape drawled. “If that is all you wish to express, I will leave you alone to visit your parents.” Drawing the hood back over his head, Snape stepped toward the path leading back to the road.
Not pausing to think, Harry strode forward and reached out, laying a gloved hand on Snape’s arm. “No, wait. Don’t go. Stay. I want to know where you’ve been. What happened...” Snape looked down where Harry touched his arm, and Harry dropped his hand.
“I have no intention of standing out here in the cold merely to satisfy your curiosity.”
“We can go to the inn. I rented a room for the night. I’m returning home tomorrow. We can talk in my room. Have you eaten? I’ll get us a meal and drinks,” Harry poured out in a rush.
“Inviting me back to your room already, Potter?” Snape said, his tone teasing. “You certainly work fast.”
Heat flared in Harry’s chest prickling his skin as it crawled up into his neck and face and his eyes widened. Shit. Fuck. Snape knew about the fantasies. No, he couldn’t possibly know, could he? “I… I… It’s not what it sounds like, I swear.”
After a slight pause, Snape replied, “Very well, if you insist.”
Relief swept over Harry and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Great. That’s great. The inn’s this way.”
“Yes, Potter. I think I can find it.”
Neither spoke as they strode quickly to the inn. Laughter grew louder the closer they approached, and square panes of light shone from the windows, illuminating the snowflakes as they settled to the ground. The inn’s warmth engulfed them as Harry opened the heavy wooden door and they stepped inside. He led them through the reception area, into the dining room, and over to the polished dark wood bar.
“Evening, Harry, what can I get you?” greeted the bartender.
“H’llo Sean. Could I have a menu, please? I’ll take my meal upstairs with my friend.”
“Hadrian Marcus,” Snape said, moving up to the bar and offering his hand.
Harry stared at the glamour Snape wore. A man with short, sandy hair and grey-blue eyes stood next to him. Even the nose was smaller and no longer hooked. No one would ever recognize this man as Severus Snape.
Sean took the offered hand and smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Marcus. Any friend of Harry’s, is a friend of mine.”
“The pleasure is mine,” replied Snape.
“I’ll come back down and give you our order in a few minutes,” Harry said, taking the menu.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Giving Snape and Harry a nod, Sean moved on to the next patron.
Harry walked back through the reception area and down a short hallway. Checking behind him to make sure Snape was following, he climbed the stairs up to the next floor and to his room.
“Lumos,” Harry said as he stepped inside. Brass wall sconces and spiral-shaped candlesticks, their dried wax trickling down the curved paths to their crystal holders, flared to life about the rustic, open beamed room. Moving aside, Harry let Snape enter, then shut and locked the door behind them. With practiced skill, Harry cast Muffliato and set up the wards.
“We should be able to talk privately now,” he said, only to watch as Snape, with quick, sharp flicks of his wand, modified all the wards that were cast. Attempting to lighten the mood, Harry said, “You’ll have to teach that to me sometime.”
Without a reply, Snape strode over and took a seat in the high-backed leather chair by the stone fireplace, where a dancing fire warmed the cosy space. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked over at Harry and waited.
“Um, right. Here’s the menu,” Harry said walking over to Snape and handing it over. “Let me know what you’d like, and I’ll nip down and order for us.” As Snape browsed what was available for dinner, Harry removed his gloves, unbuttoned his coat and unwound his muffler from about his neck, hooking them on the wooden coat rack next to the door.
“The roast beef with vegetables and tea will suffice,” Snape said handing back the menu.
“OK, I’ll be right back.” Harry made a move for the door and stopped. “You won’t leave, will you? You’ll still be here when I get back?”
Letting out a slow breath, Snape replied, “I would hardly rush to leave if I agreed to visit your room. Unless some dire emergency happens, I will be here when you return.”
Harry nodded. “Good, OK. I’ll be right back,” he repeated and left. He felt the wards rise when the door closed.
“I’d still better get back to the room soon in case he changes his mind,” Harry muttered to himself as he hurried downstairs. Stepping back into the bar he caught Sean’s attention.
“You and your friend decide what you’d like for dinner?” Sean asked.
Harry nodded. “Could I have the roast beef and veggies for my friend and fish and chips for myself, along with a pint of the house beer and a pot of tea sent up?” Before turning away he added, “Oh yeah, I’d like the largest bottle of your best brandy.”
“Sure thing.” Sean reached under the counter and pulled out two tulip glasses, then retrieved a bottle of Hennessey Cognac XO from the locked glass case behind him. Placing them all on a tray, he pushed the tray across the bar toward Harry. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”
“Thanks,” said Harry. Levitating the tray ahead of him, Harry hurried back to his room where he found he couldn’t open the door.
He leant forward and whispered where the door met the jam. “It’s me. Open the door.”
The wards dropped and slowly, the door swung open. Following the tray into the room, Harry glanced in the direction of the fireplace and found the chair empty. He quickly scanned around him, turning abruptly when he heard the door click shut.
Snape stood with his wand levelled squarely at Harry’s chest.
Heart slamming against his ribs, Harry gasped out, “Shit! You surprised me. I almost dropped the brandy. What’s going on?”
Lowering his arm, Snape slid his wand back up the sleeve of his robe. “One can never be too careful, Potter,” he said, returning to take a seat in the chair. “It appears that you need to brush up on your skills.”
“My ‘skills’ are fine thank you, very much,” Harry asserted as he guided the tray over to the small mahogany side table next to Snape’s chair. “None of my partners have ever complained about my skills,” he said setting down the tray. Opening the bottle, Harry poured them each a glass.
Taking the offered drink, Snape quirked an eyebrow. “Are we discussing the same subject, or did you want to talk about something more personal?” Dark eyes bore into Harry’s.
Caught off guard again, Harry opened and closed his mouth foolishly for a few seconds.
“Very funny,” he finally managed to get out. That was the second time Snape had made that kind of innuendo. What might he be sensing? What if Snape was practicing Legilimency? Harry’s ability to occlude had improved over the years, but he was still no match for Snape’s skill at probing Harry’s mind. Shit. Heat infused his face once more. Pushing aside his suspicions, Harry toed off his shoes and settled onto the plush, brown sofa.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Snape had removed his heavy cloak and Harry noted that he wore a similar style of dark, buttoned attire to the robes he wore when teaching at Hogwarts, although the tailoring was less restrictive and had fewer buttons. The sleek lines emphasised Snape’s long legs and the robe’s cut displayed Snape’s lanky frame to advantage, inviting Harry to reach out and run his hand over the lean body. That however, was probably not a welcome idea, as Snape still sat as stiff and formal as usual, his feet planted firmly on the floor, as if he was ready to jump up at any moment. One of his hands gripped the chair’s armrest, while the other grasped his drink tightly. The neutral mask that normally covered Snape’s face was set in place as he watched Harry observing him.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Harry blurted out, “So, why are you here?”
Snape arched his brow. “Direct and to the point, aren’t you, Potter? No time for subtle pleasantries before...”
“OK, fine,” Harry conceded. “How have you been? Long time no see. What have you been up to? How’s that?” Maybe it was the firelight reflected in Snape’s eyes, but they twinkled like Dumbledore’s.
“I’ve been fine. Yes, long time no see. I’ve been busy. Yourself?”
Frowning, Harry said, “You aren’t going to make this easy for me are you?”
“Where would be the fun in that if I did?” Snape replied, taking a sniff of his cognac, then swirling it around, coating the inside of the glass. He took a second slow inhalation over the drink, then lifted the glass to his lips for a sip. His eyes watched Harry closely over the rim.
Fun? Snape? Those two words certainly didn’t go together. Was this some new kind of head game? Fine, he’d go along with it as long as it got him some answers.
Harry leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. “Since you don’t seem to want to answer my questions, you may as well ask some of me. I’m sure you must have a few.”
Setting his glass on the side table, Snape clasped his hands in his lap. “Why don’t we alternate? I’ll answer as much as I consider necessary, and you may do the same.”
“Um, okay.” Harry agreed, taken aback by Snape’s compromise. “That’s fair. So, do you want to go first?”
“No,” Snape said, motioning to Harry. “Be my guest.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Paying my respects to your mother.”
“How come I haven’t seen you here before? Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re alive?”
“That’s three questions, Potter. My turn now.”
Harry pursed his lips and nodded.
“I’ll ask you the same question shall I? What are you doing here on Christmas Eve instead of enjoying it with your friends?”
Bugger. How did he do that? “Visiting my parents.”
Snape sat silent, waiting for Harry to continue. Harry let out an annoyed sigh. “I’ve come here the last five years on special occasions, Christmas Eve being one of those times. I still spend time with my friends, but they know I need to be left alone now.” Harry picked at a loose thread on his jeans, before continuing. In a low voice he said, “It’s peaceful here during Christmas, and it makes me feel connected to my parents when I visit.”
A hint of sadness flickered over Snape’s face, then disappeared just as quickly. “What would you like to ask next?” Snape said, reaching for his cognac.
Phrasing his question more carefully this time, Harry asked, “We thought you were dead when we left you. What happened and how did you survive?”
“That’s two questions, Potter. But, as they are related, I shall answer both,” Snape sat up straighter in his chair. “I was not dead when you and Ms Granger left me. I’d merely passed out from loss of blood.” Barely a whisper Snape said, “He never could stop meddling, even after his death.” Snape smoothed a hand over his trousers absentmindedly. “Albus instructed Fawkes to come to me if I required help.”
Harry’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. “Fawkes healed you and transported you from the Shack,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“But how did you know Professor Dumbledore sent him?”
Snape didn’t answer for quite some time, but simply stared into the fire. Harry wondered if Snape might not answer, so he waited patiently until Snape turned back to him.
“About six months after I ‘died’, I received a small envelope from Albus’ brother, Aberforth. In it was a letter from Albus, amongst other things.” Downing the rest of his drink, Snape set the glass aside. “The rest of the story is more involved, but that is all you need to know for the present. I believe it’s your turn to answer a question, or two,” he said.
“All right,” Harry replied, “I’m ready.”
“Very well,” Snape said, his eyes piercing. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement must have been overjoyed when you joined their ranks,” he said. “I am wondering how you became an Auror without completing your N.E.W.T.S. Did they have someone coddling you throughout your training?”
Harry had gotten used to people thinking he got a free ride in his goal to become an Auror. The assumptions didn’t upset him like they used to. “Hardly,” he said. “After Hogwarts was repaired, a lot of us students returned and finished our final year. Ron and I worked on our Auror exams and physical agility tests at the same time, so we shared a room at Hogwarts and reported to the Ministry on weekends. No one coddled either of us. I wasn’t going to have anyone say that I was given special allowances just because of who I was, and neither was Ron.”
Although Harry was glad to never have another class with Snape ever again, Hogwarts just wasn’t the same without running across him in the halls, or evading him. After he’d seen Snape’s memories and all that he’d done to protect Harry while he was at Hogwarts, Harry’s views on Snape’s motivations had changed. Snape had loved Lily enough to keep him safe and had worked behind the scenes without thanks. Harry’d wanted to thank Snape and try to mend bridges after he’d seen the memories, but he never got the chance, and each passing day at Hogwarts had reminded him of all that had been lost when Snape died.
Refocusing on the conversation, Harry said, “What’s your next question?”
Steepling his fingers under his chin, Snape observed Harry in silence for a few moments, then lowered his hands. "I'm surprised you and Miss Weasley have not wed and produced three and a half ginger-haired hooligans by now,” he said. “Did she find that her fantasy of being in love with the saviour of the wizarding world, did not match up to the reality?”
Harry scowled, maybe they’d broken up a long time ago, but that didn’t give anyone the right to talk about Ginny that way. “Ginny is a great person,” he snapped, “she’s a good friend, but it would’ve never worked.”
Snape’s eyebrow rose in question.
How much should he tell Snape? Harry debated with himself. “Our breakup had nothing to do with Ginny, it had to do with me, and what I wanted. Or rather who I wanted.”
“Ah, I see. Another woman.”
Harry snorted. “No. It wasn’t another woman.”
“Indeed?” Snape said, curiosity lacing his voice.
Drumming his fingers on the sofa arm, Harry hesitated. “I don’t know if I should even tell you this,” he said continuing to mull over the idea. “Only a few of my friends know.” Why did he even feel the compulsion to tell Snape of all people? Especially since they’d only met again after many years? Not one to delve deeply into the consequences of why he did or didn’t do something, Harry took a deep breath and said, “I’m gay.” He watched Snape intently and readied himself for a cutting remark.
Resting his elbow on the chair’s armrest, Snape raised his forefinger to his lips. Mesmerised, Harry followed the movement as the long finger traced around and over the thin lips. Many of Harry’s fantasies had centered around kissing those lips and what that mouth would do on his body. What would it be like to kiss those lips for real? he wondered. Unconsciously wetting his own, Harry shifted on the sofa and caught Snape’s eyes narrowing. Snape looked like a fox that had spotted a hare. “Interesting,” Snape said, his voice a low purr.
Harry’s breathing hitched at Snape’s vocal caress. Shit, why was he reacting this way? He was sure he’d gotten over his childish crush, but he hadn’t been able to suppress the old fantasies since Snape showed up. Swallowing, Harry gathered his thoughts. “Is that it? Just ‘interesting’? I would’ve thought you’d make some comment about the Chosen One being a flaming poof.”
“Who you choose to take to your bed, does not alter my opinion of you in the slightest,” Snape said, lowering his arm. “However, despite the vaunted Gryffindor reputation for courage, I find it interesting that you have not chosen to divulge the information, but instead choose to hide.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry said sarcastically. Raising his hand he ticked off each reason on his fingers. “For one, I’m not hiding. I’ll decide when the news gets out. Second, Skeeter would have a field day with the information, and I’m going to make sure the Quibbler gets the story before she does. Thirdly, I’d not only have fangirls chasing after me thinking they could turn me straight, I’d have fanboys climbing over each other to date me because I was the Chosen One. I wouldn’t know who was after me for being the wizard that killed Voldemort, or just Harry.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “No thanks. When I meet the right person, he’s going to know me, without all the trappings that go a long with who I am, even if I have to move to another country to find him. Once I find him, then I’ll let everyone know I’m gay.”
Snape’s brow climbed in disbelief, his expression skeptical. “Your plans are highly idealistic, but not unexpected coming from a Gryffindor. What if your partner does not wish to date someone who is famous and hounded every step he takes?”
“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “It hasn’t happened yet, but I guess I’ll just have to deal with it when it does.”
“It hasn’t happened yet?” Snape asked, his tone one of surprise. “You’ve never...”
“What?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing until understanding dawned, making his eyes grow wide. “No, of course I have. It’s just... been a while,” he said dryly. Quite a while actually. Except for the two months he’d spent with his first boyfriend, a Muggle, his few and far between encounters had all been with Muggles he’d met at wine bars and restaurants that catered to the Muggle gay community. “I meant that I haven’t had a serious boyfriend or told any of them who or what I was, so I don’t know if he’d want to go out with a famous wizard.”
“I see,” Snape said refilling his glass. “I gather from your comments that your encounters have only been with Muggles then? Do not disregard the possibility of finding a wizarding partner. Not all will be star-struck with your accomplishment of killing the Dark Lord.”
“Yeah, well I don’t know many wizards who wouldn’t be, except maybe yourself,” Harry replied. If he hadn’t been staring straight at Snape, he would have missed the flash of interest that passed through the dark eyes and the brief parting of his lips before Snape closed them. Recognizing body language clues was a requirement of all Aurors, but he must’ve mistaken surprise for interest. Snape couldn’t possibly be interested in him. He’d always think of Harry as the annoying spawn of James Potter. A knock at the door interrupted Harry’s train of thought.
“Harry, it’s Erin. I’ve brought your dinner.”
Rising from the sofa, Harry walked over to the door. He glanced back at Snape and saw the non-descript glamour wash over his features. After Snape gave him a nod, Harry opened the door.
“Hi, Harry,” Erin said as she entered the room. She smiled in Snape’s direction. “I’ll put everything over here on the table, shall I?”
Harry nodded and followed the young woman over to the carved mahogany card table that butted up against the back of the sofa.
“I hope you’re having a good Christmas Eve,” Erin said as she levitated the plates of food and drink from the floating tray onto the table.
“Brilliant actually,” Harry replied, looking back over his shoulder at Snape, who lifted an eyebrow in response.
“Since you’ve got company, I’ll come clear everything away tomorrow after you leave.”
“Sounds good,” Harry said digging into his pocket for some galleons. “Happy Christmas,” he said handing her the tip.
“Happy Christmas, Harry, Mr Marcus.” Erin waved as she left, and closed the door behind her.
Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly as he inhaled the delicious aromas wafting up from their dinners. “Get it while it’s hot,” he said pulling out his chair.
Snape removed the glamour, rose and strode over to join Harry at the table.
Fish and chips were one of Harry’s favorite meals, and he was starving after his long, brisk walk that evening. “This place has the best nosh,” he said, his mouth full. “I think that’s part of the reason I stay here. Not because it’s new - it was just built about five years ago. I mean I could stay in one of the rooms at the old pub, but I really like this place, you know? The people are friendly and don’t bother me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone…”
A heavy sigh escaped Snape’s lips causing Harry to look up from his food. “Potter, I have lived alone for many years now and have grown accustomed to silence during my meals. If you would be so kind as to oblige me with ceasing your chatter, it would be appreciated,” he remarked dryly.
Harry stared at Snape. That had to be the mildest request for silence from the man Harry had ever received. First joking, now this. Had Snape changed that much? “Oh, right. Sorry,” Harry said, around his mouthful of food.
“And don’t talk with your mouth full,” Snape added.
Harry readied to make a retort, when he caught the teasing smile tugging at the corner of Snape’s mouth. Giving a soft chuckle, Harry shook his head and went back to his meal.
They finished their dinner in a comfortable silence.
“I have to admit, Potter,” Snape said, relaxing back into the leather chair, “The food here is actually quite good.”
Harry refilled his drink and stretched out on the sofa, making himself comfortable on the plump cushions. He nodded in agreement and stared into his glass. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could live here, away from all the reporters and hero-worshippers back home.” He let out a sigh. “But if I did, they’d just follow me here permanently, and everything I enjoy about this place would be ruined.”
Feeling he was being watched, Harry looked up to find Snape scrutinizing him. Those intense eyes were focused sharply on his own, never wavering. “What?” Harry said fidgeting. He wished Snape wouldn’t stare at him like that. It didn’t feel like Snape was rummaging around in his mind, but the idea that he might be sifting through it, seeking information, was making Harry nervous.
Breaking eye contact, Snape reached into his robe and, without a word, pulled out a rectangular package neatly wrapped in red paper and tied with brown twine. He leaned forward and held out his arm, offering the package to Harry. He waited as Harry eyed the package with suspicion. “Go on, take it,” Snape said. “I promise it isn’t cursed.”
Harry swung his legs to the floor and tentatively accepted the package, setting it on his lap. A present? From Snape? He stared at the package, then at Snape and back at the package again. Why was Snape giving him something? Then it occurred to Harry. “You knew I was here,” he said accusingly.
“Your whereabouts during this time are not exactly secret knowledge,” Snape said matter-of-factly.
“Then why did you show up?”
“As I stated, I am here to pay my respects to your mother - and to give you that.” He nodded toward the present.
Snape’s behaviour this evening confused Harry more than he cared to admit. He continued to stare at the package in his lap.
“Do you plan on unwrapping it? Or stare at it all evening?” Snape asked wryly.
Harry gave Snape one last baffled look and set to unwrapping the package. Unknotting the twine he set it aside and carefully folded back the paper, only to stop dead still. A grey, leather album with the word ‘Photographs’ printed on the cover in silver lettering, stared back at him.
Heart pounding, Harry flipped back the cover and turned to the first page. Silver lines traversed the paper and on those lines in neat black script he read-
Unable to speak, Harry ran his fingers lightly over the writing. This was his mother’s. Snape had just gifted him his mother’s photo album. Harry didn’t know how long he sat there staring at the writing before he turned the page to the first photograph.
“The pictures don’t move,” Harry said, looking over at Snape.
“No. Those pictures were taken with a Muggle camera your mother received for Christmas. That album was also a gift,” Snape said, watching Harry closely.
Harry gave a distracted nod as he stared at the album. “How did you get the book?” he asked.
“Your mother allowed me to take it home a few days before my birthday.” Snape paused as he remembered. “I was to return it when I saw her on my birthday, but that was the day I received my letter from Hogwarts, and soon after, your mother received her Hogwart’s letter. The album was forgotten in our excitement. I’ve had it in my possession since.”
“Why are you giving it to me now?”
Snape sat silent for a few moments, then softly said, “I think your mother would like you to have it.”
Not knowing what to say, Harry Accioed one of the candles closer in order to examine the first photo better. A slim woman in her thirties, dressed in a pale yellow frock with tiny peach flowers stood in front of a blue door. Her auburn hair was done up in a French twist and she held a small, fluffy white dog that looked like it thought it was the centre of the universe. “Who’s this woman?” Harry asked, pointing at the picture. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her.
The leather chair creaked and Harry lifted his head to see Snape rising from his seat. His long steps carrying him over to the sofa, Snape sat down next to Harry and with slender hands, reached over, pulling the album half onto his lap.
“That is your grandmother, Helen. Even though your mother invited me to visit their home many times, I didn’t go, so I never met your grandmother, but Lily told me about her.”
Harry stared at Snape in disbelief. He had no idea that Snape knew anything at all about Harry’s relatives, other than Aunt Petunia.
Excitedly, Harry turned the page. Several photos of the same white dog in different poses peered back at him. “Who’s the dog?”
“That dog was the family pet. You’ll find many pictures of him in there,” Snape said leaning back against the sofa. “Your mother enjoyed taking his picture. I believe his name was ‘Julius Caesar’.”
Harry laughed. “That’s an awfully big name for such a small dog.”
“Yes, I told her something quite similar,” Snape said in agreement. “She said that Caesar was a very dignified dog, and that the name suited him perfectly.”
Harry imagined his mother defending Caesar’s name and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Did my mother argue with you a lot?” he asked, curious.
Snape carefully considered his response before answering. “Your mother had many questions about magic and the magical world. My answers did not always satisfy her and she often questioned my conclusions. She was also very strong minded and our discussions lead to many heated debates.”
Before Harry could stop himself he said, “Kind of like me, huh?”
Giving Harry a long look, Snape nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You are more alike than you know.”
Pleased with Snape’s answer, Harry flipped to the next page and stared in surprise. Sitting on a playground swing, was a young Severus Snape. He was dressed in black trousers that rode high above his ankles exposing black, woolen socks, and a patched, brown, button-down jacket. Snape sat stiffly, his hands gripping the swing’s chains and he wore an expression of utter boredom. “What’s this picture all about?” Harry asked, amazed that Snape had left a photo of himself in the album.
“Your mother insisted that a photo of a playground was dull without a person sitting in the swings,” Snape said, stretching out his arm along the sofa behind Harry. “She directed that I go over and sit on one and look ‘interested’ in what was going on around me. As you can see, I found nothing of interest.”
“Sounds like my mom could be kind of bossy,” Harry said grinning.
Snape gave a crooked smile. “She could be,” he said nodding.
Harry’s eyes travelled down to the crooked smile and the unexpected urge to place a kiss on it overcame him. His faced burned at the thought. Embarrassed once again by the resurgence of feelings he’d thought he was long over, Harry lowered his head to examine the photos.
A blurry picture followed the photo of a bird’s nest containing three nestlings. “What happened with this picture here?” Harry asked.
Leaning close enough so that their shoulders touched, Snape reached over and ran his fingertips along the edge of the photo. “Your mother saw that nest and insisted on climbing the tree to get a photo of the birds. Unfortunately, she slipped and fell.”
Harry followed the movement of Snape’s long, slim fingers as they traced the photograph. Snape was so close, he could hear Snape’s soft breathing and smell the warmth of fresh herbs on his robes. Giving himself a mental shake in order to focus, Harry asked, “Was she hurt?”
Snape looked up at Harry’s question, his face a mere handspan away. His eyes moved down to Harry’s lips and lingered momentarily before returning to meet Harry’s eyes. “Only a few scrapes and bruises, but she was more concerned about the camera. She insisted she rush home to have her mother check if it was broken.” Snape stared into the fire as he remembered. “I should have known then, that your mother was destined for Gryffindor.” He turned back to Harry, his smile melancholy.
As Snape went back to enjoying the photos, Harry observed the surprising change that came over his features. The tense scowl he always seemed to wear, even during normal conversation, smoothed out and the corners of his mouth pulled upward in a slight smile. Harry watched Snape turn the pages of the album with a reverence that surpassed even his care with potion making.
Interrupting, Harry asked, “Do you have to leave soon?”
“Why do you ask?” Snape said curiously, drawing back from perusing a photo.
Harry shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d like to hang around and we could talk some more. We could play some wizard’s chess,” he offered. “I think there’s a travelling chess set in the card table’s drawer.”
Snape was silent for a moment. “I have no pressing engagements,” he finally said.
“Great, that’s great,” Harry said. Everything that had happened so far this evening was extraordinary, Harry thought. It called for a toast. Rising to his feet he walked over to the side table and refreshed their drinks. He sat back down and handed Snape his cognac. Raising his own glass, Harry looked deep into Snape’s eyes and hoped that his former professor could see his sincerity. “Cheers,” he said. “Thanks for everything, and I mean everything.”
Snape’s eyes searched Harry’s for a moment, then nodded. He raised his glass in response, “Cheers. You’re welcome.”
The rays of the early morning sun peeked through a crack in the curtains and onto Harry’s face. He scrunched up his eyes at the intrusion and burrowed further beneath the layers of covers, tightening his hold around the warm body that lay next to him. Smiling to himself, Harry savored the tiredness of his muscles and the achy-stretched sensation that still remained in his well-fucked ass. He drifted drowsily between wakefulness and sleep as the previous night’s events replayed themselves in his mind.
“Checkmate,” Snape had said as his black Bishop moved into position before Harry’s King.
Harry’d sighed, as once again his King had opened his hands, releasing his hold around the sword’s hilt. The sword had fallen to the board where it landed with a clatter, laying still in defeat. “That’s the third game you’ve won tonight,” he’d said looking across the table at Snape.
Snape gave him a satisfied smirk. “I suggest you ask Mr Weasley to teach you some strategy.”
“I don’t know if he can,” Harry answered, resetting the chess set. “It goes over my head like Arithmancy.” Once all the chess pieces were back in position, Harry asked, “Want to have another go?”
“I think not. It’s late,” Snape said looking over at the clock on the fireplace mantle, “I do not wish to overstay my welcome.”
He followed Snape’s gaze and saw the clock hands reading 2:10am. He’d no idea it was that late.
Pushing back his chair, Snape rose to his feet and walked over to retrieve his cloak hanging by the door.
“You don’t have to go,” Harry suggested.
“I’ve stayed much longer than I had anticipated, and there are likely no rooms available here on Christmas Eve.”
Snape couldn’t leave. “You don’t have to leave, you could stay the night. I mean you don’t have to, but I’d like it if you did,” he prattled. Crap, that was a clumsy invitation. Snape likely thought him a right idiot after that.
Pivoting, Snape said, “There is only one bed, and I do not intend on sleeping on a transfigured sofa. My own bed is far more comfortable.” Reaching for his cloak he added, “Unless there is a significant enough reason for me to stay, it is time I left.”
Harry needed to give Snape a reason. Taking a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers he said. “I’d like you to stay. I’d like you to spend the night... with me. If you want that is.”
The ticking mantle clock and the faint crackling of the fire were the only sounds that filled the silence stretching between them. Snape’s hand halted as it touched his cloak and he slowly turned to stare at Harry, a look of surprise flashing across his face before his mask of neutrality fell into place. Harry waited for Snape’s answer and when no reply came after several moments his heart sank to his stomach. His fantasies were just that, fantasies. Snape had no interest in men, or maybe it was just him.
Shit. How could he have forgotten? Heat rushed to Harry’s face. Snape had been in love with his mother. “I... I thought maybe you might be... Never mind, what was I thinking? You’re not gay, you loved my mother,” he stammered out, shaking his head at his flawed presumption. “Look, forget I said anything.”
Jumping up from his chair he hurried over to the cognac on the small side table. He definitely needed a drink after that embarrassing speech. Picking up the bottle, he found it empty and set it back down. He walked over to the sofa and plopped himself onto the cushions, resting his elbows on his knees. Shoving his hands up under his glasses, Harry scrubbed at his face as if to erase the memory of his offer. God, he’d made a right ass of himself and spoiled a perfectly pleasant evening.
He didn’t hear his name called, until a weight settled on the cushions next to him.
“Potter,” Snape said. “Harry.”
Harry heard that. Raising his head, he adjusted his glasses back into place and looked over his shoulder to meet Snape’s intense gaze.
“Your instincts are correct,” Snape said. “I prefer the company of men in such matters.”
Sure his face showed his confusion, Harry replied, “I don’t get it, you loved my mother.”
“Yes,” Snape gave a short nod. “But, even though I loved her and still love her, I never was, nor am I, ‘in love’ with her, any more than you are ‘in love’ with your friends. Unless I assume incorrectly and your feelings for your friends, notably Mr Weasley, are more than you’ve indicated?” he said raising a speculative brow.
“What?” Harry sat bolt upright, flabbergasted. “Ron? You must be joking! No, no way,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “We’re just good mates, there’s nothing between us.”
“That clears that up,” Snape said, the Dumbledore-like twinkle appearing in his eyes once again.
“So,” Harry said, rubbing his palms on his pants, his stomach fluttering with anticipation, “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
“Yes,” Snape said, his voice growing deep.
Feeling like the cat that got the cream, Harry couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Great, that’s great.”
The next thing Harry knew, Snape cupped his hand behind his neck and pulled Harry’s face towards his.
Warm, thin lips pressed against his own, teeth nipped at his lower lip, and Snape’s tongue traced languidly over Harry’s lips. Craving more of the cognac flavored kisses, Harry pressed forward, his hand finding its way to Snape’s inner thigh. Inching his hand upward he felt for Snape’s crotch and cupped the semi-erect cock through the trouser fabric, kneading it insistently, but carefully.
At Harry’s touch Snape’s fingers had tangled tighter in his hair, his other hand grabbed Harry’s upper arm and yanked him closer. Snape’s kiss had grown more urgent, his tongue slipping between Harry’s lips, demanding entrance. Harry had opened to him willingly, eagerly, and let Snape explore every inch of his hungry mouth.
Head resting in the curve of Severus’ shoulder, Harry poked his head out from beneath the covers and opened his eyes. His stiff cock rubbed pleasantly against Severus’ warm hip. “Mornin’,” Harry mumbled.
His voice resonating deep in his chest, Severus said, “I see you’ve finally decided to show yourself.”
“I was thinking about last night,” Harry replied, rutting against Severus’ leg.
“Is that so?” Severus said raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly where you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I’d like a repeat performance.” Harry threw back the covers and climbed onto Severus where he stretched himself out. Pressing himself down onto Severus’ warm skin, Harry wiggled and glided his body over Severus’ torso like a dog itching its back on a carpet. The scratchy feel of Severus’ chest hair as it rubbed against him, tingled Harry’s skin awake and he hummed at the delicious friction.
Harry hoisted himself up on his hands and peered down. He aligned their cocks and rocked his hips, enjoying the sight of their morning woodies sliding along each other. Glancing up at Severus, Harry found him with his hands folded behind his head.
“You plan on letting me do all the work?” he asked breathlessly, continuing to rock.
“I am enjoying the view,” Severus answered, his gaze intense.
Getting off in the mornings was always easy for Harry, and today was no exception. “Oh, yeah, that feels good,” he said pressing his now leaking cock hard against Severus’ larger and thicker erection. His breathing growing sharp and quick, Harry’s eyes fell closed, and he concentrated on the building pressure in his groin. He rolled his hips and rutted faster, he was so close. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna...”
Severus’ arms shot up enveloping Harry’s torso like a Seeker grabbing a Snitch, and flipped them over, trapping Harry beneath him.
Harry blinked up into Severus’ amused face. “Hey,” he exclaimed after catching his breath. “I was almost there.”
“I am aware of that,” Severus said smirking. “But I’m not ready for you to come yet.” Sitting upright, Severus positioned his knees to the outside of Harry’s hips, effectively pinning Harry’s thighs down to the mattress. He Accioed the glass of water sitting on the end table, catching it easily as it floated towards him. Waving his hand over the glass he murmured, ”Gélifier”.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry watched fascinated, as the water curled and folded in upon itself, coalescing into a thick, clear gel before stilling. “That’s pretty handy. Did you invent it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Severus said, dipping his fingers into the gel and scooping out a generous amount before sending the glass back to the end table. “It’s not as effective as traditional versions, but is better than conjured lubricants.” Wrapping his long nimble fingers around his thick cock, he took himself in hand and stroked, spreading the lube over his entire length.
In a blatant display for Harry’s eyes, Severus ran his hand over his rigid cock. Up and down he pumped, drawing his fist up over the head and twisting his hand sharply before bringing it back down. Stilling his hand, Severus thrust his hips in a lazy rhythm, sending his glistening prick through the tight channel of his fist. Harry’s breathing quickened as he stared at the large, red glans, clear drops of pre-come leaking from its tip, vanish and reappear between the tunnel of fingers. His cock twitched at the thought of sucking that hard prick into his mouth again, sticking his tongue deep into the slit and licking out the salty pre-come. He tore his eyes away from the arousing sight to find Severus’ heated gaze locked on his face. “My turn,” Harry said a bit breathless, thrusting in the air a few times as best he could.
Placing his free hand in the middle of Harry’s chest, Severus pressed him back onto the mattress. “Such the impatient Gryffindor,” he chided, the corners of his lips twitching upward. He reached down with his gel-covered hand and took Harry’s heavy balls between his wet fingers rolling them carefully in his palm. Harry inhaled sharply as the cool lube came in contact with his skin.
Severus’ warm hand caressed Harry’s lean, well-toned torso. He ran his fingers lightly through the trail of dark wiry hair above Harry’s pubic bone, over the taut stomach and over the muscled chest, honed into shape by rigorous Auror training. He brushed his fingers over and around the dark nipples teasing them gently and Harry arched upward, his eyes fluttering closed. Taking the nipples between his fingertips, Severus tweaked and pulled them until they stood at attention. “More,” Harry pleaded, his breath hitching. Severus obliged, twisting and pinching them roughly until Harry gasped, squirming against the bed in pleasure, his hands twisting the sheets in his tight grip.
Leaving his eyes closed, Harry felt the bed shift and long hair wisp across his heated skin. A moist tongue circled and flicked over his hardened nipples before sucking and squeezing them between warm lips. Harry whimpered and lifted his arms, wrapping them around Severus’ torso as Severus lowered his lanky body onto his. Severus’ erection pressed into the hollow between Harry’s hip and groin. Pre-come from the thick cock dripped onto Harry’s skin, slicking it as Severus thrust slowly into the shallow crevice.
Letting go of Harry’s balls, Severus slid his palm leisurely upward over the swollen prick, pressing down firmly when he reached the center. Harry bucked his hips helplessly into the open palm, his aching cock begging for friction. Severus resumed his gliding torment until he reached the large mushroom head where he stopped. Carefully his fingertips tugged Harry’s foreskin up and over the leaking head and pinched closed. Up and down, up and down, Severus drew the skin over the sensitive glans in quick, short movements. Harry made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and writhed against the mattress.
“Oh fuck. Stop teasing,” Harry moaned, pumping his hips and trying to push himself further into Severus’ hand.
“Patience,” Severus replied his voice deep and husky. A cry escaped Harry’s lips and he arched his hips upward as Severus curled his long fingers around his hard length and circled his thumb around and around the satiny head. Keeping his hold intentionally loose, Severus lazily stroked Harry’s cock. Harry growled in frustration as he futilely attempted to get him to grip harder and stroke faster.
“Fuck patience,” Harry gasped, straining upward into Severus’ hand.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Have any of your partners ever mentioned that you are a pushy bottom?” he asked.
Harry opened his mouth to reply and Severus dove forward, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss. Groaning, Harry reached up and tangled his fingers in the long hair, pulling Severus in. Severus’ tongue plunged deep into his mouth and Harry sucked long and hard, the similarity to their previous night’s activities running through both their minds. A low moan echoed in Severus’ throat.
“I can be a pushy top, too,” Harry replied breathlessly after they broke apart. “Let me prove it to you.”
“I prefer you right where you are,” Severus said, equally breathless, as he licked the soft hollow of Harry’s throat.
Lifting his chin, Harry tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. He sighed as Severus nipped and lathed along his jaw to the soft spot under his ear. Severus continued upward, his lips and tongue tracing around the shell of Harry’s ear with light flicks and kisses. Working his way back down to Harry’s collarbone and throat, Severus licked and nibbled the soft flesh only to stop above the pulse point, where he sucked lightly, then bit down, sinking his teeth deep into the delicate skin in what was sure to leave a bruise. Harry moaned, tightening his hold around Severus’ body.
Severus brushed his warm lips lightly over Harry’s ear. “So very responsive,” he murmured, his voice rumbling smooth and deep like distant thunder.
A shiver travelled down Harry’s spine and his cock jumped at the comment. Fuck! He could come just listening to that voice.
His cock throbbed as it lay heavy in Severus’ hand and his world narrowed to his groin and the talented fingers wrapped around his prick. Severus continued the maddeningly slow pace of his strokes and Harry couldn’t stop the needy whimpers that escaped his throat. “Please,” he whispered. “More.”
Raising himself up on his elbow Severus took their cocks in one hand, wrapping his long fingers around the hard, engorged shafts. Harry moaned at the sight of the purplish cock heads appearing and disappearing into the tight channel of Severus’ fist, their slits stretching lewdly open, dripping long strands of pre-come and coating their pricks as they pushed through Severus’ firm grip. The sound of wet flesh pressing together as their cocks slid through the hot hand sent shivers racing down Harry’s body and he groaned.
Harry dug his fingers into Severus’ arms as the pressure built in his lower abdomen. Desperately thrusting his hips, his movements grew erratic, frantic, his breaths turned into open-mouthed gasps. “I need... please,” he begged, his voice breaking. Severus’ hand squeezed tighter around their pricks, the tempo of his strokes increasing, his hips undulating faster.
Tension wound tighter in his groin until Harry stiffened, a choked cry catching in his throat. He arched his back and his world exploded, his orgasm sweeping powerfully through him. His body jerked sharply and ribbons of pearly come pulsed from his cock, landing on his chest and stomach with every wringing pass of Severus’ tight fist around their pricks. Severus’ hand flew faster as he finished them off, and he soon followed Harry over the edge. His body shuddered as he thrust once, twice, then groaned, long, ropey spurts of come shooting from his cock to coat his hand and mingle with the spunk already on Harry’s skin.
Harsh, ragged breathing and the warm, musky scent of man and sex filled the air around them like a heavy cloud. Utterly spent, his skin slick with sweat and his heart racing, Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as Severus’ hand, soaked with their come, rolled and rubbed their slippery red cocks together. Harry moaned at the sight and gave a feeble thrust of his hips.
Severus released their spent cocks and trailed a forefinger through their mingled come on Harry’s stomach, coating his finger thoroughly with the thick essence. He lifted his wet finger to Harry’s lips and Harry, locking eyes with Severus, sucked the finger into his mouth. Humming his pleasure, he swirled his tongue around the bitter, salty digit, sucking and licking it clean with long swipes, never taking his eyes from Severus’ face. He was rewarded when a red flush bloomed over Severus’ cheeks and his mouth parted. Severus slowly withdrew his finger from between Harry’s puckered lips and leaned down for a kiss. He thrust his tongue into Harry’s open mouth and relished the taste of their blended come, then lowered himself down on his back to the bed. His breathing calmed, he glanced over at Harry and said, “You are going to be the death of me yet.”
Harry barked out a laugh. “Yeah, and you’ll probably take me with you this time,” he said with a grin.
Rolling onto his side, Severus propped himself up on his elbow and waved his free hand over them. “Tergeo Liquidus”, he said, cleaning them both off. He trailed his hand languidly down Harry’s muscular chest, over and past the firm, concave stomach to come to rest on Harry’s flaccid penis, where he palmed it gently.
His skin still vibrating, Harry sighed at the light touch trailing over his body and the warmth radiating from Severus’ hand as it cupped his limp cock. He reveled in the sense of possessiveness and protection from Severus’ touch as a burgeoning warmth unfolded in his chest, growing and spreading throughout his entire being, reaching out to soothe and heal his soul. He’d made a decent life for himself after the war and Harry’d thought he’d been content, dedicating himself to his work, visiting friends and hooking up with blokes every once in a while. Now, everything he thought that had made him happy these past years, paled in comparison to how he felt since he spotted Severus the previous night. His world had flipped upside down and he didn’t want to go back. Turning his head to look at Severus he said, “Come back to my place? You can teach me patience and we can celebrate a proper Christmas.”
The corner of Severus’ mouth quirked up. “My, you do move quickly, Mr Potter.”
Harry gave a carefree laugh. “Yeah, especially when I know who I want,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
Severus’ hand moved to stroke languidly up and down Harry’s arm. “What about your friends? Won’t they wonder where you are?”
“I’ll just tell them I’m spending the holidays with someone,” Harry replied reaching up to run his fingers through the dark hair on Severus’ chest. “They’re always bugging me about spending too much time alone, so they won’t interrupt. Except maybe Hermione and Ginny. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out whom I’m with. I’d better block the floo just in case. So, how about it?” His eyes searched Severus’ face.
“The Chosen One inviting me back to his flat?” Severus quipped, his brow raised in amusement. “How can I possibly refuse?” he said. “Of course, the idea of driving Ms Granger and Ms Weasley ‘bonkers’ as you say, is also an attractive incentive.”
Harry couldn’t help but grin.
Bells tolled loud and clear throughout the village and shouts of ‘Happy Christmas’ echoed through the streets.
Severus brushed back a wayward strand of fringe from Harry’s forehead, then placed his hand under Harry’s chin. He tilted Harry’s face upward and bent down, capturing Harry’s lips in a gentle kiss. Tongue met tongue with soft caresses as they explored each other’s mouths. Not wanting to break the kiss, Harry lifted his hand and cupped it behind Severus’ neck holding him close. When Harry needed to breathe he let go and Severus pulled back.
“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Severus said, a slow smile curving his lips.
His heart spilling over with joy, Harry’s smile grew from ear to ear. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”
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Date: 2012-01-06 01:48 am (UTC)Thanks so much for reading and commenting! ^_^