Courting Disaster. Chapter 6.
Oct. 8th, 2013 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pekelekeTitle: Courting Disaster. 6.
Rating : NC-17.
Author: pekeleke
Word Count: 4155
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.
Summary: For once in his life Harry Potter has a plan. A carefully plotted plan to help him conquer the heart of an extremely reluctant Severus Snape, only... conquering a suspicious ex-spy isn't for the fainthearted and soon Harry finds himself -quite literally- courting disaster.
Courting Disaster.
Severus watches Potter turn around jerkily and walk towards the front door of his shop. He's unable to understand why on Earth the sight of the brat's retreating back is making him feel so god-dammed devastated, but the truth is that he can hardly bear to stand still and watch the seeker leave his life for good.
He's pretty certain that a man like Potter won't bother to offer his heart on a silver platter twice. Not when it has been so unequivocally rejected. Potter will never darken the front room of his shop again. Will no longer care to seek his little corner in Draco's front parlor, offering him quiet company during those interminable dinner parties that Ginevra never seems to tire of organizing. The Gryffindor will walk out of his shop and forget him without pause, moving on sooner or later to far better, greener pastures while he spends the next ten decades sitting idly in front of his fireplace, constantly wondering if the never-ending peace he'd just bought with this rejection has been worth it. If he'd been one-hundred percent certain that Potter was lying. If he's really so attached to his dreary little existence that he'd still choose it over the possibility of... more... if he wasn't quite so cowardly.
“Oh, fuck this!” The Gryffindor suddenly hisses just as he reaches the door, startling Severus right out of his gloomy thoughts and he stands there, as paralyzed as a small rabbit caught in the intense glare of a sudden Lumos spell, while Potter's furious steps grind to a complete halt and the man himself proceeds to stand still for what seems like an interminably long second.
Potter's athletic shoulders are hunched slightly forwards. He seems visibly dejected, like a man who's been condemned to carry around the most unbearable weight known to humankind. His messy dark head shakes from left to right in two rapid, jerky motions before he turns around once again and comes barreling towards Severus with the kind of look in his face that the Slytherin has only ever seen gracing that visage in pictures of the final battle, or the million and one victories that the nearly invincible seeker has been skilled enough to collect along his meteoric rise through the ranks of professional Quidditch. Potter finally comes to a determined stop right in front of him, looking for all the world like the very image of a seriously ticked off warrior about to engage in a battle that he has no intention of losing.
“You know what? I'll go when I'm good and ready, Severus. If I can't goad you into going back to my apartment then, by Godric, I'm not going to let you goad me into walking out, either. You're not a teenager anymore and neither am I, isn't that marvelous? I've finally grown up enough to go toe to toe against you. We are on even ground right now and I'm intensely satisfied to be able to inform you that you can't use any of your old tricks to push me away. I may have fallen for them in the past, but I didn't know you back then the way I do now. I want to know why you're reacting like this to such a harmless comment and I want to know it right this second. Do you understand me? You don't get to turn this viciously against me just to force me into walking out without having to bother to offer me a single explanation. I'm an adult and so are you. You owe me some respect and I swear you are going to give it to me!”
Severus' hackles rise in reaction to the bastard's boldness. No one has the right to chastise him in his own shop. No one is going to be allowed to order him about any longer. He stopped bowing down to threats as soon as the war ended.
“Really? And how are you planning to force me into doing that, Oh-Mighty-Savior? Are you going to hex me to my knees and Crucio me until I beg your forgiveness? I was under the impression that you were a strong moral detractor of that sort of behavior, Potter.”
“Do you really want to be the kind of man who hides behind a mask, Severus? Do you really lack the courage to peel that bloody thing off and be yourself once and for all? What do you have to lose? I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to walk away, either. I just want to know what makes you tick. I need to understand you better, so that I can try to avoid saying anything that may drive you to become this man again.
"Professor Severus Snape is dead and buried. He was never really alive. He was... a mask. A very good one, I'll give you that. But he was a mask nevertheless and a mask may protect you from the world to a certain degree, but it can't ever make you happy. How could it, Severus? It's not even real. It's just a tool meant to help you hide who you really are from all those who are willing to love you. You were never like this with Albus and I know you'd rather die than show this side of yourself to Draco. Why can't you lower your forbidding shields for me, too?”
“Potter...”
“You can raise them right back up if I prove myself unworthy of your trust, OK? I swear I won't bother you then. But you have to let me in first. You have to give me a proper chance to win you over without casting me away preemptively out of fear. You have to let me show you just how much I could give you before deciding to cast my heart away so callously. These are my emotions we are talking about, Severus. These are my most precious dreams. I don't deserve to be treated like an enemy by you. I've done nothing to earn your derision and I refuse to accept it. Aren't you man enough to tread over another bloke's heart with gentle care?”
Utter discomfort sweeps Severus from head to toes, deflating his peeved anger with the sharp prick of guilt. His windpipe closes altogether and, for a panic-inducing second, he finds himself unable to even breathe. His lungs feel small and constricted, his blood pounds against his every pulse-point like a horde of stampeding wild horses and he's hovering indecisively between the opposite responses of fight or flight, unable to decide which choice to make. Refusing to even choose between a safety that has managed to keep him away from emotional harm for many years and the hazy possibility of the kind of companionship that could very well fill the endless void that his life has become. If only this is true. If Potter actually means what he's claiming. If he has the actual boldness to dare reaching out for it.
“Severus?”
“I wasn't even aware that Albus' vest was missing.” He finally whispers quietly into the silence, taking a single step towards the dazzling possibility of forging a future for himself that may not so clearly resemble the heartbreaking loneliness of either his past or his present. “I cast that Accio spell and promptly Disapparated from your place without taking the time to check the bundle of clothes that had flown towards me. By the time I reached home I couldn't stand the sight of them, so I vanished them all to the bottom of my clothing hamper. I haven't looked at them ever since, Potter. I—I've been unable to accept the foolishness of my actions that night.”
“Oh, Severus...” Potter attempts to come closer and he feels utterly threatened. It's too much. Simply too much. It's too soon for all of this and he's already starting to regret the ridiculous impulse that lead him to open up, to expose himself so thoroughly. To make himself so pathetically vulnerable to the Gryffindor's harsh judgment.
“Don't laugh at me. Don't you dare to laugh at me, Potter. I'm not a coward. I just—I'm not that keen on whining over stupid mistakes that can't be rectified, that's all. I'd have gone through those clothes sooner or later. I assure you.”
“Our time together wasn't a mistake, Severus. You needed to feel loved on your birthday and ended up in the arms of a man who'd give up a great deal to be given the chance to cherish you. I'd say you were lucky that night. You got precisely what you wanted.”
“I wanted sex without repercussions. I wanted to be able to walk away the next day and put my awful weakness behind me. How am I supposed to do that now? You are here already, attempting to confront me despite my clear refusal to acknowledge your every request for further contact. You aren't going to let me forget that ghastly night no matter what I do, are you? I'd say this isn't what I wanted at all. Not by a long shot.”
“Oh, it is what you wanted. It may not ever come close to what you were willing to settle for, but it's definitely what you wanted, Severus. You just have to stop lying to yourself for long enough to admit that what you think you can have when it comes to love and what you really desire are not the same thing at all. You wanted safe and casual because you honestly believe that you can't have anything else. But you can. You can have love of the genuine, openly acknowledged and permanent kind. You can have respect, desire, loyalty. You can have anything and everything you dare to ask for and more. I'd willingly turn myself inside out if that would make you happy.”
"You can't be serious.” Severus whispers that small, raw-toned denial while his dark gaze seems unable to avoid the intent expression flashing determined green fire across those bespectacled eyes. “Do you have any idea of how many men will give their right arms for the chance to even hear half the things you've just told me? You could have anyone you wanted, Potter. Anyone at all. You could have the best man that this old world has to offer hanging from your arm as soon as you give him a chance, and yet you're offering your affection to me. I'm not good enough for you. I'm not good enough for anyone. Even if I try to force myself to go through the ridiculous idea of allowing you to court me, there's no way that's going to work. I'm just not... "
“Yes, you are. You could be right when you imply that I could have anyone I wanted, but the fact is that I. Want. You. There is no one else out there who can possibly claim to be a better man than you are. Not really. I don't care if you can't see it right now. I can and, since this is my heart's choice to make, my opinion on the matter has definitely more weight than yours. Wouldn't you agree?”
“You're crazy.”
“I'm not, I swear. I just have a great and unique taste in men. Come on, sweetheart, give me a chance. Let me take care of you. Trust me.”
Despite his desire to reject the savior's unbelievable avowal of love, the truth is that Potter's sincere-sounding words have been hammering his composure to a pulp with ever-increasing strength since the brat refused to leave. Unable to withstand the pressure of staring straight into the pleading expression so clearly painted over the Gryffindor's eyes Severus takes a single step backwards, attempting to put some much needed distance between himself and the intense, tempting creature who seems hell bent on destroying his pitifully crumbling defenses.
"Please, please, don't walk away from me. Not like this, Severus. Give me a chance to fight for you. I'm begging you." Potter whispers with raw-toned desperation, matching Severus' agitated step backwards with a forward one of his own and he whirls away in frantic retreat, walking briskly towards the shop's wide windows in order to stare blindly at the bustling street outside through the slightly smeared glass.
His dark gaze focuses determinedly outwards as he attempts to come to terms with the shame that he feels in reaction to his own frightened withdrawal. He's unable to withstand the thought of turning around to face Potter. He's reluctant to seek refuge behind his old trusty mask again, but he feels quite simply incapable of trusting the brat enough to allow himself the dangerous stupidity of showing Potter precisely how unsettled he feels. He's too shaken to even fake his usual phlegmatic detachment and the mere idea of actually daring to expose his unbearable fragility to the Gryffindor feels both alien and suicidal.
“I don't know how I managed to upset you so much, but I'm honestly sorry about it, Severus. I just wish you'd let me in. I can hold you through this, no matter what is causing it. I can take care of you, I promise.” Potter's voice reaches him as if through a dark tunnel and he shrugs one thin shoulder in a clumsy little gesture of disheartened dismissal that betrays his agitation.
A second later his ears catch the unmistakable sound of the seeker's inexorable approach and he closes his dark eyes in exhausted surrender, allowing his tired mind to register the brat's noisy attempts to come near him with the entirety of his body. He remains utterly still as Potter draws ever closer with steps that resonate as loudly as the rumble of thunder in the eerie quiet.
A hand suddenly brushes against the very tips of his loose hair, tangling itself in his soft, dark locks with a touch that seems both hesitant and helpless, making him instantly realize that the Gryffindor feels bereft and afraid too. That he isn't the only one left exposed. That they are both truly on the same boat. Both equally afraid of the other's rejection. Both equally helpless and weakened. Both hurting.
That simple realization somehow makes everything easier, but it also makes the entire situation a lot harder in ways that he's never imagined before. He's so used to dealing with Harry Potter's irritating boldness that he's never even contemplated how he'd cope with the brat's disarming insecurity. He feels inexplicably protective of the creature standing just behind him and his heart pounds in his chest as the touch of the boy's trembling fingertips burns his nervous system all the way down to his toes.
His long frame begins to shake and he's conscious that it shows. He's aware that he's now finally wide open and utterly exposed before the emerald eyes of this man who claims to love him. Of this boy he used to teach. Of the teenager whose hatred he once craved. A child who'd found enough strength within his heart to defend the pariah he'd been at the end of the war from each and every one of his many detractors. Testifying in his behalf again and again in a trial that had lasted longer than any other and had ended up being as vicious as the war itself. A savior who had not only destroyed the root of all the darkness he'd so foolishly embraced for all the wrong reasons but who seems now equally determined to save him from his unrelenting, life-long loneliness.
“Severus?” Potter dares to gasp his given name in a soft sigh that breaks the unbearable quiet. The hand still tangled in his hair opens wide, flattening delicately over his robe-covered shoulder and pressing against it reassuringly. “I'm here. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? I'm here and I'm staying. I'm not going to let go. I can't let you go. Not like this. Not without trying to make you see.”
That quiet promise dangles before his tightly closed eyes like a water drop in the desert, instantly becoming as fiercely coveted as golden temptation itself. He should shun it's dazzling beauty, turn his back on it and escape. He should run away from Potter's dangerous promises as fast as his legs can take him, but he's by now simply unable to take a single step in the opposite direction.
He has been snared by the unbearable beauty of hope and his ever-growing desire to surrender himself to the dream of feeling loved just this once is stronger than his willingness to resist it. His entire frame turns to stone with the effort of remaining where he is, precisely where he is. Looking out through the smeared glass at the world passing him by, just outside the window. He has always felt like this. Exactly like this. He's always played the role of the hungry, forgotten child who's forced to stare longingly at the alluring warmth of a family's loving kitchen through the windowpane of life. He's always been the kid the world forgot outside. The teenager everyone left out. The man who has always been denied.
He remembers precisely what he felt while he sat in solitary splendor at the darkest table of The Unfettered Queer on the night of his birthday, self-pityingly disparaging his lonely existence and wondering, like most drunks usually do, what the hell had he ever done to deserve his horrible fate. Potter had appeared out of nowhere and saved him from the bitter taste of solitude that night. The Gryffindor had held him against his heart, sheltered him, soothed the shameful neediness of his soul with disarming care.
Could he really admit that he wants to have all that care again without being mocked for his vulnerability? Could he really afford to place the very safety of his often wounded heart in Potter's calloused hands? Is he even able to turn his back on the first real possibility that anyone has ever given him to crawl his way into that impossibly bright kitchen he's always wanted to be in? Is he really willing to throw away the chance to sleep cradled in Potter's arms one more time? Is he honestly so cowardly that he'll turn his back on the companionship he so desperately craves out of fear? Is he truly so pathetic that he'll condemn himself to certain loneliness because he doesn't have the balls to reach out and admit he wants more? Is he really crazy enough to actually doubt the sincerity of the blasted Boy-Who-Lived?
“I don't know if I can give you what you want, Potter. I want to trust you, but I'm not sure I can. I've never been good at... romance.”
“I'm not good at romance, either. But I'm willing to give it my best shot.”
“If this is a trick...” He begins to whisper a warning only to falter mid-sentence when the hand pressed against his shoulder blade twitches slightly. Short nails dig into the thick cloth of his robe, betraying the kind of flustered agitation that he can definitely cope better with when it isn't being shoved directly in his face.
“I'm in love with you. That is not a trick. It's the truth, Severus.” Potter says with quiet sincerity and he believes himself brave enough to gamble his heart away like a madman on a self-destructive spree as long as he doesn't have to turn around and face the Gryffindor. As long as he can keep his dark gaze fixed on the oblivious world so determinedly passing him by on the other side of the window.
He can definitely be bold enough and defiant enough and yes, crazy enough, to dare reaching out for the impossible while his eyes keep on watching the masses who despise him scurry away from him without bothering to notice his existence. He can send his god-forsaken insecurity packing for one last rebellious ride down the foolish road of hope and, if he ends up burning to cinders for allowing himself the idiocy of such reckless daring, then at least he'll go down feeling less than utterly disappointed with his own terrible choices.
He has to try reaching out for more because not trying will cost him everything, anyway, and he's positively exhausted of being a fucking loser. He has played that same goddamned role for so long now that he knows his lines by heart. He needs a break, even if that's foolish. He needs to become the person Albus so often claimed he's always been. He needs to become the Slytherin who should have been a Gryffindor. He needs to feel proud of the man he sees inside the mirror and he'll never achieve that if he insists on cowering from life like a spineless little rat, letting it grind him constantly into the ground.
“One chance, Potter. I'll give you this one chance on the condition that you'll leave me the hell alone if you mess this up so horribly that I'd rather die than grant you another one. Is that understood?”
Potter's hand curls convulsively around his bony shoulder, shaking digits dig quite painfully against bone and muscle, attempting to turn him around to no avail. A sigh ghosts against the back of his neck then. The sound is quiet, but heartfelt, and Severus feels its warmth coil somewhere deep within him, waiting for permission to take root and spread all over. Waiting to claim, to anchor him. Waiting to... conquer... him.
“One chance is all I need, Severus.”
“There will be no sex, Potter.” He whispers that one condition in a small, flustered gasp and his heart skips a beat when the Gryffindor's warm palm moves away from his shoulder for the first time since he'd started touching him, sliding down his rigid arm ever so slowly, until that foreign hand tangles with his own and they end up palm to palm. Fingers to fingers. Wrist to wrist.
“That's alright. I don't want you for sex. I want you forever, Severus, and nobody builds forever among bed sheets alone.”
“You'll bring those items of clothing that you stole from me. I'll be waiting for you here at seven o'clock on the dot. I will not wait for you if you are late and I will not give you another chance. Do you understand me, Potter?”
“Here? You expect us to have our first date, ever, here?” The Gryffindor gasps incredulously, quite obviously horrified by Severus' choice of venue.
“Why shouldn't it be here? This is private enough. No one will ever know about any of this if things go pear-shaped, and I'll be able to boot you out as soon as I feel threatened.”
“This is your idea of a chance? You are setting us both for failure, Severus.”
Severus turns around then, forcing his companion to take a couple of steps backwards in order to avoid a direct collision with his agitated frame. Widened black eyes seek and find the earnest sincerity shining like a beacon from the depths of the most beautiful pair of emerald orbs he's ever seen and he forces himself to whisper in ruffled defensiveness:
“I want to feel safe. I want to have control over this... date... of ours. I want to have privacy, Potter. I don't want to be paraded down the streets of Diagon Alley, hanging from the arm of the blasted Boy-Who-Lived like an ill-fitting accessory. I won't have tomorrow's Prophet laugh at me for being seen dining in your company, do you understand me? I won't allow anyone to insinuate that I am one of your men.”
“How could anyone call you one of 'my men', Severus? There are no men in my life. There has only ever been you for years now. Leave the venue to me, please. Trust me a little. You'll be safe and we'll have privacy, I promise you. Just—Let me show you how it is possible to find romance outside the walls of your shop's little front room. We don't have to go chasing old Skeeter's dicto-quill, but we've got nothing to hide, either. We have every right in the world to create the most memorable first date we can possibly conceive. This is going to be the beginning of our life together, Severus. I won't let you taint the memory of it with fear-induced mediocrity.”
“Potter...”
“No. Just—no. Let's not meet tonight at all, please, Severus. I need time to prepare everything properly. Tomorrow should be perfect, though. I'll come for you at Five o'clock on the dot. Be ready to do this the right way, my love. I've got one chance to woo you. One measly chance, Severus. I can't afford to waste it. I just... can't!”
( Chapter 5. )
( Chapter 7. )
(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-10 02:33 pm (UTC)Severus, you have no idea how lucky you are! It's so good that Harry grew up and now he understands you motives and moves.
I'm so glad that Harry didn't go and they talked. And that Severus gave him a chance. I hope that everything would go well!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-14 09:37 pm (UTC)Thanks, as always, for taking the time to both read and review another chapter of this story. Your lovely comment meant the world to me. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-10 03:31 pm (UTC)The pain of loving then losing is worth it. Because never having tried you fail by default.
and One chance is all Harry was asking for - Because he's sincere that's all he'll need. If he wasn't then this wouldn't work between them. One does not go casually into a relationship with Severus Snape!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-14 09:42 pm (UTC)Thanks, as always, for taking the time to both read and review. Your lovely comment was greatly appreciated, my friend. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-10 11:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-10-14 09:44 pm (UTC)I'm glad you are enjoying this. Thanks for taking the time to both read and review, ada. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-13 08:41 am (UTC)I'm so happy for our two heroes. And I really think that doing what Harry and Sev do - facing their fears and standing in for what they want - is nothing short of heroic. Especially when, like Severus, you have a lifetime of longing and foresaking yourself to counter. Those fears of what might go wrong, that it's easier to remain in the status-quo than chose for once what you desire. That it might turn out that it would have been better/less humiliating (because, really, it can only go wrong and be utterly embarrassing in the end). That it's better to be lonely than to be hurt. For some people these thoughts are daily occurences. That they summon the courage to act against what they /know/ to be true, a given fact, is in my opinion one of the bravest things to do in a person's everyday, personal life.
Well. That was long. Sorry... Thank you for bothering to read that far.
As always, thank you for your work! ^^
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-15 02:01 pm (UTC)I must say that you have a pretty good grasp of the kind of emotional mine-field in which this particular version of Severus is currently trapped. He longs for love and companionship so fiercely... but has been so greatly disappointed in the past that he's learned that is safer never to risk his heart again. Teaching him otherwise is now Harry's job and that won't be easy because Severus is a very stubborn man. Thankfully, he is also very brave, and will take a leap of faith when given enough hope for a better future. :D
I'm so thrilled that you are enjoying this story so much, despite the white hair and backaches that it seems to be giving you. Things are going to get better very soon and don't worry about writing long reviews, I love to writing long reviews too, and it is always a pleasure to get an excuse to write an extra-long comment back to you, my friend.
Hugs
pekeleke