Courting Disaster. Chapter 22.
Sep. 8th, 2014 02:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pekelekeTitle: Courting Disaster.
Rating : NC-17.
Author: pekeleke
Word Count: 2376
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.
Summary: For once in his life Harry Potter has a plan. A carefully plotted plan to help him conquer the heart of an extremely reluctant Severus Snape, only... conquering a suspicious ex-spy isn't for the fainthearted and soon Harry finds himself -quite literally- courting disaster.
A/N 1: I want to dedicate this particular fic to Delia Cerrano, who is the kind of wonderful reader and reviewer who never tires of reading -sometimes even more than once- the shenanigans of my particular version of the boys.
I don't know how many times she has expressed a desire to read a story featuring the gradual dismantling of Severus' defenses through romantic courtship, so... I thought I should indulge her for once and attempt to finally write this dynamic for her. Here is my take on this particular trope then, Delia. I do hope you enjoy it as much as I relished the challenge of coming up with this story-line for you. :D
A/N 2: This Story is now officially complete.
Courting Disaster.
The sitting room of Harry's fancy flat is crowded. Noisy. Perfect.
Despite the rocky beginning of their relationship and how many times the public and their own very different personalities attempted to break them apart along the way, Severus Snape is still here: sitting bang in the center of the fire-warmed room while his lover's extensive circle of friends and family lavish him with attention on what used to be his most dreaded night of the year.
He is turning 46 years old today and he feels calm and relaxed. Happy. At peace. Utterly content. Tonight he has absolutely no reason to be anywhere but here. Has no reason to feel miserable for the life he's been blessed with. Has no need of hide in the darkest corner of the most infamous gay bar in Knocturn Alley while he plies himself blind with cheap Firewhisky in the hopes of gathering enough courage to bag himself a bed-partner who will help him feel less lonely.
Tonight he is here instead: still his own acerbic, ugly self, but not so thoroughly alone any longer. He's somebody's entire world. No longer a forgotten, forgettable pariah, but a dearly beloved partner. A respected friend. Another small cog in the giant family the Weasleys have created for themselves, and a giant one in the diminutive one he's spent the last few months building with Harry.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” His lion mumbles in his ear, kissing his pale cheek in front of all and sundry for the hundredth time this evening, and he turns pleased dark eyes towards those beloved young features.
“It is. I'm having a good time, despite the surprise party and the over-abundant Gryffindor exuberance. I... Thank you, Harry. I've got no words to explain how much this means to me.”
Harry smiles and sits calmly beside him, ignoring the soft, delighted gasps that start rippling through the room as soon as he settles down. Severus frowns and turns around, looking at the gathered crowd with puzzled curiosity, but he's almost immediately distracted by the gentle pressure oh his lover's lightly stubbled jaw against the back of his neck.
“What the hell are you doing, Harry? Everyone is looking at us!” He whispers quietly, lowering his head just low enough to allow his long hair to shadow his features and making sure to speak as softly as he knows how, in order to hide the fact that he's berating his misbehaving lion in front of his own guests.
Harry laughs, kisses the skin above his collar very softly and ruffles his hair with the uninhibited fondness that he's never hesitated to shower over him.
“They all know something you don't, sweetheart. They know I've chosen tonight to do something that's been coming for a while. Something I once told you I wanted to do. Something that I hope you're finally ready for.”
The words are soft and breathy, falling against the exposed nape of his neck in a series of small puffs that make him shiver and he turns slowly around, forcing the brat to lean backwards and give him breathing space. Forcing himself to look him in the eye.
“What are you talking about?” He inquires, thoroughly intrigued, and does not imagine for a second that his life is about to change even more than it has already changed. Doesn't understand that they've reached another milestone, one that Harry has given him all these months to prepare himself for.
Harry drops onto one knee in the next instant and Severus' first instinct is to try holding onto him. To save him from a fall that never was. To... rescue... him. The teary sigh Molly exhales has him freezing in mid motion, turning his dark head towards their rapt audience once again, and noticing for the first time the women's soft-eyed expression, the men's obvious discomfort.
“Harry, what...?”
“A year ago, today, I embarked in the greatest adventure of them all, Severus. I was desperately in love with you and I wanted a single chance to show you how I felt. I've spent every second since trying to do exactly that. I sincerely hope I have succeeded.”
“You have. You know that already.”
Harry grins brightly then and it isn't until that second that Severus becomes aware of how very tense his lover's shoulders look. Of how intently those beautiful green eyes are staring at him, trying to read his expression with inexplicable anxiety.
“What on Earth is going on? Why are you looking so worr...”
“I have one last birthday gift for you, my love. This is something that I'm offering you freely. Something I have your godson's permission to give you. Something that my family, the Weasleys, have wholeheartedly sanctioned.”
Severus' eyes widen then, instantly recognizing the introductory sentences of a betrothal plea.
“Nyingdu-la...”
Trembling hands raise towards his own, grabbing his potion-tainted fingertips and holding onto them for dear life, giving them a reassuring squish that, miraculously, grounds them both.
“I have loved you for many years now. I have done so as openly as I've been able to in recent months. I've courted your once wounded heart into loving me, and now I feel it's time to make that love official.”
Those words shake him to the core, despite the fact that he'd known something along those lines had to follow Harry's carefully worded mention of family acceptance. He sits there, looking into his lover's eyes with the kind of thunderstruck expression that he is thoroughly aware everyone is going to be teasing him about for many years to come and tracks Harry's hand as it abandons his own to search inside the breast pocket of the uncharacteristically formal robe he'd insisted so hard on wearing.
A second later there is a slim and narrow box in his lion's palm and Severus knows exactly what it contains. He looks on, utterly shocked, as the lid is lifted away and he is finally presented with the one token he'd never in a million years imagined he'd receive. He should have known better, though. Harry has never learned to settle for pie when he could have the entire cake.
His dark gaze is drawn towards the pristine white glove that rests within the box. He doesn't need to look towards the seams to know that his Harry would have charmed the cloth to withstand the wear and tear so often associated with his craft. He should be able to prepare potion ingredients and brew to his heart's content while wearing it on his left hand. He should be able to feel the different textures of his herbs and other materials without any trouble. He has no logical reason to refuse wearing this glove at all times for the one year formal betrothals require these things to be worn. This ball is firmly on his court. And he hadn't been expecting it.
His throat is way too parched to answer, his heart is pounding like a wild drum in his chest and he's conscious that a most unbecoming blush has begun to invade the usual paleness of his narrow face. He can feel all eyes on him as he struggles with the strength of his emotions, but the only thing that matters is the expression of utter adoration that turns Harry's gorgeous green gaze into bright and hopeful jewels.
His right hand moves as if of its own accord, raising towards his lion's messy hair to play with those famous raven-colored bangs in the kind of thoroughly intimate gesture that he wouldn't have ever made if he wasn't so rattled. His love smiles reassuringly then and pushes that marked forehead against the tips of his fingers, seeking further contact. Severus swallows thickly and his hand slips into full on petting mode, carding through those thick, black tresses as their gazes become tangled.
“Harry, I...”
“Don't tell me to learn to quit while I'm ahead, please. You know I'm never going to give up. Not on the idea of having more of you, Severus. It's been a year since our first night together and we've made it this far. We are both happy. We're both still here, together, despite everything. There is no reason why we shouldn't follow tradition and enter a formal courtship.”
“Formal courtship ends in marriage, brat. If I pick that glove off its box and commit myself to wear it for a year, everyone is going to expect you to make an honest man out of me in twelve months time.”
“I'm fully aware of that. I'm the one asking for your hand. I'm the one begging you to give me the honor of wearing this glove as a symbol that you're no longer available for courtship. I'm the one pleading with you on bended knee for the chance to replace this ceremonial glove with a wedding band this time next year. I love you and you love me back. I will never marry at all, unless I marry you. This is the future I want, Severus.”
Dark eyes close then as if in slow motion, allowing their public-shy owner to hide their soft expression from most riveted witnesses. The potion-tainted fingers of his trembling left hand unfurl from the tight fist they'd formed as it curled protectively in his lap and he doesn't need to make a single move further before his Harry takes over. A soft gasp reaches his ears a mere second before familiar calloused hands clasp his sweaty one, cradling it between them like the most beloved treasure for a minute or two. Then the softest of all kisses lands on his knuckles, startling him into opening his eyes once again and acknowledge this strange world in which it is possible for him to have found love and companionship. To have the right to accept the blessings of true friendship, professional respect, and the chance to spend his lifetime beside the most generous and caring young man he's ever known.
“Severus Snape: will you accept this glove as a token of my affection? Will you allow me to place it on your hand and vow before these witnesses to wear it for a year? Will you agree to become my lawfully wedded husband on your forty seventh birthday, my love?”
“Why my birthday, Harry? Why have you picked today, of all days, to do this?”
The seeker smiles as if he'd been expecting the question and doesn't fidget on his knees or look impatiently towards the still opened box that he must have placed on the coffee table behind him in order to free those Quidditch-callussed hands to grab hold of his own.
“You must know by now that I consider your birthday to be my lucky day, Severus. This is when you were born. It's also when we first came together and, although things didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped initially, they started us on the road that led us here. I see no reason to tempt fate by choosing another date. Your birthday has always favored me, my Prince, and I'm hoping it'll continue to do so long into the future.”
“You realize that I'm going to become the most despised man in the Wizarding World as soon as I accept this?”
“I don't think you will. No one has attacked our relationship in months, Severus.”
“That's because nobody ever expected me to have the gall to marry you.” He mumbles under his breath and smiles despite himself when Harry's face splits into the brightest grin he's worn all year as the brat all but bounces on his knee.
“Does that mean you'll let me put this glove on you?”
“Did you ever doubted that I would? I'm here because I love you, Harry. You are not the only one who wants this future.”
A soft and teary sigh breaks the reverent silence that surrounds them and Severus knows Molly Weasley must be clutching her soppy handkerchief against her ample bosom, looking upon them with motherly pride and planning their wedding all the way down to the color of the tablecloths already. He can't be bothered by that at the moment anyway, not when all of his attention is focused on the joyful creature who seems determined to put that glove on his hand as soon as humanly possible.
The silky white cloth slides easily over his skin, wrapping around his long and bony fingers like a warm, living shield. Magic tickles him from nails to wrist, sinking beneath cloth and flesh as soon as Harry closes the small fastening that will keep the glove in place and they both watch it glow a soft golden color before flashing out of existence, knowing that it won't come back into being until a year from now. Severus flexes his newly-gloved fingers, alternatively closing and opening his hand with soft-eyed curiosity. He can see the glove on his skin, but his movements are completely unrestrained and his palm is able to feel the slightly roughened touch of Harry's own when the seeker catches hold of his slender limb and, turning it around reverently, places the most fervent of all kisses over his white-clothed knuckles before whispering roughly:
“You are finally mine, my love.”
Severus laughs then, and the sound that breaks the respectful silence around them seems too pure, too soft, too gentle to have come out of his mouth. It's a delicate, lighthearted twinkle of a breath. A smile that can be heard as well as seen. The kind of sound that only the most blessed people in the world can ever make. It's the words happily-ever-after come to life and a promise of forever turned sweet melody. It's the joy that fills every nook and cranny of his tall and reedy body settling deeply inside his heart as he agrees with his brat softly, freely acknowledging the most unbelievable miracle of all:
“Yes. I'm yours. I'm well and truly yours. Now you'll have to put up with me forever, nyingdu-la.”
A bold and cheeky grin blooms across Harry's lips. He looks breathtakingly gorgeous. All enthusiasm and dimples and the 100 watt smile that would help him conquer the world, if he ever bothers to flash it around more often than he does. His seeker straightens up high enough to give him a peck on the lips before leaning in even closer, until he's finally able to whisper softly in his ear:
"That is all I've ever wanted, my dear Prince. That is all I've ever wanted."
The End.
( Chapter 21 )
(Table Of Contents)
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-12 12:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-12 11:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-14 04:56 pm (UTC)Yours Severus is so breathtakingly fragile that I almost fear to touch him... But I love it. I love all his faults and misunderstandings, all the ways Harry can get to him, Harry´s stubborness, his love. You can alway show me some new view on the same topic. And I thank you for it. For Severus, for Harry, for this fic, for you;-)
Thank you
Pat.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-15 02:45 pm (UTC)Hugs
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