Title: Resistance Is Futile.
Fandom: Harry Potter (Snarry)
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape.
Word count: 946
Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.
A/N1: Unbetaed. Written for the adventdrabbles (DW,LJ, IJ) 2015 prompt 18: Old Christmas movies. / Prompt 19: Office party. / prompt 20: Warm winter's night. / prompt 21: Evergreens. / Prompt 22: Tinsel.
A/N2: This is the eleventh part of my Black Smoke series.
Summary: Turned out he'd been lonely for years and he'd never even noticed it. Exchanging his precious 'peace' for Potter's special brand of 'crazy' didn't feel like losing at all. It felt odd and terrifying. But he'd never felt so… alive.
Resistance Is Futile.
Severus had always believed that being -or at least trying to be- in love was extremely hard. The seemingly universal 'the secret is in the giving' recipe for romantic bliss that overly-mushy people often offered to die-hard singles like himself had convinced him ages ago that he didn't have a hope in hell of succeeding at romance, and his thoroughly disastrous first attempt at proving that prediction wrong had driven the final nail in the coffin of his romantic ambitions.
Severus enjoyed failure, rejection and 'giving' as much as he enjoyed the Cruciatus Curse, which was a grand total of Not. At. All. 'Giving' sounded like 'losing' to him and he'd never been particularly keen on that, either. He valued his independence, his peace of mind, and his right to do whatever he pleased way too much to give them up. He had his books, his potions and his hectic teaching schedule. He didn't have time for love. He was a researcher. A curious soul. A scholar. And he was usually far too distracted by what went on inside his head to bother with the little things that happened outside of it.
It turned out Severus could enjoy what went on outside his head, too. Or at least he could when Potter was involved. He'd been lonely for years, and he'd never even noticed it. Exchanging his precious 'peace' for Potter's special brand of 'crazy' didn't feel like losing at all. It felt odd and terrifying. But he'd never felt so… alive.
Potter chatted non-stop about weird things like old Christmas movies, Weasley's bizarre office party and what kind of tinsel looked better on evergreens. He was touchy-feely too and loved to curl around 'kitty' in the evenings, petting him into purring contentment while cooing at him inanely. Severus had been shocked to discover that he adored being petted -and the cooing was growing on him so fast it was embarrassing.-
“Look at you. You love this, don't you, lil' one? You were born to be worshiped.”
Severus tried to snort and ended up sneezing inelegantly, making Potter laugh with amusement.
“You don't think so? You're wrong, then. For all that you refuse to climb into in my lap or sleep in my bed like a proper lil' kitten, you're as fluffy and cozy as a Hufflepuff. I'd bet being petted to death while dozing atop your blanket is your ideal way to spend a warm winter's night.”
Severus hissed with irritation and scratched the idiot's hand, earning himself a wistful little smile instead of a pissed-off scolding.
“You're so much like him it's scary. The professor would have tried to draw blood too if I've called him a Hufflepuff to his face, even though I've never met anyone more loyal. He's impossible, but I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts.”
Severus wriggled uncomfortably under Potter's hand. He hated it when the ex-Gryffindor talked to him about himself because, no matter how hard he'd tried to convey the truth to the man, Potter remained frustratingly unaware that Severus was actually 'there', and he felt inordinately guilty for invading his host's privacy.
“He'd probably die of shock if he found out I moved into Hogsmeade just to increase my chances of bumping into him on the street. Not that it worked, of course. The man is a bit of a hermit. Just like you, kitty. Hogwarts is the professor's umbrella stand, I think. That's where he huffs and puffs and hides away from life.”
Severus' hackles rose, and Potter laughed, amused.
“What? You don't think that's what you do in that little cave of yours?”
Severus turned his back on the bastard and hid his face under his paws. Potter cooed at him softly and petted him apologetically.
“I'm sorry, kitty. I shouldn’t have said that, but you're so much like him that it just came out. It's the soulful eyes, you see? And the hissy temper. And that inky black fur of yours sprouting from snow-white roots. You look like darkness anchored in light and that—that's him, lil' mate. You suit him. Black smoke… Poppy said you're a black smoke kitten and that suits him too because he's elusive and mesmerizing and all kinds of unattainable. I want to keep him, you know? I want to keep him but I can't because he's black smoke and black smoke doesn't stay. He slips right through my fingers, kitty. I can never-”
Severus couldn't take that kind of nonsense anymore, so he yowled with outrage and hissed at the utter moron for good measure, managing to shut him up mid-word. He was thoroughly distressed by Potter's obvious misery, and he wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know how. He couldn't pet Potter. Or cuddle him. Or whisper sweet nonsense in his ear. He couldn't even—Oh! Inspiration finally struck him, and he darted across the sofa, climbed into Potter's lap and curled hesitantly into it.
Potter gasped, clearly shocked, but smiled weakly at him. His trembling right hand landed on Severus' fur and carded through it with unbearable gentleness:
“Is this your way of telling me that you're here and have no intention of leaving me, lil' mate? Because that's—that's beautiful, you know? Thank you.”
Severus butted his tiny head against Potter's rock-hard abs, rubbing his furry face in soft gray cotton. Potter's smile grew stronger, the hand carding through his fur stopped trembling, and soft lips landed near his left ear, kissing the very tip of it reverently. Severus blinked, looked up and lost himself in bright green eyes. That's when Potter became Harry. That's when he knew he was lost.