Chasing Moonbeams. Ch15.
Aug. 5th, 2019 10:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pekelekeTitle: Chasing Moonbeams.
Author: pekeleke
Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17, eventually.
Length: 82K+
Warnings: Extremely Slow burn. Pre-slash to slash. Enemies to friends to lovers. Pinning!Harry. Oblivious!Severus. Implied Bottom!Severus. EWE.
Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.
Summary: “Really?” Harry beams, green eyes wide and full of wonder. “You’re going to let me snog you to my heart’s content?”
Chapter 15.
The day after their public outing, Severus reads The Prophet from cover to cover. He’d expected to see their picture on the front page, alongside the most unflattering recitation of his not-so-illustrious career as a Death Eater, and a general outcry for the savior to return to his senses and turn his back on the treacherous Slytherin turncoat who’d, literally, gotten away with murder. What he reads instead is a lengthy and tedious account of the international meeting held last night in Lisbon, accompanying a hopeful little article extolling the virtues of international cooperation among the different magical communities in Europe.
Severus frowns. He knows there is no way the paparazzi missed Potter’s apparently cordial rendezvous with a well known Dark Wizard. They follow the boy’s every step like faithful shadows, reporting everything under the sun that could even be remotely related to him. Harry Potter is big news. Usually, he is also the sort of news that are both terribly boring and insufferably staid. The press should have been all over the Gryffindor’s ‘scandalous’ public encounter with Severus Snape, former You Know Who’s right-hand. The fact that they aren’t, smacks Severus of Ministry interference. Or of Potter’s own attempt to ‘manage’ the news which seems preposterous indeed since the Savior has never bothered to do such a thing in his life.
There is nothing in the morning Prophet. Nothing in The Quibbler either. Nothing in Witch Fucking Weekly. Severus combs through them all with mounting incredulity, and cannot figure out what the hell is going on. This isn’t what he wants. He is grateful that his good name hasn’t been thoroughly dragged through the mud yet, but there won’t be a visible change in the way the public views former members of his Hogwarts’ house if there is no conversation whatsoever about it. What’s the point of befriending Potter if his every unsuitable companion becomes ‘invisible’ in the eyes of the press? Severus is distressed beyond words.
He contacts both Blaise and Draco via Floo, and their attempt to brainstorm together is doomed from the start. They don’t have enough information. Can not tell where the chain that links the moment a journalist comes across his first inkling of a possible salacious scandal involving the most influential figure of their time and the moment it gets printed in neon-bright letters across every front page in existence broke, or why. Blaise doesn’t know what to think. It seems too invasive an action for the Ministry to have taken on Potter’s behalf over so small an issue. Particularly when they’d been prepared to risk the boy’s career on a technicality that wouldn’t have held water unless they were willing -and able- to spin Severus’s war-time spy status in the right light. Draco is of the opinion that the news vacuum is Potter’s doing. But then Draco has always delighted in blaming Potter for everything. Severus ends the call feeling thoroughly frustrated with his godson and more confused than ever.
Severus spends a good portion of his morning pacing restlessly from his kitchen to his laboratory and finally settles on writing a quick letter to Emille Bollingfrog informing him of the progress he’s made with the charm he is designing for the man’s upcoming bone cure. He has finally narrowed his work to three different versions of the spell, two of which could easily be tweaked to apply to different levels in the strength of the treatment they’d deliver. The third one is a more advanced option, one that builds on a rather ancient variation of the Stupefy hex to create a spell that, in theory, will put the patient to sleep for the duration of the treatment, thus sparing him -or her- the added discomfort brought on by the healing itself. Severus hopes that this particular version of his charm will be approved for use on worst-case scenarios. Victims of magical blasts. Dragon tamers who’ve run afoul of the creatures they look after. Aurors injured in the line of duty as a result of Dark Magic—
Severus’s train of thought is interrupted by a loud knock on his door, and he pulls his quill away from his neatly written parchment. He’d have to start his letter all over again if a stray drop of ink drops onto the vellum. It takes him a mere blink to realize that Potter is at his door. The boy’s distinctive knocking feels loud and disruptive in the otherwise peaceful quiet of Severus’s abode. He places his quill on the stand beside the inkwell, pulls his chair away from the desk, and walks out of his office just as the brat knocks again.
Potter is an impatient soul, Severus realizes as he descends the stairs. The Auror knocks at least twice more by the time Severus opens his front door, and they stare at one another across the threshold. Potter looks unjustifiably startled, bearing in mind that he is the one demanding attention, and his opening salvo isn’t auspicious either, “You’ve answered the door.”
Severus doesn’t like the implications behind that simple sentence. “I told you I would. I’m a man of my word, Potter.”
“I know. I just— It’s hard to reconcile what my head says you’d do with what experience has taught me. I’ve never been on this side of the equation.”
“Here we go again,” Severus grumbles unhappily. “Do you have any plans to make sense sometime soon? Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don’t enjoy solving riddles.”
“I mean I’ve never been part of the group of people you make an effort to please. I’ve always been on the other side. Things look different from here.”
Severus rolls his eyes. Potter is melodramatic as well as impatient then. He supposes he’s always known that. Merlin knows the brat’s teenage years were tinged with enough drama to make half the staff at Hogwarts feel like tearing their hair out in Potter-related frustration. Draco’s adolescent angst felt like a walk in the park compared to the savior's, and his godson had to deal with the horror of having the Dark Lord living under his roof at the time. “Shouldn’t you be pacing up and down the lane instead of bothering me with nonsense?”
“I need to talk to you. Will inviting me in make you break out in hives?”
Severus’s suspicious nature rears its wary head. “It might. Are you here in an official capacity?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you may not come in.”
Potter gapes. “Why on earth not? I thought we’re trying to be friends!”
“It’s too soon,” Severus replies stiffly. “I’ve never been the sort of man who goes from public tea-sharing to kitchen table encounters in under twenty-four hours, Potter.”
For some reason, Potter blushes furiously and mumbles something under his breath that Severus comes to the conclusion he can’t have heard correctly, because there’s not a chance in hell the brat actually said ‘I wish,’ is there?
“Fine! Can I at least conjure a couple of garden chairs? We could sit under the shade of the almond tree over there for a couple of minutes.”
Severus manfully resists his instinctive urge to deny that request too. He fails to point out that he owns a small bistro table, which is currently laden with a variety of seedlings waiting their turn to be planted, courtesy of Pomona Sprout. The table is in the back garden, which is too private a space for them to share at this point. His small patio is a comforting mess of carefully tended blooms housed in brightly-colored potted containers, and a ratty old hammock dangling between a pair of Rowan trees where Severus reads sometimes. There are all sorts of expensive and rare potion ingredients growing back there. Severus sincerely doubts Potter remembers enough about such things to steal a petal or two, but he’s worked his hands to the bone trying to coax some of those delicate plants into putting up with the terrible British weather, and has no intention whatsoever of exposing them to the gormless gawking of a virtual stranger, regardless of how heroic he may be.
“Conjure away, Mr. Potter.” He agrees calmly, taking care to close the door behind himself when he follows the Auror towards the almond tree. Potter’s attempt at transfiguring garden chairs out of twin blades of grass is at best utilitarian and at worst uninspired. He’d have gotten better results if he’d chosen a discarded tree branch as his base. Chairs are usually made out of wood. It’s easier to create like from like in all things. Magic tends to follow nature when allowed.
Potter plonks his creations on the small patch of shaded grass under the foot of the tree and waits politely for Severus to sit first. They stare at one another once again until Severus clears his throat in utter frustration.
“I like it here. It’s peaceful.” Potter says, apropos of nothing.
“Get on with it.” Severus snaps impatiently. “I’m halfway through writing a letter, and the ink won’t look even if it dries for much longer.”
“Your hedge is back to its former height.”
“So?”
“Did it offend you that much when I called out to you from the lane? I didn’t do it out of malice. Seeing the hedge’s extra length the following morning felt like a slap to the face.”
Severus swallows with discomfort. He’d meant it to feel that way. “I wanted nothing to do with you then.”
“But you changed your mind.”
“Yes.”
“Will you change it again?”
“I don’t know, Potter. I hope not. But we may have nothing in common. Or be naturally incapable of understanding one another. No one can wish friendship into being. It either grows on fertile soil, or it doesn’t.”
“Our tea date drew a bit of unwanted attention. I had to pull a bunch of strings to bury the story for a few hours.”
“I thought you wanted attention,” Severus says calmly. “It was your suggestion to avoid keeping our stumbling attempts at friendship under wraps.”
“I want the sort of attention that’ll help you. The sort that you deserve. That’s not what the press planned to print.”
“Planned?”
“I convinced them to delay the story by promising to release a statement about our outing. It’ll go out tonight in a special edition. You’re about to become— newsworthy.”
Severus doesn’t like how carefully Potter tiptoes around the issue. It makes him unnecessarily nervous, and will probably end up giving him heartburn. “How bad will it be?”
“Not too bad, just annoying. They’ll try to hound you if they can. They shouldn’t be able to get near you because they signed a contract with the Ministry that makes it illegal for them to follow me around at work, and you happen to live here, but they’ll find a way around that eventually. You could always hide in Malfoy Manor for a couple of weeks.”
“Weeks? What sort of statement are you releasing, Potter? It’s not like I’m your long-lost brother. We only went out to tea!”
“I like you. I want them to understand that. You need them to understand that so they’ll start reassessing their crazy-arse idea that all surviving Slytherins are second-class citizens. I’m releasing a statement that’ll announce loud and clear that you are my hero. The man I look up to. You need to tell me now if that’s not something you wish to see in print.”
Severus finds himself gaping in disbelief like an uncouth barbarian. His jaw drops, his eyes bug out, and he has the horrifying suspicion that he’s blushing like a schoolgirl. His first thought is that this can’t be happening. He’s fallen asleep somehow and is currently drooling all over his formerly pristine letter to Emile Bollingfrog while having this peculiar dream.
“Snape?”
Or the person in front of him isn’t really Harry Potter but a bold and enterprising paparazzi —one who has somehow managed to acquire both a fresh dose of Poly-Juice and one of the savior’s hairs— and is currently trying to weasel a rather preposterous confession out of Severus.
“Hey, Snape!”
It’s also possible that this is indeed the savior, and he’s attempting to pull some odious little prank on him in the name of ‘growing closer.’ Severus understands that sort of thing is common among Gryffindors even though he finds the practice in poor taste. Why would a couple of otherwise perfectly sane individuals voluntarily decide to humiliate one another thus for the sake of ‘fun?’ Severus isn’t laughing, is he? Therefore he’s not having any fun-
“SNAPE!” Potter hollers in his face, making him jump like a rabbit, and then proceeds to stun Severus further by rubbing daring hands up and down his arms in a soothing gesture while begging in a panicked tone, “Please, say something. Anything. I need to know I didn’t break you.”
“When did you leave your chair?” Severus asks in confusion. “I don’t recall seeing you stand up.”
“You turned as pale as a ghost and looked a little weird ‘round the eyes, professor. I kept calling your name, but you didn’t respond. I thought you were going to faint.”
“I haven’t fainted in years.”
“That’s not true. You fainted when the fairies attacked you.”
“I lost consciousness due to blood loss. That’s not the same thing as fainting.”
Potter smiles weakly at him and stops rubbing his arms. Severus feels the instant loss of heat and is utterly confused by how bereft he feels now that Potter has unilaterally decided he no longer needs comforting. ‘Merlin, I must be more touch-starved than I realized if I’m missing Potter’s pity-induced arm rub.’
“You must be feeling better if you’re dishing out snark.”
“At least I dish out the truth.” Severus points out stiffly as he watches the brat retake his seat.
“You’re accusing me of planning to lie to the press?”
“Aren’t you?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“An exaggeration then.”
“Are you implying I should let them rip your character to shreds instead?”
“Of course not. I just— It’s a pretty unbelievable story. And it’ll come out of left field.”
“Ah! You’re worried no one will believe it.”
“I wouldn’t buy it for a second, so why would anybody else?”
“You wouldn’t buy it because you’re annoyingly obtuse when it comes to human emotions, Snape. Trust me, this is going to spin beautifully. My last -and most public- argument with Voldypants was about you. The first thing I did after turning him to dust was return to the Shrieking Shack so I could collect your dead body personally, but ended up saving your life instead. I visited you while you were recovering in the infirmary, and tried to do the same when they locked you up in Azkaban. I spoke for you at your trial. I threw a hissy fit of epic proportions when I went back to Hogwarts to complete my education and found out you’d given up teaching. I’m guarding your bloody neighborhood.”
“You’re attempting to imply much with very little, Potter. Your pretty picture is merely a bunch of artfully arranged circumstances with no substance to them whatsoever. It’ll all tumble down at the first blow.”
“It won’t. I promise.”
“Fair enough. Spin your tale in any way you see fit. They already think me a liar. What you’re putting on the line is your reputation, not mine.”
Potter studies him intently for a long time. Severus has the feeling the boy wants him to say something, to ask something, but he has no earthly idea of what that elusive something might be. He’s under the impression that he’s managed to disappoint Potter somehow, and doesn’t like the feeling in the slightest. Severus has had enough of being found wanting.
“Could I have a candid picture of you?” Potter asks, startling Severus into narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“Whatever for?”
“I don’t want them to dig up some horrible old shot from the war. Or worse, the trials. They have some pictures of our tea date. You look a bit stiff in them, but they aren’t too bad. I want to give the editors something else to focus on. Something— softer.”
“I don’t do soft, Potter.”
The bloody brat has the actual balls to laugh in his face. “Liar, liar, pants on fi-
“I’m afraid I cannot help you. I don’t go around taking pictures of myself.”
“Is there anyone who does?”
“Minerva indulges in that sort of sentimentality sometimes. And Draco is quite fond of the latest ‘Sna-pict’ charm. A few of my former Slytherin students delight in catching me unawares whenever there is a gathering. Pansy, Daphne, Gregory… they’re all reasonably good options.”
“Do I have your permission to contact them?”
“Do as you wish. This is your lie to spin.”
“It’s not a lie,” Potter says firmly, looking right at him and taking his breath away with those famous green eyes that appear so bloody earnest. Severus doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing at all. Eventually, Potter sighs and bids him goodbye. Severus sits on his conjured garden chair for a very long time indeed, pondering about tangled webs, and weaving.
Next.
Back.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-09 07:21 pm (UTC)Ah ha! There. That's a fist chip in the ice. Right? Right. *looks smug*
I really like this chapter with Severus's thoughts and interchange with Harry. Especially Harry is a well of little insights here. :) It's just sad to see him constantly surprised by Severus being civil towards him. At least Severus realizes that there is something more that Harry seems to want to hear... It's a step in the right direction. At least it's a shuffle.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-10 12:44 pm (UTC)”That statement sounds ominous. Will it be as bad as Severus assumes?” Seriously? Are you asking me to spoil the next chapter for you? Well. I’ not doing it. You’ll have to click on that pretty ‘next’ button and find out what happens on your own. Then we can chat all you want about how bad/not too bad Harry’s statement is. :D
Yes, Severus is definitely inching in the right direction very slowly, and Harry shouldn’t be so surprised when Sev attempts to be nice. They’re attempting to fit together for the first time and their edges are still too sharp for them to fit smoothly around one another. They’ll get there, of course, but it’ll take a few more adjustments. :)
Thanks, as always, for taking the time to both read and review another chapter of Chasing Moonbeams, teryarel. Your kind and lovely comment was much appreciated. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-10 07:12 pm (UTC)Um. Yes?
What? On my own? But, but, but... Oh, alright. But only because it looks so pretty. :P *clicks*