Title: Only Fools -And Potters- Rush In.
Fandom: Harry Potter (Snarry)
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape.
Word count: 835
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 15: Homemade ornaments.
A/N2: This is the ninth part of my Black Smoke series.
Summary: Wise men say only fools rush in. Why, oh, why, must Potter be such a fool?
Only Fools -And Potters- Rush In.
Albus used to blame Severus' difficulty with forming lasting friendships on the fact that he was 'too prim and proper to embrace casual intimacy'. Minerva called him a 'cold fish' and Poppy liked to shake her head from side to side and claim that there's someone out there, just as 'reticent' and 'difficult' as he is, who has been waiting to meet him all along, so they can both be ornery together.
He was standing on all fours, hissing and growling at Potter while his fluffy tail pointed straight at the ceiling and every raised hair on his body broadcast his anger at the blasted savior's constant attempts to draw him into his lap so that he could pet him more comfortably, when he finally realized that all of them were right: He was too prim and proper to sit on Potter's lap, despite his current form. He was the kind of cold fish who would only accept shows of affection in his own terms. And he was most definitely being ornery, or at least Potter thought so.
“What's the matter with you, kitty? All I want to do is hold you. It's not like I'm planning to torture you to death. I'm trying to pet you!”
Severus' flattened ears twitched upwards ever so slightly and his ruffled tail swung anxiously from side to side even as Potter's hands backed off. He pawed his comfy red blanket and mewled loudly, trying to indicate that he would accept the petting as long as he could remain on the blanket. Potter followed the motion, green eyes puzzled with confusion but oh-so-eager to understand.
“I don't get it.” Potter sighed, looking helplessly from the blanket to Severus. “You like that old throw. That I understand, but it's not like I was trying to steal it, kitty. I was only trying to—Oh! You want to stay on the blanket, is that it? My lap isn't a good enough substitute for all that fluffy, soft velvet?”
Severus' entire body sagged with relief. He allowed his little legs to fold under him, dropped contentedly atop the aforementioned soft velvet and stared at Potter expectantly, earning himself a thoroughly amused snort and a fond scratch behind his left ear.
“You're slightly mad. I hope you realize that, lil' one.”
Severus purred smugly, closing his eyes and tilting his head, granting Potter's talented fingertips more access to the side of his neck, which was rubbed delicately in response.
“So you don't like being held. Or hugged. And you have weird fetishes about both this blanket and the umbrella stand. Is that it, lil' mate, or am I about to discover something else that's odd about you?”
Severus opened a single eye and glared imperiously at the idiot, extending his little neck further in order to encourage more petting. Potter, the horrid git, laughed with inexplicable delight.
“There you are, professor, it's really strange to see your signature 'Potter-you're-an-utter-dunderhead' expression on the face of a little kitty who doesn't even know he's 'you.' Don't get me wrong, I love this kitten to pieces, but I wish you were here instead. I'm an idiot, am I not? Madame Pomfrey would have never let me keep you if you were 'here,' anyway.”
Severus blinked in confusion, wondering why on Earth the ex-Gryffindor would prefer difficult, ornery him to 'the cat'. Potter caught his puzzled expression and laughed self-deprecatingly.
“You've got no idea of what I'm talking about, do you?” He questioned, Accioing one of the small, homemade ornaments that cluttered the shelf above the fireplace and shoving it in his face.
Severus stared at the most unsightly 'craft' he'd ever beheld with horrified bewilderment. It was—himself. Or as close an approximation as one could possibly achieve with a head made from a magically preserved, shrunken, radish. Hair he couldn't even guess the true nature of. And a body of interconnected thin wires that sported a Superman suit, tiny red cape and all.
'WTF?' He thought, beyond perplexed, and his confusion must have shown even in mewl form because Potter laughed sheepishly and explained.
“I was talking about him, kitty. Well not him, exactly. This is Dean and Luna's crazy idea of a joke, you know? The professor will probably die of embarrassment if he had to dress like this. He's… yeah.”
'Yeah? What the hell does that even mean, you, insufferable dunderhead?' Severus yowled, outraged, glaring evilly at Potter for good measure, and was surprised when the savior chuckled in surrender.
“OK, OK! I'll explain. There's a man I greatly admire out there, kitty. A man who is my hero. My Superman. He—he's inside you right now, but he doesn't know it. Just like you don't know it, either. And I… I wish I could have you both. Keep you both. I wish the two of you could be mine to pet, cuddle and just... plain love you for longer than a week. I wish—I wish the two of you could be mine forever.”