pekeleke

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?”

“Of course not.” Severus replies contrarily, curling elegant digits around the brat’s neck and tugging him down low enough for a quick and dirty kiss before the Savior has a chance to protest. “I’m going to let you snog me to my heart’s content, Potter.”

Chapter 30.

Severus wakes at dawn and stares in sleepy-eyed confusion at the unfamiliar room he’s inhabiting. It’s old-fashioned and wall-paneled; there is a massive fireplace in front of him and a low table covered in dirty plates— Harry. He is in Harry’s house. He ate a simple pasta dinner off those dishes last night and afterward allowed the boy to cradle him gently against that heroic Gryffindor chest while he wept disconsolately for the lover he lost so long ago.

Severus blinks, feeling strangely calm. He is shocked to discover that he doesn't feel ashamed by his loss of control. On the contrary, he feels rested, lighter, settled. He feels finally at peace with Regulus’s decision to sacrifice the future they could have shared together for Albus’ much-lauded Greater Good.

“Hey,” Harry greets him, breaking into his thoughts, and that’s when Severus realizes he is stretched out on the Gryffindor's ugly yellow sofa, dark head plopped on the savior’s lap and lanky body covered by a thin fleecy blanket. He stiffens instantly, but his attempt to jerk away, to straighten himself up at once and release the poor boy from the strain of his weight goes nowhere. Harry starts rubbing his closest arm as soon as Severus becomes rigid, "Hush. It's all right. You're all right. We fell asleep on the sofa. It's not a big deal moonbeam."

“You covered me with a blanket.” Severus rasps, relaxing ever so hesitantly in response to the soothing effect of Harry’s gentle arm rub.

“So?” Harry asks, yawning like an uncouth barbarian as he does, and then begins to carefully comb through Severus’s sleep-tangled hair with his free hand.

“You could have left me here and gone to bed. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve kipped on a friend’s sofa.”

“But you’re not merely my friend, Severus. You’re the bloke I’m trying my best to impress, remember? I wouldn’t have left you alone last night for all the gold in England.”

“I— Thank you. For the food, and the cuddling. For putting up with all that crying too. Thank you for being there, Harry.”

“Don’t. Please. I don’t want your gratitude. I did all that out of selfishness. Looking after you is not a chore, moonbeam. It’s what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“I see you can be smooth when you want to be,” Severus says dryly, “I freely confess I wasn’t expecting you to be so articulate upon waking.”

Harry laughs. “Is that your way of demanding the morning’s first cuppa? Compliments. I like it. I might make you a proper fry-up for that.”

“A fry-up?” Severus bolts upright, utterly horrified. Harry blinks at him owlishly, looking ruffled and displeased upon finding his lap suddenly professor-free. “I have a delicate stomach, boy. I’ll be unable to eat anything else all day if I consume more than a slice of toast or a small bowl of fruit with my morning tea.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to look horrified. “Really? You’re seriously telling me you’re one of those fussy chaps who eats like a hummingbird?”

“I’m not a fussy chap.” Severus huffs, but can’t release any more offended steam because Harry giggles like an idiot upon seeing the look on his face, and leans over to ruffle his hair like he’s confused Severus with a cute and disgruntled owlet.

“It’s OK to be fussy, moonbeam. It’s OK to be you. I even like you like this. All sleepy-eyed and fluffed up and growl-y like an annoyed cat.”

“Potter, if you don’t shut the fuck up this very second and brew me a cup of Earl Grey, I swear to Merlin you are going to regret it,” Severus says very slowly, very calmly, and with an unmistakably threatening edge.

The Savior of the Wizarding World likes to live dangerously it seems, for he laughs brightly instead of heading straight to the kitchen and, taking hold of Severus’s right hand, brings it up to his lips and kisses the knuckles gallantly. “Good morning, professor. I’ve waited a very long time to say these words.”

“G-good morning, Harry.” Severus stammers, blushing like a startled Hufflepuff.

“Do you like sugar in your tea? Lemon? Milk?”

“Black. One sugar. I could do with a slice of toast too if you don’t mind.”

“Coming right up, moonbeam. There’s a loo at the end of the corridor if you need it. Third door on the right. Come over to the kitchen when you’re done, and I’ll try to make you feel jealous of the breakfast feast I plan to cook for myself. I still haven’t met the soul who can resist the smell of bacon.”

“Yes, you have. You just haven’t realized it yet. One of these days I’ll let you try that trick with Pansy. I still haven’t met the soul who hasn’t gone vegetarian for at least a month after hearing one of her graphic descriptions of how poor piglets are murdered in cold blood to feed the voracious hunger of all greedy bacon lovers.”

“Blimey! She sounds intense.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Severus says, getting up from the sofa and heading towards the loo as the brat walks towards the kitchen.

By the time Severus joins him, there are two pans on the fire, one dealing with the aforementioned bacon and another slowly producing a colossal heap of scrambled eggs. A sturdy cup sits on the counter, releasing Bergamot-scented steam into the air and the small plate beside it sits empty but at the ready, obviously awaiting the arrival of the bread Severus can see browning in the toaster. “Need any help?” he offers after his third sip of tea. He is feeling better now. More in control of himself and his emotions, and is willing to try his hand at figuring out how they fit together in the kitchen.

“Grated cheese. I need loads and loads of it. You’ll find a block of Cheddar in the fridge and the grater inside that cupboard over there.”

Severus hums as he washes his hands and gathers the relevant supplies. “This breakfast fry-up of yours looks like a heart attack waiting to happen,” he points out upon realizing the boy is planning to add an entire can of baked beans to the rest of the mess in the pan.

“That’s what St. Mungo’s is for.” Harry shrugs. “I’m a growing boy, moonbeam. And I usually end up wolfing down a limp ham sandwich for lunch behind Mrs. Linwood’s shed. I live mostly on breakfast and dinner, and spend all day walking up and down Sunlit Lane, as you well know.”

“I’ll feed you lunch if you want.” Severus offers impulsively and becomes instantly self-conscious when the Gryffindor stops halfway through plating his food to stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Really? I thought it was too soon for me to set foot inside your cottage.”

“We’ve been involved for a couple of months now, and you put up with my thoroughly unattractive emotional breakdown last night. You fed me dinner and are offering me breakfast. You let me use you as a pillow and kissed my bloody knuckles, Potter. I’d say it’s time for you to step inside my lair.”

“I’d love to.”

“All right then. What time would you like your lunch?” He asks, sitting across Harry and picking up his slice of toast as soon as the brat dips his fork into his eggs.

“I don’t know. One-ish? Most of the kids and older residents of the neighborhood are busy napping ‘round that time.”

“One-ish it is. Anything but limp ham sandwiches is fair game, I assume?”

“Yeah. I-er- don’t like peppers. Or Blue cheese. Just saying.”

“Fair enough. I’m allergic to lemons, of all things. No other citrus fruits. Just lemons.”

“Oh! That’s good to know. Is it only when you eat them or do you have to be careful with touching them and such? I think my shampoo is lemon-scented.”

“I break out in blisters when I touch them, and I sneeze up a storm if I’m forced to inhale the scent of them for long. The Dark Lord used to pour lemon juice on my bare back when he was pissed off with me.”

“Well. He’s a pile of dust by now, so I’d say you got the last laugh there. I’ll do a sweep of lemony stuff around the place and get rid of anything that may hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that yet. It’s early days, Harry.”

“Hey,” Harry says softly and drops his fork to curl his fingers around Severus’s free hand. Severus looks at him then, and his heart trips over itself at the blatant look of adoration in Harry’s gaze. “You know I love you, right? There’s no point in beating around that bush. I’m not going to change my mind about wanting you even if you do. Getting rid of the lemon-scented stuff already gives me hope for the future.”

Severus squeezes Harry’s fingertips gently enough to keep hold of them when the brat attempts to withdraw them. “I’m trying to be cautious. Trying to be fair to you and give you an out you can use if you need one.”

“Well, I don’t want it. I know you think I’m some sort of messed up kid, and that staying with you will ruin my chances of becoming the next minister, but— I’m rarely conflicted about my feelings, moonbeam. My heart is pretty straightforward. It’s been dazzled by Cho Chang, charmed by Ginny Weasley, and fallen madly in lust with Oliver Wood. I wanted them but didn't love them. I never felt for any of them what I feel for you, alright? I’ve never wanted to give anyone the things I can’t wait to give you.”

Severus tries to swallow past the lump lodged in the middle of his throat but isn’t particularly successful. “What sort of things?” He asks breathlessly and feels himself grow faint with emotion when The Savior Of The Wizarding World smiles at him like he’s Godric Gryffindor reincarnated and whispers in that knee-weakening tone of his:

“Everything, moonbeam. I want to give you everything.”

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