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Chasing Moonbeams. Ch21.
Title: 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 21
“Have you ever thought about settling down?” Potter asks idly about three weeks after their argument. Despite the heated words they exchanged, the boy has kept his promise of accompanying Severus on his ingredient-gathering excursions, as well as insisting they explore various other venues, which is how Severus has spent the last half hour in absentminded contemplation of the fine mess a Tripple Berry Tower can make in such a short time when one isn’t fond enough of the sort of concoctions Florean Fortescue’s successor is rapidly becoming famous for. Severus has never been a fan of ice-cream, and overly large amounts of the stuff tightly packed inside bright-colored cups tend to make him feel exhausted rather than hungry, despite Pansy’s insistence that his way of thinking is sacrilege. Potter’s enthusiastic demolition of his Butterscotch and Banana Barrel leads Severus to believe that the savior would agree with his former student, and the idea of how horrified both of them would be if Severus were to disclose that they share at least one opinion, makes him smile to himself.
“Settling down, huh? Those are heavy thoughts indeed to be contemplating in so lighthearted a setting, Mr. Potter.”
“Are they now? I’d have thought this is the perfect place for that sort of thing.” The Auror says, looking pointedly around in a gesture that focuses Severus’s attention on the various families that surround them. Potter is doing a fantastic job of ignoring the thickening row of so-called-journalists that is currently staring at them intrusively from the other side of the road. Severus envies the boy’s composure something fierce for he can’t fake that much poise to save his life. At least not when it comes to the press, who seems to have become increasingly enamored with both Severus himself and his friendship with the savior.
“Settling down requires a couple of things that I’ve, so far, failed to acquire,” Severus responds, swirling his spoon uneasily through the melting mess in his cup.
“You mean a lover, or a desire to put down roots?”
“Both? I’m not— I didn’t expect to survive the war. I spent most of my youth thinking I was living on borrowed time. Looking for commitment seemed selfish in those circumstances.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m too old. And infamous.”
Potter laughs. “That was a few months ago, professor. These days, you’re the man of the hour. Have the marriage proposals and creepy lewd propositions begun to take over your mail?”
Severus shudders at the very idea. “I don’t know. I had Draco cast one of those content-reading charms on my owl address, anything sent my way that doesn’t constitute ‘serious business’ vanishes as soon as the owl that carries it crosses my wards.”
“Handy, that. I may have to ask him to cast one on Grimmauld Place.”
Severus frowns. “Hasn’t Bill Weasley offered to do so for you yet? It’s a pretty standard curse-breaking trick. Places like Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic have those sort of charms embedded into the buildings themselves. I hear the Pyramids are riddled with them. And old manors like the ones belonging to the Malfoys. Or the Goyles. I’m surprised the Blacks didn’t go for that sort of thing.”
“Maybe Sirius took them down. Or Dumbledore. I doubt the kind of correspondence the Order members likely sent to one another during the war would have made it past any content-reading charm the Blacks imbued in the magic of their family home.”
“That sounds like something either of those two would have done.” Severus agrees quietly, praying for the boy to have grown tactful enough to realize that it’s too soon for them to delve into the ins and outs of Severus’s complicated relationship with either man.
“Maybe you should tell Malfoy to relax the specifications of his charm a bit. Merlin knows I’ve received a few seriously interesting offers over the years. Plenty of artistic pictures too.”
Severus fidgets with discomfort. “I’m not looking for either ‘interesting’ or ‘artistic.’ Thank you very much.”
Potter studies him curiously even as he plonks his spoon inside his now empty bowl with a satisfied air. “What are you looking for then?”
“Nothing. I’m— what are you looking for, Potter?” Severus turns the brat’s question back to him in desperation. “Aren’t most of your friends already settled?”
“Not all of them.” Potter shrugs, looking around at the giggling children and generally exhausted parents that currently surround them. “I’m looking for something true, I think. Something that’ll still shine even when it’s old.”
An unexpectedly heavy, fragile and fluttery feeling settles in the pit of Severus’s stomach upon hearing that description. He can’t think of a worthier treasure to seek. “I sincerely hope you find it,” he says, wondering if the boy already has. If his motherly, peace-loving maniac has begun the process of fulfilling his every dream of finding love and family. Severus aches with want. He longs for those things too. He’d found and lost them once, long ago. He never managed to find a second set and, by now, he’s dishearteningly convinced that he never will. He’ll make do with his loyal friends and the satisfaction of watching all the children who aren’t his, but have managed to steal his heart, grow up and find their own versions of happily ever after instead.
“Oh, I found it alright.” Potter confides, and Severus frowns because the Gryffindor doesn’t look half as ecstatic about it as Severus assumed he’d be.
“What’s the problem? Shouldn’t you be halfway through your ride towards the sunset already?”
“I wish it was that easy. Sometimes you find what you need, and you can’t have it, professor.” Potter says, smiling at him wistfully. “Or you think you can’t, and are desperate to find out whether you’re right or wrong, but you have no idea how to go about doing that.”
Severus gapes, colorful bowl full of slowly melting ice-cream forgotten altogether. “You’re in love with a chit who doesn’t love you back?”
Potter laughs. “Don’t look so shocked. Unrequited love can happen to the best of us. And it’s not a chit, by the way.”
“Semantics,” Severus dismisses Potter’s protest with a flustered wave of his hand. “What sort of idiot would rebuff you?”
“Someone with no taste for Gryffindors?”
“You’re in love with a Slytherin?” Severus squeaks, so shocked by the notion that he forgets his manners altogether and stares at Potter as if the brat has grown ten bright blue, furuncle-ridden heads in the last second.
Potter grins with delight, thoroughly amused by Severus’s surprise. “What can I say? You’re a pretty interesting bunch when you’re not busy allowing yourselves to be duped by evil megalomaniacs.”
“You are doomed, Potter,” Severus says, and means it. The Savior snorts inelegantly and shrugs his broad shoulders with enviable aplomb for someone so utterly fucked.
“And you’ve got the soul of a pessimist.”
“No. I don’t. I’m a realist through and through.”
Potter hums and runs a thoughtful fingertip around the rim of his empty cup. “Are the lines between our houses so clearly drawn then?”
Severus sits back in his chair and looks out towards the street, feeling deeply uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to be the harbinger of heartbreak, but he doesn’t want to give Potter false hope either. “Honestly? A few months ago I’d have answered that question with an unequivocal yes.”
“And now?” Potter asks, sounding slightly breathless. There’s an unnatural stillness to his ungraceful slouch that reminds Severus of a watchful predator. Something large and hungry and deadly, waiting for the right time to pounce.
“Now here I am, sitting openly in this establishment without fear that at any moment the owner will throw me out. Or that the people around me will start hexing me just because they can. I’m free to walk the streets, free to join my fellow wizards in a cafe without facing persecution. It’s a heady feeling, Potter. And it’s all because of you.”
“So you’re saying I can expect gratitude.”
“No. I’m saying that you’ve earned gratitude. Draco and I plan to take Narcissa to that bakery of yours tomorrow, and if that trip goes well, we’ll start adding other former Slytherins into the mix. Our lives are different now, better than they’ve ever been since the war ended, and none of that would have been possible without you. That’ll buy you a lot of goodwill with my crowd.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for,” Potter grumbles, pouting like a child who has been told the cookies are out of bounds.
“But it’s a start, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“Who is it? Maybe I can intercede. I might be able to come up with a good word or two about your character.”
The Savior laughs sunnily. “A good word or two? That’s high praise coming from you, professor. Let’s hear them, shall we? What qualities of mine do you think would bag me a Slytherin?”
“That depends on the Slytherin in question, Mr. Potter. Millicent would never have you. She likes her men to be wild and utterly silly. She may go for Finnegan in a pinch, but never you. Daphne, on the other hand, might. You’re kind and thoughtful. You could very easily charm her.”
“Kindness and thoughtfulness— I never imagined any of you would go for those,” Potter says pensively. ‘Here we go’ Severus thinks, and crosses his spindly arms across his chest defensively in preparation to withstand the nasty blow to the general character of Slytherins he can see coming his way.
“Why not?” He barks unhappily, “Having cunning and ambition doesn’t mean we’re as hard as flint, Potter. Some of us crave security and affection, just like everybody else.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you,” Potter says softly, eyeing Severus’s closed off body language with regret, “I was thinking along the lines that you’d go for smarts, that’s all.”
“Oh!” Severus says and feels himself blush with embarrassment. He is so used to being derided as a ‘heartless snake’ that he has become hypersensitive to these type of conversations. “I overreacted. Apologies.”
“That’s OK. I get pretty tired of being judged as some sort of kamikaze nutter just because I sorted Gryffindor. I can be cautious about stuff. I can be thoughtful. And I can be as loyal as they come too. House stereotyping is the pits, and all of us are guilty of doing it at one point or another.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope you get your Slytherin chit, Potter. And I wish you both great happiness.” Severus says honestly, “The world would be a much better place if more people shared your thoughts.”
“It’s not a chit, Snape.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean. Inter-house relationships used to be common. Nowadays you’ll see very few of them, and they usually involve some sort of Gryffindor-Ravenclaw combination. Hufflepuffs stick together, and Slytherins— well, Slytherins are terribly proud. And picky. We won’t step forward if we fear rejection. And we take so long wondering if we can learn to live with a particular person’s flaws, that our prospective partner has lost interest entirely by the time we’re finally ready to step into the fray.”
“So you’re saying the trick to bagging a Slytherin is patience. I can dig some of that up. I think.”
Severus laughs, even though Potter’s joke isn’t particularly funny. He is grateful for the thoughtful attempt at seeking levity even as he feels inexplicably compelled to spell out his thoughts on the matter. “You’ve got to be what she needs, boy.” He explains, tapping his index finger against the surface of the table to emphasize his point. “You’ve got to be what she wants, or you’re out of luck with a Slytherin. With anyone, really.”
Potter looks down towards Severus’s hand, at rest between them now that he’s made his point. The savior’s fingertips twitch, lift, then hesitate. Potter looks into his face, seeking permission, maybe. Severus doesn’t dare to move a muscle. “I think I could be,” Potter says softly, looking directly into his eyes as he finally brings his hand down and wraps dry and slightly shaking fingers around Severus’s own. Severus feels the touch down to his bones. He stares at their joined hands, feeling the composure-shattering rasp that’s suddenly coloring the boy’s voice settle across his skin like the caress of a lover. “I hope I am. I want to be.”
Severus forces his gaze back to Potter’s face and finds himself drowning in the overwhelming intensity of those famous green eyes. His heart misses a beat, then startles like the cowardly thing it is, and he panics. Severus doesn’t fully grasp why his stupid heart has decided to do something so horrible to him, but he is suddenly blindsided by the knowledge that he has, somehow, managed to cross a line he never intended to go near.
Severus has known for weeks now that he is worryingly drawn to the boy’s sweet and slightly naive nature, drawn to Potter’s unfailing kindness, but the emotion currently running roughshod through his veins isn’t trifling awareness anymore. Whatever flimsy form of admiration he’s been harboring for the Gryffindor so far has now become something else entirely, turned into feelings Severus can’t allow himself to embrace. An attraction he can’t allow Potter to ever discover that he feels because Potter is his friend. Potter is also as good as taken. He is already in love with someone else. Severus pulls his hand out of the Gryffindor’s clasp in a flustered motion, pushes his chair back, and comes to a standing position beside the table. Potter stiffens at once from head to toes but remains seated. When the boy finally raises his head to look up at Severus, his features are ash-white. Severus feels slightly foolish for hoovering over him like that, but he can’t ignore the panicked voice screaming at the back of his mind, urging him to retreat. “I must leave,” he says baldly, “I left a potion on the burner, and it’s time to check on it.”
“Of course, professor,” Potter says, his tone now both utterly bland and scrupulously polite. It’s clear that the Auror isn’t buying Severus’s flimsy excuse, but has no plans to challenge it. Potter raises from his chair, drops a couple of galleons on the table, and motions for Severus to precede him out of the small patio area. Severus follows the boy’s cues, grappling with the dismay brought on by his sudden realization regarding the changing nature of his feelings toward the savior. He is embarrassed by the jumpy behavior he displayed. Potter must think him crazy. And the paparazzi, craning their necks to keep tabs on them from the other side of the street, must be having a field day. Severus shudders to imagine what tomorrow’s headlines will bring. He has humiliated both himself and the boy. He is behaving like an idiot, and he knows it, but there is nothing he can do about any of it right now. He’ll have to apologize, and he sincerely hopes that Potter doesn’t make him work for his forgiveness like Albus sometimes did. That’d be utterly mortifying.
“Do you want me to escort you to the nearest apparition point, or do you plan to catch the Floo?” Potter asks as they step onto Diagon Alley proper, breaking him out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts.
Severus looks at the boy who is now staring at him warily and feels compelled to get the apologizing part done already. He’d rather not spend the rest of his day agonizing ad nauseam over it. “Potter, I— You must think me thoroughly uncouth for cutting our encounter short so abruptly. I feel I owe you an apology, and-
“Don’t. Please.” Potter interrupts him, raising a hand as if he is planning to wrap it around Severus’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture, but halting the motion halfway through. “I should be the one to apologize. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I’m sorry. I forgot you’re not Ron. Or Hermione. I’m a touchy-feely bloke, and you are not. That’s not your fault, professor. It’s nobody’s fault really. That’s just us, our personalities, clashing for the first time.”
Severus sighs, relieved that he hasn’t managed to botch their friendship yet. “I— Thank you, Potter. You’re more understanding than I gave you credit for.”
“That’s me. Kind and thoughtful, remember?” Potter grins, but his smile isn’t as bright as usual, and Severus hates it on sight. He fidgets from left to right. Wondering what he can possibly say to make this better, but the Auror beats him to it.
“Would you like me to accompany you and Draco on your outing with Narcissa tomorrow? I can spare the time if you schedule it for after five.”
“No, I— Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Potter. We can’t use you as our crutch forever. The outing will either succeed on its own or it won’t, and if it doesn’t, well, we need to find out sooner rather than later if the change we’re seeing towards us can stand on its own.”
Potter looks down at his shiny boots, shoulders drooping ever so slightly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon? I don’t want any of you getting hurt. It’s only been a few months. Things that may not click in place for the three of you tomorrow could do so in the near future.”
Severus shrugs, he knows he is being stubborn about this, but he can’t think of what else to do. His friendship with Potter shouldn’t be based solely around Severus’s desire to rehabilitate the reputation of his former Hogwarts’ house. He needs to at least attempt to keep both things separate. “If it doesn’t work out now it won’t work at all, Potter.”
Potter takes a shuddering breath. “All right.”
“I’ll go home via Floo if you don’t mind,” Severus informs him, suddenly desperate to part ways with his companion. He is not precisely comfortable with his growing suspicion that every decision he’s made this evening has brought disappointment to the savior.
“I see. Goodbye, then, professor.”
“Goodbye, Potter,” Severus responds quietly and watches the Gryffindor turn around and head down the street with a despondent air about him. Somehow the boy lost that charming bounciness of his in the last ten minutes of their outing, and Severus can’t shake the awful feeling that it’s all because of him. He doesn’t like that thought at all. He doesn’t like it in the slightest.
Next.
Back.