pekeleke

Title: That Which Is Perfectly Understood.
Author: Pekeleke
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Rating: G
Length: 1147
Warnings: Unbetaed.
Author's Note: This is a gift for alisanne. Here's to hoping you have a speedy recovery, my friend. I'm sending you loads of good vibes and hugs and healing magic, of course, to help you get better soon. <3
A/N2: The croquembouche is a french dessert, made with cream puff pastries that are arranged in a 'mountain-like' shape and then surrounded by a net of finely spun sugar.
A/N3: The yellow rose stands for friendship. Joy. Get well.
Summary: Severus loves his husband's baking. He loves it all the more whenever he doesn't get to eat it a single crumb of his lion's delicious creations, because Harry never fails to make it up to him.

That Which Is Perfectly Understood.

Harry whistles under his breath whenever he cooks at home. It's a sound Severus has grown to associate with hearty soups and perfectly golden roasts. This time the delicate aroma of freshly grated lemon and spun sugar fills the kitchen, imbuing their small house with the mouthwatering scent of Harry's magnificent home-made lemon croquembouche, which happens to be both Severus' favorite dessert and the reason he married the man in the first place. 'That and the sex. And the laughter. And that dimpled smile he never fails to beam my way as soon as he wakes up… Oh, hell. Fine! So I married him for more than one reason. But his absolutely scrumptious croquembouche is at the very top of that shockingly long list.'

Stilling beside the door Severus allows himself a second to watch his husband potter around the kitchen, smiling with the utter contentment of a man who knows he's currently beholding everything he's ever wanted. 'And all of it is mine.'

Harry seems determined to arrange his individually filled crème puffs into a small rose shape. He has even colored the puffs a soft, delicate, yellow and Severus marvels at both the simple beauty of his brat's culinary creation and the amount of patience and affection he's putting into bringing it to life.

“I hope you realize I'm eating every crumb of that. It was torture to look at the enormous cauldron you fashioned them into the last time without being allowed to touch any of them until the formal letter informing me of my Potioner Of The Year award came through.”

Harry looks towards him and smiles even as he snorts with that half long-suffering, half thoroughly-amused humor that Severus suspects he has developed merely to cope with him.
“I should have known you'd take one whiff at what's baking and bring up the Great Cauldron Debacle. I'm never going to live that down, am I?”

Severus' right eyebrow climbs higher as he comes fully into the light of the doorway, crosses his spindly arms across his chest with fake outrage and leans against the door frame before bothering to drawl:
“Of course you'll never live it down. It should -and will- haunt you forever. You kept batting my hand away the entire afternoon. Promised me half of it all for myself and then went ahead and allowed that horrible food fiend, Weasley, into our home during the one hour I was away for a Hogwarts' staff meeting. My precious cauldron croquembouche was gone by the time I returned. There was nothing left, Harry. Not a single crumb remained, let alone the half you'd promised me.”

“It was just half a cauldron. And not even half of a real cauldron at that. Anyone who hears you would think I chucked your precious collection of Unicorn Horn Powder out the window, or something equally terrible.” Harry laughs at his antics, making Severus' stomach flutter with that odd mixture of pleasure and affection that he only ever feels in his current company. Beautiful green eyes beckon him closer with a look that is pure warmth and devotion, laughter and promise and… Harry.

Severus pushes away from the doorway, planting himself directly in front of his very own master baker in five graceful steps. He's now close enough to spot the small dot of flour that dusts the right side of his Gryffindor's jaw and his heart swells with tender affection towards this intrinsically messy creature who is never tidy, never quiet, and never willing to let go of anything, specially Severus himself.

There's also a trail of finely grated lemon zest all over the brat's hair and a couple of golden strings of spun sugar have begun to dry on his left cheek, turning Harry's smiling countenance into the most perfect rendition of green-eyed sweet temptation that Severus has ever seen.
“You still cost me half a cauldron, Mr. Snape-Potter. And it was the kind of cauldron I can't just buy off the shelf. Your crime was serious indeed. We both know Rubeus could replace my Unicorn Horn Powder collection in a jiffy, if you ever decide to throw it out the window, but nobody -and I mean nobody- makes lemon croquembouche like you do. ”

“Hmmm...” Harry says, looking down towards his half-finished yellow rose with a distinct lack of playfulness. “Unfortunately this one isn't for you. It's for Ali. She's sick, you see? And I thought something sweet will cheer her up until she gets better. Merlin knows it worked miracles on you while you were recovering from Nagini's bite.”

Severus frowns, attempting to put a face to that strangely familiar name.
“Ali? Who is Ali? And why is she special enough to get my custom-made croquembouche infirmary treat when… Salazar! You mean Alissane, the muggle author? The one who wrote that thoroughly delightful fanfiction were you…?”

“Yep. That one.” Harry says, turning teasing green eyes towards him with a look gone absolutely wicked. “She's the one who also wrote the piece where you put your tongue in my...”

“This isn't proper pre-dinner conversation, Harry. This isn't 'proper' full stop. I haven't even showered the classroom's grime off my skin yet and you're trying to seduce me.” Severus protests half-heartedly and sighs when his lion laughs once again, clearly delighting in Severus' flustered reaction and flushed cheeks. Probably already plotting to torture him in only Salazar knows how many lovely, knee-weakening, ways in the hours to come.

“I'm just acting like a good little husband. I knew you'd be upset about the fact that I didn't make this croquembouche for you, and I want to make it up to you, so I downloaded all your favorite Alissane smutty 'snarries' on the tablet Hermione gave me for my last birthday, and I plan to let you pick however many you'd like to… enact… tonight, sweetheart. That should take your mind off the disappointment of not being allowed to sink your perfectly crooked teeth into these puffs. We want Ali to get better and go back to writing wicked, sexy, things about us, don't we?”

Severus is so embarrassingly close to actual panting that he doesn't dare say anything longer than a fairly strangled “Indeed.” But he knows his Harry understands him perfectly. And, as he uses the distraction of a passionate snog to summon a small vial of his exclusive Over-All Wellness Potion from his office's desk drawer and commands it wandlessly to both open its own lid and spill itself entirely over the plate full of delicately yellow puffs that sits, temporarily forgotten, in the middle of the kitchen counter, just behind his husband's back, he hopes that Alisanne will somehow feel the power of the healing magic concealed deep within the yellow rose croquembouche they will send her in the morning and understand them both perfectly too.