Title: Retreat Is A Slytherin's Prerogative.
Fandom: Harry Potter (Snarry)
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape.
Word count: 839
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 13: Holiday baking.
A/N2: This is the seventh part of my Black Smoke series.
Summary: Severus had been so shaken by his encounter of the way-too-close variety with the savior's 'private' wand that he sulked all day long and hid under Potter's umbrella stand.
Retreat Is A Slytherin's Prerogative.
Severus had been so shaken by his encounter of the way-too-close variety with the savior's 'private' wand that he sulked all day long and hid under Potter's umbrella stand.
The stand in question had a wide base that opened on all sides and sat strategically close to the fireplace, which was a very good thing since his comfy Santa-themed blanket was hopelessly out of reach, folded as it was atop the sofa.
Potter called him intermittently throughout the day, promising ear scratches and belly rubs in a soft, enticing, rumble that did unthinkable things to Severus' 'defrosting' libido. So he hid all the more determinedly, curled tightly around himself, and covered his twitchy, little ears with his paws in a doomed attempt to muffle Potter's voice.
The day dragged oh-so-slowly as Severus moped disconsolately, but he learned that his host's days could be quiet, too. Potter seemed inordinately fond of casting wandless Cleaning Charms, listening to a truly awful wizarding band called 'The Hippie Torpedoes' and holiday baking.
By the time the evening arrived the cottage was sparkling clean and smelled so pleasantly of ginger and cinnamon that Severus sleepily decided he could put up with the terrible music in exchange for basking in the warmth of the fire and enjoying the holidayish aroma wafting in from the kitchen while he watched the back and forth of Potter's ratty trainers lazily.
“You're not coming out of wherever it is you are hiding, are you, lil' mate?” Potter finally asked, walking into the middle of the living room and dropping to his knees. “You should eat something at least. I know you must be hungry. You've avoided your food bowl all day.”
Severus ignored his belly's loud rumble and rested his head on his front paws, closing his eyes for good measure.
“I'm sorry about whatever it was that frightened you. You shouldn't be afraid of me, kitty. All that talk about the powerful, scary, Potter is pure bollocks. I'm a big teddy bear inside, I promise. Come out. Please. I need to know you're alright because the last time I saw you you were atop my bed and I can't figure out how you made it down from there unless you turned into a kangaroo while I was asleep. It's an awfully tall bed, isn't it?”
Severus would have snorted with amusement if his flank hadn't been smarting since his accidental fall from said bed. 'A kangaroo. Of all the stupid, ridiculous-'
“I could always Accio you. And you'll probably hate it, so don't make me do it, OK? Come on, give me a break, lil' mate. Can't you see I'm worried here? We, humans, are high maintenance like that. We need constant reassurances and the chance to cuddle you, guys. And wrap you in cozy blankets. And feed you yummy stuff.”
Severus rolled his eyes, but he was touched -despite himself- by Potter's patience, so he allowed his left paw to show underneath the umbrella stand.
“There you are.” Potter sighed with relief, shuffling forwards until he was so close that his jean-covered leg brushed the metallic surface of Severus' hideaway.
A calloused finger brushed the very tip of Severus' paw, making him mewl with shock and jerk it back into the shadows. Potter laughed, delighted, and cooed softly:
“Don't be so shy, lil' one. I can't wait to play games with you.”
Potter left his finger there, the horrid tease, and Severus soon realized that it was an invitation to play. He could prod that calloused digit with his paw, if he wanted to. And he did. He wanted to nudge Potter's finger and see if the savior would nudge back. He wanted to be cuddled, and wrapped in cozy blankets, and be hand-fed all those yummy things Potter had promised to give him. But he couldn't. He just—couldn't. He wasn't a real kitten and Potter wasn't his 'human'. He was a middle-aged professor and he had a perfectly safe life that didn't include cuddles. Or blankets. Or being hand-fed by heroic Gryffindors who may -or may not- be homosexual, but were definitely too young for him.
Potter waited an entire minute before moving his finger away with a disappointed sigh, and he sounded so discouraged by Severus' rejection that the Slytherin's confidence in his decision to retreat wavered for the first time. 'What If I'm making a mistake? What if the savior and I could—?'
Potter chose that second to move away, though, and reality reasserted itself, reminding Severus that Potter didn't really want him. And that he didn't want Potter, either. He didn't want anyone, no matter what Poppy thought or how seriously he'd considered finding himself a lover after The Morning Wood Debacle. That had been a fluke. A mistake. An instinctive reaction to the first erection he'd been close to in decades. He didn't need love in his life. Love had almost destroyed him once. Led him, unerringly, towards his darkest hour. He'd labeled it 'Here Be Dragons' for a reason.